Supercape

The elderly Harrow smiled. It was a tired, even cruel smile. His eyes were weary and hard. "The Many Worlds Hypothesis. as I believe it is termed in your time. Well, my time too..." he replied. "Under normal circumstances, you would be right. But with our awful son, Collapse, the laws cease to apply. There are, it is true, an infinite number of possible universes. And an infinite number of me's talking to an infinite number of you's. But Collapse's power is beyond normal comprehension. Our mad son is able to...well...collapse...entire strands of the future. As far as we are aware, there is only one of him in the entire multiverse. Or perhaps to say, all versions of him are as one. Even we don't fully understand his power or the maths behind it. The little we do not is quite terrifying..." He looked drawn. "No. He must be stopped from ever existing. We plucked you from the nexus of probabilities where Collapse could be conceived. And is vital that we do so. Under no circumstances must you or me ever get together. And, I am aware of the fact this means my own existence would normally terminate. Fortunately, this null time we are in shields us from such disturbances. But eventually Collapse will rend this extra-temporal zone to shreds...." He rose. "I am left with a dilemna, Megan. As far as we can tell, the Stopwatch is designed to get you and Harrow together. I therefore am presented with a difficult position. Normally, I would not take the risk of putting you back into that time stream. You cannot speak of the future, and you present a risk of...the unthinkable happening. However, the Stopwatch and...me...must be stopped. Some of our agents are trying to do so at this very minute...well, relatively speaking. But..." he paused. "...I know how powerful and capable you are. Our agents are too. But...we may need you..."

:approved:

If thats ok with Ari, then its good with me. Thanks Tiff! And its a fine insult!

GM It was indeed cold outside, the sun dim and snow flying around. There was even a brief talk of suitability for flying, but whilst the weather was far from ideal, it was deemed acceptable. The Katastatov helicopter was able to make good speed under the difficult conditions, equipped with every improvement and optimisation of engineering that could be thrown at it. It was not, therefore, long, before the helicopter had arrived at the laboratory. "Welcome Sir, we got the brief!" said the one of the senior researched, Doctor Ridderwall, a portly man in his forties with a handsome face and never ending enthusiasm that seemed to extend to his wild unruly blonde hair. "I have to say, I have no idea how anybody could have detected anything. We only just managed to pick up the faintest of effects from the device. Although I have to say it is quite fascinating. The technology...it is beyond this world, Sir!" he said, enthusiastically rubbing his hands.

"I can get on board with that!" said the Mess, his voiced laced with genuine anger. He gave the Crusader up and down, which led to a distinct furrowing of brow. Partly, he wished he had donned his own Superhero costume. Not that it did I blind bit of good concealing his identity. He just felt more like a superhero when he wore it. "What's with the bike? and the costume? and the shield?" he asked, puzzlement peeping through his determined anger. "Are you some kind of superhero or something?" he concluded. "Nice bike" he added, as an afterthought.

Is Crusader ins Superhero gear, or does Mess recognise him?

Clash of the posts! Sorry I just posed IC without seeing TiffK's post. Pause for a moment - what would you guys like to do? Ari indicated he would like to see Handsome Jack and thats how I replied... Ill edit accordingly.

GM "Never you mind about that tart, sugar!" smiled Molly with clenched teeth. "She ain't half the woman I am. Oh, how you speak! that French accent is so cute! it could send a girl's heart all a flutter!" Molly nodded to the two heavies by the lift who parted for her with a smile. "Thanks guys, I owe you one. And I always pay!" she smiled as she entered the lift. As the doors shut, Roi could see the fury on Croaks face and the laughter on Hatchet's. Handsome Jacks Office was adorned with images of his silver screen past, along with various accolades and props from his films. It was hard to tell if the pistols and rapiers hung on the walls from his films Set the guns blazin' and The sharpest blade is to the heart were real or just props. Handsome Jack sat on a magnificent and large red leather chair, his back towards Molly and Roi. At his side of the office was a giant mirror, covering the entire wall. Roi could see the reflection of the entire room, himself and Molly included. And, with a crane of his neck, he could see Handsome Jack. He was dressed in a shirt and waistcoat, crisp like his pants, black like his shoes. The man didn't look his apparent fifty years. Not at all. Perhaps it was because he could only see Jack in the reflection, maybe it wasn't that clear. The man looked twenty years younger, in his prime. "Well, boy" he droned, a voice deep and moody, even sombre, but rich like an actors. "I don't see many people up here these days. And nobody gets to see me...hahahaha..." he cackled, a voice lacking sanity despite its thesbian tones. "Molly here, she got my back...hahahaha....I guess I can trust her. How about you, boy...?"

NPC Harry's eyes darted from left to right furtively. He really didn't feel inclined to put his friend through another bout. The Mess loved to fight, but he had done his share of illegal bare knuckle boxing in his youth, and was not inclined to do so again. He could feel his partner's tension and nerves. His nose was assaulted by the smell of sweat and beer. "Thats right my friend! Fernando the Furious! he's your man, he'll take on anybody! give him your best!" he said, swooping an energetic fist and giving his best smile. He turned to whisper to the Mess. "Look buddy, I know this isn't your scene any more, but if you go undercover here, then we can see what game they are really playing..." "I dunno, Harry, you know I never back down from a brawl...but still...." he answered uncertainly. "Just get in there and do your stuff...."

"It strikes me, Sir, that I..I mean we, should attend to motive..." he said, tipping the doorman handsomely and adjusting his bow tie in a polished brass column. His own suit was top hat and tails, even more preposterous than the normal black tie dress mingling around. Somehow, his complete ignorance and confidence managed to carry it off. "The diamond is too large and unique to sell as it is. She could possibly cut it down, but its nature makes it a veritable hot potato. Either she wants it for the pure delight in humiliating us, or she has some other use, possibly industrial, for it. Perhaps indeed, both motivations are paramount..." He lead his two companions onwards through the display, towards the diamonds itself. "So, if we could just refocus our minds from our fair maidens aphroditean charms, which surely are not to be denied, and attend to the matter of our imminent humiliation, then let us proceed onwards and turn mind to task!"

"Why certainly!" replied the Professor, arching an eyebrow. He tried to recall if he had met this student. He tried to wonder how genuine she was. Of course, he reasoned, it was impossible to tell. He was about to try some suitably neutral, passive reply about how to find any article in the library through the normal means, when his ear's pricked up at the scream. "My my! what was that!" he mumbled, distracted from Nicki. "Libraries are meant to be a place of sanctuary and quiet!" he said, as he strode, full pace towards the source of the cry. Perhaps, on another day, he would have dived away to change into his splendid costume. But it was not today. People yelped and screamed for all sorts of reasons. It could have been a mouse, for all he knew...

Soz brain fart due to my being ill. Noticing, he does well! 1d20+15=27

Uncanny reflexes avoids the crush! Feel free to narrate the brawl how yo wish - who do you want to knock out, which side do you want to take, etc...

Does that last IC post belong elsewhere?

Edits made!

NPC "Hellfire and damnation" cursed Harry as he was jostled for the umpteenth time on the street. "It's impossible. I can't smell anything above this..." he said, wafting a hand in front of his nose as yet another cracker went off. "I can't seen nothing..." grumped the Mess, his short height giving him little view in the throng. He was more than able to elbow his way through the crowds, like a little cannonball, but he could't see over them. "It's still our best bet. Trying to find this girl is like trying to find a needle in a haystack...hey mind where ya going!" he yelped as a rather more inebriated man staggered into him. "We need more eyes. Let's see if our friend Mr. Chen can help..."

"Liebniz" hissed Quill, his eyes furrowing. The man, for all his personal and self-induced tragedy, was insufferable. "Libraries are for studying. We work in a university. The building, contrary to the belief you seem to have built for yourself, was built for that purpose, not as a testament and temple to your own ego!" he huffed. Perhaps he was a bit more irritated than normal that the academic prestiges had swung towards Liebniz the last month. Damn, he hasn't got the responsibilities of being a Superhero to juggle! oh for a quiet life! Quentin turned back to Nicki. "Don't go. The Library is yours to use. No matter what Professor Liebniz may think!"

GM The dockers and Knuckles thugs paused slightly whilst they listened to Crimson Tigers words. There was a palpable tension in the air, a shuffling of feet, a clenching of fists. The dockers were just about ready to back down when it happened. "Go home to mommy, loser!" came a muffled call. The tinderbox was lit, the dynamite exploded. Suddenly, Crimson Tiger was in the middle of a messy and crowded brawl - more like a rugby scrum than a fight. The cramped nature of a swarm of bodies, arms and legs, flying this way and that made formal martial art training less than optimal. All the while, screams and calls of machismo, fuelled by alcohol and ego's rebounded around her ears...

Ok I dont want to gum Crimson Tiger down in a long brawl under the pier, especially as its just minions, so Ill do some handwave fudge. Its going to be a big messy rugby scrum. Can you give me a Reflex save? DC 20 to avoid any problems. DC 15 to get 1 bash DC 10 to get 2 bashes DC 5 to get three bashes. The bashes are from flying limbs and so on. The dockers and thugs are probably a bit stronger than average, and may or may not be using improvised weapons, so a DC 17 Toughness save per flying bash you get. It will tie her up for a bit, so back to the ship.

Sounding you out here TiffK - how would it suit to have Lord Steam whack off a Hero Point to get some inspiration? As in, why the diamond? or what theatrical gesture might she use?

"Mazziari? Goon?" replied the Mess, offended at the insinuiation. His neck throbbed with vein and artery pumping away at high speed. "I'm here to stop the Goons, pal" he said, smacking righty into lefty. "Some guy named the Riveter. Left some guy in hospital and is giving even the gutters of the Fen's a bad name, and nobody does that to the Fen's on my watch..." He gazed up and down at the Crusader. The guy didn't look like a normal biker. Hell, he didn't look like a normal anything.... Who the hell was he? "My name is the Mess. Bloody Mess. And I'm here to clean up the streets!" he finished, pointing a blunt finger at his interrogator. "And my question to you is..what type of Goon are you?"

Teleporting to the Karma - with whoever is coming!

Supercape actually burst out laughing. "It seems I would be lost without your assistance!" he chuckled, before his rags sparkled once more, and he stood there in an immaculate dinner jacket. "One mistake thankfully avoided. You will not be surprised to hear this garb suits me better. I doubt I could pull off an old hippy..." "As for something metahuman, I am sure I can pull off something. Lighting a candle with infrared radiation, or freezing some wine. I never really went in for the parlour tricks, but it shouldn't be too difficult..." He flexed his knuckles and gently limbered up. "And for my first trick....!" he concluded, as space and time folded around him once more...

1d20+2=10 for Rene

Continued in