Supercape

Gamma Buzz In Hot Dog Rat Trap, with radiation. The subways were cool. The sewers were cool. And sometimes, the two clashed together. Which was even cooler. Baltazar Botez, aka Gamma Buzz, aka the Cockroach Kid, loved the subways and he loved the sewers. The lighting was poor, the smells were a fragrant awful, and the cockroaches were lively. Nobody here would gasp when the say a half cockroach teenager with glowing eyes. And nobody would run screaming. When people ran away from you, screaming, it tended to knock your confidence. It was tough enough being a teenager anyway. And when they retched or even emptied their stomach it was a full-on, ten round pummelling of your confidence. Much better to crawl along the forgotten network of Freedom Cities underbelly, pretending to be the deadly superhero of the underworld. That was cool. Sometimes, he fired out green laser beams from his eyes to fry a supervillain rat, just to prove his point. Gamma Buzz, protector of the sewers! That was his hobby, his fantasy, his retreat. And it served its purpose; the solitude of dreams. But today Freedom City needed a real protector of sewers. It had a rat problem. Not your regular rats, although they were of regular size. Radioactive rats, surrounded by a toxic green vapour that would choke and poison any foolish creature that approached. Any creature, except Gamma Buzz. For him, radiation was little more than a tickle in the nostrils (if he had nostrils). He could stand in the heart of a fission reactor without a single strand of DNA complaining. A horde of mutated radioactive rats? In the sewers? This was a job for the Cockroach Kid! For real! But even for the amazing Gamma Buzz, the sewers and subways of Freedom City were large and complicated, and scurrying radioactive rats could squeeze through the million tiny gaps that peppered the cracked walls. What Baz needed was a trap. What he needed was bait. What he needed was a pile of meat! More specifically, Baz had noted that the radioactive rodents had a particular fondness for the subway hot dog stalls. Something about the stale bun and tepid processed meat clearly appealed to their rumbling stomach. Unlike human consumers, they didn’t even have to drape the hot dog in a mountain of mustard and ketchup to make it palatable. Baz had to persuade three hot dog stall owners. They were being plagued by the rats, which would render all their meat inedible anyway – nobody much cared for glowing hot dogs, except the kids. And kids eating radioactive hot dogs was not a good thing. If they could just donate a truckfull of hot dogs, then Gamma Buzz would sort the problem out. Honest. Ok, maybe he embellished the story slightly, with Space Nazi’s and Zombie Werewolves. But he got his point across. And maybe he helped himself to a couple of hot dogs (with mustard and ketchup) free of charge. But he managed to get a large sack full of hot dogs as bait. And he managed to arrange the meat in a pile! A stinking pile of half cooked hot dogs, already attracting a swarm of bacteria and a battalion of fungus. It sat there, in one of the larger cracks in the sewer, an irresistible prize for mutant rats. An irresistible prize they could not resist! For lo and behold, around the corner of one of the ancient sewer tunnels, full of dried excrement and not so dried excrement, Gamma Buzz could see a lurid green glow. The rats were coming! And he would catch them like… Like… errr…. Rats in a trap? Well there were some rats. But what was the trap? Therein lied the massive flaw in his otherwise perfect plan. Gamma Buzz kicked himself on his armoured shin plates. Fool! Now he thought about it, he could have constructed some cool cage that fell from the ceiling, or a pit full of poison spikes. Well, maybe he couldn’t, but he could ask someone else to make them. And passed it off as his own work. Which was nearly as good. In some ways, it was better. The sweet deliciousness of naughty tricksters. He had to deal with the swarm another way, and time was running out. He could seem them now, like a hundred green lights scuttling through the tunnel filth, towards the hot dog prize. Radiation wouldn’t do it. Gamma Buzz might have been immune to their toxic vapours, but equally they would soke up his gamma beam eyes without blinking. He could stomp them – but that would be unpleasant, and how many could he stomp? A dozen? Two dozen? They would flee before he could squash even half of them under his super powered four toes. The rats might be immune to gamma beams, but the architecture was not. To be honest, the crumbling forgotten sewers looked like they would crumble and collapse with a stiff sneeze, let alone a thermal-radiation charged ion blast. Baz pulled himself closer to the ceiling, hanging by his mutant hands and mutant feet. Careful now… he was itching for action, hardly able to resist the urge to live out his fantasy as Gamma Buzz, Superhero of the Sewers! But he had to wait until every single on of the rats was feasting on the pile of meat! It did not take long, for the rats were hungry and the hot dogs were just about edible. Soon, a living carpet of rats undulated over the hot dogs. It was a disgusting sight, making the rat genocide that much easier to stomach. Maybe he might have felt sorry for them, but the way they nibbled and gnawed, filing gamma bellies with cold hot dogs, fighting amongst themselves for the tastiest portions-this all made what Baz was about to do that much more satisfying. “Gamma Buzz, Baby!” he yelled, and leapt into an acrobatic spin, ending with blazing gamma beams lancing across the pipes and masonry above the trap. The metal groaned, the concrete split. And that was it. “Oh shoot…” He was heating things up, no doubt, but there was no cave in. Heat was not the same as force, and he needed force. “I said…” he started. “Gamma Buzz…. BABY!” With his battle cry echoing down the tunnels, Gamma Buzz leapt, his stubbly three fingered hands grabbing on to a hot and twisted metal pipe upon which the whole crumbling masonry seemed to rely. He pulled. “Oh come on!” he screamed. “I am meant to have super strength!” He plated two feet on the walls and hefted with all his might, heaved so hard he feared he might crack one or two of his armour plates. But with all his strength in the right place, with optimal leverage, he pulled the pipe free, and shot across the tunnel to land in a crumpled heap. “Ouch!” As hard as he had hit the ground, as much as it hurt, the rats had it far worse. The masonry and concrete, twisted rusted beams and splintered rotten planks all came crashing down on the hapless rats. Had they not been so distracted by the feast, they might have scarpered, but alas they were too slow. In seconds, they were buried under rubble. A few rat screams were heard, and then silence. Toxic radioactive vapour started pouring from the rubble, and rat blood oozed across the sewer floor. All in a days work for Gamma Buzz, superhero of the sewers! All thanks to a pile of meat!

GM "Oh Thank the Gods! You! I nearly had a heart attack!" Beanpole looked down to his stomach. His hands covered the gunshot wound, and his hands were wet with blood. A small puddle of claret oozed between his legs. Even amidst the purple smoke, Chimera could see that Beanpole looked white as a ghost, with clammy skin. "I got shot... in the belly..." said Beanpole, weakly. "I mean, do you like have any healing powers, or something? or can you magnetise the bullet out? Perhaps after I feint, so I dont feel the pain?" His eyelids started to droop. "I do feel sleepy. I think I might just have a nap... that would be alright, wouldn't it? Just have a little nap nap... oh and be careful, Blowfish gave me some explosives. Might have dropped them somewhere. Dont light a fire or anything..."

And also heroically rescuing beanpole is an HP! Chimera - Unharmed - 5 HP

More than enough!

GM The Dragon Roar was mighty to behold, and terrifying to hear. Screams of panic arose from the ship deck. Most were indecipherable screeches of pure fear, but amidst the cacophony a few words could be made out; but alas, they were not poetic or inspired, merely accurate proclamations of the situation. "Eeeaaaah! Its a Dragon!" "Run for you lives!" "This ain't worth it!" All entirely accurate. The sailors and the thugs scampered, fearing that, at any moment, the dragon would breathe fire and turn them into an agonised cinder. Fear may not have inspired poetry, but did inspire their feet. They ran as if their lives depended on it; for in their own minds it surely did. Scampered footsteps were followed by splashes. "Abandon ship!" One by one, in quick succession, they dove into the ocean waves that lapped against the ship. One thug, and one sailor, locked in a grapple, seemed too preoccupied with wrestling with the baseball bat between them to worry to much about the Dragon, or indeed the explosive that was being kicked about their feet. And the Mercenary bit his lit, clenched his jaw, and planted his feet. "Are they paying enough for a damn dragon?" he asked himself, pulling out one of the grenades on his belt and contemplating just how much this was all worth...

That effect will hit all below with a DC 19 Reflex and then Will Save. They all fail the Reflex Save Some make the Will Save More specifically: One Thug holds his nerve, and One Sailor is Shaken, but holds his nerves. The Merc has fearless feat so immune.

Echohead Echohead flapped his fingers. He didnt really keep up with the news, not as much as he should. Especially if he wanted to be a super spy. He really wanted to be a super spy. But running his gardening shop was lovely too. And there was only so much time in the day. But he had heard of the robots. "So they have a nice little fledgling uptopia?" he asked the Redhead. "So what? A thousand such promises every day! Every political party, religion, movement... they all think they are the best. So what if a bunch of robots are following suit?" He paused. He wanted to get to the nub of this. "What's this got to do with you? You seem... ah... pretty invested in this. Not just handing out leaflets or posting on internet forums..." He was tempted to say something about a fiery redhead. But he imagined if he called her a fiery redhead she would probably act like one. And bite his head off. Or, given this was the world of superheroes and supervillains, he imagined her her read hair would turn into a strands of living fire and strangle him. He gulped at the thought, thought dry.

Limb time! Splitting arms (So she now has four): Her additional limb power! Detatching two arms to carry on driving: Anatomoic speration power! Extending arm to see if she can grab the other car: Elongation power! And taking 10 on driving for a 27 result if she needs it!

Rev "Plenty of room, plenty of room!" shouted Rev as she continued pushing the Dune Buggy to outrageous speed. "I mean, we are going so fast, we will just skim across the lake like a stone. Wait. Stone sink, don't they? Dang, that's a bad analogy. I mean... errrr.... we will go so fast we will just skip across the stone like a kung fu master. Yeah. That works. The mysterious mysteries of kung fu!" She liked old kung fu films. She could just seem the buggy dancing across Lake Michigan like a white bearded kung fu master, in a cracked film with faded colours and some blaring seventies dicso music. But unfortunately the Dune Buggy was not a jkung fu master, and no matter how fast they were going, they would sink. Rev didn't work well underwater. And Pere was barely working above water. She split her arms in two. Now, instead of two cyborg arms, she had four. "I'm gonna take the wheel!" she yelled to Pete. "Keep hold of my arms!" Two arms detatched, and continued steering. Rev Stood up in the Buggy, and extended one of her remaining arms, trying to reach the ghost police car... ...if it was actually real.

Rev "What the hell???" screamed Rev. "Possibly literally!" she added. It was shocking enough to see any car match the souped up Dune Buggy's speed - but... "Are we in some kinda B Movie?" At least they had not turned to sepia tones. If they were in a movie, it was a colour one. But it was existentially concerning! Where they in a movie? Where they just characters in a book? Or some kind of internet writing venture? Screw that! She gave a metaphorical finger to the writers of a story. Screw you, suckers! "Who the hell are you?" she shouted at the ancient police car. "I'd say start shooting!" she added, to Pete. "But I don't know what the hell you should be shooting at. Other than shoot for the moon. They say that, right? One of those motivational speeches?" She shook her head back to the present. "I said.... WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!" she shouted, even louder, at the police car.

Gamma Buzz "Gamma Buzz it is!" said Gamme Buzz, sticking to thumbs up. "Baltazar Botez. My friends call me Baz." God almighty, he isnt jumping out of his skin! Thought Baz. Sure, he had heard Lawrence's reassurances. But he had only half believed them, and even if he had believed them, experience was a whole different ball game. A half human, half cockroach superhero barely cause the bat of an eyelid! "Spaceman, is it? What does that mean? You control space? You come from space? You want to go to space?" asked Baz. "Say, if it comes to going to space, count me in! I mean, I kinda look like an alien already, right? Plus... its space! That's amazing, like amazingly amazing, and cool too!" His eyes widened. Lawrence? The Spaceman? Maybe I will actually see the stars!!! He cracked his knuckles. The advantage of armour plated skin was he could crack his knuckles real good. And they stopped bullets too, as a bonus. "What's your, err, real name? If you are allowed to say?"

Give me a DC 10 DEX roll to catch the stick, otherwise it will shoot another few dozen feet upwards! (and then fall)

GM La Puma could jump up the buildings like a feline superhero - with grace, speed, and penache. She was faster that the smoke plume of Juan, but she would be running out of building floors soon. Two more stories, then the roof, then the open moonlit sky. Through the hot night air, the Cantos Devil stick flew. Tazel called out, a touch of glee in his voice, a note of cruel and bitter victory. "Catch!" he called, as the Devil stick was lobbed into the air. Was it Tazel, or was it the stick itself? Or some other force? Who could tell? But it shot into the the reach of La Puma. "The Devil stick can hurt anybody, anything!" called Tazel. "Wicked, it is! Ghosts, demons, or cowardly sorcerors who turn into plumes of smoke to run away from their rightful destiny of being burned alive! Hahahahaha! Got you now, Juan!" Of course, catching the Devil stick as it flew upwards, inbetwixt two buildings and just out of reach was another matter...

Absolutely fine!

Echohead Echohead paused. This woman was believable; or at least he believed she believed what she was saying. He flapped his fingers, trying to peel apart the web of subterfuge. "Wait... robots who breed?" Was she a robosexual? Wait... was she a robot too? "You mean as in uuuh-uuuh thingy dirty squelshy breed? Or they just build more copied of themselves?" He really didnt want to think about the mechanics of bio-mechanical sexual breeding. He decided to take a risk, and untied her. "You better not try anything... ah... with me..." he said, red faced. "I warn you! I know karate!" He didn't know karate, but hopefully he could copy the head of someone who did. Wait... I should have done that first....

Notice 18

GM Meanwhile... On Deck... A fire fight had started. Fortunately, given the explosives, not a literal fight with fire. Pyeow. Pyeow-Pyeow! Ratatatatatat! Small arms fire. Flashes of light from the decks, behind the cargo crates. Most of it from the handguns of the thugs and the sailors. A few booms from the shotguns. And the assault rifle fire of the Mercenary. He knew what he was doing-his fire was accurate. Beanpole-the tall, thin thug of Blowfish-caught a bullet and screamed, clutching his guts and collapsing. Nightscale could smell the blood. Then, the Mercenary threw a grenade. Not explosive, gas. Thick lurid purple smoke filled the air, obscuring the deck from the view of both Nightscale and Chimera, and for that matter the sailors and thugs below. Nobody knew what they were firing at, although a few panicked souls still fired off random pot shots, in the hope of getting lucky.

For reference just activating Illusion 11 to create some copies of Luke Its only visual so that might be a problem.

Diamondlight "Light Shennanigans?" Maybe? August could create light, not eliminate it. He could even bend it around his own body-but his own body was different. A body charged up with Daka energy. He couldn't make someone else invisible. As far as he knew. Maybe... if he bust his brain and blood doing it. "Can't hide you. Not exactly..." A copy of Nightscale appeared next to him. Then another, then another. In a moment, Luke was surrounded by a half dozen exact copied of Nightscale. "But maybe some camouflage?" said August. "At least if anyone takes pot shots at you, it won't be you they shoot at. I mean, hopefully. Bit of a gamble, but if I recall, you like the throw of the dice?" It was the best he could do. It certainly loaded the dice in Luke's favour.

Boost 4 (All Mechanical Effects, Feats: Selective, Slow Fade 4 [1 Hour], Flaws: Others Only) [13 PP] “Rev Engine!” (Mechanical, Cybernetic) Applying to Car to move from Speed 5 to Speed 9! (250mph to 5000mph!) although feel free to use the complication to break or burn out or otherwise screw the car over from that boost. Technically also would increase STR of vehicle by +10 (2 Ranks Super STR) and Supermovement 2 to Supermovement 4 (no impair movement) but doubt those will apply. Also if Pete did pick up a handgun Rev will boost that (e.g. Blast 5 to Blast 7) but the same complication would arrise.

Rev "Oh shoot, the Cops! And Bedlam Cops too!" Rev muttered and drummed the steering wheel. "Not ideal. Very far from ideal. Light year from ideal. Maybe a couple of light years from ideal with intergalactic space mines literring the space between ideal and their present situation. Intergalactic space mines. They sound cool." "Buckle up, Bronco, we need some speeeeeeeeeed!" She stuck one of her hands on the dashboard of the car and felt the biomechanical virus stream from fingertips to engine! Burp, whizz, boom! Time to boost the engine! the bumper buckled as the engine sort to grow out of its confines. The wheels screeched and spun, the exhaust flamed and let loose a stream of acidic smoke. "Lets go get em, baby!" She glanced over at Pete. "Didn't you get one of their guns? Pyeow Pyeow-Pyeow! Cops and Robbers? C'mon we could be Bonnie and Clyde!" Of course that was playground antics. Real bullets really killed real people. But Rev didn't want to think about that now. Or ever, come to think of it.

GM The Leprachaun duly followed, back into the "room" the Duke had rented. Inside, it was pretty much as it had been back on Earth. But it's smells were far more vivid. Footsteps sounded like musical drums, and even the rise and fall of chests-breathing-had a sort of whistling melody. The air seemed to shimmer with colour, with every previously dull or faded tone now bright and vibrant. "What the devilly devil is going on!" proclaimed the Duke, shaking himself free from his doze. "I do feel quite invogorated, I do!" he said, taking a deep breath in through his nostrils and wearing a wide grin. "Havent felt this well in a hundred years! Must be the air, or maybe the music!" The air was fresh, and there was a sound in the distance. The sound of some dark opera starting up, full of low strings and sombre, ominous chords. "Ya know bloody well where you are, you toff!" said the Leprachaun, spitting out some green phlegm. It was very green, too. Lurid, even. "And now we have this bloody place come to keep us from leaving. I'd advise you all to stuff your ears. Its the music of this place... it gets to ya!"

Shaking off the Stun ably - So Nightscale is up and has Chimera on his back and explosives on the ship below:D

GM "Key? Dimension? What the hell are you talking about?" asked Summer, eyes widening in utter incredulity. "But..." She sniffed the air. "This place does feel strange... like the smell crawls up your nose. I can practically taste the air... like strawberies and flowers and a vindaloo curry all at the same time..." "Musicland? So what, we played music to get here? How the hell do we get back? Play our songs in reverse?" She gave a look at the Duke. "And is that fat man why we are here?" Meanwhile "If you can get back, ill kiss yer backside till it black from bruises" laughed the Leprachaun. It was not a particularly jocular laugh - it was the kind of laugh that a dirty vase of sour vinegar would give. "But that's the problem, isn't? Cost me a thousand bad fortunes to get back last time, and that cos some damn pixie stumbled in to my dimension with some magic box. Now that's not going to happen again, I'm sure. But as I understand it, if you enter or leave this foul world you do somehow become a portal. So maybe me, maybe you, maybe someone or something can open the door. But..." A series of sharp evil chords ripped through the air like alarm bells. There was the taste of drooling saliva in the air. "But... Musicland doesn't like to let go of its guests. Its got... antibodies, you could call them. And I think they are coming..."

Ill see what Ari has as response to Capt Cosmos query to the burning lady