Supercape

GM Stomp stomp stomp It was a somewhat surreal environment. The dim red emergency lighting, the pitch of the alarms, the sunlight half-streaming through tinted windows. The clang of Jones' metal feet on metal stairs. At the next level, Jones tore open the elevator door with his power - wrenches. He turned to look at Justice. "Looks like you know how to make the most of the deal" he acknowledged. Intruder Alert! Level 3! Warning! Intruder Alert! came an accurate and panicked squark over the intercom. "Suckers!" grunted Jones. "Keep 'em off my back, cape!" he told Justice. Then, he fired a bolt from one of his arm into the elevator shaft. The bolt struck into the metal opposite, leaving a cable between the bolt and Jone's arm. And in the next moment, he was gone - shooting down the shaft on that power-assisted cable.

Cap Cosmos "What, you want to stay in here when the bullets go flying?" said Buddy, rather surprised. "I know its scary, but everything is scary right now. You should be scared!" he said. Even he was scared. Reflex, more than anything. "Its your choice" he said, stepping back a little. "But if I was small enough, I know what I would be doing. Crawl out of here, go get some help, be a hero" he explained. Hell, if it worked well (and it probably wouldn't) they might not need Captain Cosmos at all! "But I don't see any other plan falling from the sky. And time is running out. They will send someone else and I'm probably not going to get so lucky next time..."

GM It was a fair point. A logical, reasonable point. However, angry people were not fair, logical or reasonable. And this went doubly so for Jones. "You go look for evidence. I don't know what it would look like. I'm going to smash things" he said, violently. Then, in a moment of insight and good cheer. "Think of it this way, me shashing things is a great way for clever people like you to get into all the secret labs downstairs!" he said, brightly. "So everyones happy. Well, not Neutron Industries" he added. "Its your lucky day, cape!" he said, cheerily. Well, somehow he managed to be cheery and angry at the same time. There simply was no mistaking Jone's livid rage. Stomp stomp stomp...he lunged down the stairway, about to go out of sight...

Cap Cosmos "Pleased to meet you, Betty" smiled Buddy, tossing aside the rifle. He passed the bulletproof vest to Betty. "Here, you better put that on" It came across as chivalry, but in truth she needed it more than him. "I'm a guy whose lucky to be alive. I thought I was going to die. But I'd rather take a one in ten chance of staying alive than a certainty" he explained. "If it wasn't for you, we would be out their waiting to get shot" He paused, rubbing his chin. "This all seems off to me, Betty. These guys aren't professional. They don't seem to have a coherent plan. There is something more to this than meets the eye..." He cast his eye around the lavatory. "But in any case, we got to get out of this hole...." he added, looking for exits. Maybe a window or ventilation duct - that Betty could scqueeze through!

Origin Story.... Beware the Collapse! It was late into November, 2018, on a surprisingly cool morning with clear skies and browning leaves. Buddy Brand was home for Thankgiving. He didn’t like being back in San Fransisco. Not that he had anything against San Fransisco personally. In fact, if he stood back and considered the city, he found it rather pleasing. But he happened to grow up in San Fransisco, and he didn’t really like thinking about that part of his life. It was bittersweet, if he was being generous. He pushed his father out of his head as he knocked on the door. He was not entirely successful in doing so. Every time he came to see his sister, Violet, he had a little clench in his chest, as if some part of his heart – or perhaps soul – was necrosing. He could never completely clench the fear that his father had somehow managed to persuade Violet to invite him. Violet answered the door with a smile. It never quite matched her severe face, her severe clothing, her severe hair, or her severe eyes. She was smarter than Bernard, more driven too. But she had never quite grasped the art of charm. For all that, she did have a genuine smile on her face. The two siblings shared a smile that had some painful splinters embedded in the love they shared. “Come in” Violet was short on words. Maybe, as a lawyer, she used them up in her job. Buddy thought that she used them with spartan efficiency. She spoke with all dressings and obscuration stripped away. He, on the other hand, spoke slowly and with art, his voice like oil, smoothing over pains and woes. It was no less effective in getting to the truth, but it was a different style. He reassured himself that his father was not at the dinner table, or in the garden, or lurking behind some door. Only when satisfied did he sit down. But Violet, sighing at her brothers nerves that followed the same tired pattern every year, did not sit down. In truth, she was not much of a sitter, but today she was in a rush. “Sorry, Buddy, I have to go. Not long. Job” Brutal efficiency, but Buddy got the meaning, because he got Violet. She was a lawyer, always busy, always stressed, always in a rush. He supressed the urge to protest, for he knew it would serve no function other than to pour fuel on a fire. “Sorry to hear that” he said, acknowledging her circumstance. “I’ll just make myself at home” he said “Don’t sweat it!” “Sure?” she asked, although she knew Buddy was pretty sure. “Sure. I’ll go take a walk, I think. Looks like a great day, and I could do with the exercise. They force feed me Danish every evening in the studio!” “Mph” mumbled Violet, taking a little look at his midriff. Buddy was in pretty good shape, but Violet was a thin as a pencil, and didn’t have enough body fat to fry an egg. Later… Buddy walked through the inclines of the streets that were half remembered. It had been thirty, forty years since he walked them as a child, trying to get away from his father. There was some fondness to those memories, even if they were peppered with black spots he spent a lot of energy not expending energy on. But times change, and they were not the same streets. Just echoes. He was feeling rather tired, his legs sore from the inclines, when it happened. A bolt from the sky. Blue. Or Yellow. Or something else. It was hard to look at. It wobbled. It changed. It seemed to be faint and hyper real and all sorts of other things. And it was moving fast. Almost too late, Buddy realised that whatever it was, it was heading straight for him. And it might have been small (although its maddeningly odd realness seemed to make even that estimation uncertain), but anything travelling at that speed would kill him. And so, ignoring his tired legs, he ran and dove. A fraction of a second later, something hit the pavement. And hit it hard. He could feel the impact through the road, and the sound of tinkling glass from the nearby homes. He found himself stunned. Something was pressing on him, from all directions. A sense of himself that both expanded and compressed. It was an unpleasant sensation that unravelled his brain. He felt himself slipping into lunacy. Like a moth to a flame, he turned around to assess the damage. To himself, none. At least, not physically. His legs still seemed to be there, and seemed to work. But on the ground, he saw himself. This was not a reflection. He saw a perfect copy of himself, only dressed in some stylish costume, crumpled up, fading. “Beware….” Buddy shook himself back to intention. What was he seeing? What was he hearing? Was this mad reflection of himself talking to him? It appeared he was. The crumpled figure looked directly at Buddy. “…the collapse?” What the hell did that mean? Alas, Buddy could not ask for clarification. His doppelganger was dying. And now, he was dead. But even more strange, as the figure closed his eyes a final time, as he drew his final breath, he vanished. Not even dust. Simply disappeared. And a wobbling field of hyperdimensional energy that Buddy couldn’t understand. Even looking at it sent his mind into psychosis, hearing piping flutes from idiot gods and spinning dervishes at the centre of infinite nothingness. And then, the energy hit him. It hit him hard, sending tingles down every nerve, and flinging his body across the street. He landed in a mess. But he was still alive, to the amazement of the onlookers who had stopped walking, and stopped their cars, in amazement. “I’m okay! I’m okay! Just a meteor…or something!” he gasped, his spinal cord doing the work his brain could not. His media instinct kicked in like a reflex. Later…. He had found himself walking home, shrugging off offers for help or aid. He felt like he was in a daze, like this was not happening. He heard whispers, frightening whispers. People talking about him, talking at him. Why where they looking at him that way? What did that movement mean? That look in the eye? Was what that woman wearing a green scarf? Why was that man wearing that hat? There was meaning in everything, everything was salient. And not in a good way. He collapsed into Violet’s house, feeling like the world was going to collapse into his skull. Maybe that was what the warning was. He heard whispers in his head. That he was evil, that they would burn him. He felt the CIA beam messages into the implanted microchip in his head. How had they done that? He felt so sure they had. So certain that he contemplated, for one awful moment, microwaving his head to fry the chip. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to write a note to Violet, saying his was not feeling well. He noticed his handwriting was shaky. Someone was obviously transmitting nerve signals into his hand to make it shake. The journey back to Freedom City was all night, fuelled on caffeine. He didn’t dare fly. He constantly checked his mirrors, certain that someone was following him. Hell, he had made enough enemies that someone surely wanted to wipe him out. He had never like guns, but he really wished he was had a pistol in the glove compartment. He didn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t. Even when he covered the radio in tin foil, he could still feel the radio waves in his skull. By the morning, he was a wreck. Unwashed, unshaven, with eyes bloodshot. He phoned the only person he could think of. Doctor Linda LaBelle. By the time she arrived, he was no better. And no worse. The exhaustion was doubled, however. He was as paranoid as before, but somehow, the pure fatigue of his condition had robbed him of his will to argue. And Dr LaBelle was somebody he trusted. By that afternoon, he was in an MRI scanner, heavily sedated. At least that was some relief. He found himself in her office, half asleep from fatigue and medication, but with the voices at least muted, if not gone. “This is…extraordinary….” She said. Linda LaBelle was a very clever doctor indeed. Acute onset psychosis, symptomatically. But mental illness did not appear overnight. And some of Buddy’s story checked out. The results of his scan, and his blood work, was…impossible. He should be dead. But he was very much alive. “Your cellular integrity is off the charts. No oxygen in your blood stream, but you appear not to need it any more. Or glucose” she explained. “Whatever happened to you…it doesn’t seem to have hurt you. Physically, at least. How are you feeling?” “Better” said Buddy. This was true. The voice in his head telling him Linda was trying to poison him was certainly much quieter. “Good. I’m guessing you will need those medications for a week at least. But this is outside my experience. It’s outside ordinary medicine. Maybe outside extraordinary medicine Maybe I should call W.E.S.T…” she pondered. “No. NO!” said Buddy, fear cutting through his sedation. “I don’t want anyone to know. I want to keep my life” “I…don’t think you will ever be quite the same” said Dr LaBelle, gently. “I…know…” conceded Buddy, lying back in his chair, pressing his temples. “Whatever happened to me, I can feel it. And that’s not me getting confused, this feels real. Very real. Last night…you wouldn’t believe the things I found out…” “Try me” “I’m strong enough to bend steel. And I can fly” answered Buddy, almost coyly. “…” “I said you wouldn’t believe me….” “Actually, I do” replied Doctor LaBelle. “It…fits. The energy you absorbed, contained with every cell and mitochondria in your body” she said, contemplating the ramifications. “I’m a damn Superhero!” grunted Buddy. He never wanted to be one, but with this energy in his every fibre, it was the truth. Linda LaBelle nodded. “What are you going to do then?” she asked him. It had crossed Buddy’s mind, but only briefly. “Whoever…whatever….that version of me was, I guess I’ll take a leaf out of his…or my….book” he said. “Put on his cape. Take his name. Try to use his power best I can” “His name?” “He never said it” replied Buddy, smiling the first time in a long couple of days. “But I heard it, in my head. Captain Cosmos!”

After a good start, one or two hiccups in threads using WEST, the cheat way to get plot hooks! Its still active, but I fancy doing (and have space for) another thread as GM. Super science heroes may need to investigate some jurassic chronal flux, or cancerous dimensional lensing. Maybe with some hyperzero radiation thrown in! Etc Etc. Interest?

Thanks! As Tsunami has the benefit of stealth and positioning, combined with selective, that will hit the lot of them! That will hit the minions, but not the Hornet himself. It is also a toughness save they cannot make, so they are all knocked out / washed up! Feel free to post that IC @Thevshi and then Ill respond with the Hornet.

GM Lo, and behold! Fungus was now stone. The stone was what fungus was. The mushroom men had turned into rather elegant statues, staggering this way and that way like the blind idiots they were. Two of them toppled over, the winds of change having transmuted them whilst they leant too far this way or that. And still the ceiling started to bulge down, the walls bulged inwards, and the smell of sickly fungation filled the air. "They are just...antibodies...." explained the Fun Guy, sitting in his fungal chair, pulling out imaginary hair from his mottled scalp. He didn't quite look sane. In fact, he looked quite the opposite of sane. He looked at the crazy crew of pixies and wizards in front of him. "This mountain wants nothing more than to expand through the universe. And whilst it has the intelligence of a toad, it has the strength to do so!" he said, clearly able to offer some mangled insights despite his crazed look. "You!" he pointed at Oz. "Are you are a wizard? Can you get us out? The way I got in?"

OK! The winds of change. They actually cant meat that save (Reflex +0), so all turned to stone! Combat over. Crisis not!

GM The red haired policeman who seemed to be leading the chaos scratched his head. "Sheesh. I'm missing mny niece's birthday for this?" He was bitter about his luck, and frightened about his situation. The Knights of Anarchy jeered. Fascimile had been the hero of the joust, which gave him much sway, but his tone was cashing serious cheques with that goodwill. One or two of them even spat at him. just not too close. But for now, the tense standoff held. If nothing else, the half-collapsed bank didn't look like it could offer much but a piece of falling masonry causing severe cranial injury. "We got reports of another explosion" said the red haired cop. "Neutron Industries. Except we are so caught up in this one, we are stretched super thin..."

ENough for an easy hit! Tough: 1d20+11 22 giving it another bruise! Do you wish to post that punch?

GM The pixie swam through the air to the Mushroom man who staggered straight into it. A sort of accidental head but, if you will. The pixie dust evaporated and the Mushroom man staggered back. The smell of cooking mushrooms filled the air again. If the Mushroom man had been a man, he would have surely been knocked out from the collision. But, lamentably, the mushroom mas more mushroom than man. He had no brain. So, whilst the sluggish fungal intelligence staggered, he remained upright! Meanwhile, there was a feeling of constriction. The walls growing closer. The ceiling lowering, and the floor rising. "Oh no!" gasped the Fun Guy, clawing at his deranged face!

The Mushroom men, being fungus, are immune to critical hits! On the flip side, thats a tough toughness save to beat! Tough Save: 1d20+7 27 but, lamentably, it is but singed! Oz is up!

GM Jones spun round. Not fast, for he was not a fast man. He seemed unfamiliar with the power armor he was wearing - and one could hardly blame him given its cobbled-together nature. He hadn't planned on fighting a cape. But, it seemed he hadn't planned on much at all. "Work together? What do you mean?" He was just about keeping his fury in check, but it was a hard thing. His teeth were gritted so hard together one could almost hear the enamel shatter. He was red faced, and not from exertion, but anger. "What are you going to help me with? Taking down this place? I think you just want to try and do something proper. You think talking helps. Talk, talk, talk....." His wrench - like armoured hand mimiced a yapping mouth. "That's it, right? You want to talk your way out of this? That's not going to work...."

GM As the race between Sir Prize and Chromium headed northwards towards the wreckage of Neutron Laboratories, Freedom City services scrambled to cope with the one-two punch. It had been an effective plan. The chaos of the first round of explosions had snarled the streets up, and the fire and ambulance services were caught up - reaching the last explosion, at Neutron Laboratories would be a sluggish process. The police had scrambled too, but faced the same problem. The two cops who had been observing the Knight of Anarchy were first on the scene. "What happened?" they said to Facimile. They both looked rather out of their depth. It did not help have a drunk crowd of anarchists jeering and jostling around the bank, some of them still desciding whether to try their luck sifting through the rubble for cash. "Welcome to hell" muttered one of the cops, not without justification. "Everyones snarled up responding. Its chaos!"

An excellent point, and one I had not considered! I guess any difficult manuevers would be a straight DEX roll (albeit much easier than a driving roll)? In any case, that roll not needed and just speeding along is unproblematic!

Cap Cosmos "Bullets? Those lead things that fly really fast and are great at kiling people?" replied Buddy, rubbing his knuckles. they weren't hurt, of course, but he had to keep up appearances. "Got you some cover, and this kunckle head got distracted" He shrugged his shoulders and gave a friendly smile. "Hey, it seemed a good idea at the time. Truth is, I'm pretty scared. I thought I was going to die. Maybe I wasn't thinking straight!" He started searching the gunman. "Buddy Brand" he added, by way of introducing himself. "And you are?"

Ok, time for action! Move action: well, with Flight 5 he can whip across the room pretty fast! Its subtle to, so no massive wooshing noises! Then, accurate attack, taking 10 (hoping this guy is a minion?) for a 17 result, and a DC 28 Tough save?

Cap Cosmos Well, that certainly put his mind to rest. She was acting. And perhaps not particularly well. Now, this did put Buddy in a difficult position. But, hey, difficult positions were fun! Or so he told himself. He took a breath in, and steeled himself for bullets. Even high velocity rounds would do little more than sting and leave a nasty bruise, thanks to his resilient form, but they were not nice. He took a rough hold of the woman (no time for niceties in this situation!) and threw her into the bathtub. "Get down!" he yelled at her. Hoping she wasn't going to risk looking. He turned to the gunman, and sucked up the bullets. In the blink of an eye, he whipped towards him and threw a mighty punch!

Edited - TA Sgt Shark 17 PP to Spend, Spending 14 PP 0 PP: Could you correct his Will save to +8 (+1 Wis, +7) this is spent and accounted for correctly, its just that on the sheet it ads up to +6! 0 PP: Could you change initiative to +15 (see feats below) 4 PP Skills (16 Skill Ranks) Add +2 to intimidate to make a total of Intimidate 16 (+18) Add +2 to tactics to make a total of Knowledge [Tactics] 16 (+18) Add 4 Ranks of Pilot to make Pilot 4 (+6) Add 4 Ranks of Stealth to make Stealth 16 (+19) Add 4 Ranks of Swim to make Swim 12 (+22) Could you annotate Climb, Drive, Medicine, Pilot with "SM" to note skill mastery. 8 PP Feats Could you add Elusive Target Evasion 2 Improved Aim Another Rank of Improved Initiative to Make Improved Initiative 3 Instant Up Set Up Skill Mastery (Climb, Drive, Medicine, Pilot) 2 PP Powers 1 PP add Radiation immunity to Immunity to make Immunity 4 (Cold, High Pressure, Radiation, Suffocation [drowning) [4 PP] 1 PP add Feature (Iron Stomach) [1 PP] Thank you! EDIT: Added in March 3 PP reward for clarity (now spending 14 PP, 17 available, this should bring him to 220/223 PP total)

Thanks @Avenger Assembled! I am not sure DIamondlights PP got editted into his sheet? I had him at 234PP prior to the Feb awards?

GM Jones grunted. "I'm not attacking random people! I'm attacking scum!" He reached the turn of the corridor by the stairs and nearly collided with a panicking security guard. The taser bolt clinked against his armor, and a second later, he swatted the guard away with a power-assisted arm. The guard fell unconscious. "Scum!" concluded Jones. He was not a man for complexity of action, or rationality of thought. He was a man driven by righteous fury and he would not be dissuaded otherwise. Perhaps the flow of the river might be diverted, but one could not stop the river from flowing. "If they build somewhere else, I'll smash that too!" Smashing, it seemed, was on the agenda, and would not be taken off. Ignoring Justice, he stomped his metal feet down the next flight of stairs.

Cap Cosmos Buddy had the growing feeling that there was more to this mess than met the eye. This was a strange, sloppy hostage situation and he didn't buy it. He wished he had researched the whole affair more before accepting the invite. How marvellous retrospect was. He had planned to punch out the gunman whilst the woman was ejecting her stomach. But he was not entirely sure she was actually ill, or, for that matter, drunk. She looked rather like a spy. He decided to hold off. Not for long. Maybe a second, maybe a minute. But no longer. He wanted to see what this woman would do. He held her gently, mainly to make sure she didn't faint and crack her head open. And he eyed that beautiful bath tub. It was cover if needed - but also he quite fancied ripping it from the floor and throwing it at the gunman!

Notice: 1d20+6 18

Cap Cosmos "Sure, happy to help. Just don't shoot! I'm allergic to bullets!" said Buddy, warm heartedly. Whether it helped or not, he had a tendency to make asine quips every know and again. He gently helped the woman up, making sure she didn't fall. "Take it easy ma'am. We will be fine, just fine" he said, although he had to concede the evidence pointed to uncertainty on this matter. Still, a little bit of unreasonable optimism didn't do any harm, he figured. He lead her into the restroom, inquiring about her symptoms on the way. "Don't throw up on my shoes!" he joked as he walked with her. He was waiting for a moment alone with the Gunman following them. Ready to sock him one!