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MisterShoebox

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Freedom City Guidebook

Freedom City PBP: A How-To Guide

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  1. MisterShoebox
    Phantasmo waved her off. "Ahhh, I made a deal with the Devil - or rather, A devil - and had to face the consequences. My own fault, really." He smiles at Coiled Lightning. "Well, my REAL real name's Henry. Harry's just a nickname, duckie. And thanks - Scaring people who aren't total sh*ts is bad for the legitimate work and all that. He hmmms and nods. "If the boy knows what he's doing, he might. I can't imagine those matchbook bastards sticking around long if they know we're here, though. Still, nothing to do now but wait and see, I suppose." He ports away and comes back a few minutes later carrying another hot dog, which he begins eating with gusto. "Bloody brilliant hot dogs around here, you know. And bloody brilliant buggers who don't mind selling to members of the undead community. Lovely."
  2. MisterShoebox
    Phantasmo raised what would have been his eyebrow. "You sure that's a wise choice, duckie?" he asked the younger hero. "If it drove this chap 'round the bend..." He shrugged and 'ported close to the Knight. "Ah, well - I'm sure you know what you're doing, old boy. That pigsticker of yours would have reacted if you didn't...uh...right?" He asked cautiously, eying the sword. "It's...you know, magical and dedicated to protecting the weak as you are, right?"
  3. MisterShoebox
    "Ahhh, I'm a son of Londontown, duckie!" the zombie waved his hand in a cavalier manner. "Lived in Freedom City...hmmm, a while now. '92, I believe...maybe 93. A few months after I woke up with a mouthful of grave dirt and a worm in my ear. Dug myself out, hopped a boat, moved in with the local homeless lads...haven't done the "Super Hero" thing long, though." He shrugs. "But the lads said - "Harry, you should try it...you've got powers, and you've got the oddness." He suddenly realized what he said, and shrugged. "Whoops. There's the line, isn't it? Just revealed my first name." He held out his hand. "Might as well reveal my last one, too. Harry Trent - Also known as Phantasmo." He grinned. "Not like I have a real identity to keep, issit?"
  4. MisterShoebox
    Phantasmo paced nervously, anxious at not DOING anything...but well-aware that his more....flashy personality would be of no help to the recon that the young man was attempting. Still, though, he wished he could do SOMETHING...He turned to his lightning-whip-wielding compatriot and whispered, "So! Been in freedom city long, duckie?" If only to break the silence that he had found quite uncomfortable. The zombie magician had conjured a pair of his playing card projectiles in case things got hairy, but he was still impatient.
  5. MisterShoebox
    It's all good, Goosey. *HUgs*.
  6. MisterShoebox
    Phantasmo felt like he had been quiet for a while, so piped up as he saw his young friend poke the necklace. "Steady on, BK-me-lad - Remember the unpleasantness with the viking ghosts?" He shuddered theatrically. "Fun to whup on, duckie, but a lot of it resulted in poking stuff that should not be poked, you know." He 'ports over to Brovver Boy's unconcious form and nudged it with his foot, being a total hypocrite. "...Seems this chap's out cold, though."
  7. MisterShoebox
    Phantasmo patted Seven on the shoulder - it wasn't as gross as it could be, as his silk glove covered his zombie hand. It felt like a baseball mitt, actually. "Indeed, duckie! Thank God for small favors!" He rubbed his chin and thought. "...You know, Seven-me-dear, a thought occurs to old Phantasmo. I've been considering many a possibility to the dastardly bastards inciting the the little shi-er,heroes into tantrums and acting all - " He twirled his finger next to his head in a "Cuckoo" gesture. "Are there any villains out there with illusion-based powers, not just mind control or shape-shifting? Take it from a performer, duckie, a good special effect can make all the difference." He conjured up a small coin and rotated it around his fingers as he thought. "Alternatively, and this is a bit of a stretch but I'm still going to ask - is it possible that the poor young heroes are seeing scenes from alternate realities where the heroes actually ARE villainous monsters?" The zombie started to pace, feeling antsy. "A few months back, I helped out Fast Forward decipher a diary that I THINK mentioned alternate realities. D'you think it'd be worth a peep to see if there's anything useful in it?" he asked Seven.
  8. MisterShoebox
    ​Phantasmo the UNLIVING, having come back from getting himself a hot dog (Fight was over, he was peckish and had a dollar.) CHewing his treat, he 'ported up to where Skaere was standing. He wiped his hand on his pants before holding out his hand. "All right, miss? Sorry we weren't properly introduced, duckie - Phantasmo...the UNLIVING, at your service. Tell your friends - I do parties!" He snapped the fingers of his outstretched hand and a business card appeared, which he offered to the wolf woman. "RIght! Now then - are you smelling anything unusual aside from yours truly?" He coughs, then does his version of an awkward blink; the glowing lights in his empty sockets dimmed briefly before lighting up again. "...I'm trying to stand down wind so I don't interfere with that sniffer of yours...and I'm not that bad at detective work myself, you know. Anything old Phantasmo can do to help?" It was remarkable how much the zombie was able to talk - obviously getting him to shut up would be a bit of a task.
  9. MisterShoebox
    Phantasmo, who smelled a little like rotting shoe leather - one of his few flaws, or one of the few he'd actually acknowledge - shook his head. "Not even an errant bit of pixie dust, duckie." he told Seven. He was leaning against a wall, rotating his usual "Thought coin"; the small coin he rotated around his fingers whenever he thought. "But! That doesn't necessarily mean there wasn't any hoo-doo or dark magic nonsense floating around, just that all residue had faded. S'like...weeeell, I don't have a good comparison, but you know what I mean." He stroked his beard and hmm'ed. "On another note, wish I had thought to scoop up some of the fake blood or whatever was spread around the scene. You could have used your...I don't know...Absolutely Wizard Detective Computer - assuming you have one of those - or something to find out who specialized in ,making it."
  10. MisterShoebox
    Phantasmo spotted the man fleeing the scene and 'ported within shooting range. "COME ON, DON'T LEAVE YET! THE CURTAIN HAS YET TO FALL! EEEEYYYAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!" he boomed. The zombie conjured up one of his cards and tossed it expertly, aiming for the man's belt. Said belt was severed!...but alas, the man was now holding up his pants with one hand while running. Phantasmo looked bemused and rubbed his chin. "...Odd. Usually the removal of one's belt causes at least a bit of hesitation...determined bugger, I must admit."
  11. MisterShoebox
    Yup. Okay, here goes for Trip Check... 1d20+6=10...dangit. But does he still lose his pants? ...I hope not, in hind(heh)sight - that'd make things awkward.
  12. MisterShoebox
    Hmmmm....weeeeeelll...this is a toughie. I've never tried Hypnosis, but...you know what, I'll just stick to the tried and true "CARD TO THE...Belt, because these things are sharp and I don't want to really hurt the guy." Movement is Teleport a few feet away from him, action is throwing a card at his belt, hopefully causing him to...uh, trip...because you know. Nothing to hold his pants up. 1d20 10=23.
  13. MisterShoebox
    ​Phantasmo listened to the conversation, desperately wishing he had some popped corn. Note to self, bring popcorn next time, he mused to himself - wait a tick. He looked over to Racer. "Oi. Pardon me, duckie - did you just say that CHO told you about this?" He glanced over at Cho. "Young-lady-me-Cho - what's the last thing you remember before we found you in the middle of the fake massacre and the remains of that unfortunate receptionist?" He conjured up a small coin and rotated it around his fingers in thought. Clink-clink-clink-clink-clink! "...Riiiiight...okay..." The zombie mused to himself as he thought. "Question: Are there any rogues in your rogue's gallery that have both psychic powers AND can turn invisible?" he asked Racer and Cho. "Or is a shapeshifter?"
  14. MisterShoebox
    Phantasmo - And Two More Shall Take It's Place American Vikings Organized Crimes
  15. MisterShoebox
    ​Phantasmo did his version of a blink. "Um...I beg your pardon?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck in confusion. "I'm just trying to be friendly, duckie, not "Suppressive." He still had his hand out. "So...what do we say, bygones? No hard feelings, etcetera?" He grinned hopefully. "We're going to be colleagues - might as well be mates, too, eh? It's a bloody fact." He snapped his fingers and conjured a small buisness card. "Tell your friends, dearie - I do birthday parties." He 'ported back to Cho's side and leaned against a wall, waiting for everyone to continue...then what the young woman had said finally caught up to him. "Wait a minute, duckie - someone was showing you something like that and you were taking it at face value?"
  16. MisterShoebox
    Dazed, but not severely wounded, Phantasmo got up and dusted himself off, politely refuting the attempts of the police officers to see if he was okay. "Arsehole," he muttered in regards to his opinion on Bovver Boy. Having had enough, he 'ported to where Bovver boy was located - yup, the skinhead still acting like a right c**t, true enough - and conjured a razor-sharp playing card. "TRY THIS ON FOR SIZE, DUCKIE!" the zombie yelled as he flicked the card with unerring accuracy at one of Bovver Boy's raised hands.
  17. MisterShoebox
    Phantasmo had frozen when the shadows started attacking, having been of the...well, the place he was before rising as the dashingly-dressed undead do-gooder of daring deeds. He wasn't going to admit that, though...thank God the others had handled it quickly. He tensed up, took a step back, and conjured a razor-sharp playing card when Racer took on her demonic form, but then relaxed when she was humanoid again. "Nice trick with the transforming, duckie! No hard feelings, then?" He flicked his wrist and the card vanished into thin air - or rather, back into the pocket dimension where he summoned his little parlor tricks from, but tomato, tomato. "Before we continue, mind filling us in as to why you were going all...rharrg?" he mimed a monster. He 'ported over to the young Racer and held out his hand. "Bollocks, how rude of me - Phantasmo...THE UNLIVING, at your service. Hope you won't mind limiting that demonic sh*t when I'm around, duckie." He shuddered a bit. "Nothing against a little showmanship, just you don't need to go all out, eh?"
  18. MisterShoebox
    Gaaah! Sorrysorrysorry for late posting! I hate to resort to a potentially lethal option, but I think a good old razor-sharp playing card would be appropriate here. Move: Move within range of Bovver Boy: Action: Attack with Playing Card. 1d20 10=17
  19. MisterShoebox
    ​Phantasmo grinned as he spotted the fleeing man that Wildcat had attempted to clobber. "Dear me, duckie!" he said conversationally to the younger hero as he approached him. "Wouldn't want to be hit by you, eh? That was quite a punch! Anyway, hope you don't mind if I intervene, mate - just can't let a good chase go unchased!" With that, the zombie 'ported again so he was in front of the fleeing thug. "DON'T LEAVE NOW, THE SHOW'S JUST STARTED!" He crowed as he gave a flourish of a sleeve. A multi-colored stream of scarves shot out from his sleeves and wrapped themselves around the man. The magical zombie laughed and pulled him closer, so they were face-to-face. "BOO!" Corny, yeah, but he thought it was hilarious.
  20. MisterShoebox
    Dooooh, darn..Curse your baddie-bashing effectiveness, for Phantasmo had nothing to do!....Ahh, well, maybe he saw that they had the situation well-in-hand and bought a hot dog to observe this little fight.
  21. MisterShoebox
    Dangit. Ah, well, c'est la vie.
  22. MisterShoebox
    Hmmmm...okey dokey, time to try to ensnare a fleeing thug AND scare the pants off him at the same time. Gonna 'port behind one of the fleeing thugs and try to snare him up with the "Scarves" trick. Here goes! 1d20 10=21
  23. MisterShoebox
    HP spent for re-roll - 1d20+8=11 - not as bad, I guess...still gonna hurt, though.
  24. MisterShoebox
    I would...hmmm...Do you think that the murder of the poor woman was an accident, and someone made it look like a massacre to cover their tracks and throw suspicion on someone else? I can easily see someone accidentally stabbing her, panicking, setting up the scene... ... Okay, now that I say it out loud it doesn't make much sense, but I'm going by Super Hero Universe Logic.
  25. MisterShoebox
    1d20+3=23...w00t!
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