R. Bluefish

"Huh." Buffy tilted her head as she scrutinized him, as if she would be able to see his powers if she squinted hard enough. "Super-hearing? That seems...pretty useful, actually. I can see why you went into the line of work that you did. Everybody's powers suit them to something different. You have super-hearing, you become a reporter. You have super-strength, you become a superhero. You're the embodiment of anthropomorphized evil, go into politics. But don't worry," she grinned, "your secret's safe with me, if mine's safe with you. It'd be pretty rich for me to rat out someone's powers. "Now. Tin-hat, huh?" Buffy considered this, draining the rest of her energy drink. "Sounds like a very mentally stable fellow." Sounds like a Mad Max sidekick. "You say he lives in the sewers? Any idea which part?" Delving into the stinking sewer tunnels in search of some tinfoil-hat-wearing weirdo wasn't her idea of a good time, but she had a feeling that the prospect of having a good time kinda went out the window when the poison gas entered the equation.

"Hey, I live to serve," said Buffy wryly. She blurred across the kitchen, and when she stilled, a pot of coffee was percolating merrily on the counter. "Forget foiling villains and pulling kittens out of burning buildings - brewing coffee is my real contribution to society." She pulled up a stool and sat beside the bed, resting her arms on her knees. "So, recap for those of us who spent the last few hours in a gas-induced coma. The most information I've been able to glean about what Neutron's after is...well, 'radioactive sewer zombie.' Which isn't the most helpful tidbit in the world, but hey, it's still a lot more than we had before." She continued, ticking the items off on her fingers. "Let's see. Apparently the bad guys sent a team after the...zombie, and only one of them came back. Gassy Man was indeed sent after you to keep you from spilling the beans - and hey, his orders were to capture, not kill, so things are looking up for you. At least," she said, pausing thoughtfully, "I think that's what he said. You gotta understand, he was using a lot of double negatives. "After he kidnapped you," she said, rising to pace around the room, "I tailed him and found where he was holed up. Thrilling heroics ensued and I rescued you. Mainly from some creepy-ass doctor-looking guy who was about to inject you with something. I, uh, think I kinda pissed off the Gas Man, what with lying right to his face and all - but I mean, I couldn't just leave you there. So then, once I had you, I just ran you back here. I run pretty fast." Completing her circuit of the room, she threw herself back down on the stool. "So now, we need to figure out our next course of action. Although," she hesitated, "maybe saying 'we' is a bit presumptuous. You already got gassed and kidnapped over this - you should probably get yourself somewhere safe while you still can. I'll be able to handle things just fine from here on out. Not my first rodeo." It's one of my first rodeos, but I'm trying to instill confidence here.

Hey, she still rolled better than Sam! Plus we've got a surprise round anyway, so go ahead and act.

Buffy half-sat up on the couch, brushing one hand over her exhausted eyes. "Well, to answer those questions in no particular order," she said, "My name's...well, I go by Echo, but at this point I think you can just call me Buffy. You got slipped the ol' respiratory mickey by the Gassy Man, and took a bad face plant. I rescued you and brought you back here." She rose, biting back a groan as she did so, still dressed in her costume minus the mask. "Welcome," she said, spreading her arms with tired theatricality, "to the...hmm...let's call it the Echo Chamber. Not much of a headquarters, I know, but I swear there's an entire hangar hidden behind the fridge there." She walked over to the indicated fridge and pulled it open, taking out a can of high-caffeine energy drink. "Want one? I know I could certainly use a bit of a jump." She popped the top and took a long drink. "I think we should be safe here, at least for a little while. We can't rule out the idea of Gassy Man tracking us here," although hey, he believed my BS, how smart can he be, "so we can't stay here forever. But right now, we may have a minute to actually talk about our...situation. Our nuclear-sewer-zombie situation."

Let's see. On the topic of the Gas Man tracking Echo, my inclination is to leave that up to your judgement as GM. While I'd of course prefer avoiding Echo's secret identity being revealed to all and sundry, it being potentially endangered by a personal nemesis or two is fair game for the genre. So yeah - I'll actually defer to whatever you would consider the most natural-and-or-interesting consequences for Echo's actions. As for Jack, Echo's effectively already revealing her secret identity by taking him back to her apartment and removing her mask. Since he's already seen her use her powers while in her civilian identity - while wearing a nametag, no less - she's decided that trying to keep her identity secret from him is basically a lost cause. So yeah, I'm fine with him knowing her identity - and sticking around as a contact - from here on out.

Heh, glad to hear it! I'm here all week, folks. (Also - man, Gretchen certainly knows how to make herself the center of attention, doesn't she?) Right, given her little "display," I'd say we've earned a surprise round! Let's have initiative from Sam and Gretch. Starlight's Initiative: 1d20+6 8

Gretchen's...display certainly had the desired effect. As one, the vampires exploded from their seats, backing away from the apparently-possessed young woman. The one who had left to fetch her water appeared in the doorway - the bottle fell from her hand and burst open on the floor. "What is this?" she spat - not at Gretchen, but at Card. "Look at it! It's tainted! You were going to feed us tainted blood, you fool!" Card opened his mouth as if to protest, but whatever he said was drowned out by the sound of the wall suddenly exploding. A six-foot hole was been blasted in the side of the building, a brilliant light shining through, so bright it cast the entire scene in unearthly shades of white. Before the rubble had even hit the floor, Starlight was inside, landing in a crouch. "Okay, fun's over," she snapped, rising to stand erect, both hands curled into fists. "Now get the #$@& away from my friend."

That sounds like a potentially interesting idea for a complication - let me think on that some. First off, though, Echo needs to rest off this Exhausted condition. Should I make the Con checks hour-by-hour, make them all at once, or just assume she gets rid of it? Because I don't know if there's a risk of interruptions or not...

There was a moment of hard impact as the boards smashed against Echo's form, and then she was out. Air rushed past her as she fell, then her legs buckled as they hit the asphalt. She was up and running in an instant, the city stretching and blurring around her as she accelerated past the point of human capability. As she ran, she pushed off from the ground, sailing upwards to run along the rooftops. She didn't feel like getting smeared across someone's windshield today. But where to take him? She didn't love the idea of taking him to her apartment. She had an identity to protect, and rule number one of that was...well, don't reveal your identity. On the other hand...who was she kidding? He'd already seen her without her mask. Hell, he knew where she worked. She had been wearing a nametag. Screw it. They needed somewhere to lay low, and her home was unfortunately as good a place as any. She changed direction, the world rushing past under her feet, Jack an unconscious burden on her shoulders. In Buffy Stein's apartment building, an oddly shaped blur of motion flickered in the entrance, up the stairs, and through the halls, before vanishing into one of the doors. Inside, Buffy stumbled to a halt, wheezing for breath. I hate gas. With labored movements, she laid Jack down on the bed, then just managed to pull off her mask and wig before collapsing on the couch in a semiconscious heap.

There we go, IC post. Sorry for the delay.

Echo dropped into a silent crouch, weighing her options. This complicated matters. She had been planning to just get in, grab Jack, and beat feet. But the presence of Mumbles McLabcoat down there made it a different situation. From the sound of it, he might know something about the dimensional-sewer-zombie-thing, and at this point, she needed every kernel of information she could get. Nabbing him as well and asking him a few pertinent questions might make her job a lot easier in the long run. But on the other hand, she was hardly in any shape for a fight. The Gas Man was down there too, and he'd already beaten her once. Not to mention his goons, and for all she knew Mumbles could shoot lightning out of his nostrils or something. Rescuing Jack, she could do. Anything more than that was getting into pretty risky territory. She shook her head. No. In her barely-conscious state, she didn't have the luxury of straying from the objective. Trying to get all fancy might help her long-term, but that wouldn't do her any good if she got captured - or killed - short-term. Stick to the plan, Stein. You'll probably have a hard enough time doing that already. Echo took a deep breath, steeling herself - then, with a whumph, she was cartwheeling through the air above the bed where Longwheel lay. "Hey there, Gassy Man!" One of her hands shot out, snagging Jack by the shirt. "One thing I forgot to tell you back there - I'm a massive liar!" She landed on her feet on the other side of the bed, smoothly swining Jack up to rest across her shoulders. "Comes with the territory, really." No sooner did her feet touch the floor than her very form seemed to stretch and blur, as if she was a recording being played at a different speed than the rest of the world. Accelerating to super-speed as she moved, she leaped forward towards the boarded-up window. Would be nice if I had time to open it. This was probably going to hurt, but what else was new?

Cool. Okay, another question: could Echo 'port down, grab Jack, then use her Quickness/Speed/Enhanced Strength to just smash through one of the boarded-up windows and make good her escape? Thought I'd ask first, since I'm not sure how you'd want to handle that.

Echo looked at the door they'd come through. "Using the van to sneak in sounds like a laugh, at least. No one in history has ever done anything that clever." She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. "'Course, there is the matter of the tires. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Anybody know where we could find an air compressor? Reinflating tires isn't one of my powers." She glanced at the two of them. "If we don't feel like getting fancy like that, we could always just get in the old fashioned way. Which is, in this case, teleportation. Neither of you look like the hefty type, so I should be able to whumph you all over the place. Unless one of you weighs more than, say, two bills or so." And thankfully, it looked like she had gotten a couple of the more svelte heroes in FC. "If we want, I could also just 'port us inside on the sly. One at a time, naturally."

So, Jack's just lying on a bed right now, correct? Echo can just 'port in and grab him?

Echo watched the guards for a moment, then backed quietly away from the edge of the roof. Even in her exhausted state she could probably take them, but it might make too much noise. And who knew, she might get unlucky and wind up receiving a bullet through the brainpan. Which would put something of a crimp in her rescue efforts. That meant it was time to try to find an alternate means of ingress. She was in luck there, at least. The building looked as if it might as well have been built out of duct tape and straws - if the duct tape had lost its stickiness. Moving to a different part of the roof, she leaned over the edge to inspect the walls. There were cracks you could practically drive a truck through. Well, not a truck - but a skinny superheroine could theoretically fit through if she hadn't been hitting the cheeseburgers too hard lately. Of course, a skinny superheroine who wasn't subject to the laws of physics could eat all the cheeseburgers she wanted. With another muffled whumph, she was inside, without bothering to go through the rigamarole of crossing the intervening space. She immediately drew back to press herself against the wall she had come through, looking around hastily to gather in her new surroundings.

She'll take 10 on that one as well (hey, it's working out so far), for a 25.

Rav, if you'd rather that the Stranger's contact information or gameplan remain mysterious for the time being, you only need to say so here and we'll move on.

Hmm. Can she see through the cracks (or possibly the windows) into the interior of the building? If so, she'll just teleport through. Forgot I had superpowers for a minute there.

So, before I start jacking anyone in the face - are the two guards watching the only visible entrance to the building? (Also, sorry for the slower rate of posting! My schedule's gone a bit weird.)

Echo was doubled over on the rooftop across from the building, clutching her side and wheezing for breath. Seriously, don't get gassed again. When she was fresh, a jog like that would have been nothing but a little bracing exercise. Instead, she felt like she wanted to just lay down and sleep for about three weeks. Her finest moment, this was not. She limped to the edge of the roof and, with a sigh, crouched down, producing a pair of compact binoculars from her utility belt. She surveyed the building cautiously, also using this opportunity to try to catch a breather. Okay. Two obvious goons out front. She paused just long enough to tsk under her breath. Amateurs. They're way too clean to actually be homeless. She moved the binoculars to look at the entrance the Gas Man had driven in through. Nope, too obvious. Nice thing about being me is that I never have to use the door if I don't want to. Biting her lip under her mask, Echo lowered the binoculars. She was...indecisive. On the one hand, the smart thing to do was to retreat and rest. It wouldn't do her any good if she went in there half-cocked and got killed - or even just gassed again. The guy had said he wasn't going to actually hurt Longwheel, only confine him someplace. But...on the other hand, what if he was lying? What if he murdered Longwheel in there, while she was off getting her beauty sleep? She rose, groaning as she did so. It was time for some thrillin' heroics. With a muffled thud of displaced air, she was suddenly standing on the roof of the building the Gas Man had entered. Okay, she thought to herself, peering down at the two guards below. Let's do this quiet-like.

So, Echo's going to try to tail the Gas Man back to wherever he's taking Jack (nobody said superheroes were honest). She'll be sticking to the rooftops - if another Stealth check is required, she'll just take 10 on that one too. Let me know if any other checks are needed!

Echo crumpled the card in her fist. Gas Man, eh? She had a lot of things to mull over - chief among them, a radioactive sewer zombie. That sounded like a lark. I hope it's not actually radioactive. I'm rather attached to my skin. But that was later. Right now, she still had things to do. She stuffed the card into her pocket - best to hang on to that - and, moving as quickly as her exhausted muscles would allow, clambered roughly to her feet. Before she could do anything else, however, a little change of clothes was in order. Anyone inside the coffee shop who was paying attention might have noticed an indistinct blur of motion that flickered in through the back exit, buzzed around Buffy's locker, and was gone in less than an instant. But everyone was too busy trying to figure out who the scar-faced man had been to notice such a strange thing. Back outside in the alley, the blur of motion suddenly halted and resolved into the form of Echo - now properly attired, with her blue-and-silver tights, her identity-obscuring mask, and her ever-stylish white wig. The dramatic effect was ruined somewhat by the fact that she was having to brace one hand against the wall to keep herself upright, and was wheezing audibly. Note to self: don't get gassed. Not fun. She took one last moment to pull herself together, then with a resigned sigh, blurred once more, speeding up the wall towards the rooftops. Once she was on the roof of the building, she crouched there, scanning the street for the Gas Man's van. "Sure, a deal's a deal," she muttered to herself. "But I'm nothing if not a liar." She would be damned if she was going to just leave Longwheel in the tender care of that gassy thug. The radioactive sewer zombie was just going to have to wait its turn.

Echo's mind sped over the options in a second, as she lay there on the dirty cement of the alley. What's his angle? Apparently he was a man who liked to make deals - and liked to play both sides when he could. She didn't really have the luxury of turning down his offer right now - it was now painfully obvious that she was in no shape for a fight. She could get up, try to rescue Jack by force again, and inevitably lose and get her ass kicked, or she could just play along and try to find another way to save the guy. "Fine," she said quietly, pushing herself up on one elbow. "Deal." But what to ask? It had to be something he would know, first off. A paid thug like him probably wasn't told too much by design. And if she asked something too obvious, like "where are you taking him?" then he probably wouldn't answer - he obviously wasn't as stupid as he looked. And if he was planning on driving that armored van, he'd be easy to tail. It was pretty safe to say he worked for Neutron Industries, so there wasn't much point in asking that. So what? She made eye contact with the man. "The...thing he told me about. The thing that your bosses want." There wasn't much point in keeping that particular card hidden - he knew she knew. And he probably didn't know much about it, but at this stage, any information was better than no information. "What is it?"

Echo felt her muscles tense in preparation for her spring. "Well, you can't say fairer than that. Gotta respect a hired goon with integrity." She subtly angled her body in readiness. "And it's nice that you get paid either way. Which do you make more money off, smart people or dumb people?" Without warning, she lunged, her fingers snaring the collar of Longwheel's jacket. She pulled with all her might, already pushing off with her legs to send herself into a leap. What she hadn't counted on was her sheer level of unnatural exhaustion. Her muscles moved like they were in slow-motion, and felt like jelly. Her fingers slipped off weakly, unable to free Longwheel from the man's grip, and she fell back hard. The hard concrete slammed into her back, knocking the wind out of her, and a low groan escaped her lips. Well, that was embarrassing.

Echo's Fortitude save: 1d20+6 22 Hey, whaddaya know. So no ill effects, then? (Beyond being already nearly incapacitated).