Blue Rose

The guy is fast, but Sam's dealt with fast. Her footwork's almost perfect as she steps out of the guy's way, only to have his way move even faster than she'd expected. And unfortunately, unlike her friends, she's not exactly equipped to rip the man's arm off with her bare hands. She looks to either side; her friends are better off than her at the moment, but Cerys' dance partner is just as fast as her own. No running there. "Mali, go after Tona! We'll handle things here!" And with that, she starts working on her escape, relaxing muscles and joints to slide free, contorting herself any way she can to get leverage, but that's mostly futile gesturing to make it more innocuous when she makes eye contact and starts burrowing into Tweedle Dum's skull. No need to make him cry; this time, she's out to turn his head off altogether. And then he stops, like the power was just cut. Well, that was faster than I thought. She slips out of his limp grasp and hits the ground running. "Scratch that," she shouts back, "I got her!"

Holy crap, that's a lot of grapple. Escape Artist! 1d20+10=28 Blarg. Woulda wanted to save that roll. That's failure by five or more, which means Kit's bound. Can't do anything that requires physical action, but that's not a problem for Kit. I make eye contact and try to put him to sleep. Stun (Sleep), DC17 Will. Perception range, requiring eye-contact. It's distracting, but that's not really an issue when already defenseless.

Initiative: 1d20+5=23 Edit: Truly, this plan is going well!

Kit stops dancing when Ug, Tweedle Dee, and Tweedle Dum swing around. On the one hand, it would really do Tona some good to find some nice stranger to dance with. On the other, these thugs ain't nice. She's about to disarm the situation peacefully when Mali and Cerys come in, turning it into a scene. Ug getting grabby had already made people stop and look, and now the backup and Cerys looking like she's about to shiv the goon? Well, if this can't be subtle, it can be humiliating. Her plan to make Ug feel bad and go about his business is scrapped, so it's time to make him wet his pants instead. She starts digging into his head and pushing down every barrier she can find that would keep him from finding Cerys to be the most horrifying thing he has ever encountered in his entire life. Which she may just be anyways.

Well, it looks like Sam has the firmest grasp on the situation: 1d20+6=25 Also, she uses her emotion control on the guy committing simple assault to inflict fear. DC17 Will.

Now there's a surprise. Tona reacting almost like a normal human. No need for dance lessons, even. That brings a smile to Sam's face. And a spring to her step, as she joins in, letting rhythm and instinct decide how she moves. Her dancing revolves around her footwork, which those with martial training may recognize for its place on the job. Her moves are light, fast, and silent, some the kind for dodging a punch and others the kind for gliding between shadows. Her moves are as slippery as an eel as Tona finds her friend drifting behind her, or weaving through the crowd. She probably should be worried when the job starts leaking into her off time like this, but she's having fun, and she's spent most of her life in a job she loves anyways.

But you'd miss surf 'n turf day. :P

When Sam gets to the bouncer, she presents her hand right where it needs to be before presenting her ID. When he tries to grab at her wrist, she offers a glare, and gets the point, drawing the X without any undue manhandling, then moving on to the next guest. She's understandably picky when it comes to how random strangers grab her. She surveys the club, nodding, not even noticing it's in time with the music. This'll do. She looks to the drinks, feeling a bit thirsty, but she can take care of that any time. Instead, she darts past the other girls who she let creep ahead of her, taking Tona by the wrist. "Let's dance," she decrees rather than requests, dragging her towards the dance floor, as much to get a rise out of her as to actually dance.

I wanna eat. Whilst the crew drops off food for Vetto and MacBride, and the guard conveniently gets relieved for chow, leaving the two completely alone whilst a hundred feet are as one to Captain Silvia's ears, allowing her to easily listen in on their conversation as if she were in the room.

Silvia lands in front of the door, listening to what lies beyond. That clicking could be the sound of robot troops getting into position for ambush. It could be some mad scientist's torture device. It could be It could be one of those bizarre kitchen gadgets earthlings seem so fond of. It could even be something she can sell off for a pretty penny. The air pressure grows, popping Voltage's ears as the captain grows ready to strike. "I am certain some mechanism can open this door. Can you override it, or shall I employ more... 'traditional' methods?"

Upon Cerys asking her silly question, Sam leans against a street light, planting one foot against it as she puts her hand near her mouth where a cigarette would go, looking down and letting the play of light and shadow give her best noir visage before she goes full-on conspiracy theorist, entirely deadpan. "The Celsius scale exists, yes. It was made back during the Nixon era, so our government could secretly influence European development. But the Celsius Initiative was taken over from the inside by agents of the secret world government who are now trying to force it back on America to take us over." She looks up and grins, "Or were you expecting a question like that to get a serious answer?"

Silvia tenses up, ready to take every last one of them out with her bare hand if need be when the enemies start to scatter. That works, too. Instead, she takes off again after Voltage, making her move to take the lead. He can only see, after all, whilst she can hear a map of her surroundings. As she rounds corners with a roll and a blast of air or bolts forward in a draft, she keeps her ears open, in search of the real enemy, the lab, prisoners, anything more worth their time than a handful of so-called guards and a broken-down hallway.

Sam rides quietly, mostly making sure she got rid of all the tags from her clothes, with a spot of chuckling at just how easily amused Tona is. She's not sure which club Mali's heading to- she'd rarely been, herself- but she's not particularly worried. What's the worst that could happen, after all? When they stop, she climbs out, leaving the bag with her earlier outfit where it is, along with the rest of the jelly beans. She has her wallet, so she'll be fine. As she walks, she puts a little extra effort into looking cool an aloof, to go along with the outfit. A rather practiced demeanor. Though when Tona runs off, she finds a growing morbid curiosity of just what show she's going to put on next. "Rain?" She looks up, and can't argue. "Shouldn't be far," she answers, assuming Mali wouldn't park too terribly far away. "Worst case, if it's raining when it's time to go, I can get everyone back to school dry. Though I'm sure Mali wouldn't want to leave her car here overnight."

Be all heroic, or bee all heroic? :P

Another take 10 on Intimidate, to freak Vetto out with the whole, "Follow me or I leave you to die," implication.

Silvia taps her chin, still not sure about this '4chan' organization, though Young Britannia's suggestion seems to instantly strike a chord. "An excellent idea," she replies, both to Britannia and King of Suits, beginning to scheme. "Mister Vetto," she says, turning her attention to their lead. "The matter at hand is quite delicate. I am sure you have been sick at some point, yes? Imagine being sick with every disease, at the same time. That is what your roommate created, and what has fallen into the hands of an unknown organization. Now that they have the weapon, and confirmed that it works, they will most likely begin severing loose ends. You may be one of them. If you come with us, we can protect you, and we may have use for you as a consultant. If not, I fear you are on your own. Please call in whatever relief you must and come with me." With that, she turns towards the glowing stairway, making it clear that whatever the man's decision may be, he has to make it now. As she walks, she announces to all gathered, "I shall provide rations aboard the ship, while we are en route to the lab." Of course, food is important, but right now, the more important matter is setting aside a little time. She's still suspicious of the two college students, and after leaving in the brig for a while, they may say something they'll regret, which Silvia's ears should pick up effortlessly. "Five more for chow, including the one in the brig," she announces as she steps aboard. "The new human goes to the brig as well; he is a guest, not a prisoner, but do not allow him to wander."

Damage 10 in a 50' burst. DC20 Reflex. DC25 Tough on failure. If there is a round 1, initiative: 1d20+1=7

As Silvia speeds along, she gathers a sheath of air around her, moving at her same speed for when they find a target. The bursts that take out the doors are a small thing, a petty little flick, but when they find the twenty, it's time to loose the gathered storm. When they find the twenty, she calls back to Voltage, "Fall back a few feet!" and then she continues her descent at full speed, driving her fist into the ground. With a thunderous roar, she slams her fist into the ground, the column of wind she dragged along washing over her and radiating outward like an explosion, blowing away all in its path. Silvia rises from her crouch, looking around unimpressed. "We don't have time for trash like you."

Sam takes the disaster and raises an eyebrow. "Do you really need all this?" she asks, wondering what normal people would think of a girl who carries around twenty sets of handcuffs in her purse. Maybe she should have gone with the airport purse. She starts going through the pile. One of the first lessons of the cat burglar is how to pack quickly and efficiently, and when applied to a purse, it's overkill as she uses every bit of space and lines everything up just so to pack it tight, but even then, she's taking some things out. First thing to go is the wallet, "Just stick this in your back pocket." Then, a lot of the redundant redundancies. The second pack of tissues, half the handcuffs. "No need to carry these around." She considers unraveling half the bandages, but that wouldn't end well, and eventually, she gets everything packed in there so that it closes easily enough, and she should be able to get most of it out without too much trouble. Maybe. "Some time," she says, returning the purse, "you need to talk to one of the Home Ec teachers." She never took the course. She doesn't know the names, or if there even is more than one. "They should help you keep your kit manageable, and find a purse that lets you carry it easy enough."

Or, we can investigate this suspicious-sounding "4chan" place. Perhaps even make it a field trip.

Silvia stares. Then she opens her mouth. Then she stares again. Then she raises her hand. Then she just stands there looking confused, and turns to King of Suits. "How many of those were words, and was anything in that coherent?" The good captain had never actually bothered using the Earth's 'internet,' let alone its seedier corners. Those were usually left to Lord Giles and her Earth-based business partners, and she knew some among her crew used it as a toy when they were in Freedom City, but even the basic terminology eluded her.

Shapeshifting clothes? Want. As soon as Cerys mentions getting into a fight at a club, Sam does not miss a beat making the obvious reference. "First rule of Fight Club. Do not talk about Fight Club." After that, she magnanimously allows her friend to continue her not-explanation in peace. "I'm all for that," she agrees with Cerys. "Oh! One last thing! Be back quick, meet you at the car... Tona, what's your shoe size?" She gets it, and she dashes. As in, actually dashes, this time, since she's actually wearing practical shoes again, and when she gets back a couple minutes later, she has a purse and a pair of very low-heeled sandals, maybe half an inch. "Combat boots with that outfit don't really work." And she could do with learning to walk in heels. The purse, Tona's obsession with pockets will tend to.

Taking 10 on Intimidate. Result of 20.

Silvia raises an eyebrow as King of Suits jumps the rail, then turns to her other guest. "You do not need to jump off of my ship," she assures her, then announces to her crew, "Extend the gangplank!" While the ship does have a traditional, wooden gangplank, it isn't nearly long enough from this position. Instead, the ship projects an energy field downward, creating a shimmering rainbow stairwell to the ground. The brave and noble captain, however, just jumps the rail and floats down, disconnecting King of Suits' rope along the way. "I assure you," she announces as she descends from on high. "We are thoroughly familiar with local flight patterns. Right now, you need only worry about explaining to us your connections to the Cult of the Dripping Pox. Do not waste our time denying this; we already have your involvement independently verified by multiple sources. The sooner you explain this matter to us, tell us how you helped them get their hands on your roommate's project and how to locate them, the sooner you may leave." She stretches some information and makes some assumptions, but right now, maintaining a position of authority is far more important than being technically accurate.

Or, they can just get over the elevator, cut the cable, and drop it down past any traps, but it's a moot point. "We can fly," she points out. "Either route, it doesn't particularly matter. We take the stairs, and we blow out every door on the way. I can read the air well enough to map out the floor well enough at that point. We keep going until we find something important. How fast are you?" She doesn't wait for an answer as an updraft billows up beneath her and propels her forward, towards the stairwell. She doesn't let him fall back out of her protective bubble, but she proceeds as fast as she can.