BoloOfEarth

Fictions.  Science fictions, like Lysenkoist evolution, fantasy, like faster than light travel, and dark fantasy, like trickle-down economics.

Likewise. The distinctive bad-guy agency uniform is a comic-book classic; and I grow bored of the costume trend in comics now toward "realism" and "practicality." If I wanted realism I'd read the news instead of comics.
 
Besides, when the heroes show up and terrify them, that color is less likely to show their embarrassing response.

Champions : Return to Edge City - Invading Mental Privacy
So, it turns out that our attempt to outsource surveying of Edge City’s magical field has had some unexpected consequences, such as one Megan Grey, who for some reason has come from Millennium City to follow our employees around town. And somebody ELSE is following her around - the psychic supercriminal Hypnos. We pick the game back up at this point.

Hardlight: Yeah, easy to pick back up on - me falling off a roof and landing right between the girl and the evil psi agent and cartoonishly pointing a shaky hand and going "halt, citizen!"

And that’s when a purple beam of energy bursts from the head of a woman we thought was just an innocent bystander and hits him in the back.

Hero Shrew: Wait, what?
GM: What do you mean what?
Hero Shrew: What woman?
GM: The woman that just zapped Hardlight.
Hero Shrew: Oh, right.
Fireflash: Context is important.

Hero Shrew jumps down to street level, and attempts to distract this other supercriminal.

Hero Shrew: Hey, I know you - you’re that woman on television!
GM: … well, I’ll give you an extra dice for the confusion factor.

Purple Lady turns invisible, at least to Scooter the shrew. And one of the other bystanders turns into a bad 90s punkrock stereotype. So at least three of the people here are PSI agents. As we soon learn, most of PSI, including their leader Psimon, the telekinetic Mindslayer, the paralysing Medusa, tele-empath Torment, and purple invisigirl Lancer are hiding in the crowd. Presumably to ensure Hypnos doesn’t screw up - it’s not like anybody in their right mind would consider our team a threat.

Fireflash: I really hope this isn’t one of those female villains that gets excessively jealous around women prettier than her.

Hero Shrew’s mental defences also crumble, but with no apparent consequences, apart from pinpointing ANOTHER PSI agent in the crowd.

GM: Remember, this was their POLITE attempt to recruit a new talent. They asked first. They just don’t take no for an answer.

Fireflash is going through her mental Rolodex of PSI agents and guessing how many of them are likely to be sent on one mission. It’s an alarming list. Largely because the heads of PSI don’t trust some of them out on their own. At this point, Hypnos, who was expecting Megan Grey to resist him in the battlefields of the mind, narrowly avoids a punch in the balls. Megan’s own holo-disguise collapses, and Fireflash recognises her as the minor talent Trace, which explains how good she was at following people. The PSI operatives also recognise us, and consider Fireflash a credible threat, especially after she blinds Psimon and some of the others with a flash attack.

Torment: Yes. Yes, I agree Psimon, she’s a threat. FEEL MY PAIN.

This telepathic agony disables Fireflash while was she still in midflight. This is not good, since she’s going to hit the ground hard.

GM: And now Psimon has to locate Hero Shrew’s mind again.
Hero Shrew: Too small a target, was I?

GM: And now the one who turned invisible to Hero Shrew, Fireflash and Hardlight gets her go.
Flux: Let’s hope she just has a gun.
Hero Shrew: We already know she has purple mind bullets.
Flux: Oh dear.

Hero Shrew leaps over the telekinetic wall Mindslayer put up and slaps Psimon around a bit. This was probably a mistake, since now Psimon knows where he is and can actually implant those telepathic commands he was planning. And Mindslayer, though blinded, is feeling around for anything short and furry and slashes at Hero Shrew with a telekinetic blade. She misses.

GM: Hero Shrew ducks. “That looks sharp, lady”. Scooter IS the most agile of your party.
Hero Shrew: Despite my build. I bounce around like a rubber ball. A hairy rubbery ball.
GM: You hear a voice in your head. ‘PSI are mentalists - if our attacks miss, nobody gets gets hurt. Your friends do property damage when they miss. And it’s the Moreaus that get the blame’.

Despite the fact that Hero Shrew is probably nicknamed Captain Collateral, this telepathic order sticks. He’s now compelled to stop his friends from using their most effective attacks, just in case somebody gets blasted through a wall. Hypnos is still trying to get Trace under control.

Hypnos: You. WILL. OBEY!!!!
Trace: …… nn…. Nnnnnn…. Naff that! *punches him in the face*

Happily for Fireflash, nobody has noticed Flux yet, and he gets a blast off at Torment, and, indeed, blasts them halfway into a wall.

Hero Shrew: Hey! Be more careful! Somebody paid for that wall!
Flux: …. What? That seems a bit out of character… Hero Shrew is the guy that tears his own front door off.
GM: And uses pavement as a blunt instrument. But then, pavement is public property. But maybe Hero Shrew is just trying to be a more responsible hero.
Flux: At the worst possible time!

Hardlight, still paralysed by Medusa mental petrification, at least manages to put a force bubble around Hypnos.

Hardlight: Shrew! Get the ball!

And then Hardlight gets hit again, by Invisible Purple Mind-bullet Woman. And then Mindslayer’s blade slaps Hero Shrew across the street and into a wall. He flails a bit on the ground below.

Hero Shrew: It’s OK, everybody, the wall is fine!

Hypnos now has to get out of the bubble before he can go anywhere.

Hypnos: FREE ME!
Trace: No!
Hero Shrew: Maybe if you asked nicely?

Flux shoots Medusa in the face.

Flux: She looked at me funny.

Unfortunately, at this point Fireflash’s flash attack wears off, leaving Lancer, Psimon and the others to act freely. And Hero Shrew is leaping over to stop his teammate from being so careless with his energy blasts.

Hero Shrew: Hey! Be more careful!

Trace now has enough self-control again to get some retaliation in, preferably against Lancer.

Trace: Where. Are. You BITCH! Actually, where are you??? This has never happened to me before…

Apparently Purple Mind-bullet Lady is invisible to mental senses as well. And Fireflash is still recovering so can’t do another Flash attack yet. At least Mindslayer apparently thinks that leaving now, with Psimon in tow, is a good idea. Or maybe Psimon thought it.

GM: Mindlink is a wonderful thing.

So is Fireflash’s own energy blast, targeting Mindslayer as she’s flying off.

GM: Mindslayer is PSI’s equivalent of a Federation ship.
Hero Shrew: No rear shields?
GM: Plenty of shields - but if you get through it hurts.

GM: That actually Stuns her. So she drops everything. Including Psimon.

Hero Shrew: At least Fireflash is firing up into the air. WATCH OUT FOR PLANES!
Fireflash: Scooter, are you feeling OK?

Psimon loses patience a bit, and targets the genuine civilian bystanders.

Psimon: PLAY IN TRAFFIC!
GM: Classic Mentalist move - Instant hostage situation. Also -
Hypnos: PLAY IN TRA- Actually, I should be trying to shoot my way out of this bubble right now.

GM: It might just be Hero Shrew is trying to be a more responsible hero.
Hero Shrew OoC: At the worst possible time.

Flux blasts Psimon even higher into the air, so he’ll hit the ground even harder. Scooter reasons that the best way to avoid further possible property damage is to use the villains as weapons. He grabs the semi-conscious Torment and throws him at the semi-conscious Medusa - and manages to hit the invisible Lancer instead.

Hardlight figures out the problem with Scooter - and drops the bubble around Hypnos just as Hypnos fires. The pistol blasts a meter-wide hole out of a wall.

Hero Shrew:
Hypnos: Uh-oh.

Once all the debris settles, we’ve actually managed to capture all of them except Lancer, who has no real loyalty to PSI and legged it. Hero Shrew is holding Hypnos by the front of his suit

Hero Shrew: PSI, are you? Well here’s Pounds per Square Inch! *PUNCH PUNCH PUNCH.*

Of course the civilians who didn’t leg it the moment a superhuman fight started HAVE wandered into traffic. But they’re easy enough for Hero Shrew to gather up and stuff into one of Hardlight’s bubbles until they get over it.

GM: There’s always a few who gawk, or freeze.
Hero Shrew: Or want to get some photos for their Facebook.
GM: Yeah - they fall back to what they think is a safe distance.

Hardlight, still paralysed (and will be for a week), calls up the ECPD, and PRIMUS, who turn up to blindfold and restrain the psykers, and put Psimon into deep sedation, until he can be tried by telepresence.

Flux: I knew you’d show up.
CAESAR Suit: Funny guy.

Trace: What the actual fudge? I thought Millennium City was bad.
Hero Shrew: You’re welcome.
Trace: Welcome? For wha- oh, right, the rescue.

Most of Hardlight’s voluntary nervous system has been shut down by Medusa.

Hardlight: Ah, Scooter? Can I get a lift back to the base?
Hero Shrew: Pokapokapoka! Pokapokapoka!
Flux: Maybe electricity will snap him out of it...
Fireflash: Back to the lab/And see what’s on the slab - right now, that’s you, Hardlight.

The superhero forums seem to think that us managing to catch most of PSI, when none of us have any notable anti-psi protections, is a sign that we’re finally maturing as a superhero team.

GM: They think you’ve levelled up.

Of course, the question does arise as to why all the important members of PSI were in California at all - just adding Trace to their collection doesn’t seem important enough...

People who know stuff and have relevant real-world experience tend to be biased against this administration.
 

I too love Almost Live but I preferred Bill Nye's Speed Walker superhero.
 
Wish those were available to buy on DVD

As the GM, I try to give the villain NPCs skills that are appropriate to their backgrounds, even if they're not so likely to be used much in game.  However, in one adventure, Kid Bronze used his tech skills to figure out how to operate the Dynatron (see Dean Shomshak's excellent Shared Origins products) and create superpowered agents for the Heavy Metals supervillain team.
 
The PC heroes in my game tend to get use out of at least some of their non-combat skills.  One example that stands out in my mind was when Terror Inc. launched a nuclear missile at Belgium.  The PC gadgeteer, Maker, used her VPP to catch up to the missile and latch on.  She then opened an access panel and used Electronics, Navigation, Security Systems, and Systems Operation to figure out how to re-direct the missile into orbit.  She'd have tried to disable the warhead, except she didn't have Demolitions skill.  (She does now.)
 
Malarkey has used his Computer Programming and Security Systems skills to hack into the city's traffic cameras to track kidnappers. 
 
Shadowboxer frequently uses his KS: Paranormals to narrow down the list of potential suspects when superpowers have been used in a crime, or to figure out potential tactics to use against foes. 
 
Circe even used her PS: Fashion Designer to converse with a supervillain (A-Bomb) and keep him from participating in a fight.  (It was actually one of the funnest exchanges I've had in game, as the two of them commented about their teammates' costumes, about A-Bomb kidnapping a noted designer to create his costume, and Circe's attempts to get her teammates' outfits more fashionable.)
 
IMO, it's part of the GM's job to make sure PCs have opportunities to use their skills (as well as unusual non-combat powers).  And the players' jobs to try to find ways to use their skills and odd powers to solve crimes and turn plot twists their way.

I don't know, I saw parallels with certain recent events in real life that made it seem less implausible.
 
 
Supposedly the original cut of this film was 4 hours long.  I agree that parts of the film seemed a little rushed.
 
 
Honestly one of the biggest triumphs of Black Panther is that they didn't eff it up.  Because it would have been really, really easy to eff it up.

I've heard this as being a man from Michigan who died, thinking the Lions won the Super Bowl.  But yeah, one of my favorite jokes.

An explosion last week killed a wild-living navy boiler man and he found himself in Hell. Being used to stoking fires and extremely hot temperatures, he found hell actually quite comfortable.
 
When Satan went to check out the new arrival, he found him sitting in his room smiling.
 
“You like this?” Satan asked.
 
“Yes, sir,” said the sailor, “this feels like a spring day to me.”
 
Not wanting the new guy to be too comfortable, Satan turned up the heat a bit.  When he went back the next day to see how his new arrival was doing, the sailor was still happy; he hadn’t even broken a sweat.
 
“I like this kind of weather,” he told Satan.
 
For the next few days, Satan turned up the heat more and more, but each day the Sailor looked as comfortable as ever.  By Sunday, Satan decided to try something different. Rather than turn up the heat even more, he turned it off and turned on the air conditioning. Icicles formed in the sailor’s room! When he checked on the guy, the room was icy and he was shivering, but he had a grin from ear to ear, bigger than ever.
 
Satan was exasperated! “Why are YOU so happy?” he demanded from the sailor. “It’s FREEZING in here!”
 
“Well, I’m from Cleveland," said the sailor, “and evidently the Browns just won the Super Bowl!”

(Good deeds of a past book come in the form of an unexpected sky blue savior!)
 
I had grabbed the items I would need on the way, of course. A flare gun, a knife, and a note.  Of course, the knife was the copy we made of Slice's. The note was a long term plan with a fallback of sort with a big assumption I was going to live. The flare gun? I was looking forward to that one.
 
I chose a location near water but not where Mister Brute would think about, at least I hoped. Given our past encounter he might indeed be very aware of the lines under the city's surface, but the point was I had a chance to break ground, literally, and dive under that way if I had to. It also would provide Pinprick another option for escape.
"You ready yet, Eel?" He called up from his position on the ledge.
 
"Ready as I'll ever be," I nodded and embedded the knife into the note using it like a tack on a bulletin board.
 
The note read: Mister Brute, I have what you want. Meet me at dawn tomorrow at the same location we met last time, and challenge me man to man, and you'll get it. We have all the independent heroes. So, you might as well give up on that. It's the only CURE for our current standoff. Any other option, anything else, and you could really FRACTURE your chances for retrieving it.
 
Then I took the gun, and fired it straight up into the air, the trailing spiraled up, up, up and then bloomed into the shape of, some kind of generic tuna. I blinked and probably said something rather impolite.
 
"Fish signal," Pinprick called out from his spot, "Yeah, that'll send em running."
 
"It's supposed to look like a frickin' eel," I fumed, "I was very specific about that."
 
Pinrpick's chortle didn't sound very supportive, "Yeah, that's your biggest problem."
 
I grumbled, "Fine, let's get ready, you hide, they be here soon." And the worse thing is, the plan counted on it.
 
Hiding for a six-inch-tall man isn't hard.
 
Good news? Apocalyptic showed up. Bad news? Apocalyptic showed up.
 
To my amusement, at least two of them didn't look good. Slice had a fresh costume, but her hair was still half burned, and I suspected her third degrees were still at least first degree. I shouldn't laugh, burns are some of the ugliest wounds you can get, but she was obviously a quick healer, and frankly, it was nice to see Firebug hit a worthy target for once. Firebug herself? Well, she flew so maybe it didn't matter as much, but I thought I saw some sort of support for that ankle I had broken earlier.
 
Me? I was standing pretty fresh so, you know, I was going to die, but at least I could say they had good reason to hate me now.
 
Mister Brute took lead before them, and spoke, "Why do I have a hard time trusting this? You're confident, and you're angry with us, but you're not a fool. Yet you send up a signal, and don't seem surprised it's us."
 
"Thought I'd issue an invitation," I Jerked a thumb at the knife and note, "Wanted to be sure you found it."
 
Mister Brute glanced at Slice and nodded. There was a rush past me, and then a blur past the other way. I held very still hoping she didn’t' try to stab me in the throat on her way by.
 
The note was already in Mister Brute's hands. He wore a mask, but I liked to imagine that least part of what it said caught him off guard and maybe even made him nervous.
That's right, Jerk, I know it's a cure and not a weapon.
 
Then he began to tear it in half, then quarters.
 
"Ridiculous," He snorted, "Why on Earth would I let you choose the time or place? Even if you really do have every independent superhero as you claim, I can just move to policemen. Or reporters, or whoever is unlucky enough to be handy. You fancy yourself a superhero. You and your team will do anything and everything to protect said innocents. It allows me the advantage of time, location, heck, maybe even players. You have nothing on me."
 
"Except the knowledge of the very special someone in your life who so badly needs a Fumian cure for Cancer," I glanced at his team, "How do you guys feel about that? I mean, I hope he's paying you something, because you all seem relatively healthy. Well, maybe not you, Firebug. How's the ankle?"
 
"You son of a –" Blue flames roared around her but Brute stilled her with a gesture.
 
He was scrutinizing me, trying to figure out how much I really knew.
 
I put on my best shuck and jive face and answered the unspoken question, "You think I can't learn things? The prize you seek told a lot. And we have some very good detectives on our team."
 
In truth, the detective was Tornado, and while he was indeed good and looking into it, like the rest of us, he had his hands full, so we had no idea who Mister Brute was trying to save. I just knew whoever it was had to be precious in a personal way to a man who didn't otherwise value human life.
 
But I sure wasn't going to let my ignorance show. I gave my best smug look.
 
"So, that one on one looking better now?" I said.
 
"No," he answered, "I don't know how you found out, I'm not even sure if you know as much as you claim, but I do know this whole encounter feels funny. You're chatting me up? Why?"
 
Before I could answer, the Fumians did. A hologram appeared in front of him, a Fumian furiously ranting, his scaled face bulging with rage "We had a bargain! You are supposed to keep the superheroes off of us, and yet somehow they're tracking us down, we've lost over five reported merchants already, if they get the other ten you will find no help from your offspring from us, Mister Brute! He will die of his cancer. Is that what you wish? Now, I insist you-"
 
Whatever the hologram was going onto say was interrupted, by me, as I charged through the hologram and body checked Mister Brute as hard as I could. I should have gone after Dice, but the others would follow Brute's lead, and I needed his attention on me.
 
If it weren't for the distraction of the message, I wouldn't have been able to hit him flatfooted. But as it turned out, I drove him into his team mate Dice, who he clipped, before skidding another twenty feet and smashing into the corner of a building.
 
The office was closed at this hour, another reason this area worked for me.
 
Mister Brute rolled up quick like a professional athlete getting off the mat. Dice seemed startled and was slower. I got the feeling the luck bender wasn't used to getting dinged in these scuffles.
 
I wanted Mister Brute to lose his temper, instead he called out, "Candle-wall Cuisinart,  Miss S."
 
"On it," Dice's eyes glowed.
 
"Damn it," Firebug hissed as if she hated what was just said. Flames erupted from her as she rose up. I readied to dodge the fireball only to find out the flames were not targeting me, not directly anyway. A wall of red and yellow burst in a ring around me. I was surrounded in a circle of flame.
 
I couldn't see beyond that.
 
Then Slice was there, passing through the flames like a finger through candlelight. Her knives cut into my flesh, the replacement not as deeply. Later I would worry if she noticed the difference, right now I was just grateful I only had one gash in me rather than two deep ones.
 
I readied to leap over and out of the ring of fire, only to slip! I freaking slipped and stumbled catching a part of my leg in the fire.  Knives plunged into my back, direct thrusts this time, as I was a sitting duck for it. Bad luck, a flaming prison, and super speed cuts were all combining to trap me. I swung wildly and was rewarded with another cut, this one along my arm.
 
Somewhere through the pain, my brain kicked in and reminded me I had a deux ex mystica in my pocket. I reached for it, "Istvha Mirro" I called out.
And suddenly there were others of me scrambling around. Some in the flame, some in the circle, and some, I presumed from the comments of the villains, out of the circle.  The duplicates worked well. I mean, the ones that were in the flame actually looked in pain, the ones with me struck various heroic swinging poses. I certainly couldn't tell the difference. They even had matching wounds.
 
"Damn it, Dice, wake up!" I heard Mister Brute's frustrated yell.  With a grin I realized that outside of my vision, Pinprick must have gone to work. His arrows, he had told me before, did a lot more than shrink folks. Enchanted, if he was telling me the truth, with the powers of Faerie, they could also put folks into deep sleep, or even act as love potions (Though he admitted to almost never using that option).
 
Suddenly I wasn't having as much trouble getting up. I guess with Dice asleep, my bad luck had, for the moment, ended.
 
Slice spent several attacks on my duplicates inflicting wounds that meant nothing to me upon them. This bought me plenty of time to leap out successfully at last, and land down outside of the flames. Unfortunately, Firebug wasn't in reach, and I didn't have Arctic Fox's protection anyway.
 
She was currently shooting a rush of blue flame through one of the Eel copies which blackened and splintered the ground beneath it.
 
Beneath it? That reminded me of the second part of my plan. I was lucking out so far. Was it too soon to engage in retreat? Yes, yes it was. And I wasn't going to leave without Pinrpick anyway. I had left Slime behind earlier. I wasn't going to do that to another hero ever again.
 
The punch from Mister Brute sent me up against a wall twenty feet away hard enough to leave a divot. Mister Brute was dealing with me himself.
 
"Slice, go rescue the Fumians, I can pluck this particular thorn in our collective side with my own two hands," He gave me a hard jab to the face, "Have you been practicing, boy?"
My response was a right hook close to his ear and the comment of, "You tell me."
 
The way it staggered him was gratifying. He swung back, but I sidestepped near an illusion of me, and he hit the wrong one.
 
I had an advantage? Son of a gun, I had an advantage.
 
Stepping in and out of the illusion closest to me that was mimicking my attacks anyway, I hammered a series of hooks, jabs and lunges. He fired back, but half of his blows were falling on the wrong target. He grabbed what he thought was my arm to put it in a lock only to find he had grabbed a true phantom limb. I rewarded him with a shot to his ribs.
I might be able to beat him.
 
"Firebug! Get Friendly!" He bellowed.
 
That couldn't be good, I realized.
 
Firebug had been trying to figure out which me was real with individual shots, even as she turned at the command, and let loose a fireball with Mister Brute himself as ground zero for the explosion. The flames probably hurt him, but it was clear he could take fire a lot better than I could and I was right next to him.
 
I hate fire.
 
And fire hates me.
 
I felt my skin boil, while Mister Brute's biggest problem was that fancy hat of his was smoking and a comparatively mild set of burns.
Worse, Mister Brute is smart. I saw a smile part his lips as his eyes danced even in the brightness of the flames and he pulled a round house on me that loosened my teeth and made me see stars.
 
"What do you know, the flames go mostly through the illusions, but not you, nice tell," He grabbed me by the throat and slammed down to the ground beginning to snuff the life out of me. I punched once, twice, and feared my windpipe might give out.
 
I wondered where Pinprick was, only to see he was dealing with Slice. Slice had tried to leave only to find herself with a small man on her shoulder. How he got there I don't know, but I did realize he was shooting her in the head, little arrows had nailed her like an acupuncturist gone mad. She was still full sized, which meant either somehow, she was immune to that effect or he didn't find it tactically sound to shrink her, so he couldn't use the difference to avoid her weapons.
 
Still, those blades, if they hit, might cut him open like a great sword on a munchkin.  And her precision wasn't slowed down much despite her injuries.
 
Case in point, she whirled in a fast spin and Pinprick found himself hanging on for dear life. And I? I was about to lose the last of my oxygen.
 
I hit, I kicked, and the ground shook, but I couldn't break his grip. He ignored the duplicates, and then another wave of fire hit us both. Things were turning gray.
I was blacking out.
 
"Firebug, help Slice shake that nuisance and go already! We lose the Fumians and we lose everything," Mister Brute snarled and began to beat me against the ground over and over. I think I felt blood behind my head, and I was pretty sure it was mine, "Where is the cure?"
 
Pinprick cried out in pain and out of the corner of my eye I saw him get cut along his right side and flung off. Gasping, he fired an arrow at Mister Brute, trying to save me I suppose, though for a moment I had a nightmarish mental image of the man shrinking but still keeping hands around my throat and severing my head in a darkly comical fashion.
 
Instead, nothing happened.
 
"Whatever you're trying, imp," Mister Brute grit his teeth, "You'll find it doesn't work on me."
 
That's when I shattered the asphalt and concrete beneath me. Bits of stone and rubble fell into the water below, the splashing sound was music to my ears and Mister Brute and I started to tumble. Then the bastard caught himself with a free hand, the other still around my neck.
 
"Clever, Eel, but I'm not done with you yet," Mister Brute flung me away from the edge. Another three arrows bounced off him, and he snorted, "Pinprick, isn't it? Haven't we established you're having trouble affecting me?"
 
I landed in heap a good thirty feet away landing in what had been a bus stop, grateful to take in air even if every breath hurt like the devil. Pinprick didn't look much better than I did. He was lucky that Firebug and Slice were already heading off (finally) to go aid the Fumians.
 
Pinprick nodded, "You're absolutely right," And he shot another arrow in a high arc which shot past Mister Brute and landed instead between his legs at the bricks of the ledge.
Bricks that shifted and shrunk to the size of children's toys.
 
"Works pretty good on the stuff you're standing on though," Pinprick called out, "Eel! Bench him!"
 
I grabbed a chunk of the bench I'd just broken through, and flung it at the tottering Mister Brute. It broke against him and shattered, but it was also enough force to send him tumbling down into the waters below.
 
I meant those waters for my escape, but they might serve pretty nicely as his delay, "Brilliant, Pinprick. Can we get the hell out of here now?"
 
"Kind of the plan," He shot another arrow to a flag pole and swung near me, "I'm being honest here, Eel. I'm losing blood with every step. How are you?"
 
I took him in my hands, carrying him like a baby, not that I would ever describe it that way where he could hear me, and began to run. I tried to hop once, to get more distance, and then groaned in pain, "Okay, running it is."
 
"You mean limping," Pinprick muttered, "Turn the corner, get out of visual first, then distance."
 
I did as he said, and he was right, I was moving like a wounded wildebeest, "I outsmarted myself, was going to use the underground water so we're not as close to the beach as I'd like."
 
"We're screwed then, yay," Pinprick said calling in, "Mabel, Firebug and Slice are on their way. nearest vehicle?"
 
"All vehicles are getting wounded to safety, do you need one? I can redirect."
 
Pinprick and I exchanged a look at each other, and both answered, "We're good."
 
"Okay, if that changes, let us know," Mabel said, "And others are warned about the incoming ladies."
 
Once that was over, I stumbled onto a street, one with far too many people on it. When there's a butcher with the ability to break tanks with his bare hands, five is too many. 
There was a hand on my shoulder, I jerked up and turned to see… a mailman.
 
"Hey, you don't look so good," The skyblue uniformed postal worker said, "Your friend doesn't either."
 
"Supervillain on our tails, cold blooded killer type, he's going to have more help shortly and I hate to sound like a wimp, but I can't take him alone. Any minute now he could come through the area and kill my friend or I. Y'all need to get out of here," I slurred.
 
He opened up the back of his vehicle, "Get inside, both of you."
 
"What?" I blinked in confusion, 'Look, my name is Eel, and I'm not sure you understand."
 
"I know exactly who you are," And he pushed me through into the back to curl into a fetal position on a top of packages and bags yet to be delivered and closed the hatch behind me, "You're Eel, the Fish Guy. You're the man who held up a post office to save the stamp pounding lives of my brothers and sisters in the building.  You held it when they got out. Then, you saved our Christmas bonuses and maybe even a job or three by keeping that building aloft long enough for them to salvage it. You didn't let the terrorists win. When you did that?  Whether you realize it or not, you became one of us. "
 
He didn't look back as he got into the driver's seat, not even a glance in the rearview mirror, which is good, because I'm sure the expression I wore was one of utter confusion bordering on W-T-H-edness.
 
"You are my brother in blue, and today, you and your wounded team mate are also my packages. I will deliver you, and neither rain, nor sleet, nor jerkass villain will stay me from this sacred duty." He began to drive off, not gunning it, but there was such a profound look of dignity on his round face that I swore that if he were part of a parade, he'd be the guy holding the colors and that flag would never ever touch the ground.
 
"Thanks," Was all I could think to say to the man who was making this a truly surreal moment, "Mister…?" I turned the ignorance into a question.
 
"Postman Bert Newell, Letter Carrier Veteran for seven years running now," The man said, "You can call me Bert. Like I said, you're one of us," He drove on, "that guy you were talking about, he look like a cross between a 1930's mafia boss, the phantom of the opera, and a steroid junkie?"
 
"That's him," I said, "He's in view of your mirror I take it?"
 
"Yup, and he's ticked, but no one is getting hurt. It will probably never occur to him that you might be in here," He turned the corner, "We postal workers are easy to overlook. We are as constant as the sun in our movement, and just as often ignored, and yet still we bring what we can of our light to the world." He drew forth his CB like device, "This is Postman Bert Newell, I am going to be behind on deliveries today, please pivot someone else instead of me as I will be taking aforementioned greater time to complete the usual appointed route."
 
"You are delayed?" Said a woman's voice, sounding like she had just heard the Pope declare he was skipping Mass this morning, "Are you feeling well, Bert?"
"I'm fine," Bert said with resolve, "Honorary Postman Eel and one of his team mates is in my vehicle and injured. I'm helping them."
"Bert, I'd ask you if you were joking but I know you don't have a sense of humor," The woman replied, "Permission for delay granted, and others will pivot if necessary. Tell Eel, well, hell, tell him we've got his back."
 
"Roger that, Post Officer Janice," He said, and put the device down, "We've got you covered, Eel. Where to?"
 
I needed water to heal more quickly, but I'd still regenerate albeit slower. Pinprick was worse off than I was. I looked at Bert, took a breath and told him to drop me off about a block away from the base. I was tempted to tell him to take me straight to the base and give its location and trust him, but it wasn't just my secret. And he was already taking a tremendous risk, "And drop us off behind a building or something so no one will see us if you can?"
 
"You've got it, honorary postman Eel," He picked an empty area for an out of business carwash, allowing us a chance to slip out as he opened the hatch then stepped aside, "Consider yourself delivered."
 
And he saluted me.
 
Carefully shifting Pinprick to my left arm, I saluted back, "You serve your pony express ancestors proud, sir." I tried to say it with a straight face, because even if I was still baffled, I was grateful, and incredibly aware that his smuggling Pinprick and myself out had just saved our lives.
 
He smiled at that, and puffed up a little, "Good luck from here on, I have to return to my duties."
 
"Are all post officers as tough as you?" I asked him as he got behind the wheel and ready to pull off.
 
He looked at me, "We're in a town with super-battles. The wimps wash out, the cream rises, and the men get separated from the boys. Or the women from the girls in the case of my sisters in the cause."
 
"Of course," I nodded slowly, "I won't detain you any further from your appointed rounds."
 
And he drove off.
 
And I lurched on at the fasted shamble I could manage to get my friend to safety.

Last night's D&D game, our party finds the cavern where a white dragon is hanging from the ceiling over his (frozen-in-ice) horde. 

Player 1:  Does the dragon see us?
DM:  Yes.  It's looking at you.
Player 2:  Should we roll initiative? 
DM:  Not yet.  It's waiting to see what you're going to do.
(long pause as nobody wants to set things in motion and get us all killed)
Player 2:  Okay, well, maybe I should walk into the room.  (bored tour guide voice)  And here, we have the dragon's chamber.  You'll note the horde - feel free to add to it as you go through.  Next on our tour is the southern tunnel...
Player 3:  And we're walking... we're walking...

Last night's D&D game, our party finds the cavern where a white dragon is hanging from the ceiling over his (frozen-in-ice) horde. 

Player 1:  Does the dragon see us?
DM:  Yes.  It's looking at you.
Player 2:  Should we roll initiative? 
DM:  Not yet.  It's waiting to see what you're going to do.
(long pause as nobody wants to set things in motion and get us all killed)
Player 2:  Okay, well, maybe I should walk into the room.  (bored tour guide voice)  And here, we have the dragon's chamber.  You'll note the horde - feel free to add to it as you go through.  Next on our tour is the southern tunnel...
Player 3:  And we're walking... we're walking...

Last night's D&D game, our party finds the cavern where a white dragon is hanging from the ceiling over his (frozen-in-ice) horde. 

Player 1:  Does the dragon see us?
DM:  Yes.  It's looking at you.
Player 2:  Should we roll initiative? 
DM:  Not yet.  It's waiting to see what you're going to do.
(long pause as nobody wants to set things in motion and get us all killed)
Player 2:  Okay, well, maybe I should walk into the room.  (bored tour guide voice)  And here, we have the dragon's chamber.  You'll note the horde - feel free to add to it as you go through.  Next on our tour is the southern tunnel...
Player 3:  And we're walking... we're walking...

Last night's D&D game, our party finds the cavern where a white dragon is hanging from the ceiling over his (frozen-in-ice) horde. 

Player 1:  Does the dragon see us?
DM:  Yes.  It's looking at you.
Player 2:  Should we roll initiative? 
DM:  Not yet.  It's waiting to see what you're going to do.
(long pause as nobody wants to set things in motion and get us all killed)
Player 2:  Okay, well, maybe I should walk into the room.  (bored tour guide voice)  And here, we have the dragon's chamber.  You'll note the horde - feel free to add to it as you go through.  Next on our tour is the southern tunnel...
Player 3:  And we're walking... we're walking...

I'm sorry but I had to......
 
Clad in a tartan suit including a tartan fedora and carrying a tartan Thompson sub-machine gun comes The Loch Ness Mobster. Originally from Inverness Antonio McDonald is Scots-Italian. He serves as Angus's muscle and gunman and is perhaps the most'normal' member of the group. He has a deep love for gangster film noir but try imagining saying the tough phrases in a broad Scots accent. 

Heh, well, just saying indications throughout the movie did seem to suggest it was a weapon that was to be used by Hebrews and Hebrews alone  (which would make for an interesting what if? If the modern Israelis raided that warehouse, I suppose)

Yeah, but you have to take a left turn.

Hero is not great at simulating the real.  There are various possible answers, most of which have been rehearsed here.  A recording of something, in some ways, does not enhance the power: the character can always tell others what they have 'seen'.  In some situations, though, it might be like allowing another character to share your power - for example if the recording captures conversation in a language you do not speak, you can show it to someone who does speak that language.
 
Transmission is not a bad idea: it does allow you to share the information you perceive with others, but does not really simulate a 'recording' that could potentially be copied and distributed by someone other than you.
 
Similar objections could be raised for almost any other solution so I would either handwave it (certainly if it is a modern game then recording devices are ubiquitous and not usually paid for with points) or I would assign a value to it as a new sense modifier,  maybe:
 
Sense Modifier: Record: allows you to record what you perceive in the same detail that you perceive it and with the same senses.  You can play back the recording at a later time as many times as you want or copy the recording to media freely available in your game world.  Once copied the recording can be viewed and copied by others in possession of the recording even if you are not present, if the technology or powers exist to do so.  When you create a recording it can be protected in any way freely available in your game world. Cost: 2 points for a single sense or 5 points for a single Sense Group or 8 points for a Full Sense Group. If you choose a Full Sense Group then the recording may contain detail that you can not perceive with your own senses but may be perceived by others with the appropriate sense viewing the recording, for example if you can record with the Full Sense Group of Sight then your recording may contain infra-red or ultraviolet  information that someone with the appropriate sense could perceive even if you can not perceive it yourself.  Alternatively the GM may require to actually buy the additional senses or sense modifiers with the limitation (only when the viewer has the appropriate sense -1 if you do not have that sense, -0 otherwise).

Couldn't you add Usable By Others to Eidetic Memory to share recorded info with others?

Godzilla, because he's had to fight other creatures his size - and won.  All Smaug had to put up with was hobbits, dwarves, and some normal-size folk - and still lost.
 
Battle of the Giant Japanese TV Heroes
 
Johnny Sokko's flying robot vs. Ultraman

I can't stand watching anything mogul-related because it makes my knees hurt.
 
Younger boy's Cub Scout pack has a big potluck "banquet" every year around this time.  When we were planning for this year's, the committee was drawing a blank on what the theme should be, and I offhandedly mentioned that the Winter Olympics would be happening at the same time.  I was thinking along the lines of Olympic-themed cake decorations and tablecloths.  Now we're going to truck in five tons of "snow", hold events for nerf biathlon, bodyboard luge, and "curling" on the basketball court, destroy the church's lawn, and freeze and soak all the scouts.  What could go wrong?  What have I done?!

Lois Lane Kent because she was played by Teri Hatcher
 
Lana Lang vs. Sharon Carter