BoloOfEarth

I think my blood pressure spiked just watching them pour on all that salt.

I think my blood pressure spiked just watching them pour on all that salt.

I told a friend of mine that I wanted my remains scattered from an airplane over Ann Arbor.  But that I didn't want to be cremated first.  That should wake people up, I'd think...

Her Vulnerability could be psychosomatic, similar to how Bulldozer used to take 2x STUN from females in hand-to-hand combat.  "He thinks women are wimps, and whenever a woman strikes him in hand-to-hand combat, he is likely to go into shock."
 
"Gasp!  You hit me!  Aaahhh!!!"

FWIW, though I've converted a number of characters from 5ED to 6ED since the books came out, I've only recently started actually running in 6ED (like, last month).  My players had equated meters with inches when drawing up their characters, whereas I had created the villains with the distance difference in mind.  And the villains were practically running rings around the PCs, movement-wise.  I've used a 1" (2m) hex map for decades, and figured to just halve all the distances for movement and range mods.  When a later battle was in a smaller space and I drew the map at 1m hexes, it went better.  However, I don't see any outdoor battle map working well with 1m hexes.  Not sure how I'm going to resove it all. 
 
I hope you're not irritated with the rest of my feedback.  My intention is to be constructive, not nitpicky.

As far as the writeups are concerned, some constructive feedback. 
 
First, a few general notes:  I've noticed that a lot of 6ED conversions keep the original DEX, OCV, and DCV in their original lock-step.  Also, a fair number of 4ED and 5ED characters had higher-than-necessary DEX's, most likely simply because it was more cost-effective.  I'd take advantage of 6ED's greater granularity and break them out a bit. 
 
For example, Death Commando originally had DEX 23, OCV 8, DCV 8.  I'd have made him 18 DEX (for -12 points), then add +1 with Breakfall, Climbing, and Stealth (+3 points), Lightning Reflexes +5 DEX with All Actions (+5 points).  Put the 4 points saved into +1 DC with his Commando Training.
 
Also, it seems like your conversions equate Movement meters with the former "inches" (where 1" = 2m).  If the original character had +10" Running, to remain the same the 6ED character would need +20m Running.
 
Now, on with specific character feedback.
 
Death Commando - note that the 4th edition character is 393 points, which for 6th edition would probably translate into about 450 points, so I realize a 400-point version would need considerable power reduction.  Personally, since DC was much more powerful than his teammates, I'd have bitten the bullet and made him 450 points.  Which would mean boosting his Running, Flight, armor, and other things.
If extra PRE is defense only, his PRE attack should still be 2d6.  But honestly, I'd have dropped the limitation and made him a straight 20 PRE, for both attack and defense purposes.  His background and personality would justify a higher PRE. I don't see why you have Reduced by Range on his SMG, except to shave off a few points. I'd have added Range Limited by STR limitation to the smoke grenades. UNTIL and VIPER Hunteds should include NCI.  I'd use the extra points to ditch the DNPC sister (getting the other 5 points from another d6 of Unluck).  She's never mentioned in any of the character writeup, and seems to me to be one of those "oh, crap, we need 15 more points" kind of Disads. Shockwave
I'd have made his Shockwave attack an Area of Effect 50m Radius Explosion (+3/4), Personal Immunity (+1/4) on up to 40 STR, Only vs. Targets on the Ground (-1/4).  If I'm correct, that should drop by 1d6 per 6m, and only cost 32 points.  If you want to boost it to 9d6 in the center area, that would be a 56m Radius Explosion (still +3/4) on up to 45 STR, and cost 36 points. The original character had 28 PD (of which 15 was Resistant), 24 ED (of which 15 was Resistant).  The 6ED conversion has Always On (is that really a limitation on defenses?) and Only Works on Common Attacks (???), and boosted the total defenses considerably beyond the original 28 PD, 24 ED.  Better IMO to just buy Resistant (+1/2) on 15 PD, 15 ED of his original PD/ED.  Or Resistant (+1/2) and Hardened (+1/4) on 10 PD, 10 ED.  Saves points, and is more in line with the original character's defenses. I like that you gave him actual skills, but he should still have KS: Organized Crime. All Mental Powers would be a group of Uncommon attacks, so that Vulnerability should be 20 points.  I'd keep that, and drop the Watched and the Unluck. Stinger
I think you read the 4ED version's 70 STR Clinging as +70 STR.  It should only be 70 STR, not 110 STR, saving 11 points. Use those points to restore his Gliding, which is notably absent from the 6ED version. The 4ED version's HKA was from hard, bony fingers, not poison.  I'd drop his HKA to a more appropriate level (say 2d6+1, or 4.5d6 w/ STR), and turn his Blast into a smaller, Constant, Uncontrolled NND poison (defense is HKA does no BODY or has appropriate LS vs. insect poisons). Vulnerability -- 2x STUN from Common attack = 20 points, 1 1/2xBODY from Common = 10 points.  However, I'd say poisons and chemical attacks are Uncommon, so these should total out to 15 points (10 + 5).  To make up the 5 lost points, I'd increase the Enraged to 11-. Scatterbrain
The 4ED version had 26 EGO, which seems done mainly to get the 9 ECV.  No real benefit for that over, say, 23 EGO.  I'd drop EGO to 23 and increase OMCV by 1. +4 with Mind Control would cost 8 points, not 4, so that should probably be +2 w/ Mind Control.  I'd drop both CSLs and put the points toward OMCV. Again, not seeing how Always On is a valid limitation on Mental Defense.  If she was on a team of mentalists, I'd maybe allow a -1/4 limitation on it, but even that's doubtful.  The original character didn't have any Mental Defense, but I like the idea of "scatterbrain" being more than just her name; perhaps her mind scatters mental attacks against her, so I approve of adding some sort of mental defenses.  That said, I'd drop Mental Defense from the writeup entirely, and add Damage Reduction (50% Mental) as her actual "mental defense".  With a 23 (or 26) EGO, that should keep most Mental Illusions, Mind Controls, and Mind Scans from having appreciable effect on her, and take the bite off most Mental Blasts. The 4ED version's Force Field cost END (actually, it cost 4x END!), so it would be appropriate to have this one's Force Field cost at least normal END.  Put the points saved into boosting her DCV, OMCV, and DMCV. If you're going with Very Common for Punches (I happen to agree), then 1 1/2 x STUN and BODY Vulnerability would be 30 points, not 15.  I'd ditch the Hunted by mom, Unluck, and Vain.

As I mentioned, I've only featured them in my games a few times.  Mostly they're background noise - a news item here or there, mostly for comic relief. 
 
However, I am starting a new Champions campaign.  One of the (female) PCs is in a band, and another one owns a bar/night club where that band frequently performs.  All of the NPC members of the band have (relatively minor) powers.  So you can bet Road Kill is going to put in an appearance, purely to be irritating.  (cracks knuckles)  Looks like I need to write some more Road Kill lyrics.  How does You Make Me Wanna Hurl sound as a song title?  Or how about Bite Me, You Skank?  (Yeah, I know those both sound punk rather than heavy metal.  See my prior comment on Road Kill not even getting the concept of heavy metal right.)
 
Many thanks, rjd59, for updating them.  I'll likely make changes so they can more properly irritate my players, but even so this saves me a ton of work.

Or maybe they're not angry, it's just they're eyebrows are drawn that way

I told a friend of mine that I wanted my remains scattered from an airplane over Ann Arbor.  But that I didn't want to be cremated first.  That should wake people up, I'd think...

Meal before Zod!
 

Dammit Jim! I'm a doctor, not a Paladin!

No Utah Saints
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Utah_Saints
 

I enjoyed it.  You did a good job giving Slime enough "alien-ness" while making his POV all make sense.  And I like the idea of him having a human friend outside the superhero set.  (Nice that a COVID-induced lack of sense of smell works in her favor there, too.)
 
I hope your brain is done going "zzzz" and things are going better for you now.  

For he’s a jolly good jello- A Slime Story
 
Solid creatures aren’t. They flake, all the time. To be near a humanoid life friend is akin to keeping a pet that sheds, constantly. I should not say that. Pets are not equals; not sapient and rarely sentient as most would think of it, where as humanoids, or at least humans, are. Indeed, it would appear that solid humanoid forms are the dominant and most recurring template for sentient species in the galaxy.
 
They’re still repugnant though. I consider a few of them friends, and even more allies in my war to pacify and keep the peace on this savage little mudball. But it is still unsettling when their dried skin cells or loose hair strands inevitably cascade onto my surface. I can feel each and every individual mote just … laying there.
 
I suppose for a humanoid it would be as if someone walked up to you, licked one of their finger digits, then pressed and held it against the bare skin of a neck, though my tactile senses are far more advanced. For all my complaints, I am fond of humans over all. Some are so ugly they’re almost cute. And they have a rich and vibrant multi-culture network. Humans are natural story tellers, and that may yet be what propels them to the stars on their own accord. Human (And, to be fair, other species’) Governments travel to space for strategic advantage over rivals, resource gathering, and scientific research. Individual humans? They are driven by their stories. They want to tell stories, they want to find out if stories are true, and sometimes they desperately want to insert themselves into stories of their own making.
 
Armstrong was the first human on Luna that they know of in history. But their stories of that pale rock? Oh, they speculated so strongly of who else might have been in songs, novels, poems and movies. Every discovery leads to new speculation, every speculation leads to new stories, and every story leads others to go out and discover all over again.
 
Most of them don’t have the sense of form to see it as the great waltz that I do. I guess an outside perspective helps.
 
It’s not my original name, but here on Earth, I’m called Slime. And most humans find anything with that descriptor rather gross in return, I know. My releases of occasional gaseous chemicals, needful for cooling and self purification, often offend them. Which is odd, as their nostrils are really not that good at accurate chemical analysis. I try to give them space so they don’t flake on me, and I don’t ‘fart’ on them.
 
So I was a bit surprised when I got invited to the Bachelor Party! What I know of Bachelor parties I only know from their movies and the like. So I confess, I was more than surprised, I was curious.
 
Is this Bachelor Party where you bake an Earth Girl into the cake and then devour her in a less than savory environment if she does not escape in time? Thus something of a hunt? I inquired of Tino with my usual way of mimicking their written language in a kind of surface font that rolled along my being.
 
Tino, aka Valentino, aka Tornado aka ‘He who emulates procreation often but with no budding’ had put himself in charge of making arrangements for Eel’s Bachelor Party. Eel, aka Fish Guy aka Caleb, aka ‘he who does not always think things through when he gets his mind set on something’ is an ally of mine. I’m not sure we’re great friends. There was an… incident many years ago. I’m mostly over it now, but it did hinder closer ties.
 
“What? NO,” Tino said, glancing over to Viewpoint.
 
Viewpoint, of who I have too many AKAs to list right now, IS a friend, perhaps my best friend. I am fond of him. He was a story teller for a living of sorts. What they call an actor. He did not craft the story per se, but he helped bring it to life, and I found that wonderful. Also, he has grown much. I mean he has matured emotionally and ethically, not that he has expanded his mass. As a rule, most Earth Superheroes are fit and athletic, but they are not obese.
 
Viewpoint laughed, “No, Slime. Though a dancer might be part of it. There’s never any heat applied to the cake. You don’t actually even try to bake the woman in question. Besides, not every Bachelor party does it like they do it in the movies. Mostly it will be drinking, swapping stories, that kind of thing.”
 
“Si, what he said,” Tornado smiled, “You’ve been on the team, and you’re.. a guy, right?”
I do identify as masculine, yes. I resisted the urge to form an extension to mock the moment. They had not yet had enough Earth Liquor for that to be funny.
Well, Hussar would have laughed. He’s my other friend. The clone of a very powerful superhuman who it turned out was a bigot. Hussar himself is not, and we’re going to help him set the record on his DNA source straight.
Hussar flapped his wings, “It might be fun, Slime. Come along. We get bored, we blame Tornado and bail.”
“Hey?” Tornado looked offended.
It was very touching that they would consider me for this, given that sometimes, to human nostrils, I stank.
Are you sure you wish me there? I know my gas release can be a bit off putting. Also, won’t any entertainer you hire be ...alarmed by me? It has taken even those on this team to get used to me.
“To be fair, we still gross YOU out now and then,” Viewpoint reminded.
It’s a fair cop, I conceded. My earth slang is jumbled, and I’m told I borrow from a rather eclectic mix from various decades but I think I got that across right. Still, are you sure I will not ‘kill the mood’?
“If you’re not allowed, then I’m not going either,” Hussar said with a stubborn set to his mandibles. It is ironic that he was so supportive as the first time we met, we had an altercation. I’m told that’s not atypical among ‘superheroes’ but still, it was touching how much had grown to appreciate me.
I almost regret the ‘tastes just like chicken’ jokes.
“Every guy is invited,” Tino assured us all, “And I’m not going to get too wild with the entertainment. The Groom is a friend, but the Bride is my niece so I’m walking a tightrope here.”
In truth, I doubted Caleb Eel would partake of any intimacies with any other woman regardless of opportunity and not just because he would be ritually mauled by Tino, then later Ariana. His pheromone production is much heavier for his chosen bride than it is any other female, and like wise hers for him. Their pulses quicken, and they show signs of dopamine rushes at the sight of each other.
Also, they’re deeply in love.
“That said,” Tino added tactfully, “I think we can arrange so you’re not upwind from us if you feel the need to.. release. If that won’t offend you?”
It wouldn’t be the first time, and I am rather flattered to go in. Do forgive me if I end up just sort of ‘peeking in’ though?
“Of course not,” Tornado assured me.
“All right, NOW it will be a party,” Hussar declared.
Viewpoint was sympathetic, “I know you get nervous around crowds, but this should be a small one. Glad you’re on board.”
Of course I got nervous around crowds. If you were permeable you’d be a bit nervous about the chance of solid feet stomping through your frame too.
Still, even I get lonely. And my friends are too precious for me to neglect social time with them. A part of me was looking forward to this.
***
 
This, I concluded, was a horrible mistake. The event in question had not even begun, and already I was being interrogated by Arctic Fox who appeared to be acting as a delegate, how official I did not know, for the female half of the coming nuptials. I have heard others describe Fox as a “mean girl for justice”. I’ve seen the movie but not heard the musical, nevertheless, I get it. Add to that her ability to freeze liquids, such as myself, solid, and you might comprehend why I found Arctic Fox more than a little intimidating.
“All I want to know,” Fox pressed again, hovering over me and looking down with narrowed orbs, “is where, when, who, and if those pigs are going to have some floozy skanking it out while they oink.”
Now, I have mentioned that I was not, to human eyes, visually pleasing, and I was downright unpleasant to their olfactory sense at rare but key times. While Arctic Fox tries not to mention her distaste too openly in my presence; she is not skilled enough, nor concerned enough that I am unaware that she often leads the band in these feelings, so to speak. In regards to protecting the innocent or fighting crime, she is a consummate professional. In regards to respecting the space of others? A nightmare.
I panicked.
NAME: SLIME! I printed out on my surface, RANK: SUPERHERO scrolled next, SERIAL NUMBER: 3 × 108
“Stop joking around,” She snorted, and I could feel my skin congeal slightly at the temperature drop in her proximity. I am told that, among earthlings, she would be considered a great beauty, not uncommon among their super powered set. But let me tell you, to people of my species? The allure is lost. She’s a terrifying overlay of locked symmetrical sinews overlayed over solid calcium filled hard tissue buried under porous skin crawling, CRAWLING I say, with bacteria.
Gah! I cannot even.
Add to that the aforementioned freezing powers, and one can grasp why I was looking for a means of egress that wouldn’t betray the confidences I had been sworn to.
I decided to try honesty: You’re terrifying. Please go away.
To my surprise, she actually did step back, and put her hand on her hip, more than a little affronted.
“Yeah well, grass is always grosser on the other side I guess,” She seemed to consider before going on, “Look, Arinia may act like it’s no big deal if they have some stripper shaking her ass at whatever bachelor party Tino has set up, but I’m pretty sure it would make her feel very insecure.”
Despite my fear and disgust, I was intrigued by this. Too often solids, despite, or perhaps because of their fixed state, put on a mask of deception to their peers. Indeed, the noble calling of civic aid that most superheroes on Earth practice counts on secrecy. How odd is that? Then again, it wasn’t like I was going around chatting often with them face to form, so to speak. I too relied on secrecy, mostly to keep myself from being a forever guest at Area 51 or wherever human agencies kept non terran life.
She need not distress I displayed, Caleb, for all his faults, is a faithful man. I am sure he would treat any entertainer with respect while forgoing any pre-ceremony betrayal. Tino also honors his niece like a sister. I am sure that if Caleb did start to dishonor her, they would come to blows befitting primate social disputes on familial levels.
 
Judging by her shifting expression, that seemed to placate her a bit, but then Fox continued, “Okay, first, you need to stop confusing media for how humans, even men, resolve disputes.”
I considered this ,and inquired before she could continue, They would instead compare vehicle size and fanciful markings on shame to establish hierarchy?
“What? No, I..” Fox grew flustered, “Maybe. But I’m just saying that punching it out is not how heroes settle differences between themselves, not the mentally stable ones anyway. And, thank you, I suppose Tino has matured, and there’s no denying he looks after Ariana. I just worry she’s downplaying how much it would bother her and that there might be a misunderstanding and a blow out.”
I had asked this before, but not of Arctic Fox, so I did How can a species of such amazing storytellers be so bad at communication in the personal sense? And why would she downplay it?
 
“Ego, pride, and insecurity is a hell of a combination to navigate around, Slime,” She had eased her tone still further, “if one part of a relationship gets possessive or controlling, it’s not a good sign. No one wants to be seen like that. On the other hand, the irrational mind is still a factor, and just because you can refuse to let those feelings dictate your actions, doesn’t mean they’ve gone away. Also, Valerosa is pretty good at keeping chill about things. I ought to know,” The last was said a bit wryly, “Guess I’m the one who tends to get carried away in relationships.” There was a sigh there, a sign of humanoid melancholy.
 
Indeed. Arctic Fox’s own record at pursuing a mate? Well, to use a human term, sucked. She had been used once to infiltrate the base by a black ops government agent. Before that, I understand, she had found herself smitten by more than one Earth Man who was, despite my misgivings (And personal disgust) about her, unworthy. Now, she was part of the team in Port Cascade with yet another romance brewing. I’m no primate, and she’s not my favorite human by any stretch, but I found myself feeling oddly protective of her. When it came to romance, she was oddly vulnerable, and I do not like bullies taking advantage of such.
 
Humans have this weird notion of equating love, particularly romantic love, with the puny blood pushing muscle in their torso known as ‘the heart’. It is an impressive enough pump, but I think they miss the major location. Love for them, I would astern, is more chiefly in two locations. One, of course, is in the brain. The other, less praised? The gut. It is in that factory where the ‘chemistry’ of romance has its greatest impact. Humans themselves describe a feeling akin to ‘butterflies in the stomach’ or being so nervous about impressing some they feel a bit nauseated and so on. The Heart is a fine engine, but the gut? That’s where the human body practices, like a proverbial mad scientist, it’s many experiments of stress and delight with courting endeavors.
 
All this made me wonder, Perhaps your own past hurts have made you more guarded than necessary or at least more protective? Ariana is a grown woman, and more level headed than most. You know her well, but is there not a chance you are, what is the term, projecting?
She looked annoyed at this. This was not an uncommon expression on Arctic Fox, however, so I waited for further reply.
 
“You might be right there,” She finally said, “Maybe I’m even wanting Caleb and her to get their happily ever after just so I know its possible. But if I’m not wrong, is it really worth gambling on for a lousy party?”
I pondered this. It seemed to me that if a relationship was so fragile anxiety over one night could break it, perhaps there were more things to be worried about than a bachelor party. Still, there was a lot I didn’t understand about the courting relationships and mating habits of Earthlings, and no amount of research on the Hallmark channel would fix that. Also, she did know Ariana better than I.
 
I will not let Caleb dishonor the woman he loves, even if by accident. You guard Ariana, if need be? I will… redirect this party.
It was not what Fox expected to hear, her primate brow shifted in the sign of surprise, her eyes widening for a moment. I bubble and swell, so I shouldn’t judge, but still, human eyebrows are disturbing. It’s like Earthlings have their own built in vermin for your forehead writhing about up there. Those HAD to be breeding grounds for yet more bacteria and cellular organisms roaming about.
 
“Thanks, Slime,” Arctic Fox finally put down those damn eye ridge-tribbles, “Just, do what you can to downplay any other women’s presence on this guy’s only night.”
What was I? A human herder? Still, I shall try.
 
It was all I could promise to do. No more, no less. This seemed to placate Arctic Fox, and she turned to exit. I watched her leave, her grotesque hour glass figure giving her a hideous sway that made me vaguely queasy just from observing it. It was a jarring parody of true fluidity.
Sometimes this planet and its creatures were just… too symmetrical. I repressed a shudder and moved on.
 
***
It occurs to me that if humans could get over their insecurities and communicate directly to each other more often their existences would be so much simpler. I know mine would be. Tornado had not kept me much in the loop. I knew where we would be, and what time we would be there for the party, but he had not shared if there would be any scantily clad revoltingly sinewy earthlings of female form to cause distress.
A simple plan came to me. I would arrive early, and if there were any human female there who was not Ariana there, I could conclude she was likely there to disrobe for gainful employment, and I would be free to issue forth some of my more (to human nostrils) foul smelling emissions and drive her out. Problem solved, Earth mating rituals cleared for continuance, various superheroes now to carry on with their battle for truth, justice, and the Earthly way thus potentially saving hundreds if not millions of lives depending upon the stakes of the monthly threat that was sure to arise.
 
You are welcome, Humans.
 
This, of course, would also personally spare me the negative attentions of the grotesque but goodhearted Arctic Fox and thus keep me at, more or less, a cozy room temperature. The location in question was called Harborage Hut. As I oozed into the place, I could see it had already been prepared for our collective arrival. The chemicals in the air denoted alcohol awaited. Alcohol, I found, was important to humans. It enabled, among other things, for them to ignore their own natural hideousness and approach the opposing sex with chemical confidence. I had ingested it myself a few times. It was a danger in that it could be very drying for a liquid, yet I will confess it also released a pleasant enough numbness. Unfortunately, too much of it caused my communication skills to deteriorate, particularly my ‘font print’ that I used to talk to the literary among the humans I knew.
 
My own people had variations of that in vapor form that we breathed in through our surface with greater nuance. Ah, what I wouldn’t give for there to be a source of a nice Rigelian Vapor Mist on this planet, preferably from the Nova 3803 occurrence. Nothing like a star going nova to give gas giants in the nearby system that special zing my people love. That, to use an Earth term, is the good stuff.
 
The next thing I noticed about the Harborage Hut was the stage, and the machine in front of it.
 
Wait, was the plan to come to a Karaoke Bar? That was the bachelor party idea? I had been on Earth long enough to know of these places. My Japanese was rudimentary despite some introduction to anime, some of which I enjoyed but I believe Karaoke translated to something like ‘empty orchestra’. This might be tolerable, but I did feel I might be left out of actually performing as communicating verbally was just not possible for me at least not in any coherent detail. I also noticed large scale screens in another room. Ah, I began to understand. No doubt this area would be reserved for sports viewing. American Football most likely, given the time. Though who knew for certain? Earthlings enjoy sports of all sorts. Aspirant, for example, proclaims Hockey as the superior sport of North America.
For myself? I could enjoy it more or less. It was morbidly fascinating, to see the human version of athletic exemplars dash about towards one end of the play zone to the next. There was little grace to their thundering stiff bodied movements, but one had to admire their zeal in pursuit of victory. What I liked most about Earth Sports were the stories they inspired, sometimes even while the game was ongoing. I have already opined that humans are amazing storytellers, but to hear humans gather about a water cooler or coffee pot or other communal drinking hole and share their take on the events of a game they’ve all seen is to invite bits and snippets of a saga.
 
A human athlete doesn’t just grab a ball, he ‘rips it’, one team does not just defeat another team, they ‘crush them’ or even ‘murder them’. They speak of sports rivalries as some species speak of blood feuds. Furthermore, the allegiances one professes are vitally important to some. If one has to have a tribalism, it seems a healthier and more fun loving sort than most. Quite often, I placate my best friends by supporting their teams, but now and then I show favor to the opposing team. One would think this ends a friendship, but rather, it becomes a vicarious competition for my friend and I. If his team in Blue defeat my chosen team in green, then he seems to get the same hit of happy hormones as if he had done victory himself. If my green team defeats his blue, there is much chest beating and wailing of injustice that borders on the theatrical. Then, a few weeks later at most, we do it again.
 
Where was I though? Ah yes, making sure no earth women were going to disrobe in this area! I extended my senses trying to sniff out and taste chemicals I had grown to associate with earth women. Certain perfumes or make up, floral scents, chocolate mixed with frustrated tears; that sort of thing. And I caught something? There was a human in here.
 
No, not in here. But nearby. Extending myself as I oozed in multiple directions for maximum area investigation, I flattened and protruded to the cardinal corners of the place. The recent cleaning of the place had wiped most dirt, and while yes, I could sense the liquors, it wasn’t as strong as it would have been otherwise and most conflicting scents were hardly competitive. This scent was in the air rather embedded in the wood or the tile cracks of the flooring.
Ah, the vents!
 
I love vents. Contrary to the wonderful movies humans enjoy, travel by vents is rarely wise or practical, for them. The average adult male, even if he is fully armed with a machine gun and one liners, is still likely too heavy to go through vents meant for mere air transit even if he finds some seemingly wide enough. I, on the other hand, can use them quite well. I cling when I wish to, and spread my mass more evenly. Vents are out of the way, and private. They’re like a private road for me so I can avoid bipedal traffic. It was also where the scent was coming from.
 
I was increasingly certain the scent was a human woman. Stereotypes aside, while there was no smell of chocolate, there was the faint scent of tears indeed. And, as I writhed up the vent, a sound to accompany it. Someone was audibly crying. It was not a pretty cry, like in the movies. Mucus seemed to obstruct nasal clearings causing infrequent but not rare snorts amid the sobs. The vent was leading to the roof. I easily navigated my way past the resting fans and poured my being out into the open air at the roof of the building.
 
And there? Sitting near the ledge of the roof, was the human. I have never called a human beautiful. My apologies to any humans ever privy to my memoirs, but you are, one and all, a pretty revolting species. Did I mention the flaking? I’m sure I must have.
 
Yet, visually, this human was the least offensive being I’d ever seen. While still too consistently symmetrical for my liking, this one was more curves. When I say this, I do not ape the human male obsession with what they call an hour glass shape which frankly I’m not impressed by. That’s so common among your super-heroines as to be almost trite. No, this earth woman was shaped a bit more like one of your gourds. She wasn’t perfectly symmetrical either, with a slight but intriguing balance just a bit to the left. Her light Latte hued skin would classify her as likely of European origins, though I’ve always found the idea of human referring to such things as ‘race’ rather sad and ultimately, the divisions manufactured have kept the entire species back from much greater advancement.
 
Then again, they’re hardly alone in the galaxy for stupid divisions. The Gemnok once went to war with themselves over proper toppings on circular bread. No, I’m not kidding. If you can, head to the nearest open galactic data library and look it up for yourselves.
But I most assuredly digress. I was speaking of the crying earth woman. Her hair was flat, stringy, and straight yet in a frayed manner I found added to her uniqueness. A thick pair of spectacles was indicative of poor eyesight without aid, and behind them a pair of pleasantly soil hued eyes bobbed along. Of course, currently those eyes were leaking a saline laced liquid. She wiped at her flabby face with the green sleeve of her blouse.
 
She had not, as of yet, noticed me. I could be very stealthy by nature if I could keep any gas from escaping me. Unfortunately, as I poured through the vent exit and onto the roof, a bit of air regrouped improperly as I collected myself and escaped after processing through me. In short, my surface bubbled and that bubble gave a soft pop.
 
I braced myself for the usual ‘sniff sniff’ followed by the look of surprise and disgust I got from humans with these little slips of mine. But to my surprise, she didn’t react. She did not notice. Perhaps the mucus she was exuding through her nostrils had obscured her? As a rule, humans CAN only smell through their noses rather than their whole form. They’re limited like that.
 
Still, despite the fact Tino had rented out the place, I felt that I was the one intruding on her and her moment, whatever that moment was. Eavesdropping doesn’t bother me too much normally. In the superehero profession, it is a valuable way to gather intelligence on the machinations of your typical evil doer. Also, when folks tend to scream as if you were about to absorb them and spit out a pod (An idea as revolting to me as it is to them, I assure you) you tend to wait for a friend to introduce you before you make yourself known. Still, she didn’t seem a threat at all, and I was aware that what I was doing was indeed snooping on a stranger.
 
I prepared to make a large blorp sound, or perhaps pat some of my pace on the roof to mimic knocking, but before I could, the Earth woman stood up from her sitting position, and approached even closer to the ledge.
And she began to talk to herself!
 
Despite my recent choice to reveal myself, I immediately reconsidered and listened in! Exposition at last! It can be overdone in your stories, but when you come in a mid season episode of a series, it can also be one of the only ways to catch up.
 
“Do it, Muriel,” She was saying to herself, “Just get it over with. Wait, this is a two story building tops. Jesus, I can’t even pick out a good suicide point. I’d likely just break every bone in my body. I need to find a locale with some height to it. Which sucks. I freaking hate stairs.”
 
Exposition! I too prefer ‘show don’t tell’ but in this case, given the situation, I was glad she didn’t. Life is precious. And besides, bones crunching is just a horrible sound. She turned then, and I was waiting for her.
 
DON’T JUMP!
 
That message was imprinted large and obvious upon my surface for her to read. I didn’t want to her to miss it. I even swelled up the surface it was on so she would not. I suppose it was similar to a bullfrog swelling, if the bullfrog had subtitles.
Muriel’s eyes might have been weak by human standards, but they saw this. They got very wide indeed, and she backpedaled. To her credit, she didn’t scream, so much as break into frantic breathing. I’ve had worse reactions. Unfortunately, she seemed to have forgotten she was near a ledge that she had just deemed insufficient in height. She began to topple over. This time? She DID scream!
 
My species has remarkable control over our surfaces. We can become acidic, or even sufficiently adhesive to ‘stick’. In this case, I chose the later. Extending a part of myself I latched onto Muriel, and kept her from plummeting to her certain injury. One would think this save would buy me some trust, but she screamed some more.
 
I know that I am not terribly photogenic. I tend to avoid cameras and public appearances for a reason. Yet I have been working with the superheroes of this city for several years now. Some of them are quite prominent. Yet, while it is known that an alien being dubbed Slime has helped save the city more than once, and made a career of protecting innocent citizens, I still drip into these situations where folk act as if I am some horror movie monster they never heard of.
 
No one will ever say, “Look, up in the air, it’s Slime!!” “Thank goodness!”
 
Largely, this is because if I am in the air sans vehicle, it means I have been launched. Still it would be NICE to have someone happy to see me.
I pulled her in closer, making sure she’d not fall off the roof, then released her before scrolling, SALUTATIONS, MURIEL! I am Slime! Superhero from another planet!
 
Muriel had stopped screaming, and read the print, more than once in fact. Blood pooled in her face, particularly below the cheeks. Blushes are interesting reactions. Muriel did not have a delicate overly confined blush. No, hers flooded in a way I found far more efficient and decorative than many humans.
 
“Wait, wait, I’ve heard of you,” She said “You work with the Fish Guy and the Commercial guy and others don’t you?”
 
Inwardly, I was amused. Eel hates being called Fish Guy, despite the fact its a pretty close translation to this particular alien. I mean, really, it is kind of like insisting ‘no, I am narrow elongated Fish Guy, not standard Fish guy’ but why bring it up and erode conduits? The Commercial Guy in question had to be Viewpoint. He didn’t do as many as he used to. He was a good friend, but even he would admit there was a time he had his priorities wrong. The fact he was still known for the commercial side of his career would sadden but not surprise him.
 
I have worked with Eel and Viewpoint. Yes. May One ask why you were trying to terminate your own life? I would say it was none of my business, but I AM a superhero. So trying to prevent loss of life? Literally my business.
 
“This is mortifying,” Muriel answered, giving reason to her blush, “I just tried to commit suicide in front of a superhero. You have to think I’m a real loser. I’m just pathetic.”
 
Actually, I tried to scroll the words at a pace she was comfortable with, My initial thought was you were a lot more pleasant to look at than most humans. That's not a come on, just an observation. My sense of aesthetics is different from most Earthlings. Your Tens are my Threes.
Muriel snorted at that, “Meaning you recognize by Earth Standards ‘I’ am a three?”
Now it was my turn to feel embarrassment, rating any individual by a scale was rude, and after all these years on Earth I should have known better,  I did not mean it that way, and apologize. I was merely starting I did not find you pathetic.
 
“Well, you should,” She shrugged, “And not because I’m a-“She made those little air quotes humans insert to show a touch of sarcasm “‘Plus’ Size. I am literally born wrong. My brain chemistry is off and it’s gotten worse as I’ve gotten older. And I can’t afford the meds to stay balanced. I don’t want to get up in the morning. I have severe depression. I lost my last job and the health care that went with it. I had Covid long enough not only to mess me up, but I still haven’t got my sense of smell back and likely never will. It also wiped away a lot of the progress the drugs I had been taking out. Now? Now I’m fired, and my insurance plan is shot. I came up here thinking about death because I’m tired. I’m tired of every sunny day being gray. I’m tired of every flicker of hope I can muster snuffing out like a candle in a windstorm. I’m tired, Slime, of folks telling me everything will be better if I just hold on in a world where no one has a use for me beyond me making them a few bucks while I get pennies. All I do is kill the joy of others around me. I’m a minus in the universal equation. Best to just take me out of it, I think. Isn’t that pathetic?”
This, I realized, was the problem with a species of storytellers. It wasn’t uncommon for them to write of themselves and their own lives, but it was truly sad when the story they gave you was definitely a tragedy. I would almost think there was a hubris to it, to cast yourself as a character of scorn and loathing because that, at least, means you are not invisible. You exist. You existed. Even if you were forgotten after, for one brief moment, your story was told, your play performed, and then? Exit.
 
I could lie to her, and say it wasn’t pathetic at all, that in no way did it entice or encourage pity or sadness. That would be akin to a critic giving a scathing review. I could assure her she had achieved in her goal of patheticness, and give whatever passed for applause in a situation. Either might make her think her story was done.
I did not wish it to be. Muriel? Do you sing?
Muriel was nonplussed about that. At least, I think she was nonplussed. I try to understand human English but I can never remember if nonplussed means bewildered, or unimpressed. If it means both, then it is a very poorly designed word and humans need to get on that. Regardless, by nonplussed, I mean she seemed taken off guard.
Finally, she said “I can sing but it’s nothing to write home about. My range is limited, and I sound better in the shower. Why do you ask?”
I can't sing. I told her Never could. I don't have vocal chords. I CAN make some amazing fart sounds, AND at times, whistle. Some of my people can play their bodies like flutes, but as most humans, unlike you, have functioning olfactory senses? They really don't want me to.
This time, she almost smiled, “You really smell that bad?”
 
I burbled a bit touchily, It’s not MY fault your species has no proper sense of the olfactory opera that is my personal bouquet. You're too easily overwhelmed. Among my people? I am something of a virtuoso.
 
Muriel covered her pie-hole aka mouth with her fingers in a failed attempt to mask amusement. I didn’t mind. If it helped distract her from her challenges, well, a small price to pay that. Finally she inquired, “Is that true?”
 
Extending a glob on top of the bulk of me in what I hoped mimicking hanging my head in just the right amount of faux shame, Maybe. I have not been home in sometime so I figure I get to speak for my entire species and that's the story I want to tell.
“It’s a good story,” She nodded kindly, “You must be very lonely.”
 
I have human friends. They're hideous, but they have good spleens. I assured her. Regardless, I cannot sing. You can. Even if you did it badly, you could do what I cannot do at all. There is a bachelor party I am invited to but a large part of it will be singing. Probably badly. I will be a bit left out. They don't mean insult by it There are sports and company, but it occurs to me, with your help? I might be able to sing through you. In exchange, I will pay you enough money to buy some of your medications. It is a win win. 
 
“You have money?” Muriel was surprised anew.
 
I scrolled an explanation, While NOT the most popular hero, my slime in a jar novelty items are always a big seller at Halloween, and for some reason, the soda I endorsed thanks to my friend Viewpoint was a hit.
This time she didn’t even try to hide her amusement, “Oh my god I saw that commercial. I thought you were CGIed.” And she hummed the jingle.
Contractually obliged, I wrote as she hummed, FOR THE THICK GREEN SODA YOU CAN ALMOST CHEW- IT’S OUT OF THIS WORLD IT’S JUICY GOO!
 
Now she was laughing hard. I did too, in my way, my skin bubbling and releasing without shame. Viewpoint had told me I could do anything I wanted with the money I had. Now I had an idea.
“Don’t you need the money for yourself.. I don’t know, room and board and …” She started to say once she recovered.
I eat pigeons, and I don't mean squab. I mean off the ledges. There's always food for me. I can sleep anywhere as long as it is not too wet, and as for clothes? I find them confining.
 
“Oh wow, I’m talking to a naked alien,” She shook her head as that little truth kicked in.
Kind of a let down from a young Jeff Bridges in STARMAN, isn't it? My point is, I have the money, you have a voice. These guys are cool, and I promise will not harrass you. If they try anything, I'll deal with it. You are safe with me. Help a fellow Milkywayan out?
 
“Well, it buys me one more week of not wanting to kill myself, sure, what’s a bit of public embarrassment?”
 
We made our way down, I escorted her, then told her to wait while I filled in the others. They’d all have to wear masks, of course, but that was fine. I must say, Eel was a very good sport about it; they all were. Once I explained, they were completely onboard. Tino even apologized for not giving me even more things to do to make up for the karaoke. I told him that with Muriel’s helping me, he didn’t need to.
It was actually a very good time!
The selection was outdated but enjoyable. Viewpoint probably had the best voice of all the humans, judging by the pleased sigh Muriel gave during it and the pheromones she released ( I didn’t tell). Caleb’s rendition of uptown girl got some amused looks from Tino, who covertly recorded to give to his niece later. He then had his turn, as did Hussar. Muriel read me like a teleprompter so WE could perform Flying Purple People eater together. Each of us had more than one go, but as the drinks went around, the quality did admittedly dip though the fun did not.
And later, when Arctic Fox asked me if some woman had performed for we fellows? I would answer that yes, a very brave lady who had the courage to post pone her tragic story and begin writing a new one. And her name was Muriel.
 
(The End)

Oreo cookies > Sweets > Munchies > Pigging out > Pig > Bacon > Kevin Bacon.

There's your seven degrees of separation.

Oreo cookies > Sweets > Munchies > Pigging out > Pig > Bacon > Kevin Bacon.

There's your seven degrees of separation.

Oreo cookies > Sweets > Munchies > Pigging out > Pig > Bacon > Kevin Bacon.

There's your seven degrees of separation.