Dr Archeville

The final scene of Das Rheingold opens on the mountaintop, where Wotan and Loge force Alberich to exchange his wealth for his freedom. They untie his right hand, and he uses the ring to summon his Nibelung slaves, who bring the hoard of gold. After the gold has been delivered, he asks for the return of the Tarnhelm, but Loge says that it is part of his ransom. Finally, Wotan demands the ring. Alberich refuses, but Wotan seizes it from his finger and puts it on his own. Alberich is crushed by his loss, and before he leaves he lays a curse on the ring: until it returns to him, whoever does not possess it will desire it, and whoever possesses it will live in anxiety and will eventually be killed and robbed of it by its next owner. The gods reconvene. Fasolt and Fafner return, carrying Freia. Reluctant to release Freia, Fasolt insists that the gold be heaped high enough to hide her from view. They pile up the gold, and Wotan is forced to relinquish the Tarnhelm to help cover Freia completely. However, Fasolt spots a remaining crack in the gold, through which Freia's eye can be seen. He demands that Wotan fill the crack by yielding the ring. Loge reminds all present that the ring rightly belongs to the Rhine maidens. Wotan angrily and defensively declares that he will keep it for his own, and the giants seize Freia and start to leave, this time forever. Suddenly, Erda the earth goddess, a primeval goddess older than Wotan, appears out of the ground. She warns Wotan of impending doom and urges him to give up the cursed ring. Troubled, Wotan calls the giants back and surrenders the ring. The giants release Freia and begin dividing the treasure, but they quarrel over the ring itself. Fafner clubs Fasolt to death; the orchestra repeats Alberich's "Death-Curse" leitmotif. Wotan, horrified, realizes that Alberich's curse has terrible power. Loge remarks that Wotan is indeed a lucky fellow; his enemies are killing each other for the gold he gave up. At last, the gods prepare to enter their new home. Donner summons a thunderstorm to clear the air. After the storm has ended, Froh creates a rainbow bridge that stretches to the gate of the castle. Wotan leads them across the bridge to the castle, which he names Valhalla. Fricka asks him about the name, and he replies enigmatically that its meaning will become clear when his plans come to fruition. Loge, who knows that the end of the gods is coming, does not follow the others into Valhalla; he tells the audience that he is tempted to destroy the gods and all they have deceitfully acquired. Far below, the Rhine maidens mourn the loss of their gold and proclaim that the glory of the gods is only an illusion. The curtain falls, and the audience gives thunderous applause. The opera had begun at 8:00pm, it was now almost quarter to 11:00. And this was the shortest of the four operas! And, to everyone's delight, no supervillain attacks! But there were still three other performances to go...

Immunity means you automatically pass any check or save against the listed effect, so Immunity to Fatigue protects you from the Fatigue power, as well as anything else that induces a fatigued condition (like running all out for extended periods), or the fatigue (though not the Con loss) from exposure to excessive cold or heat, or starvation/dehydration. Since Extra Effort simply imposes the fatigued condition on you, with no save, Immunity to Fatigue does NOT protect you from that fatigue. (Also, it'd be ridiculously broken for a 5pp Immunity to make you immune to the negative consequences of using Extra Effort.) I'm not sure how long it'd take to recover a damaged Ablative Protection/Force Field effect. Ablative is very similar to the Fades Flaw, and that says it takes an hour to recover completely.

Archeville did one final scan of the alley, "No, I do believe that is everything. Let us get back to yourhome and see how Miss Americana has fared!" Soon the two men of science (well, man of science and teen of rockin' science) returned to the Wilder household, and found Miss Americana and the CBOUS. "Lo, the mighty hunters have returned!," Archeville intoned with much pomposity, "and we have found many useful components! How have your examinations fared? Were you able to get in touch with Dr. Efthimiadis?"

"Likewise, Kid," Archeville replied, "and I do look forward to continuing to work with you!" One week later (Nov 17th, 2010, a Wednesday)... Blake soared through Freedom's night skies on hideous pseudonatural wings. It was an unusually warm night, cool rather than cold, and as he flew he saw a few clouds pass over the gibbous moon. It'd be full in four days, and that'd be a time to watch for cultist activity... and to start preparing for Thanksgiving dinner! As he thought on how to ask Robin if she was doing anything for Thanksgiving, another figure approached him, coming up from behind. KC heard the rockets first, and when he turned he saw moonlight glinting off golden armor. "Bonsoir, monsieur!" a voice announced from the suit's synthesizer. KC had heard of this newcomer to Freedom, a Frenchman in a piecemeal battlesuit who'd come last month in pursuit of cultists, but this was the first he'd actually seen him. "Nice night for a patrol, non? Would you be adverse to some company?"

Not "one last," each has several more throughout the city.

The target's temperature did indeed match that of the surroundings, but it did not shuffle slowly as did most zombies Gabriel had heard of (like the hordes that assailed Freedom City last month). This... undead was running all-out, though he did not see what, if anything, it was chasing. Saw them organleggers goin' down that street, should be able ta cut 'em off by runnin' through here. Vile buggers, harvestin' bits from cadavers fer transplant, regardless'a the original owner's requests, or their own conditions. Seen too many folks get sick from gettin' bad transplants from jokers like this. "Mutt, go'n up ahead an' keep an eye on 'em! You ain't gotta worry 'bout runnin' 'round trees like I do!"

Grim finds hours of surveillance video of other Diablos Rojos and Diavoli Neri hot spots, as well as a few other places, including Dead Head at Lantern Hill, Kid Cthulhu on patrol... and of the Brownstone! Seems Witchfinder had been scoping out the Interceptors, or rather, scoping out both Grimalkin and Jack of all Blades! The police soon arrived, and after comparing notes the team learned a horrible fact: the spots marked with red x's on Witchfinder's map, places the Interceptors knew from Vince were Diablos Rojos and Diavoli Neri drug labs or meeting places or safehouses or other affiliated spots, were places that had been firebombed over the past several weeks. Seems Witchfinder has been after these guys, too, but had been doing so longer, and with more gusto. On the bright side, it did mean that both gangs had been more seriously wounded than previously thought, so should be easier for the team to clear out.

Archeville's eyebrows shot up as the 1996 Ford Aerostar materialized. "Wow!" Yes, Doktor Archeville actually said "wow"! "I prefer Audis myself," he chuckled, "but that is neither here nor there. Excellent detail!" He flitted around the van, touching it, prodding it, running scans with his Screwdriver. "And it even appears to be made of metal!," he exclaimed after looking at the readings. "Not steel, though, more like aluminium... no iron in here at all... interesting." "And now, to test it..." He tried the driver's door, and found it opened with no problem. He sat in the driver's seat, looked about for the keys, and found them up in the sun visor. The key went in, the mechanism turned... but nothing happened. "Hrrmmm..." He popped the hood release, got out and went around to the front of the van. Lifting the hood, he instantly saw the problem. "Ah, as I expected." Lynn had approached, partly from marveling at her handiwork, partly just to touch the USS Aerostar one more time. She'd come around to the front and joined Dok in looking in... and saw nothing but a jumbled mess of parts, most of which she did recognize as being automobile parts, though a few appeared to be generic mechanical widgets. "This is a vehicle from your childhood, yes? But you never saw under the hood, did you? Or, at least, never studied what was under there, yes? You do not know how an automobile works, not on the level an automobile manufacturer would know, right? I would bet that the more complex an item, the more you must know about how it would be constructed for it to be a functioning copy, otherwise it is just a non-functioning shell."

Though it was early Sunday morning, ArcheTech was not at rest, for Science! rested for no one. A young Vietnamese woman, Nguyen Thi Ngon, was working the main reception desk that morning, and had been looking forward to a quiet morning when the half-lupine man barged in. She kept her cool, though, and called Archeville on his emergency line while two security guards went to the young man's sides and attempted to escort him to a chair off to the side. Ngon's monitor showed the interior of Archeville's home laboratory, but not the man himself. Sounds in the background indicated he was present, though, likely working on something. "Doktor! Doktor Archeville! We have an emergency here!" "Erklaren," Archeville's voice came from off-screen. It sounded... phlegmier than usual. Perhaps he had just woken up. That could explain why he lapsed into his native German for the word "explain." "It... well, it looks like someone in the early stages of lycanthropy!" "Say again, communication unclear. Start from beginning." As Ngon went over what had happened, Archeville came into view from the shadows. His silhouette looked a tad off as he approached, but when he came fully into view and appeared his usual self. Ngon wrote it off as a tick of the light, glitches in the communication system. "I will be right there!" Less than a minute later, a pinpoint of gray-blue light appeared in the ArcheTech lobby, and everyone there felt a slight twinge of vertigo as gravitational forces were bent and twisted to form a short-lived micro-wormhole. Archeville appeared, and ran to the young man's side. "Ngon, contact the medlab, tell them-" "Already on it, Doktor!" He smiled and nodded at her, then knelt down by the young man, "I am Doktor Archeville, and I am here to help. What happened, sir? When did this happen? Are you still being pursued?"

Archeville smiled -- a genuinely warm and pleasant smile -- and chuckled, "that would be one reason, yes, to make sure that plot holes and inconsistencies do not crop up. That no one seeing it gets derailed while watching it -- or half an hour later while getting a snack from their refrigerator -- by wondering how or why certain things did or did not happen. To make sure nothing happens simply for the sake of prolonging the story. Though that is not to say there would not be things that a viewer may realize later, as they think about the work and realize certain things which are only obvious in hindsight... or with repeated viewings." "But more importantly," he continued, "would be to offer incarcerated metahumans an opportunity to work off their debts to society by lending their unique talents to these films. Not all of the inmates at Blackstone are psychotics and sociopaths, some are low-threat risks who are there solely due to their metahuman abilities. Set it up like the work release programs, where inmates who have displayed a modicum of trustworthiness can work, or work towards a degree of some sort."

The revenant let out a high-pitched whistle, "Mutt! Sic 'em!" When most people hear someone call to a dog with a command to "sic 'em," they expect the dog to come at them from the ground, fairly low, and so take appropriate defensive measures. Holding the arms up and close to the chest, and keeping one eye low to watch for attacks to the legs. However, most dogs cannot run on air as well as solid ground, so Dead Head and Mutt take advantage of this by having Mutt "sic" their head and shoulders from above, an angle of attack most do not expect. And while Mutt did that, Dead Head would move in with his shovel, aiming for the legs while the target was busy fending off the dog attacking from above. Which is exactly what happened here. Mutt attacked from above and behind, distracting the Head Cultist enough for Dead Head to get in two solid hits to both his knees. "Good boy!" he told then dog, then turned to the Head Cultist, "as fer you: sit!" Despite the obvious pain the blows caused, the cultist remained upright!

We've got almost all the awards tallied and noted on the char sheets, so I figured I'd go ahead and post now. Seventeen PL bumps! One new Gold member! And one new maxed out char! Arranged by Player, it looks like this: alderwitch Bombshell: 4pp and is now PL 11 :clap: Phantom: 5pp and is now PL 15 :clap: Psyche: 4pp Angel Angel: 0pp The Pugilist: 0pp angrydurf Ouroboros: 2pp Partisan: 3pp Phalanx: 5pp Aoiroo Changeling: 4pp and is now PL 11 :clap: Silhouette: 4pp and is now PL 9 :clap: AvengerAssembled Avenger: 1pp and is at max pp :clap: Edge: 5pp and is now PL 15 :clap: Fusion: 5pp Harrier: 4pp Burlap: Atomic Powered Man: 0pp Carces Creature Feature: 3pp and is now PL 11 :clap: Casey not been by all month; archiving Flux: --- Cyroa Dark Star: 2pp and is PL 15 now :clap: Hellion: 1pp Dariusprime Fulcrum: 3pp Darksider42 Lady Winter: 1pp Rift: 1pp Dr Archeville Dead Head: 8pp and is now PL 11 :clap: Dr. Archeville: NONE! Ecalsneerg Arrowhawk: 2pp and is now PL 14 :clap: Equinox: 2pp and is now PL 11 :clap: Geckoman: 2pp Electra Fleur de Joie: 6pp and is now PL 15 :clap: Miss Americana: 6pp and is now PL 13 :clap: Wander: 6pp ex3lev3n Pax: 1pp Razoring: 2pp Faust Breschau: 1pp Courier: 0pp Flare Knight Powerhouse: 5pp Fox Dragonfly: 5pp and is now PL 9 :clap: Gaian Knight: 2pp Geez3r Atlas: 4pp Dynamo: 3pp and is now PL 14 :clap: Gizmo Jack of all Blades: 5pp Midnight: 5pp Grotesque not been by all month; archiving Suzaku: --- Heritage Gossamer: 4pp Grimalkin: 5pp JackgarPrime Victory: 5pp KnightDisciple Cobalt Templar: 9pp and is now PL 8 :clap: Gabriel: 7pp Kyriotsu Push: 4pp Lone Star Kid Cthulhu: 3pp Mad Dog: 1pp Moira: Justice: 1pp The Unicorn: 1pp OmegaPlatinum: Sparksmith: 1pp Quotemyname Breakdown: 2pp Colt: 2pp Valkyrie: 1pp Raveled Ironclad: 3pp and is now PL 9 :clap: Robin Cross: 3pp rpgronin not been by all month; archiving Momentum: --- SaintDharma32 not been by all month; archiving Doc Energy: --- Sandman XI Muse: 3pp Wesley Knight: 5pp ShaentheBrain The Scarab: 1pp Zephyr: 0pp Shockwasp Calliope: 3pp Shockwasp: 2pp Sorus Sage: 2pp Supercape is now Gold :clap: Slick: 5pp Supercape: 7pp and is now PL 12 :clap: trollthumper Cannonade: 3pp Nick Cimitiere: 3pp tryrar not been by all month; archiving Dyne: --- The 100+ Posts per Month Club Wander (141) Supercape (129) Fleur (102) Miss Americana (102) Gabriel (100)

Archived due to player absence

Lone Star, Lone Star, post your threads, 'ere I grind your bones to make my breads!

Here are links! [Nov 2010 Vignette] Arrowhawk & Equinox (and Keter!) [Nov 2010 Vignette] Criticism and Cocoa (Atlas & Dynamo) [Nov 2010 Vignette] Strangers on a Train (Avenger, Edge, Fusion and Harrier) [Nov 2010 Vignette] Bombshell & Phantom & Psyche [Nov 2010 Vignette] Unchained Labor (Cannonade & Nick Cimitiere) [Nov 2010 Vignette] The Power of Words (Cobalt Templar & Gabriel) [Nov 2010 Vignette] Dead Head & Doktor Archeville (and Evil!Dok!) [Nov 2010 Vignette] Dragonfly & Gaian Knight [Nov 2010 Vignette] Confidentiality (Fleur de Joie & Miss Americana) [Nov 2010 Vignette] A Little Favor (Gossamer & Grimalkin) [Nov 2010 Vignette] Jack of all Blades & Midnight (II) [Nov 2010 Vignette] Superslick (Slick & Supercape) [Nov 2010 Vignette] Victory & Wander

Public relations gigs were not Wander’s forte. Saying that was a little bit like saying that the abominable snowman didn’t hang around tropical beaches, and yet here she was, waiting to meet the representative from AEGIS on behalf of Young Freedom. She wished mightily that someone else had been able to do this, but everyone else had been busy. Plus, as Alex had pointed out with her sometimes-annoying wisdom, Erin had better get used to making a good impression on strangers if she was going to be going on job interviews. With the inarguable wisdom of that in mind, Erin sat in one of the conference rooms in Claremont’s main administration building, with Oliver purring on her lap. She hadn’t invited him, but that never mattered to the sneaky orange cat. On the other hand, Victory-or rather, Lance- was quite used to them. A bit too used, to be honest. So many meetings with cameras and microphones have gotten a bit....tiresome. He’s a good sport, and knows it’s part of the deal, but still, it’d be nice to have a less crowded meetings. And he dressed appropriately. Instead of just showing up in his on-duty gear, Lance went in his more casual clothes. His hair was left to hang down over his ears, touching his brown leather jacket, adorned with all manner of patches. He kept his hands in the pockets of the jacket, so no one would be distracted by his metal hand as he walked through the school. He just looked forward, counting the room numbers, his heavy feet clanging against the floor. Eventually, he finds the room, and knocks. With his flesh hand, of course. he wouldn’t want to smash the glass. “Come in,” Wander called, rising to her feet as the door opened, spilling Oliver unceremoniously to the floor. As the AEGIS hero came in, she gave him a thorough once-over, looking for potential strengths and weaknesses. He was certainly big enough, and probably quite strong, and definitely more well-versed than she was in the diplomacy of this kind of meeting. But she had an odd sort of seniority at least, since she’d been doing hero work longer. That was vaguely comforting. Not comforting enough, though, to suppress the little tingle of worry she felt every time she dealt with the government. The League had granted her asylum, helped her work through the red tape, gotten her a new identity, but that wasn’t necessarily the end of the story. She wasn’t sure what would happen if a government agency took an interest in her. Lance pushed the door open, a polite smile put on his face. The one he always used when he’s meeting someone in a business capacity. It’s very practiced, but he’d prefer to have it be genuine when he can. Victory took his metal left hand out of his pocket, and brought it forward to greet Wander. “Hello. I’m Lieutenant Factor. Or Victory, if you prefer. I assume you are my contact today?” He’d been given a dossier on Young Freedom, but he’d prefer to learn about them more from speaking with the members personally. He did, however, check out what it had to say on their powers. Wander, for one, is supposed to be extremely strong. Which is why he decided to use his metal hand for the shake. “Yes, I’m Wander.” Erin extended her right hand automatically, then withdrew it and awkwardly extended her left hand for a backwards handshake. Her handshake was firm for a girl her age, but didn’t seem unusually or painfully strong. All the members of Young Freedom had extensive training in their own powers. “It’s nice to meet you. I, um, I’ve read some of the news articles about the things you’ve done in Freedom City. It’s very impressive, even though you haven’t been around for very long. I guess you asked to meet with a representative from Young Freedom?” The left handed shake had thrown a few people off guard, since it wasn’t a normal thing for someone to do. Although he used the right hand for normal people, against those with significant strength, he would use the left one instead. However, he found that she didn’t use any of that strength in her shake, so perhaps it was unnecessary. Either way, he kept the smile on his face. “Ah, thank you! I always feel kind of weird introducing myself to people who have been doing the hero thing longer than I have, in case they don’t know who I am. But yes, I’ve heard of the exploits you and your group have been through. I just hope I can have such success of my own.” If she were older, he probably would’ve felt more awkward. But, in his mind, her young age balanced out her greater experience. At least as far as being able to relax goes. “But yes, I had asked to meet with one of your group. They didn’t tell me who I was going to meet, though. Figures, doesn’t it? Shall we sit?” Erin sat down, trying to ignore Oliver as he leapt up onto the table and sat, sphinxlike, watching Victory. “It was sort of a last-minute thing,” she told him. “We’ve been out of the country for a little while, and a couple missions popped up back to back, plus the holiday and everything.” She shrugged one shoulder. “You’d probably be better off with one of the others, but you can always meet them some other time. I wrote down one of our transponder frequencies for you, I figured that was something you’d want to know if you needed to get in touch with us in the field.” She pulled a piece of paper out of her backpack and handed it to him. That was about the extent of her prepared remarks, so after that, she just watched him like the cat. Lance took a seat, as well, but tested it for sturdiness first. It looked like wasn’t going to be quite strong enough to hold him. However, he knew it could be awkward if he stands the whole time, so he pulls the chair up and pretends to sit, but actually kepthimself raised over it half an inch, his mechanical legs able to hold up the weight for very long periods. He checked the paper, before he nodded and stuffed the number into his coat pocket. “Thank you very much. I’m sure I’ll have use for this some time or other. It’s not impossible to find yourself in over your head without realizing until it’s too late, after all. Especially in our line of....well, I’d call it work, but I don’t think that would be quite correct in your case, hmm?” Lance, as he spoke, couldn’t help but notice the cat staring a hole through him. He quirked his brow, looking at it. “That’s a nice cat. Kind of surprised you’d bring him to a function like this, though...” Even though she hadn’t actually invited Oliver along, Erin bridled at the implied sting on her professionalism, especially on the heels of him implying that what she did for Freedom City wasn’t work. “I thought you said you wanted to meet representatives from Young Freedom,” she said, her voice chilly. “Today, that’s Oliver, my valued teammate, and me. If you’re uncomfortable about who was chosen to come and meet you, I guess you could always try making another appointment to see if one of my friends would be willing to come and talk to you instead. I still don’t even know what you’re hoping to get out of this meeting that you couldn’t have gotten in a phone call.” That seemed like a bit of an overreaction, Victory thought. And at the same time, his eyes widened a bit. He hadn’t heard anything about a cat being part of Young Freedom. Maybe it was a mascot? Or perhaps the cat itself had powers of its own? It wouldn’t have been the first time something such as that happened. Lance cleared his throat a bit, and looked apologetic. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t told that one of your members was a cat. I guess that’s something they left out of the dossier. I’ve heard of animals getting powers, as well, but I’ve never seen it myself” It seemed meanings of words were getting crossed. Not just with the cat, but also with the other comment. Victory had meant that since she did her heroics completely on her own time, it was a different situation for the two of them. He had to try and salvage the mood. “Well, Wander, I don’t think that a phone call is really the best way to meet someone. I didn’t just want a receiver number or something like that. Although it is much appreciated. I wanted to know what the members are like. If I’m going to be joining the fight to protect the people of this city, I want to know what the other heroes who have already begun the task before me are like, if we’re all serving the same cause.” Wander pursed her lips and looked reluctant, but she didn’t want to be the one to screw up the meeting and have to explain it was because he’d insulted her cat, among other things. Somebody might agree that she should’ve conjured up some magical power to make Oliver leave somewhere he wanted to be, and then she’d be in detention. Again. The only good thing about graduating in the spring was going to be finally being done with detention. “Edge is the leader of Young Freedom,” she told him, describing the team as she would to any curious person. “He’s a luck controller, he can make things go his way most of the time. Psyche is a psychic, obviously, Phalanx can fly and lift amazingly heavy stuff and punch through a tank. Hellion is a teleporter and has a lot of magical talents, but he’s on call a lot doing other things. Midnight is a tactician and the team engineer. Rift controls soundwaves. And I hit things hard.” A...luck controller? As a pilot, Lance always had some superstitious habits, but he never thought someone actually could have a power to control luck itself. Maybe it was similar to those reality warpers he had been warned about by his trainers? He tried not to dwell on what such an ability entailed too long, though, and tried to keep his expression friendly. “Well, I can certainly appreciate getting a good hit in on someone. For all my fancy cybernetics and jets, that’s essentially what my own combat strategy comes down to. Leave the energy beams to those who can’t take a hit, right?” Lance’s hand had begun to do its tick, opening and closing, the gears in his hand audible in the small room. His eyes moved back to the cat, and his finger casually points to it. “What about Oliver here?” “Morale,” Erin told him dryly. At the question, Oliver got up and padded across the table on silent paws, studying Victory with a look that seemed to have more than animal intelligence behind it. Then, in a gesture that was entirely catlike, he lowered his head and gave the lieutenant a firm boof on the arm to demand petting, then settled down, absolutely sure he would be accommodated. The cat was correct, as Lance smiled when he came up to him. “Well he certainly is cute, that’s for sure.” With the little fuzzball rubbing against his arm, Lance began to reach down with his metal hand, but took a look at it and stopped himself from using that one. Instead, he closed it, and used his flesh hand instead, beginning to stroke Oliver’s fur. He guessed there’s probably more to it than just one word, but he was alright with not knowing specifically. His smile grew a bit more, as his fingers ran through the fur. “So, might I ask how you found yourself joining the group? I’ve always been curious how these superteams form.” Erin hummed, not quite sure how much she wanted to say. She wasn’t ready to talk about Claremont with this guy, that was for sure. But she could say some things without being dishonest. “Last spring a couple of supervillains tried to take the baseball stadium hostage, and froze almost all the people in their seats to show how powerful they were. I don’t know if you remember seeing it on TV, it was big for a few days. We were all there, but we’d never really worked together before. We got together and gelled really well as a team, so we decided to stick together. Sometimes it’s just that easy.” “Really? Just like that, huh? I suppose that makes sense. Getting through something like that is a quick way to form bonds, to be sure.” His hand kept petting and lightly scratching the cat, and his mood had gradually lightened. Became more calm, more relaxed. “Well, if it’s that easy to just kind of have happen, maybe I’ll end up with something,too. I’m the only guy AEGIS has out in the public face, so it’s just me going solo. Sometimes others happen to be around to give me an always-appreciated hand, but nothing official. Although sometimes I let my superiors know that some cape or other has helped out, and see if there’s any way we can repay them in some form or other. Kind of hard to do when everyone has a secret identity, but oh,well.” Although he was fine with just petting, he looked down at Oliver an smirked. “Did you sign up at the same time, fella?” “He came along a little later,” Wander told him, relaxing just a fraction when he didn’t push her on the story or ask for more details about her friends. Having Oliver along really had helped, in the end. She was about to say something, when suddenly her communicator beeped an alert! Lifting it to her ear, she listened to what was being said on it with an expression of growing concern. “There’s been some kind of accident downtown,” she told Victory. “They’re reporting casualties, but there’s not much to go on. I have to go.” At the same time, Victory had gotten a call of his own. He was half-listening to Wander as he was getting his own, through a receiver build into his ear. He shot up, and started to remove his jacket. “I’m getting the same info. Looks like I’ll get to see first hand how a member of Young Freedom operates, eh?” Raising his hand, he shrugged off the jacket, as his helmet materialized in his hand, and the armor encased the rest of his upper body. “Need a lift?” “You’ll see more than that, my team’s already on its way.” She rose, shaking her head as she set to activate her teleporter beacon. “My way’s faster,” she told him. “Do you want one?” Victory laughed, and shrugged, as his jet ports opened quickly,to tear the pants off, allowing him his full movement. He put his helmet on, and did a quick diagnostic to make sure everything was good to go. “Sure, why not? I’ve never tried teleportation before.” “All right, hang on, then.” She stepped up close to Victory, then turned her attention momentarily to the cat. “Don’t play with my computer,” she told Oliver, “it’s got my homework on it. At least save it first.” The cat washed a paw in complete disregard, as Wander sighed and teleported them downtown.

"Explain to me one more time why your school library has actual magic books in it," the swordsman known as Jack of all Blades requested as he side-stepped a massive, scaly fist larger around than his chest as it crashed into the table he was standing on, breaking it in half. Nearby, the second enigmatic vigilante to use the moniker Midnight gave him a muted shrug, the gesture partially obscured by the wisps of inky black mist that rose from his body as he tumbled backward, avoiding a roiling torrent of green flame. "Big library." The swashbuckler snorted harshly as he used the collapsing table’s momentum to surf forward, bringing his glowing, white hot energy blade down through the lizard like creature’s shoulder, the limb sliding off smoothly like butter. "It’s your in depth and comprehensive explanations that really help me through these unusual circumstances," he drawled, turning to look at the black clad man fighting beside him. Even as Jack turned away, the misshapen extra planar being stepped back with a roar of pain. As Midnight watched, however, a brand new arm grew with sickening speed from the stump. Worse yet, the severed arm continued to thrash until an entirely new creature rose to join its former owner. A handful of throwing knives with timed explosives gave the terse vigilante’s surprised ally a moment to regroup, and the scaly pair stumbled back amidst the noisy detonations. "Talk--" "--too much, yeah, you’ve mentioned," Jack interrupted Midnight, leaping forward to tackle the other hero out of the way of another cone of verdant fire spat from the maw of one on the leathery winged monsters that circled about the library’s ceiling, crowing with high pitched wails. The pair came up easily to their feet as dozens more of the varied beasts continued to emerge from the library stacks. "I really hate this school sometimes..." the fencer opined as they rushed back into the fray. The day had begun quietly enough for both young men. Trevor Hunter, the soft spoken alter ego of Midnight, had been planning to do some research for a large project he hoped to have completed before the winter break, the last of several take home projects he’d simply opted to finish right away. Sauntering into the school library in the evening, he’s found it very nearly deserted apart from a fellow senior, a slim, black haired girl who’d started at Claremont that September. Purportedly the younger sister of the West End based vigilante called Jack of all Blades, he knew she was enrolled under the name Jill Pique. Though the young costumed detective doubted very much that was anything but a pseudonym, Erin has mentioned her off-handedly at least once and seemed to think well enough of her, even in the coltish teen shared some of her sibling’s infamously abrasive sense of humour. Regardless, Jill appeared to be absorbed in the sizeable stack of books she was sifting through, and so he moved on with no more than an amiable if curt nod. The roads outside were dimly lit by the occasional street lamp despite the relatively early hour, the dark and chill of the winter months making its presence well known. Erik Espadas stepped lightly off of the bus that had taken him out of the city proper with easy grace of a trained athlete, shoving his hands into the pockets of his wool liner coat as he hefted a knapsack over his shoulder. Despite his civilian clothes, he was wearing the black wig which was part of his uniform as Jack of all Blades; coming to give his sister Ellie a hand carrying borrowed books home was as good an opportunity as any to establish himself to any curious Claremont student as ‘Jack Pique’. It was a delicate balancing act between the siblings’ multiple identities, but the specialized education the school provided could well be worth it. He was only halfway to what the directions he’d scribbled down on a handy napkin indicated was the library building when there came a sound like the tremendous, booming rush of air into a vacuum, followed by a series of animalistic roars and cries. Pulling his bag from his shoulder, he’d already donned his royal blue bandanna mask as he began to sprint toward the geyser of mystical energy nearly blinding his metamagi super senses. Throwing open the double doors to the library, Jack found a faceless, darkly clad figure already battling a towering reptilian beast with a pair of matte black, hardwood sticks. "Hey, aren’t you--" the war-era hero buff began with a surprised pause. "Talk later," Midnight insisted brusquely, a jaw full of serrated teeth buckling under his latest blow. "Jack of all Blades? Sister is inside." "Right," Jack noted soberly, sweeping his hand forward as electricity leapt from nearby desk lamps to forge a scintillating rapier in his hand. "Can’t leave that girl alone for five minutes." With an acrobatic leap, the melee was joined. At first the pair seemed to be making good progress in beating the obviously otherworldly forces back toward the other end of the library, but soon it became clear that new monsters were spilling forth faster than they could dispose of them. Within heart pounding minutes, the two young men found themselves back to back, surrounded on all side as pterodactyl like beasts circled above. "Well, nertz," Jack drawled in a strained voice. Midnight simply grunted in agreement. Suddenly, the beacon of extra dimensional magics winked out of existence, the dull roar of winds from another world cutting out. The creatures seemed to blink in surprise for a few seconds before toppling over one by one. Jack had to nimbly jump out of the way as one of the flying monsters crashed into the spot on the floor he’d been standing on. Exchanging a glance, the pair moved to the other end of the library and the direction from which the beasts had been pouring forth. They found Jill sitting atop a pile of fallen lizard things, splattered lightly with green and black bodily fluids. One pant leg was torn and her unruly hair was an absolute mess, but the teenage girl seemed otherwise unharmed as she gestured to the large tome held closed under her arm. "Why does a school library have actual magic books in it?!" she asked incredulously, her breathing heavy with exertion. "That’s what I asked!" Jack agreed, throwing his arms up in the air and letting his energy blade dissipate into the air. "Hnn..." Midnight grumbled placing a gloved hand over his mask’s ruby red lenses and shaking his head slightly. "Stereo..."

"Confidentiality" Stesha had never been to ArcheTech's main lab before. It was a very impressive, almost intimidating place, even more so because today she was here in her civilian clothes. Her green hair, pinned up in braids and rings close to her head, and surrounded by flowers, was the only obvious sign of her metahuman origin. Besides that, she looked like any other woman in a flowing pink blouse and elastic-waist jeans. The nice receptionist put her somewhat at ease, giving her a pass and directing her to the arrows that would lead her to her destination. After a quick bathroom detour, Stesha headed up in the elevator, following the arrows that led her to a small side laboratory that looked somewhat like a normal doctor's examining room, except for a few extra large pieces of equipment around. It was also empty, which she hadn't exactly expected. She stepped inside anyway and found a note sitting on the bed. "Sorry I'm a little delayed, please get into the robe and wait just a moment." Stesha sighed and did as requested, stripping and neatly folding her clothes, then slipping into the robe and tying it closed. She sat down on the end of the paper-covered exam bed and covered herself with the paper towel sheet, then hugged her arms to her abdomen and waited in the quiet humming of the machinery. She hoped Doc was right about this referral. The wait wasn't long, much to Stesha's relief. In just a couple of minutes, there was a light tap on the door, and then a beautiful woman in a white lab coat walked in. A seriously beautiful woman, and if Stesha hadn't been used to dealing with Moira, her jaw might have dropped. The doctor closed the door and took out a fancy-looking iPad with a lot of extra technical baubles attached to it, and gave Stesha a friendly smile. "Hello," the blonde said, "I'm Miss Americana. You must be Fleur de Joie? I understand you asked Doctor Archeville for a female metaphysician?" Miss Americana did some sizing up of her own, looking over her new patient. She certainly looked the part of the earth mother, with her green, flower-bedecked hair, dirt-edged fingernails, and cutely guileless face. That face was a little green as well, but she couldn't tell at a glance if that was normal or if it were an offshoot of Fleur's current situation. Only one way to find out. "That's right," Stesha replied, "but you can call me Stesha. Doctor Archeville says that you're very good, and I thought I would just feel more comfortable with a woman doctor for this, you understand?" "Yes, of course," Miss A reassured her, with a totally believable smile that she didn't entirely feel. She knew more about medicine and certainly more about life science than most doctors, but she'd never actually conducted a proper examination of a living human being before. But a day of practice for her was equivalent to a year of study for the average human, so she felt reasonably prepared. Mostly. "This is a very special time for you, and I want you to be comfortable. Or as comfortable as possible while you're wearing a paper gown, anyway," she added with a wink. "Yes, that's sort of a limiting factor," Stesha grimaced. "Do I really have to wear this? It's sort of... drafty." "Sorry," Miss A told her sympathetically. "I have to do a quick pelvic check in a few minutes, so you need to wear the gown." "Oh God." Stesha's grimace deepened. "Are you serious?" "It's very important," Miss A assured her. "I need to check and make sure your cervix is tightly closed and in the right position, and get a couple of swabs. It won't take long. If it makes you feel any better, the table has already gotten your weight, temperature and blood pressure, so we've skipped the entire first part of the exam right there." "I guess, a little," Stesha allowed. "Just don't tell me how much I weigh. I don't even want to know." "No problem," Miss A told her, "but I will say that you've got nothing to worry about so far. You said you think you're about thirteen weeks, is that correct? When was the first day of your last period?" "The first or second of September," Stesha replied, with the air of someone who had long since worked out the answer to that all-important question. "That's really why I didn't notice for awhile, the beginning of October and November were both so crazy, I didn't even think about it till sometime in the first week of November." Miss A nodded and did a few calculations on her pad. "You're exactly right then, you're at thirteen weeks and four days now, with a due date of June 2. Though that's a ballpark, you have to understand. Those can be off by as much as two weeks in either direction." "Oh, I know," Stesha said with great feeling. "My mom is a midwife, so she's drummed that into me thoroughly. I want her to do most of my care if that's possible, but I want to get a clean bill of health first, before we tell them anything. I'm not quite human anymore, you know?" "That seems sensible," Miss A agreed. "How have you been feeling? Any dizziness, nausea, heartburn, insomnia, food aversion?" "Not as much now," Stesha told her, furrowing her brow in concentration. "Still pretty sleepy and hungry, a lot more so than usual. Generally my power allows me to go without when I want, but not anymore. But the nausea's mostly gone away, and I only had a couple of dizzy spells ever." "That sounds very normal," Miss A said approvingly, making a few notes on her pad. "Are you taking a vitamin and getting plenty of water? You said your appetite has been good, what are you eating?" "Everything I can get my grubby little hands on," Stesha admitted with a laugh. "I'm trying to eat plenty of fruits and veggies, drink a lot of milk, but the other night I sent my fiance out at three in the morning, in costume no less, to buy me another box of Rice Krispie Treats cereal. I think I've eaten a case of it by now. But it's vitamin-fortified!" she added, looking imploringly for Miss A's approval. "There are probably worse things you could be eating right now," Miss A allowed with a chuckle, "but sugary cereal is not going to take the place of a good prenatal vitamin. Why don't you lie back, and I'll let the sensors take a look at you before we do anything else. They'll be able to tell me what your internal chemistry is up to, and anything we might need to watch out for. We'll save the rest of it for last." She wasn't looking forward to that part any more than her patient was. "All right," Stesha agreed with a sigh, laying back against the bed with her head on the flat foam pillow. "I'm a little cold," she admitted. "Is there a thermostat in here?" "No problem," Miss A assured her. "I'll take care of it." Maybe it was out of some kind of nascent guilt for misrepresenting herself, but Miss A made sure to take good care of her patient. She dimmed the overhead lights and bumped up the thermostat, covering Stesha with a permeable sheet that the sensors could look through easily before retreating to the booth to take readings. As an afterthought, she turned on the ambient speakers to the soothing channel the company used in the wellness rooms for scientists in sort need of naps. Relaxing chime music played softly as the scanners went to work, checking over the prone superheroine's unique body chemistry. It was interesting enough work to hold Gina's attention, even as the scans revealed Stesha relaxing into a little nap on the table. The plant controller's body chemistry was very strange, but seemed stable and in balance for what it was. Gina wished sorely for a set of baseline readings, but apparently Doc had never managed to talk her onto one of his lab tables before today. She'd have to work with what she had, but it all looked pretty promising. As she worked, using the robot's senses and hands to access and interpret the data, Gina acknowledged to herself how much she actually enjoyed doing this sort of thing. The engineering was her first love, and what she was best at, but she liked helping real people, live people like this as well. Maybe that's why she'd been drawn to the idea of building medical prostheses in the first place. She didn't want to waste time in medical school or anything like that, but maybe it was time to improve her knowledge of the field even more. Miss A spent long enough looking over the readings for Stesha to get a restful little nap, waking gradually as the lights came up over a period of a minute or two. She yawned, disoriented for a moment, then looked around to see the labcoat-clad heroine coming around the partititon. "Mm, I guess I fell asleep there. How do I look?" she asked, a little nervously. "I don't have a set of baseline readings to go off," Miss A began, "but what I'm seeing now looks good. You both seem to be very healthy and doing just fine. I see a strong heartbeat and good blood flow. You can hear it too, over the microphone." She pressed a button, and suddenly the air was full of a fast, swooshing patter that sounded like a water pump working at full capacity. "Wow," Stesha said with a silly grin. "That's great. That's amazing. Wait till I tell D- Dark Star. He's going to be over the moon. Maybe literally." She laughed, closing her eyes to listen to the sound until Miss A deactivated the speakers. "It's all really good to hear. I feel so much better. Better enough to even be ready to get the pelvic over with." "It's good news," Miss A agreed, "but I think you really should get some continued monitoring here, just to be on the safe side throughout. I'm sure you'll be most comfortable doing most of it with your mom, but we have the equipment here to check up on your unique physiology. I want to make sure everything keeps looking as good as it does today." The talking helped to distract her as she got set up, enough of her mind on her work to let her be competent, but not enough to let her think too much about it. "All right, now scoot to the edge of the bed and put your feet in the stirrups." "I guess that's a good enough compromise," Stesha said, a little reluctantly, even as she moved to comply. The pelvic exam was about the same as she remembered, uncomfortable but fast, and then it was done and she could sit up, as quickly as possible. "Uck." "But now it's done," Miss A reminded her, hiding her own squick behind a perfect professional smile. She was just glad Stesha hadn't looked up to see her face. "The results will be back in a week or so, and I'll let you know if there's anything to worry about. In the meantime, get a good vitamin regimen going, and make sure to keep up with exercise at whatever level you feel comfortable with. And congratulations, you and Dark Star are very lucky." "I know," Stesha said, her reservations melting away into a brilliantly happy smile. "We're the luckiest people in the world. I'm so excited! Thank you so much for your help, Miss Americana. I really felt very comfortable with you as my doctor." "I'm glad," Miss A replied. "Just let me know if you have any questions or if anything comes up. My phone is always available." She left to allow Stesha to get dressed, waiting till she was outside to take a deep breath. In a life full of strange experiences, Gina wasn't sure that hadn't been one of the weirdest.

“I can explain--†Bombshell continued to be yanked back and forth in the cage of eldritch and telekinetic power. She went quiet, hoping not for the first time that she wouldn’t end up pulled apart like a Christmas cracker. “While I do appreciate your help tonight, I really would like to remind you that this is both my building and thus the matter should be in my hands.†The petite telepathic powerhouse known as Young Freedom’s Psyche was saying as she gave a gentle tug on Bombshell’s wrists, trying to get her away. “In your hands to let her go? She’s a well known felon!†The enigmatic Phantom responded in her eerie rumble, tugging on Bombshell’s feet until she was slowly flipped sideways. Not for the first time did Bombshell wish that Scarab was able to read her at least for a mental SOS. “Ladies, please,†Bombshell interjected and when they both looked her direction, she couldn’t help but say, “There is enough of me to go around.†Well, at least they were both glaring at her now. “Look,†Bombshell continued with a disarming smile. “I’m not here to steal your McGuffin. Whatever it is. Tech, it’s not my thing. I’d offer to let you try and do the brain scan, but well, that’s never as easy as it looks. The Scarab can vouch for me. I’m new leaf now! All squeaky clean and PG-13.†And now there was simply patent disbelief. Bombshell grunted as she was tugged from the telekinetic grip on her wrists - which she strongly suspected the teenager had let go rather than risk injury and found herself thrust up against a wall. “Little bit of a hypocrite aren’t you?†Bombshell asked the cowled mystic, “Don’t you run with the grim and gritty types? Compared to them, I really am silver-plated.†Phantom’s low growl was her only response as that barb hit its mark. Comparing broken limbs to borrowed goods was really apples to oranges but it did make it hard to throw stones at the ex-thief. “Phantom,†it was the high, clear voice of the teenager now, floating slightly behind Phantom, her expression disapproving. “Scarab vouches for her, isn’t that enough?†“Is it enough for you?†Phantom responded, those burning white eyes boring into Bombshell as she held her against the wall of one of AEGIS’s research facilities. “It would be enough for me.†Psyche replied unhesitatingly, her clear gaze meeting Bombshell’s with that same eerie all-knowing serenity that Scarab had sometimes but in the Scarab, that was balanced by the heavy weight of years and years. Those wise eyes in the smooth face of a child unnerved Bombshell more than the angry wrath of any dimensional guardian ever would. Her gaze skittered away from Psyche’s and around the room, looking for an exit even as she said, “The girl’s right. You’re a bit behind the times, I’m afraid. I saw the lightshow disturbance when I was swinging by and thought I’d take a peek in to make sure that it wasn’t anything weird. Weird-er, I should say. It is Freedom City.†“That ‘lightshow’ was an interdimensional disturbance... I suppose that was nothing to do with you either,†Phantom rumbled angrily, her grip not loosening even a little bit as the cloak and shadows around her flared out. “Ah, no?†“It wasn’t, Phantom. That was an experiment by one of my research and development team.†Psyche spoke up again, quiet and patient but now she had the mystic’s attention. “I’m sorry, if I had any idea it would have been remotely successful, I would have registered the experiment with the appropriate boards but as it was, it is an unrepeatable anomaly that will be keeping that team busy for quite some time. I am very sorry if you were disturbed by it.†“Unrepeatable anomaly?†Phantom muttered, turning her hooded head but her grip slackened enough that Bombshell gave one quick wriggle and dropped out of the eldritch bands holding her against the wall and quickly dropped behind a stack of crates in the corner to hide. “No, no thank you. No more hugs,†Bombshell said, waving her gloved hands slightly, “This has all been very engaging. Apologies to the teen wonder for intruding. Now, if its quite alright with you all, I’ll be on my way....†“Now, wait just a second, goldilocks...†Phantom started, pivoting in place before Psyche said softly, “That’s enough, I think.†She glided between the two women and held her hands out, turning towards Phantom first, “I realize that yours is a thankless job and I’m very sorry that you were pulled out of whatever activity that you were in the middle of tonight for something that turned out to be a false alarm but that is my fault, not this woman’s. If you’d like to take someone to task, you’re welcome to let me know just what I did wrong. Alphabetically or categorically, your preference. But I am not about to stand by and watch you harass someone who is entirely innocent. It doesn’t matter if she committed a crime ten years ago or just last week. She did nothing wrong tonight and it is not for you to judge.†Then she pivoted towards Bombshell and fixed her with that intense look, “You, however, should not take advantage of the fact that you are innocent, to see just how far you can push the envelope. You are, in fact, trespassing. With likely mingled good intentions and plain old curiosity, but you know full well what it looks like, especially with your past. False outrage and mock innocence is beneath you.†Psyche paused and then lowered her hands to her sides slowly, “I think, perhaps, it might be time for you both to leave. I appreciate the intentions of both of you in coming here but things are well in hand and neither of your formidable skills are needed tonight. It has been a pleasure. I think you both know the way out?†Bombshell and Phantom both blinked before Bombshell slanted a glance towards Phantom and offered, “Out of the mouths of babes?†“I still don’t like you.â€

Strangers on a Train: Avenger, Edge, Fusion, and Harrier's Vignette November 20, 2010. Midnight "Sssh, it's okay," said Jack, bouncing his son back and forth on his knee as Jack Jr. fussed and bit down hard on his special teething ring as hard as he could. Not sleeping didn't mean that a baby's shrill cries were any less frustrating for a parent to hear, and so he'd finally given Taylor a break by taking his son out for a trip on the commuter train. Hey, maybe the sound of the ride would lull him to sleep the way rides on trains had for Jack himself when he was little. In the privacy of the half-crowded car, with only mundanes around and no one who knew him, Jack opted to do something he didn't often do: he told his son about his grandparents. "You know," he murmured softly, "your granddad used to take me on rides just like this when I was a baby. We lived right by the old commuter line in Adamsburg, and when I was in a bad mood he'd pick me up and take me back and forth, all the way to Bedlam and back if he had the time. He said I'd liked the sound of the music the train made, click-clack, click-clack..." The baby gave Jack a look that was, as ever, hard to read. The grim avenger of evil sighed softly. Was he going to have as bad a relationship with his son as he'd had with his own father? The adult Jack Jr. was an argument against that, true, but the boy was cagey, and anyway he was from an alternate future. Jack had visited other dimensions plenty of times with Taylor to know just how easy it was for one decision to take things in very new directions. "Things go one way," he murmured again to the fierce-eyed baby, "and I'm here with you on the train. Things go another way, and I'm a monster living without hope, without love, on a dying world." He really didn't like to think about that vampire dimension. "And no you. It's funny how these things work out, isn't it?" He'd been a terrible son in his own mind, the sort who could drive his family and those who loved him to the brink of insanity. "Sometimes I don't know what your mother sees in me," he admitted. "I'm hardly a man at all sometimes, much less a good man. And here I am with a wife and baby, and life is...life is actually pretty good," he admitted. "Maybe the team don't get together as often as we should, but that's because things are quiet." He thought of Dead Head, and hoped his friend would forgive him for slipping away at Halloween. _It's not an easy thing, confronting a god,_ he thought. _Especially when you know your existence isn't what it should be._ And Dead Head had spent much more time doing good than he had, in the grand scheme of things, either chronologically or relatively. _If Dead Head doesn't deserve to exist, do I deserve to exist?_ It had taken him a while to realize that what one deserved didn't really matter. Dead Head existed, and did good in the world; Avenger existed, and did his best to do the same. And he'd been lucky, and found people he loved and who loved him. And he'd almost lost them both. Both to Heshem, and maybe Taylor at least to his own..."If she hadn't come back, what would I have done?" he asked no one in particular, leaning against the window he'd covered with his jacket to guard against anyone spotting his lack of reflection. "Disappeared into the darkness with you? Been a boss instead of a worker on the street..." He stroked the baby's soft, fuzzy little head for a little while, lost in thought. "Hunted down and murdered...nah." He shook his head. "Not really my style. Shouldn't be your style, either." He beamed at Jack Jr, getting a teeny little smile that couldn't hide the baby's teeth at all. "There are enough dead people in the world. People who don't deserve to be dead, either." He bent down and kissed the baby on the head, pulling him close inside his jacket for a cuddle. "Your grandfather would have loved you very much." - Her back aching, Joan entered the train with a sigh, though she did stop to give a nice smile to the dozing father and the bright-eyed little baby he was cuddling. She remembered long nights with a fussy baby too, and had nothing but sympathy for the poor man. _Nice to see fathers getting involved in their children's lives_, she thought as she carefully took a seat, mindful to spread her coat across her lap as she'd done for years now when she was sitting like this in public. Charlie was good about being with Lois, very good, but most men weren't as good as he was. _I should thank him more for that,_ she thought a little unhappily, taking out her notebook and looking over the coded jottings she'd made about corruption in the county sheriff's office. She'd gotten an informant on the inside, and he'd had a lot to tell her. _He's a good father, and a good husband._ She thought back to their last argument, a foolish thing over a political candidate he'd mentioned admiring, and had to wince a little. _And sometimes,_ she conceded, _I'm not easy to live with._ She wasn't one of those women who walked around with some kind of crazy self-loathing or anything, but she had to be honest with herself. _I'm lucky to have Charlie._ Unbidden, thoughts of what her life would be like alone came to mind, and she pressed a finger between her eyes to try and blot them out. _No baby girl. No one to talk to at the end of the day. And if I was still on the dating market..._ It was, she reflected grimly, an unfortunate situation to be deformed as she was. She wasn't just warped, she was warped in a way that some very perverted men found sexually appealing. _If a man liked me for my tentacles, I'd know he was a freak. And if he didn't like me for my tentacles..._ She reached down and rubbed her fingers along her side. _I'd be the freak. Just like I am now._ She knew plenty of people with permanent mutations who she didn't regard that way, but she knew she herself was something special. _Just think what everyone would say if they saw you. Look at you, Ms. Hotshot Reporter, got herself all warped and messed up because you decided to be a hero. Not so smart now, huh? Not so perceptive?_ She pictured people like Bombshell, a criminal who'd kept her good looks through decades of time and who knew what self-abuse, and repressed a red surge of anger. _She's a good guy now. I can't hold her past against her._ She'd figured that much out, at least, from talking to the Scarab. _It's hard, though_ she admitted to herself. _Criminals shouldn't be able to just shrug off decades in jail like nothing bad happened, then go back to their life like nothing happened. Bad people should pay for ruining society._ On further reflection, though, she supposed she'd been harder on Bombshell than she really needed to be. The real criminals were people like the deputy sheriffs with their smuggling ring, not people like Bombshell who'd stolen some valuable items some years earlier. _Not that I wouldn't bust her in a second if I could. But right now, she's more sinned against than sinning. And I've been one of those sinners._ She shifted in her seat, wondering why trains had to be so slow. _I could have gone home under my own power,_ she reflected, thinking of Fusion's grace and beauty as she whipped her way across Freedom City's skies, _but I can't live like that every day. I have to be able to do some things the way I used to, or close to it, anyway, or I'm admitting I really have been changed forever._ Joan didn't like to admit that sort of thing, not even when she knew it was true. She still pictured herself whipping through the sky anyway, or maybe running, just like she'd done before, in perfect control of a perfectly human body, sweat on her neck and muscles burning with the heat of a good burn, pushing herself to the limit. _Maybe I can get some action tonight,_ she reflected. _...or maybe I'll see if Charlie's in the mood._ - Mark gave a friendly smile to the relaxed-looking lady as he took a seat in the trainseat behind her, feeling more pleased with himself than he should. He'd gone out late at night, met a really cute college girl, gotten a little drunk, and then fooled around in her dorm room until her returning roomate had chased him out. _I guess it wasn't very heroic_, he conceded with a little self-reflection. _But it was nice to unwind._ Things had been so serious lately at home, and even sometimes at school, that just getting away and totally unwinding had felt really nice. Really, really nice, he thought. And at least this time he wasn't going to have any weird guilt like after his night with Marcie. He still remembered the look on Dr. Marquez' s face when he told him that story, the psychologist excusing himself to use the bathroom shortly thereafter. _I was really worried I'd offended him, but it didn't seem to bother him when he got back. Heck, he was smiling!_ Maybe all that hadn't been so bad in the end, he'd certainly had a chance to meet a much worse version of himself later, and that Mark hadn't been sexy at all! _I'm glad the other Daisy is doing okay,_ he thought, adjusting his clothes as he checked to make sure he hadn't spilled any beer on them. He really didn't want to get caught drinking underage, but no one had asked at that party he'd wandered into, so he hadn't told. He wouldn't have gone out if his mom was in town, but Martha Lucas had taken her sketchpad and gone upstate to get back to her art (to use her words) for a few days, leaving her eighteen year old son to take care of himself for a while. _She's really doing well in that therapy. I'm really glad she started going,_ he thought, remembering the deep unpleasantness of how things had been before the zombie invasion. _Man, who knew a zombie invasion could be so helpful? Hmm, better not mention that to Erin,_ he thought quickly. _Better to make it about how nice it was that his mother had been able to take care of herself when that monster had shown up!_ Come to think of it, she'd studied the same self-defense lessons that his father had tried to teach him, and maybe she'd even done better. _It's a lucky thing I've got these powers!_ Mark reflected; they'd made some kinds of self-defense redundant even as they'd made some kinds all the more crucial. _I can even dodge hits that Erin makes when we're in training, and that's not easy. I even ducked when Trevor was sneaking up on me once!_ He wouldn't attribute either of those to skill, not when both of them were much better trained and better fighters than he was, but he wasn't the kind of guy to turn up his nose at a little luck. _That's how I got here, after all._ Glancing again at the lady with the notebook, Mark took out the sheet of paper he'd been carrying in his pocket, screwed up his courage, and suddenly began to write: "To the Office of Personnel and Management, UNISON: My name is Mark Mason Lucas, and I am responding to the advertisement your organization has been circulating about the employment of people with superhuman abilities for UNISON's food and development programs for undeveloped nations. I am very interested in working with your organization, and would like to set up an interview as soon as possible." Mark paused there, thinking about the shining costume waiting for him in his closet at school, about the pictures of the Freedom League and Young Freedom on his wall, about a family legacy of duty and heroism that stretched back longer than some families had been living in America. He thought of his grandfather fighting Nazis, then his father fighting supervillains...and then pictured the hungry faces he'd seen in pictures of Africa and Asia, thought about the people he'd helped feed and clothe right here in Freedom City. _Be a hero, Mark._ "My superhuman abilities encompass the manipulation of material reality, ranging from the creation and destruction of matter through the alteration of its basic subatomic structure. In the past, I have successfully created edible items equalling the volume and space of a 747..." - Invisible to the naked eye, Harrier kept pace with the train easily, his jets roaring behind him as he flew. He could see the humans inside, so normal and easy as they went about their lives, and couldn't help but feel a wistful envy for them. _Look at them. A young man writing a letter to his lover. A woman doing the same, perhaps? And a father with an infant, and all those others..._ He'd seen so much destruction and death in his time that the sheer peacefulness, the casual normality of the scene, was almost enough to take his breath away. If he breathed in his armor, anyway, which was certainly not the case given the way the metal inside rearranged his internal structure with every use. Vividly he remembered the agonies of that internal replacement, the terrible body alteration that had ended in an even worse violation of the soul. _But here...here such things are not so bad._ He was hated and feared by some, it was true, but they were honest emotions that could be easily expressed: the gunfire and screams that came his way, not to mention the occasional attacks from his fellow heroes, were proof enough of the goodness of this place. It was a beautiful thing to no longer be feared, even if that fear was replaced by hate in the eyes of many here. _They are free to make their own choices and live their own lives. If they choose to hate my appearance...well, perhaps that's wise of them._ Intrigued, he pushed himself and caught ahead of the train, landing at a nearby station and hastily taking cover before resuming his normal appearance, stowing his pike in its usual place at his belt. And just in time, too, as the train pulled in mere seconds after he crept out of the men's restroom. Sparing hardly a look for the people still looking around for the source of the strange noise, he hastily bought a ticket and hurried on board, taking a seat near the group that had intrigued him earlier. He'd spent a good portion of his tips for that night, but what did he need with money anyway? His apartment took up most of what he made, as did the food he bought, but between his antennaed TV and other items, he had no need to spend money on luxuries: he could afford to spend the savings he kept in his closet (along with a month's worth of canned goods and a very large knife) when it suited his fancy. _I wonder if I should give more of it away,_ he speculated as the train pulled out of the station. _There are people who need things here, even though none suffer as they did in Nihilor._ He felt pity for those who thought themselves suffering here, both for pain that was certainly honest and that they knew so little of the world. _My father, stabbed in a street fight over bread fallen from the supply ships of Steelgrave. My mother dead of the burning plague weeks later. If they knew anything of such a world, what would these people think?_ He looked from face to face, then back down at his hands when the hard-eyed man with the infant looked his way. _Perhaps it is best if I do not judge. Everyone has lived their own lives and their own experiences._ He thought of his own life, and all those many he'd taken. Burning cities and dead babies, the cruel laugh of the mocking god of entropy at the center of the universe...but then the baby up front laughed, and the father holding him smiled, and Murdock felt himself smile too. The young man had taken out a music player and was humming along as he listened to a tune Murdock had caught on the radio earlier as he'd flown over the train, while the woman was smiling a very warm smile as she whispered a purring conversation into her cellular telephone. _No. No, those things are proved a lie by the glory of this place. There is life, and joy, and easy pleasure. And I know a young woman who plans to pull down the temples of the dark gods. Life is good._

"Wait, seriously?" "Mm." "You built that - all of that - without a college degree." "Yes." "You’re not even a student?" "No. Never put a foot on a campus." "Huh." A dim glow illuminated a cramped metal room that didn’t have much room to spare after accommodating the two trapped heroes - could an observer see in the inky blackness (and, dear reader, why not?) they might note the curious contrast - the sword-wearing, goggled, longcoat-clad Gaian Knight at one end cross-legged on the floor, and the technologically-gifted, gauntleted, visor-obscured Dragonfly leaning back at the other, feet propped up on a wall as she stared up at their metal prison. "Seriously, though," the earthmover probed, mostly to fill the silence. "Never? Not even a single class?" The inventor only shrugged. "No. High school, either. GED, though. Safety nets...mm. Why? That surprising?" "Well, I mean...well yeah. You don’t think it’s a little weird to build all that stuff with just a GED?" She tilted her head, apparently pondering that for a minute. "Maybe," she conceded. "Not sure someone who doesn’t breathe can talk about ‘weird’." He had to laugh at that, throwing up his hands. "Hey, hey. Alright. In my defense, I normally DO breathe. I just don’t really have to when I’m underground." "Mm." There was silence again, filled only by fidgeting and the quiet, almost imperceptible noise coming from Dragonfly’s gear. Far, far above the metal roof came the noise of machinery and shouted orders. "So, uh, I don’t mean to pry. But...why?" came the question that once more broke the silence. "Didn’t really see a point. Know plenty...could teach half the classes. By proficiency. Experience poor, patience...mm. May not be suited for it. But have the knowledge." "Well, sure, okay. But there’s so much more to it than that! I think you’d gain a lot by getting a-" He barely managed to cut himself off before saying ‘proper education’. "...a solid college experience." She turned her head and raised an eyebrow, her shifting audible in the close quarters and silence. "Examples?" she challenged. "Like....erm. It’s a whole...social....I mean, it’s not what you learn, it’s what you....that is...." He trailed off, and he could see (Bless you a thousand times, fancy and expensive goggles.) her flat stare, the full force of a stubborn and unamused young woman turned in his direction (Curse you a thousand times, fancy and expensive goggles.). "You could...meet people your own age?" he finished, rather weakly, his hands spread in an unseen gesture of helplessness. She snorted, turning her head back up to look up at the ceiling. The noise was changing, now, the dim sound of machines being turned on and sending vibrations that made the metal walls hum. "Little use for people my age. ...am not that young, anyway." There was silence again, though this time the sounds from above were muffled by the terrible awkwardness that filled the air. Both heroes, magic and science, cheered inside as they heard a loud and reverberating hum through the ground, as if some massive generator had been switched on up above ground. They stood up, adjusting their respective coat or jacket and making sure they were leaving nothing behind. Her gauntlets were already charging, lines of blue and quietly illuminated glass; his hands glowed a soft golden brown in the darkness as he reached out with his senses and felt the earth above them. "Ready?" "Mm. Ready. Teleporting in five...." Then there was a flash, the sound of air rushing to fill a vacuum, and nothing. The little metal container sat silent again and empty, deep beneath the earth while sounds of fighting broke out on the surface above.

A Little Favor The last time Dok had asked Lynn to work on a solo mission, the results had been somewhat traumatic, but he assured her that this time, it would quite different; in fact, she might even be paid! She didn’t know all that much about her prospective client, so she hit the internet and did a little light research; it said all kinds of nice things about her, none of which did much to change Lynn's predetermined attitude towards her. Great, another rich blonde shiksa goddess; whoopty-frickin’-doo. For some reason, there was a YouTube video of her wearing a prep school uniform and playing guitar with some girl band, which was mildly amusing. Ooh, she’s got a rebellious streak; how daring! The gossip websites linked her with Divine over the summer, which was rather…odd. I guess she’s pretty and everything; wonder if she broke Moira’s heart? Sitting at a terminal in the FC library, she jotted down a few notes in her notebook, one of countless other students working on a project, and then got back to worrying about her Psych paper. This young woman had come very highly recommended by Viktor, which was very nearly enough, but Estelle still felt a little digging was in order. The internet didn’t yield very much beyond wild fanboy speculation, which by the way convinced her never to Google herself, ever. So she made a few phone calls, which led to more phone calls, which led to a lovely lunch with Commissioner Kane at the Plaza. The overall picture was…intriguing. A bright young woman with a bewildering array of powers who started clawing up pimps in the notorious Fens, but who now belonged to the rather mysterious and reasonably well thought of team known as the Interceptors. Viktor had also warned Estelle that she had a 'thing' against the wealthy, which was unfortunately narrow-minded for one so young. Ah well, the passions of youth! Perhaps she’d be surprised by what this particular ‘rich b***h’ had in mind… Inside Doctor de Havilland’s gleaming futuristic office at ASTRO Labs, Grimalkin stared back at Gossamer in disbelief. “So what you’re telling me is…you want me to help you with your Black Friday shopping?” The annoyingly beautiful scientist/superhero/Barbie doll raised one slender finger as she corrected the tiny shapeshifter. “Not just any Black Friday shopping; this is a charity event sponsored by J.S Kinderhoff Toys to provide Christmas gifts to needy families throughout the Fens and Southside. Each superhero participant is allowed to bring along one 'shopping buddy', and we get one hour to fit as many toys into one cart as we can, all of which are then gift-wrapped and delivered to the children free of charge, complete with a card signed by Santa.” Grim still looked like she'd been hit in the face with a two by four, scratching the back of her head as she slumped in the oh-so-comfy leather chair that probably cost more than her parents' whole trailer home. At lasts she sat up, rubbing her jaw. "Okay, I get that this is the kind of thing rich people do, y'know, to make themselves feel better about being rich - no offense, by the way." Estelle snorted and rolled her eyes. "None taken." "But why me? A, I'm Jewish, and B, why not Johnny Quick or Dynamo, or even that girl Zephyr? My first choice would be a speedster, if I was gonna pick a shopping buddy." Gossamer nodded. "Believe me, the store already thought of that; the rules specifically disallow anyone who can run at those sort of speeds, to avoid an unfair advantage. But apparently the rules are a lot less clear on pixies..." There was a twinkle in Grim's eye. "Oh really...?" Estelle shrugged. "And Viktor said you were good company and you care deeply about this city's poor, just like I do. So, are you in or out?" Lynn smiled and nodded her head. "Oh, I'm in, baby!"

Midtown; Sunday 28th November The Millenium Mall was always quiet on a Sunday morning. As the blond- scruffy man sauntered across the main plaza, no one even noticed his passing, but for one grim man with greying hair and a walking stick. The blond man smiled through the glare, even as John Fraser turned his irritance at the early hours upon some poor unsuspecting barista. Casually, the blond man walked into a side door through into a small janitor's closet. The janitor inside put down his coffee mug, but could barely open his lips to protest the sudden intrusion before his head had been slammed clean through the folding steel table into unconsciousness. Siobhan Drake browsed through the small occult books section of the bookstore, frowning. They were all either too expensive, outrageously misinformed, or both. While flicking through a slender volume on the lycanthropic 'myth', she felt an odd throbbing at the base of her skull, her hands shaking of their own accord. Something big's happening. Putting down the book, she briskly left the store and headed towards the female bathrooms. John Fraser frowned as he sipped the vile, cheap coffee. Better than nothing, I suppose. Still garbage, though. Then the smell hit his keen sense. Brimstone cloyed up his nostrils and made him sneeze. Glancing around, it looked like nobody else had really picked up on it. Fortunately, (or unfortunately) he had much keener senses than the average joe on the street. And as such, he quickly picked up his cane and headed off to the parking garage to get his motorcycle and costume. The mystic blast blew a small chunk of wall out from where the maintenance closet once was. Unnaturally red and green flames burst forth in a cloud of acrid grey smoke, the explosion sounding less like a bang and more like the bark of a hundred angry Rottweilers. The few shoppers present in the shop fled as the blond haired man, Keter, strode calmly and unharmed forth from the flames, soaked in blood across his torso and on his arms up to his elbows. At his heels pranced three dog-liked creatures, hair- and skin-less, each with teeth like daggers and claws like swords. Every one had four eyes a deeper, more putrid green than the saliva dripping from their jaws, sizzling as it hit the floor underneath them and melted the cheap tiling. Keter reached down and petted one absently, fingers running through the scaly ridges on the back of its head where its ears should be. Snarling, it lunged to bite at his hand, only to have its head blown clean from its shoulders in a shower of ichor, hellfire spouting from Keter's splayed fingers. "Bad dog," he growled in a low tone. With casual disinterest, he watched the woman in the black trenchcoat glide down towards him from the upper level. Her translucent white wings faded into nothingness as she dismissed the spell, wand levelled at Keter's head. "Simon," she said simply, expression neutral in spite of her blazingly white eyes. "I see you've not changed much." Keter scowled at her, but held a hand out to keep his two remaining hellhounds from leaping at her. "Siobhan, you know I prefer my real name," he said, annoyance not even present in his tone. "I've come to ask for your help. We could achieve so much." He looked pleadingly at her. "I know our methods don't agree, but perhaps I could try and convince you." "No, Simon," Equinox said wearily, shaking her head. "Last time, we both nearly died. Please, just give up. I'm not helping you. We can talk about it, but I will never do things your way. It costs too much." She flicked her wrist, a white aura of force appearing around her like a balloon. "Come with me. Please." Keter shook his head, nostrils flared. "I don't think you understand me, Siobhan. I was offering you out of courtesy. Bring her in, boys." His posture and tone didn't even change as the two hounds leapt at Equinox, slavering and roaring. Without a second thought, she'd pointed at one with the wand, a brief blast of air at tornado velocities meeting it headlong and casting it back to the floor. But the second leapt into her mystic wards, spewing acid from its maw. Sweat beaded on the witch's forehead as she braced her shields, trying to keep that clinging acid off of her skin. Summoning up a burst of wind once more, she tossed it to the ground and pushed up off the ground, white wings forming once more to hold her off the ground and away from the hounds' snarling leaps. But Keter merely smirked and did the same. Only, instead of white force, his wings were blazing red hellfire, and constantly shifting in shape and size. "Go hunt some prey," he said to his hellhounds, pointing at a couple of fleeing cashiers from the food court. They hungrily bounded off towards them. "No!" cried Equinox, going to fly after them. But a gout of hellfire hit her square in the chest, smashing her down to the floor, helpless as the hellspawned animals leapt at the young workers. Keter still was hardly reacting, just watching the imminent slaughter. One of the dogs leapt, maw opening wide with fangs about to close on a soft, unresisting skull. The arrow exploded into it, blowing a huge chunk of black ichor out of the creature's neck and tearing its lower jaw off. The carcass crashed into the ground, dissolving into black goo, before fading into nothing. Even as it did so, the second hound had turned to look at the fate of its companion, only to receive another arrow straight into its open jaws. The headless body fell still as the tall man dressed all in black glided down to the floor on a cape shaped like hawk's wings. "Not very good demons," growled Arrowhawk, another arrow already nocked and pointed at Keter. Blazing red eyes glared from underneath a hood. And finally, Keter laughed. "Excellent show," he applauded, raising two hand wreathed in hellfire high. "Now, kindly roll over and die while I conduct my business." Arrowhawk let the arrow fly... into a sudden cloud of hellfire appearing in the air. Even as the arrow passed harmlessly through nothingness, he felt a burst of agony in his back as something incredibly strong and on fire slammed into it. But the distraction was enough for Equinox to leap to her feet, summoning a cushion of air to slow the impact and bring Arrowhawk safely down to the floor. She then flicked her wand in a tight circle, and pointed it at Keter's face. A brief, but blindingly bright, flash of flame appeared and then immediately dissipated, leaving him reeling and unable to see. "I see your skills have grown," he snarled, raising both hands up above his head. "But I've got more power than you idiots can comprehend." And he slammed his hands downwards to the ground, hellfire flooding up from nowhere to crash across the entire level. The destruction cleared, leaving the mall an absolute mess. Shops were wrecked, their windows exploded into millions of shards, their merchandise torched. The floor was scorched, riddled with acid burns and reduced to muddy craters at certain points. And Keter was just... gone. Equinox lowered her shields and fell to her knees. "That was close," she said in a strained voice, weary from having had to make so strong a shield in so short a time. She didn't hear Arrowhawk drop from where he'd managed to grapple up to on the ceiling. "Who was that psycho?" he asked in a low voice. "You seemed to know him, from what I heard." Equinox looked up at a harsh, weathered face. "One of the mistakes from my teenage years. And he's apparently got much more dangerous than he used to be. That kind of infernal magic isn't exactly easy to do," she mused. "And he's still convinced I've got enough magical juice to get him what he wants." The man's expression hadn't changed once. "And do you?" he asked. Equinox just shook her head and accepted the hand he'd just outstretched, pulling her up to her feet. "I'm Equinox, by the way," she said, more out of politeness than anything else. "Arrowhawk," came the reply. "Thanks for stopping me hitting the wall there. It might have hurt some." Equinox just looked at him incredulously. Might? Of all the arrogant, pig-headed...! "Yeah," she said slowly. "And thanks for stopping those hellhounds. I... don't know if I could have lived with myself for failing to save those poor people." Arrowhawk just nodded. "You'd have learned to. Anyway, I have to be off." "But aren't you going to help clean up?" protested Equinox, a note of indignation entering her voice. "Not my style, kid." And she just watched as the older man walked off, a barely perceptible limp in his steps.

The Power of Words November 27, 2010, 8:30pm, EST United States, New Jersey, Freedom City, South Freedom, Bayview Cobalt Templar was flying on one of his first school-approved solo patrols. For this little exercise, he wasn't to go beyond the Bayview neighborhood unless explicitly approved, and anything above “petty thugs” was also to be called in if at all possible. He'd been provided with a basic earpiece communicator for his little mission, and was giving hourly updates to Changeling. That said updates took about 10 minutes apiece because of Changeling's bubbly, high-energy personality was of little concern. After all, it had been a really boring patrol. Then again, half the stuff she talked about barely made sense. He shrugged; it was another 30 minutes before he had to report in. “Hm. Erin didn't tell me how much of this hero work was mindless patrol with nothing-” Suddenly, he heard strange, unnatural sounds coming from an area closer to the state road bordering Bayview and Southside. He'd mostly kept clear of that area, as there weren't really any homes or businesses; it was a rare stretch of empty land. Apparently, that was about to change. Squinting his eyes a bit, his monochromatic night vision slowly helping him pick out what looked like a man in bright clothing fighting several small...creatures...that were swarming him. A bit beyond that little furball, there were two average-sized shapes, and one that made even CT look small in comparison. The guy in...that might actually be all-white, and not just a light color...was just barely holding his own. “Looks like it's time to do that hero thing. I'll radio in as soon as this guy gets some relief.” And with that, he sped off, pushing all his speed into arriving. Should take him about 60 seconds more... Meanwhile, Gabriel was having what he would later classify as a “bloody awful day, thank you kindly”. He'd started off with a routine patrol around Southside. It was yet another quiet night; he was starting to like them. Oh, they were boring, sure, but they also meant people weren't getting hurt one way or the other. He'd been on the east end of the area when he'd barely had time to dodge a bolt of fire searing past his head! The hero in white turned to look, and saw three thugs. Wait, not thugs. Demons. Real, honest to goodness demons. But these demons weren't as sophisticated or smart-looking as the last one he'd faced. “Thugs” seemed like a good name for them; they were big, brawny, and stupid looking. There may be three, but Gabriel figured he could outsmart and outmaneuver them. Wasn't like he hadn't faced worse odds before. “So long as I can avoid Stesha having to patch me up again, I think I'll be fine...” He quickly dropped altitude, avoiding another couple of blasts, before he leveled out. Taking a moment to glance at their surroundings, he fired off a pulse of sonic energy that exploded in the midst of the demons. Instead of physically harming them, it merely assaulted their ears, giving Gabriel precious moments to continue planning. He couldn't afford to get close, which limited his options a bit. Still, he was far from helpless. “Demons? In my city, in my Southside? I don't think so! Begone, servants of Hell!” First, he barraged their minds with several bursts of sound. The two smaller beasts seemed to become confused, befuddled, and generally lose sense of what was going on for several critical seconds. The larger demon, on the other hand, just shook its head and sneered. “Puny mortal. Calling upon powers that likely don't even hear you! We are far beyond what you could ever-” A bolt of hyper-concentrated sound waves in his face shut him up. Gabriel hovered there, grinning...until the large demon slowly turned his face around to glare at Gabriel. “Big mistake, mortal.” By this time, the other two had shaken off their confusion, and were also glaring at Gabriel. The large one made a gesture, and the Twins took to firing alternating blasts of fire at the hero in white. Meanwhile, the Big Guy started working on some sort of ritual. After only a minute, it revealed itself to be a summoning spell. Specifically, one to bring forth a dozen Imps, which quickly took flight after Gabriel. “Oh bother. Bloody pests!” And so, we come to the present, where Gabriel has been fighting a running battle with the assorted demons, dodging fire blasts form the Big Guy and the Twins, while the imps kept darting in to try giving him the “death of a thousand cuts”. So far, he'd only taken a few minor scratches, but every time he blasted one of the little demons away, he had to slow down and redirect some of his power. It meant that the larger, slower demons were nearly keeping pace. Just as three of the imps were flying right at his face, mouths open and claws extended, ethereal blue fire washed over their bodies. The foul creatures, not used to fire harming them, writhed and cried out as they were burned to ashes. Gabriel wasted no time, turning and firing a full-strength blast point-blank at a nearby imp, the creature hitting some nearby rocks and sizzling out of existence. More fire poured in, quickly reducing the number of imps to merely four. At this point, Gabriel turned to face the source of the flame. “I go by Cobalt Templar. Come on, we've already figured out that napalm sticks to little demons, let's wrap the small fry up pronto.” “Call me Gabriel. Thank you for the help.” With that, CT formed what looked like a steam-punk inspired crossbow, before he started to send bolts of blue fire downrange. Gabriel, meanwhile, kept plugging away with blasts of sonic energy. As they did so, each took stock of the other. Gabriel noted the sheer physical size of his impromptu fighting partner, as well as the slightly otherworldly-looking armor that he wore; the transparent red cape was certainly something unique. Meanwhile, CT took in the bright white that the sound-wielder was clad in; the mask-hood combination did a good job at disguising his features, and the designs on the coat were a nice touch. Their moments of observation over, it was back to the fight. It wasn't long before the last imp was battered away, sent back to Hell where it belonged. Only the Twins and the Big Guy remained. Both groups cautiously eyed each other for several long moments...before suddenly Gabriel sent a pulse of energy at the Big Guy that, by the grace of the Almighty it seemed, left him retching black bile as the Twins launched themselves at their foes. Gabriel merely played “keep away” as he hammered the demon with blow after blow. Cobalt Templar, on the other hand, took a more direct approach. With a wordless battle cry, a glowing warhammer manifested from the blue flames he weilded so easily, and he began to trade blows with the beast. For a moment, they seemed evenly matched, only one or two blows from either landing in a telling manner. Suddenly, Cobalt Templar reared back and slammed his weapon into the ribcage of the demon he was fighting. The creature coughed and staggered back, trying to regain its breath. CT, wanting to end things, dismissed the hammer and instead manifested an over-sized shotgun. A single blast was enough to banish the creature from Earth. Meanwhile, Gabriel was having trouble with his opponent. The demon was fast, and surprisingly canny as a fighter. It closed the distance between them, rearing back to likely try ripping his head off...and froze in place, Gabriel's hand on its chest still humming with the paralyzing sonic waves he'd pumped into its body. Without even a word, he raised both hands, pointed right at the demon's head, and fired. Thus, he too vanquished his opponent. Flying over to Cobalt Templar, he glanced around. “Where did the other one go?” “I don't kn--Get down!” The armored youth dove and just barely managed to push the two of them out of the way of the large blast of hellfire the final demon had been cooking up. They looked at the Big Guy, standing on a ridge above them, a cruel smile on “his” face. A brief glance at each other, a nod, and they took off. Gabriel flew high into the air, slamming blast after blast into the creature. Only some of them seemed to truly affect it. Clearly, it was tougher than its brethren. Meanwhile, Cobalt Templar manifested what looked like a large anti-material sniper rifle. He carefully looked down the “scope”, slowly drawing a bead on the creature, devoting all his effort to hitting it, and hitting it hard. For two minutes, he stood there while Gabriel engaged in a deadly dance with the creature from mankind's nightmares. Finally, opportunity arose. Gabriel reared back and let forth a particularly powerful blast that left the creature dazed, unable to focus on its surroundings. In that moment, Cobalt Templar struck; his construct rifle sent out a powerful, concentrated burst of energy that lanced through what passed for the demon's heart. As its body faded to foul ash, it cursed the heroes, before pointing at Gabriel. “My mistress knows your scent, mortal! She will find you one day, and you will break before her will! You cannot escape her!” Then, it was silent as the creature's ashes scattered in the wind. For almost a minute, both heroes just stayed where they were, catching their breath and taking it all in. Finally, Gabriel floated down to Cobalt Templar's position, extending his hand with a smile. “Thanks for your help. It was tough, but we managed to take care of them. I shudder to think how I would have fared alone.” “No problem. I think my help worked mostly because of surprise. That, and my ring seemed oddly effective.” “You weren't expecting it to work so well on demons?” “Not specifically, no. Then again, I don't know a whole lot about this thing yet, so it's hard to say what it can and can't do, exactly. I mean, don't get me wrong, I have quite solid control of it. But I still don't know what, if any, upper limits it has, what potential vulnerabilities it carries, or even the full nature of what energies it wields. I'm still getting used to the whole hero thing anyways, but all that makes it feel like a double load, you know?” “I can somewhat understand. I may have a pretty good idea on how my powers work, but there are plenty of times I surprise myself. I'm always discovering new tricks here and there. I think that, ultimately, it's just as important to tell your ability what you want it to do, as it is to ask it what it can do.” “I get that, it's just...It's frustrating, because I have record of where I found it, and I have this feeling if I can figure out the “key” word, I can figure some of this stuff out. Stuff that might make the difference between life and death one day. I want to figure it out before I make a mistake.” “If there's one thing I've learned, it's that even heroes make mistakes. Our job is to minimize them, and put as much of the risk as possible on ourselves, rather than the civlians. We stand in the gap. Hold onto that, and I think you'll do great. As for figuring out the key. Might I suggest taking a week and explicitly not addressing the issue? Then, after that week is up, try to approach it with some fresh insight. Try new angles. And never be afraid to ask for help.” “That makes sense, I guess. Yeah. I'll do that. And, if you ever need help with demons or something, just...uh, I guess just contact Next-Gen or Young Freedom. They'll know how to get in contact with me.” “I'll keep that in mind, Cobalt Templar. Now, have a good evening. God bless, and stay safe.” “Um, thanks. You have a good one too, Gabriel. Hope the rest of your evening goes nice and quietly.” With that, the two heroes parted ways, returning to their respective patrols. CT, of course, had to endure making his report to Changeling, and enduring her well-meaning barrage of questions. Still, he couldn't help but smile. It was nice to have someone give him outside perspective and advice like that. Made things look a little more clearly. Gabriel, meanwhile, simply reflected on how nice it was to see that there would always be heroes willing to take up the call, no matter the age of those before, and even after, them.

Superslick Place: Stockholm, Sweden. Nobel Prize Banquet. Time: 10 December 2007 [NB] Every year, in Stockholm, one of the most prestigious events in the scientific and academic events of the year is held: the Nobel Prizes. And every year, after the ceremony, a banquet is held at the Stockholm City hall. Dr Quentin Quill was a respected academic in England. He had not won, and was probably just short of the brilliance required to meet the olympian standards of intellect that characterised the winners of the prize. This was not say he was by any means lacking of wit: he was one of the brightest scientists and polymaths in England - but perhaps not the brightest. Still, winning would not be out of the question for him. A man can dream... Felix Fassbinder was cut from a somewhat different cloth. A smart man, no doubt, but he was attending as CEO of Fassbinder Pharmaceuticals, a multinational company that spanned America and much of northern Europe - particularly England, Germany and Scandinavia. Unusually, he owned the entire company, perhaps because he insisted on the highest standards of medical ethics within the business. His company had therefore built a reputation as being honest, trustworthy, and clean. They contributed a not immodest immount each year to the Nobel institute. It was not merely his contributions to the institution that had earned him an invitation - it was his philanthropy in medicine and medical research, and his constitently clean sheet in terms of ethics. The two men sat next to each other at the table. Quentin was particularly eager to escape a rather irritating and sycophantic German professor of physics, Liebniz. The man was no doubt a genius - and a possible future winner - although he found the man somewhat brusque. The splendid table seated 10, and had placemats. Both men surruptitiously looked at each others names. "Pleased to meet you Professor Quill" started Felix, offering his hand in a congenial manner. "Likewise, Mr. Fassbinder" replied Quentin. Whilst Liebniz was far from his cup of tea, he would have preferred an academic as part tablemate. "Oh, please, call me Felix. Mr. Fassbinder is for my business enemies and people trying to sue me" "Well... thats very congenial of you, Felix. My name is Quentin Quill. I will endevour not to sue you, particularly if you have an army of well trained lawyers behind you!" Quentin tried to size up Felix. Fit looking man, handsome, mid 40s? maybe early 50s? he had that look of a middle aged man still bursting with vitality. Quentin wasn't exactly out of shape, but he had to confess Felix put him to shame physically. He sounded pleasant enough. "What kind of business are you in, Mr Fass..err...Felix?" "Pharmaceuticals. Drugs. A little light chemical engineering. Lubricants, for instance. But mainly drugs. Fassbinder Pharmaceuticals, est 1952. Doing very well." Quentin had heard of them, vaguely. He studied biology and biochemistry - but not medicine. He knew the main pharmaceutical companies, and this was one of them. "Wait... you are the Fassbinder - as in, you own the company?" Now Felix sized up his partner in wine. Slightly stocky chap, late 30s, had that kind of upper class english robustness to him. And certainly had an upper class English accent. Looked smart - well, brain smart, his clothes weren't a good fit. Nice bow tie, however. "Yes thats right" he answered, slightly embarressed. "Don't do much of the running these days, of course. And most of the credit goes to my father - he was the genius with chemicals. I was always more of the business side of things. " Quentin nodded. He never got on particularly well with businessmen, or indeed money in general, although he was comfortably well off. Why did they put him besides a businessman? he must have drawn the short straw. Not that Felix didn't seem a nice chap. For a businessman. Felix must have sensed Quentin's slight stiffening, and reacted smoothly "don't you worry about me muscling in on the night of academia. I didn't bribe may way in here, and I'm not going head hunting! My company was built on making sure we do science right. We dont tolerate sloppy ethics, either internally or in others. I give a little donation to the Institute however, if you want to call that bribery" he smiled "but I hope and pray that I, and my company, still have the reputation it was built on. " Quentin nodded. The man was clearly passionate about this. Very passionate. Not quite the cold crook businessman he was expecting. He adjusted his bow tie. "Well, I can't say I follow these things much, but you seem passionate about it, and your cause laudible. If thats the case, I salute you. Too much skullduggery in research these days, if I may say so. Thanks goodness for events such as this, keeps some nobility in the business. " Felix nodded back. On that, they had full agreement. "So, Quentin, whats your line of work?" "Not medicine, or pharmaceuticals, I am afraid, although I have studied a fair bit of biochemistry, biology and psychology. I am a professor of Physics at Oxford, although I confess my ideas can be a bit unorthordox at times, and bridge more than a few disciplines. " "Very interesting" nodded Felix, quite genuinely, as the waiter came round serving the first course. He gazed at the delicious menu: MENU Homard en daube avec flétan à l'aneth et oeufs d'ablette de Kalix Duo de coquelet avec terrine de pommes de terre « Almond » et céleri-rave Marquise aux pistaches, framboises et cassis, accompagnée de glace vanille VINS Jacquart Brut Mosaïque Millésimé 1996 Magnum Corton Grand Cru Grèves Bourgogne 2002 Domaine Jean-Claude Belland Tri de Vendange Coteaux du Layon 2003 Raymond Morin Café Remy Martin VSOP Cointreau Eau minérale Ramlösa Translation (English): Lobster aspic with dill-baked halibut and Kalix bleak roe Young cockerel with cockerel sausage, accompanied by almond potato and celery root terrine Raspberry and blackcurrant parfait on beds of pistachio, with vanilla ice cream Translation (Swedish): Hummeraladåb med dillbakad hälleflundra och Kalixlöjrom. Serveras med blomkålscreme samt äppelsallad. Ungtupp med tuppkorv smaksatt med salvia. Mandelpotatis- och rotselleriterrin samt silverlökspuré, kronärtskocka och rödvinssås. Hallon- och svartvinbärsterrin med pistagebottnar samt vaniljglass The evening progressed very admirably, with Felix and Quentin chatting about this and that, at some points flipping into French, when discussing the menu, and later flipping into German when having a threeway conversation with a rather melancholy albeit charismatic poet from Berlin. They continued to discuss as they digested and drank. Quentin struck up a fairly lively conversation with a Rheumatologist to his left. The conversation had initially gone rather badly as had made some quip about his bad back: something that she clearly had to fend off every single time she explained her profession. Quentin made a good recovery, and they ended up discussing biomechanics for a good half hour. Felix had, to his right, a couple of astronomers from the USA, who, as a pair, had done some important work on solar system formation. He didn't pretend to understand one percent of what they had done, but they were lively and friendly. He suspected they were a gay couple. Of course, he didn't have an atom of prejudice about sexuality. Or sex, come to that matter. It just rather dissapointed him they weren't open about it, or rather; that society had not yet progressed to where they did not feel being open was an issue. Damn, this was Sweden, fellas! As the banquet ended, with a series of speeches that varies from outright dull to inspiring and moving, Felix and Quentin started to scrape of the last dregs of the Parfait with Ice Cream (the whole meal had been delicious). Felix had ordered a fine vintage port, after Quentin had let slip his favourite tipple. It was horribly expensive, and Quentin had of course resisted briefly, in a manner that clearly indicated he would be mortified if his resistance was taken at all seriously. The two were slightly drunk. "So Quentin" asked Felix "what do you make of this?" Quentin took the small vial that Felix had produced, filled with a thick oily substance. He peered at it closely. Recently, he had begun to... well.. sense things... odd things... in his mind, when he concentrated. It all felt connected to his research on quantum entanglement. But the jigsaw had yet to fall into place. "Looks like oil" he replied, tipping the small vial one way and another "very slick, minimal friction, high viscocity. I'm not a chemist, but thats an unusual set of physical properties you have there. " Very odd indeed. He could... well.... sense... things. Odd things. He peered at it closer. It was almost as if he could feel the atoms and forces in the oil. Suddenly a jigsaw peice fell into place. Only one, a very incomplete one. And he felt a connection with those atoms and forces. And look here at this. And that. And if I just nudge this here... then the pattern changes... The oil suddenly lost all its hyrostatic force, slipped out of the vail, and hit the table, where it dribbled, impossibly, along the tablecloth leaving not one stain. Despite its low velocity, it didn't stop. STOP IT thought Quentin, hard, and the pattern flew back to its original form. "Wow!" remarked Felix. He had produced a small quantity of his oily secretions, to see what Quentin would make of it. A bit reckless perhaps. Maybe the alcohol had disinhibited him a little. But he had never seen it do that. "What was that? It seemed to become totally frictionless for a second!" Quentin nodded, quite shocked "Indeed it did, indeed it did. I don't know what happened. Must be some remarkable chemical you have there. " Felix scooped it back into the vial. This time it left an unseemly smudge on the table cloth. He knew it acted as an effective lubricant. But that was incredible. It had become, well, superslick. The night wore on, and the two men bade each other farewell. They had enjoyed a friendly dinner and had become friends. But the incident with the oil had stiffened them both slightly. Felix was concerned about a new poperty of his unusual biochemistry, and was struggling with the shame that sometimes surged through him. And of course, the fear of his identity being revealed. Quentin, on the other hand, was plain shocked about what he had felt happen. "Goodnight, Felix" said Quentin, offering his hand. "Goodnight, Quentin" replied Felix, shaking it. "That was one Superslick banquet" he added as the two men walked off to the taxis.