Avenger Assembled

"Comin' right up, young lady!" The house special turned out to be a paper plate almost but not quite overburdened with fried chicken (the proprietor warned Fred that 'most first-timers like the mild chicken better', mashed potatoes, and freshly-made buttered biscuits) and an impressively-sized styrofoam cup full of sweet tea. The chicken was indeed flavorful; with a bite to it that suggested the 'spicy' chicken must be overpowering, and the portions generous. "Are y'all meeting Wang? He's a fine man. We could use some new money being spent around these parts..." The door to the establishment swung open again, the bell jingling, and in stepped Riley Smith, unable to stop a quick frown upwards at the bell as he went. "Hey Fred!" he called, or at least spoke with enough projection for her to hear him. A few quick strides into the building, and he was giving Fred a quick embrace. It had been several months - Riley seemed taller and bulkier by a few inches, his post-top surgery torso hard like iron in her hug. His goatee was dark and closely-cropped, his head still shaved, and his leather jacket creaked slightly as he sat down on the patched vinyl seats. "Hey Lem," he said with a half-smile the proprietor's way as he sat down opposite Fred. He ordered the house special too - with the spicy chicken.

Judy did indeed hug Monica back - the dimension-lost orphan turned misplaced Presidential daughter hot to the touch, so warm that it was like grabbing onto a hot water bottle in the shape of a girl. She held the hug for a long moment, then took a step back. Her face was red and eyes pinched, but she took a moment to compose herself, smoothing her hair and face, turning herself from someone on the brink of emotional cracking to someone...well, someone who looked rather familiar. Whoever's idea all this had been, it was clear Judy was better at deception than anyone at Claremont might have suspected. Before she could speak, the door to the suite opened - and the Secret Service agent who had handed the other First Daughters off returned. "Lady Liberty. Jaycee." The Asian woman at the door cleared her throat, and Monica was able to see who that was under the black wig. Ashley smiled thinly as the door closed behind her. "How are we doing in here?"

I'll stick Woodsman in there!

"Corinne was mah first real friend at Claremont. Ah think she figured out something was up, but she was too nice to ask, even when she was Zenith. Ah miss her." Judy smiled thinly and said, in a moment of honesty perhaps pulled out of her by the presence of Lady Liberty at the height of her powers, "You ever hear of Tazewell Tyler? He was the youngest son of President John Tyler by his first marriage. He was about eleven years old when his father became the President of the United States, and he was one of the first Presidential children to actually live in the White House. He became a doctor, served in the Confederate Army during the war, and drank himself to death before he turned forty-five. He died a hundred and fifty years ago but people are still writing books that talk about him." Judy folded her hands in front of her. "It will never be normal for me." She tapped the side of her head and said, "Ah see it all, you know that? Oh they taught me how to control it, how to cut myself off from the signals at Claremont, but Ah _still_ hear every radio station, every Internet message, every time anybody says anything about my family. Or me. If it gets out what Ah am, everyone will talk about it - forever. And Ah'll never be free of it." She swallowed hard, and looked away. "So that's why we had to keep it a secret."

"Um, well, yes..." Judy closed her eyes and promised herself that if she ever told anyone else at Claremont she would make Ashley stay in the room. "After mah powers appeared, they sent me here undercover, and they made up the story about the other dimension, so nobody would ask a lot of questions. And nobody ever did!" she said with a guilty look. "Everyone was just a very...good friend, and very accepting. Ah'm really sorry," she said, "Ah...Ah really thought it was the only way, and then Ah'd promised to keep the secret, so Ah had to..." She bit her lip, and said, "Ashley and Ah have been talking to Daddy, and Ah told him that you were really great, and you love America, and that you'd be a great friend. So Ah guess it's my fault you're here..." she said, blushing again. "Ah don't know what would have happened without Ashley," said Judy quietly. "If you remember that terrorist attack at the White House last year? That was, um, that was me," she admitted softly, reaching back to tug at her hair. "It wasn't safe for me to stay in the White House," she said, "not with powers like mine, so it was better for everyone if Ah stayed away until Ah could control things..."

"I'll just let you girls talk amongst yourselves," said Cahill with a wink before he stepped out of the room, closing it behind him as he went. "Well, um," said Judy, blushing nervously and tucking her long hair behind her ear. "Ah, uh, guess you have a lot of questions. Won't you sit down?" She turned and shot a look at her sisters, asking "Could y'all give us some room?" "Oh, is this _superhero_ business?" asked Jaydee archly. "You gonna talk about your clubhouse and your nicknames?" "Oh don't be like that," said Jaybee, pushing off from the window. "Come on, we'll go for a walk and see if we can get anything from the giftshop." She shot her younger sister a look, a sharp enough one to get her moving. The elder and the younger Cahill sister headed out, their Secret Service escort lingering in the door for just a moment. "We'll be back in a minute." It was a familiar voice.

"T-thanks," said Joshua, looking very pleased at this turn of events. Indeed, the whole room seemed to be letting out a collective breath - maybe this was going to go more easily than they'd thought. Joshua handed his tablet right over to Monica, everyone seeming to put their trust in the Sentinel of Liberty. The President still had his eye on Monica, though, and seemed to come to a decision. "Wonderful, wonderful. Since we're all friends here, Ah actually have somebody Ah want you to meet. If you'll follow me?" They stepped to the other door in the hotel suite, not the one where Monica's mother had disappeared, and Cahill opened it up himself to reveal four young women; one at the window, another at the hotel desk, and a third sitting on the bed, the fourth, a sunglasses-wearing Secret Service agent, was keeping a low profile in the back of the room. "This is mah eldest daughter Jaybee," Jaybee Cahill looked over from the window and gave Monica a cautious smile, her short dark hair barely reaching her shoulders. She was a college student back in Oklahoma, in a jean-skirt and jacket that made her look ready for a cowboy social. "Mah youngest Jaydee," Jaydee Cahill was dressed to match her sister but didn't look like she liked it, fifteen years old and already something of a social media star, "and of course, you already know Jaycee. Girls, this is Monica Guiterrez, she's gonna be on stage at the rally this week." "Um, hey, Monica," said Judy Smith, standing up from the bed to give Monica a quick hug, her skin toasty warm to the touch. "Or should Ah say Lady Liberty?" she added with a look up at her empowered friend, a nervous smile on her face.

Aquaria shifted uncomfortably, looking almost exactly like she had that time that Jessie had asked her where the steaks for the party had gone. Before she could answer, the gates of the temple behind them flew open with a boom. Out stalked a Deep One, great across the chest and back, broad enough to make nearly two of Aquaria. It moved forward, padding on front and back legs that stuck to the stone surface beneath its feet. Raising up on its back legs, it called in a bass voice so deep that it rumbled through the water around them. "BEHOLD! HE COMES!" The cry went through the crowd as well, Naia's echoing of it coming through her translator. She shot Aquaria a fearful gaze, and Aquaria joined the cry of "HE COMES" before the speaker on the temple platform called "THE FATHER OF OUR VICTORY! DAGON'S CHAMPION! THE HARBINGER OF THE FAR TIDE!" Flanked by a Deep One on either side, followed by a hooded figure whose face and limbs were invisible, the Harbinger strode out - looking decidedly odd to Aquaria's eyes. Oh the marks of blessing were on him; the great tentacles that arose from his muscular back, the sound he made as he moved as if the gods Below were giving voices, the blue skin - the gold jewelry and what must have been a war trophy, an Atlantean's hand hanging from a gold chain around his neck, but the hair! The mammalian features! This was clearly a Surface-Man! The Harbinger raised his arms and called below "My friends! My followers! Behold, the mark of Dagon's glory!" He stood aside and let his 'guest' join him in the front; who threw back her hood to reveal a face much like the Harbinger's, a humanoid form warped and changed by eldritch power but still clearly not one born of the children of Dagon and Hydra. A cry went through the crowd, some in anger, some in joy; and the woman and the Harbinger raised linked, suckered arms together. "Behold! Hydra's Chosen!" Aquaria had not joined in the follow-up cries, and was now standing as she looked up at the temple and growled in disbelief "That-that-" "He came some months ago, from the Surface," croaked Naia under the sound of the ululating, hooting, bellowing crowd. "He killed chiefs, and showed his power - now he has changed Atlanteans. Now you see why I have summoned you, flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone," she croaked to Aquaria. "To save us all."

"Nothing too serious, at least not today. Ah'm not gonna try and get you to endorse me for re-election," he added, his grin broadening, "though Ah surely wouldn't say no if you did!" He sobered, stroking his chin for a moment, then said, "Hey Joshua, would you come over here?" He waved his hand and a young staffer approached, a nerdy-looking guy in a sweater vest who obviously was starstruck in the presence of Lady Liberty. "Lady Liberty, this is Joshua Lawrence, one of mah best young speechwriters." He made quick introductions, Josh's handshake soft in Monica's, and said, "Ah had Joshua write up a little speech for you. Nothing too fancy, and something you can feel free to tweak as suits your fancy." Josh showed Monica the speech on a tablet he was carrying. It was short, something Monica could deliver on a platform in about ten minutes, and indeed it didn't endorse Cahill for re-election. In fact, it was a speech that had very little to say about politics at all. Oh it was a speech full of American history, even a diverse history; with the legacies of Cesar Chavez and Jim Kolbe mentioned, among other things. This was a speech that called on the triumphs of American history - to say that America was a triumph - that said all American families should be united - without saying what for.

The doors swung open, and Fred found herself in a quiet establishment that looked calculatingly old-fashioned. Tile floors underfoot supported floor-mounted refrigerators that sold ice cream and frozen foods, while lined white shelves held detergent, candy and salted snacks, canned food, sliced bread, the odd spice, and other amenities of a small rural grocery store. The Coke was in glass bottles here, the old worn bottle opener by the door suggesting it had been that way for a long time. The place did indeed smell of food; her early lunch-time arrival had gotten her there in time to see the frying chicken sizzling in its Dutch oven. It looked like they cooked in small batches here, the eatery side of the store looking more like a glorified home kitchen than a commercial establishment. The older man behind the counter was in bib overalls and a red plaid shirt, a John Deere hat perched on his head. "Hello, young lady! How can Ah help you today?" He shot a glance at the couple of tables and chairs in the restaurant, close by the window where Fred could see the swampy forest outside, and what had to be a boat dock out there.

Vibora Bay January 2020 Lavelle, WInifred's Uber driver took her as far as her GPS allowed, deep into the San Sebastian Swamp just to the north of Vibora Bay. It was hard to believe how close they were to a major city here, with even the skyscrapers of Vibora's highest points lost amid bare mangrove trees and pine forests that seemed to go on forever once you'd been inside them more than a few minutes. It was colder than Florida had been described to Fred; not quite a London spring outside but certainly nothing she'd have wanted to spend very much time in. "Welp, here we are!" The road had converted to gravel some time back, and the tires of the old black van rumbled slightly as they parked. GROCERIES declared the sign on the store that Fred's knowledge of architecture told her was built in the "Carpenter Gothic" style. There were only a few cars in the lot, and the odd dirtbikle which made sense given what she'd heard from Smith of the local travel conditions. "They don't get many folks here in the off-season, but you should be able to get some lunch if'n ya want it," said Lavelle, a cheerful woman in overalls and cap who looked old enough to be Fred's grandmother. Well, looked, anyway. "Ah'm sure yer friend'll be here, we just ran a little early on account of the bridge being open sooner than Ah thought." She cleared her throat meaningfully at that.

Cahill was briefly nonplussed at Monica's empowerment - but he wasn't as awed as the watching staffers and Secret Service agents. It seemed the President of the United States really did have "a great many powers", just as Monica's civics teacher had warned her. "Ah've had my share of enemies. Just ask those of us who were there when they tried to bring down Air Force One two years ago. As for the rest of it, well, mah Presidency is on the record," he said, that smile now more hard-edged. He turned and walked to the window, gesturing for Monica to join him. Phoenix was spread out below them in all its sun-baked glory, the rapidly-growing city's skyline very different than the smaller, taller, older Freedom. "It's a big America out there. Conservative and liberal, white and black, native-born and immigrant." He turned to Lady Liberty and said, "You come very highly recommended to me, Ms. Guiterrez, as a young lady of remarkable character and accomplishments - and now Ah see as somebody with a strong belief in family. That's why Ah want the two of us to appear together this week, as a symbol of Lady Liberty and the President of the United States standing for all American families."

Will save vs 20: 19 ... Riley would rather suffer than feel an unearned positive emotion! w/HP 20

"Ah happen to know for a fact that you're in good hands," said Cahill with an avuncular smile. "Rachel, darlin, would you mind taking Mrs. Guiterrez into your side of the suite for a moment? Ah'd like a moment or two with America's sweetheart here." "I was thinking," said Rachel, standing up beside Monica's mother with a smile, "you and I have about the same coloring, and I have some jewelry that'll go very well with what you're wearing for the rally..." She had quite the force of personality - and what the hell, it wasn't as if anything bad could happen to Monica while standing next to the President, right? The door to the adjoining suite closed with a click and Cahill studied Monica closely. "Ah wanted to say that Ah appreciated you coming out here for this meeting. As much as it pains me to admit, not everybody who supports J.T. Cahill for the Presidency has the right attitude about people like you. But Ah think you're a credit to all your people - the American people especially."

"Clever! The prisoners from Atlantis," croaked Aquaria, letting the necklace translate for her too when she touched the gem. "Where are they?" She sniffed the water, hoping not to taste Atlantean blood. Naia put a cautionary hand on her arm. As they spoke, her spawn were infiltrating Baby at an alarming rate, wriggling their way through the open door after the smell of meat that was now filling the water around them. "You bring meat! Good. You know our ways." That was a mother's approval for Daphne. For Indira, the frogling obviously wanted to play but was torn between the new toy and the smell of meat now wafting out of the ship. It swam towards Indira, then towards the meat, then when it was sure Indira was watching it swam more slowly towards the smell of beat coming from the ship. "Those that live are in the temple, awaiting what comes. Get away from them or I will eat your guts and void them out!" she suddenly shouted at a small group of adults who were also investigating the new source of food. At Naia's warning croak, Aquaria turned her head slightly to take in her friends. "You have to watch adults from other tribes," she said seriously before turning back to Naia. "Who guards them?" "The one I told you of, and his vassals." "_He_ is here?!" Aquaria croaked, alarmed, her voice a bass in harmony with her spawn's. "Why didn't you say that?" - "Oh, a great flash-bang indeed," said Dr. Galena with another chuckle. "We know they are in big Deep One, uh, church?" She shrugged, then said, "We'll chase off those clinging to sides like barnacles, then grab our people from inside." Dalekos sat stock-still in the captain's chair in the middle of the ship's small command center, looking every inch the barbarian warlord he was pretending to be. With his casual muscular ease, it was hard to believe this was an Atlantean general of high birth. "Benjamin, wasn't it?" he asked, leaning back to look at Octo-Man. He evidently knew how to catch an octopus's attention, tapping his foot against the deck to send noticeable vibrations through the water. "This will be difficult work. Did you mean what you said a few months ago? About fighting them to the last?"

February 2020 St. Thomas Chapel basement "Thanks again for chaperoning us!" said Judy cheerfully, addressing Father Guimont with the familiarity of the student who probably worked with him more closely than anyone else. "This is gonna be a great night." Enthusiasm for "Ben-Hur Night" had not been what she'd hoped, even in youth group, but that was okay. _Yes we can watch movies that aren't about Jesus even though we're Christians, Karen_ she thought back, briefly distracting herself with the argument from last week, _but not when we're in church!_ But there was no reason to worry. She and Leroy were going to enjoy themselves, Ashley had settled into her usual spot in a corner of the basement, and..."Ashley, you're not going to read through the movie, are you?" "No," said Ashley, stuffing the Lor-English dictionary back in her jacket pocket. "Trust me, my eyes will be where they need to be." She was the only one in the room not in costume - well, she was in her Watchdog gear, anyway. One thing had turned to another and they were all wearing her best costumer's attempts at togas. If Mia could dress up for her movie, it only made sense they dress up for theirs! Father Guimont, an older man getting well into middle age, had conscripted Leroy to help him get the big screen TV programmed and hooked up to his new sound system. "Just plug that in there, and oop, I think he needs to get that in," Judy had joined them while they worked. "It's gonna be great!" she said with a wink Leroy's way. "I think Micah must be picking her up right now..." The double-date had been her idea - as for that matter had been Micah 'bringing' Mia to movie night at all.

Have an HP, @RocketLord!

Woodsman inhaled, the flowers smelling of home, family, and peace. But home was full of monsters and family was dead and there was no peace. He stepped back from Persephone, his hatchet in his hand, shaking all over. But you don't drop it, you don't make a noise, because that's how they get you. "That's not-" And then the floor gave way under Cheval. He had no real warning and in any event his arms hit the edges of the hole hard enough that he tore right through it, instead widening the hole as he fell through ceiling and plaster, then through the _next_ floor! There was no basement, this being Florida, but he could feel his feet crack through the foundation and hit something - else. Something sticky. He looked up - and saw a blazing pentagram emblazoned on the far wall of the room he was in, which looked like a upscale game room half-covered in workmen's tarps, and heard a sinister, mocking laugh and a distinct voice with a noticeable Southern accent that said "Nice of y'all to drop in, boy." The air around him was thick with decay, no, with spiritual _rot_, and he could hear that laughter again. "Hope you'll stay a while!"

"Of course Ah'll have you, Leroy." She reached up and touched his face with the hand that still wore his ring. There was a brief moment of tension in the room. "It sounds like we're done," said Judy, her slight, reassuring smile a glowing white slash across the lower part of her face. "There's no need for angry words now." This was, Ashley supposed, good news - though it didn't mean she had to feel good about it. "Nobody wants a fight," she said, trying to sound as much as a conciliator as she could. "And Leroy's got plenty of time to make up his mind." That got her a glare from Judy but she didn't actually give a crap.

Standing by the window of the Cahill family hotel suite, the President of the United States was a beefy guy just beginning to run to fat, wearing the black suit and one of the many legions of patriotic neckties that were part of his personal style. He was surrounded by staffers but they kept their distance as he bore down on Monica and her family. "There's that little family that everyone's talkin' about!" His smile was huge as he embraced first Monica's mother, then her, in a firm grip. "It's so nice to meet y'all in person. How was the drive?" The door to the adjoining suite swung open, and another figure entered. Rachel Cahill was shorter than her husband, her brown skin substantially darker than her husband's, black hair behind her in a simple ponytail. The first Native American First Lady, she actually could have passed for some of the Central American women Monica had seen on the trip to the United States. "Hello," she said with a smile almost as quick as her husband's. "I'm Rachel Cahill. You'll have to forgive our lack of the usual pleasantries, but it's been a busy day." Up close she had a force of personality that matched her husband's. "Are you well?" She folded her hands behind her back.

All right - I'll say the Indirect adds +5 to the Notice check DC from Subtle, which makes it 25. He hits that automatically with Skill Mastery, so he's not flat-footed. 22 misses his to-hit DC of 24 - but Persephone is using Diplomacy so he's not automatically going to dodge. DC 20 Will save: 23!

Woodsman didn't speak at first. He made a hand gesture at the door, fast like sign language, but then seemed to pause and come back to himself. "down below. more." His voice was quiet, a whisper that barely carried over the creaking noise from below. He pushed open the door to the corridor, hatchet in hand - and nearly, nearly, dropped the weapon on the ground. "do you see it" Looking outside, the others saw what looked like a filthy, battered child's cradle, and heard a thin, eerie wail that lasted just for a second - then was gone, leaving only the corridor they'd fought through before. "not here. didn't happen here. didn't happen." Woodsman leaned back against the wall, whispering to himself.

Time came and went, and Lady Liberty's big news was the talk of the summer across Arizona. And then President Cahill, the First Lady, and the three Cahill girls (as the media called them) all arrived in Phoenix for the end of summer - and the de facto beginning, the news told Monica, of the President's re-election campaign. Cahill had made enemies during his first term, as Monica knew only too well, but he had a devoted, motivated fan base that together with a stable economy made him the favorite in the 2020 campaign. Social media was buzzing with talk of the coming Cahill rally, from Young Republicans to the NRA. Nobody had said anything about Lady Liberty directly in connection with the President's arrival yet - but people were asking questions, now that she was so obviously closely-tied to the US government. And then the car arrived out front of Monica's house, big and black, with a smiling Jim Johnson in the driver's seat and an unsmiling Secret Service agent riding shotgun. "Hello there, Ms. Guiterrez!" he exclaimed, pulling up his shades. "Are you ready to make history?" They paused a moment to see if Monica's mother was coming along in this particular ride. The inside of the car was cool and air-conditioned, the drinks inside fresh. The hotel where the President was staying was swarming with security, but the backdoor and her very own security detail got Monica up the backstairs to the penthouse suite.

For his part, Tomorrow seemed more patient with Claude than anything else - some of Vox's friends at Claremont would have said he was radiating "big dad energy." "That's time travel for you! Just don't ask what it means if I show up late!" He laughed, then smiled brightly as he looked from young man to young man. "How are your studies progressing? I trust you're dominating the history class?" It could at times be frustrating that what was covered in a high school history book was not necessarily the story that Claude had encountered (sometimes personally) through time travel research.

"Yes. Leroy has told me about what happens to worlds liberated by yours." Judy closed her eyes for a moment, her hand tightening around Leroy's to match his. She pictured her father dead, her family in chains, the White House burning - and her friends at Claremont too, all crushed under the heel of a ruthless interdimensional tyrant. Why doesn't anyone stop them!? When she opened her eyes, she and they glowed with the fire of a thousand suns, and her hand burned hot in Leroy's grip. When she spoke, her voice cracked like a whip. "We're grateful for your discretion in not invading us, Ah'm sure." She set her hands on top of the table and said, "It is clear that we have many differences between us." She turned to Leroy, her fiery white gaze hot, and said suddenly, "Leroy, honey, what do you want to do about this?"