Avenger Assembled

I'll just take the 18 from taking 10 with her Quickness. She shouldn't be getting too high with that skill!

Will save: 14 I feel like one of us should make the save, so I'll spend an HP and get a 23 on the reroll. http://orokos.com/roll/690653

January 2019 Gina Evans' House It was a Sunday morning when Miss Americana had nothing particular to do that Gina awoke without Steve - which was not uncommon in their relationship. His cybernetically enhanced constitution meant that he slept at odd hours and his troubled dreams meant he slept erratically even then. Given how stealthy Steve could be when he wanted to be (especially since he'd figured out all the boards that creaked when he stepped on them in this house), she'd awoken with the other side of the bed empty many times. What was unusual today was there was a note on her endtable, a carefully printed bit of block penmanship inside an Archetech postcard. FRIAR TUCK. A codeword (from the ancient pre-Internet days of hacking) that everything was fine. I AM IN THE KITCHEN. I WILL MAKE FOOD. YOU SHOULD COME OUT WHEN YOU ARE READY. The last was underlined. Her bathroom was between her and the kitchen anyway. It was easy enough to call up an image from one of the robots zipping around the home to get an image of Steve working in the kitchen on the hash browns and eggs that were the best of what he cooked, and the meticulously set kitchen table with papers on one side and a small wrapped box on the other. They hadn't done much for Christmas that year outside of their home - but this was one present he'd managed to keep to himself.

Christmas 2018 Dr. Alex Zorka Born 1882, Lugosi, Romania, died 1956, Los Angeles (See Adventures of Centurion #143 - Whatever Happened To - Dr. Zorka?) 'Cause of death - "NO, CENTURION, YOU ARE THE FOOL-" The Nethercutt Collection Los Angeles Anna Cline stood in front of a robot head as large as her entire body, staring sympathetically into closed eyes of bronze and steel. "Hey, you crazy old Hungarian bastard," she said with a smile as she looked at the biggest legacy of the old man who had taught her how to cheat at cards, read super-science gauges, and the proper way to cook goulash. He'd been an old man when she'd known him, which meant he was about a decade younger than she was now. Sixty-two years earlier he'd finally rolled the dice and sent his army of giant robots against the West Coast of the United States - only to perish in an explosion of his own design when the Centurion had intervened. She'd paid the latter back for that a few times, but it didn't make Old Man Zorka anymore alive. She was alone in this wing of the museum, which was sadder even than thinking of Zorka going up in a flash of atomic fire. Sixty-two years after the Robot War, nobody cared. "You'll be glad to know that I've finally living around people from the Old Country again. Not many of us left in Bedlam but we're doin' all right." She sipped the hot chocolate that you weren't technically supposed to have in the museum, but what did she care? "There still ain't nobody like you out there. Well except that Japanese guy Otaku, but like I said last time it's just some kind of, you know, wackadoo thing with him." She waved her hand, then decided to focus on more pleasant things. "Merry Christmas, you crazy old man." She cleared her throat and unfolded from her jacket a short, handwritten prayer that she'd spelled out in phonetic Hungarian. "My dear friends, let's pray for the soul of this poor man, whom Our Lord liberated from the prison of that false world. Whose body we are burying today. To let the Lord place him with his grace into the slay of Abraham, Isac and Jacob, to on the day of judgement, with his relatives, resurrect him..." She was pretty sure that Zorka, who'd been an atheist and kind of a Red when she'd known him, wouldn't have wanted the prayer - but what the Hell. If he popped up to tell her so, that wouldn't be so bad. Randall Schmook Born 1917, South Side died 1982, der Schattenwelt (See Eldrich Adventures #31 - The Amazing End!) Cause of death - soul drained of energy "...so all right," said Anna as she sat in a coffeeshop on the Waterfront, as close as she'd ever been able to get to wherever Eldritch made his home. She'd heard that guy was dead too, as well he might be. "I guess I was a little bit queer back then. That still don't justify all the come-ons, you know. I mean, why would a girl who cut her own hair be more likely to be caught dead with you?" She knew the real answer, because Randall had been kind of a pig and not in the way that she liked a man to be, but he'd been dead a long time now and she was willing to let bygones be bygones, talking to him like she was eighteen again and he was sitting there in front of her. "You'd like Nicci. She's a real firecracker, and she knows her spells and fairies and stuff." She sipped her new cup of hot chocolate, stirring it with a candy cane. "Why couldn't that bastard have even brought your body back home?" she murmured to herself, glad that the Christmas crowd in the coffeeshop was such that nobody ever actually looked her way. "Eaten by shadowstuff my ass, at least he could have given us something to bury. The man could pull a rabbit out of his hat that shot lasers from its eyes and traveled in goddamned time, the least he could do is not leave you there in the cold and the dark." Randall had gotten a little crazy as he'd gotten older and his magic had faded, and had turned to some really bad places to get them back, and he'd died of it - but wasn't it a hero's job to save everybody, not just the people he'd liked? Ted Daniel Born 1925, West End, died 1990, New York City (See Smoke Out Tobacco #2) Cause of death - lung cancer, exposure Hart Island, New York City It was cold in New York City's Potter's Field, cold enough that Anna was keeping herself warm inside a thick down jacket as she sat by a grave in the middle of a row of graves. She could faintly hear Christmas music from somewhere else on the island, some place where mourners actually gave a damn - but here, by the grave of a pauper who'd been dead almost thirty years, nobody gave a damn except her. Ted had died when she'd been locked up - if she'd been free, she could have gotten him off the sauce, and maybe on some real medicine, and maybe gotten him to stop smoking so goddamned much - "I'm still keeping up my exercises. I run fifty miles a day when I'm not working, and it's more like five thousand on the days when I'm workin'." She'd certainly run her ass off this Christmas long weekend. "And I cut out fried foods and most of your red meats, which if you ask me is a damn Christmas miracle seeing as how I'm livin' in the heart of dairy country these days." She rubbed her hands together to warm them, then commented, "I can still feel the years catchin' up, though. I can barely break the damn sound barrier these days and I'm so...old." She shoved her hand under her hood and ran fingers through blonde hair that was about halfway dyed these days. She knew she was being vain, she knew she looked thirty-some years younger than her actual age - but still. But still. The second-to-last man she'd slept with had called her Grandma at an intimate moment - which was maybe one reason why she'd had a dry spell before Set, and then Nicci. Robert Vaughn, Born 1934 , Freedom City, died 1993, Freedom City (See Terminus Crisis #3 - It All Ends Here!) Cause of death - killed by an Omegadrone "I'm sorry, Bobby." This was a grave lovingly attended by a family that had cared about its patriarch, one who had died before his 60th birthday when a monster from another dimension had shoved a pike through his head and murdered him in his front yard. Bobby Vaughn hadn't even had his powers in forty-some years before that day. "I'm sorry I flirted with you when you didn't want me to, I'm sorry I thought it was funny when we turned ya into the Caveman." She ran her fingers over the marble, remembering when Vaughn's surviving daughter had chased her away from the front door with a gun. Well she'd deserved all that, hadn't she? "I thought it was funny and I liked that you would do whatever I wanted, but it wasn't right." She sighed softly. "I was just a kid. And so were you." It was a good thing, in retrospect, that she'd viewed the Teenage Caveman as her personal puppy rather than the romantic partner he'd wanted to be. In retrospect, well, that was the sort of thing her soul didn't need on it. She was already tainted enough. 'Your grandson's doing real fine. I hear he's gonna make Captain soon, if the Internet's tellin' me the truth." She closed her eyes, and suddenly wished more than anything that on the day the world had been ending, she'd gone to check on the people she'd cared about before she'd run away. But then she'd had those particular regrets for a long time... Brian Nisbet Born 1923, Lincoln died 2018, Freedom City (See Lady Horus #15 - The Bee-All and End-All) Cause of death - Stage IV pancreatic cancer It was snowing now, and she was cold, but she didn't care. "I just feel like it's all slipping away, Brian. Bryant's dead, my boy's got his own life, my grandkids are like somebody from another planet half the time..." She ran her fingers through blonde hair dappled with thick, wet flakes, and remembered the months of watching Brian slip away whenever she could make the run from Bedlam. "I'm doing what I can for these kids in Bedlam but I look at myself in the mirror and I'm just some old broad with a magic hat trying to keep it together and I'm scared to death half the damn time..." She scrubbed the back of her hand against her eyes, cursing her weakness as she held back her tears. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to be doing..." She leaned back against the gravestone, closed her eyes, and just about jumped out of her skin when she heard a familiar voice. "Hey, Ma." She gave a short, embarassing yelp, and looked up to see her son standing by her side, two mugs of freshly-brewed, still-steaming hot cocoa in his hand. He was wearing a leather jacket, and had a woolen hat slung over his arm as he sat next to her on the frozen ground. Wordlessly, he handed her both hat and mug, then put his arm around her. "...Dickie, what the hell are you doing here?" she asked, giving him a baffled look. "You're supposed to be with yer family on Christmas Eve." "I am with my family on Christmas Eve," Richard told her firmly. 'And in a couple of minutes, we're gonna head for Port Regal and we're gonna put our feet up. It's too damn cold for you to be out here." "I'm payin' my respects to the dearly departed," said Anna stubbornly. "Even if they were just a bunch of low-life and thugs." And some of the best friends I ever had. "They were family. And you never give up on family," said her son mildly. Giving her a more searching look, he said, "I know you're doing something. You don't have to talk about it, or think about it, but...is it right?" She hesitated just a moment, watching his breath frost in the cold air, and suddenly remembered holding him, wet and bloody, back when he'd been the only thing in her life, and she'd been the only thing in his. "It's the best I can, Dickie." Richard Cline kissed his mother on the forehead. "I love you, Ma." "I love you too, Dickie. Merry Christmas."

Christmas 2018 "Ah'm so glad you're home." Rachel Cahill had had to look up to her eldest two daughters for the last few years now, one of the many challenges that the Lord sent her way in these trying times. She and Judith Claudia were sitting on Judith's bed, the one she'd given up after the Incident, and for a little while anyway it was like there weren't any Secret Service agents just outside their door and they weren't in the middle of the White House. "Ah missed you so much." She hugged Judith, and Judith hugged her back. She heard her own voice in her daughters' as she spoke; the pure West Virginia accents of the couple that had adopted and raised her after the violence of her childhood had taken her parents from her ringing clear as a bell. "Ah'm glad to be home, Mama," said Judy, tears in her eyes. "Ah was...Ah was worried Ah was gonna have to stay in that place, and not see everyone for Christmas!" There were other worries too, unspoken, worries about the power that had nearly taken her mother and her youngest sister from her, and worries about how the friends she'd made at Claremont would understand the life she lived here. "Now you know Ah would never let my baby girl go, and neither would your daddy." She smiled, then decided to address the elephant in the room.. "Ah know Ah told you this before, Judith Claudia, but Ah don't blame you for what happened." She squeezed her daughter tight. "You know that God tests us. He put that...that thing inside you," she missed Judy's hard swallow, "as a way of testing you, and me, and your daddy. And if we all work together, all doing our part to make His plan happen, that thing inside you is just going to be...something that's part of you, like the way your sister cuts her hair." She looked levelly at Judy, who felt her spine stiffen just a little. "What matters is that we stay strong, all of us. You've been staying strong at Claremont, haven't you?" - "Breakin' rocks in the hot sun I fought the law and the law won I fought the law and the law won I needed money 'cause I had none I fought the law and the law won I fought the law and the law won" It was Ashley's favorite kind of bar - the beer was cold, the music was loud, and most of her fellow patrons were involved in various sorts of law enforcement. She had her stupid pink-tipped hair tucked away under a US Government ballcap and her equipment belt on, and she'd had just enough beer that she was feeling ready for anything. "Okay, fine, here I go!" She threw her dart and it hit not in the bullseye but pretty damn close to it, enough that the section of the bar that was mostly Treasury Department people whooped and the section that was mostly Capitol Police booed. The champion of the latter, a slender guy with a swimmer's build named Craig, was decent enough to nod before he stepped up to throw his own dart - dammit! This time the Capitol Police guys cheered, and Ashley said something that wasn't very ladylike, but who the hell cared? - "...Ah already know the boy's name," said Rachel, hands on her hips as she studied her daughter, having risen to her feet to address her directly. "Your bodyguard works for me and your daddy, remember?" Judy blinked at her mother's words, and suddenly realized that wasn't true. Rachel Cahill might have been reading her Secret Service files because she was her mother but Ashley worked for the US government, not for the First Lady and her husband. "Ah just want to know what you think you were doing." "Letting myself be courted by a sweet boy," said Judy firmly, "he's the one that asked me out, not the other way around! He's sweet, he's kind, he's - a Christian!" This too was a lie, even if she was reasonably sure Leroy would get there one of these days. "One date and a few dances does not mean Ah want to marry him!" "Why would you let yourself be courted by someone you didn't want to marry?" demanded Rachel. "Ah'm not some prude, honey, Ah don't object to you having friends who are boys, but why would you go out with someone you don't think you want to be with?" - Craig and Ashley had lost the attention of most of the bar when the game had come back on, so they'd retreated to the pool table for some private competition. "I've been on assignment most of the year," admitted Ashley, which was all she was going to say in a bar to some guy she'd just met, even if he did have nice eyes and good hands. He'd won their dart game fair and square, even if he wasn't doing quite as well at pool. "and I'm only back in DC till the day after Christmas." After that she was going to deadhead a flight out to New Orleans, but really that wasn't Craig's business either. "And you?" "DC all the way," said Craig with a grin. "Thinking about switching over to DC PD next year, though. I get a little tired of watching the backs of fatcats and calling it policework." He took his shot and watched with satisfaction as he made the nine ball, then stepped back to let Ashley take her shot. "You have no idea," said Ashley drily. She considered Craig a moment, then without any preamble took off her jacket and set it on the chair near the pool table. The next time she took her shot, she leaned over the table to do it. She didn't mind throwing Craig off his game - in fact, to her delight, she did. - Alone in her room, Judy closed her eyes and tried to shut down the din of radio and television that permeated the White House. She could hear her mother telling her father that Judith wasn't going to stay strong at Claremont if they weren't careful, she could hear her sister writing in her diary that she hoped Jaycee wouldn't vaporize them this year, she could hear everything, on and on, through the vast house. Some people were judging her, some people were afraid of her, some people were worried about her, but most people weren't talking about her at all. Rising to her feet. she walked out into the center of her bedroom, body stiff with repressed emotion from her mother's talk about how it was her duty to keep herself pure, to keep herself strong, as a Cahill girl, as a Comanche, as a Christian. As if one date and a few kisses meant she was in danger of falling. As if her mother hadn't lied to her face to get her to tell the truth. "Ah am strong," she murmured to herself. "Ah am." She spread her hands wide and listened to other things besides the radio - the hum of power in the building's walls, the electricity that permeated the old structure, and suddenly opened her eyes to see something beautiful. A bright, arcing column of light had come from the power outlets in front of her and enveloped her hands like warm cotton, dueling rivers of light that made her room glow with an impossible blue-white beauty. "Ah'm fine!" she called out loud even as one of Ashley's backup agents hammered on her door to ask about the sparking light and noise from inside her room. "Ah'm - strong!" - Craig made breakfast the next morning - the thoughtful end to what had been all in all an evening full of thoughtful gestures. If he was a little disappointed when Ashley reminded him that she was going to be on assignment and not in a position to call him after the holidays, well, that was just life in DC. Feeling quite pleased with herself, Ashley packed quickly for her flight to New Orleans and didn't so much as look backwards at the city below when the plane took off. For a little while, anyway - she was on vacation! When Judy called her the next day, she answered it anyway. That was part of the job.

By Satan's beard, thought Frost, appalled - and then other thoughts as well, more intemperate. What sort of penny-ante operation were the Chinese running here, where one could smuggle city-killing weapons into a a city without a hue and cry being raised. "Welll, then the docks it is," he said artlessly, hiding his real concerns about the place with the sort of careless regard one might expect from a century-old ice monster. "Give me time to change and I shall meet you there, perhaps by..." He tapped a nearby map of the city. "the docks on Tsing Yi Island? They have quite a reputation as seedy underworld dwelling despite being great pride of new city. Is that not always way?" he looked around at the others, making sure of their rendezvous plans before he departed.

Wadjet Wadjet headed inside the factory, moving with the slow freneticism of a soldier dodging from cover to cover. As well she might, the outline of her weapon making her a natural target for every trigger-happy cop in Bedlam - which was most cops in Bedlam. Once inside the building, she studied Strix's 'interrogation' of the security guard with a tense air - inside her featureless mask, though, she was fascinated by what she saw. Can Nicci do that? That was definitely a handy trick to keep in mind, especially as she was now reasonably certain it was not what she'd used to get into Anna's pants. When the instructions had been given, she took a chance. "Tell us who else is here and what they're doing." Lady Horus "Aye. Tis a strange time, but twill be solved. Be strong, and stand for what you believe. Be here when I return!" she said, embracing the man powerfully before she turned and disappeared out the window, making a beeline for the nearby Snacktastic factory.

Sea Devil made a low, rumbling noise in the back of her throat, a basso thrum that under other circumstances would have segued into something natural like striking Sergeant Shark across the face and daring him to catch her before swimming away at top speed so that he could catch her and - but she wasn't some rutting child in her first season. She was just a little hard-up, and in the company of an extremely attractive male who probably didn't realize just how beautiful he was. Rather than actually beginning an attempted mating, which anyway a Surface-Man wouldn't think was sexy, she kicked off the seabed and boomed "That was impressive! Let us impress them! Come and follow me!" And then she zoomed forward, armor glowing brightly and trident raised high, ready to save the world and prove how strong and ferocious a defender of the weak she actually was.

APPROVED

7PP would actually be 35EP, if you care! (Since an NPC can really pull out as much Equipment as they need for a thread)

Archived for inactivity

Missing 4 EP and 2 skill ranks from the points you've sent.

January 2019 A room in the basement of 950 H St NW #7800, Washington, DC "No, the Dangers weren't really a surprise. They're socially engaged, experienced beyond their years, they like to talk about themselves-" Agent Ashley George shrugged slightly, speaking without malice as she described her impression of the Claremont class of 2020. "Whatever their powers and personal stories, they're typical teenage examples of members of the Danger Family." She was keeping calm because everyone else was calm, even though she was giving her usual report to a man who wasn't her typical supervisor in a room that wasn't usually where she gave her reports. Security checked out though. And he's not AEGIS. His ID hadn't looked AEGIS, anyway. "And the construct?" Ashley blinked and focused her attention on Agent Johnson, who with his shaved head, slightly ruddy complexion, and linebacker's build, could have been one of fifty guys in the building. He had fifty pounds and eight inches on her, but she'd been trained how to deal with guys like that. Johnson's voice was mild as he studied her across her handwritten report, analog record-keeping being a safer way of managing Project Juliett Charlie in an era of cyberkinetics and superhackers. "Mr. Lanchester is far less frightening than he appears," said Ashley, keeping her tone mild. She didn't sound much like Watchdog now. "His public backstory checks out as far as I've been able to determine, and he's never confessed any dark secrets to me or to Juliett Charlie. He's a kind young man whose main interests are Dungeons and Dragons and other fantasy roleplaying games. I think he can safely be downgraded to Foxtrot status." Johnson locked eyes with her, peering through round-rimmed glasses that looked old-fashioned after a half-year among sixteen-year-olds. "Agent George, would you say you've come to...bond with your fellow students?" "Respectfully, sir, they are Juliett Charlie's fellow students, not mine." She did let a little bit of heat creep into her voice there. It was hard not to. "I would say I'm continuing to do my best to evaluate them as potential threats to Juliett Charlie specifically and to national security in general. Many of them are uncomfortable with the Watchdog persona - but then, that was the idea." She smiled tightly. "Juliett Charlie is bonding with them within acceptable levels." "Mm. Speaking of national security...tell me about the White Lion." "I have met the White Lion during my time among the Freedom City meta community," said Agent George, her voice cool and dry as the winds outside the Cahill family's home in western Oklahoma. "I don't think she's a threat to national security." "Nonetheless, the White Lion is a powerful, experienced metahuman and heir to the throne of one of America's most powerful rivals. If you have information about her personality or her whereabouts in Freedom City, don't you think it's your responsibility to share that information with this agency?" "I think that would be a violation of the agreement that makes our relationship with Juliett Charlie's school possible, Agent Johnson," said Ashley, her hands flat on the table before her. "And a breach with the metahuman community would be disastrous given Juliett's current-" She fell silent as Johnson rose to his feet and began moving around the room, first checking the door locks, then turning off the room's cassette audio recorder. By the time he'd turned back to her, Ashley was on her feet too. "Are you aware for the penalty for falsifying federal documents, Agent George?" Johnson inquired, looking daggers at his erstwhile colleague. He was big, and knew how to use his size, glowering at her from a distance without actually getting in her face. Being intimately aware of the consequences of that crime, Ashley stared at the other agent before saying, "If you have an accusation to make, Agent Johnson, I decline to answer until I consult with an agency attorney. And I believe you know the consequences of that kind of exposure, sir." "When you applied to join the Meta Program you claimed that you had never used your powers except in self-defense - that you had never been active as a vigilante. Isn't that right, Agent George?" "As I am not under arrest, I decline to answer, Agent Johnson," George fired back, her hands curled lightly at her sides. "I don't know your story, Agent, but I do know that you are aware of the consequences for national security if Juliett Charlie's security is compromised." And with that, she turned and walked out of the office. As this was technically her day off, there was nothing to stop her from hailing a cab and returning to her apartment. (Though she almost expected to be arrested as she walked out the front door.) She waited until she was home before she vomited into her living room wastebasket. How long can you keep this up? And a few minutes later the phone rang and it was her mother about her younger sister's pregnancy, and Ashley put on a smile as she talked on the phone so her mom wouldn't worry, and when it was done she slumped back into the overstuffed armchair that was the biggest piece of furniture in her one-bedroom apartment in Silver Springs. Her investigation the next day revealed that Supervisory Agent Fred Johnson had been officially at his desk in Baltimore all through the time and date of their meeting. She had never been more relieved to be back in Freedom City.

I'll just take Wadjet's Skill Mastery and get 21 on Stealth.

"We have rarely spoken about the future," admitted Steve. "For most of our relationship I have been of the firm belief that I would one day die in the hells of the Black Ghetto." He closed the box, speaking with the slow, deliberate cadence that said he was picking his way through the words. "But in the wake of the attack this summer, I have come to believe that I may well live a man's lifetime in this dimension. And so I want to live the life that a man does here." That was, he knew, a complicated conversation - so he steered away from it. "Miss Americana...would like to do things as women do, but there are difficulties. We should discuss it first," he agreed. "You are correct."

Sea Devil listened to Sgt. Shark growl at the sharks and wondered if he was going to rip them open with his bare hands, or perhaps snap at them with his great jaws, filling the water around them with the intoxicating scent of shark's blood and liver oil - she blinked her great eyes and then shook herself inside her armor. Stop thinking with your glands, female! she chided herself. There is a danger here! She called something out, pitched so that both Sgt. Shark and the sharks around them could hear, but wasn't really paying attention to herself. "Stop or we will eat your bladders!" I don't think that's going to work. They were probably going to have to kill these sharks, but she had no hesitation about killing food-that-spoke. All food that lived below the waves could speak, and so did many things that were not food. It could make life confusing sometimes.

Aquaria is going to try a Handle Animal check, and also roll init Handle Animal: 13 Init: 13 And fail badly at both! Alas.

"Mm." Frost considered refusing again, but decided that he could not let an centenarian's momentary ennui distract him from the benefit of being owed a favor by Cho. And really, he chided himself, you have been called to the field and you are not the sort to turn away from the fight because you are bored. Besides, his last mission on behalf of the Club had been unpleasant enough that perhaps a chance to turn things in his favor would make his associations with the place more palatable. "All right, well, you have my attention." He ran his fingers over the board and commented, "What would you have us do?" When the police arrived, Frost looked up, all business. "Detective!" he said warmly, despite the way the temperature in the room distinctly dropped around him. "Welcome to Club Immortus!" He walked right up to the man and clapped him on the arm with great joviality. "I am Comrade Frost, eldest of those here tonight. I want you to know that we are completely respectful of any and all needs of Chinese law enforcement. My own presence here has nothing to do with any schemes you may have heard about." It wasn't actually directing the man towards Cho but Frost was always willing to cover for someone else, at least for a moment.

The cultists screamed with the gratifying surprise of people who'd been trying to summon a god but not necessarily this one! A few fled entirely, running quickly down the broken-down road towards the gates the heroes had passed by, a few backed up quickly, pressing their backs against the broken bricks walls hereabouts. A small number rallied around the cult leader, who cursed as the pig was yanked away from her. "This-this is a violation of our First Amendment rights!" she called, her hood falling back from the rain to reveal brilliantly crimson hair, a shade of red that seemed decidedly off for the colors of human hair. Well that was what dye was for, right? "That animal was going to be slaughtered humanely!" Sea Devil landed in the middle of the summoning circle, hard enough that she cracked the concrete upon her landing. Her opalescent armor gleamed with its inner energies, and with a sudden sound she drew back the helm of her armor to reveal the face within - a first for the cultists and the heroes alike. "What do you think you are doing!?" she bellowed from a mouth large enough that she probably could have popped one of the cultist's heads in it if she was inclined. "You think...this would summon the One Below? This...this sham!?" One of the cultists was vomiting at the sight of goggle eyes that gazed into his own, but the cult leader was not. "You! Hydra's champion! What are you doing with them?" Aquaria took a step back, evidently surprised at the term. "So-so you know me. Whatever _they_ are, you are fools! You play with things for which you are nothing, Surface-woman! They know nothing of you!" "But this is _our place_!" the young woman fired back. "How dare you come here and tell us how to live?" As cult leader and Deep One talked, Nick and Astrid distinctly saw one of the cultists slipping out of their sight and disappearing into the ruined administration building. They'd only caught a glimpse of the ruddy-faced young man, but they'd managed to make out the giant book clutched to his chest. "

Sea Devil stopped her singing suddenly and closed her eyes inside her suit, listening to the ocean's song all around her. Underwater she didn't need her eyes - and indeed she could hear, and smell, a whole new world down here as the magnificent salt water poured into her suit. Fresh water had been her place of birth but salt was no less pleasant for that, a bracing fire against her skin like the gods that dwelled within. After a moment's consideration, her voice came croaking out through the electronic communicators each party member wore. "We are being attacked. Sharks." Sharks were generally not a serious threat, even when she wasn't wearing her armor and carrying her trident, but warning her friends was only polite. "The lights glow strangely. Be watchful."

Aquaria has the following Super-Senses: Super-Senses 12 (Darkvision, Radius Sight, Detect Magic 3 [auditory], Hearing [Extended], Sonar [Accurate Ultrasonic Hearing], Scent [Acute], Tremorsense) [12PP] And her Notice check is 21

Wadjet looked at the budding riot for a moment, then gestured with a gloved finger towards the loading docks at the rear of the building. With that, she raised her gun and fired a single shot from the cover of the engine block she was hiding behind. The ball flew a few hundred feet and landed in the midst of the rioters with a faint pop and sudden splurtch of material across a space some five feet wide. The impact spot, a bit of half-painted, half-faded curb, immediately began to smoke with an impressive effect, thick plumes of white smoke rising with an increasingly loud hissing sound as chemical reactions bubbled and burst across the surface of the concrete. She didn't take the time to explain her reasoning to people who weren't her mentor - shooting the cops probably would get the bullets flying, even if it was just a loud smoke bomb, but shooting at the rioters would give them cover from the cops, and a chance to take stock of themselves. Without another word, she broke cover and began dashing around the side of the complex towards an open side entrance. - "Aye. You are not alone." Lady Horus put her hand on the man's shoulder, wishing she knew one of those kung fu pinches the kids were always talking about. He couldn't see her eyes, but he could feel her touch, anyway. "We will slay this foe. Be here when I return, man, and you shall be rewarded." She glowed as she spoke, trying to think of what exactly she was gonna do. Cash? Yeah, probably whoever did this had to be loaded. "Remember that the sun shines on the good and the bad!" Cheez, layin' it on a little thick there! But if it did the job, it did the job.

Steve hung back as they passed through Archetech, knowing that Miss Americana was a far better tour guide than he could ever be. If the silent, scarred man seemed an odd fit for the place, nobody seemed to notice it; indeed, from what Delta could tell (from the occasional nod or comment by people that passed them by), he was evidently well-known here. Hanging back or not, he did join them for the ride upstairs - and for a moment, meeting Miss A's eyes, he remembered something interesting. "You are getting fine treatment. Miss Americana shot me with her lasers the first time we met," he commented. "And soon we were friends." He smiled awkwardly, then said, more seriously, "Have you considered a holographic disguise? While you are not recognized now for what you are, you will be," he said with the knowledge of one who had been there.

Hm. Was maybe laying it on a little thick there, thought Ashley as she hung up. Well if it makes her not act like Watchdog when she's fifty, it's worth it I guess. And so it was that the police arrived to take the criminals in custody, not even regular beat cops but a full STAR Squad unit with the big armored SWAT vans and everything. (There was time enough for the teens to change into their secret identity costumes, something both Ashley and Judy slipped away to do once they were sure the suspects were truly in restraints.) Statements were taken from the witnesses and transportation back to Claremont was provided, this time in school vans rather than in Watchdog and Pulse's ride. Watchdog was hard to read, secure in her black helmet like a motorcycle rider, (if anything, Ashley seemed amused by the whole situation) but Pulse seemed nervous as she sat in the back seat next to Ashley and Micah. Danica was all the way in the back, taking advantage of the full space there to accommodate her shell. "Are you guys okay?" she asked, looking first at Micah, then at Danica, her eyes wide. "That was...really surprising. At least we, um, caught the guys? You had a really great eye there, Danica, and you did a great job coming to the rescue, Micah..." Her accent was unusually thick. "Ah hope this didn't put you off shoppin'!" she said hopefully. "At least we still had the stuff we bought!"

"Yeah, well, it ain't exactly my favorite winter accommodations," agreed Anna with a rueful smile. "Be glad you don't have any bones, kid, or you'll really feel 'em once you've slept the night in here." She hmmed, then said, "We don't have what you'd call a really big operating budget here in Team Ancient Egypt, so we gotta take what we can. This is just a temporary place till we can put an investment on something a little more permanent. With all the heroic types runnin' around Bedlam these days, helps to have more than one place to go." She looked at Chromium a moment, sighed softly, then said, "Listen, kid, if yer gonna be living in my house, I might as well tell you this so it doesn't come as some big surprise to you. I wasn't always on the up and up, so if you hear anything bad about me, it's probably true. Not about the Lady," she went on, tapping the part of her head where the helmet usually sat. "But me. Anna Cline."