Avenger Assembled

APPROVED

You should add the Attractive bonuses to Bluff and Diplomacy on your sheet. You should stick the array math back on your Super-Strength/Leaping array. Looks good!

APPROVED

Oh, thought Aquaria, he _is_ a Surfacer. An Atlantean lackey would have been shouting in Atlantean or Lemurian, after all. She exhaled water, her throat sacs bulging, considering her options. She thought about what was important to Surfacers and what wasn't, and told Leviathan a truth that would matter to someone born of Surfacer stock. "I'll sing them a way north, up past the great river to the villages there. There's enough fish for them to live in that water. But if that tribe is found by Atlanteans, they'll use whatever force they like to drive them down into the abyssal plains, away from Atlantean territory. No one will stop them. No one cares if Deep Ones die," she croaked matter-of-factly. "Down in the plains there's much less food, which means the tribe will begin to starve. The old ones will die fighting creatures to bring more food to the tribe and the spawn will be...reabsorbed." Her voice was still that odd, inhuman croak, but in that booming bass like a bullfrog's bellow Leviathan could pick out the ring of truth - and experience, as she picked her way from word to word through memories she knew only too well. "The survivors will join one of the militant cults on the plains, because they're organized and have food, and die attacking an Atlantean city or a Surfacer ship. I can't let that happen to them," she said simply. "I can't let that happen to them, because no one else will care if they die - and because one of them is my girl-child." She exhaled again, her giant eyes wide as she looked levelly at Leviathan, her gaze as frank as a toad's. "My name is Aquaria. Surfacers call me Sea Devil. If you are going to try and stop me, you should tell me now."

Looks good, though don't forget Singularity is a Sidekick and technically has no HP.

The warriors of Hydra's-Coils-In-Sun hadn't come this far by challenging monsters in their territory. As Leviathan approached, he heard the Deep Ones croaking at each other something that sounded like an aquatic mangling of his super-name, then they leaped off the seabed like startled underwater rabbits before swimming away. They knew their flight well, and swam low enough that the rapid movements of their powerful arms and legs stirred up a thick cloud of silt that temporarily blocked the view of their escape. Sea Devil thought she could track them down if she listened hard enough, but for the moment they were gone. The fools! Staying here would bring them only death. She floated until her eyes were at the level of Leviathan's, aware that the giant male had spoken in Surfacer and not wanting to show him her her upper back in the middle of a serious crisis. "You speak English!" she croaked at him, her underwater English a strange sort of booming bass that sounded like someone making the sounds of English phonetically. Up close she was clearly a Deep One like the others, albeit perhaps smoother rather than scalier - her gills bulged wide as she said, "Please, you have to help me find them. Atlanteans come to the city this way. If they find out about that tribe, they'll hunt them down!" It was not entirely the story that one usually heard about Deep One-Atlantean relations. She didn't know his species, but that was for a later conversation. Instead she stared at him with gold-black eyes, her black, opalescent armor covering her torso and upper limbs. "

Dragonfly's presence reminded Harrier that Yolanda Montez breathed the same air as Tarva the Black. It was not a pleasant reminder. "She is a tourist, playing at redemption while dwelling in a palace with her lover." The simmering frustration left behind after their most recent encounter, when her former allies had baited a deadly trap with the then-lost lives of others, didn't help his mood. But he did follow Dragonfly's advice and stifle the searing white flame at the tip of his pike, strengthening the howling darkness that lay all around them. Tarva certainly seemed to like it."So you have had visions," he said, speaking clearly to be heard over the increased howling of the storm. As much as he disliked Tarva, and he truly did - she was for the moment on the side of life against death. "What were they?" - Inside the lab dome, the scientists went back to work once it was clear that their facility wasn't under attack. Things were still developing, though - the transmission from the probe was still coming in but it was coming in through increasingly heavy interference. The initial 'flash' of eldritch energies in the room around the probe had faded, but it had left 'sparks' behind that were reminiscent of nothing more than the smoldering of a pile of kindling near the site of a recent lightning strike. It hadn't burst into flames yet - but who knew what being 'dry' meant in terms of magic? On the probe's secondary cameras, some of the artifacts in the room were beginning to radiate in a mixed cascade of white and red that gave a strange pinkish cast to the bones and stones in the room. - Tarva told her tale, glancing from Dragonfly to Caradoc and evidently finding little of comfort in either of their armored faces. She picked the former as the most likely target, however, perhaps simply because it wasn't Caradoc. "So you see what you...scientists supreme should do is abandon whatever, ah, science scavenging you're doing here and simply allow Kimber and I to destroy the facility using magic. She is an avatar of death and I am an avatar of shadow, the work will take us but an hour - perhaps less in such a convivial atmosphere!" She wasn't raising her voice in the shadowy storm, rather, the storm itself seemed to amplify her words. "There's nothing here you need to know. The secrets of the Terminus will only warp a mind unprepared for their true and terrible nature."

Lady Horus 2007 Los Angeles Anna watched, snapping a few pictures, as little Holly went to town with the yogurt cups. The art project had been Paige's idea for a way to keep the two-year-old busy while she and Richard dealt with the kind of super-emergency you had to deal with right in the middle of a family outing when you're on the sucker side of the law. She had to admit, it really had been a great one. She and her daughter-in-law might not see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, but they loved their families very much. Holly reminded Anna more than a little of Dickie when he'd been that age, full of energy and ready to run around and gabble at the least provocation. Anna was pretty sure that teaching Holly that red, green, and yellow yogurt made great finger-paint was going to work against Dickie and Paige down the line, but the great thing about being a grandma was that you didn't have to worry about those things! She watched Holly smear the yogurt over herself, and the big white sheet she was on, and took more pictures. She'd made sure to dress the girl in a suitably used outfit for the day, the sort of pretty polka-dot dress that she'd have been dressed in herself when she was that age, but nowadays you hardly could ever find except in the sort of dollar stores that were all she could afford to shop in on honest money. The thick head of little girl curls on Holly's head was topped off with a bow that her grandma had picked out for her. It was a public park and it was a lovely day, and she'd been out of stir long enough that she hardly ever woke up thinking she was back in the Women's Ward at Blackstone. "Oh my goodness! Aren't you a darling?!" She'd mostly met other women when she was off showing how cute her bloodline was, and the occasional man that maybe didn't like people of her persuasion - but the guy who'd just stepped off the path looked like just her type. Tall and muscular, his skin was tanned in that slightly artificial way that a lot of men in this city had - but when she coupled that with what had to be a thousand-dollar suit, it meant money. And she liked men with money, especially men who looked to be about a third her real age. "Hello," he said, shaking her hand. "I'm Skyler Green, I do outdoor photography. Who's this precious angel?" "Say hi to the nice man, Holly!" called Anna, getting back a double-fisted wave and a gabble of words. Holly was normally a good talker, but she'd double-stuffed her face with yogurt. "She's so charismatic!" said Green happily, waving back at Holly. He sat down on the grass next to Anna, squatting on his shoes to keep his suit from grass stains. "Is she your first grandchild?" Anna blinked once, twice, then three times. "...no, she ain't." 2017 Bedlam City Things weren't looking good for Lady Horus. Her divinely-created magic armor was bulletproof but not electricityproof, and evidently Hammer of Justice was more of an engineer than she'd thought. The throwing stars had embedded themselves in her linen and gold armor and then blasted her with a whole heckuva a lot of volts of electricity, she'd crashed through the skylight of this Rook Island warehouse, and so here she was! She probably should have been more alarmed but that had been a hell of a lot of electricity. "Was going to kill you," the Hammer of Justice was grunting somewhere like a man with serious constipation problem. Lady Horus heard the distinct sound of a shotgun being loaded, figuring it had to be armor-piercing rounds if he had actually been planning on blowing her head off while the Helm was still on, then the sound of the gun going down. "Realized there was no need." He loomed into her view, a squarer, stouter figure than she'd imagined - it was a form with a wrestler's power rather than a boxer's. "Just take off the Helm and take you in." He laughed, a short, harsh sound. "Never taken a Crime Leaguer before. Thought it would be harder." He moved back, out of her view, guessing that perhaps the heavy steel net he'd dropped on her might not be enough to hold the sun goddess. And he was right, though not for the reasons he'd thought. "Oh, art thou so foolish?" She laughed. "If you know mine true name, fool, then you know what will happen should my name be spoken in this town. Thou have quite a kingdom of filth here - a kingdom that will come falling down if any come looking too closely at your work." It was the upside of a celebrity family on the right side of the law. If Anna Cline was arrested in Bedlam City, or killed there, her family would come looking for what had happened - and even if they might never believe what she'd been doing, they'd look hard enough to expose the Hammer of Justice's scam. "Fooled out-of-towners before," said Hammer of Justice dryly. "Didn't understand what I had to do to protect my city from the likes of you." "Like violatin' little girls?" Lady Horus hissed in reply, Anna's voice usually clear through the Helm's magic. "Esperanza isn't a little girl," said the Hammer with a laugh. "She wanted to be a hero, and I showed her what it was like. You know, from what the judge said at your trial, I'm surprised you'd have a-" Anna screamed in righteous fury - and in 1927 there was no warehouse, and no chains either. Lady Horus erupted up into the air and then down into the present, glowing ankhs held high - and there was no Hammer of Justice. The thought that he'd set the whole ambush up just to see if she could still teleport gave her a sleepless night that night. On the other hand, if he keeps it up, I'll be deada old age by the time he makes a move... " 2027 Somewhere Else The Pharaoh sits on her throne - Hatshepsut reborn! Her treasures are all the treasures of the world - the cedars of Lebanon, the iron of the Hittites, the gold of Nubia, and none has greater treasure than the Lady of the Two Lands! When she stretches her hand armies of the finest warriors in the world march against her enemies; the charioteers of Assyria, the doughty spearmen of Kush, and all the rest fall before Pharaoh and her power! She is a god on Earth, her face and body commemorated in marble and sandstone cubits high across the Two Lands! She is beloved by kings, courtiers, and common folk, as well might a woman with the heart of Horus and the face of Isis! Her bacchanalia are legend and in her golden palaces in Heliopolis, all the luxuries of table and flesh are hers to command. Her harem is stocked with men from the Pillars of Hercules to the lands east of Babylon, and - Hey wait a second! Those old kings and queens just got people killed when they had those wars. And I've been in some harems, honey - that ain't no way to live. She strides the streets of Heliopolis, keeping her eyes from the temples of the false gods. Her people have been held in bondage for four hundred years - but with the blessings of their Lord, they will soon be held no longer. She is foremost among the rebels and a foe of all kings and queens, especially those who grow fat and bloated from the sweat and blood of the innocent, disguising herself as a simple artisan to hide her true nature from the prying eyes of Pharaoh's many spies. By day she labors alongside her people, by night she plans the day of rising. She doesn't have long to wait. They strike when the signs are there - when the river has turned red and foul, when clouds of insects fill the air, and when the plague runs hot among both the oppressors and their animals. The day of rising is a glorious, albeit bloody victory, and when it's done they flee into the - First of all, I don't think you're supposed to be showing me that stuff - and second of all, I really don't think I'd fit in with those people. For one thing, I ain't exactly a follower of their- Her home is grand - at least for a peasant's daughter. A little bit of everything in the quarter paid for this place. The house of pleasure where the Medjay make sure the scribes and soldiers treat the girls with respect. The gold that the temple slaves smuggle from the ships going upriver that pays the Medjay. The priests, plied with wine and girls, who make sure that no one stops the flow of gold to this side of the river - and the spices her friends from the lands of the South bring her in return for favors from the priests who need their temple meat flavored just so. She's dealt with a few enemies by poison or blade, especially in her younger days, but she prefers to let her friends and do such work for her. Men pay court to her, and sometimes she accepts their tribute, but she is content to sit in the cool shade of her home's receiving room and let them plead for her favor. She is no Pharaoh, she is no rebel - but she is monarch of all she surveys! I like the last one best. But I think I'm just going to sleep. Good night.

All right, I don't really have a problem with a non-lethal weapon in the hands of a character run by a trusted player. APPROVED

Suddenly, all around the room, alarms began going off. Steve was big and he moved slowly sometimes, but the next thing anyone knew his pike was in his hand and deployed. Security alarms in the compound were springing to life - and, ominously, alarms from the probe inside the crpyt were going off too. The sudden eruption was of long-dormant eldritch energies, like static feedback through powerlines when a lightning strike is near. "Teleportation," Steve said aloud as he bolted for the exterior door. He knew Miss Americana could handle activating the compound's defenses and Dragonfly and Jill O'Cure could guard the staff - but protection was his job, and though the things here were the enemies of all life they were his enemies most of all. The airlock cleared him in a trifle, and in full armor, Caradoc stalked outside into the howling winds of the Antarctic. It was dark indeed, distant storms casting the civil twilight into a deeper darkness than anything you would find in Freedom City. It was colder and deadlier than anywhere on Earth-Prime out there - but he had been in colder places than this, and darker, and gotten out. It was easy enough to find the interlopers, the humanoid and the spectre who had arrived together, the former pinging a familiar pattern to his armor's radar defenses and the other a familiar pattern of radar interference that nonetheless was unmistakable. He pumped the action on his pike, and as he approached Ghost Girl and Tarva out of the darkness of the storm, his pike blazed brilliantly with the light of a searing magnesium flare, white light cast on his holographic disguise as he stalked towards them like an avenging demon. ""You!" he shouted, his voice tinny and inhuman through his armor. Without hesitation, he bore down on Tarva with hardly a glance for Ghost Girl, his weapon hot. "What do you think you're doing?" "What am _I_ doing?" Tarva spat back, her dark voice crackling against the howling night all around them. She didn't seem afraid at all, if anything the darkness all around them seemed to strengthen her righteous fury. "I might have known you would be here, you bloody-handed vulture! Have you come to pick the bones of the dead?"

Sea Devil came into the scene slow and loud, her armor retracted to show what she was and her song of greeting a bass rumble clearly audible in the deep water. She took in the scene quickly and knew what she was seeing - the young females and males of this tribe, the hunters and warriors, performing an adulthood ritual. She'd been through one of those herself, years upon years earlier, when she'd gained some of the tattoos visible on her green-white limbs where they bulged out of her metallic shell. "Greetings, warriors!" she called as she landed among them, careful to land so that none of them saw her back. "<I am Water-Bearer-in-Dagon's-Mouth. Of what tribe are you?>" "<We are Hydra's-Coils-In-Sun,>" croaked one of the females in reply, whose scaly integument showed more than a little Dark Brother in her. "<And you?>" "<I was of the Stony Island Tribe>," Aquaria replied, her eyes upcast to show tragedy. "<But they are->" "<You lie!>" croaked another of the females, hopping her way out of the circle to glare at Aquaria. This one looked far less like a Dark Brother - indeed, her skin was whiter than the grey-green of the others, and her tattoos a deeper shade of blue. Aquaria stared at the female in shock, doing hasty math as she considered age and race and-the younger female was still speaking. "<The Stony Island Tribe is dead, killed by Surfacers and Atlanteans. You come here in their metal garb, and tell us LIES!>" She hissed and raised her trident - automatically Aquaria lit hers in response. "<No!>" she bellowed, "<Listen!>" - From Leviathan's perspective, the interaction was considerably more prosiac - albeit considerably more alien. The arrival of the Deep One in power armor interrupted whatever ritual was taking place by the entrance to his lair, and newcomer and tribe immediately began bellowing at each other in noises somewhere between a whale's song and a frog's croaking. The interaction didn't look entirely friendly - especially once one of the group hefted one of those long, wrought-iron looking tridents, and shook it threateningly at Sea Devil - who responded by igniting a trident of her own that gleamed an impossibly bright green in the dimness at the bottom of the bay. No blood had been spilled yet - but weapons were in hands!

August 2, 2017 Freedom Medical Center Keeping things low-profile, as was the plan, meant that any image Mark had had of landing on the rooftop were quickly stifled by the reality of the need to look like any typical expectant family and friends arriving at the hospital late at night. Redbird dropped them off at the front doors and they headed inside, where the front desk attendant quickly directed them towards the secure elevator to the maternity ward. On the sixth floor. As the elevator ascended, an ominous rumble came from somewhere in the shaft - but Mark looked up and declared out loud, “No!” And with that, they continued to their destination, where as parents in labor but not particularly active labor, Mark and Nina were immediately handed a large pile of forms. Ready to walk around instead of wait, Nina handed them quickly to Mark. By the time they were about to head for their secure room, two visitors arrived. Iyar al-Iryani was the first of the extra guests to arrive, sweeping Nina up in a careful hug briefly stymied by another contraction. But Nina seemed to appreciate the company, and Iyar took her other hand. “Just think, Nina,” said Iyar with animation on her face. “Someday this day will be a holiday.” “You’re right,” said Nina, smiling at the thought. “This will be a good day - no, a great one.” “Thank you so much for all this,” Iyar said to Trevor and Erin, her accent notably thicker than her friend’s. “You will be remembered on this day.” She knew the Liberty League well enough to know who had planned all this. Exchanging a glance with Erin Trevor suggested, “Best left out of history books, maybe.” Having a commemorative plaque in their honor in some Socotran municipal park might be tough to explain down the line. Something reminiscent of a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth all the same. “Will settle for favourite American uncle.” Erin had stationed herself at the entrance to the elevator lobby, keeping an eye on the stairs and the banks of elevators all at once. She was close enough to hear the conversation, but far enough away from the action for comfort. Part of her job in the grand scheme of things had been screening content to show to Mark to keep him grounded in the reality of normal childbirth, and it had been… educational. Now that she was married and in her twenties, the idea of wanting children wasn’t nearly as foreign to Erin as it would’ve been even five years ago, but the getting of them was still a daunting proposition. “Yeah, aunt and uncle should work just fine.” “Oh, you guys…” Mark was close to tears, maybe because the moment was so emotional, maybe from fatigue, but Nina, still walking around, was articulate enough to say, “Thank you both so much. We owe you our lives, and so does our son, as soon as he makes his way out here…” Things got a little more complicated with the arrival of Martha Lucas, carrying a grandmother’s big bag of goodies over her shoulder and looking a little out of breath. Things weren’t exactly frosty between Mark’s mother and the rest of the Liberty League, but they weren’t quite friendly either - not with the lingering memories of what she’d done to Mark when he’d been in high school just before the barely-prevented end of the multiverse. But Mark had put those memories aside and obviously wanted his friends to do the same - especially today! Luckily they had this small suite of rooms and waiting room to themselves tonight - even in Freedom City, the metahuman wing of the hospital wasn’t so crowded in the dead of night when there wasn’t a major super-battle going on. Hot on Martha’s heels came Dr. Hussein, the Iraqi-born physician who was working as Nina’s primary ob-gyn. The hijab-wearing woman was no-nonsense and intimately familiar with all sorts of metahuman health issues, particularly maternal ones - she was exactly the kind of person Mark and Nina had been hoping to find. “All right, it’s time to go to work,” she said briskly. “Mother, let’s get you in your room - Father, we’re going to need you in just a few minutes…” Mark had been sitting his mother down and making sure she had her books and her sketchpad, now with Nina heading off to the delivery room, he found another moment for Erin and Trevor. “Okay, guys - I’ll keep you updated as much as I can. In another couple of hours, you’re going to meet my son!” He hugged Erin, and he hugged Trevor, and seemed to take a moment to gather himself, pushing aside his own nerves and jangling emotions for the support role he was going to play. “I’m gonna be a dad!” And with that, he headed off to join his wife in their hospital room! Nina and Mark had discussed their birth plan with Trevor and Erin ahead of time, just to make sure everyone knew what was what. Nina had intended to use an epidural and take her chances with a possible C-section, but strong painkillers and other sorts of sedatives usually made her powers unstable. That meant a natural birth, albeit one spent mostly in the tub full of warm water that Mark had practiced making until he could practically do it in his sleep. Since this was Nina’s first pregnancy, what that really meant for the people outside the delivery room was a lot of waiting as the hours of the late morning crept by into dawn, punctuated by occasional sounds from inside the room (mostly of Nina’s music, an Eritrean pop star she found soothing) and texted updates from Mark. Hours ticked by - not enough for it to actually be light outside but it was definitely thinking about it out there . Martha Lucas set aside the drawing of Mark and Nina she was working on and immediately dozed off in her chair. Iyar talked with Trevor and Erin about the refugee resettlement service where she volunteered - and then the lights flickered, just slightly, then again. Though they came back on, the effect was unsettling, especially when Erin and Trevor’s communicators both chimed with the fuzzy, static-heavy sound of Redbird’s voice. “<empora> <ncursio> <ospita>. <eav> <nterferenc>.”

But I Believe In You 12:30AM Reception Hall Mark and Nina had kept a low profile at the wedding - well, as much as they were capable of doing so. Mark had cried when the brides had said their vows together and Nina had managed to buttonhole Arz ar-Rabb, a visiting Lebanese hero, about the need for a united front of Arab heroes these days, but ultimately this wasn't their show. Nina, at least, was glad of that. She was nine months pregnant on a 5'2" frame, and all the praise Mark had heaped on her about her looks hadn't made her any more interested in being in the public eye since about the beginning of summer. But the wedding was an important event, and Nina always made time for important events. Mark knew how hard his wife was working here so he worked for her too - politely carrying on conversations when she had to make one of several visits to the castle bathroom, fetching her the snacks she liked when she was too tired to get up and fetch them herself, and doing most of the work when they got up to dance together. They spent most of their time at the wedding sitting down, talking with Trevor and Erin and their other friends. As the party was winding down around them, Nina (who was obviously close to falling asleep) rose to make her way to the women's bathroom for one more visit before going home. Finishing his ginger ale cunningly disguised as champagne, Mark said, "Oh man, we haven't stayed up this late in months," said Mark, looking more awake than his wife but a little peaked himself. Reaching back to fidget with his ponytail, he said, "This has been a great party - and what a beautiful wedding! I-" His phone buzzed - when it did, he looked down at the text he'd just gotten, blinked, and disappeared. His champagne flute, dropped from his hand, fell. Erin automatically reached out and snatched the glass before it shattered on the floor, then looked to Trevor. "That can’t be good," she remarked. "I'm going to give fifty-fifty odds on a giant monster coming to disrupt the wedding or Nina going into labor." She frowned, furrowing her brow. "Or maybe thirty-seventy. You'd have been the one to get the call for a monster here, right?" "Monster would probably be a guest," he reasoned, given the composition of the wedding party. He tucked away the black stained handkerchief he'd been using to surreptitiously dab his eyes periodically throughout the reception and stood up. "I'll get the car. Wait for Mark? Just in case." While teleporting to the hospital was obviously the fastest method they'd agreed in advance that relying solely on Mark's powers while he was particularly emotional was a mistake. Unsurprisingly Trevor had a half dozen contingency plans in place past the first, all of them involving waterproofing. Mark reappeared scant minutes later, the little flurries of energy that signaled his arrival considerably more subdued than usual. He had his messenger bag flung over his shoulder, and the same look of barely suppressed excitement and terror that they’d last seen during the most recent invasion. "O-okay," he said, leaning down over the table. "We're going to the hospital." Not a high school student anymore, Mark didn't need to explain to his friends why. "But I need your help in getting there. Nina's in the public bathrooms and she needs a change of clothes." More conservative than her husband about some things, Nina had made a point to use one of the few gender-segregated bathrooms in the semi-public part of the castle - which wasn't paying off well. "What does she need a change of clothes for?" Erin asked curiously. "Your hospital doesn't have a dress code or something, right?" Mark shifted nervously, realizing that he'd just assumed Erin knew how it worked. "Well, her, uh, water broke." Nina had been wearing a long, formal dress that both helped play down her belly and also made it possible for her to wear sneakers rather than high heel shoes that were murder on swollen ankles. "Oh." Erin felt her cheeks flushing. "Yeah, I guess that would be… weird. But can't you just, like, put new clothes on her? You used to do it to us all the time when we were at school." She grimaced a little. Mark hadn't been as bad as his alternate-universe female counterpart, who'd decorated Erin’s entire outfit with pink glitter, but he'd had his moments. "Well, I mean, I can't go in the ladies room," said Mark, sounding a little scandalized. "And she wants the comfy shirt and skirt she picked out." They had the merit of being old and big, so it was okay if they were ruined between one thing and another. "Besides, I try not to do that anymore, people usually don't like it if I do it without asking.”" "Yeah, that's fair." Erin stood up and pulled the drawstring on her dress, letting the skirt fall away and leaving her in close-fitted black pants and the dress's purple top. She took the bundle of clothes from Mark and gave him the skirt in return. "Trevor's getting the car, we'll be with you in just a minute," she promised, then loped away at a great rate of speed. Erin found the women's bathroom easily enough, even if it took her a second or two to reach it. Nina must have been determined to hike her way down to the gender-segregated bathrooms two floors down - given the location, this was probably usually the staff bathroom. When she reached the bathroom door it was securely sealed, though she thought pushing on it would probably do the trick, and she saw a slight trickle of water leaking out from underneath and heard the sound of running faucets. "Hello?" came Nina's voice, her accent slightly thicker than normal. Outside, Mark teleported to ground level in front of the castle, briefly dizzied by the change in scenery, and looked around for Trevor and the car. I gotta call my mom! He thought, before focusing on the more pressing matters of finding transportation. He knew what 'the car' typically looked like… Trevor could have contacted Redbird through the communication equipment installed in the sleek estate car nestled in the parking garage in the tower's lower levels but the autonomic machine intelligence had already projected her holographic avatar into the reception hall, the better to take part in human custom. He found her 'seated' at a table toward the back of the hall, affecting an off-the-shoulder crimson sheath and laughing uproariously at something Bluebird had said. She gave her driver a broad grin and wave when she spotted his approach, squinting slightly. "Marksman! Come, join us for a drink!" Closer to the table Trevor could hear the faint slur in her speech and see the way she was swaying in her seat. Lowering her voice conspiratorially the Furion AI explained, "Bluebird -- she's very smart -- Bluebird has come up with an algorithm that replicates the effects of bloodvine ale. It's traditional, you know!" Nearly as tall as her counterpart though more slender by Furion standards Bluebird let a girlish giggle escape before clamping both hands over her mouth, pulling along the ends of the navy shawl she'd been absently twining through her fingers. That got an amused snort from Redbird and the pair descended into guffaws once again. Nonplussed, Trevor gave them a moment before interrupting, "Nina's gone into labour." Both holographic women went immediately silent, eyes wide as they sat bolt upright. Their images flickered briefly as they recompiled. "Recreational algorithm uninstalled," Bluebird announced, prim and businesslike once again. "I've cleared the most direct route out of the garage. All speed to you." Trevor almost thought he saw Redbird's avatar wink before disappearing from view. In the parking garage a roar of unearthly engine alerted Mark to the car rolling up behind him, passenger door swinging open even as the exterior panels of the vehicle shifted and folded in upon themselves as it was reconfigured with Furion technology. "In!" Redbird's disembodied voice demanded as the car rose from the ground. Mark jumped inside the car before he could think to teleport there, buckling himself in with a practiced motion. He took the rear passenger seat, knowing that Nina would be on the other side and Trevor and Erin in the front once they were actually in motion. "Okay, let's go!" he said unnecessarily as the car rose into the air, slinging his go bag down to the footwell in front of him. Luckily the car was very roomy. "Hey Redbird, you're insulated against...stuff, right?" he hazarded on the way up. "Frankly," the machine intelligence replied as the seat shifted beneath Mark to accommodate larger cushions and recline back into a more comfortable position, "if what I understand of this process is accurate I am likely never inhabiting this vehicle again after tonight." It would be easy enough to sterilize the interior and repair any damage but she would know. With wheels and axles replaced by four sparking spheres of red-black energy the car shot out of the parking garage and rocketed straight up with enough acceleration to pin its passenger in place. Within second it had reached the castle topping the skyscraper where Bluebird had opened a section of the floor-to-ceiling windows of the hall across from the washroom Nina had chosen, her avatar directing a pair of the cleaning staff to clear a path. Back in the building, Erin considered the trickle of water under the door dubiously before concluding that it was probably faucet overflow. People didn’t… there just wasn’t that much, surely? She still stood clear of it as she knocked. "Hey, it's Erin, I have clean clothes for you and the guys are getting the car. Can I come in?" The door swung open, giving Erin just a glimpse of a mostly translucent watery wall that stood in the door frame before it hastily receded to reveal the figure of Nina al-Darsah, her face tight. "Thank you," she said quickly, taking the clothes from Erin. Erin had seen her change before a fight before and so apart from a moment's pause she didn’t hesitate to divest herself of her stained black dress, then pull on the gigantic baggy T-shirt and loose long skirt that Erin had brought. "I didn’t want anyone else to see me like this." The floor was wet in shallow puddles from what must have been the sink, but that didn’t seem to bother Nina at all. Erin half-turned to give Nina some privacy while ensuring she'd be quick enough to react if the massively pregnant woman slipped on the wet tile or just overbalanced. Frankly, Erin didn't really understand how Nina could walk at all under that kind of front-loading, but she didn't trust the physics of it one bit. "It's no problem," she assured Nina. "We'll get you guys to the hospital and make sure nobody tries to cause problems while you’re there." She paused for a second. "So are you in, like, a lot of pain right now?" "Contrary to what movies and television say," said Nina tightly, "labor rarely begins with water breaking. But of course my life these days is such that I am in labor," she agreed, hanging onto Erin's hand with a particularly firm grip. "The contractions are still far apart, but Amir will probably be born with a musical number playing and his name in the credits, I-" She ran her fingers through her long black hair and by a palpable effort seemed to reassert control over herself. "I'm sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying. It has already been a long day and it will be longer still. You said there is a car?" "Yep, waiting right outside for us," Erin assured her. "I can carry you if you want, or you can walk by yourself. I think women in labor are supposed to walk a lot, to let gravity push the baby out or something. I remember my mom walking a lot…" She trailed off, let the memory well up and disappear. "Anyway, it's not going to be very far. And don't worry about Mark going off the deep end, Trevor and I will make sure he stays in this reality. You made him watch all those episodes of A Baby Story, right?" They stepped out of the washroom to find Trevor standing outside with his arms crossed, his default glower making him look like the bouncer to an exclusive venue. "Called Iyar," he noted without turning around, erring on the side of caution with deference to Nina’s modesty and pride. "Meeting us at the hospital. Car's here." Across the room Redbird flashed her headlights on the off chance they were looking at some other vehicle hovering outside the skyscraper’s open window. There had been a lot of preparation going into this trip, thanks both to Nina"s desire to take control of the process and Erin and Trevor's desire to make sure that the birth of their friend's child didn't descend into anarchic insanity. They'd discussed hospitals, even the possibility of teleporting out of the area entirely when Nina went into labor, but had quickly decided that Freedom City hospitals were the best-equipped for a metahuman delivery - and that Freedom Medical Center was the best of the best. In the backseat, his other hand in Nina's, Mark called his mom, making sure that Martha knew what was happening and that she was on her way to be present for the birth of her first grandchild - as she kept referring to the baby. Luckily there was no traffic for them to get caught in on the way in the air - and luckily there were no super-battles to delay them, either. Iyar was on her motorcycle and Martha in her car, and both were on their way to the hospital. Continued in You May Not Believe In Me

AP: Obscure 3 (all senses, multiple chaff + smoke + stink arrows, 25 ft, Extra: Selective Attack) {16/16} Edits aren't in yet - but I assume it's okay if I toss that off?

Woodsman watched the monster's nostrils flare, remembering a half-dozen conversations with Fred about the thing inside her and its terrible powers. A predator's cunning. A predator's scent. He took a chance and reached down to his belt, tapping the distress beacon that would send an emergency signal not to Claremont but to Midnight Manor, the faint, nearly-inaudible click ringing loud in his ears. It was important that someone else know what was happening here. It was important that he not die alone. He calculated quickly. The thing before him might go down into the water and find more of the golden creatures under the quarry. If they were sentient, it could start a war and put more lives on Fred's conscience - if they weren't, transforming back would put Fred in the depths of flooded caverns beneath the city and kill her upon her return. It might exit the quarry entirely and fall upon the people of the nearby settlements - and the blood would pool up to his boots. No-win scenario. You let it go, people die. You fight it, you die. When he did the math that way, there really wasn't any choice. He took a breath and did something he hardly ever did in the field - he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Hey, YOU!" Woodsman raised his bow and fired a snap shot directly at the ground beneath his own feet - then ran. It was a new bolt, one that worked very well - smoke poured out, and the shrieking sound of noisemakers like those in firecrackers, and the stink of burning piss, and a thousand other things that made it almost impossible to ignore but would kill the senses of anything inside it. The abandoned shack still rested on concrete blocks, he spotted, so he dived underneath it, feeling dirt and rocks dig into his skin as he pulled himself completely underneath the old building. It smelled bad under here - of rain and mold and old dog crap, and it was full of bugs, but that was okay. For now. From his position under the shack, Woodsman could watch clearly as the divided golden masses thrown aside by the Alkahest began to ooze slowly towards the water...

Sea Devil: 8 Singularity: 9

Soon there came a knocking at the door - and the arrival of their friend from the phone. The most normal of the two women was the quiet blonde who stood in back, looking warily around the room as she buried her hands in the pockets of an oversized dark hoodie and jeans. The one in front was the leader, though, and there was something distinctly off about her. The tall, kinky black hair on her head didn't much match her pale skin or big, staring blue eyes - and something seemed off as well about the long limbs on her squat torso as she carefully padded her way into the room. She was wearing a white T-shirt, blue jeans, no shoes or socks - and carrying two supermarket boxes of whole roast chicken. "Hello!" she boomed in not quite the voice from the phone but something that might have been its like. "I am Aquaria Innsmouth! This is my friend Jessie! I heard that you are shamans! I have learned shaman things!" She handed the chickens off to their host. "I brought some meat!" Up close, those attuned to magic could sense magic around Aquaria - a minor disguise spell, and something else, deep and old, like a creature from the depths of the vast ocean. "Is my voice too loud!?"

Singularity is following Sea Devil as fast as she can, or so I've heard. =D

Above the clouds, away from the Terrans and their cameras, Citizen's demeanor seemed to change. "Come on, come closer!" he taunted Negator and his clones. "I know you, you mistakes of Terran science. I heard about your experiment!" he called. "You were nothing but a child, playing with science you weren't ready for!" As he spoke, Citizen had flipped open the robot body's inner forearm and was frantically making adjustments without bothering to look down. He couldn't have done this on the old-new body that the other Sharl was wearing now - not with its safety system, but the unstable 'magno-vacuum' effects of this body's electromagnetic drive had had some potential side-effects. But side-effects didn't matter this far up in the sky, away from the city of Terrans. "In any dimension, in any universe, you're just a child who burned himself playing with grown-up toys. That's why you couldn't conquer either Earth, you double-dumbass!" he added, calling on words he'd learned from Gina Evans in a particular moment of temper. "You're nothing but a failure! A weak, stupid failure. And you know what else?" The smile he gave Negator was pure Sharl Tulink. "You _know_ I'm distracting you. But you know that if I fly away from here, I'm going to tell everyone how you failed and how I fooled you. So what's it going to be, _Negator_?" Tell them thank you and to get here quickly, Sharl returned the message. Tell them to come prepared for an explosion.

Bluff: 23 Citizen has 32 PP in his Energy Systems array. He's going to stunt the following effect off it. Nullify 15 (Force Field, Extras: Effortless, Nullifying Field [+0] PFs: Subtle [electromagnetic senses], Triggered [when struck]) [32/32] Power check: 22 Completely inadequate! 26 Not great still, but hey, he's got plenty of HP.

"There will be time for that, on the bones of the dead," Tarva promised Kimber warmly, taking her head in her hands and kissing her firmly. "You at my side is all the strength I need for now - and all the salvation." The look in the shadow-witch's eyes were one of dark and building intensity, as if her inner shadows were piling up on each other, one after the other, in a growing obsidian agglomeration. "We need to go soon - sooner than the others can follow. You must learn to calculate these things, boon," she added affectionately. "I can gather power to take us there. It is far away, but within my reach." She smiled. "Within our reach. We will take the eyes, and be safe from all that they can see."

Tou vs 29: http://orokos.com/roll/551519 = 17 A severely failed roll that I'm going to have to reroll. http://orokos.com/roll/551520 = 30 Sure, now it's a 30!

It's probably going to be clear to Riley that it can smell him at this point and is actively in pursuit, but can't actually reach him yet? Not till it starts running, anyway.

Woodsman stared at Alkahest. He felt guilt for the part he'd played in Fred's transformation and for what might have been the death of the golden monster - fear for what Alkahest might do to him, and what might happen if killing that creature would turn out to have dire consequences. Anger at himself, at his stupid self, that he hadn't brought the loadout he'd have used if he'd been planning to fight the apex predator of Claremont Academy. Embarrassment, as he wondered if the surviving Aurans were watching them and laughing at their self-inflicted predicament. But feelings didn't matter now. It was close to twice his size and faster at a sprint than he could match. It was strong enough to tear him limb from limb, screams tearing at his throat as he felt the ultimate agony of bone and flesh being torn apart, then the primal violation of being eaten alive. Running teaches it that you're prey. Don't run. Instead he went perfectly still for a moment, then started walking backwards until his outline was partially obscured by the nearby tree that he'd been using for shelter a few minutes earlier. The abandoned quarry shed behind him was cover, not protection against the Alkahest, but it was cover nonetheless. He inhaled, he exhaled, and he walked backwards - and then he did it again.

Woodsman: Woodsman gets that HP and spends it, the better to buy off fatigue on his crossbow. Woodsman: Move Action: Stealth! That's a DC 30 Notice check for Alkahest to track him. With his other move action, he'll move fifteen feet towards the shelter of the nearby abandoned buildings.