Avenger Assembled

Woodsman Exciting New Worlds Wiping away the thick fog of condensation from the intensely hot showers he preferred, Riley studied himself in the bathroom mirror. As usual, he didn't like what he saw – but the nice thing about the changes in his body on Earth-Prime was that he could do something about those. Dabbing on a few dots of shaving cream, he carefully shaved the fuzzy corners of his upper lip, in private letting himself grin hugely as he did so. Real f$(#ing facial hair, for the first time in his life! He'd originally let the thick, dark hairs grow in, but after some consideration and a few hard looks in the mirror, he'd decided he was man enough to shave. He'd be growing hair thick enough for a real mustache and goatee in a month or two now, there was no reason walking around like he had anything to prove – unlike the peach fuzz boys he'd seen wandering around campus. Still studying his face in the mirror, he began to dress for his date – settling on a baggy, short-sleeved plaid button shirt that showed off his thickly muscled arms (and hadn't they been getting bigger too in the last year, how nice!) and running his wet hands through the very short dark hair he was going to need to shave any time now. As he did so, he experimented with what exactly he planned to say – knowing that otherwise he and Robin might not say anything at all. “Hey, babe, since we spent this year screwing around, don't you think it's time we screwed around-” He laughed and whipped a washcloth at his reflection. “Yeah, right, so I can sound like Huang...” Admittedly, Huang was a lot more successful with boys than Riley typically was with girls even when he'd been a 14 year old trying to ask girls out when he still wore dresses sometimes – but Huang's brand of success probably wasn't what he was looking for here. He tried again as he buttoned his brown slacks. “Robin, you and I've been wanting this for a long time, so don't you think it's time we-nah.” He shook his head again, tying up his shoes, trying to think of what exactly he could say to Robin on their date – a date that would hopefully end the way Cathy's and Huang's (and maybe Sanderson's? He wasn't sure) dates usually ended. Maybe he didn't need words – he knew what she thought of the guys around Claremont who tried lots of lines to get in girls' pants. Robin wasn't really with him because of his abilities as a conversationalist. But he wanted those words for her anyway. “Because you deserve it,” he told his reflection in the now-mostly cleared glass. “This place, with you in it, is where I learned how to be the man I never saw in the mirror – but always saw up here.” He pointed to his temple. “And that man wants to be with you, now, and maybe forever. As long as you're here, and I'm here, this place isn't so strange. You make any place feel like home.” He smiled fractionally, allowing himself humor at his own expense in private that he'd never have allowed outside the confines of the bathroom. “damn, I shouldn't tell a girl she feels like home...maybe I'd better bring some nice flowers, too. Don't want her thinking I'm getting all clingy...” He thought about getting clingy with Robin, really clingy, and then gripped the side of the sink, taking slow, deliberate breaths in the style that he'd learned in meditation. He was really feeling the T today – or maybe what he was really feeling was wanting to get with his brave, clever, and super-hot girlfriend. Easy there, buddy, he thought, the voice in his head sounding more than a little like his mom's. She was the one who'd taught him that he was the best kind of man – somebody who knew what it was like to be a girl (sort of) and who knew what it was like when men were jerks Of course, talks with his mom (much less ever-'helpful' Peyton!) about girls had never really covered his plans for later that evening. "You know what?" he finally murmured to his reflection, talking out his feelings under his breath. "I'm gonna ask Robin if she wants to have sex tonight. The only way we're gonna solve this is to solve it together."

"One at a time, yeah. Better with sniping," said Woodsman, his hood down and face half-lost in shadow. He held his crossbow in hand, half-cocked, on the edge of where it would actually function as a weapon. The headset was familiar enough, underneath his hood it fit more neatly than the bulkier units he'd worn back home. The truth was that, given a suitably dark night and the terrain to his advantage, he could probably handle an entire gang by himself as long as they had no powers and he had his hatchet - but would they be alive when it was done? "Be on the roof," he said, agreeing with the other boy's strategy - trusting that, at least, was an area where they had something in common.

"It was brought to Freedom City by Eve Martel, heir to ancient French dynasty of nobility. Many of whom actually deserve title, so good for them, I say." Dimitri stood behind her, putting out his cigarette on the sidewalk. "Is pretty nice castle," he admitted. "Helps give young millennial Americans some feeling of heestory." Dimitri actually had rather mixed feelings about the castle itself - he'd always found the noble ancestry of the Crimson Fox to be the least interesting thing about a very interesting woman, feelings that were about the same in his relationship with the Blue Fox. But he would never say a word against a place that meant more young people would know the names of those who had striven so hard for the freedom of Europe and the world only to be cut down in their prime. He stayed close to Leilani, but didn't touch, as they headed inside, just in case the lobby crowd proved too much for her nerves. "You will like Kimber," he commented as they made their way towards a private elevator. "Fine young woman, very Canadian in the best sense of word."

I'm definitely interested in a thread, JD!

"Woah," said Fast-Forward, legitimately impressed. "That's radical." He did as Paige asked and zipped around, making sure their team was all together and doing their jobs, then went back to doing his. He took out his recently-acquired cameraphone and took a few pictures himself, the sacrifice of the inferior digital quality well worth it to make sure he instantly captured this magnificent creature. He stayed back, though, letting Paige make psychic contact with support from Val by music. He knew who was the best diplomat in their pairing - and if music made the big monster happy, well, who was he to criticize? The music _was_pretty rad. "If this is another first contact," he murmured, "I think we deserve to make up the human name for this one..."

"Yeah, 'm good. Gangs'r easy if you don't play it stupid. Most of 'em run real fast if ya scare 'em enough." Riley's hackles were going down now that it was clear the other boy wasn't competition - just a little odd. Riley had to admit that he wasn't what you'd call a normal Claremont student either. "Three of us seem pretty scary. Hey, maybe you can toss somebody up in the air and see where he comes down," he joked to Nighthawk. Not a man of many words, he settled back to let the tech guy program the scenario. Must get along real well with Summers if he's messing around with the control down here - dang! Thought she didn't get along with anybody.

"Hrm." Dimitri made a noise like a man experiencing indigestion. "Is a little early to be marrying Leilani off, Klara," he commented dryly, stubbing out his cigarette on his palm. "I think you would dislike retirement, my volcanic princess," he commented to Leilani. "When there is crisis, you show up anyway - might as well make career of it and get salary and benefits." He snorted. "Of course, in America, half the time you do it out of goodness of your heart, because Americans are...ah, perfectly lovely people," he said with a wink Leilani's way. "You deserve something for all the time you lost. Might as well be cheering crowds."

When Dimitri opened his eyes, he vomited up blood - half-frozen, rotting blood that had the consistency and smell of a frozen treaty enjoyed by demons in one of the lower pits of Hell. That thought, unusually, was enough to make him do it again. His hands flat on the ground, his body half-raised in a pushup position, he took a moment or two to calm himself against the surprisingly novel sensations of near-body dissolution. That sort of wrenching, mortal agony was not a sensation he experienced often. Determined not to show weakness in front of his friend or her new lover, he pushed himself to his feet with great, deliberate care - quickly realizing that the people inside the mansion had almost certainly heard something at this juncture. "A vampire's world. I have been to these before," he murmured, rubbing painfully at his chest. It seemed the local breed of dead was slightly different than his own. Putting his usual faith in Talya's improvisational talents, in this case to keep out of the way, he threw open the balcony doors and spread his arms wide, pointed teeth showing. "Hello, my friends!" he declared, his accent particularly thick. "I heard there was delightful party with bloodwhores at this establishment! I do love American parties, is beautiful country, beautiful! Do I go downstairs to pay for whores, or can you ladies handle own transactions?" He winked at one of the comelier males, staying in the moment and keeping all the attention focused on himself. "Sorry, fellows, not my style!"

All going well? You guys need anybody else?

E and I are going on the road for about five weeks. There will still be posts, but spotty.

"Ah, their book," commented Dimitri, his icy face hard to read as Erik began to speak, hands steepled in front of his face. Arabic and Farsi had never been among his languages - the great curse of fate that had made the thermovore an expert in the coldest nations on the planet. He listened as Erik read, thinking about what he had heard of Ace and Rahim's relationship - and its tragic conclusion. He shot a glance first at Talya, then back at Erik as he read, then suddenly raised his hand. "Thank you, Erik, but that will be all. We know their tale. With, ah, a few minutes work, and porheps a trifle more blood, I should be able to use book to find other book - and thus find our Ace Danger. Will need a few minutes with idol, then the text..." Removing their 'road-map' through the multiverse from his pocket, he sat down with statue and knife in hand, seeming to study both before making some precise cut marks against the surface of polished ivory.

Comrade Frost: http://orokos.com/roll/405881 Dimitri makes both checks.

You coulda just taken 10 and got him - but he's unconscious now. http://orokos.com/roll/405860

Let us know what you'd like to do, SG, and we'd be happy to help!

Okay, outside of Fred vs the Deep One, we're out of combat. Post as you like guys.

Before she could quite escape, though, Reagent was confronted by a Deep One! The massive creature leaped in front of her and gave a menacing croak, lashing out with its tongue just a few inches past her head as it spread its arms and three-fingered hands wide. She didn't know if the creature was toying with her or simply a poor marksman with its oral weapon, but it didn't look put off by its near-miss. In its copper-green half-armor and helmet, the creature looked like a monster from a childhood storybook, albeit all too real as it glared at her with goggle eyes! - As the great Deep One struggled in Phantom's spectral grip, bellowing in a bizarre language that was certainly not Lemurian, Sea Devil focused on her target. She wanted to fight Glamazon - she wanted to fight the Atlantean fighting other Deep Ones, but she knew that the princess wouldn't do any lasting hurt to the raiders on the Surface, she wouldn't dare, not with so many witnesses about. She had to stop the greatest threat to the greatest number of people - which in this case meant the creature whose single bellow had nearly deafened her through the thick plates of her armor and had wrecked the Surfacer dwelling-place behind her. She pressed the handles of her tridents together, forming them into a single, crackling blade, and leaped into the air, striking the giant Deep One between the eyes. The monster shrieked once, electricity rippling through its body, as Aquaria dug in, pouring wave after wave of extra-dimensionally forged electrical energy into its flesh. When it fell, she dropped to the ground too, not surprised as the giant form began to shrink down to a more manageable size. Now we'll get some answers! she thought, wondering who had transformed this mad one into the giant and sent it loose on the streets of the Surfacer city. But the Deep One kept shrinking, and shrinking, and transforming further - until Aquaria Innsmouth found herself standing, glowing trident still in hand, over the unconscious body of a small Surfacer boy wearing only red pajama pants, head down and breathing regularly, twitching in what looked like an uneasy sleep. "Oh no!" she croaked in immediate sympathy, her trident retreating into her hands in shock. "What happened?"

Okay: One Deep One jumps after Fred! http://orokos.com/roll/405238 = 13 and misses! Sea Devil non-lethally coup de graces the monster Tou vs 33 http://orokos.com/roll/405245 = 17 He is knocked out, so some interesting things will happen now.

"Mmm," said Dimitri, frowning a bit. He didn't want to get into another argument with Klara about the past - not when Leilani was right there. "You can do better than the two of us. Old people are just old because they have not died, not from any great wisdom." He took out his cigarette and held it between his fingers, gesticulating to make a point. "You should try beaches hereabouts. Some quiet beaches with good waters - and few people around to watch. I know you worry, but your control is good. All this time together, and you have not tried to hurl single ball of lava at my head."

Show you stealth, bird-looking weirdo..."...yeah, all right, let's do LA. Never been there," said Riley thoughtfully, leaning close to Robin as he studied the displays. He still didn't know what to make of Nevermore, but maybe the guy was just weird and not a jerk. Lots of people in Claremont were. As for the city, well, he didn't know what to make of that, either. He knew this Freedom City like the back of his hand; his own Freedom City as well as he knew his crossbow. Other cities might as well have been on the Moon. "Heard 'snice." He'd heard all sorts of things about Los Angeles and the West Coast, but none of it actually nice. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure he'd ever even seen a picture of the city with the largest superpopulation on the Pacific Coast of the United States. Not a picture that wasn't drowning in redwoods, anyway. "Rain's nice. Makes things grow." He wasn't about to say more.

Edge moved through the city like lightning, sweeping people away from the oncoming locust swarms with as much speed as his considerable power allowed. London's omni-present surveillance cameras showed what would have been an ominous sight under other circumstances - a rapidly moving costumed figure appearing and reappearing in crowded streets across many parts of the city, shouting a few words and then taking everyone with him in a spectacular flash of black light! Lacking Fleur de Joie's foresight, Mark didn't have a safe place nearby to deposit the rescued Londoners - but gradually areas outside the city, and down below at Foreshadow's suggestion. began to fill up with displaced people as Mark scattered them around and out of harm's way, making sure that parents and children and other family members stayed together, but otherwise admittedly adopting a rather scattershot approach to mass transit. Ugh, he thought, reappearing by the Ministry's front door, I should start carrying a notebook.

"Do you truly want the rotting meat?" Caradoc asked, not quite releasing his grip on Arov. "Or does Arov?" Caradoc wondered if the others understood the appalling reality of the situation they were dealing with. The reality of metamorphosis. And loss. He released the flycreature, giving the man beneath freedom to do what he liked. Arov was not quite as interested in conversation as Caradoc had hoped, however - he took up Anibal's discarded Mexican Coke and began licking out the interior, wings frantically buzzing as he licked it clean. When the bottle was done, he dropped it back in the trash and declared, "No! But this is what I am - a mockery of a man! How can I be anything else, looking like-" He touched his face, catching sight of it in a polished bit of glass framing one of the room's mass-produced wall painting, and gave a cry of despair that was both cry and buzz. It was about that time that the sound of firm banging came from the door, and voices in Spanish and English calling, "Police! Open up!"

"If you survive, you'll find your answers. Now, as I was saying, you'll find August Roman - or the man he used to be, anyway, within the elder hospices of the University Hospitals of Cleveland. Delightful place most of the time, you'd be amazed what even the most aged people will do to stave off death for another day. Now go," he said with a smile, "before the bodies hit the-" Phalanx was not one to tarry when given news like that. - "Fast-Forward, Hologram," said Richard by way of introduction, zipping up alongside the two men he didn't immediately recognize as the heroes studied the situation. In the space of a few seconds, he'd largely cleared out the hospital parking lot - but Nick and Hologram had both sensed civilians inside, for the moment safe, but still trapped. They didn't have a lot of time to talk this out. "Can't stay around talking it out forever," he said, making an effort to keep his words separate from each other. "Need to-hang on." He came back, between words, with a map for Paige and the others he'd taken from the abandoned front lobby. "Looks like it's in that big brick block over there," he said choppily, "where all those snakes are heading. We gonna do this?"

Woodsman did not put his hatchet down - not at first, anyway. "Smart t'wait till I put the bow down," he said levelly. "Safer." He glared up at Nevermore, brow furrowed. "Damn upperclassmen," he muttered, sliding the hatchet back into his belt. He looked down at the displayed scenarios, shaking his head. The truth was, he didn't know very much about how these systems worked - Mr. Archer was not one to hand over the keys to his vault to his students. Most of the time. "Hey, havetatell Sanderson there's no mindscrew the witch after all. So whaddya in for, Nevermore?" he asked, challengingly. "Hangin' around and snoopin' yer thing?"

AND THAT MAKES FOUR BY HGM In Brief: All-powerful reality warper trying to keep the world together Alternate Identity: Mark Mason Lucas Identity: Public Birthplace: Freedom City Occupation: Humanitarian worker, superhero Affiliations: Liberty League, Nina al-Darsah, Lucas family legacy Family: Rick Lucas [father, dead], Martha Lucas [mother], Nina al-Darsah [fiancee] Age: 24 Gender: Male Ethnicity: White Height: 6'0" Weight: 165 lbs Eyes: Blue Hair: Blond http://cache2.asset-cache.net/xc/122398941.jpg?v=2&c=IWSAsset&k=2&d=HvO_I-gm78jRWfTwOh546EnwaoSJMRd0_chtVVAv6WuMxvlCGLq6jyudurh8lC1y0 Description: Tall, blond, and impeccably groomed without having to work at it, Mark Lucas looks like he just stepped out of Central Casting for a superhero - or maybe a future President. When he's working, he wears a black suit with blue dress shirt and gold tie that never seems to get dirty. When he's not working, he dresses down, preferring merchandise branded with Freedom City sports teams. He's a big Heroes fan - who isn't? History: A scion of a long line of superheroes dating back to the Golden Age of Freedom City, Mark Lucas's firm belief in the world of superheroes and their innate goodness would be annoying if he wasn't so nice. Luckily for him, those beliefs are mostly true in the sunny, optimistic World of Freedom. Having graduated high school, earned his college diploma by taking online classes, and incidentally saved the entire multiverse before he finished that first thing, these days Edge is one of the most powerful people on the planet - he spends most of his time traveling the world for his job with the United Nations, helping the poor and needy. He's recently abandoned the costume he's worn since high school for a more 'plainclothes' looking outfit, as part of the life changes that had come with his engagement to Nina al-Darsah. He has also recently gone public with his super-identity. He's still a loyal member of the Liberty League, though, with a deep respect for the legacy of Freedom City's superheroes. Personality and Motivation: Mark Lucas is sunny and amiable, determined to make everything better. Luckily he has the power to do just that - and the personality to talk people into just about anything. He's a trusting soul, though hard to lie to, and tends to assume the best from everybody. Even bad guys love their mamas and want a better world, they just don't know how to get there without some help. He very rarely gets angry - only when people he cares about are very sorely threatened. He loves his fiancee very much - and does plan to join her in Socotra when she becomes queen. Mark's biggest weakness is that deep down he does resent how the Freedom League treated his father's legacy in the wake of the events of House of L and Graduation Day (see the Guidebook for more information). Powers and Tactics: Mark would be the most frightening man in the world if he wasn't so amiable. As it is, in an actual fight he usually tries to talk down the person he's fighting with, boosting his teammates at the same time just by being around them. If forced to actually do battle himself, he'll generally turn opponents' weapons into something harmless, pin them down with debris or the results of other accidents, or simply strike them with a raw torrent of magical energy that takes the form of what looks like some natural phenomenon gone wild. The latter he only uses when sorely pressed - he genuinely wants to avoid a fight with all but the most terrible enemies. His powers tend to be showy and ostentatious, never subtle, and he'll usually throw up various created objects in the middle of the field as a way of distracting an opponent. Most of his professional life, he spends making and distributing things for poor people around the world. He is the most powerful superhuman in the employ of the United Nations - and definitely the most famous. -- Keep the complications.

Hey, SG! I'm a former Texan myself - we recently moved out of Laredo. That concept would be good. Make sure you've got a super-identity to go with it. We try to keep to the trifecta of supername, costume, and secret identity - if you've got two of those, you're usually fine.