Avenger Assembled

Fast-Forward had kept up an animated conversation during the first half-hour of the ride, then become quiet, almost contemplative. Paige could hear Richard performing the meditative exercises she'd taught him, in this case a cultivation of compassion that saw him teaching Holly how to climb a tree. (He didn't do well with mindfulness contemplation, his stray thoughts tending to wander in exciting directions when he wasn't paying attention.) At the sight of the rocky overhang, though, he snapped 'awake' and began taking pictures, then video with his pocket camera; trusting his wife to handle the heavier stuff. With their mental connection, he already had an idea that there was something strange going on here.

Dimitri was on Talya's other side, patting her with the hand that wasn't covered in icy blood. "Ssh, ssh. Should have warned me," he added gently, "I would have brought ginger candy. Sorry, fellow," he said to Erik sociably, "body temperature of below 0 degrees means no water on me, and need water to freeze to make it. Have got some liquor, though," he said to Talya. "<Wash out your mouth, but don't swallow anything - it will just make vomiting worse,>" he said as he offered her his vodka flask. With his other hand, he took out a battered old butane lighter and snapped it on with a faint woosh. Without commenting, he held the flame up to the wound on his wrist, the flesh beginning to knit shut under the blue-white flame. "Is nice place. Have had troubles with Amazons," and here Erik caught a hint of real bitterness, "but not these."

Up in the tree, Riley was contemplative, his eyes watching the movements of students in the quad with a cool, practiced eye. "Hey, babe." He reached over and squeezed Robin's knee, then asked her a frank question. "Why'd everybody get all hot'n'bothered over that thing?" Robin had seen, more than once, that there was a lot Riley didn't understand about the children of Earth-Prime that he went to school alongside. The question wasn't hostile - it was curious. - "I think you would know better than to trade in the school gossip mill," said Relentless with an easiness that Raina didn't quite buy. Under normal circumstances, she probably would have gotten booted out of the room at that - maybe gently, maybe with laps around the track. But it didn't seem like these were normal circumstances. "What have you heard?" she asked.

Fast-Forward and Hologram Cause I Got High Twenty-three years ago It was Day 3. Richard slammed the fridge door shut with a boom, shaking the house with the force of super-speed vibrations. It was going to be a problem for the people who usually stayed in this vacation cabin, tucked away in the woods of upper Maine, but that was the last thing on his mind right now. “There’s no more eggs! Goddamit!” He put his head against the upper door and realized he was crying. “Why aren’t there any damn eggs? What the hell are we supposed to eat, goddamned deer?” He zipped away, into the living room. “This is stupid! We’re going to run out of food, and we’re going to have to go into town and steal something, and then we’re going to get caught, and weregoingtogotojailandImgoingtoloseyou!” he was babbling at super-speed when Paige caught up with him. Paige had been napping on the couch when the deafening crack of the door woke her up; she was almost starting to get used to it by now. Restlessness, insomnia, anxiety, she remembered all of it very well from her own withdrawal, but surely she hadn’t been this bitchy about it. Surely. And when Richard didn’t sleep, neither of them slept. She clambered to her feet and followed the banging and yelling through the entire house until they both wound up back in the living room. Catching up with Richard wasn’t easy on their best days. She finally reached out and grabbed his arms, broadcasting peace and reassurance as hard as she could. Her multicolored hair stood on end in spikes from her nap, giving her even more of a punk-rock look than usual. “Come on baby,” she cajoled, “we’ve got plenty of food. We don’t need eggs, we’ve got all kinds of good stuff. I’ve got a King-Size Snickers bar with your name on it for after dinner. You wanna help me cook?” “Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” said Richard, burying his head in her shoulder and hugging her tight, his voice moving quickly to a sob. Always labile, his emotions had been moving as fast as his feet the last seventy-two hours. “I didn’t sleep much and it blooows chuuuunks.” He did follow her into the kitchen, but as she’d expected was obviously having trouble focusing, moving from thought to thought in the time it took her to dig out a Hungry Man breakfast. “I just kept thinking about how I’m going to do something stupid while we’re here, and they’regonnasendinthepigs, and-” He sniffed and slowed down long enough to grab up a paper towel and messily blow his nose, his eyes red-rimmed as he looked at her. “I shoulda done more when you were doing this. I’m the worst boyfriend any girl’s ever had. You’d be better off with Gary and June.” He had legitimately gone into the kitchen with every intention of helping, but now he was sitting in the big overstuffed easy chair in the living room, looking with disgust at his sallow, unshaven reflection in the room’s wall mirror. Paige bit back a comment about how not sleeping definitely did suck, and instead concentrated on grating potatoes into a bowl. She was getting better at the whole cooking thing, when she felt like doing that instead of takeout, or when she was desperate to put at least a psychological space between her boyfriend and his bad habits. Logistically, there was nowhere on Earth they could go where Richard would be out of reach of his drugs of choice, but so far the isolation seemed to be holding him in place. She could’ve wormed her way into his brain and made him stay, but that seemed way too wrong, even for a good cause. “I don’t want to be with Gary and June. I want to be with you,” she called into the other room. “And I didn’t use as heavily as you. You know you have an addictive personality. It’s just going to take time.” “Better not want to be with them, I’d kick their cyborg asses anyway…” Richard muttered, the ghost of a joke before his mind went back the situation at hand. I can’t believe three days is sooo looong…” he complained, running his hands over his face. “Tell me something good,” he asked, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to look at his own nasty strung-out face. “Or maybe - when this is over, we got a big pile of money we’re not blowing anymore.” His mind moved, fast, even though it felt like rusty gears were turning in his head as he talked. They didn’t have any painkillers. Too many painkillers would be bad - and too much Advil wasn’t going to help either. “We should buy a house. You know?” He was up, and in the kitchen with her, looking over her shoulder. “Just a house somewhere that we’re not squatting in or renting from some douchebag.” Paige laughed. “You don’t want a house,” she pointed out, nudging him gently aside so she could heat a skillet on the stove. “You get antsy if we spend more than a few months in one place. Neither of us has legal documents good enough to put on mortgage paperwork anyway, and if we used our real names, my father…” She pursed her lips and went silent, still not ready to talk about that after almost four years. “How about after you kick the habit, the two of us go down the East Coast for awhile? New York, Atlantic City, Freedom City, DC. See some old stomping grounds and have some fun, right? We’ll get some money and do Atlantic City like high rollers.” She dumped the potatoes into the oil and watched them sizzle. “Penthouse suite, shows, high-stakes gambling, spa days. Sounds like more fun than home repairs, right?” “Mmm. That does sound real nice, baby.” Richard smiled, getting overly affectionate despite Paige’s need to cook. “Go down to...no, screw Miami and the whole damn state of Florida,” he said with some heat as he mentioned the place where Paige had seen him pick up the single greatest volume of cocaine. “After DC, let’s go to...Vegas, yeah, and spend our ill-gotten gains on the biggest penthouse suites, the fanciest jewelry, and the...well, I’ve already got the hottest babe in Vegas right here.” He put his arms around her, a little wobbly. “We’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay.” It was obviously said for his own benefit as much as hers, she could feel the hope, and disbelief, mingled in his voice. “Of course we are,” she told him, patting his hands where they crossed over her chest, while still flipping potatoes with her free hand. “Think about all the crap we’ve already had to deal with, so much that’s just been awful, heartbreaking, terrifying. We came through all that, didn’t we? Weren’t you there when I was homeless and living invisible in a mall? Weren’t you there after my brothers and sister died? I’m here for you now, and always, and we’re going to be on top again in no time flat. We’ll be better than okay,” she assured him, her voice and mind full of confidence.

With Erik's return, Dimitri slipped smoothly back into character - not far, the minimum level he reserved for people his friends liked. He laughed, eyes and teeth wide. "Hah! This is good story about man with no pants, but we must be on our way. Better get your hand on here, Erik." When Jack had done so, Dimitri deftly hefted the sacrificial dagger in his free hand - and sliced his own wrist. It did not look like he enjoyed it. "Well! Holy items, as bloody uncomfortable as ever, eh?" he hissed. Luckily with his hand on the bottom, no one had to feel the blood that immediately began flowing sluggishly down his hand and over the idol they all touched, but they could watch the thick, syrupy flow, complete with tiny flecks of ice like a half-melted snow cone, fill the icy crevasses in the idol.

Eira paid close attention as Kimber gave her the grand tour, nodding her head politely at all the right moments without actually seeming insincere. It reminded Kimber a little of a princess being given a tour of some government building by a functionary - a very good princess. When they were up in the upper tiers of the castle, in a tower done up in 14th century furnishings to showcase ancient Martel family artifacts (the one the public was allowed to see, anyway), Eira looked up at Kimber and asked a question. "Kimber, can I ask you a question about you?" They were before a stained glass window displaying a long-dead Martel's victory over demonic invaders. "The thing that you are. Does that happen whenever a brain shuts down?" - When Eira and Kimber were gone, Sharl picked up Eliza by the waist and, asking permission with his eyes, kissed her passionately on the lips as he pressed her against the wall by the window, the view beneath them the doll-sized skyscrapers of Freedom City. "You are so beautiful," he told her with a warm smile, "and I missed you. Holos in the plankton fleet are not the same. I don't know the people who can't fly off to another dimension take those shifts."

Edge - Monsoon February 2016 Mount Nyiragongo The Democratic Republic of the Congo Edge and Monsoon arrived on the edge of the volcano's crater, both of them nearly wilting from the terrible heat. Even with the volcano relatively quiet, the air was thick with volcanic gases and the scent of sulfur. If the eruption got any worse, even they couldn't stay long. Peering down into the crater below with the binoculars from his belt, Mark felt his heart twist at the sight in the volcanic lake below, only occasionally visible through the clouds of smoke and bubbling lava that covered the surface of the lake, which was about a kilometer on a side. Resting on the surface of the lake amid smoldering patches of ash lay the personal aircraft of Dr. Nzambi, whose attempt at fleeing the UNISON force that had come to seize her stronghold had just come to an untimely end. "Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un," said Monsoon, hand to her mouth as she joined Mark in studying the scene in the crater with despair. "Those poor bastards. It landed on the heat shield, see," she said, pointing, "but there's no way to get them out of there. I'd never survive flying over a half-kilometer of molten lava, and you can't teleport through that much smoke and superheated air. Nzambi's no loss to the world, but those poor guards. Oh well, I suppose they-Mark!" In a move that Nina supposed she should have predicted, Edge was sliding down the side of the interior rim of the volcano, down towards the superheated air of the lava lake. "It's fine!" Mark was calling up to her, "I'll just turn the lava solid and cool when I walk on it! I'll get 'em out of there." "But why?!" Nina demanded of Mark, barely keeping her feet as the volcano shook beneath them, the lake suddenly bubbling over with bursting balls of hot lava. This close, she was probably going to get a rash - what was going to happen to Mark if he stayed down there long? She didn't try and stop him, knowing the physical impossibility of that feat - but she also knew what could happen if he stopped paying attention down there in that lake, and with no one to fish him out of the water. "She's a supervillain! They're fanatical cultists! Why would you risk your life for them?" "Cause the volcano's real hot, babe!" said Mark, looking from her to the volcano before continuing his careful slide down the inside of the mountain. He concentrated, thinking good thoughts about clean air and cool water, and paused just for a moment at the edge of the lava lake before he began walking out onto the surface of the lava, the rock cooling beneath his feet almost instantly. I love Nina, but sometimes I don't know what she's thinking...He didn't even notice when the volcano began erupting in full force, instead simply striding through the lava bombs with the slow, deliberate concentration of a man walking a tightrope. - The truth was, Peter Myton and most of his fellow mercenaries had never been cultists of Dr. Nzambi - the supervillain who had named herself for a god didn't hire cultists as her personal protectors for obvious reasons. But as he felt the floor heat up beneath his feet and saw the looks on the faces of his fellow mercs, watched the volcano's eruption grow outside the window, saw the look of desperate concentration on Nzambi as she tore apart the spaceship's control systems to try and jury-rig something that even Myton could tell was doomed to failure, he rather wished he had a god to believe in. Oh well - at least this is an interesting way to go. He looked out the window, trying to fill his eyes with the terrible beauty of the volcanic lake before the floor melted beneath his feet...and saw a man out there walking towards them. "Jesus, is that a ghost?" he demanded of the others as a blue and gold-clad figure strode across the actively bubbling lake, waving his hand to stem the eruption like a figure from a dream. The men exchanged a frantic conversation with each other as the figure outside drew closer and closer, Peter somewhat belatedly noting that the man outside had his hands cupped to his face to amplify his voice. Turning on the exterior microphone, he heard a voice shouting in English, "Hey! Hey, it's okay, I'm Edge from UNISON! Don't be scared, we're gonna get all you guys out of there! It's okay, everything's fine!" Nzambi, her face covered in grease and a look of truly divine frustration on her face as she made her way out of the pilot's chair, boiled up to stand next to Peter, yelling into the outside broadcast system just as Edge reached the window outside. "How will we be fine, fool? Even if you're fireproof, none of us are!" "It's fine, I'm not even fireproof! I'm just trying not to get hit out here!" came the response of the blonde, blue-eyed American outside. "Hey, I'll tell you what!" he rapped on the window, his hand only a few inches from Peter's. "You'll be fine if you stick close to me, I'm really lucky like that. Come out on here." - When the first mercenary stepped out of the hatch, Mark was there to greet them with a smile, heedless of the volcano that surrounded them but felt no more threatening than a theme park ride. "Oh ye of little faith!" he joked. "C'mon, it'll be fine..." - Nina gave herself a bath in the tent that night - an interesting process to watch with the water sliding over her skin and right under her clothes, scraping away dirt, ash, and the blood of other people and pooling on the towels beneath her feet as it slid down her cuffs. "Looks like they have the evidence to charge Nzambi and the others," she commented to Mark, who was in the process of carefully shaving with a razor and a hand mirror. "They'll be in the Hague soon enough. The kind of people you're willing to die for never ceases to amaze me, darling," she told him with an affectionate smile. He'd apologized for making her wait on the volcano's rim, watching with her heart in her throat, reports of an imminent eruption in her earpiece matched by the way Mark was casually dismissing the eruption. "Yeah, well...there's only one person I want to live for." He leaned over and pecked her lightly on the cheek, the two of them too exhausted for much more right now. "And you're right, that was a jerk move earlier." He grinned. "Next time, you're coming in the volcano _with me_."

"Sounds like we'd better split up," commented Edge. He knew Nina would behave herself during a serious situation like this, so he didn't make any comments about not bending the city to her will while they were apart. "I'll speak with Tariq," said Monsoon with a nod. "You should go see the Mayor, darling." Between the two of them, Edge was a better bodyguard - even if he had to admit that was mostly a matter of luck. "Need me to pop you over there?" asked Edge, for whom a city's worth of distance was no concern at all. He'd never actually been to Freedom's AEGIS base, true, but he was eternally confident that a little luck would get the two of them there without any trouble. "No, I'll fly. Good luck," she commented to Edge and Zheng, giving the former a peck on the cheek, before making her way to the roof of the building and beginning an acrobatic journey from rooftop to rooftop above the city. "Are we ready?" inquired Edge of his host. "I am when you are."

Okay, looks like Hellbinder is up.

Comrade Frost February 2016 Cold Winter The old man in the bed opened his eyes as he felt a chill on his skin, a faint smile tugging at his sagging cheeks at the sight of the man sitting next to his bed. “Ah,” he murmured, twitching an age-spotted hand as if to wave at him in greeting. “So nice you could make it, Dr. Peshkov,” he said, his voice thin and reedy as he spoke through his oxygen tubes. “What brings you back to the Ukraine? Is it the weather?” “Shirking,” said Dimitri sternly. “What’s this I hear of you laying down on the job, Borisov, when there is work to be done?” The old game didn’t feel right, though, not when his old friend lay here all alone in this hospital of a nation that had so suddenly become his enemy - so he ‘relented’, burying his hands inside his pockets and falling silent. “...this room should be bigger,” he finally said, looking around at the four walls with their cracking plaster, listening to the tinny old radio playing in the other room, smelling the distinct scent of imperfectly clean bedpans. “You are a veteran of the Great Patriotic War and you deserve better than this. I will talk to the administrator and-” “No,” said Borisov, shaking his head. “no, the younger men need bigger rooms. I am not a Yank, Peshkov, I don’t need a color television and fancy things…” He fell silent - and it was clear the words had taken something out of him. Well of course it had - he was ninety-seven years old and though he’d avoided the frailty that came with so much senescence, time had caught up with Dr. Dimitri Peshkov’s orderly. God, he was what, twenty-two in the old days? And he looked like he had barely learned to shave. Silence fell between them, broken by the sound of Yuri Borisov’s slow, regular breathing. Dimitri folded his hands in his lap and closed his eyes, wondering where the hell Yuri’s damnable grandsons were. With their fat wives and children in Kiev, no doubt, he thought irritably. Waiting for an old relic of the past to die. “Yes, well...their girls are pretty, though. Those tight costumes they put the superwomen in, it’s obscene! You would love it.” That got him a smile, and so he kept talking, sharing a series of creatively dirty stories that would have gotten him a sound beating had anyone overheard them in Freedom City. When he’d finished, Dimitri realized that his old friend had fallen asleep. He sat there and looked down at the old man’s face, Borisov’s mustache and hair both snow-white, and remembered the night of the breakout from Leningrad. When the German riflemen had opened up on their not-so-sneaky little company, Borsov had picked up his commanding officer from where the latter had collapsed in terror, pointed to the forest, and yelled “RUN!” What did I get for hiding in terror? The Peoples’ Heroes - and you would have had a penal battalion if I had not asked for you as my second when I became Comrade Frost. What a country we served. Taking out his pocket leather notebook, Dimitri took this opportunity to begin planning out the insults he would use when he showed up at Borisov’s grandsons’ doors to shout at them to go pay some respect to the heroic old man who had risked his life so they could be fat, lazy cocaine addicts. Late into the night, Borisov woke up, his arms and legs moving slightly, and cast his eyes up at his old commander. “Dimitri, it’s so cold...” he whispered. His dead heart thumping in his chest, Dimitri was on his feet, pulling the bed’s thin blanket over the frail old man, painfully realizing how cold it had to be inside the small room. “Let me go shout at the damn janitors,” he said, rising to his feet, “turn up the steam in this place!” He walked away, keeping his pace brisk, and down in the building’s basement found himself shouting in fury at a frightened-looking maintence man to turn up the heat in the hospital’s old steam boiler. When it was good and hot in there - and the hospital’s radiators were particularly warm, Dimitri came back upstairs, his boots squeaking on the stained tile floors of the old Soviet military hospital - now a much-neglected Ukranian veterans’ home. Those who had fought in the Red Army were less than loved, these days. When Dimitri came back upstairs, Yuri Borisov lay in his bed, sheet tucked up to his chin, a look of peace and comfort on his still face and in eyes that still were open. Comrade Frost stared down at his friend for a long moment before reaching down to close the old man’s eyes. It was done.

All right, unless you guys care to resume it, we are out of combat.

Clinging to the rail at the top of the bar, Aquaria looked down at someone sacrificing herself to save her and remembered every time she'd run away. So many places, so many homes, all discarded when they became too hard, too frightening, or because she wanted something better. And now Jessie was...she turned her upper body and met Eclipse's eyes, but couldn't bring herself to speak. Not when she knew what the female was saying was right. "No!" She leaped down, interposing herself between Jessie and the bounty hunters, her glowing tridents vanishing into her hands as soon as her feet hit the floor. Once there, she squatted down on folded back legs, forelimbs arranged before her, body still crackling with charged green energy. "No, stop fighting! We need to talk." She looked up at Jessie and croaked, "All of us..."

Fast-Forward Abilities: 4 + 8 + 8 + 2 + 0 + 4 = 26PP STR: 14 (+2) DEX: 18 (+4) CON: 18 (+4) INT: 12 (+1) WIS: 10 (+0) CHA: 14 (+2) Combat: 20 + 14 = 34PP Initiative: +36 Attack +10 (+12 Melee/+16 Zoom) Defense +16 (+9 Dodge Focus, +7 Base, +3 Flat-Footed) Grapple: +12 Knockback: -4/-2 Saves: 1 + 11 + 5 = 17PP TOU +8/+4 (+4 Con, +4 Defensive Roll) FORT +5 (+4 Con, +1) REF +15 (+4 Dex, +11) WILL +15 w/Mind Shield/+5 (+0 Wis, +5) Skills: 92R=23PP Bluff 13 (+15) Escape Artist 11 (+15) Knowledge (History) 9 (+10) Languages 1 (Hebrew, Base: English) Notice 15 (+15) Search 6 (+7) Sleight of Hand 11 (+15) Sense Motive 15 (+15) Stealth 11 (+15) Feats: 31PP Attack Focus 4 (Melee) Attack Specialization 2 (Zoom Array) Beginner’s Luck Benefit 2 (Fame, Wealth 1) Challenge (Fast Taunt) Defensive Roll 2 Distract (Bluff) Dodge Focus 9 Evasion 2 Fast Overrun Improved Overrun Instant Up Move-by Action Set Up Taunt Uncanny Dodge (Auditory) Powers: 12 + 8 + 1 + 1 + 10 + 8 + 8 + 1 + 2 + 37 = 88PP Concealment 10 (all senses, Flaw: Passive, PFs: Close Range, Selective) [12PP] Enhanced Feats 8 (Improved Initiative 8) [8PP] Feature 1 (Temporal Inertia) [1PP] Immunity 1 (aging, Extra: Affects Others, Flaw: Limited [Half-Effect]) [1PP] Mind Shield 10 [10PP] Quickness 8 (x500) [8PP] Speed 8 (2500 MPH/25000 FPMove) [8PP] Super-Senses 1 (Communications Link 1 (mental, Hologram) [1PP] Super-Movement 2 (Wall-Crawling 1, Water-Walking, Flaw: Limited [Only While Moving]) [2PP] Zoom Array 16 (32PP, PFs: Alternate Powers 5) [37PP] BE: Enhanced Speed 4 (to Speed 12 [50,000 MPH/94.6 miles per move]) (Extra: Affects Others 12) {16} + Enhanced Quickness 4 (to Quickness 12 [x10000]) (Extra: Affects Others 12) {16+16=32/32} AP: Damage 8 (Extras: Autofire, Penetrating, Secondary Effect) {32/32} AP: Damage 8 (Extras: Area [Targeted, Shapeable], Secondary Effect, Selective]) {32/32} AP: Insubstantial 4 (temporal, affected by temporal effects) {20} + Super-Movement 3 (temporal, any era, Extra: Affects Others) {12} {20+12=32/32} AP: Paralyze 8 (Extra: Alternate Save [Reflex], Autofire, Secondary Effect) {32/32} AP: Stun 8 (Extra: Alternate Save [Reflex], Autofire, Secondary Effect) {32/32} Hologram Abilities: 0 + 2 + 10 + 10 + 10 + 4 = 36PP Strength: 10 (+0) Dexterity: 12 (+1) Constitution: 20 (+5) Intelligence: 20 (+5) Wisdom: 20 (+5) Charisma: 14 (+2) Combat: 8 + 10 = 18PP Initiative: +1 Attack: +4 Defense: +7 (+5 Base, +2 Dodge Focus), +2 Flat-Footed Grapple: +4/+20 with Telekinesis Knockback: -7/-1 Saves: 3 + 4 + 7 = 14PP Toughness: +17/+2 (+5 Con, +12 Force Field) Fortitude: +8 (+5 Con, +3) Reflex: +5, (+1 Dex, +4) Will: +17/+12 (+5 Wis, +5 Enhanced Will, +7) Skills: 116R=29PP Bluff 10 (+12, Skill Mastery) Concentration 17 (+21) Diplomacy 10 +12, Skill Mastery) Knowledge (Behavorial Sciences) 5 (+10) Knowledge (History) 5 (+10) Knowledge (Streetwise) 5 (+10) Knowledge (Life Sciences) 3 (+8) Medicine 1 (+6) Notice 15 (+20) Skill Mastery Sense Motive 15 (+20) Skill Mastery Sleight of Hand 10 (+11) Stealth 15 (+16) Feats: 15PP Beginner’s Luck Benefit 2 (Fame, Wealth 1) Distract [Diplomacy] Dodge Focus 2 Eidetic Memory Fascinate [Diplomacy] Interpose Jack of all Trades Leadership Luck Second Chance (Concentration checks to maintain powers) Skill Mastery (Bluff, Diplomacy, Notice, Sense Motive) Trance Ultimate Save (Will) Powers: 5 + 4 + 12 + 39 + 8 + 3 + 26 = 107PP Enhanced Will Save 5 (to +15) [5PP] Flight 2 (25 MPH / 250' per Move Action) [4PP] Force Field 12 [12PP] Psionics 20 (40PP Array, Feats: Alternate Power 9) [49PP] BE: ESP 5 (Clairvoyance; Auditory + Visual Senses, 5 miles, DC 25 Notice; Extras: Action [Free], Duration [Sustained], No Conduit, Simultaneous; Feats: Rapid 2 [Full Action to Search 1 mile diameter area, 1 minute to Search 5 mile diameter area], Subtle) {38/40] AP: Blast 12 (Entropokinesis/Telekinesis; Extra: Range [Perception]; PFs: Precise, Subtle, Variable Descriptor 1 [entropy/force]) {39/40} AP: Damage 12 (‘stop hitting yourself’, Extra: Range 2 [Perception], Flaw: Additional Save [Will], PFs: Precise, Variable Descriptor 2) {39/40} AP: Damage 12 (‘suffer’, Extra: Alternate Save [Will], Range 2 [Perception], Flaw: Action [Full], PFs: Precise, Subtle) {38/40} AP: Emotion Control 12 (‘love me’, Extra: Effortless, PFs: Insidious, Subtle) {38/40} AP: Illusion 10 (All Senses) {40/40} AP: Mental Transform 12 (alter memories, Extra: Duration [Continuous], Range [Perception], Flaw: Action [Full], PFs: Precise, Subtle) {38/40} AP: Mind Control 12 (Domination; Extras: Conscious, Instant Command; Flaw: Action [Full]; Feats: Mental Link, Subtle) {39/40} AP: Move Object 12 (Telekinesis; Strength 60, Heavy Load 48 tons; Extra: Range [Perception]; Feats: Precise, Split Attack, Subtle) {39/40} AP: Stun 12 (Pain or Sleep; Extras: Alternate Save [Will], Mental, Range 2 [Perception]; Flaw: Action [Full]; Feats: Sedation, Subtle, Variable Descriptor [pain or sleep]) {39/40} Super-Senses 12 (Danger Sense [Mental], Mental Awareness 2 [Mental], Postcognition [Flaw: Uncontrolled], Precognition [Flaw: Uncontrolled], Uncanny Dodge [Mental]) [8PP] Super-Senses 1 (Communications Link 3 [mental] Fast-Forward, Holly, Thoughtspeed) [3PP] Telepathy 11 (22PP Array; Feats: Alternate Power 2) [26PP] BE: Communication 6 (Mental, 20 miles; Extras: Linked [Comprehend]; Feats: Rapid 3 [x1000], Subtle) {8} + Comprehend 1 (Speak Any Language; Extras: Linked [Communication]) {2} =12/22} AP: Concealment 10 (All Senses, Feats: Close Range, Selective) {22/22} AP: Mind Reading 10 (Extras: Effortless, Mental, Penetrating, Flaw: Duration [Instant/Lasting]; Feats: Subtle) {21/22}

Riley closed his eyes, his hand on Robin's arm, and for a moment he was back in the ruined Goodman Building and the Woodsmen were about to be ambushed by a screaming pack of Feral Atoms. Would even Robin help him if those frenzied cannibal children were beyond the door? Would she love him afterwards if she saw him put them down? Then Woodsman opened his eyes and nodded, his face a blank mask beneath his hood as he gestured by hand signal - first he'd blast down the door, then Nighthawk (the toughest of their number) would go through first. On the silent count of three, his fingers counting down for him, he fired his bow from the hip, the explosive bolt striking the center of the door and blasting it open. Plan or not, he was right behind Nighthawk as she tore down the remains of the door, making a shoulder roll into the dark corner of a scene out of the pits of Hell itself. There were a dozen Ferals here, the same yellow-eyed fiends with long, pointed fingernails and filthy, matted hair, their browned skin bearing evidence of fifteen years of wallowing in filth and dirt on the other side of the portal. The dimensional scientists were all graphically, cruelly dead - their mortal remains divided and torn, scattered about and even adorning the Ferals like cats who'd torn apart a bag of tissue paper. The Ferals themselves looked particularly wild, biting at each other and their meat like cornered rats. There was blood and worse on the walls and the floor, freely scattered across the machines, and above it all floated a nearly naked Tesla Atom, her long green hair wrapped around her like a shroud, green energies sizzling across her body with manic intensity. The pile of bones at her feet lay amid freshly scorched ash, ash she was spreading over her body with bare hands and a look of gluttonous, unrestrained fury on her face. The portal itself gaped open, a blasphemous hole in the fabric of the universe - the heroes had seen dimensional portals before, but the one in the machine now looked fundamentally wrong, wreathed with red streaks of lightning and writhing in the air like a hungry mirage. No destination was visible on the other side - which made it all the more peculiar when a figure that had been bent over one of the lab tables raised his head and looked right at them! A normal human being in black body armor, the man stood alone amid the hungry, writhing Ferals and was unhurt. On a sudden instinct, Riley raised his bow and fired, the bolt striking the man in the lower back as he leaped directly through the portal! With the figure gone, the Ferals seemed to return to normality. Well, as normal as they got - FEED! squealed Tesla Atom, gesturing at the heroes at the door.

When Erik excused himself to get changed, Dimitri placed his hand against the top of the statue and waited for Talya's lover to return. "We've been to worse places than that and come through all right. And many of those with Ace." With his other hand, he took the ceremonial dagger in hand, the handle dusting with frost at his touch. Recognizing that there were things Talya preferred not to talk about right now, he chose to keep the subject light himself. "You know, if he has moved on to that Spartan dimension of his, I will wear loincloth if that young fellow of yours does. It will be even stevens."

"Are you dense? Are you stupid or something?" Riley hissed, irrational anger flaring for a moment at the man's fear. "I told you - I'm a goddamned superhero!" When they were between two buildings, far enough back that someone would have to shine a flashlight directly at them to see them, Woodsman growled, "Tell me who your boss is so I can go kick his ass and put an end to this crazy murder drug stuff you people are running. He doesn't have to know it was you. Or I'll just find out who he is another way," he added, his voice sharp and hard as the shining blade of a crossbow bolt's head, "and then he'll know for a goddamned fact it was you."

Ted moved closer and closer as they danced, until almost imperceptibly he was close enough, pressed against Raina's back, that she could feel the heat from his body and his breath on her neck as he whispered, "Hey, this place is getting kinda crowded. You wanna go somewhere more private?" he asked, waving his hand up at the upper tiers of the warehouse. Raina caught him shooting a frowning glance Robin's way. The music was getting louder now, strobe lights flashing, and Cathy could just make out glimpses of her would-be paramour and the latter's guardian (who kept being distracted by the men she was dealing with). When Maddie finally slipped towards Cathy again, her guardian the blonde caught sight of it and ran over, oddly graceful on her too-tall platform shoes. They were shouting at each other now, static figures amid the thumping music and the pounding beat - only Cathy was close enough to see the blonde's eyes glow red (while Maddie stared straight ahead) and hear the finish of her growl - "-hitting on the superheroes!"

At the sight of a super-being raising the dead back to the living, Riley went completely silent in his hiding place, his mind casting back to the cruelly betrayed promises of his homeworld - the gods and heroes who had become monsters and predators. He closed his eyes and unbidden, an image of the dead raised back to a parody of life to be eaten alive again and again and again came roiling through his mind. The anger, and the sense of betrayal, he felt at that hard reality of life in his homeworld, pushed him to his feet and out of his awed silence. "Who the hell were those guys?" he demanded to know as he slipped out of his hiding place and ran to join the others. "What the hell was all that crap about the new world and crap?" Figuring Fred would prefer he not comment on what had happened to her, he kept his attention on the floating psychic lady.

The Flame That Burns Lowest Burns Hottest Harrier/Gina Evans 5:00 Steve stepped inside the house he shared with Gina, the warmth of climate control greeting him after the chill February day outside. Neither temperature really were an issue for him either way - what mattered was who was here. He didn’t bother calling, knowing her security systems would have been watching him the moment he approached the porch (never mind the tracker she’d installed under his skin), instead he headed below to find Gina. She was working late, as usual, deep in the crucible that she used when piloting Miss Americana. He leaned down and kissed her, lips still cool against her cheek. “Good evening.” 6:00 Dinners were rarely a high maintenance affair at Gina’s house, she was too busy to cook and he didn’t care much what he ate so long as it wasn’t obviously toxic. But tonight was ostensibly a special occasion, and what good was having money if you didn’t throw it around ridiculously every once in awhile? Steve had to meet the caterer at the door and politely reiterate the fact that no, they were not allowed to come in and set the table, but thank you anyway. There were no candles in the house, but with a little ingenuity, Gina mocked up a couple of white PVC tubes with LED pinpoint lights on the end. It was maybe more amusing than romantic, but the surf and turf with crusty rolls and a chocolate fondue for dessert was delicious. They talked about work, and she ate everything on her plate. 7:00 After dinner, they adjourned to the living room couch - the usual place where they spent their evenings together. They watched a movie called Across the Universe as Gina waited for her food to digest, a title which had initially puzzled Steve given that it turned out to be a romantic story about two young people finding love fifty years in Earth-Prime’s past against a musical backdrop from the same era - there was not even any interplanetary travel in the film despite this dating from the era of both the early civilian missions to Earth’s moon as well as the Freedom League’s involvement with the Grue. The plot was interesting enough - as was the music, but eventually they found more interesting things to do with themselves. Without much conversation besides body language, Steve pulled Gina up onto his lap and kissed her, long and slow and thoroughly. 8:00 The movie was boring anyway. 9:00 Gina didn’t necessarily need to bathe and freshen up before she slipped back into her crucible to animate her morning Skype call to the Archetech field office in Mumbai, but it certainly helped. It went longer than she’d hoped - and not well, but when she was done Steve let her curse a blue streak without trying to interject - and disappeared to come back with her favorite brand of hot chocolate - the kind that came with a few marshmallows and a shot of peppermint vodka. Steve had a cup too, and listened to her talk some more about the morons who didn’t know a million dollar deal when they saw it. 10:00 Steve was the only person Gina knew who had appointment television on the documentary channel. Still, it wasn’t much of a hardship to cuddle up on the couch with him and let him watch his show while her mind wandered downstairs, linking into her computers and worrying over a particularly thorny problem that had cropped up in the newest version of her Miss A autopilot program. There was a fine line between designing a program that would provide a convincing simulacrum of sentience for a few minutes or an hour and risking the accidental creation of a new sidekick she’d have to house in Sharl’s old partition. Gina definitely wasn’t ready for kids, no matter how they came about. 11:00 Steve watched the documentary intently, making notes with his free hand as Gina rested underneath his arm. The documentary was about people who chose, for ethical or health reasons, to live on vegetable matter solely rather than on animal flesh or the things made by animals. While the lifestyle was not one he would choose to embrace, it was interesting, as was so much else about Earth-Prime - and it would surely make interesting conversation at work in the new day. People in Earth-Prime were very interested in what they ate - and what others ate. 12:00 At midnight, an alert chimed inside Gina’s computer, and she tucked away work for awhile to send her consciousness drifting back upstairs. She blinked and stretched under Steve’s arm. “I’ve gotta be up early tomorrow for a breakfast meeting with our Congressman. I think he wants to be immortalized in a robot body nearly as much as he wants to be reelected, and he’s hoping ArcheTech will help with both. You should come to bed too, you could probably use the rest.” Voice commands and helpful robots powered down the house, leaving just the noise of softly whirring ventilation fans, airing out a home that was never open. 1:00 In bed beside Gina, Steve watched the back of her head as she spent the last few minutes of the evening programming her phone - she swore she found it relaxing even if it wasn’t actually necessary given her powers. When she finally fell asleep, he reached over and took her phone and set it on the bedside table, then watched her sleep some more. In his mind, fires raged outside their sealed bedroom window - and the screams of the dying and the damned. But the room was quiet - and Gina breathed softly, quietly, peacefully. It was a good sound. It was a good day. “Good night,” he murmured, before rolling onto his back (making Gina wobble in the mattress) and to stare up at the ceiling. It would be a long night until he fell asleep in the predawn hours. But he wasn’t alone.

"Oh man, an old archnemesis! Those are the worst," said Mark with great confidence. "Don't worry, we'll get her - and her whole organization, too. It just might take a while." He hmmed, thinking this situation over carefully, the rusty gears in his head slowly grinding together. "We need to find who she is," he finally said. "Who she is in terms of being a supervillain, I mean. It's not like she's just a lone gunman brooding somewhere - she must have an organization if she's capable of doing this, an organization with a lot of power and a lot of very bad people." "Where did all this happen?" Monsoon inquired of Zhang.

"Sez you, Talya, Frost was always Frost..." As instructed in the dossier, Dimitri was turning the idol over in his hands, checking the paths of the external grooves to make sure the path to the internal basin wasn't blocked. "All right, this is within my powers," he commented, "just let me know when you are ready for magical mystery tour of seedier ancient dimensions." He took a seat on the floor, taking the lotus position that the Hindu themselves used, the better to be comfortable for what followed. "If is still Amazon dimension, you could put him in garb that fellows wear around those parts, eh? With the palm fronds, and the..." He made a gesture suggesting how little it usually carried. "Luckily Russian ice monster does not meet their definition of manhood."

"Goodman pack's big - the Atoms, their freak spawn, all the ones they've 'ttrached over the years. If I pop in there 'lone with no backup, 'specially if they're all up 'gainst the portal, I'll wind up..." Turning the corner, they came upon the remains of the security guard spread through the elevator lobby on the 16th floor - a human form torn apart into rags by the teeth and claws and powers of the Ferals. One of the Ferals was there, batting at the elevator doors and grunting, but Woodsman didn't break stride as he shot it through the head with casual brutality. Shaking his head, pain pulling at the edges of his voice, he went over to pull the bolt free. "We gotta blow it up. Damn." Only Robin knew why the last word burned with such pain. He wiped the bolt down, then turned to the others. Down the hall, arrows pointed towards the dimensional science laboratory - and from down the hall, past bloody human-shaped footprints, came the unmistakable sound of crunching, and groaning, and laughing. "We blow the damn thing up," he repeated, looking at Shrike. "Blast it with your thing, me with my arrows..." He swallowed. "Tesla will try and fry your meat if she's there, don't let her get inna air. Chase tries to getinya head and make ya kill yourself, shout out if you feel anything inyer head. And Maximus...let's hope they didn't bring Maximus."

Dimitri watched Erik with truly animated interest, like a man eager not so much for a fight but for something exciting to happen. When Talya interjected, he focused on her. "I did not point gun at him," said a still-seated Frost defensively, "I merely...gesticulated wildly, like so!" he said, waving around the hand that wasn't still holding the gun. With an air of injured dignity, he began the slow process of unloading the revolver and sliding the bullets back into his parka pocket. "Come on, Talya, give me a leetle credit here," he grumbled good-naturedly. "I am doctor and your friend - why you not tell me these things?" he asked with a gesture at her abdomen. "I tell you about all my romantic news!" Which was true enough - albeit it was a monotonous conversation, he had to admit. "Anyway, no harm, no foul. Look, ah, Erik, you were in no danger whole time - am bad shot." Well he's no coward anyway - and does appreciate a joke, or did. He winked, then seemed to snap 'out-of-character.' With a distinctly lessened accent - and slightly more gravity, he went on, he went on. "So, old Danger is dying, eh? He is, what, a hundred and fifteen? And feeling it all these years?" Frost shuddered at that. "Satan's bones, that poor damnable bastard."

There was no time to exult the retreat of their enemies - not when there was still a very real monster on the field. C'mon, Fred, c'mon. From his sniper's position, Woodsman snapped open his crossbow and slapped a bladed bolt into place, an impervium-tipped projectile that could penetrate three inches of oak, and wound up his crossbow. He took careful aim at the Alkahest's left eye, bow balanced on the concrete barricade in front of him, crouched and ready in a firing position. He didn't really think he could hurt the Alkahest, not like this - but he could sure as hell get its attention if he had to. Or maybe she's tore up more than she looks - and putting a bolt through her eye's gonna kill her. He held his position, and his firing angle, watching the monster like the mouse watches the eagle. C'mon...

Riley uses his Move Action to maintain his Stealth - Woodsman readies an action to shoot Alkahest if she goes for one of the civilians - http://orokos.com/roll/374101 = 26! If he does wind up having to shoot her, that's a DC 26 Toughness save. If this wasn't a fellow PC, I'd spend an HP to add Improved Crit and make that 31, but taking down the Alkahest isn't life-or-death...yet!