Avenger Assembled

Harrier picked up a shard of metal and carved a fresh NORTH DOWNTOWN in one of the broken lightpoles, shrugging as he looked at the young women. "I heard their voices as they spoke to each other. Whoever the other two are, they are young, and they are alone. It is a very hard thing to be alone in a place like this. Perhaps if they find a message, they will follow us in better spirits." It didn't sound like Steve blamed Blue Jay or her unnamed ally for the attack, and why would he? They'd seen him in his armor, in that ship: he'd have attacked a drone under those circumstances without hesitation. "And if we are being watched by an unknown Other, they will know where to find us." With Erin's great speed and strength, it was easy enough to take them to the North Side of Freedom City, the tracks they made in the dust and debris of the ruined city easy enough to follow. The scene in the north end of downtown was a grim one: though only a few unidentifiable scraps that might have been bodies remained, there had obviously been a last stand made in this neighborhood. And a familiar one, too: Jill recognized the familiar bulk of the MAVERIC, flipped over and burned out to a metal hulk on the steps of the Brownstone, the scars of battle on the street bearing the marks of some familiar patterns. Above it, protruding from the building itself, was the crashed remains of Geckoman's Pitchoo. For her part, Erin had fewer familiar sights. Her apartment building didn't seem to be where she remembered it, though the small complex of burnt-out shops that occupied the space where it was supposed to be was the kind that had occupied many other blocks in the neighborhood while she was there. Her own street was strangely cast, the pavement brick instead of asphalt, with unfamiliar names on the buildings and stores nearby. Pale-faced, Quickstep clung close and quiet to her rescuers.

She's hungry, cold, and tired, on the edge of suffering geniuine food and exposure-related problems. Standard Claremont survival training only takes you so far, especially in a city like this. She's not actually starving or suffering from frostbite, but if conditions get any worse she will be. She definitely seems to be a normal girl.

December 21, 2012 An ancient civilization on an isthmus much to the south of Freedom City had called this day the end of the world, but for one visitor to Freedom City, their culture had provided the theme for an interesting Christmas party. As Feliz Navidad played over the speakers, the roughly-scarred second in command of HAX security was dishing out cups of Mayan hot chocolate with festive peppermint canes in them. "The bitter goes well with the sweet," he said to one of the programmers, the obviously memorized speech not doing much to impress the weedy-looking fellow. With a sigh, the man working the hot chocolate machine moved onto his boss. "A festive crowd," he offered to the chief as she approached, handing her cup and cane to go with the festive holiday theme. In a puffy red sweater with a white reindeer on it, the drone looked downright Christmasy himself. "I did not think so many would show, but I suppose those with family parties will make them on the day in question." Gina had put him off plans to spend the holiday together, but he had his own ideas about how he and his girlfriend would share each other's company over the holidays. "Is your young man coming?" he asked curiously, not wanting to pry when he already could guess the answer. "I know Mara is bringing her young woman."

Round 1: Wander: 20 Bloodstorm: 19 Steel Sentinel: 13 Cobalt Templar: 8

"I'm Dorothy Langford, aka Quickstep," said the girl seriously, doing her best to stand at attention despite a growing case of the shakes. "I, uh, I'm a second year student at Claremont. I was coming back from exercise drill, I went to sleep in my room, and that was...that was a couple of weeks ago, I think," said the girl, sounding every inch her fourteen. "There's no way to tell the time with no sunrise or sunset, so I've had to guess, and use some smashed clocks..." She shivered. "I am really, really glad you got here, because I had totally run out of food. I've seen a couple of other people, uh, I didn't know any of them but one guy who I think was Dr. Stratos. He had a big beard and was yelling like a crazy man, that I wasn't going to get him like they got the others." She sat down, hard, on the beat-up concrete. "I, uh, I...there's something weird about this place. This Freedom City. There are...there isn't anywhere else!" she exclaimed, waving her hand in the distance. "No matter where I 'stepped, everywhere on Earth is like this! But the other cities, they're...not like this. it's like no one ever lived in them. Like toys somebody pushed over." --- No Omegadrones darkened the skies as Blue Jay and Bee-Keeper made their stealthy way through the dead city; indeed, the skies themselves never lost that strange afternoon haze. These weren't the skies Blue Jay associated with a Terminus-ravaged world, but they certainly weren't friendly, either. There was something decidedly odd about the interiors of buildings as they passed through them, a strange sense of unlivedinness as if the city had been burned to the ground just after a major campaign of urban renewal. They were getting close to Freedom Hall, just outside its walls, in fact, when Bee-Keeper's communicator sounded in an eerie metallic voice. "Baxter-Baxter. This is-your opponent speaking. Surrender now-and you-will live. Your ally-has doomed herself-for her opposition-to Lord Omega!"

It was Sharl who had the idea to just go ahead and radio the base. "We're still disguised in the bus, and we can defend ourselves if attacked. Even if something has...happened," he went on, still looking a little shaken by the news of just who it was that was leading the Tronikian rebellion, "they should still be expecting a rescue mission." And so it was that with Koshiro still keeping an eye on the weapons aboard the bus, Citizen picked up the old-fashioned wired radio mic (looking a bit like a CB) and used the frequency Miss A's clandestine cross-dimensional link had picked up to send out the signal. "Kaiser, do you copy? Kaiser, do you copy? This is Bismark." The code words from German history had not been Sharl's idea, but they were innocuous enough (especially when spoken in English) that they could easily pass for stray radio chatter here if the bad guys did intercept it. There was dead silence on the staticky radio line before he heard a distinct response in, eerily enough, his own voice. "Bismark! Bismark, this is Kaiser! We read you. I knew you'd come. Head for the storehouse, I'll explain everything. It's the big concrete building with the roof, uh, blown off. Just don't make a fuss on the way in, I don't want to have to explain you too early..." - The Nazi weapons laboratory had been torn apart, no, blasted apart by a battle so recent that the gunpowder could almost be smelled in the air. Buildings had burned and been smashed apart by giant fists, blocks tumbled about like childrens toys. Nobody had buried the bodies, what little could be seen of them, which looked as if something large and heavy had repeatedly run them over, again and again. The storehouse had recently held what looked like civilian supplies; food, spare uniforms, and the like, and now was empty. When Sharl projected his way inside through a crack in the door, using the bus's camera to tap his vision in so his team could see, he found another Sharl waiting for him. Soldat looked...different. Tired? No, maybe...haunted. Hollow though his eyes were, the other Sharl Tulink met his gaze unflinchingly, with none of the cringing fear he'd shown in front of the National Socialist agents he'd been traveling with at their last encounter. "Welcome to Erde, Citizen," said the local Sharl, the two exchanging bows in Tronikian fashion before Citizen asked the obvious question. "What happened?" "The humans moved up their timetable. I think they got word," replied Soldat with a shrug. "It doesn't matter now. Me and Glace, that's our commander, we pretended to be Dudleys to take the Nazis off guard. We sabotaged the restrain units in the warbots, and then when our team stepped into them..." He suddenly looked away for a moment and said, "Well, we got it done. The base is secure, and now Tronik can be freed. Is your team with you?" he asked, seeming to guess the answer already. "She'll want to see them. I...don't think she really believed me, about you, not 100%. She'll want proof before our Tronik goes with you."

"The secrets of my sleepwear stand exposed," said Steve with what passed for a dry jest, "as does much else." Muscular though he was, the heavily scarred former drone wasn't much to look at, not that any of them were focused on anything other than the situation at hand. Casting his gaze around, he frowned as he stared up at the opaquely cloudy sky overhead. "It is good to see you both. When I awoke in that ship, I feared I had awakened...the color is wrong," he said after a moment, shooting a glance at the others. "Only worldash would darken skies enough to block the unholy crimson glow of the Terminus, and then we wouldn't be able to see at all. This is not the Terminus, but this is a convincing likeness of a city destroyed by it." He cast his gaze back at the smashed remains of Freedom Hall, and for a moment the vision of a dozen reflections of the place, all aflame and swarming with the screams of the dying, filled his vision. "Very convincing. I-" Harrier's words were interrupted as suddenly a figure appeared in a flash of blue light just behind them. The girl was maybe fourteen, and skinny, covered in dirt and a battered blue and gold uniform instantly recognizable to the Claremont students; though not the girl herself. "Oh my god!" she exclaimed, running up to them fearlessly. "Wander and Jill O'Cure oh my god! Did you come in a ship? Are you here to rescue us?" She hopped from foot to foot, casting a quick glance at Steve before focusing on the others. "...do you have any food?" she added nervously.

"Oh, so you want to play?" sneered the witch, and witch she was at close range. "Then let me show you our true power! Lord Hades will pay well for the likes of you along with the other trophy! Bloodstorm and Steel Sentinel, together!" As winds whipped the air around her, she fired a blast of lightning from her hands that seared past Corbin close enough to make his hairs stand on end. "Steel Sentinel, take the girl! If you think you can handle such a 'weighty' task." she called with a contemptuous wave down below as she focused on Cobalt Templar, lightning playing along her body as her long black hair stood on end. "Come, boy, and play the games of Bloodstorm! If you can handle a...change in the weather!" she laughed as lightning crackled all around her.

Bloodstorm: 19 Steel Sentinel: 13 Pew pew!: 10 A miss OK, let me get some posts up

When the glue was burned away, Harrier stepped free and retracted his armor. He felt exposed beneath the cold grey skies of the ruined city, and not just because he was wearing the boxer shorts he'd gone to bed in. Armored though his insides were, his scarred skin was as soft as any man's. For a moment, he felt the strong itch of an arrow penetrating between his shoulder blades before he raised his commlink to his ear again. Both Wander and Jill knew his voice when he was out of armor well enough. "I am no longer restrained. I was aboard the crashed transport vessel, its sole occupant that I could see. Strapped into a recharging unit as if..." Saying the words would give them power they hadn't had even in his thoughts, so instead, he said "I am near Freedom Hall. Look for the large man in underclothes."

Seems legit!

Hey Rav and SW: Are they currently where they can see Harrier?

Edge: Argonauts Citizen: War-Torn October Nights Mile Last World War Harrier: Comrade Frost: Home Again Chimply Awful GMing: Schoolhouse Vandals Briefing Cheesetopia Moloch's Champions Put all excess points to Edge.

I have no objection to anything here. This is a solidly built veteran hero. APPROVED

That'll be enough for Wander and Jill to see through that, yeah. If BJ has a Rep table, feel free to roll on it where you can.

The ancient robot stared back impassively, the single glowing red eye betraying no secrets. She was just about to leave it to its rest when there came a particularly loud crack of thunder from overhead, and a flash of lightning produced by no artificial storm. Looking up, she and Cobalt Templar saw two flying figures in the air: one powersuit in red and gold that looked vaguely like one of Daedalus's models from a decade earlier, and a woman in a skimpy costume of black and red, her cape fluttering in the air behind her. She didn't look bothered by the cold weather, far from it. "You, down there!" she called down to the heroes. "We've come for the robot! Surrender now, and my colleague and I won't be forced to slake our thirst for battle with your lives!" she added with a truly wicked laugh. "Or perhaps you'd like to see what the full power of a storm can do to you AND this entire neighborhood!"

"We haven't been introduced," said Stone dryly. "but when she's not a two-meter Nazi killbot, that sounds about right." She looked back at the base, then at Kimber, and said, "Listen, if you're one of Dan Storm's, I'm not going to ask questions. That man is like a father to me, twice over, and if he put you here, it was for a good reason. Especially if you've got another one of...him," she added, waving to Sharl. Operational security, right?" She looked back at her people, who had cleared out the truck and armed themselves. "We'll keep with our original plan; steal a transport in Branson," she put particular stress on the word, "and head back to the Rockies ourselves. If we can tell Central that this base has been hit, it'll be a good day for every free city on the continent." "...all right," said Sharl with a glance at Kimber. Sharl was no fool; he sensed the Canadians were all deeply uncomfortable around him, with only Kimber's word having kept this from turning into a violent confrontation. Maybe she could get more out of them than he could. "We're going to be getting the machine ghosts, the Tronikians, off this planet, so you won't have to worry about them either way. I'll go get the team ready." He disappeared as he headed back into the bus. When Sharl had gone, Rebecca gave Kimber a serious look. "Kid, I like you, but you'd better watch your back in there. That's one of the biggest Nazi bases in the continent and the only reason we're not down there right now is that I'm not putting my team up against rogue robots, aliens or not. If you think you can trust your guy, that's fine. Just keep your eyes open down there. We'll be watching your back."

Rebecca swore in English, then in French, then in a language Sharl didn't recognize. "...listen, you have good taste in faces, kid, but Mackenzie King's been dead since that bastard Arcand took over sixty years ago. Are you one of Storm's people?" she asked uncertainly, her gaze flicking from Sharl to the late Prime Minister as she took a step back. "And that doesn't explain what you're doing here with one of those vacuum tube ghosts. I thought you people were back in that base testing out your new bodies." At the bafflement on Sharl's face, Rebecca took a chance and went on. "They hit us crossing the border. I thought we were headed for the ditch for sure, but instead they carted us down here to be lab rats. Something about testing a new Nazi death machine." She smiled thinly. "Turns out they didn't make their machines as well as they thought. When the killing started, we busted out and holed up their motor pool, then we made a break for it when things got quiet." "...the killing?" asked Sharl, somewhere south of appalled as he began to make conjectures come together. If the Tronikians had struck _first_ rather than waiting for their rescue, what might have happened in that base? "The Nazis were putting these...well, YOU, in those machines," Rebecca said, waving her free hand at Sharl for a moment. "Machine ghosts, I don't know, I'm not a scientist. But the ghosts got out of control in their new bodies and they started...well, I'm not going to say I don't like seeing Ratzis get what's coming to them, but I don't think they were on our side either. Let's just say if I ever build a killbot, I'm putting a safety on the guns. The last I saw, their leader and her right-hand man were breaking into the Nazi weapons vault underneath the base. That right-hand man being _you_, boy," she added with a significant look at Sharl.

"The 'bus is fine," said Sharl, clearing out so Koshiro could get access to the controls and so Mali could handle the wheel. "You can get us back on the road easily enough, but those people out there are probably going to notice the tracks, not to mention maybe run into us on the way out again. We can't let them draw any more attention to us, not if things are already happening at the base. Stupid groundcar, stupid miserable world..." He peered through the storm and said uncertainly to the others, "Well, I don't think they're National Socialists, actually. It sounds like they're yelling in English, maybe French? And those aren't the right uniforms." He didn't speak that particular national language, but he'd heard it often enough from Eve when she was mad. And the dark fatigues on the people outside, spilling out of the truck, didn't match what he'd seen for National Socialist uniforms at all. He joined Kimber at the door, gave her a nervous grin and thumbs up, and hit the door release. He and Ghost Girl stepped out into the cold, wet night, the rain having died down to a light drizzle. They immediately got the attention of the people spilling out of the truck, as would anyone who appeared out of a bright yellow door of light in the middle of the night air. Guns were leveled their way, but no shots fired, as the door closed behind them. The dozen or so people in, and now out of the truck, were a ragtag looking group of humans: their clothes, no, uniforms were in tatters, their bodies thin, but there was a pride that burned in their eyes all the same. They'd had it rough, but they weren't just another group of refugees either. After a moment, a muscular woman of indeterminate years stepped out of the small group, her team behind her unloading from the truck even as she spoke. "All right, kids. Start talking." "Sorry about your truck," said Sharl apologetically. "That was our bad. Well, my bad. I'm Sharl. Who are you?" hazarded Sharl. "How did you get here?" "Not what I had in mind," she said with a sharp look. "I'm Rebecca Stone, True North," she said, evidently expecting at least the latter to mean something. What, the Canadian super-team? thought Sharl. "And we..." she took a close look at Sharl and her eyes widened with recognition. "You! It's one of them!" And suddenly the guns were coming up again...

Fungal Controller PL: 10 (150) Abilities: 24 pp STR 14 (+2) DEX 14 (+2) CON 14 (+2) INT 14 (+2) WIS 14 (+2) CHA 14 (+2) Combat: 24 pp ATK: +6 (+10 Fungal Mastery) DEF: +10 (+3 flat-footed) Init: +6 Grapple: +8 Saves: 17 pp TOU +10 (+2 Con, +8 Protection) FORT +10 (+2 Con, +8) REF +5 (+2 Dex, +3) WILL +8 (+2 Wis, +6) Skills: 15 pp=60 r Climb 8 (+10)* Craft (Chemical) 8 (+10) Diplomacy 8 (+10) Knowledge (Life Sciences) 8 (+10)* Language 1 (Portuguese, Base: English) Medicine 8 (+10) Notice 8 (+10)* Sense Motive 8 (+10) Survival 3 (+5)* Feats: 10 pp Dodge Focus 4 Improved Initiative Luck Quick Change Second Chance (Diplomacy checks) Skill Mastery (Climb, Knowledge [Life Sciences], Notice, Survival) Uncanny Dodge (auditory) Powers: 60 pp Feature 1 (Can Make Fungi) [1 PP] Fungal Array 16 (32 pp, PFs: Accurate 2, Alternate Powers 4) [38 PP] BE: Blast 10 (Extra: Alternate Save [Fortitude], PFs: Indirect 2) AP: Confuse 10 (Extra: Duration [sustained], PFs: Indirect 2) AP: Corrosion 10 (PFs: Improved Crit 2) AP: Healing 10 (Extra: Restorative, PFs: Persistent, Stabilize) AP: Nauseate 10 (Extra: Ranged, PFs: Indirect 2) Fungal Senses Array 3 (6 pp, PF: Alternate Power 1) [7 PP] Super-Senses 6 (Fungal Awareness [mental, Enhancements: Acute, Analytical, Radius, Ranged]) [6+1=7 PP] AP: Super-Senses 6 (Detect Fungus [mental, Enhancements: Acute, Analytical, Radius, Ranged) Immunity 6 (disease, poison, sleep, starvation and thirst, suffocation) [6 PP] Protection 8 [8 PP] cost abilities 24 + combat 24 + saves 17 + skills 15/60 + feats 10 + powers 60 = 150 pts ------------------------- Design Notes: Here's my build for a fungus controller, a hero with mastery over an entire kingdom! One of the humbler ones, sure, but that's no biggie. He can blast people with fungal toxins, drive minions crazy with ergot, help wounds heal with super-penicillin and fast-knitting fungal growth, and work other powerful effects. He can even corrode robots and undead with fungal attacks that corrode metal and speed the decay of dead flesh. (Sure, imagining a fast-acting fungal poison that he can summon and dismiss at will is a bit of a stretch, but no weirder than throwing fireballs around that don't kill someone) He's not really a fungus himself, but he has the constitution of one of the harder varieties thereof. The strengthened cell walls of a fungus, laden with chitin, helps account for his Protection. He can make any fungus you like and analyze any fungus you put in his hand, given his natural bond with perhaps the most humble (or at least the weirdest) of the classical biological kingdoms. Real super-brains are much better in their chosen speciality than he is, but OTOH most of them probably are not fungal specialists. He could easily be a college professor with these stats; real world smarts, not comic book ones. He could have any background you want: mycologist, chef, mushroom gardener, or a variety of other things. (If the latter, maybe cultivate some darkvision for him so he can see to get around in his laboratory without having to turn on the lights). In my imagined backstory, this guy traveled the world (and particularly the jungles of the Amazon) looking for exotic fungi for either scientific or culinary purposes before coming across one particular growth that left him much changed! The picture is of Elias J. Durand, one of the founders of modern mycology. Fungi tend to be plant and insect parasites, so this guy's background means he could be an agricultural scientist who's helping save a lot of lives when he's not in costume. (Does he grow his costume out of fungus? Maybe!) The guy with humble, but profoundly impressive powers is a pretty good niche to have in comics, perhaps best exemplified by our own Gaian Knight. He could use a movement power and more combat feats, but that's probably something to cultivate with time. He may just be an athlete's foot controller, but if you've ever watched that particular X-Files episode you know that's all you need.

"This is Harrier," came a voice over the shared commlink that Blue Jay and Bee-Keeper didn't know; a sepulchral voice of steel and death. So that was what an Omegadrone sounded like when it spoke. "I am here, Wander." Inside his suit, Harrier wondered if Erin's transmission had been garbled as it reached the other commlinks. Ah well, perhaps the shock of the moment had thrown the others off. Automatically he reported in as much as he could, trying to share the tactical situation with his HAX colleague. "I am currently bound by some sort of adhesive, but am burning it away. The others are a man in a black and gold suit of armor, and an archer who I could not see before she struck me. Can you hear the sound of my pike?"

They all wound up with separate appointments with Dr. Marquez over subsequent days, the school's shrink interested in helping everyone with the aftereffects of the attack on Kat's room. Kat, Kristen, and even Elias all won praise from their respective RAs about being there for their friend when she needed help, even though Elias did wind up with that extra telepathic ethics detail with Vrix Dopple after all. Spending Saturday nights with a hard-nosed drill instructor wasn't too different than growing up in Young Freedom, come to think of it! As for Dorothy, the teachers and staff had no comment on that until the morning when Dorothy's pale-faced, apologetic parents arrived to clean out her room. Dorothy Langford had been expelled from Claremont Academy for her attack on another student's personal space. Next year, on good behavior, she'd have the chance to come back. "I'm so sorry," said Sam Langford, an older, scholarly-looking man in a red sweater and slacks who looked like he belonged in front of a class himself. "This isn't like our daughter at all."

"From time to time, I have encountered your people, yes." said Comrade Frost, dealing with the alien's ministrations with a jocular grace. "Others dealt with you and yours far more intimately. My primary focus was on supernatural rather than superscientific." In thinking about it, Dimitri was fairly sure he'd never killed, nor giving any lasting cause to hate, any of the space-going humanoids. It was sad that was his primary worry when dealing with peoples these days, but his life was what it was and there was no point in dwelling on the grim times. "I tended to deal more with personifications of Behenian stars walking Earth with murder on their mind rather than peoples of those stars themselves."

1. I'll say yes, just to speed things along at this stage. 2. Correct.

The glue erupted over Harrier's faceplate and body, instantly freezing him in place. He couldn't even retract his armor plating in this position, not when he was so thoroughly encased that he'd have thoroughly suffocated himself if he'd tried. This was by no means the first time he'd been encased in glue, and for a sudden moment the drone remembered other places, other times, those who'd fought with mercy and pacificity against the forces of the Terminus. Some even until the end. Those memories were enough to freeze him in place for a long second, until Bee-Keeper and Blue Jay were both undercover. When he'd pushed aside the ghosts of the past, with implacable calm Harrier fired his pike: he couldn't aim it, but outside those watching could see its terrible effect. A burst of black energy erupted from the business end, setting the glue coating the drone's body aflame with a black, smoldering fire that slowly, slowly began burning away the glue that encased him. He was going to get free. It was only a matter of time.