Avenger Assembled

As he approached the altar, Carson was conscious of a feeling of wings rushing towards him and felt a breath of air on his face. A few moments later, he found himself standing elsewhere. Church and city had both fallen away entirely, leaving the two men standing on a shining path of gold so pure their feet sunk slightly into the pliable metal. All around them was a beautiful wooded path like something from Carson's visits to rural Ireland in his childhood; the birds were singing and sheep were visible peeking out from the woods nearby. It was all lovely and pastoral, but his angelic companion seemed girded for war. "What you're seeing is not what Is, but what your mind is capable of understanding. This is a pathway to Heaven, as reflected in an ancient tale of your people. This is the house of the Interpreter. Inside here, we will find the metal to be crafted into your armor. Taking it will be difficult. Are you prepared?"

When Gabriel arrived at the church, he found things looking surprisingly sedate. The congregation wasn't there, as was usual during the week, but the whole area seemed quiet and hushed as if the very air of Lantern Hill sensed a profound spiritual moment in the offing. He found Heyzel waiting for him in the lobby, girded as if for war in his shining armor of Heavenly steel and blazing sword of truth already burning with the light of justice. "Good morning, my friend." The angel shook Gabriel's hand, then pulled him close for a embrace. "Are you prepared for the trials of today?" he asked Gabriel seriously. The holy items he carried were well enough, but without a prepared and pure soul, who knew what fate might befall him on the other side?

Toad Man PL: 10 (150) Abilities: 40 pp STR 40 [24] (+15/+7) DEX 14 (+2) CON 32 [24] (+11/+7) INT 10 (+0) WIS 14 (+2) CHA 14 (+2) Combat: 28 pp ATK: +7 (+5 w/Growth) DEF: +7 (+5 w/Growth) Init: +6 Grapple: +32 Saves: 10 pp TOU +15 (+7 Con, +4 Growth, +4 Protection) FORT +12 (+7 Con, +4 Growth, +1) REF +5 (+2 Dex, +3) WILL +8 (+2 Wis, +6) Skills: 48 r=12 pp Diplomacy 4 (+6) Intimidate 9 (+11/+15) Languages 3 (Cajun French, Seminole, Spanish) (Base: English) Notice 8 (+10) Perform (banjo) 8 (+10) Pilot 4 (+6) Sense Motive 8 (+10) Survival 4 (+6) Feats: 11 pp All-Out Attack Challenge (Fast Startle) Environmental Adaptation (Underwater) Evasion Fearless Improved Initiative Move-By Action Power Attack Startle Takedown Attack Uncanny Dodge (olfactory) Powers: 52 pp Additional Limb 1 'tongue' [1 pp] Enhanced Feats 1 (Incurable Unarmed Damage) [1 pp] Elongation 4 (50 ft) (Flaw: Tongue Only) [2 pp] Growth 8 (Extra: Duration [Permanent] (+0) )(Huge size) (PF: Innate) [25 pp] (-2 ATK/DEF, +8 Grapple, -8 Stealth, +4 Intimidate, 16 ft tall, 4K-32K lbs, 15 ft space, 10 ft reach, x2 carrying capacity) Immunity 2 (disease, suffocation [half]) [2 pp] Leaping 3 (x10) [3+1=4 pp] AP: Swimming 3 (10 MPH) Protection 4 [4 pp] Speed 2 (25 MPH) [2 pp] Super-Senses 2 (Acute Scent, Low-Light Vision) [2 pp] Super-Strength 3 (Heavy Load: 96 tons) (PFs: Groundstrike, Super-Breath, Thunderclap) [9 pp] Drawback: -3 pp Normal ID (free action) [-3 pp] costs abilities 40 + combat 28 + saves 10 + skills 12/48 + feats 11 + powers 52 -drawback -3 = 150 pts -------------------- Design Notes: Here's a build for Toad Man, aka Buford Calhoun, another one of the more appealing characters to recently debut in the Wild Cards universe. Buford is a native of Loxahatchee, Florida from deep in the heart of the Everglades. He's a big, amiable guy who looks straight out of central casting for a likeable hick from the middle of nowhere. He lives with his uncle Rayford in the middle of the swamp and makes his money taking tourists out on his uncle's old swamp boat. He'd probably have spent his whole life there, maybe one day marrying a local gal and having a big passel of kids, if it wasn't for his power to turn himself into a giant toad! He's a car-sized version of the giant cane toad, but bulking as big as a car, he's the biggest giant toad there ever was in the swamp yessir. He's a good leaper, a good swimmer, and he's got poison glands just like a real cane toad! He's also got a massive tongue that he can whip out a tremendous distance. As a guy who just might be the native superhero of rural Florida, he's quite a surprise to throw at supervillains who may not be expecting a monstrous powerhouse in the middle of the swamp! He makes a perfect fine PC. I've downplayed his abilities a bit under the theory that in a superheroic setting, poisoning someone trying to chew on you is probably not going to come up that much. Despite his amphibious nature and talents underwater, Buford's just fine on land and suffers no drawback for being on the surface: cane toads are great at getting around on land and don't need much water at all. He's really, really strong and amazingly fast for his bulk: he can catch a fleeing car by bounding, ensnare it with his tongue, and chew on it till the bad guys jump out to surrender! He's got no Impervious, but with TOU +15 and Ultimate Tou he should be able to shrug off hunters bullets with no problem. He's not as comfortable underwater as, say, an Atlantean or native denizen of the ocean; after all he is an amphibian, but he's still going to be much more successful operating underwater than any regular surface dweller. He doesn't have a lot of skill outside his own abilities, though, so if you need a guy to call the heroes in for advice on the crashed alien spaceship, supervillain lair, or rampaging swamp yeti he's a good NPC contact. He's a nice antidote to the stereotype of all hicks being crazy inbred freaks; Buford's an amiable guy who everybody likes, and he's just too easy-going to make enemies of his fellow heroes. He'd make a fun toad out of water PC in a Hero High game, a kid from the backwoods operating with his big thumping powers in the big city; if you do that, make sure to give the other characters a chance to be in his shoes on a couple of adventures into the middle of the swamp where suddenly Buford is unto a god! In a superheroic setting, you can get more creative with Buford's origins: while he's a Wild Card carrier in his own setting, things may be more complex in Freedom City. One suggested origin for him is that he's the long-long heir to the throne of the Frog Prince, spirited away from his enemies and raised in the mortal world where no one would ever think to look for him.

Sharl kept to himself on the ride to the hotel, doing yeoman work in carrying bags upstairs. For all that his colleagues had seen him walk right through walls, there was certainly nothing about the electronic youth that lacked physical strength. "Listen," he said when they were all there and the others busy checking in, "I need to get my computer set up and see if I can get an Internet connection. I don't need one to survive, but it'll make the night here a lot easier. You guys, uh, you go eat and have a good time. I have what I need in my laptop, and I don't want to have another accident."

Edge What Are The Odds? The Lands Beyond The Black Forest 6 AM local time (five hours after the battle in Freedom City begins) From her safe position in the nearby UN base camp, UNISON Director Jennifer Ellis looked up at the smoking ruins of Schloss Wissenschaft. She'd been in Geneva when the crisis had begun and joined her people in clearing the streets of maddened crowds of locals and tourists alike. The briefings about "Castle Archeville" that seemed to be at the center of the European crisis had been grim: high-tech weaponry, several German supers who'd gone to investigate captured, and with an endless stream of battle-forged Grue streaming out its gates. But in the time it had taken her to organize a counter-offensive with UNISON agents from the ground, a team led by a UNISON agent on the ground had gone in, rescued the prisoners and the brainwashed mind-slaves inside, and taken the castle itself out with no casualties to themselves, the former prisoners, and even the enemy except for all the destroyed Grue. When she'd heard about that, she'd expected to greet any one of several top UNISON solos and his handpicked team by the castle's remains: not a new employee from the Aid and Relief Division, and certainly not a..."Aren't you a little young to be a UNISON agent?" "Yes ma'am," said Mark Lucas, standing at attention automatically. "It's my first day," he added, "well, second day now, I guess." He'd been sleeping in his Geneva hotel room after his first day of orientation when the alarm had hit, both his old Young Freedom alert and the new combadge he'd picked up from his new employers beeping frantically. His first thought had been to call the first, but even after hearing the news from Freedom City, he'd picked the crisis at hand instead of the crisis across the Atlantic. The heroes of Freedom had saved the day, just like they always did. "When I got the alert about the crisis here, I headed for HQ," he added. "When they asked among the meta staff if there were any teleporters, I pulled a team out here and we went to work." Ellis took out the clipboard with summaries of the briefings of that team, a group of field operatives who'd been assigned to clear out the landing area before supers could arrive. "Yes, I see that you disabled the mind-controlling gas, assisted in shutting down the castle's nuclear pile, then assisted in tracking down the captured German supers?" The veteran agents who'd written the report had sounded a little irrational, enough that Ellis had summoned the teenager at the center of it to speak to personally. "Before destroying the castle itself." "Well, yes," said Mark, uncomfortably reminded of his chats with Duncan Summers. "I mean, it was scary and all, but my powers didn't get shut down by that gas the way it did those other people. So when the gas came down and started messing with our respirators, I turned the gas to nitrogen. That way everyone could see through it, and no one was getting their brains fried anymore." Ellis's eyebrows were going up, but Mark kept talking anyway. "And then, uh, the nuclear pile had lots of safeguard on it, so I just went ahead and turned most of them into lead. And then we disabled the machinery so it couldn't get turned on again," frankly, he hadn't really been following what the nuclear specialists had been saying: he'd missed Trevor's quiet genius! "I didn't really help that much with finding the prisoners, I really just got lucky. All I did that was important was blowing the castle up." "Yes, about that..." Though the walls of the castle still rose, Ellis had toured the smoking craters within: Schloss Wissenschaft had gone from a high-tech retro-fortress to a smoldering crater deep enough to hit the groundwater beneath in what her report told her had taken seconds. "There was something about dropping a series of fireballs on the castle, destroying everything inside without so much as scratching the landscape outside?" Despite the difficult day and the very early morning, Ellis managed to keep her voice calm as she inquired of this teenager just what it was he'd done. "Well, not really fireballs," said Mark, feeling oddly guilty for a moment. "It was actually meteors. An iron asteroid blew up in the atmosphere, see, and so I made all the pieces fall inside the castle walls so they smashed everything. It was pretty cool to watch; I was glad I was out of there, and that we'd rescued all the hostages. They say it'll take years to so much as make the place safe enough to visit, much less live again." Ellis stared at Mark Lucas. "You dropped an asteroid on the castle. An asteroid. Did this...strain you in some way? Or is this something you can do routinely? Perhaps for fun?" "Yes ma'am," said Mark with a little shrug. "I mean, no, I wouldn't want to do it for fun. But it was a little tiring." He gave her a concerned look. "Is there something else that needs to be blown up? I mean, I heard the fighting in Freedom City was just about over or I'd be there now, and they said the thing in outer space had just about taken care of itself..." Ellis held up her hand. "No! No, Agent Lucas, you don't need to destroy anything else today." She eyed him carefully. "Agent Lucas, I see that you are a trainee agent in the Aid and Relief Division. You were supposed to be shipping out to Cote d'Ivorie in a few weeks to begin work in building relief housing. That's an admirable choice, and I respect it. But you are the most powerful metahuman in the employ of UNISON. I would be remiss in my duties if I did not find additional work for you." "Oh...okay," said Mark, getting nervous. "I can still work for Aid and Relief though, right?" "...yes."

"We won't see Rogue here," said Sharl a little defensively. "There's not enough high technology in this area for her to use safely. You saw how she fights, she's not going to confront us openly again unless she has some way of taking the advantage. Like making the plane crash." Folding his arms, he stepped back, letting people with more experience with these bizarre cities find what passed for public transportation in the middle of this exotic forest. "How long does it take buses to show up here, anyway? This place is practically the middle of nowhere."

"You must first go home and rest," said the angel paternally. "As must I. We have both had a difficult night and needs must go into our coming task at the peak of our respective powers. It will be a difficult journey to take a living man into the realms beyond, but the rewards will be satisfactory. For both of us." He adjusted his armor and added, "Bring food, water, and a holy text in which you believe." He put his hand on Gabriel's shoulder. "There is much to be found in the doors beyond this world, if a man of faith and conviction seeks to grasp them."

Sharl had used his medical certificate to get around the security systems at the airport yet again, and the boy was staring fascinated at the window at the alien landscape outside as the other teens talked to the ticket agent. He tried to remind himself that he had to be careful here: he was very far away from this world's civilization so far north, and an accident could put him in serious trouble. But the bizarre world outside with its gigantic natural plants, freakishly underbuilt city, and locals, no doubt with many colorful customs. "What an amazing place this is!" he finally said, coming back to join the others, looking as awed by this semi-rural industrial town as if he was walking through the Royal Palace of Atlantis. "Who knows what's waiting for us where we're going?"

Armored Pyromaniac PL: 10 (150) Abilities: 38 pp STR 14 (+2) DEX 18 (+4) CON 18 (+4) INT 14 (+2) WIS 18 (+4) CHA 16 (+6) Combat: 32 pp ATK: +8 (+10 Pyromancy/+12 Melee) DEF: +12 (+4 flat-footed) Grapple: +14 Init: +4 Saves: 9 pp TOU +8 (+4 Con, +4 Protection) FORT +7 (+4 Con, +3) REF +7 (+4 Dex, +3) WILL +7 (+4 Wis, +3) Skills: 60 r=15 pp Acrobatics 6 (+10) Craft (Electronic) 8 (+10) Craft (Mechanical) 8 (+10) Intimidate 7 (+10) Knowledge: Arcane Lore 3 (+5) Knowledge: Technology 8 (+10) Languages 2 (English, Japanese) (Base: German) Notice 6 (+10) Sense Motive 6 (+10) Stealth 6 (+10) Feats: 17 pp Acrobatic Bluff Attack Focus: Melee 4 Dodge Focus 4 Evasion Inventor Move-By Action Power Attack Startle Takedown Attack Uncanny Dodge (auditory) Powers: 38 pp Device 2 (Armor) (Hard to Lose) (PF: Restricted) [9 pp] Immunity 5 (environmental heat, disease, poison, suffocation) [5] Protection 4 [4] Super-Senses 1 (Radio) [1] Leaping 1 (x2) [1 pp] Pyromancy Array [22+3=25 pp] Blast 10 (PFs: Accurate, Variable Descriptor 1 [electricity/fire]) AP: Damage 10 (Extra: Area [Cone], PFs: Progression on Area, Variable Descriptor 1 [electricity/fire]) AP: Damage 10 (Extra: Targeted Area [Cone], PFs: Accurate, Variable Descriptor 1 [electricity/fire]) AP: Strike 6 (Extra: Autofire on Strength and Strike, PFs: Improved Crit, Mighty, Variable Descriptor 1 [electricity/fire]) Speed 1 (10 MPH) [1 pp] Super-Movement 1 (Slow Fall) [2 pp] costs abilities 38 + combat 32 + saves 9 + skills 15/60 + feats 18 + powers 38= 150 pts -------------- Design Notes: The Armored Pyromaniac is the daughter of two famous supervillains; you know the ones I mean, that Ruritarian maniac in the power armor and his on-again-off-again partner in crime, that East Asian pyromaniac martial artist from royal stock. She had a pretty cushy upbringing in her family's castle, but eventually she had some issues with Mom and Dad (really not that surprising, given the two of them) and she was kicked out of the house to go make something of herself in the real world just like her parents did when they were her age. She's been working as a mercenary for the last few years with some new buddies of hers, but honestly they don't really get along that well: she hardly even talks to them! She could easily break into independent supervillainy like her parents did when they were younger, but on the other hand maybe spending so much time on the outside will push her in the other direction. What better way to stick it to Mom and Dad than become a hero like the ones who beat them so often? This archetype is a blend of blaster, gadgeteer, and martial artist, all blended together to produce a fast, mobile little ass-kicker. She's one hell of a surprise for people expecting her to be dependent on her suit (which I've reimagined as just body armor combined with heat insulation and an internal respirator), and she's a lot smarter than you'd expect her to be from her crazy persona. (She picked that trick up from her parents, natch). She's got a lot of options in combat and can goonsweep with her own personal flamethrower, blast individual targets with quick bursts of lightning, or just wade into melee and have it out with powerful energy-packed blows backed up by fire and lightning. She works just fine as a hero, maybe a student at Claremont picked up by Duncan Summers eager to make sure she grows up far from the tree. But she's also just fine as a villain, a terrifying pyrokinetic with a wide array of abilities and formidable technical skills, one eager to prove herself to her parents via greater and greater acts of terror! She's quite a surprise for people expecting someone in armor that bulky to be slow and clumsy! If you are playing her as a PC hero, playing up her difficulties with relating to other people (having only known her crazy parents and servants her whole life) will give you some great opportunities for Complications. Being a hero isn't just about doing good deeds, it's also about caring for others beyond what they can do for you yourself. She has a bit of a jack-of-all-trades, master-of-none thing going on, but on the other hand if you take this as a starting version of the character that just makes it easier for you to find a niche for her to fill and to run with it. If you do play her as a Claremont student, naturally pitting her against her parents in some great final confrontation is absolutely necessary...

32 Online Research (i.e. Well-Informed) check.

Harrier The Meaning of Torture Riverside Murdock awoke to the feel of cold restraints around his wrists and ankles and the sound of whirring machinery in his ears. No, not again!- But a moment later, he heard the slippery wet voices of the piscine humanoids who had captured him and remembered what had occurred: the summer picnic at Riverside Park, catered by Champions, the energy-draining blast from the submarine that had struck him as he looked for a place to change. "" Murdock didn't speak Deep One, but he did understand English, which the Deep One switched to mere seconds later. "Human," the Deep One was like all of his kind, a fish-faced humanoid. "I am Innsmouth. I greet you in the name of Father Dagon and Mother Hydra." The Deep One smiled; he was trying to be intimidating with his rows of shark-like teeth. Or perhaps he was simply trying to greet him. "You are an unusual specimen." They were in a high-tech laboratory adorned with dissection equipment. Murdock was no scientist, but he had seen the tools used to take humanoids apart for scientific purposes before. Oh yes. "Forgive me for waking you, but my students were interested in hearing you speak. You are a cyborg, yes?" There were perhaps a dozen of the piscine humanoids in the room, all of them watching their teacher address the naked, bound Murdock with huge unblinking eyes. Murdock knew something about fear as well. "Piscine humanoid. Species 4534." He eyed the Deep One with a flat, unblinking stare of his own and said accusingly, "I was not aware that your species existed in this dimensional axis. Or that you possessed access to high technology. Traditionally your cultures are engaged in primitive worship of incestous god images." That got a gasp from the students, but their teacher seemed unimpressed. Behind him, Murdock finally caught sight of his pike, still closed and on a small tray with other personal items he recognized from the personal possessions of some of his colleagues at Champions. "Do not let his warped knowledge of our ways frighten you," he told the others dismissively. "Arkham, begin the flayer." As he spoke, the machinery around Murdock flared to life, the machinery whirring in a menacing way that would have frightened most men. "Our leader has given us many gifts, human. This ship is one. You and yours are another." Innsmouth licked his lips. "Your cells will be used to increase the genetic potential of our hatchlings. Your cybernetic components will be used to build the weapons of the future. Does that frighten you?" "Yes," replied Murdock as a large piece of machinery above his head began to descend towards his chest, vaguely remiscent of a drill press. "Listen to me, Innsmouth," he said. "I am aware of your species. You are sentient. Some of your number are not cultists of your gods. Your younglings have dark eyes that reflect the onlooker." And they scream when they fry. "I cannot promise your lives. Please stop. Please release me from my bonds peacefully." They laughed, not understanding his plea, and the drill came closer to his chest. "Please...please..." Terminus steel exploded from Harrier's arm, shattering his bonds in a fine spatter of blood and steel as his hand came up: With an armored gauntlet, he grabbed the drill's bit and _squeezed_, feeling the steel bend and shatter beneath his fingers as he crushed it like a straw. The Deep Ones were screaming now as Harrier's armor erupted from everywhere in his body and the Omegadrone pulled his way free of his bonds and came for them. Harrier felt a blow strike off his back and shrugged it off, simply grabbing Innsmouth by the throat and lifting him into the air. "Where are the others from the beach?" A Deep One came at him from his left and bounced off Harrier's hundreds of pounds of weight; the drone brought a spiked fist down on that head and felt a cartilagenous skull cave in wetly. In his mind, he heard the screams of burning underwater cities as the Deep Ones cowered in terror from him, some muttering prayers to Dagon and Hydra for mercy. "Where are the others? WHERE?" Another Deep One bolted for the door, but Harrier moved impossibly fast: snatching up his discarded pike and firing a blast that shattered the door control panel in an instant. "There is _no escape._ Tell me where the other civilians you are holding are. Tell me now!" He had to take Innsmouth's arm before he talked, and then he had to make sure no other Deep Ones could follow him as they made their way to the holding cell where the Champions staff and their guests were being held. Murdock had been the first to be taken out, his unusual nature attracting the attention of the other guests: they were all there safely, terrified but not violated, when Harrier's pike blast blew the doors apart. They screamed when they saw him, an Omegadrone covered in blood, but when he blasted a hole in the wall for them to scramble out they took their chances and made their escape. Harrier turned and headed back into the submarine, where he concentrated on rescuing the hundreds of Deep One prisoners before any could suffer and die at the hands of the Deep Ones. There were so many cages, though, and so very many labs turned into torture chambers. Some Deep Ones surrendered at the sight of the Omegadrone who was destroying his way through their ranks; smashing every cage, every weapon, every instrument of suffering, as he went. Others didn't. He found his disguise unit, eventually; it had been stored in a compartment near the crew quarters, for all that it was far too late to wear the guise of Caradoc today. And when he was done, all done, and the prisoners aboard the sub were all freed, the Omegadrone stood over the fallen Innsmouth, whose piscine physiology had kept him conscious even with a missing arm. "Where are your younglings?" Defeated, Innsmouth guided Harrier to the ballast tanks at the base of the submarine, still adjoining the water, where thousands of Deep One hatchlings lay waiting for the food that would be fed them: the food that would not be coming now that Harrier and the other heroes had freed the hostages aboard ship. Down there in the cold, wet dark, Harrier raised his pike and took careful aim, blasting away at each and every tank, hulling it so the creatures inside tumbled out into the shallow waters beneath the sub. On his knees, Innsmouth stared up at Harrier without comprehension. "...we would have fed the bodies of your dead to them! You are no servant of the Dark Father at all! Why did you let them live?" He seemed very offended at the survival of his own hatchlings, at least for the moment. "Mercy was shown me. I will, to the best of my ability, show mercy to others. I could not save your people, Innsmouth. But I could save your hatchlings. And as for you..." Harrier aimed his pike at the fish-man's face. "You are maimed. Defeated. The innocents you sought to harm are freed. I give you life, servant of the Hydra. Suffer."

Mary took the picture and studied it for a moment, then handed it to her son. "Rick never knew," she said reflectively amid the noise of the crowd, barely loud enough for even Erin to hear. "We had just a little..." Ed was starting to get uncomfortable at this line of discussion, so Mary sighed a little and rose to her feet. "Thank you." The pair made their exit not long after that, leaving Rick Lucas's wake to his family and friends. It turned out to be quite a party: everyone had a story to tell about Rick, especially once the beer started flowing. In one of the side rooms down in the church basement, they put on an old VHS of Rick's various TV appearances over the years, and some of the older heroes headed over to watch. Busy as Mark was, he made sure to thank all his friends for coming over. There was no sign that he or Martha had noticed Mary or Ed at all. It had been a good day.

They really do seem okay.

Citizen Hero Worship City Center As the city exploded into a thousand chaoses, Citizen zipped his way through the wi-fi network of Freedom City, keeping in touch with Gina. The program he was using was a sophisticated message encryption protocol that looked to him (as it would have looked to anyone seeing him from the outside) like a commlink mounted securely in his ear. "There's a lot of interference around Freedom Hall!" said Sharl, pausing over the imaginary skyline that represented the city's computer network. Down below, the simulated Freedom Hall (actually a representation of the building's computer systems) was being overgrown by a hideous tangle of flesh and circuits that looked for all the world like an extrusion of the Grue. "It looks like the anomaly's right there in their systems!" Swooping down low with a 'speed' greater than his projected self could have imagined, Sharl was struck by how real things felt in the network. He could smell the scent of corruption here far better than he could in the half-there 'real world' , and hear the sound of collapsing systems beneath like the sound of crumbling buildings. And of course it seemed real. He could be hurt here just as much as he could have been back in Tronik; after all both places were equally real. And so was he. While Gina was busy with what she'd described to Sharl as "The hack of a lifetime," Sharl himself had an important mission: to find out how the conqueror above had paralyzed the Freedom League's computer network and to remove the programs he'd dumped there to subvert it. If the League's teleporter network fell, the enemy in space really would be everywhere. As ominous as the corrupted cyber-Freedom Hall below looked, Citizen had to get to the bottom of this. "I'm going in," he told Gina, sucking up his courage for a moment before he landed at the Hall's doors. In the world of flesh and blood, Sharl was an insubstantial phantom of projected energy able to walk right through walls: in the simulated world, Citizen drew back his fist and knocked Freedom Hall's doors open with a punch. The Grue 'vines' of corrupted program reached for him, but Citizen tore them aside as he stomped into the building, his sentient nature and empowered program making him as impervious to their power as Gina had hoped. "I know you're in here!" he called, grabbing for the vines and ripping them out of the walls as he went, their writhing bulk cold and hot between his fingers at the same time like monstrous snakes as he tore and crushed them. "I'm not going to let you have this system! Come out and fight, you coward!" He didn't have a lot of experience fighting supervillains inside computer systems, but he'd done it enough to at least know what to say. Sure enough, his taunts worked, almost too well: he had only a second's warning before a black-uniformed figure exploded from the darkness behind him like a phantom, slicing at him with twisted, razor-sharp claws! Just in time, Citizen grabbed the man's hands and threw him over his shoulder into the wall, hard enough to break the plaster and send chunks shattering down on both men. Gritting his teeth, Sharl raised his fists as he faced down his enemy: a man in a crisp black uniform and black trenchcoat, the symbol on his chest like the twisted Interceptors costumes GIna had shown him before his departure. To his surprise, the other man spoke, his voice a sibilant hiss that contained a cowboy's drawl despite all that. "Aheheh...I know you!" He pointed one of those clawed fingers Sharl's way, looking for a second like one of the villains Sharl had observed in Freedom City's teenage horror movies. "I'm Vince, but you can call me The Composite Interceptor. In here, I've got the powers of every Interceptor. Hey, Jackie-boy told me about you. You're that little program pet of that hottie Miss Americana. You get any tail off that-" "Listen, you need to shut your mouth right now," snapped Citizen, trying to suss out what 'powers' this other program had in the system. He certainly looked formidable; energy occasionally crackling along those claws, his trenchcoat hanging behind him like Fulcrum's cape. Oh damn, is he some kind of cyber-Metaceptor? Son of a- "I'm going to stop you, and I'm going to stop your master. It's up to you how that happens." A second later, Vince demonstrated his answer to that: slicing across the room with electrical speed and punching Citizen right out of the building! From a hundred feet up, Sharl spat out a Tronik curse as the vines began growing again over Freedom Hall, and dived back into the fray to return Vince's punch with interest. To an outside observer, their struggle would have been cool and bloodless: two programs attempting to overwrite each other with code and data in conflict. Inside Freedom Hall's systems, though, Sharl and Vince were at war: Sharl landed punch after punch to Vince's face and body, feeling ribs break as he punched the other man across half the simulated city, taking a savage beating himself from a barrage of hi-tech bullets, slicing claws and electro-blades, and even a speed and strength to match his own! It was a violent struggle of headbutts and kicks, body blows and punches, that left both men battered and bloody from the sheer force of their deadly combat. But in the end, Sharl Tulink, a product of the Curator's programming and Miss Americana's tinkering, was victorious over the Interceptors' holographic buddy: with one last blow from a thousand feet up he smashed Vince to the pavement before the burnt-out hulk of the Brownstone's computer network, dropping to his knees himself as he heard the crunch of Vince's limp body. To Citizen's surprise and relief, though, Vince didn't stop moving: instead, with his program corralled, the warped and twisted code infused by Archeville detached itself from Vince, wriggling away into the cracks in the pavement beneath like so many bloated worms: claws and teeth, electricity and swords, guns and cape, all writhed their way off Vince and vanished from sight with a wet, organic sound. With a gasp, Vince opened his eyes. "Oh...oh God!" He spat up blood and tried to sit up, reaching automatically for the hand Sharl had extended him. "Kid...kid, I think that was just what I needed. Thanks..." He looked around, adding, "Boss, Jackie, all my friends...he's got them! He's got them just as much as he got me!" "We'll help them," Sharl promised, his own face bloody from the beating he'd taken. "We'll help them just like I helped you. But first, we need to save this system. Will you help me?" With a nod, Vince stood, and the two programmed heroes rose as one and flew towards Freedom Hall's computers with the speed of thought: Sharl got back in communication with Gina and told her all that had happened even as he and Vince moved through Freedom Hall's systems, tearing away the Archevillian corruption: on the outside, with the League's systems free, the heroes of Freedom were suddenly able to communicate with the outside world and each other again. They found the code that had been forced into Vince as it tried to escape into McNider General's servers, and together the two programmed heroes took great pleasure in crushing it underfoot like so many writhing vipers As the darkness cleared from the network, Sharl and Vince stood proudly beneath the sunless sky above as it filled with light. "We did it. Son of a gun, I can't believe we actually did it." Vince wiped his face and said, "Listen, uh, about earlier, Miss A's a real classy lady. And you're an okay guy too. That's quite a left hook you have," he added, giving Sharl a cautious smile that showed a split lip and cracked front tooth. "And I know from left hooks." "It's all right," said Sharl, who was pretty battered himself. "You weren't yourself. I saw the real Vince just now, helping save all these systems." Thinking about what a human would do here, he put aside Tronilk reserve and reached his hand out to shake Vince's. "Come back with me. Miss A can patch both of us up and we can find the Interceptors together." "...no, man, I've got to do this myself," said Vince, adjusting his outfit. "They...they wouldn't stop looking for me," he added, "If they were themselves, that is. I've gotta go find them and help fix them the way you helped me." "What if Archeville catches you, and changes you again?" asked Sharl in reply, mindful of the risks to his newfound ally. Surely an artificial program, especially in the hands of its creator could easily be corrupted again. "I'm not Miss A, I can't fix your program up against that kind of corruption." "Yeah, you can," said Vince, releasing Sharl's hand. "My whole life, I've been a mascot, then a friend..." he looked away for a moment, "...a...a slave...but today, after all this..." He looked around at the freed systems of Freedom City. "I know I can be a hero, too. My friends wouldn't leave me behind. I'm not going to leave them." "Good luck," said Sharl, sensing he couldn't talk Vince out of it. With his communicator beeping, he said, "Listen, uh, I've gotta go myself. But you're not the only one who was inspired today." He put his hand on Vince's shoulder. "You called yourself the Composite Interceptor earlier but I think it's the other way around. The Interceptors are your friends. Make sure they know you're a hero too." And with that, Citizen zoomed off into the simulated sky, ready to pop out into Gina's network to help save Freedom City all over again.

There's nothing wrong with a character who doesn't believe in magic and/or the divine. It's what most people in the setting believe (I've bolded this to stress it), and characters can easily rationalize any counter-evidence they see. Will that cause problems if your character is confronted with enemies he doesn't know how to fight? Yes; that's called Complications and they give you HP. (Obviously, your character should be 'too polite to comment on all these crazy people', since people aren't going to want to adventure with a character who tear down their abilities) Combat caps; get away from the idea imposed by other RPGs that a character who isn't a good fighter shouldn't meet their caps. PL 10 characters should meet PL 10 combat caps: never buy them up again if you don't want your character to be a great fighter, but meeting your combat caps at character creation as PL 10 is basically essential to functioning as an M&M PC (If you don't, it forces the people running your threads to adjust their challenges accordingly, and frankly they're more likely to run threads for characters who actually do meet their stated combat caps). And just to stress: there is absolutely 0 (big fat 0) reason not to use a pregen character if you find one that meets what you're looking for. Particularly since if you check Geez3r's thread, you'd see he's got a character built like the one you want to build. Even if you don't like his mechanics, there's plenty there that's useful for you in building your own character. I've got several "liquid body" type PCs on my own thread.

"Oh, sure," said Mark with a nod to Erin and a glance at the many pictures on the walls. "All of the pictures are copies, so take what you need. All the originals are at home or in Freedom Hall. We didn't want to lose anything in case supervillains attacked." It had been, despite the fantastic stories told by legions of superheroes and family members, a mundane service that way. All of Rick's enemies were either too dead, too far away, or too apathetic to dare make trouble at the man's memorial service. Mark was pretty sure that a safe afternoon among family and friends not interrupted by crazy bad guys was a good thing, for all that he'd been perhaps a little disappointed that no one had cared enough to make an attempt on the place.

Nungal Abilities: 16 pp STR 24 (+7) DEX 18 (+4) CON n/a INT 10 (+0) WIS 14 (+2) CHA 10 (+0) Combat: 24 pp ATK: +6 (+10 melee) DEF: +12 (+3 flat-footed) Init: +4 Grapple: +17 Saves: 9 pp TOU +8 (+8 Protection) FORT n/a REF +7 (+4 Dex, +3) WILL +8 (+2 Wis, +6) Skills: 15 pp=60 r Acrobatics 11 (+15) Intimidate 15 (+15) Knowledge (Theology and Philosophy) 10 (+10) Languages 2 (Akkadian, English) (Base: Arabic) Notice 3 (+5) Sense Motive 8 (+10) Stealth 11 (+15) Feats: 18 pp Acrobatic Bluff Attack Focus: Melee 4 Dodge Focus 6 Evasion Interpose Move-By Action Startle Power Attack Takedown Attack Uncanny Dodge (auditory) Powers: 68 pp Damage 3 (PFs: Affects Insubstantial 2, Mighty) [6 pp] Enhanced Feats 10 (Fearsome Presence 10) [10 pp] Immunity 30 (Fortitude Saves) [30 pp] Protection 8 [8 pp] Regeneration 6 (+0 Recovery Bonus, Resurrection 1/week) (PFs: Persistent, Regrowth) [8 pp] Speed 2 (25 MPH) (PFs: Wall Run, Water Run) [4 pp] Super-Senses 2 (Darkvision) [2 pp] costs abilities 16 + combat 24 + saves 9 + skills 15/60 + feats 18 + powers 68 = 150 pts ------------ Design Notes: Here’s my build for Nungal, the native heroine of Iraq. Aisha al-Tabari was a graduate student at the University of Baghdad when the American invasion came in 2003, specializing in antiquities and the history of Mesopotamia. When the bombs began to fall in Baghdad, she headed to the Museum of Antiquities where she worked to save the artifacts there from looters and bombs alike. Despite her fears, though, the greatest danger turned out to be to her: even as she was loading the last of the artifacts into the museum’s truck, including a priceless obsidian blade that had supposedly once been carried by the gods themselves, a deserter from the Iraqi Army shot her in the back and stole her truck, tossing the artifacts out without recognizing them. Bleeding out, she clutched the blade to her chest and thought about how terribly unfair it was. And then she heard a voice in her mind: her life, and great power, if she would give that life over to the voice inside the blade. She was only human; of course she agreed. Aisha rose wrapped in tight black linen robes and carrying the black blade of Nungal in her hands: an avatar of the goddess of divine retribution of the Babylonians. Nungal had been cast out of the underworld by her cruel father Nergal when she had rebelled against his rule and bound into her own sacred blade until the life’s blood of an innocent demanding retribution touched it. Now, as man’s order and laws crumbled all around them, goddess and woman were bound together as one with the purpose of punishing the wicked in a very wicked time. The overall idea is that Nungal can be whatever kind of character you need her to be for your campaign: she makes a perfectly fine heroic NPC as written, if one with something of a PR problem from the local authorities, or a PC for right here if you assume she’s relocated to Freedom City. I figure any native supers in Iraq probably were supersoldiers who died in Saddam’s various wars and purges. She also makes a good solid antihero NPC; handing out grim retributive justice in her native Baghdad to anyone who would harm the weak. She’d definitely be a potential antagonist for heroes that way, but one who they have to handle carefully: after all, she’s not going to get anything like humane treatment from the authorities of her own country. And all those people she goes after really are the scum of the universe: Antihero Nungal might be a threat to American soldiers, but only those who’ve spilled the blood of the innocent themselves. She also makes a good outright villain if you like; one determined to kill all the occupiers of Iraq and their puppets and to punish those who have betrayed the worship of the ancient gods. She’s not likely to be in bed with the radicals in her homeland: she’s empowered by pagan gods, wearing a Babylonian costume immodest to their descendants, but on the other hand if desperate enough they might try and find a way to use her for their own advantage: in short, she works for whatever niche you want “Iraq’s native super” to be filled by in your campaign. Mechanics-wise, she’s basically an Abyssal Exalted in a superhero setting. Immune to most forms of harm and able to regenerate from any injury, she’s strong, she’s fast, and she’s very scary: her mystic black blade able to cut through almost anything. She’s just the hero to break up a warlord’s drug-smuggling ring and deliver him to the authorities; she’s just the villain to be a terrifying apparition to heroes as they try and protect the Army general targeted for destruction by an unkillable spectre of the night. At Speed 2, she can evade just about any vehicle in an urban setting, and can run right up walls and over water if she has to make a fast escape or catch a particularly slippery opponent. Stunt off her Fearsome Presence if you want to give her more tricks, perhaps Vampiric on the blade’s damage if you want to make her really scary in a stand-up fight. Finding the points to give her some Impervious wouldn’t be a bad idea either given the number of armed thugs and soldiers she’s liable to be fighting...

Edge United Heroes Mark Lucas's first day of orientation at UNISON headquarters in Switzerland becomes an assault on Archeschloss! Harrier The Meaning of Torture Deep Ones take Murdock and his coworkers for dissection. This is a mistake. Citizen Hero Worship Citizen saves an Interceptor. Freedom Angel The Voice of God A million Metaceptors, but only one God.

The angel frowned at Gabriel's words, studying him intently. "You're right, it is lost," agreed Heyzel. "And there's no restoring it with any power on this Earth. Tell me, Gabriel, would you be willing to join me on a journey?" His wings flared behind him as he spoke, seeming to cast the world behind him into shadow as he gazed into the other man's soul. "There may be some peril involved. But if successful, you will return with body and soul garbed in armor against the darkness of the world. And the others," he added. "Particularly the one with whom you just battled."

The angel frowned at Gabriel's words, studying him intently. "You're right, it is lost," agreed Heyzel. "And there's no restoring it with any power on this Earth. Tell me, Gabriel, would you be willing to join me on a journey?" His wings flared behind him as he spoke, seeming to cast the world behind him into shadow as he gazed into the other man's soul. "There may be some peril involved. But if successful, you will return with body and soul garbed in armor against the darkness of the world. And the others," he added. "Particularly the one with whom you just battled."

Citizen deleted every file he could find, turning their hard drives into so much blank filler. Then he overwrote that data with lots of pornography, making sure that between that and the various popup ads and malware they'd now have, that they'd never get anything useful out of these computers without some very embarrassing visits to computer specialists. "Okay, these computers are going to be just about fried..." He pulled his hand out of the computer and wiped it on his jacket, trying to get the filthy stuff off his fingers as if it actually had clung there. "But I think we need to get moving," he said, looking around at everyone. "Has anyone called the police? Is what these men done illegal? I don't know what all the laws are like in this nation."

Despite the presence of the former supervillain and the man who was almost certainly Rick Lucas' bastard child in the audience, the memorial service for the dead man went off without a hitch. After a few short words from Reverend Chang to start off the service, Martha herself opened the ceremony with a few words about her husband. "Thank you all for coming," she said, facing a crowd of heroes and family alike, looking in control of herself for the first time in a long time. "Today, we come together to remember a friend, a colleague...a father, and a husband, my husband, Richard Milhouse Lucas..." Mark took a turn after her, talking about all his father had meant to him, wiping away a few tears when he waxed emotional. Listening to Mark's stories about all Rick had taught him: about the meaning of friendship and family, about the sacrifices heroes made for each other and the world, it was obvious that Rick really had made Mark the man he was today. Of course, thinking about that and weighing it against Mark's famously active social life and Rick's old flame in the back row...well it was difficult enough to think about. A surprising number of old heroes took the stage afterwards; Daedalus and Siren, even the rarely-seen first Raven carefully stood up behind the podium and said a few words about Rick Lucas. He'd touched a lot of lives, though from the rather careful way some of the older heroes phrased it: "He was a man who could always surprise me," not sounding like a compliment from the first Raven, finally the service was over. After a last benediction and a few last words from the Reverend, everyone was dismissed to go below for the wake! The church basement turned out to be a lively place despite the solemn occasion; jaunty 1960s swing music playing, old movies of the Freedom League going on the wall, and a smiling, huge Rick Lucas giving a Centurion-wink from a big picture on the wall. Mark was everywhere down there, shaking hands and accepting good wishes, but made time for the friends he could along the way.

"We're fine, thank you," said Maria Wading tightly. Her grip on her program was practically white-knuckled and she was obviously tense, but she was there all the same and didn't look ready for violence. Underneath her black dress, she was wearing something that distinctly looked like her old blue and white costume. "We're just friends of the family. Old friends. I doubt anyone here's going to recognize us." Next to her, her son said, "I'm Ed, and this is my mother Mary. We were just passing through Freedom City when we heard the news about Richard Lucas. Did you hear how it happened?" Ed seemed much calmer than his mother, or at least better at faking it than she was. "I'm sure his family must be devastated."

The older heroes in the room, including Leaguers Daedalus and Siren, were busy chatting with other and the Lucases. The ones that weren't doing that were busy circulating in the sanctuary, some studying the many pictures on the wall. Near the back, the teen heroes noticed something odd: a thin, tight-faced woman in her mid-sixties was sitting in the rear next to a tall, square-jawed man in his thirties with a faint stubble on his chin. They both looked like shady characters, looking around uncomfortably and trying a little too hard to not be noticed: a strange thing at a family funeral of a beloved superhero. On very close inspection, the old woman's clothes hung on her strangely, as if she was wearing something more advanced underneath. Stranger still was the woman's face: on very close inspection, Corbin and Erin recognized her from his history books! Maria Wading, aka The Queen of Cool, had been one of the more daring thieves of the disco age: an ice-controlling disco villain who'd disappeared in the early 1980s when disco was dying out.

Few men could command the sheer power of the divine, but then, Heyzel of Heaven was no man. He spoke no sorcerous incantations or prayed to any pagan god: instead he laid his hands on the injured man, his body glowing with pure white holy fire, and by the sheer power of faith he healed Gabriel of his injuries in a moment. Seconds later, he was stepping back to recover from the effort of channeling Heaven's power: it had been a while since he'd done that! "That should, I think, heal you of your wounds, my friend. Don't worry about the blood; they are very tolerant of my doings hereabouts." He offered Gabriel a strong hand to help him rise.