Avenger Assembled

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.

"I'm not a genius like you guys," admitted Sharl. "I mean, I know a lot more about computers than most people, but I'm not running around inventing this, or inventing my own battlesuit," he added with a wave around the room and at Cole's technology. "As for going first, part of that's pride. People spend their lives working on a scientific project, they don't want to see the glory for that go to someone else if they can help it. Just because they got there fairly first doesn't mean it's not really annoying. Plus, if they file the papers first, they'll get the money! I mean, losing on money AND glory is pretty tough. Even if you're a hero."

I need a DC 20 Notice check and a DC 20 History check. (I'll let the Claremont graduates roll, since they were taught this in school even if they have no ranks in it...)

The church was quiet and still at first when everyone arrived, as befit the somber occasion. There was no coffin or urn since there was no body to bury, Rick Lucas being somewhere underneath the flooded landslide that had once been the Freedom City of Earth-ZO1. There were just pictures on the walls and inside the sanctuary, chronicling the long and busy life of Rick Lucas: there he was with his famous father and the Liberty League as a boy, there he was a young man with the new Freedom League looking like James Dean in a leather jacket surrounded by costumed heroes. It seemed as though Rick really had teamed up with everyone over the years; there was the Centurion and Wail, the first Lady Liberty and Siren, all the heroes of the past who'd once stood alongside the man now dead. With Erin in the lobby and Corbin's reassuring presence in the sanctuary, with Trevor doing his usual thing where he seemed just about everywhere, Mark felt reassured: he felt more reassured as the crowd outside began to grow. After his father's disgrace and his argument with Captain Thunder, he'd seriously feared no heroes would be showing up. But gradually more and more did come, a crowd of family friends and well-wishers from across Freedom City and beyond: his friends had met people like the first White Lion already, but there were faces some of them had only seen in pages of history books crowding in. And not just heroes too, almost all of whom had come in costume, but family too: Rick's cousins and Martha's brothers and sisters, the small church getting more and more filled as more and more people arrived. Mark and Martha didn't have much time to talk, they were too busy greeting and shaking hands, but with the crowd to watch there was plenty for the young heroes to do.

Citizen walked further into the room, striding fearlessly past the unconscious bodies of the battered thugs. "Look for what you came for," he told Indira, "I...wow." He didn't look frightened by her appearance, instead endlessly fascinated as he caught sight of the changes in the girl. "We need to figure out who these people are and what interest they have in you. And make sure they can't find you again." So saying, he shoved his hand into a nearby computer, reaching out through it and everything he could find on their little network. "Just give me a second here," he said, his half-occluded hand glowing a faint green.

Geez, Institutional bigotry is often a luxury of wealthy societies, of which the Norse decidedly were not. Quite often, poor societies can't afford much in the way of gender discrimination (as opposed to segregation) because they don't have the time or spare resources for it. Things are more in flux in fringe societies like the Norse, so there's more space for exceptional people to be, well, exceptions. The Muslim world, for example, acquired much of its current gender bigotries as a cultural inheritance from the Persian and Byzantines: in the old days of warring Arab city-states and even the first generation or so after Muhammad's lifetime, Arab women were (within certain limits) famous for fighting alongside their men. It wasn't until the initial conquest that the Arab conquerors adopted the more unpleasant social practices of their wealthy subjects. (Another example: the Manchu emperors were pretty put off by foot-binding, a cultural practice alien to their society which had been something of a merger of Chinese-steppe before their conquest of the Ming in the 1640s. But their edicts against were ignored more often than not...)

http://content.usatoday.com/communities ... csp=34tech The data's not perfect, but it suggests some possible revision in our current understanding of Norse raids.

"Just being here helps," replied Mark to Erin's question, hugging Corbin back with all his strength. "When we're there, if you could...keep an eye on everything, make sure it doesn't get disrupted, that would be great." Despite his happy-go-lucky nature most of the time, Mark had actually been to plenty of funerals in his time: with his grandfather's generation dying off and his father's getting older, more than a few of his close family friends had passed away in his lifetime. All that aside, though, he'd never really anticipated anything like this. When his uncle George came by to pick up his mom and take her over for the last preparations at the church, the Summers opted to go with them for support. He hadn't really thought about how close his father and Duncan Summers must have been, but the old man who'd been so scary through his high school career had been there for them every step of the way. That left him to be the driver for their trip over the Ashton Christian Church, the generally non-denominational Protestant church his parents had attended every Easter and Christmas as long as they'd lived in Ashton. He was surprisingly silent on the drive over, but more because he was collecting his thoughts. "My mom and I got everything," he confessed to no one in particular as they parked in the back, the outside a slap of moist heat as they got out beneath the glaring Freedom City sun. The building itself was the sort of bland warehouse-style church common to new suburbs like Ashton. "She has enough to live in the house for the rest of her life, even if she doesn't go back to work. I got all the League stuff. He had it for thirty years, and they didn't bother to check afterwards...he left a test question with our lawyer in case a robot or evil clone comes back to take his place."

"Science is sort of this mix of cooperation and competition," said Sharl with a little shrug. "Heroic science, anyway. The good guys all want to save the day and help everybody with their genius, but they want to be the ones to do that first! Plus, science heroes aren't like regular heroes: it's okay to make money if you're a genius." He smiled a little and admitted, "Honestly, I don't really understand that prejudice, but it'll at least help you out. Imagine how tough it would be to come here from the past or the future, or another dimension, and have no way of ever getting a job! At least regular heroes have regular lives where they can get jobs and stuff."

"Come with me," said the angel without hesitation, scooping Gabriel up with uncommon grace. "I shall fly you to the church and heal your injuries there, away from anyone's sight." In the air, he beat his wings with speed, swooping high in the sky as they headed towards the Lantern Hill church that was his home. "If you are seen below, even recognized," he told Gabriel, handling him with care as he flew straight and true, "they will see you as simply a victim being rescued by an angel, nothing more!" While the angel didn't lie, there was nothing in his nature that precluded a deception in a good cause like this one. Once at the church, he headed straight to the open belltower and flew neatly through its narrow confines to the sanctuary inside. "This may be difficult," he warned Gabriel as he laid him on the altar. "Are you prepared?"

"Heh, well, we've got to make sure you don't get picked by Archetech or one of Daedalus' companies," Sharl joked. "Science is a competitive business, and we like to keep the awesomest people around here. And even if you don't get hired full-time, having a recommendation from Miss Americana or Supercape is basically going to get you a job anywhere." While his experience wasn't exactly like Cole's, he had to think looking for a stable future made sense for the kid. Maybe he couldn't really pass for human, but at least he had a world to go back to: Cole didn't have that at all from what he'd heard. "And building your own suit is really cool.. It's like you decided to build powers for yourself."

Martha Lucas answered the door, wearing a black dress appropriate for the occasion, and with a tight little host's smile invited them all inside. This was a stressful occasion for everyone; no less for the Widow Lucas despite whatever personal problems she'd had before that day. Inside the house, Mark's friends found things looking quiet and serene. This was obviously a house in mourning: still, it was cheerier than the place it had been when all the adults in the family were gone. The pictures of Rick that had once been on most of the walls were gone; they were over at the Christian church down the street waiting for everyone to get together. "Hey guys," said Mark, coming down and exchanging the mix of embraces and handshakes his sometimes-reserved friends preferred. "Glad you could make it." He was looking uncommonly serious in a black suit and tie, but of course that fit the occasion too. From their couch, the Summers, father and daughter, gave a cordial "Hmm" as the teens entered. "You're looking good. We're just about ready to get out."

Sharl headed down there the old-fashioned way with packet in hand, since he couldn't fly through solid objects while carrying the papers. "Hey, here's all our internship stuff," he said, handing it over to Cole as soon as he was inside. "This has all the things we do with Claremont, all the work you can do at the Lab when you're in high school and even in college, that kind of stuff. We really want to get young science people in here, especially if they're heroes in their spare time." He added, winking at Cole. "That was pretty cool, by the way. Not a lot of kids like us have a cool suit like that."

Rustbelt PL: 10 (150) Abilities: 16 pp STR 30 [14] (+10/+2) DEX 10 (+0) CON 30 [14] (+10/+2) INT 10 (+0) WIS 14 (+2) CHA 14 (+2) Combat: 24 pp ATK: +6 (+10 Melee) DEF: +10 (+3 flat-footed) Init: +0 Grapple: +25 Saves: 12 pp TOU +10 (+10 Con) FORT +10 (+10 Con) REF +6 (+0 Dex, +6) WILL +8 (+2 Wis, +6) Skills: 60 r=15 pp Craft (Structural) 10 (+10) Diplomacy 13 (+15) Drive 3 (+5) Knowledge (Earth Sciences) 10 (+10) Notice 8 (+10) Sense Motive 13 (+15) Survival 3 (+5) Feats: 14 pp Attack Focus: Melee 4 Dodge Focus 4 Interpose Leadership Luck Power Attack Takedown Attack Uncanny Dodge (auditory) Powers: 68 pp Corrosion 10 (Flaw: Limited [Metals Only]) [15 pp] Enhanced CON 16 [16 pp] Enhanced STR 16 [16 pp] Impervious TOU 10 [10 pp] Speed 1 (10 MPH) [1 pp] Super-Strength 5 (Heavy Load: 24 tons) [10 pp] abilities 16+combat 24 +saves 12 + skills 15/60 + feats 14 + powers 68 =150 pp ----- Design Notes: Here’s my build for Rustbelt, one of the more likeable characters in the Wild Cards universe. In a world of jaded sybarites, mad gods, black ops agents, and spoiled playboys with superpowers, Rustbelt is a nice, straightforward guy from a small mining town deep in the heart of the Mesabi Iron Range in Minnesota. His powers fit his origins, in that he’s basically a ‘Minnesota Nice’ Ben Grimm crossed with a D&D rust monster. He’s a big strong guy with iron skin and super-strength with a jaw like the machines in the open-pit mines around where he lives. What distinguishes him from regular powerhouses is the rusting touch that earns his name: with just a touch, he can make just about any kind of metal fall to pieces. I figured that metals is a broad enough flaw (especially in an urban setting) that it’s only a -1 Flaw rather than anything bigger. He’s not as strong or durable as other powerhouses, but his rusting powers are a good surprise for people expecting just another iron guy. People around Rusty underestimate him: he genuinely is a good man willing to lead others in a fight against powerful enemies, something that makes him a little unusual in his home universe. Most people just think it’s an act, but it really isn’t! He’s a rare hero in a world that has very few of them. You could build him with Density and/or Protection if you wanted; I went ahead and gave him full-blown Enhanced STR and CON to represent how strong he has to be to get around with iron skin: he weighs as much as a normal person, though! Of course, in a superheroic setting Rusty’s good nature isn’t going to be that weird: people are supposed to be genuinely good as a general rule around here. Find a good moral code for him and stick to it if you want him to have some good complications; the man’s the sort who’s liable to have a Cape’s solid, stubborn morals even in the most controversial of situations. That’s why he’s got things like Interpose and Diplomacy, so he actually does have a shot at talking the Big Bad down or taking his blasts for others without a qualm. With Leadership, he’s a good guy to have on your side in a fight! He’s a natural for Inspire and other feats as his experience goes up; this is Rusty straight out of the mines and ready to be a hero in the big city! He’s still a small town guy nervous in the big city; he’s the sort of guy who thinks of Minneapolis as the big city, much less wild and crazy Freedom. Note that being from a small town or going to church regularly doesn’t mean Rusty’s ignorant or bigoted; he’s just a little naive. Superheroes are usually in urban settings, so taking a guy from a small town and putting them in the big city is a nice way to get lots of good fish out of water complications. Why not represent the rural hero turned big city champion? With his iron body, a little magnetic vulnerability might go a long way to freeing up some more points for you. It’s up to you whether or not he can turn back to normal; the Wild Cards character can’t. Having a freakish appearance is a good source for complications, but you might get tired of constantly looking like a diecast action figure of a steam shovel. In the Freedom City setting, Rustbelt might just be a mutant who wound up with a very striking appearance, but he could easily be a victim of some mutagenic industrial accident down there in the mines. It is a little pat that a man from the Iron Range wound up with an iron body and metal control, isn’t it? Perhaps he’s a DNAscendant who used his powers to escape, or some other variant of lab animal infused with all the wrong kinds of powers. He could have been tricked by Mr. Infamy like Silver Age heroine Mary Minstrel, given the powers of iron with all of the side-effects. Or he could easily be magic at his core without any infernal origins, perhaps infused with the mystic spirit of the Iron Range and given some measure of its power.

Ashton June 7, 2011 A couple of days after the Claremont kids finally had their graduation, the general word went out in the superheroic community that Richard Milhouse Lucas, the long-time sidekick to the Freedom League back in the 1960s and 1970s, had perished in the line of duty. Rick had been a difficult man for many of his old friends to get along with in the last few years as his bitterness towards the current generation of superheroes grew, but he'd stayed in touch with everyone and always been there when they needed help. He'd regularly played host to various parties and fundraisers for that generation of heroes as they got older, using the celebrity he'd gained from his time with the League and his best-selling series of 'men's super-adventure novels' to help his old friends who'd never gotten a dime from their work stay financially comfortable even in retirement. He'd gone into seclusion some months earlier, and hadn't been seen much sense. Only a select few heroes personally associated with the Freedom League and the upper tier at Claremont knew about Rick's descent into madness after his son's short-lived death; what he'd done to rewrite the world and how he'd nearly abandoned it in disgust before giving his life to keep Omega from attacking it again. All superheroes invited to the service were invited to come in full costume, while in lieu of flowers Rick's testament asked that they donate to his son's alma mater: Claremont Academy. And now that a long life had come to an end, if too early for those who'd loved him, it was a time for the memorial service Rick had requested: a memorial service was all they could have, since his body was now somewhere beneath what had once been another version of Freedom City cast deep into the Zero Zone. At the Lucas house, Mark was studying himself in his bedroom mirror as he adjusted his suit and tie, trying to keep his emotions in check. Downstairs, his mom was entertaining Duncan Summers and his daughter Jasmine, the headmaster and his daughter being the first to show up for the service despite it being some time away. For Mark's part, after some consideration, he'd sent invitations out to all his schoolfriends, even those who he knew had had little use for his father while he was alive. If they didn't show, that was fine: he trusted them enough to know they wouldn't disrupt what the moment was about. It was about family...and when he thought about Young Freedom, he decided with a nod to his reflection, that meant they belonged there too.

Under normal circumstances, the angel of Freedom would have denounced the demon as a fool and coward. He would have told him that his master was a child rebelling against a loving parent; that their eternity of sin and corruption lacked even the grandeur of blasphemy and was instead nothing but a pointless tantrum. But with Gabriel injured, he didn't dally with words: instead he swooped downward like an eagle and plunged his flaming blade straight through the demon's black heart. With an eruption of lightless fire, the demon collapsed back to Hell in a sprinkle of ash, and Heyzel turned to his fallen friend. "Gabriel! Can you speak?"

"This is Murdock over at the Lab," he explained to Dark Star, having met the man during his return to Earth some months earlier. He concentrated on speaking clearly and slowly, making sure he was leaving nothing out. "We've been having a meeting. It is a meeting about the Gorgon. The scientists are ready to build a ship to travel to the Gorgon and take nanite samples. They could use your input as an advisor on both the Gorgon and space travel. Some of us cannot go into space. They will probably want you to to go with them."

"Oh my-!" Citizen startled as a wet plopping sound came from the ground beneath his feet, and the definite smell of Indian food mixed with tea filled the air. He'd been so surprised by the gunshot, not to mention Indira's terrible wound which she was already recovering from, that he'd lost control of his magnetic force field and everything he'd eaten had spilled out onto the floor beneath him in a rapidly spreading puddle. While he was dry, and kept dry by his body of magnetic forcefields, the same couldn't be said for the floor. Blushing red, he pulled his coat open as the blue crescents on his chest flared to life in the universal wi-fi symbol. "Let's get them before they get us!" he called out, flying right through the door as if it wasn't there. On the other side, he threw himself into the melee, shrugging off counter-blows as he punched and kicked at the two men beyond. "There's a whole lot more through here," he called as he slugged one in the jaw, knocking him out cleanly, and disposed of another with a kick to the chest. "Be ready!"

Sharl will go ahead and fly through the door, activating his Insubstantial in the process. He'll use a full Power Attack vs. 5 (and 7 if the Takedown comes into play), hitting them automatically, and inflicting a DC 26 Tou save on one or both.

Earth F-Deluge-1 In 1995, in the wake of the Terminus Invasion, the newly-reformed Freedom League sent out expeditions to nearby parallel universes to warn them about the potential threat of Omega. Among the most distant universes they visited was Earth F-D-1, a very strange place that continues to baffle many of the Freedom League’s greatest scientists. On Earth FD1, Pseudo and Johnny Rocket found a drowned world. In defiance of all laws of science and nature, some seventy years earlier the oceans had erupted across the lands in a terrible few weeks of utter cataclysm that had destroyed all the old civilizations: billions had died in an apocalypse that left behind only a few pockets of civilization in what had once been the Rockies, western China, Afghanistan, and parts of west and east Africa. Where Freedom City had once been stood an entire floating city constructed from what had once been Freedom City, the spectacular engineering project of a young Alexander Atom that had saved a fragment of the old city’s population. The Leaguers did what they could to improve the battered lives of the people of that world, but things were tough for a people who had lived as fishers and scavengers for generations, frequently beset by tremendous oceanic superstorms so massive as to make the worst hurricanes of Prime look like a rainy April afternoon in Freedom City. Seeming to lack an Atlantis or other undersea civilizations, the people had already begun to adapt to their new world: some had seemingly evolved gills, others webbed feet, and though those strange and secretive mutants were shunned by many of the surfacers, they did seem like the next step in human evolution. It wasn’t until Grue and rookie returned home that the sheer oddity of Earth FD1 became apparent: how could the sedate genes of the human race evolve oceanic parts so quickly? And how _could_ the world flood? The melted ice caps and glaciers, even if all had somehow melted at once, could never produce such an overwhelmingly catastrophic flood in anything like the force and power that had so devastated FD1. But it was just one dimension, and eventually the attention of Daedalus, Dr. Atom, and the other scientists of Freedom City and elsewhere who took an interest in parallel worlds was focused elsewhere. There have been no follow-up expeditions to Deluge-1, but it’s one of those areas of exploration that’s always on the League’s list. The truth of F-D-1 is much worse than anyone on Earth-Prime has ever realized. The truth is, in February 1928 on a remote island in the South Pacific, the stars were right. Father Dagon and Mother Hydra rose, the continents sank as the oceans bloomed impossibly, and terrible kingdoms of magic and death were built beneath the waves. There _were_ Atlanteans beneath the sea once, but those who survived the rising of the Old Ones were no match for the armies of Dagon and Hydra. The isolationist theocracy in Central Asia that opened fire on Pseudo when he flew overhead wasn’t the Tibetan successor state he thought it was; it was _Leng_, a grim empire of dark magic who stave off the beasts that lie beneath the waves with their own terrible rituals. Those insular mutants aren’t the next step in evolution, they are the children of _Deep Ones_, and one day most will go below and join the terrible civilization below. No wonder so many work as slavers and traders of flesh: they are directly nourishing their undersea kin. The few tens of thousands of free human beings on Earth are in far more danger than the majority realize. Much worse is that the brother-sister priests of Dagon and Hydra have learned of the existence of other worlds, places not blessed with the Great Drowning. Though surfacers survive as scum clinging to the fringes of their world, they are content with the empire they have built and the planet they have blessed. One day soon, perhaps very soon, they will come in their slithery squamous legions to our world and summon their terrible apocalypse. And the Drowning will come.