Avenger Assembled

It didn't take long to get a deal made after that, one undersigned by all the members of the team who were legally persons, taking advantage of Freedom City's generous local laws about masks signing contracts using their secret ID. The team would have full leeway to deploy whatever methods necessary, and take whatever scans required, to move Skyhook, with the usual caveats about keeping secrets of national security under their belts. Assuming successful delivery of Skyhook to the Navy facility within seventy-two hours, they'd have their million dollars, and the promise of future contracts to go with them. Sharl hung back a little, knowing that he didn't have the identity to sign the contract, and let the others sign as necessary. For her part, the commander shook everyone's hand, her grip firm and solid, even when she shook hands with Sharl and Protectron. "It's been a pleasure. I'm sure you won't disappoint me, or the United States Navy."

"Viktor Archeville's people would do it for us for under a million," said Harrison with a raise of one well-plucked eyebrow. "And with fewer...unpredictable elements in the equation. However, if your team _can_ provide the results you promise, and if you deliver Skyhook-3 intact to Lonely Point within the next seventy-two hours, I might be able to guarantee payment of a million dollars to your facility." She hmmed at that, looking around for questions. "Additionally, if your team's work is reliable and discreet, I may be able to make sure that further government jobs come your way. Super-contractors who have proven their worth can always find work through Uncle Sam."

Murdock was left baffled by Carson's words as he considered what he was trying to say. No, no, this is a friendly offer. He is a friendly man, and we simply have different experiences about food. "I would like to eat, if you are also eating." That was one rule that held between many of the cultures he'd seen. "Yes. There was nothing there that you would consider normal." He watched as Carson made food, and thought of his childhood, of the starving proles of the Black Ghetto. "The changes that were wrought on my flesh were significant. You would not wish to hear more."

"That makes sense," said Sharl, giving a tentative look Miss A's way to make sure she wasn't offended by him speaking out. "If something's leaking from the core, Protectron would be the most protected, or if there is still biological contamination." For his own part, he was very glad this had happened on this world; a crashing space object would have been simply murder in his home city, given the huge, closely packed buildings that were so different from land hereabouts. When no one objected to him speaking out, he added nervously, "I have wanted to see more of the forest. Er, I mean, I think I could do the work well also. If Miss Americana wants me there." He tended to assume Miss Americana was the leader, whether or not that was actually true. She was hard to argue with.

"Five dollars," agreed Joan, hmming as she put two cards down and deal herself two more. She put the five dollars in the pot, then sat back to study the others. "So, you ladies are new to gambling, eh? I'm no veteran myself, but I've been around a few times. There's this great casino in Osaka that's built inside the hollowed-out shell of one of the first giant space robots that invaded the Pacific back in the early 50s. The whole operation's in there, all the way from the waterpark in the feet to the revolving restaurant in the head. Back when I was working in the Japanese sphere, they comped everyone on our team free tickets as long as we made sure no bad guys ever took it down. You've got to watch yourself with those giant robots, some of them are quicker than quick and stronger than strong."

"Oh, okay," said Mark, getting the same baffled look he got anytime someone suggested giving away their secret identity. I just don't understand that? Why would you do that? He'd watched Alex's explanation about giving away her own secret ID a few times, but truthfully he'd just sort of wandered off around the time she started talking about the common purpose of humanity. "If that's what you choose to do," he told Eve, "we're your friends, and we'll have your back, however you choose to live." Did that sound weird? I thought it sounded weird...wait a minute! Psychic...high school senior...no secret ID... Mark put his hand over his mouth, his eyes going wide. "But Eve...Eve...does this mean you're a Terminus Baby!?!"

"The experiments were biological in nature," the commander assured the civilians, "designed to build a defense system against the Grue or any similar organisms. Other than that, there's not much I can tell you. The experimental pods were all self-contained and have already been removed from the crash site. While there was a small amount of environmental contamination, necessitating the evacuations I mentioned, my people assure me that it's been completely contained. Right now our priority is to recover Skyhook itself." She paused a moment, then gave them all a trim smile. "Hmm. If you want reassurances that I and my team have not been compromised by Grue infiltrators, I'd be happy to submit to whatever genetic testing methods you prefer. There were no secret Grue stowaways on Skyhook. No biological specimens more coherent than bacteria were aboard."

The commander did the same, taking a seat and studying the crew intently. She paid special attention to Protectron, of course, seeing as how he was some sort of wonderful mechanical man, but she gave the teenage Dragonfly, funny-looking Sharl, and the lovely Miss Americana all serious looks of her own before she went on. With so much strangeness around her, she evidently decided to go straight to business. "It's a pleasure to meet all of you. I'm sure our arrangements will be profitable for everyone involved." She used the conference room's computer to display first the image of an exotic-looking satellite that bore the American flag, then an orbital trajectory that even the non-scientists there could follow: a collision and then a fall, straight out of LaGrange Point 1 and into the (very) near-vicinity of Freedom City. For his part, Sharl watched in fascination, trying to pretend he belonged there. Look at that! It's a spaceship! He felt his usual stab of envy when he contemplated the advanced space program these relatively primitive people maintained. Of course, we don't actually have space travel at all...because we don't really have space. It was an ugly thought, and not one he wanted to dwell on heavily. Better worry about making sure I look human. I don't know if she'll believe I'm just an advanced telepresence display... "As some of you may know, in the wake of the recent Grue Invasion the US government moved elements of our anti-extraterrestrial program, Project Skyhook, into Earth orbit. What you're looking at is Skyhook-3, which up until a few days ago was an integrated, fully-remote-manipulated biological laboratory in Earth orbit, studying ways to prevent further incursions by the Grue, or, ah, any more local alien telepaths." She hmmed, studying the others for a response to that, before she went on. "We're not sure exactly what happened, but there seems to have been a core breach in the satellite, possibly caused by a micrometeor collision." She flipped forward, showing a decidedly-battered version of Skyhook-3 at rest under dirty brown water. "Right now, Skyhook-3 is at the bottom of a lake in Wharton State Forest. Divers have extracted the biological cargo and our team has evacuated the locals to Freedom city proper, but we need someone to go in there and remove a five hundred million dollar satellite and one of a kind remote-handling hardware before the fish get to it. It's too big for our people, and too delicate for our machinery, to get at. Hell, the area's so isolated we have to use landline telephones for communication in a 1-mile radius around the crash site. We need a team of people with experience in handling hi-tech machinery and with some knowledge of the kinds of metacrises that tend to accompany accidents like this. If your people think you can manage it, I'm authorized to ensure a payment of up to five hundred thousand to your organization upon delivery to Lonely Point."

Sharl had hung around with Miss Americana often enough to know when to play the quiet, invisible assistant. Truthfully, he was more comfortable playing roles like that in Lab business: his knowledge of hyperadvanced computers didn't help him much when he knew so little about how they worked. At least Gina and Miss Americana were both making excellent progress in getting his program portable enough to send back to Tronik, giving a chance to see the family he hadn't seen in too many months. Distracting himself from his parents and sister's face, he studied the commander from the back as the lady herself studied Miss Americana. "I understand that your team may be somewhat irregular. That's a necessary hazard of dealing with civilian contractors," said the officer crisply. She broke her icy demeanor with a faint smile to add, "If your collective reputations are justified, that should be well worth the risk." The elevator doors hissed open, and together the ladies and their computerized escort headed for the conference room.

It begins!

Two days earlier The satellite's cloaking field was designed to endure even a direct nuclear strike or a close-range miss from a Grue battleship's main batteries; it held even as it tore across the Freedom City skyline with no more than a clap of thunder, held even as it rushed towards the darkest part of Wharton State Forest with a tremendous roar, and held even when it slammed into Lake Muir with a tremendous crash and fountain of water. Curious locals investigated the crash, of course, brave souls rowing out to investigate what had landed, some even bringing back what they found. The men from Lonely Point arrived not long after that and evacuated the locals back to the city, while extracting the biological material from the heart of the satellite to head off to de Haviland Laboratories. But that didn't solve the problem of what to do about the satellite itself... March 5 The Lab Commander Dani Harrison looked smart and proper in her dress blues, and she'd spoken with politeness when she'd made her appointment with a Lab crew that (thanks to one conference, one superhero mission to Nova Scotia, and one case of the flu) turned out to be Dragonfly, Miss Americana, Sharl, and Protectron, for all that only the first two actually counted as Lab personnel as such. Miss Americana was on hand to welcome her in the front entrance, the naval officer shaking the civilian's hand briskly. "Ma'am," she said professionally, "it's a pleasure. Is the rest of your team available? I know when I spoke to your agent by telephone, she said your numbers were somewhat truncated." Sharl was hanging around too, but the teenager's slightly diffident manner and odd clothing (at least by normal human standards) meant that the officer paid attention only to the gorgeous patriotic heroine.

"Yeah, we're great!" said Mark ebulliently. "When I graduate, I've got a job interning with a UNISON office in Africa; probably the one in Tanzania or Ethiopia, depending on exactly where they put me. I'd hoped to get a job working in the superhero industry, you know, at the Hero Museum or something," he said, using the lie he told about his future plans whenever anyone who didn't know his ID asked, "but I really feel good about this. I'll be able to use my abilities to help people who really need it, and I'll be able to do it under my own name and with my own face. It's all about getting out there and making your own destiny, you know? Oh man..." Across the room, Chloe had just yawned. ShiRAM! "Now Trevor here, he's going to inherit his family business. That's why we're such good buddies, because this guy is loaded!" He winked. "You know, his grandpa gets a dime every time you chew Bazooka Bubble Gum." He thought for a minute, then frowned. "Or wait, is that actually true? I forget. Anyway, I totally do know a guy at Decca. My dad used to know people who worked with Elvis."

As requested, that's a DC 20 Bluff check for Fusion to get the ghost to come out and put up a fair fight.

Fusion left the jerk in the van to his own devices. Instead she catapulted upwards, punching out the van's roof as she went, and carrying the civilians with her. "It's all right people!" she called, abandoning her usual faux-alien hissing in the crisis. "I can handle this!" When she'd removed all the injured journalists, placing them neatly by the side of the road out of the path of traffic, she jumped to the van. "Listen, you psychic impression or whatever you are, I've dealt with versions of you people that'll turn your hair green! And this is how I dealt with them!" She still remembered that bizarre encounter she'd had in Japan with that psychic echo left behind by the dead teenager. She picked up the van in her limbs and began tearing it to shreds, driving the chunks of steel and glass she tore loose into the asphalt to pin them in place. "I'll pull you apart like an Otaku-bot!"

Metahuman Dictatorship There's a reason why you don't hear much about the only country in the Freedom City universe with a superhuman head of state: it's not a very nice, or very hospitable, place to live. Back in 1938, Kreigsmarine Captain Alfred Ritscher commanded the Third German Antarctic Expedition, officially aiming to build a whaling station (and possible naval base) for the Third Reich in Antarctica. (Ritscher's genuine target was of course the extra-terrestrial city discovered by the ill-fated Lake Expedition of 1931). Despite the high adventure and terrifying ordeals faced by the Nazi explorers in the interior of the islands, the German sailors and soldiers posted to the secret Kriegsmarine base in New Swabia actually considered it something a punishment detail, given the length of time between resupply missions and the harsh conditions of the Antarctic coast. In 1943, American superheroes interrupted an attempt to transport a shoggoth by U-Boat, and the subsequent damage caused by the creature rendered the base uninhabited. Until 1946, when an American superhero arrived. Othello (born Paul Leroy) was a New Jersey native by birth, a Freedom City son whose mutant abilities had manifested in 1940 during his time on the Freedom City Watchmen, Freedom's Negro League baseball team that later merged with the Flags. With strength, speed, leaping, and invulnerability akin to the early Centurion's, Othello was a smart man, a former political science major at Freedom City College who recognized that his strongly left-wing political leanings would be held against him in the conservative climate after the war. He worried in particular that his superhuman abilities would make him a target by government scientists, who he felt had targeted him for particularly dangerous missions during the war so as to eliminate him as a political actor. Visiting New Swabia in secret, Othello used his speed and strength to rebuild the shattered and melted fortifications, give decent Christian burial to all the dead Nazis, and make the former German settlement fit for human habitation again. He used his connections in the OSS to cover his work, recruiting several disaffected Allied supers and inviting them to join him in his plans to build a homestead in the last frontier on Earth. By 1950, when word of their activities finally reached a distracted United States, Othello had recruited a half-dozen former American, British, and French super-agents and their families to his cause. President Truman dispatched the Patriot to deal with his old comrade, and two days before the outbreak of the Korean War, Simmons met Othello at the Schirmacher Oasis for a conversation that had unfortunately not been recorded by historians. The Patriot left Antarctica with a recommendation to his superiors that they leave the (technically-illegal) base alone, going to his own destiny alongside the Atomic Brigade later. Time passed, and the colony's population slowly grew. Several Chinese super-agents opted to resettle in Antarctica after choosing to remain in UN hands after the Korean War, while Othello made the controversial decision to accept the immigration of selected Ubersoldaten (only those who had either served their time or had not committed formal war crimes) and their families to the colony he had dubbed New Freedom. The coastal settlement was theoretically under American and UN auspices, but in practice it was something new, a colony of superhumans and the normals they loved, an independent republic under the auspices of the now-greying Othello and his family. With the weather-manipulating Hosato making the region hospitable and the teleporting Mathson providing transportation and formidable scientific expertise, the cold ice of one small corner of Antarctica gradually became habitable in shirtsleeves even by the smallest mundane child. Othello proved his desire for independence when he repelled an 'incident' carried out secretly by Soviet super-agents in 1957, and again in 1961 when he defeated an uprising against his leadership organized by agents of Dr. Sin. It was a social experiment, a colony of several hundred hardy souls whose primary goal was freedom: in New Freedom, superhumans could live without fear of discrimination (that they faced in many Third World countries), fear of conscription (that they faced in the Warsaw Pact and various dictatorships) or simply an inability to fit in with the conservative social consensus of the West. Every man and woman was equal, powered or otherwise, and everyone was valued by the community. And all of it, at least in theory, under the auspices of the American government and the United Nations. It all came to a crashing halt in 1968, when AEGIS arrived to arrest the Drifter. Peter Hopper, given powers by a secret government experiment some years earlier, had abandoned his post in South Vietnam, fleeing to Antarctica to escape desertion charges and bringing with him shocking evidence of corruption in the highest corridors of power in Washington, centered around the Golden Triangle of opium trade in Southeast Asia. When AEGIS agents showed up in force, brushing past Othello's automatic offer of sanctuary for the wanted criminals, blows were struck, and then shots were fired. When all was said and done, the AEGIS carrier was down, the Drifter was dead (by 'suicide'), and Othello had made up his mind. Though Jack Simmons showed up to personally apologize and arrest the rogue agents in New Freedom's custody, Othello had seen enough. He personally ran to Washington to deliver New Freedom's Declaration of Independence. The world's first metahuman nation was born. Things were bad after that. New Freedom had gained their dream, but at the cost of trade embargoes by the West and East, both of whom saw the new nation as a threat to their imperial destiny. There were more attacks by the Eastern Bloc, and supervillains too saw New Freedom as an egg suddenly abandoned by its mother. War came to Antarctica, a quiet, vicious war waged in the snowy outskirts and fertile fields of the small country. The defenders of New Freedom learned to kill to defend themselves, and Othello reluctantly allowed his country to become part of the non-aligned block. The superhuman nature of the early settlers meant that New Freedom had, by a huge margin, the most superpowered population on Earth. Young men and women of Antarctica became mercenaries and superagents, renting themselves to South Africa and Israel, Taiwan and Pakistan, all the 'rogue nations' of the Cold War era looking for, but lacking, superpowered protectors. New Freedom began to take in more and more disreputable elements; Portuguese from Goa and white settlers from Rhodesia, along with wealthy superhumans who liked the nation's lack of extradition treaties, and the dream looked very close to dying. Othello died in 1983, the Presidency of New Freedom inherited by Jade Harper, a Eurasian chemically-powered agent who had been one of the most lethal warriors of Southeast Asia. Jade had come of age in a New Freedom constantly under attack from within and without, and had learned her tradecraft in some of the most vicious fighting of the Cold War. She did not have the loyalty to the United States that her predecessor had maintained in his heart of hearts, nor did she want to maintain the democratic traditions he had established. By the Terminus Invasion, New Freedom was nothing of the sort. New Freedom Today Leah Harper, of mixed Vietnamese, Israeli, and Irish heritage, inherited the Presidency of New Freedom from her mother in 2010 after one of Jade's many enemies finally caught up with her. Leah presides over a nation of some 10,000 souls, a uniquely multi-ethnic melting pot recently increased by migrants from Iraq, Hong Kong, and Albania. New Freedom is a harsh place, a tightly unified dictatorial republic presided over by the President and her appointed Council. Over two-thirds of the population is superhuman in one way or another (superpowers being the only guaranteed path to legal migration), and one of the primary job tracks (as well as a good way to keep the population down and get rid of young people With Ideas) is work as a foreign mercenary in Africa and Central Asia, or as a supercriminal in the United States. New Freedomites speak English with a faint, unique accent, and look to be of no particular race. The nation is not actually a United Nations member, but their population is large enough, and powerful enough, that no one has ever worked up the resources to do anything about their government. The Harpers have written several long, didactic books of political theory justifying their rule, the sort much beloved by poorly socialized high school students and undergraduates: New Freedom's government is strictly utilitarian, and is as likely to take in North Korean super-exiles as they are to rent the services of their own citizens to the Kim family as legbreakers and goons. It's true that superhumans can live like kings in New Freedom, insulated from many of the laws restricting their activities in more civilized nations...assuming they don't mind the dark grey clothing, the political indoctrination, the cramped living conditions, and the nationwide commitment to service, order, and peace. It's not a bad way to live, if you're well-connected and can get access to the resources of the outside world that work outside the country so often brings. Leah herself worked for various American mercenary companies in the 1990s and 2000s, and she has many connections still in Washington and Baghdad. (She hopes to be able to bring over former super-agents of the various Arab dictatorships facing overthrow at the time of this writing.) People who can't, or won't live the New Freedom way leave. The ones that have seen too much die, or change their names, all trying to avoid a hit squad made up of lethal, professional ex-black ops agents with connections all over the world. Like so many new nations, New Freedom has kept its independence, but lost its soul. It's a land that needs heroes.

"Yeah, but I'm sure we'll figure it out. With your smarts, and my luck, and Erin's combat prowess, there's no problem we can't handle," said Mark confidently. He paused a moment, looking expectantly at the others. A moment passed. "OH. Okay. I'll just be going now." He got up and said, "Happy Valentines' Day, again! Just because things are silly and commercial doesn't mean we can't enjoy them, right?" And with that, he headed out the door, leaving Erin and Trevor to do their thing. Maybe they're further along than I thought, he hazarded. Weird!

Sharl's gonna spend this round refocusing, and go first next time.

"Hmm." Mark wasn't sure why Carson was opening up to them like this, but he wasn't rude enough to comment on that. "There are a lot of really cute girls around here," he said. "You're an excellent singer," he commented, shooting Trevor a look that gave him an out if he wanted it. "You really brought some life into that old church music. Have you ever thought of doing recording on your own? I have a family friend who works for Decca, and he could probably hook you up with a recording session."

She has a very strange accent. I wonder where she's from. It would explain her social problems. It can't be easy to try and function in a group this large, poor thing. She must not get out much. Fusion was a big believer in socialization, especially for girls whose mothers had evidently run off and left them to be raised by wolves so that they didn't know better than to talk over people. When Silhouette was done talking, Fusion politely explained the rules of draw poker, suggesting they limit themselves to five cards and drawing three to shorten things out. "I think we've got good numbers here. " She started shuffling as she talked, then began dealing. "All right, our game is five-card draw. I, ah, left my purse in my other bodysuit, but I'll let you ladies decide what we bet."

"I rarely eat. It is generally unnecessary." The Omegadrone studied the other man, thought seeming to flick behind his eyes like gears whirling inside a machine's mind. But there was emotion on that lined face; this was no unfeeling automaton. "But if you have food and wish to share, I will eat with you." He said nothing more at that, apparently feeling the conversation was successful. "I have nothing to offer you but my service."

"Well," said Mark thoughtfully, "Alex has a really strong mind, but her body is much less so. I bet Pathos isn't that different. She's got their Assault to protect her, and she'd need to build up her mind to compete with their Sage, or Scarab, or whoever. If we can get close to her, we can knock her out, or stun her, or whatever." He hmmed. "Trevor, you've got that anti-telepath mojo, right? You could sneak close and hit her on the head, or tase her or something. Even if she got suspicious, she might think it was just the Blank plotting against her, not people from our Earth."

Gorilla Island History Lying at 48°52.6′S 123°23.6′W in the South Pacific, Gorilla Island has puzzled even super-scientists for generations. How did a population of some three hundred thousand gorillas, if from a sub-species unlike any other on Earth, find itself so many tens of thousands of miles from Africa? The three hundred thousand or so hardy souls who make their home in the rugged mountains tend to be close-mouthed on the subject. (Islanders generally do not get along well with outsiders, particularly after the Greystoke expedition at the turn of the century was followed up by German conquest of the island's shoreline in 1905 and a brutal colonial rule that ended only in 1919 with Versailles) (Pictured is Der Affe, an Islander conscripted into the Imperial Army who famously battled American and British agents from 1914 until his death in 1918 at the hands of the Angel of Mons) The island was acquired by the British in 1919 after Versailles. Though Arthur Jermyn was cut from a much kinder cloth than his German predecessors (in particular, he was willing to negotiate with his 'subjects'), the British writ was still exceedingly narrow, and rarely extended further than the Royal Navy base on the coast. Despite frequent rumors of bizarre sights and strange specimens to be found inland, the rugged, mountainous terrain and high elevation meant that few Europeans who went inland with hostile intent survived. The pictures and stories of fantastic structures, machinery, and beasts that did make it to the outside world were enough to keep up the steady stream of expeditions until the famous Denham voyage of 1930. (Pictured is KK, the Islander (and secret heir to the royal family!) hired as guide and agent of the Denham crew on the Island. He ultimately had a falling-out with his employers, escaped their attempt to confine him during a visit to New York in 1932, and returned to the island a much wiser ape. A rival studio's highly-sensationalized account of the Denham voyage became immortalized on-screen in 1933.) The island was a frequent target for espionage in the 1930s, a particular favorite of Danger International and the Prophet family as well as their rivals in German and Japanese service. Too far away to be directly involved in the fighting, Islanders and their allies did repel several attempted Axis coup d'etats. In 1941, after the infamous failed attempt by the Aryan Ape to raise an army there, Gorilla Island formally declared war on the Axis powers. (The Ape was, after all, an enthusiastic Nazi, and his frequent jibes at his 'savage' hosts finally led to his near-death at the hands of his former followers when he admitted his alliance with the much-hated former masters of the island. (Pictured is American superheroine Miss Victory in hand-to-hand combat with Der Affe II, the gorilla agent recruited by the Ape during his visit to the island. Der Affe II ultimately perished by firing squad in 1946 after he was convicted for his part in the murder of Allied POWs in Italy) In 1946, following pressure from President Truman and a personal meeting with the Liberty League, British Prime Minister Clement Attlee officially granted Gorilla Island independence under the royal family that had developed afer 1905. Though officially Gorilla Island's independence was out of gratititude for their service in the Second World War, as well as the loyalty they'd shown in the years before, the truth was actually somewhat more disturbing: the ruins on the Island had been identified (by a yong American scientist named Alexander Atom) as extra-terrestrial in origin! It had been Kaykay and the Centurion who'd discovered the secret of the Island some years earlier during their battles with Nazi agents in the interior. The Preservers had moved the Islanders there some half a million years earlier, recognizing that the hominids evolving elsewhere in Africa had the power to destroy the nascent gorilla civilization that had begun in what is now the Congo. They had left artifacts behind to shield the island; the cloak had broken down earlier in the century, and much knowledge had been lost after the Imperial Germans had caught the apes off-guard and massacred much of their leadership. But now the apes had regained their old strongholds, and were eager to maintain their independence! (Pictured is Skull Harbor, the best natural harbor on the island. The famous thirty-story human screaming face there is actually a product of Preserver technology, a tactic of psychological warfare to drive off any humans who did pierce the cloak: one that was successful for generations until the beginning of the 20th century.) After Kaykay's death in 1962 following an incursion by monsters from Kaiju Island, the island's government slipped into a civil war between fascist-leaning monarchists and heroic champions of the people, or maybe American-friendly, pro-democracy members of the royal family vs. Stalinist Sovi-Apes, depending on who you ask. Prince Didikay ultimately roused his fellow islanders behind him on nationalist grounds, and the Communist guerillas were forced to flee after the long, bloody war finally came to an end in 1981 after Didikay finally defeated his long-time archnemesis, an Italian Communist in Soviet service. (Pictured is one of the many Red Gorillas who emigrated to Africa after the war, where their former leadership set up a Gorilla colony in the Congo. The Gorilla Free State has stayed largely isolated from the vicious warfare of the region, though their fighters remain popular for their work as mercenaries and soldiers. Their retaliation against bushmeat hunting is notoriously vicious.) Gorilla Island today is still a monarchy, currently under the rule of Kaykay's grandson Didikay II. Your typical Islander speaks English with an Oxonian British accent, lives in a wood-frame house that looks a little bit like a German peasant cottage, and generally wears no clothing but her own fur. The society is a parlimentary democracy, said legislative body dominated by the isolationist Silver and open-minded Mountain parties, respectively. Though women have traditionally been second-class citizens in gorilla society, the royal family has always tried to rise above those concerns, and the current king's daughter may well inherit her father's throne. (They do eat a lot of bananas, but given their ubiquity on the island, asking an Islander if he eats bananas is the equivalent of asking 21st century American if he's ever had Cheerios. He will usually say yes, and not understand the significance of the question!) Their understanding of Preserver technology is decidedly imperfect, but as they have graphically demonstrated against the Grue (and during the Terminus Invasion, when King Didikay perished in battle), the Islanders have enough command of their homeland's defenses that it is suicide to invade without the support of local agents and without a great deal of luck. As a generation of Harvard and Yale-educated elites like Didikay II assumes power on the Island, more and more gorillas are growing curious about the wider world.

"Really? You think it's a good idea?" Mark looked as surprised, and flattered, as if Mr. Summers had just commented he looked intimidating, or if Hellion had said he looked sexy. "I mean, great!" He exchanged a fistbump with Trevor and added, "I mean, I was hoping all those practice sessions would pay off, and I guess they did!" He'd been worried about those practice sessions, but evidently no one worried that much when you took out simulated copies of your school every week or so. "I mean, just...just cut right to the chase and take the whole thing out, you know? Hex...Hex won't think at all, but even he won't have any idea what did it."

Psychic Gorilla PL: 10 (150) Abilities: 30 pp STR 30 [22] (+10/+6) DEX 12 (+1) CON 20 [16] (+5/+3) INT 10 (+0) WIS 20 (+5) CHA 10 (+0) Combat: 24 pp ATK: +5 w/Growth (+6 melee/+10 unarmed) DEF: +10 (+2 flat-footed w/Growth) Init: +1 Grapple: +20 Saves : 12 pp TOU +10 (+5 Con, +5 Protection) FORT +8 (+5 Con, +3) REF +5 (+3 Dex, +2) WILL +12 (+5 Wis, +7) Skills: 60 r=15 pp Concentration 10 (+15) Climb 9 (+15, Skill Mastery) Handle Animal 5 (+5) Language 1 (English; Base: Swahili) Notice 10 (+15, Skill Mastery) Search 10 (+10, Skill Mastery) Sense Motive 10 (+15, Skill Mastery) Survival 5 (+10) Feats: 14 pp Animal Empathy, Attack Focus: Melee 1, Attack Specialization: Unarmed 2, Dodge Focus 5, Luck, Power Attack, Skill Mastery (Climb, Notice, Search, Sense Motive) Takedown Attack, Uncanny Dodge (olfactory) Powers: 55 pp Additional Limbs 2 (prehensile feet) (PF: Innate) [3 pp] Comprehend 2 (speak to and understand simians) [2 pp] Concealment 4 (all visual) (Flaw: Phantasm) [4+1=5 pp] AP: Morph 4 (any humanoid) (Flaw: Phantasm) Growth 4 (Extra: Duration (Permanent) [+0], PF: Innate) [13 pp] Leaping 1 (x2) [1 pp] Protection 5 [5 pp] Speed 1 (10 MPH) [1 pp] Super-Movement 1 (Swinging) [2 pp] Super-Senses 2 (Acute Scent, Low-Light Vision) [2 pp] Super-Senses 6 (Danger Sense [Mental], Mental Awareness 2 [mental], Precognition (Flaw: Uncontrolled), Uncanny Dodge [Mental]) [6 pp] Telepathy 6 (12PP Array, PFs: Alternate Power 4) [16PP] BP: Communication 6 (Mental, 20 miles, PFs: Rapid [x10], Subtle) [8PP] + Comprehend 1 (Languages 1 [speak Any]) [2PP] + Mind Reading 1 (Extras: Action 2 [Free], Effortless, Mental, Flaws: Duration [instant/Lasting], Limited [surface Thoughts]) [2PP] [12/12] AP: ESP 4 (1 mile, visual) (PFs: Fast Task 4 (Full Action to Search 1 Mile) [12/12] AP: Mind Control 10 (Flaw: Distracting, PFs: Mental Link, Subtle) [12/12] AP: Mind Reading 10 (Extras: Mental, Penetrating, Flaws: Duration [instant/Lasting], PF: Subtle) [11/12] AP: Move Object 3 (Heavy Load: 200 lbs), (Extras: Damaging, Range [Perception], PFsPrecise, Subtle) [11/12] costs abilities 30 + combat 24 + saves 9 + skills 15/60 + feats 14 + powers 55 = 150 pts -- Design Notes: Is she a psychic ape, surgically altered and raised in a laboratory by human scientists before she went to the outside world to learn more? A mutant from Gorilla Island, cast out by her suspicious kinfolk into a world of hairless freaks where her powers let her fit in? Or was she human once, a psychic who by design (perhaps while suffering from a terminal disease, or a fatal accident) or mischance (a failed psychic experiment, or an enemy’s wrath) was cast into the body of a damn dirty ape? Or is she an immigrant from Earth-Ape, perhaps a psychic hero in her own dimension who has opted to resettle in our own? Whatever her origin, this is my attempt at constructing a psychic gorilla, perhaps the most famous example of such in comics being the Flash rogue Gorilla Grodd. (For those wondering why the Flash fights a psychic gorilla, besides SILVER AGE, Grodd fills a definite niche in the Rogues’ Gallery: he has Perception-range abilities to bedevil the high-Defense speedster, and the sheer physical power to take high-Mach punches.) It’s an interesting archetype, and a good way to get a giant ape in your campaign. I went with albino because it’s a good look: if you go with the idea that she’s a castoff from Gorilla City, perhaps albinism is a sign of her mutant psychic heritage. I actually debated quite a bit about giving this character Growth: gorillas are not actually taller than humans. (Yes, I worried about anatomical accuracy in the mind-reading gorilla) If anything, they might qualify better for Density. But they are _larger_ than humans, certainly, even if their height doesn’t always measure up. So she’s got Growth: if you want, go ahead and specify that she really IS a giant gorilla, the sort that can convincingly go toe-to-toe with Golden Age paragons and the like. But the massive chest and solid build of your average gorilla will let her function normally too. Change up the psychic powers however you like; I tried to give her a pretty generic, useful array. The Concealment and Morph lets her get around the streets without betraying her true nature to people watching, while the TK is a surprise for people expecting a gorilla to be all hands-on. Her skills are pretty bare-bones; drop some of abilities she gets from her animal body if you want to play those up; she could use a boost to her INT and CHA in the bargain. She could be stronger, she could be a better psychic, but I think this character is a decent blend of both animalistic powerhouse and mentalist. Most people don’t expect a gorilla to read their mind, anymore than they expect a psychic to be a giant gorilla!

"I can blow up the school," said Mark suddenly, as if a look of decision had crossed his face. "I've been practicing in the Doom Room, and I can blow up a space as big as Claremont and do it without killing anyone inside. I know what you're thinking," he said to Trevor, "but they can't guard against my powers, they don't work like that. I can blow up the gas mains, the water lines, everything at once. The biggest accident they've ever had, so they can't shield against everything all at once. And while they're dealing with that, we can go in and rescue people." He licked his lips. "It'll be a really big distraction, and it'll make the Syndicate look very bad if they can't control a place like this. Maybe some of the students like Daisy, or just the ones who want to leave, will have a chance to get out, or join up with Anti-Talos."