Avenger Assembled

"I know I was just leaving. Good afternoon, ladies. Ms. Browning." And with that, Joan excused herself past Mrs. Hughes and headed straight outside, grabbing a drink and walking out onto the lawn just outside the big house. Standing up to the incredibly strong personalities of Talya Browning and Miss Americana had been tough enough to make a normal reporter sweat, and Joan herself was certainly feeling the strain. Like dealing with an angry Hachiman and the Supra-Models all rolled into one. Maybe I am getting too old for this business. Or too cranky. She sighed, staring up at the stars overhead. It's the kraken in me, she decided. You bait me, I'll try and pull you under. I should use that line again sometime.

Since he had no family to go home to, Murdock volunteered to help carry the huge trashbags out to the big dumpsters behind the restaurant. The smell disgusted many of the people there, but Murdock wasn't bothered: he himself had eaten worse than food left to decay for a few days, and he'd seen far, far worse in his time. When everyone else had gone home, he dallied in the break room to wash his hands, then began heading home. It was a long walk back to Lincoln, but truthfully it was as enjoyable as the bus to take his feet.

Joan folded her arms (well, some of them) imperiously as she stood in the door, which surely would have been a terrible inconvenience if anyone had wanted to use the ladies room at that moment. "I think you're broadcasting everything I need to know right now. As for the article, my mistake was understandable, or so the other party in the case told me. I spoke to the Scarab after the article was published. I told her my motivations, she explained the situation to me. We parted on good terms." And for what it was, that was certainly true enough. "The message of the article was valid. Superheroes need to be held to a higher standard. You can play the flirty femme fatale con-artist-cum-cat-burglar with a heart of gold all you want. But you shouldn't be surprised if the woman on the street just treats you like a con."

"The tunnel can be found by passing through the old cemetery at the heart of the Asylum, straight through the tomb of Jedidiah Providence himself! And below, a wondrous maze of honeycombs where once catacombs lay!" He banged on the table. "And you are right, Fleur, I shouldn't risk the lives of my bees against my own diabolical cunning. You can find them, liberate them, and then perhaps they and I will be reacquainted when I make my daring escape from this terrible confinement. Yes, that will be more than acceptable. The password, of course, is LIBERBEE!"

Barry was silent for a while, simply struggling to regain his composure, before steepling his hands in front of him and taking several deep breaths. "The bees you have not captured remain secure in a heated facility of my own design. They have plenty of food, enough to sustain them until I can escape from this incarceration." For a moment she thought it hadn't worked, that he was still the old Bee-Keeper, before he said, "They are beneath the very walls of Providence Asylum itself!"

Barry looked away, but Stesha could see the flash of pain in his eyes. "Most of them betrayed me at the end," he said, but it didn't sound like he really believed it. "Thanks to your stubborn blindness, and their own love of pollen, even if it warped their minds! They...they betrayed me and picked your team! Let your people find their queen, if you...if you love them so much!" He sniffed, and Stesha realized he was wiping tears out of his eyes.

20 Questions With Joan Collier Alone at night while Charlie and Lois slept, Joan clicked on the tape recorder, the old-fashioned reporter's Dictaphone a birthday present from her mother some years earlier. "This is Herald reporter Joan Collier, conducting an interview on November 4, 2010." 1. Who are you? "I don't know sometimes. The life I'm living now is not the life I thought I'd be living at twenty-five. Or at twenty, for that matter. I can't believe I'm thirty freaking years old; when did that happen?" 2. Do you have any regrets? "No. Yes. I don't know. Sometimes I feel terrible about the things I'm supposed to be proud of, and happy about the things that don't really matter. I guess if I regret any one thing, it's tripping." 3. What does that mean? "I tripped at Sydney. Not on the field, God knows, I'd have died if I'd done that, but I tripped and banged my knee so hard I thought I'd broken something that morning when I was in the shower. When I was out on the field that day, I _felt_ my knee stretch when I made my first throw. I could have beaten that damn Slovak with my eyes closed if I'd had two good legs for the second throw." 4. So is that why you stopped being an athlete? "Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is. I...I tell myself sometimes that it's because I had a kid, that I couldn't compete and take care of Lois and get my waist back. But that's not really it. I wouldn't have gone to Athens and won, not when I was already injured. I was world-class on a good day, but I wasn't a world-beater." 5. Why did you have a child? "Because I wanted a baby. When I knew Lois was coming, I was so happy, I...no, that's not really the question, is it? I mean it's true, but it's not really what you were asking. I had a baby because I got pregnant, and I got pregnant because I slept with Charlie. Charlie was really sweet and kind, and he helped me feel better after my little Sydney oops. Just in time for my little Portland oops....yeah, Lois is still asleep, thank God." 6. Is that why you married Charlie? "I'm not saying I would never have married Charlie...but yeah, that is the reason I married him. Maybe I'm old-fashioned about things, but if you can make a relationship work and you're going to have a baby, you need to be married. That's why we need to let gays marry too, so they can be parents for their kids. Anyway...yeah. I mean, I was only twenty! I wasn't going to run off and get married without a reason! And Lois was my reason. That's how I have a ten year old." 7. Do you love them? "Damn right I do. Charlie is a sweet, wonderful man who's always been there for me, and Lois is the best daughter I could ask for. She's smart, she works hard in school, and she's learning to cook just like her dad. She's a good girl, and she's going to be a great woman. And Charlie's a good man; he has been since we were both eighteen. He was the first man who didn't roll his eyes, even in his head, when I was talking to him about politics and women." 8. Do they love you? "...I don't know. Lois thinks I pressure her too much. And I do put a lot of pressure on her, but that's because I want her to be the best! She's got to get out on the track and lose that baby fat, and take some boxing lessons so she'll know how to deal with boys who can't handle girls without spitting on them! But she wants to be like her dad, and learn how to cook, and play her Playstation games, and...well, she's just a kid, she's got plenty of time to grow up. I just want to make sure she's prepared when it happens." 9. And Charlie? "Charlie loves me. He's stayed with me through some pretty awful times, some times when I was pretty awful. He wouldn't do that if he didn't love me. A lot of people go through life without ever having anything bad happen to them, so I think they never really have proof that the people they love care about them. Charlie and I went through fire together. And water." 10. Do you want to talk about that part? "No. But I suppose I'd better. I remember waking up in the hospital after the chemical leak and feeling so dry, so dessicated, and then my sides started itching...I thought I'd died, actually, and maybe gone to Hell. I remember screaming and screaming, and then not even being able to talk in air, before they just threw me in the freaking hospital pool while they waited for the super-doctors to arrive. But there was too much chlorine there, so they had to move me to the aquarium." 11. How far gone did you get? "You ever watch Squiddly Diddly? It was really big back in the late 1960s. A humanoid octopus with a huge, misshapen head, tentacles trailing down in place of limbs, big eyes staring at a world you can't even touch without pain, but all the while recognizing your family and loved ones? Not even able to talk to them because all you have is a goddamned beak? I hate goddamn Squiddly Diddly. Lousy Cartoon Network." 12. How did you feel when all that was going on? "I wanted to die. Before I talked to the super-scientists, I thought I was going to, and even after they'd stopped my brain from collapsing in on itself I was sure I was going to spend the rest of my life as the first humanoid octopus. And I didn't want to live like that. Not like a...a freak who couldn't really touch her family anymore. I didn't even let Lois see me at first. 13. And when you were cured? "I wasn't cured. Let's get one thing straight. What happened to me couldn't be reversed. I can't ever make the tentacles go away, and the gills only close when I'm in air. Maybe I got superpowers out of it, but that doesn't take away everything I lost. I can't run in the park in a tracksuit anymore. I can't lift weights at the gym anymore. I'll be like this for the rest of my life, and there's nothing anyone can do about it." 14. Are you always so pathetically sorry for yourself? "No, but it's been a rough week. And I've been drinking. And I don't always feel bad. I feel really, really good when I don't have to hide anything. When I'm in costume or under the water, that's a really good feeling. I can be free to move my body, all my body, even the ugly parts, and I don't have to be ashamed. Hell, if I do it where people can see, they usually applaud!" 15. So is that why you're a superhero? So people will love you? "It's part of the reason. I mean, if I just wanted applause, I'd be Joan Collier, Pulitzer Prize winner despite being a mutie freak. I wouldn't go out and do what I do, day after day, if I didn't genuinely want to help people and make the world a better place. But is it really so wrong to want people to admire me after seeing them scream in disgust at the sight of me? Don't four tentacles entitle me to grab a little karmic justice?" 16. Do you ever have any reservations about what you do? "Balancing two, no, three lives? Sometimes. I've missed work because I was in costume, and things with Charlie and Lois, just like I've missed out on superheroing because I was working or with my family, or any other combination you want. But I really do love my life. I wouldn't change much about it." 17. And what about your work? Is it really as moral as you say it is? "I try to be careful. I mean, how unethical would I be if I used stuff I learned as Fusion to write stories as Joan? About heroes, anyway; of course I'll do that about bad guys and evil corporations and such. I'd never, ever give away someone's secret ID, or anything else about them, unless lives were ont he line. I haven't always followed those rules, no, but is anyone ever perfectly consistent with their own code of ethics? I'm a human being...mostly, I'm not perfect. I've made mistakes." 18. Like the thing with Scarab and Bombshell? "That was...a mistake. I should have done more research, yeah. But people got that all wrong. It wasn't about Bombshell, though I swear I'm taking Lois' TV if she talks about dressing up like Talya Browning for Halloween next year. Again. It was about Scarab. Heroes need to be held to a higher standard, and that means no screwing around with trampy supervillains. But again, I made a mistake there: Browning's reforming, or acting like it, anyway. It didn't seem to do her any harm, though." 19. Do you worry that other heroes will be angry with you if they ever realize who Fusion is, and if they ever figure out who wrote the article? "Sometimes. People like the Scarab and Bombshell more than they like me already. Legacy heroes and pretty girls always are more popular than angry jocks with extra arms. It's the way of the world. But if I work hard enough, and if I keep my future coverage as honest and _fair_ as possible, I think the people who matter will take that into account if my ID ever does get exposed, God forbid. The people who won't take it into account don't matter." 20. Is there anything about yourself, besides being a hideous freak, that you'd change if you could? "...you know what? No. I am what I am, and I am who I am. If people can't handle that, if they can't handle _me_, then they're not worth my time. I earned the right to be the woman I am today; I earned it by pumping iron, running track, going to the Olympics, birthing a baby after ten freaking hours, getting my body warped by toxic chemicals, and by being the best damn journalist I know how to be. If you don't like that, get out of my way!" "Thank you for your time, Ms. Collier." Joan popped the cassette out of the Dictaphone, studied it for a long moment...then crushed it between her fingers. "We have to do this again sometime."

"I'm afraid I'll defer filthy encounters in back alleys to you, Ms. Browning," said Joan icily. "That is your area of expertise, as I recall." Joan finished her primping, which was really more of a formality given how she looked, and shook her head. Somehow she was reminded of her own high school days, except she doubted she'd be able to suckerpunch Talya Browning the way she had those mean girls back when she was a teenager. "I'll let you go on telling one of the world's premiere technologists about your inveterate urge to steal things," she added, "I have a party to get back to." She turned to leave at that, heading for the door with her back up.

Psychic PL: 10 (150) Abilities: 32 pp STR 14 (+2) DEX 18 (+4) CON 20 (+5) INT 12 (+1) WIS 18 (+4) CHA 10 (+0) Combat: 24 pp ATK: +6 (+10 Ranged/+11 Pistol) DEF: +12 (+3 flat-footed) Init: +8 Grapple: +8/+20 Saves: 12 pp TOU +8 (+5 Con, +3 Protection) FORT +7 (+5 Con, +2) REF +8 (+4 Ref, +4) WILL +10 (+4 Wis, +6) Skills: 19 pp=76 r Acrobatics 1 (+5) Bluff 10 (+10)* Concentration 1 (+5) Drive 1 (+5) Intimidate 10 (+10)* Investigate 9 (+10) Languages 4 (Arabic, Chinese, English, Russian) (Base: Belorussian) Medicine 1 (+5) Notice 11 (+15)* Pilot 1 (+5) Search 4 (+5) Sense Motive 11 (+15)* Stealth 11 (+15) Survival 1 (+5) Feats: 23 pp Attack Focus: Ranged (4) Benefit (Security Clearance) Dodge Focus (6) Equipment (2) Evasion Improved Initiative Luck Move-By Action Power Attack Quick Draw [Draw] Second Chance (Concentration checks) Skill Mastery (Bluff, Intimidate, Notice, Sense Motive) Ultimate Save (Will) Uncanny Dodge (Mental) Powers: 40 pp Psi-Array [32+4=36 pp] Telekinesis 10 (Extra: Damaging) [Heavy Load: 12 tons] (PFs: Precise, Subtle) AP: Drain Wisdom 10 (Extra: Range 2 [Perception]) (PFs: Slow Fade 1 [1 minute], Subtle) AP: ESP 4 (1 mile) (all senses) (Extras: No Conduit, Simultaneous) (PFs: Rapid 7 (10 million), Subtle) AP: Mind Control 10 (Extra: Conscious) (PFs: Mental Link, Subtle) AP: Mind Reading 10 (Extras: Action [Move/Standard], Area [burst]) (PFs: Selective, Subtle) Protection 3 [3 pp] Super-Senses 1 (Direction Sense) [1 pp] Equipment: 10 ep Heavy Pistol (Blast 4) (PFs: Masterwork (+1 to hit), Subtle [silencer]) [10 ep] costs abilities 32 + combat 24 + saves 12 + skills 19/76 + feats 23 + powers 40 = 150 pts -- Design Notes: Here’s a slightly tweaked take on the usual Psychic archetype. He’s not a wheelchair-bound supergenius, he’s not a flying goddess with a visored husband. There are plenty of psychics out there more powerful than he is, but none with the friends he does. This is a psychic agent of the government (whichever government you prefer), a trained combatant and agent whose mind is his most potent weapon. He's Nick Scryer, not Jean Grey. It’s up to you whether or not he was an agent whose powers manifested on the job, or whether he’s a psychic who was trained and recruited by the government for his powers. He’s probably one of the more powerful assets his agency or government possesses, given the average PL of agent games, and thus has good reason to stay undercover. He’s got great reason to have a Secret ID complication, particularly if his work as a superhero isn’t something he’s supposed to be doing! His Telekinesis is Damaging, so he can grapple and damage with it, or throw telekinetic punches, as well as the classic grabbing people and slamming them into solid objects: it’s also Precise, so he can type with it and pick locks. I’d be inclined to say that his Subtle means it’s only obvious to people with the ability to detect psychic powers. I figure his Drain Wisdom represents a direct telekinetic attack on the brain, inducing small, temporary strokes by cutting off blood flow to vital areas. It’s a scary power, and a fun surprise for enemy psychics who’ve scrimped on their Fort save. “No matter how powerful your mind is, your brain works like anyone else’s!” Make it a Will save if you want to make it a direct psychic attack, of course. Note that his Mind Reading’s Area extra only applies to surface thoughts: you can’t use Mind Probe on multiple simultaneous targets by UP. If your GM doesn’t let Selective apply to whose thoughts you read, swap it out for Rapid so you can read minds all the faster. Mind Control lets bad guys shoot each other, or confess on the witness stand. His ESP is deliberately low-rank to keep him from game-breaking, but if he concentrates he can make himself very sensitive to what's going on within a square mile of himself. As suggested above, this is potentially a dark character, with Unfortunate Implications out the wazoo. You can play it that way, but you can also play him as a perfectly respectable, if overworked government agent, using his powers to probe the minds of the worst supercriminals. Maybe being a superhero is an escape hatch for him, or maybe he’s been sent in to investigate the community of supers in the area. Have him go off the reservation and be a rogue ex-agent, or be the agent of an enemy power (defector or otherwise) for a real twist. Does he pose as an agent with no powers, a psychic with no agency training, or something else entirely? He might not like those psychic capes much, with their unregulated power over the community’s very soul, but it’s hard not to feel a little envy as he watches them fly overhead.

"That's the one," said Jack, pointing to the door for the first week of August 2009. "Taylor and I didn't expect to fall in love," he confessed. "I asked her out...because I was lonely, and because it seemed like she had no one she could really talk to." And because her costume showed off those god-given gams. "If something had interfered back then, we'd have just drifted apart the way I have with most of the rest of the Knights now that the team is dead. That's the one. That's the door. Everyone, watch yourselves." And with that, he threw the door open wide!

APPROVED

Joan grinned ruefully, looking down at the red A-line skirt that helped hide her tentacled body. "Let's just say there's a reason I dress down even when I dress up, and it's not because I like the cut. I don't really have the figure for anything more than this. You'd be amazed how much your body changes after you have a kid, even if you work out." And it was true, even if it wasn't actually the reason. She peered in the bathroom mirror, adjusting her short hair: barely reaching the nape of her neck, it didn't need much work. "I might have said hello to Viktor first, but I'm glad to see you, too," she added conversationally. "There aren't nearly enough women in the sciences, especially not omniglots like you. You're the kind of woman my daughter wants to be like." There was perhaps just a hair of envy in her voice at that, carefully concealed. She almost dropped her hairbrush at the sight of Talya Browning just walking into the ladies room. Bombshell. No Elena on her arm tonight; interesting, interesting. Recovering neatly, she got back to work. Talya Browning didn't know who Fusion was, she was fairly confident, but she would almost certainly recognize the reporter who'd outed her and Scarab's relationship. "Ms. Browning," she said conversationally, as you would any other acquaintance. She kept a careful eye on Talya in the mirror.

"Ooooh!" Mark applauded. "Oh man, you guys are adorable! Look at them! Aren't they adorable!?" He sounded very animated about the whole thing, rumless or not. "Young love is so sweet!" He put his hands to his cheek, then pointed. "And you too, Mike and Alex! So nice to see young people in love, doing loving things, and being happy together..." He wondered if either couple had done it yet, but was too polite to ask. I dunno. They all seem a little uptight about that kind of stuff. I hope we don't play Have You Ever, because I won't do so good!

Mark glanced at his own back in an automatic reflex, shrugging a little as he did so. I guess it looks good. I mean, it's just a back. It wasn't that he was particularly interested in looking good for Erin, much less Alex, for all that he'd had his hands on places visible in the bubbling water on the teen telepath, but when the subject came up, a man had to check himself out to make sure he was all right. "Very interesting! Trevor, I suggest you get another car...with a big trunk. Erin, I believe you're up."

"I'm washing my hands," said Joan with a little shrug, heading over to the sink and scrubbing up with soap. With her short hair and thick fingers, it didn't look like the other woman did more than the socially necessary personal grooming. "Fassbinder's a little oily when you get up close," she added. "You look great, by the way," she complimented, her voice perfectly sincere. "I don't have the figure to pull off anything with a sharper cut than this," she said with a gesture to her own outfit, "but you really look good. Is that a Michelangela?"

Avenger: Inside Out, Upside Down House Calls Edge: (Vignette) Kill A Man New Kid on Campus (And GMing) Brit Machine Quality of Mercy Heroes of Our Past Mind Games (And GMing) Midnight Confessions Fusion: Champagne Shenanigans Entangling Alliances Walked Alone Terror in the Bay Harrier: Science Side Handbasket GMing: Mind Games: Remix Preventative Measures

"All right..." Mark hmmed, unscrewing the rum cap with his teeth and taking a swig. "Gag! Agh, that's not good..." He set the banana rum aside, sloshing it a little. "The banana rum, I would not recommend it. Blech. I should have gotten the vodka and the ice cream out..." He studied Erin and pointed with a finger. "All right, Erin, tell me...what's the cutest part of a guy? It doesn't have to be part of Trevor," he added for his friend's benefit, "but if it is, go nuts! Cutest part of a guy."

At the punch table a couple of minutes later, Joan drank good old-fashioned punch with ice cream in it and considered her options. She was glad not to be the center of attention anymore, not having enjoyed the feeling of being alongside the host one bit. It wasn't that Felix Fassbinder was a bad man, she judged, just that she herself didn't like being the subject of so many eyes. After some consideration, she set aside her punch and headed for the ladies room, having caught sight of the famous Miss A heading there. Maybe this was a good time for a confab...especially after the new arrivals she'd caught sight of out the corner of her eye. Where had Viktor gone, anyway?

"I memorized every Freedom Leaguer when I was six," replied Edge proudly. "My dad was so proud, he made me show it off at parties! I used to know all the Liberty League members too, but there were so many heroes in the Golden Age with so many names in common that it's tough to tell them apart. You know there were _four_ Patriots, and two Patriettes?" Mark coughed. "The toys weren't just when I was a kid...I mean, I've still got them, but they're in my closet. I'm saving them for my kids someday!" he said amiably. "I really like kids, so I hope to have a whole bunch and teach them how awesome it is to be a superhero and have superpowers!" He hmmed, then said, "Okay, Erin! Truth or dare!" He gestured with the bottle in her direction.

Mark confirmed first that associate and reserve members counted, and they were going by codenames and not secret IDs, then began to talk. He was wobbly and gesturing with the bottle of banana rum in his hand, but he stayed on point as he began to talk. And talk, and talk! "Aarhus the Aardvark, aka Suomi Finnson, he joined in 1976 and retired in '83, Ab-bot, the Robot from Beyond the Moon..." He stood there, gesturing and gesticulating, only occasionally wandering off to tell exciting stories about the various members of what turned out to be a very long list. "And finally, Zzzzyralax, the Man from the Fourth Dimension, who joined back in 1961 and never came to a single meeting after the first one. Aah, cold!" He hurried back into the tub, sliding in, bottle of rum in hand. "Oh man, I let my whole body get cold..." He closed his eyes. "My favorite collectible is my dad's action figure," he confessed suddenly. "It's from the complete Bicentennial League set. It's the only run they ever made of a Rick Lucas figure where he wasn't part of someone else's playset. It's still in the original packaging and everything. With a kung-fu grip!"

10 Welp.

Mark applauded enthusiastically. "Woo! Go, Mike!" He looked quite pleased with himself, and raised his hand for Alex. "Slap me five! Down low! Yeah, we should totally open our own superhero design studio. Or, hmm..." He rubbed his chin. "Even better, we start out by redecorating everyone else's costumes! It'll be...not so much? Okay." He suddenly pulled himself out of the water, revealing that indeed he was wearing the bright red Speedo, or one just like it, that he usually favored in the water. "I need more drinky drinky," he said a little awkwardly. "And Alex, I also take truthy dare! I'm never too good to copy my friends when they're being cool!"

"As you recall, my flower of the night, I never expected to go to prison. I _expected_ to rule on high as King Bee of the city!" He shot a glance in the direction of the door on his side of the room, then coughed. "And you should see the way they look at me in here," he said proudly. "The men who fight the Freedom League to a standstill, they get respect in the penitentiary. Not to mention the famous Dark Star," he added just a little bitterly. "In any event, I had no plans save to achieve my masterstroke! World domination, with my queen at my side. That can still happen, you know," he added smoothly.

"I have been taking acting lessons," he told her distinctly, his deep voice a low rumble. "The drama coach here says I am a natural actor. We will be putting on a Christmas Carol for the holiday season, and I have the distinct honor of playing Mr. Bob Crachit." He smiled. "You should come to our showing, Fleur de Joie. The Blackstone Players are well-known as the finest in the land, and no one could appreciate me the way you can, my arboreal angel."

Eventually, Stesha pulled herself away from the pastoralism of her world and headed back to the urban greyness of Freedom City. Well, sort of grey: fall was here, and that meant leaves and trees in a million different colors. There were precious few trees on Blackstone Island, however; the maximum-security prison being very mindful of plant controllers seeking to break in, or out. There were only a few arboreal-manipulating bad guys, but the prison had been around for a long time, and had a very good record. The Bee-Keeper had gotten himself sent to Blackstone after his most recent caper rather than just going back to Providence: bee-ifying the Freedom League and attacking the entire city with giant bee swarms and bee monsters will do that for a guy's reputation. Even after what had happened last time with Red Bolt, Fleur de Joie was heroine enough to get a meeting room (through glass) with a supervillain easy as pie. When he entered, B. Barry Bonds looked a little battered, but otherwise unruffled by his prison orange. Instead he winked through the glass as he sat down, ignoring the guards as much as possible, and opted to let Stesha do the talking as they got their privacy.