Avenger Assembled

"Being a government-sponsored superhero is different than working for the Freedom League," said Mark with a little shrug. "There's a lot more bureaucracy, a lot more constraints on what you can and can't do, and UNISON's no different. I think they were glad to hear I wanted to work for their humanitarian wing. Apparently most of their super-applicants want to be part of UNIQUE, the UNISON team, going in and doing all the high-profile super-missions. Those are cool and all, and I'll be on the reserve list for them too, but I liked the idea of working alone. You go in with a regular support team, maybe a half-dozen people, and when you're done a whole set of villages has had things cleaned up and made better. I guess I liked that idea, you know, just...building a better world for real, without having to be reactive like a regular superhero."

Look OK, I think. APPROVED

"I can't promise that," agreed Mark, catching her implication very quickly. "But I can promise that you're my friend, and I want to help if you need it. Whatever happens," he added seriously. "You've been there for me when things were at their worst, right? That's what friends are for, even to the end." He hesitated a moment, not sure how far to press this, then added, "Hey, did I tell you I got a letter back from UNISON? They say they want to talk to me after I graduate, now that I'm 18. They sent me some more information about hiring and deployment so I can get the paperwork started now."

Mark nodded at that, as always not sure what to say when faced with a seemingly hopeless situation. What could he say, when things really were that bad and there wasn't much he could do to make them better? "That was such an awful place." He rubbed his eyes, and added, "I'm really glad they sent the other Daisy up to New York for her therapy. It's probably best she wasn't in town, and won't be again in the near future." He sighed softly, glancing around Erin's half of the room for a moment. "I do know the doorway wasn't closed, Talos just took apart that teleporter afterwards." He gave Erin a serious look as he said, "If you ever go back to help...I'll help too, however I can."

Looks like a fun character. Math appears to be off on Feats, and their formatting needs cleaned up.

"I'm glad you like them," said Mark, smiling faintly. "I tried to get shoes exactly like you had them before. I just..." He looked away for a moment, then looked at her. "It seems stupid now after all the awful things that happened lately, but...I'm sorry about what happened on Anti-Earth. I thought I was doing the right thing, but you had a right to be angry. I know I don't always do the right thing, or the smart thing, but..." He reached up and tugged at the back of his head. "I'm sorry. You can trust me to do the right thing next time."

"She's in therapy," Mark confessed suddenly. "She, uh, decided it was best after what happened over Halloween. I sort of helped push her that way. It's not on campus, of course, she goes to a guy Dr. Marquez recommended for her." He coughed. "She's working, though, she's up and drawing in her studio most nights, and she insists on making breakfast every morning. Did I tell you about the body in our backyard?" That got him a look and he added, "Well, uh, apparently a zombie had gotten into our backyard about twenty minutes before we teleported in. So she chopped him to death with an ax and buried the pieces in our yard. I...I think that's why she was a little messed up when we talked to her, and why she finally agreed to talk to people." He blinked, then said, "Sorry, that was a little too much information."

"We did it together. Which mostly consisted of me going and getting the thread, but hey." He shrugged a little. "I wanted to make something for you without actually, you know, making it. That seemed like cheating." He saw the kitty licking himself and waved, getting a distinct lack of response from the cat. "Hey, Oliver. Yeah, I've been meaning to pick up more crafting stuff while I have the chance. It's a good feeling to do things like that for people. My mom says that if you go the week after Thanksgiving, they've got a good sale at June Taylor, so you can buy more stuff, if you want." He knew clothes were a problem for Erin, just like she didn't like that being pointed out.

Shooting another glance around to make sure he wasn't going to be spotted, Mark stepped in and said, "Hey, Erin, I, uh, got you something." He handed her a big box marked June Taylor, the nice chain of women's clothing stores his mom had steered him too. "Well, a couple of things. I realized I owed you new shoes, too, along with the pajamas." The shoes, white women's sneakers, were in a box underneath the box of clothes, which turned out to be a pair of dark purple pajamas with a big E stitched over the chest. "Did I get the sizes right? I had to guess some, and sort of peek at your shoes when we were in the Doom Room last." He shrugged a little. "There's a receipt and a card in the box if you want to buy more stuff."

Kill A Man, Jairo!

November 2010 It was early November when all the members of Young Freedom, well, all the ones on campus regularly, were summoned to the headmaster's office. Though some arrived fearlessly and others with trepediation, all of them were met with Duncan Summers and a man who was a familiar face for all of them but especially familiar to those who had helped save his life. King M'Balla, the White Lion, had recovered entirely from his trip to the Lost World, and looked a charismatic, chiseled figure in a neatly-pressed suit. His voice was low and dignified as he greeted all the teens by name, his handshake firm without being bone-crushing. He had a very faint accent, but his English was otherwise perfect. "It is a pleasure to see all of you again, and some of you for the first time." He smiled, nodding to Midnight among others. "I am an old hand with super-teams. I know how quickly you come and go. I have come to America for two reasons. One to thank you again for coming to my defense earlier, and the second to invite you to Dakana as my guests." "Mmm." Summers folded his hands, looking up at the students as they found their seats. "The White Lion and I have arranged for the members of Young Freedom to spend the week before Thanksgiving in Dakana as guests of the King. This will be a working vacation," he added with a firm look at everyone, "one in which I will expect all of you to return with a report on your observations of the kingdom, but...it will be a vacation nonetheless, as you will be excused from all but ongoing assignments for that week. Are there any questions?" Mark raised his hand and M'Balla's eyebrows furrowed briefly before he said, "Yes, Mr. Lucas?" "Are we going to see Lion, the great and powerful spirit of the people, who empowers the line of kings as his champion? Or travel to Ayesha the Immortal's realm and battle the great enemy of the Lion clan, the immortal Egyptian princess who ever seeks a worthy man as match for her great and deathless realm as co-ruler?" "....no," said the king gently, wincing ever so slightly. "I prefer to fight my own battles, rather than send the sons of my old friends and their friends to fight my enemies for me. We will climb the slopes of Kilimanjaro, dig for daka crystals with our own hands, and see the world outside of Freedom for a little while. I can promise you all adventure, but danger will, inshallah, pass us all by this time."

Mark and Erin make up.

Early November, 2010 Though Mark was fairly sure none of his friends had 'sold him out' as such, he found himself asked a lot of pointed questions after his return from Anti-Earth with the other Young Freedom kids. When had he learned to heal people's injuries? Why had he used that ability there, and not elsewhere? Evidently his answers weren't good enough. He'd talked about a hero's duty to protect life, even the life of the guilty, but that hadn't seemed to satisfy Dr. Marquez in debriefings that he slowly, slowly started to realize were just extensions of his ongoing therapy. Had it been arrogant to save a version of himself when so many other people needed saving, people who deserved it a lot more than that other, evil Mark had? Had it really been just an extension of his own self-crisis that he'd sought out the good in any version of himself just so he could believe the values he'd been raised with were true after all? He hadn't thought so at first, but the unceremonious shutdown he'd gotten from his friends, especially Erin, when he brought the subject up made him wonder. He'd learned only too intimately recently that he could be a flawed, fallible person, and the idea that he'd made a mistake on Anti-Earth still rankled. Saving life was the right choice, he still believed that, but maybe he'd put himself in a position where even the right choice was the wrong one. It was a complicated moral dilemma, just the sort of thing he hated to have to try and wrap his mind around. Even as the visit to Anti-Earth joined his father's disappearance on the list of annoying things he had to talk to Dr. Marquez about, even after reassuring the Doctor that everything was fine, Mark decided where his priorities had to lie. Wherever his own motivations were, whatever problems he had, he had to get back together with his friends post-haste. Having friends was what was really important. And since Erin was one of his oldest friends at Claremont, that meant getting back together with her first. Thinking about what she'd lost and what he could do for her, Mark talked to his mom about good places to shop in town, made a few off-campus visits, and then finally with a couple of boxes under one arm headed for Erin and Alex's room one Friday night. Alex would probably be out with Mike, which meant Erin would probably be there alone.

Swarm Abilities: 20 pp STR 12 (+1) DEX 16 (+3) CON 16 (+3) INT 12 (+1) WIS 14 (+2) CHA 10 (+0) Combat: 32 pp ATK: +8 (+10 Corrosion/Healing) DEF: +10 (+4 flat-footed) Init: +8 Saves: 10 pp TOU +10 (+3 Con, +7 Protection) FORT +6 (+3 Con, +3) REF +6 (+3 Ref, +3) WILL +6 (+2 Wis, +4) Skills: 14 pp=56 r Computers 8 (+9) Disable Device 8 (+9) Knowledge [Pop Culture] 8 (+9) Knowledge [streetwise] 8 (+9) Knowledge [Technology] 8 (+9) Notice 8 (+10) Sense Motive 8 (+10) Feats: 9 pp All-Out Attack, Attack Specialization: Corrosion, Dodge Focus 2, Evasion, Improved Initiative, Power Attack, Takedown Attack, Uncanny Dodge (auditory) Powers: 64 pp Nanite Array [31+2=33 pp] Corrosion 10 (PF: Reversible) {31} AP: Healing 10 (Extra: Total) (PF: Accurate) {31} AP: Strike 10 (Extras: Area [shapeable], Selective) (PF: Reversible) {31} Flight 1 (10 MPH) [2 pp] Immunity 9 (Life Support) [9 pp] Insubstantial 2 (nanite swarm) [10 pp] Protection 7 [7 pp] Super-Senses 3 (Microscopic Vision 2 [cell-sized], Radius Sight) [3 pp] costs abilities 20 + combat 32 + saves 10 + skills 14/56 + feats 9 + powers 64 = 150 pts ------ Design Notes: This is my take on a nanite-controlling (or controlled?) character. Note that characters with Insubstantial 2 do not need Affects Corporeal on their powers (despite one typo in UP to the contrary), especially when they're not Strength-based. His body is made up of uncountable trillions of tiny robots, thus giving him an array of remarkable abilities. He can send out his little robots to take apart solid objects singly, or spit out huge swarms to chew through whole areas. Luckily, he can also put them back together! With his Insubstantial 2, he's very dangerous versus even vaguely mundane opponents. I gave him some of the other abilities a nanite swarm should have: i.e.; with Radius Sight he can see in 360 degrees, since the robots are looking everywhere, and down to cell-sized because that's how big they are! The assumption here is that he's still basically human at the core of everything. Adjust immunities (immunity to crits? Fort?) to taste, though you may have to buy some of those things with earned PP. Maybe as his transformation progresses, if you want something good to fluff it with. He's got a big array and a broad descriptor, you can easily power-stunt things like Anatomic Separation or ESP to represent sending robots in as spies, or outright Datalink/Mind Control with a Fort save if he's sending them inside people to do terrible things. Damage with a Fort save would also be pretty nasty. An obvious thing to buy would be Regeneration if the robots can repair him without the necessity of conscious effort on his part. Adjust skills as necessary: my default assumption is that he doesn't get out much and spends a lot of time on computer. A poorly socialized kid raised with powers he doesn't understand? He could be a scientist, though not a great one: adjust his INT as necessary if you want to make him a brainiac with a computer for a brain. He could also be a total stranger to science who was a victim of a terrible accident, or the victim of a mad scientist's evil scheme! Either way, he's a powerful character, and a natural for Complications about losing touch with his humanity. Look at you, hacker! Who are you to lay hands on a perfect machine? Etc.

I assume I get the HP back, since it was no good to begin with? Wasn't this monster PL 10 earlier, rather than PL 15?

"Nah, we don't need to drive. Listen, Corbin, we keep the school's nature to ourselves when we're not on campus," said Mark seriously, "but when you're on campus, you don't need to worry. This isn't one of those weird mutant-only schools or one of those freaky government places. Around here, superpowers-" And with that there was a flash of black light, and suddenly both young men were standing in an alley that smelled distinctly of Chinese food, "-are your friend. Here, let's go."

Suddenly, in a flash of theatrical lightning and with a boom of melodramatic thunder, a gigantic red figure appeared, his shiny gold turban taller than any building in Rouen. In his hand stood a confident-looking young man in a plaid college jacket and with a bright red bow tie, a cigarette holder clenched firmly in his teeth. "Hah-hah, Nazis!" called the young man from far up. "You thought you'd seen the last of Jimmy Lucas and his Genie! But you hadn't! Yike!" A blast of machine gun fire whizzed past Jimmy's head from a surviving nest far below. "We better do something about that, master," said the big genie with a low, paternal rumble of laughter in his voice. "You said a mouthful, genie!" exclaimed Jimmy Lucas. "Let's go give those Nazis an all-American how-do-you-do!" As man and genie went into action, far below, Mark Lucas stared up at the long-dead hero he never thought he'd meet. "Grandpa?" he murmured to himself, almost too quiet to be audible, as the genie grappled the robot with the air of an indulgent father playing with his children's toys.

Confronted with a steampunk version of the Beatles, Mark said the only thing he could say. "Gentlemen! Quickly, the GAME is AFOOT! I shall require your services as background music." With another generous bribe in gold, he had the bandmembers marching along as accompaniment, and soon they were all piling into the good-sized cab he'd held in reserve, with an extra bribe for Cabbsy to keep him sweet. With Richard clinging manfully to the outside seat while the others piled in, Mark ordered the cabby to take them back where they'd started. Mark pulled out his pipe and blew a large, colorful soap bubble, rolling with the moment. "Gentlemen! Are you familiar with a tune called 'I Want To Hold Your Hand'?"

Fusion frowned behind her mask, wondering if she's been too abrupt with Gossamer. No, she decided after a few moments. Gah, look at that hair! Joan shook it off after a moment, reminding herself that plenty of people thought she looked like a freak too. Concentrating on the task at hand, she said out loud, "I'm no scientist," she said breezily as they approached the big old house, "but I think if we just keep our eyes open and stay patient, we'll figure out what's going on." She hmmed for a moment, casually swinging from the elaborate woodwork as they reached the broken-down porch. "If I'm providing the muscle here, I should go in first. If you hear any girlish shrieks, come in fast so you can save the ghosts." And with that, she headed right inside, sliding right underneath the closed door and into the building!

I'm not a fan of the backstory of this character, particularly given that we've just had one nearly identical character removed from play in the Claremont setting because he was unable to fit in. The Kewl Rebel Rocker Dood is not something I'm interested in dealing with as a Ref or as a player. (i.e., we don't need Ferris Bueller with superpowers and a Mohawk). You should make this guy more of a team player.

Mark did as promised, giving the cabby what he was confident was a generous tip in pure gold, before he headed out to gather up the snow. "Leave the meter running!" he called, heedless of money in this place where he could pay his bills with the snap of a finger. "I'll just be a few minutes!" And with that he set to work gathering up snow, mindful of its falling patterns as he wended his way through the observatory grounds. To passersby, he offered the simple explanation "It's for a scientific experiment upon which the fate of the entire world might stand!"

Murdock immediately replied with a Freedom City telephone number. "The radio function in my armor is only functional while it is activated, so the cellular telephone is the easiest way to reach me. I pay for the minutes as I go," he added. "And Miss Americana, I thank you for the opportunity to be helped. In the wake of our first meeting, it is good to be reminded that there are those who do genuinely care for others, especially here, and that their caring is rewarded with cooperation. I have made comrades today." It sounded like a high compliment.

When the scans were done and Murdock was back to normal, he sat up and adjusted his clothing. "It is not easy work. This society ensures that only the lowest do it. But even they live so well..." He smiled, his teeth perfectly flat and straight, and got up off the table. "My cybernetic implants are functioning within their normal parameters as of their most recent repair. If you think you can remove the microimplants that once connected me to the Voice of Omega, that would be something I would like. The Furions confirmed that the individual units are completely destroyed and non-functional, but they remain lodged in my spinal column and brain. The thought of being attacked by nano-technology is unpleasant."

He's a monster, thought Mark as his double's bloody, immobile body went drifting past him in the dark. He's a rapist, and a slaver, and probably a killer, but... He remembered his father's lessons, and the lessons of the Centurion, well enough. Any man's death diminishes me. Especially my own. He thought about that grim hell they'd all just escaped, that so many of them were just going back to. Trevor's smart, he's really smart. Now that the other Trevor's gotten rid of me, there's nothing stopping him from taking over that other place and organizing it to be even worse than it already is. Unless I... He studied his body again, and as they passed in the darkness, he fired a blast of pure reality-warping energy at himself, knitting the wounds, empowering the nerves again, and making the other Mark's eyes snap open as he took in a long, deep breath. Hex stared at Edge, his eyes wide, taking in his surroundings with surprising alacrity, before he croaked, "...why?" "Because you wouldn't," replied Edge simply. "And because you deserve to live with what you'll find when you get back." And if you're riding that other Trevor's butt, looking to take him out before he backstabs you again, maybe he'll keep his hands off Erin. He could only imagine what the white-faced version of Trevor had in mind for the poor, battered version of Erin, but it couldn't be anything good. Good people in this world were bad on Anti-Earth, and the Trevor he knew was a good man. That was how Anti-Earth worked. "Enjoy life on the other side!" he called as the pairs slid past each other, and as the portal slammed shut, depositing hero and villain alike in their respective dimensions. On Earth-Prime, Mark was distinctly sure he could hear screaming from Anti-Earth as the gateway slammed shut. He couldn't tell who it was, and really...he didn't want to know.

"I like it," replied the Omegadrone, faceplate folding back under his skin at his words. "The customers can be very loud, and usually the tip is small, but the work is easy and there are many people there. No one...no one talks to me unless I want to talk to them, and usually those are only those who work with me. I am learning some of their languages, and some of their cultures." He smiled as the armor folded away. "Sometimes the customers will be angry and swear, and their fat children will scream. It is beautiful." Conscious of their eyes on him as his body slowly returned to normal, he added, "To see them free to be spoiled and fat, it is...I can feel only joy when I see children like that."