Avenger Assembled

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."

He seems a grand fella! The powers, and the look, make a terrible sense. APPROVED

"I am all that is left of those places. If I don't remember them, no one will." He lifted his pike for Miss A's inspection, snapping it open as the blade gleamed wickedly. It soon became obvious that this was much more powerful than the power pikes she'd seen in her high-level sciences courses: this was a weapon powerful enough to fight superhumans on even terms. And its power source seemed...to be absent, and yet it still glowed and hissed. "There are survivors of lost worlds in the Terminus," he added. "It's how beings besides Omega came to live there. But not every world has those who live."

"Yes. There can be no redemption. No atonement. It is too much." He thought of billions dead on thousands of worlds, hundreds and thousands dead and worse at his hand. Bloodscreamsbloodscreamsbloodscreamsandthesmellofash...The armor closed over his legs, first one, then another, then gradually over his torso. "But if I can live so that one innocent may live, my life can have a purpose that I choose for myself. And I choose to be free." The armor finished opening, and there was a faceless, souless Omegadrone on Miss A's table. "My heritage is entirely human. My parents' homeworld destroyed all those of alien ancestry, before they were themselves destroyed."

"The work is done," called Talos, calling all the teen heroes together onto the platform suddenly. He made them stand on the big flat gear of the great machine, each one on a tooth, with one even for Daisy by herself, while he prepared to throw the great lever. "Begone from this place, with my blessing!" he called as he threw the switch. "And remember, you are not guilty of the crimes you have seen here!" he called as the portal opened above their heads and began pulling them all in, the familiar, friendly shape of Claremont visible before them. "Live for justice, not for revenge!" And the portal reached out, and began to tug at them, but it soon became obvious that they weren't alone in the wormhole...

Hex put on a convincing show of sprattling and dying, even voiding himself and twitching as he hit the floor. But though the Blank had taken quite a few more lives with his bare hands (and blades, and bullets when he was practicing at range) than Hex had, the truth was Hex had _seen_ more people die. He liked to watch, and he made a good show of it as he hit the floor. It didn't take him long to figure out the Blank's game: the perverted lust the faceless assassin had so barely concealed around Singularity had evidently come boiling out at just the wrong moment for everyone. He ignored Thrash and the Prince in Yellow; if they were smart, they'd follow the top dog, and if they weren't smart, they didn't belong on his team. The trick was making sure you wound up the top dog. He knew he was dead if he got another good hit. But even now, he couldn't bring himself to fear that. Dying is for people without a card. Dying...I like that! "Hey, Blanket! Your weapon's too short for full penetration! Sound familiar? Ahahahaha!" And then suddenly black and whirling dots were lashing out right through the whiteout effect, enfolding Trevor and Erin, and...then vanishing up to the ceiling without actually doing anything. ...ah, nuts. Welp, been a good run. Guess Dad was right about seeing me in Hell! Someone was advancing on him in the white, and advancing fast, so he spoke quickly to get his last insult out. "Hah-hah, coitus interruptus! What can I say, your girlfriend really brings it out in-" And then all was still, and he's never even seen who'd done it. And then there was the sound like the great and terrible ticking of a clock, and the white, and all their other powers faded as suddenly Hex's no-longer bleeding body , Singularity, the Blank, the Prince in Yellow, and Thrash were sucked upwards into the whirling black portal of a temporal vortex, the energies inexorably drawing them all through the gateway, the familiar shape of the Syndicate's Academy beckoning above their heads! But they were passing someone else along the way...

For a second, Lance thought he wasn't going to get any response at all from the taciturn Omegadrone. But then Murdock spoke, his voice slow and distinct, as he replied, "I recall everything that I perceived during my time as an Omegadrone. It is the years before that fade, since they were unnecessary for the continued function of my neurological modifications." And with those words, his helmet erupted from his head, facial skin sliding away to reveal bone and tissue that just as suddenly gave way to a flat, featureless expanse of a face. "I can never forget." His voice was flat and affectless through the synthesizer of his armor, but even then the two could hear the emotion pulling at the edges of the mechanized voice.

"I estimate I was assimilated seventy-five years ago by your calendar." At the Omegadrone's words, the armor began slowly sliding out through and over his arms, clearly passing through the lines in his flesh without cutting, a terrible, beautiful origami snowflake of steel and death inside a too-fragile human flesh. "This is a guess. The Terminus uses no calendar but Omega's will. My parents were old enough to remember the date before their world was lost. I have extrapolated what I could since." Both his arms were now covered, the quiet of the lab making the slightly wet clunk-clunk-clunk of his armor unfolding all the louder, inside the fractally-folded metal in his bones opening like a flower as it slid through his skin and out. "I am probably a century old. Without access to the repair systems used for drones, I will likely age and die as a normal man."

"Ah, yeah, Eddie's a former student, but he's not with us anymore." Mark's mouth worked for a moment, but it looked like it was a sore subject. "Let's just say that if you screw up badly enough, you can get expelled from here the same as anywhere else. But let's talk about something else." Like a switch had been flipped, Mark brightened. "Hey, you like Chinese? We can get out of here, grab some Chinese, and I'll tell you about the school. Yeah, let's go get Chinese!" Mark, it was already clear, had a very strong personality.

"Uh, no sir," said Mark, shooting a look at Travis Hunter. "She takes Valium before bed," he confessed quietly to the old man, "sometimes...sometimes a lot, but the pharmacy was closed yesterday and I don't think she was able to make it there before we got here..." Martha was sitting quite contentedly by herself, having politely thanked Travis for the offer of tea, but she reached up to give Mark a big hug. "I love you, Mom," Mark murmured to his mother. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop this before it started, or keep you safe at home." "It's all right, dear," said Martha seriously, looking up at her tall son. "Mark, I know that your work is very important to you, and to the world. You and your friends will save the day, and you'll save the city. Just like you'll save Mr. Hunter and I. Don't blame yourself for any of this." She took her son's hand and focused on him as if by sheer force of will. "You go with your friends," she said. "I'm in good hands here." "Okay, Mom," said Mark, bending down to kiss his mother's cheek. "I love you." Passing Travis, he murmured softly, "Thank you for watching my mother, sir. You're still a hero to me." He went over and joined his friends, pulling his mask down over his face. "Okay, people," he said, flexing his fingers. "Our city's in peril. People are suffering. Let's go save the day."

Editing Mark/Edge 13 pp to spend 1 more rank of Luck [1 pp] One more rank of Luck Control, for a total of 4 [3 pp] You can spend one of your hero points to negate someone else’s use of a hero point or a use of Gamemaster fiat (see Gamemaster Fiat, M&M, page 124). This also eliminates the setback of the fiat, so no hero points are awarded for it. 6 pp added to Reality Warping Array, producing the following changes [6 pp] BP: Probability Control 10 (Extras: Fortune, Area/Burst [50 foot radius]; Selective Attack, Flaws: Limited [Fortune only]) (PFs: Precise, Subtle [requires magic senses]) (62 pp) AP: Blast 14 (Extras: Area/Burst [70 foot radius]; Selective Attack, Flaw: Touch Range, PFs: Indirect 3, Progression 5 [500 foot cubes, 35000 square feet]) [unlikely accidents] and Immunity 1 (own powers) [50 pp] AP: Blast 14 (Extras: Autofire (2) [reduced interval]) (PFs: Improved Crit 2, Incurable, Power Attack, Precise, Reversible) (62 pp) AP: Create Object 14 (Extras: Duration-[Continous], Moveable) (PFs: Innate, Precise, Progression 2 [14 25 foot cubes], Selective, Subtle) (62 pp) AP: Move Object 14 (Heavy Load: 200 tons) (Extras: Damaging, Perception Range) (PFs: Indirectx3, Subtle) (60 pp) AP: Transform 10 (inanimate to inanimate) (1000 lbs) (Extras: Affects Objects, Duration-[Continous]) (Flaws: Limited [Objects]) (PFs: Innate, Reversible) (62 pp) Add one AP to Mark's reality warping array [1 pp] AP: Teleport 18 (anywhere in the Galaxy) (Extra: Accurate) (PFs: Easy, Change Direction, Change Velocity, Progression 4 (2500 lbs), Turnabout) [62 pp] Teleporting seems a natural power for a reality warper, eh? With the descriptors: magic and Luckily, He Was Actually OK, respectively Immunity 1 (aging) [1 pp] Regeneration 1 (Resurrection 1/week [True]) [1 pp] Replace Mark's existing complications with: Allies (Heroes of World War II and the Silver Age) Enemy (Nazis) Friend (Midnight II, old chum) Reputation (Defend the family honor) Responsibility (Young Freedom, Martha Lucas) Rivalry (Rick Lucas) Turf (Claremont Academy, Lucas family house) Secret (The Lucas family has shaken many horrors from its closet) Secret (The Terminus is coming) And I think that's all. Doktor'd

...and what action (and trigger) would that be, Lone-Star?

"I have a knife," said Martha suddenly. "Do you need a knife, Erin?" she asked. Reaching into her ample sleeve, she pulled out a shockingly sharp, wicked blade (at least by the standards of what you expected to find up Martha Lucas' sleeve) and showed it to her. Mark stared at his mother, shock overriding the confidence he'd felt after blasting the zombies. "Mom...why do you have a knife?" Mark hadn't mentioned his constant worries about his mother's sanity to his friends much, but it was certainly on display now. No, no, surely she had perfectly innocent reasons for carrying that big monster around. "Well you know, dear, your father's gardening shears give me such a pain in my wrists, and I can't very well go cutting off daisy heads and go back and work at my easel," she said with a little shrug. "This might not help you much, though, it's not long enough to penetrate well." "I...I think it's probably best if we keep that here," said Mark, swallowing hard. "I mean, Erin's really strong, you don't want to risk her breaking the knife. Why don't I just make her something she can carry if Trevor doesn't have anything handy?" He was sure Trevor did from the look on his face, but he wanted to distract himself as much as his mom right now. Maybe Mr. Hunter will be able to get her to make some soup or something...or maybe have a nap... "Oh, very well, make her something," said Martha, "but make sure it's a shovel, a weaponized one, like that one your father brought home from Shamballa Vale." She caught her son's look and said, "A heavy blade to destroy the brain, but with one end sharpened for cutting and hacking. It's what you need in these situations." As a slightly shell-shocked Mark did just that, producing a Shaolin shovel for Erin, Martha confided to Trevor and Erin, "I've been very concerned about intruders in our neighborhood, so I've been doing research."

"You will _not_ appear together," rumbled Talos immediately. "That would cause them to appear in my fortress, and even with their usual in-fighting..." he gave a noise that was almost a laugh at the self-inflicted carnage on the screen. "I would prefer another solution." On a filthy map of the city glued to the wall, Talos indicated "They will appear in the Syndicate base, just as you will appear in the place that you left." He rose to his feet, his metallic face falling in a frown, and joined Trevor and the others at their work. "The work is nearly finished." Across the room, Mark winced as his double got what he was coming to him. He felt good at seeing a monster defeated, but seeing his own face twisted with mortal agony brought back so many memories...he rubbed his chest sympathetically, remembering his own 'death' and resurrection. He wondered if that other Mark had a father who cared about him. Remembering that face from the night before, somehow he doubted it. Well, I guess we know who won. The good team is about to go home, and the evil team is killing each other off. Next to him, Daisy had no such reservations: she was screaming in triumph as the other Mark collapsed, and shouting suggestions to the Blank about where he might use that knife again and what trophies he should take for her. Mark decided to busy himself with helping finish the machine, and leave her to the victory she'd seen.

Drained! Injured x2, Stunned He's now at an unhealthy +2 Toughness vs. lethal. He's dead all right. And Hex is out of HP. We'll argue later if he gets to have Complications. OK, I believe Thrash is up after the Blank finishes his actions.

Hex spends an HP to make her roll: he fails (3) Hex spends an HP on Ultimate Toughness (2) He is injured, stunned, and staggered. I'll say his attack still goes off, since he had a readied action. Hex spends an HP to reroll his terrible attack. (1) OK, that's a DC 33 Tou save for Wander.

Hex readies an action: To use Blast 13 (Extra: Autofire (2) ) vs Singularity when she appears.