Avenger Assembled

"It'd be a moot point, since Charlie had a vasectomy about ten years ago," said Joan, smiling thinly. "We both decided that too large a family would stand in the way of our careers. And even if that hadn't happened...well, I love my girl more than life, Doctor, but I'm balancing two careers and a busy family already." She made a little gesture with her hands and arms, obviously a practiced joke but one she told well. "Even I can only hold up so much. I've always said I had the perfect kid anyway, so why make more?" The truth of the matter was considerably darker than that, on multiple occasions. Joan hadn't wanted kids at all: she'd gotten pregnant with Lois when she wasn't even twenty-one. Her then-boyfriend Charlie had been trying to cheer her up after washing out at the 2000 Olympics. She'd seriously considered an abortion before she decided she wasn't going to just throw away this opportunity, even if meant giving things up. Like Athens. Or Beijing. And after that, well...she'd dreamed of egg sacs in her belly after her transformation, of Lois with tentacles and a beak, looking up at her with an animal's eyes. And Charlie had said the same, commenting more than once how _nice_ it was that he'd gotten fixed, that it meant they didn't have anything to _worry_ about... "With our lives so busy, the thought just hasn't crossed our minds."

Simultaneously with the moment Young Freedom met Talos... Earth-Prime Detention It all happened shockingly fast. One minute they were all in their cells in this bizarre , soft little freakshow of a world, cooling their heels or raging over their imprisonment, bound by unbreakable snare, nullifying fields, or simply encapsulated in unfamiliar bodies that didn't do exactly what they wanted. A moment later, with a crack of light and noise, the electronic doors on every cell shorted out, and automatically rolled up. Outside the doors, in the corridor that connected them all, stood their fierce, fearless leader of the Young Imperial, a cocky smile on his goateed face, the unconscious body of a young woman face down at his feet, blood leaking from her covered nose and mouth. "GENTLEMEN!" Hex gave a terrible, evil laugh. "It seems that I have...gotten lucky with this one. Bwahahahaha! Come, let us make our escape and return to the land of civilization. Once, that is, we retrieve our other friend. The one who the poor, poor little Lor girl here was keeping sedated."

"I am Talos. Long I have fought a war of machine against flesh against my maker and master Daedalus, and long has he forced me underground. As for the rest...you mean...you don't know?" Talos sounded uneasy at that. "I had assumed you were prisoners of the Syndicate who had escaped, clones or doubles from a parallel reality. Your words confirm the second, but who are you?" said the great robot in a voice like a rusting speaker system. "How did you come to be in this dimension?You, monster," he said, pointing to Erin. "How do you come to speak at all?"

Down below, the team made contact with their most unlikely group of allies. It took a moment to pick out the warbots as they lurked along the flank of the sewer: the Foundry's best here were not the sleek, menacing monuments to destruction that were the front line on their own world; rather the warbots were closer to trashcans with missiles attached than anything else. Far, far down below, as the team closed ranks together to ward off any hostile threat, the robot squadron led them to meet the lord of the Foundry, the Bronze Behemoth, Talos! The armored giant looked...shabby down in the sewer, for all that he'd built a headquarters behind him that looked busy, filled to the brim with bustling if rusty robots, and less imposing than his Earth-Prime self as he rose to greet his sewer-arriving guests, the ten foot robot towering over all of them. "Good afternoon. Welcome to the Robot League. I am Talos. I understand you have become...misplaced."

Quote, Claremont characters only, please. We'll let you know if Breakdown is one of those when the Ref decision comes down.

Energy Controller PL: 10 (150) Abilities: 34 pp STR 20 (+5) DEX 20 (+5) CON 20 (+5) INT 10 (+0) WIS 14 (+2) CHA 10 (+0) Combat: 32 pp ATK: +8 (+12 Bat/Ranged) DEF: +12 (+4 flat-footed) Init: +9 Grapple: +13 Saves: 7 pp TOU +8 (+5 Con, +3 Protection) FORT +7 (+5 Con, +2) REF +7 (+5 Dex, +2) WILL +5 (+2 Wis, +3) Skills: 15 pp=60 r Acrobatics 10 (+15) Bluff 10 (+10) Knowledge: Tactics 10 (+10) Languages 2 (Japanese, Spanish) (Base: English) Notice 8 (+10) Sense Motive 10 (+12) Stealth 10 (+15) Feats: 19 pp Acrobatic Bluff Attack Specialization: Magic Bat 2 Attack Focus: Ranged 4 Dodge Focus 4 Evasion Improved Initiative Master Plan 2 Move-By Action Power Attack Takedown Attack Uncanny Dodge (auditory) Powers: 37 pp Blast 8 [16 pp] ‘magic baseballs’ Device 4 (easy to lose) ‘magic bat’ [12 pp] -Stun 8 (PFs: Improved Crit 2, Precise) {19+1=20} AP: Strike 3 (PFs: Knockback 8, Mighty) (Extra: Autofire) Flight 3 (50 MPH) [6 pp] Protection 3 [3 pp] costs abilities 34 + combat 32 + saves 7 + skills 15/60 + feats 19 + powers 37 = 150 pts Design Notes: This is a baseball controller, a character mystically imbued with the power of baseball itself. She flies, hurls mystic baseballs with the energy of a machine gun, and swings a magic baseball bat that cuts like a sword. She’s a very good coach, but maybe needs a good team captain out on the field to give the inspiring pep talks: she’s more about locker room plans and playbooks than on the field leadership. I gave her Japanese and Spanish because baseball is very big in Japan and Latin America, and thus it has a good claim to being their ‘national pasttime’ too. (Yes, even the soccer countries) This character could also work as an apple-pie American patriotic hero, given our national emotional connections to the game of baseball: steroid dealers and such are obviously her natural enemy! It’s up to you whether or not she’s a mystic spirit that embodies the fair play and basic decency at the core of the game of baseball, or whether or not she’s an aspiring player gifted with a magic bat (perhaps by a past champion of the game?) to fight for justice and integrity. Natural rivals include NFL Superpro (or his equivalent in your game), and that so-and-so Pele! Serious comic book fans don’t like to admit that things like merchandising characters and tie-ins exist, or that writers might tell stories so they can get comped free tickets to their favorite sporting event by writing free giveaway comics for stadiums. But they do exist, and if you’re going to look for a character inspired by comics, why not go for it?

Harrier studied the AI expressionlessly before deciding Vince was not a threat. "I live by the river in Lincoln. Not in Crapworld. They told me the Fens were crap, and that it would not be safe for me to live there." He swiveled his head again toward Ms. Americana, the movement almost a creak of metal. "When I was freed, I fled a squadron of lesser drones. The Furions found me. They taught me to be a free man. Their leader knew the Freedom League, and sent me here. I work at Champions, where I clean the tables when the customers are done eating." The last words, obviously memorized, were said with something like pride. "Quad-kelvin plating will protect you against anything short of a main battery discharge," he added. "A reasonable investment, given your previous encounters."

We got it, Warren. The robot suddenly said in a clicking, mechanical voice. Come to the fourth level of the sewers beneath the electrochemical pile, and we'll talk. With that, the robot went dead, and no power on Earth was enough to awaken it. Mark, standing awkwardly by Daisy, found his head immediately. "We've got to go," he said, hefting his torch. "It's the only way out, and we need to make friends if we're getting out of here. I saw a diagram, the tunnel down is that way." And with that, he was off, a very antsy Daisy following behind. "I don't like thiiiiiiiiis....."

"I have never heard of either of you," said Harrier, frankly relieved to be around people whose parallel version he had never encountered. Meeting doubles had happened often with the Freedom League, and it had been deeply distressing each time. "You have a very spacious bunker," he added, walking along slowly. "I was not aware significant underground facilities existed in this version of Freedom City. Are you armored against quantum entropy discharges in the tri-Kelvin range?" he asked suddenly.

"Ah yes, Mr. Hughes," said the plump, middle-aged secretary. "You have an appointment with Mr. Summers, the headmaster. You...must not have met him yet, if you've forgotten his name," she said after a moment, nodding in satisfaction. She handed a pile of papers to him and said, "Please make sure to fill all these out before the meeting. Your parents signed most of the paperwork for you already, of course, but there are some disclaimers you need to sign yourself." The top form read CONSENT TO PERFORM TELEPATHY. She turned to Etain and said, "Ah, Mademoiselle Maher, I believe you're next on the list. Do you need forms printed in French, or would you prefer them translated into English?"

"I was a heavy combat drone. I was designed to bring down targets with abilities beyond the norm." Murdock closed his eyes for a moment, and remembered the feel of his pike coming down, hard, cutting through armored skin as the shock of impact reverberated up his arms, the cry of defiance turned to a scream of pain, and it was a dozen screams on a hundred worlds... "Several of your years ago, I was struck by a magnetic charge fired by an unknown alien starship. It destroyed the molecular circuitry that connected me to the Voice of Omega. I am _permanently_ severed from that link." he added with a trace of fire in his voice. "Forever."

Archer PL: 10 (150) Abilities: 30 pp STR 14 (+2) DEX 20 (+5) CON 18 (+4) INT 10 (+0) WIS 14 (+2) CHA 14 (+2) Combat: 28 pp ATK: +6 (+10 Ranged) DEF: +14 (+4 flat-footed) Init: +9 Grapple: +8 Saves: 9 pp TOU +6 (+4 Con, +2 Armor) FORT +6 (+4 Con, +2) REF +8 (+5 Dex, +3) WILL +6 (+2 Wis, +4) Skills: 16 pp=64 r Acrobatics 10 (+15) Bluff 8 (+10) Knowledge: Pop Culture 8 (+8) Knowledge: Streetwise 8 (+8) Medicine 4 (+4) Languages 2 (English, Russian) (Base: German) Notice 8 (+10) Sense Motive 8 (+10) Stealth 8 (+13) Feats: 24 pp Accurate Attack Acrobatic Bluff Attack Focus: Ranged (4) Challenge (Fast Acrobatic Bluff) Dodge Focus (6) Equipment (3) Evasion Improved Initiative Luck Move-By Action Precise Shot Power Attack Quick Draw [Draw] Ranged Pin Uncanny Dodge (auditory) Powers: 41 pp Archery Array [37+1=39 pp] Damage 10 (Extras: Autofire, Ranged) (PFs: Improved Crit 2, Indirect 3, Precise, Subtle) AP: Damage 10 (Extras: Selective, Targeted Area [Cone]) (PFs:Indirect 3, Precise, Progression 2 on Area, Subtle) Super-Senses 2 (Extended Vision (2) [x100] ) [2 pp] Equipment: 15 ep Bow (Blast 4) (PF: Improved Crit) [9 pp] Concealed Body Armor (Protection 2) (PF: Subtle) [3 ep] Grapple Gun (Speed 1 10 MPH and Super-Movement 1 (Swinging) )[3 ep] costs abilities 30 + combat 28 + saves 10 + skills 16/64 + feats 24 + powers 41 = 150 pts ------ Design Notes: She's one of the world's greatest archers, capable of nigh-impossible shots that strike with fantastic force. Her custom bow and years of strong training make her one of the world' most formidable marksmen: she can put an arrow through a tank's engine and kill it dead, make a long pull and bring down an airplane, and shoot her way through a steel door, then fire multiple shots that clear a room in seconds, or just string a rapid volley that strikes with impossible force. She can pin a man to the wall from a hundred yards away, fire impossibly curving shots that ricochet off walls before they hit targets she couldn't even see, and is generally regarded as one of the best there is. It's not true. Well, don't get me wrong: she's a good archer, and a formidable PL 7 with bow in hand. But her _real_ power is to kinetically charge weapons, turning her conventional arrows into unconventionally spectacular weapons. She could use anything as cover for her special talents, but superheroes doing crazy things with bows is a genre staple: what's so weird about doing it with superpowers instead of with budget and training? Why keep her abilities secret? Well, maybe she's not aware of them either, they are Subtle. Or maybe she used to think she was just a Badass Normal, and is too embarassed to tell people the truth, or maybe it's for self-defense: people who think she's helpless when she's caught without her weapons are in for one hell of a surprise. I tried to make her archery as cool and awesome as possible, but you can probably dig up more feats or more APs if you want to: she's certainly got plenty of space for it if you tweak her the right way. You could free up points by giving her a sword and making her a melee specialist, or by somewhat cutting down on the crazy things she can do with weapons. You could also make her a gunbunny martial artist with two pistols akimbo, doing impossible things with bullets because she actually isn't using bullets at all.

Murdock was only human, and for half-a-second something like a smile edged at the corner of his mouth. But the moment was gone quickly as he extended a hand to Ms. Americana. His skin was a little cool, and his bones very hard when she began to lift him up into the air. He was indeed heavy, at least three times what she'd have expected a normal man of his dimensions to weigh. "I would be happy to help." he said nearly tonelessly. "It is good to help heroes learn about their enemies."

Murdock blinked, processing the words of the swordsman and his sidekick. "I am too heavy for any but the woman to carry. I cannot fly without my armor. If you allow me, I can fly behind you without being seen." Slowly and carefully, he added in a tentative voice. "Th-thank you. I will not trouble you, and will return to my own apartment in the morning." His head swiveled, looking up at the sky overhead. "Perhaps it is a good day."

"My name is Steven Murdock. But he died many years ago." Harrier looked around the alley, back and forth, the joints in his neck moving with a slow, methodical machine's precision. Even with the suit inside, his body language was...off. "I once was what I appear to be. But there was an accident." The word seemed to have some deep meaning for him. "And then I was free. Those who found me sent me to this place, so I could live." He studied the battered-looking building before them. "I studied your history. Took the name of one of your champions. I want to help." Out front, a very nervous man stepped forward. "He, uh, he looked like my friend Murdock. We work together at, uh, Champions. I don't know what was going wrong with him, miss, he got into it with those, uh, boys..." Farouk pointed at six _unconscious_ men in cheap suits, the mobsters all alive but with enough broken bones to show they'd taken a quick, merciless beating. "And then everything went crazy. You said he was some kind of Grue?"

Rift, This is a sophisticated piece of surveillance equipment, designed to shadow and monitor people without them noticing. It's got a very modern design, but is built from clearly inferior parts. It looks like it's part of a series, one of many of a similar model constructed by whoever did build it. The sharp little spikes at the end of the legs look tough, as if they'd leave marks even on the concrete walls of the sewer roof.

Harrier's grip was bizarrely solid, his flesh soft over diamond-hard bones underneath. "Good afternoon," he said, as if it was something he'd learned to say when someone shook his hand. Silently, the former Omegadrone turned and walked out the rear door, his heavy feet thumping loudly against the wooden floor, but quieter on the asphalt outside. He didn't seem inclined to argue with either of the three heroes. He cocked his head, listening to the noise of the crowd out front. "A coworker witnessed the altercation. I am no longer employed. I am...glad the woman is well." He looked up at the half-visible sky overhead, the stars almost completely swallowed by the light pollution of the city and a faint haze overhead. It was, as usual, beautiful enough to Harrier's eyes to move him almost to tears. "The night is beautiful. Even now. I can return to my apartment until it is no longer mine."

Even with the mask off, Harrier's face moved in odd ways, as if he was unused to having expressions at all. It wasn't that his eyes were dead, so much that there was so much between him and the world around him. In a slow monotone that at least sounded like a human being talking, he said, "A woman was being struck. I caught the hand of the man who did it. You can identify him. No others will have the broken elbow." There was, just for a second, a glimpse of pride in his voice. "The others shot me. I activated my armor," he added sorrowfully. "As I left, a man fired a rocket. It struck the ceiling instead." He looked from one to the other of the heroes before him and said, "You should not fight each other. I am to blame."

"I know fewer people than you'd expect, Viktor," said Jack with a little shrug. "But as always, I'd be happy to help your research. Truthfully, it's nice to have something to do with the super-community. These days it feels like I spend all my time just trying to keep the vampire powder keg from exploding. We're actually making some real inroads into building a stable community." He smiled a little. "When did you start believing in the supernatural, so-called or otherwise?" he asked teasingly. "Anyway, I can send a few your way, though some may prefer that you meet them on their own ground."

"Ah, the Shepard! You know him!" Nelson Fletcher lit up, and for a second it seemed as though Red Bolt was still inside him. "Soon, soon the Shepard will return and cleanse the world for his flock. It had been a hard road in this cell these many long years, my friends, but I know he has not abandoned me. When the time is right, he shall return from the sky and repopulate the world with clean men and clean animals, bringing about a golden age!" He coughed nervously, then added, "Ladies, of course there will be clean women too. The Book was written in a different time, when those things were taken for granted...here, let me show you something far better than my clumsy tongue!" He pointed them to his mural on the wall, which turned out to be a depiction of a lovely green Earth, shining and new, covered with fertile plants. In the distant background was the decaying remains of a city; neither there, nor anywhere in the picture, were there any people, or animals. Save up in the sky, in the 'space' of his picture, was a round, clear bubble, full of smiling, clean-limbed people, and strong-looking animals. "Here is his work!"

"I am not very friendly," replied Harrier, completely missing the cultural reference. Instead he stared up at the ceiling and said, "I tried to help. I failed." Suddenly, the armor he was wearing...retreated. Jack and Jill had images of shocking mutilation as the metal slid back inside his body: not through his pores like high-tech armor they'd seen, but rather through slits and cracks that opened in his skin, showing muscle and bone as his body warped back in on itself, leaving behind a brown-skinned man that looked more like a 24 villain than anything else. "You should let the ceiling fall when you are gone." Outside, as Ms. Americana deposited the last injured party on the sidewalk, a woman rushed up to her. "You, lady! Please!" The woman was dressed like a club-goer, but looked like she'd taken some hard hits over the evening, her face bruised and her blouse torn. "That...that man in there, the Omegadrone! He wasn't the bad guy! He tried to save me from my...my ex," she added, looking around worriedly. "He was beating on me, and that man, he...he saved me."

"I'm not familiar with that immediate area of the local shelf," said Fusion, professional and courteous. "But I can reach that level easily enough. I've done underwater searching often enough. The Jersey shore is murkier than the South China Sea, but I'll get by." She studied the map, tentacles waving slightly in the breeze, and cocked her head to look at Robin. "Is there anything I should know about the cause of the wreck?"

Right on time, long, suckered arms erupted from the water, entangling themselves around the edges of the pier, before a shiny black figure launched herself out of the water and landed neatly in front of Robin's open window. Nearly a foot taller than Robin, particularly with Robin seated, the black-clad figure retracted her sinously writhing, muscular arms down to wrap around her waist, looking down at the other woman as water ran down her body, the sheen outlining the white biohazard symbol across her chest. "You must be Robin. Hi, I'm Fusion," said the octopus totem, her manner disarmingly friendly for something so bizarre. "Anything to do with the water, I'm happy to help with."

"I am Harrier. I am no longer what I appear to be. I have no allies." The Omegadrone's voice was an almost perfect computer monotone, sounding like what Stephen Hawking might if he was playing Hannibal Lecter. "There are two more." it added, pointing to the door behind it. " Injured." The fire died out, leaving the place oddly quiet, save for the groaning of timbers overhead. They did the same beneath Harrier, its metal body putting an evident strain on the damaged floorboards beneath its feet. It, no, he, looked up at the ceiling. "The building will collapse soon."

Harrier uses the Total Defense manuever, raising his Defense to +12. Miss A is up.