Avenger Assembled

"One Woman and a Truck, huh? Sounds catchy." Mark grinned, and teased a little, "Hey, maybe you can get Trevor to build you a truck that expands in the back, so you can take it from panel truck to pickup and back again. He seems, uh, pretty handy." He hmmed, not wanting to embarrass Erin when she was being so nice to him. She was a little shy about her relationship with Trevor, for all that they were freaking adorable together. "I guess he's probably going to college."

Gie' us a Notice check, me hearties!

Mark swung in, a white-faced Daisy clinging to his arm, and coughed as he adjusted to the environment of the sewer. With a gesture, he sealed up the hole where they'd come from, momentarily leaving things in darkness. "Anyone got a light?" he joked, peering into the gloom. "As for the rebels," he said, "the way these things work, they're bound to find us if we're rattling around in their territory. If they don't know who we are, well...we'll have to explain it to them. I'm sure they'll believe us..." From behind his back, he produced big, thick torches, burning with a bright white flame that gave no smoke. "Classic stylings," he said distractedly.

Avenger (NPC) House Calls Edge Mind Games (mixing GM and player posts) Brit Machine Outing Heroes of Our Past A Trip Between Two Worlds (mixing GM and player posts) Freedom Angel Swordology Fusion Entangling Alliances Preventative Measures (mixing GM and player posts) Rocket Man

Bee-atrice curtseyed to Quentin before saying, "I ZZZZINK I'M GOINK TO GO HAVVVE ZOME MORE TO EEEAT." Giving a gigantic insectoid smile at Fleur, she said, "YOUR DRONE IZ NIZE! MUCH NIZER THAN THE BBBBOYYZZZ HERE!" Distantly, a passing bee exclaimed "HEY!" "ITZ OK, LARABEE," she said "I'M JUZT KIDDING!" Whispering back in a voice like a bomb, she added, "NOT REALLY."

"OHHHHHHH YEZ!" exclaimed Bee-atrice loudly. "ZEY ARE DELICIOZ! WE WILL GET ZO FAT WE WILL NOT FLY!" She made a great screeching buzz that it took a moment to recognize as a laugh, seeming to regard that as the height of merriment, waving her arms and swooping around in the air overhead. "ZOMETIMEZ WEEE WIZH FOR A BIGGER HIVE," she confessed, "BUT WE ARE DOINK OK FOR OURZELVEZ."

From the sky, an enormous bee, easily the size of an 18-wheeler, descended from the sky to confront Supercape and Fleur de Joie. The great insect studied them with eyes nearly as large as their bodies, arms longer than they were tall waving in the breeze, before saying in a jovial, buzzing voice that boomed in the air: "HELLO! WELCOME BBBBACK TO BEEDOM VALLEY! I ZEEEEE YOU BBBBROUGHT A DRONE!" Stesha recognized Bee-atrice easily enough. "NIZE TO MEEEET YOU!"

"What about you?" Mark asked Erin, trying to deflect attention away from his own doubts about his family's long and complicated history. Erin's life was easier to think about than his own, at least. "I mean as strong and fast as you are, you could do almost anything. The League would hire you on in a minute, and places like UNISON take strong people too. Your powers are good anywhere."

"Not yet," said Mark, looking down at the brochure. "I haven't, uh, talked about it with my mom yet. I don't know what she wants. Sometimes she wants me to stay close at hand, in the city or even living at home, other times she says I should be off adventuring in the world. She's worried about me, and I'm worried about her. I think she'll be happy, but I guess I'm afraid of her freaking out or something. But...but I really think this would be something good to do. I want to have a life besides the one in costume. A life that helps other people just the same."

Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled flier, one of the brochures Erin had seen in Dr. Marquez' office. "UNISON, the big UN super-agency, they hire people with superpowers who want to do more than just hero work with them. I...I haven't actually sent them anything yet, but I know they look for people with powers like mine, that let them go into villages and things and feed people." He smiled thinly. "I'm not...I'm not really going to be a good student, and I don't think college is going to be in the cards. Not one that would actually help me. But something like this, that would be really nice."

"I'd like to do something like that," Mark admitted. "Lately, I...I've been thinking," he said, giving Erin a searching look. "That maybe I don't want to be a superhero when I grow up. Like, not full-time. I'd still wear the costume and take the League reservist spot Claremont kids get when they graduate, but that maybe there's something else I could do." He looked down at his hands and said quietly, "There are other things in life than just that."

Power Level: 12 [15] (250/250PP) [280] Trade-Offs: None Unspent PP: 0 In Brief: Omegadrone turned Hero Name: Harrier Alternate Identities: Steven Murdock Identity : Secret Birthplace: Nihilor, the Terminus Occupation: Deputy Chief of Security at HAX Affiliations: HAX, Omegaorphans, the Americana Family, Deep One orphans Family: Dead Age: 100 Apparent Age: 40 Gender: Male Ethnicity: Terminus Height: 6'4" Weight: 600 lbs. Eyes: Black Hair: None Description: Murdock is a brown-skinned man with no visible body hair, just like all combat drones. His face is generally non- descript, save for the small, hair-thin lines that run over most of his body. They look like tribal tattoos, and he will not correct anyone who makes that assumption. He speaks in a flat monotone occasionally leavened by a wistful regret. Harrier is a monster. Clad in black and red armor that bursts out from his back to cover his whole body, he is clearly recognizable as an Omegadrone, fully armed and ready for battle beneath his faceless armor. He prefers to let his fists, and his power pike, do the talking for him if forced into his armor. He flies with the help of the red and black jetpack that erupts from his back with his armor, spewing hellish gouts of flame as it propels him into the stratosphere. Power Descriptions: Harrier is a wrecking machine, a goonsweeper capable of going toe-to-toe with some of the toughest customers in the World of Freedom. Unarmed, blasting or cutting with his pike, he's a powerful threat to almost anyone; a hard, cold blade designed to cut deeply and painfully. History: Once, there was an Earth. It was defended by the greatest heroes of the world, champions of justice and right, avengers of evil: Earth's mightiest superheroes. And then that world died, screaming, as its heroes died and it was sucked into the Terminus. Sally and Ben, survivors of that world, were part of the personal retinue of Steelguard, once friends who became slaves of Shadivan Steelgrave. Steelgrave liked having some around who remembered the old world, and enjoyed reminiscing with them as they tried not to weep at the slayer of billions that their friend had become. He forced them to take anti-aging drugs so they would live as long as he did, and denied them the quick deaths they craved after watching the deaths of their families and the assimilation and corruption of all they loved. When he began to mutter about what a shame it was that there were no more children from their world, in their terror they conceived and gave birth to a son. In one last act of defiance, they named him Stephen, after the man who had once been their captor and tormentor's best friend, then his first victim as Omega corrupted him. Steelgrave was...amused, and gave them something of what they wanted. Stripping them of their immunity to aging, he hurled them into the pits of Nihilor, where the once-favored slaves learned to scrape and fight like the proles they now were. After all, they lacked the courage to die if it meant the death of their son. Stephen Murdock grew up in the pits, the great black castle of Shadivan Steelgrave overhead, with memories of a dead world loud in his ears. He learned to survive in the grim surroundings of Nihilor, the hearthworld of the Terminus, to run and hide from drones, to fight for food, to survive in a world of pure death. When his parents died, Stephen assembled a gang of likely toughs and began doing what he could to make himself master of the pits: not to overthrow the drones, but simply so that the people there could live without having their neigbor as their enemy. When he came to the attention of Steelgrave, as all such visionaries do, he pleaded for mercy, begging for help from the last survivor of their world of marvels. He got that help, oh yes. The process of assimilation into the armies of Omega is a horror best not described in these pages. Bones are removed and replaced with black, terrible Terminus metal, parts of the brain replaced with transceivers to receive the VOICE of Omega, and the body itself is infiltrated with a thousand different pieces of nano-technology. The subject is conscious to the end, naturally, so that when the torment and mutilation ends, he will cling to the VOICE in his head as the voice of his god. Steve Murdock died that day. He became a combat drone, a specially augmented unit designed to fight superhumans. And that was precisely what he did in a dozen different worlds. He was in at the death of mega-billions, a cold, merciless killing machine and agent of assimilation. A particularly powerful and skilled unit, he was traded from Annihilist to Annihilist, even starring in several battles in the arena. His armor was an experimental variety, designed to burst from under his skin when necessary, something which he used to great effect in combat again and again. Until one day, when it all changed. He was leading a squadron of Omegadrones through the Hundred Worlds when an alien starship decloaked just above them and opened fire. The big combat drone at the lead took the brunt of the damage, the tremendous magnetic charge scrambling his circuits...and severing his connection with the Terminus. Heavily damaged and outnumbered, he managed to fight off the lesser drones who attacked him when he was severed from the VOICE, their blasts giving him the drive to escape. And from there he fled, deep into the Void, screaming. It was through great good luck that he stumbled across a Furion raiding party, and even better luck that they didn't kill him out of hand. And when Freedom Bird disarmed him and beat him to his knees, the former drone looked up at the Furion and screamed "I die free!" And that was when Freedom Bird and the others wept, because if a drone could be freed, who knew what freedom could do? The Furions took him in and taught him, teaching him something of himself and of what it meant to be a free man, but he really had no place among those shining symbols of virtue. They knew him too well, and had fought too many drones, to ever fully trust him. Luckily, Freedom Bird knew people who could help, and the former Omegadrone (now calling himself Harrier, after Harriet Tubman), was delivered to the Freedom League, who (after _extensive_ tests), delivered him to the world, with a fake ID and fake name, the better for him to learn about freedom. What better place than Freedom City? It's been quite a ride for the walking embodiment of pain and loss; embraced by some as the ultimate hard-luck hero and others as a symbol of all that is evil and horrible. He is still the monster people tell their children will come for them at night, but he's a hero too. It's a good feeling. He has a woman he loves and a job he cares about, friends and comrades with whom he would fight the worst of monsters with. But the road to redemption is a long one, and Harrier knows better than anyone the perils that lie along the way. After all, blood will tell. Personality & Motivation: Harrier is cold. It's not that he's unfeeling, by no means, but rather that the horrors of life as an Omegadrone have layered depths of memory and grief between himself and the rest of the world. He cares intently for the suffering of others, but shows this by action, not words. He speaks with a slow, deliberate monotone occasionally leavened by moments of wistful emotion. In his civilian ID, he keeps to himself, sometimes in a slightly creepy way. His small apartment has no decorations and sparse furniture. When he's not working, eating, or sleeping, he watches television, doing his best to absorb the reality of this world that's now his home. Otherwise he walks the streets, pike fastened subtly at his side, and tries to learn what he can about humanity. He opens somewhat around his close friends and his lover, but there is still no denying the fact that the scarred-faced drone is _other_, even if most people might not be able to sort it out. Powers & Tactics: Harrier prefers not to use his armor if the situation calls for it, and against many foes he can actually get away with that. Generally he fights silently, his face composed in a flat mask, but when angered by a particularly vile enemy his face contorts into a mask of utterly infuriated rage. He'll usually attack the strongest-looking enemy first, hitting them as hard as he can, not retreating unless absolutely necessary. His staff lets him hurt almost any foe, whether with blasts of Terminus energy or strikes with a devastatingly fast, powerfully charged blade at the head. If forced into his armor he's a terror on the battlefield. He usually fights from the air, blasting away at lesser foes, before landing to begin a slow, methodical elimination of the enemy. He'll allow weaker enemies to shoot him a few times, the better to spread _fear, before landing to begin their punishment. If forced into his armor, he does not linger, and will leave as soon as possible (or at least change back) so as not to attract attention. Complications: Enemy: This is something separate than just people being scared of him. There are people, a lot of people, who'd see a free Omegadone as an opportunity for some free payback. Friends: Wander, Jack of all Blades and company, Dragonfly, and the rest of the HAX and Interceptors crew are people Harrier would walk through fire for. Immigrant: Harrier is still adjusting to local customs and society in Freedom City. He's learned a lot as he's gone, but this is indeed a strange world. Love: Harrier loves Gina Evans, for all that it's a deeply fraught relationship. Double Secret: Harrier has more than one identity to worry about now that he has the Caradoc name. Job: Harrier is frightened of losing his job, as it's one of his connections to the world around him. Monster: Harrier is an Omegadrone. Cops will shoot at him on sight if he's in armor, civilians will run screaming or attack him if they're brave enough. Only a Mother: Even outside of his armor, Steve is no prize. Collector: Between the Omegaorphans that he rescued from a crashed Terminus ship, Yolanda Morales, and the Deep One babies he helped save during the Archevil invasion, Harrier is something of a collector of lost and bereft children. The World I Left Behind Me: The Terminus knows those who escape, and has terrible plans for them. Abilities: 14 + 6 + 14 + 0 + 6 + 0 = 40 pp STR 32/24 (+11/+7) DEX 16 (+3) CON 24 (+7) INT 10 (+0) WIS 16 (+3) CHA 10 (+0) Combat: 8 + 8 = 16 pp Init: +11/+3 ATK: +4 (+7 Melee) [+6 (+9 Melee) w/Armor, +12 Blast with Pike, +18 Blast/+16 Strike w/No More Holding Back] DEF: +9 (+3 Dodge Focus, +2 from Armor, +4 Base, +2 flat-footed) [+15 w/No More Holding Back] Grapple: +14/+22 Knockback: -13 Saves: 3 + 5 + 7 = 15 pp TOU +15/+11/+9/+7 (+7 Con, +2 Density, +2 Protection, +4 Force Field [10 Impervious]) FORT +10 (+7 Con, +3) REF +8 (+3 Dex, +5) WILL +10 (+3 Wis, +7) Skills: 68 r = 17 pp Disguise 0 (+0/+50) Intimidate 10 (+10/+20, SM) Knowledge (Cosmology) 10 (+10/+15) Knowledge (Tactics) 15 (+15) Knowledge (Technology) 10 (+10) Language 1 (English, Base: The Black Speech of the Terminus) Notice 7 (+10/+20, SM) Sense Motive 7 (+10/+20, SM) Stealth 7 (+10/+15, SM) Survival 1 (+4) Feats: 15 pp Attack Focus: Melee 3 Dodge Focus 3 Interpose Leadership Master Plan 2 Second Chance (Saves vs. Fear) Skill Mastery (Intimidate, Notice, Sense Motive, Stealth) Takedown Attack Ultimate Save (Will) Uncanny Dodge (auditory) Powers: 6 + 14 + 30 + 31 + 13 + 30 + 1 + 2 + 1 + 12 + 1 + 2 + 8 = 151 pp Communication 4 (technological, 1 mile, radio, PFs: Selective, Subtle [Encrypted]) [6PP] Container 3 (15PP, No More Holding Back, training, Drawback: Power Loss [When Not Inflicting Lethal Damage, -1]) [14PP] Attack Specialization 3 (Terminus Blast Array) [3] Enhanced Defense 6 [12] 3+12=15 Container 5 (25PP, Terminus technological, Omegadrone Armor, Extra: Duration [Continuous]) [30PP] Enhanced ATK 2 [4] Enhanced DEF 2 [4] Flight 3 (50 MPH/500FPM, PF: Move-By Action) [7] Immunity 4 (disease, poison, sleep, starvation and thirst, Flaw: Limited [Half-Effect]) [2] Immunity 6 (Environmental Cold, Heat, Pressure, Radiation, Suffocation) [6] Protection 2 [2] 4+4+6+2+7+2=25 Container 6 (30PP, Terminus technological, Alpha Omegadrone, Extra: Duration [Permanent], PF: Innate) [31PP] Enhanced Feats 10 (Affects Insubstantial 2 [Unarmed], Challenge 3 (Fast Startle, Mass Intimidation, Powerful Intimidation), Improved Initiative 2, Luck, Quick Draw [Draw], Startle) [10] Enhanced Skills 40 (Intimidate 10, Knowledge [Cosmology] 5, Notice 10, Sense Motive 10, Stealth 5) [10] Impervious Toughness 8 [8] Super-Strength 1 (Effective STR 42, Heavy Load: 3 tons) [2] 11+10+8+2 Density 4 (Terminus technological, Permanent, PF: Innate [+8 Strength, Protection 2 (Impervious), Immovable 1, Super-Strength 1, x3 mass]) (13 pp) Device 9 (45PP, Terminus technological, Omegadrone Pike, Flaw: Easy to Lose, PFs: Restricted 2 [Harrier Only], Subtle [Collapsible]) [30PP] Concealment 2 (normal vision, Flaw: Passive) [2DP] Enhanced Feats 3 (All-Out Attack, Power Attack, Takedown Attack [2]) [3DP] Force Field 4 [4PP] Super-Senses 4 (Detect Weakness [3], radio, Enhancement: Analytical) [4DP] Terminus Blast Array 14 (28PP, PF: Alternate Power 1) [29DP] BE: Blast 12 (entropic blast, PFs: Accurate 3, Improved Crit) {28/28} AP: Strike 4 (blade strike, Extra: Autofire [10], Penetrating 5 [as DMG 20], PFs: Affects Insubstantial 2, Extended Reach 1 [5 ft], Improved Crit 2, Mighty, Precise, Variable Descriptor 2 [any technological]) {28/28} 2 + 3 + 3 + 4 + 4 + 29 = 45 Feature 1 (mutation, Temporal Inertia) [1PP] Immunity 4 (mutation, disease, poison, sleep, starvation and thirst) (Flaw: Limited [Half-Effect]) [2PP] Leaping 1 (mutation, x2, RLJ 34 ft, SLJ 22 ft, V 8 ft) [1PP] Morph 10 (Caradoc, technological, Disguise Bonus +50, PFs: Covers Scent, Precise) [12PP] Speed 1 (mutation, 10 MPH/100FPM) [1PP] Super-Senses 2 (Terminus technological, Darkvision) [2PP] Super-Senses 8 (mutation, Detect Terminus [3], mental: Enhancements: Acute, Extended 2 (1000 ft range increment), Radius, Ranged) [8PP] Drawbacks: -2PP Weakness (magnetism, uncommon, minor) [-2PP] Abilities (40) + Combat (16) + Saves (15) + Skills (17) + Feats (15) + Powers (139) - Drawbacks 2 = 250/250 pts

APPROVED

Some bedevilments: No KGB in the 1920s. You want the heroic comrades at the State Political Directorate. It's a little early for him to target Stalin, but he is a genius and probably easily capable of seeing the future course of party politics. Numbers look great!

Mark talked some more about his grandma and his grandpa, about what it must have been like to be a superhero's wife back in the Golden Age, then changed the subject a little, talking more about their lives. "My grandpa actually wrote a couple of books, and a collection of his columns got published, while he was active. I've read some of them and they're pretty good, he did a lot of stories about families and life in Freedom City. He's sort of like a nicer Mickey Rooney, or if Charles Schultz was a writer. That's where Dad got the idea, but his books were all tough men's adventure stories."

"The sewers." Mark made a gesture at the floor and it rolled backwards like peeling up a carpet, black dots shooting from his fingers as the floor moved aside to make way for the foundation, then the earth beneath, before finally the open space of a sewer gaped beneath the floor. "I am through playing with these monsters," he said with some heat. "Now come on," he said, firing his grapple gun down and scooping up Daisy with him. "We need to move before the local Doc Metropolis shows up."

"He was happy," said Mark with a little half-shrug. "Or so I've always heard, anyway. Grandpa Jimmy died before I was born, so I've never had a chance to talk to him about this stuff. But from all everyone's told me, Gramma and Grandpa really did love each other just that much. His parents didn't approve because she was older than he was, and had a career, and her parents didn't approve because...well, he was a little thick sometimes, but they just had lots of love. My dad always told me they were the kind of marriage he was glad to have, and that he thought I should have some day."

"Well," Mark said, not needing much prompting, "this one time, she and all the other wives and girlfriends of the old Liberty League, they found out that their boyfriends had all been captured! Lady Liberty's boyfriend was there too...well, sort of her boyfriend. Long story." He coughed. "Anyway, they all decided the best way to rescue their men from the gangsters who were holding them was to dress up in their costumes and try and fool the gangsters! So Gramma put on one of Grandpa's suits, the really loud checked ones, found a fake lamp, and then they all snuck into the gangsters' hideout and pretended that Eldritch the wizard had turned them all into women for being captured. Then when the gangsters got distracted, bam! They attacked! Gramma socked three guys with that lamp. Shot one of them, too." He shrugged at the look she gave him for that. "It was a different time."

"Sure," agreed Mark. The coffee was piping hot when Erin got it, just the thing for a chilly autumn night. Mark dumped in a whole mess of cream and sugar, the way Erin usually saw him take coffee, and took a long drink. "Thanks. Cold as it is, something warmer is nice. That's...not bad," he said. "It makes me want to get Trevor's blend from him next time I see him. He makes the best cup of coffee." He looked down at his reflection. "Thanks again for coming out, Erin."

"That's a good idea," agreed Mark. Carefully he tuned his commlink and left it on his grandmother's nightstand, peering down at her with a shadowed look. "Night night Gramma Stephy." With a soft sigh, he closed the door behind him, then led the way back down towards the waiting room. "I don't go to hospitals much," he said awkwardly, afraid it would sound like bragging. "I don't know that many people outside of school, and most of them...well, they don't need me around when they're sick. This is a nice hospital, though," he added, "It's where my dad and I were both born."

Oblivious to his friend's memories, Mark nodded. "I will, just let me check..." He opened a door with "Lucas, S" on the outside and peered into the darkened hospital room. He'd left his Gramma's TV running on one of the quiet hospital-only channels, and a whirling image of space played to quiet music. Erin could just make out Stephy Lucas over Mark's shoulder; the sleeping old woman was very tiny, with a short poof of white hair around her head. "Yeah, she's still asleep," he murmured quietly.

"Yeah," Mark agreed, following along with his hands in his pockets. "I mean, she's always been there for me, even though she was older than most of the other grandmas when I was born. All the other grandmas, in fact." Mark was nervous about Erin at the hospital, but not for the reasons she thought. He knew she didn't have any grandmas at all, and this might not be something she wanted to hear about. They were heading for the geriatric ward, Erin noticed, a very quiet place this time of night.

"Oh yeah," said Mark agreeably. "I mean her brain's not as fast as it used to be, but she's still pretty sharp. My dad always said she was the brains of the family, even when my grandpa was alive. She was a photographer for the Herald for twenty years, that's how she and Grandpa Jimmy met. So she's got all these old sepia pictures still up all over her walls; the ones she didn't give my dad, anyway." He smiled a little, making little gestures in the air. "She still knits every day. She actually made a winter hat for me this year, but it just hasn't been cold enough for that."

"No news," said Mark with a little shrug. "But she's sleeping, or was last time I saw her." He smiled just a little. "She's ninety-eight years old, you know? But the doctors say she's got another decade in her if she stays healthy. And so I hope she will." He patted Erin lightly on the arm. "She's my dad's mom, you know, so she's had it tough lately. That's why she was over at our house to begin with. Thanks for coming out," he added. "I...I really appreciate it. I knew anyone else would want to...I don't know, comfort me or something. But you'd just be my friend."

"Okay, I'll be waiting for you," said Mark. "Thanks, Erin," he said simply. He was waiting out in the lobby some minutes later, a solitary figure in a quiet night at the old hospital. With a little stubble and in an old shirt, he was much less obtrusive than his usual peppy, bouncy self, especially in grey and black rather than bright primary colors. A magazine going back and forth from his hand, tossing, he leaned over and peered at the door.