Avenger Assembled

This wasn't a happy occasion for Mark. Well, yes it was, a little. Who wouldn't be happy to be in the company of El Fuego, the Spanish firebrand? The man who, even while fleeing the vastly more powerful Superior, had burned off Heinrich Himmer's mustache as a lesson to the other Nazis, the man who'd given the hotfoot to a legion of European dictators and American gangsters before his retirement. Even Mark wasn't often in the company of so many famous heroes, for all that he'd met most of these people at least once or twice in his family's long sojurn alongside more famous heroes. But it was hard not to feel bad, too. Here he was surrounded by legions of heroes, people who'd known his family for decades, and what had all that gotten them? No one ever figured out that Grandpa wasn't really Grandpa. And no one was able to help Dad when he needed it. That was his fault, though, so it was hard to blame any of these people too much. Really, his main worry was gossip. Rick Lucas' fate, and what had gotten him there, had already gotten out amongst the older heroes that had been his friends, and his father's friends, for so many years. He didn't need to hear recent tragedies marring his family's good name, especially on occasion of another hero's honoring. When he realized who he was standing next to, the tuxedo-clad teenager suddenly felt a whole lot better. "Oh wow, Natalya Browning!" He smiled at her, not for a moment holding any of Bombshell's less-than-heroic past against her. If the Scarab thinks she's a hero again, that's fine by me! "My grandpa always said you were the best the old country had to offer." Come to think of it, maybe Grandpa Lucas had had his own reasons for favoring Bombshell over the very married Lady Celtic. Mark wasn't blind to those either. "I'm Mark Lucas," he said, offering his hand.

Avenger: And That's the Way It Is Pound Poppies When You're Sorry World of Darkness Clandestine Encounter Gigawatts Public Service Dead Men Do Tell Tales Meltdown Taint Funny McGee Mistaken ID Reckoning One Year Later Bananaphone Edge: Lights At His Back At the Mountains No Mercy Shadow over Freedom High Noon A Different Kind of Hero Save Tonight Banking On It Freedom Angel: Fresh Plots Chaos in the Streets Imma Bee Auditions LOLWTFBBQ Pater Noster Fusion: MAWS All the News That's Fit Who Let the Dog Out Ink Blots Long Arm of the Law GMing Imma Bee I See what You Did There Caged Bird Reckoning

"Trust me," said Jack reassuringly. "Those are overrated. Women are looking for charm, for weight, for depth. Show them that you're worth having, and you'll..." He debated telling JJ the story of he and his mother's first date, but decided that was probably beyond what the younger man would ever, ever want to know. "Well, you'll be had. I'd advise you to date outside your kind, though. Eternal vampire relationships tend to go in unpleasant directions."

"Yes," Jack agreed, and in that syllable was an understanding neither man could have expressed to the humans in their lives. There was always a price to pay in magic; the price for magic that came from the dead was particularly dear. "Do you have a girl?" he suddenly asked JJ. "Back where you're from, I mean. Surely you can tell me that: I mean you're handsome, charismatic, obviously women like vampires," he said with a faint shrug. "And from the sound of things, you could get away with that where you live."

"Do you hunger?" Those were three loaded words coming from his father, who'd treated his own feedings as just a basic part of life for nearly as long as JJ could remember. "Or are you just a man with the blood of a monster in his veins?" With JJ sitting, Jack found himself on his feet, pacing the room with the restless energy of a predator. "I wondered that for so long, you know? Thank God for your mother's blessings making sure my own abilities were...displaced. Is that still true?" he asked JJ. "I've noticed that you've walked the path of her career far more than mine. I have to say, I think I see her hand in that. And good for her in the bargain."

"I have no organized opposition. At this time. That I am aware of." Jack gave his son a feral, predatory sort of smile. "And if you are my son, and if you grew up the way I suspect you're going to grow up, you know what that means. This is not a safe city for people like us, nor is it likely to be. Nor should be it be, really. I trust that I don't need to tell you to be careful. I have enemies everywhere, and most of them will be worse enemies of yours. And then there's your mother." He shook his head, a look of genuine awe on his lean face. "Frankly, I prefer not to think about the sort of things that will be gunning for any son of Phantom's. Vampires are challenging enough on their own."

"Being appreciated for that, and not how much better I am than those evil vampires...that means a lot, son." He hmmed. "What can I tell you? Stay out of the West Side if you can. Lantern Jack doesn't let any vampires into Lantern Hill, and I have no idea how he'd feel about you. The West End is different, the Interceptors there aren't threats, they're just...well, you met the king yourself," said Avenger thoughtfully. "Too dangerous in their own way. As for vampire politics, there are people, friends of mine, who'd want to meet you, even though who you are would have to stay between us. Dhampirs can mean something more than evil to the right people."

"Very sudden," Mark agreed, and for just a second he looked perfectly, absolutely serious before saying, "Hey, are you done with all this paperwork yet? There's a whole lot to see here!" Sure enough, just as Mark spoke, the secretary presented John with a big pile of papers to sign that would get him out of the office for the day. Looking pleased with the situation, Mark said, "Hey, can you do that thing where you make big objects out of light? Because this one time, Mr. Albright made this Betty Grable that...uh, maybe I shouldn't tell that story. It was just for the war effort."

"It would, actually." Jack picked up the shimmering knife on his desk, the one he'd taken from the Luddite in one of his first adventures, and tossed it back and forth hand to hand. "I've recently gotten an education in the failure state of vampire politics. If I thought it was going badly, I'd leave town, and I'd try and get your mother to do the same. And yes, I know she can handle herself. That's the problem. Too many people have already died because I decided to be better than I was." He flipped the knife around. "Things are all right now, though," he admitted. "The people who are with me are doing what they should, and so far everyone who's stood against me has died or is in hiding." He looked up at JJ and asked, "Are my hands clean, at least? Can you tell me that?"

"I'm familiar with Dead Head," said the angel, not sounding terribly thrilled at the notion of the walking abomination. "As for your work, it's a noble task. Many a soul has passed through the Pearly Gates after the aid of another to leave the last remnants of their mortal life. And as for you," he said, gesturing to Kid Cthulu, "be mindful that men may not see that your heart and soul are pure where your body isn't." He smiled. "In other words, let him know I sent you. It'll clear up any lingering issues about the source of your power. Be mindful that, as long as it doesn't come from the Adversary, what matters is your soul, not the trappings outside."

"Sure," said Jack, trying fiercely to think of something he liked that a normal person would like. I got nothin' "I was thinking we could maybe go see a baseball game?" he suggested, his voice going up as he asked a question. "There's a Comets/Cubs exhibition game that would be good, I guess." Jack didn't really follow sports. "But in the meantime, why don't we talk politics? How's the situation on the ground where you're from? You know...for us." He led the way out of the room as they talked, heading for the study that had been the scene of so many arguments, then later so much family bonding, over the years.

It was a couple of days after the future version of Jack's son had arrived from a time and place that the younger (or was it older) man was still cagey about discussing. Jack found that a refreshingly healthy attitude given all the openness in the heroes he'd had to work with in the past year and a half; it was good to know a certain amount of sensible caution had come down the line to his scion. All that was a little hard to believe, true, but there was no denying his wife's conclusions and the evidence of his eyes. My son is going to live. Everything's going to be okay. They'd put JJ up in the guest bedroom, one of many in the huge house Jack had inherited from Melinda, and one day when Taylor had Jack Jr. (his way of keeping the two apart) away visiting Stesha and Derrick, Jack went to visit his son by means of a route very familiar to JJ from his childhood: his father walked up to his closed bedroom door, ducked underneath it, and appeared inside his room. "Hello, uh, son. You want to go do something?"

"It's a pleasure to see you again," said Freedom Angel, opting not to use anyone's real name since they were all there in costume. Another hero of his glowing nature might have been ill at ease in a cemetery at night, but the angel looked like he belonged there; indeed, that he belonged everywhere. "All of you. It is reassuring to know how well-guarded this realm is, even in my absence." He studied the necromancer closely, the angel's eyes not probing so much as easily gazing approvingly into the man's soul. "Please, call me Freedom Angel. Or Heyzel, if you'd prefer to use my given name. I deserve no titles. As for you, I shall give you the one you deserve, Mssr. Cimitire. What brings you to my neighborhood?"

At the necromancer's words, there was a flash of pure white light and trumpeting of the divine as the angel of Freedom appeared in a glow of Heavenly power. "Wretched sinners, the- Oh, it's you, Fleur." Freedom Angel landed on the ground near the small group of heroes, nodding a cordial hello to Kid Cthulu and Fleur de Joie, who he already knew. He gave the other man a close look, but sensing no taint of the infernal on him, he said, "Good evening. My apologies for the rude arrival, but we've had some trouble with vandalism this week." He shook his head sorrowfully, then added, "Why are you all here?"

Geez: Shoot, sorry. I misremembered my Strike as 5 rather than 4! Thanks for catching that. The first HP went to rerolling the initial attack, so I did spend two that round.

There are indeed ghosts nearby, and plenty of 'em. (Your detect isn't specific enough to get more than that) If you want to talk to them, go ahead!

"I'm Mark Lucas," Mark filled in, sure enough turning back to calm on a dime. "Jimmy Lucas' grandson, and of course Rick Lucas's son." John had heard of both men, of course, his education as part of the legacy community having meant Langston Albright had filled him in both on the late master of an omnipotent genie who'd fought alongside the Liberty League and his son, the sidekick and companion of the heroes of the 1960s and 1970s. Mark was a little young to be Rick's son, but people had kids later and later these days. "I'm so glad Mr. Albright is alive. We...recently had a tragedy in my family, so I've been really worried about all the old heroes. It's really nice to meet you, John."

Mark looked at John as if he'd just vomited a cat out of his mouth onto the rug. "Oh my God! Mr. Albright died!?!" Appalled, he covered his mouth. "That's awful! He was such a nice old man! He used to come over to my dad's house all the time for his barbecues." Beating his chest, he waved madly at the heavens. "Why do all the great heroes leave us!?" Throwing his arms around John, he added, "It...it'll be all right, man. I'm sure you can live up to his legacy."

APPROVED

Mad Dog's punch sent the alien astronaut reeling, the villain staggering backwards as it clutched at its midsection before disappearing in another flash of light. "Guess we taught him a lesson," Avenger guessed. "I can't believe that thing was going to eat all these dogs..." Nearby one of the gangsters was starting to rise, and Avenger kicked him in the face hard enough to knock his teeth out. "I guess we should get them to the vet before something bad happens."

I like the background a lot. This seems like an interesting character. You should read up on Baron Samedi in the Freedom City book and see what useful stuff you can dig out from there. The setting uses the loa a lot, so you could really get a lot out of taking advantage of that. If you could work to make his sheet more like the other character sheets, that would be great. You really don't need all the non-standard stuff. Sticking his Necromatic array together would really help. There are numerous mathematical errors scattered everywhere, particularly in the summoning power. I'd actually advise you to drop the Summon and replace it with some kind of Precise Telekinesis, maybe with the area effect. It's not a good power for new players, and honestly isn't that great a power at all.

"Aw, it was fine," said Mark, as if he was trying to reassure a particularly paranoid friend. "GM's real smart. Besides, I knew you'd be there to catch me." Hey, how you doing?" he asked John, shaking his hand with a big smile. Mark's costume was all gold and blue, a cheerful, bright thing that seemed to match the boy's personality. "They call me Edge when I'm in costume."

Oh, THAT question! Ooooooh!

Suddenly, Mike and Erin's commlinks crackled to life, and a voice John hadn't heard before came crackling across the radio waves. "Hey guys, it's Mark: can one of you jump outside the window and catch me? I tried out Gravity Master's new catapult and it...well, let's just say I was able to fly there for a while. But not anymore! Wah-hi-hi-hoi!" When the secretary recognized Mark Lucas' voice, she sighed but didn't seriously react.

You guys have strength enough to punch your way down to the corridor where the Crime League members are: this'll give you time to make Master Plans/Inventions and such. Hellion, have an HP for your Teleport being blocked by the doors.