Avenger Assembled

Mark Inspires everybody but Hellion, since he only has +6 Charisma. Hellion he gives an HP to via Luck Control. He's currently down 3 HP, leaving him with only 4. :shock: Wander is up.

"C'mon, people!" Mark called, his determination ringing out to everyone despite the bizarre situation. "I know this seems weird, but this isn't the real Centurion! We'll stop these robots, stop whoever's doing this, and we'll keep the Sanctum safe! We can do it! We're Young Freedom!" Nervous about doing any real damage to the Sanctum, he opted not to blast the robots, instead choosing to wait till they showed their real intentions. "Let's do this for the Centurion!"

Initiative Count: Mark: Seize Initiative Wander: 27 Geckoman: 21 Psyche: 20 Rift: 16 Midnight 2: 16 Phalanx: 15 Hiroshima Shadow: 15 Hellion: 10 Centuritrons: 10 Mark is up

"It seemed to be a physical rather than spiritual corruption," the angel mused. "My memories and priorities remained the same, but simply acquired an apiary cast rather than a holy one." He smiled thinly. "I will be more sympathetic to those whose spiritual reserves fail them in a crisis. Come, Viktor, let us work together to save these people, all these people, from destruction." As Dr. Archeville talked, Freedom Angel flew down to speak to one of the battered bees, communicating clearly in a language no earthly tongue should be able to pronounce.

Edge stared down into the building, an unaccountably serious look on his handsome face. "Someone's down there," he murmured to Ace. "Someone..." He licked his lips, swallowing hard. "They've got a djinn, Mr. Danger. There aren't even supposed to be any of those on this plane, not after the doors to the City of Brass closed in 1945. I think we should get some extra magical help for this one." He remembered the terrible discoveries he'd made about his family, and winced inside.

Mark gets a 24 on his Notice check

"We're not all going to die. I still can't believe that we're not all going to die!" Avenger looked really quite pleased by this bit of news. "I was sure at least one of us would be killed by our enemies in the future," he confessed. "But if you're here, and so cheerful...well, this is wonderful!" He clapped his son on the arm, then said out loud, "But what are we going to do with you now that you're here?"

Avenger fought first the instinctive urge to flee or attack the predators all around him, then the very human urge to facepalm. "Look. Sorry you didn't appreciate the head, Grimalkin. Thought if anyone you'd see the humor in it. And that Wesley had ever bothered to tell you." He added, giving Wesley a black look, his voice growling at the words. "Not real if that's what you're worried about. Made out of pork. Did not know you were Jewish at the time."

Hiroshima Shadow goes on 15 Mark spends an HP (dropping him down to 6 from Luck) to Seize the Initiative, so he'll go first. The Centuritrons will go on 10 I'll say there's no surprise round for this one, since the robots are giving you guys plenty of warning. Psyche, have an HP for the Fiat of Medea picking up what you were doing. Initiative checks, please.

"I don't think so," Mark muttered to Mike. "I mean, I did tell them I was coming up here! Maybe I should have waited for Captain Thunder to call me back...Hey!" he called out loud. "Alpha, who's performing the check?" "Security. Protocols. Have. Been. Activated," the Centuritrons said sternly, the sight of four Centurions speaking in robotic unison more than a little creepy. "Please. Wait. Here. For. Instructions." "Warren, there's a control panel behind Hellion," Mark murmured. "See if you can get to it and hack into the Centuritrons while we..." --- Psyche's mental scan took her past the half-dozen Centuritrons waiting nearby, including the two concealing themselves in the corridor which had disgorged the others, all the way down and around through the inside of the vast halls of the Centurion's Sanctum. It was hard to focus given the many spectacular wonders all around her mental eye, but given the necessity of purpose in that moment she knew she had to press on. Turning a corridor in her mind, she suddenly seemed to stumble across three very familiar figures: a short, bearded man slowly and methodically carving open a stretch of what looked like blank corridor wall with electrical arcs shooting from his fingers, an olive-skinned, bored-looking beauty in a toga, and a green, eerie shape barely recognizable as humanoid. You didn't have to be a supergenius to recognize Dr. Stratos, Medea, and Hiroshima Shadow! Medea seemed to recognize Psyche, too, or at least her spoor. "Someone's here! One of you, take care of it!" With a sigh, Hiroshima Shadow took off and disappeared through the corridor walls, even as an irritated Stratos began speaking into a microphone at his waist. A moment later, the robots outside with Young Freedom sprang into action! "Stop. The. Humanoid! Stop. The. Intruder!"

The Astronaut staggered under the heavy blows of the two superheroes, Avenger and Mad Dog striking together like lightning as punches and kicks from the two powerful vigilantes sent the heavily armored alien staggering. "Avenger," replied the man in black, not sure to be glad or happy that he wasn't famous enough to be recognized. Tough when you can't be photographed, he thought philosophically. "Think he's staggering. Hit him hard as you can, now!"

That hits: Ouch! OK, I'll go with that. He failed by nine, so he's bruised and stunned. Avenger hits the flat-footed Astronaut with a full Power Attack, inflicting a DC 30 Tou save And he's bruised again! The Astronaut is now bruised (2). Mad Dog is up.

"Revenants are what vampires call the ones who don't eat often enough," replied Avenger, giving his counterpart a cold, level look. "Vampires wouldn't have anything to do with zombies. I'm surprised he knows your counterpart at all, assuming he suffers from the same condition there." "He's hard to miss," replied Jack, that feral, hunted look still in his eyes. "I've got to say, your Burt is a lot more cheerful than ours. Do you see the ghosts too?" he asked the third undead man in the room. "I bet there are a lot less here, I...wait a minute." He blinked, looking around at everybody. "I don't know you," he said to Phantom, "but you're obviously some kind of superhero. And so are you," he said, indicating Dead Head and Atlas with frank disbelief. "Which means you must be as well, Jack. How in God's green earth did that happen?" He looked a little discomfitted. "My friend asked you first," Avenger replied. "And the name is Avenger." "Well that's rich. What, did you pick the most generic-sounding name you could think of?" Avenger blanched a little as his counterpart went on. "As for what happened where I'm from..." He looked away from the others. "There's not much to tell. You ever hear of something called the Mask of Lugat?" "It's a powerful necromantic artifact," replied Avenger. "One of the most potent in existence. It's in...the Scarab's tomb, here. I've heard it said it can transform any mortal struck by its power into whatever kind of being is carrying it." "And so it was in mine," said Jack, his face hard. "Until...oh, about a year and a half ago now. It started when a superhero called Foreshadow led an assault on one of our old clubs, the Equinox. After watching him murder a half-dozen of my best friends, I volunteered to help find an artifact Melinda was questing for. One so powerful that no vampire in Freedom City would ever have to fear death at the hands of a superhero again." Avenger's eyes went flat. "Did you kill your Scarab?" he demanded, his voice cold and merciless as he studied the monster before him. "What? No...no, I didn't. She was decoyed out, and I snuck in there and got it. It wasn't easy, but I've always been very good at hiding. I got my hands on the Mask and delivered it to Melinda." Despite himself, the vampire's face was beginning to change, something like dread creeping up at the edges of his voice. "I thought Melinda was just going to blackmail everyone, you know? Because I'd helped her get the mask, I had freedom enough to take New Year's off. I went to some really great parties, had a really nice time...and then, on the 2nd, she pulled me out, told me to guard the mansion while she went and did something important." His eyebrows furrowed. "She used the Mask on the Freedom League. That was back on January 2 of last year. She turned them all, using some to turn the others as she made them all her children in darkness. And then..." He closed his eyes, and the screams of thousands seemed to echo in the air. "And then blood ran in the streets. And after that, things were different."

"No. Made by the best." Once they reached the 14th floor, Avenger made a beeline for their destination. He wasn't used to operating as part of a pair on missions like this, but here he was willing to try and cooperate with his evidently able counterpart. "Man of his wealth likely to have ample security system. Think you can talk your way in? Or best if I enter in my own fashion?"

Both heroes momentarily took cover behind a large mausoleum to watch as the cultists arrived. In their black robes and jangling store-bought occult symbols, they looked almost comical if you didn't bother to examine them too closely. Beside Dead Head, Avenger suddenly said something remarkably foul. "Know her." He pointed to the woman in the middle of the group, a mad-eyed, thin-faced woman leaning on a massive staff. "Sister Sixtus. Was a cultist till she got her hands on one of the most powerful necromantic artifacts. Has killed before. May kill again."

"Not yet," replied the angel, keeping all his attention focused on the man even as he made a landing on the sidewalk below. "Your time on this world has not yet ended." Despite the chaos around them, his wings were a protective shield as he embraced the jumper. "Live for yourself, for your city, and your people. The monsters who beset this place will fall, as do all forces of evil that lay hands upon the world of Man. Do you want to be one of the few who fled? Or one of the many who stayed, and did great things for their city?"

"You think zo, do you?" The Bee-Keeper took off his helmet, revealing the bruised, battered face of a man who might have been handsome under much better circumstances. Looking down at 'Stesha', he said, "Bee-utiful, maybee the problems of a man and a woman don't amount to a hill of bees in this crazzy world. All I know iz you're the flower to my honey. When I feed you my royal jelly and make you my queen, then thiz city will bee ours!" It was an impressive oratorical feat to actually pronounce the second e, but not so impressive as when he leaned down and planted a deep kiss right on 'Stesha's' lips! "Wow!" he said woozily as the drugs began to take effect. "I'm bee-ginning to feel a little better...."

OK, Ace's Bluff is high enough, and the Bee-Keeper's Will save is low enough, that I'm not even going to bother rolling. I will say that his armor is loose enough that he can kiss 'Stesha' without taking the helmet off, thus letting him use his amped-up Fort save. Have a HP! The already-battered Bee-Keeper is Fatigued!

Nah, you got him.

"Oh, Lord, you have no idea, do you?" said the other Jack, staring at James without recognition. "Just some Good Samaritans looking to save the day, huh?" He licked his lips. "Look, maybe we can help each other out. The way we're living, where I'm from, it's not working. We've been living off what our scientists grow in labs," he said, shooting a look at Atlas, "and that's going to fail as soon as the last nuclear piles in the city go out. After that, we turn on each other, and the people outside get their city back." He looked from one face to the other. "I'm part of a group that's trying to stage an evacuation. Save who we can, get out of our Freedom City, and let the revenants tear the place apart if they have to. You obviously have access to dimensional magic. If you can help us out, I can help you with your problem."

Pinned, the other Jack growled and hissed, a wounded, trapped animal. "SO? Kill me!" he spat, his eyes red and feral, teeth bulging from his mouth. "We're not going to kill you," said Avenger, letting the wound on his face slowly knit up from the powerful stroke he'd taken from his counterpart. Why'd he put so many holy items in his own house, anyway. "We just want to talk." The other Jack hesitated just a moment, then twisted his head back and forth, growling as his countenance returned to something close to normal. There was still something lean and hungry in his eye, not to mention his threadbare finery, but now he looked considerably more human. "Fine. You want to talk? Let's talk." "We're looking for information. A half-dozen teenagers from our dimension went to yours, and-" Evidently Jack's usual ability to terrify his interrogation subjects into submission didn't work on himself, because that earned a painful laugh from the other Jack. "I heard about that. Look, if you want help rescuing the survivors, that's great, but-" "Survivors?" "Hey, maybe none of them are dead yet." The other Jack hmmphed. "In my experience, those Claremont kids eat first and ask questions later. Savage little buggers."

"Okay, honey, I'll be home tonight just as soon as I get the story filed. I've got to get back to work." Joan hung up the phone and snatched the towel out of Erin's hand with a quick tentacle swipe, her costume peeling back from her face to expose the bronze-skinned woman underneath. "Whew, thank you. Even if I had a reason, I didn't want to walk around smelling like salt all day." She focused on Erin and Alex both as she talked, easily handling both conversation and action as her spare limbs used the towel to wipe her face dry. "You save my arms, I owe you my face," she said with a grin. "I'm Joan Collier, I work for the Ledger. You don't have to tell me your names if you don't want," she added, "but I figured you'd have pulled masks on if you were that excited about it."

"Where I'm from, it's not getting you to talk that's the problem, it's getting you to shut up that's the-ARGH!" The other Jack staggered as James' blade went through his chest, eyes rolling back in his head. Avenger cursed, unconsciously using the same word the other Taylor had, and called, "Phantom, pin him down with a spell! He'll fight to the death if we keep hitting him!"

It took the teens a minute to realize that Mark had slipped away entirely in the moment of awe everyone had felt walking into the sanctum sanctorum of the world's most legendary hero. Mark was in a corner of the great hall, staring up at the statue of a grinning young man in his late 20s, giving a double thumbs-up salute familiar to anyone who knew Mark's body language. Rick Lucas, looking as he had in the 1970s, cut a dashing figure in a white polyester suit and with a huge grin on his face. Beneath the statue, in letters big as Mark's hand, were the words RICK LUCAS: THE CENTURION'S PAL. Staring wistfully up at the statue, Mark pulled himself away when Mike spoke to Alpha. "Yes, we're here for your yearly maintenance check," Mark called. "Your-" "Error," replied Alpha in a voice like your math teacher catching you in a lie, "Maintenance. Check. Is. Already. In. Process. Please Give. New. Password." Mark looked stricken. Oh no, what did I forget? "Uh, error, Alpha, I don't..." He blinked, licking his lips. "Uh, Redbills! Your last password is Redbills." "Error," said Alpha in a cold mechanical voice as the sliding door to HEROES HALL slid open behind him, admitting three other Centuritrons to the room. "Please. Remain. Where. You. Are. And. Await. Further. Instructions."

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