Avenger Assembled

"Yessss," Avenger agreed, glad that there hadn't been any more blasting than there already had been. "In any event, I understand the local werewolf pack has recently had a change of leadership. We shouldn't need to worry about that thing." He shook Rouge's hand. "Thanks for coming in on such short notice. I guess it's good to get...everyone together."

Young Freedom takes a little trip.

A couple of weeks after prom, Mark invited his friends over to his house. Well, the people who still were his friends: he wasn't really talking much to Eddie these days, but most of his colleagues from Young Freedom were on the list. He was standing outside the door of the Lucas house to greet them when they arrived, the lawn looking just a little grubbier and the house a little dingier than when the Young Freedom members had been there last. Mark himself was out of costume, but also out of the black, depressing clothes he'd been wearing most everywhere but prom for the last couple of months. In a white shirt and slacks, he looked downright respectable.

This is the OOC thread for the Claremont kids to talk to Da Boss. Phalanx is up.

Duncan Summers was unavailable the weekend after junior prom, calls going to his voice mail and emails getting the "I am Out Of The Office" auto-reply, letting the accumulated messages about the prom pile up there until Monday. Late that afternoon, without any prompting, an email from him arrived in Mike Harris' in-box, along with a phone call on his machine in the room he shared with Mark Lucas. "Mr. Harris: Please come to my office at your earliest convenience so we can discuss the events of this weekend. Yrs, Duncan Summers."

This is a closed thread for the PC Freedom League members.

On a clear August morning, Freedom Hall exploded. People on the street screamed in terror as gigantic insectile faces erupted from the windows of the headquarters of the world's greatest superhero team, the gouges in the side of the building erupting into great rifts that spewed forth dozens of gigantic bees, an apiphobe's terrible fever dream that erupted into the skies over the city, followed shortly thereafter by uncounted billions of regular bees that formed clouds in the sky over Freedom Hall thick enough to blot out the sun on the ground below. Within minutes later, a bizarre figure burst from the middle of the bee-cloud and landed on the roof of Freedom Hall; his face and body hidden beneath thick, bulky-looking armor painted in black and yellow, antenna bouncing above his head as he raised a microphone to his lips, shouting as his voice came bursting from every radio within a square mile:

This is a closed thread for the Midnighters' trip to Earth-V-AB+.

Earth-V-AB+ Inside a cell deep inside the ruins of Freedom Hall, the Serena Vervain of Earth-Prime shakily worked her fingers free from the rusty iron chains that held her in place. Ignoring the soft noises from the other cells where her teammates were still struggling, or worse, not struggling at all anymore, she drew upon her innate reserves of magic to cast a spell as powerful as it was subtle. The wards in this room were powerful, fueled by the blood of hundreds of mages, maybe even her own twisted reflection in this terrible place, but the vampires who'd built the place hadn't blocked every exit. In particular, they'd left open one door for their own use that Serena herself was now taking advantage of. Across the Cosmic Coil, her words seeped into the minds of two people: Hellion, her fellow Claremont alum and powerful mystic, and of course, Phantom, the chosen of Heshem and guardian of dimensions. My name is Serena Vervain. Some of you may know me as Seven, practioner of the mystic arts of the Old Faith. A few nights ago, my friends and I from the Next-Gen recieved a distress signal from our counterparts on Earth V-AB+, claiming to be survivors of a mystic holocaust that destroyed life in this world's Freedom City. In a moment of foolish pride, we followed those calls without contacting the Chosen of Heshem or warning our fellow Claremont students. Little did we know that a trap awaited us, a trap most terrible... She heard a whisper in the halls, and realized that she hadn't quite been subtle enough: her counterpart was there, and no doubt reading the mystic warpings of the Cosmic Coil Serena herself was using. Do not follow us! Do not send a rescue party, lest the doom that struck this world follow us back to Prime! For they have this city and all the power there, and THEY ARE HUNGRY- A moment later she heard the counterspell outside, and then her cell door swung open. The 'other' Serena smiled a terrible smile as she floated into the room, cape billowing behind her, the blood of Ray Gardener Jr. on her lips, and said, "Now it's my turn to play."

-Oh crap! Seriously!?- Mark's thoughts were a muddle of shock and surprise, mixed with a rush of emotions Psyche was all-too-familiar with from even accidental brushes with other minds in a campus full of teenage boys. She caught a brief sensory impression: Zarana was evidently a very determined kisser. -I sort of thought you were at least going to call Summers, or something-mmph!- He'd actually taken the time to think 'Mmph' while necking in a closet. -Look, I'll...I'll get there soon as I can. Really. I mean...no, not like that! Look, I'll get there!-

Mark made his introductions with the usual slight awkwardness he had with people when he wasn't in costume and they weren't aware of his identity. "Okay, what do you want me to do here, Alex?" he asked, leaning close to murmur when people were distracted. "I mean I can probably help them all win the lottery if you want, but that's not legal in New Jersey..."

"Ten...nine...eight...thank you, Fleur..." Somewhat to Jack's relief, Stesha had persuaded Eric to get out of the way. "Teleporters, time to go..." As Erik looked back from his swing at the noise, he saw a torrent of bats descend from nowhere out of the Freedom City sky, blanketing the rooftop in a rush of wings and shrieks that blocked sight, sound, and more, even blotting out his magical sensing abilities. When the storm cleared, the rooftop where he'd just stood was empty.

Mark's friends, or at least his frenemies, often assumed Mark wasn't terribly bright, and it was true that he lived life in his own world. But he wasn't dumb, really, and it wasn't hard to figure out (or at least guess) what Alex had in mind. "So you want to work here?" he murmured to her. "That'd be okay, I guess," he said, falling back on his usual agreeability. "But why me?"

OK, I've edited my IC.

Hmm, I think there was an OOC misinterpretation here. I'd asked the Interceptor players to actually make a list of what they wanted their headquarters to have for this thread and then run that by Doctor Archeville, not force Doc OOC to figure something out for them. In any event, since several threads are dependent on this one and are being held up, I'll move this one along in a real-time week from today if there's no further activity.

Hey guys, Gizmo, after all the hashing-out the Refs had to do to get your character's Super-Senses rules-legal, you should put exactly how they work right there on your character sheet, the way Electra did with Stesha's weird suffocation immunity. (Since you modeled all these sheets on Jack of Blades', I'm saying you should put it on your main sheet). That way there's less chance of them being overlooked or misinterpreted.

On the dance floor, Mark found his date, his head swimming with fears and ideas. This was a night where everything was going to change, everything was going to be different. Friendships were falling apart, romances collapsing like a wedding cake someone had set on fire, like maybe with a blowtorch, and who knew what the future would bring? He swept Zarana up in his arms, his date looking briefly confused for a moment before returning his kiss. "Let's get the hell out of here," he suggested. "We'll make our own party. And light our own fire." It was almost exactly what she'd said to him at prom last year, when her date had dumped her and she'd grabbed him hanging out in the corner. This time, though, it was Zarana who grinned and nodded, just as he had back then. Together, they went and headed for the door.

With a crack of sheer elemental fury, the mighty blast of winter struck the White Knight about the midsection, instantly flash-freezing the fire-flinging thug in an explosion of power brought about by the sheer scientific genius of one Viktor Archeville. Indeed, the blast was so strong that it actually hurled the Knight out and away, blasting him through the ceiling with fury enough that only the thick coating of ice and his own toughened body protected him as one Daniel Foreman flew out of sight into the sky. It had been a very powerful blast.

1: Injured 2: Passed! Unfortunately, she can't stay and fight these sharks: she's got to stop the others from hitting the beach and biting more innocent people! So she turns around and Swims into melee with the sharks that weren't attacking her. OK, she's going to spend an HP to stunt Takedown Attack, then she's going to use the Huge great white as a club to hit the other sharks. She'll All-Out Attack. DC 25 Tou save for the sharks

Beeping on Elena's computer, a message awaited her from Fletcher Beaumont III, the disgraced hero turned journalist having gotten back to his old friend's ghost in record time. He'd spoken to his reporter and she was interested in talking to the Scarab in person at her earliest convenience. The reporter in question, who was not named in the email, had invited the Scarab herself to select the time and place of the rendezvous.

Fusion fails. Yeesh!

In a black T-shirt and black jeans, Mark was almost unrecognizable. For a second she thought he'd somehow managed to dye his hair in the seconds before she came upstairs, before he pulled off the wig and blinked. "Okay, sure. Where are we going?" he asked her, automatically bending down to pull on his black sneakers. He'd evidently been clothes-shopping. "Do you need Mike or Erin?"

APPROVED

I like this a lot better, Ozoe. Much less angst-waffle vibes here. Some thoughts: No Sense Murderous Intent. We allow very few feats from Mecha and Manga, and that's not one of them. Might also be good if you could make yourself less dependent on your Sneak Attack. If you keep one Sneak Attack and put the rest in upping your melee attack, you'll be in better shape.

Note that she is maintaining her grip on the shark into the next round.