Avenger Assembled

"I don't think you want me to touch you." The growl was just a few feet behind Grimalkin, but when she turned there was no white hockey mask or chains: just Jack, a wooden box in his arms and a smile on his face as he reclined atop the marble in a tight white shirt, open at the neck, and leather pants you could bounce a quarter off. She'd seen him dress that way at home, and knew it was his style out of costume. "Hello, Lynn. Can't we look at each other face to face like we used to?" he asked her, moonlight sparkling in his deep, dark eyes.

Mark applauded when Alex was done, glad to see his friend having made such a fantastic speech. Zarana took the lead as they moved around the floor, her well-built physique more than making up for the several inches he had on her. He made sure to say hello to all his friends, keeping on that nice smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, though he did snicker when Zarana muttered "Good job with that bint Daisy!" to Zoe when they moved around the floor past each other. Maybe he wasn't that happy, but he was having a good time and he had a hot date who would probably put out if he hung around long enough. That had to be a good thing.

I have no idea what that meant. "Wait, you're saying...this is the baby?" Avenger hazarded. "But how? Did someone clone him and grow him real fast in some kind of fast-time spell?" He had no idea if that was a real thing, but it seemed like it probably was. I knew I shouldn't have fired Nevermore. Dang it, why couldn't he stop eating those nuns? "In any event....we need to find him. And we need to find him now. Where is this?"

Mark dropped into Erin's arms, collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut. "Owwwww. That hurt a lot. I fink I broke reality and so it punched me really hard everywhere." He winced. "Ow, I burned inside my lip! Ow!" He managed to stop himself from continuing a never-ending cycle of ows as he looked up at Wander. He muttered, "I could see everything. And so I felt it all. That really hurt," he added again. "Hey, where'd everybody go?"

I spend an HP for Ultimate Toughness for a total of 26. (There's no reason why Mark's costume would protect him here.) Fail by nine, so I'm bruised and stunned.

"I'd tell you what you can do with your smart mouth, but it doesn't sound like that's your bag these days," said Fletch sharply. Come to think of it, maybe there was a reason the League had looked the other way about his alcoholism for so long. "You want to pump me for information, you buy a paper like anyone else." There was a pause, then another one, before he said, "But you know what? You're the Scarab, and I sure as hell haven't forgotten that. And because I remember '79, not to mention '73 and '65, I'm going to talk to my reporter. If he wants to meet with you, I'll set something up. I'm not going to give up someone in the craft without their say so. But I _am_ going to help you, because of who you are and what you mean." Another pause. "As for my personal legacy, Scarab, it's history. Just don't let yours go the same way."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, reminiscent of an archer taking careful aim at a moving target. "It was harsh," the old man conceded, "and I can see where you'd be bothered. I guess I still think of you as being beyond the Veil, or at least immune to the slings and arrows of journalists like me. But I remember Bombshell, Scarab," said Fletch, his voice warming to the subject of the extremely attractive cat burglar he'd chased as a young man. "Sweet Christmas, do I ever. And I remember how she flirted with you, and everyone else, all the time. I know how tempting all that is, with the sexy super-dames, but you can do better than that. You've gotta do better than that, you know, for the kids, so they know you're worth looking up to. For half the kids today, you're some chick in gold and red, not the guy who saved all our butts five times over. Which is a crying shame if you ask me, but what can you do?"

The legacy feat is fine. I figure FB II's got a surprisingly good memory, so he recalls the number from old times.

Calling Fletch Jr's cellphone meant Elena got through without having to get through a receptionist or secretary, one that would almost certainly at best be the daughter or grand-daughter of the woman Alexander had flirted with whenever he'd called the Ledger decades earlier. "Ahoy-hoi." Fletch Jr's voice was older than Elena remembered, and strained with the effects of years and the alcoholism he'd still been struggling with when Alexander Rhodes died. "...sweet Eye of Ra! Scarab!"

Around the same time, maybe a little after, Grim's birthday.

The message arrived for Lynn through Grimalkin's personal fan mail, not the Interceptors directly, and was signed with an all-too-familiar handwriting. The postmark was just a few days earlier, giving her plenty of time to make the meeting...if she dared!

The angel thanked Stesha for her time and paid his bill, making sure to count each piece of unfamiliar currency carefully before handing it off to the florist. "It's not that I don't trust you, it's that I don't trust myself," he admitted. "All this is still rather new to me." With that he stepped outside and flapped his wings, choosing to stay within sight by flying away under his own power rather than simply vanishing.

Five robots go on 21 The Human Battering Ram goes on 19 Fusion goes on 4

"You sonofa-" Avenger growled at the mirror, before belatedly remembering that it was a mirror and that the man there could not in fact hear him. Instead he glared uncomprehendingly at the face before him. "I have no idea who that is. He looks a little like Jackson," he said thoughtfully, "or maybe..." He blinked. "Is that bastard trying to steal his FACE too? He is! He's trying to make himself look like some kind of grown-up Jack Jr! I'm going to rip open his face and find the real one underneath!"

I've got no beef with anything on the sheet. Background is...well, about what a noir gumshoe SHOULD have. One thing that strikes me, though, is wondering how much this is a superhero? One idea: maybe Gregory decides that the safest way to retaliate against the Mob is to do so in disguise? Put a domino mask on him and he's our Spirit. Up his Stealth or throw on some ranks in Concealment and he's the Shadow.

Initiative, plz?

Up on the roof, quite a sight awaited the two costumed champions of justice. Five big, menacing humanoids stood underneath a whirling black helicopter, their shining metal bodies exposing their robotic natures even as the machine guns fixed to their robotic arms exchanged bursts off the concrete "New Jerseys"hastily erected by AEON security. In the middle of the group stood a huge figure looming some eight feet high, his body covered in armor but with a humanoid face behind his big helmet. Shouting orders to his 'men', he called "WHERE IS PSYCHE?!?"

Zealot cocked his head, frowning at the young woman for a few moments. For half a second, Taylor caught the impression that the murderous madman was desperately weary, but a few seconds later he excused himself from his prayers and ducked into the crowd. He was a very sneaky man, and within seconds Taylor realized he was about to disappear entirely.

"That son of a-" Avenger's hackles went up as he stalked the room, his big hands balled into fists at his sides, the vampire seeming the perfect accompaniment to a room full of the unquiet dead. "Put his hands on my son. MY SON!" He growled, then shook his head. "Yes, I know, you kept him safe, and I'm grateful, but if his power can reach him here, he can reach him anywhere. We need to find him." He snapped his fingers. "Taylor! Maybe he duped his own signature, but did he cover everything? His clothes? _My_ clothes?"

"I'm sure we will be too," said the angel with perfect warmth and sincerity, his brief moment of depression forgotten. "Thank you again," he told her, "I couldn't ask for better flowers, or, by all accounts, a better florist. I'll come by myself to pick them up," he promised, then added, "If it won't alarm your colleagues too much." He'd caught sight of several peering through the door to look at him, then glancing away when they saw him look that way.

Joan got as far as the elevator before she grinned and tore away the bottom part of her dress, revealing the strong, muscular body beneath and the thickly lashing tentacles that at her command burst forth and punched through the elevator emergency exit above her head. "Time for Fusion to make an appearance!" Within seconds, she was ascending the walls of the shaft, easily climbing up the cables as flesh and steel intertwined. As she moved her costume boiled up over her body, all black armor with big, white, expressive eyes over her completely covered face. Up on the rooftop level, she swung her way out a fan belt and out onto the scene of the action!

"Almost certainly," agreed the angel. "You went to the happiest place that your soul deserved, and I'm sure that must have been Heaven. As for why you forgot...well, it's kinder that way. Most of those who see Heaven truly, don't want to go back. Even when there are finer things to do below." He hmmed at that, as if he'd said something he regretted, then said, "Well, I think these flowers will be adequate. Thank you again for your help, Stesha."

He proceeded to show her those tricks, and more besides, the dark shadows of the sky letting things stay quiet and discreet. Well, discreet, anyway. Eventually he suggested they settle down on the roof of the nearby art gallery, the better to finish their business without having to concentrate on flight. "After all," he told her in a voice like melted dark chocolate, "it's classier down there."

"With all that said-" There was suddenly a BOOM from up above that shook the building, and Joan's eyes flicked upwards automatically as the alarm on Alex's desk sounded. "Ms. Albright!" said a voice Alex recognized as Rowena Fuller, one of the rooftop security guards. "Ms. Albright, we've got robots attacking the building! We could use some backup here!" Joan was on her feet quickly, betraying yet again some definite movement underneath her dress. "I'll make my own way out. You have a pleasant day, Ms. Albright."

Avenger stalked into the room like a tiger into a new cage, immediately heading straight for Derrick and Stesha, barely concealed fury blazing behind his eyes. "Tell me everything you saw," he said, carefully modulating his words so it didn't sound he was angry at them. And he wasn't; he was angry at the vampire who'd dared come on his family's land. "I know you can find him again, but I may find him first."