Avenger Assembled

Freedom Angel is my only character who can perform, so sure!

Down below, Fusion was just about to leave when something crossed her mind. That was the Scarab! The last Scarab was on the old Freedom League: what's this one up to? Giving into what she liked to think of a natural journalistic urge, she let her skin change color, her costume and flesh shifting appearance to match the mirrored building beneath her, before she began a slow, deliberate climb up the side of the building to catch wind of what was happening above.

Jack started briefly, his face hidden by his lack of reflection. Recovering quickly, he said, "As I recall, you seem to like it best when my hands go where you can't see them at all." He turned his head and looked down at her, leaning forward to rest his hands against the glass. "You going to pat me down for weapons? Or just do a strip-search?" he teased.

I'd thought him a coward and a bully before, but now... Jack hmmed inside his head, listening to those sweet words from Erik Espadas. This is really no different than how he acted at the fights, he remembered. When that teenager in green and I confronted him on how he was acting, he backed down there too. But somehow I have a feeling that if I asked him today if he was right to spit in that child's face, he'd still say the same thing. Despite himself, Avenger had to admit they had something in common there. Never back down. Not and mean it. "None of you are children, and neither am I. If you don't do anything that'll keep me from walking home at the end of the night, we can call ourselves settled. Now, the terms. I was thinking that engaging all of you in personal combat would be a little silly, so why don't we make it capture the flag?"

Give us a Bluff check, Shaen?

"I don't need to do those things," said the angel simply, "nor would I want to. If you live a life of love and justice, then you do it in the Creator's name, whatever you choose to call him." He gestured to Valkyrie, then deliberately turned his back on her. "As for her patrons, they are powerful, yes, and well-worthy of respect for that power. But they were banished centuries ago for what they hoped to do to mankind, and can no longer return to the plane of mortals unless summoned by a worshiper. Do you remember your history in the Second World War?" At Gigawatt's look, he answered, "Decades ago, the Nazis used dark magic to summon the Norse gods to fight alongside them in their evil works. Donar, the one called Thor in English, and a Valkyrie too, both came to Earth and fought alongside Hitler and his Ubersoldaten. The Centurion himself traded blows with the so-called god of thunder." He nodded at that, and added, "When the Centurion defeated that monster, a sounding joy repeated all through Heaven, and the world of men and women as well. The angels have always stood alongside the heroes of this city, even if I am the first to do so openly."

Fusion made a face behind her mask. Great. "So I just hand her to you and you take her to the cops, huh?" She tossed Bombshell idly from arm to arm like a child playing with a toy. "All right, I guess this is your turf." She wrapped just the tip of one arm around Bombshell's waist and handed her off to Scarab, waiting till the legendary esper could take her. "You see!" she called to Bombshell as she started to slide down the edge of the building. "You can throw yourself at the men all you want, but it took two ladies to bring you down, sister! Woo!"

"My name is Fusion," explained the tentacled heroine, hanging easily off just one gigantic limb as she dangled Bombshell from three. "I've been working in the Pacific Rim for the last five years, but I'm new to Freedom City," she admitted. Focusing on Bombshell, she said, "I've wrestled slipperier snakes than you, honey. Try playing hunt and peck with a couple dozen Krait cultists and we'll see how wriggly you feel like being."

With a look of deep disgust on her face, Joan leaped off the roof and swung them towards the Pyramid Plaza, faster now that she wasn't playing around. Use me as your errand girl like I'm some C-lister. Lock you up in Scarab's basement, she thought peevishly, dance around like that so all the little girls think it's so cool to look like Bombshell, the hottest thief on Cellblock C! When she'd reached the Pyramid Plaza, Bombshell still held in two big tentacles, she leaped from a smaller building in the complex to the side of the north tower, where she clung, spread out across the glass as she folded her human legs beneath her and hung on with her two free arms. For lack of a better idea, she yelled, "Hey, Scarab!"

Fusion almost gave Bombshell a good squeeze at the mention of short skirts, but Joan restrained the impulse. There was that frown again, clear as day behind the mask, and what looked like a visible eyebrow raise. "And why would I want to think about the Scarab, exactly? Do you have something for her?" They kept moving, but slower now, as if Fusion was debating where to go. And in fact she was, sensing that the shifty supervillainess was up to no good. "Is this one of those things where she steals my bust?"

"Yeah yeah yeah, you're a real sexual pioneer. I'm sure the dudebros who keep your picture under their bed and the nerds who make Bombshell porn on the Internet think you're a real role model." She swung the immortal thief around again, holding her half upside down while she glared at her. "Face it, sister, men aren't rewarding you when they catcall you. They're jealous they can't rise to your level, so they're tearing you down to theirs, and getting their rocks off in the process. The patriarchy's a game where nobody wins. And as for where I'm taking you, you're going to the 45th Precinct, where I'm sure they'll be _very_ interested in what you were doing in that museum."

Up on the roof, Fusion held Bombshell at arm's length: which in this case, turned out to be about ten feet. Though the tentacled titan was wearing a full face mask, Bombshell could almost make out the frown hidden behind Fusion's black mask. "You're damn right you'd better not make tentacle jokes," she fired back. "Don't women in this business have enough trouble without your supervillainesses trying to make everything about sex all the time?" As she spoke, her tentacles kept moving, and soon they were whipping fast above the streets, Fusion staying moving with the help of her other two arms. "Not that the boys help any," she groused aloud. "Oh look, she's a bad girl, but I can reform her! Blah blah blah, keep it in your pants, short-stack."

With blinding speed, a gigantic octopus arm lashed out from Fusion's midsection, wrapping its way around Bombshell's waist with practiced ease despite the thirty feet or more between them. A moment later another followed, this one around her ankles. "I don't know what your game is, crook, but you can tell it to the police." She added with a smirk as another tentacle lashed up onto the roof, pulling them both up and out of the museum. "And you can save the come-ons, honey, because that's one way I _don't_ swing."

Not far away, the mysterious Fusion swung her way through the skies, Joan Collier exulting at the freedom she felt in her costume. I can't believe I waited three weeks to put this thing on! I thought Lois would never get to sleep. But Lois finally was down, after spending most of the night watching scary movies, and Charlie had agreed to make breakfast in the morning. Which means _I_ get to take to the skies again! She laughed when she heard the alarm from the museum and pivoted neatly in the air, swinging from long, muscular arms as natural as the ones she'd been born with as she started swinging her way towards the museum. Hah! No thief can stand to the might of Fusion! She thought, letting herself be more melodramatic than usual. She'd been quiet long enough, it was time to make some noise! Swinging off the rooftop gargoyles, her suckers parting with a pop, she whipped her way around and glided through the open skylight, letting her mantle catch her as she fell, so that she glided to a neat landing in the circle of light underneath the window, cutting an exotic figure in her all-black costume, partially-extended arms at nearly ten feet long whipping around her body. She saw Bombshell right off and narrowed her eyes, slick copper tentacles whipping around her body. "Hey, blondie! I don't know what you think you're pulling, but the party's over!" Fusion was experienced, enough to let one arm drag against the ground in case an ambush was waiting for her in the shadows.

"I'm sorry," said the angel apologetically, landing and patting Gigawatt lightly on the arm, careful not to get shocked by his electrical body. "You're right, I shouldn't have lost my temper with her." He gave the man a warm smile. "It's all right. She can't hurt you with her magic, or make you believe anything you don't want to believe." He shot Valkyrie a hard look. "Because she knows the oaths the Aesir swore when they fled this world, and she knows what will happen if she breaks them." To Phantom, he added, "I'm sorry, Heshem's champion, I just find it difficult to deal equitably with those who'd enslave the souls of all mankind."

HOUSE OF L VIGNETTE: MIDNIGHT II Open mic night at the Java Joint tended to bring out an eclectic crowd; long haired folk musicians with accoutic guitars slung over their shoulders, amateur comedians in bright plaid blazers and thick lensed glasses, quartets of rock and roll heartthrobs in matching skinny ties, lovesick poets reading from creased pieces of looseleaf paper. It was easy for the coffee shoppe’s regulars to get lost in the crowd, but the unassuming young man in the black turtleneck quietly sipping from his cup in the dimly lit corner furthest from the stage might have blended into the scenery regardless. If the waitress, sandy brown ponytail swinging behind her hadn’t been keeping an eye out for the lanky youth as she hurried from table to table she’d likely have passed by without a second glance. "Hey, Stringbean!" she greeted with a lopsided grin as she slid a fresh cup of coffee onto his table. "Lemme guess, the usual and keep ‘em coming?" The dark haired teen as the table gave the apron clad young woman a shallow but amiable nod. "Ellie. I suppose I’m getting predictable?" "Little bit," she teased good-naturedly, placing her free hand on her hip. "I was surprised to see your name on the sign-up sheet, though. Gonna sing or something?" "Something," he agreed easily, handing over his empty cup to add to the collection of dirtied dishes piled precariously on Ellie’s tray. A smattering of snaps from the assembled audience interrupted the conversation as the bongo player on stage hopped off of his stool and bowed awkwardly before returning to his seat. A goateed man with round sunglasses and a beret sauntered over the the mic from the shoppe’s counter. "Groovy, guy," he praised the departing musician, bobbing his head approvingly. "Next up, we got Trevor Hunter comin’ up to strut his stuff." Tilting his head briefly to Ellie so as to excuse himself, the dark haired youth rose from his seat and made his way up to the stage. As he did, whispers came from the tables he passed. "Trevor Hunter? Doesn’t he live in that bourgeois mansion just outta town?" "What’s he doin’ here?" "Probably slummin’ it, the poseur." "Man, drag. One-way ticket to Squaresville, coming right up." Apparently unbothered by the unenthusiastic reaction, the young man sat down easily on the stool behind the mic despite its height, and took a moment to look out over the room. The whispers died down almost immediately as the intensity of his lidded gaze froze cups halfway to lips. Leaning forward, he spoke to the suddenly still room. "Darkness creeps slowly, then all at once. No starlight pinpricks, no steet lamp glow. Sound seems far, echoes and fades, Now over your shoulder, whispers in your ear. "The monsters hide there, half-formed, hungry, But they do not own the darkness, Shadows offer passage to those who know to ask, And monsters know fear, too. "The night reclaimed, vindicated. The innocent emerge unscathed. The wicked reap the righteous whirlwind: The midnight bell tolls." Stepping smoothly from the stool, Trevor casually walked off of the stage. There was a beat of silence from the auidence, followed by another, then the cafe errupted in a flurry of snaps. "Far out, man!" "I got no idea what he was even talkin’ about!" "I know, right? That’s what makes it so brilliant!" The lanky teen reclaimed his table, deftly picking up his fresh cup. Having placed her retreived dishes behind the counter, Ellie jogged back over, holding her tray across her chest. "Gosh, Stringbean, that was the most!" the waitress exclaimed. Realization spread across her face, and she placed a hand on one hip. "Waitaminute... all that stuff about swirling darkness... you were talking about coffee, weren’t you?" she accused. A faint smile pulled at the corners of Trevor’s mouth, one which he hid behind a sip from his cup. "Got me. Guess I really am just that predicable, huh?"

"Your All-Father stood by and did nothing while his son slaughtered thousands in the name of mortal wizards and their dark, murderous causes. And worse, that son allowed himself to be bound by the sorcerers of the Thule Society to slaughter legions of men and women defending their homes from the greatest, coldest savagery this sphere has ever known. Would a _god_ allow himself to be used so?!" he demanded. His eyes hardening, he added, "The Creator sacrificed his mortal flesh to better live the pain of his people. Your All-Father hung from a tree for what? To watch as his symbols were smashed by priests and kings? To see the Creator's mark emblazoned everywhere? Oh, I am sure he gained great wisdom from the day the tongues of men ceased to praise his name." Focusing on Gigawatt, he added, "Did she show you Valhalla? The great mead halls, the drinking, the never-ending festival? It's a fine view, isn't it? But what they don't tell you there is the price that's paid for that great hall: a price of blood and bondage that lasts until the end of the world. Those who die in peace and love who speak the name of the Aesir don't join the swordsmen and mead-drinkers, no, they polish those blades and brew that mead, an eternity of service to those who the Aesir imagine are their betters. Valhalla is nothing less than an eternity of degradation, a Hell for all but those who would drown the world in the blood of the innocent!" He blinked. "And as for Heracles, he's all right, for what he is. The Olympians generally know better than to do...THIS." He shot a look at Valkyrie, and added, "Heracles, at least, can master the venom of serpents!"

"I'll leave you two to your work," said Jack with a quick, hard smile. "We'll find the enemy, and we'll deal with him. Together." With that said, he ducked under the door as if it wasn't there, leaving the ladies and his son alone in the big conference room as the sounds of a frantic conversation were soon filtering through the door from the other side. It sounded like they needed to clear out in a hurry!

APPROVED

Freedom Angel's lip curled, his handsome face looking uncharacteristically contemptuous for a moment as the light around him blazed a little brighter. "Ah yes, the famed courtesy of the Aesir. The centerpieces of a faith of thugs and savages who sought to pull down the light of the Creator's civilization, men who hid behind a one-eyed mushroom addict and his vicious sot of a son to cover their own manifest imperfections, building an afterworld of thuggery and violence, where the strong ever dominate the weak and helpless till all fall down in a bloody war of all against all. Go back to your apples and mead, and let the world be lived in by those who love it."

"Oh, thank you. And I'd love to have you and Derrick over some time." he offered. "We have so much space in the church, but many of my superhero friends feel strange about visiting there. I don't know why, it's such a beautiful place, with so much history behind it." He smiled. "Do you have a venue decided for your wedding yet? I'm sure Derrick could build you a church under the stars."

Transform 13 (10,000 lbs) (mirrors to helium) (Extra: Area-Burst, Continuous, Perception Range) (3/rank) (Flaws: Distracting, Full-Round Action, Tiring) (PFs: Progression on Area x10 (13 10,000 foot cubes) (49 pp) OK, I think that's a ~24 mile sized sphere that he turns into helium there? Linked with Psyche's ESP, natch

I...I understand so much! Mark's joy as the sheer wash of Psyche's intellect came boiling through his mind was infectious to behold, a life lived just this side of fuzziness suddenly sharpened to perfect clarity. With the additional push of Zephyr's power, he was living that life of brilliance at the speed of light. Until...Dad... Images flashed through Mark's mind, the grief and loss he'd been battling for so long now sharp and clear, every moment of betrayal, absence, and carelessness huge in his soul. But, at the very least...all those thoughts came in an instant. And then there was work to be done, because he was Mark Lucas, with the Centurion's name and the soul of a hero. He had work to do. He pushed his awareness away from the gulfs of grief and despair still in his mind and instead shoved it upwards, shoved it way up into the mirrors so far above, finding every inch, every fragment, and slowly, slowly pulling them apart with the sheer power of his mind. We can do it! he exulted in his own voice and Alex's. We can change the world!

Freedom Angel gave Gigawatt a warm, friendly smile that glowed with warmth and reassurance, everything an angel's smile should be. "No, thank you, my friend. I am Freedom Angel, Heaven's ambassador to this city." He shot Valkyrie a look of frosty, correct politeness. "I was unaware that the valkyrja were active again in this city. Does your All-Father know you dally with the sort of men he'd sell as thralls in your Valhalla?"

"Are you two all right down there?" called Freedom Angel, peering through the grate down at the two ladies. He'd flown back up onto the roof looking for them, and listened to the noises from inside. "Is the grate stuck?" he asked doubtfully, giving them both a significant look. "I can come down there and cut it out if you're having a problem. Or perhaps the two of you can."