Avenger Assembled

I have to agree with Mark on this one. I'll leave aside questions of any one particular character (that I don't play) as I think that's between that character's player and the Refs. I will say that Freedom City is not a setting that celebrates murderers and thugs; the mindset of the people there simply don't work that way. Bad guys should get their due, I've tried to do that in the thread I'm running that has a bad guy. But they should be treated _as_ bad guys; the things they've done to make them terrifying and wicked should give them the terror and fear they deserve. The people of the setting simply won't celebrate them. And beyond the in-game setting, let's not forget the world outside the game. It would be so. easy. for an online game like this to turn into an excuse for the various players to act out their ids in a fictional setting, but doing that would destroy the gaming community that we're trying to build here. How many of us have heard horror stories on the ATT, or encountered players IRL, who want a party of Lobos and Punishers? Those have a place, but not here. This isn't a setting that encourages that sort of thing. Frankly, it shouldn't be.

I think this is a good offer and a wise idea! Kudos to the hard-working Ref staff for thinking of us. :D

Ouch, put in my place. Well, we're glad to see you around anyway, Grim! :D

Yay! Good to see you back, person I haven't worked with before. We need more gritty street-types...

There are three (very disappointed) thugs approaching Nightrival, all of whom have made the mistake of getting within melee range. They operated under the assumption that their boss could handle Avenger.

Right. Jack checked his watch, smooth as a criminal, and pecked the blonde on the cheek as they parted ways. Meet you down there, he thought, disappearing out of the party with a smooth, graceful economy of motion.

Make another Notice check

Reaver's flight to the office building went sedately enough. Freedom City's abundance of superhumans meant that a man flying in the sky, even if he was sighted by people below, didn't raise any eyebrows. It helped that it was nighttime, the city itself spread out below him like a banquet beneath a starving man. Maybe he wasn't as fast as Captain Thunder or Lady Liberty, but who could argue with flight itself? The office building in question, perched near the North End like a dull block, appeared before him as easily as breathing. It was good to fly.

There was a long, noticeable pause in the room, the night itself seeming to hold its breath. "Well." Propelled by a sudden impulse, Jack reached up and pulled his masks off. First the hockey mask in one hand, and then the ski mask in another, exposing the man beneath the mask. Avenger's true face was...well, actually rather shockingly unlike the man himself. With his sloe eyes and longish black hair, delicately masculine features and sensual red lips, it was a bit as if Rudolph Valentino had been behind the mask of Lon Chaney's Phantom of the Opera. Avenger was beautiful! "Let's discuss this like adults, shall we?" With his own masks off, he gave Scarab an expectant look. "In my experience, violence begets violence. I don't do this to terrify children. Even moronic ones." He shot a truly murderous glare down at Vulture. "As for his crimes, it is certainly illegal to summon demons and use them to attack passing vagrants. I suspect that proper encouragement will persuade him of the wisdom of a confession, particularly once he is show that we can find him anywhere. For that matter," he added bluntly, "it is also illegal to carry crack cocaine. The sentence for that is fairly steep, I believe." He folded his gloved hands before him, masks neatly held in each. "But I would prefer to keep such illegal methods only as an emergency. Suitably broken, a young man like this can be properly molded. What did you uncover from his mind?"

You didn't ask me, but I'll say it anyway. If you don't want the character to be killed, why not just give him some Resurrection? Maybe linked with a Reaction Teleport in the bargain.

Hi Refs, Would there be any objection to using the Silencer in an upcoming Avenger story? Avenger is, at the moment, one of the few active heroes who might team up with the Silencer...or who the Silencer himself might think would be likely to do so. :twisted:

OK, Jack's Will save is back in action, so that last thought shouldn't be apparent to Scarab. And no worries on the moral implications thing; Scarab, Avenger, and Slamdance are just getting to know each other here. There's no reason why they wouldn't run into the occasional ethical conflict. And I will indeed adjust the post a bit, though you have to admit the conflict of doing more damage in your effort to do less damage is a bit amusing. :D

We've discussed you judging me, came Jack's firm mental reply. He turned out to be fairly talented at juggling mental and social conversations, flirting delicately with a petite blonde in the corner while he and Elena "spoke." Unconscious, you say? Unbidden, a fairly clear image of the not-hugely-successful interrogation of Vulture came into his mind. Unconsciousness is not within the powers of that particular strain of undead. The exanimate body cannot be shut down. As for restraint, we shall see.

Screams in his ears and blood in his mouth, the mixed flavors of Vulture and and Scarab pooling together in a torrent of humanity. Was staying in character as the creepy champion of the night worth those screams? I am not Avenger! I am Jack Faretti! Avenger suddenly slammed his fist into the back of the kid's head, the blow as precise and stunning as his earlier efforts had been painful and unsettling. With Vulture out, truly out, Avenger stood over him, blood on his hands and blue eyes boring implacably into the unconscious boy. "No. Have taught him fear. Is adequate. Suggest you probe him as needed now, and we carry him away to police." He stared at Scarab, his eyes the only windows to his soul behind his hockey mask. "Am not a monster. Pursue new lead."

As someone actively getting up to these Iron Age-y shenanigans, I feel I ought to at least speak up on my own end of things. This fact is not necessarily obvious to the rest of us, with little experience in telepathy. In Avenger's case, his assumption is that a little extra physical persuasion goes a long way. Jack is not actually as hard as he pretends to be, smacking a kid around makes him feel kind of bad. (Note that he had no moral qualms at all about feeding from him.) I had assumed that a character who was pretending to be a tough, scary bad guy would actually feel bad about some of the things he did. Heros feeling bad about what they do in the field is pretty Bronze Age. I dunno, Gotham's thugs (with a few exceptions) are pretty scared of Batman. I do agree that this was a bit surprising, though, if only from my end of things. Part of the reason Jack is getting a little creeped out by Elena is that, as Avenger, he deliberately pushes his own moral limits, acting like a creepy, dangerous sociopath to scare people and to keep them from getting too close to him personally. So having people agree so wholeheartedly with his methods is...unsettling. Avenger shouldn't be the kind of guy who thinks about joining the Freedom League; the Freedom League should be the sort of people who seek him out to have a Chat about his Methods. Which would be a good story, by the way. I'll tell you guys what, I'll try and bring it around on my post, all right?

Just what it says on the tin.

March 28, 2009: Jack flies at the airport "In My Dreams, I Fly"

Even with the sun up, it was a ridiculously easy matter for Jack to conceal himself against those few prying mortal eyes nearby. He was on the roof of a hangar near the extreme edge of Jordan International Airport, close by the edge of the property and deep in the heart of a little-used section that was the putative property of the national airline of Vietnam. Few people came out here, which made it perfect for his purposes. After a long, difficult couple of nights as Avenger and as himself, it was worth something to get away alone and embrace solitude. He'd fed that day, the blood of a stranger warm in his belly, and the blood in his system mixed with the darkness cast by the setting sun sent new energy coursing through his dead limbs. I am a vampire, he thought contentedly as he rose to his feet, his footsteps nearly silent as he walked to the edge of the roof, the tarmac some three stories down. And I like it. Lacking the angst of Nightrage or the cowardice of those of his kind unwilling to face their true nature, Jack was content to bask in the knowledge of his immortality. He was earning that immortality now, every night, making up for the sins of his past and digging his way towards a better future. So why does Scarab bother me so much? He stood at the edge of the roof, remembering the acid taste of the woman's blood between his lips. "She shouldn't trust me," Jack murmured aloud, finally, after long minutes of stillness. "I'm not to be trusted." Maybe telling her had been a mistake. Heru-Ra had spent so much time as a hero that perhaps it was difficult for the immortal champion to know what it was to be other than a man. I am not subject to human morality. He thought it, but despite his attempted assurances, he wasn't sure he believed it. It was easy to tell himself that now, when he was alone with himself and the night, the wind in his face. When he was with people, he felt like people. When he was with vampires, he felt like a vampire. What am I? He stepped off the roof, his body collapsing into mist as the night took him. Jack rose higher and higher in the air as he soared above Freedom City, his nearly-invisible body of mist and smoke rippling in the air as the whole wonderful world of the city spread itself out before him. For a few glorious minutes there in the sky he was king of the night, an undead lord of creation floating high above a kingdom full of cattle placed there to serve his whims as a hero and feed his undead lusts. And then the plane hit him. Jack had time to curse explosively as he was sucked into the jet's intake, the sensation certainly extremely disturbing for all that it was harmless, his misty body ejected out the rear of the engine in a few bizarre seconds, hurled away like so much exhaust as the slightly off-course Flight 430 made its way to a safe landing. Jack landed on his butt, shifting back to his regular self, as he just made out Captain Thunder guiding the plane towards its landing. The golden guardian of the skies hardly noticed the vampire on the ground, focused as he was on the plane, and maybe it was better that way. Never a particularly egocentric guy, Jack permitted himself a hard laugh as he rose to his feet, dusting off his butt as he walked towards the fence. "Well, I guess that's humility for you." He laughed again. "Probably for the best that Melinda didn't see that." He'd tasted blood that night and survived going through a jet engine. He was right, he wasn't a man. But that didn't make him a god, either. "I'm a vampire." He walked through the chain-link fence and onto the street, a nearby scream from the airport hotel making him raise his head. Whose work is never done! Dreams were for people who could sleep.

Avenger didn't blink. "The unholy are hurt by the holy. Of all kinds." He steepled his hands before him. "Assumed you would be aware of this. Likely too late to deal with the matter now. Bible may help." He looked from one to the other. "Short version. Tracking a cult. Have stolen variety of holy and unholy magical items. Believe they have plans to resurrect at least one dead entity. Very powerful. Risk is significant. Need to know if you are all willing to risk it."

When the others were gone, and seen to be gone, Avenger pulled up his mask and bit down on the monster's neck, worrying at the vein as he rent it wide open. He made sure it was unconscious first, slamming head back into the floor until it was unconscious for sure. The beast had some trouble recuperating from the beating and the biting, especially once Jack began using his teeth to rend and tear. It was fairly disgusting work, all things considered, but he was sorely hungry after the exertion of the fight and owed some pain to this thing. When he'd drunk his fill and licked his chops clean, Avenger took the liberty of binding the thing with the torn pieces of his cape, watching it closely while he waited for the others. His mask was easy enough to clean up.

In a shocking swerve for those familiar with Avenger's methods, the dark champion of the night actually entered through the front door of the house some twenty minutes after sunset, greeting the others with a "Good. Not owner. Please don't touch." With a peremptory gesture that suggested he hadn't actually gained new people skills in the days since his colleagues had seen him last, Avenger led the others into an empty conference room. "This way. Will explain."Taking a seat at the dusty table, he looked up at the others, emotions hard to read in his icy blue eyes. "Monster threatening the city. Needs to be dealt with. Did you bring holy items?"

Though all this telepathic contact made Jack a little uneasy, he was more than happy to go along with Scarab's plans. With someone else suggesting ideas, it was easier not to feel responsible for all this. Avenger took the boy's right leg in his big hands and began to twist it slowly, putting pressure on the knee joint. Jack has experience hurting people, he doesn't actually twist hard enough to shatter the joint, permanently crippling Vulture. But it's hard enough that Vulture will think he will.

Avenger opted to repay his colleague's binding like for like, throwing himself at Samedi from behind and wrapping his arms around the voodoo god's neck. The dark champion didn't banter with Samedi, instead grunting and straining with him in deadly earnest. Samedi made a bizarre noise of his own as Avenger squeezed, a sound like bones popping coming as he turned his head to look at him. The struggle made the shadows around Nightrival slip, freeing the vigilante from their cold embrace. "Oh, dis is a good one," Samedi laughed malevolently even in Avenger's grip. "Funny!"

I will post to this thread later tonight, I want to make sure everyone has an opportunity to be in on it.

The night lay before Reaver, the Fens active still with that sound of a neighborhood animate even after dark. He could hear noises from inside the nearby theater, the sounds of some tired old bit of vice probably as old as him slithering their way out through the walls. There were derelicts down the parallel street, but they were far too busy with their own affairs of drink and squalor to notice Reaver. The night was full of possibilities.