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Saturday, August 3rd, 2019, 9:35 AM Riverside Park, Near Hamilton Planetarium Claude dialed back his pace, slowing down from the jog he was at to a more sedate walking speed. Ever since getting his current gig, Doc had drummed into him the importance of about getting a bead on your environment. Especially if you were going to be somewhere for any length of time. Coupled with wanting to get out of Jules' apartment for a bit Claude had chosen to take a morning run through the local park. His attire of jogging shorts and a simple white t-shirt kept him comfortably cool, while his headphones pumped out tunes to run to. The Bostonian had to admit it was a decent park, but the rookie guardian preferred unspoiled nature than carefully tended and shaped artificial constraints of man-made natural engineering. Still, the statues were nice and the Sentry Statue was an iconic landmark, even in the future. What wasn't nice was the oddly prevalent minor temporal anomalies he had ran into during his circuit of the park. The one nearby marked the third he had found today, this one in a flower bed that was doing an excellent job of confusing the local bee population. On their own, these minor anomalies didn't do much. They might make it feel like earlier in the day, temperature wise or slow down time so the plants matured slower. What made them truly dangerous is that they tended to move about and were attracted to each other, and when you got enough together that's when time storms started to form. Claude had once queued up temporal meteorology with the repository and it was like trying to piece together the remains of a taco warping through a tesseract: messy and disturbing. But when caught before then like now, they were easily dispersed. Stopping in front of the flowers, he knelt down as to tie his shoe and brought out his Isochronon. A button press later, the bees were now appeased being able to find their target. Mischief managed, he thought. A wry grin graced his features at the mental turn of phrase as Claude discretely pocked the Isochronon, went through the motions of checking his laces, and then stood back up.

Mid-July 2019 The summons had gone out to a variety of heroes - come to Freedom Hall at such and such a time on such and such a date for a meeting with Comrade Frost in the League satellite. Some had gotten the message personally in intimate conversation with the ex-Soviet, some had gotten it through professional correspondence. A uniformed League employee had shuttled them all inside the Hall and to its teleporter, where now (if Frost's calculations were correct) they were all about to arrive! When the flash and noise of teleportation were over, Frost spread his arms, producing a slight chill in the air in the metal-walled room that looked a bit like something out of Star Trek - if you ignored the big transparent window to one side that showed the Earth below. "Welcome to space! Feel free to ogle Central America if interested," he declared in his distinct Russian accent.

Wednesday, June 19th, 2019, 10:30 pm The abode of Mona Teymourian, near the Waterfront "She was adorable, Viktor," drifted from the kitchen area. "I know she wouldn't want to be described as such, but she was. The third heroine to wear the name Rossignol! A very sweet young woman, obviously quite skilled, but still finding her bearings. I wished her the very best and gave her my contact information." Mona was unusually chatty, even gregarious. Viktor's arrival seemed to complete her day, and she was eager to recount the highlights. So after a quick kiss, she regaled him with the latest happenings while unpacking groceries. "Do you want something to drink? I picked up some of that white tea you seemed to like." One mock glare later and she started an electric kettle. "Also some Black Death coffee, pomegranate kombucha, and a lovely micro-brew stout. A bit light on snacks at the moment. Some brie?" The sounds of activity reverberated through the high-ceiling building. The space was big, certainly, with metal beams and rows of high, paneled windows above exposed brick. Perhaps, oh, a quarter had been converted into an open living space with a kitchen, adjacent seating area, curtained-off bedroom, and bath. The rest was devoted to her studio. Ghostly shapes of dust-clothed sculptures floated in the dim lights. Her workstation, an explosion of bright colors, seemed to glow through the murk. Even after months away, the place smelled of oil paint and stone dust. Mona had been very proud of her handiwork. From a tour now many years ago, the fixtures and furnishings were secondhand or recycled, and Mona had bartered or DIY-ed much of the renovation. The original purpose, an ice warehouse, was abundantly clear from the Linden's Ice sign on the wall. The foundation and roof work were her doing, and superhuman strength proved a great boon in that regard. The crumbling antique had been picked up for a song. She had rather sheepishly admitted to being quite broke at the time. The way her eyes lit up here, in this place, spoke volumes. The expression was much the same when seeing Viktor after a long absence. As for now though, Mona deposited a tray of goodies on the coffee table. The little table was surrounded by a sofa and two armchairs. One chair stood out a bit: high-backed, Mona-sized, and eye-searingly pink. This one she drifted into tea cup in hand. "Damn, it's good to be home. How was your trip?"

Summer 2019 Suddenly the door to the conference room opened, and a man entered. Well, depending on your definition thereof. Both Miracle Girl and Fulcrum had heard of the fate of Captain Thunder's son Bolt, the electric speedster and Claremont alum who'd recently been the victim of a horrific attack that had left him permanently transformed into energy now possessing a high-end robot. Bolt hadn't bothered with the kind of android features used by mechanical heroes before him; he had a featureless blue face and metallic body, with long blue cape behind him. "Hello, Miracle Girl, Fulcrum." He cocked his featureless head, then sat down at the head of the table. "Before we start," he said, his modulated voice serious. "I want to let you know that it wasn't my idea to do it this way, and I hope you won't hold it against me. Now!" he added, his voice suddenly light. "Tell me about yourselves."

Wednesday, June 19th, 2019, 2:02 PM Fulcrum sometimes wondered what radar operators thought of Freedom City. The newer systems could easily track something of her size or smaller. At least that is what the science magazines were writing. But planes and helicopters were one thing. Flying heroes? That she'd like to chat with someone in the know. Such were her musings as she descended toward home. Her flight path arced lazily westward across the blue waters of the Atlantic. Out there she could cut loose, but closer to land she slowed down to a more reasonable 200 mph or so. No need to shatter windows or capsize boats after all. Soon the familiar face of Centurion's memorial gleamed on the horizon below her. She smiled. Home. To those with keen eyes, a white and gold streak approached from the east and aimed for Sentry Statue.

GM Location Unknown Lor Time Mark 1898.6 (July 30, 2019 Terran Calendar) A pair of figures walked down a long marble hallway. Great pillars held up a vast, vaulted ceiling as light from some unknown source gleamed off the gilded sections of the ceiling and the smooth marble. One of the figures was tall and thin, dressed in a yellow robe and hood, a golden mask covering its face. The other was short, no more than four feet tall, with a stout body and dark red skin. It had a bald head and wide face. Along the hallway the two figures passed several alcoves, each containing a hologram image sometimes depicting individual beings, other times a small group of beings. "See all the great champions of contests past Kanto?" The tall hooded figure asked as the pair passed some of the alcoves and their holograms. The smaller figured nodded its bald head, a grin on its wide face. "It has been far too long since I have had any truly entertaining contestants for any games." The taller figure continued, a note of disappointment in its voice. The figure came to a halt in front of one of the alcoves. The hologram contained within was of a single muscular human, wearing blue tights over which were a golden breastplate, matching forearm guard and knee-high boots. A long white cape hung from the man's shoulders. "Now here Kanto, here was one of the greatest champions I have ever seen." The tall figure stated as it looked upon the hologram. The shorter figure nodded excitedly, looking up at the tall figure and then back at the hologram. "Centurion of Terra. His noble nature meant he always refused to compete in any contest I put before him." The hooded figure stated. "But, in the end I always found a way to compel him to compete, even if he did not see it that way." It then added, a hint of humor in its tone. "But alas, he is now lost to use, fallen in battle against the great Omega." The hooded figure said as the shorter one looked at the hologram with a sad look on its face. "But…" The hooded figure began before pausing in thought, causing the shorter figure to look back, a quizzical look on its wide face. "Perhaps it is time for another to take up the mantle Kanto." The hooded figure stated, looking down at the shorter for a moment before looking back to the hologram. "Yes, that is the answer Kanto. There needs to be a new Centurion, then I can have hold the greatest contests in the cosmos once again!"

Fulcrum Artist, paragon, coffee lover The Interview: 20 Questions HellQ Guidebook Reputation

Here you go

Friday, June 21st, 2019, 6:23 pm Espadas School of Self-Defense and Swordsmanship The West End, bustling and chaotic, was winding down for the evening. While still short of sundown, the cooling day drew people to porches and cafes and away from the daily grind. The weekend was at hand, and the weather was lovely. It was at this moment, a warm breeze whistling between the buildings, that something odd happened. In the alley behind the Espadas School of Self-Defense and Swordsmanship a series of rents opened in space. Or more specifically, five thin, two-dimensional lines, spaced like vertical claw marks, split open space. The lines widened, drawing back reality to reveal two figures. The tall one stepped through the portal followed by smaller. "Good girl, Penny. You're improving every day," said the larger figure: Mona. The smaller figure, a Siamese mix the size of a giant bobcat, meowed her reply. Mona was expected. Word travels quickly in the West End. Especially when Gina "Nana" Espadas was Mona's first visit. There was catching up, pictures of grand kids, and the general goings on in the neighborhood. Then Gina put the word out that Mona was back in town. Not that she was really ever gone. You see, Fulcrum had gone globe. But she was always in contact. Video chatting from an art exhibition in Berlin. Seashells from the Seychelles. Pictures of sushi from Tokyo. Boxing footage with a mutated Tasmanian devil (no one was hurt). Postcards from Dakana. Lots of pictures of rampaging, giant robots. A surprising number. And from time-to-time, she'd fly home to provide her famous Mona Bear Hugs and all sorts of eclectic presents. Recently though...she'd been going silent for longer periods. Months at a time even. Today that ended. Before the portal swirled closed, Mona plucked out a large steamer trunk and hoisted it over one shoulder. She smiled as she knocked on the back door. Home sweet home.

The OOC thread for here.

Wednesday, June 19th, 2019, 8:39 PM Mona missed the West End. This was her old stomping ground. She knew the place like the back of her hand. Friends, family, neighbors. Memories. The riot of life made her smile: the smells from the restaurants, kind words in dozens of languages, the old cobblestone side streets, the "newly" planted trees now soaring above the row houses and shops. Despite all that Freedom City had experienced, the core character of the neighborhood remained. But the West End wasn't perfect. Not by a long shot. Heroes were still needed. Which meant this particular evening, Fulcrum decided to do something she hadn't done in years: patrol. Or more specifically, patrol here. So as the lights blinked out in the businesses, and tired West Enders hurried home, Fulcrum jogged through the streets. Oh, sure, she could fly, but jogging was more fun, and pun intended, kept her grounded. She was in costume though. She was "on the clock" as it were. Thus a giant in a white bodysuit with gold wristbands, belt, and anklets passed under the street lights of a quieting West End. Except of course for a rhythmic thud, thud, thud of her 600+ pounds hitting the pavement.

The OOC thread for here.

The OOC thread for here.

The OOC thread for here. You're up, Rossignol.

"Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don't give up." - Anne Lamott "I'm not normally a praying man, but if you're up there, please save me, Superman!" - Homer Simpson Player Name: Dariusprime Character Name: Fulcrum Power Level: 15 (250/250PP) Trade-Offs: -5 Attack / +5 Damage, -5 Defense / +5 Toughness Unspent PP: 0 In Brief: Terminus-powered heroine defending the citizens of Freedom City with super strength, speed and determination! Alternate Identities: Mona Teymourian Identity: Public Birthplace: Freedom City Occupation: Fine/Graphic Artist Affiliations: Interceptors Family: Afareen Teymourian (mother), Omid Ansari (father, deceased), Mahmoud Zandipour (stepfather), Fatima Teymourian (sister), Ava Teymourian (grandmother) Age: 39 (DoB: 21 July, 1980) Apparent Age: 30s Gender: Female Ethnicity: Persian (Iranian) Height: 8’2†Weight: 735 lbs Eyes: Dark brown (right), blue (left) Hair: Black Description: Ah, the girl next door, Fulcrum. If the girl next door happened to be an eight-foot, Persian amazon. She's the statuesque, athletic, 100% woman with enviable muscle tone. She's beautiful, if not in a traditional sense, then by a dignified bearing and self confidence. Admirers say her disarming smile and wavy, dark hair really make her stand out. She really rocks her costume though. Looks like a full body racing suit, including stylin' gloves and sturdy boots. The base color is a deep blue, a gold wedge runs from the shoulders down and a long, white cape with two blue stripes at the bottom completes the look. A blue bar balanced on a triangle is centered on the chest. A white cape, much like Centurion's, completes the look. History: Summary: As Centurion drew his last breath, 12 year old Mona did likewise. She died only to return to life transformed. 14 years later the swift and superhuman giant donned Centurion's lost cape, becoming Fulcrum, The Eternal Balance! Heroes' Knoll, 14 September 2009, 11 pm A caped figure descended slowly into the Knoll. The hero hovered at eye level with Centurion's statue and then landed. After a minute of hesitation, she spoke. "Hello, Mr Cen...Centurion. My name is Mona Teymourian. I was the little girl you visited at the Children's Ward. That was the same day as the Terminus Invasion. Good to see you again." "I remember meeting you like it was yesterday. My mom said the Freedom Children's Foundation had responded to my wish, but I thought she meant you autographed a picture or something. I didn't expect a visit. You are...were...such a busy hero, saving the world and all. You looked so confident and powerful when you came around the curtain! I could have died right then and there." She smiled and looked at the plaque, "You were my hero. When I was little, I wanted so much to be your sidekick. I'd put on my homemade cape and 'fly' around the backyard, pretending I was Centuri-Girl or Latin Lass, flying alongside you into danger and adventure. Saturdays mornings always started with Freedom Friends. Comic books, newspaper clippings, posters, Centurion pajamas. Mom always hated those pajamas. She thought Lady Liberty was a better role model. And you wouldn't believe the crush I had on you as a teenager. Movie stars had nothing on you." "I just wanted to fly. To feel the ground drop out beneath me, escape gravity and soar into the clouds. I remember asking you how flying felt. You said, 'Flying feels like being free, like a bird.' And you know, you're absolutely right. But the doctor said I was too frail. Sitting on your arm while you hovered was definitely the next best thing. I still have those pictures, both of us smiling. Looking at them now, you seemed sad. Wistful even. Why were you sad? I suppose I'll never know." "I remember the battle too. The Omegadrones were everywhere. So where heroes. More than I had ever seen together. Then buildings started to fall like dominoes. You were battling Omega. He looked like the End of the World. I was so scared. Where you scared, Centurion? I watched you land that one perfect punch. I watched you split his armor open," Tears welled in the blue and gold clad hero's eyes, "I watched you fall to the street. I couldn't believe it. You were Centurion. You were invincible." "Listen to me ramble," she mumbled. Unfastening the white cape, she pulled it into her arms reverently, "The reason I came here. When you broke Omega, I saw this...shock wave of energy from the point of impact. The energy swirled with crackling white and roiling black, like lightning and perfect stillness tumbling together. Knocked me to the ground, washed over me, through me. No one else saw it apparently. No one believed me," she stopped, collecting her thoughts. "I died during the Invasion too, when you died. I got one good look at you and collapsed. The doctors said the chemo and stress were too much for me. But I came back. I heard your voice in the dark, and came back. But something else happened. I came back different. Grew up big and strong and fast and hopelessly infatuated with The Champion of Freedom. I became like you," she sniffed. Floating up, she draped the cape over the statue's hands atop the sword. "On the 13th anniversary, a sheet drifted into my apartment window. Well, I thought it was a sheet, until I saw the twin, blue stripes along the bottom. I just knew. I planned on sending it to the Super Museum, but I couldn't help but try it on once. I hope you can forgive the indulgence. Then this urge overtook me. I stepped outside and...lifted off. I don't know how long I flew, but I soared through the clouds and felt like I touched the face of forever." "For a while, I was arrogant enough to think it chose me. As if the cape itself was looking for a successor. I never worked so hard in my life. At one point I started lifting industrial equipment for strength training. It was if I had a new lease on life, after the Invasion, and putting on your cape unlocked the rest of my potential. Whether psychologically or physically, I can't say. Every day I seemed more powerful. I continued growing too. Yeah, I'm now an eight foot amazon. I decided, for a lot of reasons, to follow in your footsteps. I took the name Fulcrum, after your words and as a means of balance in the world." She sighed and looked down. "I don't have what it takes to be a hero. Not like you. No one can live up to you. White Knight is a pig, but I honestly didn't think being a hero would be this difficult. That guy nearly killed me. In some ways, I understand your courage to stand up against Omega. I don't have that kind of willpower, that dedication. Guess I failed my biggest test." "I don't know why I'm telling you all of this. Maybe its my confession, for good or bad. Thank you. For being a hero. Thank you for letting me use you cape, Centurion. I tried." Fulcrum landed and walked away from the statue. A gust came up, rustling the still night air. The cape drifted off the statue and down onto her. Pulling it off her head, she turned and stared at the statue's face. The policewoman, standing among the other statues, flipped on her flashlight. "You do. Don't try to be Centurion. Be yourself." The shocked look slowly morphed into a grin. Re-clasping the cape, Fulcrum turned to the officer, "I will. Thank you." Smiling to the statue one last time, Fulcrum launched into the night, flying as high and fast as she could. Personality & Motivation: Laconic, mellow, introspective, confident, ironic, thoughtful, introverted. Fulcrum is an old soul, just does her own thing, live and let live, trying for a fulfilling and meaningful life. Learning is important, as is doing. She likes a good scrap, a good meal and a good lover. Slow to anger and a force of nature when enraged. Loves making a difference for people and stands up for that which she believes. She's fallible as everyone else, and in the end, respects herself the more for it. Earn her loyalty and you'll have a friend for life. Oh yeah, she can be stubborn as a mule too. She truly wants to follow in Centurion's footsteps. Being a direct legacy is irrelevant. Its what he stood for that matters. Doing the right thing matters. Plus she feels the calling in her bones. As if protecting this world, this universe, is her destiny and her duty. "Freedom is worth the fight." Powers & Tactics: Fulcrum is a powerful being and her tactics are recklessly straightforward. She faces off with the biggest foe, pummeling or strafing it at supersonic speeds. She utilizes her super strength and immunities to gain advantages, particularly by grappling, throwing or exposing foes to harsh environments. Against numerous foes, staying airborne and sweeping across the lines with heavy objects is common as well as utilizing her powerful freeze and sonic attacks. Unless something important is threatened, she has the common sense to retreat or keep an opponent at bay. Complications: Enemy: White Knight. Fulcrum has twice brawled with White Knight. She won both outings. Naturally, he still hates her guts. Fame: An eight foot giant is hard to miss, so Mona lives openly as Fulcrum. Additionally, she is unofficially working as a Centurion legacy, which puts her every move under scrutiny. Honor: Seek peace. Keep your word. Support just laws. Support the common good. Live with compassion, courage, virtue and wisdom. Power Dampers: Fulcrum wears sturdy power dampers that absorb her energy emissions. They are disguised as bracelets and anklets and are quite durable. Nonetheless, damaging, disabling or destroying these devices will cause her Terminus Radiation complication to come into effect. Prejudice: Iranian, female, bohemian, artist, feminist: take your pick of issues minor or major. The Big One: Centurion legacy. Mona is trying to follow in Centurion's footsteps, a little too much for some peoples' liking. Responsibility: Family. Her extended family lives in the West End of Freedom City. Heaven help anyone, particularly a maniacal supervillian, that threatens them. Freedom City. Centurion protected the entire world, but for many years Freedom City was his 'home' turf. For this reason and her own love, she is protective of the city and its people. Interceptors. They're her second family. Do the math. Viktor Archeville. Like her family, Mona is very attached to her boyfriend and will fight fiercely to protect him. Terminus Radiation: Fulcrum is a liminal being: a Terminus hybrid organism acclimated to conditions within the multiverse. Her physiology is fundamentally alien, and mimicked traits (pigmentation, heart rhythm, etc.) left over from her slow transformation allow her a 'normal' physical appearance. Microscopic and molecular studies suggest a homogenous, non-cellular biochemical structure unrelated to Terran life. Her metabolism consumes localized matter and energy (particularly cosmic energy) to power and maintain her body. The waste product is a low-energy cosmic energy, compatible with Terminus radiation, which emanates from her at all times. This radiation is typically invisible to the unaided eye; however, individuals with the proper detection equipment can visualize the energy as a shimmering, black aura with some characteristics similar to normal cosmic energy. This Terminus radiation has been described as 'malignant' given its propensity to induce severe alterations in the surrounding environment. Emission rates spike during strenuous physical activity. Long-term exposure examples: Disease, mutation, healing/injury, super powers, power modifications, dimensional rifts, warping reality, powering devices/beings, other unusual properties, etc. Using Extra Effort or similar exertion releases a large quantity of energy, potentially causing immediate effects similar to long-term exposure. Abilities: 32 + 2 + 36 + 4 + 6 + 4 = 84PP Strength: 50 (+20) Dexterity: 12 (+1) Constitution: 50 (+20) Intelligence: 14 (+2) Wisdom: 16 (+3) Charisma: 14 (+2) Combat: 16 + 14 = 30PP Initiative: +5 Attack: +10 Melee, +7 Ranged (+8 Base, -1 Size) Grapple: +34 (+10 Melee, +20 Str, +4 Size)/+48 (+14 Max. Super-Strength) Defense: +10 (+7 Base, +4 Dodge Focus, -1 Size), +3 Flat-Footed Knockback: -21 (-15 Imp. Toughness, -2 Toughness, -4 Size) Saving Throws: 0 + 4 + 12 = 16PP Toughness: +20 (+20 Con [Impervious 15]) Fortitude: +20 (+20 Con, +0) Reflex: +5 (+1 Dex, +4) Will: +15 (+3 Wis, +12) Skills: 60/60R = 15PP Craft (Artistic) 13 (+15) Diplomacy 13 (+15) Knowledge (Art) 8 (+10) Languages 3 (English [Native], Galstandard, German, Persian) Notice 12 (+15) Sense Motive 11 (+14) Stealth 0 (-3, -4 Size) Feats: 18PP Accurate Attack Attack Focus (Melee) 3 Dodge Focus 4 Eidetic Memory Environmental Adaptation (Zero G) Fearless Improved Initiative Interpose Luck 1 Move-By Action Power Attack Takedown Attack Ultimate Save (Toughness) Powers: 3+13+12+15+3+6+6+35=93PP (Descriptor: Cosmic [Terminus]) Flight 1 (10 mph/100 feet; Power Feat: Moving Feint) [3PP] Growth 4 (Large; Extras: Continuous +1; Flaws: Permanent -1; Power Feats: Innate) [13PP] Growth Modifiers (+8 Strength, +4 Constitution, +5 ft Speed, -1 Attack, -1 Defense, +4 Grapple, -4 Stealth, +2 Intimidate, Space 10 ft, Reach 10 ft, +5 Str Carrying Capacity, -4 Knockback) Immunity 12 (Aging, Life Support, Sleep, Starvation/Thirst) [12PP] Impervious Toughness 15 [15PP] Regeneration 1 (True Resurrection 1/week; Power Feats: Persistent, Regrowth) [3PP] Super Senses 6 (Extended Hearing 2 [1000 ft increments], Extended Vision 2 [1000 ft increments], Ultra Hearing, Low-Light Vision) [6PP] Super-Strength 1 (Flaw: Carrying capacity only -1; Power Feats: Countering Punch, Freeze Breath [Snare = Str bonus], Shockwave, Strike of Valor [Vampiric], Alternate Power 1) [6PP] AP: Super Movement (Space Travel) 3 (Intergalactic, Drawback: Only in space -1) [5PP] Terminus Array 14 (28 points; Power Feats: Alternate Power [Dynamic] 3, Dynamic) [35PP] (Power of the Void) DBP: Flight 14 (Flight 15 [500,000 mph/5,000,000 feet] total maximum) [28PP] DAP: Drain (Toughness) 20 (Channel the Terminus; Extras: Affects Objects +1, Ranged +1; Flaws: Distracting -1, Action (Full Round) -1; Power Feats: Accurate 2, Affects Incorporeal, Improved Range 3 [2000 ft increments] , Precise, Slow Fade 1 [1 min]) [28PP] DAP: Quickness 14 (x50,000) (Extra: Linked: Speed 14 [250,000 mph/2,500,000 feet]) [28pp] DAP: Super Strength 14 (total effective Str 130; Heavy Load 800,000 tons) [28pp] Drawbacks: -6PP Weakness (Energy absorbed by daka crystals, Frequency: Uncommon -1, Intensity: Moderate -1, -1 Dexterity per round -4) [-6PP] DC Block: ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed Touch DC35 Toughness (Staged) Damage (Physical) Drain Ranged DC 30 Fortitude (Staged) Drain (Toughness) Freeze Breath 200-ft. cone DC30 Reflex (Staged) Snare Abilities (84) + Combat (30) + Saving Throws (16) + Skills (15) + Feats (18) + Powers (93) - Drawbacks (6) = 250/250 Power Points

January 15, 2013 Morning West End There's a man in a giant robot suit marching down the street, calling down vengeance on all who have oppose him. Just another day in Freedom City. "Fools!" boomed the voice of the giant automaton, the pilot just visible inside. "Everyone always said old Jerry Craven wasn't ever going to amount to anything, but look at me! I've got a giant warsuit! Now I'm big, and YOU PEOPLE ARE SORRY! AHAHAHA!" He laughed manically and stomped forwards, people fleeing in terror as he made his way from the warehouse that he'd simply walked his way out of, heading in a leisurely fashion towards the sea. His suit was big, towering as tall as the small tenements on either side, and wide enough that he nearly brushed them on both sides as he went. This was a big problem for the neighborhood; one false move in that big suit and the whole thing would come crashing down on the neighborhood!

The Interceptors + Dragonfly deal with some problems.

Interceptors A teenager given superpowers in a freak accident is taken under the wing of the organisation of a mysterious man with the calling card of a Tarot card: The Jack of Blades. His team, the Interceptors, operate from a brownstone in New Jersey, working in secret to fight crime, iniquity and rogue superhuman foes! Cast: Initial team Erik Espadas/Jack of all Blades: James Roday - An initially mysterious yet charismatic man in a long coat and bandanna mask, he has the ability to form energy swords. A very secretive man, over the course of the series his family, and the past tragedy of the Interceptors, is revealed to be a big factor in this secrecy. A keen tactician and skilled swordsman, he is proud, confident, brash, and likes to flirt with the ladies. Later in the series, he falls in love with Willow. Chris Kenzie/The Gecko: Joe Dempsie - The audience surrogate, and a washed-up high school drop out with strong regenerative powers, the ability to crawl on walls and a keen sense of smell. He is rescued from near death by Jack of all Blades, and recruited as an Interceptor initially grudgingly (but later shown to be part of Erik's need to protect others). He soon shows a keen detective mind and learns to fight. While he's in his Gecko costume in the first episode, he later tends to wear a green leather jacket and his signature orange goggles. Chris has a sharp wit, and a fondness for goofing off which tends to put him at loggerheads with Jack. Mara Hallomen: Sarah Jones - An emotionally stunted genius with an array of gadgetry and a computer room in the Brownstone. Her computer room. While able to use technology in the form of a visor and gauntlets to fight in the field, she excels in the field of providing information and gadgets for the team's current mission. She is a little wary of Jack and Chris's loud natures, but gets on much better with Mona. Mona Teymourian/Fulcrum: Bahar Soomekh - The Team Mom, a tall and striking woman of Persian heritage. She has unexplained superhuman strength, endurance and running speed, and is able to make powerful leaps (though not true flight). She vaguely resents Jack for his actions driving her old boyfriend out of town, but understands why he did it, and as his old babysitter, maintains a fondness for him nonetheless. Towards Mara and Chris, she acts much more supportively. A genuinely moral and good person, she is the least likely to engage in any form of questionable action. Later additions Ellie Espadas: Silvia Tovar - Erik's little sister, and a powerful biokinetic. While the younger sister who Erik is overprotective towards, she is clearly the more mature and is unafraid to remind Erik of this. Her fledgling relationship with Mara is a recurring plot thread. By the end of the series, she has progressed from recurring character, to regular, to member of the team. Willow: Lesley-Ann Brandt - An ancient being awoken early in the series. With great power to control plant life, and formidable regenerative capabilities, she is an aloof woman not entirely acquainted with modern life and struggling both with it, and her attraction to Erik. Her presence overtakes Chris's in the role of someone to exposit on advanced technology to. She is the Herald of the Gorgon, and plays a pivotal role in the finale. Episodes (Italics denote important parts of myth arc) Season One: Gorgon Season Two: Vigilantes Future Season plot arcs: - The Houses of Suits arrive to take the city for their own. - The demonic invasion, and Jack's infection by hellfire. - Spellbound and Chris keeping their involvement secret. - The rise of the superheroic era.

May 21, 2012 Erik Espadas was a man who had faced everything from alien armadas to demons from the foulest pits, a living weapon honed to peerless sharpness by talent and training, a hero who risked his life routinely with no regard for risk or fear of failure. None of which helped in the least to prevent him pacing back and forth across the living room of his family home, hands clasped behind his back and shoulders set with stress as obvious as the fretting expression plastered across his face. More than half a year of mental and emotional preparation had evaporated the first time Willow had experienced a 'fake' contraction earlier in the week. Now, as the rest of the house filled with family and friends preparing, the knowledge that he was about to become a father had become somehow more real. Running a hand across his heavily stubbled jawline, the fencer redoubled the speed of his pacing. "Try not to wear a rut into the floor too deep for my chair to get over," a wry, matronly voice requested as Gina Espadas wheeled out of the adjacent bedroom and over to her son. Still inside, his thankfully medically trained sister saw to the heavily pregnant dryad in what, surprisingly enough, was not her first experience with midwifery. Although Ellie had made the case for handling the whole affair in a regular hospital, Willow's fairly obviously more-than-human nature presented a problematic risk to their collective secret identities. Compromising, she'd asked her girlfriend to clear a section of the Lab's extensively equipped medical floor, intending to use Mara's teleportation technology to whisk the soon-to-be mother there once they were sure she was about to go into labour. In the meantime, the West End home had accumulated the eclectic assortment of characters collectively known as the Interceptors, including the artificial intelligence colloquially known as Vince running on a borrowed laptop and the quietly precocious six-year-old girl Ellie and Mara had brought back along with more than three hundred refugees of a recently destroyed alternate reality. Orphaned by the creatures who had devastated her version of Earth, Yolanda had been staying with Gina and Ellie since a few strings had been pulled to have the former expediently declared her legal guardian. While Vince had elected to have his monitor left in the kitchen area with a joke about staying out of the way, Yolanda had taken up a cross-legged vigil in one corner of the bedroom, silently watching the proceedings with wide eyes. Erik gathered that this wasn't even the first time the little girl had been present for a birth and considerably better circumstances. He found himself envying her composure.

Oh snap, a baby! For reference, the first floor of the Espadas house: Backyard _|-|___________________ | | | | | | ___| | | | | | |____________|-|__| | | ..... | | | | | | | | | |_| |_| | | | | | |__________|-|__________| Porch Erik and Gina are near the forward wall, near the front door. The kitchen/dining room is a long, narrow room along the left side of the house; that's where Vince's laptop is set up right now. The stairs up to the second floor are in the middle while the first-floor bedroom and bathroom are along the back wall, which is where Willow, Ellie and Yolanda are. Feel free to have your characters already there or just arriving as you like.

The building wasn't much to look at, if one was being brutally honest. Like a lot of structures in the West End, it was two storeys tall, designed to be a place for business on the ground level with small living apartments on the second floor. The space for a sign was empty and evidently had been for a while if the weathering was any indication, not to mention the birds' nest tucked in between the top of the large placard and the window sill above it. The large windows were filthy enough to make them nearly opaque and the hinges on the door were probably going to need to be replaced altogether. Despite all that, the young, dusty brown haired man in the wool-lined coat standing on the sidewalk in front of it, keys spinning around his finger jauntily, grinned broadly enough to show pearly teeth as he regarded the building. "Perfect."

The senses-shattering conclusion to the Evil!Dok saga! For now, just the six Interceptors -- Colt, Dynamo, Fulcrum, Grim, Jack and Jill -- should post. (They'll find the inside of the house empty, as by now Scarab's already warnedAvenger & Phantom of what's going on.) Others can come in by invite, and other threads may be spun off from this one as needed.

Date: June 17th, 2011 (Friday), later afternoon/early evening Continued from ArchEvil: Terrible Bosses and News. In one of the darker corners of the historic waterfront of North Bay lay a spooky old house, complete with a graveyard off to the side: the home of Jack and Taylor Faretti. In the middle of the seldom-used street which ran by it, a pinpoint of blue-grey light appeared, which exploded into a great sphere. Out of this strode a grim figure in black and blood red armor, followed closely by six figures of equally dark, though very familiar, mien (one notably taller than the others). "Come along, Auffängers!," ArchEvil commanded. "This Doktor has a housecall to make!" ArchEvil stopped mid-step. "Auffängers," he said between gritted teeth, "secure the perimeter... and find the witch, the vampire, and their abomination of a child!"

Willow and Thrude need pants badly! Also, some supervillains show up, because that's how these things typically go.

Standing on a Riverside street corner with her hands placed dramatically on her hips, Ellie Espadas turned to the eclectic group of women behind her and announced, "Alright, ladies, welcome to Meadow Street. A sensational hive of thrift and fashionability." Indeed, the line of shops behind her featured a generous quantity of second hand, vintage, handmade and fair trade clothing boutiques, several of which fell under two or more of those headings. "So, we've got two goals here," she reminded them. "First, to get Will and Trudy some actual people clothes." The dryad and goddess's limited wardrobes had become inconvenient enough that they'd quickly reached the limit of practical sharing and borrowing from the other Interceptors. "Second, we're practicing the 'secret identity' thing. Obviously Mo' is a little conspicuous, so if you get busted, we'll just say you're hanging with your girl Fulcrum on the downlow, but we're going for subtle, okay?" The young medic could perhaps be forgiven for directing the last part of her comment more to Thrude than anyone else.