Avenger Assembled

Consciousness returned slowly, so slowly. Jack opened his eyes to pain, his body broken in fantastic, bizarre ways. The sun was on his face, not a good thing for any vampire. He was...in the storm sewer? He had vague memories of hitting the pavement above his head, and then misting out just long enough to fall into the storm sewers. Did I really fall all that way? Wow! He tried to laugh, but a painful, agonizing sound came out as torment shot through his body. Must have broken my ribs. And my back. And my legs. Is that? Yeah, yeah, that's my skull. He could still feel the neat hole in his chest, dug there by the supernatural magic in the stake Melinda had shoved through him. Why aren't there any rats? he thought, floating on a curtain of shock to protect him from his shattered flesh. Dang it, Elena, why do you have to keep your building so clean? Must file a complaint with the management. - Elena slept, and dreamed of darkness. And then a sudden, white-hot burst of molten pain, stabbing through her, that transformed itself into a long, terrible fall that ended in an explosion of pain. She saw a dark warrior falling from the steps of the Great Pyramid, mortally wounded and hurled away from an angry Set-in-female-aspect into the deeper darkness of the Abyss itself. And then, just as she woke, she saw the warrior's face. It was Jack. He'd fallen, and fallen practically on her doorstep.

Quote, I think you'll find that Captain Knievel may have...other priorities. (More seriously, wait a little bit.)

Hey Alder, Are you OK with us passing mental messages back and forth through Alex?

Mr. Archer had some programming to do before he could get the final test running, and in the meantime he and Eddie chatted. "So you're fairly new to Freedom City, right?" asked Mr. Archer convivially as he dug into the panel on the Doom Room wall to finish adjusting it. "What did you think about living around all these superheroes?"

Mark led James down to Erin and Alex's door, knocking with his usual insouciance. "Hey guys!" he called through the door. "It's Mark! I've got someone out here for you to meet!" He called with total confidence, sure he'd be lucky enough to find them around there on this lovely afternoon. "They're a great pair," he murmured to James. "Alex is a little more friendly; Erin is a little more serious, but they're both great, really."

"Erin, wait," said Mark urgently as he looked up at her. "You know what Chris does in his spare time; he's not just a helpless kid." He swallowed. "And the last time Claremont kids went out in public like this, the cops almost got called. We've got to handle this quietly so we don't get put on restriction too." He seemed really worried about the idea. "Besides," he added across the psychic link, they haven't actually committed a crime yet. If we wait till they've actually done something bad, we can actually bring them in and keep them from hurting any kids who can't fight back. He thought for a minute then added, That said, I think this is the last time I play matchmaker for a while.

Warmonger, I believe you're up.

Give us a DC 18 Will save vs. despair, Ace. (It's a Subtle Burst Area effect, so there's not a Reflex save really attached to it.)

"This is disgusting, May, just disgusting," Marionette was saying, flipping through the medical charts in her hand with a look of slowly dawning rage. She was paying hardly any attention to the very elderly woman in the bed, whose wide eyes and slow movements showed she was somewhere far away. "Late-stage Alzheimer's, huh? Late-stage Alzheimer's?" She was pacing back and forth, her boots ringing on the tile floor beneath her feet. "You're not even suffering anymore, are you? You can't even tell I'm here! I could put a pillow on YOUR FACE, and it would be a blessing!" She screamed and pointed her finger at the old woman, whose face didn't change a bit as Marionette's psychic powers lashed out.

Phantom has closed all the dimensions. You gonna do anything else?

Jack awoke to a universe of pain, his body frozen in agony by the wooden stake through his back, the magical symbols on it showing it to be no ordinary wood. He opened his eyes and ears, and heard strife. "...thought you were never going to get here," spat an angry Urallos, still gripping a mystic symbol in his hands that Jack recognized from his history books as belonging to the cult of Hades. "What was I supposed to do if he broke my neck?" "You'd be whining a lot less, that's for bloody sure!" spat Melinda. The princess of the night who'd been with him earlier was a monster through and through now, her eyes glowing a malignant red and her fangs standing out brightly on her face. She had him pinned against the open bedroom window, easily supporting his weight with one hand. Jack was still wearing most of his Avenger costume, though his hockey mask was long-since gone. When she saw he was awake, she spat on him, then struck him directly in the groin. Unable to move, he groaned, barely able to cling to consciousness. "You contemptible little BASTARD," she hissed at him. "I was going to break your bones and give Claudia back your weak blood, but this? THIS?" She held up the mask before his eyes. "Nothing for you, Jack. No heroic death, no dramatic last speech, no pathetic little legacy to inspire more pathetic little childlings to betray their blood and their nature. This is the night that you die and no one cares!" And with that, before Jack could speak, she threw him out the window. The cold rush of air on his face, as he began to fall, woke him up all the way, pushing him past his stunned agony. Get the stake out get the stake out He forced agonized limbs to move, the few seconds of his hundred-story fall stretching out into eternity. I'm sorry Mom and Dad. I'm sorry I didn't love you enough. Agonized fingers brushed the slick shaft, the magic there scorching his fingertips. I'm sorry I was such an ass to you, Elena. You've always been a good friend. His hand closed on the wood, pushing past the small pain to drive out the big one. But he was holding it behind his back; he'd have to pull it out. No time now, got to do it. I'm sorry about the pig, Wesley, you're a real trouper. And Grimalkin, I hope you like your house and you like your house, because I don't think I will! The pavement was rushing up fast, the storm sewer grate below a painfully ironic destination. Mom was right about me! He pulled the stake out and hit the ground at terminal velocity.

This thread takes place on July 18, 2009. Avenger is injured, staggered, disabled, unconscious and dying. He spends an HP to stabilize.

At four in the morning, a hockey-masked figure slammed down onto Constantine Urallos, pinning him down and covering his mouth to stop a scream. The old man's eyes jerked open wide in surprise, then anger, as he glared up at his assailant. Avenger glared back, as was his wont. "Constantine Urallos. Your crimes are manifest. Tell me why you should live. A scream will see your guards broken before your eyes. And then we shall talk outside your room." It had been a simple matter to change in one corner of the room, the absolute darkness of the room meaning that Jack hadn't bothered with his usual sneakiness. With any luck, this wouldn't take long. His heart pounding, Urallos opened his mouth and spoke distinctly. "You're dead for this. I'll find who you are and I'll see your family dead in front of your eyes. You hear me?" The fear stood out on the old man's fragile face, but so did defiance. He might be scared, but he wouldn't be moved. "Me, dead?" Avenger laughed. "Better men have tried. Monsters hunt you tonight." he told him with a malevolent sneer. "A smart man would get out of town. And not trifle with so many bloodsuckers." Avenger heard the rush of air behind him, but failed to note its import until the stake erupted out his chest.

Jack currently has an extra HP from his Duty complication, as well as a GM Fiat one for failing his Notice roll vs. Melinda.

Jack drifted, nigh-silent and nigh-invisible, through the open window of the Urallos penthouse directly into the bedroom of the man himself. He moved over the bed and looked down at the man in it with fleshless eyes, gazing at the face of the tycoon-crimelord who'd killed vampires for their blood and done even worse to humans. Are you really the monster Melinda wants me to think you are? Or was he just a man? The silver-haired old man was awake tonight, reading through what Jack vaguely recognized as a Greek Orthodox Bible. The book wouldn't save him, though, not if Jack moved fast enough and struck quickly. He was, he knew well, a very good killer. So, go ahead! He heard Claudia's voice in his ear as the bells for three-thirty AM rang from the grandfather clock in one corner of the big bedroom. Snap his neck and get back to the party! And there was a time, no more than seven months earlier, that Jack would have heeded that voice with no more than a second thought. He's a monster. He's a killer, I... Do you want to be like him? came Elena's stern voice in his other ear. Then Grimalkin's, too, the little shapeshifter an imaginary phantom nearby his hand. Or like her? Is that what you want to be for the rest of eternity? A killer and a monster? He felt an illusory hand on his shoulder, and it was Knight, Wesley giving him a firm, man-to-man look. You're a hero, Jack. You saved the world. He heard Divine's voice too, telling him about defending the weak and helpless, Arrowhawk demanding to know if this was the way heroes in America acted, and even Stesha, asking if this was why he'd ended their relationship. Surrounded by the illusory ghosts of Knights past and present, Jack made his decision.

A few hours later, Jack was at the foot of the Pyramid Plaza, gazing up at the high, high tower upon whose top Constantine Urallos' penthouse was perched. Scarab, are you there? He thought up at her penthouse apartment across the way before shaking his head. It was three in the morning. If Elena was home, she was no doubt sound asleep at this hour. It was no time for humans to be out; it was no time for vampires to be out. But here I am, about to do this thing... If Scarab was here, how would he explain this to her? He's a murderer, Elena, many times over, with his own hands and under his orders. He makes deals with vampires and drinks their blood to prolong his own life, he... Did that make it all right to take his life? Did that make it all right to dig his fangs into an old man's neck, tear away the flesh there and taste the blood within? Oh yes. You KNOW what that's like. But he wasn't that man anymore. He wasn't that monster; not the creature who'd traded the lives of others for his own. He was something better; a hero with friends who cared about him. He thought of Grim, andBut they're not my only friends. Invisible to the small number of humans around at this late hour, he looked up in the sky and saw his other friends in his mind's eye. Claudia, Dave, Trudy? Could he really turn his back on them now? And there's no turning back now. Pitt might help if I was trying to overthrow Melinda, but never to hide out after disobeying her orders. And you know what she'll do if she finds out you disobeyed. Things had gotten bad after the Elder's return, very bad. He'd seen vampires die and slaves suffer unspeakable punishments for failing to obey Melinda the right way. His status with her, the fact that he was Claudia's, wouldn't protect him if she was truly angry enough. And maybe he could have talked her out of it...but how long could he keep up doing that? How long could he live like this? Long as I have to, he finally thought, feeling a twist of sharp, painful regret in his chest. I'm a vampire. He rose up off the ground smoothly, bypassing the ample defenses of the powerful industrialist by the expedient of transforming into mist and rising up the side of the building in flight. Going in there wasn't a choice. Seeing the man with his own eyes wasn't a choice. Or was it?

Jack and Melinda were in one of her entertainment rooms in the Midtown estate, not far from where he'd watched Stesha drive away in shame. It had been just a couple of weeks, but it felt like a lifetime since that pleasant, if ruined encounter. What he and Melinda had just done together had been very pleasant, even if a growing part of him was growing more and more dissatisfied with the way the queen of Freedom City rewarded her most loyal servants. "Now that we've finished that little business," said Melinda with a fanged smile, carefully donning a new dress more suitable for the remainder of the evening, "I think it's time we move on to more...pressing matters." From his position by the window, Jack watched her approach with the mixed feelings one predator felt at the sight of another, even a lovely one. She is so very beautiful... "You have but to ask, my lady," he said gallantly, "and it shall be done. I am your loyal servant." She studied him for a moment, cocking her head, then smiled again. "I'm glad to hear that, Jack, because I need you to do something very important for me. It has to be done tonight, and it has to be done quickly." She put her hands on his bare chest, digging her nails into Jack's muscular torso. "Someone has betrayed me, Jack. You know how I feel about betrayal. A little mortal whelp of a businessman has taken my money, has taken the blood of our kind for his own appetites, and given me nothing in return." She looked him dead in the eye, her own lovely face warping suddenly into the unholy look of a twisted, predatory monster. "I want you to kill him for me, Jack. KILL CONSTANTINE URALLOS!"

Keeping up that Fortune bonus on all my friends, hopefully Distracting the bad guys...and hopefully getting all the robots within fifty feet of me this round. ;)

Time to join my team. Edge drew his grapple gun and fired into one of the big beams that held up the stadium's retractable roof, taking a flying leap off the railing where he was standing and swinging far down into the stadium. He landed perfectlyin the middle of a group of robots, where he stood up and grinned cockily. "Gentlemen, I'm afraid your luck's just changed!" Raising his hands to his lips as the robots closed in, he called out to the guys on the field, "Hey, Dumbledore and Bill Nye! Yeah, you! My name is EDGE! I'm gonna play Rock 'Em Sock 'Em with your FACES in about five minutes!"

Mystery Guest's Notice: 18 The guards appear clueless to the Vestige's presence, no surprise given his stealthy powers and movements. The guards are otherwise quite watchful and heavily armed, though focused more inwardly on their prisoner than outwardly against external threats. Vestige was just creeping up to make his move when he distinctly heard...a voice in his ear? No, in his head! I know you're there. If you can wait till your friend is free, I can make sure you both get the same deal.

As you and I discussed in chat, Quote, I'm not really comfortable with you sliding your tradeoffs around. If you do power-stunt a form like that in the fight, I would prefer that you used the one that didn't fluctuate your tradeoffs. Also, this really should be a PM. Now, back to alder's show!

Famous last words. Phantome!

Heading down the corridor was an eerie experience for Ace, the already-depressing confines of the nursing home made all the more disturbing by the mental chaos left behind in Marionette's wake. There were nurses in wheelchairs and patients stretched out on the ground, all of them in the same mental fugue into which she'd locked the receptionist. Following the trail of chaos led Ace down the hall to the psychiatric ward, an even eerier place full of the mentally-deranged elderly. Staff and patients both watched him here as he approached the single open door, through which he could just hear Marionette's voice.

Scarab, you're up.

I volunteer Edge for this one!