Avenger Assembled

All well here, all?

For another idea, one could turn the Blast into a Penetrating Strike. (After all, it is an energy 'sword' in most of the pictures.) That'd let you shift attack over to melee mode.

Any objection to Jack knowing Mr. Pitt, given what you and I have discussed earlier? Also, I could roll for it. Or it could be a surprise.

Avenger stared back at Grim, unmoving beneath the rain. "Yes," he finally said, a flat, stolid statement of fact. He had a feeling that this young lady would be happy to tell him all about her problems, even without him having to ask. "Prefer not to violate law. Leads to difficult questions. Ethics also an issue."

I think the math is right! Powers: Device 18 (Star Knight armor; hard to lose) [72 points] Star Knight Armor: Blast 10 (energy weapon), [22] AP: Enhanced Strength 20 AP: Space Flight 20 Comprehend 2 (speak and understand all languages), [4} Flight 7 (1000 MPH) [17] DAP: Super Strength 7 Immunity 11 (life support, need for sleep, starvation and thirst), [11] Protection 10 (Extras: Impervious, Reflective [ranged]), [30] Super-Senses 6 (communication link with Mentor, direction sense, infravision, low-light vision, radio, tracking [infravision]), [6] [90 points spent]

"Have worked with Nightrival. Fought a god together." Avenger moved as he spoke, slipping out of the streetlights and easily into the shadows near Grim. The night that was his home was no barrier to him, and why would it be? "If you wish your territory, will move on. Only interested in the work." That's the ticket, Jack thought as very distant sirens sounded. Keeps the doors closed, even as they open.

This one's trouble. And cute. "Must do justice. Even in rain. Teach criminal element to stay dry." He cocked his head to look at her, movements flat and imperturbable. It was difficult to play the mad vigilante all the time, especially with the pretty ones, but it was the best defense strategy he had. If they were worth something, they'd come around again. "Your intentions."

"I suppose I've benefited from talented partners." Jack beamed at Debbie, leaning close to murmur sweet nothings in her ear about her performance. She had his number by the time she went back to her table, and Jack had her marked. With a little luck, he'd feed well tonight. "And talented opponents as well." He shook Archeville's hand firmly. "Well, I think we have each other's measure. How exactly do you know Elena, anyway?"

The crowd was applauding them both...but it was applauding the German scientist even more. Jack was a perfect gentleman, striding up to him and throwing his arms around Archeville's shoulders. "Three cheers for the finest dancer in the city!" This close, as the crowd cheered them both, he murmured with a wry smile, "I suppose a man must use all his advantages. Mechanical, or otherwise."

Ah, but that's the problem with getting mechanical enhancements. You always wonder how much of what you did was your own. ;)

There was a note of humor in Avenger's dark voice as he spoke. "Appreciate it. Not an offer I receive often. Will be fine." He hesitated, just a moment, before speaking again. "Prefer to keep personal business personal. Hence the mask. You understand?"

I'm naughty! Decided to blow my last HP on it. More fun that way!

Why, that... Jack smiled, though, beaming down at his partner as they swept their way onto the floor together. Well, if Archeville was willing to make the contest...interesting, Jack was willing to play his game. After all, this was all about taking each other's measure. "Ah, Die Fledermaus!" His voice carried as the two of them moved onto the dance floor together, his low, melodious tones pleasantly interacting with the music in a perfect, synchronized rhythm. "A tale of wooing and lovers, of...forbidden passions and exquisite desires." When the crowd, or at least the ladies in the crowd, were eating out of his hand, Jack actually began dancing, something he admittedly had little training in. With an adoring, wide-eyed Debbie in his arms, Jack moved around the dance floor with the grace and energy of a lion, sweeping and dipping, twirling and spinning, and ending the dance with a just-slightly-risque kiss right on the lips of his lovely amour.

A living man would have jumped out of his skin. As it was, Avenger powered the last man straight into the ground and spun on his heel to face the voice from behind him. I...have no idea who this is. I need to pay more attention! "Avenger," he finally replied, rain running freely down his leather jacket and down his hockey mask. "What are you doing here?"

It was an alarmingly simple matter for Jack to curl a lovely young woman around his arm, a smile and a few whispered words enough to get the daughter of one of Freedom City's wealthiest investors on his arm. Debbie's chocolate skin made a pleasingly aesthetic match with his pale hand on her bare arm. "I believe it's up to the challenged party to choose the weapons of our contest?" Jack inquired of Archeville, a smile on his face. "Name the music, sir." Jack replied to Elena with a simple tune. "When you're in trouble, go into your dance..."

On closer inspection, the brutality of Avenger's fighting style had not been exaggerated. Those were bones smashing beneath his fists, men dropping like poled steers when he hit them with brutal force. No one was dying, no one was actually being maimed; but the blank-faced man in the hockey mask and black clothes was cutting through the thugs with nearly as much brutality as they were showing to each other. He cut through the gang like a jagged knife through butter, cleaving them apart and sending both groups scattering. "RUN!" he roared suddenly, his voice a choking, jittering roar in the darkness. "These streets are clean tonight!"

Whatever you'd like to do. ;)

Avenger watched the gang war from his rooftop perch with some irritation. Jack had been enjoying the quiet of the Fens, an area where the poverty was such that gangs usually steered clear. After all, there wasn't much there to steal. He recognized the hoodlums below, though; Yardies from the South Side mixing with C's from the same neighborhood. Proxy war, he thought with an amused laugh. Why fight on your own turf, when you can throw down in neutral ground? He might have let them go at it if he hadn't seen the gun being drawn below, the crackle of shots beneath enough to send him leaping off the roof to land as neat as a falling feather in the darkness of the alley. He let the thugs see him when he was in their midst, his menacing laugh a counterpart to the sudden rain of punches he threw down on the hoodlums and thugs. A couple screamed at the sight of him, and one ran, but in the confusion of the melee they stood their ground even as bones broke beneath his fists.

Time to schlep like an angsty schlep. :D

I think Shaen's been delayed grappling with some business.

It is my intent to get Avenger into a thread with every heroic character. If you haven't been in a thread with Avenger so far and would like to be, drop me a line and I'll see what we can do. ;)

"That's a very personal question, Wesley." Jack ran his fingers over the dash, his hands still wrapped in Avenger's tight, battered motorcycle gloves. "But it takes some courage to ask, too, under the circumstances. It's night and we're in a confined space. An evil vampire, or a demon, could kill you here simply for asking." He turned his head and looked at Wesley, his eyes flat. "It would be protocol, don't you think? If a superhero exposed the secrets of something like that, the natural impulse of a monster would be to kill you." How am I supposed to communicate this to Wesley? "Fortunately, I am...not like that. If you have questions about my species, Wesley, I'd be happy to meet you during the day in any church you'd care to name." He drummed his fingers on the dash, a bit of nervous energy Wesley hadn't seen from Avenger. "I'd like to think I've established my credentials as trustworthy. Is it going to be a problem for you, working with someone who isn't like you?"

"Faretti's capable. Knows when to call in a superhero." Avenger popped his neck, looking with approval at the broken cigar. "Shouldn't smoke. Not a prude," he added with a snort. "Not good to be addicted to anything. Man should have his own vices." Cocking his head at the siren, the dark vigilante added, "Better to get out of here. Think we've made our mark."

KILL HIM! DRINK HIS BLOOD! The urge was palpable, physical; a delicious promise of pure, sweet satisfaction. No. No more. Avenger grabbed Bighorn by the unarmored throat and squeezed harder than any mortal man could. When he spoke, it was with a growl of murderous promise, of bloodlust barely kept back from slaughter. It was, to say the least, a very convincing imitation. "Run home, little man. Run home and tell your friends that the West End is off-limits. This land belongs to the Knights of Freedom."

Avenger wasn't above hitting a man when he was down; indeed, that was one of his main combat strategies. He avoided the head, likely armored, and kicked the man square in the chest. It was no easy task; he'd hit vampires that were less resilient than that guy! But he hit him again, concentrating on the vulnerable places; kicking him in the stomach and the chest, landing punches so hard that only his armored gloves kept him from bruising his knuckles. What would make this guy go down?