Dariusprime

"Ha! Just imagine how your kids will turn out," replied Fulcrum as she held up the weight with one hand. "Heroes marrying heroes is pretty common." "But no, it really didn't. No worse than catching a baseball barehanded. We need to toughen you up. Maybe a heavy bag filled with lead pellets?" Mona asked jokingly. At the cocktail Wisp choked down for energy, she nodded, "At the very least we can make it taste better. I promise you that. I'm not much of a cook, but my mother could bake that into a cookie with frosting to die for. Still I'm glad you've got a reserve. Would be a real pain to run out of gas at a bad time." "Well, as far as practice, that depends on what areas you favor. I was thinking of tearing this weight up and launching the pieces in different directions. Catching them would train your timing, distance, speed and reflexes all together. Worth a try?" "For that matter, how high do you think you could throw this weight?"

Soon the comic-artist heroes will rule this world!

23 January 2012, 3:30 pm 1223 West Lilac Archimedia Headquarters Down an unassuming lane sits an equally common building. The street is historic Riverside paved in cobblestones. The buildings are brick, old, and largely refurbished to new, trendy uses. Among the tightly packed shops this particularly business only sticks out for the lack of a sign. In fact only an "Open" sign reveals that the space is occupied. Ask the locals and they will tell you an amazing story. About how earlier this month, the beloved heroine Fulcrum leased the property and set up a business. What sort of business? Well, none of them were entirely sure until Luann who runs the flower shop worked up the courage to visit. Apparently, Fulcrum, or Mona as she prefers, is starting up an independent publishing house! Named after her cat no less. At the moment, Mona sits behind a too-small desk surrounded by boxes and bags full of supplies. She is scanning through her iPhone and noting down potentials. Potential employees, potential artists, potential partners in the business. One name has already been called: Louis Ross. She remembered him from Castle Comics. They collaborated heavily on Freedom League Adventures. Nice guy, very creative. And possibly looking for a new outlet since recent, disastrous events. Not to mention talented. Not to pat herself on the back, but their run on FLA was one of the highest selling ever. At the very least testing the waters was in order! Which is why she set up this visit with him. She offered to visit him, but after here-and-there, the offices were considered the best choice for a meeting/interview/chat/portfolio review.

"I...uh...," blurted Fatima, "Sure! I'd love to show them to you!" As if considering the projects for display, her eyes darted around in thought and her nose almost disappeared back into the phone's screen. That is until Viktor asked about dinner. She looked up and smiled, a smile very similar to Mona's. "Oh yeah! She's making broiled lamb and beef kubideh. They're like...kebabs. Really, really good. She wasn't sure..." Mona's little sister seemed to relax once the topic was back on technology. Relaxed, as in, excited. "Yes, the iPhone 4. I really tried to wait until the new one next year, but this one just has so many cool features. Actually, the results of one of my projects is visible right here, at the edge of the screen," she said, running her finger along what looked like a sealed crack in the side of the screen. The damage was so faint as to be nearly invisible. "I came up with an adhesive/polishing compound that can fix damaged touch screens. Works pretty good too!" "She loves her Apple products," Mona said with a touch of sisterly tease. At which point she pulled out her own iPhone for show.

"Sometimes just the fantasy of revenge is sweet enough," added Mona. "Still I'm glad things have gone smoothly. That the school runs so smoothly amazes me every time I think about it." "So your teleportation is based off your own metabolism? How about your energy blasts?" As she spoke, the sphere descended like the cannon ball after which it was modeled. Cupping her hands, Fulcrum caught it, if not lightly, at least without being driven into the ground. "Maybe we should develop a line of Super Energy Bars for you." "Want some long-range teleportation practice?" she asked. Thinking a moment, she added, "Whatever you want to do. Heck, if you aren't interested in any of this stuff, we can certainly find something else to kill the time. You don't have to be here."

"Ah, Dr. Archeville!" called Dr. Yang as she stepped hurriedly off the elevator. "I still do no understand how you developed the Chrysalis Hypothesis, but your calculations appear to be right on the money. A Terminus radiation spike was detected followed by an exothermic exchange with the surrounding atmosphere. The crack opened approximately two hours ago, and has been widening by 2.56 centimeters an hour. A temperature inversion followed. The Chamber is -100 C and dropping." Before them sprawled a facility big enough to house a jetliner. Stacks of prefabricated laboratories and clean rooms dotted the walls, all connected by bundles of pipes and cables. A large control room hung suspended in the far corner. Crates and tables lined with equipment filled up much of the remaining outer periphery of the enclosure. A small cadre of hand-picked technicians in white coats, or more ominously, positive-pressure containment suits, rushed about hurriedly. The real star was the Containment Chamber. Ducts and cables partially obscured the structure, but the sheer size of it was undeniable. A transparent tube, some 30 feet across and 50 feet high, sat within matching layers of shielding. All of that was window dressing for the pulsating crystal sitting upright within the inner chamber. A red haze clung to its surface, and white wisps of gas drifted about lazily. Sure enough, a crack some two feet long but only perceptively wide, started near the top of the irregularly shaped object. Spotlights descended from the ceiling and illuminated the Chamber. "I hope you are right, Ms. Wendle. I hope you are both right," said Dr. Yang anxiously.

"I think I've met Cannonade in passing. In fact I'm sure, but I can't remember where exactly," she replied, still watching the sky. "Seemed like a good guy at my memory too." Turning her gaze to Vicky, she smiled, "It's true. Plus that sort of confidence is hardier to lose anyway. Looks aren't everything, but a make over can really do wonders. Powers too." "The difference between Claremont and your old school must be pretty striking. After all your school has students whose abilities are charted in equivalencies of nuclear weapons.That would keep the worst of the lot in check. If they were wise." "What did you say was the maximum range on your teleportation?" Fulcrum asked, glancing back up at the sky.

The silicone blonde that usually staffed the front desk was curiously absent this morning. In fact no one was on duty. After a few seconds however, a middle-aged woman in a lab coat rushed into the lobby. She carried a clipboard stacked with papers, and checked one before approaching Carrie. "Caroline Wendle?" she asked in a clipped tone. "I'm Dr. Adeline Yang. Thank you for coming on such short notice. Here is your visitor's badge. If you will follow me please." Once the badge was offered, she turned on heels. After a disorienting trek through the halls of ArcheTech, the polished, public face of the company gave way to the plain hallways of dedicated laboratories. Dr. Yang remained taciturn during the walk, answering no questions and simply referring to an elevator ride. Which turned out not to be a turbo-lift like contraption but a large freight elevator. As the elevator descended, she visibly relaxed. "My apologies for the rush, but discretion is still in order. You see, we aren't exactly sure what is happening, or worse, what may be emerging from the crystal." She froze in mid stream, looked at Carrie, thought a moment, and said, "I'm getting ahead of myself. Dr. Archeville specifically requested your notification once the crystal opened. I assume you are Mona's friend?"

Toughness vs Dark Metal 2's DC 27 (1d20+20=26) She takes a hit. Now for the next round. That bucket of bolts will pay for that!

Fulcrum makes her dramatic return!

A secret laboratory Deep underneath ArcheTech HQ December 15th, 2011 Thursday, 8:35 am The cliche goes that success is the culmination of blood, sweat and tears. That to truly succeed requires determination, sacrifice and a willingness to take risks, and most importantly, risk failure. Two heroes in particular embodied those qualities on September 28th, 2011. After weeks of struggle and toil, Silhouette and Dr. Archeville emerged victorious from adventures so perilous and wondrous that they would be forever changed. Even more so by the fact that before their journeys merged back together, they split into odysseys that tested the very nature of their beings. Against all odds and his own nature, one rose to be the warrior-hero of a dying world. The other stared unblinking into the mirror of her own mind. All the while lost in the silence of a dead reality. Yet united they shared a common goal. Together they persevered to save a dear friend and loved one from the clutches of the darkest of realms: the Terminus. Still fresh in memories were those dark moments when the evil lurking within the blood of Viktor Archeville manifested as a vast monstrosity devoid of affection or morality. Reality itself warped and split, unable to hold the line against chaos incarnate. Fulcrum exiled It Which Should Not Be to the Tartarus of the Terminus, the reality of Entropy made real, at the cost of her own life. Yet her two companions were undaunted. Fulcrum lived, and they would see to it that she returned to where she belonged. And returned her they did. Battered but unbroken, they emerged onto the Prime with a gigantic red crystal. Within the facets and refractions, a black silhouette stirred. For nearly three months something has incubated within the depths of the Terminus Crystal. All attempts to penetrate this chrysalis have failed. All to be done was wait patiently and listen to the call of the Terminus radiation drifting from the structure. The black figure changed, grew even, and all tests indicated something dramatic would happen. What, exactly, was unknown, as was Fulcrum's true fate. At 6:30 am, December 15th, alarms sounded in the control room. The containment chamber registered a spike in radiation levels conforming to the EMS infrared bands and Terminus cosmic frequencies. The temperature of the Crystal rose steadily. Both Carrie and Viktor were confronted with the news that, finally, the Crystal had cracked. Now to wait and see what emerged...

Wherein Harrier faces an unexpected and unpredictable foe in Fulcrum's cat, Archimedes.

Harrier's apartment December 15th, 2011 Thursday, 6:30 am Although Erin White shouldered the lion's share of responsibility, Steve Murdock still kept busy working nights at Hallomen's Advanced Experts, better known as HAX. The minutia of electronic and dead-tree reports, security reviews, personnel issues, glitchy systems, all the major problems of a major start-up with major security requirements. Oh, sure, some issues weren't under Steve's purview, but that didn't stop them from landing on his lap. That the night shift crews boasted fewer supervisory staff only intensified the pressure. Which made logging out all that more relieving. Thankfully, Steve could, in those rare inclined moments, chat with his roommate of the last several months. While he didn't understand a thing said, he had finally warmed up to the former Omegadrone. What had started as simple rubbing and meowing for food slowly evolved into a lazy, cuddly comfort. Archimedes, Fulcrum's scraggly, one-eyed neuter, would gladly listen to all of Steve's problems in exchange for a brush, ear scratch or warm lap on which to purr. Unfortunately, any thought of the restful post-work ritual lasted only as long as the door to his apartment. For starters, the door was open. Just a crack, yes, but the door was open with no signs of forced entry or tampering of the lock. Not to mention the TV blared from inside. Something about a juicing machine.

Alrighty, she should be able to clear the distance with her current array. Move: Move boat to dock Standard: sit boat down Move (Move-By Action): return to fight Free action: Become a big darn target!

"I haven't...seen the one with President Obama. That's sad," she replied, shaking her head. "Although the armor similarity is a bit funny. I haven't had the pleasure of meeting Ironclad, although I've heard good things." Stacking the weights next to her, she picked one up and launched it high into the air. How high? The foot-diameter weight vanished from normal perception. Calmly standing, hands behind her back, she scanned the sky intently, and said, "Now that is hard to believe. You must have grown out of the awkward phase because I see a confident and very pretty young woman before me." "Still sounds like a win-win situation overall. Cool powers and less need to dodgy bitchy cheerleaders. If it's any consolation, I was bullied too." The weight remained unsighted.

Fulcrum's tolerance for these shenanigans had reached its limit. Seeing the warehouse approach, the heroine reduced her speed and changed her hold on the ship. Even as it creaked from the shifting forces, the ship came to rest on the dock, propped against the very warehouse the robots damaged. That way the keel didn't factor into the boat's positioning. Instead of listing left or right, it sat fully upright, thus allowing the fighters on board to do their jobs with a minimum of difficult terrain. Not wasting any time, Fulcrum circled up and joined the fray. None too subtly at that. She positioned herself next to El Heraldo and waved the robots forward. Her intent? Simple. Draw the attention and attacks of the assembled mechanics. Or in another, more computer-savvy sense, she intended to tank and draw their aggro! "Come get me!"

Not doing much other than basically double moving (about 80 mph or 800 feet) to get the ship to shore fast. When she arrives (in a round or two?) she will deposit the ship on the dry ground. At least that liability will be out of the way. She is tilting the ship forward a bit to compensate for the sudden acceleration, ie so she won't lose anyone on the ship!

"Hold on!" yelled Fulcrum as the shot crossed her hip. These things were becoming dangerous! A few seconds later she took off. Tilting the boat's deck toward the shore, the boat and carrier accelerated forward. She still wasn't going that fast: maybe 80 mph at best. Still it was more than the boat would probably do on a good day, and hopefully enough to stall the assault of the robots. As the wake washed up around her, she squinted and aimed for the dock. If she could just put the boat down on dry land, everyone, including herself, could focus on running off the robots and help evacuate the victims. Even if some kidnappers escaped, at least the metas would be free!

"True. Nothing like a well-liked, democratically elected dictator," added Fulcrum. Slipping her toes under the weight, she kicked it back up into her hand. "See that is another problem I have with mainstream comics. Not all of them, mind you, but many of them. They're not innovative, they're imitative. They follow behind the bandwagon of whatever is popular, be it crossovers or whatever. Or worse, a new version of the same franchise. Or third, they blatantly rip off other media with such subtlety that even little kids know it is derivative bunk," she said before adding, "Heh, much like we've been talking about." "You have a point though. Hell, even now, you can watch it and be completely fooled into the old Evil Empire vs Scrappy Rebellion vein." As for Vicky's response about thinking on the idea? Fulcrum just smiled. "Not a bad book. A bit too cheeky and self-conscious for me, but worth a read other than in class." Collecting the weights into her arms, she thought a moment and asked, "You mentioned something about this topic earlier, but what do you think your life would be like without powers?"

"Sorry," she said with a smile. "If anything just take my ramblings as a warning to stay ever vigilant. 'When fascism comes to America, it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying the cross,' or so Sinclair Lewis supposedly said.†Adding another to her set, the three weights flew just as gracelessly, but, at least, they were practicing. "Hey, now, I really liked that cartoon for some reason. Not sure exactly why, but it was all sorts of cool when I was little," she continued, trying to juggle two with one hand. Of course that ended badly. The weight thumped to the ground on top of her boot. She continued juggling the remainder, but with two hands. "The comic series isn't really that bad either. Not compared to the crud coming out of the bigger publishing houses. Which is another reason I'm starting my own company." "I'd say switch it up a little and you'll be fine. Really original concepts are very rare anymore. How you tell the story is generally more important than the ideas behind it. So long as you aren't ripping off other sources wholesale. Maybe make the villain an Eco-Fascist?" followed by a chuckle. Fulcrum nodded, "He was a cool guy. A lot, and say that without exaggeration, a lot of heroes your age only know him as some Cool Old Guy. Or maybe even just a Stuffy Role Model, but he was just as awesome in person as in uniform. The main reason I see him as awesome is because he had a conviction to the Good. Whether that meant civil disobedience, fighting a losing battle or turning the other cheek, he held to the Good, not just his personal beliefs. In a way he reminded me of Atticus Finch. Remember To Kill A Mockingbird?"

"Oh, just give the council time," Fulcrum replied ominously. "Open, democratic societies are notoriously prone to subversion. Just one high-profile screw up or lawsuit is all it takes." "I mean, people are so willing to trade off freedoms for security. Shocking really. We will have another Mayor Moore, mark my words. 9/11, two wars...I'm surprised the hysteria didn't trickle down to the local level." Spinning one weight like a basketball on her fingertip, she continued, "I'm more worried about our own government than Overshadow, Omega or Hades. They're obvious threats. Falling into a fascist dictatorship...is easier than we think." "I remember one time, in the late '80s when Moore was still in office, Space magazine interviewed Centurion. They asked him why he continued crime fighting out of Freedom City when doing so was obviously illegal. To paraphrase his response, he said, 'Being a hero is about doing what is right. What is right is not necessarily legal.'" She chuckled, breaking herself out of the serious undercurrent, "Met the guy once, and he was like a father to me."

Fulcrum (14) News Thread (2) Little Big Trouble (3) There's No Equation for This (2) Under Cape and Banner (7)

Fulcrum joined Wisp in juggling. Her three weights were roughly the same size. Although Fulcrum wasn't anywhere near the juggler. She barely kept them aloft, and had to concentrate at that. Between near screw ups, she said, "Honestly, avoid it. Makes book keeping simpler, yes, but you're always just a little more anxious about someone attacking people you know. I counter that by cultivating a sense of impending doom among anyone foolish enough to do that though. Depends on your preferences, and the availability of a hologram projector." Once they picked up a decent rhythm, she tossed Vicky one of the weights. "That could come in really handy. A lot of magical villains and more savvy tech ones will have devices that delete magnetic tapes or destroy cameras and electronics. That class could be the difference between a conviction and a nemesis." "Picking up some civics coursework or legal procedures would be really helpful. I'm looking into that myself. Sooner or later we'll all probably receive a subpoena for some superheroic action," she added with a chuckle. "Remember The Incredibles?"

February 2009: Bloody Valentine's Title: Takes One to Know One Location: Terminus Date: June 17th, 2011? "You are afraid, child of Entropy." A thousand cold voices whispered and hissed above her. Fulcrum rested in the rubble of an asteroid. Bits of stone drifted away from the crater. The red haze of the Terminus shadowed as the monstrous beast descended. She watched it approach with the patience of exhaustion. The ever-mutating hulk wrapped a tentacle around her boot and whipped her to-and-fro. With a crack, she went spiraling through the debris fields, the detritus of a thousand worlds, that littered this Tartarus. The horror was strong. She tumbled through rock and steel and the armor of long-dead titans. Still it whispered in her mind, and those wounds hurt the worst. "Your life is a lie. You are no hero, Centurion or Fulcrum." Flesh bubbled and eyes of every shape emerged. They searched for the giantess, lost in the flotsam. Dozens focused on a twinkle in the distance. A shaft of golden metal a meter thick impaled the elder god. Every orifice roared in rage and pain. "Fool primate!" The giantess, battered but unbroken, seized the end of the rod. With all her might the speared beast smashed against debris again-and-again. Slashed and pulped, now the Ancient One sailed off into the red darkness. Fulcrum zoomed forward rod in hand to press the attack. A surprise tentacle flattened her against the hull of forgotten hulk. That Which Was slammed her bodily into the metal. Impressions of her form revealed the force of the attacks. As it crushed her flat, she pushed herself up with pure will. "Individuality is wasted on apes. But you..." An evil satisfaction, so much like Archeville's Other, crept into the voices. "What makes you unique is the Entropy you embody. And yet billions of you exist." A tentacle tightened around her throat. "Contemplate that paradox in the remainder of your brief existence."

Very nice! Okies, Fulcrum will kick up her speed to about 50 mph (Flight 3). The rest of her array is staying in Super Strength (total Strength 100 still) without her SS power feats. She is heading straight for the docks and will deposit the boat on solid ground when she arrives! That boat will not get away, and will allow El Heraldo, herself, and the freed metas to focus on the robots.