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May 22, 2011 9 AM Lincoln The Church of the Eternal Rock of Justice is the oldest traditionally black church in Freedom City. The congregation dates back to the 1850s when the first large black communities began in the city, while the building itself is a magnificent Romanesque cathedral rebuilt and refurbished in the 1920s thanks to lavish donations from a wealthy parishioner turned beauty shop tycoon. Chester Brown, the Bluesman, once sang in the choir here, at least before he decided to take his magnificent vocal talents, and his fists, to juke joints rather than choir. (The acoustics are still magnificent.) Back in the 1960s, 'the Rock' was a centerpiece of Freedom City's civil rights movement: Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. spoke here in 1966, back when today's senior pastor Reverend Thaddeus Q. Stone was just another fervent young believer in the crowd. Now in his mid-60s, Stone is famous for rejecting the support of larger religious organizations who make their financial aid dependent on adopting regressive social politics he and his congregants reject: the Rock, as it has so often in the past, stands for integrity and compassion. Numbers of parishoners are falling these days, as they are in most churches, but it remains a centerpiece of Freedom City's community. Parishioners are running out the door; screaming. "There are dragons in the church! There are dragons in the church!" And sure enough, if one looked past the frightened older woman clinging to the rail as she heads down and away, inside the sanctuary is a scene from a science fiction film: six gigantic reptilians, each as tall as a man with a tail whipping behind them as long as they were tall, paced the hallways as those parishioners who hadn't been able to run cowered in their seats or slipped away where they hoped the new arrivals couldn't find them. Today was children's choir! Standing behind his podium, secure in his faith (if not, if he was honest, his ability to live through the next few minutes,) the Reverend Stone faced down fearlessly the largest of the beasts as it stalked down the aisle towards him. No, not a beast... On closer inspection, all the new arrivals were wearing harnesses and carrying gear, their clawed hands working with an unnatural dexterity. And so it was that as the lizard-thing approached him, the Reverend asked, "How can I help you, Brother?" The thing hissed a reply in English that sounded inside the Reverend's head, its foul breath like rotten meat blasting in his face. "<Monkeys! Where are your leaders!>"

A Reverie on Identity, as Interrupted by Tentacle Monsters 11 AM, Day of the Invasion The Boardwalk was starting to pick up a crowd. It was a fairly cool May, but people still wanted to come down to see the festivities, even if they weren’t willing to plunge into the Atlantic Ocean just yet. Joe walked the streets in his usual gear; he was probably drawing some attention, but he didn’t seem to care. He was mostly lost in thought. When he was younger, he’d come to the Boardwalk regularly – with family, with friends, with girlfriends. He had good memories of the place, and maybe it’d give him a chance to get his head together. It had been three weeks since the incident at the foundry. It had been a week since he lifted his couch up over his head with one hand. And last night, his dad had told him all about his grandpa. That was a hell of a thing to find out – that you were the grandson of a superhero. And the powers were obviously coming in… toughness, if the spill-over was any indicator, super-strength… If the medical records on Legionnaire indicated anything, his grandpa had been able to “cross whole battlefields with one bound†and “run to catch up with a transport going at top speed†by the time he’d died, so he’d probably come into that in time. He pretty much knew what he was going to do now. It wasn’t like you had something like this land on you, then went back to sitting on the sidelines. The question was, could he do it? Pushing the boneheads out of shows was one thing – being a hero meant taking on crooks, mobsters, gangsters, madmen, gods, demons, aliens, monsters, and whatever crackpot had more power than he deserved and a control fetish. Could he do that? More importantly, could he do that and live? His grandfather had been tough, but he wasn’t invincible – Superior proved that. Did he really even know what he was doing? Joe was interrupted from his thoughts by the sound of honking. One horn joined another, and another; the familiar rapport of Jersey driving told him something was wrong. He broke away from the Boardwalk and made his way to the main street, where he quickly saw what was wrong. Twenty people were standing in the middle of the road, in four-by-five formation. The crowd was a mix of ages, ethnicities, and genders. They were also standing stock still before a crowd of honking cars. Two traffic cops had already made their way into the middle of the road to try and get the crowd to disperse, but they weren’t having much luck. “Come on, miss, you’re holding up traffic,†the traffic cop said to one of the still women. She didn’t seem to register, so he pulled out the cuffs and grabbed her by the arm. “Miss, you leave me no choice--†The woman reached out, lifted the traffic cop off his feet – one-handed – and threw him through a storefront window well across the street from her. That shut the horns up. Around Joe, people were already starting to run – they didn’t really make ‘em stupid in Freedom. “This is the Three-Lobed Eye of the Grue Empire.†The voice came from one and all of them – they spoke in perfect unison, and their words rung out above the rising chaos. “Your world has been analyzed, and found suitable. Colonization shall begin shortly, but there is no need for distress. Go peacefully, and all will be well.†That was when someone threw a brick at one of the people. It struck them right in the forehead, leaving a solid dent that seemed to knit back together like Silly Putty. Joe grimaced; they also made ‘em brave in Freedom. Sometimes too much for their own good. “The Meta-Mind has accepted this as a sign of defiance,†the chorus said. “Engaging in suppression mode.†Before Joe’s eyes, the people seemed to lengthen, stretching like taffy and growing out of their clothes. They streamed together in the middle like steel being poured from many vats, and then they swelled. The blob grew to the size of a small brownstone, then erupted into a mass of tendrils. A mouth like a cave emerged from the “front†of the mass and let out a terrible roar. That was when the panic really set in. The people around him began running through the streets, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the giant Grue bioweapon. Joe took one look at the rampaging beast, and did the stupidest thing he could think of. He ran forward. It was only when he got up close that he realized just what he was dealing with. The thing towered over him, and was flailing its tentacles wildly, turning over cars and tearing down buildings. Fortunately, it seemed mostly focused on civic destruction. That’d give him an avenue to get in. Before he could move, however, one of the tentacles came thrashing down at him. He managed to slip to the side as the thing slammed down and cracked the asphalt. Joe took advantage of the moment and grabbed the tentacle. It felt like microwaved Play-Doh, and slithered like a snake. The beast roared, and turned to face him. Yeah, that’s not good. The tentacle rose into the air, and took Joe along with it. Despite his strength, it appeared he didn’t exactly have the anchoring necessary to wrestle this thing to the ground. He’d just have to try something else. Once he figured out what the beast was doing… The beast, meanwhile, decided it had better things to do than fight the puny human. It threw him at the row of buildings right across the way. Joe came to rest after tasting brick, lying on an alcove. He looked to the bioweapon… and then to the ocean. It wasn’t that far at all. He couldn’t pick the thing up by a tentacle, but that didn’t get rid of other options. He rolled down the street and started running as fast as he could. The tentacles came down around him, but he managed to dodge them – it was like this thing was still getting its land legs. When he got close enough to the flashy mess, he slipped his hands right under it. It took some effort, but the giant bioweapon slowly lifted up from the street. Joe could feel it convulsing in his hands, like it was trying to find some way to deal with the human underneath it. He took advantage of the few seconds he had before this thing turned into the blob, and lobbed it. It didn’t fly far; instead, it seemed to topple over onto the sidewalk. But that was enough; the thing began shifting, like it was trying to regain its balance. While it struggled, Joe rushed forward again and punched it right in the underside. The thing quavered like Jello, and actually seemed to split a little. It began knitting itself back together, but Joe took the opportunity and tossed it on its side again. He repeated the process, making his way to the ocean. He didn’t know if this would work, but if it did… He felt the water creep over his boots and soak the cuffs of his jeans, even as he pushed the thing further. It struggled all the way, trying to grab him and throw him back onto the land, but he didn’t give it a chance. Once Joe felt the sands shifting under his feet, he leapt back to shore. The beast tried to come after him… and struggled to move, dropping further into the sands. Joe had spent his childhood on these beaches. He and all the other kids who played in the surf knew the sand got soft about twenty-five feet in, and after that was a bit of a drop-off. Easy enough for a kid to swim out and up from… but given the size and composition of the thing, it had to be a lot heavier than your typical kid. And sure enough, it was trying to gain purchase in the water and the shifting sands, and failing. He heard a rush of air, like a kite unfurling. Overhead, he could see The Scarab and Fulcrum, looking down at the thing struggling in the surf. With them would come the press… and he realized he had no mask. He quickly ran back to the street and disappeared into a back alley. He’d make his way back home, but mainly to get changed. Then he needed to get a mask. Joe had made up his mind. He knew what he was going to do next.

Player Name: Trollthumper Character Name: Cannonade Power Level: 11/15 (169/249PP) Trade-Offs: -2 Defense / +2 Toughness Unspent PP: 80 Progress To Impervium Status: 138/150 (Platinum Status earned with Nick Cimitiere) In Brief: Would-be working class hero/anti-racist skinhead trying to live up to his WWII hero grandfather's legacy. Alternate Identities: Joe Macayle Identity: Secret Birthplace: Freedom City Occupation: Steelworker Affiliations: None Family: Greg Macayle (father, construction worker); Sandra Macayle (mother, hairdresser); Andy Macayle (brother, high school student) Age: 21 (DoB: Nov 11, 1988) Apparent Age: 21 Gender: Male Ethnicity: "British Isles Mutt" Height: 6'2" Weight: 220 lbs. Eyes: Brown Hair: Black, usually worn close-shaved Description: On the job, Joe doesn't dress that different from the other guys -- work boots, work shirt, jeans. When he goes to shows or is hanging out with his friends, he usually wears his gear -- jeans, Doc Martens, band T-shirt/polo shirt, braces, and a black flight jacket with a circular SHARP patch on the arm. As Cannonade, his style doesn't change much -- he trades his blue jeans for black, his black flight jacket for a red one, and his band T-shirts for a white T with a cannon firing a ball into the air as a logo. The only true adornment he wears is a project made from some of the leftover cast-offs at work -- a steel Trojan helmet, meant more to cover his identity and pay homage to his grandfather than to protect. History: "Always be proud of what you are." That was Greg Macayle's constant advice to his oldest son, Joe. Greg and his wife Sandra managed to eke out a pretty good living for their kids in Southside -- sure, money was tight sometimes, but they always managed to get by. Greg taught Joe the value of hard work, accepting others, and not letting the world grind you down. Most importantly, he taught Joe that it's important to stand up for what you believe in. Sometimes, Greg wondered if he taught Joe this a bit too well. The first real indicator was when he fell in with the punk scene in high school; from there, it was a short jump to the local SHARPs. Very few parents are especially thrilled that their son's become a skinhead. It took Joe a long series of explanations about the history of skins and how not all of them had white power sympathies -- hell, the ones he ran with positively loathed Nazis. While the issue was dropped, his folks always kept hoping he would grow out of it. The second indicator was when Joe decided to get a job at the steelworking plant right out of high school. Greg and Sandra had hoped he would think about college, but Joe pointed out that his grades weren't good enough to qualify for a scholarship, and Andy had a better chance of getting into a quality school. He'd just put aside what he could at work to pay for night school while studying in his free time. Joe quickly adapted to life at the plant -- getting along with the other guys, learning the ins and outs of the union, and always keeping his eye on the ball. One day three years into the job, however, there was a spill-over at the plant. Safety procedures went into effect, but Joe's hand got splashed by a stray glob of molten iron. The pain was immense... and then it mysteriously stopped. Joe looked down at his hand to find that it was burned, but not as badly as it could've been. In the days after the accident, Joe found that things could change. When a pen rolled under the couch, he went to retrieve it -- and ended up lifting it single-handed. Desperate to talk to someone about what he was going through, Joe went back to his parents and told them about the changes in his life. That was when Greg revealed to Joe a series of medical records dating back to when he was born, stamped with the AEGIS logo. Greg told Joe the truth about his grandfather, Paul Macayle. Paul had been a labor organizer with socialist tendencies during the Great Depression. He'd managed to get the auto plant he worked at unionized, but some of the guys at work questioned his patriotism. Paul loved America, but thought that it could lend a better hand to its poor. When Pearl Harbor was bombed, Paul signed up for service -- not to prove his patriotism, but to aid his country. Word of his sympathies caused a few hang-ups with officers left over from the post-WWI Red Scare, however, and the question of whether he was fit for service was bounced around the local brass. One officer, however, not only stood up for Paul, but submitted his name for a top secret program. Using knowledge of genetics retrieved from a German defector, Paul was altered to become an ideal fighting machine, a field operator who could break up heavy artillery and soften up enemy battalions for the other soldiers. The program had failed to take on many soldiers, and the number crunchers at the Pentagon were beginning to wonder if it was worth it. Paul, however, not only pulled through the regimen, but emerged with greater strength and resilience than any other soldier. He was the Legionnaire. Paul fought in the German theater from 1941-1944. During his time overseas, he met Laura, a composer working with the USO shows. The two fell in love, and got married in August of 1944. But as Legionnaire's unit approached convened on the Ardennes Mountains, they were assaulted by a strike group led by Superior. Legionnaire managed to get his men to safety, but at the cost of his own life. He was buried a hero, leaving behind Laura... and their son. Greg had been tested when he was born, and while Legionnaire's genetic profile had been passed on, it was latent. The chances were it would trigger if he was exposed to mortal peril, but Laura refused to let such a thing happen, even in a controlled setting. Greg himself didn't learn about the chance of trigger until Laura had died, and by that time, with Joe learning to talk and Andy on the way, he felt he couldn't take the risk. Joe was the first to inherit the mantle of his grandfather, the Legionnaire. After spending a few nights debating with himself on what to do next, he went with what he's always done -- stand up for what he believed in. Power Descriptors: Mutation (Legacy derived; the DCU term would be "metahuman") Personality & Motivation: Out of costume, Joe is warm, open, and friendly. He tends to lose himself in passion, whether it be joy or anger, and if challenged, will try to resolve things peacefully -- though if someone's being a jerk to him, he'll likely bring his anger to bear verbally. In costume, Cannonade tries to be stoic, calm and stalwart, the kind of man Joe thinks his grandfather was on the field. This works out better in theory than as practice as of now, as sometimes he manages to lose himself in the flow of battle -- especially when dealing with a foe he really, really hates. Complications: ...And The American Dream: Joe wants to represent the beliefs his grandfather stood for -- the idea that America is a land of ideals, a place where those who fall can expect a hand to guide them back up, a place where a person can take pride in what they do. He'll proudly stand up for these beliefs when challenged, and may let anger or despair take hold when he sees the flouting or failure of these ideals. Lurking In The SHADOWs: As far as Joe knows, most of the agents of Nazi Germany his grandfather fought against have been neutralized. Nacht-Krieger is missing, Superior is imprisoned, and Overshadow is dead. But a lot happened during the War, and a lot is still unknown. Who knows who may be still bearing a grudge over the failure of the Third Reich? Especially if they wish to take out that grudge on someone taking up the mantle of one of the very Allies who dogged their heels... "New Jersey Nazis...I Hate New Jersey Nazis": In addition to the bone-deep hatred for Nazis that most SHARPs bear, Joe's dislike for fanboys of the Third Reich is deepened by the knowledge of his grandfather's death at the hands of one of Hitler's supermen. This is a problem, as Joe knows he needs to live up to Legionnaire's legacy, and his old approach to dealing with Nazis usually contravened First Amendment regulations -- and assault laws. No, Not That Kind Of...: From his manner of dress to his declarations, Joe's still pretty clear about the fact that he's a skin. Of course, he'll usually follow this up with an explanation about the various subsets of the skinhead subculture and the general antipathy for white power "boneheads" in various street scenes, but, well, still doesn't change the fact that once you've introduced yourself as a skinhead, it may not win you any favors. A Working Class Hero Is Something To Be: Joe still works a 9-to-5 job that isn't exactly big on breaks, which means if there's danger afoot, it might not be easy for him to get out. And there's only so long his union rep is gonna cover for him... Abilities: 9 + 2 + 10 + 2 + 4 + 6 = 33PP Strength: 32/19 (+11/+4) Dexterity: 12 (+1) Constitution: 36/20 (+13/+5) Intelligence: 12 (+1) Wisdom: 14 (+2) Charisma: 16 (+3) Combat: 12 + 12 = 24PP Initiative: +5 Attack: +6 Ranged, +11 Melee Grapple: +24, +14 w/out powers Defense: +9 (+6 Base, +3 Dodge Focus), +3 Flat-Footed Knockback: -10/-2 Saving Throws: 0 + 5 + 6 = 11PP Toughness: +13 [imp 11]/+5 (+13/+5 Con) Fortitude: +13/+5 (+13/+5 Con, +0) Reflex: +6 (+1 Dex, +5) Will: +8 (+2 Wis, +6) Skills: 80R = 20PP Acrobatics 8 (+9) SM Craft (Structural) 4 (+5) Diplomacy 8 (+11) SM Gather Info 8 (+11) Intimidate 8 (+11) SM Knowledge (Current Events) 8 (+9) Knowledge (History) 4 (+5) Knowledge (Pop Culture) 4 (+5) Knowledge (Streetwise) 8 (+9) Notice 8 (+10) SM Profession (Steelworker) 4 (+6) Sense Motive 8 (+10) Feats: 26PP All-Out Attack Attack Focus (Melee) 5 Challenge [Fast Startle] Dodge Focus 3 Improved Grab Improved Initiative Inspire 5 Leadership Luck 2 Power Attack Skill Mastery (Acrobatics, Diplomacy, Intimidate, Notice) Startle Takedown Attack 2 Well-Informed Powers: 16 + 13 + 11 + 2 + 2 + 11 = 55PP Enhanced Constitution 16 (to 36/+13) [16PP] Enhanced Strength 13 (to 32/+11) [13PP] Impervious Toughness 11 [11PP] Speed 2 (25mph / 250ft per Move Action) [2PP] Super-Movement 1 (Slow Fall) [2PP] Super-Strength Array 5 (10 points; Feat: Alternate Power) [11PP] Base Power: Super-Strength 4 (effective STR 50 [Heavy Load: 12 tons]; Feats: Shockwave [100-ft Cone], Super-Breath [100-ft Cone]) {10/10} Alternate Power: Leaping 10 (x2,500; Running Long Jump 50,000 ft., Standing Long Jump 25,000 ft., High Jump 12,500 feet at rank 10 [6 rounds]; Running Long Jump 500 ft., Standing Long Jump 250 feet, High Jump 125 feet at rank 4 [move action]) {10/10} Drawbacks: -0PP None DC Block: ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed Touch DC 26 Toughness (Staged) Damage (Physical) Shockwave Touch/Area DC 21 Reflex 1/2 Effect DC 26 Toughness (Staged) Damage (Physical) Super-Breath Touch/Area DC 21 Reflex 1/2 Effect Contested STR/DEX vs +11 Prone Abilities (33) + Combat (24) + Saving Throws (11) + Skills (20) + Feats (26) + Powers (55) - Drawbacks (0) = 169/249 Power Points