First, Victory City itself:

A failed utopia, created by superheroes in their heyday. They wanted to create the perfect city, where they could use their powers, knowledge of super science, and magic to enrich the lives of its citizens. A true bastion of freedom, understanding, and love for all mankind.

Then something killed almost all of the heavy hitters. No one's sure quite what it was, but the big names were gone, and the city's gone to hell since then. With no one to care for it, Victory City has turned into a quarter slum, a quarter completely abandoned, a quarter still trapped in a 1930's style World's Fair "world of tomorrow" setting, and a quarter that is "relatively" normal.

As the heroes were gone, a power vacuum was left. Before their demise, a hero known as The Broker had set up a prison for supervillains on a nearby manmade landmass, nicknamed Broker Island. The prison, it turned out, was more like The Broker's personal buffet. No one was aware of it, but his ability was to steal the ability of others. People only really saw the side of him that could give those powers out, but he had to get them from somewhere. As he fed his strange addiction, he gathered some of the most powerful villains in the world under the auspices of "rehabilitation." With the big heroes gone, and The Broker himself missing after a prison riot, the jail has slowly become a hive of corruption. That corruption, known as O.M.E.N. (The Order of the Modified, Enhanced, and Notorious) has spread back to the mainland, slowly but surely.

Victory City, left to its own devices over the past 40 or so years, hasn't really turned out well. After being "abandoned" by their heroes, the population of the city began to take a more cynical attitude towards superheroes and vigilantes of all stripes. Heroes, while not actively attacked, are usually an unwelcome sight in the city. The people of Victory see superheroes as people who just bring false hope, and who won't be there for when things really get bad.

There are, however, newer generations of heroes. People who have been the victims of science experiments, or who have learned the right incantations. Those who want to pursue justice in the old ways. Some hide their identities, but for entirely social reasons. Some want to bring the reputation of superheroes back up in Victory City. Some have their own personal reasons. Whatever their motivation may be, there's plenty of "evil" to fight.

O.M.E.N. isn't the only source of injustice in the city. Supervillains of all groups and affiliations have targeted Victory. Some do it for the thrill of pissing on the graves of the lost heroes, and some do it to make a name for themselves. Some know that the general attitude toward heroes means that there will be more opportunities to make money and less opportunities to get their heads kicked in.

The people may not admit it, but they need heroes. O.M.E.N. has thoroughly corrupted most law enforcement and political figures. The only justice they can really get now comes in a cape and underpants worn on the outside.

since you posted the Vanguards here is O.M.E.N.
I think it's up to date unless someone joined very recently while I wasn't on

>>40834

Thanks, I didn't have the most updated version of that to post.

>O.M.E.N., the Order of the Modified, Enhanced, and Notorious.

Since the dawn of civilization, there have been those who have risen above their peers. They crafted a sharper blade, or an arrow that flew farther. They were, of course, hated by their peers. Those who were not celebrated were often mocked, hounded, or killed. They were called witches, devil worshipers, and other things that were not very nice.

O.M.E.N. began as a response to that. The group originated at some point during the 1700s, to provide legal and physical defense for the creator of a complex medicine that some thought to be "the work of the devil." As time progressed, O.M.E.N. went on to protect many brilliant minds around the world, and it did not stop at science. Those who were skilled in the magical arts needed protection from jealous sorcerers and untalented druids who were handy with a knife. O.M.E.N. was there to protect them at every turn.

At some point in the mid 1800's, things took a turn. The whole venture seemed to be a waste of time, as despite all of the advances made, people remained simple and weak willed. For every scientist or guru they saved, a million more idiots were born and getting progressively richer. O.M.E.N. soon began to realize that although they could save the gifted from the ignorant masses, they could never save the masses from their own ignorance.

And so, they turned to darkness. The true goals of the modern incarnation of O.M.E.N. are unknown, even to its own members. Their acquisition of Broker Island has given them a foothold near Victory City, where something of great importance has been hiding. What that is, and what O.M.E.N. plans to do with it, have yet to be seen.

The organization itself is spread across the globe, with major concentrations of power in Southeast Asia, West Africa, Australia, Europe, and North and Central America. Its headquarters is located in Rhode Island, which is often referred to as "America's Most Evil State."

So, now a bio I suppose

Name: Graft
Alias: Russel Miner
Affiliation: OMEN
Power: Symbiotic costume ( http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Symbiotic_Costume )

Graft was a petty criminal who ran with a rough crowd. During a botched robbery, an entire apartment complex was set on fire. His "friends" escaped without being caught, but they left Russel behind to burn. Which he did, in more ways than one.

He was pulled from the fire, alive but barely. Over 70% of his body had been severely burned. His luck wasn't done being bad, though. He was successfully ID'd as "the culprit" in the fire, and sentenced to life without the possibility parole on the very small chance that he lived.

Russel, like any convict around the area of Victory City, was taken under consideration by O.M.E.N. Through the bribery of officials, he was transferred to Broker Island, where he would be used in medical experimentation.

He received a skin graft from "donors unknown." He was one of many who were used in the experiment, but only his body didn't reject it. In a very short time, he made a full recovery. Then things took a turn for the worse. His body shut down completely and entered a death-like state. Thought to be a failure, his body was thrown on a pile of others in a freezer, set to be dissected and incinerated.

When the freezer was next opened, Graft was the only thing left inside. His body had become pale, and his flesh warped and rippled. It could twist and turn into shapes at his mental command. The graft, it seemed, had become sentient, and the more dead organic matter it ate, the stronger it became.

The symbiote skin has two different personalities, which it chooses to manifest from time to time through extensions of Graft's body. Sometimes it will be a head that emerges from his shoulder, or a completely different humanoid figure tethered to him by a cord. These personalities, calling themselves The Donor and the Red, each push him toward different goals. The Donor encourages him to do the right thing, while The Red only wants to consume more flesh. His will constantly struggles against The Red's, which would just turn him into a mindless monster, and his goals often clash with The Donor's. Letting one side rule over another could prove to be disastrous, especially because when he does do a good deed, The Donor side gets weaker, leaving him to fend for himself against The Red. He has to carefully balance his cravings for new flesh, and keep The Donor where it is by continuing to be a criminal. He does, from time to time, "help" others, but it's usually when it's his only resort.

The symbiote usually manifests as ivory white extensions of his skin spotted and stained with red. When The Red personality takes over, he grows a thick carapace lined with blades and other sharp pointy edges, which are perfectly suited for its various rampages.

“I’ll start with the pearls around the pretty lady’s neck.” The mugger aimed his weapon, a simple but deadly revolver at the family of the family of three. The pearls he referred to was clutched tightly in the woman’s hand as she raised them to the mugger. But the father had other plans he charged at the mugger, in another moment the man would be shot, and due to the close proximity would go through the man and his dear wife. Leaving the boy orphaned, if he was lucky enough to get away. But before any shots could be fired off, the gunman found himself with a sharp pain in his ribcage and the revolver snapped out of his hand and for good measure his gun hand had three broken fingers, assuring he wouldn’t be able to use that hand for any more then healing.
“Well he could still use his other hand..” I mused leaning over the man. Adjusting the goggles over my eyes I turned to the family. “Sorry about that. But you shouldn’t cross alley ways at night. All sorts of criminals and their cowardly lot come around here waiting to pounce on folks who come out of the Movie Theatre.” Flipping the revolver and dumping the bullets into my hand I dropped the gun on the unconscious man’s body. “If any of have a cell now would be a good time to call the police.” By this time I noticed the young boy peeking from behind his mother’s coat. Bending a knee I smiled giving a thumbs up to the kid.
“A-are you a super hero?” His voiced warbled but it was evident he was trying to remain brave in front of his mother.
“No.” A look of disappointment immediately came over the boy. “Just a regular hero. I don’t have any super powers.” He gave a grin to the response. I did have a power however, not invulnerability or super speed or anything but I could watch someone do something and replicate it to a T. Whether it be martial arts, diving, or even golf I could imitate it like a mirror. Of course most of the time my body just acts and I have no understanding of it but it has saved my life countless times.
“What’s your name son?” The man I saved from getting shot approached me cautiously. He raised a hand towards me. “I’d like to know the name of the man who saved my family.”
“Striker.” I said taking his hand for a moment. His hands were strong but at the same time controlled. A doctor’s hand.
“An alias? Vigilantism is illegal but you’ve done us a service. Don’t worry we won’t turn you in.” It felt weird to be thanked by a person I just saved. Most times they just run off or spray me with pepper spray. Another reason for the goggles to be on, to keep me from getting blinded by burning agony in spray form.
“He’s like the Zollo, Saint of Swords isn’t he dad?”
“In a way he is I suppose.” They headed out towards the light of the streets. Odd how I didn’t catch their name but I guess getting to know those you saved isn’t really apart of the hero business.
“Oi, what hit me and why does my hand hurt?” Grunted a voice from below.
“Oh. Your awake, thought you’d out be longer. I need to start carrying rope or something.” I grunted, turning to the mugger.
“Crap. Where did they go?” He searched the ground for his gun, finding it on his person he raised it at me. “You! Tell me where’d they go?”
“Why so you can mug them?”
“You idiot! I’m not going to mug them I was going to kill them and now I’m going to kill you!”
Click.
Click.
Click.

“Looking for these? Dropping the bullets to the ground, they caught his eye for a moment. The distraction allowed for me to deliver a swift spin kick. For a moment I could hear his teeth rattle in his head. “So your not a mugger, a hitman?” I picked him up by his collar making sure to make my voice all gritty and lethal sounding. Didn’t help that I coughed in his face.
“I’m not going to say anything to some two-bit punk who blind sided me! And stop spitting on me!” Well now I had no problem with breaking his other fingers.
“Who where those people? Why where you hired to kill them? Tell me!”
“Doesn’t matter how many fingers you break! Mister Bog will do far worse to me for not completing my mission!”
“A-ha! Whose this Mister Bog? A Captain Planet villain? Some sort of mafia boss? Crime lord? Kingpin? Lawyer?”
“I ain’t saying nothing about Mister Bog!” Dropping him I shook my head. I wasn’t going anywhere with this. And I’m no detective when it comes to these things. The alleyway lit up in red and blue lights.
“Great. Look the police will be here any moment. Now you can lie there like a good boy or I can punch you a few more times.”
“No please no!”
“What, jail time isn’t that bad.” I grunted but instead of a crook on the ground I found myself staring at..at..at what looked like a black dog. Except instead of a drooling loveable doggy that you could take home and name Noir, and feed kibble, this dog drooled blood and had red glowing eyes and walked as if it was a living shadow.
“Oh god help!” The word of god enticed the black dog to lunge that the man, something warm splashed over me and it took me a moment to realize.
“Blood.” And not from the dog’s mouth, but from the neck of the man it had just wrapped it’s fangs around.
I never watched a man die. The worse part about it, was every faint movement was embedded in my mind. The last sagged breath and the life fading from his eyes etched into my body and for once I could see the downside to my power. Every part of me screamed to run, to get away from this thing that was of death and evil. But I was frozen. From the dead man, it turned to me, fresh blood dripping from it’s maw. It would kill me next. And all I could do was stand there.

“AND THE MIGHTY PANTHEON STRIKES FROM ABOVE!” And like that the drooling demonic dog was obliterated by a giant of man. No I should say a God of man. No I’m wrong there too. A giant of a god. “DID YOU SEE THAT BOY! I CRUSHED THAT PUP UNDER MY TOES LIKE GRAPES THAT WILL MAKE A FINE WINE!”
“Why are you yelling.” It was all I could up with in response.
“YELLING? WHY THE MIGHTY PANTHEON DOES NOT YELL! BUT MERELY..WHAT IS THE WORD?”
“Announce?”
“YES! I ANNOUNCE MY WORDS!”
Oh..well..uh..what was that thing?”
“I!..Do not know.” He responded raising his foot, the gore of the vile hound clinging to the loud man’s foot. “Some sort of evil dog I s’pose. And like ALL EVIL SHALL BE SQUASHED UNDER THE MIGHTY TOES OF PANTHEON! And who might you be young warrior? Jabbing me in the shoulder and the small touch felt like someone had just socked me there.
“Striker.” I uttered, my body resting on the alleyway wall while I tried to wipe the blood away from my clothes. Whether it be from the man or the dog I couldn’t tell anymore.
“You must meet my friends young Striker! I recognize a hero when I see one!” With that I was slung underneath the arm of the man. And watching the ground grow smaller and smaller as we ascended into the sky.
For all intents and purposes this day was an weird one. And it seemed it was only get weirder.

>and now, storytime with Graft

“That was 12 of your guys,” I said. I took a drag of my cigarette, and waited for Jerry to respond. Even through the smoke, I could smell urine; he'd pissed his pants. “12 of them, Jerry,” I said. I wanted to make sure he heard it through the fear. I approached the table in front of me, and tipped a chair to its side to empty it of a body without a head. Then I turned it around and took a seat. I crossed my arms over top of it and leaned forward. When I talked, I jabbed my cigarette at him. “You knew this would happen, so don't look so surprised. We tried to warn you. When you do business in Victory City, you deal with us first. We get half of your cut, or...” I looked down at the headless corpse, then back to Jerry. “We take something else instead. It's funny, I thought it was a pretty fair deal, but you still thought you'd take your chances. Why?”

“V-V-Vanguard's been...”, Jerry said.
“Vanguard's not here, Jerry,” I said. I tilted my head to the side, then turned it roughly to my left, producing a loud crack. At that angle, someone would have broken their neck. My body doesn't work that way anymore. Jerry looked like he wanted to throw up, which is the reaction I was looking for.

“O.M.E.N. runs this city, Jerry. The Vanguard's all flash, but they're not as big, and they don't have eyes everywhere. Not like we do. We are everywhere, Jerry. Eyes... everywhere.”, I said. I stubbed the cigarette out onto the table, and listened to it sizzle as the embers went out, drowned in a pool of blood. Jerry backed away. His body jerked when it moved, like there was a disconnect between his limbs. His legs wanted to go one way, his arms wanted to protect his head, and his head wanted to be somewhere else entirely.

“I'll give you everything, Graft. Everything I got, it's yours. Just, for the love of Mary, don't do this. You killed my guys, and now I'm done. I'm through with the business. You can take it, just leave me,” Jerry said. His back was against the wall of the warehouse now. Lower class criminals always hold their meetings in warehouses, makes them too easy to find. I leaned back a little in my seat, and smiled through my bone-armor face mask.

“That's good, Jerry, because everything's what I want. I want your money, I want your business. I want your contacts, I want your connections in the utility companies,”I said. I could see his will crumbling bit by bit. “I want your smuggling routes. I want the recipe for your mom's key lime pie with the sugar cookie crust. I love a good key lime... maybe I'll go pick it up from her in Nebraska.” Jackpot. Jerry finally breaks down into hysterics. He was all sweat and tears, like he'd just been baptized in a salt water lake. Me, I don't sweat anymore, and if my tear ducts still work I wouldn't know. Watching someone break down like this is like pornography to me, and a little part of him is just starting to realize that.

“Fuck you, Graft, you sick fucking freak! Kill me, but you leave my family out of this!”, Jerry said. I stood up from my chair and kicked it to the side. The table was the next to go, brushed aside with a casual backhand. My stride was steady, but swift. By the time I was finished, I stood eye to eye with him. I could still see a spark of resistance in his eyes, like he was prepared for the worst.

“Kill you, Jerry? That's not what I had in mind. I want to give you the same odds that I had, many moons ago.” I said. “Fair's fair.”

When the police finally responded to the call about “screams and gunfire” at the old chair and table factory, all they found was a pile of bodies with a skinned man hanging above them, tied from the rafters by a rope made of his own hide. I hid in the shadows, and watched their faces. So much horror. What a turn on. One of them saw me from the corner of their eye, but by the time they turned their flash light to make sure, I was gone. Just another shadow on a crime scene in Victory City. Shadows like that can fall anywhere.

BIO TIME
Name: Jonathan McCormick
Code Name: Still Deciding
Power: http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Adhesive_Secretion

John was your typical Christ loving,Church going, shove my religion down your throat Catholic. While he was on his way home from work(he's a welder). He was passing by an intersection when he saw a prostitute standing on the corner(it was just a teenager). The shock that this kind of HERESY was infecting his pure surburbia was too much. He grabbed his hard leatherback bible and was ready to beat down the whore. (THE WHOOREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE) When he was suddenly the epicenter of a horrible HORRIBLE collision. Two trucks had came out of nowhere(well he kind of just stopped in the middle of the road and jumped out he was pretty angry at that prostitute) The trucks not noticing the small hybrid car and the middle aged man right next to it(what bad truckers they should be fired) First came the Industrial Glue truck(oh we all saw this coming) which in fact did see john and tried to steer break and turn out of the way. However the second truck didn't. A truck containing UNKNOWN RADIOACTIVE material came collidng straight into the back of the glue truck.(both truck drivers were miraculously killed and have no part in the rest of the story hurray plot holes) Blah blah blah thats how he got his powers through some cliche accident. After given his powers for some reason he thought it a sign that god was giving him a mission a mission to purge the world in the white goop. Then everything went horribly wrong.

OR SOMETHING ARGHHH

Name: Derek Mormo
Alias: Pandaro
Affiliation: O.M.E.N.
Power: Necromancy (http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Necromancy)

He remembers it perfectly, to the most minute and irrelevant detail. To this day, years later, he can still close his eyes and hear ancient grit crunching under his boots, still smell the musky scent of stagnant air, still taste the thrill of impending discovery. He had still been Derek Mormo then, thin and reedy, the asthmatic Dean of Archaeological Studies at Victory City’s prestigious Orville Simpson University. It had been his specialization in Archaic Greece that led to his being invited to participate in the exploratory excavation of a recently re-discovered temple of Hecate, the pre-Olympian goddess of magic. He had leaped at the opportunity for, despite his physical frailty, he relished the more adventurous aspects of his profession. He had once confided to a close friend and colleague that it was only when on the digs that he felt truly alive. He found that attitude funny, now, in an ironic sort of way.

The temple was considered to be ‘rediscovered’ in that, although it had long ago been plundered by various archaeological societies, recent advances in sonic imaging technology had revealed that the temple was simply the uppermost portion of a much larger subterranean complex. These catacombs could be accessed via a slender staircase, itself hidden beneath the temple’s central altar. He can remember feeling giddy at the prospect of being among the first human beings in centuries to trek the silent halls, excitedly noting that the iconography carved into the walls by ancient cultists proudly exclaimed their patron’s chthonic nature. It only made sense to him that Hecate, as a goddess of the underworld, would have her true temple underground. The group went from room to room, carefully recording everything they found, outwardly ecstatic at the scholastic implications of their discoveries, inwardly disappointed by the lack of treasure, until at last they came to the temple’s sanctum sanctorum.

When the center hallway of the underground temple terminated at last in a vast cavern, he stood openmouthed with his fellow archaeologists. Tattered tapestries hung from the walls, poorly preserved by the dampness of the cavern. Coins of gold, silver and bronze were strewn across the floor, overflowing from rotten chests and swept into glittering dunes of ancient currency. Bits of armor were stacked in a corner, the bronze tarnished, the leather cracked and decomposed. At the center of the room was an altar far larger than the one above, and around it, piled high, were the bones of the dead. While the others stood aghast, stunned by the ancient butchery, he and he alone moved forward, called by a force he couldn’t then understand, treading ankle-deep through the remnants of human sacrifice.

>>40852
It was only when he reached the altar that he saw the Cask. It was a bronze vessel, roughly the size of a man’s fist, hung from a thick-linked golden chain. Around its circumference were embossed four images, each of a woman’s face during different points in time. The first showed her in the prime of her life, youthful and happy. The second presented her during her middle years, looking stern and rather haggard. The third revealed her in her old age, wrinkled and snarling. The fourth and final image was that of a fleshless skull, devoid of all emotion. He briefly wondered why he was so compelled to hang the Cask around his neck, but by the time he realized the strangeness of his action it was too late to stop.

He learned much in the next few moments. He learned that the gods of Greece had been real, existing as unimaginably powerful beings from outside of time and space, summoned to Earth by mortal worship. To cement their burgeoning power, the newly-arrived Olympians had worked to banish their predecessors, the even more ancient chthonic deities, from the planet. Hecate, although not able to oppose the Olympians directly, deposited a portion of her power in the Cask of Sorrows so that she could retain an influential position on Earth. With the abolishment of her cult, however, she had been largely forgotten… until the rediscovery of the Cask and the choosing of her herald. In that moment, Derek Mormo ceased to exist. In his place stood Pandaro, neither alive nor dead, sustained by the necromantic energies of the Cask of Sorrows and tasked with bringing about Hecate’s triumphant return.

His former colleagues became the first of his servants, their souls absorbed by the Cask to power the dark magic that raised their corpses as ghoulish minions. Over the course of a week Pandaro stripped the temple of its ancient treasures so as to fund his ghastly mission and returned to Victory City. His goddess would require many sacrifices to make good her Earthly resurrection, and the city held millions of potential victims, ripe and ready for slaughter. Derek Mormo is dead. Long live Pandaro.

http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Chimerism
Ilom Vorsah was a very large and mighty man to begin with; a former child soldier turned soldier of fortune. But he took a job with a mad scientist and, well, you know how mad scientists hate to settle. Thus Ilom found himself spliced together with the DNA of of a Siberian Tiger. He has grown to a great size, clear of ten feet tall, and sports mighty tiger jaws, sharp claws, and a thick coat of striped fur as a result. Ilom is not bulletproof by any stretch, and in fact tends to go into battle heavily armed, using his tiger-like body as a last resort.

http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Color_Manipulation
Persephone Sot is a mischievous middle-school girl with the seemingly useless power to manipulate color. She can take away color, add color, or change color as she sees fit. However, her color-changing hijinks have never caused anything more serious then a short meeting between her teachers and her parents, a pair of strung-out druggies, on account of her deciding that the lockers needed to be bright pink one day. There is talk of sending the girl into foster care.

http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Infinite_Supply
Hans Stockman is an average man of indiscriminately European descent. He hasn't super strength or super speed. But he does carry a briefcase. If something were to fall into this briefcase, Hans would be able to pull forth as many copies of the item as he likes, until something else were to be put onto the briefcase. Then, the briefcase would be able to copy that. Curiously, Hans can not do this trick without a briefcase, and the case cannot do this without Hans. Villains, understandably, find him to be a very useful person.

http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Darkness_Manipulation
Dot is the name of a thief who has the ability to appear from, and vanish into, any dark surface. Wherever shadows may fall. More curiously then that, she has made it a point to avoid killing any guards or civilians she happens upon during her robberies. Not by any sense of honor or chivalry, but primarily because she considers it part of the challenge of being a superthief. She wears a bizarre costume as well; solid black from head to toe, save for a large white circle over her face, which she presumably sees through. She has been known to appear from solid darkness, with only this sport visible. I'm sure you folks can come up with an interesting secret identity and backstory for her, if you feel so inclined.

“AND HERE WE ARE! VANGUARDS HEADQUARTERS!”

“It’s a dump.” Floating above what looked to be a long abandoned warehouse, Pantheon floated down, still holding me under his arm. “And can you put me down?”

“VERY WELL!” With that he released me from his grip. About six stories above the ground.

“DON’T LET ME GO DON’T LET ME GO!” I flapped my arms hoping to somehow gain flight power but gravity had his hold on me. So it wasn’t going down by gunshot to the gut or a blade in the throat. But being dropped by a crazy giant in a dress.

“IT BE A TUNIC!” Guess I screamed out that last part without knowing. “AND YOU BE FINE YOUNG WARRIOR, TIS ONLY AN ILLUSION!”

“I’m floating? I’M FLOATING!” I gave out a hoot but then I realized I was sinking quickly. Looking below the warehouse began to waver and change. From a decayed warehouse it looked like a spire of metal and tron lines.

“Tis a ship from beyond the stars. It exists on a layered…di..di..”

“Dimension?”

“YES! That word.” He grinned happily as we were both in a white room. Looking around the void seemed endless, straining I got a sense of vertigo from the expanse.

“Oomph” Falling back into Pantheon gave a smirk. “This ship is what brought the Vanguard together. The forces that controlled it threatened to take control of our planet. And they almost succeeded, individually we were overwhelmed, but together the Vanguard formed and as you can see we succeeded.” Snapping his fingers a door split open from the white nothingness. “While it cannot fly it’s fully operational and it allows us to hide from forces that seek to destroy us. And we still have yet to fully discover all of it’s secrets.” We headed through the door, and while it closed behind us the hallway we were in was lined with doors.

“So these are all rooms?”

“Indeed. Existing in a realm overlapping with ours.”

“So whats the ship called?”

“A name? Hm. We have yet to give it a name. We merely called it the Head Quarter.”

“Well it needs a name..”

“Well when you think of one do tell.”

We continued our way, I kept following the behemoth. Unsure why I was even here. After several minutes of walking, Pantheon stopped. “Here you are.” Turning to the door, I turned to look back at the larger then life superhero only to find myself picked over his head. “SURVIVE AND YOU SHALL JOIN VANGUARD! BE DEFEATED YOU SHALL MEET WITH LORD HADES!”

“What?! WAIT!” Flailing I was thrown from the door through into the room. Spinning on the floor, I caught myself with my leg I pushed myself in a dead sprint at the door. Pantheon gave abrupt thumbs up and the door was slammed in my face.

Turning around I took a quick scan on my surroundings.

Dark stone walls. Gems embedded in them. Piles of gold coins and other treasure littered the room and it all piled up in the center. “Did I get thrown into the cave of wonders?”

My thoughts were popped by a long yawn from the piles of treasure. Tip-toeing I peered where the noise came from I found an unexpected surprise.

“Hm?” Draped in treasure was a young onyx haired girl. Horns extended from her head which had a jewel encrusted crown hanging on it. “Who’re you?” She mumbled stretching and causing the coins to fall, and uncover her nude form.

Grabbing my goggles from my forehead I slapped them back into place. “Ow.” Pain was good. Pain kept you alert. Pain distracts the mind from hormones. “I’m..Ja-Striker.”

“Well..Jaw-Striker. What are you doing in my room? Going to take advantage of a girl while she sleeps?” She leaned over rested a hand on her chin. Her body movement indicating she was teasing but a part of me still reacted.

“N-NO!” My face heated up as I felt the familiar pulsing of embarrassment.

“D’aw does little Jaw Strikey not want to play with me? And here I am all open for you.” She stood up but I had my hands over my face before any danger to my ‘impressionable’ mind was tainted.

“Could you put some clothes on please? Look Mister Pantheon threw me in here and said something about surviving? If he was just trying to embarrass me I’ll let myself out.” By this time I had backed up to the door. Or at least where the door had been. I used my hands to block off the lower half of her body but kept an eye on her face.

“Hm. Fresh meat.” With a tilt of the head, her gaze seemed to change. “Alright..” She sucked in a breath. Her chest expanding, and for a moment I was in Heaven.

And then she spat fire at me. And I quickly descended into Hell.

I can fight many things. But fire? Nah. My clothes were as flammable as the next guy. And the only thing that kept me from turning into a melted marshmallow was my powers taking control. Doing a side flip and pushing myself off the wall and careening at her.

She licked her lips and the visible air around her mouth shifted. From red to green. This time I was pummeled with sand, which solidified and turned into rock.

“Wait you can breath fire and earth?” My upper left torso and arm was covered in the stuff and now I weighed twice as much.

“Well if I could just blow out one element that’d be boring.” She gave a slight grin before inhaling against. This time I was assaulted by wind. If it hadn’t been for my new rock hardiness I would have been bounced around that room like a pinball.

“Ow. Ow. Ow.” Good thing gold was soft because the coins around her had started raining at me like no tomorrow. Swinging forward and using the heavy part of my body to send me at her I tried to go head on. But being twice as heavy I couldn’t go as fast as I had liked.

Side-stepping me she let my fist crash into the wall and with a simple double axe handle I was face to face with the floor.

“I’m beating you, in the buck and taking it easy on you. Pantheon sure is slipping with his new recruits.” Is what she would have said if I hadn’t kicked my legs up, spinning my body around in a break dance motion and brought her flat on her back. My arm no longer encased in stone I kick flipped myself up and brought my arm back up in a defensive pose.

But then I saw part of her naked body and froze up.

Which of course she took advantage of to spit a stream of water at me. Said stream surged up into the sealing, and the force trapping me there. Gold coins and jewels soon following up the stream, some hitting me, other sticking to the ceiling. Struggling to reach something to I gripped the next object that hit me.It was the crown that she had on earlier. Struggling I inched towards the side but I was unable to more than a few inches at a time. Freeing an arm from the water pressure that sealed me on the ceiling I launched the crown like a disc at her.

The water ceased to keep me pinned while I fell to the floor with a thump.

“Ow.” I grumbled sitting up, dripping wet.

“Ow is right you got me in the forehead.” Grumbled the girl opposite of me, now nude and wet.

“Oh god my day just keeps getting better and better.” I thumped my forehead against the wall nearby. Unsure if sarcasm or the honest to goodness truth was being spoken.

“F-fine j-just stand there. I-Ill warm myself up.” She blew into her hands as warm flames licked the skin around her. Steam rising off of her as if she had walked out of a sauna.

“Well I’m dripping wet too.” Taking off my soaked hoodie, I began to squeeze the water out, shaking my shirt in the process.

“Here. Let me.” She grunted allowing a combination of warm air and flames to wrap around me. It seemed she could use more then one element at a time. Combining them to create even deadlier attacks. This was noted.

“Thanks.” I grunted still not looking at her directly.

“Fine I’ll get dressed. For a boy your age, you’d be staring at me non-stop.”

“I’m twenty!” I said half-heartedly. “And..theres a girl I like..” I mumbled with the other half of the heart.

“Fascinating. You can look now.” Turning around I expected to find in her something casual. But no she wore green and black armor, looking as if she was ready for war.

“Wait. I recognize you. Aren’t yo-”

“Dragon. And yes. I am much better looking than the news broadcasts shows me to be.” Grabbing my arm she pulled me towards the wall. “C’mon rookie. You have s’more tests.” With that another door opened and we walked through.

This was going to be a long day.

Alias: Irving Ampello
Affiliation: None (Yet)
Power: Simian Mimicry (http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Simian_Mimicry)

Bio: Irving lived a relatively regular life, outfielder of his college baseball team, "B" average student, part time zookeeper to pay rent in a one bedroom apartment two blocks from his school and relatively good boyfriend to his high school sweetheart Peter Mische until an incident at work.

While tending to the capuchin monkeys in the simian exhibit at the zoo a badly timed superhero/villain fight blew through, the villain shooting a ray of magical energy at the hero who countered it with a beam of her own. The two met and the resulting explosion ripped through the zoo mutilating patrons and animals alike, killing dozens as it altered their DNA and energies in ways it never should. As the explosion passed through Irving and the capuchin monkey (Named Ahote) he was feeding it caused the two to fuse into one being.

Horrified yet still alive, Irving/Ahote hid for days, confused and scared from not only his physical form but also his perfectly fused mind, unable to figure out where Irving began and Ahote ended. Memories of Irving's life interwove with Ahote's, thoughts of concern for Peter mixed with desire to find a high, safe place to hide. The two foraged for a few days, keeping to rooftops and alleyways before the two minds melded into one, having one simultaneous thought: I want to be myself again.

And then they separated into man and monkey. Irving, now altered to have Ahote's playful nature rejoined society and reunited with Peter who believed him dead, Ahote by his side as a new pet, a capuchin monkey who acted suprisingly human. The two eventually learned how to merge and separate at will, deciding unanimously to take the mantle of Capuchin, agile simian hero.

As of current, Capuchin is primarily a small-time super, stopping a few muggings and saving a few people from accidents here and there in the relatively quiet college neighborhood.

Pantheon, Champion of the Gods

Name: Pantheon, Champion of the Gods
Alias: Walter McGavin
Affiliation: Vanguard
Power: Mythological Mimicry (powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Mythological_Mimicry)

Studied to be a professor of Greko-Roman mythology. While completing his dissertation about the powers that the gods gifted to mortals, Walter stumbled across an ancient scroll. In his excitement, he translated the text and read aloud the document. With an explosion of lightning, Walter transformed into Pantheon, and found he possessed the powers of the gods and goddesses he admired so greatly. They charged him to continue their legacy, and protect the peoples of the world they created. To guide him on his mission was the animal companion Bubo. Together, the founded the league of super heroes known as the Vanguard, who tasked themselves with the protection of Earth against all foes who seek its destruction.

Fights like Athena, drinks like Bacchus, fast as Hermes, Strong as Hercules, and flies around on a golden flaming chariot like Helios. Goes into battle with the Spartan shield of Leonidas, and hurls the lightning bolts of Zeus. Is honor bound to defend Earth and protect the legacy of the gods. Many new-time wise cracks and gadgets are lost to him, as he also inherited the lower-tech minds of the ancient Greeks. Good-natured, and loves to let loose a hearty laugh, which shakes the foundations of Olympus.

>Posting time!

Ten six-second bursts. Sixty seconds total. That was the limit for tonight. Any more than that and he'd likely risk overexerting himself and almost getting killed like last time with the bank. He had counted four, but then the last one came out of the bathroom and, well, buckshot is hard to dodge. Even when it's moving at an inch a "second" and you're pretty well off athletically. He clicked the fancy-looking watch on his wrist a few times until it read 10 seconds.

He continued his run across the rooftops, watching and listening for any wrong-doing going on. He hoped it would be something easier this time, like a mugging or some gang out trying to be badasses. Going back to stopping petty crimes would be a fantastic break after trying to move up to something more high-profile. His answer came shortly: a woman's cries of protest resounded from the alley over the edge of the next building.

He stopped at the edge and peered over, readjusting the thick, white plastic mask on his face and handling the hilt of the sword strapped to the back of his belt. Originally he wasn't sure he should use a weapon at all, but then he had figured out that slowing time also slowed the speed of the molecules in solid objects, making them miraculously easier to cut through or break. Plus, when he'd first coined the thought of fighting crime, he'd been on one of his occasional anime binges and had taken interest in samurai in particular, and you know when you get an idea in your head and then it just doesn't seem right when you cha- Wait wait whoah. Woman in trouble. Less thinking, more saving.

Three men stood in the alley. Two were busy going through a woman's purse and wallet, and the third had the owner pinned to the wall, brandishing a knife. "Listen babe, it's your fault for walkin' past the wrong alley. Now we'll just take your money, and it'll be all dandy, yeah?" The one with the knife had spoken, and the woman was obviously struggling to try and get away from him. Suddenly one of the other guys tossed the purse aside. "We got a problem Slim, she ain't got no money. Just a phone an' makeup."

The man looked to the others then back. "No money? Too bad... Maybe I'll just take somethin' else then." He played with her shirt a bit with the knife. The woman let out another scream of protest. That was as close a cue as anything.

A paper had floated by in the wind. It slowed, then stopped. The watch on his wrist beeped to signify his power was active. He grabbed the sides of a nearby ladder and slid to the bottom, time resuming as he jumped off, landing between the three thugs just before the watch beeped. One. They all jumped back in surprise. Normal response for when a guy randomly shows up out of nowhere. Now for a catchy entry line... Uh...

"Never teach you in school? No means no." Wow. That was really corny. Need to work on that. The guy with the knife froze, as did one of his friends, but the third reached into his jacket, pulling a gun. It took a second to react, and by that point the trigger was pulled in surprise. Time slowed. The bullet left the chamber mere inches at a time. To the thugs, the reaction was a quick tug of the sword from it's sheath, then a split second later the masked new-comer was behind the thug and his gun fell to pieces. To him, it was the pull on the sword to unsheathe it, a juke to the side to dodge, a dash forward, two cuts - one up, one down - then a juke around the guy for effect. Watch beeped, time resumed. The thug with the gun blinked a second before realizing the man he had shot at was now standing behind him.

>>40861

"Holy shit yo, he's one of those freaks!" The other man who had been digging through the purse shouted with a pretty freaked out tone, backing up. The one who had held the gun grabbed a conveniently placed (they always were...) lead pipe from beside a dumpster. He ran at the masked hero with it. The watch beeped, and the thug stopped mid run. The hero jogged forward, grabbing it from his hands and moved beside him, hooking a bent end around the thug's foot and pulling as the watch beeped again. Within a second, the man was flying from the trip, landing face first on the asphalt. He didn't get back up. The other thug who was still freaking out booked it. No need to go after him, he wasn't going to cause any more trouble.

The hero tossed the pipe to the side, turning back to the guy with the knife. He now stood behind the woman, a hand over her mouth and the knife to the woman's throat. She looked at the hero with pleading eyes before the thug spoke. "Fuck man, I'll fuckin' kill her, back off dawg." The hero contemplated the scene for a second, then the thug continued. "I'll fuckin' do it, I fuckin' swear!" Two jumps.

Watch beep. The hero ran forwards, grabbed the thug's hand with the knife in it and pulled it back, simultaneously pressing a hand hard against the elbow. Watch beep, time resumes. With a sickening pop, the thug's arm bent the wrong way and he let out a scream of pain, staggering back a couple steps. Watch beep. The hero ran back a few steps, before getting a running start with a balled fist. Watch beep. Time resumed just before the fist impacted the reeling thug's face. A loud crunch signified a broken nose, and blood spurted from his nostrils as he flew back several feet, landing unconcious in a pile of trash. The woman stood stunned for a few seconds before realizing turning around to see what had happened.

The hero nursed his hand a little, grumbling from behind his white plastic mask. "Thick skulled son of a bitch..." He turned to the woman. "Are you alright?" The woman nodded through an expression of confusion and shock, still not quite sure what to do. The hero walked over to her purse, picking it up and grabbing what things he could find and replacing them in the bag while the woman recovered. He handed her bag, and she took it with a grateful nod. "Th-thank you..."

"No problem. It's kind of what I do." The hero looked around for a second at the two unconscious thugs. "You should probably get out of here before they come to." The woman nodded, and the hero moved back over to the ladder. She raised a hand to stop him before he left. "U-uhm... Who are you?" The hero blinked behind his mask. Oh fuck, he hadn't thought of that. No one had asked for a name. Uh... Uhhhh....

"Stopwatch." His watch beeped, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone. From atop the roof of the next building over the hero punched himself lightly in the head. Stopwatch? That's not epic or awe-inspiring. That's not even one of the prototype names he thought of, like Blink or Time-Lord. He sighed, and looked at the watch on his wrist, given to him just after the accident where he got his powers apparently by "the future version of himself" in the form of a neatly wrapped box in his bedroom. It was certainly useful, but... Well, maybe "Stopwatch" wasn't so bad afterall. Name aside, he was starting agree with the note his "future self" left.

"Just give it time. You'll grow into the idea of being a hero soon enough."

“So what’s your name.” She asked me while he continued to make our way down another hallway.

“I told you it’s Striker.” Small-talk was never my forte.

“No. That’s your alias. What’s your real name.” Her voice became slightly annoyed at the last bit.

“James Mercer.” I relented but her next comment made me regret it.

“Cute name, but be glad we’re the good guys. Anyone else would have used that against you. Killing your family and friends just to get at you.” She commented, while turning a corner. “Bit of advice though. Trust your instincts.”

“I know that.” I said following her only to find an empty endless hallway. “Oh great now what? I was tired, exasperated and using long words that I barely knew. “Look if this is just some game I’m done. I don’t want to deal with this bullshit. I saw a man die today and now I’m in a ship straight out of Doctor Who!”

HEHEHE KEKEKEKEKE

Well that didn’t sound friendly. “Dragon? Where are you?” My voice was raised as I started to head down the hallway. My walking slowly going faster until I began to jog. Which that changed into running.

KEKEKEKEKEKE

“What the hell is that noise!” Crap. I was becoming frantic. When you panic, you lose. So I stopped mid-stride and in took a breath. Meditation techniques often helped to calm ones mind. Tai Chi was one such exercise that helped this.

“KEKE-hey wait you’re suppose to be freaking out. I perfected my laugh to freak people out!” The voice was coming over some sort of intercom system. “Fine. Head in on the door to your left. No your other left. No…” A door popped open in front of me while I played dumb. It was amusing to get back at whoever this was.

“This one?” I was responded by silence and I headed in through the door. Only to come knee deep in water. “Seriously? Can I go ten minutes without some sort of liquid be applied to me.”

“That sounds kinky. Did Dragon spray you?” There was that voice again. Wading through the water, lilly pads and frogs of all kind floated aimlessly in the room. Alongside beer bottles and snack food wrappers.

“She spewed water at me..” Then a bounding figure from the ceiling splashed behind me and I reacted with a spin kick. Only to be easily blocked by a kick of his own.

“That’s not what I mean punk.” He wore all black except for the red around his eyes. “Names Poison Dart. If you haven’t figured it out, I’m a frog man.”

“Explains the smell.”

“Ha. Cute. Look I don’t have time for this. I’m suppose to test your abilities. Since you impressed Dragon, now you gotta go through me.”

“How many of there are you?” This was becoming tiring rather quickly. I didn’t have super stamina or super endurance, I wore out like normal folks.

“Well you’ve met Pantheon, but you won’t be facing him. He’d get to excited and crush you li-”

“Grapes that make a fine wine?”

“Yeah that. And you met Dragon. And now theres me. Lemme see, Jotun, Arsenal, and Luu. But I doubt you’ll be facing any of them. Jotun is working, Arsenal is to busy reformatting the weapons system and Luu, well Luu does whatever the hell she wants. Oh and then their’s Gauss. But he recently joined.”

“Well I’m glad someone else had to go through this..”

“Nope. This is just for us to have some fun with kicking the guy with barely any power’s butt.”

“Wait what.” With that he expertly kicked himself up and sprung himself off of my chest and into the water. Frogs hopping out of my way.

“Kekekeke. Look kid, I’m going to say this once. Give up. We don’t need some snot nosed brat running around here and getting hurt. We’ve got enough to worry about.” He leaned over me, chugged a bottle of beer. “I’m also going let you on a little secret.” He stuck his tongue out at me, which began to extend. “Ef yhou ghet het bhy mah tungue eht whell khell yhou.” That got my attention. Spinning around I used a water polo move in coordination with a soccer kick to push him out of my way and grab the beer bottle from his head. Breaking it against the wall, I avoided his lashing tongue and ducked underneath him.

Which was my first mistake. His powerful legs easily compensated for the tongue’s inaccuracy. I found myself sailing across the marsh room and into a rotten log. Croaks of annoyment by the animals as I got up.

“Cute.” With a sucking noise his tongue had rolled back into his mouth. “But I’m used to fighting necromancers, and giant robots. I’m not impressed by you. Now go back and play little vigilante who stops muggers.”

“Your right.” I dropped my make shit weapon staring at the wavering water. “I’m just a kid whose in over his head.”

“Glad you seen my point of view now if you’d ki-”

“BUT! If I don’t step up and take responsibility then I am no better then the criminals who haunt this city. I have this power for a reason. So I’ll make use of it. I’ll save people. I’ll help get kittens out of trees, I’ll fight against gangs, I’ll bake cookies for fund raisers. And if I have to face any army necromancers or thousand foot giant robots alone I will do it!” I took a fighting stance, mimicking those I had previously seen. “Because whether or not I live doesn’t matter. What matters is if I save the lives of those I protect!”

“…Fan-fucking-tastic, we have a martyr on our hands. No wonder Panties got himself riled up over you.” He flicked out his tongue again but this time I was ready. Kicking up the log with one foot, I kicked it at him with the other, his tongue sticking on the dead tree. Immediately pushing my way through the water I jabbed at him with several boxing strikes. Aiming for his head. “Fucking ow man! That was my eye!” He tried to go for another leg strike but I had his strikes down pat, going with his leg movement I spun around him and I went for a straight punch to his kidneys. But he managed to dodge it while un-sticking his tongue from the log.

“You rely on legs. Which is obvious. But you haven’t been trained in any kicking styles. Might I suggest Muay Thai?” I was good at banter.

“I CAN KICK JUST FINE!”

Anger made folks sloppy. I relied on that to get fight the bigger and stronger. “C’mon tadpole, I’m just one measly kid in a hoodie. You’re a trained superhero. Stop looking bad.”

“I WILL FUCKING END YOU!” He struck at me, but by this time I was getting his kicking rhythm down. A tidal wave of water expanded around us, allowing me to grab one of his legs and send him flying. Judo was another useful technique.

“My name is Zollo.” Gaining an accent of Spanish descent, I swung my arm like blade. “Saint of Blades.” Surging through the water I struck at him, allowing my ‘blade’ to be wrapped by his tongue. “Entwine and STRIKE!”

“GOWD SUCKING GAHMIT!” I ended things with blow to the solar plexus. The strike taking the frog man off of his feet and for a moment visibly losing consciousness.

“I shall sleep soundly on you’re grave.” Uttering the line from the movie. But the fact that my arm was now numb and it was spreading through my entire body was a worrying one. I thought my arm had been covered but it must have been torn. “Fuck me.” And with a splash and a thump I was out. Hopefully drowning unconscious would be less painful then Dart kicking my ass.

“One. Two. Three. There he’s awake.” Grunted a red shirted man. Waking up, I sat still in what seemed to be a bed. Shirtless, and pantless all I had on was my boxers and my goggles. “Be glad I was given healing powers.” The man said writing down on clip board.

“What happened?” I grumbled sitting up. Pantheon stood his arms crossed. “Thought Dart said I’d die if his tongue hit me.”

“Nay! His poison is expelled through his body via darts, he was dishonorable and lied to you so that he could take advantage of you. And due to exhaustion you passed out. But grand news you have passed my requirements! And now you are at our true base” He beamed at me. “You see we couldn’t let you come to our true hide-out, one can never to careful. So we made up our other base and used several of Luu’s men to make a fake one.” He declared Myself only vaguely following.

“Wait, Dart mentioned Luu. Whose that?”

“She has the power to bestow people with powers of their own. Which she commands to help the Vanguard.

“Ah. And whose this Jotun and Arsenal?”

“Jotun can control ice like his mythical name suggests and Arsenal is a man of steel flesh and wields weapons of grand power!”

“Ah.”

“And Gauss commands powers not unlike Zeus himself.”

“So electricity powers?”

“Not exactly it starts with an M..”

“Magnetic?”

“Indeed!” With a rough pat on the shoulder and a big grin, Pantheon left. Leaving me to lay back and try to get some rest. Thoughts racing through my mind at a hundred thousand bajillion miles an hour.

>>40866
so grammar errors my bad. It's late and I'm not paying as much attention as I should

Name: Jackson Harm
Alias: The Demolition Man
Affiliation: Himself
Power: Destruction (powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Destruction)

Jackson didn't remember much about his parents. Fleeting memories, vague impressions. He remembered that they were kind, and he remembered how he felt about them, but he had never really known his parents. Everything he knew he had found out after their deaths from the files the government had of all those who perished in "The Second Event."

They had been some of the few brave souls who chose to stay living in Victory City after the First Event back in the day. After The Victory Counsel had been destroyed, the city was doomed, as there was no one to maintain the various magics and technologies that ran the "Utopia." From what Jackson understood, this provided the MRRD(Meta Research and Response Division) an excuse to storm the city with the pretense of "cleaning up" the old heroes' mess. That effectively meant they got to take whatever artifacts the Counsel had left lying. Then the Government left Victory high and dry.

Aaron and Julia Harm decided to stay because Victory City was their home. Their parents had been among the first citizens of the Super City, and Aaron and Julia had grown up there in it's prime. They remembered the miracle it had once been, and they hoped some day it would return to it's former glory. They had been members of the restoration committee, citizens who were working to bring the ruined city back to life, and by the mid 80's, the committee had succeeded in making Victory City a habitable, marginally bustling metropolis again.

Then, in 1995, The Second Incident occurred.
Several city blocks had been obliterated, and once again no one knew exactly what had caused it. They didn't even have the supers to blame this time.
Of course, it was only the public who were kept in the dark about the cause of the destruction. The MRRD had once again swooped in, but this time all they found was a five year old boy named Jackson.

>>40868
For the next ten years, Jackson was in custody at one of the MRRD's facilities LOCATION CLASSIFIED. He wasn't permitted to go to the outside world because he was classified as extremely dangerous.
Though, custody may be too harsh a word. It wasn't all that bad. He had a nice living quarters, he had tutors for his schooling, and he had "special" tutors who helped him learn to use his powers.
Dr. Albrecht Gottschalk was assigned to Jackson to help study and develop his powers.
The Dr. was fascinated by Jackson's abilities and took a keen interest in the boy. He studied him frequently for years, and developed methods for Jackson to use in controlling his force, but by the time Jackson left the facility, Gottschalk was no closer to understanding the nature of the boy's power than Jackson was himself.

When he first arrived, Jackson was afraid, and he inadvertently destroyed numerous objects and structures of the facility. It seemed his powers could be triggered emotionally, which is likely what caused the Second Event.
But with Dr. Gottschalk's aid, he eventually learned to focus the Destruction, and call upon it at will. Jackson had no idea how it worked, all he knew is that when he wanted to, he could annihilate things. The Dr.'s tests decreed that there was some level of mental manipulation involved, even if it wasn't the source, and it was eventually discovered that Jackson could control the manner in which he destroyed objects. From explosions, to corrosion, decay, or in a few cases, compete atomization.
Jackson also increased in skill the level of destruction he could cause. Initially it was only small objects, but now he was detonating tanks and small structures with ease. Gottschalk even developed what he called a "Power Diversion Suit" which allowed Jackson to focus the Destructive energy into physical contact, which proved to be the simplest and most efficient means of destruction.

It was after 10 years of research on Jackson that the MRRD decided he was ready to be deployed as a weapon. Jackson wanted no part in it, so they demanded that Gottschalk turn him into a weapon they could use. Over the years Dr. Gottschalk had become increasingly more manic and uncouth in his studies, and upon being ordered to weaponize the Destructive force at any means, the gloves were off. The man that Jackson had come to see as a role model was now torturing and experimenting on Jackson in many cruel and unusual ways. This proved too much for Jackson's psyche, and one day he lost control of his powers, and the MRRD facility was gone.

For the next five years Jackson was on the lamb, running from the MRRD who wanted him crucified for what he had done. He spent most of his time traveling from place to place, trying to keep off the radar.
He made money by destroying things people needed to be rid of. He cleared out some landfills, junkyards, condemned buildings, and the like. People pay a lot of money to get rid of shit. He did have his occasional run ins with the military, but he generally made short work of them.
He is known to the general populace as "The Demolition Man" one of America's top wanted Meta Humans.

At this point, the only place Jackson figures he'll be safe is the one place the government doesn't give a fuck about: Victory City.
Here, he might be able to live in peace, not being constantly chased. And, maybe he can find some answers about his past.
The Demolition Man is going home.

Name: Fabian Feichtinger
Alias: Force Führer
Affiliation: OMEN
Power: http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Pressure_Control


Bio:

Fabian Feichtinger was an intern at a science lab, in which a machine to control atmospheric pressure was being developed. One day, something went wrong, and Fabian got caught in an explosion, which he shockingly survived.

Everything seemed to be fine, until during his birthday, he discovered he had developed pressure-controlling powers, in the worst way possible: he accidentally killed all his friends and family with them.

He trained hard and learned to control his powers, which he used to kill the scientists responsible for his tragedy.
After doing so, having lost all meaning to his life, he adopted the Force Führer persona and started leading a life of crime.

Notes:
-Has a habit of giving nicknames to his adversaries
-Has a thing for alliterations

Dead
Power of Illusion Manipulation
He isn't really evil nor good
He like to play both sides as a information dealer and over all act like a Cheshire Cat
Like showing up out of nowhere to talk to a few heroes to give them a few pointers to fight the villain they are about to face
Or show up in a villains hides out and giving some advise
And during the whole time he makes the people he talk too see some weird stuff
I'll add more info on him later

Nickname: Omnilock
Powers: http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Omnilock

Omniscient beings are rare enough on their own, but the fabled omnilocks, creatures for whom reality is just a plaything, are even rarer. As such, it is quite a surprise that one such being would appear on Earth of all planets, though many scholars would say that it's "just humanity's sort of luck". Thankfully, this nameless omnilock, identified solely by the demonic helmet it wears, doesn't feel the need to partake in the widespread battle between the Vanguard and OMEN, but instead assists those who simply ask. Many people, however, underestimate the masked omnilock, due to its slight frame and youthful personality. Those in power know, though, that if the omnilock cared, it could erase the existence of those that bother it -- and the fact that it hasn't is a testament to its inhumanity.

Nearly a month now since I’ve joined the Vanguard and I’m no closer to finding out who this Mister Bog is. The dog that attacked me however was identified as a Hellhound, vicious hunters summoned forth for a specific goal. Even more so, since this dog dripped blood from it’s mouth and had glowing red eyes it was a kin to the creature known as Barghest, a creature described in text as ‘a monstrous creature made of fangs and claws, wreathed in darkness’. In some text it is said to be able to change shape but it’s eyes always remained a glowing red.

“Right, be wary of folks with sun glasses.” It was two in the afternoon, the birds where chirping and the sky was blue. The streets bustled, and it was actually a nice day out for once. No crime being committed, no rapes, no muggings and no super-villain burning children with his laser vision. Which is why I knew something was up.

“Watch where yer going punk!” A beep of a horn alerted me to my surroundings, and a green cycle nearly ran me off the road. A flick of the bird and the rider was gone. Double shift at the movie theatre on top of patrolling and training with the Vanguard. I wasn’t one to complain but damn I was tired. Pantheon insisted to keep up my training, having Arsenal train me in using all sorts of weaponry, Luu making me fight her newest henchmen who also had physical powers, and then there was Pantheon instructing me in all Greek styles. I was ready for the Olympics by the end of the first day.

“The usual?” Shaking my head, my surroundings had changed and I was now in sitting in the diner. My body had simply followed it’s usual route and taken me here while I was deep in thought. Was this another aspect of my power or was I just stuck in a rut? Hard to tell these days.

“Yeah.” I grinned upward. There she was, the thing that kept me going these days.

“Alright I’ll bring you your pancakes, with strawberries, bananas and whip cream on top with a glass of orange juice.” She smiled with those red lips, her crystal blue eyes holding my image as her golden locks shimmered in the light. Her name was Stacey DeWitt and I was in love with her.

And all I could do was give her an extra large tip and talk to my food all day. Being a crime fighter was easy when you could hide behind an alias and a mask. Or in my case a hood and goggles. Striker could man up and fight giant robots and necromancers but James Mercer had to stare at the girl of his dreams from the seat of a diner.

The familiar pangs of hunger alerted me that something wasn’t right. Generally it didn’t take this long for my food to get here. What was even worse was that the entire place was empty, except for me and Stacey. “Wait this place is usually crowded at this time whats going on?” Before I could answer, Stacey responded by jerking as if possessed and fell to the ground. A red and white tendril sliding away from her.

“STACEY!” I tried to get up but my legs were held down by the same tentacle things from before.

“Now then. Since we’re all alone we can eat peacefully.” His voice etched into my ears, like a knife cutting into silk. “Don’t worry she is not dead. Merely unconscious, the other customers sated my hunger. Besides I would not want to deprive this city of its finest chefs, waiters and..dish washers.” He chuckled at the last statement, as the source of the voice made itself clear. It was a man dressed in black, his skin white as ivory with red markings of scarlet. He sat down in the seat in front of me, setting down two plates of food. One was my meal and the other was…

“Is that skin?”

“Indeed it is James Mercer, age twenty. But you go by a different name do you not? The vigilante called Striker.” In a flurry, I was suspended in the air, my arm outstretched with a fork in my head, nearly pressed to his neck. His face remained relaxed but his hand’s grip on my hand that kept me from cutting into his throat was clenched strongly. “No one has gotten that close to me in years. I’m impressed.” Thrown back in my seat, he laced a finger around the skin on his plate. Smiling as the skin connected to his own. “You do not know it but you have been a thorn in my side for quite some time.” He gave an amused look towards me. As if I was a toy or animal who had done a cute trick. “By quelling the gang fights and stopping various robberies, you have caused the crime rate to trickle down by three percent. Did you know that?” His tone was a mocking one. I was getting sick of this.

“Look if you’re just here to kill me, get it over with. But leave the people here alone.” I had to stay calm. He would win if I got anger.

“Leave them alone? But I have taken the flesh of so many already and you had not lift to finger to stop them. Of course when I am very good at being..quiet.” He ran a hand through his hair, which matched his skin.

“Who the hell are you”

“Me? I’m nobody. But they call me Graft.” The tendrils tightened around my legs as he gave a look of holding in a sneeze. “Hm. Look I wanted to have..eat something or I’ll force it down that throat of yours.” I decided to take him up on that offer. Slowly eating to keep him from doing any further damage.

“You could easily kill me. So I’m sure these aren’t poisoned.”

“Smart boy. Now then back to the business at hand. While you have been a pain my side, you have also done me a grand favor.” He interrupted himself with a slight laugh. “You saved an enemy of my enemy. Mister Bog.”

“The Captain Planet villain?”

“Oh. I suppose it does sound that way. But no. Mister Bog controls forces that have kept me from feasting on his flesh for quite some time.”

“The Hellhound.”

“Indeed. Infernal forces have kept him from my grasp. Now you have caught his eye and the Barghest is coming after you boy.” He raised a hand as his skin flexed and molded to create a figure. It was like a wolf met a gorilla at a bar and then their love child got it on with a porcupine. “Mister Bog has sent it after you. Luckily it can only hunt at night.”

But I’ve been with the Vanguard at night. My patrolling was mostly during the day, and when I wasn’t working the only time I had been out, was with Pantheon.

“And before you hurt yourself, yes the Vanguard knew. And so has Omen.”

“Whose OMEN?”

“People you and your colleagues are not ready to meet but for now, you will handle Mister Bog.” He said getting up, the skin on his plate sliding over his arm and then turning the same white and red tone as his own. “This is all the information you shall need.” He laid down a file on the table.

“Do you think I’m going to let you go that easy?”

“Hm?”

From an overhead throw, Graft found himself flying through the glass window of the diner and onto the street. And I had only moments to put my goggles on before vines of skin lashed at me. “You insolent LITTLE WRETCH!”

“And Graft uses vine whip! But Striker dodged it!” I wasn’t sure he could hear me, but him carving up the dinner with him shouting all sorts of profanities indicated either he did, or he didn’t care. Running back into the kitchen, I found out where Graft had gotten the skin. Flayed bodies littered the back room, and it seemed Stacey had gotten lucky with just being knocked out.

“FUCK!” Crashing from the ceiling above, Graft landed in front of me, slowing raising himself, his tendrils cushioning the fall.

“Never shop when hungry, mommy always told me. Then again if I had listened to mommy, I’d never be a criminal, eh?” He struck at me, his tendrils flying at me at speeds my eyes could barely process.

But they say the hand is faster then the eye, and my body reacted on impulse. Dodging was one of the first things my powers got really good at. And now I was using every muscle in my body from getting impaled by Mister Stretchy face. But dodging wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I couldn’t just punch and kick this guy, he would literally devour me alive.

Maybe if I moved in close range and struck at his head? But what if his skin could still move even if he was unconscious?

“Gotcha!” One of his tendrils snapped at my leg, throwing me up on to the ceiling and crashing into the ventilation system. That didn’t hurt so much. The part where I came back hit the tiled floor? Yeah that hurt.

“For all your moves.” He began picking me up by the neck, slowly crushing my wind pipe. “And all of your adaptability, and fluidic movements, your still just a boy, in a world of monsters.” He gave me a kick in the stomach just to make his point clear.

“Hhh…”

“Whats that? Trying to say something?” He lessened his grip on my neck, allowing sweet air to rush in.

“What..did..”

“A question? Hm, I thought you’d beg for your life. Generally they all do at this point.”

“Frankenstein say to his boss..”

“A joke?”

“When he was late for work?”

“I don’t know. What?”

“Fire bad.” With that I took ahold of the grease pot nearby and splashed at his face. However his tendril caught most of the liquid. Kicking my leg up, I brought that specific tendril down on the still running flat grill. And as expected it lit up like a Christmas tree.

And then came the screaming.

“No! NO!” What heard like three voices in one screaming in my ears, Graft fled, ripping off the burning skin with his hands, clawing it away as he pushed himself away from me. “You will regret this Mercer! You will feed my skin with your own!”

“Blah blah, you will rue the day blah blah blah. Stop being so cliché Graft.” Shit everything was going black. The suffocation by him and the smoke from the fire, that I seemed to have started was making it hard to breathe. I could barely stumble through the door before collapsing near the crumpled form of Stacey.

Shit no. I had to get up. Damnit body move! Move! MOVE! I can’t let her die like this!


“…you okay?”

Am I dead?

“-re you okay James! Please say something!”

Because it sure looks like Heaven from here. Stacey was holding me..no wait I was holding her and we weren’t burning alive.

“Whats going on?”

“Oh god! You’re okay!” Now I was aware of the crowd gathering.

“Did something happen?” Play dumb James, play dumb.

“I don’t know! People where saying some monster attacked the diner and it was lit on fire.”

“So it was a costume fight?”

“I guess. B-but oh god their all dead!” She clung to my chest as I stared back at the burning diner. “But you saved me! You just grabbed me and just started running, you only stopped because that man stopped you from running into traffic.”

What man? And then I saw him, the guy from earlier on the green bike. He flipped me a bird once more and flicked out his tongue.

Fuck me it was Poison Dart. I didn’t recognize him because was always in costume when we met. Now he was out of disguise and was watching over me.

But wait what about the information?

“James whats a Barge Hest?” She held the singed file in her hands and I could barely recall grabbing it before throwing Graft out of the window.

“Just a..story I’m writing for a contest.” I weakly said taking the files from her hand and pocketing it. “Look..if you need a job I think I could take to Jee.” It was all I could think of.

“Oh. You would do that for me?”

Stacey, right now I would go toe to toe with Pantheon for you.

“It’s the least I could do. Honest.” A tired smile while the paramedics came to check to on us.

But fear was ebbed in me. Graft knew who I was. He wanted me dead but with Mister Bog on my tail with the Barghest coming at me, I wasn’t so sure who would get to me first. And then there was OMEN.

Did other vigilantes have it this bad?

This is where I belonged.

“Shit, where is he? Where is he man?! He took out all of our guys!” Their panic, and their confusion fueled me.

“I don’t know! He just took out Ronnie and Brian!” So those were the guys I took out first.

“Wait. Where’s Wes?” I couldn’t help it. A slight giggle escaped my lips. The sound echoed from my hiding spot and bounced off of the walls, creating a reverb around the two punks. This alerted them to my presence. “Shit fuck! He’s here!”

And then I let the unconscious body of the man I had knocked out. A gangly teen, probably bright minded but forced to work for punks like these. He fell with a thud on Thug number 1.

“FUCK! Shane you alright?”

“Shoot him dumbass!” He said struggling to get out from the dead. No wait sorry not dead weight. Bullets began to fire around me. One whizzed past my hiding spot but they where all just wild shots. The gun finally clicked, indicating it needed a refill. Now was my chance to strike.

“I think I got’em!” Grinned the gunman.

“Not quite.” With that I let gravity take a hold of me and dropped down, swiftly kicking the gunman out of commission.

“Mike!” He raised his shotgun at me, but I spun my hand up, pushing the barrel out of my and his partner’s direction. My other hand preoccupied with punching his face. This knocked both the sense out of him and the gun from his hand. Taking the rifle into hand, I used the butt of it to make him stay down.

“Please. Don’t get up on my account.” I paused for a moment. “Wait that would have been better if said after I threw the guy down. Damn it. I need to work on my lines.” Pulling on a pad and paper I began to scribble down notes.

“Who the fuck are you?” Said the guy I kicked earlier. Or at least that is what I could decipher through his bleeding nose.

“Me? I’m no one special. Just…” I took the sunglasses from the guy I used as a distraction, placing them over my goggles.

“A concerned citizen.”

“YEAAAAAAAH!” I turned off the stereo with a small remote before leaning over said guy who asked the question.


“Now then. You’re going to tell me where I can find Mister Bog.” Lifting him up, I pressed the shot-gun to his leg. “Or I make sure you’re a foot shorter.”

“We don’t know! We’re just lackeys! Grunts! Henchmen!”

“I’ve busted twelve of these shipments. This isn’t drugs, money or illegal weaponry.” I kicked open one of the containers. From the box, several smaller boxes with strange markings labeled over them fell out. “Just boxes, that I can’t open. What is it?”

“I don’t know we just ship the stuff!” He said immediately inching back away from the black box.

“What. Is. It.”

“Why don’t you find out for yourself.” He gave a grin before making a clicking sound with his tongue. “KLAATU!” The boxes began to shake from the first word. “BARATA!” Then all went into darkness as the boxes exploded, the warehouse filling with shadows. But not the intangible shadows of the night. But a thick smoke like form.

“This is bad.” Red lines began to form all around me. Opening up to form red glowing ovals. Then jagged mouths filled the black air alongside the glowing forms. Faces. They were faces.

“Nikto.” And like that the smoke flooded into the form of the speaker. The same red eyes and fanged smiles appeared all over his body. Laughter echoed from each of the mouths, but unable to hide the screams of the man who spoke the words.

“Right. You’re not very nice are you.“ Raising the shot-gun all I knew that whatever what this thing was it wasn’t human. Or not anymore. Firing, the recoil of the gun didn’t even take to my arm before I found myself begin slammed into the wall of the warehouse. A warm liquid spilled from my mouth and my vision grew hazy for a moment.

“WE ARE ALONE NO LONGER! IMPRISONMENT IS NOW BEHIND US!” The mouths screamed at me while the possessed man still screamed for help. Shot-gun still in hand, I struck at the thing, the gun shattering into pieces but knocking the thing away from me. “YOU HURT US! BUT WE ENJOY PAIN! GIVE US MORE!” Then it began to expand the eyes and the fangs flying at me, connected along the shadows of it’s body.

“This is some anime bull-shit!” I had to dodge. Move, faster and faster or else this thing was going to kill me. Times like this was when I wish I was a heavy-hitter. Moving at the speed of light or strong as a billion people put together. The shadows crashed into the wall behind me, slicing through the warehouse as if it where cardboard. Strike like Bruce Lee, run like Usain Bolt. Combine people I’ve seen. I wasn’t just borrowing their moves. I had to become them, but briefly. I had to keep switching or this thing would catch me.

“IT WILL STAY STILL! WE SHALL HAVE ANOTHER! WE MUST NOT BE ALONE!” The man who had summoned this thing was quiet. Maybe he was dead. Maybe not. Whatever the case it didn’t matter. Right now it was either me or whatever the hell this thing was.

It charged at me again, but I was able to register it’s movements this time. It could at speeds that the normal human eye couldn’t track.

“Not. Again!” I bypassed it’s charged and took the basis of it’s head and slammed my knee into it. The blow must have had some effect to cause it to stumble back. “AH!” I shouted in reponse to his charge. “ATATATATATATA!” Sometimes you had to fight anime bull-shit with even more anime bullshit. Striking at him, my fists pulled back the dark substance clinging to the man’s body but without cohesion merely dissipated. “ATA!” With a final strike, the figure met with the opposite side of the building.

“WE WILL NOT DISSAPPEAR! WE WILL NOT BE FORGOTTEN!” It flew from the body of the man, spiraling at me but stopping just short of me. The shadows began to crack the screams of insanity became screams of pain. The eyes widen, trying to see the last bit of the world around them.

“You. Are already dead.” And the man they clung too, erupted in a spray of blood and gore. The shadow along them began to crumble away dissipating. Incoherent shouts echoed but all I could focus on was staying on my feet.

“Ooph.” Legs giving away I crumpled to the ground, staring at the melting shadows. “What are those things?”

“Spirits.” Snarled a voice behind me. “Something you are going to become very soon.” Turning around I saw what I had only glimpsed in my nightmares. Towering over me, was the Barghest.

“FUCK ME!”

>>40856
Just whipped up this little costume for Dot. Figured a bit of a visual would be a decent idea.

>>40933
Doesn't Nightlife have Darkness Manipulation too?
Perhaps these two are related in some way?
Or Dot is a darkness construct he created that gained sentience?
Also, I think it would be cool if that wasn't just a white spot, but an actual fucking hole in her face and you can see right through her head, though that might not work to well for visualization...

Name: Lethal Injection
Alias: Alessia Horne
Affiliation: OMEN
Power: Stinger Protrusion (http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Stinger_Protrusion)
Poison Generation (powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Poison_Generation)

Alessia Horne spent most of her youth between juvenile detention centers and living on the streets, a far cry from her relatively happy childhood that abruptly came to an end when her mother got incarcerated and appointed for the death penalty. When the time came for the sentence to be carried on -the method of execution being lethal injection- unknown for both Alessia and her mother they were both highly immune to most kinds of poisons and chemicals which only made the procedure longer and extremely painful to endure, what was supposed an humanly method of execution ended up being a terrible torture that scarred even more the already unstable young Alessia.

It took some time for Alessia to discover the capabilities of her strange physiology but she eventually figured out the reason for this ability was that her body was able to produce toxic substances and most certainly the reason her mother was wrongfully accused of poisoning murder, with this knowledge Alessia used her newfound ability to extract revenge on those who took part in the death of her mother, a task that ended being easily accomplished in the subsequent months.

Once her revenge was completed Alessia still didn’t feel satisfied, so she decided to take her anger in the government that allowed her innocent mother to be punished, in a series of anonymous terrorist acts, but in the process she grew confident of her abilities and became more and more careless, unfortunately for her she got sloppy and eventually got caught, imprisoned and destined to suffer the same fate of her mother …until she was transferred to the Death Row in Broker Island.

The day of her supposed execution Alessia was confronted by the O.M.E.N members, who welcomed her to their ranks, with only one condition to follow, she must go through a surgical procedure that would gave her a body better suited for her special abilities. Now with the power of protruding
poisonous metal stingers from her body and highly trained in combat Alessia forms part of the O.M.E.N but with her identity legally dead she goes now with the name Lethal Injection.

Are there a descriptions on the Vanguard Lineups?

... is this some sort of RP thing?

Might as well post the other doodles.

Pantheon

>>40951
Kind of.
It's sort of a cross between a roleplay thing and an actual written project.

It started with people choosing their random powers and then proclaiming themselves as ____ character in their posts and stuff and that eventually escalated into this.

>>40963
I see. That's cool.

...and that is it for the Vanguards.

That's all for now.

Name: Colten Grimm
Alias: Grim End(pre-Prometheus)
Affiliation:Vanguard
Power: Destruction (http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Destruction)
Bio:
Before the Hyperion incident, Prometheus was known as Grim End a member of The Vanguard.These destructive powers of his first developed at the age of 15 and the first use resulted in the destruction of 3 city blocks, luckily this had not caused any deaths. Over the years he has vastly improved the control of his power and can now shoot the wings off a fly without the shock waves collapsing a street. But if needed to, could completely level a city and the next 10 miles in a blink.

Colt had been with vanguard for many years. Until the Hyperion Incident caused by an unknown superpower manipulator. This incident resulted in an alignment shift in Colt and the destruction of most his organs. With most of his organs Missing there was no possible way that Colt could survive or at least that was what people thought.

But it seems that O.M.E.N agents had found him and set to work encasing his body in an cybernetic suit that would function as his missing organs. With this he joined O.M.E.N as Prometheus.

>>40966
Aaaawwwww shiiiiit.
Mufucka be muscling in on mah territory.

I don't know why you drew those Magi, but they're pretty great. Also, hooray for activity in the thread.

>>40969
I just saw the thread on 4chan but it went 404. Have the mods decided we are not /co/ worthy?

>>40934
Like I said before, she's an NPC and you guys are welcome to use her however you like.

My job is simple. Lie low, watch. Hunt. Run the yard at Broker Island during the day, run the streets at night. I don't have time for games, but I play them anyway. I make the prey dance a little before I snap my jaws on them. Before my accident, I was just a nobody on the street wishing I had something. My family all had powers. Super mom, super dad, super brother and super sister. Little Russel didn't get anything from the goodie bag. While they were out making a name for themselves, I was in an alley with a needle in my arm. My brother Richard, or whatever the hell his name was... “Tarantula” or something, he broke my nose one time when he stopped me from mugging a lady. Said he didn't even recognize me anymore, told me to get help.

Then there was the fire. When I think back on being burned alive, it was the best thing that ever happened to me.

One year later, and I've got this city looking over its shoulder for me. I made more than a full recovery, I was better. Better in every way. Been clean from drugs since I got the new skin. Everything smells different, feels different. I don't even feel human anymore. Maybe I'm not. When I look at the people I kill, at their meat and bones, I feel like a butcher looking at a side of beef. No feelings about it one way or the other, just that I know what cut I want and how it will taste.

For a while, the papers were just calling me “The Skinner.” I took their “dermis,” you know, the skin. I ate it. Then I figured, why not go for the organs? The “sweet meats.” I'm fond of the liver, because people are so fatty. All the alcohol and processed food makes them build up these big fat deposits in their liver. It just has a rich flavor to it that I like. I'm also a fan of brains, but I don't eat them too often because I don't want to draw the attention of any of those hoodoo zombie hunting bastards. I hate magic.

No, my power's something else. Something strange. This skin calls on something deep, some kind of predator trigger. You see a bird, then you see a bigger bird eat it. That bigger one looks just like the little one, but it's darker. It's got special talons and claws, built to kill. That's how I feel now when I look at people. Like I'm a different species, and they're the prey now. I can't even tell if it's me that likes it that way, or the skin. The Red, as it called itself.

The Red's got a lot of things it wants to do, but mostly it just wants to eat. Every time it eats, it gets stronger. Its voice is like a growl sometimes, or like a roar when it's really hungry. If I don't feed it, I know it's going to eat the host. Just a feeling I get. This new species I'm part of is some kind of symbiotic relationship. I'm playing host to something that's part of my whole system now. When the hunger hits, I can feel it tightening around my heart. Around my brain. Gives me headaches, makes me ill. Makes me vomit sometimes. Sometimes, you've just got to give the dog its steak, you know?

There's another thing in here, though. The Donor. The Donor just cries. Really, it sobs most of the time. Goes on and on about how the skin isn't mine, it's a gift, I need to respect life, and I just get sick of listening to it. When it talks, though, The Red is quiet. So there is that. I can't get any peace. I haven't slept for months.

When I'm not out on the street, I'm in prison. I like it there. Broker Island's home to over two thousand super criminals. Powers, no powers, if you're nasty enough you end up here. There's even a few who are just being held here temporarily, sort of like a “scared straight” thing. Minor offenders that get to bunk with a guy who's half rhino, especially in the places where you don't want a cellmate to be like a rhino at all. Nobody bunks with him and walks straight the next morning.

They barely know who I am. I prefer it that way. Inside, I'm just Russel Miner, a guy who sits on a table and watches the yard. Work out occasionally, trade cigarettes, make prison wine, and you're really going to be everyone's pal. What they don't see is what happens to the guys who come in and declare themselves the new leader of the yard. Those guys go to bed and don't wake up. It's either me that does them in, or Lethal Injection on the female side. Sometimes they even let the two genders mingle, to keep the violence levels down. There's supposed to be no fooling around, but I've seen a bit of it. Even have the video tapes. Watching them's like turning on the Discovery Channel. “Freaks Freaking Freaks,” “The Mating Rituals of People With Lobster Arms.” Shit that would make Dali puke in his mouth.

They know something runs the prison that isn't the law, but they don't know who it is exactly. They just say it's O.M.E.N. Most of them have never heard of the group before. Hell, I hadn't before my burn up. Then I got a new skin and an invite to join. Pretty easy gig to land, definitely pays well. On my end, I make sure the prisoners in Broker Island stay in line. Some of the other guys do the headhunting, scouting for new talent. Some of them handle the deals with the government and the guards to make sure we maintain firm control over the whole thing. I like my job, it's the easiest one. Strangling a man in his jail cell in the middle of the night is like putting a baby to bed. You just pull the blanket up and say goodnight.

When the night hits, and everyone's in their cells, if there's no business to attend to I head out. I come and go as I please, but I keep up appearances. All they know is I'm a night janitor, part of my good behavior bullshit. There's miles of tunnels that go beneath Broker Island, leading right to Victory City. All I do is follow them. The guards look the other way like they're paid to, and me and the others take a little trip. The night's when the real job begins.

Everyone in the city thinks they got a piece for themselves. The politicians think they're here to bring Victory City back to the light. The new supers think they're going to clean the town up, or be the new crime lords. Whichever it is, I'm there to tell them who the real boss is.

Recently ran into an asshole named Striker. I got cocky and decided to do a face-to-face, see if I couldn't get him to shit himself by doing a horror show. Turns out he was too stupid to be scared. Little bastard even set me on fire and burned down a diner. The reporters said a monster was involved, so nobody knows it was me. Next time, won't be so sloppy. I'll just break his neck and leave him in the water for his friends to find, minus a limb or two. Need to remember to leave the head and face in tact so he can be ID'd.

Saw another guy, not sure who he was. I think his name is “Stopwatch,” or something cornball. Not sure if I can take him on my own. He's not a threat, but I was watching this guy blink around like some kind of teleporter. I tried to kill a teleportation guy before, but they always get away from me. I'm not fast enough for it, but maybe one of the other guys could do it. I'll take notes. He's just a generic do-gooder from what I can tell, like the others. Nothing pops up about him whoring or killing anyone for fun, so it's safe to assume he's not gunning for a position in the underworld. I just have to figure out what he looks like under that mask and find him when he's sleeping. That's how you kill a teleporter. It's the only way, really.

By the zoo, the other day. Pandaro had some dead animals doing something for him. Snatching up artifacts or rings or some shit. This monkey man came out of nowhere and jump kicked an ostrich in half. Funniest god damn thing I've seen in a while.

>>40975

These Vanguard guys are irritating, though. Bunch of international goody-goody dickheads. That Striker guy's one of them, but he's the weakest of them. They got one or two heavies to take out, but no reality warpers as of yet. I watched this Pantheon guy give a speech about “the Olympic spirit.” I can't tell if he's an actor or if he takes all of that crap seriously, but heroes always do strike me as a little brain damaged. You'd have to be to think putting on a cape and a mask is going to make a lick of difference in this world, or a toga in his case. Makes me wonder if a strong breeze is going to traumatize any kids nearby.

For now, I'm keeping off of everyone's radars. After the diner incident, I don't need anymore heat coming my way. I'll stick to scaring the shit out of people and occasionally getting a meal in until the rest of OMEN gets their plans together. There's a lot of people following Dr. Gottschalk's lead now. He's got something brewing, but he won't tell me much about it. Probably for the best. He gave me this skin I got now, but I'll be damned if he's not the only person walking around that manages to creep me out. Makes a good point of reference for when I want to remember what it is to feel fear.

Her senses told her that the monster she was hunting tonight was somewhere nearby, but she couldn't tell where. It moved in the shadows. When she first spotted it, it had been feasting on something in the darkness. When she moved closer, it escaped up a wall like a startled spider the size of a car. The only clue was a half-devoured body. By the uniform, she knew it was one of the guards at the plant. When she had leaned down to get a better look, she noticed his name tag was still hanging on to the bloody rags of what used to be his shirt. It read, “C. Mennowitz.” Someone had had him for dinner.

She moved through the darkness, posture low and gaze steady. This Victory Power Plant was one of four located around the city. This site in particular was dedicated to wind power. There were fields of turbines stretching over the distance, and the turn of their blades cast shadows that were long and broad in the light of the moon. Each revolution changed the world from pale blue to pitch black. On the first turn, she found that she had been walking toward the end of a corridor. A dead end, in fact. On the second turn, when the shadow was dragged away, she saw him. A pale man with a red face in a black suit, standing at the very end. Like her, something that only looked human. On the third revolution, he was gone.

The raspy growl of a man echoed through the open chamber. “I thought the little girls in fairy tales wore red hoods,” he said, “But this one's got horns.” Dragon looked back and forth, then over her shoulder. If she trusted her eyes, she was alone, but that would be foolish. She was nobody's fool.

“Tell me, little Green Horn, did you get lost on the way to gramma's house? I can show you how to get there,” he said. In the shadows, she thought she saw a shape. As fast as a reflex, she blew a burst of lightning from her lungs. The jagged blue and white lines sheared right through the darkness, illuminating the grounds. What she hit was a lantern being swung by the wind. Several yard away from it, on the opposite wall, a “thing” with red eyes was looking at her. He wasn't human anymore. She couldn't tell, but it had claws, and sharp teeth. Something chalk white and stained with long lines and splashes of red.

“Close,” he said. “Let me get closer so you get a better shot.” She backed away. The blades of the nearest turbine turned, and when the shadows left this time, he was standing behind her. When she turned around, he was shaped as a man again. Before she could open her mouth, his hand was over it. The talons of his claw easily wrapped around her entire head. The flesh on them began to melt and merge, like spreading clay, until they formed a seal. A small space was left for her nose, but the seal was dangerously close to cutting off her oxygen supply entirely.

“Since you got in the way of my meal, you'll have to replace--,” he said, but she interrupted him. She could still breathe, which meant she could still breathe lightning; two smaller, yet no less powerful arcs flew from her nostrils and struck his wrist. He pulled his hand away immediately, shocked in every sense of the word. Before he could deliver another growling one-liner, she blasted him square in the chest with a full shot of electricity, which sent him careening through the darkness. The voltage that crawled over him illuminated each beam of the corridor as he passed by, until he was once again hidden away by the shadow. She heard the sound of a body slamming against a wall, followed by bones being broken. The air smelled like smoke and leather.

“When you're in Hell, tell them a 'little girl' sent you,” she said. Her first words to him. Something about this monster put anger in her heart, but nothing living she had ever hit with that much power had ever survived. Then she heard another sound. Strained, tortured laughter. Bones snapping, and the sound of sheets of leather straining against themselves.
“I like you,” he said. She took a step back and clenched her teeth. Her chest was puffed, primed for another attack. “You've got some fight, Green Horn.”

A winged figure took to the sky. Now clear of the shadow, she could see it was the shape of a winged serpent. The wingspan was so much broader than that man had the mass to produce on his own, as if his body were coiled up and waiting to lash out. When he reached a beam three stories above her, the shape perched upon it and pulled itself back into the shape of a man. “It's too bad, though,” he said. His voice was still strained, proof that he at least felt the attack. “You're late. I was just here taking in a quick snack before I called it a night. Maybe if you had gotten here an hour sooner, you would have stopped me from doing this.” He held an arm straight out at his side, and a small remote control emerged from the skin on the palm of his hand. In one motion, he grasped it and then pressed a trigger.

One by one, the propeller heads of the turbines detonated. Dragon shielded her face, but she could see what was happening nearby. Blades nearly as long as airplane wings came crashing to the ground, and shook the entire plant. After the ringing in her ears died down, the first thing Dragon heard were the nearby car alarms, followed by the strain of metal as it tore itself to pieces from trying to hold on to pieces that were bound for earth. The pale blue of the moonlit night had been warped into shades of orange, gold, and crimson, and the white man in the black suit was just a shadow being cast across the burning skyline. When he smiled at her, the light of the blaze made his long fangs glow . It was a twisted, burning smile above a world that was quickly falling into madness.

She let loose with another bolt of lightning, but he fell backwards off of the rail. He swung underneath it, and once again turned his arms into wings, and his body into that of a serpent. She chased after him with more bolts, but his body spun through the air and danced through their trajectory. It was becoming increasingly harder to aim with the fire and smoke in the air, and before long the serpent was gone.

By the time the rest of the Vanguard arrived on the scene, she had extinguished the fires by herself. The field of turbines went from being lit by flames, to being sheets covered in blackened ice. She watched the sky, and waited to see if she could catch sight of the serpent, but he never appeared.

Poison Dart, who sounded irritated and tired, crouched and picked up a frozen scrap of a turbine motor. “Who the hell did this?”, he asked.
Dragon wouldn't look away from the sky, even to answer her teammate. She would only say, “A devil dressed like a man.”

Name: Mikello Montevarius
A.K.A: Mr. Myth
Power: The ability to transform into Mythical Creatures
Alignment: Good, but freelance. Not part of Vanguard, at least at the moment

Origin: Part of a secret Conclave of Mages, hidden from the world in a lush European Forest, Mikello was naturally raised with the mystic arts. He had potential, but lacked focus, much preferring to spend his time learning about Cryptozoology. While pursuing his extra-curricular studies, he came across a secret chamber which led to a room filled with ancient and forbidden tomes. Tried as he might, none of the books would open for him. Except one.
The knowledge inside literally absorbed into Mikello, granting him his powers, but more importantly revealing to him that the creatures he was so fascinated by existed in a realm all their own. A realm that is the very source of Magic itself. Their appearances in our lore the result of their attempts and sometime success of breaking into our realm.
For his transgression, Mikello was expelled from the Conclave and was forced to make it on his own. Years later, he had found himself in Victory City, making a living as a Paranormal Investigator. Working to keep the creatures from the other side at bay and out of the public eye.

I was going to die. Plain and simple. The giant wolf-gorilla-porcupine from my nightmares and probably the nightmares of its other victims would chew me up and turn me into literal dog-shit.

“He opened the boxes didn’t he.” There was that voice again. But it didn’t come from the Barghest. It continued to stare down at me, it’s fangs bared and it’s quills raised. It blocked the entrance to my escape but it wasn’t the only thing here. “So you’ve been looking for me it seems.” Stepping from behind the hellhound, it was the chaos bringer of this entire little shin-dig.

“Mister Bog.” I grunted pushing myself off the ground only for him to raise a hand in response.

“Please. Don’t get up on my account.” You know that feeling when you fall for something? Yeah I have that feeling. He had set this whole thing up just to get to me. Probably had cameras set up just to study me. “Oh and I like the Who by the way.“ Referencing the small remote and audio player I had set up in case of a need of a distraction, but simply used it to invoke a small joke for myself. “But now the fun times are over.“ A snap of the fingers and I was pinned down by smaller black dogs. The very same one that Pantheon had saved me from before, now there where dozens of them, emerging from the shadows of the warehouse.

“Toying with me won’t do any good. Either you kill me now or the Vanguard will find you and destroy you. Their my back up.” It was a bluff. My only bluff. The Vanguard thought I was at my day job right now, keeping up appearances, not skulking around in warehouses at the pier.

“Oh. I am so very, very frightened.” He leaned over me, Lifting me up by my neck and ripping the goggles off of my face. “If that where true.” And my face met with his fist and the world turned black for a moment. Puffing my breath through my nose, I let the blood flow freely. “The Pantheon is busy right now. It seems some German fellow..oh what was his name?” He turned back to the Barghest, silenced filled the room as the beast gave a snort to respond. “Oh yes, Forced Fury or something like that.”

“Then why aren’t I dead yet?”

“Getting to the point? No ‘oh please let me go’ or ‘you’ll never get away with this Bog.’” Great now I was being mocked for not being cliché. “Very well. You see, the only reason your alive is because you know the incantation.” He held one of the black boxes from before. “This is a soul jar. Specifically designed to entrap the souls of the damned that escape Hell. Or Hades or whatever damning after-life exists. These days it’s hard to tell.”

“I don’t need the exposition. Just tell me what you want!” The hellhound snapped at my face causing me flinch back.

“You are in no position to request anything. I will talk for whatever thing I want. Whether it be about using these souls to empower these Hellhounds in order to kill and reap the souls of the damned souls of Victory City in which will allow me to gain a foothold on an international level. Or the weather. Which has been nice out, a tad humid but the wind takes care of that.”

“Personally it’s jacket season for me bu- wait why am I talking about the weather, get to the damn point!”

“You know the activation code. Sadly my henchmen here was suppose to relay it to me, but he got himself killed. Mike was always an idiot. And I did like Westley and Shane, pity their souls got sucked out.” He eyed the corpses, which at this point where being devoured by the other hellhounds. Every fiber of my being hoped that I didn’t end up with that fate.

“Wait you mean Kla-” I cut myself off. I had a bargaining chip.

“Yes? Do continue.”

“You’d think I’d give it to you that easy? I’m a lot of things Bog. But I’m not stupid.” Well I know several people who would argue with me on that.

“Or I could have Barghest over here, rip out a piece of you until you do.” The over-muscled demon dog took an inhaled growl, as if laughing.

“Go ahead. But remember that when I die, so does your plan. And then Pantheon will rip your ass a new one.”

“You just don’t get it do you. You don’t know who you are messing with.” I had the supernatural gift of pissing people the fuck off. It was power that I always used for good, but it was also a double-edged sword.

“I know I’m messing with a guy whose last name is just a crappy swamp.” This caused an unexpected response of laughter from the wanna-be super-villian.

“Bog. No it’s not my last name, I have no last name.” The hellhounds began to step back, sliding into the darkness. Even the Barghest took a step back. “I merely used the last name as an alias.” His skin began to crack, peeling away. His change was rapid but thanks to my powers I could analyze every little muscle spasm and change. It made me sick to my stomach.

“Is Chernabog.” He stood before me, his skin like a black stone and his eyes a glowing white. Twin wings expanded, ripping his fancy-smhancy suit apart.

“Wait. You mean the Fantasia guy? From Disney?” I couldn’t help but laugh and now that I was free I could stand up.

“IT MEANS DARK GOD YOU IMPUDENT LITTLE CREATURE!” His voice boomed, shattering the nearby glass. It felt like his word was everywhere, vibrating through me and shattering my concentration.

“Fuck, do you have to yell?”

“IF I WERE TO TRULY SPEAK, IT WOULD BREAK YOUR MIND AND SHATTER YOUR BODY! AS WELL CAUSE THIS WORLD TO FALL INTO DARKNESS!”

“Then why the hell don’t you just take over the world by doing that?!”

“BECAUSE THEN THIS WORLD WOULD BE WON BY POWERS GIVEN TO ME. NOT BY THE POWER THAT I COULD GAIN.”

I had to keep my hands over my ears and shout just to keep from blacking out. Even the Barghest and his hellhounds where harmed by it’s voice.

“NOW TELL ME THE INCANTATION BOY OR YOU WIL-”

“VANGUARDS AVAIL!”

!” In flurry the hounds where met with a sweeping cold of ice. Others where thrown about by a long tongue. Meanwhile the Barghest was struck by a multitude of elemental blasts. “You thought to distract us with one mere enemy, false god. The Vanguard are not EASILY FOOLED!” Ripping the roof off of the warehouse, Pantheon crashed down on black god. The two began to duke it out, each blow shaking the foundation of the area around them.

“You alright kid?” Luu rose from the floor, a portal extended from around her and a man in a red version of her outfit stood next to her. Probably to attract attention away from the power-giver.

“Y-no. No I’m not.” I stood up shakily. It was hard to breathe and even harder to just to stand.

“It’s s’all good kid, we all fall for traps sometimes. Except me. Because I’m awesome.” Poison Dart hopped over another Hell-Hound and kicked off of the Barghest, sending it flying at Jotun.

“Hell Hounds. How cute.” With a snap, the beast was frozen in a comedic block of ice. Then a shot rang out as Arsenal shattered the uber-demon with a cigar still in hand.

“Hey, how about next time we let the guy who can’t fly in on the plan.”

“Yeah! I had to carry his ass!” Gauss shouted, frying several of the hounds. “And steel-butt is fucking heavy!”

“You could have floated me alongside you. Not carry you.”

“Oh. Hadn’t thought of that. Well an excuse to hold on to your steel-butt is fine with me anyday.” Snatching the cigar from Arsenal, Gauss slammed it into the eye of another Hellhound, just to spite Arsenal. Who simply lit another one up.

“WHEN YOU TELL THOSE IN HADES WHO SENT THEE, TELL THEM IT WAS THE MIGHTY VANGUARDS! BUT MAKE SURE YOU GET THE DATES CORRECTLY, HADES CAN GET QUITE CONFUSING!”

“I shall not DIE BY YOUR HANDS!”

Great now they were trying out shout each other.

“Could you two just stop shouting and fight?” Poison Dart shouted clenching his head, like the rest of us.

“VERY WELL! Raising his hand to the sky, the clouds began to form and darken. “I SHALL SHOW YOU WHAT HAPPENS TO THOSE WHOM FACE THE MIGHT OF THE VANGUARD!” Twisting from the sky came what appeared to be a tornado, wrapped in lightning and sandwiched in between a typhoon.

“He’s going to bring this whole place down!” Either I shouted that or someone else did, but all I could see was the inside of space before re-emerging in the Vanguard’s Head Quarters.

“Damn fool, could have warned us.” Luu grunted signaling the teleported. “Make sure the place wasn’t leveled. I don’t need the press on our ass again.”

“Well that went quite well don’t you think.” Smiled Jotun as he opened his book.

“Yeah. Last time Pantheon did that ultimate attack of his we all got swept up into the tornado.” Dragon laughed but all I could imagine was being actually hit by that thing.

“I need a smoke.”

“And a drink.”

“YES WE ALL SHALL HAVE BEER!”

“I’m going to go pass out.” And I did.

>>40966
I hate how people that roll destruction think it means "HURR UNLIMITED POOOOOWEEEERRR"
>shoot the wings off a fly
>level a city and the next 10 miles in a blink

the worst part of all
>Prometheus

Why? How is destuction in anyway related to the god of forethought?

>>40985
Because it sounds cool 'n shit yo.
I mean, come on, he's got to have a name that expresses his level of coolness. He's got two different types of fire, AND electricity, who cares if the name makes no sense, amirite?

>>40986
Epimetheus. there. Now you can say he's good at doing shit without thinking of consequences, and its a way to open up his demise which is obvious to everyone but him.

My name is Pantheon and this is my favorite projects thread on the Citadel.

Name: Samuel Goode
Alias: The Black Bomber
Afiliation: Vanguard
Power: Rocket Fists http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Rocket_Fists

Bio: Samuel Goode was a test pilot for the American Army during the start of the Cold War. Naturally he was against the war, but was forced into it by his parents out of hopes that he wouldn't live the rest of his life in poverty like they did.

One day however he discovers a new prototype that the government had been developing. It's sheer design intended for airstrikes of mass genocide. Revolted by the idea of the plane he steals it during a routine test but is shot down somewhere along the border of the US and crashes in a heavily wooded area in Canada. Both governments cover up the crash and Samuel is soon forgotten, assumed that he died in the crash, and he almost did had he not used parts of the wrecked prototype to "rebuild" himself. With metal plates covering most of his body and projectile fists he now fights crime under the name The Black Bomber.

This picture was drawn before he had a for sure alias.
I'll do a more detailed picture when it isn't 5:00 AM.

>>40985

We might need to find a better random power generator at some point. As it is, the current one can spit out abilities that really only immortal/god type characters have, none of which are actually workable in a story unless they're on the sidelines.

>>40990
This I like. short sweet and lots of ground to build upon. The mustache and goggles are also quite good, if I may say so.

>>40991
or we could just edit the wiki ourselves. add in powers that it doesnt have, maybe fix the generator so it doesnt link to pages that list powers

I was redirected here by Graft, gosh it's been a while since I've last been to +4chan.

So here's my dude I guess... Totally copy+pasted from the /co/ thread, just added a few minor things.

This was made real fast mind you...

Name: Born Wild (Because his favorite song on the whole world is "Born to be Wild"... go figure.)
Real Name: Scott Danger
Personality: Free spirited, minor fear of commitment, easy going but easy to anger.
Power: http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Powerful_Objects
Object's Power: http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Pain_Inducement
Backstory: Scott used to be your usual free spirit, going wherever he wanted, doing whatever he wanted, just him, his motorcycle and the glorious sunset. But one day his travels took him into a old indian burial, where he met a old man who fortold he would be destined to do great things but at the price of his freedom, shrugging the man off, Scott set of to do camp in the middle of nowhere (that's just how he rolls baby), and stumbled upon a small necklace with a "fang" made of green crystal. Thinking he hit the jackpot, he put the necklace on, certain he would be able to sell it for a good amount of cash (hey traveling around ain't cheap you know...).
Then one day at a bar, he got into a fight, but when he picked up the other guy by the collar with the intent of giving him a good ol' punch in the nose, the other guy started screaming in pain, now startled, Scott let go of the other man, and noticed his necklace was sort of glowing, putting two and two together he realized that it was the necklace's doing! But when he tried to take it off, the same pain was inflicted on him... soon, he accepted his fate, since noone seemed able to help him, and he decided to turn a curse... into a gift, and uses now his new found powers to help people wherever he goes.
Other: He calls his motorcycle a "she", and calls her by loving nicknames as "baby", "darling", "sweetheart", "cupcake" and other sweet sounding names...

(God this is kinda shitty)

>>40994

Oh yeah, guess I forgot to mention, he's affiliated with the Vanguard, but he's mostly a "mobile hero" going from town to town helping people instead of staying in a base or something.

>>40991
Or people just need to be able to establish an uber powerful character in a way that doesn't make them too ridiculous to be involved in anything.

Like, I nerfed the destruction power ridiculously for mine so that Demoman isn't just walking around saying "Yeah, I destroy you and you and you etc. I'm finding ways to work him into shit.
People just need to be team players and not roll omnipotence and then say "Yeah, my character is now the ruler of the planet and you're all monkeys with funny hats" and shit.

Also, new idea: Everyone gets turned into monkeys for some reason. Capuchin is the only character left with his higher brain functions.

>>40994
You can polish it up later if you dont like it, and your power is strictly through touch, right?

>>40997

I think I might polish him when I have time to think, but the rest of you guys are also welcome to add/substract/polish anything about him :)

Yes his power is strictly through touch, so I guess he's more suited for solving smaller problems, I really don't see him fighting against a big time supervillain without serious backup.

>>40996
I like it. What happens to the writing staff, the Editor and his lot?

>>40998
it would give you an excuse to hang out in bars and make sure fights dont break out, "keep the peace", or become a high priced interrogator with specific codes of conduct. a firm handshake and the lousy scumbag criminal acting like he's in pain isnt torture.

>>41000

Hah! Good idea, I like it, and it fits his personality really well.

>>40999
Beats me. I pretty much forgot about the Editor. But with the way I remember him describing his character it WAS as an all powerful being who could change reality on a whim, so he would be more of an Eternity or Uatu the Watcher type figure that is generally outside the scope of events.

Uh, so I guess I can post my hero here?

Name: The Transporter
Alias: Kane Thundergate
Affiliation: OMEN
Kane Thundergate was just a low-life like any other in Victory City. After dropping out of school due to lack of encouragment and/or will, Kane took to a life of crime.
Kane had always known he was special. When he first discovered his powers, he was just a little child stepping too close to his living room lamp. In school, he would avoid bullies by finding the nearest street lamp and teleport away.
He supplied himself easy by teleporting in and out of electronic shops and jewleries, always escaping the police and inept heroes.
However, during the rise of the new heroes, he realized he must be more in order to survive. Kane Thundergate took the path of the rogue, and it was not so much him contacting O.M.E.N for his new career path than O.M.E.N needing a courir. Kane Thundergate is now the transporter, telegrapher of O.M.E.N, and a man with a deep hatred of victory city and the heroes that created the hellhole, and those bearing its legacy.

Transporter is the guy in the team who wants to have a saying, but is always overrun by others. Making out his powers to be cooler than they actually are, Transporter makes his entrances in a beam of lightning from a nearby street light, blurting out some grand speech. He can also be aggresive at times, jaded by his somewhat unmotivated hate for heroes. The jobs he usually takes is those where taking yourself from point street light to point telephone pole comes in handy.

I was looking at Pandaro, and I had a thought. Wouldnt Graft try to single out people with wolverine style enhanced regeration? an "unlimited buffet", if you will. just feed them and keep them tied to a pole, you'd be set for life. I've yet to understand why Im giving tips to the enemy though.

>>40994

Postan my dude's nemesis here I guess...

Name: Princess
Real Name: Holly Gold
Power: http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Ghost_Mimicry
Affiliation: OMEN (But sometimes they really get tired of her shit and kick her out, but she manages to bribe her way back in)
Personality: Arrogant and bitchy, knows how to blackmail people, but her bitchiness often times gets on people's nerves.

Backstory: Holly was a daddy's girl, daughter of a wealthy businessman she was a real Princess, pampered to death. However she desired something more in her life, some adventure and action, so one day she went on a road trip with some of her friends. During this road trip, they stopped at a bar to drink and have fun, and there Holly met our hero Scott Danger... they hit off pretty fast, Holly the starry eyed and innocent girl in search of adventure, and Scott, the life worn biker with more brawn than wit.

However, their relationship was doomed to failure, since Scott dislike at staying in one place for too long and his... ah... fear of commitment ended up with him only having a one nighter with the poor girl. Holly didn't take this very well, and lovesick as she was, decided to do everything in her power to get her man back. Back home now she was visited by an ancient spirit during her dreams... the spirit of the pendant that Scott had found, he told the girl that he was lost and needed a host and that if she accepted him, he would grant her any wish, Holly who was still deeply enamorated with Mr. Wild Born, jump right into the chance of getting him back via magic wish, little did she know that the spirit had no intention of granting any wish... but poor, dumb Holly really didn't know any better.

As the spirit possessed her, she felt her personality shift, from the sweet and innocent girl... into a arrogant and horrible person, obsessed with a man she could never have. From this day on, she adopted the monicker Princess, and has vowed not only to make Born Wild love her... but to destroy him as well.

>>40990
Jet-Steam! Utilizing his expert knowledge in Steam technology, Taylor Weston Designed his own Jet-Pack, capable of speeds only Jets can attain! Tired of seeing the chump heroes making all the REAL heroes looking bad, Taylor made Gauntlets that fired Streams of air with the force of sonic booms, turning him into Jet-Steam!

I made this not too long ago, are we bros?

>>41022
My question is, if he's only capable of making a steam powered jetpack, how come he has super technology gloves?

Also, which power did you roll? Sonic booms or....wait, I guess "jetpack" probably isn't a power.

Reminder:

For OMEN characters, the use of shades of red, gray and purple as main colors is encouraged.

>>41035
Man, that's dumb.
Like, I could see needing a color code for like, HYDRA and shit because those are just normal mooks. But here you've got full fledged super criminals with their own identities and shit.

Speaking of which, is there a very large non-OMEN criminal element in this thing? Or does OMEN "discourage" independent criminal activity, because they obviously want to run the world or whatever.

>>41036

World's a big place. OMEN can't be EVERYWHERE at once.

Might as well post what I have on the Vanguard, or at least on my character.


Name: Gun Arm/Arsenal

Powers: FUCKING GUN ARM...Okay,I'll go into more detail. It means his arms can shift form into various weapons, both real and fictional, as long as they are projectile and he can keep concentration going. His weapons have varying amounts of ammo, and it takes some time before ammo restores for a weapon once it's depleted. Is also very strong without his weapons, but not superhuman levels. Only to about Batman levels, and certainly not with his amount of skill in hand to hand combat.

Other: Can modify his weapons/ammo using the abilities of his partners. I.E, some of Pantheon's abilities, like his control of lightning as Zeus; Poison Dart's poison; Dragon's elemental breath; or Jotenn's ice. It isn't nearly as powerful in terms of "elemental" damage as their original source, but he can adapt it to fit situations as needed. He also usually has better aim thanks to various physical augmentations.

Personality: Crude, disrespectful, but infinitely loyal to those he does respect. Always wisecracks. Always. Chomps cigars like it's the next big thing, which he sometimes lights using a flamethrower...A flamethrower arm, I feel the need to stress.

Other: His powers developed when his former body was nearly destroyed in a horrible fire, his head being the only part that survived relatively unscathed. He was given liquid metallurgic full body replacements, which he developed into his Gun Arm powers, as well as communiscopes to replace his burned-shut ears, which allow him two way communication and sniper like vision. They need recharging, however, and come off for such a purpose. When they are off, he is almost completely deaf. He was known as Willis Harrison before the fire, but he prefers not to go by that name anymore.

>>41036

We just decided on the red/purple/black/gray thing because most of our characters had those colors starting out.

OMEN only discourage independent criminal activity when they don't get a cut of the action somehow. As long as you pay in a little, you won't catch flak. If you try to move in as a crime lord, though, you will get their attention. They're an international organization, so they can't be everywhere all the time. It's really the big fish they care about.

Name: Frankie Pegg
Affiliation: Vanguard
Power: Portal Creation

Frankie's always been good at one thing - getting a job done fast. Not always right, but he was the fastest to finish any given task. That's why he was as a delievery boy for his uncle's shop. What no one knew was that Frankie had a way to get from A to B in no time flat. Frankie could create portals from one place to another so long as he's seen where he's going.

Since then he's become the city's number one delivery guy. Carefree for the most part and liked by most the city, Frankie strives to be the best. No job is too tough for Frankie for now to the point where his slogan has become "In under 30seconds or the delivery's free!"

>>40990
I redrew my guy and changed his name to Samuel Sadolski.

Here is a more in depth description of his rocket fists.

"Both of his hands are projectile but his right hand is attached to him by a coiled up chain stored in his arm. This gives his right arm a shorter distance to fly but it also can be used as a makeshift grapple for climbing or to grab enemies and bring him closer to him ala, Scorpion "GET OVER HERE". His left fist is fully detachable and flies faster and farther than his right but doesn't pack as much wallop."

>>41022
Of COURSE we are bros!

A mock cover I did for a non-existent (as of yet) story

I would've made it longer/more indepth, but it's late. At least I got the specifics. I used a Champions Online image because I can't draw for shit. So if any drawfags want to take a crack using his appearance description, so's I don't have to keep using this copyrighted pic, I would be much obliged! Doesn't even have to look anything like the attached image.

Name: Fortune Born; alt. spellings/nicknames: Fortuneborn, Fortuneborn, Fortune
Real Name: N/A
Affiliation: Neutral
Power: http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Probability_Manipulation
Personality: Abrasive, Sarcastic, Twisted, Sardonic, Insufferable, Greedy
Appearance: Customized motorcycle helmet, plexi-glass visor, bulletproof entirety. Black leather trench coat. Black flak undershirt. Black combat pants Black combat gloves. Black utility belt. Black combat gloves. Black combat boots.

-Bio-

Monologue: I could make enough in one night at a casino to never have to work another day in my life. I could play the
lottery ONCE and live in the lap of luxury. I could probably cure cancer if I tried hard enough, but I digress. I'm just
a guy who doesn't know his place in the Universe yet. I'm often asked what kinda guy I am. Am I the kinda guy that helps
an elderly woman across the street or am I the kinda guy who pushes her in front of the oncoming bus? Truth be told I--
wait, hold on. I really need to concentrate right now.

Fortune Born: *Running and leaping across rooftops being tailed by a generic hero* *Panting* This guy just doesn't give up!

Generic Hero: *Flying closely behind him* Halt! You have broken the law and I demand you turn yourself in!

Fortune: *Turns his head* Yeah, f*ck you, buddy! Who do you think you are, a cop? I don't see a badge!

Hero: I'm just a concerned citizen doing what's necessary to protect the streets!

Fortune: Oh god, he's on a soapbox.. *Comes to the end of a line of adjacent buildings* Oh cr*p, I really hope there's a
dumpster filled with garbage waiting for me down there! *Jumps off the edge of the roof and plumetts into the filled
dumpster below* Oh, what luck! Someone threw out the newest issue of White Dwarf Monthly! *Rolls up the magazine and
hops out of the dumpster and continues running out of the alleyway and down the street*

Hero: *Continues to catch up to him* You won't shake me that easily!

Fortune: It would've been nice! Haven't you heard of that? Being nice? You don't see me chasing YOU across town in the
middle of the night! *Notices a house with its door wide open and people partying* Oh, thank God. People! I love people!
*Runs inside the house and pushes his way to the kitchen* I really hope there's a weapon-like instrument in here!
*Stumbles into the stove and notices a cast iron frying pan sitting atop it* I love being me. *Grabs the frying pan and hides up against
the wall next to the kitchen entrance*

Hero: *Walks into the house and peers around noticing a messy trail headed towards the kitchen.* *Starts walking towards it.*

Fortune: *Lying in wait, frying pan in hand.* *Gulps*

Hero: *Walks into the kitchen*

Fortune: *Swings as hard as he can at the back of the Hero's head*

Hero: *Just stands there*

Fortune: Oh no..

Hero: *Drops to the floor*

Fortune: *Breathes a sigh of relief* Oh, thank God.. *Looks at the dent in the frying pan and tosses it aside.* *Looks up
to see all the eyes staring at him and the hero as all the partygoers' attention had fully fixated on the two costumed
strangers* Uh, yeah. You're gonna wanna clean this mess up. *Makes his way to the front door and out onto the street all
the while trying to catch his breathe* *Walking down the street with his arms behind his head* Tonight could've gone a lot
better. Hell.. tonight could've gone a lot worse. Tonight, I got really lucky. Heh.. *Stops walking and looks up at the
starry sky*

Monologue: Lucky. That's the kinda guy I am.

Name: The Transporter
Alias: Kane Thundergate
Affiliation: OMEN
Kane Thundergate was just a low-life like any other in Victory City. After dropping out of school due to lack of encouragment and/or will, Kane took to a life of crime.
Kane had always known he was special. When he first discovered his powers, he was just a little child stepping too close to his living room lamp. In school, he would avoid bullies by finding the nearest street lamp and teleport away.
He supplied himself easy by teleporting in and out of electronic shops and jewleries, always escaping the police and inept heroes.
However, during the rise of the new heroes, he realized he must be more in order to survive. Kane Thundergate took the path of the rogue, and it was not so much him contacting O.M.E.N for his new career path than O.M.E.N needing a courir. Kane Thundergate is now the transporter, telegrapher of O.M.E.N, and a man with a deep hatred of victory city and the heroes that created the hellhole, and those bearing its legacy.

Transporter is the guy in the team who wants to have a saying, but is always overrun by others. Making out his powers to be cooler than they actually are, Transporter makes his entrances in a beam of lightning from a nearby street light, blurting out some grand speech. He can also be aggresive at times, jaded by his somewhat unmotivated hate for heroes. The jobs he usually takes is those where taking yourself from point street light to point telephone pole comes in handy.

#2 (of 3) of the mock up covers.

from a Vanguard Project thread from Monday on /co/(4chan version)

P.S. most of his powers are on pretty bog standard levels except for his Invulnerability and his two Manipulation powers(noted below) those are what make him such a threat and also I totally understand if you don't want to use him for the Project


Orcus The Living Plague
Powers: Disease Manipulation, Insect Manipulation, Flight, Super Strength, Invulnerability, Cthonic Witchcraft
Bio: if Pandaro is what you get when a mortal becomes the chosen servant of a Cthonic Deity then Orcus is what happens when one manifests a direct Avatar upon the mortal world, within 5 minutes of Orcus Manifesting half a billion people would fall deathly ill and before he could be stopped he would kill almost 8 million people over the course of his rampage across Europe and North America completely depopulating the cities of Athens(where he manifested), Naples, Barcelona, and Charleston, South Carolina(where he made Landfall in the United States) before being stopped just outside of Victory City by the combined efforts of almost 100 metahumans working together and ended when Pantheon nearly killed himself to send Orcus back beyond the Veil of Tartarus

basically tldr, The Random Hero / Project Vanguard's first Crisis Grade villain

Third and final cover.

>>41046
shit that's really bad ass, I definitely want to see him included

>>41046
Would desolace bow before his might and aid him, or denounce him as a traitor and false god?

Name: Johnathan Voltaire
Alias: Six Feet Thunder
Affiliation: None (Yet)
Powers: Electrical Manipulation through use of a tech suit http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Electricity_Manipulation

Johnathan Voltaire, citizen of Electri-City, was your community college physics professor. Day in and day out he went to work, went over the lecture then went home, never truly living life, only ever going through the motions. That is until one day on his way home he witnessed one of his students getting jumped by his car by a group of muggers. No one knows why but he instantly jumped into action, almost like a switch had been flipped on inside of him.

With thoughts of rushing to the students aid he wasn't quite cure what it was he was going to do but he knew he had to help. Rummaging through his trunk he came across an old project he had been working on, a stun glove. With no idea of weather or not it even still had a charge he put it on and hit the button. It sparked to life, blue bolts of electricity arcing across the conductive copper knuckles. Leaping into the midst of the gang he began to lay about him with the glove, hitting any and everyone who stepped up to challenge him.

In the after math, the charge from the glove completely drained, Johnathan looked around him, the cops arresting and taking the men away, his student safe and already getting medical attention. It was then that he knew how he could help his city. Using the knowledge he had garnered as a physics teacher he would create himself a suit like nothing anyone had ever seen. He would become the conduit of justice, feeding the current of safety to Electri-City. He would become Six Feet Thunder!

>>41049
to use a response from monday towards a similar question


I forgot to mention in my last post that one Idea I had would after Orcus' defeat multiple new Super-villains would surface all having been affected by the cracking of the veil between Earth and Tartarus in the aftermath of Pantheon defeating Orcus and thus Desolace is only one of dozens of new horrors that will descend upon the earth and thus shall the cracks deepen and one cursed day will the Father of Monsters once more behold the base earth....


and another little tidbit of information regarding Orcus


and as towards Orcus' positioning on the Totem pole to compare it towards say the New Gods of Apokolips, Orcus is only comparable to Mantis or perhaps Kalibak(Pandaro would be comparable towards a Parademon)no the big cheese amongst the Cthonic Gods is non other than Dread Typhon the Father of Monsters who holds power equivalent if not superior to Zeus himself due to being son of the Demiurges Gaea and Tartarus

and some more info on how bad it would be if Typhon were to return to the mortal world

of course Typhon's not loose because if he was summoned he would cause most of Europe to be torn apart by a 10.00 scale earthquake in an instant and then be covered with Millions of Horrifying Monsters because Typhon is pretty much what you get if you put Darkseid and the Ogdru Jahad in a blender and the mixture is a titanic God-Entity the size of Olympus Mons so the order of the day would be to make sure he never returns to the mortal plane or be prepared to kiss your collective asses goodbye

Another potential NPC: www.powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Peanut_Butter_Manipulation

The page doesn't actually have any info on the power, but it seems quite self explanatory to me.

Chapter 1(?): A Quick Backstory

Lots of people assume that having super powers means you’re destined to be amazing. Be a hero. Save the world and get the girl. Those people haven’t tried being a hero. As it turns out there’s no money in it and telling your landlord that you’re a hero is quite a common excuse in a city of supers. So what’s a guy like me suppose to do? Well as it turns out being able to make portals to anywhere has its perks as a delivery boy. And I’m lucky enough to be working with Vanguard, Victory City’s Do-gooders.

Chapter 2: Mondays. Always Mondays.

BZZZT! BZZZT! BZZZT!
“God I hate you alarm clock.” I mumble before reaching out of my blanket cocoon and turning it off. With a quick yawn and throw of the covers I stare blankly at the ceiling for a bit. “Time for work.” I feel the mattress underneath me disappear as an oval shaped hole replaces it. Soon I’m standing upright inside my closet. Ah, my ‘The Cake is a Lie’ shirt. How the humor and irony of me owning this kills me every time I wear it. A quick change and I portal into the storage closet of my job. It’s a local delivery business that deals with supers almost exclusively inside of Victory City. Which on top of everything else makes my job that much harder to do. I mean, how am I supposed to get the Human Lightning Bolt’s package to him when he moves at near light speeds? But I digress.
“Hey Sammie.” I say as I walk over to the counter. Sammie owns The Working Force, the company that hires supers for more everyday tasks like temping and that. He’s a good guy that doesn’t take shit, I’ve seen the man shake down some of the meanest heroes in the city when they “forget” to pay.
“You’re late.” He says flatly as he hands off a messenger bag full of various boxes.
“You’re a liar and you damn well know it.” I quip back at him as I grab the bag and begin to head out.
“Well I sign your paychecks asshole!”
“I love you too Sammie!” I holler back as I pull out the first package. I round the corner and walk through the hole in the wall I made and into the top floor of the Victory Hotel’s suite floor. At the end of the hall is the suite belonging to Prince Valliant, some new kid on the block superhero that swears he’s royalty. He’s more of a royal pain in the ass to everyone in the city. I walk up and knock, praying he won’t answer so I don’t have to deal with his stuck up ass.
“Hello.” A man says, dressed as a well paid butler with a domino mask on says as the door opens.
“Valet?” I ask. “The last time I saw you was a week ago down at Combustion Man’s place.”
“Well,” Valet begins to explain. “It seems he no longer needed my services.”
“Tough shit.” I try to sympathize with him. “Times are tough and the economy’s rough man. But I’m glad to see you got a job working for this rich douche-I mean…”
“No he is a douche.” Valet corrects. “Just don’t tell him I said that.”
“Only if you sign off for this.” I say, handing him the package.
“Deal.” Valet takes the package and starts to head inside. “See you at The Middle Ground?”
“Yeah. Catch ya later!” I let out before falling through the portal at my feet taking me to the next stop.

Chapter 3: It's ALWAYS A Trap

-LATER-

“Not one of these again.” I groan, pulling out the last package of the day. The label reads “Rooftop of the Conglomo Corp building.” Doesn’t Sammie know these things are ALWAYS trouble? It’s either some kind of bomb or some kind of trap set up for the hero that’s supposed to pick it up. But you know who gets his ass beat? “He’s gonna owe me big time if I have to fight someone again.”
A second later I’m walking through the stairwell’s outer wall and on to the top of the Conglomo Corp building. I hear they do a lot of weird science and tech based research here but the deliveries I make always seem to be ordinary stuff for a supposed super future high-tech infrastructure.
“Hello?” I yell across the rooftop. “Who’s here to get this package?!” I do a quick run around and find no one waiting up here. I pull out the paperwork that came attached with the package and double check it to see if there was a time to deliver by. “Nothing. Damnit.” I say as I crumple the paper back into my bag. As I walk over to the portal I made in on the floor beneath me I feel a quick stir in the air. All the hairs on my neck stand on end and as I turn I see a large bolt of lightning come flying out of the helipad’s lights. Before I can react I’m on the ground, gasping for air. “What….the….hell….” I say, rolling over to see a man dressed in red armor and cape. “If that’s your package you could have just said so dick.” The man turns and glares at me through his helmet.
“Where did it go?” He asks in a menacing tone. He turns around and reaches for package now at my feet.
“Excuse me,” I say, creating a portal under the box and grabbing it up. “But if you’re name isn’t the one on this package you can’t very well have it.” The man starts running at me but I’m much quicker when it comes to making an escape route. I land safely in my bed and close the portal before the Red Darth Vader look-a-like can follow me.
“Thank God.” I sigh, putting the package up in my closet. “Man I hate getting jacked by other supers while on the job.” I mutter I as change and portal to the Middle Ground. “Maybe tomorrow will be better…”

>Oh boy exploding hardrives! For anyone who cares, I was busy and then my external died, so I lost all the writing I got done when I wasn't posting. So instead I will post the bio I made to the best of my recollection.

>>40861
>Picture is here.

Name: Stopwatch
Alias: Andrew Zeit
Affiliation: None, currently a "street hero"
Power: Time Manipulation ( http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Time_Manipulation )

Andrew Zeit grew up with as normal a life as was possible in this city. At the point in time of this story he was as a college student in the field of science, specifically researching the properties of time and space. He and two of his friends and classmates - Sara Dennis and Jack Harvey - were working on a machine that could control look backward in time. Theoretically it could look back over fifty years, but they had only tested it to five years. After they had finished the device and run said tests, the sponsor of their funding wanted to see it in action. Only he wanted to test it to capacity. Reluctantly the machine was powered up and run, but suddenly a surge ran through the system, overcharging the systems and causing it to explode. in what seemed like a split second Andrew found himself standing in the crater of the burned out science lab, and everyone else was gone. After a bit of wandering and confusion, he discovered that three years had passed since that day and the lab was since abandoned since the college couldn't afford to repair it. A bit of research turned up that the only body that had been recovered was the warped and horribly decayed corpse of their sponsor, a man who had been known to have affiliated with OMEN, who he personally blamed for the incident. At a loss, Andrew went home to his apartment, only to find it had since been cleared out and rented to someone else because he had disappeared. Luckily, a quick check of an ATM discovered that his account still had a considerable amount of money in it from his college funds. Apparently no one had bothered to close or cash it out. With the money Andrew rented out a new apartment, bought new furniture, and at least had a place to stay until he found a job and or the funds ran out. However, one day Andrew had left his room to use the restroom, only to return perhaps 30 seconds later to find a small box sitting on neatly on his bed with a note attached. No one else had been in the house and the front door was still locked, which baffled him enough to get him to check the note, which read as thus:

"Hey, don't feel too down. You'll find out pretty soon you walked away from that accident with more than you can ever imagine. You may not believe me now, but you've got a hero's destiny ahead of you. There's going to be an accident tomorrow at 10:38 AM, which you will almost be involved in. I say almost because your gift will save you. No, not the items in this box. The watch will help you regulate your gift by measuring relative time. You'll understand tomorrow. After the accident, you need to head back to the lab. There will be another surprise for you. -The you from the future"

At the time, it seemed like a lot of nonsense. The note was right, he didn't believe it. Inside the box was a fancy looking watch. He frowned at it, then closed the box and went back to his business. The next day, Andrew took a trip to the store. As he was walking there, someone ran a red light. The car slammed into another before careening straight for him as he was crossing the sidewalk. Andrew paled as he watched his metallic reaper screech towards him, and as everything slowed down. He thought it was the whole adrenaline and fear effect thing, but then it stopped. Everything stopped. The cars, the birds, the paper blowing in the wind, the sound, everything. After a second of marveling at it, he realized he was still in the path of the car and that things were slowly starting to move again. He quickly moved out of the way and watched the rest of the scene from the sidewalk with a slight awe. Was this the gift the note mentioned? Perhaps out of shock, he immediately changed his course for the old burned-out lab. Inside on the ground he found another package, just like the first. He opened it, and inside was a blank, white-plastic mask and another note, albeit a lot shorter:

"Gotta hide your identity, right? There's a door to a lab below this one under the trashcan around back. Everything in there is for you and you should probably know that your power is going to take a lot of practice to use for more than a short time, but from here you're on your own. Just give it time. You'll grow into the idea of being a hero soon enough. -FUTUUUUUURE

PS - X-Y-Z bro."

Andrew looked down and lo and behold his fly was indeed open. His sense of humor obviously hadn't changed in the future. With a quick zip and a tuck of the box underarm, Andrew checked around back. A quick check of the trashcan revealed there was indeed a trapdoor under it that opened as soon as he touched it. He went inside to find a lab almost exactly like the one that had existed prior to the explosion, albeit with a few additions, such as a computer that tapped satellites and a case with an odd sword in it. With his newly acquired power and belongings, a little bit of martial arts training, and some decent parkour skill, Andrew took to the streets and rooftops, using his power to stop petty crime like muggings and gang fighting, as well as one rather messy bank robbery foiling. And thus begins the tale of Stopwatch, the hero of time. (Bad reference is bad.)

Posting this here as well:

Name: Path
Real name: Amalia Finder
Affiliation: Vanguard or some other good-affiliated group
Power: Psychic Navigation

Amalia is a teenaged (15 or 16 years old) girl with the power to track people with her mind. The limitations are that she's had to have met the person before to be able to track them, and her reach isn't unlimited (she can't track someone across the world). Unfortunately she has no fighting skills and is physically weak, so she's a pretty useless hero on her own.
The Superpower Wiki also lists fault detection (the ability to detect physical weaknesses) as a spin-off of psychic navigation which would be a pretty fun addition since she herself is so physically weak that the knowledge does her personally no good, but I don't want to make her overpowered - she's still young and her powers will grow as she matures.

I'm still trying to come up with a story/background for her, but I'm no good at this writing business.

>>41065
Your artwork is amazing.

>>41051
So is yours! Love the costume.

>>41050
Of course, Dragon's artwork is also exemplary.

>>41047
I'm loving these covers, Graft.

>>41041
This, too, is awesome.

We've got quite a group of artists among us. I wish I had that talent.

Posting a newer reference image for Mr. Myth. Changed the look up a bit and I decided to drop the typical hero costume. Doesn't really seem necessary for a transforming hero.

>>41065
you're adorable! We need more girls on the Vanguards too plus your power is very useful

This one took a while for some reason.
I did something stupid and got banned (NSFW art on /co/). lol I won't be on
4chan proper until the 8th.

>>41071
My god that is fucking horrifying. But in a good way.

'Waste of Flesh!' Applies more to Graft then Shuma now.

>>41071
You really know how to capture their essence... fucking christ that thing gives me the willys.

>>41071
Hot damn that's awesome.

>>41071
jesus that's terrifying and awesome

>>41059
>Get out of bed
>Put on clothes
>Go to work
>Doesn't shower

Dude, come on, basic hygiene. We don't need your stanky ass jumping all over the city.

Thanks!
I am almost done with the current lineup for OMEN.

For archive purposes, I'll post the ones that isn't post here.

>>41084

>>41085

And finally, Striker.

>>41086
YES!

>>41088
I still want to see what this cask of yours looks like. I hope theres hinges.

>>41087
Thats one smooth

>Shut yo mouth.

What? I was just gonna say hero.

Some info on a few new locations and NPC's.

First, the police Chief/Commissioner is an ex-batman type hero who's currently retired, but still keeps an eye on the city from his various monitoring stations and whatnot.

The primary medical facility in Victory City is the [Name pending] Hospital which is likewise run by an ex-hero who is a super genius. She uses various hyper advanced medical machines to treat super powered and regular individuals alike.
The building is also outfitted with power dampeners so no super shenanigans start up, and this place is treated as neutral ground by both the Vanguard and Omen.

Next, an old fashioned pub called "The Middle Ground," run by Stan & Jackie, a married couple who were once adversaries back in the day.
They briefly got into the super heroing/villainy game in the late 70's-80's after the initial event that took out all the heroes, but they realized that the time of heroes and villains had passed, and opened the bar.
But with the resurgence of superheroes, and the already substantial population of metahumans in the city, and given their reputations, the Middle Ground soon became frequented by super beings from both ends of the spectrum. But the owners don't put up with any kind of super rivalry bullshit, and are quick to deal with anybody, hero or villain who tries to start trouble in their establishment.

All of these are free to add upon of course.
There was some discussion going on about the staff at the bar.
We had come up with a Bartender whith Liquid Manipulation, and a blue waitress who's powers are yet undecided. Some suggestions were: Electricity/multiple arms/stretchy powers and tentacles.
Likewise, the owners powers were much debated. Most agreed that the wife (Jackie) would have super strength, which she would use to break up any rowdy customers. The Husband's(Stan) powers weren't agreed upon. Some thought he should also be super strong, and some think he should have a more crowd control type of power that would be effective for dealing with everyone in the bar if need be. Some ideas were: Density control/Gravity powers/The power to make people disoriented or give them headaches/forcefields.

>>41071

Damn that is nice. Also, just ban evade like everyone else.

“C’mon champ. You’re not even tryin.” Wait why was I in a boxing ring?

“Dad c’mon this isn’t fair!” Was that me? I didn’t say that!

“If you can’t hit me, your running to school! C’mon Jamey, you have the makings of a champion.”

“And you’re a heavy-weight golden glove fighter, Dad!” Wait I remember this.

“C’mon five seconds bud!” This was both the best and worst day of my life. Why was I seeing this again?

“Five!” His strikes seemed to slow down. I could see every possible movement that his arms could make. I could move through his strikes, knowing them before they could hit me. “Four!” His words rang out in my ear but I ignored it. My arm swung back, my teeth clenched and every ounce of muscle felt charged. “Three.” Like lightning I could sense his acknowledgement of my strike. He tried to move, to block or avoid it but my movement was much faster then what he could calculate. “Two..” And like that I felt my arm straighten and connect with his face. A loud bang and then silence filled the training hall.

“Dad?“ That was the first time my powers activated. I had been boxing ever since I could lift my arms. My father not only competed but was a master boxer himself. He retired early and set his sights on coaching me. While I did enjoy boxing as a hobby it wasn’t my life.

“Nice shot bud!” He gave me a thumbs up, his other hand rubbing his face. “You even manage to copy the FLS.” That’s right, I got my alias from him. From the infamous Joey Mercer with his Finishing Left Striker. This was how my powers first activated. It wasn’t an accident, alien gift from above or some radioactive super-gopher who bit me.

“You’re on your way to taking the title! But first we gotta bulk you up!” He grinned taking me into his arms for a bear hug. The other trainees went back to training, overly-used to his antics.

“Dad, you’re crushing me.”

“Oh. Sorry kiddo. Now go on or you’ll be late for school.”

No wait. Don’t go to school! Don’t go! I had to stop myself. No I wasn’t going through this again. I couldn’t! I had to take control. COME ON!

“Hey bucko. You alright? You look different.” Wait I could move. I could control myself.

“I’m fine dad.”

“Whoa, I think you hit me harder then I thought. You even sound grown up. “ He neared me and then I could see his punch coming before he could even throw it. “Was that..judo? When did you learn judo?”

“No time dad. I’ve got to go!” Jumping out of the ring, I sailed over the heads of the other trainees. I wasn’t Striker at this point, I figured I could get away with a little showing off.

“Wait come back James! You forgot your back-”

With that I was running down the street. Throwing off my gloves into the mail-box I continued my way down the road without a hitch. Running past people, who seemed to be blurs in my vision. I had to keep running, if I didn’t I was going to make it in time!

“And you’ll all pay for mocking me!” Good he wasn’t done with his speech yet. My heart felt like it was a hummingbird’s and breathing was another problem of it’s own. This was just a memory how could I feel it as if it was real? Maybe it was real. Maybe I chance to change things.
“Starting with you Jean Jane.” Now school shootings are bad.

“The fuck you will!” Breaking down a door, and attacking a guy with a gun from an alien arms dealer? That’s worse.

“James? What the hell?!” I snapped his right arm before taking him out with a blow to the head. The gun itself I took by tearing off my shirt and grabbing it. The thing had a symbiotic mode with it’s owner. Feeding them aggression and paranoia. Which it explained why Billy here was so effected. He had been my best friend for years, and while I did my best to protect him, bullies always wanted a piece of him for being associated with the guy who stopped them from hurting people.

“Jean are you okay?” I slammed the gun against the wall, the weapon shattered upon the wall crumbling on the floor. It was powered by malice, using that energy to fire off bolts of energy at it’s target, essentially a weapon of hate.

“Y-yeah what was that.” I moved to her holding her red hair in my hands. I couldn’t help but start crying. “What’s wrong James?”

“I don’t know how long I have Jean but I just want to let you know I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Not saving you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” I pulled her close for a moment.

“But you did save me.” I took a long look at her one last time. Her amber eyes and her short but bright red hair. She even had those dorky reading glasses on today.

“No.” Then I was alone. “No I didn’t” And the true scene played out, this time I saw it from a third person view. Billy had shot Jean, and the rest of the class before I arrived. He turned the gun on me, blaming for not protecting him. I attacked him. I could move around his shots because Billy had never even held a gun in his life so I could followed his arm movements. I managed to break an arm, the same arm from earlier before he used his other hand to pull the trigger on his himself.

I was pulled into super-criminal protection. My father staying behind because he was more well-known worldly. And they put me in Victory City while they figured out who this mysterious Arms Dealer was. Now I was in Victory City. Trying to use my powers so what happened to me couldn’t happen to other people. I even took a side-job as janitor for the high-school. But that wasn’t even, crime had became worse so I became Striker. Perhaps I was out of my league but I was going to make a change, for the people that I had failed to protect.

>>41082
What if I said I said I showered the night before?

>>41091
>>41091
>My name for the bar and characters got chosen

I don't even have a face when.

Finally remembered to add this here:

Name: Vincent Valet
Alias: Valet
Power: Genetic Memory

Dating back to the middle ages, members of the Valet family have been personal assistants to the wealthy and influential. The family trade was passed down through the generations, father to son, until, over time, the need for teaching miraculously disappeared. Each new addition to the line was born capable of accessing the memories and experiences of their ancestors. Thanks to this strange ability, which allows the family to pass down an ever-growing skill-set, the Valets have developed a reputation for loyal, high-class, top-of-the-line service.

Vincent Valet is the newest addition to the line, but thanks to the actions of his father, who served as the butler to a notorious supervillain, the family name has been stained. With steady work being hard to come by, Vincent has set up a "Valet Rental" service, loaning himself out to clients on a short-term basis, whether they're heroes, villains, or civilians. While his rental operation makes ends meet, Vincent hopes to someday find a master to whom he can devote his lifelong servitude.

...alternatively, he could already have a more permanent employer, but I couldn't really think of a good character concept for who his "Master" would be. Do the Vanguard or O.M.E.N need a butler?
That could be another interesting possibility.

Also, the Valet line as a whole could be a fun option for worldbuilding, since there would be different Valets spread across different locations and time periods.

He has a mask because why the fuck not?

A small thing I wrote.

Some would say it was foolish for one man to take on an entire group of thugs at once but here in Victory city, I'd say it was foolish for a group of thugs to take on one man. ME. The Bombadier.

It was actually the first day I came to the City, some years ago. Actually, I wasn't in the city for not even an hour when I stumbled upon a mugging. Except it wasn't a mugging. It was a full on assault against an elderly couple! Almost a dozen against two! I did what any brave man would have done. I hunched down slightly and shot towards the group of Hoodlums with full intent on beating every single one of them within an inch of their life. Seconds before raining down rocket fisted Hell down on their little heads one of the elders shot up like bullet and dealt out one of the most powerful uppercuts I had ever seen. Powerful enough to lift the guy off his feet and into the air several yards. After that the old woman stood up even quicker than the man and took down the rest of the thugs in mere seconds with what looked like bolts of energy from her palms. With every single thug on the ground writhing in pain, the couple wiped them self off, with not even a scratch on them! I was dumbfounded! I stood with my mouth open. These people had to be in their 80's! They walked passed me and I heard the woman say what sounded like "That was fun. I feel almost 20 years younger."

Now I thought I had seen everything after witnessing that but then I joined the Vanguard...

Name: Witt Send(/Karr/Jez/Irvine)
Alias: Masquerade
Affiliation: OMEN
Power: Symbiotic costume---Dual Mind ( http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Divided_Mind )

Wyatt "Witt" Send was a fairly average kid from a broken home. From childhood he grew with the dreams of one day becoming a
great superhero who would smite evil-doers and bring justice to Victory City.

One evening, at the age of 13, his naive dreams of heroism were traumatically crushed. A symbiotic substance that had long laid
dormant in the ruins of Victory City slums seeped into his home in search of Witt. The symbiote sensed the presence of
strong willed minds to latch onto and use as a host. Witt had such a mind.

The symbiote known as Masquerade bonded with Witt's face as he slept and the angry being known as Karr was the first to assume
control of the host body. Startled from his sleep, Witt awoke to feelings of incredible strength and incredible anger. The anger
surged through him with such uncontrolled and intense force he ran through his home destroying anything he could reach. Witt
blacked out.

As morning came he awoke to a bloody mess in his parents room and the mangled bodies of those that had brought him into the
world. At the realization of what he had done Witt was stricken with sorrow so great he laid traumatized until the police
arrived a day later and collected him.

Nobody could remove the mask from Witt's face and with Witt in shock from having murdered his parents he was sentenced to a
juvenile asylum for the criminally insane for 20 years.

During the next 10 years of his incarceration he learned more of his mask. The beings Karr the angry, Jez the joyous, and
Irvine the wise revealed themselves to be the occupants of the mask known as Masquerade. They were super powered people from
ages before who had not been powerful enough to control the mask and had their souls entrapped within it. Over the years Witt
learned to control the powers of each of the beings, and to commune with the mask.

The juvenile asylum for the criminally insane, "Whispering Oaks" was in fact a front for The Broker to discover fresh and violent
test subjects. Over the 10 years of his incarceration he had been experimented on and kept in a small dark room where he had
nobody to talk with other than the occupants of Masquerade. This drove him mostly to madness - which prompted his use of the
mask to make his escape. Slaughtering anything that came near him he broke free from the confines of the asylum and hid himself
within the backstreets of Victory City.

Still clinging to the guilt of killing his parents and the twisted dreams of being a hero he began a vigilante mass murdering
of petty criminals, until he was discovered by O.M.E.N as a blood covered wreck more dead than alive. O.M.E.N brought him back
to life for their own purposes and Witt, now calling himself only Masquerade, felt in debt to them.

>>41101
welcome to the team

Victory City. The Utopia. The Olympus of the modern world. And like Olympus, this city is little more than a legend. A fractured reflection of it's former self.
Home sweet home.

Not that I remember what this place used to be like anyways. Who the fuck remembers shit from when they're five? Besides, that was still long after Victory's hayday. Still, the place is a lot more impressive than I'd been led to believe. Everywhere else in the country they talk about this place like it's the asshole of the world. They're ones to talk. This entire country is a sad mess. Sure, the pictures on the government computers make the cities all look so pretty, but real life's a different song.

Not to say this is the nicest place I've ever run to, but it has it's charms. Then again, I've hardly been here a day; Victory and I have yet to be properly reacquainted. Heard plenty of stories. Whispers really. They say there's some new group of heroes trying to bring back the glory of this place. And someone else too, bad-

Someone was following me.
I'd had the feeling I was being watched since I arrived in the city, but that's natural in a place with so many others around. But now, there was someone close, on my tail. It wasn't paranoia, I could feel it. Years of being chased down will sharpen that sixth sense to a point. I turned off the street into an alley, away from the crowds. If anything was about to go down, I wasn't going to let it happen in such a populated area. No need to announce my presence. I checked behind me as I walked off the street to see if anyone came my way, but nothing. Maybe I was just being paranoid. Then again, like they say "Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't out to get -" Suddenly a voice from behind me. Sounds like he can't be more than five feet away.

"Jackson Harm, fugitive." "Wanted in 50 states. Destruction of government property, destruction of private property, evading police capture, extortion, breaking and entering, and nine counts of Murder two. And that's just off the top."

Son of a bitch.

>>41105
How in the hell had this guy snuck up on me? There's no way he should have gotten this close. FBI trackers haven't gotten this close, nobody has in years. This alley is dead, I should have heard him miles away. Fine, no big deal. I could handle whoever it was, always had. But for the time being, I played it cool.

"I'm not in town one day, and I've already been discovered. Am I losing my edge or are you MRRD mooks getting...." My voice trailed off as I turned around, surprised at who I saw. Wasn't a suit, or a meta tracker, it was an old man.
He was a hard, grizzled figure, with grey hair and deep lines in his face. His features gave the impression that he must be at least in his sixties, but he looked to be in remarkably good shape for his age.
"Who the hell are you supposed to be?"
"I'm Police Commissioner Ralph Curtis."
"You're a cop? Bullshit. "
"You wanna see my badge?" He said as he opened his long coat to reveal the shiny badge on his chest.
"How the hell do you know who I am?"
"Please, you're one of the most wanted metahumans in America."
"Don't give me that. The public only know me as "The Demolition Man." The feds gave me that title so I'd sound like some kind of supervillain to the people, but my real name is classified information, no way some cop from some dead end town would have that information. So how do you know who I am, and how did you find out I was here?"
"Son, there's very little that happens in my city that I'm not aware of. And how I know what I know is none of your damn business. So suffice it to say I have my sources."

We both stood there for a moment, eyeing the other up. Most people I come face to face with who know what I am are afraid. They always put on their best show, but how can you honestly stand up to someone who can end you in an instant without being afraid. I would be. But this man didn't flinch. He was a rock, and to be honest, I felt a little scared of him.

"So what now? You try and arrest me?"
"Heh. Trust me kid, if I wanted to arrest you, I could." I felt anger begin to rise in me at this remark. Who did this guy think I was, some punk? But I didn't act on my irritation because something told me he wasn't bullshitting me. He lit up a cigarette before continuing.
"The fact of the matter is, however, my department is too understaffed and poorly funded to hold someone of your magnitude." "And between you and me, those MRRD fucks don't deserve my help, and from what I understand, the mess between you and them was self inflicted."
"So at this point, you're someone else's headache."

"Then why the confrontation if you're just going to let me go?"
At this, he drew nearer to me. I tensed, ready to act if need be. He threw the remainder of the cigarette on the ground and looked me in the eye. the man had a deadly gaze.
"Like I said, I know what goes on in my city. None of the players can make a move without me knowing about it. And you, boy, are a big player, and I don't yet know what your game is. So let me just say that if you don't play by the rules, you will be dealt with. If not by me, then by the Vanguard. Hell, OMEN might even get to you depending who's toes you step on."
"I'm not here to step on anybody's toes, and I don't give a shit what game anybody else is playing, I'm not interested."
"Well, I'm glad to hear that, but a person like you doesn't just stroll into town without drawing a crowd. I'm not the only one around with eyes on the street. You just watch yourself." "Oh, and if you see any criminals around, here's my card. Constantly vigilant, we are."
He began to walk away. I headed the opposite direction, inspecting the card he had given me. "Victory City Police Department, Commissioner R. Curtis." On the back, scrawled in pen was "Play by the rules and you shall achieve Victory." I was putting the card in my pocket when I heard him call.
"Oh, I forgot to mention...I knew your parents."
I wheeled around, but he was gone. "Slippery old bastard."

I walked back to the street, and melted into the crowd once again.
I thought on what Curtis had said. He was right. I may be off the government's radar here, but now I would be in the sights of god knows how many other factions. Victory City had a higher meta human population, and more super activity than any other locale in the country.
Oh well. Same old same old. I'd blow that bridge when I needed.
But for now, all I want is something to eat, something to drink, and a place to stay.

Hello Victory City, we haven't been properly introduced.

What-if: Vanguard and Omen fought via rap battle.

EPIC RAP BATTLES OF VICTORY!

GRAFT

VERSUS

STRIKER!

BEGIN!

Graft
Starting of this fucker, I’m here to give a show.
Theres no way you can win this battle so give up and go.
Skinny as fuck I don’t need eat to eat you
Because I don’t eat number two.

I’m from OMEN, we own this town.
Oh buck up boy don’t start too frown.
We’ll share this place, but at a price you gotta pay.
We’re a little bit nice, is that okay?

C’mon I’ve got swagger for three.
You’ve got enough style for a little tiny bee.
Do you know how much money I makes?
Enough to BUY forty whole cakes.
But I’ll steal’em anyway, because it’s unbearable.
Remember kids, I’m just terrible.

Are you the best that’s Vanguards got?
Why don’t you throw me that green girl, she looks hot.
Maybe I’ll munch on her after I do her.
If think you can stop me you fucking cur?

My skin slides and it dances
All you can do is make gay ass prances
My skin moves motherfucker how about you?
Oh that’s right, you can just copy my moves!

You know whats that called in this biz?
A fucking poser whose not worth his salty jizz.
But I guess it’s not your fault
Like Gaga you where just born this way
So tell me boy what does your gay ass hafta say?

Striker

My name is Striker
I got more swag than motherfucking Riker
You trying to tell me you never watch Star Trek?
Oh that’s right you were to busy sucking some dudes dick.

I can copy yeah that’s true
But only a dumbass would try and copy you.
Try seeing me, with all three of your eyes
Because I’m about to show you how a real rapper shines.

I shoot lyrics likes Big Gun’s bullets.
I spit out rhymes like Dragon, don’t try to be full of it.
You think your good, well I learn from the best
I got a fucking god to put me to the test.

You think you got powers to rap?
I got a girl who can make men fight tons of crap.
Did you have enough or do I gotta give you some more?
Leaping around you lyrically, I can do that for sure.

Your rhymes are like poison that make me sick.
But that doesn’t mean you gotta be a prick.
Rapping is a work of goddamn art.
Well..unless your like Poison Dart.

Need I keep going or do you need more?
Check out as I lay a little Jotun on the floor.
I’ll ice your words right in there place.
Or like Gauss I’ll zap you right in the fucking FACE!

Vanguards avail, that’s what I say
To protect and serve the innocents is our way
But with punks like you, that need to go down?
WE’LL KICK YOUR ASS ALL OVER TOWN!

Who won?

Whose next?

YOU DECIDE!

Vanguard Supplemental.

Rawr Rawr, Fight da powa.

>>41109
That is glorious.

>>41109
OH.
MY.
GOD.
This is the most perfect thing ever.

“Attention patrons, the library will close in five minutes. We will reopen again tomorrow at 7 a.m.”

Walter McGavin snapped back to reality as looked up from his notes. The voice of the ever-nasally librarian, Mrs. Marshal, had broken him from his concentration. “Distractions,” he mused, “she always finds the best time to bother me.”

“That means you, Mr. McGavin,” the loudspeaker added.

His name seemed to reverberate in his ears over and over, as if it was a name he was unfamiliar with. His therapist advised him not to get himself lost in his books, or this would happen. Take up a different hobby, she had suggested. Go outside and bird watch. “Yeah right,” he chuckled. “Me, my allergies, and my asthma get along perfectly. “ Besides, there were plenty of books about birds in here. Walter shook his head and refocused on his work.

He felt as though he was making a profound breakthrough, but with the constant interruptions of librarians and therapists, he would never finish. Walter was an assistant to a professor at the college, which afforded him certain privileges. These privileges included access to some of the library’s oldest texts, which would certainly come in handy for his research. As part of his dissertation on Greek gods and their connections to the mortal world the ruled over, Walter had found evidence of times when the gods would gift mortals of their powers. Sure, he knew the stories of Heracles, who was a demigod with divine blood, but this was different. There was no blood link to these champions. They were chosen. Just how they were chosen and why was the roadblock that had gifted Walter with many sleepless nights over these past two years.
“There has to be something I missed,” he thought, as he lazily flipped through the pages. Fatigue had found him, and he felt that he would have to retire from another fruitless day.

Then he saw it.

>>41114
He didn’t think anything of it at first. It was a phrase. A phrase that had burrowed its way into the back of his head… He didn’t even recognize it at first, as he flipped past it. Adrenaline shot through him as he scrambled to find that page. He found it as he tore through the books. It was the caption on an image he had become familiar with, as it was on the cover of a few of his books. The image was of the silhouette of what looked like a man. This man stood in a scene of illumination, with great beings of light all around him, their eyes burning into the man as if to peer into his very soul. He always liked the image. So why didn’t he see it before? That phrase…

“Λαμβάνει μου ενώπιον των θεών ώστε να μπορούν να κρίνουν μου.”
“Take me before the gods, so that they may judge me…” he whispered. He had seen the phrase dozens of times in countless books, but it never clicked before. Did this hold some importance?

“Hello Walter.”

Walter snapped out of his head at the sound of the honey-laced words behind him. The motion of jerking around caused him to fly out of his seat, and he crashed onto the floor with a loud thump. The words came from a man, that’s for sure, or at the very least something male. He stood before Walter, wearing a coy smile on his face. He was loosely covered in white robes, and the skin that peered out from underneath shone with a healthy bronzed glow.

“W-who are you...” stammered Walter, as he clumsily fumbled for his inhaler.

“We have not met but we are familiar.” He replied, each word dripping sweetly into Walter’s ear. “I am Hermes, messenger of the gods.”

“How… how is this possible… you can’t… this isn’t real…”

Hermes bent and reached his hand out to Walter. “You have called and I have come. Take my hand, Walter McGavin. I will give you the answers you seek.”

>>41115
After silence hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity, Walter slowly reached out and extended his hand. He felt the warmth of the figure before him even before their hands touched. It was not hot, but a very pleasant heat, much like one would find on a lazy summer day. Hermes smiled at Walter’s acceptance. “Walter McGavin… everything will change,” he said.

------

Walter awoke to find himself lying upon a delicate white bed. He didn’t realize he had fallen asleep. He didn’t even know how he got home from the library… no, something was different. Walter felt the bed he was lying on; touched its soft surface. It was warm; far too warm for a bed… and it was moving. He jerked into a sitting position and took in his surroundings. He wasn’t in his bed, or any bed for that matter. He was sitting on the surface of clouds. He could see massive pillars all around him, erected from some pristine marble, all reaching hundreds of meters into the bright blue sky. Waterfalls cascaded all around him, pouring from mountains of clouds and disappearing into nothing. He could hear the song of birds around him, and there was a gentle breeze in the air. “Where am I…”

“OLYMPUS.”

The voice boomed through the air, but was a gentle as it was terrifying. Walter spun to his feet and turned to face the voice. He could feel his heart stop at the sight. Before him sat a massive figure, wreathed in light and gold. He sat upon a throne of marble that shown with an inner light that was impossible to comprehend. Sat around him were other figures, all as domineering as they were beautiful. They were composed of both men and women, all with striking characteristics. They seemed to be carved from marble themselves. None were as impressive as the one that sat before him. The sheer power of the figure made Walter collapse to his knees.

>>41116
“WALTER MCGAVIN” the voice thundered. “YOU HAVE BEEN BROUGHT HERE TO BE JUDGED BY WE WHO RULE THE MORTAL REALM. DO YOU SUBMIT?”

Walter trembled in fear. He felt like weeping. Such power and such dominance tore through Walter like a hot knife through butter. The eyes… those eyes pierced his flesh, and gazed into his very soul. A gentle hand rested on Walter’s shoulder. As he looked up, he was greeted by a new, yet familiar, smile. Hermes was there, and there was a look of reassurance in his eyes.

“I… I do.” He weakly answered

“SO BE IT.”

Walter was torn apart. Pain and anguish ripped through his body like nothing he had ever felt before. His body was flayed apart; hair ripped from flesh, muscle torn from bone. Molecule by molecule was separated until nothing of the physical existed in once was Walter McGavin.

“WALTER MCGAVIN. YOU HAVE COME BEFORE US AT A TIME OF GREAT PERIL. THE MORTALS OF OUR REALM BEG AND PLEED. WE HAVE HEARD THEIR CRIES, AND WE HAVE NOT TURNED A DEAF EAR TO THE ONES WE CHERISH. WE WILL SEND UNTO THEM A GREAT CHAMPION, GIFTED WITH OUR POWERS. YOU HAVE ANSWERED THE CALL, WALTER MCGAVIN. YOU HAVE BEEN DESTROYED.”

All Walter knew was light and death. Life and emptiness. Love and apathy. Everything was before him as he was nothing. Time spiraled all around him, and he existed for aeons and but a moment. He stood before the gods once again, though not as he did. He felt warmer. He was no longer afraid of those that sat before him. He felt a kinship with them, and that in fact it was he who was sitting on those marble thrones. He was strong. Fast. Powerful. He felt a sense of purpose that he never felt before. He could hear the cries of the people below. He could feel their fears, their hopes, their dreams. He must cherish the mortals. He must protect. He must defend. He must be their vanguard.

“WALTER MCGAVIN EXISTS NO MORE. RETURN TO THE REALM OF THE MORTALS AS OUR CHAMPION. RETURN… AS PANTHEON.”

The Arms Dealer.

It all made sense now. The bound souls used as a weapon, where weapons of madness, the gun utilized by Billy from before used his emotions as a weapon. The arms dealer was somehow involved with this. Was he the thing that Chernabog said was his power? Or was that power granted from some other source and the arms dealer merely supplied those insane shadow things that attached to people.

Chernabog couldn’t use the power that was granted to him to merely conquer the world but by using an outside source, he could and that is where the arms dealer came in. But this was just connecting random events, things that just somehow crossed my path. Maybe this wasn’t connected at all? Maybe I was just following a dead end?

I had to do this. I had to put an end to this dealer. But first I needed to wake up.

“Hey there sleepy head.” I was in the Vanguard medical area. My body ached but to my surprise no actually damage beyond soreness. “The healer made sure your body wasn’t seriously damaged but allowed you to naturally heal.”

“Right.” Getting up I found my clothes freshly cleaned and ready for me, and while getting dressed the doctor informed me that I had been out but a cover story for my job allowed me some time off. “Great now everyone thinks I’ve got the flu.” Well if James couldn’t go out. Striker could.

The sky was dark when I headed out. The good people of the city where asleep but evil was still awake! “Wow I sound like Pantheon.” Heh, funny too bad no one was around to here it.

Running across roof-tops is tricky. You had to make sure to avoid the rotted warehouses and to choose your route carefully. Didn’t want to drop off of a tall building only to have no way to turn back. And avoiding attention of the populace was tricky. Some would think you where a burglar and I have come across a few while on patrol. Fun to watch them turn around thinking their so smart only to be thrown into a hot-dog stand from the apartment complex.

“GRAB HER! We’re going to make her squeal!”

“SOMEONE HELP ME PLEASE!” That voice? Oh god no. No not Stacey. Damn this fucking city!

“Shut-up pretty lady, all the supers are out for the day and we’re going to have our fun. Now if you don’t stop moving I’ll have to me-” He didn’t have a chance to finish his threat, Stacey had shot him in the groin knocking the air out of him.

“HELP PLEASE!” She tried to run but they snagged her again. I was now above the alley-way where she was being attacked. There was about ten of them. Their leader on the ground wheezing from the hit. I didn’t let him get up.

“What the fuck?” Standing on top of the guy, I made sure to let his face get to know the pavement with my foot. His lackeys taking their notice off of Stacey came at me. Now fighting a group is a lot different from fighting a single person. You had to be aware of your surroundings, you had to account for the rhythm of the fight, whether your opponents know it or not. And lastly you couldn’t let them get a single hit in or else that will create an opening and your more than likely to end up in the ER or the morgue.

Sliding away from the first guy’s punch, I took his arm and struck his ribs before flipping him on his back. The second guy tried to go for a kick but he found himself stomping on the head of his friend. He was out with a strike to the neck.

“I thought all the supers where gone! What the fuck?!” Target number three would only get that in before his face met with the brick wall. One of them tried to run but a clothesline and a stomp to the back made sure he wasn’t going anywhere. Four down, six more to go. I hope your keeping track at home. One of them had a knife, he found that it didn’t help that it was in his leg. He didn’t have time to scream about it before he was taken out with a sleeper hold. His buddy tried to help him, while I was holding his neck but luckily Stacey took him out with a trash can lid. Guess Victory City still used the heavy metal ones.

“Get out of here.” I tried to not snap at her, but she was more danger to the both of us if she stayed. “Theres a cop car not to far from here. Tell them that Striker is breaking up an attempted rape.” I didn’t want to say the last two words but I had to sound professional. I wasn’t very good at it.

“R-right.”

“And be careful Stacey.”

Shit.

“How do you know my name?”

“Because I can read minds!” I back flipped over an attempted tackle and pushed him into the end of the alley way with a drop kick. I saw Poison Dart do that and it seemed I could do it. Although with not the same leg power as frog man.

“O-oh okay!” And with that she was off. Leaving me with three guys.

“He’s kicking our ass! Where’s that OMEN support! We paid them for protection!”

“Theres that name again. Omen. Graft works with them.” I took the one who was shouting and slammed him up against the wall. “Tell me about Omen, or I start breaking limbs.” When one of his friend’s protested, I used the guy as a flail to take him down. Turning to the other one with a cold stare. “If you move, I will see to it that someone will be raped tonight.” He sat down staring at his twiddling fingers.

“Alright man! Look, we pay them some of our profits, and they let us have our pick on some nice spots! They take out rival gangs who don’t pay and even protect us from supers!”

“There not protecting you now. Why?”

“I don’t know! Okay. They said they’d have one of their guys to keep an eye on us so we just went out today. We thought if we had nine guys we’d be fine.”

Wait. Did he say nine? Then the approaching shadow and the sound of metal caused my body to react. The brick building was sliced into and if I hadn’t thrown the guy down, he would have been cut in two. The man I had told to sit down, stood before me. But he wasn’t a timid gang banger but something else.

“Impressive. For a long time no one has dodged my blade.” Sweeping the air with his sword he pointed it at me. “But I should introduce myself. I am the blades master of OMEN but I am also called Sellsword.”

“I’m Striker.”

“I know who you are. And I know you are with the Vanguard.” We circled around, each waiting to make a move.

“Watch out man, he can read minds!”

“Fool. This man cannot read mind, he merely can read one’s body language and reacts to it. He can also mimic physical movements perfectly. And while it may seem fast, there is a moment where it takes for his body to register it.”

Shit. This guy knew more about me then I did. I didn’t know I had a delay time. With a swing of his sword, the blade master was on me. I could only dodge his strikes, unable to move in close before the space inbetween us was filled with pointy metal death.

“You’ll find my defense impenetrable.”

“Your moms impenetrable!”

“You’re an idiot aren’t you!”

“Your mom’s an idiot!”

“I’ll cut your tongue out first I think.”

“Your mom thinks about cutting tong- no wait that doesn’t work.” Banter aside, I had to keep moving, a few times he even managed to knick me. “Hey I already shaved!” With that I felt his swings to become slower, I could begin to read the arm movements.

“Gotcha!” When he tried to come in for another stab, I wrapped an arm around the dominant blade arm and locked into place. “Wait why are you smiling?”

“Because I know something you don’t.”

“And what is that?”

“I’m not left handed.” With that he released his grip on the sword and used the other hand to snatch it from the air. Meanwhile flipping me on my back he held the sword to my neck.

“I feel. There is something I should tell you.”

“Oh?”

“I am not left handed either.” Spinning my body to avoid being punctured in the throat, I used my legs to propel me up and kick his hands away from me. Then pushing myself up from the ground I raised my arms up in a new fighting stance. “Get used to disappointment.” With that I charged, when he tried to strike, I slapped the side of the blade away, kneeing him in the solar plexus before stabbing the blade into the ground. As he tried to pull back, I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, to pull him in for him. Only to stop in mid-stance.

“Go ahead do it!”

“But you’re a girl.”

“Yeah and?”

“I..” Well I did hit girls, but I didn’t like it. I only attacked Dragon because she could spit fire and the other times where in defense.

“You sexist pig! Fight me!” Well she punched like a guy that’s for sure.

“So I’m being sexist for not hitting you?”

“Treat me as your enemy not a woman!”

“Come on that’s not fair I-”

“This is the police, we have you surrounded!” I took too long, I should have been done by now.

“This isn’t over Striker.” Sellsword whipped up her blade at me, using her other hand to cover herself. With that she managed to run up the side of the building, pulling herself to the roof with her blade.

“Hey neat.” With that I copied her movement, using my arms instead to whip myself up to the building only to see that she was long gone. Sitting down for a moment, I shook my head. Tonight was going to be a long one.

Victory City. A town where men and women chase each other about in colorful outfits in the World's most destructive game of Tag. Everyday the paper is inundated with stories to the effect of "X Man Defeats Dr. Y!" or "Al Alliteration Steals Something Important!". Honestly, it gets a tad boring after a while. Though, I do owe one thing to these theatrics. With all these other Super-types around leaving the city in a constant state of repair, it makes doing my job easier. Who am I? Well, my name's never graced the front page of a paper, and I like to keep it that way. Though, if you flip to the ads you'll find me.

Experiencing mysterious phenomena? Bumps in the night? Feeling eyes upon you while you're alone? Valuables gone missing or found broken? When the kids say "Wasn't me!", call Mr. Myth, Paranormal Investigator 843-0023 anytime Day or Night. Problems solved or your money back!

That's right, I'm a Creep Catcher. Yeah, yeah, I'm just a snake-oil salesman who preys on the dumb, I've heard it before. Believe it or not, there is a realm akin to ours out there. A realm not of science and technology, but of Magic. It is there that all those neat little creatures from your fantasy books dwell. And well sometimes some of the more powerful or clever among them... like to drop in every now and again. That's where I come in.

It was a warm Summer's afternoon in my office, and I was reviewing the files from a previous case over a cup of soothing English Black Tea. Chupacabra at the Local Petting Zoo. Needless to say, things got a bit squicky. Just when the case photos were starting to cause my stomach to churn my phone rang, Saints be praised.
"Mr. Myth, Supernatural Sleuth." I answered, snapping the file shut in my free hand.
"I-I feel a little silly calling here, but..." The Man on the other end began. If I had a quid every time a call started this way... "Well, this is Walter Greene. I own the Greene Grocer on the corner of Main and 23rd Street." He continued as I fished out a Notepad and pen from my desk, preparing to jot down the particulars of this potential case.
"Ah yes, Mr. Greene. What can I help you with today?" I stated politely.
"I have kind of a big problem. You see, I pride my store on having some of the freshest food in town, and yet for the past few days my inventory has been spoiling practically right before my eyes in a matter of hours after being stocked!" Mr. Greene explained as if fighting to keep himself from panicking. "I'm losing customers fast and I just got a notice from the Health Inspector. People have been reporting this and he's coming by for an impromptu survey tomorrow! I-I-I just have nowhere else to turn, you're my last hope! If you can't fix this, I'm ruined!"
"That is quite the sticky wicket you have there, sir. Rest assured you've done the right thing in calling me. I'll head down to you straight away, and I'll have all of this sorted by the end of the day. Guaranteed" I said back to him in a consoling manner as I scratched away at my notepad. I've dealt with people at the end of their rope before. Honestly, it's roughly 80% of my clientele.
"I sure hope so. Please... Please hurry." Was the last thing Greene said before he hung up. I finished up my tea with haste and prepared to head out right afterword. I packed my things into my brief case and slung on my burgundy vest over my navy blue shirt and made for the door.
"Gnohz. Could you come out, please?" I called to the darkened corner of my office.
"Uhh... Coming, sir! I'm comin'!" Squeaked my assistant running out to where I could see him. Gnohz is what some call a "Brownie", helpful little faerie folk. Think Santa's Elves.
I found him on one of my first cases in a delapadated home out in the suburbs, but I just didn't have the heart to send him home. Instead, I hired him on to help me out in exchange for room and board here. "You uhh, you called, Mikello?" He asked, eager to get to work.
"I'm going on a case, Gnohz. I'll probably be out all day. If anyone calls, just do what I showed you and take a message, got it?" I instructed simply.
"You got it, sir! I'll answer that phone! I'll answer it real good! I'll answer it, and be like BAM! Message gotted!"
Heheheh... He's like a puppy sometimes.

I arrived at the Greene Grocer just shy of one-thirty. Greene himself was anxiously awaiting my arrival on the front walk. He must have been out there since the second we finished on the phone.
"Mis-Mister Myth, right? You're Mr. Myth? Thank you for coming. Come on in, and I'll show you what's happening." He said leading me into the previously closed up store. It was worse than he described. Produce was rotted to a near-liquid state, Breads were fuzzy and green with mold, The milk was practically cheese by now, even the Pickles had gone bad. Have you ever seen a Pickle go bad? I know! The entire store reeked of a horrid stench like if you had taken a cemetary full of the dead, blended them, and left the remains out in the sun. I expected a stench, but this was something else. Regardless, I set to work searching for any kind of clue I could work with. There seemed to be alot of scratches along the shelves, on the freezer doors, and even trails of them on the walls in places. I had a few theories as to what it could be, but with just scratches to go on, it wasn't really narrowed down. I asked to see the basement and rooted around there as well. Greene watched me from the stairs looking so tense he was about to burst.
"Mr. Greene, it is probably better if you head home. I can handle things on my own here out."
"Oh, but... b-b-but, but." He stammered in response. No doubt he wanted to see the cause of his woes, but I couldn't have that. The less people who know what I know, or see what I see, the better.
"Look sir, whatever we have scooting about here, I can't have you around should it decide to get violent, yeah?" I replied bluntly.
"Well... I-- I guess so. I guess. Is-- Is there anything else you'll need?" Greene said, backing down. I thought about that for a second, to make sure I wouldn't miss anything
"Yes, do you have shipments of fresh stock coming?"
"Everyday at four in the morning." He said without delay as if I was just another customer.
"All right then, Mr. Greene. Just leave me a key to the front doors and your home phone, and I'll call you when I have this sorted." I concluded confidently, patting the store owner on the shoulder twice. With that, Mr. Greene shook my hand, and handed me his key and a card with his personal information before exiting the store.
With Greene gone, I could get down to business. I returned to scouring the basement for more clues. I found some more of the peculiar scratches of course, but also a small, dark purple burn-like ring in one of the walls near the floor. I had seen marks like these before in cases. Marks like these were a product of a creature's incursion from the Realm of Magic into ours. This confirmed that I was the right man for this job. Judging by the size of the ring, I could determine the size of whatever was here, and that helped to narrow things down a bit more.
"A small creature with claws that can climb walls, and spoil food en masse?" I pondered aloud heading back to retrieve my briefcase. Only it wasn't where I left it by the stairs.

Goodie. It begins.

Getting on guard, I carefully searched around the sparsely lit basement, looking all around for anything off. Ominous chuckles and the scrabbling of claws on wood and stone bounced off the walls, coming from seemingly everywhere at once Eventually, I spotted my briefcase laying on the floor of what seemed to be a Maintenance Room. Clearly a trap, but if springing it would reveal what was behind all this, then gladly. I entered the room and pensively reached for the case. Then a shrill cry of effort came from above. I looked up just in time to see a small humanoid creature and the jug of bleach it just tossed at me. The bleach struck its target, nailing me in the head and I hit the ground in a daze. A chorus of horrible, high-pitched laughter erupted from around me as two more of the creatures appeared. One kept an eye on me while the first grabbed my briefcase and triumphantly ran out of the room, and the third fished through my pockets. Took my phone and my wallet. It was all clear to me now. Boggarts. Another specie of fae with thin, bony bodies covered in patches of greasy black hair. Like a distant cousin of Gnohz's kind, sort of like how Rats are related to Rabbits. Though, where Brownies are dutiful and helpful, Boggarts are mischevious pranksters thriving on making the lives of other creatures miserable, mainly Farmers in our Realm. Making Cows give sour milk, Hunting Dogs go lame, and ruining entire harvests of crops among other things.
"Right then! I'll get you little wankers for that!" I called out once I got my bearings, getting onto my feet and making a break up the stairs. I found them around the Deli counter, sifting through my busted open case, one gnawing on my wallet like it was a piece of Jerky. "Oy!" I shouted out to them. They looked at me and then back to each other with their big bug-eyes. With a trio of yellow toothy grins a hail of my things, wadded-up documents, and spoiled meats peppered me. It was the last straw. I charged towards the three of them through the assault, my body erupting in purple flames as I changed into the form of a raging Minotaur, sending the Boggarts flying as they scrambled to get away. As they fought to get back from the hard impact, I changed back to normal and retrieved my phone from the floor, running off to take cover around Frozen Foods. Once there, I dialed the office. Normally, I'd just take the form of a Dragon or something similar and just roast the annoyances alive, but I must be careful to keep collateral damage to a minimum. I needed to know how to fight these things.

"Uhh... Mr. Myth! The... Spooky Detective... guy."
I prayed I was his first call that day.
"Gnohz, it's me."
"Wuh-what can I do you for, Mr. Me?"
"No, Gnohz... It's Mikello."
"Oh... OH! Oh. Well uhh... whatcha want, sir?"
"Look, I need you to get the green book on the bottom shelf of my bookcase, and tell me how to deal with Boggarts. Hurry!"

After a while of Gnohz fumbling with the book as I snuck about the store, he finally told me I basically had to fight fire with fire. To defeat these annoying little pests, I had to be even more annoying. I had just the thing. I searched the store for the little blighters high and low before being struck in the face by a spoiled Apple Pie. Mocking laughter came from a display of similar pastries as I spotted the Boggarts armed with a supply of more pies. I sighed exasperatedly and dove into a neighboring aisle, avoiding the next volley. Next, I changed forms again into that of a "Squonk", a warty and blemished quadrepedal creature that resembles a cross between a Warthog and a Naked Mole Rat. These creatures tend to hide and cry constantly due to their horrid appearance, and their wailing is the most ungodly thing I have ever heard, just the thought of it brings tears to my eyes. For the next hour or so, I proceeded to chase the three Boggarts around the store on my stubby little legs, howling like the tortured of Hell the whole way. Any attempt at attack from the Boggart proved futile due to the Squonk's ability to dissolve its body into a salty puddle of tears and then met with an earful of bellowing. Frustrated to their wits end, they came at me with a mop and sponges, looking to sop me up if I dissolved again. I had them right where I wanted them. Once they got close enough, I erupted in another gout of flames and changed form into a Cockatrice and towered over them. Stopping dead in their tracks, they stared up at my newest form and laughed uproariously at the ridiculousness of a half-chicken-half-snake. Unblinking, I glared into the three Boggarts' bulging eyes and through to their very soul, slowly and excrutiatingly turned them into solid stone. It was over.

I took a while to decompress before calling Mr. Greene back. My throat was in tatters from all the screaming I had done and my head was throbbing, but I managed to recount the story to him, and he was overwhelmingly thankful that his whole ordeal is over. I convinced him to keep what had happened a secret and to play it off as a Publicity Stunt, giving him the Boggart statues as a gift before he rushed off to call in whatever staff he could to help him clean up and restock the store for the Inspector's survey. I stopped by the store the next day to see how things went, and to pick up some teas for my throat. Turned out he turned the stunt paid off big and the store was packed. The Boggarts became Mascots of the store called "The Greene Gremlins". So, Mr. Greene got to keep his store, Gnohz got to feel helpful, and I got paid. If all it costed was a sore throat and a bump on the noggin, then I call that a win in my book.

We now have an IRC channel! Swing by #project_vanguard on irc.rizon.net and say hello. I'll be idling there.

I rolled this character back in the very first thread and I've finally decide to give him a proper bio. Use him as a supporting side-character or NPC. Sorry in advanced if its a wall of text. I get caught up when I get creative.

Name: Jeremiah M. Estherson
Alais: The Master
Affiliation: Retired Hero
Power: Mental Manipulation (http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Mental_Manipulation)

The year is 1955. What started as border disputes has escalated to the brink of full on war between the two middle Eastern nations. With the treat of communism on the rise and America's high investment in the weaker of the two nations, this was a war which cannot be allowed to occur, So said the President. The assassination of a hostile nation leader, that was the mission for the young private Estherson and a squad of US Marines. This was to be a secret mission, highest on the need to know charts. Failure meant all ties to the US are terminated. America wasn’t supposed to be in there, so no backup. In the briefing room the plan was simple, out on the field is was anything but. Estherson wasn't sure what went wrong, it all happened so fast. The enemy where waiting for them at every turn. They suffered heavy caustlies, they new it was a suicide mission, they only hope it was a suicide mission they could win. Surrender was the only option.

The year is 1958. Estherson was trained to handle the grim aspects of combat, but life as a Prisoner Of War, nothing can prepare you for that. Hours become days, days become weeks, weeks become months, the very flow of time wraps and distorts itself. Torture, starvation, the every growing slip of ones mind into insanity. This was all too real for Estherson. That’s when it began. The voices. Soft at first, a never ending flow of a foreign tongue . Were these the voices of dead friends and team-mates calling out to him from heaven? Did he finally gone insane? As time went on the voices became clearer, more profound. These weren’t the voices of the dead, but the thoughts of his guards and the men in the compound. Estherson took this new found power and honed it, brought it under control, as well did his sanity follow. By psychically reaching out into another’s mind, he found he could mould, reshape the mind as it were a piece of clay. Eventually controlling every function of the mind of his helpless target. The guards no longer beat him, they were under his control now. So easy was it to will the guards to open his cell, forget all traces of his imprisonment and be render brain-dead. Estherson was dragged in by cuff and chain, now we walks out a free man. The others did not fair so well. But what comes next, return to the military, be the good little super solider. He had his share of bloodshed. Estherson remember the talks the squad had back at basic. Talk of a community built by superheroes, a true utopia. So Estherson made up his mind, that’s where he belongs. To use his new found powers to aid in the creation of this city and the protection of mankind.

Present day. Looking back at all the years, Jeremiah M. Estherson, known amongst a select few as “The Master“. Lives his life peacefully at his home in uptown Victory City with his wife Annabell. Estherson still retains all of his mental abilities but shuns away from the more barbaric aspects of his power, relying only on memory and perception alterations but never making them known to the public. Always making sure to cover his tracks ever since the incident that cause this once great city to fall. Estherson aka “The Master “ acknowledges the good the new generations of heroes are trying to do. With such groups as Vanguard and other freelancing heroes, has renewed hope in this old mans bones (but not that old). But his days of fighting robots and stopping doomsdays weapons are pass him. Instead, with his years of experience diving into the mind, he acts as a sort of guidance councillor to heroes who feel troubled with the weight of the world on them and to villains who seek rehabilitation. All is welcome as long as you act with proper manners. When asked about his career as a superhero, he remains as cryptic and secretive as ever. What cause this once great man to hide his powers from the city that needs him the most, we will never know.

He speaks with a thick southern accent, has a excellent shot with his custom side revolver, fantastic shape for a man his age, appreciates good manners and loves a good t-bone steak.

Name: Alan Tribble
Alias: The First Cosmonaut
Affiliation: Vanguard
Power: Light Manipulation (http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Light_Manipulation)

Most people know about the space race, who did what and what went down, however, what most people don't know is a question asked for the ages "Who was the first man in space?". Now what you read in books is nearly true, or about how far the truth will be told, the name people won't be saying is "Alan Tribble", the first real man to enter the big black void. The goverment was, and is, still a shady business. Once one country announced they were going up, you can bet the rest was. Everyone was trying but it was the british who did it first, MI6 to be exact and Alan was there man. There wasn't that much testing going on back then, it was a space race, the bare minimum get Alan into space.

Then came the day of launch, no one was there expect Alan himself and the people that helped build and run this one man spacecraft. For Alan, he had to be killed and in public, so for Tribble no one was there for him. No family, friends, no goodbye hug or kiss for the lucky guy, just him and his spacesuit. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Alan did it, first man into space, he beat everyone and as he looked down out of his window he saw earth, his home, home to six billion and more. But there was a problem, this was a one way trip and Alan wasn't told that, heck, from what he was told the spacecraft would travel around earth for a couple of days and then hit back down again. There was nothing he could do, no radio, low level oxygen and barely enough food for anything more than 3 days, but Alan, Alan did not fear any of this. He was in space, where everything was so much more beautiful, the stars and the moon were so bright. Alan knew he was leaving earth forever and it was only a matter of time before he would die, after all, he was a scientist before he was a spaceman. He simply grew to staring out his tiny window and the passing stars.

I think that's all i'm gonna write for now, I still have alot more to write about him, just not in the writing mood as I hate writing backstorys and would just rather go right ahead into writing a script for him. Let me know how you feel so far about this guy, and again, theres alot more about the present day Alan Tribble I know about more than his history.

>>41106
I stood across the street from the bar known as The Middle Ground. It didn't look like much, but asking around, everyone said it was the best place in town if you wanted a bite to eat and a drink. Guess there's some kind of reputation, place is owned by an ex-superhero or something named the Jackhammer.
As I crossed the street, some fuck head comes blazing past me without so much as a horn. I stumble backwards, narrowly avoiding getting creamed by the car. "You mother.." I pointed at the car as it zoomed past, gotta get it before he's out of my range.
Boom, all four tires on the car blow out, and the vehicle begins to swerve madly until colliding with a street lamp. "Prick."
Dusting myself off, I continued towards the bar. There was a sign on the door which read "No superhuman conflict permitted on the premises."

Walking inside, I was caught off guard by the sight. The bar itself would have been an unremarkable place, except that almost every single person in the place was dressed in some kind of flashy superhero uniform. And there seemed to be a group around one table who were all wearing various combinations of purple and red.
Place looks like a fucking gay pride meeting. Some people started eyeing me, I realize I had been standing at the door gawking for a minute. Way to draw attention. Shit. I made my way to a booth in the back, marking all the exits as I go.
As I sat down, I lit up a cigarette as I observed the room. There was a young man behind the bar, serving drinks by making the liquids fly through the air, twirling them like ribbons, and juggling balls of alcohol before landing them in peoples glasses without spilling a drop. Fancy. There was another man behind the bar, chatting with the patrons. This was a beast of a man, he looked like he was in danger of tearing through his shirt with every move he made, and his very presence seemed to command respect. That must be the Jackhammer.

"Excuuuse me siiir." I heard a voice say from the next booth. I turned around to see some fruity looking guy with a pink mask on, and little wings protruding from his shoulders. "Would you mind putting out that cigarette? Some of us are trying to breathe here."
"Go fuck yourself." I gave in response.
"Ugh, the nerve of some people!" And with that the fairy man turned back around and the people at his table all started grumbling.

The cigarette wasn't actually an issue. I could easily get rid of the smoke, and not even need to put it out, it's the principal of the matter. This wasn't a non-smoking section, and that guy was being an asshole. Then again, it's not like I was smoking for any particular reason. I didn't get any kind of buzz or relief from them, my body has a few involuntary functions, which generally work to my benefit, chiefly among them being that it pretty much instantly destroys any toxins introduced to my system.
I could smoke a hundred cigarettes and drink a hundred beers and wouldn't be in any worse shape than I started in. And I have done that from time to time; you can get quite a bit of cash making bets like that.

"Can I get you something to drink?" says a voice next to me. I look over and see a young woman with blue skin standing by my table, a notepad and pen held in her hands....and with two more hands resting on her hips. A name tag on her apron said "Amy." I had seen mutants before in my travels, but never any with such pronounced features. Aware that I had been staring at her, I removed the smoke that had been wafting around the table, and flash fried the remainder of the cigarette in my hand. "Uh..."
"Do we have a problem here sir?" She asked as her two lower arms crossed.
"Uh, no, sorry. Just never seen anyone with four arms before."
"Do you have a problem with mutants, sir?"
"No, of course not." "And I'll just take a glass of water."
"Would you like to see a menu tonight?"
"I'll just get a burger, thanks."
And with that she turned and headed towards the kitchen.

>>41135
"Excuse me, Amy." "That was the best god damn burger I've ever had, you guys must use super cows or something for those right?" She gave me a wink and a smile and said "Family secret" as she took my plate and went towards the kitchen again. I pulled a large wad of bills out of my pocket and put a fifty on the table.

I went up to the bar and motioned for the large man, "Hey Mac." He came down the bar towards me and said "What can I do for ya, pally?"
"Know any places around here a guy can stay?" And with that the man gave a loud chuckle.
"Haha, jeez, throw a stick. there's plenty a' vacant apartments round this part a town. Then again, ya could always shack up in one a the abandoned buildins' in the memorial district, I know plenty who do. Ya ain't from round here are ya bucko?"
"Actually I am, but I've been out of town for a while."
"And ya came back? Jeez, I know a few folks who'd kill ta get outta Vic..." His voice trailed off as there was the sudden sound of breaking glass and shouting behind me. I turned to see two men standing face to face in a shouting match. One had fire erupting from his head, and the other was growing large spikes out of his back. They looked as if they were ready to kill each other, when a woman walked in between them. She looked like she might be anywhere from 30 to 45, and walked with a confident stride.

She put her hands on the shoulder of either man and said "Now now boys, you wouldn't want to go causing a tussle would you?" She then squeezed their shoulders causing them both to scream in agony, and proceeded to force them both to their knees. "Especially NOT in my bar! Now tell me you'll be good little boys." And both of the men swore they'd behave and begged her for release.
"Lovely work, Jackie." the burly man said from behind me. "Thanks, hon." she replied. Wait, Jackie?
"Woah, hold on, you mean SHE's the Jackhammer?" I asked him. "yeah, ain't she somethin'?" "Then who are you?"
"Name's Stan, 'Loud Stanley' and they used to call me."
"Huh. Anyway, I also wanted to know if there's anywhere around here a guy could get work that's...not strictly speaking over the counter." The man eyed me up with that. "I think those guys at the table over there might be more help to you." motioning towards the group of purple garbed people. "No, no. I don't mean illegal activity, but I kind of require work that would grant me a certain level of anonymity if you get what I mean."

He seemed to consider this a moment before answering. "Yeah, I know a place. Run by an old friend a mine, name a' Sammy. It's a few blocks north a here, can't miss it."
"'Preciate it." I turned to leave but stopped. "Oh, one more thing. You know the incident they call the "Second Event?"
"Of course I know it. That's when me and Jackie decided to get out of the costume business."
"Right, can you tell me where that happened?"
"Told ya, memorial district. Why d'ya think the place is abandoned?"
"I have an idea."

just a quick logo mock up, nothing fancy yet. i like the b VP.

>>41136

wow demo man, I really enjoy your writing. I actually look forward to reading it all.

and on a completley unrelated note I just found my tablet so I might be able to do some art-type stuff soon.

>>41137
simple, I like it

Name: Majesty
Alias: 'Dhaki.' Will not refer to herself except as Majesty or 'Dhaki.' Sources say it isn't even her real name, but then..no one does know her real name.
Gender: Female.
Power: Electricity Manipulation
[http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Electricity_Manipulation]

The illegitimate offspring of a union between a Christian woman and a Muslim man, Majesty endured hardships from her conception; it did not make her childhood a happy one. Her parents would fight, for days at a time; yelling, screaming, it made the house nearly uninhabitable. Sometimes her father would say she was the entire reason he was forced to marry this insuffrable cur; her mother would scowl at her father and her, being forced to bear Majesty. They moved to America from her father's homeland when she was 6; the fights increased, but no domestic abuse had begun to happen.

At least, not to the mother; Majesty got the brunt of it all. Her father's anger, and her mother's anguish, seeing them both in pain all the time. When she was 16, she had asked them plainly why they continued to be married to each other if they hate one another so much.

That had been the worst night of her life. The anguish, anger and hatred boiled over and she was their 'punching bag.' for every frustration. Strangely, it had also begun the best part of her life; she had experienced the moment where her powers manifested at the most desperate point in her life.

Electricity began to surge in her fingertips; she could feel the power waiting to be released. But before she could stop it, the power went through all of her pores and she released it in a loud burst, throwing her parents back.

That was when they stopped beating her. Stopped taking their anger out on her. She felt good. Really good. Her parents both looked scared, and for the first time in their life, huddled together, scared for their lives.

She hadn't killed them; in fact, she doubted it had been much more than a small discharge of a few hundred volts. But it had scared them good. Very good. Enough to finally huddle together.

It saddened her they would only get together when their lives were at stake. Years passed by slowly as she worked on her powers; before long, she had a good hold on them. Good enough to defend herself.

Her parents didn't care; they just wanted her gone. So, when she was twenty three, she went. Putting the fear into them scared them into each others' arms. Enough so to rekindle their relationship, it seemed; at least, what remainded of it.

That was enough, though; after all..

She had powers, now.

Dhaki heard about this new city; Victory City. She hadn't heard much, but from the description, it sounded like a utopia; a true place where she could be who she was, without fear of reprisal or hatred or violence; and especially not fear. So she went there, expecting paradise.

Instead, she got Hell.

"What..? But..from the description it sounded..." She lamented, staring wide-eyed into the city she was ready, just moments ago, to call home. Looks like hell was her home now. It was time to make the best of things..

And for starters, she was going to clean up this city. If this was going to be her home now, it needed some redecorating, and she needed a new identity, a new face; something that spoke 'glory', but not something that said 'Look at me, look at me! Please loook at mee!'

For the first few weeks, she decided to forego that, at least, and look relatively normal; hoodie, tank top, jeans. The civilian thing. Surprised more than a few muggers when they found out she had powers. Eventually, she scrounged up the money to pay for her costume.

"This cost me a fortune," she breathed out, looking over at the beautiful costume on display, "but it was worth it. It's glorious; it's majestic...it speaks volumes.."

So, she thought; what was going to be her new name? Then, it clicked; majestic.

Majesty.

"I am Majesty," she said with confidence, "and I'm going to clean up this city how I see fit!"

[This is all I could scrounge up in a couple hours; sorry. The picture's...eh, I could've done better, honestly. Probably going to re-work it, but for now, it'll do. Might work on the bio a bit, since it's a bit..eh, not my best work at -all.-]

>>41140
Oooh I love her outfit. And her background is really well done too, with the conflicting religious upbringing and whatnot. Very nice.

a mock up hardcover for #1 of I AM HERE, i plan on making a 3 of these each telling the tale of Alan Tribble. starting from jupiter, passign by mars and then finaly landing on earth. theres also a variant cover for #3, most of these took about 5 minutes to make as there pretty simply but thats how i like them.

starting with #1 jupiter

next up is #2 mars

and now #3 earth, with the variant cover following

i like this one

>>41138
Oh, thank you.

LOOK AT MY TINY LEGS

GODDAMN

>>41141
Oh Dragon, why aren't you on IRC like a good girl?

>>41149
because it's not working for me

Vanguards updated

>>41150
Seriously.

testing out my tablet by trying to do what magi did

nearly success

We have our own Wiki now! Check out http://victoryproject.wikispaces.com/

Hopping down into the streets, I kept the goggles on my eyes before entering the small office building.

“We’re closed, business hours are from noon til eight. Come back tomorrow.” Came a voice in the back.

“I had an appointment, but I ran into..traffic.” Well if traffic was beating up several would-be rapists and then fighting a crazy chick with a sword. “And if your closed, why is your door unlocked?” My answer came in the form of a young man, dressed in a casual suit. He eyed me for a moment before ducking back.

“Ah. So it’s cape business. You wouldn’t happen to be the noise that the underworld is making about? Chernabog and all that.” He asked, coming back out with a coat on.

“So you’ve heard about it?”

“It’s common knowledge and Cherny was a big contender for ruling the underground. Him and his hellhounds would have ruled the place if it wasn’t for you.” He opened the door, motioning me to follow him. Moments later we were walking down the side-walk, with nothing around us but the quiet city and the night sky. “Now the undergound, which by the way is the magical community is scrambling for dominance. Every troll, demon and hobgoblin is vying for some territory.”

“Sorry bout that.” Gang wars where a tough thing to deal with, and when big contenders lost territory, the smaller groups would make sure it was a blood-bath to get control of it.

“Actually it’s no problem. With Mister Fantasia out of the way it means that weaker forces will fill up the territories and most of them are already allied with me. Or atleast made pacts with me.”

“Hey, you got the disney reference too.” I was starting to like this guy. “So you had this all planned out?”

“Kind of, mostly been busy with cases but I get around.” Taking a turn, I could see the pier not far ahead.

“The ad in the paper said you dealt with this stuff. Though I have a hunch whose behind it.”

“Ah, yes this mysterious Arms Dealer you mentioned in your call. You say he or she is related to another case.”

“It’s just a leaping of conclusion. But it’s the only one I’ve got.”

“Never discount fate, you work with an avatar of the gods. Fate seems to be on your side. Then again fate can be cruel.” Stopping, he dipped his hands into the waters. Pantheon’s little super combo did a number on the pier. Destroying the warehouse and several of the surrounding buildings.

“Wow. Pantheon sure does know how to leave a place.”

“Any less and Chernabog would have managed to escape and probably destroy the Eastern sea board by now.” He said standing up and holding a black box. “The soul jar. Tell me what was the incantation to release the spirits inside.”

“You mean the black stuff with red eyes and teeth?”

“Yes, those where called shades.”

“The incantation was Klaatu Barata Nikto.”

“Simple command. Easy for the human throat to actually pronounce. So whoever dealt with these shades knew who their customers where.” He said pocketing the black box. “And you said you managed to defeat the man who summoned them?”
Images of a screaming man, covered in laughing shadows sliced through my mind’s eye. “Yeah.”

“I’m impressed kid, even wizards have trouble fighting fresh shades must less a wraith.”

“Wraith?”

“Oh, that’s what it’s called when a bunch of shades attach to a host. But I’m guessing the host didn’t have sufficient control over them, so they went crazy.”

“I see.” So if I managed to defeat that thing because it went beserk, how would I do against one that was focused? Probably not well.

“I’ll have a wizard who owes me a favor analyze this. Trouble is, he lives in New York so it might take some time.” He said heading back.

“Wait, so that’s it? We’re not going to bust some heads?”

“Detective work is dull kid, you’ve been watching too many movies.” He gave a slight laugh but stopped raising a hand. “But if your interested, I do have a case I might need someone of your skills with. In fact I’ll cut my charges for this case.” The guy was costing me two weeks worth of pay. So of course I would hop at the chance to do something.

“Alright. It’s not anything illegal right?”

“Said the vigilante, no it’s nothing like that. Just have to deal with the spirit of a centuries old knight who haunts the museum.”

“Why does it not surprise me that the museum would have most of the crazy stuff.”

“Crazy tends to flow into this town.”

“Your telling me.”

“Wanna grab a beer?”

“I’m twenty.”

“Okay a soda. Whatever.”

“Sure.”

“Alright, I know a good bar.” And for once we got to a place without anyone attacking us. Fate was kind.

~Drip. Drip. Drip. The sound echoes through the dark. I stumble down the alley like a drunk who has had more than he can handle. A lurch, then a stagger, and finally I can't help but fall to my knees. A slight shift forwards and I can't go any further. Down I fall into a growing puddle of my own blood. Drip. Drip. Drip.~

"You're going to die? How pitiful. I don't see why the mask went through such troubles to find you if you were just planning to die." The condescending voice of Irvine sounded in my head,"I really expected more from you. Especially with how easily you formed a connection with Karr."
In the fading light of my mind the laughter of another voice chimed in "Right, because it's soooo hard to connect with the big oaf, ain't it? Get a little angry and he'll be knockin' down your door. It's not rocket science."
A third voice rose from the murky depths of my consciousness and with it an overwhelming presence of anger surged through me. "SILENCE, FOOL. I WILL DESTROY YOU IF YOU DARE MOCK ME."
"Ha, that's a hoot, big guy. You've been saying that for centuries now! Why don't you ju-"
The darkness finally overcame my mind, and I could feel the cold grasp of death closing in on me. 'Finally', I couldn't help but think, 'This is what I deserve'. As the words formed in my subconscious, flashes of my evil deed appeared in the abyssal gloom.

--In a fit of anger the bedside lamp in my clenched fists goes down and down and down deeper and deeper and deeper into my father's head. I don't know why this is happening, all I know is I want him dead. I want his blood to cover the ground and that's what I'll have. Smashing it deeper and deeper into his skull I only get angrier and angrier.--
--Drip. Drip. Drip. The sound of blood falling from my hands.--
--I hear a shrill cry to my right and it's really pissing me off. I lunge at my laughing mother with the intent of ripping her arms from her body--
Laughter? That's not a part of the memory. There was no laughter that day.--

My eyes fluttered open for a moment before shutting again. 'Back to the darkness', I thought, 'where I belong.'

Suddenly I felt something tighten around my neck and yank forcefully. I was lifted into the air and shaken.
"Wake the fuck up."

My eyes opened and stayed open this time. "Wh-what..who?" the words caught in my throat right about where I was being strangled.
"Quiet, I've got some questions for you, Phantom. They aren't about the opera, though if I don't like the answers you might be doing some singing." Through the darkness I could see nothing but two burning dots. The eyes of a monster. I stared into them and laughed. It's what I deserved, come to get me. The tentacle, which is what I figured it to be, around my neck tightened considerably and shook me again like a rag doll.
"Don't go drifting off into lunacy on me now, I need some answers. First question, are you a hero I have to eat or is there some other reason for that mask?"

The question brought up uncomfortable memories of my childhood, my dreams. my aspirations. I always wanted to be a hero.
"I-I'm a hero. I brought all of those criminals to justice. All of those criminals. All of them." I began muttering under my breath as I remembered the preceding days. I had been slaughtering all criminals I saw no matter how small the crime. I didn't care, in my broken state I just wanted to feel like a hero so I did what heroes did and defeated crime.
"albeit, excessively," laughed the voice of Jez in my head, "and way to go on that last job, don't let me forget. How many stab wounds do you have again?"
"Shut up Jez. I don't want y-your.. shut up." I mumbled under my breath.

"Hahah, this is a laugh. You're the one I've been hearing about just as I thought. And from what I've been hearing, you're no hero at all. You've been running amok in my city, killing off a bunch of the small time criminals. I have no objection to you having your fun," the figure in the darkness laughed as the tentacle tightened, "as you can probably tell I'm a big fan of fun. But if you're going to play games in my city you need to see who the other players are." The figure stepped from the shadows and brought me closer to it. The thing that was holding me was something from a nightmare. A man with ivory white skin seemingly trying to crawl off his body and large tentacle-like protrusions coming from his shoulders and back. He brought me to eye level and all I could see were his burning eyes.
"Hmm," he mumbled, "You're not screaming. And your eyes, they aren't full of fear like they should be." The man scratched his chin as he looked deeper into my eyes. "I don't suppose you've got a look of horror under that mask do you? No? Pity. Fear always makes the meat taste better."

My eyes rolled in my head and then focused again on the thing gripping me from the shadows. The color of them had changed from my natural blue to a glowing green.
"Witt, you fool. You might want to die, but I would rather not spend even a moment inside the belly of that thing." The voice of Irvine spoke clearly through my lips. 'This is strange,' I thought momentarily. 'Irvine doesn't often assume control of my body even in slight, he's mostly in the background as a voice of reason. Likely the only sane voice in my head.'

Jez chimed in with a chuckle 'Well what do you expect? Irvine's right, Witt. If you don't want your body, we'll take it.'

A surge of energy rushed through me as an all too familiar feeling washed over. My eyes glowed a deep crimson as my pain receptors shut down and adrenaline shot through my system. Anger is all I could feel, it's all I knew, it's all I had. I breathed hatred. I raised an arm and punched the face of the thing staring me in the eyes. I hate it when things look at me. I was no longer in control. I had faded to a voice in the background as Karr took over the drivers seat. The tentacle slipped from my neck as the thing stumbled backwards slightly. Stumbling pisses me off even more than eye contact does. I screamed and rushed towards it. The thing let out a chuckle and took a step to the side before I striking with a tentacle. I flew into a trash bin and there I stayed. I had control of my body again but it didn't matter. I couldn't get up, I had bled too much. Karr and the others tried to save my body, but I'd already used it up.

My eyes shifted and changed to a bright yellow.
"Well, it was nice having you as a host, Witt. But it looks like you're about to get eaten." came the cheerful voice of Jez through my mouth.

Laughter again came from the thing with tentacles. "Here I thought you were just a man in a mask playing hero. Those voices and that strength... You wouldn't happen to have a symbiote would you? How interesting."

As the darkness again washed over me I could hear the tentacled man chuckling to himself. "You could be useful with the proper training, and it's clear you have a killer instinct... Hmm, If you live to the morning you can call me Graft. If you don't I guess I'll get my meal after all. What's your name, 'Phantom'? I heard you say a few."

My eyes shifted to white as Karr, Irvine, and Jez spoke in unison while I fell into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness.

"We are Masquerade."

Fanart from the fanart dimension.

http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Duplication
Resume
Name: Frontline
Position: Minion
-Will work for heroes or villains
-6 months experience as henchman
-Good with children
Biggest weakness: Inability to stop being suave and classy. It is my curse
Were I see myself in 5 years: Being filthy rich
Why pay 100 men when you could just pay me
Nicholas was born to take orders and do menial labor, of course none of this deterred him (not even my terrible grammar) so when he suddenly got the power to duplicate himself things got a lot better. Always running in first and getting blasted to hell and back only to come back and get dead even more. Frontline doesn’t need an origin story because, come on, he’s pretty awesome; so awesome in fact that he needs multiple selves to contain all his fuckawesome.

-

what Dragon looked liked before she died. Gonna design the slayer guy.

>>41167

what program do you use to draw with?

>>41168
that was drawn in MSpaint

>>41169

Do you draw everything you do in paint? It looks great

>>41170
pretty much, I don't have any other programs lol
and thank you

Name: Dr. Mindswipe

Age:Unavailable, current body is mid 20's

Allegiance: OMEN

Power:Memory Manipulation, Any powers retained by the body.
History: Former psychologist which uncovered the keys to memory, rather obsessed with his work and the little funding he had he rewrote the minds of some of his patients to commit crimes for him. This was all rather unsuccessful as his attempts were thwarted by young superheroes trying to make a name for themselves. Observing the power of superheroes he gained great inspiration to continue his work, seeking to overwrite a superheroes mind. He managed to capture one and through experiments discovered that they retained their powers even though their minds were wiped. It wasn't long until other heroes caught onto his plan. Now a target he faced his true mortality and in this moment of crisis he found inspiration for his greatest work yet. He rewrote the mind of a superhero with his own, and managed to escape by masquerading as the hero. By the time the good doctor came upon Victory City the original Dr. Mindswipe had been killed, and the second recovered from his memory wipe, the third body now is the body of a lowly superhero who had great potential and power, but no drive so the Doctor put his body to greater use.

Demeanor:Dr. Mindswipe has become somewhat of a conneisseur of superhuman bodies, looking at people more like a menu that others. He relishes in the thought of taking over someone and using their body and power. Often his compliments have a creepier intention behind them. He also is suffering from gender shock, as the last Dr. Mindswipe was a female, and he really misses being a woman, though he won't admit it. He also tends to be very grandiose and loves to announce himself.

Name: Dragon (has no actual name, Dragon is just something that stuck)
Age: looks around mid twenties, actual age unknown
Abilities: elemental dragon breath, quick reflexes, enhanced strength
Affiliation: Vanguard

Once a real dragon living near the coasts of Iceland, she was killed by an unknown warrior. Several nights later she was reborn from her corpse as a human girl with horns and all her memories of her past life including her death. She traveled to the nearest village, stole some clothes and armor, and began her search for her killer. But to her horror she discovered that the same man that killed her was also responsible for wiping out the rest of her kind. She was his final victim. Even more determined to find him and tear him apart, she traveled farther into Europe for the man. During her quest, she learned how to speak and to behave more like a human, and even began taking side jobs as a monster exterminator or a body guard. For several years she searched for him but found nothing, only stories of his battles but never the man. Dragon began losing hope of finding him but still continued her quest. A full decade had passed since she first set out and still no sign of him, by this point Dragon gave up, and instead began searching for a way to change back to her previous form. She continued traveling, fighting monsters and ruffians, and even began hoarding gold again. She traveled all across Europe, Asia, and the Mediterranean, searching for treasure and a way to change her form. Centuries went by, the world changed while Dragon remained the same. A relic of the ancient world and no longer welcomed in modern times. When she learned of Victory City, a place for those who did belong with the 'normal' world, she made her way to coastal city. She found a ruined city, rampant with crime. But it was better than the outside, so she stayed and was eventually recruited by Pantheon to join the Vanguards. She still searches for a way to change back, but she is content with her life with the Vanguards, fighting criminals and collecting treasure.

>>41141
Really? Thank you very.

ANCIENT ALIENS

1/2
Victory City Museum of Natural History: Where the Past Comes Alive. Heh... It'd be funny if it wasn't so cliche. For the past two nights, the Night Watchman had been reporting sightings of a so-called Ghost Knight tromping about the halls. According to him, nothing was being stolen, but any attempt at resistance or even communication was met with words he couldn't understand and assault. So, naturally I was called in. Ghosts aren't particularly my forte, but when you label yourself as a "Paranormal Investigator", the occasional spook tends to arrive in your Inbox. Just comes with the territory. Regardless I knew I was going to need an extra pair of hands on this one.

"Kinda early in the morning for this, isn't it?" Yawned my temporary partner. Kid called himself "Striker". One of the lower-rung Vanguards. I scratched his back previously with some captured Shades after that whole Chernabog incident. Now, it was time for him to scratch mine.
"Not really. It's not uncommon for me to be working a case at this hour. Besides, According to the call I got, whatever's tromping around in there only comes out around dawn."
"Great... So, how are we supposed to handle a Ghost anyway?"
"Just do what I always do."
"Which is?"
"Play it by ear, mate."
"Greater..." At around quarter-to-four, we reached the Museum, meeting with the Museum Curator and Night Watchman shortly after. A Mrs. Martina Jimenez and Mr. Lester Fairchild respectively. Leading us into the main Foyer of the museum, Mrs. Martinez wasted no time in debriefing us.

"Thank you both for coming. This Ghost Knight has been haunting my Museum for two nights now." She said very curtly. Even at the break of dawn, this woman was all business. Can't say I don't fancy that.
"And that's five too many, as far as I'm concerned!" Interjected Mr. Fairchild.
"Indeed... Well then, Has the Knight appeared yet? Also, does the ghost seem to follow a pattern while it's here, or does it just amble around willy-nilly?" I asked, getting straight to it.
" Not that I know of on both accounts. If it was goin' around, you'd be able t'here it clanking in that armor." Lester explained, cupping his ear to be sure he wasn't going deaf. "One thing I did notice, is it tends to stay away from the Geology wing and the Mycenae Exhibits."
"That's not a lot to go on, but it's a start." Striker spoke up, tossing in his two cents.
"It's going to have to be enough." Responded the Curator. "I'll leave the rest up to you two. Do what you have to so long as it gets that thing out of my Museum by the time we open at nine, or you wont be seeing a penny from me." As a business man, I hate hearing those words. With that, she bid us farewell and proceeded to usher the doddering Security Guard with her out the door.

"So what do we do now? Just wait for this Ghost Knight to show up?" Striker asked me, idly swirling his foot on the floor.
"For the moment. Though, as long as we are, we might as well enjoy the Museum while there's no crowd." I replied, retrieving a map from the front desk.
"Man, you weren't kidding. Detective work is dull." He said with a humph, stuffing his hands in his hoodie's pockets.
"A little culture wouldn't every now and again wouldn't kill you, Kid."

As we waited for the apparition to appear, we floated about the exhibits, specifically the ones mentioned by Fairchild earlier. There had to be some reason why the interloper avoided these rooms. Something related between them. Before we could deduce such a thing, the slow rhytmic clatter of metal began to echo throughout the cavernous halls of the Museum.
"Well, well, the gang's all here."
"Fiiiinally!" Striker spouted excitedly before dashing out into the halls with my right behind. We chased the sound everywhere, but the acoustics of the building were only a hinderance in tracking it. So we returned to the main Foyer and waited for it to come to us. And sure enough, eventually it did. Clad in black steel Plate Mail that appeared to have seen a thousand battles, the Knightly figure appeared atop a long flight of stairs. Holstered at its waist was a whip made of Spinal Cords. He stood easily six feet high, but he could have made a run for seven if his grotesquely hideous head wasn't being cradled like a Rugby ball in its left arm. A sharp-fanged grin stretching out from ear to ear.

"That's our Ghost if I've ever seen one!" Striker said determined, snapping his goggles over his eyes.
"That's no Ghost..."
"What?"

It was then, the Knight heavily stomped down roughly a dozen stairs before stopping and pointing towards me.
"MIIIIIKEEEEEEEELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MOOOOOOOOOOOOOONTEVAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARIUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUS!" The severed head hissed like a whistling radiator.
"What's it saying?" Queried Striker, put off by the Monster's words
"My name. Run!" That said, we made a break back into the twisting halls of the Museum, the Knight hurrying after us. The sound of its Armor akin to a two-year-old rapidly beating on pots and pans.

"I don't get it! Why are we running? What is it, if its not a Ghost?"
"The Celts called it a 'Dullahan'. They're the muscle among the Unseelie Court of Fae, and this one apparently here to kill me. It seems I've been set-up."
We proceeded to dash through hall after hall like an episode of Scooby-Doo until we came into a large, wide-open room at the back end of the Astronomy Wing. We had to make our stand somewhere where we had enough room to safely move about without endangering the exhibits. By the time we had caught out breath it was on us again, lashing its whip at the ground most menacingly. Surprisingly, it walked right into the exhibit no problem before hissing out my name once more. For better or worse, the battle was on.

The Dullahan snapped its skeletal lash at me, and with my typical eruption of purple flames, I changed shape into a Satyr, my newly shortened height allowing me to avoid the attack. From there I charged and butted it in the breadbox with my sturdy set of ram horns. While it was off-balance, in came Striker, kicking a knee out from behind, and following it up with an expertly done roundhouse, knocking the head clean out of the monster knight's grasp and clear down a neighboring hallway. He attributed his martial prowess in having watched "Enter the Dragon" earlier that day. Never seen it myself. In a rage, the body grabbed at Striker and tossed him roughly into me before leaving to retrieve its head. The three of us continued to duke it out, but as the battle progressed, we were getting tired and damaged while the Dullahan was relatively unaffected from our efforts. With such a heavily armored foe, the best we could hope for was to keep it off balance and stay out of the whip's range.
"We can't keep this up forever." Striker panted out, exhausted.
"I'm inclined to agree."
"Doesn't this thing have some kind of weakness? Holy water? Silver Bullet? Anything!?"
"Don't be ridic--" Then it hit me. I was too busy trying to fend this thing off, I had forgotten how to fend it off. "There's a Creep Catcher in you, mate! Keep him busy for a few minutes!" I instructed before jetting off as fast as my fatigued legs would carry me. With that one comment everything had fallen into place. Dullahans had an aversion to Gold, something that the Mycenae and Geology exhibits had in bloody spades. With a prayer it wouldn't come out of my pay, I shattered a display of decorative golden Mycenaean spears with the fist of a Minotaur. Sirens blared throughout the halls as I brazenly charged back to the battle. By the time I got back, the Kid was beaten up quite soundly, but still had the fight in him to play Tug of War with the Dullahan's whip. I would have been impressed if I wasn't a charging, moo-spewing, freight train with horns. Not wasting an ounce of momentum, I grabbed the armor and slammed it powerfully into the far wall, leaving a sizeable dent in the wall. I tossed Striker the spear and the Dullahan's head with a gruff "KID!!", keeping the body busy while Striker did what needed to be done, plunging the spear into the head. With raspy screams of pain the Dulahann body and all bursted forth in gilded light and quickly disintegrated. With still about an hour and a half to spare, no less.

Unfortunately, the cost to refinish the spear, repair the wall, and replace the glass came greatly out of the cost of my services. "Do what you must", indeed. Humph. That and we had to deal with the police for setting off the alarm systems and quite seemingly attempting to steal the aforementioned spear, but thankfully Mrs. Martinez refused to press charges. Got to distribute my business card around the Police Station though. All press is good press. Once it was all over, I said my good-byes to Striker. Nice Kid. Wouldn't mind working with him again. Maybe these Vanguard types weren't all Grandstanding, morally-ambiguous, Super-thugs after all? That wasn't important now, though. What is important is finding out who put a hit out on me and why. I have some contacts to shake down in The Underground.

Hello, everyone! After seeing a thread on /co/ about this project, I rolled a power and actually got a good one for once. A such, have a prologue I whipped together. In two parts, because posting length and blah blah.

Police Commissioner Ralph Curtis had seen it all. As figurative a statement as that might be, he really had seen quite a bit. You ever see a man use a sperm whale as a baseball bat, and then proceed to hit the sperm whale equivalent of a grand slam? Have you ever seen what the sperm whale equivalent of a grand slam does to the whale itself? It involves gore and intestines, and you don't want to think about it. In fact, don't even mention that to him, it still gives him the willies. Can't touch raw fish to this day because of it. He caught the bastard, though. Delivered a sound kick to the sternum; shattered three of his ribs too. That was back in the days before the office and the desk job, before costumes were thought of as a means to live out all of those childish fantasies that you read about in the daily papers.
That was the old days; and god help him if they weren't any better than what he was faced with today.
He sat back in his office chair, examining a mirror that Jody had bought him. Why he needed an office mirror, he couldn't say. Jody had mentioned something about using it to prep for whenever the Mayor shows up, but Ralph Curtis didn't give a damn about the Mayor, or the Governor, or the Senator. They could all go to hell in a hand-basket; lord knows his city was.
Between shape shifters, skin peeling psychos, and the literal hounds of hell, it had been an average week. You wouldn't read about any of that in the reports, or hear any of the VCPD talking about it though. They concentrate on the “normal” crimes of the day to day; burglaries, homicide, rape, assault, all that jazz. The weird shit? That was left to a bunch of kids in capes who had a run in with the powers of godhood. Curtis sat back, breathing deep on the meerschaum pipe clenched between his lips. The ivory of the pipe mixed with the smoke in the air, barely reflecting off of the mirror before him. He had seen it all, all right.
Tonight, all he saw was wrinkles.
“You know, that thing'll kill you.”
A silky voice rang out from the shadows of his door frame; the woman of the hour had arrived, here to make all the troubles go away for a nominal fee. Thank the fucking gods, yet another obligation to deal with.
“So will your continued presence in this office. Let's do this and then get on with our lives.”
Curtis coughed up some smoke, before gently placing the pipe in the safe confines of its holder, adjacent to the deep, rutty tobacco he loved and an ashtray shaped like a tropical fish; yet another one of Jody's office 'enhancements'.
“Commissioner Curtis, you wound me!” the voice said, feigning insult. “And here I thought that my visits were waited upon with such bated breath- albeit tobacco scented breath. Seriously though, nothing I can do about the cancer that pipe is giving you. I just keep you chipper.”
The figure stepped forward into the cloudy light of the room. The lean, dark haired woman looked quite at home in the commissioner's office; she'd been making these visits for decades, after all. A smart suit trailed about her form, clinging yet complimenting all the right places. Brow eyes peered behind the cat-eye lenses she insisted on wearing; and yet, they seemed to be older than the rest of her young complexion. At least at first glance- bits and pieces of her face seem to darken and tighten at a moments notice. Her beauty never diminishes; much like a well aged wine, these fragments of changing flesh only add to the general flavour of her complexion. A casual observer wouldn't notice, but a man or woman who looks closely would realize the oddity- her face was ageing and regressing, one bit at a time.
“You look good, Harry.” Curtis grunted, smiling despite himself. She always looked good.
“You don't look half bad yourself.” Harry smiled warmly.
Her full name was a mystery to Commissioner Curtis, having always addressed her as Harry. He had yet to guess the significance of the name: a former lover, an enemy killed in battle, or even a bequeathed title... he had enough on his plate, and giving a damn about the names of his benefactors did not take top priority. Harry sat down adjacent from the Commisioner, gently removing the mirror from his hands and placing it on the table.
“I hate to keep this one short, Ralph, but I'm low on time today.” Harry removed her suit jacket, and cracked her knuckles.

>>41181
Curtis chuckled. “Time, my dear, is all you have. What's the trouble?”
“Oh, no you don't. Your information is ten times what I have at my disposal. Why do you think I tolerate your charming presence?” Harry smiled.
Curtis rolled his eyes. “Oh, fine. Get on with it.”
Harry nodded, and violently grabbed Commissioner Curtis' skull. White light permeated the room, and the air filled with the buzzing of a hundred decibels worth of static. And yet, as soon as it had begun, it was over. Harry collapsed back in the chair, Ralph shortly following suit. Her eyes lolled about their sockets before she regained her composure, and slumped in her seat.
Ralph, on the other hand, was violently ill in the waste paper basket he kept underneath his desk. He, in time, recovered, and proceeded to withdraw a bottle of scotch from a drawer as well as a couple of glasses. He shook his head a couple of times, and then looked once more in the mirror laying haphazardly on the desk.
No more wrinkles. He looked five, maybe seven years younger.
“Ten, actually.” Harry said, noting the shock in his expression.
Ralph's face looked incredulous, then darkened. “We've never done ten. Last time we talked two, maybe three.”
Harry's laugh tinkled like broken glass. “Maybe I'm feeling generous! Why the suspicious look, Ralph?” She grinned, and nodded towards the scotch. Ralph scowled, and dolloped out the drinks, while Harry sank back into her chair, exhausted.
“Look, I won't bullshit you. You're going to need those extra years, Ralph. You know as well as I that things are going to hell around here. But I need information. And you have information. Now you owe me information. Sorry to jump it on you like this, but that's the truth.” Harry drained the glass, sucking in air between her teeth at the burn of alcohol. She placed the glass back down on the desk, nodding for another.
Ralph was incredulous. He poured automatically, considering the implications of what she was saying.
“Harry, I can't afford ten years. You know that. Christ, I don't want ten more fucking years. You agreed to get me to retirement, but that was it. I can't give you ten years worth.” He sipped at the drink, staring at her old, dark eyes. They had seen a lot, those eyes.
“Commissioner Curtis, what's done is done. I'm not taking them back. Now, if you please, regale me with a yarn about the good old days, before everything was awful and people were terrible and this city hadn't gone to shit. Oh! Wait. I have a better idea.” The old eyes glinted. “I'll tell you a story. A story about costumed teams.”
Commissioner Curtis shuddered involuntarily. Teams meant confrontation.
“The VCPD has no knowledge about O.M.E.N, or its whereabouts, and any reports of costumed protagonists utilizing vigilante methods have been exaggerated, and will be dealt with to the fullest extent of the law!” Commissioner Curtis shouted, grinning despite himself. Harry smiled back.
Ralph settle back, sipping on his drink.
“You want to know about teams, eh? Imagine a pressure cooker filled to the brim with nitroglycerin, set the dial to 11, and you have your average squad of capes. Personal drama, combined with incredible stress and life threatening situations, all mixed in with incredible super powers? Its a toxic, explosive combination. I know from experience; avoid them at all cost.” Ralph checked the draw on his pipe, and proceeded to carefully light it. Wafts of smoke clouded the air between him and Harry. He sat thoughtfully for a moment while she stared at him, before arriving at a conclusion.
“They won't want your services, Harry. Let them fight and die in their own way. The time for capes is over.”
She shrugged, sipping the scotch. “We'll see about that.”

>>41182

not bad at all

>>41052
Pandaro is the chosen servant of Three-Faced Hecate, ancient Goddess of Magic!

I am more than a 'parademon'.

Name- Allisson Wrigley

Alias - Gumball

Afilliation - No teams as of now but she is currently under Contract with Lotso Bubble BubbleGum Co.

Power - Adhesive Secretion (http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Adhesive_Secretion) and general annoyance

Bio-
"College student," If you asked 6 months ago who Alisson Wrigley was, that would be her only claim to fame; and that was if you asked the .01 percent of people in the world who knew she even existed. Ask the other 99.99 percent and all you'd get was a blank stare, this fact infuriated Allisson.

The mere thought that some people died without ever being recognized for their true worth was a travesty to her. Allisson oftentimes went out of her way to notice and be noticed...it wasn't attention whoring. It was simply the natural state of things

It was an obsession to her for as long as she could remember. Allisson grew up alone with her father (her mother died a year after she was born). He was a cop, a damn good one but his work kept him away from home most of the time, he was out stopping crime. But the mind of a child can't really comprehend such abstract thoughts, all Allisson knew was that she was alone, no mother, no father...just loneliness.

To combat this feeling Allisson acted out; loud, obnoxious and, a nuisance, these words came to describe the 12 year old Allisson. It got to the point when her father was called in and upon hearing how she was acting he was furious and for the first time in "I thought I raised you better", shamed, embarrassed with tears in her eyes Allisson blurted out

"You didn't raise me, you're never even there for me. I wish it was you who died instead of mom."

More out of shock then anger she ran home as hard as she could.

>>41187
After this outburst her father took her out to dinner and tried to explain why he wasn't always home but Allisson didn't care. She went into a fit and ran out of the diner eyes closed. She never noticed the man in the trench coat walk in, she never saw him pull out a gun, and she never saw her father tackle him to the floor. She heard the shots though. Allisson returned just in time to see her father, on the floor in a pool of blood. Clutching his hand she apologized, cried and begged. He simply smiled and said

"Looks like I won't make it home tonight."

For the first time in her life she understood what he did and why he was never home. Her father was a hero. Allisson decided to become a doctor, a hero, someone who could save lives just like her father. But something still bothered her, most of the time she was behind a desk, writing papers, and reading books and NONE of this was helping anyone.

During one of these study sessions Allisson was approached by a suit. A suit named Pepper Smith a talent agent working at Lotso Bubbles Bubblegum Co., he offered her a position as the companies spokesmodel. Allisson brushed him off claiming this wouldn't help save any ones life. Pepper was persistent and assured her that with the amount of money she would make Allisson would be able to help anyone she wanted. Allisson reluctantly agreed to try it out.

Pepper took her on a tour of the Gum factory explaining all the inner working of gum and gum related things, Allisson didn't care, she was sure she'd eventually turn down the offer despite the money promised. Pepper, noticing her disinterest, began speaking louder.

"Right above us is our newest product, a gum that never loses its stickiness or flavor. I'm really not supposed to show this to you, it's still in development so don't get too clo--"

A loud noise and a strawberry scent shook her back into focus, just in time for the pain. The huge vat the gum was housed in exploded drenching her in it. Nose and mouth blocked, allison couldn't breathe. Ears and eyes blocked, she couldn't see or hear. Pores and glands blocked, under those pounds of gum even sweating was impossible. Consciousness fading, even her thinking was blocked...then it all went white.

Allisson woke up in a hospital bed, to her left the first this she saw was Pepper. He'd clearly been stressed.

"Oh god you're up!!! I thought you were dead, the corporates been going wild. The media would've had a field day with this. Oh this is great."

"What happened"

"Huh...Oh. The vat holding our new product exploded...you were right below it. We thought you died."

"I don't feel any pain.."

"Thats another thing. After we brought you in the doctors said you were fine up until they took a blood test. Your DNA isn't human anymore, it seems the new chemical we were using has bonded with you...you have a makeup similar to Cryanoacrylate or super glue...they couldn't explain it. The Doc also said there'd be some side effects"

"Like?"

"Touch the wall"
Allisson tried to walk toward the wall it seemed impossible to get up, even after she did her bedsheet followed behind. She placed her hand on the wall and underneath her palm some pink liquid oozed out. When she tried to pull away she couldn't. Allisson wrenched her hand away, taking some wall with it, and fell to the floor.

"Ally, we understand if you want to sue us, but please reconsider...we only wan-"

"I'll do it"

Allisson decided hospital bed she'd do it, she'd work for the gum company, she'd do whatever they asked because they gave it to her. She finally had it, she finally found what was missing, with this she could help people, with this power she could make sure no tragedy ever happened again. With this she could become a hero.
Things were looking up.

just another quick mock up of Dot, plan on using her for a story with Cosmo. i'll explane more things on the wiki as i think.

Name: Elegy
Alias: Julianne Smith
Affiliation: OMEN
Power: Power Bestowal ( http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Power_Bestowal )

Julianne Smith was an ordinary lass, a little lady from the bayou. She lived in the docks, fished with the crocs, and had fun during Gras. He life was simple and it was good.

That is, until she met him. He was a glorious man, so bright and wonderful, so sweet and endearing, but he would have nothing of her. So she stalked him. Every time she had free, she would be behind him, and follow him. One particularly cold night, she followed him up down to the shores of the nearby lake, into the caves below. And that is where she found it. He was no more then a tentacle, a protrusion of Shoggoth into this realm. and it was there that they caught her and peered deep into her, and pulled her mind into the deep realms.

She did leave the cave eventually, almost no difference from before at first glance, but upon closer inspection one would realize her head was as empty as a pot of gumbo after Mardi. Now with little driving her but some bubbly thoughts, she would go to act as an agent of shoggoth. She returned to her town and eventually created a brothel and shop, and made deals with the worst of the worst. She would grant you great power for a small and simple price: your soul.

She continued to work from the town, until an overzealous pastor moved in, and singled her out as the cause of the problems there. They drove her out, along with her cohorts, and she was left with nowhere to go.

That is, until she met Doctor Mindswipe...

Name: Jeremy Ortelli
Alias: The Monger
Affiliation: Hell, Merchant/ Middleman
Powers: Hellfire manipulation (http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Hell-Fire_Manipulation)

In his past life, Jeremy Ortelli was the head of a large conglomerate in Victory City. Naturally, you don’t get to be big in the world of business without commiting a few sins. Jeremy was exceptional at it, commiting much more than a few in his time. It would’ve been no surprise to anybody that, when Jeremy finally died, he ended up in front of the devil himself.

Also a shrewd business man, the devil saw potential in Jeremy. The two began haggling over a deal: Jeremy would serve Satan in exchange for prolonging his final judgement. The terms of the agreement:

-Every new moon Jeremy must have at least 13 new souls to provide the devil with to continue living. Should Jeremy lack the minimum amount agreed upon, he would be dragged back into hell to receive his punishment.
-Jeremy has to provide fuel to the sinful lifestyles gripping many in Victory City.
-Jeremy must act as Satan’s middleman in Victory City, brokering deals between potential patrons of the devil’s power and the Dark Lord himself.

In return, Jeremy was once again given life. Satan also threw in an extra perk: the ability to summon and manipulate the blue fires of hell. Taking up the new title ‘The Monger,’ Jeremy proceeded to insert himself into Victory City’s underground and quickly rose to the top. Now the city’s top middle man, he’s the go-to guy whenever someone is searching for something. Hero, villain, cop or criminal, if there’s information to be sold or a deal to be made the Monger is willing to help.

His office is located at 1627 Roosevelt Avenue. Appointment required.

Graft:

Dermalmancer,
Cutting up questions to find the answer,
Deep in the stomach of the city
Like I was cancer
Incurable,
Stomping so loud you think you hear a bull,
Getting closer still,
Now the fear is real.
I take a chainsaw to your neck
And cut you out that family tree
And when they see the life,
They pray to be all right,
But I leave the night
The same way that I found it.
Dark, cold, and full of fear
Keep my name out of your mouth
Or I might appear
Don't be a scaredy cat,
Horrified, in fact, that
I'm already here.
I'm watching you while you sleep.
Might as well call me Radiohead,
Because I'm a fuckin creep.

Striker:

Yeah, you're a creep,
And you're a loser.
And you're the one who put me to sleep,
Because your shit's a snoozer.
I don't want to abuse ya,
But when I see an opportunity to win,
I gotta use ya.
Like a springboard, jumping so high
Say hallelujah
I've got the moves of the greatest,
In the ranks of the best
I am the latest
And I'll say this,
'You are the lamest.
You're a freakshow,
So ugly that when you jerk off
You still keep the lights low
And I'm Striker so you got to know
That I keep the hits coming so fast
That it's impossibo
Oh my god, I think I rocked the boat
Only reason I'm still going on
Is 'cause I like to gloat.

POSTAN' ART OH GOD I'M SORRY I REALLY DO NEED TO WRITE SOMETHING BUT MY HEAD ASPLODE

lololol

I need to make a new one for the newest portrait but heres the old one.

BEARFISTS

>>41201

BEARTHULU

>>41181
>>41182
I'm not entirely sure I like the idea of the Commissioner going through a de-aging process.
It just seems like he's not the type who would want to prolong his stay on the Earth in any unnatural manner.

I mean, it obviously seems like you're going somewhere with this, but I just don't know if I like it is all.

rough idea for the commissioner?

"Welcome to the show, everybody. I'm Nick MacNeely and this is Hero Talk." The man in his plain grey suit stared across a desk toward one of three large video cameras and grins as the in-house band sounded off with a triumphant tune. Nick shuffled a pile of papers around in front of him and then pushed them into a neat stack, tapping the rigid pagebottoms against the desktop in a showy and practiced fashion. "So how is everyone tonight? Excited? I know Jim is."
A member of the show's band gave a big smile and hearty laugh. "You know it, Nick."
Nick leaned forward in his seat. "Jim loooves seeing big-league names here on the show. Now you all know what Hero Talk is about: getting superheroes on the air so they can get their messages out. We also like to simply learn a bit about our guest in a more personal way; y'know, more personal than researching their Wikipedia article.
The audience laughed.
"But Jim is right to be excited, because our first guest tonight is a real big name here in Victory City. Please give a round of applause for Vanguard heartthrob Psykhe!"
The audience erupted with the noise of hands clapping. From the left of the studio, a teenage girl with bobbed black hair scampered across the stage, waving to the audience as she made her way to the host's desk. Nick met her and gave her a friendly hug before kindly motioning for the girl to sit down on the guests' sofa.
"Psykhe, good to see you! I love the dress--very cute. And I say this with total adoration, but I didn't expect you to be so petite!" Nick said with a polite chuckle.
"You know what they say about TV making you look ten pounds heavier." Psykhe shrugged.
"Oh, now I didn't mean it that way. It's just that you're the same height as my granddaughter. Here, take a look at this photo of the Vanguard. Now, when we see you in pictures and videos with your fellow team mates, you're pretty tall compared to most of the girls and even some of the men. But seeing you now, I must be as tall as Pantheon! Is Vanguard full of short people?"
"Um, no, Nick. Actually, they're all pretty normal. A few of us are, however, kinda on the towering side. As you mentioned, Pantheon is one; and Jotunn and Black Bomber as well."
"So what's the deal? Is one of your super powers the ability to alter your height?"
The audience laughs again.
"I have a tendency to float. I really try my best to walk as much as possible, but it's just something I grew up doing."
"Ah, yeah, you're a pretty talented flier. You are one of the few Vanguards that have that ability, correct?"
"Mhm."
"Could you tell us ground-dwellers what it's like soaring around up there?"
"Eh, I'm not sure... That's like asking someone to describe what it's like to walk. It's just such a regular thing to me that it doesn't even cross my mind."
"I see. Well we've all seen you go fast; really fast. Just how quickly can you fly, exactly?"
Let's see... there was this fighter jet that was chasing me this one time, and I later read that that can go at about two-thousand miles per hour tops."
"And obviously you managed to get away."
"It was like trying to outrun a snail, to tell the truth."
"Wow. That's incredible. Why doesn't the U.S. military have a fleet of you in production?"
Another burst of laughter from the audience.
"So next time we see a shooting star, it's probably you, right?"
"Might be." Psykhe smiled.
Nick leafed through his notesfor a moment before returning his attention to his guest. "And you really are like a fighter jet, aren't you? Like some future plane armed with lasers. Lasers! That's amazing. Tell us a little about that."
"I can't say too much, Nick. Sorry. That's classified, as they say."
"Ah. Well I saw that video on youtube where you blew up an entire skyscraper with a gesture during your fight against Conniption back in 2008. I never looked at superheroes in the same way after watching that. It gave me chills. I think I speak for all of us here in the studio when I say we're glad you're one of the good guys."
Psykhe giggled nervously. "Yeah, the aftermath of that encounter wasn't ideal."
"I remember hearing that the city ended up having to reimburse the company that owned that building. Do you think that government support--even reluctant support--could make heroes like yourself feel less responsible for the damage you might cause?"
"I'm not sure. I personally try my best to keep the city intact, but there are others in the Vanguard and working freelance that might not care as much about minimizing collateral damage. 'Hero' is a bit of a loose term in our business."
"Well I'll be sure to take a detour if I see a pair of men in leotards throwing cars at eachother."
Laughter: audience.
"Okay, so before we take a commercial break, I hear that you're promoting a new album."
Psykhe nodded enthusiastically. "Yes I am. It's called Prometheus and it's coming out in September and I'm really excited about it."
"My granddaughter loves your music. Absolutely loves it. Alrighty, we're gonna take a quick break and be back in a minute. Don't change that channel."

So the question has come up about possible events that cause multiple parties to become implicated, a pan-currently-established-universe involvement. This is the sort of thing that interests me most, and I've had a few thoughts on it myself. Firstly we're developing the technical workings of the universe, and with it we are giving ourselves not only limitations, but also expansions, content to cling onto. For example, the magical and the mythical have been suggested to be powered by the existences and perhaps contents of alternate planes of reality, dimensionally separate pieces of the multiverse disconnected since Creation. I started puppeteering around with NPCs I was developing anyway, and found that stories sometimes just flow in convenient ways. My 2 cents, or suggestion, or hat in the ring, or what have you, is a story in which OMEN, the main villainous group of the Victoryverse, discovers a use for the research of small-mid time villain Slipknot, and coerces him into sharing his work for their ultimate profit, access to a power-source normally only tapped by the gods, a pocket dimension of the impossible, perhaps a power they find even the evil hands of OMEN cannot hope to control. I'm a bit slow in writing myself, but the good news is that I only need establish a few characters and some minor setup before the plot can be taken into the hands of absolutely anyone who wants a whack at it, it can be saved for a long ways down the future or used immediately if we are so inclined, and the best part is I can keep my part vague so, should this idea be rejected (and I am already imagining ideas why it would be), or simply left unchosen due to a different preferable route being suggested, it is easy to write it into a more minor background plot of the universe, or simply scaled down immensely. Here's what I've got so far, apologies if the origin story gets in the way of things, I'll work on this more over the next few days regardless of response because, as stated, the story can easily be repurposed:

It was a trinket store, the usual knock off chain shop trying to sell supposedly cheaply priced products of even cheaper quality. The front windows showed the kind of jewelry a woman buys herself when she doesn't have money but wants to add some color to her appearance. Behind the counter though, in the safe, and lining the shelves of the back, that's where the real goods were. Thieves wouldn't normally get back there unless they were seriously motivated and willing to risk the much higher security precautions. At that point, there would be higher profile targets, not this hole in the wall sandwiched between the city novelties store and the vacant lot that had a history of failed businesses. This store had been successfully infiltrated though, someone was behind the counter, holding a bag of stolen goods and cash in one hand, one particular blue gem in the other. He wasn't alone, not five feet away was the one thing that had gone wrong in the robbery. Police officer Franklin Mijade held a gun straight to the thief's chest. The glass door was still swinging, a robbery accomplice having taken off running with a larger load, without a second thought to her partner's safety given his apparent peril.

“Well officer? Are you going to shoot me or aren't you?”

“Don't tempt me, come peacefully and we-”

“You know it's the only way you'll ever take me down. The only way you can wipe this city clean is to become something even dirtier. No cell you've put me in has ever been able to hold me for more than two weeks. So go on, shoot.”

With a grin and what seemed like a thoughtless utterance, Mijade was stung. There was too much truth in those words.

“Well if we're just going to stand here and wait for that backup that isn't coming, why not have a chat at least? How's the girl Frank? The job? Last I heard you were suspended indefinately or something, I can't believe they just reinstated you like that.”

“And why not!? I'm a damned good cop, I've put more scum away in my time than anyone in my district, and they were legitimate arrests too not that jaywalking to avoid drug dealer corners bullshit.”

“Well if you're going to answer your own question....”

Frank sighed and relaxed a bit, they both knew how this worked, they'd been at it for over a decade. A game of Cops and Robbers, except the Cops were Robbers too, and the rules were more confusing.

“How did things end up like this Stan?”

Now it was Stan's turn for reflection. How indeed...

>>41206

Victory University

A space-defying explosion, impossible geometries of distotions surrounded collision. Reality was warped by the physically extreme interactions of subatomic particles. In this particular reaction, the university was interested in explaining and predicting the twisting of spacetime's fabric, and the strange resulting radiation, so graduate students seeking a taste of the research fields of physics were conducting experiments within the sensor and lead-lined tubes of the new Particle Accelerator.

For those hoping to “see” the results of these experiments however, the data was viewed through the obervation room which was filled with monitors and all kinds of buttons and levers to operate the contraption. Currently staffing were two classmates, Stan Chord and Ross Usles, who viewed the miracle of science as a quick green blip on a dark screen, followed by a stream of numbers filling themselves into a data table. The less-than-stellar display instilled excitement yet however, as the two immediately called out in obvious satisfaction. “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH.”

After the triumphant trial, of which there had been over thirty that day, Stan was inclined to minimize the spreadsheets and check the time on the computer. After this discovery, he began frantically repacking his papers and notebooks into his backpack.

“Shit man, I gotta go!”

“What the hell for dude? It's Friday.”

“Ah, but your initial assumptions are incorrect, for your reasoning is that I don't have anything to get to today because I don't have classes until Monday. Yet you have also presupposed that I do not have unrelated affairs to attend to, in an accidental projection of your own pathetic tendency to, uh, not have a life.”

“What? Bullshit where are you going?”

“I have a date.”

“Bullshit on top of bullshit flavored bullshit. With who?”

“Your mom bitch!”

Stan fled his frustrated friend in a hurry, running down the halls of the huge building that housed some of the most advanced structures of science in the country. He had a date, but not with Ross's mom. Christina Pryce from Speculative Mathematics class was waiting. Well, to say she was waiting implies she was standing around checking the time, but that was not like her. As Stan rounded a corner at full speed, he crashed into his date and fell back.

The look of fury on her face was instantly replaced with a colder, calculating, vengeful malice. He was paying for dinner for sure. A price he would be willing to pay for Pryce, this was their second date and he was quite stricken with her lively personality.

“You're late.”
Creeeeeaaaak

“I know I just got caught up in this experiment, it's really cool you see we take these uh,... “

Reaaooooooooh

The 5 foot radius pipe overhead that ran the length of the hallway and more was stressing from the intense reactions within.

“Well, it's not important, I'll make it up to you, I swear!”

Her demeanor changed, for just a moment. Christina was a mathematics student who earned her way into the university from a middle class family in the Midwest. She was bored with life and had a way of doing the unexpected, yelling across the silent school library to announce she had found the perfect nail-polish, or covering the girl's bathroom with lipstick graffiti of her favorite set of rose-curve equations. She had a particular fascination with complex fractal geometries, a paper on them had won her a place a Victory University, but it was more her personality that Stan was attracted to.

KasssssssshBOOOOM

Suddenly the pipe above shot out the screws like bullets into the hallway around the pair, they ricocheted away followed by a burst of light steam that Stan insinctively guarded Christina from. The tube above and behind him bended down, exposing a faint light and bended images, no one had ever seen such warped reality, but he did as he glanced back. The twisted space leaped out in erratic unpredictable patterns and his visual perception was rendered too confused to work with, with it his perception of time also felt skewed, were hours or seconds passing?

When it finally did pass, Ross was helping him up as if he had been asleep, Christina was under him, passed out. Things were still blurry, but Stan managed to talk to some faculty who scanned him and determined the radiation and dimensional-warping had not affected him, while he continually asked about Christina he was being carted off home, to rest. He was assured though unconvinced that she was unharmed.

“Only one for today?” I ask Sammie as I come by the desk of The Work Force.
“Yeah, it’s got special instructions to be delivered by itself down at the docks.” He responds as he hands it over to me.
“Does that in no way sound suspicious to you?” I ask.
“They don’t pay me to be suspicious. They pay me to get it delivered. Now go on and wormhole yourself to the docks.” Sammie says, keeping focused on the newspaper in his other hand.
“I use portals. And I’m glad you worry so much about my lively hood.” I sneer as a pop a portal next to me and lean into it before stepping on to the docks. “This better not be a trap again…”
As I step into Pier 10 I see what looks like the remains of part of a boat laying in pieces throughout the storage building. “HELLO!” I yell, hoping to find a person inside and be done with this delivery. “I have a package! Hello?” I ask the emptiness yet again. “Damnit, I do not want to be in here.” I say, sucking it up and walking farther into the building.
*SLAM!*
The door I walked in through closed as hard as possible. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. If it’s your package you can just sign for it and I can move on.” I try to explain to whatever closed me in.
“Kekekekeke…”
“Hello?” I ask the now laughing darkness.
“Did you really think you could peddle that stuff in my city? Did you?” The voice questions.
“What are you talking about?” I say, now thoroughly confused as to what I’m exactly delivering.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Lethal Injection.” The voice responds. Out of the corner of my eye I catch someone move. I turn to meet a man in a full black wetsuit with four red stripes on his head and shoulders.
“Who? My name is Frankie dude.” I explain. He looks me over and takes another step closer to me.
“One last time kid.” The man says, pulling out a knife from some hidden pocket. “Just give me the package, and then run along back to OMEN after I break a couple of things of course.”

“Look,” I say, throwing the package at him. “You can have the thing. I’m just the delivery guy.”
“And you aren’t listening to me so let me tell you how this goes.” The man growls as he closes in on me. I instinctually move back as he tries to close the gap between us. “I’m taking the package, I’m stabbing someone, and then I’m going back to the Vanguard. Hekekeke.” I go to run and before I can get a foot of distance between us I feel a tug on my leg and I hit the floor. I turn over and see that the man has a frog like tongue wrapped around my leg.
“Who are you? The Human Toad?” I asked.
“Um Pothan Duart.” He mumbles.
“What did you say?”
The man rolls his tongue back into his mouth. “I’m Poison Dart. Haven’t you heard of me?”
“Not really…” I admit.
“You really want to get stabbed today, don’t you kid?” Poison Dart announces as he approaches. Poison Dart lunges at me with incredible speed but a quick portal sends him flying into the wall at the other end of the warehouse.
“Ok, he can super jump.” I noted. I turned around to start running when I saw the package was still lying where I threw it. I ran over and picked it up before creating a portal in front of me. “It’s been real Frogman, but if this is how you treat people that bring you things you really need to work on those manners.” I turn back to my portal to walk through when I hear glass shattering beside me. Out of the dust stained shards of the windows a woman dressed in leather with purple hair landed beside me.
“You the courier?” She stated, looking almost through me.
“Yeah. This your package?” I questioned.
“Yep. Now hand it over and leave. Things will be less painful for you if you leave.” The woman said, holding out her hand for the package.
“Uhm…sure. Just watch out for Frogger over there. He’s kinda crazy.” I say handing the package over.
“A frog person?!” Her eyes narrow as she shifts to face where Poison Dart was lying. “Where did he go?”
“Right here bitch!” All I saw was a black mass kick her in the back. Now standing slightly on top of the mystery woman was Poison Dart. “What part of ‘give me the package’ DON’T YOU GET!” He yelled at me.
“FINE! HERE IT IS. I HOPE YOU TWO ENJOY IT SO MUCH!” I counter, tired of all this outlandish bullshit. I throw the package at him and he catches it. “This run isn’t even worth the pay anyway.” I turn from the crazy couple and head towards the door.
“Get…off…of…ME!” The woman yells, throwing Poison Dart off of her in the process. Poison lands beside her and takes a fighting stance. “I’ve been wanting to kill someone today.” She says as blades start to emerge from all over her body. “Won’t you let me have what I want?”
“Sure thing sweetness.” Poison Dart comments, as he draws his knife. “But I don’t play nice towards OMEN, Lethal.”

I stand there, awestruck at the battle unfolding. I saw on the news and that about super fights breaking out in the city, but never one this close. I was too drawn in to not watch. Or too scared to move when Lethal started growing blades everywhere. I’m not entirely sure but I felt a surge of adrenaline and before I knew it was walking back to watch.
Lethal made the first move by dashing at Poison Dart slashing at the air frantically. Poison jumped into the air and grabbed her leg with his tongue, causing her to fall to the ground. She pushed herself and grabbed his tongue and yanked it, pulling him in to her. As he entered striking reach she slashed at Poison Dart’s face and it would have connected if it weren’t for the portals redirecting her arm into her other arm. She clenched her jaw and let go of Poison Dart’s tongue. “You’re welcome.” I said, now running over to help.
“I didn’t ask for it.” Poison Dart said, examining his tongue.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I got him.” Lethal laughed, revealing a small blade sticking out of her hand. “I hope you lived a good life ‘cause I say you got about an hour there.” She started cackling.
“Fuck.” Poison said, his eyes looking heavy at this point. “I think I might need your help after all.”
“Why? What did she do?” I ran over to check him out. He looked ok from what I could but his breathing was starting to sound labored.
“Plosthion.” Poison Dart tried to get out but it seemed his tongue had numbed. Poison Dart took a step to walk away but stumbled and fell.
“Looks like my job is done.” Lethal Injection said, starting to walk away. “I hope we don’t meet again delivery boy.” She said, holding the cut in her arm. “Because if we do. I’ll kill you.”
“Let me spare you that build up.” I assured, creating a portal under her and above her. She fell through and continued to do so until she was almost a blur between the two portals. “Learned that from Portal.” I stated matter of factly before running over to Poison Dart. “Where can I take you get help?” I asked, hoping he had enough energy to tell me about where he could get medical attention.
“Vanbarned.” He wheezed.
“Vanguard? Aren’t those guys that new superhero team?” I asked, trying to keep him conscious.
“Vi-ory Didy dods.” He tried to get out, tongue still numbed. “Dod foor.”
“Ok. I’ll get you there right away.” I made a portal under us that brought us right in front of dock 4 at the Victory City docks. I picked Poison Dart up as best as I could and headed towards the doors of the warehouse in front of us. Before I could reach them they opened themselves and flash of light came out of the door frame.
“Hurry in. We haven’t much time.” The voice said. Without hesitating, I brought him in.

TO BE CONTINUED!

Here's a picture a little girl drew for me.
This scene took place after I saved her and her family from Hyper Heel, who was kicking people in Victory Park.

What a mean guy. I punched him in the balls.

>>41201

something for Masky

ffffffffuck he's done finally. I'll work on his info soon.

Well, I saw a thread about Vanguard and OMEN after taking a few weeks off from the internet, and was surprised to see this community thriving with the ideas! So without making people wait any longer, here is the initial bio for Pulse! I'm hoping to get some writing for him done soon. Also, before I post this, a shout to to Magi for the amazing artwork of my character!

Name: Davan Pennington
Codename: Pulse
Alignment: OMEN

Powers: The power and ability to control and manipulate blood in himself and others, even inside their own body. If he or someone else bleeds, nobody is safe.

Once a bright medical student, he discovered his latent abilities to control the very essence of life in others, blood. Originally believing in using his powers to help others, he soon forsakes it, drunk with the power to control other people and cause death at his whim. He spends his time preforming sick experiments on other human beings in the OMEN Labs as their chief scientist and exacting his will upon others to force him to do as he pleases. He carries knives and scalpels on him to cut himself open in battle, harnessing his own blood to use as a weapon against others.

>>41211
Hey, that could have been my brother!

1/x... probably 3.
The Underground. The Arcane Hub of Victory City. Most "normal" people that wander down into this end of town are turned around and sent on their way if they're lucky, others don't seem to know or ignore that it exists. Can't say I don't blame them. It's dim, it's dank, it's like an entire city inside a seedy tavern, and above all its crowded. It seems like every time I come down here lately, the population erupts. It's no wonder why Fae and other creatures from the other realm spill into Victory City.

I've been down here dozens of times in the past when I need supplies or information on a case. The only difference this time is that I was working a case for myself. Late last night I was sent on a phony case in someone's attempt to get rid of me. Odds are, if I didn't have Striker's help, I wouldn't have made it, or at least not without the Museum it was set in in ruins. Somebody didn't want Mr. Myth around anymore, and I had to find out why.

I theorized since Chernabog wasn't around running things anymore thanks to Timmy Toga, whoever made the biggest clog in the resulting Power Vacuum must have had a finger in this at the least. Last I was down here, the biggest players in The Underground's... Underground were the Fae, the Goblinoids, and The Mage's Guild. Considering my Assailaint was a Dullahan of the Unseelie Court, I knew where I needed to start. The Fae operated out of a sleazy Nightclub called "The Midsummer Night's Dream". Cute, isn't it? Though my interests didn't lie inside, but around back to see my man on the inside.

"Hello, Jack." I said, my contact quaffing on a bottle of Absinthe.
"Mr. Myth, what kept you?" He responded, kicking off the wall and over to me in a single fluid motion. Spring-Heel Jack, a rather dashing and well-dressed Rogue, is just about the only non-Seelie Fae I could trust. So long as I could afford him, and I can't afford to not. He had the skills and the charm to get what information I may need, the ability to slip in and out of Fae circles, and the martial talents that I'd rather not be at the other end of. Coming from a man who can turn into a Knight-melting Dragon as he pleases, that's saying something.
"Had to swim my way through the crowd to get here, and the current was not kind. I see you've started the party without me."
"Yeah, I know what you mean, lately more and more immigrants from the other side have been coming in. It's been getting hard for even me to get around."
"Says the man who can long jump across a Football Field. Any idea on the source?" I asked with my interest piqued. With the population boom well on the rise only recently, it may be related to my case.
"Ah, ah, ah, my friend. That's all you get for free." He responded, waving a finger in my face. He's like Pavlov's Dog unfortunately, starts to gob for cash when I ask a question. With a heavy sigh, I dipped into my vest pocket and retrieved a pair of golden coins that lit up Jack's eyes. As if they could melt in my hand, Jack wasted no time in collecting them.
"Well...?"
"Not good enough, Flatfoot." He spouted smugly.
"What else do you want, Jack?" I sighed again.
"Out."
"Out?"
"Yes, out. I want into Victory City as I please, savvy? I've had it down here and want to go run in the Sun, not just out in the shadows. Maybe meet a nice Human woman or ten."
"Fine, done. I'll make some calls, just get the Glamour Spell cast on you to round your ears, and you've got a deal."
"Oh... I love my ears... but you've got it, mate." Jack whined reluctantly, shaking my hand. Jack on the surface... This was a hefty cost, I just prayed it was worth it.

Once that little negotiation was over, Jack and I finally got down to Brass Tacks. Seems that there's been a new piece on the gameboard as of late. Whoever he is, he's been gaining influence down here little by little below the radar, and when Ol' Cherny went down, this guy jumped right in and stake his claim. Now typically only the clever, or the mighty have been able to break through from the other realm to our's, but this guy can open the door for anything with the coin to grease the wheels. All very interesting, somebody who could open the door for so many creatures could make things very busy for a guy like me. I had to look into this, related to my own problems or not. A Paranormalist's work is never done. Jack pointed me in the direction of his lavish Underground Estate. He actualy had more of the cieling dug out just to fit the place in, for crying out loud. I approached the front gates quietly. Either side was manned by a Dullahan. As they started to unholster their weaponry, I produced another coin I was hoping I didn't have to give to Jack. The pair of headless Knights recoiled in terror and gave me a wide berth as I nonchalantly walked inside. I didn't think it possible, but this place seemed even bigger on the inside. Treasures adorned every corner of this varitable palace. After what seemed like kilometers of following the main hall, I came to a pair of large double-doors, guarded by two Axe-wielding Bugbears. I couldn't just brush this one aside with some pocket change, but I pressed on expecting a fight. Surprisingly, rather than attempting to mash me into a gooey paste, they gave each other a curt nod and pushed open the doors to reveal a huge, wide open chamber that dwarfed some of the finer Ballrooms of the world. From the other end of the room, I could make out a bespectacled man in black and yellow robes sitting atop a gaudy throne.

"I see you got my message." He called out to me from his seat.
"Yes, but I'm afraid I also shot the Messenger." I quipped back, marching my way to the center of the room.
"Obviously. Though, I expected no less from you. You always had a knack for getting out of the trouble that you caused... Well except that one time."
"What do you mean?" That certainly cocked my brow.
"Come now Mikey, that hurts." He responded offended, standing up and dismounting his throne. My eyes darted open in shock. Only one person on this big blue ball called me "Mikey".
"Simon?" I asked, a question I already knew the answer to. No sooner than I asked, with a puff of black smoke, the man appeared right before me, clapping fervently and sporting a grin that rivaled his Dullahan guards' in width.
"There you are, I knew you would remember! Gah, it's so good to see you, Ol' chum!" He shouted giddily before shoving a hand into my gullet and delivering a blast of pure Arcane energy, propelling me back a ways onto my rump. Simon Esterguard. In all the cities in all the world, he had to walk into mine, and completely off his tit? Where was all this coming from? Back as students in the Mage's Conclave, we weren't exactly enemies, but nothing to this level.
"Wha-what's all this then, Simon?" I coughed out, the blast having knocked the wind out of me.
"Mikey, Mikey, Mikey... Or I suppose it's 'Mr. Myth' now, eh? You just don't get it. This is nothing personal. I like you, really! It's just good business." He said, beginning a textbook bad-guy monologue. Honestly, I'm starting to look like a Cape more every bloody day. "You see Mikey, after you were expelled from the Conclave, word about what you had done ran like wildfire. From then on the Elders had begun magically transporting there collection of ancient tomes randomly about the building every night, fearing what some more... ambitious little Mages could do if they managed to crack one of the buggers open like you did. Oh, and that just made the idea of finding them all the more tantalizing. Try as they might, if you put enough Mice in a maze, eventually one of em is gonna find the cheese. Years later, I was that lucky Mouse. The Chamber tied right into my Dorm that night, if you can believe it!"
"So you got in and got everything your little heart desired, is that right? Power, money, girls, cure for acne? So what's this to do with me?"
"HEY! I'm telling a story here! Alright?!" He fired back, staring me down for a few short moments before continuing. "Anyhoo... I tried to open the book that looked like the one from your great tale Mikey, but it was no go. Undaunted, I kept on trying the other books. I wouldn't be denied, and sure enough POP! One opened for me. The knowledge in that tome filled me up so... yummy! It granted me the power not only to see the other Realm, but pull things out too! Before I could put it to use though, the Elders came after me. They were going to put me in irons for what I did, so what could I do? I escaped into the Realm of Magic where they couldn't get me. Eventually, I made my way here to The Underground. My power made me very popular among all the critters down here, and they were willing to pay claw over fist to bring their buddies over. Now suddenly, I'm playing Interdimensional Travel Agent!"
"So.." I tried to interject.
"WHY YOU, right!? Always about YOU isn't it...? Some of the big beasties down here want to move their operations to the surface, but they can't do that when they've got a nosey little gumshoe runnin' around and stopping them from getting a foothold, and when one of their own gets forced back to the other realm or killed it COSTS. ME. MONEY! So basically, since you're the only thing in the way of us getting a drop on Victory City, I need you dead to keep my Customers happy and my Coffers full, OKAY?" Simon mercifully finished his long-winded speech. I was just thankful it was over, I didn't care his plan resulted in my death.
"What are the odds the two of us would end up like this, eh Simon?" I asked with a smirk, dusting off my pants.
"I know, it's crazy! And I'm all tore up about having to do it too, I am!... One thing though... Never have been a big fan of 'Simon', and I hear to make it in this city you gotta have a cool name and a flashy costume. Already got the wardrobe covered... so why don't you call me... 'Doorman'? No! 'The Gatekeeper'! I like that one, for sure." Simon said thoughtfully, giving himself a figurative pat on the back afterwards. "Oh! Right! Killing you, back to that." After snapping back on course, as it were, Simon rubbed his hands together and slammed them onto the floor, calling forth a small contingent of savage Spriggans from a quartet of dark purple portals. As if on cue, from behind came the two Bugbears and Dullahans from the doors. "Boys, would you mind terribly ripping him limb-from-limb? Thank you!" He cheerily commanded as he teleported back to his throne. Cheeky bastard.

As the small brigade of Monsters began to encroach, suddenly from the shadows, two objects whizzed right by my head. I turned my head to see a single golden coin firmly embedded in the severed heads of the Dullahans, disintegrating them on the spot. The Gatekeeper stood up shocked in time to have his head used as a Springboard for a dashing figure's mighty leap to my side. Jack had come to my aid, Rapier drawn and ready to get his hands dirty.
"Well, well, what brings you here, Jack?" I asked with a smirk, relieved to see a friendly face.
"Just got my ears done, and I'll be damned if you get killed before I can get to the surface." Jack replied, pulling back his Raven locks to reveal human-looking rounded ears.
"OH HOW TOUCHING! NOW START DYING ALREADY!" Screamed Simon, calling in more of his monstrous staff.
"Sorry, Simon..." I said, bursting forth in violet flames, taking the shape of a Red Dragon. "But I just couldn't respect myself if I let some raving ninny kill me."
"I'M NOT A NINNY! AND IT'S THE GATEKEEPER NOW!" He replied as any composed and congenial gentleman would, portaling all across the room towards me, only to be met upside the head by my scaly tail. I don't often get to use a Dragon's form, I'm usually too worried about the collateral damage that I don't let myself go all out. Jack and I knew this was going to be fun. Between his expert swordsmanship and my... being a giant fuck-all Dragon, we made quick work of dispatching The Gatekeeper's minions. Fire and Steel flew everywhere, it was glorious. Once they were done for, we took to wrecking the place most expertly. Simon fought his very hardest, trying to blast us away with every spell and trick he learned back in the Conclave, but it barely registered as an annoyance to my hide, soaking most of the hits, others serving to make the job of wrecking this Regal Estate even easier all while giving him a sound knocking around. That's one thing I remembered about Simon, he was a frail one, and he tended to get very easily frustrated. Part of me felt guilty about him and I tossing him around like a couple of Schoolyard Bullies, but the feeling quickly passed. Once Simon went and exhausted himself, Jack literally sprung into action, leaping onto Simon's back and pinning him down, Rapier to the throat.
"Nothing personal, Simon. It's just good fun." Jack taunted, roughly tussling his hair with his free hand.
"YOU AND YOUR LITTLE JUMPING BEAN WILL GET YOUR'S FOR THIS, MIKEY! MARK MY WORDS!" Simon growled furiously. Again, starting to look more like a Cape everyday, now I'm even getting vengeance threats from defeated enemies. With his vendetta placed, the terrifying Gatekeeper opened a portal beneath himself and disappeared to the other side, no doubt to lick his wounds and regroup. Thinking it best to not linger, I gave the joint one final gout of Dragon's fire to set it ablaze before changing back to normal and making my escape. Jack was not far behind, grabbing ahold of what treasures he could carry on the way out.
"It's a sight to behold, isn't it?" I asked later as we watched the Mansion crumble amongst the other lookie-loos who had gathered.
"Sure is, Mate. Just wish I had a few minutes to raid the Coffers before we tore it all down." He replied, solemnly removing his large Musketeer's hat and moarning the lost treasures. With that, I said my thanks and good-byes to Spring-Heel Jack before I made my way out of The Underground. I'm sure I had gotten some popularity with the other big players down here for deposing Simon for the moment. It would hopefully be a good while before he could pose any sort of threat to our realm, which would be nice. Either way, I had to get back home and get some well-deserved rest. I had some calls to make the next day for a friend.

Hey guys, Holiday here.

Just gonna' post this here...

>Holiday Deity Mimicry

As a child, Ebony had a firm belief in the existence of such classic characters such as Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. She greeted each holiday with a smile, celebrating even the minor ones with the same excitement as any other. President's Day was just as exciting as Halloween, and Valentine's Day rivaled Grandparent's Day.
As time waned on, her belief in holiday superstitions only strengthened, despite her peers' complete lack of faith in these figures. She was often made fun of for debating against children who claimed that "there was no Santa" and that "their parents had bought them it".
In her college years, her beliefs remained unchallenged. Even living alone in an apartment, she still expected presents on Christmas, taking even the smallest of occurrences as "gifts". A snowy white December 25th was just a present from St. Nick in her eyes.
Unbeknownst to her colleagues, these holiday deities were indeed real, and had been keeping tabs on Ebony throughout her life, taking special note of her firm belief in their existence.
For her faith, they bestowed on them their power, and a single mission.
"Every day is a holiday. Spread hope to those who are unequaled to your belief, and defend the innocent; the ones who still believe. Oh, and kick villainy in the teeth."

Her alias? Holiday.

If you guys need more information, just hit me up.

Name: Musagetes
Power: Solar Manipulation

The latest in a long line of servants to Apollo, the name "Musagetes" is technically a title bestowed to the eldest male of each generation. The latest Musagetes is little more than ten years old, and was given his power after the death of his Uncle. He never knew of his families heritage, but suddenly finds himself with the power of a god, and the responsibilities to match.

“No, No NO! that is wrong, Kouros! The Dorics settled Athens, not Crete!”

“But the Doric oracles gave tribute to Ares, didn’t they? And wasn’t Ares the father of the Minatour, who lived in Crete?”

“The Doric council gave way to the Athinian republic, which based itself in of Athens, named for Athena! Katesamoi, how have you not learned this?”

Musagetes crossed his arms and glared back at Apollo petulantly. “I haven’t learned it because it’s stupid and…” His eyes drifted to the literally endless lines rows and shelves of books, scrolls, televisions, server banks, records, compact discs, and other forms of media.
Daunted, he sunk down to his knees and mumbled into his hand. “And because the books on the Greek tribes are too high for me to reach.”

Phoebus sighed and rubbed his temples. “If you had listened the first time I brought you here, you’d know that nothing in the Museum is out of reach. Watch.”

Apollon raised his arm, opening his hand towards the high shelf the book rested upon. Closing his eyes, he softly hummed. As the notes took order and the tune took shape, light from all around the room—from the candles lining the walls to the sunbeams splayed across the floor beneath large, open windows—spun and gathered within his palm. From there the light grew solid and tangible. It pulsed and breathed with the tremors of his voice and the power of his will. The light grew, stretching out like an extension of himself, bending, twisting, and snaking upwards to grasp the high book. Alexicaus’s humming guided the vine of light, and with every measure more it grew. Finally encompassing the tome, Abaios softened his tune, lowering his volume and retracting the tangled web of light. His voice faded into silence just as the thick stack of yellowed paper bound in thick leather had reached his hand, and without the music the vines vanished into a thousand motes of light. The heavy book dropped into his grasp, and he turned back to Musagetes.

“Now. Was that really so hard?”

The boy scoffed, “Whatever. Just didn’t feel like humming, that’s all.”

The God smiled softly. “Of course. But now that it’s down here, I expect you to have everything in it read and memorized by this time next week. Understood?”

Musagetes nodded, his finger busily doodling patterns on the dusty floor. “…yeah.”

“Good.” Apollo placed the heavy book on the table and turned away from it. “Now let’s move on. Recite to me my family lineage, starting with my father. I will give you that much and you will go on from there. He was Zeus Agonios, also Zeus Alexikakos, also Zeus Hetaireios…”

Behind him, Musagetes tugged on his himation, fell onto his back dramatically and groaned

Power: Alien Mimicry
Name: Jack (of all trades)

Jack is an engineer working at NASA's Kennedy Space Center in Florida. He wanted to to be an astronaught ever since he was a kid, but he never had the physical athleticism necessary. He decided that if he couldn't be on a shuttle, he could at least make one. He tried hard, but things never seemed to work out right. He mostly fixes and maintains many of the machines used at the Space Center, but has yet to actually get work on a shuttle.
Now he spends his free time sending signals into space, listening to the game on the radio, and drinking a beer with his friend Sid (The head of the janitorial staff at the center).

One night, just after Sid had left to go home, Jack is sitting out in his backyard. The air is warm and quiet. Cicadas drone just out of ear shot and crickets chime in with their chirruping. Lightning bugs flit around the night sky and its hard to distinguish them from the stars.
Jack rolls his finger across the radio dial. Slipping it from side to side. As he lets his mind wander he loses a sense of structure. He tries to see as much as he can, but the immensity of the sky is overwhelming. The vastness of just this tiny bit of the galaxy that he can see makes him feel small. He regrets never being able to board a shuttle and he realizes how incredibly unlikely it is he'll ever get to design his own spaceship. Its taken him 32 years to figure out how far away the reality of his dreams are and that his backyard is the closest he'll ever get.

A melancholy comes over Jack. He continues to slip the dial back and forth and he breathes out long and deep. He thinks back to all the signals and messages hes sent out; the sheer amount of time he had fruitlessly spent. With bitterness he remembers all the years he threw away in college to end up here. A hardness comes into his eyes as he recalls all the pictures of ships he drew as a kid and all the time he spent thinking about the adventures he would have in space once he grew up.

He doesn't roll the dial. He smashes his fist into the radio and sends it flying into the wall. As he walks back into his house he can hear the crackle of radio static. He slams the screen door and listens briefly to the static, barely audible over the drone of the cicadas and singing of the crickets.

"J-Ja-kk." sputters softly from the radio. He grips the handle of the door so tight all the color drains from his hand.

name/alais: Yazi the 7th Son
affilation:Vanguard
power: http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Mystical_Martial_Arts

Hidden deep in the Himalayan mountains lay a secret building called The Temple of Divine Ascension run by the earth's oldest order of monks. Here the monks, tasked for centuries with the guarding of the spring of magic, train the next generation of protectors. Nine in total, all orphans, as this was the Order's way. Yazi, the 7th disciple, didn't know much of the outside world. They were forbidden from leaving the temple. But this did not matter, on the eve of the new year, Yazi snuck away in the night to the mountain base village. He had planned to return without anyone knowing, but the monks were waiting for him. Furious that he broke there scared rules and endanger the secrecy of the temple. Yazi was banish into the world and to ensure their secrets remain, they binded his tongue and mind with the strongest magic to never tell anyone of the temple or is purpose. Yazi now embarks across the land on his pilgrimage, eventually settling in Victory City with the group The Vanguards.

Are you sure that title isn’t misleading or something?

Commas separate the words… it’s not like there’s some sex monkey superman going around and making love to bananas, you know no one can stop him until the entire supply of bananas have been contaminated they think he’s going to stop but he just keeps on keeping on destroying all the fruit. Soon all the food is gone because sex monkey superman always finds a way he saves everyone, crazy twists and subplots everyone is in tears by the end.

Anyways...

My enormously helpful power of replication allows me to be at every bar in the city at the same time thus making my job of getting laid very easy and not too much work.

You wanna know the best part of my power?

I’m so eager to find out; I can barely contain my enthusiasm…

Being at every bar lets me hit on a ton of females without have to use an ounce of wit or class because I always get a woman.

Well, that is just wonderful anymore words you’d love to bombard your own ears with?

HEY… I’m the only one who talks to me so sometimes my awesome bits of information get screwed over by all the minds at work on it. Just my mind, but have you ever actually tried to write something or coordinate with yourself?

Wait a hell! I can’t criticize myself that’s retarded. You know people think I’m an asshole but the only reason that’s true is because the only person I talk to is myself. It’s hard being me I have to go out and have sex with hot women then go back out and get blown up.

My situation is like that whole “monkeys in a room typing Shakespeare.” Other people just have one monkey going at it, but me I got 100 just typing away, no wait I want them to be making sweet animal love on the typewriters. Take that authors you’re all so smug with your paragraphs and your rap music.

And I know what you all say… with your power you could build a lot of houses for homeless people. Shut up I get laid that’s pretty much my entire character. Have you ever just not tried to make sex with a lot of easy ladies, only crazy people can do that… so that’s why no one else has a lot of sex.

But what’s this? My story continues!

Technically it’s not a story.

Continuing now!

You might think what does this have to do with the whole fighting supermans and womans? Basically another comparison that has superheroes, so you can relate and stuff I hear that’s a good thing probably. So one of these days all of me jumping on you and trying to bash your skull in with a random blunt objects is going to work, that’s just statistics or some other relevant math term. Of course, the likelihood of me taking out a major hero or villain is ridiculous

But for all those bimbos that never have sex with me and all those monkeys who throw feces at each other instead of typing away, hell even the superheroes that try to get me down by killing me (a lot, I’m serious you guys just kill the crap out of me) I remember I’m not just part of the frontline.

I am the Frontline.

Based on a true story (you know, so I can add some explosions and famous actors)

I have got to stop talking to myself…

Power: Subliminal Seduction (powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Subliminal_Seduction)
Name: Penelope Gawade, aka Lure
Age: 15
Allegiance: Neutral (right now)

Bio: From the very moment she was born, Penelope's parents took one glance into her large amber eyes and fell in love. Of course, that isn't a particularly unusual story, except, well -- the Gawades already had six children, and they weren't known for being particularly fond of them. There had, as a matter of fact, been several failed attempts to have the children removed from what was generally agreed to be a pretty shit household. As soon as Penny arrived, though, that all seemed to chang. Her parents could hardly be spotted outside of the house without having the small girl balanced on their hips, and they doted on her with expensive presents - presents that they couldn't really afford, funnily enough. In fact, they changed from the sort of people who left bare cupboards while they partied to people who spent every single cent they made on their children. One of their children, anyway. On Penelope.

...And nobody thought this was unusual, not really, anyway. There was talk in the beginning, but all you had to see was how lovely the child was, look into her eyes, and it suddenly seemed to make sense.

It wasn't until she started school at six, that Penelope realized that she wasn't exactly normal. Other girls might be able to get their parents to do things for them with large puppy-eyes, but they weren't doing what she was doing - not really. For Penny could make people /want/ what she /wanted/ with a mere shared connection. It wasn't hypnosis or anything funny like that, it was that she could simply fill them with a burning desire for - for something upon a glance. In a school yard argument, she could make the other girls not only change their mind, but passionately argue in her favour. In middle school, boys would be caught brazenly stealing a test from a teacher's desk, and only be able to stutter that they needed it. It wasn't long before her school was taken over by seemingly petty, random crimes. Things that didn't even seem to make sense, like when the wealthiest girl in school was arrested for trying to shoplift new boots from the mall next door, and all she could do was pant that she had to have it. Now.

Penelope is fifteen now, and the most dangerous sort of teenager you can imagine - one who gets whatever she wants.

Name: Arthur Reid
Alias: Nihil
Affiliation: O.M.E.N.
Power: Negative Energy Manipulation (http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Nothingness_Manipulation)

As a child Arthur was a very forgetful person. Not in the sense that he forgot trivial things, but in the sense that no one could really remember who the kid was. He wasn't immensely shy or socially inept, infact he was quite smart and charismatic, he just preferred to keep to himself. Due to this small fact he never had many friends. The only "friend" he had would be his Mother, his only parent. His Mom, a widow of a war veteran, always wanted to keep him safe and sheltered because she was afraid to lose another member of the family. This caused a very "Momma's Boy" relationship to unfold between the two. Sadly that changed in his teen years. It wasn't because of teen angst, but the fact that he inadvertently killed her.

His powers, which just now started to show, are of the destructive type. He can control "Negative Energy" which is everything that is not in the universe. With this ability he can store power by "erasing" things in the world and converting them into usable energy. Once he has enough power stored up he can outwardly use it by making energy constructs or portals. The downfall to this power is the possibility of erasing himself from time and space. If he does not have enough negative energy to use or the object is too large, it will consume his natural energy. Because of this deadly detail he rarely uses his powers to make anything except the occasional tool.

Now back to how Arthur killed his Dear Old Mum. It wasn't in a big explosion or an accidental erase of her being, as you might think, but rather something a lot more mundane. The reason for the mother's untimely demise was a car wreck. It was Arthur's fault because he accidentally deleted a stop sign which caused his car to go speeding into the direct path of a semi. Now while he didn't directly kill her, his conscious sure said he did. This drastic and melancholy event caused Arthur to become even more introverted.

He slowly started to deteriorate socially and mentally. His thoughts faded into nothing more than "You are not good enough for these powers". Arthur's personality began to get increasingly more violent and less logical. The fact that the world was a dark place was Arthur's only belief. Out of hate of seeing happy people, he vowed to make everyone else miserable. That's when his attacks began. Arthur learned that not only could he erase objects, he could erase people as well. So for about 3 years he went about deleting insignificant people and things. His "villainous rampage" was ended, though, by some 2nd Rate Superhero who threw him in Broker Island

During his lifetime sentence to Broker Island, Arthur had time to think. He had begun to go back to his normal self and realized all he had done. What shocked him wasn't what he'd done, but how much he didn't care now. After the death of his mother he became so desensitized. His brain had gone from "Angry at Everything" to "Life is Plain". He no longer wanted to kill out of hate but out of boredom. After about 3 months of being back to his normal self, Arthur was contacted by O.M.E.N. and signed up

Kickasso is a beautiful arteest so I tried my arteestry on him

Should probably repost here

Power: Molecular Manipulation - http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Molecular_Manipulation

Name: Pat "Revenant" Arthurs


Bio: Revenant as called by locals runs a slum clinic in the walk-in freezer of a meat packaging distributor. Offering cheap "No questions asked" medical care for anyone who would walk through her door. Her clientèle will often range from the homeless to vigilantes. She is skeptical enough to remain neutral, not all that impressed with anyone who labels themselves a 'hero' due to the poor state of the quarter she resides with her clients and the fact that heroes would rather fight villains and thugs than actually do anything for the little guy.

Her power relies on touch as she can only focus the manipulation area from her fingertips to her elbow. If she phases through and object too far, she gets stuck, resulting a painful removal for both sides.
The power to "heal" wasn't the original purpose for her power, that was developed over the years. The strongest aspect to her power was to manipulate small objects like clay, regardless of the material and to copy the material of what she could find. Severely limited by the materials around her. Have a rock and a piece of glass? The rock is now a lump of glass. Hurrah.

Even today she keeps a keychain of different materials, unable to remember the molecular structure of any material after she copies it.

Costume? Costumes are for silly people who go on adventures and get into fights.

>>41262
Edited costume.

Oh god, it begins.....

Move your body, c'mon now everybody~

more kickasso

I was writing a story about my character, and somehow got sidetracked and ended up with this. Enjoy.

Please inform me of any spelling/grammar mistakes it might have, or things that simply don't make sense.
____________________________________________


In a dark corner of some bar in Victory City, there was a large man calmly sitting at the counter, all by himself and in complete silence. He was wearing a gray bowler hat and a black trenchoat, and sported an impressive brown beard. His hands were under the counter, and curiously, he was drinking whiskey through a straw. The man had been sitting there for hours, almost motionless, without uttering a single word.

Suddenly, a loud sound caught his attention. It was the scream of a woman, who was being mugged by a visibly strong man. The man at the counter ceased drinking, and a thunderous roar was heard all across the bar. The entire place went silent, and everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at him, including the mugger.

The man stood up, impressing everyone with his towering height. He took off his trenchoat, under which he was wearing nothing but suspenders, showing off his muscled, hairy chest. Most importantly, the source of the roar was revealed: his hands. If you can call them that, that is. Somehow, his arms ended in big bear heads. They were looking at the mugger and furiously growling at him. It seemed that while they had a mind of their own, the bear heads were incredibly well-trained.

A man in the crowd whispered to the bar’s owner: “Who the hell is this guy?”

“Fergus O’Toole is his name,” he answered. “Around these parts, he’s known as…”

“…Bearfist,” said Fergus in a deep and rough voice.

He took out a pipe and put it between his teeth.

“Are you going to give the lady’s belongings back, sonny?” said Bearfist to the mugger.

The criminal ran away with the woman’s purse and jewelry.

“Very well then,” said Fergus.

He stormed to the door and chased the man to a dead end.

When the mugger realized he had nowhere to run, he faced O’Toole and assumed a fighting stance. He clenched his fists and his face contorted with pain, and he somehow grew considerably larger, gaining an astounding amount of muscle mass.

“So you want to do this?” Fergus said with a smile. “As you wish, son.”

He assumed a fighting stance too, and his bears roared fiercely.

The criminal threw the first punch, headed right to Fergus’s face. He dodged it and caught the fist with one of his bears’ teeth. The man winced in pain.

“I WILL SHOW YOU WHAT BEAR KNUCKLE BOXING IS!” Fergus shouted as he punched the mugger’s face with his other bear fist. The punch sent the man flying several feet back.

O’Toole walked up to the man, who stood up, willing to keep fighting.

“Allow me to introduce you to my friends,” said Fergus.

“RUFF,” he said as he punched the man with his right bear head.

“…and TUFF!”

He delivered a finishing blow with his left bear head. The punch sent the man against the dead end’s brick wall and knocked him out, reverting him to his original size.

“Good job, boys,” Fergus said to his bears, who affectionately licked his face.

He picked up the woman’s belongings from the ground and turned back.
After doing so, he saw a big crowd cheering for him. Most of the people there had followed him from the bar.

He walked up to the mugged woman and gave her purse and jewelry back. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could emit a sound, O’Toole said “No. Don’t thank me.”

He then proceeded to head straight back to the bar. Once there, he ordered more whiskey with a straw and asked for two big vats of water. The bartender obliged, and Fergus placed the bear heads in the vats. They happily lapped up their contents.

Outside the bar, a bunch of lowlifes were talking about the man they had just seen in action.

“I’ve heard once a year, his fists turn into bears! I mean like, actual full-grown bears!” said one of them.

“No you idiot, it happens every full moon” said another.

“You’re both wrong, it happens after he drinks enough gallons of deer blood,” interjected another man.

Fergus went out to the street and saw the men. They shut up and stared at him in awe.

He kept walking straight ahead. Who knows where he was heading to.

Wherever he is now, he’s undoubtedly giving crime a hard time.
Because he’s Fergus O’Toole.

The man.

The legend.

The Bearfist.

>41286

hah, that's great but every time he punched the criminal I was thinking "that must suck to be the bears, they keep getting their faces smashed into things."

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that someone else thought about this.

Kahahaha! I am pleased.

>>41286
That was glorious

FF solo for FF

Me and my best buddy

"You never did tell me exactly what it is you do." The overweight man leaned back in his chair expectantly.
"Look," I began to explain, "the nature of my abilities is a very sensitive subject, and the less you know about it the b-"
"Let me tell YOU what's a sensitive subject!" the older man interjected "When I have to explain to the Mayor and City Council why one of my employees burned down a building, or flooded the streets, or instigated an alien invasion or some kind of crazy shit.
The whole situation had gone tits up. No job means no food or shelter. No food and shelter means I have to take things, and taking things is a good way to get oneself noticed. You'd think someone working with metas would be more appreciative of anonymity.

"I'm in the Disposal business." I tell him. But that remark only agitated him further. "And what the hell does that mean? you burn things? Cut 'em into pieces, disintegrate stuff? WHAT?" At this, he calmed down and tied reason. "Look, you said you wanna be paid under the table, I can do that, I don't need to know who you are." He paused there and gave me a stern look. "But what I can't do is send a complete stranger with unknown super powers into the streets in my name. I won't have the potential catastrophe on my conscience."
I didn't like it, but he had a point. "It'll be alright, just one guy. He won;t even know your name." my mind argued.

"I'm in the 'Disposal' business."
"That's it, I've had enough of this crap, get out of-" but before he could finish, the pen he had in his shirt pocket exploded into tiny fragments, which in turn faded to nothing.
The man named Sammie sat stunned, and covered in ink. He gave me an incredulous look . "Was that y-" but before he could finish I set to further demonstration. "Yes. Sorry about the ink, allow me."
I reached over the desk and placed a finger on the giant blue stain on Sammie's s shirt, and the stain began to gradually disappear from the point of contact as I reduced the ink to nothingness.

"Let me put it this way: I can get rid of things. Nearly anything you can think of, I can make it go away in some fashion. I believe I could be a valuable asset to any of your clients, and to the City itself. All I ask is that these details remain solely between you and I...well, and a steady paycheck of course.
At this, he simply stared at me for several minutes before putting forth a question.
"You're absolutely right. There's not a single living thing in this city that doesn't need something gotten rid of, and I'm nearly getting hard thinking of all the money you could bring to this business. However, how can I know that you won't go out there and do something crazy like make a bus full of kids blow up or something?"
"If I wanted to cause aimless mayhem I could do it entirely without your assistance. I'm getting a job because I DON'T want to stand out."
"Alright, I believe you. But one more thing. I swear on my mother's grave I won't tell a soul the particulars about you, BUT, If whoever it is you're hiding from finds you regardless, I won't hesitate to turn you over if it means securing my business. Deal?" Heh, ruthless son of a bitch. I like this guy. "Deal."
Sammie and I stood and shook hands on our arrangement.
"Alright then pal, when can ya start?"

lol stupid

Hey gents, just dropping by to let you know that plug I promised is up on the /co/operative!

http://comiccooperative.wordpress.com/

Lemme know what you think. If anything needs changing, or if you want me to add something, just say the word! :D

[spoiler]I love how this is the most active thread on this board by far

Leaving some old chefs for you

don't ask me why, just accept it.

>>41304
*Ahem*
WHHHHRRRRRRYYYYY?

>>41303

Maurice Monteblanc
Age: 24
Height: 6'0"
Weight: 215 lbs
Info: a member of the Organization of Classical Culinary Arts, He was inducted a year after the mysterious disappearance of his father Jaques Manteblanc on one of his many expeditions.

Kishmish Gadepalli
Age: 10
Height: 4'10"
Weight: 75 lbs
Info: the Garde Manger of Maurice Monteblanc, she was taken under the wing of Maurice (upon his entry to OCCA) at the age of seven. As a garde manger, she has the ability to hold an unlimited supply of food in her stomach, where it is perfectly preserved.

>>41301

That was mighty nice of you to do. I wish we had known ahead of time so we could fix some more stuff up, but I know we all appreciate being thrown on there with some of the other great /co/ created ideas.

Protip: Never mention Loki around Dragon

>>41307

Oh, geez, sorry! Well now at least I know who to come to if I'm gonna put something about you guys up, eheheh.

...no spoilers here, huh? :s

>>41309

It's no big deal, someone broke the news in the irc channel about it and everyone kind of went "oh boy thousands of people will come flooding in." Then some of them went into OCD mode about what needed to be done. I think some of us (myself included) just realized how lazy we've been about putting up stories.

If you ever want to contact me/us/whoever you can usually find someone in the channel at irc.rizon.net on #project_vanguard

>>41308
LOL saved

>>41299
:3

Hey guys, we have some new articles up on the Wiki, including:

Metahuman discussion ( http://victoryproject.wikispaces.com/Metahuman )

An extradimensional threat ( http://victoryproject.wikispaces.com/The+Sun+Kings )

And a timeline ( http://victoryproject.wikispaces.com/timeline )

I've been working on a diagram/chart thing so that people can display some of what influences their abilities. Passive and Active refer to the fact that the traits are inherent or "activated" like spells and technology. Stable and Unstable refers to effects on reality. It's a work in progress, some people like it some people don't. Mostly it appeals to my old comic book card collecting days.

Some samples of the idea, here's Jotunn's. Equal in magic and mutation since he's a frost giant.

And then here's Pantheon's, since he's pretty much all magic.

So after thinking it over, I thought it would be better to throw this idea onto the /coc/ thread instead of just sitting it on the Wiki and working/reworking it. I thought of a few ways to classify and categorize superpowers in the setting, and one that appealed to me were these charts, as you've seen. I've included some more discussion on what those terms mean, and I'd really appreciate some feedback on the idea. I've already had someone say it's a false dichotomy, so don't be worried about being the first person to drop that turd in the punch bowl.

----

A class of human which possesses supernatural qualities, whether they are naturally born with them or artificially enhanced through science, magic, or cosmic forces. Metahumans have existed throughout history, often credited as being either divinely or infernally influenced. The earliest metahumans began to appear in the BC era. Their numbers have risen significantly with increases in scientific achievement and space exploration. There are two categories of metahuman power, Stable and Unstable, and two subcategories of each one.

Stable Metahumans
Metahumans in this category do not possess what would be referred to as "reality warping" or "reality breaking" powers, and instead rely on enhancements pre-existing within their universe's various scientific laws. Stable Metahumans tend to experience steady progression in their mastery of their abilities, and rarely exhibit dangerous or chaotic traits.

Scientific
Metahuman abilities that fall under this category involve cybernetics, chemical enhancement, or otherwise science-based augmentation of the body or mind. Humans which use technology but are not explicitly integrated with it do not count as metahumans. Common medical devices, such as pacemakers, also do not qualify for this category.

Metahumans in this category may include:
Graft
Dusk Edge
Big Gun
Dr. Mindswipe
Bombadier
Masquerade

Cosmic
Humans who have received their abilities either through cosmic radiation or cosmic entities existing within their dimension. Like mutants, their genetic structure may have been rewritten, but they cannot pass their abilities through genetic inheritance. Many Cosmic Metahumans are also heavily influenced by alien entities and technology.

Metahumans in this category may include:
Psykhe
Demolition Man

Unstable Metahumans
Metahumans in this category may possess abilities which are considered absurd, reality-warping, or otherwise seeming to originate from an alternate reality. Their existence and the use of their powers has been known to be the cause of "The Thinning," an uncommonly studied and barely understood phenomena involving a weakening of the barriers between dimensions. Their progression of power fluctuates wildly depending on the metahuman, and may exhibit great increases or decreases based on any number of factors. These abilities also have a much greater disposition toward genetic inheritance.

Magical
Humans who have tapped into the power of neighboring magical planes. By invoking their connection to these planes, these humans are able to draw "lines" between our dimension and their chosen plane of power, giving them the ability to summon aspects of the foreign reality into their own. Magical humans may have a genetic disposition toward being able to utilize magic, although many do not.

Metahumans in this category may include:
Pantheon
Pandaro
Dragon
Jotunn
Jessica Rowe
Mr. Myth

Mutative
Humans who have born with genetic variations that allow for supernatural abilities. These may include psychics, the obvious "mutants," as well as individuals who have altered biological forms. Mutation can occur at any time during the lifespan of an individual, and can also be influenced by one of the other categories of metahuman power. Typically, Mutative Metahumans are able to pass their genes for mutation down to their children.

Metahumans in this category may include:
Valet
Poison Dart
Gauss


Hybrids
Many metahumans have abilities which cross category lines, such as psychic ability, which may derive from magical and cosmic sources, but may also be mutative and scientific. The primary influence behind the category of ability lies within the origin of that ability, as well as how it is applied in use. A pyrokinetic who chants words of magic will differ greatly from one who controls nanomechanical clouds that can spark friction and ignite surfaces, but the two may share similar traits. There are powers which may cross every category as well, such as forms of "divine" technomancy, alien god cults, and many more. It should be noted that possessing multiple traits actually increases the likelihood of dimensional instability, with the exception of cross over between two Stable powers. An unstable and a stable power set may actually be twice as unstable, depending on which category the power leans toward more.

---

As you can see, the definitions are a little stiff at the moment, but I think the idea plays well with the chart. The goal here, ultimately, is to give a little unifying theory to powers and how they relate to reality as a whole (like why a man can just wake up one day and be able to benchpress a bus), as well as open up some possibilities for story ideas. There's already an example of what weak dimensional barriers can do in the Sun Kings article, but there can definitely be other stories.

This all really began with my idea when the universe was created, the dimensions were split up, but that there are little reality fragments/pockets that exist near our Earth, and it's been in those little corners that gods and magical beings have grown and flourished. The planes run thin in those areas geographically, which is why certain gods appear to certain cultures throughout history, but the interaction between the little planes and ours is limited to occasional divine intervention and magic, where users can basically bring in some of the "rules" of those other realities and use them depending on the spell cast.

Someone also mentioned this is 40k-ish, but since I don't play it I have no idea how badly I'm aping their concepts.

>>41334
I'm very unstable.

Here's a vague concept I came up with for The Red Right Hand.
I had the idea that the right glove should like, light up or glow or some shit, so that when he creeps up on superstitious and cowardly folks in the shadows, the first thing they see is the hand.

And maybe something like, a heated palm or some shit to brand the criminals or something. Or just have the right hand be the focal point of his gadgets and whatnot, like, he shoots batarangs out of it or some shit(?)
(Also, I can't draw worth dick, but that's supposed to be a hand symbol on his face.)

>>41343
And then the modern Right Red Hand's outfit I think would be far more militaristic, given that he's supposed to be a lot more grimdark and srs biz killin people than Curtis, so he'd have more of a serious business soldier type look, kind of like Flash-Venom.

Also, the gauntlet there is larger and in charger than the previous one's because he's got to keep a fucking gun and sword in that thing.
Also, also, no visible eyes or face of any sort on the mask/helmet because I think it would look a lot more intimidating like that.
Forgot to mention in the last post, for that RRH's design I'm torn on whether or not his mouth should be visible because I kind of wanted to keep the Batman-esque feel.

http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Magma_Manipulation

Name: Micheal Waihee
Alias: Kilauea
Age: 19
Affiliation: Vanguard supporter/ Freelance Hero/Adventurer

Micheal never had a passion for the beaches of his home island of Hawaiʻi, but instead loved it's most dangerous elements, it's volcanoes. With his love of the Volcano, Kilauea, he would explore it's surrounding areas, with each returning trip he would go closer to it's white hot blood stream. One day while exploring, the volcano had an abnormally large eruption, it's lava splashed on to Micheal, but yet he was not harmed, but marked. It was to seem that the Spirit of Kilauea itself had chosen Micheal as it's avatar. Now with the raw power of Kilauea itself, he fights against injustice while searching for his next thrill.

powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Food_Manipulation
The Chef!
unless that's already been taken.
Born to a family of vegans.
On his 10 birthday his mother made him a soy vegetable cake, this meal was so disgusting it put him off food.
One day at the age of 20 he was walking around and saw half a burger laying on the ground, as he stumbled upon whats left of this burger, it spoke to him, it said "EAT ME".
Ever since then he was able to Manipulate food.
>i cant write for shit
>change anything if you want