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.)