Monday, August 18, 2008

SG: WCD #49 "Check Mate"

S'thal hissed in annoyance, and absently worried at an edge of dead
molting skin that was being shed. He switched between the farseer and the
local scanners with increasing concern. May the sandjaws be feasting on
their carcasses! He glowered at the screen, as if he could force a
response just by sheer anger. Why hadn't S'gbnss and S'klbrg reported back
as they are supposed to? They were not the best they had, but they were
no idiots... well, truth spoken, they -were- idiots. But even idiots such
as they knew the proper way of things. Just a few time-slices more without
contact and then they would spend the month scrubbing the cleaning
tubes...

***
WEST COAST DEFENDERS #49: "Check Mate"
Costarring Aurora and the West Coast Defenders
By Lawrence Brown and Chris Angelini "No more chess metaphors, okay?"

***
H'ssah quietly thrummed as the crew hauled the sandjaw carcass aboard the
hoverbarge. The platform shifted, but only just barely, as the prize was
hauled aboard. The payloader was built for heavy cargo, and this hardly
was any work for the stabilizers. The capture-net gun had worked
flawlessly. He recalled with a father's fond pride that his son had
assayed a tough shot from extreme range and entangled the sandjaw with his
first attempt. His eggling had barely hesitated as they drew near,
coiling and then launching himself from the safety of the platform to land
the killing strike with his blade, before ceremonially burying his fangs
into the prey. It had been a good day and a better hunt. Nothing under
the blazing sky could spoil this moment for...
H'ssah's communicator chose that moment to disagree. He hissed
incredulously "S'thal, calling me again?" Opening his communicator, he
drew in a deep breath with which to properly hiss his rage, only to be cut
short by the pleading tone in S'thal's voice. "Please forgive me but as my
station requires I plead for assistance. I am calling a level 2 alert."

"Our scouts are overdue? That is a level 3."

"Forgive me for correcting you sir. In the event of other factors I have
the choice and duty to call a level 2. I think our sandwing has friends
lurking above. I smell danger."

H'ssah pondered these words as his tail twitched with self-annoyance. He
had been so wrapped up in his son's moment that he had allowed himself to
be careless. "Time to go. We will finish this ceremony at the base." He
paused. S'thal was no fool, and he had good instincts. Pressing the
transmit stud, he queried. "What of our warship? Is it still off-planet?
Perhaps we should recall it to aid us."

The relief was palpable on the other end. "I have anticipated your request
and sent an initial transmission. It will be returning soon, but more than
likely the scouts will bring us word sooner and you can scold me for
making my molt go faster with false worry."

H'ssah hissed a quiet chuckle at the cultural joke. He was about to toss
one back at S'thal about becoming an egg-layer, when he heard a strangled
cry over the commlink, and the sounds of gunfire. The commlink flashed a
level one alert code, and went silent. "H'ssah, you are a fool! Get this
barge back as fast as it can go!"

"Forgive me commander, this payloader is not built for speed, but I will
do what I can to make it move faster." The snake turned, his green and
brown scales glinting in the sun, and bent over the control console with
his tools, while another steered and tried to avoid eye-contact with the
agitated commander.

"Someone get the base to respond!"


***

It was disappointing, thought Clark as he pressed his back against a
large metal crate and waited for his opportune moment. They'd traveled
halfway across the galaxy, encountered a truly alien species, come
right into the midst of their spaceport... and Clark -still- couldn't
shake the feeling that he and his troops were battling in the midst of
an oversized Sam's Club. Sure, the pallet lifters were built around
anti-gravitation principles... but they were still clearly pallet
lifters. And all right, given, the pallets were actually ferrous metal
boxes that were toted around via magnets on those lifters, but darn it,
any second now he expected a sales representative to ask if he and his
rowdy friends could please keep the noise down?
The snakes' response to their attack had been satisfyingly less than
prompt; their initial charge had met with no opposition other than a
dockworker bravely springing out of his loader to confront them with
what appeared to be an extremely menacing lunchbox, as evinced by the
live rodentia that skittered from it when it was swung against
Spectrum's armor. Fortunately, the superguy had been a seasoned enough
campaigner to recognize the complete lack of threat posed by the
foolishly brave snake and had merely brushed him aside rather than
tying him up into a knot and hurling him towards the back wall like a
horseshoe.
This act of restraint had had an immediate and fortuitous benefit for
both snake and human: the other dock-snakes had seen that these
invaders weren't Hunnish enough to mercilessly cut down any living
things in their path regardless, and so pulled back to cower in
relative safety while they waited for the professional soldiers to
make their appearance...
...which they had in due course. Clark and his troops immediately
mounted a leapfrog approach through the warehouse, using the sturdy
metallic crates as cover. Neither serpent nor mammal tried using
explosives of any kind in the engagement, both likely out of mutual
respect for the non-combatants scattered through the killing floor.
"Spectrum," called Clark over the commo net. "You ready? I think we
can force an opening towards the elevator shaft."
"You sure that's an elevator shaft?" asked the hero, frowning. "What
if it's the trash chute?"
"Then we'll discover some very interesting smells, princess -- On three?"
"On three." The superguy paused for a moment. "Does something about
this fight bother you?"
"You feel it too?"
"Yeah. I'm not sure I can put my finger on it, but..."
"The tempo of the battle's wrong. Compared to what we went through
on the Lenny Bruce."
"Yeah... and something else... "
"We'll debate it after. Three, two, one, company fire!"
Two squads slipped from behind their cover to open up on the snakes
who were defending their port. Making good use of this, Foxy grinned
and kick-started her hoverboard.
"HANG TEEEEEEN!" she cried, sending both herself and board in a
ramming charge towards the elevator, Spectrum following close behind
as an escort. Three dockworkers blinked and froze in shock as she
approached, only to be bowled over in the 'toon's wake.
"Steeeerike!" yelled Foxy, pulling the board to a stop with a tight
banked turn, as she slapped the elevator button. Against all hope, the
conveyance's oversized doors opened wide.
"We're good!" yelled Spectrum over the commo-net. Immediately, squad
one ceased their suppressive fire and made a run for the elevator,
covered by their squad-mates. Upon reaching their goal, they whirled
and provided what cover they could while team two raced for the
shelter of the lift. TDSM tossed a crate to one side, and Foxy
scattered some caltrops she'd borrowed from the Nikon Ninja to one
side down an aisle, to slow the enemy's approach.
"Thank Elvis," gasped Clark, as he and the rest of the assault force
crammed themselves into the loading lift.
"Yeah," replied Spectrum, permitting himself a grin. "We made it."
"Oh yeah, that too. But I was thinking... thank Elvis! We don't have
to CLIMB to the computer room!"

***

Though the CSS Lenny Bruce had not yet seen combat in this engagement,
its bridge was no less busy than were the troops down below. While
Doctor Sloane busied himself investigating the biological data that
Clark's troops had provided courtesy of their captive snake, Sparks and
several other bridge crew-members were busy going over the Tornado
armor's continually updating telemetry. They used it to build upon what
the Lenny Bruce's sensors -- actively scanning now that the proverbial
cat was out of the proverbial bag -- were telling them about Snake
Mountain.
"I think we've got a lead on what these nagas use for trunk lines,"
muttered Sparks, shaking his head. "Yeah. It's tricky, but I think I've
got... Clark! Sparks to Clark!"
"Go ahead, Sparks! We've been waiting for the voice of the angels to
speak to us."
"Main computer -should- be two floors above you, Ms D'Arc! If it isn't,
try four below!"
"Which is the better hit? We might only get one shot at this before we
have to enact our exit strategy."
"Two up. Best chance. Four down is probably a bathroom."
"But... how a bathroom could be confused with... but... never mind.
We're here." Clark reached out and hit a cluster of buttons, hoping that
one of them would be an emergency stop. His luck was with him that day;
with nothing more dramatic than the increased hum of magnetics, the car
came to a halt.
Spectrum reached out to begin prying the doors, not wanting to waste
time searching for the appropriate button. Foxy tensed on her board,
while the troops formed up with weapons at the ready to provide covering
fire.
Fifteen guards boiled into the hall, slithering towards the elevator.
Clark bit back a curse.
"CHARGE!"

***

Victoria Queen lay back on her bunk, staring at the ceiling, wishing
that one could un-see something once it had been seen.
It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. She'd come through Hell(tm) on
Earth without manifesting so much as a cold, yet still wound up having
'caught' powers from the plague. But mercy of mercies, the mental
abilities that threatened to manifest were quite content to remain
quiescent as long as she ignored them. Oh certainly, it had been... fun
to be a little bit telepathic. She'd won her share of poker games that
way, and it was nice to know immediately which of her dates were worth
keeping and which needed to be let down easily on the first night out.
But Victoria had not gone a step further in training her abilities,
much less letting on that she so much as had them. There was no law
against keeping your superguyism quiet, and Queen just knew that the
moment the penny dropped, she'd wind up being tapped for superguyish
duties. Oh sure, at first it would be something simple... like bringing
a comatose patient back to reality. And that would be fine. It would be
good, and useful and right up her alley. But she knew how these things
worked.
First, it would be mental healing. Then there would be an emergency
that would require her to take a more active role. And before she knew
it,Victoria would be on the front lines.
Queen -wasn't- a coward. The fact that she'd volunteered -- Heck(sm)
jumped at the chance -- to travel light-years past the warm light of Sol
proved that quite handily, thank you very much! But... she just had no
interest in being out on the front lines where superguys tended to find
themselves. To be honest with herself, Victoria -was- scared of being in
the van. Sure, she ran the risk of being killed outright should a
missile hit the hull just outside her cabin, but there was nothing she
could do about that... and so it could be relegated to the back burner
of her mind to do her no harm.
But on the forefront of battle, well, that was a different story. There,
she'd have others depending upon her in battle. Battle -wasn't- where
Victoria felt that she -belonged-. Her place was in the sickbay, in her
place of comfort, healing and restoring those who came to her. There and
nowhere else.
Damn it! How had they even known about her abilities? Had someone spied
on her? Had she let it slip somehow? Did someone... oh dear Elvis, did
someone read her diary? And did that mean her crush on Spectrum was
public knowledge now? Oh damn, oh damn...
No. Focus, Victory, she told herself. It didn't matter how Tonk had
figured out her secret; in fact, it didn't even matter that she had
taken that first step down the slippery slope to becoming a superguy by
agreeing to work with Foxy. No, that wasn't it at all...
...it was what she'd seen. What she'd glimpsed in the Cartoon's mind...
Queen grabbed her pillow and hugged it tightly, closing her eyes
tightly, while wishing again that one could un-see something once it had
been seen...

***

TDSM and Spectrum scampered around the room, shouting observations to each
other. The control room was secured, at least for the moment. Clarks men
had the doors covered, and had picked off any attackers that had taken
what passed as stairs for non-bipeds. More like corkscrewing slopes that,
had Foxy been consulted, would make really fun slides.

"Anything?" Spectrum shouted, looking away from his work to check the
arachnid.

"Ssssomething... no... just ssssnake porn on thisss worksssstation."

"What?"

"You don't want to know. Jussst be glad you only have two eyessss."

Spectrum followed the lead of the commands being whispered into his
headset by other techs. Then he paused and pulled up the keyboard,
finding a scrawled note. "Light-years from home and some things never
change. Hi-ho team!" He waved the note at TDSM who set to tapping into
the system.

***

Tonk leaned forward in her chair as she noted her pilot tapping
furiously at his keyboard. "Sparks, what's the latest?"

"WE HAVE DATA!" Sparks exulted. "We're in and we are pulling it all out
as fast as we can."

"Good, because I think the snakes just managed to call for backup,"
interjected a tech from his post across the bridge. "It's a low power
signal, but I think it got through. Sorry Captain, I was trying to damp
down anything out of the tower, and this was from another sector. I
think we're being hailed. Orders?"

***

"I think thatssss all we can get." Trapdoor Spider Man hissed. The
display blanked and another more hostile screen flashed. "I think they
cut the main data feed."

"Well, it was fun while it lasted," Clark muttered. "Let's hope we got
enough to keep the intel guys happy."

"I'm more of an AMD guy myself..." Spectrum snorted.

"Huh."

"Geek Joke." Spectrum interrupted. "Clark, I think we need to boogie out
of here, and not the way we came in." He pointed at 4 squadmates on the
floor by the entrance. "They gonna make it?"

Clark grimaced. "We lost two. The other two are wounded but they'll be
okay if we can get them back to the dropship."

Spectrum looked at the soldiers, then at the door. "TDSM, I need your
help. Foxy, help Clark's men strip the armor off these guys. Can you help
them feel better?"

Foxy pouted and ran her fingers through her hair. "This is hardly the time
for..."

"With your mental ability, not your um..." Spectrum blushed.

"Charms," quipped Clark, as he knelt down to begin work on one of his
wounded men.

Foxy seemed to shrink in, frightened and worried about what Spectrum was
implying. The memory of her encounter with Victoria was still fresh in
her mind. "I-- I dunno sailor, I might mess them up like I did with y--",
she clamped her hand over her mouth as her eyes grew wide.

Spectrum blinked, suddenly distracted by what Foxy had almost said.
Something about it made him feel very wary all of a sudden. "What?!"

"Nothing."

"What the heck(sm) do you mean!?" He demanded, staring at Foxy in
confusion and a strange anger that felt alien to him.

Suddenly a new alarm sounded with what looked like flashing indicators
near the elevator and exit, with a display by the door, which despite its
alien language, was obviously some sort of countdown.

"Damn!" Spectrum shouted as the immediacy of the situation reordered his
mental priority list. "Someone is playing smart. Clark, that's either a
self-destruct alert, or more likely a fire-suppressant evacuation alarm.
Either way, this room is going to be unpleasant really fast."

"Right!" Clark quickly finished his work and began to ready his team as
Spectrum set up the newly emptied armor behind an overturned desk he had
slid into the elevator. The hero quickly arranged the suits into various
-- and realistic, if he did say so himself -- combat poses which TDSM
quick-glued into place.

Spectrum slapped the close button as Clark tossed in a smoke grenade for
effect. The superguy grinned, calling out, "Make a big hole, Sammy!"

TDSM shot an angry glance at his teammate before launching himself at the
far wall, his talons tearing it apart in short order. The hideous creature
paused to gently pick up an injured soldier and then scuttled rapidly
through the hole to the outside. The spider-creature was followed
immediately by the team, who rappelled down as fast as they safely could.

Clark spared a glance across the desert, spying something approaching in
the distance. Focusing his active sensors on the contact, Clark saw a
fresh squad of snakes making good time towards them aboard some sort of
flatbed transport. And was that a pet ant-lion bringing up the front?
Whatever it was, it wasn't moving, but still...

"Clark!" Sparks voice cut in. "You have company coming! Get back to the
dropship aysap and get outta there!"

"Sir!" One of the troopers -- a fairly bright tinkerer who'd more than
once proved himself handy with battlefield jerry-rigs -- gestured towards
two of the vehicles down below, "you think we could hotwire those two
payloaders?"

"Beats trying to jog home." Spectrum replied.

"I wisssh Parker could have brought hisss Dord." TDSM sighed. "Looksss
like our dummy targetsss in the elevator bought usss sssome time."

"Okay," Clark nodded, as a couple combat snakes emerged from the
warehouse. "Get to it. Squad One, Spectrum and Foxy are with you. Give
us cover fire while the rest of us get those two things running. I'll take
Squad 2, TDSM and the injured on mine. Hurry people, we have hostiles on
the ground and topside bearing down on us."

***

It had been the work of moments to boost the payloaders. Neither one had
had much in the way of security and even their ignition system had been
toggleable with a simple button-push. Clark had filed this information
away for later analysis, finding it mildly at odds with the picture of the
Nintan that he'd encountered thus far.

Spectrum leaned towards Foxy, keeping a weather eye on the horizon as he
whispered to her. "What were you talking about back there?"

Foxy glanced away, her body language all but screaming for Spectrum to
drop it. The superguy felt his hackles rise at being shut out by the woman
he loved and found himself giving in to his anger.

"Dammit, Foxy, talk to me! I need some answers!"

"You want answers?" She bristled, gazing back at Spectrum, her glare a
mixture of anger and sorrow.

"I think I deserve them from my wife! Tell me the truth!"

Foxy bit back a snide retort, and then took a breath to compose herself. "Then
I hope you can handle it, sailor. Remember when you rescued me and we were
rushing to get our minds transferred back into our bodies? All I could
think about was how angry I was at you for dumping me, for never looking
for me..."

"Hey, I looked for you."

"S-yeah, right. You must have looked really hard, 'cuz next thing I knew
you had completely disappeared."

Spectrum rubbed the back of his helmet in consternation. "I was flung
through time and space. I had a bit of a hard time getting back! But as
soon as I got a lead on where you were, I-we came a'runnin' and found you.
What did you do?"

"You nearly didn't make it back. The machines were burning up as you came
to, and I saw you laying there and all I wanted was to spend the rest of
my life with you. I wished that there was some way we could just be a
couple and ..."

Spectrum paled. "You. Oh my god. You did it, didn't you."

The hoverbarge cleared the rise. In the distance the first hoverbarge was
nearing the area the dropship was parked. Spectrum hardly moved as a
energy blast caught his shoulder and knocked him on his back. Foxy
whirled and saw another hoverbarge tacking in on an intercept course from
the side. Other squad mates aboard the barge saw the snakes too, and
began to fire. Foxy glanced down at the slightly stunned Spectrum, and
growled, "Look after him guys, I'm going to buy us some time. BANZAI!!"
And with that she leapt atop her board and blasted towards the enemy
snakes.

Spectrum staggered to his feet, shouting, "No! FOXY! COME BACK! DAMMIT -I
LOVE YOU-!"

***

H'ssah cocked his head. What was this? One of the invaders was making a
rapid albeit erratic course towards his platform. He glanced ahead and
noted what appeared to be some sort of transport. Curse all the luck.
These raiders would escape with only minor losses and we would be left
with no answers to explain for this unwarranted attack. "Perhapsss this
one sshall be our way of getting answersss, or at least a token for which
we can exchange our missing scouts." Gunfire from the invaders singed his
craft, and his son huddled warily behind him. "We need to turn this to
our own advantage!"

His son tapped him on the back. "Father. The net gun. I can make the shot."

H'ssah took only a moment to comprehend and then admire his son's
stratagem. "You have only one shot. Can you do it?"

"I can and will father, for the glory of the Nintan race."

Foxy screamed like a banshee, firing a string of curses and energy blasts
from her pistol as she pushed the hoverboard even faster. Perhaps
Spectrum will someday forgive me after I am gone. I don't need nobody
better off alone, but it would have been nice to... She let the emotion
flood from her soul.

Foxy and her board were suddenly entangled. Tumbling out of control she
bounced across the sand, as the net was hauled back in.

"I did it father!" H'ssah's son hissed with glee. Suddenly the occupants
of the mobile platform felt waves of fear, dread, and confusion.
"Helmsman, come about and we shall flee to safety. Perhaps now we shall
get some answers."

"NO!!!" Spectrum screamed. "FOXY!" "Turn around! We have to save her!"

"Sorry sir, we have to get to the ship and get out of here immediately!"

Switching channels, Spectrum shouted at Clark. "Man down! Foxy's been
taken captive! I'm going after her!"

Clark shouted back, "No! Captain's orders, we have to get out of here now
or we're all dead! I know this sucks, but the situation is bigger than
just her!"

Spectrum lunged. Two troopers grabbed his arms. "Guys just stop. There's
nothing you can do or say from here, okay? I'm not leaving without her."
He feinted, then dive-rolled off the side, tumbling down a sand dune before
running for the snakes. "Clark! Get the team outta here."

Clark sighed and quickly considered his options. He made a curt gesture,
nodding for the rest of the West Coasters to pile into the dropship. TDSM
glared at Clark. "I'm not your property!"

Parker grabbed his shoulder. "TDSM! He's doing what Spectrum asked him to
do! If we all get slagged trying to save him what good's their sacrifice!?
C'mon man, the whole planet's counting on us!"

"Besides," replied Clark, his tone weary. "If you don't get the Hell(tm)
inside and shut the Hell(tm) up in three seconds I'm going to shoot you
where you stand and let Sloan worry about getting you back to combat
readiness. Do you feel me?"

With a last angry glare, TDSM turned from Clark and tugged his arm away
from Parker. Hissing under his breath, he stormed into the waiting
dropship.

***

The crew shivered as Tonk let loose with a string of expletives that would
strip paint from the bulkhead.

H'ssah blinked as he watched an armored soldier tumble off the fleeing
platform, and start charging towards the snakes. What is this? Why would
only one come after them if their captive was important, and if not, why
sacrifice another raider? He did not understand where his growing unease
came from. "Helm. Get away from that one. Shoot him! Head for the
canyon!"


Here I go, on my own. Spectrum thought. The angry shouts of Clark, Tonk,
Sloan, Sparks, and others buzzed in his ears like a smashed wasp nest and
he shuddered for an instant at the claustrophobia that it induced. I don't
need nobody, better off alone. He began running, straight for the
hoverbarge, and his love.

"Captain, he's turned off his comlink." groaned Sparks.

"Vitals are elevated," Doc Sloan muttered.

"How fast can he run in that armor?" Tonk asked.

"Pretty fast, but it's not built for that." A tech replied.

"He's gaining on the sled, but...the cliff..." British Airwave gasped as
he turned grey.

"He's not gonna make it, is he?" Tonk muttered.

Spectrum pushed the armor as hard as he could. Shots from the snake's
weapons blew off chunks, but he ignored the alarms and pushed the systems
past redline. "I'm not letting you go, Foxy. I'm stronger than they
realize." Shunting all power to the armor's legs, he coughed as smoke
started to seep into the suit.

"Captain, it's not possible. The armor can't go that fast."

"Vitals are spiking Captain, his metabolism is going into overdrive."

"SLOAN! What's happening?"

"This is incredible Captain!" Sloan marveled at the telemetry.

"Not Spectrum, Sloan! British Airwave just collapsed!"

"Oh no! Not now! Get a crash cart in here and get him to sickbay!"

H'ssah gaped at the approaching soldier. Nothing seemed to deter him.
What sort of warrior charges blindly into the fangs of the enemy?
One who has nothing to lose, he glanced at the struggling captive, or
perhaps one that has everything to lose.

Fifty yards, forty, thirty. Suddenly Spectrum saw the canyon ahead, and
realized it was now or never. His body felt like it was on fire as he
panted frantically. He was basically down to the ManCo PoWerArmor, his
Aurorean battlesuit blown away from the damage he was taking. 10 yards, now
just an arms breadth away from the sled. Too Late.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The abyss yawned below him, as he charged headlong over the cliff's edge,
into the dark mists below.

***

IS IT STILL A CLIFFHANGER IF YOU GO OVER THE CLIFF?
CAN OUR HEROES ESCAPE?
WILL SPECTRUM SURVIVE?
WILL FOXY BE RESCUED?
IS THIS THE END OF BRITISH AIRWAVE?
AND WHAT IS VICTORIA'S SECRET?
TUNE IN NEXT TIME FOR THE 50TH ISSUE SPECIAL!
SUPERGUY!

Friday, August 15, 2008

SG: WCD #48 Foxy Flashback

It would have been nice had there been thick ropes of mist filling the
air, mused Clark, as he took a moment apart from his troops in which to
reflect. Not that there was even the remotest possibility of mist in a
moisture-starved environment like this desert; but it just seemed right
for the quiet before battle to have its symbolic import accentuated by a
bit of mist. The only fog there was evaporated the moment it cleared the
canyon's edges.
Still, one went to war with the metaphors one had and not the metaphors
one wished to have. Clark pondered the spaceport tower ahead of him and
mentally mapped his plan of attack. There were plenty of entrances, but
all were barred save for the main port way, where large loader vehicles
hovered their way into and out of the quiet stellar crossroads.
Normally, Clark would be leery of a frontal assault... but he had two
very compelling reasons to consider it this time around. First, this
port was quiet enough that he was willing to bet the snakes who worked
in it weren't exactly on high alert. And secondly, the valley in which
the towering port had been built would funnel his men into single-file
formation should they approach from anywhere but the front.
All right then. It was time for a rush'n'attack, which was the combat
equivalent of a snatch'n'grab. It wasn't particularly elegant, but
sometimes it was all that you had. Flicking the cat's whiskers of laser
communications to the rest of his cadre, Clark began to relay his
orders.
"We're going for a full frontal. Not my first choice, but if we can get
inside before they can counter, we're going to have cover galore.
Watch out for the drivers and whoever they have working the snake
warehouse in there; if they're civvies, I want them excluded from the
battle as best as you can manage. If they draw on you, they're combatants
and the asking questions portion of the evening is over.
Squad one, I want you taking left approach. Ninja, you and Davis guard the
ship and our captive. Squad two, you guessed it; you're going right.
Spectrum, TDSM and Foxy, keep behind the two flanks until we've made it
inside... and then you two have point. Clear?"
The chorus of 'clear!'s made Clark smile to himself. He rose from behind
the rock that had provided him with dubious cover and raised his
sidearm.
"GO!"


***

WEST COAST DEFENDERS #48: FOXY FLASHBACK

Costarring Aurora and the West Coast Defenders

By Lawrence Brown and Chris Angelini "We reseach, because we care."


***

"How are you holding up?" Doctor Sloan spoke softly. He slipped a sensor
cuff on British Airwave while the rest of the bridge was focused on the
events below.

"Just a bit tired to be honest." He leaned towards the Doctor and
whispered, "My prescription ran out last night."

"Perhaps you should go to sickbay." Dr. Sloan knitted his brow.

"Perhaps you should go shag yourself in the airlock." Randall frowned.
"We had a deal."

The doctor pulled the cuff off. "Marginally normal. Try to stay that way
for today, eh?"

Randall gazed at the icons on the screen, a fast-moving pair on the side
designated Spectrum and Foxy. Something had seemed off about them this
morning before launch. Spectrum had shook his hand as he wished them
luck, but Foxy wouldn't even look at him. She looked smaller, maybe a
little frightened, but strangely cold. All business as they made their way
to the drop-ship. Nothing like when he'd first met her, so long ago.

***

The bouncer at the door was an amateur; one glance in his eyes told
Randall that. The oafish lout relied on bulk, and attitude to intimidate.
Well, that and poor personal hygiene, he mentally added to himself as he
walked past the man. A thin woman with dark circles under her eyes sat
behind the cashier's window. "Hey Pops, looking for a little excitement
again, eh? $10 cover, 2 drink minimum and watch the hands, okay sugar?"
She snapped a worn piece of gum as she regarded him, making change for the
$100 bill he offered. She pushed a raven tress from her eye as she slid
back a small stack of ones and fives through the pay slot.

"Thank you. Is she working again today?"

The woman made a sour face. "Yeah she's here. Listen, if you decide to
try something more normal, maybe you should talk to Misty. She's running
a special on dances." Her eyes followed him as he stepped to the door,
waited for the obligatory buzz, and pulled the door open.

He felt, rather than heard the music as the door swung open. He breathed
in the combination of stale cigarette smoke, alcohol, and copycat perfume.
He blinked as his eyes quickly adjusted to the low light. 8 men present,
counting the barkeeper, DJ, and busboy. It was another slow happy hour.
Two frat boys on the front row, a middle aged man on an expense account in
the plush love seats a row back, another who seemed more interested in the
cheap beer than the entertainment, and one other, whose eyes darted around
the room like a rodent looking out for a trap.
Randall strode to the far side, along the back wall, and positioned
himself where he had a good view of the room and the stage. At the
moment, a bored redhead with ivory skin and a belly tattoo was gyrating
absently, her mind obviously not on her craft or her audience, moving from
station to station and position to position with little energy.
The frat boys hooted excitedly, slapping down bills on the edge of the
stage, competing with each other to see who could gain her attention.

"What your pleasure, honey?" An Asian woman with a drink tray laid a
coaster along with a basket of popcorn at his table, her age masterfully
concealed by her distractingly low cut gown, and well done makeup.

"Cognac, if you have it. H by Hine?"

"Like I told you last time, would have some Remy Martin but the truck not
due until tomorrow, so we out."

"Old Rip Van Winkle then, if you please."

Randall feigned inattention, as he watched the rodent get up and then
casually stroll to the pool table as if he was considering a game, then
while the Asian strutted away to fill Randall's drink order, he quietly
took a new table where his back was not to Randall.

The music reached its end amid the light patter from several of the men in
the room as the redhead scooped up her money and, flashing a wan smile at
the boys up front, she gathered her outfit and strode backstage. The DJ
announced the next dancer, and a tall African woman slinked onto the
runway to the grating monotony of a generic rap song, bouncing the "junk
in her trunk" frequently in the direction of the now interested
businessman. Randall sighed inwardly and rolled his eyes.

"Don't worry, she up next." The Asian woman smiled knowingly and served
him his drink, making sure to lean over just a little extra to ensure a
good tip. "You want me to move you to front row?"

"Thank you, but no, I prefer to admire her from afar." He looked at the
Asian and she raised an eyebrow seductively. He placed a hundred dollar
bill on her tray, and glancing at her name tag he replied, "Ping, if you
would be so kind, that should cover the drinks, your tip, and some tips
for the other dancers. I'd prefer if they did not hit me with the hard
sell tonight."

"Ping my twin sister." She glanced down at the tag. "Whoops. Honest
mistake. I am Pong." She laughed, "Long story. Suffice to say Colonel
Papa-san had a sense of humor. I pass the word, but pickings slim so far
tonight. As long as birthday boys up front keep the tips coming, you
should be fine."

"Lovely." He was quietly pleased that he had determined who the
proprietor of the establishment was. He had narrowed it down to the Asian
woman, correction, women, or perhaps the Deejay. It was obvious to him
that the bartender was not the owner. Why slip the occasional greenback
from your own till?

Mr. Expense Account had finally imbibed enough liquid courage to walk up
to the stage and timidly began waving a fiver. The dancer, the
aforementioned black woman named Misty, ground her hips near the man as he
excitedly slipped the bill into her thong. She turned and hugged him, his
face momentarily buried in her chest, and then she was off to welcome a
construction worker who had just pulled up another chair on the front row.

He sipped the drink thoughtfully and watched as the song ended. The
redhead had already changed, and was leading one of the frat boys off to a
curtained area.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, let's have a round of applause for the mysterious,
the exotic, the one and only Foxy Lady!" Amid cheers and applause, the
rock beat of 38 Special's "20th Century Fox" pounded out of the speakers,
and Foxy bounced on stage, vaulting to the top of a dancers pole and then
swiveling down the brass until she curled seductively at the bottom her
tail momentarily a veil as she vamped the customers with her eyes. Not
missing a beat, she danced with a joy for dancing, and aside from a
momentary glare she bestowed on the hardhat who decided to tug on her tail
during a pirouette, she was sunny and sexy and full of energy.

The song ended, and applause volume was higher for her than the other
performers. The thin brunette now had her turn on the catwalk, and the
look she gave Foxy as the pair passed was daggers.
The rodent leered and waved a dollar as Foxy strode up the catwalk, and
she barely broke stride as she ignored his tip and went backstage.

Randall leaned back and sipped his drink, pondering the next step. The
rodent had stomped over to Pong and was gesturing, then waving a fifty
under her nose. Minutes later Foxy glided into the room and made her way
to the bar, where she was intercepted by Pong. Pongs staccato voice was
muted by the bar sounds, but she pointed towards the rodent, who was
leaning back and smiling. More gestures and pointing, and then Pong
crossed her arms. Foxy's shoulders sank minutely and she shrugged.
Pong patted her head, and then pointed up at Randall. Foxy turned and
trudged up the aisle to his table, carrying Randall's second bourbon on a
tray.

Foxy softly spoke to Randall, her eyes looking at the table. "Um, could
I interest you in a dance? We have a happy hour special, with a twenty
dollar table dance, or a fifty dollar private."

Randall regarded her. "Don't you already have a client, ahem, waiting?"

"Look Mister, if you want, I'll give you two privates for the price of
one, and I'll even let you play with my tail." She glanced back at the
other man, who seemed a bit put off even from across the room.

"What about a 1 hour special?" He opened his wallet.

She put a paw over his hand. "Look, I just dance, okay? I don't do that.
Ask Misty or Vanessa if you want that kind of service. I'm just asking
because I can't turn down a customer unless I have a better offer. Sorry
to bother you."

He stopped her. "Two hundred dollars for an hour special and we just
talk. You don't even have to dance. That's your fee and the tip you can
show Pong." He slid a five hundred dollar bill slowly toward her paw.
"And you get this when we are done, on the side."

She tilted her head and her ears twitched. "No perv stuff, just talking?"

"On my word as an English gentleman." He looked into her eyes.

"We'll use the VIP room. There's a bottle charge for the complementary
champagne..."

"If it's complementary why must I pay for it?" He sighed and put down
another bill.

She giggled and snatched up the money, and made a beeline for Pong.
Then a minute later, a bottle of champagne and two flutes in her paws, she
wiggled down past the stage area to the curtains and beckoned to Randall
to follow. The rodent left the club in a huff, nearly colliding with the
bouncer who was advancing towards Foxy and Randall.

The bouncer smiled, showing stained teeth. His gravelly voice was even
less attractive than his breath. "Okay no monkey biz, kay? You try
something wit her and we get tah play name the HMO, mmmkay?"

"I'll keep my hands to myself." Randall nodded.

"Oh, I didn't say that...." The bouncer leered at the pair, then turning;
he took up his station outside the curtains, watching the stage and the
front door.

Once settled in the VIP room, with its satin pillows and mirror ball,
Foxy adjusted the volume level so that the songs could be heard but their
conversation would not be affected. She took the flutes and poured the
drinks, handing one to Randall with a flourish. "Alright, the meter's
running, what do you want to talk about?"

"Randall."

"Hmm?" She arched an eyebrow quizzically.

"My name is Randall Ames."

"Hi Randy, I'm Foxy Lady."

"Randall, if you please. That's not a stage name?"

"Why bother? It's my name, why bother with anything else. It's not like
I'm going to embarrass anyone in my family. You have to have a family for
that."

"No family? So then, tell me, how did you get here?"

"You from the Weekly World Smooze?"

"Hardly."

"You a cop?"

"No. Let us just say I represent an organization that is distinctly
interested in your welfare and wants you to experience a much better life
than you do now. And possibly discuss a special position for you?"

"Oh my God. Did Bill Clinton send you?"

"Who was that unsavory chap that I rescued you from?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Ah ah ah!" Randall gently waved the five hundred dollar bill, "We're on
the clock as you noted, and as the piper is currently under my employ, I
must insist."

"Why do you want to know?"

"Call it curiosity. I got the distinct impression that you know each
other in some fashion off stage."

Foxy looked down at her paws and sat next to Randall, taking a sip from
the champagne, she growled, "Benny's a bum. A shark. I needed some
money. He was all sweetness and light, until it came time to pay the bill,
then he added in the monthly fees, the ATM charges, the NSF fees, the
account processing fees... when I told him I needed more time, he left a
barrel full of acetone, benzene, and turpentine by my apartment door."

"Forgive me for asking, but how much do you owe him?"

"Ten thousand. Actually, only five thousand now, I've been working really
hard and I should have him paid off by the end of the year. Some folks
want me for a modeling contract, and I'm to see them in two weeks."

"So where did you come from and why did you end up out here?"

"You're not going to believe it."

Randall leaned back and sipped his champagne. "Try me. You might be
surprised what it takes to throw me off."

"I'm a cartoon. Or at least I was before I suddenly materialized in this
world. Because of a man--I don't know what you'd call it. Magic,
superpowers, whatever. He pulled me into this world along with an
associate of mine from the other side."

"And what of this man?"

"His name is Lawrence. Or you might have heard of him by another name.
Spectrum. I took one look at him and, I don't know, I sort of fell in love
with him."

"Go on..."

Foxy took another sip of champagne, "This is good stuff. Anyway. We were
together, then there was this accident and an explosion, and when I woke
up I was in the hospital, except I wasn't a toon anymore. Not completely.
And I wasn't a human either. Not completely. I'm one of a kind, as far
as I know."

"Indeed."

Foxy paused and looked at the ceiling, watching the lights spin off the
ball. "I thought this was something wonderful. Lawrence and I could be
together, you know, really to-ge-ther. But then something happened, we
had a fight and said some things we shouldn't have, and he threatened to
send me back. I didn't want that, so I ran away."

Randall leaned towards Foxy. "Are you sure that's what he meant? Did you
ever speak with him again?"

Foxy dug a crumpled newspaper clipping out of her pocket and held it for
Randall to see. It was the picture of Spectrum running down the street
with a green haired woman.
"He's obviously moved on. So I did too. I tried working for a small
video studio in Ohio, but I wasn't interested in that. So I went out here
to California to try to get into movies."

"You left a movie job, to go get in movies?" Randall scratched his goatee.

"Let's just say we had 'artistic differences'. My boss was a real tigress
so I left, but I ran out of money by the time I hit Riverside.
I hitched the rest of the way to Hollywood, and got a waitress job.
That's when I met Benny. He was nice enough at first, but he was just
playing me to get me on the hook and now I owe him. He hooked me up with
the twins and I'm out there shaking my tail to pay him off."

"What would you say if I told you I could pay off your debts and offer you
an opportunity up in Northern California?"

"Okay what's the catch? Who do you work for?"

"A rather wealthy and eccentric gentleman from Texas, named Stetson
Tyler. He is forming a team of individuals to use their unique abilities
to protect the world and also to a lesser extent, his own interests. I
believe you know the leader of the team." He slid a photo of Spectrum
across the cushion to her.

Foxy let out a gasp, and spilled her drink. "Get out. Get out now, or I
will have Gordo throw you out."

"I don't understand."

"If Spectrum wants me back, he can come get me himself, not send some old
geezer that looks like he's somebody's butler."

"Spectrum doesn't know I am here."

"Fine! I don't care if he ever knows! He obviously doesn't care enough
to see me himself, or else he'd be here right now, not you! If he cares
more about being a superhero and living free and easy with whatever floozy
that throws herself at him, then he can just go to Hell. I'll find my own
way thank you very much, and on my own terms."

"What about Fuzzy Bunny; don't you want to see him again?"

"Fuzzy? That rabbit is the most self-centered self-promoting egomaniac
I've ever met! He and Spectrum are perfect for each other." She looked
at her watch. "Your times up. Thanks but no thanks and don't let the door
hit yah where the dog shoulda bit yah."

Randall stood stiffly, and bowed politely to the angry vixen. "Sorry to
have troubled you. Please accept my apologies." He laid the money on the
cushion. "I'm sorry I interfered. He still cares about you."

She bared her teeth. "I'll take your money, but you can stuff your
apology. Next time let Lawrence do his own dirty work."

A grimy hand clamped down on Randall's shoulder. "We got a problem in
here, Foxy?"

"Only if you continue to lay hands on me." Randall crisply responded.

"He's just leaving, Gordo." Foxy snapped.

"Maybe I should help him out the door." Gordo rumbled.

In a fluid motion, Randall turned, stepped into Gordo, and grabbing his
hand, casually flipped the bouncer to the ground. Brushing off his
collar, he bowed curtly and said, "Good day to you, Madam. I hope to
speak to you again, someday, on better terms."
And with that, he disappeared.

Foxy gasped in surprise. Pocketing the money, she bent over Gordo to make
sure he was okay.

As she was about to leave the room, she paused, then walked to the
picture, still sitting on the cushion. She picked it up, staring at it
intently, and then held it close to her breast as she closed her eyes, and
wept softly.

***

WHAT WILL OUR HEROES ENCOUNTER WHEN THEY ENTER THE SNAKE BASE?

WILL TDSM EVER GET HIS OWN FLASHBACK?

DO SNAKE BARS HAVE LAP-DANCES IF THEY HAVE NO LAPS?

WILL SPECTRUM EVER GET HIS POWERS BACK?

FIND OUT IN THE NEXT EXCITING EPISODE OF:

SUPERGUY!

Friday, August 8, 2008

SG: New Exarchs #13 - What Hiatus?

[February 22, 2008 - Manhattan, KS]

The doorbell rang, and Hans rushed to get it. The kids were supposed to
be out of town today, so either it was a solicitor who needed to be shooed
away, or....
He opened the door. A man in a dark business suit under a knee-length
wool coat stood on the stoop, pulling off his sunglasses. "I'm Agent
Brubaker, I'm With The Government," he introduced himself. "And you have
something to tell me about the Exarchs, Doctor Zwarghoff?"
"Yes, yes...come in. Can't be too careful, They might be watching," he
muttered as he showed the agent of I'm With The Government into the
nondescript house.
"I have it on good authority that They are otherwise occupied at the
moment, between the events in Boston and in California," Agent Brubaker put
his sunglasses into a pocket of his coat, then took off the coat and folded
it over one arm. "Coat rack?" he asked.
"In the closet, I think," Hans gestured in the vague direction of the
boot room. His own coat was hanging over the back of one of the dining room
chairs, and the kids' coats ended up in random places whenever they visited.
Seriously random...he'd been inputting their locations over the past month
and there was absolutely no pattern whatsoever.
Agent Brubaker seemed a little taken aback by what he saw in the closet,
but made no comment before returning to face Hans. "So. The Exarchs have
been missing for over two months now. Fortunately, things have been quiet
since that one incident at the Manhattan Town Center, so it's mostly been a
curiosity to my superiors. And to They, I would presume."
"Wait, you know about They?" Hans's eyes widened in shock. No one ever
seemed to believe him when he warned about They. He suspected even the
Exarchs were just humoring him.
"Doctor, I'm With The Government. Of course I know about They. But
that's not important right now. What's important, I presume, is the news you
have for me, and by extension, for my superiors."
"Of course, of course. Let's sit down in the kitchen. Would you like
something to drink?" Hans offered. Not that he had a lot of variety in the
fridge at the moment.
"A glass of milk would be appreciated," Brubaker nodded. "And since
you've been playing host to a pair of aspiring Preteen Patrollers, I presume
you have some available."
Hans got out the carton of 2% and poured some into a Sporkboy tumbler.
"Oops, sorry about that, habit," he started to reach for a fresh glass of a
more grown-up nature, but Brubaker held up a hand.
"That's fine. I was something of a fan of Sporkboy in my youth as well,
although I'm not sure I totally approve of what he's done with his life since
then," he took the glass and sipped from it. "So, to business?"
"To business!" Hans held up the empty second glass. "Eh, heh...a little
joke. Yes, right," he sat down, then stood and put the milk back in the
fridge, then sat down, then adjusted his glasses, then...
"If you're done fidgeting?"
"Just a little bit more," Hans held up a finger, then cleared his throat
and adjusted the collar of his shirt. "Okay. Here's the thing. I'm sure
you know about those Naugas that were captured at the mall, right? Well,
they're from another altiverse..."
"000SUPERDRY, yes. We've had over two months to interrogate them.
Their leader, Sung the Stainless, has designs of unknown nature on
000SUPERGUY, but discloses none of his long range plans to his underlings.
It could be anything from expanding his dry-cleaning chain into a new market
to a naked grab for secular power with the intention of straddling to
realities like unto a god. The timing of Sung's interest in 000SUPERGUY is
conveniently close to the date of the accident in New Call Hall that
supposedly claimed the life of Paul Oakthorn and helped ruin your career, so
it seems likely that Oakthorn was not killed but instead transported to
000SUPERDRY via the mechanism of the Cheeez the two of you were studying."
"Ah, yes. That shortens my monologue a little, Agent Brubaker. Thank
you. So I can get right to what I finally confirmed the other day.
000SUPERDRY is a Fae Altiverse," Zwarghoff revealed.
"In which sense? The government is not allowed to discriminate on the
basis of sexual preference, as I'm sure you're aware," Brubaker narrowed his
eyes.
"No, no," Hans shook his head, secretly relieved that he'd finally hit
something Brubaker didn't already know about. "Have you ever read or heard
the old fairy tales about a man visiting a fairy...or fae...kingdom, enjoying
the best evening he's ever had, and then coming home to find a generation has
passed and everyone thinks he died?"
Brubaker nodded. "My agency is familiar with that sort of fae as well,
yes. Although most do not indulge in time travel."
"It's not time travel, not exactly. I've been doing a lot of research
into obscure altiversal theory while the Exarchs have been gone, since, um,
Anna got me access to some restricted arcane libraries online. A Fae
Altiverse is one where the temporal constant is not the same as our own.
Instead, time passes much more rapidly here than there, so that an evening
spent at a party in the Fae Altiverse would correspond to a generation
passing in our world. Or maybe two days, or a million years. As far as I
can determine, the reason why the Exarchs haven't returned to the rendezvous
point yet is because only a few hours have passed for them. They aren't late
yet!"
Brubaker frowned, then took a long pull from his milk as he thought.
"That doesn't jibe with our interrogation," he finally said. "As far as the
Naugas know, there's no time flow irregularity between altiverses."
"Ah, but that's because for about two years there was an *unnatural*
connection between 000SUPERGUY and 000SUPERDRY. The accident at New Call
Hall forged a link between the altiverses," Hans held up his hands and
intermeshed the fingers, "bringing 000SUPERDRY into synch with the consensus
time constant of the majority of altiverses. But when I worked out the flaws
in our process and used the Paleoculture to send the Exarchs through, I
unwittingly broke that bridge and the timelines were free to move as normal
again. It took me a while to figure out, because while I have a Cheeezball
open, the timelines synch up again, and something on the other side keeps
attacking my probes. But I finally got a probe to stay in one piece between
successive Cheeezball openings and managed to determine the time slip rate."
"So, if we're to get the Exarchs back some time before the Road Race
>From Hell finishes," Brubaker mused, "you'd need to hold a link open for an
extended period, enough time for them to finish their mission and come back
to the rendezvous point. And prevent the mysterious attackers from coming
through to this side. Assuming they didn't simply kill the Exarchs upon
arrival, of course."
Hans shook his head and disentangled his hands. "It's not that simple,"
he replied, somewhat petulantly. "Keeping a Cheeezball open not only
requires a great deal of energy, but it also...stretches spacetime. The
energy requirements will increase exponentially over time, and eventually the
whole thing will collapse in a spectacular fashion. Explosively, even. So I
certainly can't do it here, this neighborhood isn't zoned for non-tornado-
related massive devastation."
"It seems to me that we could solve multiple problems at once. Install
the new gate in an isolated location with a dedicated power source, operate
it remotely so that any explosion won't take personnel with it, and this
would also move the other end of the gateway so that whoever's been attacking
your probes wouldn't necessarily be in position to do so," Brubaker
suggested. "Assuming you're willing to get over your paranoia and let the
government get involved in this."
"There's another problem besides my *completely justified* concerns
about the government, Agent Brubaker," Hans frowned. "By my calculations,
when the Cheeezball does collapse, the time constant will briefly rebound
with a vengeance. The next few seconds in 000SUPERDRY will pass at the same
time as about thirty years here. Anyone we can't get out the first time is
never coming back, not during this generation."
Agent Brubaker nodded. "So we only get one shot to anchor the realities
and send a rescue team in after the Exarchs. When will they officially be
late for your originally-planned return gate?"
"The first week of April, give or take. It'd be nice to have some
people available to go through and secure the other end during the few
minutes I have the Cheeezball open, though."
"That can be arranged," Brubaker nodded. "And I'll take this
information to my superiors, along with any data you care to send along.
It'll take time to find a suitable location for the second gate and deal with
any environmental impact statements and the like, so we can afford to wait
and see if they come back on their own before committing to actually building
this secondary site."
"Thank you, Agent Brubaker. And hopefully They'll keep being distracted
long enough for us to pull this off. By the way, I don't suppose you'd be
interested in mentoring a Preteen Patrol team?" Hans looked hopeful.
"Sorry, Doctor Zwarghoff. I don't do mentoring, I'm just a middleman."

__--__--__--__--__--__--__-- \\NEW// --__--__--__--__--__--__--__
.|,Coherent Comics Presents \\ // #13 - What Hiatus?
--X------------------------- E }X{ ARCHS copyright 2008 by the
'|` A Superguy/LNH Tale // \\ Dvandroid (Dave Van Domelen)
--__--__--__--__--__--__--__ // \\ __--__--__--__--__--__--__--


[000SUPERDRY]

"Duke Earl?" Skysabre stepped forward as Anna and Kat dropped to the
sides to form a defensive triangle of sorts without being blatantly obvious
about it. The moonlit forest was full of threats both seen and unseen, and
they all seemed to answer to the self-proclaimed Duke in front of Skysabre.
"Have you ever met a man, a talented archer, named Paul Oakthorn? We're his
comrades, and have reason to believe he is somewhere in these lands."
Skysabre mentally crossed his fingers and hoped Paul hadn't managed to become
notorious as a villain or something in the two years he'd been here.
"If a man sought to make his wage by the bow, he would have ended up
among the Suedes," Duke Earl boasted, "for we are Sango's masters at that
ancient art. But I have heard of no such man, at least not that I can
recall. Neither have I ever heard of anyone called Skysabre, or the Exarchs,
as you introduced yourselves [back in episode 11, lo these many months ago -
Ed, who thought Hans would never stop yakking.]. How do I know you're not
spies for Sung? Or worse, for the unspeakable horrors of the Clay Flats?"
"They're not *that* unspeakable," Kat muttered. "Just squirrels made of
clay."
"Shh," Anna admonished.
"Sung the Stainless has sent his men into, um, the lands of our clan,"
Skysabre replied. "We think he may have been inspired to do so by tales of
our friend, or possibly because he has captured Paul."
Duke Earl shook his head sadly. "If your comrade has fallen into the
foul yet sanitary hands of Sung the Stainless, then you may as well return
home, for none escape the steam presses of Sango City. But," his mood
brightened, "any victim of Sung's is an ally of the Suedes. Let us feast,
and celebrate your comrade's life and sing him into the halls of the dead!"
"On the plus side, they're not shooting at us," Kat whispered. "On the
minus side, we're definitely going to miss the rendezvous unless we can beg
off early from the feasting."
"Well, I don't think we were going to make it back anyway, since the
Clays made it clear they didn't want us around," Anna whispered back.
As the Suedes swung back up into the trees save for a few escorts who
firmly "guided" the Exarchs towards the Suede village, Skysabre nodded at the
assessment. "We're just going to have to use Sung's own gateway to get
back. At least he seems to have some control over where he puts down the
Cheeezeballs, so we don't have to pop into the mall...."

* * * *

[April 3, 2008 - Manhattan, KS]

The doorbell rang, and Hans scrambled to get it. Hopefully it'd be the
squad of soldiers he was expecting, who would help secure the other end of
the Cheeezball so that the Exarchs could come through safely.
He opened the door, seeing no one. Then he sighed and looked down.
"Hi!" Ecliptic beamed. She was in her new spring-weight costume with
the optional holstered umbrella and Hans's latest Cheeez sensor (which he had
made to look like a raygun, since Corrine wanted to at least be able to
threaten people with something if she had to). Next to her, Mikey was in
costume as Space Case, but he seemed to have lost his umbrella already. And
on his shoulder was a black squirrel.
"Hello, Doctor Zwarghoff," the squirrel said, a contralto voice
materializing in his mind as if by magic, even as he faintly heard the
squeaking that was the squirrel's true speech. "We have much to do before
the day is out."
"She followed us home," Ecliptic grinned innocently. "Can she be our
third for the Preteen Patrol?"

CAN SQUIRRELS JOIN THE PRETEEN PATROL?

WILL THE EXARCHS MAKE IT TO THE RENDEZVOUS?

ARE *THEY* REALLY AS DISTRACTED AS BRUBAKER CLAIMS?

WILL EPISODE 14 COME OUT IN ANYTHING LIKE A REASONABLE TIMEFRAME?

Answers to some of these, especially the last one, on the next...
SUPERGUY!

============================================================================

Author's Notes:

Well, I fell out of inspiration months ago, but since all the other
Superguy activity ground to a halt around then (save for occasional episodes
of Rad), I didn't feel too guilty about it. Then Eric Burns-White had to go
ahead and put out two episodes of The League *and* a character handbook.
Curses!
Fortunately, I think I've figured out where I want all of this to go now
(part of the lack of inspiration was a lack of knowing what the end of the
story was going to look like...yes, I tend to make this stuff up as I go most
of the time), and I think I can wrap up the Sango arc without being a total
cop-out, *and* without requiring a 12-episode grind on my part. :)
Agent Brubaker was something of a cipher when he appeared previously,
I've grafted some influences from Middleman (ABC Family) onto him, as some
readers have already figured out. No plans for a Dubdub analogue yet, but
"no plans" describes most of my Superguy writing, as previously mentioned.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

SG: The League Biographies #1

THE LEAGUE BIOGRAPHIES
Episode One
"Field Team"
by
Eric Burns-White

This, for the record, first appeared in a post sent to the Superguy
Community on Livejournal. The graphics listed here are attractively
laid out in that post, so you know. It can be found at:

http://community.livejournal.com/superguy_list/12359.html

However, it behooves us to actually post biographical information
here, where it can maybe -- just maybe -- do someone some *good.*

The League

In order of seniority, more or less:

Hazard
Formerly Known As: Dangerousgirl
Old Series: Adjusted League Unimpeachable
Original Real Name: Danielle "Dani" Potentiate.
Revised Real Name: Danielle P. MacPherson
Current Real Name: The Widow Danielle Nobody
Created by: Eric Burns-White
Picture: http://annotations.com/graphics/league/Hazard.png

Danielle -- called Dani by essentially everyone -- was a tailored
artificial being, largely designed as a clone of Dianna "Spandex Babe"
Potentiate, with significant alteration of her genetic code, fusing
Lars "Dangerousman" MacPherson's DNA into Potentiate's to create a new
being. The experiment was called Project Dangerous II, and was meant
to create an easily controlled, physically mature autonomous weapon
using stolen information and technology from the original Dangerous
Project. The project was spearheaded by the League of Unconcerned
Scientists, who had interfered with the Warrior Woman project that had
given Dianna her Spandex Babe powers. Significant illicit Xolchipalian
technology was also integrated (thanks to the intercession of Jonathan
Frakes (Coincidence)) and the entire project was a front for the evil
genius of Andy Awe-Inspiring, who was directly involved in both
Project Dangerous II and Project: Warrior Woman, from behind the
scenes. Part of the project was attempting to replicate an entirely
submissive personality into the new clone, triggered from a hidden
submissive personality programmed into Spandex Babe during her own
development. However, Potentiate broke through the artificial
personality during the transference, yielding a unique -- and in no
way submissive -- personality to be implanted into the artificial
construct. The result was Danielle "Dani" Potentiate -- emotionally
and physically a teenager, albeit a physically mature and beautiful
one -- who became a younger sister to both Dianna and Lars. (Though in
many ways, her genetic relationship to the two was closer to being a
daughter than a sibling).

Dani had the same incredible thermonuclear powers (though possibly
slightly less powerful overall) as Dangerousman himself, but wielded
them through similar genetic mechanisms as Spandex Babe's 'Neophotonic
Energy.' The result was the ability to produce all the effects of a
nuclear chain reaction -- incredible force, radiation, heat and energy
-- but under Dani's complete control. This allowed her to harness her
powers into 'nuclear firebolts' and explosive charges with the heat
and concussive force of her power but lacking the deadly radiation.
She can also use pure force, pure heat, pure radiation and a
combination of all of the above as she sees fit, and she uses
controlled detonations to 'fling' herself through the air and protect
herself from harm -- more a leaping ability than real flight. She can
also absorb radiation into herself, which she then has to release
through her uniform, converting it into harmless light.

As with her brother Lars, Dani must wear a full body uniform at all
times. She is highly radioactive and her radiation would poison anyone
she was near in a short period of time if she lacked containment. The
uniform is an advanced design -- one that showed both Xolchipalian
enhancements and the genius of Mandy "Mastermind/Ops" Harken in its
improvements -- but is still based on the original uniform Lars
MacPherson wore, converting her radiation into light and color. She
used to wear a green uniform with an orange mushroom cloud logo in
emulation of her brother. With the advent of the League and Dani's
need to at least have *some* plausible deniability, she has changed to
a formfitting orange uniform accented in green, with an orange cling
mask. She has a red and green "Nuclear Hazard/Bomb Shelter" logo on
her chest, and also wears a red headband to keep sweat out of her
eyes. Her dark brunette hair is shoulder length. Though the Mask
Principle would prevent anyone from immediately connecting them, Dani
now looks very close to how Spandex Babe/Exemplar looked at her age,
though her skin tone is several shades darker -- making the nuclear
woman look like she has a perpetually bronzed tan. Of all the members
of the League, she is easily considered the most attractive.

Dani went by "Dangerousgirl" in her Adjusted League days. With the
need to change her identity, she adopted "Hazard" as her new codename.
She is a powerful, popular heroine -- not least of which because she
is, in the words of an unnamed Bostonian, 'Wicked Hawt.' Her biggest
problem as a hero is her severe overconfidence, though it is worth
noting she has the power to back it up.

Dani is very happily married to Roger "Parvenu" Nobody -- who she had
become attracted to when she first met him (after his death) as a
reluctant student at the Adjusted League Unimpeachable Academy. With
the perfection of Nobody's 'undead body' techniques, Dani and Roger
were able to be married, though technically Dani is listed as a widow
-- which amuses the Hell out of her. As Roger is already dead and his
bodies are (mostly) immune to the negative effects of radiation, Dani
is able to have a relatively normal home life with Roger -- though the
house they live in is actually designed to contain her radiation and
prevent an accident from poisoning her neighbors. The pair are given
to public displays of affection and disclosing entirely too much
information about their private lives, much to the annoyance of their
friends and teammates. It has already been mentioned that Dani has no
problem with dressing up like one of the Trudis in the bedroom, which
is knowledge that her teammates can't unlearn, no matter how hard they
try with alcohol and sporks.

Dani's best friend is Maria "Reflects" Mendez, followed closely by
Cairistiona "Incandescence" Richards -- though Cairi's mysterious
'circumstances' put some strain on that last relationship. At the end
of their time at the Academy together, Dani, Maria and Cairi became
the "Chicks With Attitude," a clique reflecting the rather distant
relationship both Dani and Maria had with many of their fellow
classmates (though Cairi acted as a bridge to the rest of the class,
which unfortunately has led to some problems with Cairi's own return
from the dead). Dani is on good terms with all of her former A.L.U.
teammates.

In her day job, she's an office worker at the Consolidated Dalton's
Indigo Barnes and Chapters Noble Walden-Borders Book Imperium regional
headquarters, where she provides administrative and secretarial
support for the bookbuyers. Dani hates her day job with a passion. She
also has an advanced shower that collects the radioactive materials
her body gives off naturally, processes them for shipment, and allows
her to sell them to research companies, universities, hospitals and
the like through a certified courier provided by the Rogers
Foundation. It puts her closer to the Rogers Foundation than she might
otherwise like, given the current tensions between the Foundation and
the League, but provisions in Bruce Rogers's will require the
Foundation to see to Dani's specialized needs in perpetuity.

META/NOTES: Dani's the only active superhero from *Adjusted League
Unimpeachable* to still be an active hero in *The League*. In part,
this is because she was a teenager at the time, which puts her in the
prime of her heroic life right now. Her costume from above is pretty
darn close to how I describe it in the series proper. Her City of
Heroes function, in terms of the overall parody, is Blaster -- though
she's better defended than some blasters, Hazard is there to put the
massive hurt down on their enemies.

Iceweaver
Formerly Known As: Frigid Girl
Old Series: Adjusted League Unimpeachable Academy
Real Name: Lauren Bates
Created by: Bill Dickson (in name only, character development by Eric
Burns-White)
Picture: http://annotations.com/graphics/league/Iceweaver.png

Technically, one of the first heroes in Superguy at all, much less as
in the League, Canadian teenager (and devoted You Can't Do That On
Television Fan) Lauren Bates discovered she had a mutant power to
project both cold and ice around her. Deciding early on to use her
powers for good and justice, the young woman became Frigid Girl, icy
defender of righteousness.

Almost immediately after she started, she got an invitation to the
Superhero Convention in Washington D.C. that almost every hero on the
Superguy mailing list had been invited too. Excited, she attended. And
there she met a man named Mister Cold, and the two of them... well....

According to on-site reports, they managed to freeze over the boiler
to the point that no one in the building had hot water. You get the
drift. (They had *sex.*)

This led to a relationship that spanned years, wherein "Frigid Girl"
completely disappeared from the scene. When we next saw Lauren, she
was the oldest charter student of the Adjusted League Unimpeachable
Academy. Her wide eyed innocence had been displaced by a deep
cynicism, and what was worse she was saddled with her teenaged brother
Darrin -- who not only was also a student at the school, but was
getting significantly higher grades in every subject than she was.

Over the next few years, Frigid Girl acted with distinction at the
school, certainly attending long beyond when a person normally would,
before graduating with honors. She applied to and was accepted by the
Adjusted League Unimpeachable as their first Academy graduate member
(not counting Kid Solipsism, who took courses at the Academy to get
'up to speed' during his probationary period with the A.L.U.
Dangerousgirl did as well, but she actually completed her coursework
and received a degree for her trouble, where Kid Solipsism was already
a masters level graduate student. However, as Fridge graduated from
the Academy before Dangerousgirl did any... look, just give her this,
okay? She *needs* this.) She was immediately thrown into the horrors
of the Genocide war, serving with the A.L.U. with distinction, and was
on hand for the significant shift of its membership in the wake of
Trashman's death, Unorthodoxy's assumption of the League leadership,
and Mastermind's empowerment.

With the dissolution of the League in 2000, Frigid Girl went briefly
independent, then gathered together with some of her friends from the
Academy and the A.L.U. to form the very unofficial League. As the
League has to maintain a degree of anonymity and deniability from
their illustrious past -- and because Lauren was sick of hearing her
brother's jokes about her codename anyhow -- she left 'Frigid Girl'
behind and became Iceweaver.

Iceweaver is a powerful, highly trained cryokinetic who despite years
of setbacks and a late second start truly believes she's doing the
right thing. Having come into the superheroic world as one of the
younger new heroes, she has finally come into her own as one of the
older active heroes. At 32 years of age as of this writing, Iceweaver
is the oldest field member of the League -- a fact her brother never
lets her forget. In her private life, Iceweaver works as a hostess at
Bennigans Begin Again Undead Irish Pub Experience at Quincy Market.
Her job requires her to wear a tight black shirt unbuttoned enough to
be 'welcoming,' which makes Iceweaver one of the first superheroines
on record to wear more in her heroic identity than her civilian
identity. Iceweaver's costume is an advanced material defensive
uniform in black with white 'ice crystal' patterns. She wears mad
scientist goggles and an ice blue trenchcoat, and her long red hair
tends to have strains of frost running through it while she's active.
She actively works out, both to maintain her body's conditioning and
stamina and to work out aggression built up in her life -- something
Iceweaver also gets to deal with when she's freezing Ensemble members
solid.

You may notice a lack of much information about Lauren's personal life
here. We know she has a job, we know she fights crime, and we know she
exercises to get out tension from her job and help keep her in shape
for fighting crime, and that's about it. Lauren is *quite* aware of
the fact that she doesn't have much else going on in her life besides
a TiVo, but having been badly burned (no jokes) in romance, followed
by a 'school' experience where everyone else was 6 to 10 years younger
than she was, she's not so much out of the social networking scene as
its antithesis. She does have several favorite webcomics, however, and
a blog where she uses carefully couched language to try and avoid
outing herself and the League on the Internet.

A blog read, it's worth noting, by more than *twelve people*.

META/NOTES: Iceweaver was my way of taking a one-note joke (and a
couple of names that had never been mentioned since the Flatphoot
Phollies) and making an actual character out of her. She has, until
now, always been in supporting arcs -- beyond a preternatural fear of
rope climbing and a lot of snotty comments, Lauren's never really
gotten to shine in anything. There are plans afoot to change that over
the course of the League. Her costume is pretty close to what I want
for her -- right down to her attitude. Her City of Heroes role is
Defender -- as much protecting her allies and debuffing their enemies
as she is causing direct damage. Interestingly, Lauren is also in a
similar position in the League as Healer was in ALU -- older, wiser,
with some unfortunate elements in her past.

Reflects
Formerly Known As: Reflective Lass
Also Formerly Known As: Mirror Maid
Still Also Formerly Known As: Reflection
Old Series: Teen Team
Another Old Series: Mason's Mazin' Mob and its ilk
Real Name: Maria Mendez
Created by: Mason Kramer
Picture: http://annotations.com/graphics/league/Reflects.png

Ah, Maria Mendez -- a heroine who has been defined as much by tragedy
as... well, anything else. A mutant, Maria manifested the ability to
reflect force back upon itself when she was nearly killed by a truck.
The fourteen year old learned she could reflect any force or energy --
kinetic, light, electrical or what have you -- back where it came at
equal power. To that, she could add her own strength, so she could
actually strike someone with her full strength plus all the resistance
their body gave but reflected back in a feedback look. This could
culminate in the young woman seeming to punch through concrete.

Maria was one of the six teenagers recruited by Melvin the Elf to
become the Teen Team, going initially by "Reflective Lass" before
changing her codename to "Mirror Maid."

All was well, save that Maria had developed a severe crush on Phobos
-- the team's defacto field leader and scientific genius -- which
Phobos neither reciprocated or even noticed. This culminated in Maria
wearing a sequined bikini as a uniform in hopes of attracting more
attention -- particularly from Phobos, who at the time had become
involved with Summer from Team M.E.C.H.A.

This ended up maximizing Maria's exposure to a mutagenic gas that Rush
"Random Encounters" Limbaugh designed to kill the Teen Team in a death
trap with then thirteen year old child actress Christina Ricci as the
kidnapped bait. The gas caused Ricci to explode into living fire,
becoming the heroine Matchstick, and greatly increased Maria's power
-- making her nearly frictionless but apparently made from a silver
metal through which Maria could feel (and taste) absolutely nothing.
Worse, her powers were seemingly unable to be deactivated. As her
primary power was a 'mirror force' that protected her not only against
all harm but all *sensation*, that meant Maria was eternally cut off
from all tactile sense -- up to and including her sense of taste as
even her mouth and tongue were 'mirrored.' (Even Maria's *hair* was
mirrored). It was as if she were sealed in a sensory deprivation tank
and only allowed to view the outside world.

For a brief time, she had a magical ring which gave her some relief,
but the ring was destroyed in a battle. Between that and the horrible
nightmares of the Dreamquake (which is more a Mason thing to explain
than my thing), Maria was in an isolated and traumatized state when
she first met Thomas -- a young self-described supervillain who had
the ability to project physical sensations into the minds of others.
For Maria, the implications were wonderful. The handsome young man
could cause her to feel -- really feel. And he wasn't shy about how he
used his powers, giving her sensations ranging from intoxication to
sheer pleasure.

After she was thoroughly addicted to the sheer thrill of touch, Thomas
-- calling himself Sensation -- began adding pain to the mix. Maria --
still traumatized and desperate for what Sensation had to offer --
proved to be far easier to condition than Sensation or his master --
Random Encounters, once more -- could have hoped. The pair
interrogated Maria, giving her pain for wrong answers or behavior and
pleasure for right ones, and she swiftly betrayed all the secrets of
her friends. She then began to commit crimes for the pair, changed
into a highly suggestive costume on their behalf, and ultimately
fought on their side as they used their illicit knowledge to attack
and nearly destroy the Mob.

How the Mob managed to defeat Maria -- now called Reflects --
Sensation and Random Encounters is not known. It is known that
Sensation apparently did not survive the encounter. It is also known
that Maria's betrayal gave the criminals a terrific ability to hurt
the Mob members, ranging from using Dreamweaver's allergies against
her to triggering a full psychotic episode in the very traumatized
Mental. It is also known that relations between Maria and her closest
friends were strained to the point of shattering after this, leaving
her feeling lost and alone. She relocated to Boston, becoming a full
time student at the Academy -- though even that was fraught with
tension, as several Mob members attended the Academy as well, and some
stalwart classmates (like Capacitor) made it clear they didn't trust
or like Maria. However, Dani "Dangerousgirl" MacPherson -- who had
never been much on the inside with the other Academy members -- bonded
to Maria, and Matchstick -- now called Hellfire -- was willing to work
past Maria's actions, and the three became an infamous clique known as
the 'Chicks With Attitude.' They had leather jackets made up and
everything.

With the ending of the war, the change in the Adjusted League, and
Maria's graduation from the Academy, she applied with little hope to
join the Adjusted League Unimpeachable. To her surprise, even after
her admission that she would betray the Adjusted League if a situation
like Sensation came up again, she was accepted and became a member of
the team. She did have to agree to get psychological counseling and
allow the Adjusted League to employ whatever help they felt was
necessary to give Maria more control over her powers and therefore
enjoy a better quality of life. She joined under the name Reflection.

As of *The League*, those efforts seem to have bourne fruit. She can
deactivate her refective field in whole or in part, though she still
seems sensitive to even the smallest touch. She is a popular member of
the League, with her buddies from the Chicks With Attitude both
members. Other former Mob members like Roger "Parvenu" Nobody seem to
have completely forgiven her, and she enjoys a new confidence in her
friendships as a result.

One glaring exception to this is Darrin "Capacitor" Bates. Darrin
never really forgave Maria for what she did to the League, and any
chance the pair could have to get past that seems shot by their very
different lifestyles. Maria is a Catholic girl who has always felt
herself cut off from those she could love -- both by Phobos not
reciprocating her feelings and later by her field making physical
intimacy impossible. Darrin on the other hand is a complete sybarite
whose charm and attractiveness makes one night stands all too easy for
him. He is easygoing and brash, and has absolutely no compunction
against saying what he thinks about Maria. Suffice it to say, no one
expects the pair to get along any time soon.

Maria currently -- somewhat inexplicably -- goes by Reflects, which
was the name Sensation gave her. Her most current costume is somewhat
more modest than some of the ones she's worn, but not by much. It
consists of a strapless black leotard with a belt for pockets, plus
boots and armcuffs she can clip her L-Phone into. She also wears a
short cape, as she's done since her infamous bikini costume. While
most of the uniforms worn by the League have significant defensive and
environmental policies, Maria's powers usually make such things moot.
Reflects has full control over her mirror-force, which seems to
emanate from all of her body's cells, making her essentially
indestructible when the field is up (though she vulnerable to psionic
powers and some magic). Further, she can control how frictionless her
field makes her, enabling her to skate on her mirror force for speed,
making it next to impossible to hold or imprison her, and meaning she
has nothing to fear from mud. Some special property of her boots and
uniform let her extend her mirror force around them, letting her
perform her skating maneuvers through the boots, for example.

Unlike most of the League, Maria has no need for an outside job. When
close friend Hellfire ascended to the afterlife, she was also declared
dead, and as it had turned out the former child star had invested her
early earnings very wisely. After a few issues with her family and
friends, Hellfire had elected to leave almost all her estate to Maria.
With Incandescence's return, much of her past has been wiped away or
rewritten. Maria is the only person who can remember the 'original'
past, and for whatever reason the fortune she inherited from
'Christina' remains intact now. Though Maria attempted to give 'Cairi'
her money back, the angelic heroine declined. Though Maria is quite
comfortable, she doesn't have the sheer resources to keep the other
League members from having to keep day jobs (and none of the League
are comfortable draining Maria's accounts in this way). Still, Maria's
comparative life of ease means Reflects is actually on call all day.

META/NOTES: One of the least successful City of Heroes costume designs
-- there's no good way to give Maria real metallic skin that doesn't
also make her look like a robot. (I could possibly cobble something
together with the 'shiny' Arachnos Widow costume, but that restricts
my options for putting an overlay down.). So, instead of pale skin,
imagine her skin is all mirrored and shiny and also pretend the whole
thing doesn't kind of suck. Maria's the first of the characters I
inherited from Mason for this here sequel, which means among other
things I needed to at least get beyond *Twisted Reflections*, which
was the Sensation story I mentioned above (and which unfortunately was
never finished. At least, not yet.) Maria, as I see her in City of
Heroes terms, is an Invulnerability/Energy Melee tank, only less
sucky. You see that in her getting paired with squishier characters
like Parvenu or Capacitor, so she can annoy people into attacking her
and ignoring them. As with Lauren above, Maria has a lot of power and
potential but also some pretty deep flaws and psychic scars she has to
get over. I like that kind of character. They're crunchy and fun to
make cry.

Parvenu
Formerly Known As: Nobody
Before That Known As: Deckmaster
Old Series: Mason's 'Mazin' Mob
Seriously Old Series: Teen Team
Real Name: The Late Roger E. Nobody
Created by: Mason Kramer
Picture: http://annotations.com/graphics/league/Parvenu.png

Roger Nobody was a kid on the streets, who was lucky. He found someone
to take him in, raise him, give him a roof and a job and an education.
A lot of kids don't get the chances Roger Nobody got.

On the other hand, as it turns out the person who took him in and
raised him was Mister I. Spy and the job and education were in
thievery, but luck can be capricious.

Despite his larcenous and somewhat rough childhood, Roger was a kid
with a good heart and a yearning for something more. That something,
with time, turned into a growing study of the occult and magic. Roger
was something of a natural mage, though as a young teenager he had
neither the training nor the experience to turn his inclinations into
a proper tradition. Studying in secret -- Mister Spy and his
organization were among the 'anti' side of the magic question in and
around the infamous Industrial Revolution -- Roger learned that one of
the fastest routes to power was the adoption of a focus. Traditional
foci might have included staves or orbs or voodoo dolls, but Roger was
a child of the nineties. His focus was Magic itself.

Magic: The Gathering, that is.

Through use of Magic cards, Roger became Deckmaster. And during a
botched job that Mr. Spy took to eliminate the Teen Team, Roger -- who
had no desire to kill anyone -- risked himself and exposed his magical
nature to save Samantha "Daydream Believer" Beckett, because he was a
kind soul underneath it all. Also, he wanted to have sex with her.

What? He was a fourteen year old kid and Samantha was a hot sixteen
year old who wore a lot of black. It's *natural*. Besides, he never
succeeded, now did he?

Deckmaster became the newest member of the Teen Team, helping the
group find and stop Mr. Spy's organization, and leading the team to
learn the true identity of their most persistent opponent: Rush
Limbaugh, the infamous Random Encounters. His power began to grow, but
Melvin the Elf -- the magical North Pole native who had originally
brought the Teen Team together -- was concerned about Roger's reliance
on his focus. When he used the Magic cards to enact his power, the
cards were consumed, and he had to abide by at least the spirit of the
rules, which meant he needed mana cards to fuel his power, and needed
to build his power base up over time. Melvin was concerned that Roger
would run out of cards when he most needed them, and instructed Roger
to begin the (much harder) path of learning true magic.

Roger, being a teenager, snuck out with Samantha to get more Magic
cards. And while they were out doing this, Adam Douglas of Team
M.E.C.H.A., being a nice guy, tried to put a bullet in Roger's head.
Said bullet was intercepted by Adam's teammate Summer, and there was a
cool action sequence. Long story short, the Teen Team was on its way
to the Industrial Revolution, and they were a large part of the huge
battle to come.

A battle which cost Roger "Deckmaster" Nobody his life, when he was
disintegrated by an alien weapon, leaving only his hand and a burnt
Magic card in his wake.

Needless to say, this wasn't the end of Roger's story. Coming back as
a ghost, he remained a Teen Team member -- albeit one with a few
disadvantages in interacting with the world. He also had some anger
issues and some power issues. And worst of all, he had a hidden deal
with Satan. Only not really.

See, Roger had gone to Heaven. And that was all fine and good, only
he'd left. And at one point he ended up in Hell, and Satan convinced
him the only way he could get out was with Satan's help. And he won a
card game against the scion of evil, and was allowed to leave 'so long
as the Teen Team existed.' Which was fine until Melvin the Elf (who
had formed the Teen Team in the first place) declared the Teen Team
disbanded and Roger 'poofed' back to Hell. He only got out when he
made a new deal -- which is how Roger, sans his memories, found
himself in the body of a hot female mage named Melody Pernicious.

Eventually, they figured out Melody was Roger, went to Hell where they
made some mistakes (and got Matchstick turned into Hellfire), and
Roger learned he was a true Free Spirit, allowed to leave Heaven, Hell
or any other afterlife at his will. He returned with the team, but was
both unable to use his magic or touch the world -- which was hard
given he was starting to make time with a beautiful thermonuclear girl
at the Academy.

Eventually, the same ancient hero who had helped Roger learn the truth
and escape Hell helped him make his first undead golemish body, and
Roger could interact with the real world again. Other things happened
after that, but they're not my story -- at least until we get to
around the era of the League, which brings us full circle, doesn't it?

When the Adjusted League Unimpeachable was leading up to its
retirement, one of its members -- the beautiful and explosive
Dangerousgirl -- retired to marriage. Specifically, marriage to Roger.
The pair are deliriously happy and have been married since June 25,
2000. Roger's sorcery has given them various ways of coping with
Dani's radioactivity, but the most common means of dealing with it is
his golem bodies, which aren't *that* affected by it. However, they're
not entirely immune, and between that and the rigors of superhero life
Roger's bodies tend to burn out two or three times a year,
necessitating his construction of a new one. (He can't store them up
in advance, as without his possessing soul they fall apart within
days.)

With the formation of the League and their need for plausible
deniability, Roger has adopted the new identity of "Parvenu," the
French term for a nouveau riche upstart who exceeds his class. Roger
named himself ironically, having come from a low, criminal background
but ultimately becoming (and dying) a hero. His current body is
slightly pale skinned, with red-brown hair. His uniform is mostly
purples and yellows, with a yellow silk shirt and pants underneath it,
accented in purple. His uniform has magical wards to help protect him
in a fight, and he wears a grey defensive bodysuit not unlike his
teammates' defensive uniforms underneath it. In his own words, since
he doesn't sweat and in fact is mostly immune to temperature
variations, there's no reason not to layer. He wears a full face mask
as well.

His magical abilities are relatively broad, but he needs foci of
various sorts to exercise powerful effects. He is far away from the
days where he used collectible card games for it, but he generally
carries components in his coat or suit to facilitate powerful or fast
effects. Absent these, he can still do magic, but it takes a lot of
strain (and at least once he burnt his body out casting a powerful
spell). When he loses his body he is a disembodied spirit, barely able
to affect the material world, and he can't work magic at all. He tries
his best not to get into that situation.

Roger Nobody's 'day job' is that of a freelance writer. He has written
a series of trashy romance novels under a variety of pseudonyms, as
well as less trashy genre novels, some nonfiction books, articles, and
anything else that'll get paychecks coming in. This gives Roger an
income while allowing him to spend significant amounts of time dead
and in a series of different bodies.

META/NOTES: Roger is something of a catchall. I actually like how his
costume came out, though he may change significantly the next time he
changes bodies. I suspect he uses those opportunities to get advice
from his wife and go a little nuts. In City of Heroes terms, he is a
Controller, using his magic to lock down their enemies -- he is also
the closest thing the team has to a healer and a psi, and he often has
to work to protect or heal his teammates in situations where their
defenses... well, aren't, so much. Roger is also pretty unreservedly
happy, which can be a nice change.

Capacitor
Formerly Known As: Kid Electron
Old Series: Adjusted League Unimpeachable Academy
Real Name: Darrin Bates
Created by: Eric Burns-White
Picture: http://annotations.com/graphics/league/Capacitor.png

On paper, Darrin Bates is a hero for the ages. He is handsome and
strong. He is intelligent and very close to fearless. Pain doesn't
stop him. He can face a hopeless situation with a joke and a smile. He
is utterly loyal to his friends. And he has enough electrical power to
run Boston for five hours and hit on a hot electrical engineer while
he does it. He had absolutely record grades at the Adjusted League
Unimpeachable Academy -- records that stood for years and years. He
aced the academic courses, the athletics, the superheroic courses...
he aced them all.

But, when he applied for membership in the Adjusted League
Unimpeachable, he was turned down.

On paper, Darrin Bates is a hero for the ages. In real life? Not so
much.

Darrin was overconfident, shallow, self-centered, and was in the game
for the chicks and the fame. He knew all the right answers, but in his
heart he wanted to be a superhero because he thought it was a cool
gig. When confronted with real life moral dilemmas, he would make...
well, questionable choices. He cheated on girlfriends. He made fun of
his friends -- and not in the good way. He was, in short, a jerk. His
nickname, based on his Academy codename of Kid Electron, was "Kid-E,"
and that was about right. He *was* a 'kiddie,' and it wasn't hard to
tell.

Life after the Academy was weird for Darrin. College was easy for him
-- and he went to Boston University, so he was still right there. He
was still good friends with some of the Academy students -- most
notably his best friend Rip "Memorex" Davis, born of an incident where
Darrin almost got Rip expelled but managed to come through in the end,
his sister Lauren (AKA Frigid Girl), ex-girlfriend Transit, and the
Sorceress Subternatural known only as Portentous Piranha. He was also
on good terms with many members of Mason's Mazin' Mob, especially
Phobos, Roger Nobody, Tim "Mental" Ward and his wife Samantha
"Dreamweaver" Ward -- Samantha perhaps being the only known female
near Darrin's age not counting Darrin's actual sister that Darrin
*didn't* hit on.

That loyalty led to Darrin firmly snubbing -- and even verbally
abusing -- Maria "Reflection" Mendez, it is worth noting. Maria had
betrayed the Mazin' Mob, with some nasty long term repercussions for
some of the folks Darrin liked most in the world. As we said above --
Darrin lacks a lot of virtues, but he has loyalty in spades.

Darrin's real chance to play hero came with the formation of the
League. Circumstances being what they were, Darrin's power and skill
were all too necessary, and if he had significant character flaws his
friends could watch out for them and help him through them. Needing
the same deniability as the others, Darrin adopted the name
"Capacitor," which fits given one of his powers is the ability to
absorb great amounts of electricity and then release it all at once.

Darrin is an electrokinetic and a natural generator. He both can
create powerful electromagnetic effects and manipulate ambient
electricity. He capacity for absorbing and controlling electricity is
staggering, and as he constantly generates electricity, he is
generally 'charged up' with incredible reserves. He is an accomplished
hand combatant and his neurology is supercharged by said electrical
reserves, which among other things prevents him from ever really
getting fatigued. He can also eat as much as he likes, with the food
providing nutrients but any and all calories being 'burned' into
electricity. As a result, he eats like a five year old with a
tapeworm.

There *is* a down side to his abilities, it is worth noting, but that
is for another day.

Darrin likes the ladies. A *lot*. He is exceedingly handsome and well
built and given to clothing that sets it off. He is known for keeping
six or seven casual relationships going at once, and he has hit on
*almost* every woman he's met. At the same time, he has no real
capacity for relationships. This is just one of the reasons he and
Maria Mendez rub each other so wrong. He has never forgiven her for
betraying Mason' Mazin' Mob -- years after the Mob itself has forgiven
her. The two spar almost all the time, though it is worth noting they
work together surprisingly well. Indeed, Darrin is an excellent team
player. Other than Maria, Darrin gets along with his team mates quite
well. He takes (and gives) a healthy amount of abuse from them, but in
a fight he is rock solid and his loyalty is unquestioned.

His costume is somewhat elaborate, which seems to fit. He wears a
half-mask that covers his ears and the lower half of his head, letting
his well styled blond hair out of the top. His uniform itself is blue
and yellow, with a capacitor symbol on his chest and highly stylized
lightning patterns along the uniform. As with the others, his uniform
is designed to protect him from as much harm as possible, with all the
talents of Mandy "Ops" Harken fueling it. Unlike his fellows, he also
has elaborate metallic epaulets and a very stylized 'electrical'
patterned cape he wears. But then, he does like to make an impression.

Darrin works, somewhat expectedly, as an electrical engineer at the
Awesome Amalgamated Media Computing Research Laboratory in Cambridge.

META/NOTES: Darrin is a paradox, which is always fun. He's flawed, but
cheerful. In a lot of ways, he has the farthest yet to grow, and that
means he's got crunchy conflict. In City of Heroes terms, he's an
electrical/electrical blaster -- his role is to lay down hardcore DPS
and make his enemies cry. His costume is close, if not exact. In ways,
he's meant to be the Jock archetype of the group, as well as the
womanizing jerk. That said, he does have a depth he hasn't had much of
a chance to explore. Stay tuned.

Ordinal
Formerly Known As: Transit
Old Series: Adjusted League Unimpeachable Academy
Real Name: Transit Davis
Created by: Eric Burns-White
Picture: http://annotations.com/graphics/league/Ordinal.png

It is said that some heroes are born to it, while others are forged by
experience. The woman now called Ordinal was grown to it. She was
discovered, grown to her early teens and covered in amniotic fluid in
the wreckage of a laboratory, where she had been bioengineered from
scratch. Taken in by the Adjusted League Unimpeachable Academy, it was
determined that Transit was not, technically, a clone of any one
person, but instead was an entirely artificial person, designed from
every chromosome up. Her genes -- where they could be traced at all --
were traced to brilliant men and women of science, as well as men and
women of power. Most notably, teleportation powers.

The result was a young woman with a truly remarkable mind, especially
for mathematics. To Transit, the entire world was made up of the
interplay of numbers -- and her powers enabled her to sense the
spatial relationships of that world to a tremendous degree, giving her
immeasurable insight into her environment. Further, she has the power
to manipulate the fabric of space/time itself. Even as a newly
decanted student, she could use that power to open 'transgates' --
point to point wormholes that allowed for near instant travel up to
sixty five miles a hop. As she grew older, her abilities and
understanding only increased, and she is now a living mathematical
proof and physics theorem rolled into one. Her teleportation powers
are some of her best, and are remarkably flexible. She can engage in
melee combat from across the room, for example, with the point of
maximum impact being made into a wormhole bridge to the point of
greatest potential damage on her opponents. She can also manipulate
local space/time, altering frames of reference to make it seem like
her enemies are much slower, and she and her allies much faster. And
when she teleports a person or object, she can tailor not only the
location they emerge from, but their vector and speed. This lets her
throw a ball bearing through a gate at a speed of ten meters per
second, only to have it emerge from the farpoint going a thousand
meters per second relative to her enemies.

She has also learned to float in the air.

Transit's perceptions of the universe can also be a negative. If she
is teleported via means other than her own abilities, translated
through altiverses or time, or otherwise put through a sudden shift in
her relative position and understanding, she reacts with discomfort,
nausea, or sometimes even violent illness. If placed in a situation
where reality's laws are unnaturally 'bent' by some force, she can
become ill and potentially even die unless she manages to acclimate.
Even xolchaportation, when that was an option, gave her difficulty,
and she can't utilize the services of Ingress Technology without some
illness now.

As a person, Transit was reserved and an innocent, especially in her
first years. She clung to her friends and fellow students desperately,
having no other people in her life whatsoever. In particular, she
bonded with Rip Davis, whose mother -- the brilliant theoretician Dr.
Laura Davis -- also became one of her closest confidents. Her
relationship to the Davises was formalized on April 23, 2000, her
'birthday,' when she turned physically eighteen years old. She was
adopted by Laura and Daniel Davis, becoming Rip's sister in fact as
well as emotionally, and officially becoming 'Transit Davis.' Her
closeness to Rip Davis -- one of the best known martial artists known
to the League -- has taken the self defense and combat skills she
learned at the Academy and refined and improved them. Though not given
to frontline combat, Transit is one of the best hand fighters in the
League.

When asked why she didn't adopt a more normal sounding name, at least
for her 'secret identity,' Transit has expressed bafflement. She
simply *is* 'Transit.' There's no reason for any other name, by her
reckoning. The only reason she has taken on the codename 'Ordinal' now
is the need for deniability as a member of the League, and even then
she finds the whole affair slightly silly.

Ordinal wears a lavender suit, with a vest with pockets and loose,
flowing silk Chinese pants held with a red metal belt. On her feet she
wears martial arts slippers. She wears silk armbands that hook over
her middle fingers, and a red winged quarter-mask in red. On her chest
one can see a graphical representation of the swirls of an ordinal
well-ordered set up to ω squared. It is not recommended you ask her
about this, as she would undoubtedly explain it to you, and if it's
the sort of thing you want to know, you already know it.

Transit, now appearing to be in her twenties, is a remarkably composed
young woman with dark brunette hair and blue-grey eyes. She is almost
always perfectly well composed, and even in the midst of tense
situations she sounds almost amused. In the absence of Ops she acts as
the field coordinator, directing the League to troublespots in the
city. She also is the core of the League's logistics, using her
teleportation abilities to move teammates where they are needed and
using her perceptions and senses to give tactical information. Though
she is a good combatant and sometimes takes on assignments solo, she
is generally used as support, where she excels. She gets along well
with just about everyone, and deeply likes her teammates. She misses
her brother Rip, who has declined membership in the League, but is
glad that her mother now works for Ingress Technology in Cambridge --
ironically helping them develop stable teleportation technologies.

Transit's day job is as Research Professor of Mathematics at Tufts
University. Her work is purely theoretical, without actual teaching
requirements, though "Doctor T. Davis" does oversee a number of
advanced Graduate students. She also serves on a number of advanced
physics and mathematics journal editorial boards. Her theoretical
output is considerable and universally brilliant, which gives her
significant free time to fight crime.

One of Transit's more persistent quirks -- particularly given the
number of years she has associated with Professor Burns of the
Academy, her friend and ex-classmate Portentous Piranha, and Roger
"Parvenu" Nobody -- is her insistence that there is no such thing as
magic. She will stipulate the rather esoteric effects that some people
can produce, but patiently explains to anyone who will listen that
simply because someone has not yet identified the natural laws that
allow for their abilities does not mean they do not exist. As
observations improve, so too will hypotheses and the opportunity to
measure the effects. Eventually, mathematics will encompass these
effects, they will become explainable, and they will take their proper
place in the pantheon of science. In the meantime, it is
counterproductive to romanticize them.

For whatever reason, where most people 'swear' by Elvis, Transit takes
the name of Michael J. Fox -- the AntiElvis -- in vain. This has
disturbed people in the past.

And, it is worth noting... it is still not known who designed or grew
Transit in the first place... or why.

META/NOTES: Ordinal, in City of Heroes terms, is a controller.
(Gravity/Kinetic, if I had to idenitfy which one.) This is despite the
"Transit" I have played in CoH being a Kinetic/Radiation Defender.
Look, I don't have to be precise. I'm quite happy with how her costume
came out -- even the symbol isn't that far off from the real
representation of an Ordinal number series. As a character, Trans
fills a few needed roles for the team, but has enough mystery
connected to her to give lots of nice potential stories.

Incandescence
Formerly Known As: Hellfire
Also Formerly Known As: Matchstick
Still Also Formerly Known As: Christina Ricci
Old Series: Teen Team
Another Old Series: Mason's Mazin' Mob and its ilk
Real Name: Cairistiona Richards
Created by: Mason Kramer
Picture: http://annotations.com/graphics/league/Incandescence.png

Imagine if you will a popular young actress -- a young teenaged star
of movies and television, who became an icon at an early age. Movies
like *Mermaids*, *The Addams Family*, and *Addams Family Values*
appearing on her resume as she--

What's that you say? You don't have to imagine it? I'm describing
Christina Ricci? You're right, I am. And of course, she went on to
groundbreaking films like *The Ice Storm* and developed her own
production company, doing such work as *Prozac Nation*. She's one of
the great talents of her generation.

Now, imagine that career being stopped short two days before the world
premier of *Casper*

This is, once upon a time, what happened. Ricci had, in 000SUPERGUY,
moved to Austin, Texas. She and the Teen Team were flying back to
Hollywood for the premiere of *Casper* (as a publicity stunt, the
producers had asked the Teen Team to come since they had Roger Nobody
with them -- and he was, in fact, a friendly child ghost. Get it?
Good!) But, she was kidnapped by Random Numbers in yet another attempt
to kill off and/or destroy the Teen Team. The team arrived to save the
actress, but a mutagenic gas was released -- one that both warped
Maria Mendez's reflective powers, making her far more powerful but
incapable of being touched... and one that left Ricci herself a being
of pure flame without a body beneath.

Obviously, in this universe, at that time, she did not go on to film
*The Ice Storm*. She did, however, become a superhero. As Matchstick,
she, Maria "Mirror Maid" Mendez and Mighty Dog went on an open ended
quest, trying to find meaning after being cut off from their old lives
by Random Encounters's gas. They had a series of adventures,
especially in Japan alongside the Super Seven, before coming back to
America and hooking up with some of their old friends to form Mason's
Mazon' Mob. She quickly got to know the others well, and enjoyed her
life, though she missed parts of her old life.

To rescue Roger Nobody -- at that point in the body of Melody
Pernicious -- Matchstick went along with the Mob into Hell itself, to
confront Satan. There, she got caught in a fight scene of epic
proportions. At the end, she and the Mob were victorious, and she
emerged with them, seemingly having taken Satan himself down a notch.

It is worth noting -- Roger escaped Satan's lies. Dani once blew Satan
apart in the epic "Yesterday's Hero" miniseries. And coming up from
the depths of Hell, Matchstick had far better control over her fire --
to the point where she could actually render herself harmless (though
still burning) and generate far more intense heat. She elected to take
the name Hellfire at this point, and she began attending the Academy
in earnest, to learn how to use her abilities.

Then, her closest friend among the Mob -- Maria -- betrayed the Mob
and nearly got them all killed. Maria left the Mob in disgrace and
under tremendous strain. Of the Mob members, only Hellfire -- who
herself understood what it was like to be as isolated by her powers as
Maria was -- remained close to the former Mirror Maid. This in turn
led to Hellfire joining Danielle "Dangerousgirl" MacPherson and Maria
as the leather jacket wearing "Chicks With Attitude," a clique of
their very own.

Also, during this time... Hellfire found herself attracted to, and
ultimately in a relationship with Rip "Memorex" Davis. It was in many
ways one of the most fun times of her life....

...or, at least, what she thought was her life.

When Satan returned, to claim Hellfire -- for indeed, she was composed
of Hellish flames now, an epic battle for the woman's soul took place.
And in the midst of that battle a horrible truth was revealed. When
the gas -- which was supposed to kill 90% of those exposed to it --
had turned Ricci into a woman of flame... it had killed her. Though
burning with fire -- and later a form of hellfire -- she was as much a
ghost as Roger Nobody himself... only she had never gone through the
judgement he had. Satan was trying to do an end run around that to get
the girls's soul.

Freed and saved by her friends, she was finally given the chance to
accept her death, and she ascended to the afterlife. Which is where
the problems started.

You see, she ended up in a relatively bureaucratic Heaven. And the
records in that Heaven showed that 'Christina Ricci' was still alive.
So, to keep things clear, the ancient records were amended, and the
fiery soul was rechristened "Cairistiona Richards."

*After* this had happened, it was determined what the real problem
was. She had been sent to the wrong Heaven -- to an entirely different
Altiverse's incarnation of Heaven. So the recordkeepers transferred
her file to the proper Heaven, and they prepared to give her her
choice of afterlife.

Only... when the record came in, it was the amended record. And that
Heaven had no record of a 'Cairistiona Richards.' So editorial action
was taken, adding her to the records of 000SUPERGUY... but of course,
Cairistiona Richards hadn't died there, so on paper, she had every
right to go back.

For the inconvenience, and out of attunement with the fires that
defined her, Cairistiona -- called Cairi, most often -- was reattuned
and resonated with the purest divine flames. She gained fiery angelic
wings as well -- and most importantly, she gained the ability to
subsume her divine fiery form into a shell of mortality, which she
could tweak in appearance with some effort.

She was thrilled, and descended back to Earth....

...appearing in front of a movie theater which was showing *Black
Snake Moan*. Starring Christina Ricci.

Cairistiona Richards learned that with the reworking of reality to
accommodate her altered records, she gained the ability to return to
Earth... but Earth's history had been altered. Now, Ricci never met
the Teen Team. She was never kidnapped. She never became Matchstick.
Cairistiona Richards was an anomaly.

At the same time, there *had* been a heroine called Matchstick. She
had also been Hellfire. All her adventures *had* happened. And when
Cairi went back to her friends, they remembered those adventures, and
remembered Cairi, and welcomed her with open arms....

...but they couldn't remember any part of their civilian life with
her. Anything that stepped outside of Matchstick or Hellfire's heroic
role... was simply no longer a part of their memory.

Even Rip couldn't remember. He remembered loving Hellfire --
remembered the two of them fighting alongside each other, and he still
had powerful emotion for her... but every date they had been on, every
private moment they had spent together... was gone.

The one exception, for no reason that could be determined... was Maria
Mendez. She remembered every moment the two had had together. And
thanks to a loophole, the activities of the Chicks With Attitude
seemed to also be covered, which meant to a lesser extent Dani could
remember Cairi.

Two years later, Cairi is firmly entrenched in the League. Cut off
entirely from her old life, she valiantly seeks to establish a new one
-- and new memories to go with it. She has no family other than the
League... no sisters other than Maria and Dani. She is a cypher,
caught between two histories. She is well liked by her teammates, of
course, and they are more than happy to build new memories with her,
bit it's hard.

And at the same time, she can see the 'her' she would have been
without superheroism on the big screen. She can watch her career,
watch her choices, watch her *movies*, and though that woman seems
alien to Cairi, it's hard sometimes.

Cairi, in full manifestation, is the glorious manifestation of divine
fire. She can produce intense heat and flame, as well as unleash
explosive fireballs. She can also 'burn' without causing permanent
damage, at will, and can manifest her flames into a holy sword of
fire. Magic and especially demonic powers are horribly disrupted by
Cairi's fire, and one can't help but imagine that vampires would have
a *really* bad day if they met her. Her costume, beyond the fiery
flames of her true form, is a gold and red jumpsuit that can contain
her fires without blocking it. She wears no mask, given that her fiery
face, even without the flame, doesn't look anything like her mortal
shell.

In her day job, Cairi works at McBurger Hut Tacos in the Boston
University area. She has no need to sleep, so she also works a night
shift at the Campus Convenience store, ironically in the very base of
the Rogers Institute for Paranormal Studies -- the building that
League Headquarters is underneath, and which soon will be the base for
Lochaber.

META/NOTES: Incandescence is somewhere between a Fire/Fire Blaster and
a Fire/Fire Tanker, in City of Heroes terms. She can be versatile,
which is a very nice thing. She's also an important character type for
my kinds of Superguy stories -- the heavy angst background character.
Even more than Maria, Cairi has a lot of crap in her life and no real
chance to get rid of it. And yes, I admit it fully -- I wanted
Matchstick/Hellfire in the League -- she was a great character, and
Mason and I worked out the relationship in her and Rip's past, and
there was plenty of potential there... but I really didn't want
'Christina Ricci.' I've dabbled in the celebrity/public figure side of
Superguy (most notably with the Xolchipalians, though they had the
"coincidence" label to keep them safely separated from the source
material), and I gladly indulged in the satirical elements of the
list, but even if I wanted to do satires of Christina Ricci's
career... she's so much a different person and actress now then she
was before *Casper* -- *Casper* for Christ's sake -- that there was
nothing I could do with her. So, with Mason's help and blessing, we
divorced her from Ms. Ricci. Plus, when I get around to detailing this
in more... er, detail in the League itself, it'll give me a chance to
do In Nomine parodies, and that makes me a Happy King. As for the
costume -- this one I'm not too happy with, in large part because it's
not easy to truly make her out of flame. Well, okay, I can flame aura
her if she's a fire tanker, and if I get to 30th level with her I can
full on set her head and even body on fire, but that's a long way to
go to ger a character costume.

These are the field League members. In a later post -- this one's way
long enough as it is -- I'll do the same thing for Kirby Rogers, Mandy
"Ops" Harken, Elizabeth Tirkoff, Alice "Ms." Mercury, Susan "Carillon"
Liddel, and Rip Davis. I also have Lochaber costumes.

But that's for... another day.