BlueBattler

You’d think that after more than a century there wouldn’t be much in life that could surprise me any longer, Marcus thought to himself as he stared at the imposing figure before him. On the other hand, Bastion—I mean Citadel—has made a history of surprising everyone who thinks they know him. “Let me get this straight. You want a vacation, Citadel?”

“Not exactly, Statesman.” For the longest time, Statesman had been irritated by the sound of Citadel’s voice. It was something that he couldn’t pin down until Shalice—Sister Psyche—told him that Citadel’s sounded exactly like him. Apparently when Crey had created him, they had wanted the former Bastion to sound like a trusted public figure. A compliment, of sorts, he supposed, but one that had taken some getting used to. “I wish to take an extended leave of absence to study the human condition in a way that was heretofore unavailable to me.”

“What do you mean?” Marcus smiled at the android, encouraging him to continue. Sometimes Citadel would be annoyingly verbose in his explanations; other times you would have to practically blast the information out with dynamite.

“I believe that the recent breakthroughs at Icon will enable me to thoroughly disguise my artificial nature when interacting with the public. This will give me an opportunity to experience human relations in an entirely new way.”

It’s almost a pity that Synapse isn’t here to hear that straight line, Marcus thought with a grin. “So you want to go undercover, is that?”

“Essentially, yes.”

“What about your duties in Talos? And your mentoring of Luminary?”

“The hard light holography developed by Positron will ensure that my absence is not missed by the public. I will have my communicator if my services should be required by the Freedom Phalanx. As for Luminary …” Citadel paused. “Luminary is a Hero in her own right now, and is fully capable of performing her duties as a Trainer without my supervision. Should she need assistance, she can always call on her fellow Vindicators.”

“Is everything all right between the two of you?” Marcus asked suddenly, unsure himself as to why the question had come up.

“We are fully capable of cooperating with each other in our assigned tasks,” Citadel replied, and there was something about the way he said it that dissuaded Marcus from asking for elaboration.

“How long do you think you’re going to need?” he asked finally, rubbing his chin in contemplation. Having been in the public eye for more than 75 years, he well understood the desire to get away from it all … though he wasn’t sure that “desire” was a word that applied to his android teammate.

“I estimate that a minimum period of 60 days will be required for me to fulfill all the objectives that I have established for myself. Rick and Caitlin Davies have agreed to help me install the necessary technology and establish a civilian identity for myself. Rick Davies has also arranged for me to obtain a position of employment.”

“Rick Davies? Not Positron?” Marcus respected Rick Davies’ talents, but even the erstwhile Horatio would admit that he could not match Positron’s genius.

“Much of the current technology that has been implemented in me was salvaged from the Horatio battle suit,” Citadel replied. “In this particular instance I calculate that he would be the best choice for performing the necessary hardware modifications.”

“It’s your body,” Marcus shrugged. He hoped that Positron wouldn’t feel slighted by his teammate’s decision, but the android was a sentient being; the choice was his. “Have you told the others?”

“I wished to obtain permission before I announced my intentions to the rest of the Freedom Phalanx.”

Marcus sighed as he rose to his feet. Everyone always comes to me for these things. Some days I feel more like their father than their teammate. “You’ve served Paragon well, Citadel. You’ve more than earned the right to some time off. Come on, we’ll go tell the others.”

“Thank you, Statesman.”

I just hope that he knows what he’s doing, Marcus thought to himself. I know that Citadel can look after himself in a fight, but trying to deal with the human race on equal terms may be a lot harder than he bargained for!

Well done!

My Earth/Thermal Controller is 48, almost halfway to 49.

I have tried every power in the Earth set except for Salt Crystals. Quite honestly, it just hasn't seemed like a power for much use either on a team or soloing. (Just got done playing a bit with her tonight and from the way my Stone Pet (Phillip) was bouncing between held targets I'd imagine he'd do the same thing to Slept Ones.)

The one possible use that I can see for Salt Crystals would be in situations where it might be worthwhile to sleep an AV ... for example the ITF or possibly the Reichsman TF when you have the AVs that pop out to help Reichsman.

So that's my question.

Can a single Troller use Salt Crystals to Sleep Avs?

Two things:


1. Jetpack or copterpack costume pieces.

2. Cross Server Teaming.

After a hasty breakfast, Cole stepped out of his tower and took to the sky.

I’m glad that the Aeon Domes keep the air so clear around Grandville, Cole thought to himself as he flew towards his destination. I may be able to survive Outside, but that doesn’t mean that I like it!

Suddenly, the air was filled with the sound of sirens.

Remembering Justine’s words, Cole flew towards the source of the alarm. “Can’t be rebels,” he told himself. “They wouldn’t dare—not in the heart of Grandville!”

Soon, the cause of the alarm became readily apparent:

“The Flier!”

The Arachnos Flier was a symbol of his father’s power: for more than a century it had flown the skies of Grandville, keeping watch on any menace to the capital city of the Rogue Islands. Cole had not actually seen it in combat inside Grandville throughout his entire life, but he had always felt a little safer knowing it was there to protect his father’s city.

Now … now the Flier flew erratically, great clouds of black smoke coming from its mighty engines. Not an aerodynamic craft by any means, it would plummet like a stone as soon as the engines conked out.

The pilot apparently knew the threat his ship posed to the city, for he was flying towards the Gutter where nothing of any great importance would be destroyed if it should fall. Cole’s eyes—so much better than a normal man’s—could make out the desperate men and women struggling to get out of the way of the ship before it came crashing down on their heads.

“No! Hundreds will be killed! I have to stop this!”

Without a second thought, Cole hurled himself through the sky like a missile. Reaching the belly of the giant airship, he grabbed hold and began fighting against the pull of gravity, trying desperately to slow its descent. It was heavy—Recluse’s eyes! It was heavy!

But he could not let it fall. He would not let it fall!

Slowly … oh so slowly … the great ship slowed its descent. Gently, he lowered it to land outside the Westin Phipps Memorial Home for the Indigent. The ragged crowd outside the ship stared at him in amazement, unable to comprehend their lives had been saved.

And then they began to cheer.

The Commander of the Flier stepped outside his ship and saluted Cole. “Your Highness! Thank you for your assistance!” He stared at the cheering crowd. “Shall I silence the rabble so that we can speak?”

“What?” Cole was taken aback, momentarily. Accompanying his father, he had often received public adulation before, but this was … different. This crowd was lively, jubilant … unafraid?

And somehow, this seemed both familiar and proper.

“No! Leave them alone!” He looked sharply at the Commander, his eyes blazing with electrical fury.

“Yes, my Prince! I meant no offense!” The Commander actually flinched.

With an effort, Cole controlled himself. “What happened? Why did the Flier fail?”

“I suspect sabotage, Your Highness. I would like to personally question my crew myself to find the traitor.”

“I imagine that Father will wish to have a full and proper investigation, Commander.” Cole knew quite well that the Commander would be fortunate to come out of this affair alive, let alone retain his rank, but it was not his place to tell the fool his days of giving orders were done. Cole had more important matters to attend to.

“I must go now. Do not allow anyone to approach the Flier until an Arbiter gives the word,” Cole told the Commander. “If we are fortunate, this may give us the key we need to find the traitors in our midst once and for all!”

And with that, Cole took to the air once more.

I believe you can still see Tanks driving around in the RWZ.

There are days when I hate this job.

There are so many better ways I can be spending my time. I could be supervising Longbow. I could be training with the Vindicators. I could be honing my own abilities and skills.

Instead … instead I’m here making like a glorified doll as I greet every new hero, telling him how he’ll do great things and needs to “Bring those thugs to justice”.

It was a lot cuter to say the first ten thousand times I said it.

Now, I’ve been smiling so long that I can’t feel my jaws, and I badly need to switch on the hard light holograph so I can take a quick potty break, but I can’t seem to reach the switch before some new hero comes running up asking to be trained.

I shut my eyes as I try to stifle a yawn.

“Hello, Ms. Liberty.”

And here’s another one …

I open my eyes and my drops almost down to my pedestal. “Blue Battler?!”

“Not anymore.” He takes off the helmet, and the light is back in his eyes. He’s whole, and he’s smiling and I’m smiling back at him like an idiot because the happiness on his face is contagious. “Blue Battler 2.0, Level 2 Fire/Regen Scrapper at your service.” He chuckled. “At least I will be after you train me.”

“I guess this means you won’t be joining Longbow.”

“Nope. Sorry, Ms. L, but this is what I was born to do.”

“You are going to tell me how this happened, aren’t you?”

“I’ve love to. How about we talk about it over dinner?”

Is he asking me out? I’m blushing. I can’t remember the last time I blushed. I want to say yes, but … “I don’t really think I can right now, Blue.”

He looks at me quizzically.

“Talk to me after you’re a Hero of the City again. I don’t really think it’d be proper right now.”

He shrugs and puts his helmet back on. “Well, don’t go anywhere then. This shouldn’t take too long.”

“You know where to find me.” I’m flirting! If Mynx saw me now she’d never let me hear the end of it … “And Blue?”

“Yeah?”

“Go out there and bring those thugs to justice!”

He laughs and raises a blazing sword of fire in salute. “Battle on!”

And he runs off into the City of Heroes.

If that's her criteria, Becky is going to be single a LONG LONG time.

“So that’s how you got your groove back?”

“That’s how I got my groove back.”

We’re in my private office, just the two of us. Blue’s turned down the drink I offered him and began telling me what had happened to him since I had seen him last. “So you’ve got your fire powers back, and you’re developed an acute case of self-regeneration. Not bad.”

I try not to sound jealous. Sometimes I dream about getting back into the game, making a new suit, and becoming a Hero again. I wake up wanting it so bad that I can taste it.

But then an internal servomotor slips as I try to get out of the bed and I realize that time is never coming back for me. I had a good long run, but it’s over now. I’m not Horatio anymore; I’m Rick Davies and that’s something I just have to live with.

“What happened to Patchwork?”

“What do you mean?” He looks uncomfortable suddenly.

“He wasn’t picked up by the police. DATA’s always called in when a new super powered criminal is captured to make sure that he doesn’t require any specialized restraints. I haven’t heard a thing about him.”

Blue nods. “I didn’t turn him over to the cops. You remember when I went to Doctor Vahzilok for help? He wanted a favor …”

“You GAVE him Patchwork?”

“He was quite interested in finding out how Patchwork had developed his abilities. I agreed to turn Patchwork over to him if the good doctor gave me a line on how to find him. He did his part; I had to do mine.”

“Blue---“

“I made a deal, Rick.” He smiles suddenly. “But I’m not an idiot. I told Grey and the Dark Watcher about it when I turned him over to Vahzilok. They’ll keep an eye on both of them. And if Vahzilok decides to vivisect Patchwork …” He shrugs.

“That’s a bit harsh for you, Blue.”

“It’s a hard world, Rick. He butchered that mind controller. He used my powers to kill. He deserves whatever he gets.”

I’m not happy with that. Vanguard isn’t much better than Vahzilok himself in my opinion. Anyone who’s willing to use "whatever means necessary” tends to be someone you can’t trust in the long run. But I let that pass for now. “So you’re going to apply for your ID back?”

“Not exactly.”

I look at him in surprise.

“I earned my Hero of the City status as an AR/Fire Blaster, Rick. That’s not what I am now. I still don’t have my armor. I still don’t have my gun. Moon Heat was right; the power’s changed. I have it back, but it’s not what it was. It’s changed, and so have I.” He pulls out an application and tosses it on my desk along with a notepad. “I have to start at the beginning.”

I glance at the application. “I’ll get it processed right away.” I look at the notepad. “Bluette did that for you, didn’t she?”

“Most of it, yeah. I had the ideas, but she’s the one who helped me with the actual design.” He looks at me hopefully. “I’m hoping that you’ll help me build it.”

I’m touched. “I’d be glad to. We’ll get started right away. Blue Battler will be back on the streets before you know it.”

“And that’s the other thing. I’m not going to call myself Blue Battler anymore…”

Valkyrie: Single heroine seeking hero who won't use "I can never take you out to dinner because removing my armor could endanger the entire City" as an excuse not to go out even though he stands around all day blinding me with the reflection from his bald shiny head ...

Malaise: Single male seeking heroine who won't play mind games with him ...

Luminary: Single Fembot seeks male who won't spend all day glaring at her and never once suggest taking her out for an oil change or gear rotation.

Um, Steelclaw, you realize that Ms. Liberty is Recluse's Grand-niece? (Though honestly, Longbow makes me think that she probably IS his type ...)

You're a being after my own heart, Haz. ^_^

I was thinking more along the lines of "The Touch" myself. ;-)

“You tricked me! You were supposed to come alone!” Patchwork screamed.

“Painstake! Bluette’s being mind-controlled! Keep her focused on you!”

“You got it, Blue! Yo, Bluette! Come to Papa Painstake!” He waved his ax tauntingly in front of Bluette, beckoning her to attack him.

“You’re trying to hurt Blue! I’ll stop you!” Bluette flew towards Pain and began peppering him with blasts.

I wasn’t worried about Painstake. He was a Hero of the City in his own right; Bluette didn’t have the power that it took it to harm him. He could keep her busy all day if necessary.

That left Patchwork to me.

“You’re a punk, Patchwork, Battalion … whatever you want to call yourself.” I had to keep him mad. Mind control could turn my brain into mush and his radiation powers could fry me even if his stolen fire powers couldn’t. “I know mind controllers. I worked with the best one there’s ever been. I knew that as long as I kept you focused on me you wouldn’t be able to sense Pain climbing the building. No matter how much power you get, you’re never going to be anything but a small time hood.”

“Shut up!”

Suddenly, I slammed into the ceiling and came crashing back down.

“I’ll kill you! You hear me, Blue Battler? I’m going to kill you!”

“It’s going to take more than that, Patchwork,” It hurts. It feels like one of my ribs may have broken, but I can feel it sliding back into place. I grabbed a piece of ceiling tile and threw it at his eyes.

Patchwork cursed and ducked, but my aim was still as good as ever—the tile hit him square in the eyes. Howling in rage, he began ferociously rubbing his eyes.

I rose to my feet. “Pain! Get Bluette out of here! Fascination Y’s waiting outside! He can cure her Confusion.”

“Ya need my help, Blue! You can’t take him alone!”

“Do it, Pain!”

“If ya get yourself killed I’m never gonna let you live it down!” Pain grumbled as he lured Bluette out of the window he had shattered.

“Your friend is right, Blue Battler!” Patchwork growled, “You’re no match for me!”

I hadn’t been standing still while I was talking to Pain. I had dived for cover. “Yeah, yeah. Like I never heard that before.”

“Where are you, coward! You’re not a Hero anymore, Blue Battler! You’re less than nothing to me now! I will kill you and then I will go on to kill all your friends! I write my future in the blood of your family, Blue Battler!”

I laughed. “You really think that you’re going to lure me out with that kind of talk, Patchwork? I’ve fought gods and demons! You may get lucky and kill me, but you’re never going to make me afraid of you. You’re just a pathetic little man.”

“Shut up! Shut up!”

He began generating a healing aura to provide more light for him to see by.

Idiot. All that did was make him a bigger target.

I threw a coffee mug at him.

It slammed into his forehead, and he staggered.

I tackled him to the floor and began slamming my metal fist into his masked face.

Once. Twice. Three times.

“Enough!”

Suddenly, I was hitting the ceiling again. When I came back down again, my head exploded in agony.

“I grow weary of you, Blue Battler. You have been an interesting diversion, but I have grown beyond you. I have so much more to do with my time.”

He was tearing at my mind with his powers. “Now I am going to kill you, Blue Battler. I am going to kill you while you stand by helplessly, unable to do a thing. Do you know what I took from Project Orpheus? Another power. This one will allow me to steal your life with the touch of my hand. I will drain you dry, Blue Battler. Everything you were—it will all be gone. Consumed. Devoured. By me.”

He raised his left hand, and it seemed to pulse with darkness.

He grabbed my throat. “This is how it ends, Blue Battler. Not with a bang, but a whimper.”

I was suddenly cold. Colder than I had ever been. A cold that seemed to creeper ever deeper into my chest …

“No,” I whispered. “I don’t think so.”

I grabbed his throat with my metallic right hand and began to squeeze.

Patchwork began gasping for breath.

I was growing weaker with every passing second, but my prosthetic was not powered by human muscle. All I had to do was just think about it, and it would do what I asked … and I was asking it to strangle the life out of my attacker.

“No!” A blazing sword appeared in his right hand. My right hand. Frantically, he hit my artificial arm with it.

As the fire from my real arm touched its replacement, I suddenly felt a familiar warmth kindle itself deep inside me, driving away the cold and darkness that Patchwork had unleashed on me.

I threw him away from me.

“You’ve got something that doesn’t belong to you, Patchwork. It’s time for me to take it back.”

“This isn’t possible! Stay away from me! Stay away!”

He shouldn’t have been afraid. He was the one with all the power—my power. He should have been able to destroy me with a single thought.

But he was afraid. I could smell on it.

And he had a right to be.

I raised my artificial arm.

My stolen arm on Patchwork rose up in response, the fiery scimitar blazing in the blue armored fist.

“What are you doing? Stop it! Stop it!”

“I’m taking back the fire, Patchwork. It’s mine. It’s always been mine. You only had it because I let you have it. I’m not doing that anymore. I’m taking it back now!”

“No! Don’t!”

The fiery blade began to lose its shape, becoming less of a blade than a living flame. It curled itself around the fist, down the arm … and began to flare brighter, grow hotter.

“Please! Don’t do this!” Patchwork begged.

But I couldn’t stop. Even if I had wanted to, I couldn’t stop it now.

The fire flared so bright that it hurt my eyes.

Patchwork screamed like a lost soul.

And when the light died, the blue armored arm that had used to be mine was gone … burnt to ashes that retained their shape for just a moment before they drifted down to the floor of the old office building.

Patchwork fell to his knees, sobbing, clutching his shoulder.

I took a deep breath. “Come on, Blue.”

I could feel it inside me, the warmth … the power … the FIRE.

I raised my metal fist again.

“No,” Patchwork whispered. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair … you’re supposed to be the weak one now.”

“Not any longer, Patchwork. Not any longer.”

And the fiery scimitar burst forth from my metal fist.

“I’m back.” I raised the sword above my head. “The Blue Battler lives again!”

Keep it up, Mr. G!

1. You know those Newspapers missions in COV that say, "So-and-so decided to hang up his cape and decided to go working or the Snakes, Trolls, Skulls, etc"?

How about giving a few of those characters actual hero powers that are different than what those mobs normally have? Say, create a Snake Boss that is a Fire Blaster or a Skull that's a Dark Defender ... a Mind Controlling Troll:

2. On the Necromancer Powerset, allow us to make Spirits out of defeated opponents instead of our own pets. I want to see a Spectral Bane Spider working on my side after I go to the trouble of defeating him.

[ QUOTE ]
Signature Rogues

By: Matt “Positron” Miller, Senior Lead Designer, Paragon Studios

When Going Rogue was in the planning stages, we knew that we would need a couple “poster-children” to encompass what “Going Rogue” meant. We needed a Hero and a Villain to cross over to the other side and show to the world, and our players, that yes, this can and will be possible for your character too.

We originally thought that we would take existing Signature characters and migrate them to the other side, but since we did the “Trading Places” storyline in the comic (where Manticore joins up with Arachnos), it seemed we couldn’t do that without someone tying it back to that comic storyline where (spoilers ahead!) Manticore was only faking and was actually a Hero the entire time.



[/ QUOTE ]

Personally, I would have preferred it if it HAD been pre-existing characters that were the signature characters for Going Rogue.


There are many characters that could fit the redeemed villain in COX ranging from the Clockwork King to Scirocco to Frostfire. Any of those would have a larger impact on the game than some villain that we've never encountered before.

As for fallen heroes, it wouldn't have to be Manticore or Malaise. It could have been Faultline or Frostfire or Penelope Yin. It could have been Swan, or Seawitch or any one of the other heroes we encounter throughout our careers. Heck, it could even be one of the Hero Contacts who lost their powers like Jake Montoya or Phillipa Meraux.

One of the things that I think COX fails at doing is building on the earlier content. I would like to see some change and evolution in the backstory as well as new content.

I'm actually disappointed that so many of the WW 2 villains are active.

Vandal, Requiem, Nosferatu are all holdovers from WW2. Nemesis goes farther back than that. Requiem has also been retconned into having an origin dating back decades.

I want some NEW villains to arise in game. Idealy, someone we start to meet as a lowbie hero who then appears perodically throughout our careers ...

Hi, guys.

Recently ... I'd say within the last month or two, I've have trouble with COH causing my laptop to overheat and shut down after just a few minutes of play.

I've had the laptop over a year now, and I used it to dual box a couple of toons from 1 to 50 without any trouble, playing hours at a time. Now I'm lucky if I can half an hour on the laptop before it just shuts down. No warning. Just goes black.

I'm trying to figure out if it's a hardware problem or do to some change in the game. Anyone have any ideas for me?

Laptop is a Toshiba Satellite M305D-S4830 with AMD Turon Ultra X2 Dual Core Mobile Processr ZM-80 with 4096MB 800mhz Sdram.

Using Windows Vista Home Premium.

And you know, I thought that having Miss Liberty in that 1963 mission was really kind of borked.

The Freedom Phalanx novel had her at about 28 years of age in 1986. That puts her her birthday at about 1958. That means she would have been around 5 in 1963.

Even if you disregard that as not being canon, Ms. Liberty's relatively youthful age seems to preclude the idea that her mother would have been a well established heroine in her own right back in 1963 ...

Well, given that Longbow is operating in a sovereign country without sanction from either the government of aforementioned country or the UN, and I have to say that the fact they are using flamethrowers is just par for the course.

Do you remember this place, Blue Battler?

The words seared themselves into my brain the moment I walked through the door. I winced, but I did my best not to show it. “It looks vaguely familiar, but I’ve been in a lot of abandoned offices over the years.”

So many battles … so many victories. Rest assured, this will not be one of them.

“I’m here. So why don’t you let Bluette go? This is between us.”

I have waited a long time for this night, Blue Battler. I will not be rushed. You have no idea of the price I paid—the humiliation, the pain--- all just to have a moment when I could have you at my mercy.

“So I’m taking it that means we’ve met before.”

Oh yes. I am but one of the many foes you vanquished in your career, Blue Battler. You cost me everything—my pride, the respect of my friends—my power! But now … now I have an even better power. Yours.

His “voice” was familiar. I had heard it before. But the diction—the way he used words—it was different now. More refined. “Sounds to me like you picked up an education along the way, Patchwork.”

So you know who I am, Blue Battler?

“I’m working on it.” The first floor was empty. King’s Row was Skulls’ Territory, but the graffiti in here belonged to the Hellions. That tickled something in the back of my mind. I had fought a Hellion Boss in King’s Row long ago … I couldn’t even fly back then …

I was supposed to kill you, Blue Battler. The Infernal Prince’s Envoy of Shadows came to me in a dream. He promised me the kind of power that most men can only dream of. The world would have been at my feet if I had been able to destroy you…

The Envoy of Shadows had been interested in me at the start of my career? I had helped defeat him once. He had known we were going to meet?

Fate and self determination …

“So what happened then?”

Second floor, and no sign of him. Not surprising. Most of the bad guys I’ve fought have chosen to be on the final floor of a building, in the very back. Just once I’d like to meet someone who started at the front door …

You escaped me. The Envoy stripped my powers from me—no longer was I the Damned Battalion. I was just a man … but I swore I would get my revenge on you.

“You went to Vahzilok, didn’t you?”

Yes. I swore to serve him. He studied my magic-altered body to aid him in his research. The pain … the pain was worth it. And thanks to my loyalty, the Doctor made me an Eidolon. He educated me in the techniques of his work. And when a Warrior came across your severed arm on the battlefield of Talos after the Second Rikti Invasion, I knew that the time for my revenge had come!

Third floor.

“You used my arm. My powers. You used them to kill.”

“Indeed I did, Blue Battler.”

And this time, I could hear him.

He was in the last room of course. Not the tallest Eidolon I’d ever seen, but still imposing enough.

And in his right hand—in my right hand—was a blazing sword.

“Where’s Bluette?”

“I could kill you now, Blue Battler. I could strike you down with your own arm, but that would be too easy. No, I worked too long—suffered too much—for this to be over so quickly. You want to know where Bluette is? Let me show you! Now!”

I saw the shimmer out of the corner of my eye and hit the deck seconds before the energy blast almost took my head off.

Blue Battlette appeared in front of me, targeting drone humming ominously. Her gauntlets glowed with residual power form the blast she had just unleashed. “I’ll save you, Blue!”

“Bluette! It’s me! It’s Blue!”

She didn’t seem to hear me at all. Her weapons powered up and she prepared to unleash another blast at me.

Confused.

He had used Confuse on her. Bluette was going to kill me thinking she was saving me.

I ran towards her, but didn’t make it: Bluette tossed a web grenade at me, anchoring me to the ground.

“Any last words, Blue Battler?” Patchwork asked me, sneering.

“Two actually,” I told him. “PAINSTAKE! NOW!”

And that’s when my buddy the Tank came crashing through the window.

Well done, I really the interplay between them.

Traveling in the sewers isn’t easy when you’re not a Hero. It seems like you can’t go half a block without stumbling into a COT, Vahz, or Lost. It gives you a lot of respect for the guys and girls who keep the pipes running.

Strangely enough, this particular network appears to be deserted or abandoned. Given what used to happen here, I’m not terribly surprised. Though the Lost aren’t exactly human anymore, and the COT long ago lost their mortality, there is still such a strong stench of death that only a Vahzilok could long endure here.

Once, long ago, this used to be one of Dr. Vahzilok’s lairs. The huge equipment that he used to power his devices still sit undisturbed—not even the metal-hungry Clockwork have attacked it yet. Bits of bone and blackened chunks of meat litter the metal tables. Discarded cleavers and hatchets lay where they had been left months ago when the filthy work of the good doctor was thwarted by some Hero.

At first glance, it looks as though no one has been here since the end of the Vahzilok Plague. Just like the other two lairs I’ve already checked out. As I turn to leave though, I spot something out of the corner of my eye:

A colorful bit of costume.

That could only mean one thing:

A Hero had died here.

It doesn’t happen often, thanks to the Medcom Technology, but every so often one of us—one of them—still falls. Sometimes—very rarely—the transporter fails. Sometimes a villain manages to block it.

Sometimes, Heroes die.

The piece of costume leads me another piece beside it, and the second leads to a third. The third leads to the fourth… which is still attached to a body.

The body is fresh. Less than two weeks old, I’d say—and one of the things that I learned in my career was to estimate how long someone had been dead. A man, his eyes still open wide with horror and fear.

I don’t know him, and for that I’m thankful.

But I’m still angry and saddened by his death.

Whoever he was, whoever he had been, we had belonged to the same fraternity. We had shared a cause. He had been a Hero, and like me, he had paid a price for his calling.

And to be honest, I’m not sure which one of us is better off.

The top of his head is sheared off, and his brain … part of his brain is missing. His ID is on his belt—blackened and scorched so I can’t see his name, but he’s classified as a Mutant Mind/Radiation Controller, Level 47.

Not quite a Hero of the City, but close enough.

That explains how Patchwork could have gotten into Orpheus Labs. With that combination, there is no human or electronic security in Paragon that could stop him.

The burns on the corpse tell me that he used my powers to kill the Controller. He used the Controller powers to gain access to Orpheus. Orpheus was a biotech firm. In Paragon City, biotech means only one thing:

Metahuman powers.

I’d been afraid of this. Patchwork isn’t content with my powers. He’s adding to them. That’s what he wants: not the comparatively weak powers that most Vahzilok get from the bodies of dead Heroes, but rather the full force of a living Hero’s abilities.

He’s power hunting.

What did he gain from Orpheus? What’s next target? What is he hoping to gain? A Tank? Defender? A Kheldian?

Maybe one of the Surviving Eight?

Patchwork has to be stopped. The longer he’s active, the stronger he’s going to become. The harder he’s going to be to stop.

I can’t get a cell phone signal down in the sewers. I’m going to have to get out of here. I have to call the cops. The Vindicators. Maybe even the Phalanx.

Uncle Blue.

There’s only one person who calls me “Uncle Blue”—especially telepathically.

Y? Fascination Y. What is it?

Fascination Y is an old friend. He’s an Empath/Psi Defender. He’s a Hero of the City himself, though he mostly spends his time these days working out of a free clinic. He’s a good kid.

It’s Bluette, Uncle Blue. She’s gone.

What do you mean “gone”?

She came to visit me just a few hours ago to see if I knew where you were. We were attacked by an Eidolon. Uncle Blue, he was wearing—

I know, Y. What happened to Bluette?

She tried to fight him. We tried to fight him. But he was too strong—he defeated both of us. He took her, Uncle Blue. He took Bluette. He said that he was going to kill her if you didn’t show up to meet him tonight. He said he’ll kill her if you try to bring anyone else. He said he’ll kill her if you say anything to anyone else. Uncle Blue, what are we going to do?

He knows the answer before he asks that. We both do. Tell me where I’m supposed to go, Y. Tell me where I’m supposed to meet him.

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The weapon models are effects, not polygonal additions.

[/ QUOTE ]I don't know how you came to that conclusion, since it's not true.

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O rly?

The weapons are just effects. Yes they are technically made of polygons, but they exist no more than flaming hands do. You cannot drop your weapon.

Sledge Hammer WEAPONS/Custom_Mace/Male_Mace_Sledgehammer01.fx

It is an effect drawn on top of your character model, not an independant object added to game.

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True story.

When I was first playing around with customizable weapons, I at one point had it so the weapon could be dropped into the world, as a physics geo, whenever you died. Unfortunately, there's no way of getting said physics geos to inherit the color tinting, so I scrapped the whole thing.

Custom weapons are technically costume pieces, and FX scripts, animated entities, and also geometry. Some of them also have particles.

So everyone's right...except for you *points to that one guy*

And no, scabbards, holsters, quivers, etc are not simple or quick to do for reasons that I don't care to get into right now. Yes, I know...everyone in game wants them, has been demanding them for years, and there's undoubtedly some other game already out or coming out that had them.

I think that about covers everything.

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The thing that always gets me is how Infernal can draw his ax but still have it strapped to his back when he fights.