Captain_Photon

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Using the word toon instead of 'whatever' is a gauge of maturity?

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Maturity, no.

Being able to call things by their right names, probably.

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Words change and evolve.

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Ah, this argument. The eternal refuge of the misusers of language.

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actually, it looks like she is controlling a ground turret, lol.

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Maybe if the minigun had a bipod.

Longbow Minigun strikes the classic bearskin-rug "c'mon and climb aboard, sailor" pose.

Oh, it'd have to be Captain Photon. I mean, he's livin' the life. He's well-respected by the public, has a lot of friends in the city, and is lacking in Post-Modern Ironic Super-Angst. He's got it all. He's not one of the city's A-list heroes, perhaps - it's arguably impossible for a player character to be one of the city's A-list heroes - but he's a solid, recognized backup player with a moderate-sized but devoted fan club, the fan-favorite utility infielder of the superhero continuum.

*sniff*
That's beautiful, man.

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((Mature RPer))

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Well, maybe, but they're both my characters. Er, let's not go there.

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<,<; While I understand why it might not be what you were after...

I gotta say I rather like the piece <'x'> Its probably not true to character - but definitely hilarious. That of course is merely my opinion <,<

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Oh, I never said I didn't like it. My grumbling was all pretty tongue-in-cheek.

Phil Moy is an excellent artist, but he may or may not be the best follower of instructions. I mean, this is his interpretation of "my highest-level hero vs. my highest-level villain", acquired at the other weekend's Wizard World in Chicago. I suppose for sufficient values of "versus" this is apropos, but it wasn't really what I had in mind.

On the other hand, for all that Gen. Rossum is acting a bit odd (perhaps she's suffered a head injury?), at least Captain Photon is right in character.

Ah, my favorite villain group.

And by "favorite" I mean "AAHH! KILL IT WITH FIRE."

But in a way that reflects well on their designers. Thanks, A_S!

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Question for you all. I have a British hero, and some of his backstory revolves around interaction with MI6 and British Monarchy. Anyone know if there is a King or Queen in this timeline?

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I haven't heard anything about the British government/royal family/etc. being any different in the City of Heroes universe. Presumably the United Kingdom's monarch is Elizabeth II there as well.

Dashed off in about two and a half hours last night in the guest room of my grandparents' place in northern Maine, after a conversation with my grandfather about the two of us being writers. Make of it as much, or as little, as you will.

DECEMBER 31, 2005
GRAHAM HILL, MAINE

The sidewalks roll up early in northern Aroostook County, even on New Year's Eve. The sparse houses and scattered farms of the rural communities outside Presque Isle were dark and silent by 10 PM. Those few residents who were still awake were in for the night, televisions tuned in to the festivities in livelier parts of the world.

Along one of the dark country roads, beyond the reach of the streetlights, stood one such quiet house, its occupants long since turned in for the night... except one. Without turning on any lights, a man emerged from the house, shut the door gently behind him, then turned and walked a few paces into the driveway before pausing to look up at the night sky.

A moment later, apparently liking what he saw up there, he decided to get a better look - by lifting off the driveway and effortlessly taking flight, his blue and white cape rustling softly as it fanned out behind him.

Dan Hudson, also known as Captain Photon, wasn't going far; he
rose only a thousand feet or so, enough to clear the landscape and get a nice, long view over the rolling countryside of Aroostook County. Beyond the wooded hills and snow-covered farm fields, the lights of Presque Isle glowed against the sky; even the streets of the county's biggest town were all but vacant. All else was bathed in a moonless darkness, lit only by the stars.

Here in the County, where the light pollution was low and the atmospheric pollution even lower, the stars jumped out on a clear night in their thousands. Though Dan had grown up not so far away, in a slightly more southerly county of Maine, he had lived for the past several year in a place where the night sky was much less impressive, so he savored opportunities like this one.

Dan wasn't cold. His superpowers meant that he was never really all that cold, and his winter costume was heavy enough to insulate him from what little chill could penetrate the aura of energy that surrounded him. No skimpy spandex for Captain Photon; his preferred costume these days had a good, solid jacket and old-fashioned baggy trousers tucked into sturdy lace-up boots. "Today's hero, yesterday's style," as a Paragon Times headline had once described him. The fuzzy-fringed stocking cap he wore, a gift from a grateful city for his part in saving the municipal toy drive for underprivileged children from the forces of villainy, contained any body heat that might try to escape through the top of his head, and warmed his ears nicely to boot.

He lounged in the sky, hands in his trouser pockets, for perhaps fifteen minutes, just stargazing and woolgathering, when he suddenly realized that he was not alone. Turning, he saw nother costumed figure hovering a short distance away.

The newcomer wore a costume very similar to Captain Photon's, right down to the blue and white sunburst logo on the upper left chest of his jacket, but the jacket was of a different cut - cavalry-buttoned and flat-collared - and the man wore a domino mask rather than the high-tech goggles Photon sported. Mask or not, though, there could be no hiding his identity from Photon. A man could be expected to recognize his own grandfather, after all.

"Pretty up here," Wallace Hudson remarked quietly, a smile playing at his lips. "You know, I've been all over the world, and I never did find anyplace where the night sky was prettier than this."

Dan smiled. "Found your old costume, I see," he said.

"Yep, in a box in the garage attic, just like Mother predicted," Wally replied. "Still fits, too. Jacket's a bit big for me now, though."

Dan nodded. The conversation lulled for a few minutes as the two men hovered and watched the sky. The only sound to break the companionable silence was the whispering of their capes in the light winter wind.

"I'm not used to seeing the stars so clearly," Dan said after a while. "In Paragon the glow from the War Walls washes everything out but the brightest stars. On a good night in winter I can maybe make out Orion."

"Mm," said the elder Hudson, nodding. "I remember. It was like that when I was there, too, back in the '50s."

Dan turned and looked - really looked - at his grandfather, cape, mask and all, and suddenly, in his mind, they weren't just Dan
and Wally Hudson, out to take the evening air. They were Captain Photon, one of Paragon City's up-and-coming young heroes, and one of his many predecessors, the noble Neutron Knight, talking shop.

It was a surprisingly uplifting experience, given that Dan hadn't known his grandfather was the Neutron Knight until a few weeks before.

"Do you miss it?" Photon asked.

The Neutron Knight considered the question. "Sometimes," he said. "It was a good time. I have a lot of good memories. But it was time to give it up." Turning, he put a hand on Photon's shoulder and said, "That time comes for almost all of us, Dan. Only a few, like Statesman and Shalice, are lucky enough to be able to carry on until they decide they've had enough. For the rest of us, the time comes when the decision's made for us. The smart ones, and the lucky ones, listen and get out. The rest... " He let the statement hang.

Photon nodded. "Paragon's full of monuments to the rest," he said.

"Mm. I knew some of them," said the Knight. "Best not to dwell on it, though. Hell, you're young. You've got years and years yet - the best part of your career still to come. And who knows? You might meet a nice young heroine, settle down, and raise your own successor. What's that girl's name who you team up with all the time?" he added, raising an eyebrow.

"Gramp! Jeez," Photon said, making a "lay off" gesture. "It's nothing like that with Tasha and me. She's like my sister."

"Hn," the Knight mused; then he shrugged. "Well, like I say, you're young. What about that other one you're always writing to on the computer?"

Photon snorted. "Jen's a computer programmer, Gramp."

The Neutron Knight chuckled. "And Maiden Justice was a newspaper reporter," he replied.

Photon chuckled, and silence prevailed for a few more minutes. Then the Knight turned to Photon again, put his hand back on
the younger hero's shoulder, and said,

"Dan... you're doing a lot of good down in Paragon. Your parents worry about you... your grandmother and I worry about you, doubly so because we know first-hand what you're up against. But we're proud that you answered Statesman's call, and proud that you're doing so well at it." He grinned and added, "Your grandmother's already made a place on the wall for your Hero of the City photo."

Photon gave a modest snort. "That's a little premature, don't you think?"

"Not from what I hear." The Knight's eyes twinkled behind his mask. "I still have connections down there, you know."

"Psyche. It was Psyche, wasn't it? She called and told you about that city dam thing some friends and I did for Positron."

"You're damn right she did. She's been keeping an eye on you for me since you got to town."

"Nice of her to tell me about you," Photon grumbled. "I had to find out from a reporter."

"Nobody can keep secrets better than someone who can't avoid learning them," the Knight said with a shrug. He sighed, letting out a cloud of breath. "I'm sorry I kept it from you, Dan. It seemed like the best thing to do at the time. Your parents were worried as hell that you'd take after me, so they made me promise not to tell you. Then you took after me anyway, and... well, it was just best not to talk about it until you were grown up and out on your own. After that... I don't know, the right moment never came along."

"Well, OK, old man," Photon replied, grinning. "But I want all your war stories now that it's out."

"Only if I get yours." The Knight laughed, then yawned. "Hum. Too late for me. I'd better get back to bed before your grandmother thinks I've gone off to fight the Winter Lord or something."

"Heh. Good night, Gramp. And thanks."

"Happy New Year, Dan," the Knight said, clapping Photon on the shoulder. "Great days are ahead for you. Great days!"

"I hope so. Happy New Year, Gramp."

The Neutron Knight gave his grandson a smiling salute, then swooped back down toward the house and left Captain Photon alone with his thoughts.

It was quite a while before the younger hero returned to earth himself and went into the house.

--

The next morning, Dan Hudson said goodbye to his grandparents and packed his things into his car for the long drive back to Paragon City. He was just making to close the trunk when his grandfather came out of the house with a bundle under his arm.

"Hey, here, I almost forgot," he said, extending the bundle. "This is for you."

Dan took it, unfolded the rustling brown paper, and blinked at what he saw within - blue leather, black satin lining, shiny silver buttons and all.

"I... jeez, Gramp, your -jacket-, I can't take this," he protested, but Wally cut him off with a smile and a strong hand on his arm.

"Take it," he said. "Hang it on your wall, put it on a dummy in your secret base, do whatever you like with it. Of course," he added with a twinkling grin, "I'd rather you just wore it. That's what it was made for."

"I... I dunno," Dan said, looking down at the jacket again. "I'm not... I mean... " He folded the paper back together, looked up
at his grandfather's face, and said, "Maybe when I make Justice Incarnate I'll feel like I've earned it."

"You've earned it already - but do whatever you think is right," said Wally. "Now you drive carefully, OK? That hospital teleporter thing doesn't work outside the city, you know."

"Heh. Not this far outside, anyway," Dan agreed. "I'll be careful."

"Sure you have to go back today? Your grandmother can do up a roast for us."

"Yeah, unfortunately I do," Dan said. "I got a call from Pos this morning. Synapse wants to see me when I get back to town -
sounded important. I mean, Pos did say whenever, but when a member of the Freedom Phalanx says 'whenever'... "

Wally nodded, smiling. "I know," he said. "Good luck. Keep us posted. We don't get the Paragon papers up here, and you know Mother likes to keep her scrapbooks current."

"If anything gets printed, I'll send it," Dan promised.

"Come again when you can," Wally said. "We're always here. And see if you can get your friend to come up sometime."

"Which one?"

"Whichever," Wally replied, twinkling again. "Take it easy, Dan."

"You too, Gramp. Love you."

--

Several hours later, driving south on Interstate 95 through Portland, Dan was moderately surprised when the cassette he was listening to suddenly popped out of his car's tape deck. Surprised, at least, until he noticed that the display read "FBSA INTERRUPT" and heard the gravelly voice of the Federal Bureau of Superhuman Activities dispatcher announce,

"Attention. Attention. This is an FBSA bulletin. All registered heroes in the vicinity of Portland, Maine, be advised that
the aquatic entity codenamed 'Lusca' has been sighted in Portland Harbor. All heroes above Security Level 20 are requested to assist."

Dan smiled and signaled for the next exit.

Showtime!


Illustrations:
Captain Photon's "Golden Age" costume w/winter accessories, view 1
Captain Photon's "Golden Age" costume w/winter accessories, view 2

Retired for decades, the Neutron Knight was last spotted briefly back in action in 1995 to help police quell a jailhouse riot at the Aroostook County Jail in Houlton, Maine.

A capital idea! Here's one now:

Identity: Gen. Rossum
Real Name: Rossum, Jennifer
Known Aliases: Jennifer Ross, Ilyana Rosumova
Date of Birth: October 7, 1989
Threat Level: Moderate

Height: 5'3"
Weight: 97 lbs.
Hair: White
Eyes: Blue
Distinguishing Marks: Missing right eye (fitted with bionic optic mount)

Convicted: April 2005, Murder in the First Degree (multiple counts), Negligent Homicide, Aggravated Assault with Intent to Kill (multiple counts), Armed Robbery (multiple counts), Possession of Illegal Armaments (battle droid "No. 76"), Arson, Unlicensed Use of Super-Powered Technology (battle droid "No. 76"), Escape, Resisting Arrest
Note: Convicted as adult
Sentence: 25 years to life, Zigursky Penitentiary
Wanted: Escape, Possession of Illegal Armaments, Assault, Suspicion of Murder, Conspiracy, Armed Robbery, Terroristic Threats, Industrial Espionage

NOTE: Since her escape from Zigursky Penitentiary, Gen. Rossum is believed to be an active participant in the terrorist syndicate known as Arachnos. Among much else, she is wanted for questioning in connection with the "Outbreak" incident in Paragon City, various thefts of technology from Paragon corporate labs, and the recent raid on the Freedom Corps cargo ship M.V. Holiday Spirit.

Investigator's Report:

Jen Rossum is the daughter of the late Carl Rossum, a.k.a. Karel Rosumov, a Czech-born Soviet roboticist who defected to the United States with the aid of Miss Liberty and the Freedom Corps in 1982. Dr. Rossum worked as a researcher and instructor at the Steel Canyon campus of Paragon University, and was an active supporter of the city's technology-based superheroes throughout the '80s and '90s. He and his wife June, an American woman he married in 1985, had two children, John (born 1987) and Jennifer.

By all accounts, Jennifer Rossum was a genuine prodigy, taking an interest in Dr. Rossum's work at a very early age and becoming an unofficial lab assistant to her father by the time she started grade school. By the time of the Rikti War, she was a capable technologist in her own right. She and her father spent the war in a Freedom Corps secure bunker in Founders Falls, helping with repairs and upgrades to high-tech heroes' equipment and working with other researchers on attempts to decipher Rikti technologies. For these efforts, she was awarded the Distinguished Citizen Cross by Statesman at the end of the war - the youngest Paragon citizen ever so honored.

After the war, however, the Rossum family fell on hard times. In March 2004, Dr. Rossum was murdered, his lab at Paragon University ransacked, and the Universal Robot, a prototype security droid he was developing for the city, taken. It is believe that the perpetrators of this crime were members of the Sky Raiders. (The distinct resemblance between Rossum's Universal Robot and the Sky Raider Jump Bot makes it appear likely that the Jump Bot is a reverse-engineered production version of the UR.)

What happened subsequent to Dr. Rossum's death is unclear. Our best guess is that her father's murder unhinged Jennifer Rossum's mind. We know she built a lethal combat droid of her own, possibly by converting a previously constructed servant robot for combat. We also know that a group of Sky Raiders went to the Rossum home a few days after Dr. Rossum's death and were annihilated by said robot under the command of Jen Rossum. In the ensuing chaos, the Rossum house burned down, June Rossum was killed, and John Rossum disappeared. Evidence obtained in a subsequent investigation indicates that Jen Rossum lured the Sky Raiders to the house intending to ambush and kill them in revenge for her father's murder.

Rossum was arrested at the scene and charged with arson and murder in the deaths of the Sky Raiders whose remains were found in the wreckage of the house, as well as the negligent homicide of June Rossum. She was remanded to a juvenile detention facility to await trial. A month later she improvised a control device for her battle droid, which she called "No. 76", and with its aid escaped into the Paragon City underground. Once there, she adopted the costumed persona of "Gen. Rossum" and began a one-girl war against the Sky Raiders, the Paragon City Police Department, and anyone else who got in her way.

Rossum was recaptured in April of 2005 by the registered heroine Paradox Archer. She was tried as an adult both on the original charges and on others stemming from her escape and her subsequent activities. Upon her conviction, Judge Sebastian Cranston sentenced her to a 25-to-life stretch in Zigursky Penitentiary. Her first parole window would have been in 2017.

Zig records indicate that Rossum was a model prisoner. She was placed on Warden Sokolov's "trusty" list in late June and even allowed to work on one of the prison's Internet work-outreach programs (doing database work for an Internet dating company under strict supervision). She put her technical skills to good use, stayed out of trouble, and was well-regarded by prison staffers and her counselors, who reported that she was making good progress managing her anger.

All that was apparently a front for an audacious escape plan, however. On October 29, 2005, forces of the international terrorist organization known as Arachnos attacked Zigursky Penitentiary and freed a number of inmates. Among those released was Gen. Rossum, who was seen by several guards receiving her distinctive weapon and costume from an Arachnos trooper. She and the Arachnos personnel shot their way out of the prison and escaped aboard a vectored-thrust aircraft standing by to evacuate them. At around the same time, another Arachnos strike force stole her battle droid, No. 76, and control equipment from the Paragon Police evidence storage facility in Kings Row.

Two days later, Rossum and No. 76 were sighted by Longbow agents in the Etoile Islands, commonly known as the "Rogue Isles", a well-known hotbed of Arachnos activity and the site of that organization's world headquarters. Longbow operatives assigned to cover the defection of Arachnos Operative Egon Burch reported that Rossum and 76 were responsible for the failure of that mission. Since then, her name has been connected to a string of crimes and terroristic activities, both in the Rogue Isles and in Paragon City. She appears to be headquartered in the Rogue Isles now, and there are strong indications that her association with Arachnos was not limited to her escape from the Zig. She has also been linked to an organization known as "The International Techno Union", but almost nothing is known about this group.

Gen. Rossum customarily dresses in a black or maroon leather jacket marked with a logo showing interlocking gears, matching trousers with a stylized diamond pattern, and heavy boots. She sports a bionic optic device in place of her right eye, which was lost in her first confrontation with the Sky Raiders. When traveling incognito, she removes the optic unit and wears an eye patch over its mounting hardpoint. She has naturally white hair, which she sometimes dyes.

Though still in her teens, Gen. Rossum is an incredibly intelligent young woman with special talents in the areas of mechanical and electrical engineering as well as software design. Her intellect is well-rounded and is not a form of savantism, though her formal education has been interrupted and her interest and willingness to learn does not span the same breadth of subjects as her capacity to learn. She is physically courageous and a cunning strategist whose youthful appearance belies a ruthlessness tempered by more than a year of hard criminal living.

Gen. Rossum is always accompanied by at least one robotic servitor; some reports have her possessing as many as four. These are heavily armed and armored machines built for war and should be approached with extreme caution. Rossum herself is not shy about leading her robot minions into battle; even if encountered alone, she should be considered armed and extremely dangerous.

Chief Investigating Officer: AXELSSON, Lt. P.J.
LONGBOW - WHEN DIPLOMACY FAILS

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I think the medical transporter, zone transporter and SG mission computers are good non-PvP reasons to have a base, RP aspects aside. Now if we can just afford the darn things


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Mm, well, there's the rub, isn't it. Oh, and they'll need to fix that bug that makes the teleport beacons go away, if they haven't already.

I'm not sure what the advantage of a medical bay is, anyway, since the city already has a perfectly good one that you don't have to pay for in every city zone and a couple of hazard zones.

For my money, the non-PvP reasons to have a base are far overshadowed by the amount of work and hassle they require. I don't mind working for a reward, but the curve is just too damn steep right now. Looking at the way the cost-reward curve for SG bases is set up now, it seems apparent to me that it's been optimized for big groups doing high-payoff (which usually means high-level) content, and that raiding is bases' primary raison d'etre.

To which I say, pfui. If I just wanted a closet to roleplay in, I'd stake out one of those parking garages in Skyway City and call it Justice Guild Headquarters.

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a system like you said would discourage raid bases and be essentially no penalty for PvE/Socail bases.

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Sounds good to me!

... but then, I might be a trifle bitter about the fact that SG bases, long my most anticipated feature to be introduced with City of Villains, have turned out to be little more than Yet Another PvP Venue, 'cause, you know, three dedicated zones plus the Arena JUST WASN'T ENOUGH.

So don't go by me.

Frickin' PvP.

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Statesman seems to think that there is no satisfaction in crafting where you just put some items together into a menu and hit build.

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Actually, I was talking about Skills, not crafting.

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Aaaah!! Statesman, you're alive! We were starting to think Positron had killed you, hidden your body, and taken over.

How was the PR grind?

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there isn't much risk in clicking on a computer.

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There is if failing your Hack check summons an Archvillain.

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It's probably going to be along the lines of, "Alright, I can search the base for the Card Key or I can try Hacking the door" In which case you'd walk up to a computer terminal, click on it and your rank would detrimine if you pass or fail.

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And if you fail? RED AMBUSH TIME!

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HE'S HOVERING! IT'S NOT HARD TO FIGURE OUT PEOPLE!!

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Uh, yeah, I know he's Hovering. That'd be why I begged him to turn off Hover.

(Failing that, as I noted in the Suggestions board, I think they should set his in-game self to permanently Hover above his little pedestal in Blyde Square.)

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Now, keep clicking...

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The CoV one does at least lead to more amusing mental imagery. I can't help it, I always have to picture interactions between Lord Recluse and Ghost Widow as coming off like Megatron and Blackarachnia on the old Transformers: Beast Wars CG cartoon show.

"GHOST WIDOW!"

"You bellowed, your evilness?"

"Ahem. I did, yes."

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Click the spider...

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Ghost Widow! STOP BOBBING!

etc.

You're drivin' me nuts up there! We're gonna start calling you Pogotron!

The other day something weird happened to Flash and only the LEFT HALF OF YOU was bobbing! It was horrible and disturbing. Please, for the love of God, just stand there. Please. I'm begging you. Turn off Hover and just stand there...

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We should rename this the "Villains love War Witch thread"...

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Ever'body love War Witch!

(Well, ever'body with any sense, anyway.)

I've got a screenshot someplace of Captain Photon sitting next to her in-game avatar with his Cloaking Device on, trying to get into the proper spirit of transparent meditation. )

JUNIUS 15TH
17TH YEAR OF THE REIGN OF HIS TERRAN MAJESTY RODERICK IV
IBERIAN NEUTRAL ZONE, 25 AU OUT OF THE LUNAR SHOALS

The void of space was not particularly empty in this part of the Solar system today. It was littered instead with glittering debris and sparking flotsam, the unmistakable remnants of a fierce battle between two spaceships. Fragments of armor plating, melted by the hellish fires of atomic cannons and then refrozen by the cold of space, drifted in long streamers and liquid-looking blobs. Other bits of detritus, once parts of thrusters, weapons, and other systems, still held recognizable semblances of their once-purposeful shapes.

On the flying bridge of the interceptor HMS Unrelenting, Commander Jason Dalesworth stood with his electrobinoculars to the eyeport of his combat suit, peering through the powerful magnifiers at the scene of the recent conflict. In the distance he could make out the shapes of the two combatants. One, a slab-sided Royal Io and Ganymede Company bulk transporter, was badly scarred and battered, its thrusters dark, a fire still burning amidships. The other vessel was much sleeker, its lines sharklike and cruel, and much less damaged. RIGco vessels were well-armed and their crews trained to defend their ships... but against such a predator of the spacelanes as this, no mere merchant vessel stood much of a chance.

Dalesworth's gauntleted hands tightened unconsciously on the housing of his binoculars. He knew the other ship's lines like he knew his own dear wife's face, but the sight of them filled him with a quite different emotion.

"Mr. Castlereigh," he said. "Time to firing range?"

"Ten minutes, Captain," First Lieutenant Walter Castlereigh's voice replied tinnily in Dalesworth's earphones.

"Fire's not even out aboard the Lady Mirabella," Dalesworth murmured half to himself, his voice steady. "Even he can't get in and out in so little time." One of his hands came away from the binoculars and clenched into a fist. "We have him."


Aboard the transport, Captain Marcus Donkle was just starting to wonder whether the control room's security systems might, in fact, be up to the challenge when the door opened and they entered. Donkle was a veteran of several pirate encounters, but this was different. There was something reassuringly normal about a horde of unkempt, unwashed rowdies burning down your CR door with plasma torches, storming in, roughing up your men, gloating at you, and taking your cargo. It wasn't fun, but you could learn to live with it.

Having your CR door just open and admit a swarm of highly disciplined masked warriors was quite another. Silent, wraithlike, the grey-clad men swept in like a grim wind and went with swift efficiency to their places - this one securing the helm, that one maneuvering the crew into a corner with sword drawn and eyes cold, others taking up watchful positions all around the room. Pirates Donkle could handle, but there was something about ninja that just gave him the creeps.

As such, it was almost a relief when their leader entered the room in their wake - even if the sight of him filled Donkle with dread, at least he was definitely human.

More than six feet tall, with long hair and a bushy red beard, and dressed in a swallowtailed red silk robe and baggy, gold-trimmed scarlet trousers, the last of the control room's invaders was a vibrant and colorful figure amid the silent grey and black figures of his crew. Though extensively disfigured by his life's work at a hard and dangerous trade - his right leg was a wooden peg from the knee down, his left hand was a large steel hook, and the patch over his right eye wasn't just for show - he seemed immensely strong and capable, as though he could whip everyone in the room without his crew to back him up and with his hook tied behind his back. His brocaded scarlet robe stretched across a barrel chest. A buccaneer's hat, complete with the traditional skull-and-crossbones badge, sat at a rakish angle on his head.

"Top of the evening to you, gentlemen!" he boomed. "This is a red-letter day for you, I'd say. It's not every day a man's ship is taken by Captain Rik Vortex!"

Donkle found his voice. "You won't get away with this, Vortex," he said, painfully conscious as he spoke of what a flat cliche the statement was. "The Unrelenting is on her way even now."

Vortex grinned broadly. "Let 'em come," he said with an expansive gesture. "It'll take more than the likes of Jay Dalesworth to bring the Dark Matter to heel. Besides, we won't be stayin' long enough for them to join the party. I'm not interested in bulk sulphur - I'm just here for your navigational charts. Eh, Bill?"

The ninja at the helm kept working the console for a few seconds, then straightened, turned, and bowed to Vortex.

"I have the data, honored captain," he said.

Vortex's grin widened further. "Well, then, we needn't detain Captain Donkle any longer," he said. "Let's go, lads. A pleasant day to you, Captain. Do try not to be to hard on yourself - you put up quite a fight for a RIGco pleasure barge." He tipped his buccaneer's hat and swept out of the room. By the time Donkle looked, the ninja had vanished as well - no doubt they slipped from the room while all eyes were on their colorful captain.


The pirate captain's bonhomie was entirely absent as he led his men at the run through the red-lit, smoky corridors of the Lady Mirabella to the boarding tube.

"Damn and blast that [censored] Dalesworth!" he snarled. "How the blazes did he get that hulk of a ship of his out here so fast?"

"Honored captain, we have suspected for some time that His Majesty's Solar Navy might alter the Interdiction Squadron's patrol routes," his second mate, Iron Guts Tanaka, observed calmly. "This is more evidence in support of that suspicion."

"Aye, well, 'tis either that or Dalsworth's struck a bargain with the Devil - and I wouldn't put that past him if he thought it would help him bring me to the gallows!" Vortex said. No sooner had he and the boarding party plunged through the hatch into their own ship than he was barking out crisp orders. "Secure boarding hatch and jettison the tube! Rig the ship for evasion! All hands stand by to make sail!"

The ninja crew of the Dark Matter, the Solar system's most feared pirate ship, snapped to with a will. In complete silence they carried out their leader's commands. By the time Vortex arrived on the flying bridge, still locking down his bubble helmet, they had the ship free of the drifting Lady Mirabella and ready to take flight.

Too late! To starboard, the Unrelenting was bearing down on them, thrusters aglow with the multicolored corona of full power. Vortex's practiced eyes could see that the interceptor's deflector sails were set for a full-on battle. Hell's fire, Dalesworth even had his t'gallants set. He really meant business this time.

Well, fine.

"Belay evasion!" Vortex barked. "Rig ship for combat! If Dalesworth wants a fight, then by Old Scratch's horns we'll give him one!"

For twenty years Rik Vortex and the Dark Matter had terrorized the Solar system's seven spacelanes, from the Pluto Drift to the Trans-Solar Slingshot Route and back again. For twelve years, Jason Dalesworth and the Unrelenting had followed. The two captains had never met face to face, but a dozen years of near-constant opposition had made them, in a sense, closer than brothers. They knew each other's strengths (which were many) and weaknesses (which both acknowledged were few and far between). They could even read each other's moods from the way they had their ships set up. They had come within a hair's breadth of destroying each other a hundred times, laying and escaping traps, carrying out elaborate plots, always stalemated, one always left becalmed while the other sailed away, too badly hurt to finish off his rival.

Both men knew in their bones that today was the day the game ended.

The final battle between the Dark Matter and the Unrelenting, witnessed by the men of the Lady Mirabella, went down as one of the greatest spaceship battles in the history of the seven spacelanes. The Dark Matter was, in absolute terms, the more powerful of the ships, but the Unrelenting was fresh, not having had to fight a RIGco merchantman into submission earlier in the day. Both crews were the best of their kinds, both captains wily and ruthless and intimately familiar with each other's tactics.

In the end, as Jason Dalesworth had been convinced all along, the might and the right of His Majesty's Solar Navy prevailed.

Rik Vortex cursed in Technicolor as his ship heaved under him and the gravity compensators sputtered. Uncompensated acceleration drove the captain to his knees, then slammed him face-first to the deck as the ship rolled to port. Dalesworth's last broadside had taken the Dark Matter in a weak spot and compromised the main energizer.

"Get us out of here, Bill!" Vortex snarled, clawing his way hand-over-hook toward the bridge hatch. The impact had cracked his helmet; he could hear the whine of air escaping.

"I am trying, honored captain," replied Bloody Bill Ito, the Dark Matter's helmsman. "Engineer Sato reports that we are losing power."

"I can - nf - feel that for meself," Vortex said, dragging himself the rest of the way to the hatch and throwing himself down it. It clanged shut behind him; the airlock cycled, then the inner hatch dropped open. The gravity inside the ship was still working; Vortex fell through the open hatch into the main corridor, wrenched off his cracked helmet, threw it aside, then staggered to his feet and made for the control room.

Just as he arrived, an alarm started howling. Vortex didn't have long to wonder what was causing it; his attention was immediately drawn to the main viewscreen, and what he saw on it chilled his blood.

"What the hell is that?" he demanded, leveling his hook at the screen.

"I do not know, honored captain," Bloody Bill said. "The ship's sensors can get no useful reading on it. It is a space distortion of some kind - and we are being drawn into it."

Twenty seconds later, the Dark Matter vanished into what witnesses described as a disc of swirling silver light. The light itself disappeared almost instantly upon the ship's passage, leaving the Unrelenting with guns glowing and no one left to fight.

Jason Dalesworth would get his knighthood and a promotion to commodore for the battle, but Captain Rik Vortex's final audacious escape would never be forgotten. The Dark Matter became a vessel of legend, a sinister ghost ship reputed to be lurking somewhere in the unlighted corners of the Solar system, beyond the margins of the charts, where His Majesty's cartographers were wont to note the presnce of monsters.


OCTOBER 17, 2005
BAUMTON, RHODE ISLAND

When the skies over Baumton split open on the evening of October 17, there weren't many witnesses. Since the incident several years before, the Paragon City conurb had lain abandoned, its crazily tilted buildings and still-smoking chasms left to the Clockwork and the Lost. Though the gate in the War Wall from Steel Canyon was still labeled "Baumton", most knew the ruined district by its ironic nickname: Boomtown.

Few ventured into Boomtown aside from the outlaws and criminals who had adopted it as a refuge after the disaster that left it in ruins. Occasionally a hero or two would venture in and try to thin the numbers of one or another criminal group - a few Trolls here, some Outcasts there. The only really organized presence in the whole district was that of the criminal conspiracy called the Council, who used the area as a training ground.

As it happened, the closest witnesses to the crash of the Dark Matter were part of a Council training cadre. The crippled pirate spaceship almost crashed on top of them, and would have if it hadn't hit one of the wrecked skyscrapers that jutted like broken teeth into the Boomtown skyline and been deflected. With a noise like a hundred train wrecks, the ship plowed into the ground, tearing a long furrow in the cracked pavement of what was once a highway before fetching up with a final thunderous bang against the War Wall.

"Well, you don't see that every day," Archon Garrett Breen observed thoughtfully. "Hapsteen, Bloch, take two squads and check it out."

"I've never seen a ship like that before," said Adjutant Stan Szlewski. "It's definitely not a Rikti design. Are those sails?"

"So they would appear," Breen said. "And look there - a Jolly Roger. Certainly not a marking one expects to see on an alien spacecraft. Most peculiar."

Bloch and his squad were nearly to the side of the ship when a hatch suddenly blew open with a sharp crack of explosive bolts.

"Halt!" Bloch ordered, raising his rifle, as the first figure emerged from the wreckage. He would have gone on to say something about being prisoners of the Council, but he was momentarily too astonished to speak - for the survivor who had just emerged from the wrecked spaceship appeared to be a ninja, and he was followed by several more.

For a few moments, the Council soldiers and the small group of ninja stared at each other, the Council surprised, the ninja inscrutably silent. Then another figure emerged from the ship, and whatever this one was, he was no ninja.

"And who might you lads be, eh?" Rik Vortex demanded ill-temperedly of Bloch. "I don't recognize your uniforms. Has the King of Iberia finally decided to stop making his soldiers wear peacock feathers, then?"

"... What?" Bloch replied.

"I am Archon Breen," the Council detachment's leader snapped as he strode up next to Bloch. "You and your men are now prisoners of the Council."

Vortex smiled an unpleasant smile.

"Me an' my boys don't take well to being anyone's prisoners," he said. Arrayed around him, his ninja all dropped into fighting positions, shuriken and swords appearing in their hands. The Council soldiers half-stepped back and readied their weapons with a chorus of menacing metallic sounds.

Before the seemingly-inevitable fight could break out, though, Szlewski spotted something that changed everything.

"Sir!" he cried, pointing. "Look!"

Breen looked. A flying human figure was approaching from the south. As he rounded the skyscraper the pirate ship had clipped, sunlight glinted from his helmet.

"Damn," Breen muttered. "All troops withdraw!" Quick and disciplined, the Council troops backed off, keeping the ninja covered, until they were far enough away to break for it. Then they scattered into the ruins, vanishing almost immediately.

Captain Vortex turned and watched the flying man approach. At first he assumed the man was wearing a jetpack, but as he drew nearer, Vortex could see that he had no visible means of support at all. Moreover, he was dressed even more unusually than Vortex himself. The man had on a tight-fitting red-and-blue outfit with a big white star on his chest, and he wore a metal mask that looked like it should be the front of a helmet.

"Who in the sixteen circles of Hell are you supposed to be?" Vortex asked him.

"They call me Statesman," the man replied. "And who might you be?"

"I be Cap'n Rik Vortex o' the Dark Matter," Vortex said, "an' these be my boys." Narrowing his eye thoughtfully, he regarded Statesman for a moment, then said conversationally, "You carry yourself like a man who thinks o' himself as the law in these waters, as it were."

Statesman looked taken slightly aback. "Well," he said after a moment's consideration, "I suppose I am, after a fashion."

Vortex smiled. "I thought so," he said. "Me an' my boys... we don't take too well to lawmen, especially after the day we've had." Raising his right hand, he snapped his fingers. The surviving members of crew fanned out around him, silent and purposeful.


NOVEMBER 5, 2005
ZIGURSKY PENITENTIARY
PARAGON CITY, RHODE ISLAND

It wasn't the first dungeon Captain Rik Vortex had been thrown in, but it was certainly the strangest. Still, it fit in with the rest of wherever the blazes he was. Who ever heard of a man strong enough to throw a truck? A man whose hide was invulnerable to blades and arrows, so tough that attacking him was like kicking a bulkhead? Who ever heard, for that matter, of men like the one who had the cell next to Vortex's? He was a mind reader, if you please. Two days ago he'd almost made one of the guards unlock his cell before the others adjusted the dosage of the drugs they used to keep him docile.

The former pirate captain lay on the hard, narrow bunk in his cell, hand behind his head, and stared up at the ceiling, thinking. He'd been in dire straits before, but this was the darkest fix he'd ever been in. Locked up in an alien prison, his ship a grounded hulk, his crew scattered from Hell to breakfast - he didn't even know how many of them were still alive... the guards had even taken his hat away from him. He had nothing but his wits and his hook, and no clear idea how he would ever get home again, even if he were free to try.

First things first. He was never going to get any of that done moldering away in this dungeon. First order of business: escape. Then find as many of the lads as possible. Then... well, in a world as wild and improbable as this one, surely anything was possible. Someone brought the Dark Matter here. Someone could send her home again - preferably after a lengthy refit, and possibly even with some new alien tricks to teach Dalesworth a lesson or two...

Vortex was jolted from this pleasant reverie by a sudden reverberating shock to the building. Having seen the structure's size and solidity when they brought him in here, he found that impressive. Alarm bells started ringing; red lights flashed. The cell doors all slid open with a grating crash.

By the time Vortex was on his feet, a man dressed all in black was standing in the doorway to his cell. He had a helmet on that completely covered his eyes but left the lower half of his face visible, and there was a red symbol like a stylized spider on his armored chestplate.

"Captain Rik Vortex?" he asked.

"Who's askin'?" Vortex replied.

A half-smile touched the masked man's lips.

"I represent an organization that is interested in discussing ways in which we can help each other," he said. "I've been commanded to bring you to the Rogue Isles so that you can meet with my superiors."

"The Rogue Isles, eh?" Vortex gave the black-clad man a thoughtful look. "I can't say I don't like the sound o' that. What about my boys?"

"We've already located one member of your crew - one William Ito," the man said, as though reading it from a note, though he held only a small black bag. "Searches are ongoing for the others." The sounds of armed conflict drifted up from the cellblock below. "My colleagues can't sustain this diversion forever. Are you ready to go?"

"Not without me effects," Vortex said. The man gave that same little half-smile and tossed the bag he held at the captain's feet. Inside it were all the things the guards had taken from him when he'd arrived at the prison - his bow with its special fitting to lock onto his hook, his arrows, his compass, even his hat.

Settling this last on his head, Vortex grinned.

"I'm right behind ye," he said.

As both a colleague and a fan, I have a suggestion for you.

My TiVo recently caught an episode of Modern Marvels focusing on the heroes of Paragon City, and naturally a good deal of it (rather too much of it, if I'm being candid) focused on you. Among quite a lot else, there was some archived newsreel footage of you leading the original Freedom Phalanx into battle against the forces of Nemesis in Steel Canyon back in 1932.

I had never seen footage of you in your original costume, and I have to say, it looked cool. Damn cool. Much cooler than the outfit you're sporting nowadays.

Now, I realize that it was all the rage in the '60s for superheroes to streamline their looks - heck, even the Silver Specter had a tights-with-a-fin-on-his-head style going on for a while, though he told me the other day that he still feels a sharp pain when he sees a picture of himself in that getup. But this is the 21st century, States - everything old is new again. Retro is in. The surviving Golden Age heroes are back in their original looks and the people are embracing them.

Want proof that the retro look works? Ask Ms. Liberty. She dresses just like Maiden Justice did, and she's the most popular young hero in town.

Just think about it, please. Dust off your old red jacket and baggy pants. Hang up that silly half-helmet thing and tie on your classic domino mask again. Heck, add the new cape you've been sporting recently - it'll look great with the old red and black. You'll be a commanding figure, and it'll send a strong message to the villains, your colleagues, and the public that today's Statesman is still the hero who saved this city from both devastation and irrelevance 70 years ago.

Yours truly,
(signed)
Captain Photon