Ex_Libris

I say we move it to Freedom. There are a lot of people on there, but no server problems.

Besides, that's where my level 14 character is... I'm lonely.

Atop the roof by the stood a man clad in black and red with a Red star upon his chest. Though he was off flesh and blood, the presense of icy steel exuded from him. His betrayed nothing under his armored black helmet ashe watched the first hero clad in black quickly and silently dispossed of the thugs in the alley, and saved the threatened woman. The brutality and the efficency with which they were delt with betrayed who their justice bringer was. disgust filled his gut as he thought of the low lifes

"They are worst than capitalists...as bad as facists. How can so many let thier hearst be consumed by hatred for their fellow citizens?"


He sighed, and a great sorrow weigh down on his super human frame and thougt to himself once more.

It would be best if, I said hello to my comrade, Rickshaw, instead of simply watch him do my share of the work.

And with that thought, Red Starr, leap from the buildings roof, and ran after the nimble Rickshaw...

OOC: hey rickshaw!

I too roleplay on the Virtue server, with four differnt characters

in order of most player:

Red Starr Sci/Tanker Invuln, Super str (a commie)
Whispered One Mag/Con Grav, Rad (angsty magican)
SLADE-07 Tech/scr Broad/Reflex (naive robot)
Officer Hearse Nat/Blaster Gun&gadgets (a cop that does somethign in this city)

Contact any of them, and theyll gladly rp or group with you. ONe day I'll get around to posting some orgins (which are fully thought through)...

Actually, I had no idea that it was a copyrighted name until a friend told me the other day. You see, Im not much into comics anymore, although I used to be. Even then my collections centered around mostly non-DC characters, and graphic novels. I hope that by providing a backstory, I can eliminate the chance that my name choice could be viewed at copyright enfringement. It was pretty much a name I chose at random.

I myself don't have a secret identity. I'm just trying to be myself as a superhero. Well it is actually a bit different myself then before my transformation. It was a strange accident that partly transformed me into a feline. Now I'll have to fight my desires to go after a juicy mouse or rat I see. And I also like to take a catnap on a nice sunny spot. And now I really like fish while before my transformation I hated it. These are just a small number of things I did not experience before my transformation. But they are a part of my new personality now.
But right after my transformation I did indeed feel quite insecure and uncertain of myself. I saw myself as a freak and went into hiding and did not dare to expose myself to the public. If it wasn't for those nice and friendly heroes from the Freedom Force in Patriot City, I might not even have been here today. They were the ones who found me and took me into their group. They have helped me accepting my transformation and change of personality. And thanks to them I am the person you see today.

A good start, but I must ask, exactly why did he choose "Night Raven" as an alias? Is there a particular reason, or did he just sort of make it up one day?

You jump from the escape of the experiment, to Night Raven being a superhero. What happened during the time between these two events that brought him to donning an alias and costume, and joining the war against forces of evil?

Edit:

Also, you say he has augmented strength and speed...how did the effects come about from Supes? If the experiment was to enhance the ability to see through to other dimensions to the point of being able to pass to those dimensions, how did his body become stronger and faster?

Well, your team certainly sounds very interesting, that's for sure. A nice summary of their abilities.

However, it seems to be much more of an OOC-oriented post than an IC one. There are some RP elements, but mostly it seems to just be summarizing your game session. I think your story would be a lot more interesting if you could go into deeper detail about your character, and the characters of the rest of your team.

Chapter 1

"Goooooooood mooooooooorning, Paragon City! This is none other than Captain Chris, your trusty DJ with the uncanny ability to instantly play the hits -you- request here on WCOH radio. It is exactly 7:35 in the AM on this beeeeeeeeautiful Thursday morning. Time to roll out of bed and put those noses to the grindstone! First on the to-do list this morning looks like a blast from the 80's to help those coffee grinders get going..."

Captain Chris, the Super DJ of Mornings, was right on a few things. It was 7:35, and it was Thursday morning, but the notion of beauty was debatable, especially if you happened to be curled up in the sheets of your queen-sized bed of an eighth story apartment. The sun peered through closed blinds onto a lump beneath the dark blue blankets while it stirred at the noise of the radio/alarm clock just a few feet away.

"Coffee grinder's not the only thing that has trouble going in the morning..."

The voice came muffled from beneath the blankets, followed by another few stirrings, and finally an arm slipped out. It raised clumsily upwards, and then came down, obviously intent on shutting off that racket coming from the nightstand. Unfortunately, with a head tucked under the sheets, aim is a difficult thing to manage, and the arm missed terribly, jerking the slumberer out of bed and tumbling into the floor.

Another dawn, another near-death experience for Roger Chase Drayton.

Roger stood up from the floor, dressed in a pair of black silk shorts, tossing his sheets back onto the bed before stretching his arms out, rising up on the tips of his toes, groaning and grunting as all his muscles locked up in unison. Then, he relaxed, covering his mouth to hide a yawn while he approached the window that had failed miserably in keeping the sun from drifting into the room. He spun the stick which danged on the left side of the window, the blinds opening to reveal the extravagant and modern sights of Paragon City. In the streets below people were already making their way to work, or home, Roger could never really tell which. Rays of sunlight were reflected off steel and glass, the entire city acting like a magnifying glass, seemingly to direct every ounce of the morning to this one window. His eyes squinted, and his hand was used as a guard over his face.

"Well, guess I better get ready for work", a rumble in his stomach distracted him momentarily, "...And some breakfast while I'm at it."

He walked out of his bedroom and across the hall to the bathroom, closed the door, and the yellow light which flashed on around the sides of the door and through the crack underneath signaled the beginning of yet another all-too-familiar morning ritual.

It didn't take Roger very long to get ready--it rarely ever did, unless he happened to be trying to impress some young lady, but given the poor condition of Roger's social life, rare was hardly the proper word. He showered, shaved, and brushed his teeth to get that nasty morning taste out of his mouth. Then, he was back out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped about his waist, heading into his room to search for some clothes. His wardrobe was hardly extravagant, mostly simple tee-shirts and bluejeans; mostly the hardest part about choosing clothing was finding something clean enough to wear. After a few minutes he tossed a blue tee-shirt onto the bed, followed by a pair of denim shorts, socks, and boxers. He quickly changed clothes, and closed the door of his room to give himself a once-over in the mirror that hung on the back of the door.

The tag hanging openly on the front of his shirt was a clear hint that, even after twenty years, he still had a bit to learn about putting on clothes.

"Sometimes I think my clothes are in some kind of scheme against me", he mumbled at the mirror as he slipped the shirt up and over his head, "There we go, much better."

Roger looked over the front of his shirt, adorned with a large picture of the statesman standing proud in front of Paragon City Hall. He smiled, opened the door back up, and quickly lept back to his bed where he plucked a white baseball cap from the bedknob nearest him. It was his favorite cap, and the slight discoloration was a testament to how often he wore the hat, and how much more often he should probably wash it. But anyone who is fond of hats knows that a cap is a badge of honor; you don't go around healing up battle scars, and you don't wash your favorite hat.

He snatched up his wallet from the nightstand, dropped it into his front right pants pocket, turned off his alarm clock, and headed out the door whistling the tune he'd just heard. It would probably be stuck in his head for the rest of the day. Stepping out into the hallway, Roger paused, and sniffed the air. Walking down the hall, across the living room and to the kitchen, he poked his head around the doorway with a large grin on his face.

"Breakfast!", he exclaimed. He could smell food from a mile away when he was hungry, "What are you cooking, Mom?"

The kitchen was not extremely fancy, but it was still more than capable of serving the needs of whatever cravings might have struck your average person. The floor was of white tile, with blue tile placed in several places to break a sense of monotany. A white kitchen counter-top with a matching blue granite top was adorned with a few jars containing sugar and various other ingredients, a coffee machine, and an empty plate. Just past it was the refridgerator, and to the left the stove where a 5'6" middle-aged woman with dark brown hair stood dressed in a house gown, grasping a frying pan. She looked back over her shoulder towards the doorway, showing the wrinkles that came with a woman aged a bit beyond her time. She smiled at her son.

"I'm frying up some eggs, honey. That sound good to you, or would you like something else?"

"No, no! Eggs sound great, Mom! Could you fix me a sandwich? With cheese?"

She laughed, "Sure Roger, no problem. You want one egg or two?"

"Two, I'm starving. I want to make sure my stomach doesn't get any ideas about how my kidneys might taste."

She shook her head while she plucked another egg from the container that had been set down beside the can opener just to her right.

"Oh, and Mom, did you wash my apron for work?"

"Sure did, it took me forever to get those stains out, but it's just fine now. Should be in the hamper with the rest of the clothes I washed last night."

"Alright, thanks!"

Roger's head vanished from the doorway, and his Mother cracked the egg into the pan, picking up a skillet and began stirring it about, pouring some milk in with the yellow mixture. Looking back towards the wall where her son's head had been, she began counting.

"5...4...3...2...1..."

"Mom!", Roger's head poked around the side of the doorway, "The hamper would be....where, again?"

"Just behind the couch, hon. I haven't had time to sort through it all, yet."

"Okay, let's see if I can try this again..."

Roger walked across the carpeted floor of the living room, his eyes scanning for the elusive hamper which seemed to have eloped with his work apron. A Rest-N-Relax recliner chair sat at the far side of the apartment, with a second perched beside a lampstand, and finally a large sofa stretched out before a glass-top coffee table. There were a few magazines scattered along the top, along with a cordless phone, and the remote control for the television. Walking around the rear of the couch, he was happy to be greeted with the sight of a hamper filled with freshly-dried clothing. Crouching down beside the plastic container he began sifting through the clothing, and quickly removed an apron, holding it out in front of him for a quick inspection.

It was black in color, with a hoop at the top to wrap around the neck, and two loose strands dangling from the side to go about the waist. Turning it over to look at the front of the apron, he looked over the words typed in a red, cursive font. It read:

"PARAGON PIZZA", and underneath the slogan of the business, "The finest pizza for the finest city!"

He nodded, satisfied with the appearance of the apron. Of course, his Mom always took great care to ensure her son's clothing was clean, but part of Roger just enjoyed looking at the apron. He was quite proud of his job, though it might not have been the most prestigious, it let him make some decent money, and meet some decent people. The apron was folded up and draped over the back of the couch, and Roger glanced to the kitchen. The smell of frying eggs was almost more than his stomach could take.

"Those eggs almost done, Mom?"

"Just putting them on the bred, hon. You did say you wanted cheese on it?"

"Absolutely!"

"Alright, just sit down and I'll bring it in there to you. What would you like to drink?"

"Some juice if we have it! Grape, hopefully, but if not I'll take anything else!"

Roger bounded over the back of the couch, and flopped down onto the cushions, tucking his hands behind his head while crossing his ankles. While he was a bit of a social outcase, and a dork, if the Statesman clothing wasn't enough to tip one off to the fact, Roger C. Drayton was not a stranger to physical exercise. He had never really played in team sports during high school, since the teams were never keen about his presence. Instead, he had come to rely on an Archstretch exercise machine that his uncle had bought him for Christmas a few years ago. Since then, he'd spent quite a bit of time on it, and had made himself quite fit.

"Here's your sandwich, Roger. We're out of Grape juice, so I got you some Orange juice instead."

His Mom stood just behind the arm of the couch a few inches from Roger's head, her arms extending the plate and glass to her son. He quickly righted himself, and accepted both items, placing the glass on the coffee table while the plate was nestled ontop of his lap. His mother sat down in the recliner a few feet away, beside the lampstand, pushing down a lever which retracted the footrest.

"You didn't fix yourself anything?", Roger asked with a quirked brow, having noticed his mother's empty hands.

She smiled, "I ate a bowl of cereal earlier, and drank my cup of coffee. When I heard you get up, I got the pan warmed and ready to fix you something."

Roger had always looked out for his Mom, and his Mom had always looked out for him. They were a very close family, although the death of Roger's father due to a brain tumor two years earlier had nearly destroyed them both. His mother took it hardest, leaving Roger to step up and take on the responsibilites his Dad had left behind, while his mom mourned the loss of the man she had loved for so many years. She still wore the wedding ring on her hand, and kept a picture on her at all times. She had only recently come out of the depression she'd sunk so deeply into, and Roger was more than happy to make sure she stayed free of that dark cloud.

"Oh, alright. I was about to say, I hope you didn't just fix me something and neglect yourself", Roger smiled at her while he bit into the egg sandwich. A split second later the egg sandwich dropped back into the plate in his lap as the roof of his mouth was nearly incinerated.

"OW! That's hot!", he took a rapid intake of breath, and took a drink of his orange juice, letting the cold liquid sit against the roof of his mouth. He did not look forward to having a blistered mouth for the next three days.

"Well, it did just come out of the frying pan, Roger."

"Oh, blah blah your logic."

They shared a smile and a laugh, and then there was a pause while Roger lifted the top piece of bread and blew on the egg underneath it.

"So, what are you going to do today, hon?"

"Well, I've got to be at work at 9:30 to heat up all the ovens, and I don't want to waste all this sunshine, so I'm going to walk to work. And that means I'm going to have to leave early. Then I'll work until about 4:00, and come home...I might stop by the arcade, though, so I might not get back until about 5:00 or 6:00. Beyond that, not very much", he blew on the sandwich again, "What about you? Busy day lined up?"

"No, not hardly. I'll do some grocery shopping, pick up some more Grape juice for you. Then run a few little errands, might rent us a video or two to watch this evening, and then be back. I don't want to work too much on my day off."

Roger's Mom worked as a secretary for a dentistry office in Atlas Park. Starting today the dentist was going on a week-long vacation on a cruise, and so had extended the same break to his secretary. It was, after-all, proven fact that an employee who is given a vacation will come back refreshed and prove more efficient in the workplace.

By this time, Roger had cooled his sandwich enough to his liking, and bit into it for a second time, then washed down the food with his orange juice. "Sounds like fun. If you do rent a movie or two, make sure you pick up Saviors of Paragon. It's like a movie/documentary about the Statesman and the beginnings of Freedom Phalanx up until their battle with The Reichsman. I'd really like to see it."

His Mom laughed and shook her head, "Alright, I'll look for it. I swear, Roger, you're about the most obsessed person I've ever seen about all these heroes."

The egg sandwich was already half-way gone. He was starving, and was barely even chewing it...mostly just taking a bite and swallowing, then washed it down with some juice.
"Well, what's not to love? They risk life and limb to protect the every day citizen. They fight monsters and villainy that most people could never even imagine, and the reason we can't imagine it is because of men like The Statesman and Freedom Phalanx. They fly, shoot beams out of their hand, run faster than a speeding train, and leap over buildings. They're everything that you could hope to be! I think it'd be great to be a..."

"Roger Chase Drayton!", his Mom spoke suddenly, "I don't want to hear that kind of talk from you! No son of mine is going to strap on some piece of spandex and run around, just waiting to catch his death of cold! You do a job as a hero just fine in your normal life. I certainly wouldn't want to turn on the news and hear about you being killed by some kind of death ray!"

"Mom, you know I'm only kidding. I don't have the powers to be a superhero, besides, I could do half the stuff they do, even if I did have superhuman abilities. I'm not a hero. Just your average, everyday, normal, ordinary pizza boy."

"But you're Mom's pizza boy, and that's good enough for me."
She had stood up by now, and walked over, placing a kiss on top of Roger's head. Putting the last bit of the sandwich into his mouth, and washing it down with the last drink of juice, his mother took both empty dishes and walked towards the kitchen.

"Now, enough talk about superheroes. It's about time for you to go to work, isn't it?"

"Probably. What time is it?"

"About 8:45 according to the microwave."

"Yeah, I better head out, I don't want to have to hurry down. I want to get as much of this sunshine as I can before I have to get walled up until this afternoon. Thanks for breakfast, Mom", Roger dashed into the kitchen and kissed his mother on the cheek. Back in the living room, he walked to the front door and slipped into his tennis shoes, and then headed out the door with another goodbye.

His mother walked into the living room, and glanced at the couch before shaking her head. She leaned against the doorway of the kitchen, and started counting.

"5...4...3...2..."

Roger burst back in the door, and with a single lunge crossed the distance between door and couch. His hands picked up the folded apron which had been left draped on the back of the couch.

"You were early that time."

"Early for what?"

"Nevermind, hon. Have a good day at work", his Mom smiled while she waved.

"I will, love you, Mom!", he called out as he slipped out the door again.

His mother walked over to the door and locked it, securing the chain and putting the deadbolt into place. Then, she walked slowly across the carpeted floor in her slippers, and stood near the large window on the far wall, and looked down at the street below. She stayed there until she saw the familiar form of her one and only child emerge from the front of the building, and begin walking down the sidewalk. She was pleased to see him stop and toss a wave upwards, and she returned it, though they both were quite sure that neither could see their wave. And so, there she stood, watching until her son vanished around the corner of the block, and out of her sight.

She walked over to the coffee table and picked up the remote, turning on the television while sitting back into her recliner, quickly flipping through the channels until she found the ANN channel. Roger's mother got a rather large kick out of being able to watch a news channel that shared her name.

"And this is the latest news for today: Thursday, May 23rd, 2002..."

"Nothing new for the news, I'll wager", Ann replied to the TV, "Besides...nothing exciting ever happens on a Thursday."

New places and new faces. Funny how evil somehow manages to replenish itself.

The gang is back, well... most of us. Vizzer was on for a bit, but of the old gang, it was the Prince, Hyperaeon, and Flame. Add Smokin Joe, Orean, and Gravi to the mix. Zen was out there solo, no doubt adding her scrapper's lightning-like kick to her individual fray.

As I've fought with Prince, Hyper, and Flame the most, I'll go into them. Flame - she's always at the very frontline, tearing into the enemywith her flaming sword with gusto; it's something one has to see to believe! Hyper - that punch of his is a force to be reckoned with (he calls it HYPERPUNCH); if his fists are glowing, watch out! And sweet Prince - he rips into evil like the hurricane winds he wields; he says he's an archmage, thankfully against our foes.

I am settling well into my role in this mismash of... well, heroes. They batter and wail, and I keep them able to do so. Quite satisfying - taking out crime by helping my fellow teammates. The best of both worlds.

I am a healer to the heart, no ifs-ands-buts about it.

PS - And praise to the heavens that no one died today

Lobe grins gleefully at the group and the slowly dissipating bad guys littering the ground, "Gee! That sure was fun!" Smacking his lips together he mumbles, "I sure am thirsty."

Well, kid, I know where you are coming from. My powers...if you want to call them that...involve emitting and controlling electromagnetic fields. The problem is that these "powers" are a side effect. You see, I suffer from a degenerative neurological disease. My nervous system is burning itself out, day by day, minute by minute, every time I use my powers I die a little more. But I can't stop.

The doctors said it's a resonance effect; every time I use my powers a neuroelectric reaction sets up a waveform that resonates with the pleasure centers in my brain, and as the nerves break down a heady cocktail of stimulant, hallucinogen, and hypnotic hits me. Does it hurt when use my power? Hell yes. But I'm addicted, like that little rat hitting the button for cocaine, I just keep shocking.

I first came to Paragon to try to find a treatment, maybe some kinda therapy or head shrinker, something that could help me not kill myself. I haven't had much luck. My wife and daughter wouldn't move with me, they live in Connecticut. My kid doesn't know what to think (she's only 10), and my wife says she just can't live with this. Thanks to the constant neurological overdrive, I don't sleep, I don't eat except when I need B-12 or iron to keep pumping out the volts. I'm so ragged and burnt out I don't know what day it is. I do this hero gig because if I'm gonna be a junkie and die, someone should benefit.

I don't know what to tell you about your suit, though. If it makes you more than what you were before, than it can't be all bad, can it?

-Mr. Temptation

The Tall Man

The Pwcc (Gaelic for Puck)

Mr. Temptation

Temperance

Name: Leper Malacai

Battle Cry: Someone please hand me my arm!

Wow great job!

Next Saturday, May 8th at noon CST (1pm Est) There will be a memorial service held just below the Front Steps of City Hall in Atlas Park. This Will take place on the Viture server. All are welcome.

The Memorial service will be held in honour of all civilians, soldiers and Heroes who have died for the safety and freedom of others.

All content for the memorial service will be INGAME. Ie from the paragon city history.

hey, i finally got on virtue - a lot of the bugs seem to be getting ironed out. there is usually a heavy load of players there, but that isn't always a bad thing. Since i have my RP character there, i'll most likely be staying. It looks like we may only need the one RP server.

Now if there was just some way to help enforce the RP aspect of it.

Hero Name: Dr. Marissa Yi
Real Name: Same
Age: 30

Background
Prior to gaining her special powers, Dr. Yi dedicated her early adult years in the field of medicine, specializing in pediatrics. She has been a resident of Paragon City all her life.

When a certain immune-system defiency disease struck down the younger populace of the city, Dr. Yi was at the frontlines, conducting R & D into the possibility of a cure. As the disease claimed more lives every day, she took more drastic measures in the development of a potential electro-chemical treatment. When this was turned down by the CDC on the grounds as being too risky. Dr. Yi took matters into her own hands and attempted the treatment on herself. The experiment nearly proved fatal.

After recovering from her injuries, Dr. Yi discovered that the procedure had imbued her with the ability to manipulate electrical fields in a manner that proved beneficial to human tissue, healing wounds and even bringing back deceased patients not considered brain-dead. She also has the limited ability to wield electrically-based energy against an adversary, although her use of this secondary power is usually defensive in nature.

Tactical Overview
A quintessential Defender, Dr. Yi recognizes the true potential of her powers and in a fight acts accordingly. In combat, she tends to avoid direct confrontations with the enemy unless absolutely necessary. Instead, she primarily keeps a wary eye on her teammates, rendering aid as required. In this capacity, she is as tenacious as her more combat-oriented counterparts, often jumping into the thick of a melee in order to assist a gravely injured teammate.

When the situation does allows for it, Dr. Yi's uses her secondary powers in a support manner, striking from a distance rather than up close. The usage is judicious and done sparingly she prefers to keep up her energy levels for an on-the-spot execution of her primary powers when needed.

I have a character named The Living End. Some of you may know who I am, I've been in the beta for a month and did the three day head start.

The only problem I'm having with this game so far is that I've yet to find one person who will role play their character.

It's either "Let's go level!" or "Who has a mission so we can level in it and get leveled?!?!"

A game without actual character is like playing an NFL game. I don't want to just beat the other guy. I want to have a deeper meaning to it all.

Who will be MY hero?!

I'm on the Freedom server.

Anyone? *sniff*

I don't even have any real friends yet.. oh wait, that's not true.

The good doctor, Dr. Chernobyl is a good friend, but we don't RP either. And he's Swedish!

So, is anyone else having this problem? Anyone on the Freedom server that wants to RP with me?!

Let me know!

OOC: Since I can't see the thread in the old forum anymore, I'm not -totally- sure what happened in the last story, so I hope I'm not stepping on any toes jumping in like this.

Far below Mackie's feet during her visit...

"Glenn? Do you have a moment?" A raised voice echoed through the large concrete bay, carrying over the hissing sounds of a blowtorch.

"Eh?" A gentleman in a labcoat looked up, flipping the visor of his welding mask up to reveal a weathered face with bushy white eyebrows and a neatly trimmed beard, thick glasses perched on his nose. Most would describe Dr. Blackwell's face as "kindly", and the doctor was indeed rather good natured, traits that seemed incongruous with the piles of weaponry littering his workbench. He shut his torch off, smiling warmly at his colleague as she approached. "Oh, of course Valerie! What's on your mind?"

Dr. Tran rested her hands on the workbench, careful to avoid upsetting any of the loose rounds lined up like tin soldiers. Though she was short and slim of stature, the middle-aged woman had a rather no nonsense look about her, her dark hair pulled up into a conservative bun. "Well, I'm a little concerned about something. Amy's been connected to the mainframe since returning from her last field trial. I've been monitoring her AI, and she seems to be digesting her experiences all right..."

"That's good!" said Dr. Blackwell. He looked over at the metallic, humanoid form seated amidst a cluster of control banks and equipment with a fondness most would reserve for their grandchildren. The robot was easily eight feet tall, painted in crisp blue and white, red warning lights on its shoulders like a police squad car. Despite its size, there was a certain almost artful delicacy about its sleek form. Many of Freedom Corps personnel had commented that the Autonomous Interceptor Mechanoid - Elite Enforcement prototype had a distinctly female look it, something neither Glenn nor Valerie disputed. Someone shortened the acronym in print to "Amy", and the name had stuck. Now Amy sat dormant, dripping with wires while a nearby computer monitored 'her' thought patterns and recorded the conclusions 'she' came to.

"Yes, but she's hooked to D.A.T.A.'s network so she can crossreference and research her studies and experiences," continued Dr. Tran. "She's doing fine with that, but she's hasn't done this in a while, and she's got a long time to go before she's finished."

Dr. Blackwell shrugged, then caught his visor when it threatened to fall back down into his face. "That's nothing new. I noticed she's been spending more time on the network lately, but you're the AI expert, not me, so I assumed that was normal. The testing schedule has been moving at an awfully rapid pace."

This time it was Dr. Tran that glanced at the quiet form of the scientists' combined handiwork, a hint of concern on her normally impassive face. "It's not Amy's capabilities I'm worried about, or her time spent. I expect it'll be the same with the others when their field trials begin. However, I've been growing increasingly worried about network security of late. For a joint Paragon and federal research center, I've noticed the IT staff seems a bit..." Valerie paused, searching for a diplomatic word. As if on cue, a dark shape whisked past the windowed door of the bay, followed by a shout of from one of the guards about this being the last time he was going to tell somebody to not skateboard down the R&D halls no matter what your clearance is, and no you will not get your skateboard back. "...informal," Valerie concluded. "What if someone breaks in while Amy's still connected to the network?"

"Oh, come now, Val," said Dr. Blackwell, waving his torch dismissively. "We're all a little crazy down here. You have to be to spend this many months cooped up in a concrete vault a mile below the Freedom Corp. I mean, look at me." The elder gentleman puffed out his chest to display a tie with a picture of Albert Einstein sticking his tongue out. Dr. Tran rolled her eyes, but Glenn didn't seem to notice, and he continued, "The boys in IT may be a little odd and unconventional, but the administration screens everyone carefully, and selects only the best. I have every confidence in the security of our network. Besides, who'd be silly enough to attack D.A.T.A's network, out of all of the branches? You should worry less, Valerie. You'll start going grey."

Dr. Tran nodded reluctantly, not looking entirely convinced. "If you say so..." She stole another glance Amy, who continued to quietly sit and think.

That was cool, well done. I couldn't help chuckling when I saw the clone of the Crow, it's eerie how closely some characters can be copied.

Definitely looks good. I think my favorite was the Bombardier. Good work on the Flash movie!

That is awesome!!! It brought a tear to my eye...

I feel that I can finally say I am home.

Things were looking a little better in Paragon City. The ability to finally do something about the serious crime here could actually draw a smile out of me. But deep inside, I always felt it wasn't enough. To only be able to take on the occasional mugger or common thief wasn't going to make a serious dent.

Then I met my team.

It was at a park in Galaxy City when they came along into my life. We found commonality in our disdain of crime, and the desire to rid the city of it once and for all. Such colorful people, those guys, with powers I never dreamed existed. We took on several mission as deemed necessary by our respective offices, and we pummeled evil as they came our way.

What's in it for me? Knowing that my curing powers finally have a purpose. How satisfying it was to negate the horrible effects our foes unleashed upon them... to guarantee the survival of such fine people.

I do hope I get the names right: Zen-X, Flame, Candy-Striper, Hyperaeon, Vizzir, Prince ? (I knew I'd forget someone ), some Bot-X type, and a certain fellow Dr. and his wife, Isobel ( oh well ).

I guess the only thing that's missing now is a name for our curious group.

Look out crime. We're onto you.

Yi

Great posts, I enjoy reading them and thanks for taking the time to do them. Here is mine, its sort of shortened but I hope it makes sence.


Hero: ShadowSeed

Background: Shadowseed was conceived in the womb of a normal woman (Maya). As for the father of this child it is still a mystery. What we do know, is that one night, shadows from the netherworld entered an innocent girls bedroom and performed cult like rituals while she slept. (They had planned on creating thier new warrior, a human/shadow, to fight the heros of Paragon City.) Mayas dreams were tortured and she struggled to escape them but peace would not come to her on this night. When she finally awoke two days had past and there were strange marking on her and everywhere in the room. Scared, freaked out, and crying she called the one man that she thought might understand what was happening to her, her grandfather, a powerful warlock. Obviously disturbed by the news and the sound in her voice, he rushed over to aid in any way he could.

9 months later; Maya was giving birth to a child she did not have the heart to get rid of. During the birth the room became dark and misty and it looked as if the shadows themselves were circling around Maya. This was Paragon City and strange things often happened in Paragon City Hospital, so the staff continued working knowing that they had a baby to deliver. Upon the birth of the child an emence light emitted from the babies eyes. It was so bright and pure that it filled the room leaving all that saw it temporarily blind and killing the Netherworld creatures burning them out of existence.

Shadowseed was brought up by his mother and she trained him in the art of kindness and compassion. He was trained by his Grandfather, in the arts of the netherworld and he received further training in the art of combat by the master of the Shadow Fist Technique.

Now Shadowseed fights with the Heroes of Paragon City and defeats the darkness with its own weapons.

Battle cry: I will send you to the place you fight for.