Steelclaw

So, while the week end lulls us all into a false sense of security... what say we play a game?

There is a game I learned in the "real world" called F***, Marry, Kill... You name 3 celebrities of appropriate gender and each player has to say which one they would spend a single night of passion with... which one they would marry and spend the rest of their life with... and which one they would kill... All three celebrities had to be chosen and each F/M/K had to be assigned only once.

But this isn't the real world... this is City of... so I introduce to you the City of version of this game...

Kidnap, Patron, Assassinate...

Who would you kidnap for a single evening of... whatever.... Who would you take as your Patron to serve the remainder of your days (or at least until you Go Rogue and switch sides) and who would you Assassinate?

For those of you who simply MUST play a heroic version of this you can substitute Save, SideKick and Imprison...

I'll get us started.. My mother raised me to let ladies go first.. but in this case I'll put the guys' lists first so everyone can see what I'm talking about...

Ghost Widow - Ice Mistral - Silver Mantis
Ms. Liberty - Sister Psyche - Swan
Fusionette - Random Female Civillian - Lady Jane

My responses:
Silver Mantis: Kidnap - As exciting as Silver Mantis sounds.. I think one night is all I could manage without seriously compromising my health insurance premiums
Ghost Widow: Patron - Companionship, loyalty (perhaps not to me.. but why be picky?) and the only moving hair in all Paragon or the Rogue Isles... what's not to love?
Ice Mistral: Assassinate - Cold, cold, dispassionate and cold... Sorry... This is why I got divorced in the first place.

Sister Psyche: Kidnap - Let's face it... if anyone can keep secrets from her husband it's a psychic... besides she's used to sharing multiple bodies.
Swan: Patron - The trick here is timing... Kidnap Psyche BEFORE getting Swan as Patron... that way even if she reads my mind I can pass it off as "wild oats before I met YOU my dear"... Although with my luck she'd wipe the memories from my mind of every other woman but her..
Ms. Liberty: Assassinate - Considering what she has to put up with as Trainer in Atlas Park I think we can consider this one a mercy killing

Fusionette: Kidnap - Well... let's face it... Kidnapping and Capture seem to be Fusionette's thing.
Random Civillian Woman: Patron - She's totally immune to damage, holds and effects of ANY type... She has Super Jump at 0 level... and she never runs out of endurance... I don't necessarily want to marry her... I just want access to her Patron Power Pool!!!
Lady Jane: Assassinate - The Donna Reed hair has Got To GO.

Aaaaand a nice little list to get the Ladies or those who prefer gentlemen going should any decide to play:

Statesman - Back Alley Brawler - Positron
Captain Mako - Wretch - Doctor Vahzilok
Lord Recluse - Nemesis - Tyrant

Feel free to add your own groups if you like... have fun!

It has been brought to my attention that this thread was posted in the wrong forum. Thus it has been deleted; my bad.

Proper Link: http://boards.cityofheroes.com/showthread.php?t=186834

Contact: Wretch

Zone: Mercy Island
Location: Standing JUST OUTSIDE Door To Ghost Widow’s Tower
Minimum Size: 6 players
Level Range: 10 to 17
Merits: 25
Badge: Wretched Refuse

Under Leveled:
“WEAK!!”

Not Enough People:
“MORE!!”

Form Strike Force

Briefing:
“Wretch in trouble! Wretch so dumb! Wretch not remember… not know where… Huh? You!! You help Wretch?”

Mission Acceptance:
“YAY!! Wretch feel better already! Wretch can not find… can not remember… Wretch need someone who know… Smart person… Smart person… Oh! Doctor am smart! Doctor Eeeyon… Doctor Eeyore… no… Think Wretch Think! Doctor Aeon! You am go ask Doctor Aeon where is… Help Wretch! Oh! Wretch think you need pretty name! So Wretch will not forget… Wretch call you STRIKE FORCE NAME.”

Unecessary Solicitation:
“You back already? No leave yet?! Don’t make Wretch angry… you not like Wretch when he angry!”

Mission Objective:
“Doctor Aeon has once more withdrawn to the private study of his scientific pursuits. You don’t think you’ll be able to simply make an appointment.”

Enemy Type: Arachnos
Objective: Defeat Appointment Secretary(boss) and guards; Speak with Doctor Aeon

Doctor Aeon: “What’s that? Wretch sent you? Sent you for what? You don’t know? Pardon my momentary fit of pique but am I to understand that you just invaded my lab, slaughtered a good number of my workers, eviscerated my Appointment Secretary and… worst of all… interrupted my brilliant thought process… and you don’t know WHY!? Tell that lumbering oaf that if it weren’t for Ghost Widow’s protection I would happily transplant what’s in his skull for the contents of a brain damaged hamster!! And it would STILL be an improvement.. wait… no… wait.. don’t tell him that.. er… tell him Doctor Aeon said ‘I don’t know the answer’… yes… let’s not upset the beast.. er.. gentleman… shall we?”

Debriefing:
“Big brain smart guy not know?! This not good! Wretch in some trouble now!”

Briefing:
“Brainy Eeyore not help Wretch with smarts… Wretch need help… If book smarty guy not help Wretch then maybe magic smarty guy help! Go talk Triangle of Sticky-Burrs! Wretch know magic men can find what Wretch looking for!”

Mission Acceptance:
“Sticky-Burr men gots glowing eyes… Wretch bet they see everything with eyes like that!”

Unnecessary Solicitation:
“Why you still here Big Puffy Pants Whack Force? No… Pink Shoe String Punch Force? Wretch HATE remembering names… Oh! STRIKE FORCE NAME… Ugh… Now Wretch head hurt. Leave Wretch alone.”

Misson Objective:
“Well, you don’t really know what to ask these magic slingers, but since when did you ever need a reason to beat the tar out of someone?”

Enemy Type: Circle of Thorns
Objective: Defeat those in caves until one tells you what you need to know (in other words: Defeat All)

Clue: You have defeated every Circle of Thorns member in the caves. After the fifth or sixth one laughed at you for not knowing what you were looking for you just stopped asking the question. Indeed, by the time you finished you were killing them more to keep the rumor of this debacle from spreading all over the Rogue Isles than for any fact-finding purpose.

Debriefing:
“Glowing eye men not know?! What good magic if not help find things? Hmm… Wretch DO like rabbit from hat though… Wretch really like it with ketchup.”

Briefing:
”Wretch have idea… Idea smell like bacon… No… that breakfast… wait… Oh! Wretch remember… Wretch think maybe Wretch not forget where thing is… Wretch think maybe bad person STEAL thing from Wretch while Wretch not looking other way.. Lots of bad people on Rogue Isles… Wonder who steal something from Wretch…?”

Mission Acceptance:
“Wretch know! Wretch always see yellow flying whup-whup men stealing stuff! You go beat up yellow men with backpacks that go whup-whup-whup and get back what they took from Wretch!”

Unnecessary Solicitation:
“Whup-whup-whup-whup-whup-whup-whup-whup-whup-whup… Wretch LIKE that sound… Whup-whup-whup-whup-whup-whup-whup-whup-whup-whup…”

Mission Objective:
Enemy Type: Goldbrickers
Objective: Defeat 20 Goldbrickers in Cap Au Diable

Clue: Although the ones you defeated don’t know whether anything has recently been stolen from Wretch, the last one you clobbered did tell you which warehouse contains all the most recently stolen items.

Mission Objective:
“Well, you still don’t know what you’re looking for, but maybe this will be the place to find it… … … Maybe you really should have listened to your mom’s suggestions to become a dentist.”

Enemy Type: Gold Brickers
Objective: Defeat boss and guards; find and search 5 possible crates

Late Boomer(boss): “Alright, alright! I’ll talk. Stop hitting me! Sure, we steal lots of stuff… what are you looking for? Something we stole from Wretch? You can’t be serious… Listen, pal, we steal TECHNOLOGICAL equipment. Wretch is so backwards he still doesn’t know which end of the hammer to grab. He’s so tech-deficient he thinks a laptop is something that disappears when he stands up. Wretch is so primitive he thinks a Broadband is a bunch of dames playing music! What could he possibly have technology-wise that we would be interested in?”

Crate Clues: “Computers, robotics parts and circuitry abound… at best Wretch would use these as paper weights. Not that he uses paper; except for drawing on with crayons.”

Debriefing:
“Wretch no like video games. It much more fun pound on real man than pound on TV man. Yellow whup-whup men not steal from Wretch. Wretch in real big trouble!”

Briefing:
“Wretch don’t know what to do… Wretch have no choice… Wretch have to tell Widow Wretch lose it… No! WRETCH no tell Widow… Wretch have Happy Smiley Face Strike Force tell Widow! No… Wretch have Naked Teddy Bear Strike Force tell… no… Oh! Why Wretch give you pretty name in first place? Wretch should give you ugly name… easier to remember!”

Mission Acceptance:
“Go tell Widow Wretch lose thingy… Oh… Wretch hope Widow not to mad at Wretch… Widow make Wretch do that twirly thing again… Wretch always toss cookies when he does twirly thing.”

Unnecessary Solicitation:
“Wretch think of ugly name… This name easy for Wretch to remember… Wretch call you Strike Force Mud.”

Mission Objective:
“Your sources have verified what Wretch said to be true; Ghost Widow is inside this Arachnos Base. Unfortunately, she’s not accepting visitors at the moment. Looks like it’s time to wear out your welcome again.”

Enemy Type: Arachnos
Objective: Defeat Ghost Guardian (Elite Boss Level guard outside Widow’s chamber); speak with Ghost Widow

Ghost Widow: “How dare you enter my private sanctum and destroy my minions! Prepare to be utterly…. What? Wretch sent you? He lost it AGAIN? Oh, dear. Very well, I’ll simply chalk up the loss of my soldiers to Lord Recluse’s ‘survival of the fittest’ campaign. Please return and tell Wretch that the key to Widow’s Tower is under the welcome mat… right where it’s ALWAYS been. >sighs< I really need to think of a better way to do this. Perhaps on a chain around his neck?”

Debriefing:
“Wretch thank you for finding key-thingy for Wretch! Wretch only wish that Mud Strike Force had found it sooner. Wretch really had to go wee-wee but Wretch could not wait no more. Wretch go on floaty security drone thing… Wretch think drone thingy not like Wretch very much no more… It been spitting sparks at Wretch and making smoke that smell really bad… Oh well… Wretch thank you so much! Wretch NEVER think of finding key thingy under welcome mat!”

Temporary Power:
Upon successful completion of the strike force, a villain will receive the “Wretched Aid” temporary power. This power is useable 10 times before it runs out. Of these ten uses two will summon Wretch at Arch-Villain level to come help you for a limited time. Eight of the charges, however, will summon a smoking, sparking Arachnos Security Drone. The Drone will do disintegration attacks against any enemy in the area however its targeting system has been… ewwww… shorted out and it has only a 1% chance of hitting, non-buffable. Any enemy OR ally who wanders within range of its smoke may gag and choke for a short time.

A belated Steelclaw Entry to the Belated Guide to the Belated N.A. Side of Belated Things..

Or something like that...

* If you write a serious post about a non controversial subject you will get a few pity replies and then be safely swept along to page 203 or thereabouts.

* In N.A. you need to look out for Post Clones; these suckers are like Tribbles... If one person posts "Dark Toe's Unimportant Letter to the Devs" you can be sure the Post Clones will have up "Rouge Angle's Quasi-Important Dev Letter", "Big Roy's Semi-Serious Missive to the Devs" and "I just wanna feel like part of the fad" threads up faster than Dust Bunnies multiply.

* If you happen to post a silly little thing that you only intended as a joke and for some reason it catches people's attention or imagination ( City of Amusement Park Employees and the Salvage Zodiac come to mind) they will stay on the first page long beyond the point at which they begin to embarass you.

* No matter how many times they're told... someone will ALWAYS want to know then Issue: Current+1 is going to be put out. You could staple a picture of a watch reading "They never announce it until it's here!!" on their wrist and they'll STILL post it. It is my theory that these people secretly feed on abuse and ridicule.

* We guarantee that two to four weeks after a major announcement has been made... after the same period of time during which the forums are absolutely saturated with discussions about the announcement... someone will appear and say "Hey! What's this new thing I done heard about? When did they announce that?!" I am still lobbying for the legal right to put a virus on these peoples' computers where the only internet page they can open is a RickRoll.

* It is absolutely necessary that if a joke thread is created; at least one person MUST respond to the thread as though it were completely serious. 9 times out of 10 they will be offended. 8 times out of 10 they will disdain those who did NOT take it seriously. 4 times out of 5 they will complain about the prior statistic not using the least common denominator. 10 out of 10 of these people will not realize I am talking about them right now.

* According to N.A. forum guidelines at least once per week there must be a thread created that is completely incomprehensible. The are only two allowable responses to said posting. The first being expressions of confusion (usually involving a single word or monosyllable). The other is to take the original post as a challenge and come back with something even more indecipherable as human thought than the first. A surprising number of these attempts seem to involve pie or the authenticity of cake.

* N.A. shall always mean North America.... it shall NOT mean Not Applicable. If you can agree to this then we shall not mentally pronounce EU as "Eeeee-Ewwwwwwww..."

* Any thread... and I mean ANY thread... that has a Red Name respond to it will instantly multiply its potential view/reply numbers by a factor of 20. You could write a thread about how you like to breed your pocket lint with your belly button lint and if a Red Name says that sounds like a good idea you'll soon have investors asking you for stock option in it. Note: This phenomena may not be in full force until the Dev Digest is brought back on-line.

* If given half a chance some nut-job will always take your post and turn it into a joke list.

More like JollyRanchers

Two accounts here... primarily for transferring influence among my characters.

Oh, and so my kids can have their own account...

At least that's what I told them it was for..

Positron recently made an announcement regarding the new features available in Issue 16. Since I am the proud owner of the Cynical Steelclaw Parody and Translation Device (patent pending), I decided to run the announcement through the system and see what popped out.

What follows is a parody translation of the original speech with the Cynicism knob turned waaaaay up to the maximum. None of it is me though.. I swear... a computer program did the whole translation thing on its own... really...

Yeah…

I'm a joke-spouting nut...


In game and out.

Also keep in mind you can always turn the tables on them... you can try your own versions of "hey sexy" in response...

For example:

* Wow... lookit that BEEFCAKE... wooo-hooo... thank goodness I value muscles over brains, huh?

* Oh my goodness... honey just looking at you has taken my breath away... or maybe it was from smelling you... hard to tell

* Just hearing your sexy voice is more exciting than a level ding... a Level TWO level ding.. but hey.. beggars can't be choosers...

* Thanks... I tried to make my in game character look as much like my real self as possible.. I'm sure you did the same thing with your main character... this one must be an alt, right?

* This one is okay... but my REALLY sexy one is on (any other server)... if you want we could switch over to that one and "team" a little bit.. I'll meet you there... meet me under Atlas.. just keep asking for "INeedaHo" in Local until someone answers...

I would buy the following Going Rogue Tee Shirts:

* "My Scrapper went Rogue: 5 people were assassinated, 20 bosses were killed, 10 victims were kidnapped, 135 minions were purged... and all I got was this lousy tee shirt"

* "My Necromancy MasterMind is now a hero... Still want your kid to grow up to be just like me?"

* "Going Rogue: Because every Defender has an Offender inside trying to get out."

* "Going Rogue: My Brute finally found his inner child... and beat the snot out of it."

* "Going Rogue: I've changed sides so many times I'm renaming my character Identity Crisis"

* "Tyrant: Finally a politician we can trust!"

* "Going Rogue: When entering the bank please fill out the questionnaire so the patrons will know how to react."

* "Praetoria: A place where you can really find yourself... then place them under arrest."

* "Praetoria: Don't bother coming because you're already here!"

* "Heroes Go Rogue: Because sometimes you just wanna kick the puppy"

* "Heroes Go Rogue: Because there are more interesting ways to help the old lady across the street"

* "Heroes Go Rogue: Because Chicks dig Bad Boys"

* "Villains Go Rogue: Because the benefits package in Rogue Isles sucks"

* "Villains Go Rogue: Because it's hard to get a pretty lady's phone number when she's running away in terror"

* "My Stalker was going to Go Rogue until he discovered spying on the Women's Locker room is against the law"

* "Praetoria: Disney World on Crack"

This thread has inspired me to finally write a full short story about one of my character's origin.

I mentioned it in my earlier post within this thread... for those who would like to give the expanded version a read.. you can find it here:

http://boards.cityofheroes.com/showt...=1#post2110140

July 21st, 2009

“So you see,” Jennifer said, sitting back in the deep cushions of the high backed chair. “I had a lot going against me. I suppose I could have given up hope, but I had good reason to keep fighting. Not that the news got any better after that.”

She stood up and began pacing. The eyes of the room’s only other occupant followed her.

“No one visited me in the hospital,” she said, pausing to pick up one of the many leather bound tomes in the small private library. She flipped through a few pages then set it aside indifferently. “I thought that was odd all things considered. At first I pretended I didn’t care; it hurt too much to really think about it. Besides, I was strung out on pain killers and not really able to think too clearly. When I did get around to asking I found out that my friends all had come to visit me. At my memorial service. Would you believe I had been declared legally dead? I was approached by a couple government agents who reminded me of the non-disclosure agreement I had signed and the oath of confidentiality I had sworn. My Mark died. I was torn apart, my hands nearly useless and my face in shreds and the only thing they cared about was keeping their dirty little secrets.”

Jennifer stopped talking, staring down into the fire that merrily crackling in the large fireplace. She watched those flickering flames for a time then turned to look around the room admiringly.

“This really is a wonderful place you’ve built here,” she noted with a smile. “You’ve done wonders with it, truly. Ah, but I am letting myself get distracted. Sorry. Where was I? Oh, yes. So they put a gag order on me while I was still in the hospital and doped up on pain killers. And they say chivalry is dead! So, I was no longer allowed to be Jennifer Halloway. It was actually illegal for me to be her anymore since the government had insisted she was dead. That’s almost funny, you know? I would include that in my memoirs… if I were allowed to write them that is.”

She resumed her pacing, stopping occasionally to run her hand up and down the rich oak moldings. Her companion watched her silently.

“To make a long story shorter by a smidge or two, I made it through the surgeries and dove into the rehabilitation with as much gusto as I could muster. The rehab was much more painful and exhausting than the surgeries ever could be. They all said they were happy with my progress but I wasn’t. So I could wiggle my pinky finger a centimeter or two… so what? They called THAT progress?” She waved one of the hands in question through the air. The flesh that covered them was pasty white with splotches of gray here and there upon them. The forearms looked wasted and thin; the hands almost skeletal in appearance. Her fingers were curled into talons though they did move slightly now and again when she gestured.

“But something strange was happening,” she said, her voice quickening with obvious excitement. “The less pain killers I took, the more I had this… well.. this feeling that there was something inside me. Some kind of energy… some presence that had not been there before. It was then that I stopped taking them altogether. The pain was extraordinary… So bad that I almost stopped sleeping. Even now I can only sleep maybe 4 hours in every 72. But even as the pain was getting worse, that sense that I had changed somehow grew as well. Then, one day, I was straining to straighten my hands by this exercise where you touch your fingertips together then slowly bring your palms in. The pain was magnificent. My palms were still about three inches apart. I pushed a little too hard the agony just flared up… and when it did… a small blue white spark of energy appeared between my palms.”

She looked at her companion as though expecting him to scoff at her statement. He said nothing. She raised a twisted hand, palm towards him as if to forestall any comments.

“I know.. I know… it sounds mad,” she laughed. “But I swear it’s true. I was so startled that I lost concentration and it blipped out of existence. I thought for sure I had imagined the whole thing. Just to make sure I tried it again and would you believe…? The spark popped right back between my hands again! And I knew what that spark was… sure I did… Hadn’t I been within two inches of plunging face first into it? Hadn’t I lost my hands to it? It was the spark in the Cylinder! For some insane reason I could create wormholes!”

She stopped beside the large mahogany desk at the end of the room opposite the fire. She sat down in the chair behind it, looking at her companion. The fire light played across her features, for it was the only light source in the room. She slid her misshapen hands around the various papers and pens atop the blotter, moving them randomly.

“I had a setback,” she admitted. “It was my fault really. I was so excited at the possibilities this opened up for me. I pushed too hard. I may have even gone a little bit crazy. I can see that now. The first thought that occurred to me was that I could use my power to get Mark back. I could create a wormhole next to him and pull him back through to our world. I knew he would be dead. But there are powerful healers of both magic and science; surely one of them could bring him back to me. So, I attempted to make an even bigger wormhole. One large enough for me to see Jupiter through, to see his body and then retrieve it. It was a foolish idea. He had been lost over six years ago in a storm even bigger than the state of Texas. But in that moment it seemed so logical. So easy.”

She opened one of the drawers and gave a happy little sound. Reaching down she clumsily brought up a bottle of Johnny Walker. She looked over to her host. “Do you mind?”

He didn’t answer, didn’t even nod, but she took this as permission. She tried to open the bottle but couldn’t get her fingers to cooperate. Finally she gave a frustrated snort and narrowed her eyes. A bright blue white spark the size of a baseball appeared at the top of the bottle, like a flame atop a candlestick. When the spark disappeared the glass that had been within it was gone. The truncation line on the bottle’s neck was smooth and curved. She tipped the bottle enough to slosh enough into the glass to fill it halfway. Holding the tumbler between the heels of both hands she lifted it and drank.

“Excellent,” she sighed in pleasure. “In addition to having such a beautiful home I have to admit you are a gracious host. Ah, but I am meandering again and the hour is growing late. When I pushed my new found powers I felt a rather intense pressure just behind my eyes. Unfortunately, I ignored it. When I pushed even harder I felt my face explode in agony. I thought it was purely mental pain until I saw my shirt was soaked in blood. I touched my face and my hand came away wet with it. I managed to call 911 before I passed out. Apparently that was a side effect of my power. Whenever I create a wormhole, the power exerts a strong gravitational push just under the flesh of my face. The stronger my effort, the harder that push becomes. When I tried to create such a large wormhole, I literally ruptured the skin of my face along the same scars that had been repaired in those first few surgeries.”

She took another drink and set the empty tumbler down. She refilled it and leaned back in the chair, leaving the full glass alone for the moment. She stared up at the ceiling for a time before continuing.

“I had a choice to make. I could ignore my powers or at least not use them to their fullest potential or I could try to figure out a way to keep my face together even when I used them.” She leaned forward then, her smiling face fully within the dancing light of the fire’s reach. Large twisting scars curled in haphazard trails all over its surface. The scars were open though, unhealed and revealing red muscle tissue just beneath it. The folds of flesh were held together by thick steel surgical staples. The wide holes around the sunken posts of these staples giving mute evidence as to the frequent stretching that skin underwent.

“Guess which option I chose?”

She laughed heartily and took another clumsy drink of the Johnny Walker. She leaned back and put her feet upon the desk, black leather boots clunking against it loudly.

“Well, I still didn’t know WHY I had these strange powers,” she said. “After all, the Cylinder didn’t give Mark super powers, it just killed him. I spoke with several federal agents before one of them finally gave me a security video from the day it all happened. There had always been these funny red electrical signatures on the outside of the Cylinder. Do you remember those? We never did understand why they happened, but apparently when I was about to be sucked into the vortex one of those bolts, which had grown MUCH larger than the little currents we were used to… One of those bolts had struck me in the head. If you slowed that video footage down to one frame at a time it looked just like the bolt struck me… then the wormhole spark just sort of… shrank into me. It was like my skull just sucked the vortex inside.”

She tipped back the rest of the Walker and stood up from behind the desk once more. She walked over to stand beside her companion, looking down into his wide eyes.

“So, I had these powers, but what to do with them? I had, by then, realized that I would never be able to find my Mark. Even if I did there probably wouldn’t be enough of him left to bring back to life.” She sighed sadly and gave a dispirited shrug. “So, I thought of my old friends… the other scientists who had been on the project… the ones who had overruled my Beloved despite his warnings that it wasn’t safe. What were they up to?” She grinned then, an expression that was horrifyingly broken on the shattered remains of her face. “Would you believe they were all still alive? Not only alive but thriving!”

“One of them… one of them had even profited from the disaster of the Wormhole project. He had sold all his research data to a company named Portal Corps. He made out like an absolute bandit too; not only did he make money off the original sale but he even got residuals off their annual profits. My beloved Mark died. I was left with useless hands and a maimed face, but at least someone came out ahead.” She smiled hugely down at her companion then turned away to look around the room once more.

“Yes, Doctor Price, you certainly have a lovely home here.”

She knelt by the side of the terrified doctor. He was stretched out, arms and legs in a spread eagle position, each one held in place by a pulsing ball of energy. His mouth was plugged, not with energy but with one of his own socks. His horrified eyes rolled whitely in their sockets as he stared at her. He struggled mightily but could not get his shackles to move even a hair’s breadth. She reached out and dragged curled fingers down his cheeks, almost tenderly.

“I’ve had the opportunity to view so many exciting new worlds and galaxies with my powers, Doctor Price,” she purred. Suddenly a spark appeared directly above his cringing face. It was the size of a manhole cover and as it appeared Jennifer’s face bulged outwards, the staples holding it together as the flesh strained against its restraint. “I can open them practically anywhere you know; the inside of a sun, the depths of a black hole, the vacuum of space, ice planets, the acid storms of Venus… why I can even open them up in inhabited worlds. There is this one planet I found with an insect species that lays its eggs in a host. The eggs hatch almost instantly but the larvae take a loooong time to eat. It must be maddening because I saw one infested animal run headlong off a cliff rather than endure it a moment longer.”

She smiled from her bulging, pulsing face and brushed Doctor Price’s hair back from his forehead gently.

“I think we’ll start with your left foot,” she said thoughtfully. “The lions are hungry tonight, Doctor Price. That’s not too surprising, really… it’s been over six years since they last fed. The lions are almost starving to death… but don’t you worry your wealthy little head about it… I’m sure by the time we’re done here… everyone’s appetite will have been satisfied.”

February 14th, 2003

She opened her eyes to a white blur.

“Mark?” She tried to speak but the word wouldn’t form. Her jaw seemed unable to move, her lips were frozen in place. All that emerged was a piteous sounding moan, more breath than voice. She looked around but her eyes refused to focus. Several human-like figures moved around; grayer shapes on that field of unrelenting whiteness. She tried to call out to them. Tried to ask them what was going on.

One of them turned to her then, still indistinct and hazy.

“Someone get Doctor Allen, her eyes are open.”

But Jennifer had slipped back into the comforting darkness once more.

* * *
February 18th, 2003

“You won’t be able to speak for some time, I’m afraid,” Doctor Allen told her. He was an older gentleman who spoke with a southern drawl. Indeed, everything about him was southern gentleman through and through. “The damage to your face was extensive and we had to wire your jaw shut so the tendons could heal. Your skin was also heavily damaged but you were lucky there; our hospital boasts the best cosmetic surgeon on the east coast. You have some light scarring but it could have been a lot worse.” He smiled and then sighed softly, the smile dying into serious lines. “The worst part is your hands and arms. The bones in them are shattered. We’ve had our best surgeons look at the x-rays and we think we can avoid amputation, but I need you to understand what you’re facing. There will likely need to be several surgeries, perhaps even a dozen or more. We will literally have to piece your bones back together and hold them in place with surgical steel plates and pins. After restructuring them you will have to undergo a long period of physical rehabilitation. It won’t be easy. I won’t lie to you Jennifer; even if we are completely successful with the surgeries the prognosis is still grim. At best you can hope for 25% recovery of basic motor skills in your hands. And that might be an optimistic estimate.”

She stayed silent because she had no choice. But in her head she was telling him she wouldn’t give up. She’d make it through the physical therapy because she’d promised Mark. She’d promised him she wouldn’t let go.

Doctor Allen must have seen the determination in her eyes because he nodded with a pleased smile. Then, once again, the smile seemed to become strained at the corners. He sighed and reached into the pocket of his lab coat. She realized it was the same pocket Mark had reached for just before his death.

“We found this in your mouth when you reached the emergency room,” he explained. “I’ve been informed that the cameras that recorded everything that transpired in the lab showed Doctor Amberton placed it there just before… well… just before the end.”

He held up the small object in front of her eyes so she could see it properly since she was still unable to lift her head under her own strength.

It was an engagement ring.

When I wrote the bio of one of my first characters Re-Stitched, I wasn't satisfied. Oh, I was happy with the general concept I'd come up with but I never felt like I'd told enough of the story.

In my opinion she always deserved more.

So, over the last few days I sat down and wrote out the whole thing. This is the origin story of my gravity/energy dominator Re-Stitched. It's a bit on the long side... but hopefully you'll enjoy the read.

At least it's out of my system now.

***

February 12th, 2003

A group of scientists, Generals and government officials stood behind the slanting glass wall of the viewing booth; looking down at the activity beneath them. In the booth the air was cooled by the subtle hum of the conditioners. The walls were sound insulated and the people were speaking in hushed tones in their little clusters. The chaos beneath these powerful decision makers was distant and impersonal.

The room which they all glanced at occasionally was made of white and chrome and blinking lights. Banks of tall server towers lined each of the four walls. The pristine whiteness of the ceramic tiled floor was criss-crossed with a fever of communication cables.

The focal piece of the room was the Cylinder. At first glance one might have mistaken it for a drainage culvert for installation under a suburban street. It was, however, smooth instead of corrugated and a metallurgist would have determined its make up to be much more complex… more exotic… than simple steel. The tube of strangely glowing silvery blue material was only three feet high and just shy of eight feet long. Power cables and computer feeds plugged into it all along its length, making it look like some strange creature from the deepest depths of the ocean floor. Huddled against it were other boxes and relays; looking not unlike worker ants clustered against the torpid body of their queen.

Among and through all this scurried dozens of people in white lab coats. From the removed and distant viewing glass there looked to be no order to their actions, merely a pack of lab rats all desperately attempting to navigate the maze by making random turns whenever a choice presented itself. On the floor, however, it was a different story.

Jennifer Halloway stood at the side of the Cylinder, carefully checking the connections of the cables she had just checked not more than ten minutes ago. She was a tall woman with dark brown hair cut sensibly and conservatively just below her collar. She was slender though not thin by any stretch of the imagination. Her hands were sure and steady as she tested each connection. Lovely with strong features and almost porcelain quality skin everything about her appearance was attractive and completely professional.

Except her eyes.

Not that the gray eyes with their slate blue flecks of color were not beautiful; it was just that she couldn’t seem to control them. Her hands were steady and did exactly as they were ordered. Her voice, when she gave orders to those of her team or answered questions from her superiors, was firm, steady and in control. But those Benedict Arnold eyes of hers simply could not stay on task. She would be examining the connection pulse rate of her monitor one moment then, without conscious thought, her eyes would be up and searching the room to finally rest upon Mark Amberton. She would then stand there dreamily staring at his features for several minutes before realizing what she was doing and jerking them back to business once again.

“Damn it all to hell anyway,” she muttered after the most recent ocular mutiny. “Stop that! Keep your mind on business. It’s not like he’s all that good looking anyway.”

That may have been true in a G.Q. male model sense of the word; but to her he was absolutely perfect. Others would have seen a gawky six foot five man with thick, horn-rimmed glasses and a habit of moving in short, quick bursts that had the unfortunate side effect of making him seem even more like a stork. His hair was not brown, was not blonde, but some kind of hybrid color that defied definition or taming, judging by the helter-skelter manner it seemed to burst from his head in every direction at once. Others would have looked at him and labeled him an Alpha-Nerd; leader of the pocket-protector pack.

Jennifer looked at Doctor Amberton and saw Cary Grant, Sean Connery and Richard Gere all rolled up into one yummy package.

She jerked her eyes away once more to stare blindly at the coupling before her. The word echoed in the fog-filled corners of her mind; Coupling. All at once she remembered the night before and her fingers started to twitch as they remembered filtering among the wiry thatch of Mark’s chest hair.

“Oh, great,” she muttered as she watched her fingers join her eyes in spontaneous rebellion. “Et tu Brute?”

“Shakespeare, love?” a familiar voice murmured from just behind her. The gentle pressure of hands upon her shoulders brought her heart to a stuttering acceleration. “And the death scene of Julius Caesar at that… Not exactly the most inspiring thing I could have heard from you. Are you about to lead the Senate in bloody rebellion against my rule?”

Humor underscored his words and warm, soft affection, but she was sensitive enough to him to hear the strain.

“The Senate has already done that with none of my help,” Jennifer said, leaning back against him, thrilling as she always did to his height and the solidity of his body. His scent, a combination of Old Spice, sweat and that musk that was all his own, surrounded her. “Price, Albertson, Diego, Archer and Hanson… They may as well be wearing togas and brandishing knives in their fists. What right do they have? What frigging right do they have to countermand your authority?”

She turned abruptly to look up into her beloved Mark’s smiling face. They could match each other fire for fire, but where as her heat was all about loyalty, passion and devotion his burned fiercely for intellectual challenges and theoretical advancement. He was an optimist and non-confrontational to a fault; a combination which frustrated Jennifer sometimes until she was ready to scream.

“We should NOT be putting on this demonstration today,” she said in a hiss, not wanting the other lab assistants to overhear so close to the event itself. “You told them over and over again that we’re not ready yet. The containment field still fluctuates too much to be entirely safe! Don’t those idiots care that we could end up killing our own soldiers rather than send them to the Rikti homeworld?”

Mark’s head dipped and he pressed a tender kiss against her forehead. “It’s not about safety,” he said. “It’s about money. It’s been almost a year since the Rikti first invaded, love. The great military machine needs to see results or they’re going to cut funding to our Worm Hole creation project. The other scientists on the board agreed to an early demonstration as a sort of delaying tactic.”

“Then explain the procedure to the General Staff!” Jennifer did not bother to whisper this time, her gray eyes snapping with barely suppressed rage. “Describe the science behind it! Don’t risk the whole project itself by firing up a worm hole generator when the containment fields aren’t up to spec!”

“I told them all that, dearest,” Mark whispered. He pressed his lips to the crown of her head, not pulling back he continued to speak, mouth restless against her hair. “There is nothing we can do at this point, my love. I’ve been outvoted five to one and my quitting the team would accomplish nothing; they’d simply go on without me. The danger isn’t too great; the chances of something cataclysmic going wrong are on par with winning second prize in the lottery. We’ll get through our little demonstration just fine.”

He paused a moment then and Jennifer, who knew his body so well, could feel a tension steal through him that had not been there before.

“When all this is over with,” he said in a slightly too-casual voice, “I’d like to take you out to dinner tonight. I have something I need to talk to you about. Something we need to talk about together.” His voice was growing husky and he had to clear his throat several times. “I have something to give you…”

She smiled despite her irritation with the other scientists on the project. That was her Mark; he was the world’s worst secret keeper. If she let him continue he would keep babbling until he told her everything. They had only been together as a couple for four months but that had included Christmas. There had not been a single present for her under the tree that had been a surprise when she opened it.

“Doctor Amberton,” came Doctor Price’s modulated voice from the loudspeakers in the lab wall. “Are we about ready to begin? The natives up here are growing a bit restless.”

“Oh, I’ll show YOU restless you cockroach-looking little…” Jennifer began hotly but Mark’s raised voice luckily drowned her out.

“Let me verify safety parameters have been met with each of the diagnostics teams and then we’ll be ready to roll,” he said, nudging his lover in the ribs with an elbow. He gave a short friendly wave to the window which was high up on one wall then turned back to her. “Well, love, we’ll have to save the conversation for dinner. Time for this three ring circus to bring out the man eating lions.”

She shivered then as a surety swept over her that his words were no joke but instead a premonition of doom. It felt like a fist with fingers of ice had clamped itself around her heart. Liquid nitrogen flooded from her brain down her spinal column, turning her bowels to water. For a moment she felt an overwhelming urge to grab him and walk… no… run out of there. For that one instant she didn’t care about her career or his. She didn’t care about the project or wormholes or vengeance against the Rikti.

“Are you okay?” He gripped her upper arms in his large, gentle hands. His voice was concerned, his brow furrowed. “You look pale as a sheet.”

The moment was gone. Her fugue had passed, leaving her feeling light headed and a little embarrassed. “Just a case of the pre-game jitters I guess, Coach.” She laughed unevenly and shook her head. “Don’t worry about me. I just want to get this over with. Everything on the Cylinder checks out, so go talk to the other team leads.”

He paused, still frowning down at her thoughtfully. “Are you sure?”

She punched him lightly in his chest with a lopsided smile. “Yeah, yeah… I’m sure. Get this show on the road so I can find out what big surprise you have planned for dinner tonight.”

He laughed and kissed her. Kissed her not with his usual peck, like a lover’s catch and release program, but passionately. His mouth captured hers and claimed her for all the world to see. A few of the younger techs gave wolf whistles and cheered them on. Jennifer barely heard them past the thundering of her heart in her ears. Mark drew back and smiled down at her, joy and a low heat burning in his eyes.

“It’s a date,” he said. He turned and gave a comic bow to their co-workers who were all grinning openly at them then called for his other team leads.

Jennifer made her way to her post by one of the computer banks, blushing and giggling at some of the comments the other project workers made as she passed them. She and Mark had not started dating until a full month into the Worm Hole project. The others had watched and cheered them on; most of them thinking of the budding romance as their own private fairy tale play. The other five directing scientists had not approved; not being enchanted in the least bit. Only Doctor Price had been vocal in his denouement; voicing his concerns about distraction from the “real reason” they were there. Jennifer had once overheard the older man say that “rutting with a mere lab tech like that is an insult to every degree Mark has earned… not to mention a display of an abysmal lack of good breeding.”

Needless to say, Doctor Price was not one of Jennifer’s favorite people.

She checked the read out on the containment field. This was to be her responsibility during the demonstration; a charge Mark had lain upon her with the knowledge that he did so because he trusted no one else more.

The reading showed zero percent variance in the harmonic fields. That was to be expected however, since there was currently no energy being generated in the Cylinder for the fields to contain. Once the process started to crank up to speed however, as much as a 1.35% variance in the fields was acceptable. The further above that variance the percentage crept, the more danger there was of a complete containment break down. If the shielding around the generated wormhole were to rupture, then God alone knew what might happen. The best possible scenario would be the wormhole would simply collapse in upon itself, not having the integrity to maintain its own structure.

At worst the wormhole would begin drawing in everything around it; using whatever energy and matter it could find to stabilize itself. Using everything it could reach to add to itself; to grow.

Jennifer watched her lover as he moved around the other lab techs. He was getting the status reports from them, true, but he did not leave any of them without a smile, or a reassuring pat on the back. This is why the team all loved him. The other scientists would tell them what to do and then scream at them if they didn’t do it right. Doctor Amberton, however, was a leader. He would work with them and show them not only what he wanted but how. And if it didn’t go right, well, he’d just roll up his sleeves and work with the tech in question to see where the problem existed.

The other scientists were in the viewing booth with the generals and Senators. They were content to leave the process to the techs now that the “real” job of design and creation was done. Mark had refused a cushioned seat and air conditioning. He preferred to be in the pits; ready to pounce should something go wrong.

“Engage primary power circuit.” Mark’s voice jolted her out of her reverie and she sat up straighter in her chair. “Power up the Cylinder to half maximum.”

The room was filled with a low yet powerful hum as the Cylinder began to charge. The silvery blue glow grew brighter then began to dim as the now ionized metal magnetized; attracting not metal, but light itself. As the Cylinder drew more and more power, the area directly around it grew darker and darker. It would never reach complete blackness, but it did look steeped in shadows.

The place where Jennifer was sitting was perfectly aligned to see straight down the bore of the Cylinder. The tech in charge of power modulation announced the steadily increasing increments in an even, professional voice.

“Twenty-five percent maximum power. Thirty percent maximum power. Thirty-five pecent maximum power.”

At forty percent a small blue spark appeared in the center of the Cylinder’s embrace. About the size of a dime it still burned brightly enough to cast sharply defined shadows from all the equipment before it. When she had asked Mark why the light of this spark was not absorbed by the Cylinder he had explained that the spark’s energy was not, strictly speaking, light but some other unknown source of radiation that was somehow visible to the human eye. As the percentages increased to fifty, the spark grew larger, but not brighter.

“Forty-eight percent maximum power. Fifty percent maximum power. Fifty percent maximum power and holding.”

Once fifty percent had been reached the Cylinder itself began to slowly rise up from its resting place in the holding clamps. When it reached a height of maybe two and a half feet above the floor it remained there, hovering in place. The wires and cables hung down from it like jungle vines, giving it an alien, almost predatory appearance. Jennifer could not help but remember Mark’s reference to man eating lions as she stared down the gaping maw at the softball sized spark.

Shaking herself, Jennifer looked at her readings and released a pent up sigh of tension. “Containment field variation currently at zero point two zero percent.”

Mark nodded and gave a short order. The techs whom had been clustered close to the Cylinder now moved away; the remainder of the experiment had been deemed too dangerous to allow such close proximity. Doctor Amberton took a deep breath and let his eyes meet Jennifer’s; each drawing strength from the other. He gave a short nod and spoke loudly to the room at large.

“Fifty percent maximum power has been reached and maintained successfully. At this yield we can send energy pulses through the wormhole but not matter,” he began to pace the perimeter of the room, always keeping his eyes on the Cylinder. “Once we map out coordinates of the Rikti Homeworld, this would allow us to place a wormhole over the target and shoot energy beams through it. Such beams would lose 10 to 20% cohesion but would still maintain an impressive force. We will now proceed and bring the Cylinder up to three-quarters maximum.”

Once again the tech began to call out the increasing power in a calm, measured voice. Jennifer’s eyes behaved themselves this time, obeying her commands to keeping track of both the containment field read outs and the Cylinder itself. When the power output reached sixty percent the spark was mere centimeters from completely filling the Cylinder’s bore. However, as the percentage increased something strange began to happen, the outer surface of the Cylinder seemed to ripple as though it were liquid and someone had cast a pebble into it. With each undulation of the metal it appeared to stretch, to pull outwards like taffy.

“I am sure our honored guests were wondering how effective an entry point of only three feet diameter would be in the transport of personnel or weaponry,” Mark said with just a hint of amusement in his voice. Excitement was there too and Jennifer realized that at least a part of her beloved was more than happy to show off his new toy. “The wormhole is capable of piercing the dimensional barrier because it warps space around it to a point where that space ruptures. A side-effect of this warping is that the Cylinder’s ring will actually seem to grow. This is, in fact, an illusion. It is not the Cylinder which is growing larger at all, it is the space around it that is fluctuating; as though a magnifying glass were being placed over it.”

Jennifer was barely listening to him. Instead all her attention was focused on the read out before her. The containment field variance had crept slowly upwards, keeping pace with the power levels. She felt her heart rise upwards into her throat as the percentage rose past 1.00%, then to 1.05% and 1.10%. In her mind a chant of sorts had started, meaningless words filled with a cresting dread and horrible certainty that this needed to be stopped.

The lions are getting hungry. The lions are getting hungry. The lions are getting hungry.

“Seventy-five percent maximum power. Seventy-five percent maximum power and holding.”

Jennifer stared at the screen before her, barely able to breathe. She had been so absorbed with the rising numbers that she’d totally blocked out the power announcements. She looked up to meet Mark’s eyes; anxiety had made her pupils small spots swimming in a gray sea. She cleared her throat and smiled tremulously.

“Containment field variation currently at 1.31% and holding.”

His smile was a benediction that swept through her like dawn’s first kiss upon the darkness. Her own smile solidified and brightened. They had done it!

The spark had grown to the point where an average height man could make it through if they ducked their head. The space around it warping to stretch the cylinder out grotesquely. Around the outside edges of the Cylinder twisting currents of crimson energy coiled and slithered. The spark itself made no sound, but these red energy signatures crackled and hissed like bacon in a pan. None of the scientists had been able to explain what caused them; most of them had dismissed the phenomena since they didn’t seem to affect any other system. Mark, however, had continued to obsess about them.

“Seventy-Five percent maximum power is the highest we have been able to safely achieve thus far,” Mark announced, hands braced on his hips and looking very pleased with their accomplishment. “At this level matter can be sent through but with a certain amount of degradation in its structural integrity. Normal humans could not survive this passage as their flesh and bone density simply could not tolerate the pressure. We estimate the field within the spark to exert a pressure roughly equal to 20 G-forces or about 20 times the force of Earth’s gravity. A super-powered being with resistance to such pressure could make the journey with no ill effects as could humans in specially prepared protective armor. The closer to 100% maximum power we bring the wormhole the lower the pressure differential would become until we’re talking something on par with the pressurized cabin of a commercial jet.”

A voice over the loud speakers then; not Doctor Price but one of their guests. “Let me get this straight, Doctor Amberton,” the voice said in deep, barrel-chested tones. “You expect me to go before the General Staff, before the Rikti Retribution Senate committee and tell them that as of right now we could launch an assault of a small portion of the hero community and a handful of soldiers at a time? We wanted to use this technology to mount a tsunami invasion, not a damned trickle infiltration!”

“Seventy-five percent is not an impenetrable ceiling,” Mark insisted. He walked closer to the Cylinder, hands out to the sides. He looked up at the window above them which was mirrored giving the impression he was calling out to his own reflection. “With more time and more funding we can reach higher power levels. At full power we can send through hundreds if not thousands of people in very short order.”

“You said the same damned thing three weeks ago,” the voice snarled. “We’ve been lenient with your little group of wormhole specialists so far because it seemed to answer all our needs. However, we’ve been pouring money into a hole with no return for too long now. My colleagues and I feel that we can use your wormhole technology as-is for energy beam assaults against specific military targets. There are other projects that could use the money we’ve been dedicating to this one. Unless you can show me definite progress…”

“Doctor Amberton,” Price’s voice interrupted the first with cold anger seething just under the surface. “Increase maximum power to eighty-five percent.”

Mark stared up at the mirrored glass with disbelief and shock. “But… the containment fields…”

“The good General wishes to see progress, Doctor Amberton,” Price said. “Need I remind you that you agreed to acquiesce to the group decision? Bring the Cylinder up to eighty-five percent maximum power. Do it now.”

Mark did not immediately give that order, instead his eyes sought out Jennifer. Her fingers were clutching the edges of the workstation so hard the knuckles had gone white. She shook her head slightly, willing him to understand. They were only 0.04% short of being in danger of a containment breech. He looked uncertain, hesitant.

“Containment field variation currently at one point THREE ONE and holding,” she said. The intensity in her voice was lost on no one. She could just imagine Doctor Price grinding his teeth up in the viewing booth. She hoped they all shattered in his mouth.

Dear lord, Mark, she thought desperately, don’t you realize the lions are at the door?

“Do I need to come down there and take charge myself, Doctor Amberton?” Doctor Price’s modulated voice practically dripped with disdain. “Or are you taking orders from a lab tech now?”

“She wasn’t giving orders Doctor Price,” Mark said.

The HELL I’m NOT! She screamed in the silent vaults of her mind.

“She is merely reminding myself and everyone else that the containment field is four hundredths of a percentage point from the point where a breech becomes possible,” Mark continued. His eyes narrowed dangerously as he glared upwards. “In other words, she’s doing her job. Which she does very well, I might add. Now, if you’ve finished interfering with those of us who have the balls to actually be down in the trenches rather than up in the viewing box drinking champagne, I’d like to get back to work.”

He divided a look between the power manager and Jennifer. “We’re going to bring it up to eighty-five percent. We’re going to go slowly, VERY slowly. I want the power level announcement to be directly followed by the containment field variance. If the variance spikes more than two hundredths of a percentage point then I want you to sound off immediately. We will hold at that point and wait to see if there is further fluctuation.” He straightened and now looked around at the other techs and assistants in the room. “I want everyone not involved in essential support out of the room. Now.”

There was a certain amount of delay as everyone immediately began insisting they were essential to the project. Finally one of the older techs stepped forward. She adjusted her wire frame glasses on her nose and looked over the top of them at Mark.

“I think, Doctor Amberton,’ she said in a kindly yet stern voice. “That we would all much rather stay. It would seem you made the mistake of forging us into a team. And no team worth its salt would abandon their Coach in a time of need.”

He stood stunned for a moment then slowly nodded. Despite her bone-deep worry, Jennifer was consumed with pride for her man. In that moment, she had never loved him more.

They organized quickly and soon enough Mark was nodding permission to the power management team.

“Seventy-six percent of maximum power.” “One point three two containment field variance.”

“Seventy-seven percent of maximum power.” “One point three four containment field variance.”

The numbers seemed to crawl forward. Time itself stretched and slowed in Jennifer’s perception, as though the field around the wormhole spark was affecting it as well as space. She held her breath between each status announcement, but the numbers did not jump or spike.

The lions are hungry. The lions are hungry. The lions are HERE!

Just as the power management team leader announced that the Cylinder was drawing 83% maximum power the containment field variance jumped from 1.41% to 1.53%.

“We have a full zero point ONE TWO percentage spike. We are at one point five three field variance!” She was numbly amazed that she wasn’t screaming, but her voice, though uneven, maintained a professional detachment.

“Hold power levels! Maintain power levels at eighty-three percent!” Mark strode to Jennifer’s side and looked at the readouts with her. She felt his hand on her shoulder and her own quickly covered it, pressing its reassuring weight harder into her flesh. “Every team hold and get ready for emergency shut down procedures. Do not initiate procedures until my mark.”

The number held at 1.53% variance for several seconds. Jennifer stared at that number, focused on it, as though she could force it to drop through sheer force of will. Then, it flickered, and rose to 1.54%.

“One point five four percent field variance. One point five five… One point five six… point five seven… eight… nine… One point six… one.. two…”

“Drop power back to seventy five percent!” Mark yelled, breaking away from Jennifer’s side to run towards the power team. “Everyone who isn’t power or containment out of the room NOW! No arguments this time!”

“Doctor! The power won’t back down! The Cylinder seems to be force-drawing the energy. All the resistors in the system have burnt out. I have heat readings around the cables that are nearly off the charts! Those cables can’t hold that much energy! The Cylinder is drawing more power than they are rated for!” The power manager’s eyes were all white with pools of pale color at their very center. He tried to stand but his knees wouldn’t support him and he fell to kneel before the computer read outs as though praying before an altar.

“I said get everyone OUT OF HERE!” Mark screamed and ran towards the Cylinder itself. “I need someone from the Cylinder Set Up team to help me unplug these power couplings manually! Jennifer, report!”

“The variance is at twelve point three seven percent and climbing fast, Mark!” She was screaming now, she couldn’t help herself. “We need to get out of here! The field is going to collapse any moment now!”

“No! We don’t have any idea what will happen if it breaks containment! It could swallow the entire building or worse. You get everyone out of here, I’ll pull the power cables out!” He reached for one then shrieked in agony as the superheated cable seared his hand. He gritted his teeth and refused to pull his hand away. Finally he stumbled back, holding his hands out in front of him, fingers curled like talons. “It’s no good. The cables are so hot the threading has melted together. Price! The electrical breaker box is in the room just next to the viewing room! Go there and shut down all the power breakers to the building!”

There was no response from the loudspeakers. They could only hope it was because Doctor Price was running to obey the order.

“We have to get out of here, Jennifer,” Mark was saying, walking towards her with his ruined hands outstretched. “There’s nothing more that we can do.”

The numbers on the screen in front of Jennifer read 23.33% and then the entire screen flashed red, went black, flashed red again. Two words. Two small words all alone in the dead center of that flashing screen. Yet those two words sent terror such as she had never known through Jennifer’s very soul.

Containment Breech.

“The lions are about to feast!” She screamed and leapt from her chair, running around the desk she grabbed Mark about the wrist with one hand, mindful even in her extreme state of horror of his injuries. She began to pull him across the floor towards the log-jam of people at the exit. They had to stop there, too many were blocking the door, all shoving and pushing at one another trying to escape.

The elderly woman whom had voiced her support of Mark as their leader fell and no one seemed to notice. She screamed for help but it could not be heard above the screaming of everyone else. Her screaming ended abruptly when a booted foot came down blindly upon her throat. One of the techs, a young man fresh out of M.I.T. saw the futility of trying to get out the door so grabbed a metal chair and set it atop one of the tall servers. He climbed up and swung the chair with all his might at the slanted viewing booth glass. It shattered, raining shards of glass down upon him. One small sliver fell into one of his open eyes and the next blink brought with it a fiery swarm of needlelike pain. His vision blurred as he grabbed hold of the ledge, not seeing the jagged daggers of glass still in embedded in the frame. Luck was with him as his hands found holds free of glass. He hauled himself up, vision doubling, trebling. A power surge hit the room as the Cylinder hungrily gorged itself on electricity. The server beneath his feet exploded and he lost his grip.

He did not fall however, as a long spike of glass impaled him from chin to cranium and held his body aloft. Twitching.

The containment field failed utterly at that point. The wormhole was open and still growing. The lions were starving and the feast had begun. They had carefully chosen the location of the aperture as the center of the Great Storm on Jupiter. It was a known location and anything they sent through during the demonstration was unlikely to affect its environment adversely. The real advantage had been that the storm was so volatile it made Rikti sensors useless. And keeping the information of their experiments from the Rikti was of utmost importance. Unfortunately, with the dissolution of the containment field, there was no protection on either side of the wormhole.

Jupiter’s gravitational pull hit the small room like a freight train.

The air suddenly screamed as it was sucked through the wormhole, making it seem like the Cylinder itself were giving vent to a banshee wail of agony and hunger. Equipment not nailed down to the floor flew through the air towards the gaping maw to disappear within.

Jennifer screamed, a sound she could not hear above the shrieking of the Cylinder. She felt the Cylinder’s ethereal fingers clutch and grab at her clothing, at her legs and feet. It was pulling at her. She released her grip on Mark’s wrist to wrap both hands around the handle of the exit door which was just beside her. She placed them high upon the handle and saw her lover’s hands appear just beneath her own. The force of the gravitational pull increased slowly as the wormhole continued to glut itself on power.

She stared at Mark’s ruined hands. Saw the blisters there from the second degree burns he’d sustained while trying to release the hot cables. Saw those blisters burst under the pressure of his grip; spreading their moisture between flesh and metal.

Saw his grip slip and then fail.

She did not hesitate. She let go as well.

They slid across the floor together, Mark only slightly ahead of her. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. She saw people ahead of them being pulled into the Cylinder. The spark had changed in appearance. The blue white glow was now only a thick ring around the center. The wormhole had grown large enough to show a direct vision of what lay beyond it. The blue white ring contained a swirling crimson storm; a frenzied blood harvest with currents of white and yellow lightning flickering through it here and there. It was a demonic playground. It was chaos incarnate.

She managed to grab one of his wrists with both her hands and held on for dear life. They were of drastically different weights and the imbalance started them spinning unevenly around the fulcrum of their joining. Closer and closer they spun towards that maelstrom gate and despite its approach they looked nowhere but one another’s eyes.

Then they slowed and Jennifer felt a hard grip about one of her ankles. She jerked her head up and around to look behind her. One of their violent revolutions had swept her legs into a tangle of electrical cables and wires. Her ankle was wrapped tightly in one of those snares. She instantly wormed her other foot in and twisted her legs, seeking to wrap the power cables more firmly about them.

She turned to smile back at Mark, to let him know that everything was safe, that she would never let go of him.

He did not smile back. Instead his face was a mask of agony. She looked beyond him to see that the fury of the storm beyond the Cylinder’s ring was no more than four feet away. Mark was buried in it midway up his thighs. He screamed soundlessly in the overwhelming howl of the storm as the immense gravitational forces of both portal and planet beyond crushed the bones in his legs to jagged shards and then to powder. She held on tighter, determined not to let him go. She would love him and care for him even if he were in a wheelchair. She would stay with him forever whether he could walk or not.

The machinery to which the cables that anchored the two lovers were attached shifted with the terrible force of the wormhole’s pull. Mere inches of movement, as the bolts holding them down began to buckle under the strain. Those inches were enough to send Mark further through the thin veneer of the wormhole into the hell beyond. His eyes bulged as his body was eaten by the feeding storm up to his belt line.

Jennifer gritted her teeth, his pain was in her body as well. She could feel it as though it were she who were caught in the storm’s grip. She captured his eyes with her own, fierce and enraged. She was not scared in that moment. All the love she felt for him, all her hopes and dreams for their future together, mingled with her hopeless rage, her hatred of those fools who had done this to them. All the power of these feelings she channeled into that gaze, into him.

Mark’s eyes cleared. The pain somehow seemed to lose its grip on him. In the center of that madness, of the insanity that raged around them, they found a moment of peace together. Everything faded except that gaze. Except that joining of wills. So consumed was she in holding him there with her, in not allowing his soul to leave her alone there without him, she did not notice his free hand reach into the chest pocket of his lab coat. She was only aware of his hands at all when she felt his fingers at her lips. Pressing against her lips until she opened her mouth before that gentle insistence. His fingertips slid inside then departed, but left something within.

Her mouth closed around the small object; her lips sealed.

I love you, he mouthed. She could not hear him over the wailing of the storm. I’ll always love you. Oh gods above how she wished she could just HEAR him. Tears poured from her eyes but never touched her cheeks, greedily whisked away by the raging storm mere feet before her.

The machinery holding them groaned in agony and three of the four bolts holding it to the floor gave way at the same time. The heavy metal box swung around on its sole remaining anchor, the cables slid and Mark with them.

I’ll always lo…

He was now sunk in the wormhole up to his chest. The terrible pressures just beyond that demarcation line eating half his torso in one starved gulp. Jennifer watched as the words died on his lips, held his gaze as the light died from his eyes.

I won’t let go. I’ll never let you go. I’ll hold on forever! I won’t let you go!

The bolt weakened. The machine canted precipitously then fell over onto its side. The bolt bent dangerously but held. The cables played out even more and now all of Mark was within the maelstrom. His face disappeared into that swirling, crimson hell. Only his forearm and hand remained outside it and Jennifer clung to it against all the strength that the storm of the damned could muster.

I won’t let you go Mark… Never let… you go…. Never…

The sweat that stained her body betrayed her then. The bolt held but her own terror had lubricated her legs and the coiling cables could not keep their hold upon her. She slid forward, inch by inch. The crimson electrical bolts that normally cascaded around the outside of the Cylinder had gone from mere static charges like waves on the ocean to massive claps of lightning-like bolts. They danced around the lab now, striking angry sparks off the walls and floor. She was not aware of them nor of the fact that she was now the only living thing in the room.

Hold on to me my beloved… don’t let go of me… hold on… I’ll be there soon… we’ll be together soon enough…

Her arms passed through the aperture and her world became a miasma of agony such as she had never known. She felt the slow crawl of her bones snapping and crumbling as she passed that deadly barrier. Past her wrists now, up her forearms… her elbows. Until her nose was mere inches from the gate itself. She felt her skin begin to pull and tear as the incredible gravitational force reached greedily through the wormhole for her face itself.

I love you, my Mark… and I will… not…. I will… never…. Let….. go…

There was a noise loud enough to overwhelm even the wormhole’s screaming. And then, for Jennifer, everything went black.

Okay.. First off I'll respond here rather than in the other thread.. since this is the one that got my attention and I'm too lazy to double post... er... I mean... I don't want to violate forum rules by double posting...

Ahem...

Anyway..

Situation: Inappropriate Greetings
Request: Possible Come backs and/or responses
Steelclaw: Speaking like Rikti

Hmmm... Well.. if I were caught in this situation I would normally just role play it according to my individual character.. since my Psychic Dominator would respond completely differently than my Fire Blaster... but since I am not sure of your power sets, I'll give you some general come backs...

* You know they recently came out with a report that Neanderthals may have all been killed by ****-sapiens... looks like they missed a few huh?

* Listen, just because your mother giggles when you talk to her like that doesn't mean all women do...

* Boy, you must be a risk taker considering I could be a Dev playing the game, huh?

* Excuse me, but what's your global name there big boy? No, I'm not going to add you to my friends list... I just wanted to know for the petition.

* Must be awfully hard to play this game one handed. (think about it)

* Let me guess... in your opinion the REAL F-word is feminism, right?

* Listen pal, equal rights doesn't mean you alternate hands.

* Wow... really... on behalf of the women of the world we'd like to thank you for keeping your primitive attitudes here and never leaving your parent's basement to spread them out in the real world.

* Drink it up Gamer-Boy... 'cause this is likely the closest you'll ever get to a woman this sexy.

* I really can't wait for the Kick To The Groin emote...

* People like you make me wish Ouroboros was real... I would SO provide your parents with a life-time supply of profolactics.

* BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP ... Sorry.... BEEP BEEP BEEP... I can't hear you.... BEEP BEEP BEEP... over my virgin detector...

* There once was a player most dense... Who found amusement at other's expense... He made comments obscene... In a game rated Teen... Until petitions they made him past-tense.

* Sexy? Wow! Gee thanks... That is SUCH an original come on... Can I write that one down? The next time I try to pick up a girl I may try that myself.

* No... Nope... not feeling anything... not even a tingle.. wait.. WAIT! No.. sorry... my mistake... just gas.

* Bobby is that you? I TOLD you it's not your baby! You just need to accept it and get over it! You better not let Jake hear you're still bothering me... You know how his temper is...

* Looking over your powers I see you don't have Stamina yet... I'm not interested in a guy who doesn't have Stamina...

* Yes... Yes I am sexy... in fact.. you can SEE how sexy I am stud... just go to MyPage.. enter in the name Sue in the search engine.. if you can guess which one is me I'll give you the URL to my web-cam site... don't worry... I'll wait

* Right back at ya stud... In fact.. we could RP a scene if you wanted.. of course.. there's a reason I bought the Science Booster... I hope you like switch hitting...

* I'm a digital representation of a female... there is nothing real about this image in front of you... I don't even want to know what you did with your sister's Barbie collection when you were younger.

* Nice come on... I'm guessing... hmmm... 10... 12 years old?

* Looks like Darwin missed one.

* Awwww... did your blow-up doll spring a leak again?

* Ssshhh!! Your right hand will get jealous!

* Chauvanistic Behavior... so easy even a caveman can do it.

* Let me guess... you take screen shots of costume contests for ... "after game time" purposes don't you?

* Seriously.. this is a cry for help... I can tell... try a real girl.. they're not that dangerous... the worst you can expect is a little taser burn.. and that's a small price to pay to avoid embarassing yourself like this..

* Oh WOW! I am SO glad to meet you! I've always wanted to meet the person who wrote the lines for Desperate Guy in Pocket D!

* brb... laghuing too hrd to type...

* Okay.. I need help with this... do I... laugh really hard, insult your lack of maturity then petition you.... Petition you, laugh really hard then insult your lack of maturity or Insult your lack of maturity, petition you then laugh really hard...?

* You were fooled every time Bugs Bunny dressed up in drag... weren't you?

There... there's a few for you to at least get started with...

* Cool like an Ice-Ice Blaster... not an Ice-Ice baby...

* Cool like a hug from an ice defender...

* Cool like Synapse after his 20th beer...

* Cool like Baby New Year's naughty bits as he runs through the snow...

* Cool like Ice Mistral on the first date...

* Cool like a Winter Event temp power...

* Cool like Gale used against a kilt wearing hero...

Here are my favorite of my various alt's with tragic backstories. Some of them I want to write into full short stories.. what follows are direct cut & pastes from their bio sheet in-game. Sorry about how many there are but I'm an alt-oholic.

Re-Stitched (gravity/energy dominator):

Jennifer Halloway was a research assistant in an ambitious wormhole program funded by the government shortly after the first Rikti Invasion. The plan had been to create a wormhole allowing humans to out-flank the Rikti homeworld; the pace had been rushed. Her fiance Mark Amberton was one of the lead scientists on the job when the Congressional Committee had demanded a demonstration. He had protested, saying they were not yet at a full testing phase. He was overruled. The accident at the demonstration cost him his life and Jennifer her face. As Mark was dragged into the wild wormhole, she had clung to him, refusing to let go even as her arms and face were crushed by the immense gravitational forces. The wormhole collapsed at the last moment, seeming to shrink down inside her own skull. Now she can summon the wormholes at will though their force tears her face constantly requiring permanent staples. She seeks vengeance against the scientists who doomed her love with their quest for glory. She will send them through the same wormhole that consumed Mark; only they will pass through much.. MUCH more slowly.

Assisted Afterlife (dual blades/willpower brute):

Emilio Sandiego was only 8 years old when his grandfather asked him to kill him. The old man was in the final, agonizing stages of a terminal illness. He was bedridden and reliant upon life support to keep him breathing. He had begged his son to pull the plug but Emilio's father had refused and argued with the doctors to try stronger pain medication. When his grandfather asked him to set him free, Emilio listened, hearing the beloved old man's desperation and desire to be released from the pain of life. Emilio agreed then watched in fascination as the doctors and nurses scurried like ants to reverse what he had done. But all in vain; death had been triumphant and his grandfather's expression was one of peace. From that moment on Emilio found his life's work; to free as many as he could from the pain of life... to assist them as he had his grandfather.

Surgeon’s Canvas (martial arts/regen stalker):

Had she once had a name? She assumed she had, though she could no longer remember it. That had been before the doctor. That had been before her... changes. She did not know if her skin had always been so albino pale and surely she had not always had so many teeth or such a long jaw. Her blood was yellow and that couldn't be right. Then there was the matter of her lower body; where her thick white skin only appeared in patches showing the dark red meat of the muscle beneath to be seen. As though she weren't quite... finished yet. She didn't look like the other humans she saw, though she was assured she had been born one. But the doctor told her she was beautiful; that she was his living work of art. And for that... she loved him.

Shackled Eternity (dark/dark stalker)

Natalia Maravena was born in the poor sections of Moscow in the early 1800's. Forced to watch her mother starve herself so the children could eat; Natalia grew terrified that such was her destiny as well. One day, while begging for coins on the street, hunger gnawing at her belly, Natalia was approached by an old gnarled woman. The woman introduced herself as Baba and lured the young girl back to her hut. The hut was a wondrous magical thing that danced and ran on huge bird-like legs. Baba Yaga asked Natalia what was her fondest wish to which the child immediately replied that she wanted to be rich, beautiful and never hungry. The Russian witch put the girl in contact with demons who sealed the pact with blood. The remainder of Natalia's mortal days were spent in luxury and debauchery as she, through a series of luck and well placed marriages grew phenomenally wealthy. However, when she died her soul became Hell's plaything; passed from demon to demon who tore apart her body and soul to reshape them according to whim. Now, with only dimmest memory of what living had once been like, she has been sent to the earth realm once more there to serve the living servants of her hellish Masters.

Psychaotic (psychic/psychic dominator):

Angela Manderlake was born gifted with powerful psychic abilities. In most cases this would have resulted in her family sending her to a special school to learn to control them, but they were devoutly religious and believed ardently that gifts from the Most Holy should not be touched by man. So she grew up knowing the worst of human thought. She watched her own family, heard their mouths denounce others as being unholy and impure, condemning them for their sin. She knew their thoughts and the hypocrisy of their ridicule of others. She felt little but disdain for most members of her family except for her mother, whom she loved beyond all else. But even her beloved mother was subject to this disease of contradiction. So, Angela decided to "fix" her. She forced her mother's thoughts onto the paths of righteousness turning her inadvertantly into a lobotomized zombie. That had been when Angela was eight years old. Things have not improved since that time.

Blood and Honor (electric/storm corrupter):

Narute Nakatori was long since dead; ancient samurai wizard of the Nakatori family. It was he who had originated the storm magic that was their family's heritage and the reason for its ascendancy. Upon his death he joined the family ancestors as a hero, having brought great unbounded honor to the Nakatori name. And so Narute watched, answering his descendants' prayers when they sought his advice and spending his afterlife caretaking the family honor. Then came World War II and Japan's great defeat; though his country had not known victory, his family had performed with great honor in their battles. It was post war that caused their downfall. The Nakatori family turned to crime, becoming a Yakuza gang. Narute's heart broke and he turned his face from them after millenia of watching. But he could not ignore them forever; Hakami, daughter of the Yakuza leader, summoned and enslaved him with his own storm magic. Bound by blood at the cost of his honor.

Arctic Armageddon (cold/cold corrupter):

Danielle Williams' mutant powers first manifested themselves at birth; or during birth to be more accurate. As her mother's contractions hit they immediately numbed then frost began to gather upon the curved peak of her stomach. Her mother's death profoundly affected Dani's father, who never forgave his daughter for the death of his wife. She would never know which father he would be next; cruel and abusive, cold and distant or those rare occasions when he would shower her with affection. One time he went too far and Dani ended up in the hospital at the age of fifteen. Two days after her return home they found her father dead in their apartment. His eyes had been frozen solid and the words "Snow Blind" carved into his forehead.

More Dream Badges...

* Plummeting : You managed to wake up just before hitting the ground; told ya that wasn't a parachute.

* Student Body : They say public speaking is made easier when you picture the audience in their underwear... I suppose that's why the audience had it so easy when you received your diploma on stage wearing nothing at all.

* Soaring : Flying in your dreams always seems so effortless... now if you could just figure out which muscle to tense while you're awake.

* Sprung a Leak : You hate it when you think you walked to the bathroom while awake but were still actually dreaming... but not as much as you hate rolling over onto the cold spot.

* Rude Awakening : You don't believe you should be held accountable for what you say when you talk in your sleep.. even if it is the name of your ex-girlfriend.

* What Happens in Vegas : Sleep walking is always an adventure... and you can always blame what happened to your wife's flower garden on the neighbor's dog.

* Dream Girl/Guy : The best night's sleep you've ever had... even if you do have to do a load of laundry first thing in the morning.

* Sea of Dreams Navigator : You woke up out of a wonderful dream... that you were somehow able to slip right back into by going back to sleep.

* Bait and Switch : You woke up from a wonderful dream of being in bed with your perfect mate... you hurried right back to sleep into a dream of being in bed with Stheno.

* Night Terror : It's not your fault you woke up beating at the spiders that had been crawling over you in your dream... you're pretty sure your bedmate will forgive you as soon as their black eye heals.

I recently decided to transfer a file from the Test Server over to Live that I had first created when Architect was still in open beta.

I copy & pasted all the applicable files and then entered the game. The arc was there so I opened it and was pleasantly surprised to see the Error symbol was good and gray.

Excellent! No errors!

I clicked Save and Test...

"The field RewardText exceeds the text limit.
The field RewardText excees the text limit."

Huh? But the error detection said nothing was wrong...? I have manually searched through every text field in every mission and NONE of them exceed or even reach the maximum alotment. I have reloaded several times.. but every time I get that error message and the Error Icon remains gray.

Any ideas?

The best possible way to implement this would NOT be to make it a regular power or a selectable Power Pool option.

The BEST way to bring vehicle travel sets into the game would be to make it the power for the Natural Booster Pack.

In practical application it would be just like using the Mission Transport power... You select a door mission and click on the power icon... You then are transported directly to just outside the mission's door.

The only difference is... you arrive in STYLE... You pull up on a Harley... you screech rubber as you J-Hook your sports car... you are dropped off by limosine... you don't actually travel the entire distance in the vehicle... you just arrive that way... perhaps you fast-rope down from a helicopter... ride up on a horse/unicorn/pegasus...

The only problem I foresee is what other players around you are seeing when you arrive. But still, treating it as a TP power with a twist rather than an actual "drive all the way there" power seems to be the most feasible option.

We here at Steelclaw Studios would like to take this moment to remember some of the heroes and villains who have passed away this previous year. We hope you will join us in our memorial to our fallen comrades.

• Runs With Scissors Man: This villain was a pioneer in the art of “get them young, train them to disobey the rules for the villains of the next generation.” The irony of his death touched us all. Said a close friend; “Why did he have to get Super Speed? Why couldn’t he have stuck to sprint?”

• Wolf R Een X: A Claws and Regeneration Scrapper like no other. Or rather, like every other; Wolf R Een X managed to get to thirtieth level before the cruel Generic Hammer of Fate brought him low. He had already done the yellow spandex and black leather costume slots. Said his wife: “He was on his way to get the blue jeans and leather jacket of the Origins movie… maybe if he had this would never have happened…”

• Flash N Fashion: The first loss following the release of Issue 16. Flash N Fashion’s death was a wake up call to other Masterminds everywhere. When he dressed his Mercenaries in pink kilts with mesh shirts and nipple piercings he boldly announced he was making a “Fashion Statement.” Apparently when his own pets gunned him down in the street…. They were too.

• Tank Mage: The well known and admired Tank Mage passed to the despairing cries of hundreds who had hoped to follow in his foot steps. Believing he had finally found the perfect build to combine the offensive power of a Blaster and the Defensive prowess of the Tank, this hero waded into battle with no fear. It was a sad lesson to learn… that a blaster with Combat Jumping, Hover, Tough and Weave is STILL a blaster.

• Louie the Luddite: Louie was a Brute whose character concept was to be the most dedicated Luddite follower of them all. He burst onto the scene of Mercy Island like a natural disaster and those in the know had him pegged to be on the villainous fast track to glory. Unfortunately, his hatred of technology left him unable to use the Ferry System or Black Ops Helicopters. Trapped on Mercy Island he topped out at only 12th level, far below his potential. Eventually Louie died; drowned trying yet again to swim through the war walls to get to Port Oakes.

• The Anti-Nemesis: The dreadful tyrant Nemesis had one younger brother; Larry. Larry was everything his brother was not… noble of integrity, impeccable character, a true paragon of a man. Larry became a hero because his older and smarter brother would always refuse to include his younger sibling in any of his plans. Larry went hero so as to thwart what he could be a part of. He was killed while attempting to stop an arson during a safeguard. It turned out it WAS the blue wire. Despite their vast differences and arguments, his older brother Nemesis made sure Larry was buried within the family cemetery. Yes, Larry finally ended up in a Nemesis Plot.

• Sharper Image: The ninja blade Stalker known only as Sharper Image died with barely a whisper in the Rogue Isles papers. Indeed, the only reason it was mentioned at all was because he had written his own obituary. Sharper Image had gone into villainy for the sole purpose of attaining infamy. He wanted everyone who had pushed him around when he was a child to tremble at his name. Unfortunately, he soon discovered that choosing an AT that was invisible was not the best possible path. His suicide letter explained that the last straw had been when he saw the Wanted poster the FBI had put out on him… which turned out to be a blank piece of paper with the reward amount written on it.

• Hermit Crab: Hermit will always be known as the Defender who hated people. A Force Field bubbler with not a single power that could be used only upon an ally, Hermit was often heard to say “Who in the heck would choose a power they can’t use on themselves? That’s just stupid!” While dying, Hermit lay there begging for a rezz from the team’s Empath. We’re not sure if the irony of her reply “I didn’t take it… It’s not like it’s a SELF-rezz” was lost on him or not.

• The Corrupter: The hardest hit by the introduction of Going Rogue, the Corrupter found herself completely unnecessary to teams that had begged her to join them before. “Why would we take you when we can get a Defender whose buffs and debuffs aren’t so gimped?” “A Corrupter? But we can just grab a Blaster and get more damage per second…” We’re not entirely sure that The Corrupter actually died… but she certainly did seem to fade away.

• The Tin Juggernaut: This Battle Axe Tank was among the hardest hitting brawlers the streets of Paragon City had ever seen. Feared by villains everywhere, this mighty titan of the axe eventually succumbed against a band of determined Council. We asked Blue Steel, one of Juggernaut’s favorite trainers, what might have contributed to this well-loved tank’s downfall. “The fact that the only primary power he ever took was a one-slotted Resist Physical Damage might have had something to do with it.”