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Project Prometheus (Original Setting Superhero Quest)

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So, I just noticed something while calculating what the collective stats would be with the new members:
Bitterman said:
Total Available Stats: HIT 35, ESPIONAGE 30, REPUTATION 23, OPERATIONS 26.
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I think Hit and Reputation are wrong?

Hit: 5+12+4+7+7 = 17+11+7 = 28+7 = 35
Espionage: 8+3+6+9+3 = 11+15+3 = 26+3 = 29
Reputation: 4+10+4+2+7 = 14+6+7 = 20+7 = 27
Operations: 5+4+7+3+6 = 9+10+6 = 19+6 = 25

Invasive pt.2: +1 Collective Hit
Hireath pt.2: +1 Collective Operations
Hireath pt.2: +1 Collective Espionage
PREVAIL!: -5 Collective Reputation

Results: Hit 36, Espionage 30, Reputation 22, Operations 26

If there's modifiers I've missed or mistakes in my numbers, please point them out.
 
Gore17 said:
So, I just noticed something while calculating what the collective stats would be with the new members:

I think Hit and Reputation are wrong?

Hit: 5+12+4+7+7 = 17+11+7 = 28+7 = 35
Espionage: 8+3+6+9+3 = 11+15+3 = 26+3 = 29
Reputation: 4+10+4+2+7 = 14+6+7 = 20+7 = 27
Operations: 5+4+7+3+6 = 9+10+6 = 19+6 = 25

Invasive pt.2: +1 Collective Hit
Hireath pt.2: +1 Collective Operations
Hireath pt.2: +1 Collective Espionage
PREVAIL!: -5 Collective Reputation

Results: Hit 36, Espionage 30, Reputation 22, Operations 26

If there's modifiers I've missed or mistakes in my numbers, please point them out.
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I'll double check tonight. It's not impossible.
 
Bitterman said:
America has gone full Christo-Fascist, China and Japan both invaded Korea, climate change and desertification have disrupted global food supplies, the EU is dealing with an energy crisis and Russian expansionism as the U.S. has pulled out of NATO.
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Well that sucks.
Considering the scope of this quest (and the fact that we have our hands full with our city already) I doubt it'll be getting any better.
 
Have you seen that post about how tech enthusiasts will buy smart houses, while actual software engineers's most recent piece of tech will be a printer, and they have a gun to shoot it with if it does something weird?
 
Orbmorb said:
Assuming people still use mechanical locks yes
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It would take more effort but if the lock uses a key pad or any sort of code and the panel/screen to type always stays the same, John Henry could just track the movements of the person to be able to learn the code.

Hell it would even work with a keyboard or phone!

Do not underestimate the criminals activities one can do when you can track all movements in a space you aren't observing.
 
So there's something I'm curious about with EB for when we do power testing with it. How will power null will interact with our own heroes, assuming that's safe to test? It would give clues about how we can expect it to perform when used on villains depending on if it makes metahumans completely mundane or merely disables their active power.

Also, for constructs does it need to target the constructs themselves or their controller to dissipate the constructs?

My current thoughts:
Black Swan - construct body either dissipates or can't use it for projectile blasts, or does she turn completely mortal again?
Handyman - can't change form or regenerate, is strength lost?
Menagerie Witch - clones in range dissipate, no new clones
Châtelet - barriers in range dissipate, no new barriers
Lady Leizi - no more lightning fists
Doctor Silver - clairvoyance blocked, shields in range dissipate and no new shields
 
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Fill-In Issue #3: Kintsugi
  • Threadmarks
    • [X] Plan Defending Doctor But Silver
    -[X] Name: Doctor Silver
    -[X] Costume: A subtle mix between a trenchcoat and a labcoat, with a round pair of goggles on top to go with it.
    -[X] Color Scheme: Silver base with a Dark Blue contrast.
    -[X] Emblem: A round shield with a subtle eye motif
    References to past suicide attempt not described in detail. Suicidal ideations.
    Horizon, City of Leviathan's Rest– The Apiary– January 9, 2068

    You really should have turned in after your meeting with John Henry—or Doctor Silver as he's elected to call himself—but you're too restless for bed just yet.

    You smile to yourself as you walk aimlessly around the Apiary. Nora had been furious that her alma mater had refused to award her any kind of honorary degree after everything she had done for them. Especially after they gave tenure to the professor who stole her paper.

    "Need to submit a thesis for review by committee" my tight ass! Bastards just want a chance to steal from me again. I'm too busy being a superhero to do a post-doc! I just wanna be able to make people call me "Doctor Valiant Silver", dammit!

    You shake your head while grinning. How many times did you have to listen to that particular rant?

    And what wouldn't you give to hear it again.

    Maybe you're reminiscing about the woman who was Valiant Silver because of what's planned for tomorrow. Without conscious thought, your feet lead you to her old laboratory. Where her final legacy lies.

    The EXCEED-BEYOND armor.

    To your surprise, the light is already on in the lab when you arrive. You walk in, your shadow long against the wall, and look for who else is here.

    It's Ellie.

    You see her seated, cross-legged, in front of the EXCEED-BEYOND. She's reading through a thick, bound volume of text with several other volumes stacked next to her. Her tongue pokes out of the side of her mouth as her eyes flit across the manual with razor-sharp focus.

    You walk behind her and knock on a table to announce your presence. She jerks with a start, but calms down when she sees you.

    "The hour's rather late, don't you think?" you say, "Are you certain you shouldn't be getting your rest for tomorrow?"

    "I'm trying to get through Valiant Silver's manuals," she explains, holding up the text in her hand, "If I'm going to wear this armor, I need to know everything about it."

    You hold back a sigh. Focused as always. Instead of arguing the point, you ask, "How was dinner?"

    Ellie freezes.

    "With the Rhodes and Ibis families, Ellie. How was dinner with them? I know you were invited. You did attend, didn't you?"

    "Yeah," she says quickly, "I went. I came here afterwards."

    "Well?" you prompt.

    "Well, what?"

    "How was it?" you say, slightly exasperated.

    "It was fine," she says, "It was . . . nice."

    You see a complicated mix of emotions on her face. Her expression flashes like she's unsure what to feel and settles on vague neutrality.

    "Yeah. It was nice," she finally mumbles. Then, in an effort to change the subject, "What is wrong with this manual? Half of it is impenetrable scientific jargon, and the other half is an erotic-thriller staring characters named 'Brave Platinum' and 'Watera'."

    You raise an eyebrow. "Well?"

    "Well, what?"

    "Did you read it, darling?"

    The tips of Ellie's ears turn cherry-red as she buries her face in the manual. "I thought it might have been a code or something. . . . then I got invested. I wanted to know how it ended."

    You can't help but laugh at that. Ellie just flushes harder.

    Your chuckle echoes through the room and trails off as your eyes come to rest on the armor in front of Ellie. On the currently-dull eyes of the EXCEED-BEYOND.

    "You know," you muse, "If it wasn't for the existence of this armor, I likely wouldn't have chosen you for Project Prometheus."

    Ellie sits up at that and looks back at you. You meet her gaze.

    "Giving you power like Black Swan's would probably destroy you."

    "I would never—" she starts, offended.

    "Misuse it?" you interrupt, "Oh, of that I have no doubt. You don't have a villainous bone in your body. No, it's not others being harmed that I am concerned about. It's you."

    She gazes at you, uncomprehending.

    "Darling, what would you do if you didn't need to sleep? If you didn't need to eat? If you didn't need rest? How would you spend your time?"

    She gives you a blank look. You answer for her.

    "You would work yourself to death, Ellie. You would drive yourself mad unendingly being a hero. You would give yourself no leisure, no self-care, nothing to nourish the soul," you emphasize, "Even if you had invulnerability like Black Swan, you would destroy yourself. Your body might live, but the person inside would die."

    The unsaid addendum echoes through the room: just like your mother.

    Ellie seems less than pleased with your assessment. "So, you're giving me this armor because I can't be trusted with a real power?"

    "No," you reply, "I'm trusting you with this armor because you're compatible and we're desperate. We need the power that it wields."

    You gaze up at the suit full of wonders and terrors.

    "Perhaps having to learn to control it, master it, and maintain it will force you to slow down. Connect with others. Rest. Or maybe it will consume you. All I know for certain is that it will not corrupt you."

    You look at Ellie.

    "This armor could either lead you to your salvation or damnation." You close your eyes. "I just pray it isn't a curse."

    * * *​

    You are Noelle Han, although you prefer "Ellie".

    You have absolutely no idea where you are.

    The last thing you remember is Natalie counting down from one hundred as she placed the mask of anesthetic over your face. The room you're in is dimly lit, with the largest source of light coming from a crack in the curtains that make up the far wall. Faint whispers fill the air, just beneath the threshold of audibility.

    As you look around, you realize it's a lounge of some kind. There is an impossibly long bar in front of you that is blacked and scorched. There are rows and rows of shattered bottles behind the counter, their fluorescent contents oozing all over the shelves and pooling on the floor.

    The rest of the room is in no better shape. Smashed furniture litters the ground, pulverized into splinters and cushions savagely slashed open. A glass table has been cracked in half, a jukebox has been destroyed, and there are broken vinyl records everywhere.

    The only object intact you see is a plush couch with large tears in it. On it, you see the figure of a petite, elfin woman lying backwards, completely limp. She's maybe half-a-head shorter than you, pretty, with messy, bobbed black hair and wearing a t-shirt with Uiara's symbol on it. A sleeve of rose-shaped tattoos run down one of her arms.

    She's still, so perfectly still that the only thing that lets you know she's alive is the endless stream of words that she appears to be muttering.

    It's . . . not comforting. You still have no idea where you are or how you got here. Now, your only options are to go past those curtains or . . . well, you can't just abandon this woman, can you? That she looks oddly familiar only helps solidify your decision.

    You walk over to her, her words still inaudible. She appears to be subvocalizing. You try calling out to her to get her attention, but her glassy eyes don't look your way. You inhale.

    The hard way it is then.

    You reach and out and touch her shoulder to shake her—

    . . . tactile telekinesis to hold everything in place. He was expecting that. Grown predictable. Trap. Fusing atoms you're holding together. Abandon top most layer, convert energy into hard-light shell. Strike. No, ineffective. He made his atoms hyperdense, would need the Big Bang to even dent them. Switch tactics. Attack his mind. Psychic wail—no, emotional control. He feels guilty. Shame. Thinks it's his fault things are the way they are—abandoned everyone without a word and left good heroes to die. Doesn't know if it was the right choice. Doesn't know if any of this is the right choice. Name is bitter for the man on top of the mountain. Amply feelings, twist, guilt into despair, despair into nihilism—

    You gasp as you're pulled away and the stream of information leaves your mind. You feel dizzy, like a whole library was just crammed into your brain. How quickly was this person thinking?

    "T-thanks," you stutter to the person who rescued you.

    "Think nothing of it," she says in a mellifluous voice that's a tad hoarse, "You're our best chance of getting out of here, after all."

    . . . it's always something with these mysterious types, isn't it? And she's definitely the mysterious type, albeit one who's seen kinder days. She's barefoot in a torn and soiled floor-length, blue gown. Her black hair is in disarray and her opera mask is cracked and falling apart.

    You can't help but notice she looks identical to the woman on the couch.

    "I wouldn't touch my counterpart. She's trapped in an active connection and I can't sever it."

    "Connection to 'what'?" you ask with narrowed eyes.

    "I can't tell you. And, before you ask, I can't tell you who I am either. All I can say is I'm your only way out of here and that you'll have to trust me absolutely and do everything I say exactly as I say it. Do you understand?"

    You size her up and consider your options. You're in an unknown space with one woman who says you're trapped and another woman who's totally unresponsive. You have a feeling that you're in mortal danger here—one wrong move and that's the end. And your only lead has just told you she will be providing no information and expects total obedience.

    You sigh. Bad options all around. But only one real choice.

    "Yes," the woman in blue says, "First we'll have to carefully—what are you doing?!"

    You reach out and touch the woman on the couch again—

    . . . partner running interference. Her telepathy is stronger than what's available. Psychic strikes won't work. Can also catch physical attacks. Need something invisible. Radiation? No, wised up to it. Shielded. She won't fall prey to that trick again. Sound? Same issue. What then? Needs to breathe. Slowly up concentration of oxygen in the air. Oxygen toxicity for both. Won't notice until it's too late—

    —With a mighty yank, you push away the intrusive thoughts in your mind and pull the woman off the couch. She spills bonelessly to the floor while you clutch your head and pant with the effort. You're rewarded by seeing the woman in blue's jaw drop open.

    Everything's quiet except for your breathing and then—

    "Fucking ouch," the woman from the couch says, "My head feels like it's been worked over by one of those guys who make mochi. What do you call them?"

    "Baker?" you offer.

    "No thanks, I hardly know her," she replies absently, "Where the fuck am I?"

    "How . . . how are you awake?" the woman in blue asks with wide eyes, "It shouldn't be possible. The connection is active, but . . . thinned? How?"

    "Ah, fuck, it's you," the couch-woman swears, "Guess that answers that question. Fuckin' awesome. Why the fuck am I here?"

    "Who are you two? Where are we? Someone start explaining something in clear sentences. Right now," you demand, having finally hit your limit for this nonsense.

    "Ow, ow, indoor voice, please!" the couch-woman says, covering her ears, "And to answer your question, you are in a metaphysical space connected to the collective unconscious."

    "The Stage," you breathe.

    She narrows her eyes at you. "You've heard of it? Just who are you?"

    "Ellie Han," you reply right away. Because that's what a normal person does when someone asks you your fucking name.

    ". . . that means nothing to me. I have no idea who you are." Couch-woman blinks owlishly. "My name's Nora Kim. You might know me better as—"

    "Valiant Silver," you say, a large number of things clicking together in place in your head.

    "Oh!" she says preening, "You've heard of me then!"

    ". . . it'd be hard not to. I'm—"

    A sharp stake of pure pain jabs you between your eyes and into your brain. Before you can even scream, images flood your mind.

    ". . . the parasites that steal the wealth of Horizon live arrogant lives in their Ivory Towers, confident their wealth and power will insulate them from any consequence! They send their children to learn to perpetuate the cycle, while the poor and needy die in gutters! The Defiance Unit is here to teach them that there is no outrunning justice!"

    You find yourself oddly calm. A man in a black facemask and a green and yellow hoodie shouts into a microphone while a flying woman in a red dress rains death from above. A shirtless man in a black duster swaggers around, amused, while a woman in black tactical armor gives orders. Finally, there's a guy dressed like a . . . vampire? He's doing something to people where they fall to the ground and stop moving. He's getting bigger and his eyes are glowing.

    You feel a hand on your arm. Kelso is trying to drag you under the table where Chihiro and Sadie are already hiding. You pull yourself free.

    "Be right back."

    You grab the metal case you told everyone contained a saxophone you were learning for a music elective. You still can't believe they bought that—you're tonedeaf as fuck.

    "Question!" you shout, raising your hand as Mr. Communist Manifesto keeps ranting, "My dad died of Jorando's Disease after we couldn't afford the treatments from Ọsanyìn. I worked eighteen hour days for six months on top of school and was 2k short when he died. Then I got robbed by a metahuman gang—like yours—got severely burned, and went into insane medical debt. Then I tried to kill myself."

    Levithan's Blood, your life is depressing when you say it out loud.

    "Am I 'part of the cycle of parasitism?'"

    Yellow-and-green looks like you just kicked him in the dick. Which you suppose you did, verbally.

    You point to Chihiro. "She found me before I could go through with it and got me to the hospital. Is she part of the cycle?"

    You point to Kelso. "He went back to his dad who he hates and begged him to anonymously pay for my medical bills and thinks I don't know. Is he a parasite?"

    You point to Sadie. "She comes over everyday and makes me dinner so I'm not alone. You gonna beat her up to teach the rich a lesson?"

    The guy dressed like a neon eyesore is sputtering, but Nosferatu walks toward you. He's eight feet-tall now.

    "Oh? You wish to register a complaint?" he sneers.

    "Yeah, Bram Stoker's Dickhead, I do." That gets a laugh out of the shirtless guy. "You're attacking the wrong people. Most of the rich kids don't even go here; they're at the Foot or on Elysium. You just don't have the stones or the power to go after the people you're actually mad at, so you're flailing around like jackasses while pretending to be righteous and shit. So either grow a pair and go bother a corp, or fuck off."

    Young Dracula looks like he's going to hit you, but stops when the armored lady holds up a hand.

    "Just what are you hoping to accomplish?" she asks.

    You pull out your screen and text Uiara and hot-Triad lady. Leviathan's Blood, you hope one of them shows up.

    "Just letting you know that you won't be hurting anyone."

    "Oh?" the Buffy-ass looking ponce says, "Just why is that?"

    "Because I won't let you."

    The case opens and your armor falls onto you. Thankfully, without catching on your clothes again. The helmet snaps shut and the HUD activates. In less than five seconds, you're suited up for the first time.

    Dang, that probably looked awesome. You hope someone caught it on camera, because either way your secret identity is fuuuuuuuuucked. Then Vampy McVampireface is upon you and all you can think of is survival.

    You snap back to reality. You can't even breathe before the sensation reverses direction, and something flows out instead of flowing in.

    You don't really know what you're doing out so late at night. There's no one waiting for you at home anymore, so you just kind of wander. It's then that you see them. Two girls in frilly dresses beating up an ice golem in an alley. One has large gauntlets that cover her fists, while the second has a bladed whip.

    You've heard about "magical girls" appearing recently. They're always followed by bad news. Demands for money, people no longer venturing out, strange creatures made of ice stalking in the night. You guess it's true.

    "This one's pathetic! Smash it again, Bethany!" shouts one of the girls. The other girl obliges by sending a spray of ice flying off the golem, who lets out a loud keening sound.

    You don't like it. It reminds you of a boy at school you once knew who used to pull the wings off flies to watch them panic and crawl around.

    The golem makes more sounds and then you catch a snippet of something:

    ". . . elp me. Help me. . ."

    The whip girl strikes it again and now the sounds are like sobs. You make your decision then.

    You pick up a trashcan nearby and throw it at fist-girl. It hits her in the head and sends her to the ground. You grab the lid and swing it into the whip-girl's face so hard you feel her nose crunch. She collapses in a pool of blood.

    You expect retaliation, but they both start shrieking and fly away. As they do, one drops a vial of a glowing, golden liquid that makes your hair stand up on end.

    The golem craws toward you desperately, still making the crying sounds.

    "'lease," it begs, reaching a spindly arm for the vial, "'lease 'elp me."

    In for a penny, you suppose. You open the vial and pour it onto the creature as it asks. As you do, the ice sublimates and shatters. From the frozen shell emerges a girl, no older than eleven. She's shaking and sobbing uncontrollably.

    "I want my mom!" she says through the tears, "Please? Can I please have my mom?"

    You stare in horror as you think of all the ice golems you've heard of being destroyed. Are they all . . . just girls like this one? Before you know it, you're hugging her and she's clinging to you like driftwood in a storm. Her tears are soaking into your shirt.

    "I'll help you find your mom," you promise with a shaky voice, "And if we can't find her, I'll keep you safe. I promise."

    In that moment, you know you'd rather die a thousand times than ever break your word.

    You and Valiant Silver bounce away from each other and end up on the floor. Your head hurts so much that, for a second, you think you're going to be ill. You both climb up on shaky legs.

    "Were those magical girls?" Valiant Silver says clutching her head, "Also: fuckin' owww."

    "You saw that?" you ask, struggling to stay up.

    "Yeah," she replies, "I think we saw each other's memories."

    ". . . how?"

    "I don't know fucking know!" she complains, "I don't even know how long I've been here—wait."

    She grabs your arm, terror in her eyes. "The Leviathan. It was moving. What happened with the Leviathan?!"

    ". . . it stopped," you say looking away, "But . . ."

    You don't finish the sentence.

    Valiant Silver runs a hand over her face and lets out a single sob. "Fuck."

    You don't say anything. You both sit there for a second before she visibly pulls herself together.

    "Okay. Okay. We did it, at least." She looks at you. "Does the name 'Project Prometheus' mean anything to you?"

    "Yes," you say, "The last thing I remember I was—"

    "Getting powers? What powers? Do you know what EXCEED-BEYOND means?"

    You nod. "It's supposed to be my armor."

    Valiant Silver pales. "Uh oh. Shit. That's a major fucking problem. I mean, not you. You seem nice. That's not the problem. It's—"

    The pain comes back and, with it, a new flood of memories.

    You're sitting in bed, moping.

    Why are you moping? You got everything you wanted. Phlogiston is rotting in Wonderland. You've destroyed the Demon Flamez. And now you've realized you have superpowers? You can just go join a corp, make super powerful technology, and live in luxury for the rest of your life. You win!

    Then why do you keep staring at your stupid phone?! And why are there no new messages?! Who are you even waiting for?!

    Uiara—Yazmin—has no reason to talk to you now. You cracked the security on her grandfather's data and gave it back to her. She helped you take revenge on the fuckers who robbed you and put the scars on your back. Transaction over, everyone wins.

    . . . you just thought you two had a connection, is all. You had that whole thing where she touched your face. You thought maybe you were gonna kiss, is all.

    You sigh into your pillow. She was really disappointed when you said being a hero was stupid. Of course she was—she was like a saint or something. The kindest person you've ever met. With the most killer rack. Who thought you could be a hero too before you laughed in her face.

    Goddamnit Nora, stop sucking so bad.

    And stop moping! And stop looking at your phone! You are not down that bad!

    . . . still nothing.

    You want to eat ice cream and cry now. Okay, maybe you are down that bad.

    You think you're going to die. Every time the memories come, it's like your soul is unraveling. It hurts, and now something is leaving you.

    You're thumbing through the EXCEED-BEYOND's manual, when you hear a loud voice you recognize. It's coming closer and so, before she can see you, you dive under a table.

    Black Swan comes in with a tray of pastries, calls your name, and leaves when she can't find you.

    Why won't she leave you alone? What is her problem?

    Why is she so passive-aggressive with you? First being nice then saying something to hurt your feelings? What did you do to make her hate you so much?

    You try to bury the feelings of disappointment. You wanted to be friends with her. She seemed so . . . good. Kind. Light. Golden. You really thought you could be friends at first. Now, you wish she'd leave you alone forever.

    . . . so why the fuck do you keep thinking about her?

    "Fuckingshitballsouchfuck!" Valiant Silver screams as you both come back to yourselves, "What was fucking vague about 'don't use DNA from people who are still alive'?!"

    "You're dead!" you protest.

    "Then why is this happening, smart-girl?! Why are we hitting ontological resonance then? Two people can't connect to the stage in the same way. That's why one has to be dead!"

    "What does that even mean?" you shout back, "And why would it matter?! Your notes said you changed the DNA sample enough that there should be no overlap!"

    "Well, I guess I fucked up then, huh?! I'm not a geneticist, dammit!"

    You resist the urge to smack her. It won't change anything even if it would feel so, so very good.

    "Okay," you say, forcing yourself to stay calm, "What is happening? Explain. What is ontological resonance and how do we stop it?"

    "Doesn't work like that. It's not something you 'stop'," Valiant Silver says, "It's like teleporting into space that's already occupied. We're trying to exist at the exact same spot on the psychic plane at the exact same time. We're cutting into and annihilating each other."

    "So. What. Do. We. Do. About. It?" She's making it very, very hard to keep resisting your urge to smack her.

    Valiant Silver rubs her head. "Okay. Okay. You're in the EXCEED-BEYOND armor, right? I think I can use it to fix this—"

    "I'm not in the armor."

    ". . . what?"

    "I'm not in the armor," you repeat, "Why would I be in the armor for this part?"

    "Why the fuck are you not in the armor?! I specifically put in the instructions that you need to be in the armor when creating the connection to The Stage! You're creating a permanent link to the psychic gestalt that is the collective unconscious!"

    You blink at her.

    "It means extremely fucking dangerous! You need the EXCEED-BEYOND to regulate it!"

    "I've read your 'instructions' cover to cover," you snap back through gritted teeth, "Including your fanfiction where you drive around in a van solving mysteries with your girlfriend. It says nothing of the sort."

    She shakes her head in defiance. "It is vitally important. There is absolutely no way in hell I would . . . have forgotten . . ."

    All the blood drains from her face. "Oh."

    The pain comes back.

    You're second to last to the meeting, scrambling to your seat while everyone glares at you. Stupid round table. Who cares if it's thematically appropriate? It just makes it easier for them to judge you.

    ". . . sorry," you mumble, slouching in your seat and pouting," Late night."

    "Indeed," Zixuan says, raising her eyebrow," Well?"

    "Well, what?"

    "Why did you call this meeting?" some girl with silver skin says.

    You feel yourself slowly start to flush. ". . . and we're certain that I'm the one who called it?"

    Everyone groans except Harper, who giggles, and Yazy who looks really upset for some reason.

    "How late were you up last night?" Harper says laughing, "Were you watching one of your anime girls play video games again?"

    "Mrsha is a vTuber, and she's graduating soon," you say, offended, "And I was working! I just . . . had her on in the background."

    "Wait, what the fuck?" Eve says through her holographic avatar as a knit forms in the silver girl's brow. Now everyone but her, Eve, and Yazy is laughing at you. Can't they understand you're losing your oshi?!

    Rakeem rolls his eyes and rubs his temples. "Some things never change."

    "Hey! At least I'm not the last one here! I beat Rosemary, didn't I?"

    Why . . . why is everyone looking at you like that?

    "Boss . . . Mrsha graduated eight years ago," Eve says.

    "What? Eight years ago? When I was twelve?"

    Silver-girl eyes you. "Valiant Silver, what year do you think it is?"

    "W-what kind of question is that?" you ask, a cold feeling coming from your gut. You turn to Rakeem, "And who's the new girl? Did Novalight stick us with a new member without saying anything?"

    Why are they looking at you like that? Why does Yazy look so scared? Why . . .

    . . . what were you doing here again?

    As data flows into your mind, it pushes something else out. Like a boat displacing water.

    You're sick of this. It's nearly eight o'clock and mom still isn't home! Who cares if you're ten now and can come home by yourself? She should be here!

    She doesn't care about you. She only cares about . . . work! Where stupid Novalight pushes her around and makes you cry and no one does anything! You hate it! You hate her! You wish you had a real mom!

    Hot tears burn in your eyes as you decide you're not gonna take it anymore. You grab your backpack and fill it with food, a change of clothes, money from mom's emergency stash, a mini pop-tent, and your stuffed fox, Juju.

    You can't leave Juju behind.

    You march down to the station, buy a ticket for PubTrans, and take the train to the Worker's Mitt to your favorite park. You know it's safe, so you can live there now. You find an empty spot shaded by trees and set up your tent as the last light from the sun fades.

    You're not crying. You're not. You climb inside and stuff your face with as much food as you can spare—you'll have to ration it for a bit until you learn to fish—and fall asleep cuddling Juju.

    When you wake up, it's pitch black and you're freezing. You didn't have room in your backpack for a blanket. You hear something rustling outside and go to call for your mom before you remember she's not here. She doesn't know where you are. No one does.

    Fine! That's fine! You don't need them! You don't need anyone! You—what was that sound just now?!

    It sounded like . . . buzzing. Really loud buzzing. You hear something land and walk closer to you. You squeeze Juju to your chest and hold your breath as it stops in front of your tent.

    And knocks.

    "Ummm, excuse me?" a shy, kind voice backed by buzzing says, "Are you okay?"

    "I'm fine!" you scream, sticking your head out of the tent, "Leave me alone!"

    She rears back in surprise before settling down. She tilts her head at you and then kneels down so her head is nearly level with yours.

    "Then why have you been crying?" she asks with no judgment.

    "Because . . . because . . . because I want my mooooooooooooooooooooom!" The last word comes out with a big, ugly sob and now the tears are flowing and you can't stop them. You're shaking and shaking, even as the nice bee-lady flies you home.

    When you get back, your mom is already in the sky without her costume. As soon as she sees you, she grabs you in her arms and is sobbing and yelling and holding you so tight she might never let go.

    You're sorry, you try to say, you're so sorry. You'll never do it again. You'll never get mad like this again. You'll bear it forever. You're sorry. Please. Please. Just stop crying mom, please.

    Your brain snaps back into your body like toothpaste being squeezed back into the tube. But, before you can yell at Valiant Silver again, you feel something else.

    This is your fault.

    Well, not entirely your fault. Theodore was the fool who went ahead with the experiment without proper testing. Kyoko enabled him. Now he's dead and she's unresponsive.

    Oscar is gone. Run away, as always. Like a child hiding his soiled sheets under the bed. He's used your device and gone so far, you doubt he'll ever come back.

    Yemọja has rallied the metahumans in the city—even Novalight's remnants of New Dawn—but they will make no difference. It's just a fragment, but even a fragment of a god is a god.

    It's your fault. All of your faults. You were not just Icarus flying too close to the sun—you all were flying into the sun. And you—the mother of psychic technology—built the machine that let them.

    Perhaps Oscar had the right idea. Perhaps . . . you should run away too.

    You return to your body and every atom of your being is throbbing with agony. It hurts so much that, for a second, you think you've died. Valiant Silver recovers faster than you do, and pulls you to your feet.

    "We must do something immediately," the woman in blue says. You can't see her through the tears, but you know it's her. "I'm losing my ability to keep us all separate. Hurry."

    "That last memory . . . it wasn't Ellie's and it definitely wasn't mine," Valiant Silver says, "Who are you?"

    "I cannot say—"

    "Oh, fuck you!" you and Valiant Silver shout together. Then the maker of your armor grabs your arm and says,"As much as I hate to admit it, she's right. If you're not in the EXCEED-BEYOND, then you have to get to it now. Where are you in reality?"

    "I'm in the training room," you reply, "In the Apiary—"

    "Perfect!" she shouts, "The Apiary will help you. You just need to get out of her."

    She starts pacing.

    "Okay, listen to me. Your consciousness is here, but you're still tethered to your body. It's going to take more willpower than you could ever imagine, but you can get back if you focus and—"

    You squeeze your eyes shut and will yourself to wake up from this dream. You snarl with the effort and feel something 'pop'.When you open your eyes again, you're back in the Apiary.

    ". . . oh shit, you already did it. Kickass."

    Valiant Silver's voice echoes in the back of your head as you take stock of your situation. You're still strapped in the bed and connected to what remains of the machine that delivered the dose of Ambrosia into your veins. There is a maelstrom of blue and purple energy flying out of your body and destroying everything in sight.

    Lady Leizi and Handyman are trying to get close to you, but the sheer force of the energy is keeping them away. You pull at the straps, but you can't get free. You're bound fast, and you can feel your skin chafing and pulling as you wriggle helplessly.

    "Ellie, just get to the ground. I can take it from there."

    "I . . . I'm trying!" you pant, a sheen of sweat all over your body. You still ache everywhere; your head feels like it's being crushed in a vise. You pull and pull and wriggle and writhe and all you manage to do is rip open the skin on your wrists and ankles. You feel a hot sensation and the blood flows, but the straps are so tight that you can't even slide out.

    Your breathing comes hard and fast. Why did they tie you so tight?! You keep struggling and try to stay calm.

    You can do this.

    You can do this.

    You have to do this.

    You have to do this, but you just can't!

    You scream with frustration and terror as you draw more blood. It's not working! Why isn't it working? Why can't you just get to the floor? Why you always so fucking worthless?

    You're breathing even harder and your heart feels like it's hammering out of your chest. You're lightheaded and try to call for help, but your throat is closed and you can't breathe. Are you dying? Are you going to die here?

    A knife of pain splits your skull.

    You're eleven and the rain has soaked through your bag, through your clothes, and into your bones.

    School let out four hours ago. After-class activities ended after three. Everyone has been long gone.

    You'll sit there for another six hours before you give up and walk home. Your mom is in the hospital—the villain Heracles nearly broke her neck trying to escape from Wonderland—and she won't wake up for days.

    But you don't know any of that at the time. You just know that no one came for you and that you can't tell where the rain ends and your tears begin.

    You're cold, so cold. And you walk home, shivering uncontrollably, crying your heart out, you know that you're alone.

    No one cares.

    You can tell that you're back in reality, but you still feel the way you did that night. You're trapped. Trapped. And no one is going to help you. You're going to die alone—you're always alone—

    "Ellie! Ellie! Stop! You're having a panic attack! I know it's hard, but you have to calm down, please—"

    You close your eyes and scream as the memories come back.

    In middle school, you decided how you were going to make friends: the school tennis team.

    You saw the girls playing together. You saw how they laughed and joked. You know that was your way in.

    So you begged your mom to buy you a tennis racket and the uniform. And you practice for hours and hours by yourself, copying older players, watching tape, making sure you were perfect. When it came time for tryouts, you were ready!

    And you were! When you tried out, you were good. No, the best! You beat everyone, even a member of the varsity squad. You were a shoo-in! The coaches were raving about you! You were going to make the team, and compete, and have friends!

    You were practically floating on air when you came back from the showers and into the locker room. Only to come crashing back to Earth when you realized someone broke into your locker. They destroyed the racket your mom bought you and ruined the clothes she worked so hard to pay for.

    Then some older girls jumped you and threw you against the lockers. They told you that you were "stuck up" and that you needed to "learn your place". They hit you a few times, but nothing hurt as much as their faces when they called you a "freak".

    You don't know what you did wrong, but it must have been something. What did you do to make them hate you so much? You wish they had just said.

    But you knew it was your fault.

    You walked home that day and told your mom you didn't make the team. You never went back.

    No one will ever help you. No one cares about you. You're not the most important thing to anyone—you weren't even to your own mother. You're not good enough to be loved. You'll always be alone. You'll die here—

    "Ellie, that's not fucking true. I know this is hard. I'm asking you to do the hardest thing in the world. But you're spiraling—you can't give in. You can do this."

    But before you can even tell her that she's wrong and you can't, you're back in the past.

    You're sitting alone in a freezing warehouse, surrounded by monsters that were once girls. You're trying in vain to sleep; tomorrow, you'll all have to steal more goldnine. That means fighting. That means maybe dying.

    You know the girls don't need to sleep, but they like to pretend. Only on this night, you can hear someone crying.

    "Dad, mom, Jethro . . . I want my dog!"

    Heartbroken sobs fill the air, and another girl loses her patience.

    "Shut up, Elsa!" she sneers, cold as ice, "We all miss our parents! Quit being a baby!"

    "I . . . I wanna go hoooooooooooome!"

    "Shut up! Just shut up! Shut up right now—"

    "Enough," you order in the coldest voice of all, and one word is enough. The room falls quiet except Elsa muffled weeping.

    You get up and lie next to her in bed. She tries to cuddle with you, best as she can with her geometric body. It's freezing, but you're used to it.

    In a way, you envy her. At least she can cry. You've finally accepted your mom is dead, and you can't shed a tear.

    You're finally completely and utterly alone. But you're not sad. You're just numb.

    You're just cold.

    You don't have any more strength. You can feel your eyes closing. You wish you could apologize to Lady Leizi. This was a waste. You were a waste. You're sorry. You just can't do it anymore.

    "Fuck. That."

    The voice in your brain is so red hot and angry, it burns you.

    "No. I'm not letting you go down this path. I've been there. There's nothing that way. Ellie, I swear this: I will save you. But you can't give up. Promise me."

    "I-I can't—"

    "Shut the fuck up, yes you can. Promise me right now. Now."

    Her voice is like a trumpet calling for the end of the world. You can feel it electrify your body.

    It's not fair. You had finally stopped struggling. It was over. She . . . how dare she make you feel again. . . you—

    "I promise."

    —will never give up. Ever.

    "Good. Because this next part is going to hurt like a motherfucker."

    It does. A pulse of psychic force rips form you, temporality disrupting the maelstrom. It hurts so much you leave your body, but when you come back you're still strapped in the bed.

    "What—"

    "Wait for it."

    A burst of light blasts your bed, destroying it and throwing you to the floor. You furiously rub your slick wrists to get the circulation flowing again. You try to stand up and stumble like a newborn calf. You force yourself to walk, but, just as your unsteady legs are about to give out, your sight is filled with the most pure vision of gold. It's a balm to your soul and soothes your shattered nerves.

    Wait, no. The gold is hair. You're being saved by a golden-haired angel that smells like starlight.

    "Gaaaaaaaaaaaay."

    Valiant Silver's remark is like a bucket of ice water. Oh, it's not an angel. It's Black Swan. She's helping you limp out of the room. How embarrassing.

    She helps you forward, but your senses are still dull and your body heavy. You fall over—

    And John Henry catches you. He's sweating and gritting his teeth in pain, but he and Black Swan have you. H-how? Why?

    "I sent an SOS," Valiant Silver says in your mind, "Shine a beacon in the night, and you're bound to get two things, kid: moths and heroes. Moths and heroes."

    The floors begin to shift and pull you forward. The wall splits in half and a golden child made of light greets you. The child rushes forward and tackles you with a flying hug.

    "I missed you too."

    The child grabs your hand and leads you forward with only Black Swan and John Henry keeping you upright. As you walk through the endless tunnels, you lose track of where you are. You know you're moving, but that's it.

    You're elsewhere.

    It's sunset and the world is cast into an eternal, golden hugh. You're on a hilltop, beneath a deciduous tree the colors of fall. Before you is an endless field of golden roses, turned to face the sun.

    Valiant Silver is there. She's golden too.

    You two stand on the hilltop and look out at the field for a while.

    "I . . . I don't understand," you say. You sit down and pull your knees into your chest.

    "Hmm?" she asks, still looking out.

    ". . . why was I given EXCEED-BEYOND armor? Why do I deserve it?"

    "Hmm," she repeats, "Wrong question."

    "Wrong question?"

    She flops down next to you, legs spread and arms behind her. She blows a lock of hair out of her face.

    "Wrong question," she confirms, "The right question is: what do you want?"

    You blink and chew on that. What do you want . . .?

    You remember a woman singing you a lullaby as you burned with fever. Everything hurt, but it was okay when she was there. A cool hand strokes your head, and you know everything will always be okay.

    You want . . .

    Mom works feverishly at the kitchen table late one night. You had torn a massive hole in your uniform and had nothing to wear. You were so ashamed, you hid it in your closet. Mom somehow found it and now is fixing it. Later, she would replace it and pretend like she didn't know about it when you asked in the morning. All because she knew how upset you were.

    "I want . . ."

    You pump your legs for all they were worth, and your opponent's lead shrinks. You get closer, and closer, and finally at the last second you pass—

    You win! You've won your race! You're cheering by yourself, but you don't care! Your team has enough points to win now! You pumped your fist in victory, and, as you do you see a distant speck in the sky. Everyone else is pointing and whispering: What was Heavenly Astrologian doing here?

    But you know.

    The tears finally come.

    "I wanna see my mom again!" you sob into Valiant Silver's chest. She holds you and strokes your hair as you weep. "I . . . I miss her!"

    "Yeah," she says, "I know what you mean. I miss my dad."

    Your heart is shattered into a thousand jagged pieces that cut you—it has been that way for some time. You've just finally let yourself feel it. You clutch your predecessor's arm.

    "How do you make it stop? How do you make the pain stop?"

    She looks away. "I don't think you can. I think it hurts forever."

    You hiccup in despair and try to pull away, but Valiant Silver holds you close.

    "Sometimes when people leave, they take a piece of your heart with them. They rip a hole inside you that never closes, never heals. And it aches, always."

    "T-then . . . ?"

    "The hole doesn't get smaller," she says, "But your heart does get bigger. Filled with other things. And then there's more inside of you than just the pain."

    She shares with you some memories. Not violently shoved into your head, but handed over, gently.

    The most beautiful woman in the world tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and calls you "her angel". You tell her a joke that makes her frown and roll her eyes, but she pecks your lips anyways.

    An elegant woman is the only one to vote to not strip you of your position. She understands why you must do what you are—even though it will kill you. She wishes you would stop with her whole being, but she loves you enough to let you make your own choices.

    A bubbly blonde woman breaks into your lab and makes you eat and smile, even as her heart is bleeding too. Maybe it's always been bleeding and you've been too selfish to see it. No matter what, she moves forward.

    A man made of metal sits next to you while you're at your lowest. He says no words, demands nothing from you, but his presence is reassuring. It grounds you, like gravity. When you're ready, he'll be here.

    An insectoid woman is your first, truest, best friend. She is good, so pure, that her soul shines like the sun. It's so bright that it makes your soul shine too, reflecting her glory.

    A glowing figure sits on your computer telling you a never-ending string of bawdy jokes. She's always in your ear, chatting away, always ready with a quip or scathing remark. She will be there for you until she is no more.

    A silver girl talks without deception. She lives with her whole heart on her sleeve, and reminds you that you can too. She demands you teach her about 'relationships' and it's two weeks before you realize she's deliberately doing the opposite of whatever you tell her.

    You blink the memories away, letting them wash over you.

    "Find people you can love," Valiant Silver says, "Who will love you. Hold them close and keep them safe, forever."

    "But," you say, "who—?"

    Your memories leak out.

    An elegant woman in amazing sunglasses is the first person to give a shit about your girls. She appears, solves all your immediate problems, and offers to make you a metahuman. All seemingly just because it's the right thing to do.

    A warm man invites you to eat with his family. The chaos of the evening takes you outside of your own head, and before you realize you're smiling. His wife stuffs you to the gills with food, and sends you home with leftovers. You sleep well for the first time in ages that night.

    A portly man with a kind face sets you up with a room and everything you could need, without even having to be asked. He's unimposing, but makes it clear you can call on him if you ever need to.

    A tiny girl sits down with a diagram and meticulously explains to you that if you dress as a "rocker chick" then you won't overlap with her "goth" aesthetic and you two can be natural allies. She also explains her friend is a dumbass and chronic fumbler and tells you not to take it personally.

    A blonde woman sees you reading the rules and regulations for Justice Unlimited and nearly cries at how so very, very happy she is that someone else appears to have their head on straight. She recruits you for a daring plan: she will tame this madness.

    A man made of clay has the same sad and guilty eyes you do. You want to get close, but he's like a cat. You'll have to earn it first, but, once you do, you'll always have it.

    Black Swan . . . is . . . her hair like gold?

    "Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!" Valiant Silver cheers while laying backwards.

    "Stop saying that!" you protest, joining her on the ground.

    "Hey, if anyone is allowed, it's me!" she says, "Valiants have a legacy of being lady-killers. You have a lot to live up to!"

    "What does this have to do with anything? Why does this matter? Why are you showing me this?"

    She looks at you from the ground, her grin becoming something more serious.

    "Because that's how you find the will to live." She pins you with her gaze. "You take a piece of their hearts and give them all of yours."

    "But, what if—". You can't stop that image that flashes.

    Casualties from New Dawn include beloved member Heavenly Astrologian—

    "You protect them," Nora says, "You protect them with everything you have."

    "But—"

    "You'll fail," she says looking to the golden sunset, "People you love will die in front of you and tear another hole in your chest. The pain is inevitable. It will hurt forever."

    She turns to look at you.

    "You do it anyway. You let them in and you let yourself love them knowing it will hurt."

    She gazes at the endless rows of golden roses.

    "That is what it means to be 'valiant'."

    You swallow the lump in your throat, but it doesn't go away. You feel something bubble up from your heart and burst out of your mouth.

    "I want that," you whisper, "I want that more than anything."

    "I know you do. Which is why the EXCEED-BEYOND is yours," she says. Then she perks up. "And good news! We're here!"

    Suddenly, you're back in your body. The black bodysuit of EXCEED-BEYOND splits open like a chrysalis, and Black Swan and John Henry help you climb inside. Your vision goes black, and then a message appears.

    ACT IN THE NAME OF GOOD, YE WHO BEARS THE CONSEQUENCES OF THY ACTIONS.

    FIND THY LIMITS.

    EXCEED BEYOND.​

    "Aaaaand there we go! Okay, I can fix this now! Gotta use my power, but I've Rebounded anyway. At a certain point, you can only get so wet."

    ". . . huh?" you whisper.

    "You okay, Ellie?"

    "Sleepy . . ." You can barely keep your eyes open.

    "Geez, you really needed to let all of that pent up feeling out, huh? Don't worry. Get some rest, and this will all be fixed when you wake up."

    ". . . will you still be here when I wake up?"

    Valiant Silver is quiet for a long time.

    "No. I . . . I can't leave where I am. I don't think I'm dead, but I'm not truly alive either. I'm being kept something else. Somewhere else. I'm . . . only here because we're connected. When we split, there'll be nothing keeping me from being dragged back."

    ". . . I want you to stay . . ." you say with tears in your eyes.

    "I want to stay. So much. I'm so glad I met you. Just . . . do me proud, okay? Ah, what am I saying? Of course you will!"

    Everything is glowing golden. You see a radiant angel and a silver man standing over you. You can feel the heartbeat of a lost child, waving goodbye sadly. Even more, you can feel lightning, shadow, clay, and others pulsing in time. You feel the whole city as the light fills the hollow places in your heart, melding the jagged pieces together with gold.

    It's not pristine. It's not perfect. But what was broken has been reforged into something new.

    You're so sleepy. Your eyes flutter close and you feel at peace.

    ". . . thanks . . . I love you, Mom."

    ". . . I love you too. Now get some sleep."

    Luck Check: 4. Unlucky!

    Snippets of words wash over you.

    ". . . using it doesn't hurt? How . . .?"

    ". . . can think so clearly . . . I was fucked up . . ."

    ". . . Oh. Two. . . power always meant for two . . ."

    ". . . too much for one. Need two . . . so obvious . . ."

    ". . . kid. Too late for me, but thanks . . . love . . . "

    But you can't make sense of them. You drift off into a dreamless sleep, the bleeding in your chest stopped.

    You don't feel cold anymore.

    Name: ????, Noelle "Ellie" Han
    Power: The EXCEED-BEYOND Armor
    Side Effect: Extreme Psychic Field Sensitivity
    Faction: Justice Unlimited
    Potency: 13
    Stats: HIT 8, ESPIONAGE 4, REPUTATION 6, OPERATIONS 9
    Notes: Ellie wields the EXCEED-BEYOND armor, which has four modules with different power sets. Modules must be selected for a scene and may be changed between scenes. Using any power in blue will disable the module until the end of a combat encounter. Using module "dynamite" will disable the EXCEED-BEYOND armor until the end of the mission.
    Always Active: Anti-gravity, Energy Shielding, Mental Manipulation Immunity
    Module "Paper": Pyrokinesis, Energy Blaster, Drones, Targeting Suite, Railgun
    Module "Scissors": Psychic Energy Blades, Agility Suite, Telekinesis, Pilebunker
    Module "Rock": Enhanced Strength, Advanced Energy Shielding, Power Nullification
    Module "Dynamite": O̵̺͓̊͌͊p̵̞͕̔̚ē̵͔͜ņ̵͍͎̊ ̸͎̌̄̌ẗ̶̖͘h̶̝̮͐̋ë̵̺̺́ ̷̺͊S̵͍̊̈̕t̷̮̎͝ą̶̩̞̄g̶̮͘e̶̦̲̟͌

    ______________________________________________________________________________

    What will we call our newest hero?
    [ ] Valiant Gold
    [ ] Valiant Sun
    [ ] Valiant Sapphire
    Write-in (subject to QM veto, name must include "Valiant") [ ]

    What color(s) will Ellie paint the EXCEED-BEYOND armor?
    Write-in (subject to QM veto) [ ]

    What is Ellie's Emblem?
    Write-in (subject to QM veto) [ ]

    VOTING OPENS TOMORROW EST
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • Huh

    Nora is only Mostly dead. Someone captured her psychic pattern and is holding her steady in the Stage.

    Also, that was a look into King's mind apparently, at some point. Is his power "I have Every Power?" Or something? Emotional Manipulation isn't something that should logically fit in with everything else. But it does tell me that apparently Scarlet Maturity's invincibility also extends to psychic attacks evidently.

    Wait, is That what Module Dynamite is? "Activate King's Power for a scene?"

    And it's real fucking convienent that it was specifically the safety mechanisms that Nora forgot to write in with the instructions. That's too convenient to just be accidental, especially given the importance. The implication to me is that Rebound is at least partially intelligent and actively seeking to fuck you over rather than 'Just' being Super Dementia. It makes you decline in the Worst Way Possible to taint everything you've done, doesn't it?

    Shit, that's why we had a time limit on Stockpile? Without intervening, he went into Rebound studying the EXCEED armor, and his Rebound was tailored to make him Fanatical against Justice Unlimited, because that was the Worst Possible Thing he could do at the time, wasn't it?
     
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