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<Borrowing from Bolo>

 

Devon Treble waited nervously in the narrow alley behind The Horseshoe Bar in Glasgow, Scotland.  "If Capt. Mode finds out, my goose is cooked," Devon thinks to himself. " Whatever possessed me to try and make contact with this "cape" anyways?" Smiling wryly, "course he ain't got a cape..."

 

"Will he show up at all?" Devon wonders as he waits.  Wishing he hadn't given up smoking as it helps to pass the time, he continues to wait.  The cat that has watched him for the last hour loses interest in him, again, maybe for the last time, but who knows the mind of a cat...

 

He feels rather than sees a shifting of the air around him and suddenly the subject he has come to meet is within 3 meters of him.  "Agent Treble, we meet again" A voice whispers at him, or did he hear that in his mind? Its unsettling the way this 'hero" communicates. "What do you need my help with tonight?"

 

Devon shakes off the weird feelings he gets from this guy. "There's an assassin who needs to be taken care of, he passes over copies of the file they have on Dame Azure.  We think she's a mutant with teleportation powers"

 

"I've heard of this Peculiar person" The Shadowed visitor says, "She's struck in many places and you are baffled by a means of capturing her?"

 

Devon nods, "Calling her peculiar is an understatement..." He's cut off by the hero, " That's Peculiar not peculiar, capitalize the first letter"

 

Devon looks perplexed, the figure continues "Mutant is not a proper term, these people have Peculiarity Abilities making them Peculiars... not mutants... A distinction I can see is lost on you"

 

Referring to himself in the third person "Cipher will take on the case and see she is brought in for justice.  Her ability will not allow her to escape." He raises his right arm to reveal what appears to be an extra large tuning fork, "I will neutralize her power with my own abilities. But I will require time to prepare my trap for her"

 

Just before leaving Cipher says "Feed the cat, it looks hungry" then there is the imploding air and he is gone.

 

--------------------------------------------

 

Using his arsenal of contacts and computer files, Cipher finds as much information on Dame Azure as he can.  She's done a great job of hiding her trail, but he is a cipher, a non entity and no one knows when he will strike next. He knows how dangerous she can be, he will still find her weaknesses and trap her!

 

To be resolved...

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9 minutes ago, Amorkca said:

A friend of mine created this image, have fun...

MarkH001.jpeg

She is Malviolanta, a dark, extra dimensional, magical presences who's goals are nothing more than the destruction of any dimensions which she is not currently living in. She sets herself as the great magical queen, but cares not for her servants and citizens. 

 

Power wise, her body is full of magical energy. While she can't cast spells, she can 'ignore reality' and release the energy within her. She can also absorb magical energy.

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On 4/24/2018 at 9:17 AM, Amorkca said:

A friend of mine created this image, have fun...

MarkH001.jpeg

 

Shatter Witch

 

“The enslaved, drugged abused Delphi oracles, cursed Cassandra, almost the entire cast of the Final Destination franchise... The Gods' gift of foresight has ever been more a curse, a punishment or even more a cruel jokes. ...You'd think I've have seen it coming really...”

 

Morgan Madison was born with the power of foresight. She could view the future in astounding detail in vision that weren't under her control but came frequently. More so, she could sense imminent impending events even if she didn't view them, knowing instinctively what course they might take which manifested as incredible luck and fore sight even wisdom. 

 

She put her abilities to use for the common good, acting as Insight, a psychic heroine in Denver, Colorado. As Insight she helped countless people, prevented disasters before the happened, even offered advice on things minor and major, all to good ends. Morgan liked helping, and in her heart of hearts, she liked the fame and prestige that came from her activities and being seen as a wise, mysterious figure. She felt somewhat guilty but couldn't help herself and felt a little bit of pride wasn't too much in contrast to the good she'd done. 

 

The came the vision. A group of metahumans named Anarchy Unlimited attacking a biomedical research facility, a biological studies institute. Their plan to unleash the pathogens stored there. She saw the attack, heard their plans but couldn't see how it would end. Her visions, for all their accuracy rarely revealed ultimate outcomes. Concerned with the potential wide spread danger and imminent sense of threat she felt around her family, Morgan sent her husband and children out of town then gather her team and the authorities to defend the facility. 

 

The presence of increased security and other metal human defenders, dissuaded Anarchy Unlimited. With dire threat of reprisal, they retreated. Only to strike again, a day later, intent on their goal of sowing chaos. Their target was a major airport, hundreds were killed. Among them Morgan's family, returning from to Denver from where she'd sent them, to keep them safe. 

 

Even for a precognitive, hindsight was sometime the clearest. The feel of danger had come to her when she'd decided to send them away, gotten stronger from there. It wasn't support of her actions, it was warning. She'd done this. Her interference, her attempting to fix things had broken her life, shattered her dreams.  This was her reward for service, for trying to make things right; this was punchline to the Fate's joke. 

 

Morgan's sanity gave way under the grief and guilt. She latched onto the few things that made sense to her: life was random, pointless, there was no right, no wrong, only consequence and entropy. Doing 'good' was just like trying to hold back the tide with bare hands, futile and eventually you'd drown having accomplished nothing. The only truth of existence was chaos and all things died. Insight died at the realization and Shatter Witch was born. 

 

Personality: Bitter, cold and nihilistic, Shatter Witch lives to sow chaos and destruction, eventually on a truly astounding scale. It would be safe to say, she wants to end the universe, just to end her own pain and, in a twisted compassion, the suffering existence brings to all. She's truly mad at the world and her opinions the world started it. Many would say she simply mad. 

 

Her madness is subdued, hidden a facade of cool aloofness and occasionally biting bitter sarcasm giving additional edge by her powers of insight. She weaves complex plans, lays the track that lead people, places, even worlds to their destruction, glee hidden behind a small enigmatic smile and utterly morbid sense of humor. Insight's calm, wise compassion is gone, subsumed into Shatter Witch's cold, malice for all order. And those that have enjoyed good fortune. Her plans are intricate and sadistic, but she'd not above random small, even petty cruelties but generally won't endanger long range plan for them.

 

One aspect of Insight remains strong though. She does not lie, as in literally state and untruth. She was obfuscate, lie by omission, bend the truth or state it in a fashion that seems lie a life or otherwise trick or deceive but a direct overt lie is anathema to her. 

 

Powers: Precognition, very advanced foresight that lets her get frequent visions of future events and a general sense of probability and the tenor of events in the immediate future. This power can appear as blindingly fast reflexes and reaction time, extreme luck and some degree of wisdom and 'lucky guesses' that seem to border on telepathy among other effect. She supplements her abilities with advanced gear and weaponry, usually suited the particular foes will she will face. The source for it is unknown. 

 

Shatter Witch has displayed an ability to teleport both short range or over long distances and even between timelines. She refers to this power as “taking a short cut” and can carry willing individuals with her (has carried more a dozen at one point). Its not known if this ability is tied into her power or some sort of device she employs. Combined her supernatural foresight, its make Shatter Witch extremely difficult to capture or surprise. She takes great delight in turning ambushes back on her attackers, in fact. 

 

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On 4/24/2018 at 2:17 PM, Amorkca said:

A friend of mine created this image, have fun...

MarkH001.jpeg

They call her Diabolica ! She is diabolical. Just when you think it can't get any nastier, OH NO, IT'S DIABOLICA !

Isn't she oooh !

Isn't she aaah !

Isn't she wicked !

Isn't she tired of exclamation points ! No !

She uses her powers for wickedness ! Oh No !

She robs from everyone to give to herself ! For shame !

She won't even play the national anthem ! Swoon !

She.... she.... I don't even know how to say this, it is so wrong, so corrupt, so nefarious !

She even takes candy from babies !

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On 4/24/2018 at 8:17 AM, Amorkca said:

A friend of mine created this image, have fun...

MarkH001.jpeg

Mary was a typical Las Vegas showgirl working for Penn and Teller. One day a magic trick went awry, spraying her with a caustic reactive magical liquid. Mary was rushed to the hospital. After many tests, the doctors told Mary that she would forever have...Bad Hair! 

 

Her career lay in ruins, her future was  shattered, even her boyfriend left her for another woman. Mary went Mad.

Donning her old showgirl outfit, Mary became Psycho-Chick. an evil world ruling dictator wannabee.

 

Her first criminal effort to inject the magic liquid into various hair care products failed at the hands of heroes. Even Penn and Teller were forced to adopt secret Hero IDs to stop her madness. Although her scheme failed, Psych-Chick eluded capture.

 

Where is she now? No one knows for sure, some say she is in the jungles of Florida searching for components for her next effort.  others say she is in the avocado jungles of California working with some plan involving guacamole face creme. But wherever she is, she should know that heroes will not rest until she is facing a long term in a beauty salon behind bars. 

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Wow Time sure flies when your being chased by super villains...

 

And the winner is...

 

Phoenix240, I liked the hero-villain transform and hope she can be redeemed...

 

My friend used to do commissions but has since moved to a different city, province.  I will find out for you!!

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Miss America

 

If there is one post in the American Superhero Justice System that seems to be cursed it is Miss America. it is one thing to die, or suffer, in the course of action but quite another for deaths or career ending injuries/events to occur when not on assignment. For reasons that are not clear the post of Miss America has attracted all sorts of bad publicity and disaster since its inauguration in Ronald Reagan's first term as President. For example one was killed in a car crash while another died when their transport crashed. The fifth woman to occupy the post was dismissed for drug addiction and later died 'supposedly' of their addiction. The seventh was dismissed for agreeing to pose for a men's magazine although she had not actually posed. The eighth lost her post for trying to broker a plea bargain and this was vilified in the press and by certain politicians. The tenth died during initial enhancement procedures as a result of sabotage.

Alice Davenport is the fifteenth woman to take on the post and operates mainly on the East Coast. She came from the US Customs service and completed the selection process while number fourteen was still working. She is well aware of the poisoned chalice that the post has been for her predecessors but duty to the people is paramount as far as she is concerned. Alice has already surpassed the expectations of some of the cynics who predicted how long she would last in the job but in the brave new world of social media this is what a hero must face. There is an internet counter running on how long she has lasted in the job and thus the increased possibility of her screwing up the longer she lasts. It annoys her but there is little she can do about it, (freedom of speech). Alice

Alice's enhancements make her stronger, have more endurance and be more dexterous than a normal person but it does not make her invulnerable or invincible. She has a flight harness that enables her to get to high places but not to fly like a bird. It has proven useful in saving her life when thrown out of a plane without a parachute (as it did for at least one predecessor) as it allowed her to descend to the ground although she needed to be picked up by colleagues. 

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[excerpt from an article in SuperFan magazine]

 

Following instructions passed along by the intermediary, I waited for her in the lobby of the Grand Hotel on Main Street. And waited.  And waited.  I mean honestly, how the heck can a frickin' speedster be late?! 

 

I'd just gotten up to pace the lobby when a purple blur came in from outside.  I felt myself lifted from behind and carried like a rag doll through the open door and down the street, the buildings on either side a featureless blur to either side of me.  The scream was literally trapped in my throat by air pressing hard against my face, forcing itself into my nostrils and mouth.  In a handful of seconds, we were across town and slowing to enter what looked to be a warehouse. 

 

It took me a few moments to regain my composure - I'm no stranger to the cape crowd, but I dare anybody to get hoisted and carried at a few hundred miles an hour, zipping between cars, without getting at least a little freaked - during which my hostess dropped into a bright red butterfly chair, crossing her legs and idly cleaning her fingernails with a sharp pointed stiletto.  My breathing finally under control, I settled myself on a folding chair across from her.  "QuickSliver, I presume," I said as I pulled out my notebook and pen.  (Hey, what can I say, I'm an old-school guy.  Plus, I got tired of my cameras and microphones getting eaten.)

 

She laughed.  "What gave me away, Mr. Dugan?  Was it my fashion sense?  Or my choice of..." she spun the blade on the tip of her index finger "...grooming accessories?"  She ended with the stiletto pointed at me, a wicked grin on her face.

 

"It may just have been the little trip from the Grand Hotel to," I gestured around us at the gloomy warehouse, "these upscale digs."

 

She didn't seem pleased with my minimal reaction to her powers and implied threat, nor my sarcasm at the state of her hidey-hole.  Like this was the first abandoned warehouse where I've interviewed a supervillain or supervillainess.  When you're wanted in fifteen states for everything from B&E to Murder One like QuickSliver, you don't tend to stay in fancy hotels.  Although I suppose in her case, she could just zip into and out of a five-star hotel before anyone knows she's there.  Besides, superbaddies collect abandoned warehouses like Pokemon creatures.

 

"I had to make sure you weren't setting me up for one of your superhero friends," she said, sheathing her blade and slipping her red gloves back on.  "Not that they could catch me, mind you..."

 

"Really?  How fast can you go?" I asked innocently.  "And is it true you can phase through walls?"

 

QuickSliver smiled.  "Honestly, I have no idea what my top speed is.  It's well into the Mach range, I can tell you that much.  As to phasing, yeah, I can vibrate my body fast enough to pass through most solid objects."  She demonstrated with her hand, vibrating it ultra-fast and passing it through the table beside her like it wasn't even there.  The hum was rather annoying, a bit like a dentist drill, and had me gritting my teeth.

 

"So, let's talk about how you got your powers.  What was it - genetic mutation?  Lightning strike?  Chemical exposure?  Bitten by a radioactive hummingbird?"

 

"None of the above," she said.  "I can thank Dr. Nymax! for being faster than a speeding..."

 

"Careful," I interrupted.  "If you don't want anyone stepping on your schtick, you can't go stepping on theirs."

 

She nodded.  "How about faster than a fighter jet?  Anyway, I was a lab assistant for Nymax! when he decided that I wasn't working fast enough, so he drugged me and stuck me in some kinda particle acceleration chamber.  When I came to, I was the fastest woman alive."  Inwardly, I cringed - that was coming a little too close to copyright infringement, but I decided to let it slide...

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  • 2 weeks later...

Zenith X

 

In an underground cavern on a small island just off the Mediterranean coast of France, Armand Clermont---millionaire playboy, sportsman, Tour De France contender, occasional TV actor and the star of his own reality show (Armand, Veuillez être le mien or Armand, Please Be Mine, where eight beautiful women competed for the honor of being his girlfriend) found an ancient wooden chest inscribed with Greek letters and the image of a lute carved into the lid--the best known symbol of the Olympian god Apollo.  Inside the chest was a magnificent bow made of some strange material he couldn't recognize.  The moment he took up the bow a drawstring appeared, which looked to made of pure sunlight, and an arrow which looked to be made of gold materialized in the bow, nocked and ready to draw.  No stranger to the bow and arrow, Clermont took aim at a remote point in the cavern and let fly.  The arrow impacted exactly where Clermont meant it to go, and exploded in a bright burst of sunlight that briefly turned the dark cavern to brightest day---and then the arrow materialized in the bow once more.

 

Clermont took the bow home and experimented with its use.  He discovered that just by thinking about it he could make the arrow strike with concussive force, light enough to knock a man down or strong enough to knock down a stone wall or knock over a tank.  Or he could make the arrow hot as the sun itself, able to cut through the strongest steel like the proverbial warm knife through butter.  Or he could make the arrow explode in a blinding flash, able to incapacitate one or more adversaries simultaneously.  But the most important aspect of the bow that he discovered was that no matter how distant or minuscule the target, the arrow would always find its mark.

 

Clermont had heard of costumed adventurers who turned out to be millionaire playboys in their civilian lives, so he decided to carry on that particular tradition.  Calling himself Zenith X--a name that was distinctive, unmistakable, and most important, trademarkable---he had a costume made up and started chasing muggers and street thugs, then worked his way up to bank robbers, terrorists, and other lawbreakers with even greater potential for danger.  With contact lenses to change the color of his eyes and a ponytailed wig to cover his dark hair, he has managed to conceal his true identity from prying eyes and inquisitive minds---so far.

 

Clermont could not get very far as Zenith X without some rather significant help from two important people.  The first is Genevieve Janvier, a former girlfriend who is now a senior detective with the Police Nationale.  She provides him with leads and access to information and resources, and in return she gets the credit for the arrests precipitated by his actions.  The other person who helps him is Frederico "Rico" Bartoletti, an old school friend who Clermont rescued from a situation involving a gorgeous yet angry debutante, her equally gorgeous aunt, their light duty maid, and the maid's husband.  ("As the Americans like to say--It's Complicated.")  Unable to return to his native Italy, Rico now chauffeurs Zenith X around France in their custom sports car--Le Corsaire--and provides backup when the situation gets especially dangerous--although given a choice, he would rather be far away from the danger, not rushing towards it.

 

As Zenith X, Clermont has proved himself to be an effective crimefighter and a brave and able hero.  He has received several offers from European superteams to join with them, and is strongly considering the offer from the French team Les Defenseurs.  Whatever happens, Zenith X promises to be a relentless and stalwart ally in the war against evil for a long time to come.

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  • 2 weeks later...

He is . . . The Gramps Reaper! In the first panel, we can see the scythe from his Visage of Death trailing him as he leaps into action. This is a psychic fear attack, that temporarily paralysis his prey, allowing him to get the drop on opponents a third of his age. Unfortunately, the photographer didn't capture the Visage in its full glory. This short burst psychic fear attack is Gramps' only super power. For the rest, he relies on his acrobatic martial arts and his trusty pistol, a modified Desert Eagle with several types of specialized ammunition. (Known loads he's used include: Micro gas pellets, micro smoke pellets, tracking devices, rubber bullets, armor piercing, explosive and just plain old lead ammunition.)

 

Nobody knows where the Gramps Reaper came from, for while he has the appearance of a hero out of the Golden Age, there are no records of his costume or power prior to two years ago. There has been speculation ranging from retired hero changing his MO to hero from another dimension, to just plain late bloomer. He's certainly a mystery man, and has the suit to go with it.

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The Devistator is in deed an old golden age Nazi crashing mystery man. While overseas fighting on the beaches of Normandy, he was sent into the future by Captain Cronos. But a side effect of the transport was that he aged in real time as he was sent.

 

Devistator now struggles with trying to fit in with the modern age of heroes while struggling to keep up in spite of his artifialy advance age. As part of the side effect, it seems he can't age any farther (as proved in an encounter with Timelapse proved).

 

As for powers, he has a mean right hook, and immune to age manipulation, a keen mind (my body is old, but my mind is young), and the belief in justice.

 

Also...he is a bit sexist and racist, as was common in the age he came from. Not to the extreme, but it is there. He won't hesitate to call someone Sambo or gook or Mick or daigo or fag.

 

And to tell young punks to turn that noise they call music down and get off his lawn...

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I'm known by many names.  The Great Geezer.  The Wheezer.  Myself, I prefer the Gray Ghost.  Y'see, my grandson's the original Grim Reaper.  Took down druggies and mob types like nobody's business.  Then one day, he bit off more than he could chew.  Found him lying in the alley behind my apartment building, shot all to hell, but he still managed to dodge his pursuers and dragged himself home.   Lemme tell you, it was a shock to see him in his Reaper outfit, but believe you me, I was just damn glad he was still breathing.  I got him inside, called a retired doc friend of mine to come over and patch him up.  Yeah, couldn't take him to a hospital - they gotta report gunshot wounds. 

 

So, while my boy's recuperating, I decided to fill his boots.  Hey, I may be on the other side of the hill, but I ain't dead yet!  I was in the Marines, served in Korea, and still keep myself pretty fit.  I know how to handle myself.  And it's only for a few months until he's back on his feet and ready to kick punk butt again.  Okay, so I threw in a little too much bleach when I tried to wash the blood out of his Reaper suit, and it kinda turned out a little brighter than before.  Hey, I kinda like it.  Who knows, maybe once my grandson's up to snuff, he can make a new suit for himself, and we can be partners. 

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