Quackhell

Complaints, complaints.  The burning in your eyes and the throbbing headache will pass when you finish your entry.  It's supposed to be a challenge, and so it is. 
 
So here's my take on him:
 
Mangorilla's latest rampage had been going on for about ten minutes when the first superhero showed up on the scene.  The big ape-man had snatched a police car off the ground and was just starting to swing it down on the pair of officers who'd been crouched behind it when a streak of color flashed by.  A pair of red-gloved hands wrenched his improvised weapon loose in passing, setting it down gently as the super touched down a few yards away.  Staggering, the furious villain wheeled around...and stopped cold in surprise as he saw his opponent.
 
"Who the hell are you?" Mangorilla grunted, a sneer spreading across his bestial features.
 
"Hadn't really decided on that yet, but it didn't seem like the right time to worry about a supranym with lives in danger.  Let's just say I'm the guy who's going to put you back in jail."
 
"Ha!  Big talk, but I suppose you have to be pretty gutsy just to go out in public like that!"
 
"Seriously?  You're going with that?"
 
"Better get used to it until you get a better tailor.  What were you thinking with that costume?  I thought the Particolored Man was an eyesore, but you - I'll be doing you a favor beating you senseless before the news crews show up so you're not caught on camera like that."
 
The newcomer sighed as Mangorilla leapt forward, furry fists swinging - and then he stepped forward, delivered a single efficient uppercut and stepped aside as the unconscious brute collapsed in an untidy heap.
 
"Well, that could have gone worse." he thought as the police advanced warily.  "He should be out for a while, officers.  If you want I can deliver him somewhere?"
 
"Uh, no, we've got backup on the way with a containment truck and lifting equipment." the sergeant replied.  He looked askance at the unfamiliar super.  "You new at this?  I don't recognize you and that costume's...uh...pretty distinctive."
 
The hero sighed again.  "Yes, this is my first time in public.  Went through some MONITOR training when I realized I had powers, and they did a lot of testing before they figured out what I could do exactly."
 
"Well, MONITOR knows their stuff, but...did they talk to you about, y'know, PR and stuff?  That stuff's pretty important for you supers in the long run."
 
"This is about the costume, isn't it?"
 
The sergeant's partner desperately smothered a laugh.  "Well, you have to admit it's...pretty colorful.  Wait, is this one of those alien super-suit deals where you get your powers from it?  Like that schoolteacher back in the Seventies?  I didn't mean to..."
 
"No, it's not quite that simple.  But MONITOR told me not to talk about it too much, so..."
 
At that moment a news van squealed to a halt nearby, the cameraman leaping out with his rig already running.  As he swept the camera around the scene he froze as the most garishly-dressed super he'd ever seen came into his viewfinder.  And laughed.  A dark-haired reporter kicked his shin as she advanced, microphone in hand.  "Hello there. I'm Mary Morgan from TV12 news and I'd like an interview.  I'm afraid I don't recognize you, sir.  May I ask what your supranym is for the viewers at home?"
 
The hero restrained a sigh this time and looked down at his brilliantly-colored outfit, complete with that godawful belt buckle logo and the fake muscles.  Well, fine, he'd known this going to be a problem, so he might as well lean into it.  Besides, he'd always liked his dad's ZZ Top albums.
 
"Well, ma'am, you can just call me the Sharp-Dressed Man."
 
 
 
Mitch Salvatore discovered he had superpowers on Halloween night.  It was a complete accident.  His parents had never celebrated the holiday and he'd grown up without all the costumes and trick-or-treating and pumpkin-carving stuff.  But when a co-worker invited him to costume party on October 31st he'd thrown together a lame superhero costume using some gym shorts, a towel for a cape and a stupid lightning logo pinned to his chest just to fit in.  That turned out to be fortunate when a couple of muggers jumped him (and his date the Sexy Librarian) on the way to the party.  The first one broke three fingers when he punched Mitch in the nose (which remained very unbroken) and the second one broke his flip knife on that stupid paper logo like it was hardened steel.  Mitch was surprised but not dumb, and discovered he could pick two grown men up and knock their heads together without a struggle.  Also had to be careful about not cracking his girlfriend's ribs when he gave her a triumphant hug afterward.
 
It was much later that night he discovered his powers vanished when he was naked, but that's between him and the Sexy Librarian.  They also didn't seem to work when he showered and dressed the next day - until he tried pinning on his "cape" again, and then he was stronger than normal but not on par with last night, and he still nicked himself shaving.
 
Thoroughly confused, he called a 900 number for MONITOR's "superpower breakout" hotline, and within a few hours he was enrolled in their testing and training program while their experts tried to figure things out.  It wasn't long before they decided he had what they called a "psychosomatic power set" that was tied to some element of his subconscious and how it regarded his current wardrobe.  His impromptu Halloween costume had granted him "street level" hero abilities, but after some time (well, a lot - months worth) the scientists found he had a lot more potential than just that.  A whole lot more.  They eventually found that his subconscious preformed at absolute optimum when he was wearing...well, look at that image.  
 
It was almost enough to put him off the whole idea of hero work, but MONITOR could be pretty persistent with someone whose peak performance was up in the top 1% of known supers.  Mitch was eventually convinced to "do the right thing" as his trainers put it, and has begun making a name for himself as the Sharp-Dressed Man.  A silly name, and one connected to a ludicrous costume, but he's still doing good deeds and saving people from danger.
 
The Sharp-Dressed Man is a classic FISS and ranks well up in the top tier in terms of power level when he's in full costume, as well as having the ability to electrify himself at will, with voltages ranging from merely stunning to a full-on lightning bolt.  His outfit is as indestructible as he is, making disrobing him in combat fairly tricky even for those who understand his powers - which are still fairly few.  His extended testing period with MONITOR also led him to getting a lot of training time, so he's quite a bit more clued-in to how the supers community really works than most relative newbies.
 
That same testing period found that he can manifest weaker but still useful levels of power without the full costume.  A simple belt with that logo grants him about the same street-level strength and toughness as he originally manifested, as well as enough electrical generation to sting, mess up most electronics, jump-start a car or recharge his phone, although he can't fly.  Adding a domino mask almost doubles his durability and physical strength as well as speeding his reaction time, and accessorizing with red gloves (even less tacky ones) help even more.  No matter how "dressed" he is he can't seem to fly without the tights and boots, and he's not great at it unless in the full costume.
 
Perhaps not the most serious of concepts, but it's way better than getting random powers from a rotary phone dial many readers today will never have seen. 

Which is why I tried to kick it into action again

Hopefully it stays active for more than a few cycles this time around.  Going back through old posts it's been through rather a lot of hiatuses over the years.

Thanks to everyone for their takes on the pic and the quick responses. So good to see this thread active again after being dormant for a time.
 
While I really liked the detail and world building of Rich McGee's entry I am going to go with wcw43921 as the winner. Guess I am just a sucker for a tragic backstory. 

Thanks to Rich McGee and I agree that Duke Bushido was the real winner. Also he is a coward making up some excuse about his phone just so he wouldn't have to pick an image! 😃
 
Sorry if this is a bit boring or convential of an image and I hope it hasn't been used previously, I just wanted to get something up fast to keep things going.

Thanks to Rich McGee and I agree that Duke Bushido was the real winner. Also he is a coward making up some excuse about his phone just so he wouldn't have to pick an image! 😃
 
Sorry if this is a bit boring or convential of an image and I hope it hasn't been used previously, I just wanted to get something up fast to keep things going.

His/their name is Triax they split into 3 different individuals each with their own energy type. When they merge, they suffer from multiple personality disorder. And can use a weaker version of all three powers.

He is NABLA !
An inverted triangle is called Nabla and so this is his name.
And his power enables him to speed up or slow down a target. The latter is greatly useful with someone falling out of a window or off a building to say nothing of a falling vehicle.
The former can allow someone to move out of the way or to allow someone else to move fast enough to get someone else out of the way.
His reaction time and speed is greater than others which does allow him to beat speedsters more often than not.

Okay, I'm in.  Once again I refuse to do the obvious despite humming They Might Be Giants' "Particle Man" the whole time I was doing this writeup.  Instead, two different sets of obscure references for added inspiration:
 
Primary 
 
EMT Maxwell Morgan received his powers by pure happenstance while tending to civilian casualties from the Cosmo-God Omegos' attack on New York City.  Caught in a wave of energies refracted through the Prism Absolute, he found himself able to control a spectrum of exotic energies hitherto unknown to Earthly science.  Adopting the heroic identity of Primary, he now uses his fantastic abilities to help protect the innocent from superhuman threats and heal those injured in body, mind and soul.     His circle of friends and fellow ambulance service volunteers are still unaware of his dual identity, but the struggle to balance his responsibilities between the two roles grows harder every day.  The situation is further complicated by invitations to join no less than three hero teams, all of who are offering to help train him in the use of complex power set - something Maxwell feels he badly needs, as he's getting a bit overwhelmed with the whole hero gig.   As Primary he displays a remarkable range of abilities, although he can only manifest one group of them at a time, with the color aura radiating from his forehead changing to match his current mode.  Each color offers a very different set of powers:   Blue - Enhanced intelligence and problem-solving, potent telepathy and telekinesis Red - Augmented physical strength and durability, coherent light and heat projection  Yellow - Creation of simple but durable energy constructs, radiant light emission that heals injuries (physical or otherwise) while dealing terrible damage to supernatural entities of malign nature   Switching between power sets is near-instantaneous but requires concentration that he doesn't always have to spare during a crisis.   Maxwell wasn't the only person to have been accidentally empowered the day Omegos was defeated.  He's clashed several times with a casually larcenous time manipulator/speedster calling herself Clockstopper who radiates an aura of orange light that resonates with his own when in red or yellow mode.  He's also experienced similar resonance while being attacked by a villain known as the Unquiet, a glowing green spectral entity who can appear and vanish along with its undead minions in a miasma of purple energy.  Who these villains were before their transformation and what their connection to Primary may lead to is an ongoing mystery.  

Power Master
 
They called themselves The Three Champions--three friends who, on a camping trip in the American Northwest, discovered deep inside a cave an altar with three different colored triangular gems which conferred tremendous powers and abilities to whoever wielded them.  They fought crime, saved lives, helped clean up after natural and man-made disasters--all with a smile and a few kind words for their admirers.  People called them heroes.  Life was good.
 
Then came The Hellfather, who after many years of planning and superhero-inflicted setbacks, was finally ready to make the Earth into his own infernal paradise.  The Three Champions stopped him, apparently once and for all--but it was not without cost.  Two of the Three gave their lives to contain the blast of the Inferno Bomb, which consumed them along with The Hellfather.  The surviving member was so distraught that he gave up superheroics--or so everyone thought.
 
Actually, he had no intention of retiring.  He went into seclusion, where he trained himself to use his powers more effectively--and more forcefully.  And when The Hellfather returned--as he knew he would--he was there to stop him, and beat him within a millimeter of his life.  Ignoring the cheers of the public and the protests of the authorities, he took off without a word--and without a smile as well.
 
As The Power Master, he continues to fight crime, save lives, help those who need it--but it's not fun anymore.  He doesn't smile, doesn't hang out with the public, doesn't make appearances for charity like he did with The Three Champions.  He just charges in, takes care of business, and departs as quickly as he left.  And if you're a supervillain or anyone else who's inclined to hurt innocents or cause harm for its own sake-your affairs had better be in order.

Thanks to Rich McGee and I agree that Duke Bushido was the real winner. Also he is a coward making up some excuse about his phone just so he wouldn't have to pick an image! 😃
 
Sorry if this is a bit boring or convential of an image and I hope it hasn't been used previously, I just wanted to get something up fast to keep things going.

Eddie Blatnick was an average unremarkable guy who enjoyed tabletop war games and rpgs. They provided a bit of an escape from his mundane life. He was attending a convention and walking amongst the booths checking out figurines and games when he noticed a small unadorned table in the corner. He approached the table where a man was sitting behind three figurines on a small green felt strip. One of them caught his eye in particular.
 
"What is that?" 
 
The vendor looked up and Eddie noticed he had mismatched eyes, one dull brown and the other an odd sickly green. The vendor smiled at Eddie revealing a row of jagged yellowed teeth.
 
"That young sir is Goregnasher the Bloodhemoth."
 
Eddie stifled a laugh at the name, but found himself fascinated by the design. He purchased it, almost in a daze. That night he had a dream about his overbearing and bullying boss Mr. Purvis. Purvis was asleep in his bed when suddenly the wall exploded and Goregnasher burst in. Eight feet tall and bulging muscle the beast preceded to pummel and rend Purvis into an unidentifiable mass. Eddie awoke with a start, but found himself amused by his dark fantasy of revenge. Then his phone rang.
 
"Dude did you hear about Purvis? He's friggin' dead man. I hear it was like a truck smashed though his place. Crazy stuff, like blood everywh..."
 
Eddie hung up on his co-worker, his body numb and eyes wide with shock. He staggered into his living room and peered at the figurine. It was in same place on his shelf, but now fresh red "paint" adorned the axe and tentacled maw. His mind raced as he stared at it. Then, almost imperceptibly it seemed to move. Then to grow as if Eddie was willing it. He stepped back in fear, but there was a part of him, deep down, that began to ponder the possibilities that lie ahead.
 
 

Gotta say, I _love_ the whole "Monkey's Paw" vibe going on in there.  When will the seller display a lovely figurine to his next customer, opening "ah, you have an eye for detail, Sir.  This one is 'Tormented Eddie...."
 
Outstanding, Sir!
 

 
 

Eddie Blatnick was an average unremarkable guy who enjoyed tabletop war games and rpgs. They provided a bit of an escape from his mundane life. He was attending a convention and walking amongst the booths checking out figurines and games when he noticed a small unadorned table in the corner. He approached the table where a man was sitting behind three figurines on a small green felt strip. One of them caught his eye in particular.
 
"What is that?" 
 
The vendor looked up and Eddie noticed he had mismatched eyes, one dull brown and the other an odd sickly green. The vendor smiled at Eddie revealing a row of jagged yellowed teeth.
 
"That young sir is Goregnasher the Bloodhemoth."
 
Eddie stifled a laugh at the name, but found himself fascinated by the design. He purchased it, almost in a daze. That night he had a dream about his overbearing and bullying boss Mr. Purvis. Purvis was asleep in his bed when suddenly the wall exploded and Goregnasher burst in. Eight feet tall and bulging muscle the beast preceded to pummel and rend Purvis into an unidentifiable mass. Eddie awoke with a start, but found himself amused by his dark fantasy of revenge. Then his phone rang.
 
"Dude did you hear about Purvis? He's friggin' dead man. I hear it was like a truck smashed though his place. Crazy stuff, like blood everywh..."
 
Eddie hung up on his co-worker, his body numb and eyes wide with shock. He staggered into his living room and peered at the figurine. It was in same place on his shelf, but now fresh red "paint" adorned the axe and tentacled maw. His mind raced as he stared at it. Then, almost imperceptibly it seemed to move. Then to grow as if Eddie was willing it. He stepped back in fear, but there was a part of him, deep down, that began to ponder the possibilities that lie ahead.
 
 

I can see why now. 

Enoch stepped out of the wall- slowly, carefully.  The aging machinery behind him had been making unpleasant noises since the Eldenwise had started them up, but as their labor increased, so, too, did the protest of the great metal beasts.  Some hummed and hissed menacingly while others creaked or chirped or simply screamed a shrill, endless cry.  Toward the end, before the room had turned inside out, the metal beasts had begun to rattle and clatter and breathe smoke-  so much worse than the dust they coughed when the Eldenwise awakened them; great black clouds of it, filled with scents Enoch had never before experienced. 
 
"This," he reasoned, "must be what the air is like without the filter."  Unconsciously, he adjusted his filtration mask and the hoses that projected from it, the hoses that increased the surface area of the filters and which collected untainted water from the air itself.    Then the room turned inside out.
 
"Almost!  Be ready!"  Yelled one of the Eldenwise.  "It will be ready soon!"  
 
Enoch began to question himself for the first time since the quest had begun.  He hafted his axe partly in habit and partly to reassure himself.  He, like all the other candidates, had been trained from birth, strengthened, and taught the ways of war and personal combat by the Eldenwise, the oldest members of the tribes, who kept alive in themselves many secrets of the past.  He had heard tales that the Eldenwise had advised the tribal chiefs since before his grandfather's grandfather's grandfather had been born, and untold years before that.
 
Always, in all tribes, the Eldenwise were the same: studious, critical, cautious, scholarly.  And every year did they come together to select the cleverest child and the strongest, fastest child from each tribe, and it was a great honor to have one of one's own children selected.  These children would be trained the rest of the lives: the brightest children would learn the mysteries of the past and other knowledge long-since dead, dead perhaps even before the Burning that poisoned the air and boiled the seas and resulted in the desert lands in which Enoch was raised.  These children would go on to become the next of the Eldenwise as their tutors aged and died.
 
The warriors had a different lot.  When they were ready- when the Eldenwise had declared them to be at the peak of their training and reflexes and the various elixirs had grown their bodies to be as durable and strong as possible, they were drawn together, and these banded brothers were ordered to fight one another, to the death.
 
The Eldenwise watched; always they watched and judged and scored and after days of sequestered discussion, they would determine if the survivor had been worthy.  "There remains only a chance for two," they have always claimed, "and that which survives tells us of a mighty warrior, beyond all human ability, and as great as the tallest of the black ruins in the valley below.  Only that warrior may pass, escorted by the brightest of the Tenderwise.  Each the other will serve, and each the other will protect to the best of their abilities."  Then they would pass judgement.  Enoch wondered how horrible it must be to turn and fight and ultimately slay men who were raised with you from childhood- men who were closer than clan: men who were your closest brothers.  Enoch shuddered as he wondered what it must be like, in a world with far-too-few people already, to have done this soul-crushing thing..., and then to be found unworthy....
 
The unworthy were allowed to return to their tribes, but so far as he knew, none ever had ever done so.  "Who could?" He wondered aloud, softly.  Those who had gone before always seemed to orefer a self-exile out into the Sands, and perhaps to the Great Glass Sea beyond that.
 
"No distractions!" Screamed one of the Eldenwise.  "The time is here!  Stay alert!"
 
Enoch stared dead ahead, the small form of the chosen Tenderwise just visible in his peripheral vision.  The Tender's eyes were beyond wide open, a look of absolute incredulity bursting through his features.  Enoch suspected his own face would look the same, if only he understood what was going on.  He had seen these strange metal forms in the ruins all his life, and had no idea that they were slumbering beasts.
 
The air in front of him simmered and glowed for a moment, and the strange metal creatures began to howl and vibrate in agony.  "We've not much tolerance, and less time!  It has to be now!" Screeched and Eldenwise.
 
"I know!" another screamed over the cacophony.  "But the power is weak!  We are _trying_!"
 
Enoch stared again at the air in front him, not knowing what to expect.  He thought again about what it must be like.  He counted himself blessed that he had not been found unworthy.  After countless years, the Eldenwise has found a warrior they believed to be worthy: a giant of a man, possessed of unparalleled strength and stamina, able to wield his axe almost faster than the eye could follow.
 
His axe.  He loved his axe.  He had been trained to love his weapon, and the ruins were scrounged for metal again and again, until the forges produced a weapon that Enoch felt was perfect for his combat style, and large and durable enough to counter blows easily-- an important distinction, as he was now charged forever with protecting the Tinderwise who was selected to travel with him.
 
The air shimmered again, and for a brief instant, he believed he saw something that was not there, but even as it caught his attention, it disappeared.  Suddenly it was back- a spot of color in his world of rust and dust and char-- and it began to grow.
 
Color.  An amazing expanse of it: green and blue and a crisp clear horizon unmuted by the all pervasive poisons of the dust.  He stilled his wonder and focused, tensing for the leap.  He gestured to the harness pack he was wearing and the Tinder obediently climbed into it and strapped himself to the giant.  Enoch himself went over everything he had been taught until he could repeat it:  one evil man split the world from its Destiny.  There was another path where that man was stopped by a great warrior and a brilliant Elden-  no; that was certainly what he was, but that was not the word they had used... A "Scientist."  A great and mighty warrior and a brilliant scientist, and a team of men and women of incredible, magic-like power.  Enoch must find this team, join them, bond with them, and when the time comes that a great evil threatens to turn the destiny of the world toward the Great Burning, he must enlist their aid and risk his life to prevent it at all costs.
 
This is why he stepped into the scene that appeared like a magic globe in the center of the room, even as the immobile roaring metal beasts themseves began to burn and die and as he heard at least two of the Eldenwise scream in agony-- he could not afford to look back, lest the chance be lost forever to the last of men.
 
"Now!" One of the Eldenwise demanded.  "It must be now!"  Enoch leaped into the alien scene that filled the center of the room and at once was surrounded by darkness.  He reached forwars with his free hand and felt a purchase- stone! A ledge of some sort.  He pulled himself forward even as his mind told,him that 'up' and 'down' were no longer relevant.  After painful effort, light shown through the lenses or his filtration mask, and he felt upon his shoulder the caress of the coolest beeeze he had ever known.  He paused and carefully turned his head to tale stock of the situation.  His head and shoulder protruded from some massive barrier of shaped stone, like those found in the ruins, but shot through with color- red with hints of gold and white and grey.  He shut down his fear, ignore his confusion, and braced himself for the exertion of pulling his weapon hand through.
 
 
Enoch stepped out of the wall-  slowly, carefully....
 
 

Guard
 
Han Jin grew up in the Triad, his father was a member, his older brother still is, his younger brother is seeking to be. He took the oaths at an unusually young age, after covering for several superiors at a heist gone wrong. Loyalty is rewarded.
While Jin was in prison, enemies of the Triad attempted to eliminate him, and despite his skill at brawling managed to seriously injure him. He was then offered the opportunity to participate in a medical experiment - if it succeeded, he would get time off his sentence, and while he was in the medical wing, his enemies couldn't get at him. Jin agreed.
The experiment was to awaken the perceptive areas of the mind, and it was quite successful. Too much so for most of the subjects, who couldn't deal with the enhanced flow of information, and went slowly mad. Han Jin did not. He learned how to "dial down" the effect in normal life, and thus was able to sleep and act normally on a busy street without sensory overload.
He also realized it had not done as the scientists had hoped. They had wanted to enhance the existing senses; actually, they had made him psychic, able to see everything around him, 360 degrees, and through walls and the ground, only metals blocking his vision. He kept this knowledge to himself.
They reluctantly released Jin as agreed, and he has served the Triad faithfully ever since, as the ultimate look out and security man.

This is a cute game.  I refuse to do the obvious, and that snout's more gator than croc anyway, so:
 
Florida Man - The product of a botched supersoldier program using retroviral treatments to empower "volunteers" with animalistic capabilities, Florida Man is largely amnesiac about his previous life (much like fellow test subject the Mighty Bullfrog).  He's acted a shades-of-gray hero or antihero (and occasionally a villainous dupe) over the last few years as he seeks to learn more about himself and the scientists who transformed him.  As you might expect, he has superhuman strength and durability, his jaws that can bite through a steel I-beam, and can hold his breath for absurd periods of time, see in the dark, and manage some remarkable short-term bursts of speed for a brick archetype.  His blood also contains powerful antiviral and antibiotic properties and for unknown reasons doesn't trigger immune responses in most humans, making transfusions a viable cure for many infections as well as promoting regenerative healing - with only the smallest risk of passing along his "condition" and creating a new gator-human hybrid with scrambled memories.  Honest, it's probably perfectly safe.  Don't ask about She-Gator.
 
Florida Man is quick to take offense when mistaken for anything even vaguely Egyptian, and insists he's a US citizen who was born in Tampa (he thinks...) despite lack of proper ID.  Other things that annoy him are luggage jokes, asking him if he eats his meat raw ("Gross, I don't even like sushi."), and people assuming he's an idiot.  His altered physique still hasn't managed to completely obliterate that Floridian accent, although he hisses more than he used to.  He does not, in fact, like biting people at all ("You all taste terrible.  What, do you think I don't have taste buds?") and usually sticks to chomping inanimate objects as a show of force.  Cold temperatures (below freezing) make him increasingly torpid, and he'll eventually lapse into complete inactivity if exposed for long enough.  He also doesn't like salt water much, although he's not as sensitive to it as actual alligators are.
 
Those are loose swimming trunks he's wearing, not some weird foreign skirt, and lots of supers wear utility belts.  How else is he supposed to keep his phone dry?  The boots are custom jobs designed to handle his mass and amphibian lifestyle, and the weighted wristbands add a little something extra to his punches.  He might bundle up in the largest trenchcoat he can find if trying to go incognito or if it's cold out, which works about as badly as you'd expect.  If he's working with technically-minded allies they'll usually try to find him a holo-projector disguise gadget and/or some kind of personal heating field as needed, but he tends to break such things pretty quickly during brawls.

Andrew Dezlmin was exploring the Louisiana countryside when he got lost. He attempted to make his way back when he got trapped in a bog. Going under,  he was certain that he was lost,  but a voice in his head said that he could escape if he did something else in exchange. Agreeing, he discovered that he not only was out of the bog but back in the city, transformed.  Now, he attempts to make the most of his new abilities,  but has a voice telling him what he should do all the time. 
 
 

Expositor
 
Need someone to impart plot-relevant data to the audience? Casey Grey is your man! Capable of many accents, and with a bold, vibrant baritone voice, he can appear as the explaining scientist, the man in the briefing room, or even just the voice-over narrator in the case of less imaginative performances. In a conflict, his power to narrate becomes dangerously powerful, as it manifests as an area effect mind control - what he says to do, people do.

Citymaster joined out of a sense of obligation. He'd been part of Street Force back in the 80's, a group of low-level heroes protecting their neighbourhoods and getting together for major problems like Viper. He was the juniormost member, and had been well instructed by his elders, like Harlem Warrior and High Rise. So far as he knows, he's the only member still active.
 
William Washington has progressed a fair bit in his technological understanding since then, and the Citymaster armour is no longer considered low-level. It's still a bit less well armoured than many other suits, but makes up for it in speed and evasive capability - it's very much the opposite of the lumbering power suit. With tear-gas projectors, net guns and stun bomb launchers, he's well positioned to take on agents and mooks, but needs to get up close and personal with his shock gauntlets for real supervillains.
 
William is seeking to pass on to a new generation the lessons that were taught to him by his mentors, as well as continue to protect the city he loves as long as he can.

The Ingénue
 
Amelie Monroe appears to be a shy, meek, and frail young woman whose large doe  eyes exude innocence. This is all the convincing act of an accomplished and skilled con artist. No one is suspicious of whatever tale of woe she weaves in order to get what she wants. She came to the attention of The Director when she conned Best Boy out of a small fortune by playing to his vanity and ego. Impressed, the mad auteur recruited her to assist in his schemes.

(You could've done Hex & the City, a team of hot vigilante witches in NYC.)
 
 
 
 

(Thank you Quackhell for picking a New York team. And welcome back)
 
'Tec
 
The investigator of the group is Saul Cranley. Unlike some of the investigating crowd he can take a bit of a hit and still keep going. He knows police procedure and how to deal with a crime scene, what clues are relevant and which might be red herrings. The name is short for Detective although some people think it relates to technological devices and try to hit him with EMPs or similar with little to no effect. He was part of a team before hand and can teach the youngsters a few things like proper liaison with the police and other authorities, team work and beware of your contacts and allies as they could turn on you at a moment's notice. You see Paul is under a curse. He cannot leave New York City. That is the price he pays for crossing The Sybll like his friend The Flying Dutchman. Trying to leave the city leaves him feeling ill and actual removal leaves him comatose. Returning to the city will restore him but it takes time.
 
(In 2011 I did the Flying Dutchman and only when putting the team in a document did I realise that I had not done any of the other members of the team although I had outline the curse effects on some of them like never being able to go to the States again, never leaving the water for more than an hour, never being able to leave New York and losing their powers. That is why I wanted to do a New York team)

Shelby Court loves his toys. Action figures, model planes, die-cast cars, he adores them all, and he plays with them all the time.
To the point where he's become very good at maintaining and repairing them. Sadly, there's little money in that, and he needs more cash to get more toys.
Until he realised he could use the one to get the other.
He made some fairly basic robots. He could make ones that were strong, and fast, ones that flew or rocketed by. But he was no mad scientist, and he had no idea about artificial intelligence. So, instead, he'd set a pre-set series of instructions, let the robot do them, then send another set of instructions from his control board. If he kept it a reasonable number - five or six instructions in a row - he could let that robot do it's thing while he sent instructions to another one. And another. And another.
So Shelby can usually be found surrounded by a swarm of robots, some pulling the heist as ordered, some doing seemingly totally random stuff, some sitting and awaiting their next string of instructions. 
Huh, wasn't this like that old board game his brother had, with the cute miniatures? Oh yeah, it was!
So Shelby Court became Roborally.