Pattern Ghost

SACK OF HAMMERS 2020
There Are Dumber Candidates

I suppose you'll have to watch the movie and see how she got that kind of power. Judging by the look on Thor's face, that wasn't the expected result of throwing Mjolnir at her.
 
Since it's the lead up to the Infinity War, I'm going to guess one (or more) of the Stones is involved.

You'll probably want to start with coming up with a logo which makes the 'i' really obvious or they'll think you're selling houses.

I got a real GotG vibe from the trailer.  Not that that's a bad thing.

Looks like there might be a Skurge at Ghjallerbru nod in there. 

IMO, inhumans are better than mutants in the context of the MCU anyway. I'm fine with the X-men being in their own contained universe, as a single origin of powers works better with their story.

IMO, inhumans are better than mutants in the context of the MCU anyway. I'm fine with the X-men being in their own contained universe, as a single origin of powers works better with their story.

Today's effort....
 
Outcry didn't have an answer to my question, and truthfully, while I had a firm grip on him, I could see outside the corner of my eye another Miscreant, a woman with tattoos over a barely clad body, including a tattoo that served in place of a domino mask.  I understand that's not as rare as it used to be. Of course, what is rare is when those tattoos stretch from her body and attack things! Currently a tiger construct that had leaped from her flesh was menacing a crowd of three, while a tendril of black protruding from her skin cracked like a whip.
 
Yeah, no time to goof around with Outcry here. I brought my fist down with a blow that made  my earlier heavyweight punch look like a love tap. His eyes rolled in the back of his head right before they closed and I let him drop to the ground. I charged the tiger with my best tackle and, since it appeared to be some kind of freaky construct, didn't bother holding back. It shattered with a roar, and faded only to reappear, as its original tattoo I guess, on the woman's shoulder.
 
"Neat trick," I confessed, "You've got team mates down, on the floor hands behind your back!" Now it wasn't like I had a pair of handcuffs on me, but I had worked with the coast guard and it was the tone more than the methods I was copying here. I think some call it a  Voice of Authority. It does not work on everyone.
 
"Oh go @@@@ yourself," She said with a smirk. So, case in point, "Name's Body Suit. Who are you? Some sort of Fish Guy?" Her eyes went to my logo.
 
"Eel," I said, eyes narrowing. You know I may have to take some razing from team mates, but pass on the villain heckling, "Okay. I gave you a chance." 
 
Her response was a lightning quick lash of that ink tendril. It hit like a bullwhip, and I'm not going to lie, the speed and the loud CRACK sound took me off guard. Amateur mistake on my part, and I was embarrassed by it. Bullets flatten against me, so impressive as this was in display? It really didn't hurt me. I had weaved back after the fact anyway.
 
"Chicken of the sea," Body Suit snickered.
 
"If you don't mind," I said with some irritation, "I'll do the quips. I'm the hero," and I surged towards her to lay a punch on her, only to find a barrage of tattoos come to life swarming me, and shielding her. My blow went wide and she lashed again. This time  I didn't flinch, "You'll need more than that." I warned her.
 
Again I swung, and again I missed. She was agile, and that was...frustrating.
 
She wasn't completely on the defensive however, Body Suit's fingers slide to her belly where there was a tattoo of a coiled dragon. It's eye glowed, it's head lifted and then it breathed fire!
 
I did not scream. I wanted to, and almost did. I don't suppose it will come as a surprise to anyone that a guy whose body had adapted for aquatic enviroments might be a bit vulnerable to drying out. I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't have to dunk myself in a bathtub every 12 hours or I die  or anything, and I'm still far tougher than 90% of the folks on the planet when it comes to taking any kind of punishment, but going back to scales of one to ten? Whenever fire is involved, add two at least to how much I'm going to feel it.
 
But I didn't scream. I gasped in pain, grimaced visibly, and staggered, but I did not scream. Yay, machismo.  Macho pride aside, I was painfully aware I couldn't take too many more hits like that. And I hadn't laid a glove on her yet.
 
I raised my foot up to stomp hard, the shockwave would pop her into the air like a toy. I'd done it before and it was damn hard to dodge even for gymnastic types. Then I realized- I couldn't! Well, I could, but I'd toss and tumble some of the nearby innocents! My eyes fell on the three people she'd been terrorizing before. 
And Body Suit's gaze followed mine, "Oh wow, you're into that...hey hero, Catch!" 
 
The dragon head roared again, and once more flames belched out, not towards me, but the citizenry! I had heard the Miscreants weren't big on killing, but maybe they figured second and third degree burns didn't count? 
 
I don't create forcefields. I don't teleport crowds to safety. I did the only thing I could. I did another standing leap! This time, into the path of the flames! There were screams this time, the folks behind me yelling in panic, but none of them were touched- Thank the Lord.  As the flames scorched over my body, I crashed onto the ground with all the dignity of today's catch, if today's catch came pre-cooked. For a moment, I threatened to black out.
 
"Fish Fry!" Body Suit cackled. In a moment, I'd be up again. In a moment I'd get to try a clear shot at a shock wave move. It was a moment I didn't have. The Dragon head inhaled again.
 
"You poor thing," Another woman's voice spoke up cattily, "How bad was your original complexion that you had to bury it in those cheap tattoos like that?"  It was Arctic Fox, riding up above on an ice support that grew and moved to her will.
 
Below her was another Miscreant, some guy trapped and helpless up to his neck in a block of ice , teeth chattering. Body Suit's eyes didn't look at him, they glared at Fox, "Shut your mouth, whore."
 
Fox gave a disdainful shrug, "Hey, I'm not the one with a dollar sign over her flat ass."
 
Oh, I was forgotten and then some!  The stream of profanity from Body Suit at that  would have made sailors blush! One thing I knew,  now I had the time. The folks who were in danger had finally gotten clear. I brought both arms down on the street right behind Body Suit and sent a shockwave! 
 
I'm rather proud of myself. Twice burned and on my knees, and I still managed to pull it off. Body Suit was flung upward into the air, and landed onto the ground flat and helpless.
 
Fox clocked her hard with a cold blast, then looked down at me, "You okay?" As if showing concern for me cost her something.
 
"Never been rescued by a mean girl for justice before," I smiled getting up, "Thanks."
 
A smile escaped her at my comment, but she banished it with visible force of will, then she was off again.
 
The battle had started out seven against five in the Miscreants favor.  That, and the battle, was over. While I'd been dealing with Outcry and Body Suit, the other New Samaritans had each taken down at least one each. I could see a shrunken woman in a basetball sized force bubble that Lady Obsidian had created, bouncing against it like a bug in a jar.  The Matriarch of the team had done more than act as cage maker for Pinprick's oppoenent. Another Miscreant with powered armor had apparently tangled with her hoping his tech out matched hers. Clearly, it did not. The suit's power source was damaged, and he was now stuck like a turtle on it's back.
 
That was five, "Did any of them get away?"  I asked looking for the other two. 
 
"I think one may have, " Tornado said, dropping a cyborg with metal wings to the ground, "Robo-Raptor gave me more trouble than I thought and brought his team mate time to book it. "
 
"Robo-Raptor?" I winced , "Ouch."
 
Lady Obsidian said calmly, "Well, I won't lie. I was hoping for a clean sweep, but the important thing is no one was hurt and we've interrupted their little show. Their last member was a speedster, so she could be  anywhere by now."
 
"Or she could be right here," A new voice called out. The owner of the voice was an impressively built guy with a big V on his chest wearing red with gold highlights. He was flying, and frankly, I think it would have looked better with a cape. If I could fly? I would totally rock the cape. In his arms was an unconscious woman in a costume that looked like a cross between a punk rocker and a roller derby queen.  He set her down before Lady Obsidian, "Back Block was quick, but she wasn't expecting me so I took advantage of the element of surprise." He sounded almost apologetic about it.
 
"Thank you, Valorous," Lady Obsidian said, "This ties things up rather nicely."
 
"Val!" And suddenly there was Arctic Fox in Valorous' now available arms, laying one hell of a kiss on him, "You got her, thank you so much. I'm so glad to see you." She kissed him again.
 
"Not as glad as I am to see you," He gushed at her.
 
"Gonna puke now," Pinprick gave a whisper everyone could hear.
 
"Be nice," Lady Obsidian's voice came on the communicator, directed at the little archer in a way the non-member wouldn't hear.  However, her own tone was guarded.
 
The flying strong man and the snow queen gazed into each other's eyes as if we weren't there at all for a moment, then finally, Valorous looked about again, "Looks like catching Back Block by surprise was about the only thing left for me to do. Nice work here."
 
"De Nada," Tornado said with a smile and shrug, "These punks were more concerned with looking good for their show than team work."
 
"And who is this?" His eyes fell on me. I couldn't read him well but I could tell he was making a survey on my build, height, logo? Was this some sort of 'size up the other strong guy an wonder if you could take him?' thing, or was it as analytical as it seemed? 
 
"We got ourselves a Fish Guy," Pinprick said, "This is Eel. Newest member."
 
Arctic Fox shot Pinprick a glare of death at that bit. Clearly she had not given up her hopes of having her boyfriend take the spot instead.
 
"Ah," Valorous disentangled himself from his girl long enough to approach me and offer his hand, "Nice to meet you, Eel." I shook it, half way expecting some sort of macho bone crushing contest. Instead, it was firm, but no more.
 
"Nice to meet you, Valorous," I told him.
 
"You appear to be a bit burned, need medical attention?" He asked, actually sounding worried. Huh, maybe I was being unfair to the man just because I felt my position on the team threatened. That wasn't fair of me and I decided to give him a chance.
 
"Nothing a quick dip won't fix," I assured him. And it was true. I actually regenerate in water. Injuries that would linger for days fade in minutes if I'm submerged, "But thanks for the concern."
 
With this jabber going on, it might seem like we neglected the villain round up. Actually, Project Tank was on the job.  If your city doesn't have an outpost nearby it can take a dangerously long time for them to get to you, but this town as a regular stop over for them thanks to all the hero activity. Project Tank does transport of super powered felons to containment facilities specifically build to deal with their powers. It cost taxpayers a bundle, but not nearly as much as they'd end up paying if they couldn't hold their super-villains. The term "Throw them in the Tank" had taken on whole new meanings in the twenty years since they got up and running.
 
There was talk of a private industry to handle the job 'for cheaper', but that withered on the vine when the millionaire who had been lobbying for the right to do so along with every backer he had was found dead, each with a one hundred dollar bill shoved in their mouths. On each Benjamin was written "It's not as profitable as you think."
 
No one know what villain did it, or why they were okay with the fed doing it but not the private sector. All folks knew was suddenly no corporation wanted to touch the job of privatizing holding super-powered types.
 
Crazy world.
 
Men in gray uniforms were slapping power suppression cuffs and injecting medically approved knock out drugs into the Miscreants. No chances were taken. I winced a bit at the sight of titanium needles going into their bodies, but I suppose I couldn't blame them.
 
Crazy world.
 
"Regeneration," Valorous was saying, "Handy. That's one up on me. So are you from..."
"I'm not Atlantean," I said, perhaps a bit quickly.
 
"Oh," He said, making no more of it, perhaps because he turned to see that Project Tank was not alone on the scene. Reporters had begun to swarm in. In an age where everyone's phone was a high quality camera, they were no doubt desperate to play catch up.
 
I looked to Lady Obsidian for the signal to get the heck out of here, but she was filling the Project Tank guys in on the Miscreants' abilities and the like. Tornado was happily chatting with a female reporter and ... Pinprick, had vanished. 
 
I decided to follow his example, only to notice Valorous waving some reporters over. I wasn't prepared for this. Relief washed through me as it seemed they were focusing on him.
 
"Valorous, can you tell us about the situation?" "Do you think the Miscreants will have copy cat villain teams inspired by their social media fame seeking?" "Are you finally joining the New Samaritans?" came a barrage of questions at him.
 
"I only helped at the end," He said holding out a hand, "And I hope anyone considering emulating the Miscreants will realize where they're all ending up for their criminal behavior and that that will discourage them. Our youth need real role-models like Lady Obsidian and the New Samaritans, and lastly... because I'm being called away to aid another, no. I'm not a member though I'd be honored. Instead, they have chosen this fine hero: Fish Guy." He slapped me on the back like we were best friends, "And I know he'll learn much under their tutelage." 
 
"My name's Eel..." I started to blurt but cameras went off in my face and notes were being taken.. I shot one more glance up at the departing independent hero. He had just given the wrong name to the Press.  To add on top of that, his choice of words made me sound more like a sidekick than an equal member.
 
And I saw the briefest of smirks cross his features before that noble veneer returned, I came to one very strong conclusion.
 
The bastard had done it to me on purpose!

The sad thing about Lucas, is I think he actually believes his revisionist nonsense.

Okay, today we don't quite get to the fight, but we're moving along
 
  "So how's this work?" I asked feeling a bit silly for asking. It was clear they had a system of some sort. And silly new guy that I was, I had not read the employee handbook.   Arctic Fox made another sniff sound.   I came this close to telling her she really needed to see a doctor about that if it persisted for more than 24 hours.    Fortunately, Pinprick was his usual helpful self, "Use your eyes, genius, this may have been a food court, but it's a lot more than that now." He gestured further back, and damn it, if he wasn't right.   I'd gotten so caught in meeting Arctic Fox and Tornado... no, strike that, Arctic Fox was trying to get rid of me, she didn't get top billling.... Tornado and Arctic Fox that I hadn't really looked at my surroundings. Yes, it still had a kitchen set up, tables and more so this was obviously the 'mess hall' for the team, but one area had, instead of ticky tacky tables for four or six people, a large crescent shaped table with several seats on the outter side of said crescent looking at a wall which had an array of very high tech looking screens.    On said screens were what I could only assume were different camera taps of the streets and buildings of Costa Sagrado.  It's not as shady as it sounds. Now a days, a lot of buildings have their cameras streaming onto the internet and anyone can see what's going on. Of course, others did look more like the views from street cameras only law enforcement was supposed to have access to, and a few may have been suspiciously akin to drone views.    On second thought, it was about as shady as it sounds. The superhero community has a bit of a beam in it's eye when it comes to privacy. We're very defensive our secret identies (And for darn good reason) but more than one hero or team has seen the advantage of putting others under surveillance. I can't say I was completely comfortable with it, but then I was the new guy here and it was a bit soon to make waves about it- no water related puns intended.   The images were not static, apparently they sorted and flipped to the center depending on how important it was in general. "A priority Algorhtym?" I inquired as I stared at the center scene. It was a group of supervillains, and for a moment my throat tightened at a memory.  But no, I didn't recogize any of them. Whew.   "Right you are, hon," Mabel's purring voice came from the table, "It looks like the Miscreants are at it again. Probably hoping for more hits."   "Mabel?" I said startled, "You're not just in the car?" I asked as I looked over the image studying these guys. The Miscreants (And what was with that name anyway?) seemed to consist of seven members that were currently robbing uptown, the financial district. What didn't make sense was they were mostly terrorizing the citizens outside on the streets, sure, some where being robbed, but others just ridiculed and tossed around, "You said something about hits?"   "The Miscreants live for social media hits to their website which goes up everytime authorities take it down, they consider themselves a supervillain reality TV show," Mabel explained, "And darling, I'm not the kind of girl to be tied down to anyone place. I'm just too generous."   "Fish Guy, if you're tagging along," Arctic Fox said as if I were some skinblemish she couldn't remove...yet, "Stop flirting with Mabel and get a move on. The Miscreants aren't killers but they don't exactly play soft."   I clamped down on my next comment because it might have been rude. Also, she was right. Response time was important and I wasn't exactly picking up the pace here.   "Someone give him a communicator," Pinprick suggested, "While Mabel strikes up the hovercar."   Tornado touched an impression in the table and a slim drawer opened, there were about 10 items that looked like hearing aids made of some kind of waxy plastic, "Take one, put it in your ear. It'll hook you up to the rest of us."   I grabbed one and slipped it in, "not a problem I..." then there was an odd sucking sound, and I swear the thing moved deeper in! The room spun for a second. "Gah," I said bracing myself as vertigo briefly engulfed me and that communicator slurped near my ear drum, "It's like it's trying to lick my brain."   "It'll pass, Fish Guy," Pinprick assured me.   Indeed, it already was, "You could have warned me," I grumbled and headed to the car.   "Where would be the fun in that?" Tornado chuckled, "I'll be flying side by side with Lady Obsidian."   Indeed, Lady Obsidian was standing outside the Hovercar with her armor now on and ready to go. The appearance off it was streamlined enough to let you know a woman was under there, one with scary looking gear. As her chosen handle indicated, the power armor appeared to be made of obsidian, all black and glassy, but I read somewhere it was actually high tech plastics coupled with forcefield engineering.   Pinprick leaped into the front seat of the hover car, while Arctic Fox slipped into the passenger side, leaving yours truly the back seat. The sky light opened, and with a whoosh, Tornado was just...gone! I mean, the skylight hadn't even finished and he shot through it and gone out of sight. Slower, but no less impressive, Lady Obsdian light up with a faint glow and followed.    "Test test test?" I muttered touching my ear where the communicator had gone as the hover car lifted up a distant third.   "Loud and Clear" Lady Obsidian's voice assured me despite the distance, and indeed she was. I could hear her perfectly well, which was good, because she had more to say, "Priorities for the New Samaratins: Lives of Innocents come first always. Try to keep the fight away from crowds. Don't get separated from the team if you can possibly help it. If you're not sure of the capabilities of who you are fighting, particularly defenses, best to go in soft and work your way up."   "Roger that," I said.   Arctic Fox rolled her eyes, "Roger that? God how Lame."   "I like it," Tornado chuckled, "Remember to check your six, over?"   "See what you started, Fish Guy?" Pinprick said irritably, "This gonna be a thing for at least a week with that. I can tell."   What could I say but... "Copy that."   Groans hit the comm, all save another chuckle from Tornado.

Well, it only took them two days to resolve the bugged AT issue. They ended up putting enough zen in my account to buy the AT, since it didn't unlock properly. That's a huge improvement over past tickets, so I'm happy.

Don't get carried away, I never said "I will never kill," that's a far leap from killing or just pulverizing a victim. Step off the high horse before you get thrown off.

I think "establishing their extremely complex relationships" may be a bit too much to hope for from the DCEU. I'll be happy if the Wonder Woman movie and the possible Batgirl movie avoid getting the stink of the rest of the franchise on them.

Well, it only took them two days to resolve the bugged AT issue. They ended up putting enough zen in my account to buy the AT, since it didn't unlock properly. That's a huge improvement over past tickets, so I'm happy.

Yeah he went a bit over the top psychotic berserk from "mister happy go lucky get laid." reason: whatever you retrofit or try to justify, it was just "we wanted to do Civil War so here's what happens..."

They weren't trying to. They were trying to break the Avengers up. That was the plan. They wanted the team shattered for the start of Infinity War. Period. 
 
That's why Steve answered yes, when he should have said, truthfully, "I knew Hydra had killed them. I didn't know they'd used Bucky to do it."

Terrorist attack stabbing victim pulls knife from own neck, kills terrorist with it

Also, if you really want to stick to the source material, then Wonder Woman will be tied up and gagged for half the movie so....

They're just using the Ultimate version of Aunt May. The MCU has drawn a lot of other stuff from the Ultimate titles, and done well with it, so I don't mind. As long as the movie's good.

Thanks for the encouragement, folks.
 
While Pinprick didn't go into details, it turns there are other Undersea Kingdoms. Somehow I had been hoping this whole 'Atlantis' bit was just some hazing ritual new guys went through, but while I wouldn't put it past Pinprick to 'give his team mates hell' as he'd said earlier; it was increasingly clear he was dead serious. This was a problem, if I had been selected for ties I didn't have to a kingdom I didn't even believe in, I might be getting a real quick heave ho. What was I going to do? Sue a super team? I mean, I could try. It had been done before, but usually for property damage or the like. Even that had changed. New York City was the first to write laws protecting superheroes from certain lawsuits as long as it could be proven they were saving lives in doing it or preventing greater damage. In 1973, a giant robot rose out of the Hudson and began to demolish some very expensive real estate in Manhattan.Well, the Vindicators, the Superteam in the area, who had been sued a year before for damage to a bridge (That they did break so a ship wouldn't smash against it) decided they'd save the people, but after evacuating them, let the robot have at the property of the very well to do. They explained to the authorities they could not take the legal risk for "mere property" especially with the city having sued them before. After the first penthouse crumbled, some say it was the fastest piece of legislation the city had ever signed. The team got around to trashing the robot, coincidentally finishing it off over the stately home of the guy who had sued them a year before. They swore it was just a fluke. Me? I think if some team has a name whose root word is 'vindictive' then you have no right to be surprised that they hold a grudge.
 
Incidentally, that's why New York City has more superhero teams than almost anywhere else in America today. It has the laws most forgiving to superheroic acts of destruction; be they the result of blunders or necessary firebreaks or what not. Many New Yorkers take pride in their superhero teams now, but in '73? I'm told the Vindicators got labelled everything from 'The X-tortion Men' to the 'Got us by the Short Hairs' Six. Even some superheroes at the time went on record saying they did not approve. But if not for them, and the laws in other states they inspired... who knows how many villains would have conquered a chunk of the nation all because the only ones who could hold them back were in prison or so in debt they couldn't afford a paper bag over their head let alone a mask? History has always interested me, but I'm a dabbler rather than a serious scholar.
 
Somehow it felt wrong to be even contemplating a lawsuit if I got thrown out, even if the New Samaritans and I did have an agreement of sorts. I glanced down below the city of Costa Sagrado. It wasn't like New York City (Which I did visit once for two weeks), and it sure as hell wasn't like any place in North Carolina. Costa Sagrado got its name from the mission some Spanish priests had set up here. Before them, some Native American tribes had fought each other and bleed over the place, until diseases from Europe came over and devastated them. Then Mexico, and then finally the United States became chief rent collectors of the place. Even in the 21st century, there were touches of history and change both. The shore was most prominent, it was the city's prize jewel, even from the car I could see figures racing along the sands in swimsuits and running into the spray. Further north of them was where the more industrial shipping went on. I had heard strong efforts had been made in the last fifteen years to keep the waters as clean as possible. Good thing, I would be swimming there. When you're the Fish Guy on a team, that's where your team mates expect you to patrol.
 
 Damn it, now I was doing it.
 
"Yeah, that's where you'll be working most like," Pinprick said noticing where my gaze had fallen. The car seat he was in had an arm rest he could hop up on and look out the window from. Mabel, it seemed, was doing all the driving.
 
Pinprick continued, "It's like any city.... you get your ethnic neighborhoods, your poor neighborhoods, which are often but not always the same. You got your gated communities where every place has a pool if not a freaking mansion. You've got a batch of sky scrappers down town and in the financial district but it flattens out fast outside of them.  A few parks of green, one you do not go out at night if you're a norm, the other quite nice 24/7. There's the college districts, a theater / cultural district, a few malls on shaky grounds, and some pretty decent restaurants scattered through out. We're the only Superteam in the city, but there are one or two independents. You may run into them. Watch out for Bloodwatch, he's a psychopath."
 
"Bloodwatch?" I blinked.
 
"Man does not know the 90s are over," Pinprick answered, "Vigilante type. Carries a big gun."
 
"He shoots people? " I blurted before I thought it through.
 
"No, genius, he caresses them, tenderly," Pinprick snorted, "Yes, what part of psychopath with gun don't you get? He's a wanted man for his bull#### judge jury and executioner crap.
 
I flushed a bit at the jibe , though I guess I couldn't blame him for it completely,  "Why haven't you guys caught him yet?"
 
"First, he doesn't exactly hang around. Second, we did ... more than once. He's escaped. He's a nutbar, but he is an extremely talented nutbar and there's a segment of the population that cheers him on," Pinprick frowned, "He makes it sound easy and clear cut; people like easy and clear cut. It means they don't have to think as much. Last time we think a prison guard helped him slip out. We can't prove it," His tone was frustrated.
 
I decided to change the subject, "So.. how did you get to be?" I brought one hand down closer to the other in a reducing motion.
 
"Part of the Smurf Village?" He raised a brow.
 
"Uhm, yeah," I answered, "Just curious."
 
"You're going to get really bored with origin stories around here after about the third one, trust me," Pinprick said, "But I'll give you the Reader's Digest version: Don't go drinking around mushroom rings if you ever take a vacation in certain parts of Europe."
 
"Fairies?" I sputtered.
 
"Yup. At least, I think it was. Mostly I remember waking up with a splitting hang over after a black out you wouldn't believe. I was wearing this get up, this magic bow and quiver which never seem to run out of arrows, and had a tune of hunting horns that I couldn't get out of my head for a week. I figure...fairies."
 
"But you don't really know because it's all a blur?" I clarified.
 
Pinprick pointed at me, "Hey kid, the amnesic tough guy is a staple of song and legend."
 
"But, from drinking? That's more a staple of frat parties."
 
"Sigma Pi, mother####er!" He mimed chugging a beer.
 
I guess I blinked and stared at him a bit too long because he followed it up with a shake of his head, "Relax, Fish Guy, I'm yanking your chain."
 
"Ah, so the fairy tale thing was made up..."
 
"Are you kidding? No that part's real, I think.... I was just never part of a frat. You know," He observed, "You're going to need to lighten up a little if we're going to work together."
 
"Sorry, still finding my feet and hoping I'm not going to get kicked out because I'm not an Atlantean on my mother's side or anything," I looked out the window again. Mabel had been giving us something of a guided tour, "Where's the headquarters for the New Samaritans anyway?"
 
"We're almost there, Tiger," Mabel purred, catching me off guard. I wasn't used to a flying car, let alone one that sounded like torch singer. We moved over a large parking area that had been sealed off and towards a ....
 
"Is that a mall?" I inquired  surprised. It sure looked like a mall, heck, there was even a faded sign.
 
"It was a mall," Pinprick clarified, "It closed. One of us bought it, converted it, and now it's a base with loads of room, plenty of safe space around it where nothing but parking spaces and lamp posts get hurt if some villain finds out where we are and attacks. And the inside looks so much better than the out. Trust me, you're going  to love it."
 
The heavily tinted skylight split open, and we lowered down into the base. You could tell it had been a mall, sure, the layout was the same. But the tiles and patterns had been shifted. It was like a mix between Byzantium styles and the interior of the Enterprise D;  and they managed to do it without being garish. Mabel opened the doors to let us out, and I stepped out onto the spiral designed floor and I couldn't help it.
 
"Wow," I said louder than I intended, and my voice echoed. Did you ever notice how when you really want a good word to express wonder, you're too caught up in the wonder to use it? Yeah, I have a vocabulary, I swear. It's just, at that moment, it had failed me. Guiding sci fi lights flickered between ancient designs. A half dozen drones, made of high tech plastic so they almost appeared to be glass, were paroling down the length of the floors. Now that the skylight was sealed, I glanced up to feel the light pour through in a prism like pattern. I guess somehow it was more tinted from the outside than the inside because the sun was gloriously bright if somewhat diffused as if going through a million clear rain drops.
 
"Glad you approve," The response was warm, older, genuinely pleased. I turned to pay my respects and was once again surprised. I wasn't surprised to see a woman in her sixties, or that she was African American. Lady Obsidian may have worn powered armor from the start, but she'd never hidden her sex or race from anyone. Indeed, she was quite the civil rights Icon to some though a few thought she should have done more. I was more startled at how classy, even down right attractive she still looked at her age. It wasn't a matter of looking that much younger, it's just she appeared to be one of those lucky women who had not only stayed in great shape, but time had decided to refine rather than wither. She wasn't wearing her namesake hued power armor but instead was layered in a shear indoor kind of jacket of light blues over a darker blue blouse. She had been outed some time ago, her secret Identity was Vivian Vernon (Yeah, more heroes were alliterative back then), Doctor Vernon actually, as she had more PHDs than any five cans of alphabet soup put together, but to many of us, she'd always be...
 
"Lady Obsidian," I gave a nod of respect, "Ma'am, it's nice to meet you. I'm a big fan."
 
Pinprick rolled his eyes at the 'ma'am' but at least he wasn't calling me a kiss ass, "Boss, Fish Guy. Fish Guy? Lady Obsidian aka Doctor Vernon."
 
"Please, call me Vivian, young man," she motioned me to start following, "Lady Obsidian: You know why I first took that title?"
 
"Civil Rights movement was strong in play," I answered, "Your armor was still in its early stages, but you wanted folks to know you were a woman and African American. Your autobiography also stated you had grown up listening to your father, a man you admired, getting called 'Boy' by people half his age. You decided you'd take a title that would include an element of respect."
 
"You read my autobiography?" She was surprised and perhaps a bit pleased.
 
"I like history," I started to explain, "You know, the stories from way back when are so rich and complex. I mean, supers in those days were the real pioneers and they were so often zeitgeists for their times. I..." It took me a moment to realize my mouth had run off, leaving some filter in my brain to chase after screaming 'wait, stop... it needs a rewrite'.
 
A slim brow rose on her still lovely face, "History...way back when? My time... mmmmm. Do go on."
 
I am not a complete idiot. My brain finally tackled my mouth to the ground, and it sank into me how what I said might have been taken. Finally, I managed, "I'm really not sure I should. Go on that is."
 
"How's that size 12 tasting, Fish Guy?" Pinprick stage whispered.
 
"Size ten actually," I shrugged.
 
"Well aren't we petite?" the six inch archer smirked.
 
A smile crawled across Dr. Vernon's face , perhaps in spite of herself, "Leave him alone, Pinprick. We need a little enthusiasm on this team. Poise? Poise will come later, won't it young man?"
 
"Yes, ma'am," I assured her, "Lots of poise."
 
"That said, you might want to get some tips from our public relations specialist before you start talking to the press," She advised leading me further on, "Especially if we have you being our spokesman to any unruly Atlanteans..."
 
I winced.
 
Pinprick coughed and then spoke up, "Boss? About that Atlantis thing...." and then he filled her in. Within moments, she was told that not only was I not Atlantean in any way, shape, or form, I had not even believed it was real until now and if they had taken me in because of that, well, they were in for a world of disappointment.
 
"Well," the older woman frowned, "I guess that's the problem with assumptions. It makes an ass out of you and me."
 
"I'm sorry," I explained, "I had no idea this was such a common expectation... I'm hoping you're not going to kick me out right away, I have stuff being mailed here as we speak and a hotel for a week that I can't cancel..."
 
She held up a hand, "Young man, don't be silly. You are welcome here, if you've got the stuff and you're willing to do the work, and the fault of this misunderstanding is more ours than yours. If you can do right by our rules and look out for us, we'll look out for you. You may not be the Fish Guy we expected, but you are the Fish Guy on our team, and the New Samaritans look after their own."
 
Relief filled me, "Thank you so much, I mean it I.." Another thought occurred, "But it's Eel, not Fish Guy?" With Pinprick I was more firm, maybe even snappy, but with an icon like her? I think I came across as more pleading, or maybe even wheedling.
 
"I'll try to remember that, though you know us relics... so forgetful," A quirk of her lip "Follow me, there are other team mates who will want to meet you."
 
I hung my head and followed. Oh yeah, this Fish Guy bit was not going away anywhere near soon enough.

This is an experiment to get my ass writing again. Whether I will ever actually use this in a published work or not remains to be seen, but I need to get myself motivated and I figure trying a bit of writing here might help. This will be the roughest of Rough Drafts. I Hope folks enjoy. I'll try to write at least a paragraph each day.
 
 
Let me tell you something about superhero costumes; they work best in certain situations. Most of us, superheroes that is, are in good physical shape. Even if your powers aren't physical in nature, you end up dodging, chasing (or fleeing), punching now and then, and generally working up a sweat just to get by. Some of us are blessed with super metabolisms and a natural physique we don't even have to work at, sure, but for most it's a matter of survival to get into shape. If you're wheezing within five minutes of a fight- you may die. And we've all heard stories of well intentioned wanna-bes who tried to pull someone from a burning building or other danger, only to find they didn't have the upper arm strength. We are not, contrary to what you might see in comic books, all runway models, ballet dancers, or power lifters in build, but we are fit.  And from the point of vanity? Thank goodness, or we might look even more ridiculous than we already do. Costumes are best in motion, or shadow. In motion, we are blurs of color coming to rescue you. We are brightly lit beacons of hope to stand against dark clad denizens of dastardly deeds yadda yadda. Motion can demonstrate power: it forces the observer's eye to grade by speed and grace rather than registering 'is that a grown man in tights'? Shadows keep you from looking garish, they dim the flaws in the stitching if you have any. There's an element of mystery. There's a reason candles are aids in romance; low lighting is a cheap beauty enhancement for the homeliest guy or gal.
 
Now, my outfit? I think it's pretty good. Essentially it's a glorified sleeveless wetsuit of green so dark it's nearly black with regular green highlights. Yes, I know I just made a comment about bright colors earlier, but dark colors are the refuge of the body conscious and that is not likely to change. Besides, the darker green background makes those lighter highlights really pop. Of course, there are added touches beyond that. Gloves and foot wear that adapt when I'm in water, a mask that is a mix of the same material as the wetsuit melded with some goggles, slightly tinted.  I keep my hair short, many swimmers do. And, of course, there's the Eel on my chest. It probably looks like a high school mascot logo to some, but it's definitely an Eel, and as Eel is my superhero handle, that's probably a good thing.
 
Why am I going on about my costume and costumes in general? Because I'm not in motion. I'm standing at a bus station feeling like a weirdo. And that's despite having sat next to some bearded guy in a fedora and a Hawaiian shirt who kept singing Saturday morning jingles the whole trip and then every five minutes muttering "No, you be quiet."
 
But no, it's me the crowds are looking at now that I've gotten off the bus and am waiting for my ride from my soon to be new team. One woman is pulling her little boy away from me slowly and shooing him behind her. Great. Two teen guys are snickering and making comments about what they believe to be my sexual orientation. Well, that's open minded. I thought things in the big city would be a bit more tolerant. Then again, the teenage years are that sweet period of time where, if there is a selfish gene, it's getting amped up to the proverbial eleven. Who wasn't a bit of a jerk at some time in their teen years?
 
"I'm a superhero," I explain to them, "My name's Eel. I'm be joining the New Samaritans. Happy to be here in Costa Sagrado"
 
The two teenagers exchanged looks, then snickered, "What ever, butt muncher," One, wearing a t-shirt with a rude gestured stuck his jaw out as if waiting for me to try something about it. I sighed and tried to ignore him, while the teen and his friend chalked it up to be a win in the 'how jerkass can we be without someone putting us in line' test that is their phase in life.
 
Really, what am I going to do?  Chuck them into into the sun? First, no can do. Second, that would be murder. Third, people already think superheroes handle every problem with violence and I'm not about to live down to their expectations. Don't get me wrong, I am super strong. I could certainly grab both, leap to the top of the second story building of the bus station and leave them there to contemplate some manners - all in one smooth motion. Hell, I can punch through steel. But, like the man said, with great power comes ...insert copyright infringement risk.
 
Superheroes need to be better than that. We need to understanding, tolerant, and polite. We should show that humility is not weakness and courtesy is not lost. We need....
 
"You the Fish Guy?" A voice piped up, "Sure as hell hope you're the Fish Guy. Because I'm late to pick him up," The voice was male, with an impatient tone. I searched the crowd searching for the source.
 
It took me a moment, mostly because I wasn't looking down.
 
About four feet away was a six inch tall man with a proportionally sized bow and quiver filled with tiny arrows. Of course, he had a costume, one of blue peasant shirt and green breaches but honestly, the detail I noticed was that he was six inches tall.
 
"I..." I blathered for a moment, I admit it, I'm not the most experienced superhero. Not counting a rather humiliating beat down from a villain team, I've fought just one supervillain, and really ruined a drug cartel's day, mostly I helped with rescue and recovery, "Yeah, that's me. You're with the New Samaritans?"
 
"Yep," He noticed my mouth was still open, "Careful, Fish Guy, someone's gonna put a hook in that. What's the matter? Never seen a costumed archer in this business? A third of the super teams in America have one, the other two thirds suck. My handle's Pinprick. Some folks only use half of that," he smirked.
 
"Well, yes I've seen... just never heard..." This was getting out of hand, "Sorry for staring. Oh, it's not Fish Guy, it's Eel."
 
"Whatever you think will fit on a cereal box, sport," The diminutive archer said, "Follow me, the vehicle is waiting to fly us to the base." He noticed the two teenagers. If they had been snickering at me, they were outright laughing at him. Jokes about him being just 'right sized' as a sex toy were crudely made. My brows knit. I guess I'm worried weird. Give me crap, and I guess I'll take it. Give someone else crap? And I get a bit guarded.
 
"Pardon me, please, you're blocking my way," I said politely to them.
 
"Your way to your boyfriend? " One snickered, "Does he fit up your..." before the comment could finish, Pinprick's tiny hands drew an arrow and fired in a motion so fast I almost didn't see it. The needle sized arrow stuck into the obnoxious teenager's shoulder. Right in front of my eyes, the teenager dwindled, collapsing shorter and shorter until he actually a bit smaller than Pinprick himself, and terrified looking.
 
Not that his friend wasn't freaked out too, "Victor!"
 
Pinprick drew another arrow and looked at the still unshrunken one, "Now, are you going to move or do I need to make is so Fish Guy can step over you too?"
 
"Jesus!" The still normal sized teenager retorted, moving to the side as if expecting a cobra bite. Victor, his now five and a half inch tall friend was running in circles in a panic.
 
I was appalled, "You can't do that to people."
 
"Just did, come on, it won't last forever," Pinprick said and began to walk away from the bus station, presumably towards whatever team vehicle awaited, "He'll be fine. I just cut him down to size- literally. If you want to get technical about it, they were making a public disturbance, nuisance, and loitering. Pick One. One the less legal mumbo jumbo side of things, nobody but me gives my team mates hell. C'mon Fish Guy, you're part of the asylum now."
 
I followed, calling back to the diminished Victor and his friend who had recovered enough to lift his friend up like an action figure, "He says it's temporary." but I kept going after, "I can take care of myself."
 
"If that was the case you wouldn't be doing the strength in numbers thing, relax, Fish Guy. Like I said, I got the timer set on ten," Pinprick shook his head, "Frankly, ocean front city or not, I'm not sure we needed a Fish Guy, but you have a great record in rescue , got the super strength bullet proof thing going, and we're short a muscle man. I can't tell you how much your connections with Atlantis are going to help us out if we do get some water guys invading."
 
"Ah," I paused, "I'm not from Atlantis."
 
"Yeah yeah, sure, you're from one of the Carolinas.." He shrugged as if they were interchangeable , "But I mean heritage. Mother or Father's side?"
 
"Neither side," I said, "I've got some Scott-Irish I can trace, my grandmother said her grand mother was Cherokee, but other than that I'm just your standard white guy," I tilted my head, "You're pulling my leg about Atlantis, right? It's not like that 's real?"
 
We had arrived at a hovercar. I knew it was a hover car because -look ma, no wheels. Any other time I'd have been more suitably amazed. But I was still hoping that I was getting a new guy hazing here.
 
"You don't know about Atlantis?" Pinprick winced, "Tell me you can at least talk to fish?"
 
"Yeah," I said nodding, "I can talk to fish... "
 
"Great, at least you can calm their battle beasts down if they... " He started to say
 
 "Like you can talk to your hamburger," I finished, "Does your hamburger talk back? Because my fillet never did."
 
Pinprick put his face in his palms, "But your resume said you were an aquatic hero."
 
"Yeah, I can breath underwater, go down to depths that would crush most people, see in lower light easily, a few other tricks.. but I don't talk to fish. That's... weird."
 
The door opened on the passenger side and Pinprick shook his head again, "Just.. just get in the car, Fish Guy."
 
"It's Eel," I said irritated, and also a bit worried that I was about to have my membership revoked pretty darn quick, "I'm not Fish Guy."
 
"Yeah, no kidding!" He said getting into the driver's seat, "Doesn't know about Atlantis or any of the other under sea kingdoms, doesn't talk to Fish... hell, you don't even carry a trident," Disgusted, Pinprick spoke to the car, "Take us home, Mabel."
 
A husky female voice emanated from the car, "Right away, Tiger... "
 
And the sultry voiced vehicle shot up into the sky vertically like an elevator on steroids.
 
About fifty feet up, I finally found the focus to ask, "Wait,  other undersea kingdoms?"
 
(To be continued?)

My first thought is Constipation Man! I'm guessing that's a non-starter, so I'll have to get back to you on it.
 
Edit: OK, got something!
 
He's Nikolai "Nick" Raz, the Time Hunter.
 
"Born" in the Creche of Immortality in the year 3264, Nick possesses the DNA of many of history's greatest heroes.* He's insulated against the ravages of time so that he can travel freely into the past to stave off the Apocalypse.** Unfortunately, causality's a bitch, and every time he staves off one Apocalypse, another, totally unrelated one pops up somewhere in the Timestream.
 
His abilities include slow aging and low level regeneration, and abnormally high physical and mental capabilities. He slightly exceeds human norms in most physical categories, particularly speed and agility. His equipment includes armor and a variety of conventional and advanced weaponry from his knives to his blasters, to the four multifunctional drones he's dubbed the Musketeers that hang from his belt. His visor both protects his eyes and enhances his vision, as well as providing a H.U.D. for his computer.
 
When the Apocalypse looms, he's always there in the Nick of Time!***
 
 
 
 
* This only seems to have been ripped off from the old 80s GI Joe cartoon.
** This may bear some slight resemblance to a plot device in the 12 Monkeys show on SyFy.
*** "Raz" is Russian for "time." So, his name is a pun of nick of time.

Oooo a Sorkin-helmed Ex Machina movie would be awesome! Not that I'm holding my breath.
 
It's a much different world now, where Marvel has much more creative control over their films. When even uberfanboy Joss Whedon complains about studio interference, I don't worry that Sorkin would have a free hand. And bringing in someone with a fresh perspective isn't always a bad thing: both Harve Bennett & Jack Sewards were Star Trek newbies when they wrote Wrath of Khan, still the best Start Trek film hands down.
 
I actually have mixed feeling about Ang Lee's Hulk. On one hand I understand and respect what Lee was trying to do. OTOH...let's face it, the movie is unwatchable.

I'll pass on that guy for either universe.

You don't have to be arbitrary. If you want unreliable magic, you tell the PCs they're playing with fire, and when they get burned, you make it interesting. The BBC series Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell gives a good example. The character uses magic he knows is dangerous to advance his position, and in doing so creates a situation that the plot flows from. Now that PC's actions are a centerpiece of the adventure, or in a campaign, perhaps create an interesting side adventure. How that's resolved should be utterly fair.
 
I'd say that if you want magic to figure into tactics as in a typical Pathfinder/DnD game, then it'd be unfair to make it unreliable. Your PCs will quickly all become rogues and fighters, leaving magic by the wayside. If you're going for tactical magic and still want some danger in the magic system, then doing something like separating the tactical magic system from the ritual magic system is probably in order. You want to bring your party's best fighter back from the dead? OK, you have some options, and they all have drawbacks. The easiest option, he comes back as a kind of stupid zombie, so scratch that. The second option, you have to petition a powerful magical being to help with the process, and run the risk of making a bad deal with said entity, or simply unleashing it on the world.
 
As the GM, you can treat it as simply a roleplay opportunity for the PCs to outwit the entity. The negotiation can be the thing, in and of itself. Let them outwit the entity. This time. Maybe next time, it gets the upper hand.
 
None of this is railroading. It's letting the players make decisions and steer the direction of the game as they play out the consequences. It's the furthest thing from railroading, and can be a lot more fun than the Pathfinder dickery described above.