BoloOfEarth

I abandoned the Search engine and just looked through threads for around the time it was posted - I knew from my in-game news items that it had to be before Feb. 2015.  It was in a thread on forgotten orgs (post #6).  Steriaca, your contribution is post #15.
 
 

Yay! 
 
I've been craving more adventures of Fish Guy as well, but given how busy the season can get I didn't want to push.  I'm amused that their faux mugging netted the wrong target, and it's always great to see (or hear) Pogo in action.  And kudos on portraying her (well-expected) jealousy that they added a new heroine to the team and it's not her.  Overall, a nice addition to the story.

Lionel Schwartz, Dinosaur Man ! 
 
Lionel will enter battle proclaiming his name and supervillain ID and then will 'transform into a dinosaur' and attack. Except he does not change at all. He is still human and has a cape that flaps in the breeze. However he is bulletproof and can take an ungodly amount of punishment. This makes him believe that has changed shape and that is why he can take the beating he does. He also has super strength and flight but he only uses the latter if he thinks he has changed into a Pteradon or Pterradactyl.

(And for the one or two of you that are still reading, I'm finally resuming)
 
 
"Gimmie your purse, Lady," I drew the empty gun and pointed it at the face of the woman I loved.
 
This was the fifth try, we went one block, moved another two or so, and then tried again. By now we had crossed from one end of the worst neighborhoods to another and still no dice. And this was an area that was one of Bloodwatch's favorite hunting grounds for punks, muggers, and worse.  Maybe Bloodwatch was laying low thanks to Apocalyptic giving a warning he was a target. Assuming he saw himself as a superhero?
 
That didn't quite fit the mentality of the man I had met. He'd be cautious, but give up on his crusade against crime as he saw it? No. He was too obsessed for that.
"No, please, I have to pay my bills or I'll lose my coverage," Ariana adlibbed, even as I refocused on take five of the 'let's mug your girlfriend' skit.
That's when a green and yellow figure slammed down from above and hit my head before bouncing off!
 
"No means no!" my attacker rebounded for another swing, "Get back, miss! Superhero to the rescue! Girl power! Women unite! And yet she persisted!" Pogo landed almost as many springy blows and punches as she did sentences, which meant the attacks were adding up.
 
"Pogo," I tried to explain, but she wasn't having it and I didn't get to explain until she bounced off a nearby wall and smashed her elbow into my nose moving like a deranged dodgeball.
 
"Shame on you," She lectured as she walloped and thumped me all over, "Shame shame shame, sir! Times are hard, yes, but that doesn't give you the right to mug people. Is it drugs? Are you on the opioids? The crack? There are clinics, there are ways to get help, twelve step programs and support groups, after you wake up maybe the police can help you get your life straight, but first you must pay your time for the mugging. Might for right! JUUUUUSTIICE!" She was now a green and yellow blur thumping and bumping and striking and kicking, my eyes were having trouble finding her.
 
"Pogo, stop," Ariana said, "It's okay, he's not a bad guy, we're both-"
 
But no, she wasn't getting a full sentence in either.
 
"OMG! He Stockholm syndromed you, don't worry miss, we'll get you help too," Pogo assured her, "As soon as he falls I," bounce spring beat beat beat, "Okay, he's one tough mugger, miss. I mean, he should have been out like three whomps ago. If he's a supervillain he's breaking a few rules not wearing a costume."
"I'm Eel," I hissed at her hoping she could hear but no one else stumbling onto the scene would.
 
"Ill? Sir, if you have a mental condition that drives you to crime than I'll make sure you get the best therapist I can if the lady refuses to press charges but-"
"EEL," I said a bit louder as she planted a bouncy foot in my face.
 
"Heel? Oh, you do not treat women like some kind of dog you mugging misogynist," she said, and rained down another four blows, "not on my watch! Get woke or get broke!"
"Oh Christ," I muttered, figuring Jesus would forgive me the slip. Traditionally our lord and savior is a pretty good sport, "Fish Guy. I'm FISHGUY, we met?"
And just like that, the attacks stopped as the superpowered Asian-American teenager finally ceased her attacks and settled for bouncing around, "Fish Guy? You're undercover? Cool, why didn't you say it was you? I'm not a telepath you know, though I don't think I'd want to be, all that talk in my head constantly, not able to shut it out, can you imagine what that would be like?"
 
"Getting an idea," I managed to slip in, "Pogo, you're in danger."
 
"Ooo, is it because you stole something from Mister Brute?" She inquired, "It's all on Supranow what he did to Viewpoint, but he can't hurt me, I bounce back from wrecking balls."
"Can you be cut?" Valorosa said.
 
"Well," She looked worried.
 
"Or burned?" I asked before she went back in chatterbox mode, "They have a lot of ways of hurting someone, Pogo. And even with raw strength alone, Mister Brute could grapple with you and then suffocate you by covering your mouth and nose until you die."
 
"Eeep," She squeaked as she thought about it, "So, got a spare bunk at your base?"
 
"You didn't have to scare her," Ariana muttered to me, then answered Pogo, "Sure thing, Pogo."
 
"Great, just, uhm, who are you?" Pogo asked Ariana, "Are you like his sidekick or something?"
 
I snerked and looked to the side.
 
Avoid eye contact, Caleb. Avoid eye contact and live.
 
"No," Ariana said taking a moment to collect herself, "I'm undercover too. I'm the newest member of the New Samaritans, they call me Valorosa," She offered a hand.
 
"So, uhm, the New Samaritans brought on female minority superheroine, that's, very diverse of them," Pogo said shaking the hand and sighing, "Of course, they have women, and they have a latino so you know, if I were Lady Obsidian I might try to squeeze in, and I'm just spitballing here, maybe say a younger Asian-American superheroine? But good, good on them, I just you know, been trying for a while now, and it's hard not to take this the wrong way. Kind of hurts, a little, in here. Got big dreams. Yup. Pocket full of dreams and a thirst for justice. If justice were a juice I'd be a twelve can a day girl. But I guess there's some ceilings left to crack, not saying you put it there, just you know, the old green-eyed monster at play here and-"
 
"You're still too young, Pogo," Ariana interrupted.
 
"Darn it," Pogo muttered.
 
"Okay, not to rush things," I said, "But we need to get her to base, and see if we can find Bloodwatch already."
 
"Bloodwatch? Why do you want that nutbar?" Pogo said, "He should be in jail. I mean, we all might be a little loose on some laws, but he thinks Deathwish is a how to guide. I tried to capture him once and he blew me up. I mean, it didn't hurt, but I ended up in the suburbs in a backyard with really yappy, what do you call those little wiener dogs?"
 
"Dachshunds," I told her.
 
"Gesundheit" Pogo said and continued, "Anyway, it really eats me up how many folks he's killed, sure, they're usually bad people but gosh darn it, I've been behind on library book returns and I don't want to die."
 
"I think he's the least of your problems right now," I said, "Now come on, let's escort you to the base and-" I almost didn't see her I'm pretty sure I didn't. It was more like the sound you might hear with a high wind rushing up a narrow alleyway, "Move!" I pushed Pogo and sent her flying against a wall.
 
Slice's blade carved through the space where Pogo had been. Pogo meanwhile rebounded off said wall and sprung into the air. Slice didn't seem to know who to go after, and if she had just left then we never would have caught her, instead she arched around and nearly sheared my head off as I hastily slipped on a mask from underneath my shirt. Secret Identities are important, assuming you don't have other ways to keep your loved ones protected twenty-four seven it can be the best defense they have.
"You're not some street thug," Slice observed which is the most I recall her speaking compared to the others of her team.
 
"It's the Jersey accent, isn't it?" I told her, "They told me that it was a stupid idea to do in California, and I wasn't pulling it off anyway." I talked to distract her from Pogo, who was hopefully well on her way to safety.
 
"No hero left behind!" Pogo declared as she narrowly missed landing on Slice, and then managed to get a punch on her anyway. Pogo didn't have super-strength, but she could certainly move someone thanks to her natural knack for kinetic reactions. Slice actually stumbled.
 
"Pogo get out of here!" I called out and slammed my foot down creating a shockwave even as I ordered her, "Where there's one member of the Apocalyptic team there's more," I wanted nothing more than to finish Slice off, but I wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.
 
The fact that a burning figure was appearing in the distance proved my point. Even as Slice slammed against a wall and seethed with her razor-sharp weapons ready. Now that she was slowed down, I saw they were knives. The abundance of sharp things that could cut through anything lately was really starting to annoy me. 
 
"Alleyoop?" Valorosa asked in the com.
 
I smiled, and hoped this would work, "Alley Oop."
 
Valorosa threw a garbage can, a pretty full one, at the speedster, who could have dodged but instead resorted to cutting it in half. She should have just avoided as refuse rained down over her. Fast or not, that was going to stain.
 
"Can't smell worse than your perfume," Ariana told her trying her best, I thought, to emulate Arctic Fox's style, "Come on,  miss stabby, by the time I'm done with you you'll be lucky if you're in shape to sell cutlery on an infomercial."
 
Slice charged Valorosa, and Valorosa , who could be denser than steel, took another option, and went ghost like. Slice rushed through full tilt boogie for injustice, where I was waiting.  That's when I seized Slice's arm, whirled her around applying as much pressure as I could, took a cut from her free hand for my trouble but snapped her wrist in return. She screamed, one of her blades dropped, and I threw her into the flaming figure of Firebug.
 
It was possibly one of the best throws of my life. The results were truly spectacular. I didn't just mope when someone kicked my ass, I tried to learn about them, and I knew Slice, like a lot of speedsters, was a quick healer. But I imagine a broken wrist, and a crash into a fellow team mate who routinely burned at fifteen hundred degrees Celsius would leave a mark.  Firebug dimmed just a bit at the contact, though whether it was to keep from burning a team make terribly or because she just been hit hard herself I didn't know.
"Souvenir, dibs!"  Pogo grabbed the fallen knife, and bounced up again, "Wow this is so sharp you could shave with it."
 
"Be careful with that, and let's get moving," Valorosa said, her voice softer in her ghost state than at normal density.
 
"But we can take em!" Pogo protested.
 
"Right now, young lady," a stronger voice as she grew solid, then she turned, "Eel, I know you want to take them down but- hey!"
 
The reason the lady of my life was startled as because I had wasted no time in getting the hovercycle and was now in the driver's seat, "Pogo, Valorosa, get in," I said as I brought it down ground level, "Fast."
 
Ariana slipped behind me and put her arms around me even as she kept an eye on the foes who were recovering, "I think Mister Brute and Dice are in the distance."
 
That seemed to be enough to discourage even Pogo's exuberance, and she bounded into the sidecar, "Okay, we'll get them another day?"
 
"We or we?" I inquired, "Sorry, Pogo, don't let a lucky break fool you into thinking we've got them easily beat." I gunned the cycle and we were off like a shot. However badly hurt Slice was, she was the only one who might catch us right now, and she was still recovering it seemed. Thank goodness.
 
"Mabel," I said, "We've got Pogo, despite a clash with two of Apocalyptic. No Fumian activity here. How about the others?"
 
Mabel replied, "Plenty of action, actually, Tornado, Fox, and Pinprick had an encounter with a Fumian dealing technology to a group of gamers wanting access to the alpha test to some MMORPG. I had to help them detach the poor idiots because their brain patterns became interrogated into the wiring. In short, they almost became a collective Artificial Intelligence. Eventually their personalities would have merged, probably gone crazy, but even if they hadn't they would be dead as individuals."
 
"Well, that's just all kinds of disturbing," I admitted.
 
Ariana shuddered as well.
 
"Cool," Pogo exclaimed, then noticed us looking at her, "I mean, terrible. Absolutely terrible."
 
I couldn't help but chuckle, "It's a little bit both," I admitted to Pogo, then said "Mabel, get your scanners ready. We've got one of Slice's knives"
"I was the one who called dibs," Pogo wanted to be sure we understood that.
 
"Yes, yes," I agreed, "But I want to make sure we're not being tracked. I mean, they might figure out where the base is, but let's make them work for it, huh?"
Mabel assured me, "Not to worry, the hovercycle has scanners too, and I'm having them do a run down now. Nasty knife, but no transmissions or odd energy signatures. I'll want to study in more in the base, but I think it's safe."
 
"Huh," I grew thoughtful, "damn things cut through me pretty nastily," I said looking at the wound I'd gotten from the other one.
"Yes, it's getting annoying," Valorosa said testily.
 
"Not like I intend to get cut on purpose. I'm used to most sharp things not being able to pierce or lacerate my thick hide," I told Ariana, "Then I come to this city, and everything from magic spears to alien squid bots to giant chickens to knives worn by killer speedsters has something. You think it annoys you? Get in line. Besides, nothing a –"
"Good soak in the tub won't take care of," Ariana chimed then added, "I know, I know, but that doesn't mean I have to like it." She looked at my reflection in the glass in front of me, "And stop smiling."
 
"Sorry," I said, not quite able to manage full sincerity. I knew she worried, but I was used to folks worrying back home. For her to do it? It made me feel, well, darn it, warm and fuzzy inside, not that I'd ever mention that aloud.
 
"Are you two dating?" Pogo gasped, "Oh my gosh, you're dating," She squeed a bit, "That's so romantic, the heat of battle stirring your passions, respect growing into longing, I am so putting this in my fan-fic"
 
I had no idea what to say to that. I had done an internet search on myself once, and stumbled into some truly dark corners of fandom's collective imagination that I could not unsee. It would probably be best to not ask Pogo how far her fan-fic went.
 
"Robots," Valorosa said.
 
"You want Robots in fan-fic with us?" I said.
 
"No, Robots are swarming a building over there," Valorosa gestured towards a squat building, "They look a lot like Fumian tech to me."

The Vandal and the Mosque: A New Chapter of Forgiveness in Arkansas

With tongue planted firmly in cheek, I present Doctor Quantum:
 
Theorizing that one could time travel within his own family lineage, Dr. Beck Samuels stepped into the Quantum Slide accelerator... and vanished.  He woke to find himself trapped in the body of his great-great-great-great-grandfather, a Revolutionary War contemporary of Ben Franklin, facing a mirror image that's not his own and driven by an unknown force to change history for the better.  His only guide on this journey is Cal, an observer from his own time, who appears in the form of a hologram that only Beck can see and hear. And so Dr. Samuels finds himself using his scientific knowledge to invent devices to put right what will one day go wrong, and hoping someday to return to a brighter future.
 

(And then he'll color another one...)
Just kidding.

With tongue planted firmly in cheek, I present Doctor Quantum:
 
Theorizing that one could time travel within his own family lineage, Dr. Beck Samuels stepped into the Quantum Slide accelerator... and vanished.  He woke to find himself trapped in the body of his great-great-great-great-grandfather, a Revolutionary War contemporary of Ben Franklin, facing a mirror image that's not his own and driven by an unknown force to change history for the better.  His only guide on this journey is Cal, an observer from his own time, who appears in the form of a hologram that only Beck can see and hear. And so Dr. Samuels finds himself using his scientific knowledge to invent devices to put right what will one day go wrong, and hoping someday to return to a brighter future.
 

Much of the reduction in violent crime in general seems to be related to the removal of lead from gasoline. http://www.motherjones.com/environment/2016/02/lead-exposure-gasoline-crime-increase-children-health/

This year, we will bring in more puppies for kicking practice before passing the budget.

Worked up a few more.  I am really pleased with how Ripper turned out.
 
Ripper, Esper, Ogre, Oculon, Cybermind and Onslaught

It's been a while.
 
Here's an homage to another Superhero RPG Supervillain group who shall remain nameless.  I am sure that most of you will MASTER recognizing them SPEEDily.
 

Canadian popstar gets new Army based sitcom, stand by for Beiber Patrol

One night a Viking named Rudolph the Red was looking out the window when he said, “It’s going to rain.”
 
His wife asked, “How do you know?”
 
“Because Rudolph the Red knows rain, dear.”

By gerbil, was he referring to Trump's "hair"? 

By gerbil, was he referring to Trump's "hair"? 

There is apparently a huge difference. I only learned it this year myself.
Indeed the only reason Passenger Transport even exists in America is legal obligations:
 

Even harder for people playing wind instruments.  Have you ever tried blowing from your ear?

Even though I typically like humorous songs, both of those songs get on my last nerve.  So I'm voting for Weird Al's "Christmas at Ground Zero."
 
Battle of the Not-Christmas Holidays:
 
Hanukkah vs. Kwanzaa

Trump threatens a naval blockade, all the while insisting that Rhode Island is actually an island.

Let's just go with "dial home device".

Frankly, with the merger of IPs, I can envisage a retcon machination in which Doom is cast as the forerunner-prophet  of the Sith.
 
"Darth ... I am your forefather."
 
In that spirit:
 
Darth Mouse vs Duck Skywalker
 

Re: Create a Hero Theme Team!
 

 
My name is Quentin Reeves. I am 84 years young, and I have no intention of going gently into that good night. I have lived through many battles, one of which earned me the right to be considered of "the Greatest Generation" though I can tell you, I always thought we were a bit over idolized there. Plenty of folks did NOT want to fight, did not want to leave America, and would have given anything to stay bored. In retrospect, with the horrors I've seen, I can't say I blame them. Still, when I was fifteen, convinced that those older than me just didn't get it, as all teenagers were and are, and probably will be, I was quite eager to punch ole Adolph in the eye and didn't think it through what war might mean, might cost, and how many good men might die. I was, and still am in some ways, a bit selfish.
 
See that boy? That's David Quintin Reeves. Nope, can't blame them for giving him it as a middle name. David's solid, and kids are cruel. Right now he's trying to decide if he wants to play some more basketball with his friends or come over here and talk to his great grandfather. I suppose I shouldn't call him 'boy' any more. He's eighteen now, which is older than I was when I gained my power. How did I get my power?
 
Simple answer is, I was hit by lightning.
OH, here comes David now. Good kid. I appreciate him coming by to pay his respects. Hey, he looks guilty for taking so long. I chat with him a bit, pat his hand, ask him how he's doing. I also notice him eying that pretty red headed girl across the street. I embarrass him by asking if he's asked her out yet.
 
Perk of being old, we get to embarrass young folk and get away with it. He stammers a bit, mentioning things. Her name is Dedra, or 'Dee Dee' for short. I wave, and say "Good morning young lady" . Poor David looks like he could just die. Then he looks panicky when she starts to come over. I try to be supportive
"She's not going to be interested in your stones if you act like you don't have any," I dispense my wisdom.
"Jesus, Great Grandpa..." Kids act like they invented the facepalm. They have no idea. I chastise him for language.
I'm old, I get to be two faced like that.
Heh.
Sides, all is forgiven when I set the two up to talk among themselves and feign taking a nap. She seems to find me sweet, and the two talk under the porch.
 
It begins to rain, hard. Hard enough that David suggests she stay a bit longer with him where it is dry. Smart boy. They'll be snuggling in no time.
 
What? I meddle, old folks do that too.
 
Where was I? Oh yeah, how I got my powers. The more complex answer is I did the right thing and got tapped on the shoulder for it. I know, I'm supposed to say 'I found a mysterious rock' or 'Nazis threw me into chemicals' but the truth is, all I did was rush to save Captain Thunder. Oh, now him you might recognize. Big strong flying guy, with a 'THUNDER PUNCH!'. You knew it was a Thunder Punch because he said it every time he threw it. When I was young, I thought that was the neatest thing. I wasn't alone. Kids in the states used to go around screaming "THUNDER PUNCH!" like it was a battle cry. Now, in retrospect, I suppose it was kind of retarded. Pardon me.. I meant 'kind of special'. Sides, the old man was good, a true hero even if I would one day learn he was only human and could be fooled. Which is why, when I saw him outcold, in the rain, and his enemies were searching for him, I decided to risk being seen by those hunting him and get him to safety.
 
The rain was harder than this even. I grabbed him, pulled, and then shoved him into a warehouse.
Then God, fate, Mother Nature or just plain cosmic weirdness rewarded me. I was hit by lightning. I got filled with so much juice I'm lucky my eyeballs stayed in my head. I woke up alive, well, and... with the ability to control the weather. It wasn't long before I was 'Stormy' kid sidekick to Captain Thunder! It took me the longest time to realize the full extent of my powers, and I darn near died more than once, but those were golden years in more ways than one. Captain Thunder and I , we did it all. We helped clear up North Africa where I met the 'Hidden Lion People of Nanbobo' (Yes, I know there's no Nanbobo on the maps anywhere, that's why it's HIDDEN.... stupid kids), we aided the French Resistance and I got a kiss from Madame Liberte's own sidekick behind a farm house. Ooo la la. We teamed up with the "Axis Smashers" and helped defeat Hitler's personal Robot Death Tank Commandos lead by 'Baron Von Baron' a man so nasty they gave him a title twice just to stay on his good side. I am NOT making this up. The Sidekick Associates? We all felt unbeatable and looked so forward to the day we could really impress our mentors.
 
The fifties weren't as kind. My awe of my mentor had waned, and we argued. When McCarthy came out with that list, and wanted heroes to join him in his witch hunt , Captain Thunder agreed with him. I had no love of the soviets (Still don't, the soviet regime was scum and I will not apologize for fighting their agents) but I had met a wonderful girl, and was not about to out her just because of who her father was. I abandoned my old name, called myself "Scarlet Storm" because I knew anything red would get Captain Thunder's goat. Yeah. It got ugly. "At long last, have you no decency?" I can't remember which superhero said that, but god bless him or her. Fine, he was MY hero. Me? I wanted to fry the Senator, never been so tempted to misuse my powers in such a violent way. The lives he ruined.
 
Captain Thunder and I reconciled eventually, before he died. I'm glad of that. Because it meant I could eventually reconcile with myself... I kind of became him.
 
And eventually, it would be my turn, not to die, but to become the old state. The sixties I remember harsh words with a young hero, I was old, I was obsolete. I was blind to the evils that our government was forcing on our and other nations. He pushed, and I pushed back...and ended up nearly killing a man who's chief crime was standing by his beliefs.
 
I was shaken. If it hadn't been for my wife I might have never recovered from the self loathing I developed for myself after that deed. I didn't play politics after that, EVER. Seeing things in terms only of Black and White, Hawk and Dove, Left or Right blinds you to the spectrum... and by now my REAL eyesight is bad enough, thank you.
 
Throughout the decades I had kids of my own, none of them ever gained my powers (though one of them ended up marrying a superhero and they've got a daughter that gained his powers). I didn't understand exactly why not, but now I think I do. I'm selfish. I lost my wife to cancer. I lost a lot of friends from old age or disease, or violence. Some foes do not forgive and do not die, it seems. I just didn't want to lose anything else. That included powers.
 
My powers did not fade. In fact, they'd grown stronger since I was a kid. I stopped a twister here recently in fact. But my body? Too many hits from powerhouses when I was young. Too many bones that were broken and I can feel the old aches even now that they're mended. My mind is still sharp, and that's nice. But the physical effort it takes to boss the weather around? I just don't have the physical endurance required any more. About passed out when I put down that tornado.
 
Now a hard rain? One that forces a young man to gallantly offer his jacket and arms around a woman to provide her warmth? That doesn't take nearly as much effort.
He's going to need that. David is going to need human contact, reminders of how no man needs stand alone friendless, loveless. Maybe Dee Dee isn't the right girl, maybe she'll be Mrs. Right. But I want to remind him that moments like standing in the rain are worth fighting for. That it is okay to want things, and still do the right thing, and you can walk that middle path between saving the world and looking out for yourself and your family. It doesn't always have to be one or the others.
 
You see, last week, David saved someone from a tornado... he got there before I did. He pulled folks out of a car that had been blown into a river. Made the local papers. Boy hero. It's not that he doesn't want to play basketball with his friends, or to hold a pretty girl, it's that he wants that, and he does the right thing too.
 
Why am I telling you this? Well, I figure you must be God, fate, Mother Nature or just plain cosmic weirdness... and I'm asking you for a favor. Let me do this.
 
I use the wind to rip off the jacket from them, it flies to the center of the yard, and David goes after it. That's the spirit boy, no guts, no glory. Mind you, you're saving a jacket and impressing a girl rather than saving a superhero, but you also saved a couple and their kid from a car, I think that qualifies, and I'm old enough to want things my own way.
 
Dee Dee tells him they can get it later. Practical girl.
She's gonna hate what happens next.
 
I bring down the lightning, and it obeys, roaring, defiant, and hungry...and it consumes David.
Dedra screams! Lord she's got a set of pipes, I can hear her through the thunder.
When our eyes clear, the rain is dying out, and there lays David, out cold, without a mark on him. Dedra is rushing to him, and he's waking under her concerned touches.
 
I know even before I try that what I had has moved on. The rain won't come back when I command, the lightning wont' ever come again when I call. I guess I AM ready to go gently into that good night, at least as a man of power. It's the only way I can make room for a new, and God let him be a better, dawn.
 
He'll make mistakes,but he'll be a better hero than I ever was. You'll see.
And if I meddle in his life and training? Well, by god, I'm old. Meddling is one of the few powers I have that is utterly unconnected to the weather, and selfish fart that I am, damned if I'll give THAT one up.
 
I wonder if I can convince him to take up the name Scarlet Storm? It's a bit dated, but it would do wonders for my ego.

Re: Create a Hero Theme Team!
 
oh! One of my fave themes...I'll try to not make all 7...
 
Burden
 
He had to wonder why being a super villain had been so appealing to him at one point. Chris looked back on his life; the hard times with his folks, the death of his sister, his mutant powers awakening. Sure, he had idolized superheroes as a kid, but the world was tough and he had to be tougher. With the IHA on his back, his parents rejection of thier "freak" son, Chris found that in the big city, a man of his power could make a good living. He even enjoyed duking it out with superheros. For the most part it was a big game, and he was pretty good. The game got tougher and he found himself joining one loosely organized villain team after another, there was safety in numbers. The Defilers were simply one of many teams Powerfist had been a part of. Things went wrong this time. Sure, he and the Protector had squared off a lot. They were roughly equal in power and skill. But Necros hated the Protector. Powerfist never understood the depths of some men's hatred. He totally misjudged the situation. He never meant for anyone to die; especially not some guy's wife and infant child.
 
"Christopher Banner, please rise," The judge said.
With a glance at his attorney, Chris stood; his massively build fame dwarfing the bailiffs and security guards present. Gigantic manacles held his hands together.
"Mr. Banner, while I am not the type of person to simply ignore the past; I am inclined to look closely at it and the ramifications of it." Judge Juliana Thompson looked him straight in the eye as she spoke. It was obvious that she was not intimidated by his size or power.
"Your criminal file is a long one, with several instances of violence. Super villainy is frowned upon by the law, Mr. Banner, and your exploits as Powerfist are an example of why. You are solely or in part responsible for several billion dollars of damage, theft, and injury claims; people have lost their livelihoods for your betterment. Officers have had their careers shortened because of your actions, and you were directly responsible for the death of one of Millennium City's finest heroes, the Protector."
Chris had never allowed his gaze to waver, and stood motionless before Judge Thompson as the occasional cough was the only noise to disrupt typing of the court stenographer or the reporters present.
"However, there facts in this case that can't be overlooked either due to your larcenous nature. The fact of the matter is that you saved the lives of a woman and child. The wife and child of the very hero you fought so many times, the man who died from the injuries he sustained fighting you and your cohorts in the Defilers."
The name of his former team caused Chris' jaw to tighten.
"According to the wife of the Protector, whose name has been sealed to protect her and her child from unwanted publicity; you refused to take part in the Protector's torture after he gave himself up to the Defilers to protect his family. That you turned on them and fought side by side with the Protector until the Champions were able to arrive and drive the Defilers off. "Then you turned yourself in without incident. A week later you stood trial and were sentenced to 25 years for your crimes; a sentence you began serving six months ago."
"Since then you were recruited by agents of PRIMUS to aid them in foiling a scheme by your former team and tracking their current whereabouts. At this you were successful. You also turned evidence on four VIPER's nests that you had worked with, and helped guards at Stronghold repel a break in by The Ultimates."
She put the paper she had been holding and adjusted her glasses.
"I want to believe you when you say you have changed. I pray that the trust placed in you by PRIMUS and DOSPA hasn't been merely a facade for future criminal acts. It is with this trust that the Governor of the state of Michigan has granted you clemency. I pray you do not make him regret it. This court is adjourned."
With the last sentence the courtroom became a circus as reporters tried to get a quote from the released convict.
 
 
Defender and Nighthawk stood inside the PRIMUS meeting room on one side of a large table. Chris sat at the other. His heart was racing. He didn't like the looks of them. They were probably thinking he was nothing but a thug, who were they to judge him? They didn't live his life! They didn't know...
"You haven't proved anything yet," Nighthawk growled, "I will be watching you."
Chris simply nodded.
"What are you going to do, now?" Defender asked him. It was odd, but he heard more emotion from the armored hero than the vigilante; Defender actually seemed concerned about him.
"I got a call from Harmon Industries. One of their execs saw my story on the news and offered me a job in one of their warehouses."
Nighthawk growled and shot a glance at Defender, then stormed off.
"He doesn't seem to like ex-cons." Chris said to Defender.
"Among others." Defender said quietly, the he walked over to Chris. "Look, its going to get worse before it gets better. I'll admit I haven't gone through what you have, but I know some men and women who have. You'll get through it but it will be tough. Don't throw your life away, Chris. Powerfist is gone. Chris Banner, it’s your life now."
With that, Defender left too. Chris spent the next few minutes filling out some more paperwork. Then he was gone.
 
The job wasn't bad. The men seemed pretty indifferent to his past. He had an apartment, took the Tran to work, it wasn't a bad life, but something was missing. He took long walks at night, always finding himself at the address of Peter Wilson, the Protector. Standing outside and looking at the wreckage that was once a home. He'd been out of jail with a new life for almost six weeks when he made the call. The commission wasn't the flashiest they had ever done, but it when it was finished; Chris Banner had a new costume. Once again he stepped outside, his face concealed by silver goggles. He'd intended to be a hero as Powerfist; but it was hard. He hadn't been very strong, he was lazy and his powers allowed him to get what he wanted easily. But that was behind him now, it took the death of someone he respected, but he'd taken the easy road and hated the final destination. This time he wanted to make it right. This time he would take the hard road to heroism.

The reeds aren't that high.  He's just waiting for his squirrel buddy to let him know the coast is clear.