Astro City is a major metropolitan area much like NYC or LA, a shining metropolis on a hill where super-heroes patrol the skies. It's home to dozens of superhumans both hero and criminal alike. Since the days of World War II heroes have operated within the city who's criminal population was sadly one of the higher of the major cities in America. With heroes and super-teams like Samaritan and the Honor Guard, the city always survives even the more dire situations. With younger heroes and other outcasts like Juice and Palmetto (Roach) being drafted into the Honor Guard the Irregulars became more and more irregular and their team grew apart. Now in 2014, five years after the last team disbanded, a new cast of Irregulars have hit the Astro City scene and informally banded together to stop a mutual threat. An enemy who is possessing seemingly random villains within the city to do his dirty work... who is Mr. Madness and what does he have in store for the newest heroes of Astro City? That's where YOU come in....

Rules:

1.) No back-to-back posting.

2.) PAY ATTENTION TO DETAIL AND SET-UPS!!

3.) Make sense. If we can't make heads or tails of your posts they're likely to get skipped over.

4.) Get permission before using another player's character in your posts if it involves changing the scene or making actions. Everybody will take beatings in this game in battle however, so don't get pissed if you get punched or blasted into a wall by the bad guys!

5.) Problems with the game or players should be sent directly to me through PM's. I don't want a bunch of bickering in the OOC.

6.) Abandoned characters will be used as NPC's or killed off within the context of the story.

7.) “I was waiting for [insert player/character] to make a move” is not an excuse to not post.

8.) There is no rule #8.

9.) My word is law.

10.) In the event that I'm offline for any period of time, the deputy GM (not yet selected) will take control and HIS/HER word will then be law.

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Keifer Square...

"That's the thing about me golden boy, I ALWAYS come back!" screamed the Boomerang mid-U turn in the air and propelling himself back at Midas.

"Come back from THIS!" Midas replied clotheslining the supervillain out of the air and dropping him to the ground where he was given a concussion from the fall.

The proper authorities came within minutes flashing the blue and red lights of the ACPD and arresting the red and green costumed criminal. Boomerang, better known as Paul Erwin, tried to rob the Westman Credit Union when Midas had hit the scene. After giving the authorities his statement and after a few news crews arrived and a crowd formed around the area, Evan stood for a few pictures and even turned someone's dog into a living gold pooch for about thirty seconds after Midas had quit petting him. The young hero knew he needed to get to work soon, a new job at the Romeyn Falls Historical Center across town. Evan Jones glanced over at the time on the large clock outside of the credit union, after displaying the weather [80 degrees and sunny, on July 1st '14] the time finally blinked on and read 8:16 am. The hero had forty-four minutes to get changed and get on the Astro City Subway to be at work no later than 9:10.

"Working and going to school at Romeyn Falls Community College both is kicking my ass with the superheroics involved. I wish I could just drop it entirely and focus on making the baseball team at school, but like Voltaire said 'with great power comes great responsibility' so I feel like I have to use it for the greater good." Midas thought making an exit and running off, ducking his head and turning his gold skin *off* darting towards an alley.

There was a bag with a quick change of clothes and a security badge on a lanyard with his picture and name and some official looking stuff around it as well as the Historical Center logo on the other side. Tossing the clothes on over his costume, which consisted of a white t-shirt and baggy jeans able to hide the titanium knee padding in Midas' suit, he ran down some stairs at a subway station and hopped on the Q train to the Gibson Hills Subway Station. With only two stops in between Evan just barely made it to work on time where he pulled his RFHC baseball cap from his single strapped backpack and entered the building that looked like something out of a superhero cartoon. The young hero was stuck greeting visitors in the lobby and offering them assistance until 2 pm. After sweeping the lobby and looking at some of the historical stuff behind glass he looked back at a clock on the wall that read 9:16 am.

"Five hours to go..." Evan thought twirling a pencil in his fingers and turning it gold off and on.

Somewhere hidden in the 'City...

"The first rule of the Association is you do not talk about the Association. The second rule... you DO NOT talk about the Association..." ordered the Metropolitan who had managed to build a small army of pawns the last two weeks, roughly a dozen give or take.

~KL~

Finn Mercer, as the costumed hero Sandstorm, walked cautiously down an alleyway on Craig Avenue, looking in every direction, searching for something that may tip him off on his enemy, Drop Bear’s, location. The large, grotesque, koala-like beast had been seen stalking a young couple for hours that morning, and the alarmed cries of the two loverbirds had alerted Sandstorm of the killer’s whereabouts. But, upon arriving at the scene, Drop Bear was out of sight, and the couple was reasonably unharmed and fleeing in terror.

Sandstorm walked to the end of the alley; it was a dead end, and the murderous mutant was nowhere to be seen.

“Bennett! I know you’re here, mate! Come out, you oversized koala!” yelled Sandstorm. Before being transformed into Drop Bear in a freak accident, Harry Bennett was a regular thirty year-old man, working at DSTO, Australia’s version of DARPA. The transformation not only severely changed his physical form, it also damaged his mind. Now only thinking of who to target as prey, Drop Bear actively pursues a vendetta against Sandstorm, who frequently got in the way of him and his prey.

“Look up, boyyyy,” drawled the mutant bear, dropping face-first from above Sandstorm, arms splayed out in front of the himself in an attempt to pin the sand-wielder to the ground. Quick to react, the young Australian hero swept his right arm in an upwards motion, simultaneously creating and flinging tendrils of scorching red sand at his attacker. Drop Bear instinctively put his hands up to guard his eyes from the sand, and, now unable to see, crashed to the ground right next to Sandstorm, who sidestepped to avoid the hulking frame of the man eating brute.

“Bennett, Bennett, Bennett… this is why you don’t support New South Wales. I may be from there, but Queensland will win State of Origin this year. Again. For the tenth time in a row. You gotta pick the right side, mate, and I’m telling you, New South Wales ain’t it,” said Finn in a patronising tone, piling sand down on Drop Bear so he couldn’t move.

“I… lived… in Queenslaaand…” droned the freak of experimentation.

“Oh. Well, then…” said Sandstorm, “Go Queensland!”

Piling more sand on Drop Bear until he wasn’t visible, Finn proceeded to change out of his costume into civilian clothes, before walking out into the Astro City streets, feeling like an out of place outback boy in an American metropolis.

Night over Keifer Square, the seedy underbelly of Astro city. Many didn't even know that this section of town exists, preferring to think of Astro as the gleaming metropolis of tomorrow, one were the sun never stops shining. But Keifer does exist, and every now and then it spits out some new tragedy, just to remind every one that it isn't going away any time soon. Tonight that tragedy was twenty two year old Kimberly Green, a waitress at the nearby bar and grill, Grant's. On her way home from work Kimberly had been murdered by an unseen assailant, her corpse left in a grimy back alley. A shadowy figure was crouched next to her cooling body, but he wasn't the killer.

"Looks like your source was right A. The knife-work is professional, yet passionate, and the body is missing part of the liver. All trademarks of Dr Whitechapel. He's here. He's in Astro city." The figure stood, the light of a nearby street light catching him to reveal his identity. He was the Phoenix, grim guardian of New York. He has come to Astro hot on the trail of Dr William Whitechapel, better known as Jack the Ripper, arguably the most infamous serial killer of all time.

"Hmm, strange. What is Whitechapel doing in Astro City?" responded Ambrose through Phoenix's highly encrypted comms channel. Ambrose was Phoenix's long time mentor, friend and confident, and was as dedicated to catching Whitechapel as the dark avenger himself.

"He's killing innocent girls, A, that's what he's doing! She's still warm God dammit, if I'd only been faster, I might have caught him!" Spat Phoenix. He had been canvassing the area for several nights now after reports of a strange figure in the area. To know he had been so close yet to have missed his target was galling.

"You might have saved her you mean," responded Ambrose, a slight edge to his voice. Through the two way camera's in Phoenix's cowl he could just make out a slight slump in the heroes posture, as he realised his callous choice of words.

"Make sure you don't leave a trace of your being there then get home Phoenix. Just because Astro is accepting of their heroes doesn't mean you need to be announcing your presence." This order was a mere formality now, the young hero had been doing this so long that investigating crime scenes was almost second nature to him now. Still, it was a comforting routine for the two.

The immortal protector of New York pulled a grapple gun from behind his belt and fired it at the closest rooftop, beginning his slow trek back to Valiant enterprises pent house he was staying in during his visit to Astro City. The scene that he had witnessed weighed heavy on him, the knowledge that Whitechapel was still out there heavier still. The Phoenix made a silent promise to himself that he wouldn't be late the next time, that he would catch Whitechapel and make him pay for Kimberly Green, and for Mary Robert's, and for all the other innocents who had fallen for that sick psycho's pleasures.

“You went through an awful lot of trouble to get this feed to me,” Spaceman asked as he flew high about Astro City, tablet in hand. The small computer depicted a hulking human with a class of kidnapped students. I just need to keep him talking till I can figure out where they are. “What do you want with me, Hominid?”

“Yes, well, I figured this was the only way to hold your attention for any length of time. Here’s the deal: all you have to do is listen to a little… proposition I have, and these wonderful children here won’t die,” Hominid said grasping one of the students by the throat. He always drolls on in that pretentious pseudo-British accent. For a man that has supposedly lived forever, you would think he would have it down by now. He sounds like a knock-off Tim Curry.

“Look, mate, I must feed on living humans to survive, and I will survive. A regular human would last me about a month, maybe, if its particularly virile. But I find most humans, sadly, disappointing. After all, I do have a bit of flesh to feed!” The caveman bellowed out a chorus of laughter, slapping his own over-sized frame.

“Now, I can go on like this, feeding on thousands of humans in hundreds of years… Orrrr, you could simply let me feed on you. Your life-force has that wonderful energy attached to it, I would be sated for centuriesss. Why, you would be such a humanitarian. Think of the lives you would save. And I do promise to leave you a little life left. You could get on with your life–”

“No.” Hominid was taken aback by Spaceman’s abrupt answer. There they are, in that abandoned factory.

“But I have not finished extolling all of my reasoning. I assure you, this is the most humanitarian–”

“Enough. I’ve heard enough.” Neil scowled, his eyes narrowing, focusing on the building.

Obviously flustered by his lack of traction, Hominid had dropped his ridiculous accent. “If you don’t let me feed on you, then I will feed on others. You might as well have killed those with your bare hands!”

A volley of energy rocketed from Spaceman’s hand, blasting open the ceiling like a tin can, casting all into confusion and chaos. Spaceman can down directly on Hominid, blasting the over-sized Neanderthal with purple energy, knocking the brute out.

“Words never seem to be enough,” Spaceman said to himself.

Evan sat around in the lobby of the museum, rather than play on a computer he pulled out a notepad of paper and began sketching. Something he hadn't done in quite some time, actually. He stood up out of his chair at the 'station' where all of the employee things could be found like spare keys, cleaning suplies, the computer and desk, etc. His bag and personal belongings including his Midas suit were in a closet in the back area, where just a few lockers had been built. Evan walked along the different displays and sketched busts of the All American and Slugger from about the shoulders up. The more golden aged heroes were among the classics in American history, Evan was admittedly a fan due to his days of playing baseball in school out in California. A glance up at the clock read 1:32 pm.

"Less than thirty minutes to go... better go finish my chores and clean and straighten everything up at the employee statiion." Evan thought before walking past a view observers.

Later...

Evan was ready to go. His leg bounced in the subway on the way back to Kiefer Sqare. The adrenaline started racing through his body and he accidentally turned his eyes gold for a few brief moments. Luckily only one guy in a hood took notice, but he looked as if he could have been high on something. A few minutes later had the young hero pulling his shirt off as well as his pants and shoes and stuffed them into his backpack. He turned it gold as well and put it back on his back and after a few small leaps up fire escape stairs, he was leaping and running from building to building like some sort of semi professional parkour champion. Just with a slowed tempo because while the hero could pull of some moves, it appeared much slower and like it took a lot more effort. Within minutes the adrenaline lost it's effect and Midas was already worn down. If a superhuman criminal caught him now he'd be in trouble. Thankfully the Association is just a non-powered Metropolitan and a bunch of thugs and drug addicts with muscle.

"It's that guy who saw my eyes go gold in the subway who was wearing the red hoodie! All of them are in red hoodies while the Metropolitan stands around parading like he''s some sort of activist..." Midas though on a rooftop.

The young hero followed the marching band like group all the way to Memorial Park where the punks thought they were going to vandalize the statue honoring the Silver Agent.

"We shall leave our mark on this city starting with one of their brightest fallen stars..." the Metropolitan spoke to nobody in particular as he as well as several others took red spray paint to the statue, "..we'll paint this whole town red..." he continued on.

Midas tore a large limb from a tree, coated it in the durable gold steel like substance, and batted a few of the thugs away.

"You punks should find a hobby that's a little less illegal..." Midas joked now throwing the gold limb at a couple of the other members of the Metroplitan's Association.

~KL~

Spaceman hadn’t been in the city long, maybe about two months, and was still getting use to it. The biggest change was the amount of work, namely super villains. Back in Ohio, heroes are mostly part-timers, keeping dark alleys safe from thugs, and most of the villains are jokes. Here in Astro City, there seemed to be daily occurrences of super-crime, or at least weird-crime. Lately, it has seemed to get even weirder.

Luckily, the afternoon wasn’t as weird as the morning. Spaceman had heard some chatter about anarchist punks were parading and berating in the park. This is more like Ohio villains. Normal. No live-feeds. No energy draining. Just some good old fashioned idiots.

Spaceman flew over the park, getting a general overview of the situation. He recognized his fellow Irregular, Midas the Golden Man, who was defending the statue of Silver Agent with a tree. He seemed to be holding off the crowd occupying the park.

On the other side of the park, Spaceman saw a young woman sitting alone on a bench. The red roustabouts were getting closer to her. Deciding that the lone civilian would probably need more help than Midas, Spaceman angled his flight to intercept the hooligans.

“I thought we agreed that you wouldn't act through the day, it destroys the air of mystery,”

“You agreed, I was neutral on the subject,” The Fire-Bird, Phoenix's top of the line, customised, VTOL jet tore across the Astro city skyline like a bird of prey on the hunt. The aircraft looked like the unholy child of a peregrine and F16 falcon, and was kitted out with the most cutting edge technology in the world. Anti-personal and vehicle weapons, stealth systems capable of fooling the worlds most powerful government agencies, a thruster system capable of breaking the sound barrier. It was Phoenix's pride and joy.

“Coming up on the memorial park now, hostile's are in sight,” Ambrose had caught wind of the Metropolitan making a move in the city through his sources and had told Phoenix, thinking the vigilante would pass the information on to some other hero situated in Astro. He hadn't counted on Pheonix wanting to get involved himself, but in retrospect he should have known. Chris always preferred doing things himself rather than involving anyone else.

“Well can you at least fight them from the Fire-Bird?”

“No can do Ambrose, I need to stretch my legs.” Stated Phoenix in return. Leaving the VTOL hovering above the impromptu battleground the vigilante ejected some thirty feet in the air. He spread his cape out wide to slow his descent, gliding quickly towards a group of hoodies who were preparing a rope to tear the Silver Avenger's statue down. Phoenix's booted feet crunched into one hooligan's face, who proceeded to crumple like a paper bag. The hoodies took a second to take stock of this newest hero to spring on the scene, before rushing in to attack him. A bad move all round.

A nose exploded under Phoenix's gauntleted fist, while another villain took a boot to the solar plexus. New York's dark avenger took the crooks down with a ruthless efficiency, the vigilante showing a complete economy of movement. No fancy flips or flourishes, no showing off, just a brutal barrage of bone crunching combat that left the vandals no more than broken heaps on the ground. He was taking out his frustration's for being unable to catch Whitechapel on these hoodies.

He might not kill them, but they might wish that he had.