[CHAR] Absolute Comics - Justice Rising

[Morden Man]

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

T H E M A R T I A N M A N H U N T E R

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^{_{J' O N N J' O N N Z Z ♦ M A N H U N T E R ♦ S P A C E ♦ N O N - A F F I L I A T E D}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

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“There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in a storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.”

We meet this J’onn J’onnzz when he is at his lowest ebb. The annihilation of the Green Martians, J’onn’s wife and daughter among them, has left him a broken man. Where the Martian Manhunter we’re familiar with is inadvertently brought to Earth and eventually becomes a superhero, this J’onn flees for the furthest reaches of space. He is the lone survivor of the extermination of his people – and driven by his failure to protect his loved ones, he sets about exacting vengeance against evil-doers across the universe with such an intensity that some regard him an urban legend.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

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J’onn is motivated purely by his desire for vengeance. He has a dim view of the Green Lantern Corps and all other forms of galactic authorities, who he considers to have failed Mars. As such, J’onn takes it upon himself to track down and mete out justice to cosmic war criminals. His services are not available for hire. He is a lone figure, with few associates and even fewer friends, and has little to no desire to form attachments with others. Despite his obsession with vengeance, J’onn does not, by trade, deal in lethal force unless it is wholly avoidable – and will not shed the blood of innocents even on pain of death.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

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Unlike other interpretations of the character, I intend to keep my Martian Manhunter spacebound. He has no connection to Earth, nor its heroes, and is solely motivated by his crusade to exact justice throughout the universe by whatever means necessary at this stage. He is therefore a far cry from the loveable, Oreo-scoffing Martian Manhunter that most of us are familiar with.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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Zkedia Mining Colony, Jiden-5

Salt crunched beneath Drex’s hooves. In front of him, he could hear the sobbing of J’vanna, the doctor’s son. The boy couldn’t have been more than six cycles old. Drex opened his mouth to offer a word of consolation to J’vanna but was silenced by a sudden jab in the back. The Centaurian mercenary behind him attempted to bray something to him in broken Kymellian but Drex couldn’t make sense of it. He didn’t need to understand it to know what was coming next.

For thousands of cycles, Drex’s people had called this planet their home. Though they were Kymellian, their isolation had robbed them of the abilities some of their kind possessed. The salt pits that had drawn them there had been both the making of his people and their undoing. They had grown weak, complacent. Drex understood that now as he marched to his end with what remained of his people.

Finally there came a cry from the Centaurian general that brought the entire procession to a halt beside a gorge. Once again Drex was jabbed in the back, though this time with enough force to send him down onto his hooves. His head hit the ground and revealed the blood red soil beneath it. Drex winced slightly, feeling blood trickling freely from the cut on his forehead. Beside him, the young J’vanna’s sobs grew louder with every passing moment – to the point that he was heaving. It was undignified, Drex thought, before damning himself quietly for his judgement.

The Centaurian general stepped forward. His bulging muscles were covered in deep blue scars and the shock of red hair that rose from his skull stood tallest among his men. He withdrew the golden bow from his back and slipped one of his arrows into place. All around him, Drex heard his people let out fearful cries but he remained silent. The general drew back his bowstring and following on from his lead his men did so too – creating a sound not unlike a thousand nails running along a chalkboard all at once.

The Centaurian general held his bowstring back without any sign of exertion. To Centaurians, the bow was more than a weapon, it was like another limb – the bond between them was almost sacred. Finally, in his last moments Drex turned his mind to all things sacred. Though his people had long since strayed from the old ways and few among them worshipped the gods of Kymellia, the prayers of his childhood came back to him.

“May the Mother forgive us.”

Drex’s eyes clamped shut as he heard the cracking of a thousand Centaurian bows unfurling. Time seemed to slow to a complete standstill as Drex sensed the lethal payload barrelling towards them. His eyes still shut he felt a hand clamp around his and his own hand compelled without his consent to reach out for the Kymellian beside him. His eyes opened and he realised to his disbelief that he was still alive.

“The Mother,” J’vanna smiled at him. “She saved us.”

There was a roar of confusion from among the Centaurian horde as they collectively reached into their quivers for more ammunition. Drex scanned his people’s numbers and saw among them the source of their salvation. There was a lone green figure stood with a single hand on the shoulder of a Kymellian woman. Drex shook his head in disbelief – it was a Martian.

Before the Centaurians had a chance to send forth another barrage, they found their numbers compromised. In a blur, the Martian cut through them. Each blow they sent in the Martian’s direction by way of defence, be it by bow or by first, passed through him. They were met by blows with ten times the force – some were sent skidding along the salt in a heap whilst others merely melted to the ground limply as the Martian’s limbs passed through them.

Drex climbed to his feet and with a roar sent his broken and beaten people into the fray to aid the Martian. In the melee, the Kymellian caught a glimpse of the towering shock of red hair that belonged to the Centaurian general. He cleaved a way through the carnage towards it with his hooves, smashing them down upon one foe after another to make his way towards him. Finally, the two adversaries encountered each other in the field.

“You will die here,” the Centaurian sneered as he drew his sword. “But at least you will have the honour of dying by my hand.”

Drex let out a guttural neigh as he flung himself towards the general. He parried a blow from the Centaurian’s sword away from his throat with left hoof and sent the right one towards the general’s exposed ribs. They traded blows for what seemed like hours and they appeared evenly matched for a time, but eventually Drex’s advanced years began to show, and the Centaurian gained the upper hand. He slipped through the Kymellian’s reach and managed to gain his back. The sacred forced itself over Drex’s neck and his hooves seemed powerless to stop the bowstring from cutting into his flesh.

<Enough.>

The Centaurian’s grip fell limp and the bowstring loosened. The Centaurian whimpered as he felt a hand glide into his chest and grip onto his heart. He looked over his shoulder to see the blood-covered Martian stood behind him. There was not an ounce of sympathy in the Martian’s deep red eyes – only a rage that seemed to emit a cold that chilled him to his bones. All around them the fighting continue, except for those in the near vicinity who seemed to sense the significance of the moment.

<You will command your men to stand down.>

Drex held a hand to his bleeding neck as he staggered away from them. He saw the look of defiance cross the general's face. “I will do no such thing, Martian. My men would sooner die than admit defeat to the likes of you.”

<Then die they will.>

One of the Martian’s green hands pressed against his temple and the battlefield fell silent. The Centaurian horde dropped their gilded bows to the ground and marched, as the Kymellians had, towards the waiting gorge. One by one they stepped voluntarily over the edge. Soon they were falling in their tens, hundreds even, as the confused Kymellians watched on. The exhilaration that Drex had felt turned to horror as the scale of the death dawned on him.

The defiance on the Centaurian general’s face seemed to melt and suddenly, suspended helplessly in place with the Martian’s hand clasped around his heart, he seemed to relent.

“No,” he murmured in a voice that was so defeated that it shocked Drex. “No more.”

<I offered you mercy once, Centaurian. I will not offer it again.>

More bodies tumbled over the cliff to the deaths. Drex found himself instinctively reaching out for a passing Centaurian. There was a glassy look in their eye that chilled the Kymellian to his core. No matter how hard Drex tried to restrain them, he could not stop them from marching to their death. More of his people reached out for their one-time adversaries in an effort to stop the Martian’s slaughter.

Through it all, a gentle hoof came to rest on their hulking green saviour’s forearm. J’vanna, the doctor’s son, had slipped through the crowd unnoticed. Where the others were terrified of the Martian, he was too young to know better than to approach him.

“Please,” J’vanna implored the Martian. “There’s been enough death for one day.”

The Martian stared down at the boy silently and somewhere deep inside of him something stirred. He relinquished his hold on the general’s heart and allowed him to fall to the ground with a thud. The Centaurian’s seemed to come to their senses. Drex watched on equal parts amazed by J’vanna’s courage and appalled by what had been done. The Martian lent down and placed one of his large hands over the Centaurian general’s head.

<You have felt but a fraction of the suffering my people felt. Know that I have seen into your mind, held your blackened heart in my hand, and judge you to be unworthy of this world. You will live on, but ... not without paying a price.>

The general let out a scream as billions of voices howled out in pain in his brain. He saw blood and fire, families torn apart, and a world set against itself until only the strongest remained. He began to froth at the mouth and convulse until, his mind shattered into a thousand pieces, he fell to his knees abruptly.

The surviving Centaurians watched on in shocked silence as the most capable among them was rendered a vegetable with but a fraction of the Martian’s strength.

<Leave this place.>

Without a second’s hesitation the archers scattered, scampering over the corpses of their fallen compatriots, some even dropping their bows as they made a hasty exit. Had Drex been minded to protest, the Martian’s display earned his silence and, in truth, his revulsion. Something about the scene compelled him to speak and, though he knew he ought to express gratitude, as his equine lips parted, admonishment appeared in its place.

“What gives you the right?” Drex said as he gestured to the gorge half-filled with Centaurian bodies. “You did this in our names.”

<No, Kymellian, I did it in theirs.>

For a tenth of a second, Drex felt the force of emotion that had been unleashed upon the general. It was enough to knock him to his knees. When he opened his eyes he found that tears were pouring from them without end. The Martian Manhunter was gone. Only silence remained.

P O S T C A T A L O G:

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N/A

[Hound55]

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

T H E F A N T A S T I C F O U R

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

^{R E E D R I C H A R D S / S U E S T O R M / B E N G R I M M / J O H N N Y S T O R M
♦ S C I E N T I S T S / E X P L O R E R S / C O S M I C N A V I G A T O R S
♦ B A X T E R B U I L D I N G , F O U R F R E E D O M S P L A Z A , M A N H A T T A N
♦ F A N T A S T I C F O U R / S T O R M – R I C H A R D S S C I E N T I F I C S O C I E T Y}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

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“You may tell your boss that we're tremendously honored by his gracious gesture-- but we're not yet done exploring. What gives this family its purpose and its joy isn't the destination... it's the journey.” – Reed Richards

“ You have these doubts...Constant and unrelenting. Some large and some so very small. Am I being too strict? Am I too lenient? Do I praise too often or not enough...Being a parent, having children...it's a constant war between uncertainty and hope. So you live in fear...and there are these doubts... Science is much the same. The child of the mind. Left untempered it can do the unconscionable. But if you try to hold it and keep it safe, you deny it’s true potential. Love, life… it’s all a balance.” – Sue Storm

“Sure, around this family I might be like the dumb kid in science class… But maybe I’m too dumb to know when to quit as well. FLAME ON!” – Johnny Storm

“Yer know what? Mebbe if you connect the whozzits to the whatsit over there, then run a conduit through to power the weapon… Yer know what, forgeddaboudit Stretch, I’m gonna just play to my strengths… IT’S CLOBBERIN’ TIME!” – Ben Grimm, Sensitive Yancy Street Citizen

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C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

Latching onto the First Family to tell some BIG universe expanding stories, organically open up some crisis/event level threats, and tell some (hopefully interesting) cosmic/global level sci-fi family stories and character work.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

Some years ago the exploratory space mission crew which which gave birth to the group who would go on to be called 'The Fantastic Four' disappeared, presumed dead. The world grieved, Latverian based financial backers lost money and face (and many suspect the failed mission was to blame for the recent political turmoil in that Nation since) and humanity started to turn away from the stars...

But now they're back! A wormhole generated by lead scientist Reed Richards brought home these wandering heroes... And now they have kids!

But their return raises many more questions... what cosmic force changed these four heroes so dramatically? Reed Richards is now capable of amazing feat of strange elasticity, Susan Storm is now able to tap into some kind of power allowing her to create force fields and make herself invisible, pilot Benjamin Grimm has now become some form of rock-based monster and Johnny Storm is now fully combustable, able to generate high levels of heat and flame. And what of the children? Does some hidden power or force lie dormant within these doe-eyed kids? Reed Richards left this world as one of this world's smartest people, but since his return his intelligence has increased exponentially beyond what it was and he has become more distant from his fellow man. What has he learned in his time away? And why does it seem like his daughter Valeria has developed similar traits despite her so incredibly young age? Could this be why Sue Storm has taken on more of a leadership role since their return?

And most important of all... Are these really the same people who disappeared all those years ago?

Character and Equipment:

Characters

Characters

Reed Richards – Already one of the smartest people on Earth prior to the mission, Reed Richards’ intelligence has seemingly increased exponentially since he left the Earth, however he has also become more distant from people in the process. When the mission met with disaster he was torn between reaching for Sue in a futile effort to hold her close and keep her safe, and reaching for controls in a desperate effort to keep the whole group safe. The curious cosmic radiation which bathed the whole crew after being processed by the damaged gamma converter left the scientist who had a habit to reach well beyond his grasp provided him the means to reach far further than he would have ever thought possible.

But was that the incident that changed his intellect? Was that why he seems to have turned his ever expanding reach away from his humanity? Or was it something else?

Sue Storm – Doctor Susan Storm was a brilliantly rounded scientist in her own right, but with noticeable changes in her husband’s mentality regarding science, she has stepped into a broader leadership role, providing the conscience for the group and big picture direction. The mission’s disaster saw her fearfully seeking escape from the creeping wave of strange cosmic radiation that seemed to be seeking her out, screaming for something, anything to hold it back. Now Sue has some inner power that allows her to generate force fields and render herself invisible.

Are these changes to her husband’s demeanour really responsible for her move to leadership? Does she have other designs for these powerful people? And what secrets has she been keeping about their adventures away from Earth?

Ben Grimm – Pilot Benjamin Grimm, Yancy Street tough kid made good. Long time friend of Reed Richards has tended to keep his public appearances extremely limited since the group returned. Despite experiencing the most drastic outward changes, he seems the most grounded and unchanged psychologically by the experience, albeit not escaping completely unharmed. As disaster befell the crew, Ben stood firm, unflinchingly clinging to the controls to guide them all through the Negative Zone aperture. The altered cosmic radiation altered his body’s composition, greatly increasing its density and strength. Making him as sturdy as a stone, just as he had been on that day.

Just how deep does the monster go? What else does he have to hide to make him shun the public so?

Johnny Storm – Immature, brash, hot-headed, but intensely loyal to those closest to him, Johnny Storm’s personality helped attract interest in the mission. It also kept Susan’s troubled brother close where she could keep an eye on him, as she’d been the voice of reason in their family since the brother and sister lost their parents. It also didn’t hurt that he was the fiance of Valeria, the sister of Latverian financier, scientist and Head of Ground Control Victor Von Doom. As the crew met that fateful day, Johnny ‘sacrificed’ himself for her, stuffing her in a radiation shielded airlock as the wave of radiation swept through the ship. Unfortunately, that altered cosmic radiation was the only thing which allowed the four other crew members to survive the extreme circumstances of that day. As the ship burst into flames as the nuclear core melted down, Johnny was forced to watch the woman he loved burn before his eyes as his frustration, outrage at an unjust world, saw him become one with the flames.

What really happened to Valeria Von Doom? Did she really die on that day? Was there other foul play at hand which saw her become the only casualty?

Franklin Richards – The older child of the two new additions to the group which left for that ill-fated mission, Franklin Richards was named presumably after Susan and Johnny Storm’s deceased father. A well-adjusted, fun loving kid who seems to be all about TV, comics, and adventure, Franklin seems unaffected by his family’s journey throughout the unknown.

Is all really as it seems with the ‘Normal’ Richards child? How normal could he really be coming from such a strange family?

Valeria Richards – The younger Richards child was named after the ill-fated crew member who reportedly died on the day of the mission’s mishap Valeria Von Doom. She seems to have shared in her father’s recent detachment from humanity, but also has a wisdom well beyond her years. Possibly even beyond her father’s. Valeria loves her family, but treats human society mainly as a curiosity. A curiosity she has rapidly picked up and absorbed, but still.

What’s the deal with the ‘creepy’ kid? Five year olds are not supposed to have a better vocabulary than most adults, why does it seem like she’s studying us?

S A M P L E P O S T:

Then...

The booming voice of the man who would be DOOM.

“Ten... Nine... Eight…”

Victor’s sharp eyes made another final sweep across the whole control panel. They had cleared every check and test. But what man could leave the fate of so much to another’s vision? A lesser mind’s decision? To do such a thing, one might as well leave such a thing to the winds of chance.

“Seven…”

Ben Grimm flexes his fingers for one last time as he prepares to white-knuckle it, and grips the controls in sure, steadfast hands. He wouldn’t want the responsibility anywhere else. Ol’ blue eyed Benji has their lives and his in his hands, knows exactly what it means, and the whole damn universe couldn’t pry him off his duty. So just let ‘er try.

“Six…“

Reed and Sue lock eyes lovingly. After these years the married couple share the mutual knowledge that whatever comes next, whatever they now face, they have the strength for what comes. Together.

“Five…”

The young lovers hands embrace. Even through the suits, Johnny Storm could swear he could feel Valeria Von Doom’s warmth radiating through, as in all things.

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Five Hours Ago…

Children playing in the sparse green fields of Central Park. A tour group rides by on bicycles. College students with books spread open come to grips with their course load whilst talking about the day to day frivolities.

All interrupted by rolling thunder. A space between places opened by an explosive cacophony of sound. Feet touched down on Earth’s soil which hadn’t known it for well over a decade, as well as three who had never known it as home. The tall bug said something in Sue Storm’s ear. She looked concerned, and replied, as people raced towards them. But none could hear over the sound of the cosmic gateway. The bug confirmed, and Sue swept her hair back, deep in thought over the meaning of what she had just been told.

People were racing towards the five strange humans, their robot and one strange rock monster. The bug gave a final wave, walked between the humans and their means of arrival. Shielding itself from the sight of other people and used a small box to open a similar portal to return, presumably, from wherever they came.

The blonde haired youth looked at his craggly compatriot and noticed no change in his appearance.

“Hey? Looks like our powers are still kicking in here too.” He said, flicking a finger off of his compatriot's rocky shoulder and setting his finger aflame.

People ran to the group on the grass, but then kept their distance. Standing in stunned silence, the crowd was seemingly scared of the strange man with the stony flesh.

“So…” Ben said, breaking the awkward silence. “Whaddid we miss?”

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P O S T C A T A L O G U E:

Introduction
Intro - Run - A Blue Beetle Post featuring the Fantastic Four

Season 2
Post 1 - The Return
Post 2 - The Coming of Doom

Season 3
Visitors - A Blue Beetle/Fantastic Four Mixed Post

[Hound55]

The Inimitable...

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

THE BLUE BEETLE

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

T E D K O R D ♦ E N G I N E E R / V I G I L A N T E / H E R O / C . E . O / B L O C K B U S T E R M O V I E M E M B E R
♦ B O S T O N , K . O . R . D E A S T D I V I S I O N / “ T H E E M B A S S Y “ , M A N H A T T A N , N E W Y O R K
♦ K O R D O M N I V E R S A L R E S E A R C H & D E V E L O P M E N T / S U P E R B U D D I E S

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“My greatest strength is an unfocused mind. This is because while you are all thinking of one idea, I’m thinking of five different ideas. My greatest weakness however is an unfocused mind. This is because while I’m supposed to be thinking about one thing, I’m actually thinking of five other things.”

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Theodore Stephen KORD
5’11”, 184lbs (Don't judge!)
Born: Charlton, Massachussetts (July 4, 1997)
Graduated: Worcester Polytechnic Institute B.S. Degree in Chemical Engineering, Ph. D degree in Aeronautical engineering, Ph. D in Electrical Engineering, B.S. Degrees in Robotics and Mechanical Engineering
Head of Kord Omniversal Research & Development (the company his father founded has 3 locations - K.O.R.D West Division located in Pasadena, California, K.O.R.D Central based out of Chicago and K.O.R.D East Division located in Boston where Thomas Kord first started the company)
Field Leader and Founding Member of the Superbuddies. A team of heroes brought together to do good, and to better human/metahuman relations by showing just what can be achieved through collaborative efforts between the two.

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A prodigious mind, but flighty and prone to getting himself into trouble, Ted Kord excelled at virtually anything that he enjoyed and put his effort towards. Science, gymnastics, soccer and baseball, with the world in the palm of his hand Ted Kord could do it all and do it all with a smile on his face and laughter in his heart. His life took a sharp turn however, when he was expelled in his senior year of high school due to his involvement in a scandal which saw two thirds of a class cheat their way to perfect scores in major Physics and Mathematics exams. Knowing that his own grades for the year were sufficient to have already graduated, he refused to roll over and snitch out his friend Carter Johns – the one responsible for selling the tests throughout the class.

But whilst his grades were good enough already to have graduated with flying colours, M.I.T did not respond well to news of his expulsion, nor the manner in which it took place.

Some months later, after a number of phone calls and a hefty donation from Kord Omniversal founder and C.E.O Thomas Kord, and Ted was enrolled to local engineering college Worcester Polytechnic.

Given the opportunity to continue his learning, Ted excelled even further in the less structured college environment where he could focus more on endeavours of his own choosing. He swiftly blew through a degree in Aeronautical engineering, having always looked to the stars with wonder and discovered how much easier the college system suited him. Enrolling further in a number of other engineering courses to be one of the more rounded young scientific minds in the world.

But something was missing from the young man’s life.

Ted was on a mission for knowledge, viewing it as the ends rather than the means until he met another scientist named Hank Pym at a symposium in New York. But Pym wasn’t the catalyst for change so much as a mirror to help see himself better through.

The catalyst was a young man in a black suit slinging some kind of organic strand-like webbing substance, who swept through in pursuit of another man. @DocTachyon

The two scientists bonded over how this young new superhero they witnessed could possibly be doing the things he was doing ("It's obvious! A spray dispersal system that fires a resin polymer over a chemical silly-string like chain, solidifying it in the process!" "Are you kidding me? It's clearly some kind of fluid that solidifies on contact with the air!" "Maybe it's actually organic... you know? Maybe it's actually something he secretes inside of him, from in his actual wrists?" "Yeah, sure, whatever. And maybe it's Maybelline..." "..." "..." "BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"), and potential mechanical devices that could mimic his amazing movements and feats of agility, speed and strength. The pair exchanged email addresses and Ted had found what his life had been missing for years. The spark. The joy and wonder from his old high school days.

But this was more than just nostalgia. This was a new path.

“Screw the family business. I want to be one of those guys…”

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

Last season was the story of a brilliant, yet flawed young man finally finding a path and slowly discovering his potential despite himself.

This season will see him coming to terms with relying on teammates and people around him on this new team that he has formed, and will also deal with the notions of “family” and “legacy”.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

Character and Equipment

Character and Equipment:

Ted Kord – Good natured and affable, unfocused yet brilliant. Ted Kord possesses an eidetic and photographic memory, the ability to demonstrate great logic and deductive reasoning and a love of film (particularly Bond and Mission: Impossible movies). Ted was a gymnast in high school (and a few pounds lighter, but hey, who’s judging…) which plays a heavy factor in his agility based hand-to-hand fighting style.

The Bug – Originally designed by Ted as a prototype for potential space travel (young Ted set his mind to Mars as NASA first began sending probes and rovers) it has since been repurposed for his foray into superheroics. Mimicking the series Star Trek: Enterprise, Ted found a way to provide shielding by magnetizing the airship’s hull. He also found ways to electrify the outer shell to protect it from unwanted boarders. Capable of withstanding the pressures of the deepest sea trench or space travel, the mostly solar-powered Bug is at the bleeding edge of modern crimefighting vehicular technology and Ted’s pride and joy. It’s also controllable by remote, capable of flying or hovering on auto-pilot without Ted needing to be at the helm.

The BB gun – Ted’s primary defensive weapon, the BB gun is capable of emitting either a blinding flash of light, a strong compressed air blast, or a single five second deafening sonic screech. The BB gun is also powered by solar charged battery cells that Ted keeps on his person.

Ted also has access to a ridiculous array of self-invented gadgetry and gimmicks, although most are limited in use and would require the foresight and planning to bring them to utilize.

The Superbuddies

The Superbuddies

Maxwell Lord – A former CEO for a Fortune 500 pharmaceutical company, Maxwell Lord acts as a figurehead organizational leader planted by Ted Kord as a front for explaining where the money has come from in return for a share of the revenue streams. Unscrupulous and money-grubbing by nature, he can be quite a stringent taskmaster in keeping the team on mission to preserve their brand as heroes which makes up his mealticket.


The Wasp – Owner of her own fashion label, when Janet Van Dyne discovered that Ted was engaging in activities as Boston’s latest hero The Blue Beetle she became enamoured with the swashbuckling romantic connotations of the hero life. Outfitted by her husband Hank Pym, who is one of the foremost geniuses in the modern world the Wasp packs a wallop that belies her diminutive size when in costume.


Hank Pym – Generally introverted and reclusive, Hank Pym also has numerous mental issues and social disorders which often cause troubles in his own life and for those who care about him. He very much loves Janet though and has joined the team out of a feeling of necessity. Even though this will actually mean occasionally dealing with people and spending less time at work in his lab. Might just be the smartest person in the world.


Ice – Tora Olafsdotter was formerly a security officer for a branch of S.H.I.E.L.D known as the Global Guardians, who dealt with providing security for foreign dignitaries and private citizens of international importance. She also happens to be Ted’s girlfriend. And a metahuman. Which is not why he dated her. I mean, not that that would be an issue for him not to either. Because he is not a bigot. She is cute, looks amazing in a cocktail dress, and can tolerate Ted’s more irritating quirks which previously subjected him to the single life (which may be a metahuman power in and of itself…). Ted has zero complaints.


Fire – Beatriz Da Costa was Tora’s best friend and almost like a bigger sister for her when the two worked previously for the Global Guardians. She barely tolerates Ted and trusts that this whole thing will soon end once Tora comes to her senses, sees him for the geeky dork he is and dumps him for someone better suited to her. She is extremely open and comfortable with her own body and sensuality, which makes Ted wrap a towel around himself anytime the team uses the on-site pool. She is extremely protective of Tora. At this point Ice is the only reason she’s wasting her time with this whole superhero charade.

Peripheral NPC characters this season:

"Sunspot"
"Dan Garrett"
"Scott Lang"
"Cassie Lang"
"Abner Jenkins"
"Melissa “Mimi/Mims” Gold-Jenkins"
Other characters which are already intrinsically linked to K.O.R.D. in the comics.

S E A S O N O N E S Y N O P S I S :

Season One Synopsis

No sooner had Stark Industries unveiled the Iron Man suit, than Tony Stark announced it was not for sale. Spiking demand for a product that would not be available on the market. Tech giants scrambled, seeing a rare hole in the market. Kord Omniversal Research and Development had a unique problem.

In their B.E.E.T.L.E suit, a high-tech suit designed for exploration in hostile environments, on this world and off it, remained the leading example of similar technology, but its C.E.O Ted Kord refused to push it to market. Objecting to pivoting into a role as a weapons manufacturer on moral grounds.

The suit’s designer, K.O.R.D’s Chief Financial Officer Abner Jenkins, sensing he was not getting any younger and seeing a way he could cash in on his life’s greatest piece of work was driven to seeing K.O.R.D take it to market by any means necessary. Aided by an unknown ally, Jenkins organized an attempt to steal the B.E.E.T.L.E suit at the New York Science Expo by having false information leaked about it being the upcoming flagship product for Kord Omniversal which he would then be able to very publicly thwart, displaying its value and forcing Ted Kord’s hand.

Unfortunately, Ted Kord also had his own plans. Using an all-terrain space craft and numerous tech-based gadgets of his own design, Ted Kord has been moonlighting as Boston’s new hero the Blue Beetle – the eponymous hero of a 1960s television series starring Dan Garrett.

When the thieves, a group of Madison Avenue advertising workers led by Farley Fleeter and naming themselves the Madmen, made a move on the B.E.E.T.L.E they were not only facing down Abner Jenkins in the suit. Also on the scene were the Blue Beetle and a pair of security workers for the organization known as the Global Guardians operating under the names of Green Flame and Ice Maiden. When the smoke cleared, the Blue Beetle was not only able to incapacitate the Madmen, he also successfully captured Jenkins in the B.E.E.T.L.E suit and handed him off to the local New York police.

He also found himself falling ass-backwards into a relationship with Ice, otherwise known as Tora Olafsdotter.

It also saw him form a new idea. An idea that would see him change his Blue Beetle solo act, to an ensemble – a hero team.

Working with a variety of different heroes types, both young and old, under heavy fire in New York’s recent Crisis Ted’s thoughts on what a hero should be have been shaped by those around him who he has come across in his life. Whether they wear a labcoat, wings, or shroud themselves in flame.

S A M P L E P O S T:

Sample Post

So, it’s true confessions time I guess…

I never really studied in high school. Ever, if I’m being honest. I never really had to. I read the text books that we were given for the standard curriculum at the start of the term. Tests would come. And every page of every text book was just sitting right there. In my head.

I mean that’s not the sum total of schooling, let’s be honest. Rote memorization. You have to come to terms with the concepts that the class deals with that are inside the books. But when you can just recall everything and anything that the class is dealing with, the second you turn your test sheet over… you don’t really ever need to pay too much attention in class.

So you drift. Your focus waxes and wanes. You become a dreamer. A class clown. Anything to ease off the monotony of those classes which hold you captive from 9 til 3.

Instead of listening to how the mitochondria are the powerhouse of the cell, which you read about as soon as you got your books, you’re sketching a spaceship that will one day take you beyond the moon. The spaceship that will make you the first man on that red planet, from this blue one which has been sending probes and rovers over for exploratory purposes since the day you were born.

You drew sketches of yourself in the James Bond suit and tie, holding that trademark Bond pose with the Walther PPK skyward.

…and little do you know that the reason you’re wearing a suit before your 23rd birthday has nothing to do with neither space travel, nor espionage.

You’re sitting in the seat your father vacated. The business and the world he left for you early. And still you drift.

But the craft that sits in the covered hanger, recessed into the roof of the Kord Tower isn’t a dream. And neither is the other suit that hangs in your wardrobe. The one you never tell people about.

“Well, if we’re done here ladies and gentlemen. I think we’ll call it a day.”

P O S T C A T A L O G U E:

Season One:
1. “I mean, even if we don’t have a product here, we could send that in and get $500 off of America’s Funniest Home Videos…”
2. He grabbed his sky wire and looked down the hatch at the lights of the city and rooftops far below. “Well, if I screw this next bit up, at least I won’t have to worry about what I’m going to do for long…”
3. “Whoa! No-no-no-no-no-no… Don’t want to do-- wait… do I?” Ted thought for a beat. “No. Lucrative as that side of robotics may well be… let’s leave that to more… driven men. Shower, delete preference profile ‘looking for a good time’.”
4. “See!” He pointed at her. “Still the boss! Respect commanded!” The elevator door opened. He walked in and turned around. “Now please call ahead so that I can see the Research and Development engineers in my Research and Development company...” He called back to Angela as the elevator doors closed.
5. “I just realized this is the most I’ve been able to speak to a fellow scientist’s wife or girlfriend at one of these events without either her eyes completely glazing over, or outright running away and going to talk with Tony Stark instead…”
6. “Yeah, you know how it is, Hank. All these kids out there these days… All hopped out of their gourds on... Fizz.”
7. “I’m not going to kill him, Jeremiah.” He mumbled whilst deep in facepalm. “I might shave him bald and feed him each of his $5,000 suits, and the expensive Italian loafers he purchased with his undeserved senior executive salary, garnishing it generously with his own hair… but I’m not going to kill him.”
7b. Back-end of Blue Beetle/Spider-Man crossover courtesy of @DocTachyon
8. Tora nodded, and straightened up, hands on her hips. “I should get out of here. Make sure we get your B.B. Suit clear from when the police get here and do their sweep. Did I say that right?”
“No, it doesn’t work like that. B.B. gun is a play on words. You know ‘Pew! Pew!’ like the kid’s toy?” Ted said, making finger-guns.
9. “How do you even put a thing like that on? I mean it looks like it’d hurt your neck anyway, but... Oh he’s wearing gloves! Well that makes sense. You wouldn't put a helmet like that on without gloves…”
10. “That’d be right. You drive around in a hotrod like this, all of a sudden you’ve got every two-bit wallcrawler out to make a buck stepping off the curb in front of you to drop a lawsuit.”
10b. Crisis/Event Spider-man/Blue Beetle team-up courtesy of @DocTachyon
10c. Crisis/Event Spider-Man/Blue Beetle team-up courtesy of DocTachyon
10d. Crisis/Event Spider-Man/Blue Beetle team-up courtesy of DocTachyon
10e. Crisis/Event
10f. Crisis/Event Culmination - Captain America/Wonder Woman/Arsenal/Blue Beetle team-up courtesy of @Lord Wraith, @Webboysurf and [@Star Lord]
Epilogue. “Just-- please don’t destroy the universe. It has all of my stuff in it and I just got it how I like it.” Ted facepalmed.

Season Two:
1. First Post - The Embassy Opens and Ted's Hero
2. Post Two - Pool Antics and What's Hank Been Up To?
3. Post Three - Exit: The Scarab And Janet Van Dyne: New Sensation
4. Post Four - Enter: Scott Lang
5. Post Five - The Palmer MediTech Heist
6. Post Six - Tora
7, Post Seven - DaCosta Family Values
8. Post Eight - More Dan Garrett/Veronica Sinclair/Intro Terry Sloane and "A New Marketing Campaign?"

Season Three:
1. Visitors - A Blue Beetle/Fantastic Four Mixed Post

[Hexaflexagon]

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

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^{_{J E S S I C A C A M P B E L L J O N E S ♦ F U N C T I O N A L A L C O H O L I C ♦ N E W Y O R K, N E W Y O R K ♦ A L I A S I N V E S T I G A T I O N S}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

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^{"I told you when you hired me-- These things-- These things rarely end well. "}

Well, except for some tweaking of the backstory this is the general run-of-the-mill Jessica. Namely she didn’t get hospitalized by the Avengers during her time with Kilgrave for obvious reason. I recently rewatched You Were Never Really Here and had a chance to play Disco Elysium, so I’ve been thinking a lot about Trauma lately and its relation to the thriller/detective genre. I guess, fundamentally the biggest thing I went to do with Jessica is explore that trauma. As someone who personally deals with Post Traumatic Stress Order for reasons not unlike Jessica’s and who ended up coping with it in similar ways for a long while, so the idea speaks to me in a real core way. (Write what you know and all that, I guess.) Jessica is going to be struggling and I’ll put content warning stuff out there right now about things like self-harm and suicide if people would rather want to avoid that. I don’t want to glorify trauma in anyway, but I also don’t want to pull any punches either and I feel that the identity at the core of Jessica is good at handling that. I also want to juxtapose this core idea of trauma and helplessness with another about control and how those in power manifest different kinds of control. To that end, I want to take Jessica out of New York’s mean streets and into its penthouses with me also taking inspiration from a lot of Gibson’s post-cyberpunk works especially the “Bigend cycle”.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

---

To quote the youtuber Screened on his piece about You Were Never Really Here "This is a Story of an Exhausted Woman... trying to find a Reason to Stay." Jessica Jones is a broken woman. She spends almost all the money she makes on her alcoholism and she tries to kill herself at least once a week. The unaddressed trauma of her life, particularly the death of her family and a horrid encounter with Kilgrave early in her detective career has left in dire straits in terms of her mental health. But even though Jones is broken she is still a strong woman both literally due to her super strength and metaphorically due to her tenacity. Jessica throws herself completely at her detective work in order to avoid her own problems. As a result, Alias Investigations has a growing reputation for its track record and more and more powerful people have begun to ask after Jessica. This season will primarily follow Jessica as she is dunked headfirst into the darker side of New York’s rich and famous and how she deals with it. I also aim to focus on more smaller vignettes this time around guided by an overarching plot instead of doing the usually long-form style that I usually work with.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

---

Supporting Characters:
Detective Zoe Kim - Contact for Jessica in the NYPD.
Patsy Walker - an old friend of Jessica's and secretly the vigilante known as Hellcat.
Mercedes "Misty" Knight - Owner of Knightwing Restorations Ltd, a security consulting firm with her partner
Colleen Wing. Knight was a cop who turned P.I during New York's crime boom in the 1980s due to her disillusionment with the force. Serves as an impromptu mentor to Jessica from time to time.
Mohsin Chadha - NYC'S Commissioner for Cultural Affairs and rising up and comer in the Democratic Party. Hired Jessica to find his daughter Sahiba who has gone missing.
Kilgrave - The one they call the purple man. Used his mind control powers to make Jessica his own personal slave for the better half of a year without her even knowing.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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A Meeting on the Boardwalk

The last few nights had been hard on Jessica Jones. Sleep avoided her like the plague replaced only with waking hallucinations that felt more real than anything else she had felt for the last three days. Whenever she closed her eyes to try and sleep, she saw the color purple and heard laughing. That laughing followed her everywhere: at the grocery store, on her daily run, and especially in the shower. Getting rid of the bathroom mirror by putting a fist sized hole through it had helped initially, but the laughter crept back into her head soon enough. She finished all the booze she had, and then she spent the last of her tucked away rent money stuffed underneath her mattress on more. The booze didn’t even help her sleep anymore, but it still thankfully worked as a mental anesthetic. But now even that booze was running low and she feared that a dry spell would send her over the edge. That’s why when Jessica got a text from an old friend to meet her on the Coney Island Boardwalk, she jumped at the opportunity and took the Q as far as it would take her.

________________________________________

Jessica flicked her lighter on and off. It was a tick that she did when she was anxious, agitated, or waiting like she was now. She cupped the flame with her free hand to shield it from the sea breeze that habituated the boardwalk. Sitting there with the fur lined collar of her trucker jacket pulled up against her neck making it look like a priest’s habit, Jessica couldn't help but feel like she belonged in a Tarkovsky film. Unfortunately, the mere mention of Tarkovsky triggered a primordial gag reflex in her. She dated a film critic once and they collectively decided to do a marathon viewing of the Russian's work while slamming down several bottles of $15 Georgian vodka; she vomited for a week after that. Now the mere mention of Avant Garde Slavic filmmakers made her stomach do somersaults.

"Stomach disagreeing with you?"

Detective Zoe Kim sat down next to her. A solid streak of grey hair along her left temple made her look older than her mid-thirties. Dressed in all black with a matching leather jacket torn at the left shoulder and patched with duct tape, Zoe looked more like Lou Reed than a cop. But, the way she walked, like she owned the city, like she knew it like the back of her hand could have only been acquired by someone who had walked the beat.

"Cause you look like you're about to throw up your lunch Jones."

"Shut it Kim," Jessica croaked forcing down a rising current of bile. "it's just a psychological reaction."

"Sure looks like a psychological reaction," Kim replied with a shake of her head. "you mind if I borrow a light?"

Jessica raised the open flame of her lighter to a cigarette that Kim produced from her jacket pocket. There was a slight tremble in Kim's outreached hand that neither of them commented on. Permanent nerve damage that occurred on the pair's first outing. Kim took a bullet for her before she knew about the whole gene altering chemicals deal. The bullet luckily didn't go anywhere lethal, but it did fuck with the nerves in her left arm. After that she was shifted up the chain of command where she found detectives spend a lot more time sitting behind a desk than doing actual police work.

"You know," started Kim as she exhaled a cloud of smoke. "this was the first place I saw someone die? I was 13 down at the amusement park and this kid had just won a big stuffed polar bear to impress a girl. It was one of those big bears holding a heart, real sappy shit. Turns out though the girl's boyfriend wasn't moved by the suitor's advances and he drove a knife between the kid's ribs. The bear didn't stay too white after that."

"Love hurts." summarized Jessica with a shrug as she stashed her lighter away.

"Ain't that the truth," replied Kim with a philosopher's solemn nod. "though I suppose I didn't call you here to bitch about my childhood trauma."

"Yeah," replied Jessica. "you usually only do that when you're drunk."

"Haha," Kim answered in a dead monotone. "you know I can always offer this gig to somebody else."

"You'll be hard fucking pressed finding somebody better than me."

Silently conceding to Jessica's point, Kim withdrew a Manila folder from inside her jacket pocket and handed it over without comment. The first thing Jessica noticed was the word CONFIDENTIAL written in red permanent marker across the width of the folder. The second thing Jessica noticed was that the folder was very light which signaled to her that the case was either very old or very new, and judging by the fresh marker smell she suspected it was the latter. Jessica reached into the folder and in her digging she caught the edge of something smooth which she withdrew from the envelope.

It was a 4x12 print of a girl standing in front of the library at Bryant park. She was dressed stylishly in the latest trends and with long black hair that fell to about her waist. Young adult in her early twenties, judging by the cut of her clothes came from a wealthy family, and if Jessica had to guess probably Pakistani or Indian. She looked happy, but if she was happy then Jessica wouldn’t have to get involved.

“Who is she?” asked Jessica as she peered closer at the photo as if some hidden secrets would reveal themselves to her.

“Sahiba Chadha,” Kim stated as she ground the stub of her cigarette out into the bench they were sitting on. “senior at Columbia, studies Sociology, wants to pursue her PhD, and the daughter of the current Commissioner of Cultural Affairs - Mohsin Chadha.”

“And what’s wrong with her?”

“She’s been missing for a week now.”

“Are you and the good old boys in blue looking into it?” questioned Jessica.

“No investigation has been opened up, and I should let you know Jones,” answered Kim “this call comes straight from the Mayor’s office.”

Jessica raised a brow. She knew that soon after Kim got promoted the Mayor’s office had reached out to her to perform some consulting, but she hadn’t realized Kim had become the Mayor’s hand in the force. It was something that Jessica could never do, she hated politics with a passion and tried her best to keep a respectable distance from any governmental office. But Kim had rent to pay like anyone else and Jessica figured it helped having friends in high places.

“What’s the Mayor’s office have to do with this?” Jessica asked as she slotted the photo back into the envelope.

“Mohsin Chadha is the man that the establishment is grooming to be the next Mayor. A big enough scandal could bring down a mayoral race before it even starts. So, the powers that be want to do everything in their power to solve this problem before the press get their hands on it. So that means no NYPD, and especially no official investigations.”

“Only little old me,” finished Jessica “I hope the “establishment” knows that I don’t come cheap.”

“Check the bottom of the bag.” replied Kim who by this point had turned her gaze away from her companion and towards the water.

Jessica reached further down and felt her hands brush up against a small bundle held together by a binder clip. Pulling the bundle out of the envelope revealed it to be a neat collection of hundred-dollar bills, and if Jessica’s quick tally was right, she was looking at about five grand. Jessica nodded approvingly before she stuffed the bundle back into the envelope and out of public eye. It was enough to pay rent and make sure she didn’t go into withdrawal this month.

“You’ll get another five thousand at the completion of the job with room for potential bonuses.” Kim replied still looking at the outgoing tide.

“Is this excursion taxpayer funded?” asked Jessica.

“That would leave a paper trail.” Kim pointed out and didn’t need to elaborate more than that.

“Last question,” Jessica asked as she ran her free hand through her hair “when do I start?”

Last question,” Jessica asked as she ran her free hand through her hair. “when do I start?”

P O S T C A T A L O G:

---

Dilettante
¹

[Pacifista]

The Lovebirds

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

D O V E A N D H A W K

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^{_{D O N H A L L A N D H O L L Y G R A N G E R ♦ R E T I R E D P O L I C E O F F I C E R / P H A R M A C E U T I C A L T E C H N I C I A N ♦ W A S H I N G T O N D . C . ♦ A F F I L A T E D W I T H C H A O S A N D O R D E R I N T H E N A M E O F B A L A N C E}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

---

^{“If someone calls me a ‘boomer’ one more time I’m going to lose my mind.”
“Okay boomer.”
“Holly...why?”}

The forces of Balance are those entwined with the nature of the universe itself. It started with an impossible eruption of energy, gravity forming countless spots of order that gave gave birth to life in the endless expanse, an expanse that one day will descend into the chaos of entropy before the cycle starts anew. Such is simply the echoes of eternity, neither order nor chaos having equal right over the other. But in recent years Earth has become a special anomaly, extra-dimensional watchers taking notice and time and space alike were made a mockery of. With great forces moving into action, it would only become more chaotic as time went on. A Balance needed to be achieved or else life could be at risk.

Among the lords of that primordial Balance, Terataya, one of the Lords of Order, and T’Charr, among the Lords of Chaos, chose to intervene. Among Earth’s inhabitants they found those who they felt best exemplified not just Order and Chaos, but all of its forms, conflict and harmony alike. Don Hall and Holly Granger, once divorced, twice seperated, have been chosen to don the mantles of Hawk and Dove as they sit in their twilight years, tasked with balancing order and chaos as they see fit, until needed for their greater duty at the behest of those who granted them power.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

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Where with the Hulk, I’m going for my take on a familiar hero, this iteration on Hawk and Dove will be much more of a re-imagining, taking full hold on the idea of Hawk and Dove as agents of chaos and order itself. Those ideas weave into both their characters (people who represent both best and worst of each side), and their relationship itself was a long one filled with periods of both stability and order, where they fostered a family, and ones of chaos, as they split and had to struggle on their own. Their new duty will push them together once again, where they’ll have to reconcile old hurts and rekindle old flames to overcome the trials ahead of them.

While the existential ‘chosen heroes of primordial power’ aspect will certainly rear its head, at the core will be a story of two old folks getting the chance to be heroes in a world they aren’t quite familiar with, so much having changed in recent decades. Between themselves, their son, and the world as a whole, I’ll have plenty to work with as far as ideas go as they strive to find a balance to it all. Hawk and Dove also allow for a more familiar superhero story structure, more easily allowing me to crossover, since Hulk is stuck in his sandbox (with limited opportunities to escape).

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

---

Characters
Holly Granger, the Hawk – Having returned to the surname of Granger ages ago, Holly is a woman in her mid 60s who currently works as a pharmaceutical technician. She met Don while he was arresting her during a political protest. Currently living in an apartment by her lonesome with no friends to contact, just a husband and son with a relationship she keeps strained.
Don Hall, the Dove – Now retired, Don lives in his home with little to do with himself but maintain it, even though it’s too big for just one person. Recognizing Holly after arresting her, he met her by chance on the day the Vietnam War ended and they went out to celebrate, hitting it off.
Hank Hall – Son of Holly and Don, their first divorce happened during his childhood. A victim of their split parenting, as an adult he wants nothing more than to be the parent to his children that he’d needed back then.
Terataya, Lord of Order – One of the Lords, she has an affinity towards Balance where many of her allies simply fight chaos, as is in their nature.
T’Charr, Lord of Chaos – One of the Lords, his temperament more subdued then many of his peers in Chaos, allowing Terataya to reason with him, forming their alliance.
Kestrel – A creation of Chaos Lords M’Shulla and Gorrum, made with the purpose of preventing unity between order and chaos.
Tannarak – An alchemist from ancient Egypt who has achieved immortality, and researches into finding ways to kill other immortal beings to further refine his eternal life by preventing those methods.
Joshua Sommer, Fire Flame – A preteen mutant with a set of recently awakened powers and no good outlet for them.
Garn and Arion Daanuth – Sibling master sorcerers born to a surface faring Atlantis from tens of thousands of years ago, their rivalry sealing them away until present day.
The Grey Man – A watcher of those about to enter their last sleep, manager of souls in the last moments between life and death.

S A M P L E P O S T:

---

Planting the butt of the broom on the driveway, a knobbled hand brushing away at the sweat under his gray bangs, Don Hall admired his work, the driveway now perfectly clear. Snow wasn’t a big problem the once or twice a season it met the city, but Don wasn’t about to let it be any sort of problem. Ducking into the garage, he shivered at the cold, moving past his light blue pickup, closing the garage door as he slipped his white winter coat off his sturdy shoulders. Hanging it up once he was inside, he walked through the small laundry room and into the lower hallway of the two story house. Reaching the living area, he let out a groan as he plopped into his couch seat, the off-white cushion well worn.

Around him was nothing but quiet. The powered off TV in the living area, the adjoining kitchen, the rooms upstairs, even the heater: all was quiet. Don rubbed one hand on his leg, creating extra warmth from the friction while the other scratched his throat, the skin looser than he remembered. As his body relaxed the aches started up again: his knees, the arm he’d broken a few years ago in a fall, his sides as he’d continued to shiver. Mind concerned with busying himself, nothing he could do came to mind. The grass was dead and had no need to be mowed, nothing was broken that he could remember, he was all stocked up on groceries. He’d just seen his son Hank’s family over Christmas. He’d called Holly and, well, she didn’t seem happy to hear from him.

Ears ringing in the silence, he grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, letting the news reporter fill the room with sound, any sound. Anything to keep him from picking up things in the distance, sounds he always misheard as calls for assistance that weren’t really there. He hadn’t lived with anyone in years but he’d never stopped hearing Hank or Holly call out his name, even though they were nowhere near. He hated it. He hated how no matter how much he rubbed his legs trying to get warm, it felt colder in here then it did out there.

---

“I’m taking my break.”

Getting up from the desk, Holly’s pudgy form, clad in navy blue, moved off without as much as nod from her coworkers in response to her gravelly voice. Wrinkles straining from her tense expression, she moved from the back area to the neighboring hall, outside of the reach of general store’s customers. Normally, the office served as a break area for pharmacy staff, but Holly Granger went a bit further, out through a glass door into the smoking section. Wiping away moisture from the bench situated in the walled off section, the sky open for smoke to pass, her hands flexed for cigarettes that weren’t there. “Oh fuck,” the woman hissed under her breath. Thin nails scraped at the line of her thin, white hair, swept back behind her ears. Bowing her head, she felt a headache come on in her frustration. She’d been trying to quit: she needed to quit, but dammit if she didn’t want to kick herself right now.

Rather than retreat back inside, she took a seat, grimacing at the cold and the wet. Letting out a grunt, a hand hovered over the metal bench, shaking in hesitation before she slammed it down. Letting it out was better. Her curses, pisses, and moans barely reverberated through the glass into the hall, largely slipping up to the sky where they would fall onto no ears. A part of her definitely wanted to take her rancor inside. Give someone else a piece of this hell. But her legs didn’t move from their spot, the only thing rising being the fire in her belly as she continued to grumble at the only one who could hear her.

---

A moment after a blue light filled his vision, Don was left star struck at the next sight to come to him. Before him stretched countless lights, most of them white, pulled flat and long, edge to edge in his vision. At once, he felt like he remained still, yet clearly he was moving at a pace he could barely comprehend. His body did not seem to be his in the same way. Looking at his hands, white and blue swirled together in an extraterrestrial glow. He didn’t seem to have form, but he was here. He breathed without breath and could hear the rush of the empty void. Then there was another sound, one ringing in his mind, not making words, just echoes of distress. Reaching out to that nostalgic voice, he called mentally, Holly!?

Don!? Is that you!? Her voice had a roughness to it, a friction that gave him warmth from the pleasant memories he’d shared hearing it, but he left that aside. I’m right here.

As soon as those words came out, he could see something else, another shape. Its silhouette was tall and feminine, strands of fiery red trailing from the head as she hurtled through this space right alongside him, the body and mixture of of white and red like nothing known to his imagination. Before he knew it, he drew closer, reaching out his hand. In her reflex, her own opened up, but she didn’t reach out. Please, he asked.

Taking the leap, she grasped his wrist, Don clasping his hand around hers in return. Even if only in this moment of fear at the unknown, they would meet it together.

P O S T C A T A L O G:

---

Till Death

1.01
1.02

[mickilennial]

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

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“Stay out of Gotham.”

Following the tragedy that was 9/11, from the shadows appeared a creature of pure malice and hate. A creature of circumstance and consequence. A creature of righteous terror. This creature would come to be known as The Bat of Gotham, though writers at the Gotham Gazette preferred something a little more valiant. The first of these names, The Caped Crusader, was coined only after Carmine “The Roman” Falcone was brought to justice after all of Carmine’s incriminating activities were aired out in public, no longer written as a rumor written on the walls of the GCPD. Immediately after that happened, the elusive vigilante began to prey on corrupt political figures, the aging police commissioner, and the pieces that remained from Falcone’s crumbling empire. Some say Batman’s interference in Gotham politics only made things worse, but everyone saw chaos as a welcome change to the streets being controlled by the cartels.

As Batman continued his “crusade”, more creative criminals surfaced. Alliances were forged with unlikely allies and old figures. For the longest time, there was no concrete proof of Batman’s existence to the general public, but eventually that changed with the rise of The Circus of Strange and other prolific criminals. Some called them mutant terrorists, others insane extremists influenced by what was happening in America’s most disturbed city. When the time came for Batman to mentor others like him – outsiders and orphans – he did so as needed. These vigilantes would come to be known as Batgirl, Robin, and Nightwing.

It has been fifteen years since the first sighting of Batman. He has defeated many plots that have endangered the city (and world) he has come to know and love. He has lost friends and foes alike to his own miscalculations and other circumstances. A weariness has risen inside his spirit as his body is beginning to struggle to keep up with his mission to protect Gotham from corruption, destruction, and madness. With Nightwing still recovering from his battle with the mysterious Killer Moth, Batman looks to the future with caution and concern. There is someone out there, more calculating than his past foes, targeting those close to him. Who is next? What will it take to stop them?

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

---

Y’all remember that story I was gonna tell in Matt’s Ambition game? This is it with tweaks. A fairly well established Bruce, an injured Nightwing, and a lot of shenanigans in a Robin-less era for The Dark Knight. I’m planning on telling short-spanning pulp stories rather than long drawn out narratives to build Gotham.

Also, I was asked to play Batman, so if you wanna blame anyone blame those who asked me to do it.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

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None at this time.

[Enarr]

Legion

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

T H E L E G I O N O F S U P E R - H E R O E S

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^{_{C O S M I C B O Y ♦ S A T U R N G I R L ♦ L I G H T N I N G L A D ♦ B R A I N I A C 5}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

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^{"For We Are Many"}

The Legion of Super-Heroes formed in 2999 while saving the life of the wealthy philanthropist RJ Brande from an assassination attempt. Sponsored by Brande, they went on to do battle with both “mundane” ne’er-do-wells and out-n-out supervillains, the difference between the two became increasingly indistinct the more foreign they were. Roughly six months have passed since their formation and their roster has expanded to include Querl Dox, the genius descendant of the infamous supervillain Brainiac The First, and Chuck Taine, better known as Bouncing Boy who is the least loved of the Legionnaires.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

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They don’t all have superpowers. They’re not all American. They don’t always tell the truth and they don’t always win. Across all of space-time if you drop a pin, zoom in and stare into the panel long enough, you’re bound to find man’s greatest creation, the wild superhero, a blue-collared godling. One cannot help but marvel at their might and hubris in equal measure.

All I’m here to do is tell stories about superheroes across space and time, showing how regardless of their biological makeup or social class, they stand as one. When you think about it, many of the Legionnaires are essentially swashbucklers who rely on their finesse since several of their “superpowers” are actually racial traits and therefore are not particularly uncommon, as opposed to the legendary Kryptonian pedigree.

Cosmic Boy really wants to be the ubermensch but doesn’t entirely understand what that actually entails and is therefore afraid he will be a bad ubermensch. Lightning Lad wants to fight the battles that no one else will, not so much to be inspirational, but for the justice-dealing equivalent of “getting it over with”. Saturn Girl believes that true victory is achieved without compromising her own dedication to justice and anti-egalitarianism, while also believing that criminals should live out their lives as secondary citizens. Brainiac enjoys being engaged intellectually and also enjoys the challenges associated with maintaining rewarding friendships. Sometimes he has to decide which one he enjoys more.

So I always wanted to play one of the games as a Legionnaire from the future, where they could rub shoulders with the rest of the superpeople, but then you have the mess of “the timeline”. So here’s how I get my cake and eat it too. There is a portal to the 21st Century from the 31st century located on Earth’s moon. From the perspective of those in the 21st, it leads to the 31st, with time progressing at an equal speed on both sides. So basically, they can literally just step over into the 21st Century.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

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Any additional notes you want to put either for yourself, the GM's or other players to help clarify your vision or continuity.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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E P I S O D E Z E R O

Earth
2994

Everything hurts. God damnit--that means I must be alive. I’m in terrible agony, but not so much that I can’t string together a coherent sentence. I can’t necessarily repair the damage myself, at least not immediately, not in these conditions, but I can brush it under the rug and treat the symptoms. Yes, that’s better. All these humans I’ve been hanging around must be rubbing off on me. Just as they willfully disregarded the damage to their home world’s fragile ecosystem, using my innate shapeshifting powers, I can unplug a couple neurotransmitters here and there… and..

Voila! Self-induced congenital analgesia. I could get lectured by the UN for six-hours straight without wincing. To be truly pain free. Of course I wouldn’t notice if I was impaled on the spot either. Eh, you win some, you still kinda win some others.

My eye stalks rise above the lazy knot of biomass I’ve become. I’m repulsive and I don’t even have the luxury of blaming it on the stasis. I started letting myself go months before I went under.

“Is that what I think it is?” There’s a giant steel door that distinctly says “KEEP CLOSED” in big boxed letters. I can feel the hot air whispering through the vents from across the room. I look at it, lazily, wanting it to open and for the room to come over to me, but I am not so lucky as to be seated in Metron’s chair. Heck, even an earthstyle wheelchair would be preferable to making legs. I still haven’t worked out the biomechanics of how to propel myself with wheels or, you can believe me, I definitely would have by now.

With the bones and muscles in place, I walk over there, or hobble really. I am both literally and figuratively sorely out of practice. Planting my feet firmly, I wrap my upper body like a snake around the door handle, save myself the hassle of remembering how to make hands, tugging it open and feeling the frigid air stiffen my form. I’m not the only thing that had been kept on ice for the last couple millennia.

“Greetings Master Daggle. You’ve successfully arrived in the year 2994. You’ve been in stasis for roughly ten thousand years, give or take a hundred when adjusted for gravitational time dilation. Earth’s reputation as a breeding ground for superpeople has since been largely dismissed as unfounded legend. The Green Lantern and Nova Corps have long since dissolved. You look well.”

“Stop lying to me, Computo.”

“It wasn’t a lie, sir. When you’ve abstracted yourself like that, there is literally no other point of comparison and according to the laws of beauty that means that you are definitively the most well-crafted example of an anatomy like that.”

“I’d be flattered by that if I weren’t so bored. Let’s get down to business. Now that we’re here, how can I assemble a Legion of Super-Heroes that can protect the entire universe?”

“Interesting question. What do you mean protect the entire universe? Protect who? And from what?”

“You sound like your father. There’s a lotta what’s we’re gonna be staving off. What all options do we have for who?”

Earth
2999

His bangs are absolutely saturated with sweat as he steps through the chilly halls outside the magno ball arena. His lungs have heartly ever been stretched thinner. He takes air in and kicks it back out, but just can’t seem to get enough of it. It might just be that Earth doesn’t have enough oxygen at this altitude, or maybe the oxygenerators can’t keep up with a crowd this large. Both possibilities are concerning. Someone could get hurt.

“Hey man, great game,” a familiar voice calls to him before expositing: “You seriously hurt my chances of nabbing the scholarship I’ve spent the last two years pursuing and I might not be able to get into DC U, become a doctor, or meet any of my other life goals because of it, but hey.. you’re a damn good magno-ball player and I thought you should know.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Rokk says, struggling to breathe. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, when the match starts back up, I need you to do me a favor, man to man, pretty please. Look there is no way I can beat you. Honest. Your ferrokinesis is fucking uncanny and you’re obviously going to be a very rich man one day. Unless I can get over on you today, sometime in the next half hour, and impress the college scouts, my family is pretty much damned to spending an eternity in the underclass, living under the drug pushers and pimp daddies. I’m the only one in my family with anything resembling a work ethic.

Hate to sound like a dick, but I’m their only hope. I have a plan, I’m not entirely depending on the kindness of strangers, but I need your help. Whattaya say?”

Looking kinda lost, Rokk says, “But that’s entirely dishonest. Is that really how you want to rise to the top?”

“Listen man, it is kinda dishonest, but there’s nothing wrong with that. Hear me out: My mother has been working three jobs to get my brothers and sisters and I where we are and she is, unfortunately, pregnant and not legally allowed to call it off. She has worked hard her entire life because she wants me to be happy and I can’t be knowing that that is how I got here and why I still am.

I’m not rich, Rokk. I’m not super smart or well educated or anything like that, but I work hard enough to outpace every talented casual who didn’t have an empty plate or who could afford to see a doctor when he was sick. Yes it’s kinda dishonest, but it’s not evil. I just need your help to pay back everyone who got me here.”

Rokk wasn’t sure if it’s because it felt like his lungs were on fire or if it was because of the young man’s candor, but he had started crying halfway through. “Yeah, sure. I’ve got your back. And, hey man, I’m sorry, but what was your name again?”

“Pol.”

“Ah, I’m Rokk. What’s your last name.”

“It’s Krinn, exactly like yours actually.”

“Funny how many of us are out there.”

“Yeah, kinda. I just chalk it up to our ancestors losing touch with their homes and their own ancestry under various iron-fisted administrations, but sure, I guess it’s kinda funny.

“Is it me or is the air kinda thin in here to you?” Rokk says, finally deciding that it couldn’t reasonably just be that he had gotten winded.

“Super.”

“Let’s go talk to maintainence. They really should get on that.”

So, the two young Braalians made their way out of the field, through the locker room and into the general backstage areas, but most of the usual staff seemed to be suspiciously absent. Including security, which was hella alarming.

“What’s going on?” Rokk asked.

“Probably something dangerous,” Pol responded. “If you’re scared, don’t worry, I’ll look into it.”
“Aren’t you afraid we’ll get hurt?”

“No, not at all. I’m not afraid, I’m confident that I will get hurt, but that’s okay because someone has to be brave.”

“That’s remarkably selfless for a cheater.”

“You’re an asshole, Rokk. I need you to know that.” At that, Pol started walking down the hall prowling for hostiles. He turned a corner and faded out of Rokk’s sight and, shortly afterward, out of Rokk’s earshot. Rokk sat there, allowing his brand new friend to be brave for him. He was going to sit there as a bystander and Pol was going to die saving everyone from whatever was going on around the corner.

“No. Not happening. Don’t worry, Pol,” he said to himself before he started jogging behind him. “You’re not alone.”

When Rokk rounded the corner, he slipped and fell, smacking the ground after his hip caught on a water fountain and his heel had hydroplaned on fresh blood. Rokk cringed as he took in the sight of a dozen security guards, tasting the bitter iron taste in the air as red mist seemed to hang perpetually. There was blood on the walls and floor and it was somehow dripping from the light fixtures.

BWAAANGYEW

Rokk came around the corner and saw that Pol was battling against a pair of gunmen, one of whom had seemed to have shot the other, almost certainly due to Pol’s ferrokinetic powers bending the bullets trajectory. The men were side by side and chasing Pol back towards Rokk’s point.

Still feeling the fresh ache in his hip, he used his ferrokinesis to uninstall the sink from the wall, feeling it’s heft increased by the chunks of concrete sealed on the back of it. All the better to smash you with, Rokk thought as the metal ball cascaded against the gunmen, mashing them into a mess of flesh that happened to be holding two guns.

“Aaaugh!” Pol screamed, not understanding what had just transpired until his wide-eyes crashed into Rokk’s concerned gaze. “Heh, I’m probably not gonna unsee that any time soon.”

“Nah. No more than I can unsplash those men.” Rokk huffed, “Guess I don’t know my own strength.”

“Yes,” Pol said under his breath, “You’re a very special little snowflake of death. Let’s go turn the air back on.”

And so the two boys made their way further into the maintenence tunnels, encountering no one who was alive until they found the security room, which they identified based on the fact that it’s door was thicker than all the others. When Rokk ripped it off its hinges, they found several monitors with live video feed. One of the screens featured a ginger boy, about their age, barbecuing a contingent of hostiles resembling the fellows they’d just encountered by the boiler room, while another featured a video of a blonde girl standing perfectly still while a purple plasma boiled out of her eyes, a pile of unconscious hostiles bordering her every direction, getting thicker as they continued to stab one another in the back. At that point, Pol found a map that confirmed the oxygenerators were in fact in The Boiler Room.

“Looks like Electrikid over there has that taken care of,” Pol said.

“I dunno, man. He just keeps fighting, I’m not sure he’s figured out what they’re after or trying to protect. I’d imagine he would. We probably would’ve figured it out by now.” Rokk shrugs his shoulders. “Better go back him up and turn the air back on.”

And so they made their way on over entirely without a hitch. It’d seem that the hostiles realized that they weren’t going to win that way. Either that, or there just wasn’t an infinite amount of hostiles. When they got there, they saw lightning forks froth off of the redheads hand and start to reach over toward the two athletes before he restrained himself, realizing they lacked any weaponry or tactical gear.

“Easy, we’re just here to turn the air back on,” Pol said.

Rokk noted, “That’s some arm you got there.”

The redhead, kinda grinned, or maybe he kinda coughed. “It’s a long story. Not so long that I can’t tell it, but long enough that I get pissed off halfway through no matter how I try to rush it. But yeah, the air is off, you say? I hadn’t noticed. Guess I figured I was just getting a workout.”

“Nope,” Pol said, “That would be the feeling of your brain cells dying off.”

The redhead gave a look that probably almost stung as much as one of those lightning bolts would’ve, unable to tell if that was meant passive aggressively, he decided to play it safe and take offense. “Asshole.”

“Name’s Pol Krinn, what’s yours?”

“Garth Ranzz.”

“That, in the boiler room, is my friend Rokk.”

“Yeah, I recognize him. He’s your friend? Your last names match, I would’ve assumed you were brothers.”

”Well, that’s fair enough of an assessment after the last twenty minutes. But still, you know what they say about assuming.”

“I did it,” Rokk barked victoriously. “Evidently the oxygen hadn’t been turned off at all, it was being pressurized in the upper levels of the arena by the skybox, mostly around box number nine: The one that RJ Brande was seated in.”

“I don’t think Brande would do all this just to freshen up the air in his room,” Garth commented. “I mean, rich people aren’t like the rest of us, but still.”

“Nah,” Pol said, “This smells like an assassination attempt to me. If it weren’t for all the corpses, I’m not sure I would’ve even been sure that anything was up. Thank god for those,” he says as he drags his hand over his forehead skin and over his sweat slickened face. “If anybody would’ve lit a match, then they all would’ve been nice and toasty.”

“Shit,” Garth barks, “we gotta go open a window ASAP,” before barreling down the hallways towards a staircase.

<Already on top of it. Imra Ardeen speaking, by the way. I caught wind of the goings on and you’re location a couple minutes ago. Let’s rendezvous by the front gate in ten minutes to sort this out and see what all we know.>

P O S T C A T A L O G U E:

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A list linking to your IC posts as they're created. This can be used for a reference guide to your character or to summarize completed arcs and stories.