DocTachyon

One Universe: World Of Heroes - A Marvel & DC Comics RPG

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

B A T M A N
I N C O R P O R A T E D

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

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

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^{"Bruce, why do we fall?"}

Almost fifty years ago, two ringing gunshots in the rainy, cold black of an unassuming alley would go on to change the world. For the better, some might say, sacrificing but two in exchange for the greatest hero Gotham City had ever known. Others say the death of Thomas and Martha Wayne has has only made things harder and stranger, letting new breeds of criminal fester in the city, and depriving Gotham of her last, best hope at leaping forward into a brave new world. But, with the efforts of their son, Gotham may just have a chance.

Gotham's streets have known the legend of The Batman for some-odd thirty-five years; they have known his blood and his sweat, the sweeping black of his cape, the glow of his symbol in the sky, and the blinding fury of his rage. Trained under countless masters in the Far East and pushed through endless trials, Gotham's first son forged himself into something new. No longer a mere orphan, but a weapon of devastating power, a cruel reminder of what Gotham lost that night in the rain. But this is the Batman of days gone by. A younger man, heart twisted by senseless violence into something even those closest to him would not recognize.

The Bat grew as the city did, calming with the years, settling into a new normal. From urban myth to vigilante to hero, and everything inbetween. His campaign against Gotham's criminal element has slowly morphed into something more, no longer a boy's struggle for vengenace, but a battle of hearts and minds, hopes and dreams: security for the next generation, lessons for each of his sons to wear the mantle of Robin, his faithful boy sidekick.

Since the emergence of the Superman, Batman has been preparing for the end: the day he can hang up his cowl and watch the sun set on an unwatched city knowing, for the first time, that it would be safe without him. To this end, he has established the so-called Batman Incorporated, dedicated to training gifted youngsters and up-and-comers the ways of The Batman, passing on the tutelage he recieved all those years ago to a new, extended class of proteges.

But something lurks in the back of Bruce's mind, the same paranoia that his festered within the very heart of Batman since the night in the alley. Something is changing in Gotham -- whispers of monsters and owls in the streets, talk of mutant gangs, and a new kind of unrestrained police force. Word of something that is hunting his students. The Batman may need a few more long nights, after all...

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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For most of my life now, I think we've been getting a different Batman from the one that lives in my heart. The last twenty-odd years of Batman movies have featured a dark, violent vigilante that exacts cruel vengeance on anyone who dares to cross him. I like this Batman, to be sure, and I think it's a wonderful version of the character, but I also think this is a rare opportunity to bring something else to the table.

My Batman is older, and has learned over the years that while scars will leave their marks, they can heal -- especially with a little help from your friends. This is a Batman who wants to be Gotham's protector before he wants to be her 'dark avenger', and a Batman who is getting old enough that the game might be a little more about training the next generation and a little less about making sure to squeeze into the Batsuit every night. I want to write a Batman that has a little more heart to him, one with a storied history and a list of rogues as long as his arm, a long history to reckon with, and a solid troupe of Robins and heroes to help get him through it all.

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

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Supporting Cast

To be updated!

S A M P L E P O S T:

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Sample

Bruce took his sake warm, in Dad’s old whiskey glass. At this point it had been Bruce’s for a decade or so more than it had been Thomas’. But Bruce still caught himself thinking of it that way, Dad’s glass, half-filled with shimmering bronze that disappeared beyond his lips in measured sips, just enough to calm the nerves and steady the hands. Bruce would think about how it looked on his return from Japan all those years ago, rimmed in dust and looking back at him sadly through the sharp angles of the glass, untouched and uncleaned by Bruce’s own orders. But that was the past.

Still: his glass or not, clean or not, the best manufacturers in the world evidently still hadn’t managed to make sake that went down as smooth Yoru-Sensei’s. Old man never did like to write anything down -- apparently recipes least of all. Bruce supposed that was the one thing he’d admonish his old teacher for, if he ever came back from the other side of the veil: you should have left us something to remember you by. Instead all that Yoru left was a burnt dojo and a class of disillusioned students wondering what went wrong. But this, too, was the past.

This was now: Jim Gordon, Commissioner of the GCPD, making his way across the Persian Rug back from the wet bar, holding his gimlet in one hand and steadying his horn-rimmed glasses with another. The scars and bruises and bullets of the years hadn’t done much to shake him. He was still the same old Jim, a little grayer than he used to be, but he still had the same set to his jaw, no matter how many times some crook had gotten the better of him and broken it.

“Sake?” Bruce offered as Jim lowered himself into his seat. He waved Bruce off.

“I’m good.” Jim set his glass on a coaster. He pushed his glasses up from the nose, the blue of his eyes had dulled with age, but they still retained their focus, arcing across Bruce’s features like a searchlight. “Thank you for having me, Bruce. I know you’ve been busy -- all these kids running around...”

“These days I can afford to make time for an old friend. The boys have a handle on things.” Bruce poured himself another glass. “What brings you my way?”

Jim took a long swallow from his drink and then turned his eyes down on it, watching the ice cubes float and bob in the glass. He looked back to Bruce, “just checking up,” he smoothed his mustache with one hand, settling in his seat, “it’s been a while since we’ve talked. Usually I only get the other guy.”

“Hrm,” Bruce tipped up his glass, letting the warm wash into his belly, still focusing on Jim. How the other man’s shoes tapped against the carpet, how he fingered the rim of his glass.

“You hear from Dick much?” Jim asked. Bruce shook his head.

“I get Christmas cards. You know how they are, at his age,” Bruce said. Some part of him wished he really did get the cards, at least. To get some indication of what his boy was up to in his own words, instead of just the whispers Bruce scraped from the S.H.I.E.L.D servers.

“Always too busy for a phone call,” Jim nodded.

“The same with Barbara, I take it?” Bruce set his glass aside and leaned back in his chair, looking out to the stretches of Gotham winking at him in the distance, beyond the ceiling-high windows of Wayne Manor that cast the house’s light across Bruce’s clipped lawn. Jim’s glass clinked against the table.

“You probably get to talk to her more than I do,” Jim said. Bruce caught the edge in his voice and let the silence sit between them for a moment, keeping his eyes out on the city, tracing out her belfries and alleys in his mind, wondering in which ones his proteges lurked, completing their rotations for the night. Jim probably did the same for Barbara, staring at the stars.

“Managing the Watchtower keeps her just as busy as Dick, I’m afraid.” Bruce said.

“I always thought she was happier as Batgirl,” Jim said, “not up there on that station, looking down on all of us.” Jim put his hands together, squeezing them. Bruce looked back.

“Why are you here, Jim? We’re both too old to do this dance.”

Jim closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with both hands. “When this started, when Batman started, it was just us and Harvey against the world. Against the Falcones, the Maronis, Cobblepot, even the old Commissioner. Do you remember what we wanted?”

“To save the city,” Bruce said simply. Jim was wound up into himself, muscles tight, with a together expression on his face, lips strained and eyes pressed.

“We wanted accountability. A world where cops like Loeb couldn’t take dirty money under the table and let the families run loose. And what do we have now?” Jim leaned forward, Bruce could smell the gin and lime on his breath.

“We wanted safety, Jim. A world where Babs and Jim Jr. wouldn’t have to worry about the gangs, the drugs, the violence,” Bruce began.

“So instead they have to worry about the Justice League hanging over their heads, and a Batman in every neighborhood? It-it’s not right,” Jim shook his head and he stood, pushing back from his chair, “Batman used to be a-a nightmare, a story we made to scare every crooked cop straight. A threat, not a plan. It was never supposed to be this, an unchecked army in your basement.”

Bruce stood, carefully, rising to face Jim, meeting the burning blue beneath his gray caterpillar eyebrows. Bruce felt the register of his voice step backwards, Batman’s voice clawing its way forward from his throat. “What’s the alternative, Gordon? Letting Loeb fester in his filth? You built this right along with us.”

“Jesus, Bruce. We need… We need reform, checks and balances… I don’t know. Harvey always knew the policy. He wouldn’t have wanted this. Big Brother in the sky, a cape on every corner that can do whatever he damn well pleases --”

“Why don’t you head down to Arkham and ask Harvey for his answer?” Bruce caught himself growling, feeling the pressure build in his chest. He fought it down, forcing his shoulders back and making his eyes stay on Jim, calm, level. Jim shrugged his shoulders, and turned, heading for the huge oaken doors on the far side of the Manor. He sighed.

“Maybe I will. I’m going to have a lot of free time.” Jim said. The gears turned in Bruce’s head. Free time?

Jim reached the coat rack by the door, and slipped his arms into his overcoat. He grabbed his hat, the same one he’d held onto since Bruce met him, an old brown trilby finally starting to be pocked with holes.

“I built all this with you, Bruce, but I can’t just sit by this anymore… But I’m too old to fight it. I’m stepping back as Commissioner. You’re the first to know,” Jim said. He took the knob in his hands and pulled, sending the main doors creaks all through the house. Jim sat his hat on his head.

“Stop this, while you still can. And take care of yourself. Give the kids my best.” Jim didn’t look back as he stepped out of Wayne Manor. Bruce watched Gordon as he went, heard his footfalls echoing down the drive as the door moaned shut behind him.

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

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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.

One Universe: World Of Heroes - A Marvel Comics / DC Comics Crossover RPG!

<Snipped quote by Sep>

@Heat

... Well, I did ask Byrd. How many likes will it cost for a sheet?

One Universe: World Of Heroes - A Marvel Comics / DC Comics Crossover RPG!

<Snipped quote by Byrd Man>

Byrd applying for Stacy X confirmed.

@Retired

@Byrd Man how many likes for a Stacy X sheet?

One Universe: World Of Heroes - A Marvel Comics / DC Comics Crossover RPG!

I'm interested in contesting for Spider-Man, possibly, but more and more it's starting to look like I'm in it for...

Doc's Chop Shop

ONE UNIVERSE IDEAS

Below is not happening, but, one day...

The Batmen

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

A D E A T H
I N T H E F A M I L Y

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^{_{D A M I A N W A Y N E ♦ T I M D R A K E ♦ J A S O N T O D D ♦ D I C K G R A Y S O N ♦ B A R B A R A G O R D O N}}

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

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^{"Witty Quote"}

Bruce Wayne is dead.

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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Why do you want to play this character, what is the driving motivation behind both this desire and the character themselves. What do you hope to accomplish and where do you want the character's story/stories to go?

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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A sample post that can be used in the IC if you so desire upon acceptance. This post should provide an example of your vision for the desired character. This sample post should meet all standards outline in the rules and additionally include dialogue, mannerisms and other actions representative of your intended portrayal.

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

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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.

Spidey

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

S P I D E R - M A N

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

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

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^{"... Define 'witty'?"}

Original Concept

Peter Benjamin Parker was born to Richard and Mary Parker, out of an unassuming home in Queens. What would be a fairly ordinary childhood was cut short when his parents were killed in a random car accident. The other driver was never caught, but such as it is with New York City. The young Peter, only six at the time, quickly found himself in the care of his aunt and uncle, May and Ben Parker.

Peter has found himself in their care for the better part of ten years, now. Though the Parker family was never wealthy, they found their happiness in other ways -- Peter was always fascinated with little tinker toys Ben brought for him, content to fidget and experiment his days away, while Ben and May would dance in the living room to old records. It was never perfect, but Peter always found it a certain kind of idyllic. His parents' deaths were long behind him, and he took comfort in his life with Ben and May. Along the way, he made a fledgling group of friends in and around Queens: Gwen Stacy, child of a cop and a personal confidant, Harry Osborn, son a veritable super genius and still the only man alive to beat Peter at Mario Kart, and Mary Jane Watson, a girl with a fire in her heart like nothing else. Even Flash Thompson palled around with them in Elementary School, but he'd grown to be something of a bully in recent years. Peter always knew that High School changed people, but he never really found out how much until the day of the Oscorp field trip.

Thanks to some wheedling from the Osborn heir apparent, a school field trip brought Peter's entire sophomore class for a day at Oscorp Industries. They were touring the genetics lab, but anyone who was anyone knew what Oscorp was really interested in; an extra-planetary substance that seemed somehow capable of enhancing whatever it was applied to. It was largely inert, but the substance did seem to move on its own troublingly often. Such behavior was chalked up to residual static discharge by Oscorp Weapons Mechanics, an error in judgment they would come to regret. On the day of the field trip, the substance gathered enough energy to breach containment and escape into the wider world, riding whatever host it deemed appropriate. As the visitors from Midtown High were being evacuated amid the breach, Peter spotted an unusually large, black arachnid, not of any species known to him. Concluding the spider must be playing host to the escaped creature, Peter attempted to capture and return it. He reached for it, and --

Peter awoke the next day in his bedroom, Aunt May and Uncle Ben at either side. He'd suddenly collapsed at Oscorp, evidently from stress, and was brought straight back home. The following weeks were full of revelations for Peter -- he found he had enhanced strength, speed, and even the ability to shoot webbing from his wrists or crawl on walls. On top of it all, he'd gained the ability to seemingly transform the clothes on his body to any shape he desired. Somehow, he'd gained the abilities of a spider and more, and he wasn't about to let them go to waste. It was about time the Parkers had another source of income. A three-match wrestling career as "The Black Spider" was cut short when Peter allowed an armed robber to flee the arena. The man had an armful of cash stolen from the Tournament Organizer who refused Peter what he was owed, suspecting he had stacked the deck by being a "metahuman". Once allowed him to get away, the man shot his Uncle Ben in a carjacking; nearly fatally, too. Ben suffered permanent spinal damage. Doctors suspected he'd never walk again, and none of them could tell Peter anything useful that he could do. So he decided to make his own way, and hunt down the man who shot his Uncle, as... THE INDOMITABLE SPIDER-MAN!

In a continuation of a previous game, The Indomitable Spider-Man is on the hunt. Bit by bit, Peter's world is settling into a boil. Obligations with Gwen and Doctor Connors' Lab are piling up, Michael Morbius is only getting sicker from his encounter with Peter's suit, Uncle Ben is pressuring him even more at home as The Daily Bugle publishes more and more hit pieces, and the Enforcers have arrived on the scene, hellbent on stopping Peter from putting an end to Tombstone -- not to mention the decidedly confusing signals he's been getting from Liz Allan... Every day his costume weighs on his mind, as Peter waits for the chance to be enveloped in its darkness and become Spider-Man once more. Peter is ready to assault the Thompson Memorial Hospital and come out on the other side with Uncle Ben's shooter in hand. But sinister forces lie in wait for our young hero...

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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Absolute Comics Season 1

My Peter is very different from the vanilla version. He's got the symbiote suit to start, and his Uncle Ben isn't dead, at least not yet. This is a Peter who hasn't quite gotten "With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility" through his head yet, and is hell-bent on bringing the man that shot his Uncle to justice, by any means necessary. On top of it all, he's very, very green to his job and has no idea what he's doing.

To be clear, these changes aren't made to have an angstier or edgier Peter, though there will be a sprig of that as is the nature of the symbiote. I want to tell a story about a struggling Peter, his family is sinking in debt under Hospital bills, he's unraveling the case of his Uncle's shooting while contesting a Police Department that refuses to work with him, all while dealing with the trials and tribulations of High School. This will be a story about Peter being pushed to his limitations and confronting them, a story about family and expectations, and above all else, a story about what Great Responsibility really means. He's going to make a lot of bad choices, and be thoroughly punished for them, to force him to truly become The Indomitable Spider-Man.

In terms of my grander aspirations, I'm certainly starting Peter in the black suit for a reason. In time, the symbiote will come to tinge everything Peter touches. His life, his work, his villains, and especially those closest to him. This version of Spider-Man will eventually take heavy horror cues, showing a Spider-Man on the run from an encroaching array of symbiote-enhanced villains coming for his head, and secretly infecting those closest to him. Peter won't know who he can trust, and he needs to stay on his toes at every moment. He's just a kid that's been thrust into this terrifying body-horror situation with an alien being that has literally fused to his body, and this run will explore the consequences of that.

Season 2

The Indomitable Spider-Man will not be defeated! The explosive events of Season One were fairly quiet for Spider-Man, but things are starting to heat up in the face of new foes. Tracking Uncle Ben's shooter has forced Peter to come face to face with a deadly squad of Enforcers, high-rent superpowered mercenaries, who have their sights set on Peter's head. Their boss, the mysterious Tombstone, lurks in the shadows.

Peter got beaten down pretty hard last season, and he's got an anger building in his belly that makes him more than ready to fight back. Last game my productivity fell off due to assorted school responsibilities, but my schedule now is looking clearer than ever -- which means its time for Spider-Man to return to form. I've got a lot planned for our favorite arachnid, but it'll be a slow burn. Now, with the Enforcers on the scene, things are set to start heating up for Peter -- supervillains are becoming a serious threat for our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and Uncle Ben's shooter seems to be slipping away faster by the moment. Will Peter and the suit be able to keep his head? Will he survive the onslaught of the Enforcers? Only time will tell.

I realize it's kind of a big ask to be asking to continue an arc/character from a previous game, especially one as hotly contested as Spider-Man, but I care enough about this story that I thought I might as well try. I've had this black suit story cooking in my head for a few years at this point, and I'd like to see it through to completion if at all possible. I think my Spider-Man has a good core to him -- Spidey is usually a character who, for all his troubles, is ultimately set on his mission, ans guided by his central mantra. But my Peter still hasn't figured all of that out yet. He's confused and lost and angry, and beset by villains and troubles on all sides as an alien living in his skin begins to corrupt his mind. Unfortunately, I ended last time at the point where my story really started to hit the gas. But that means in this game I can lunch right into bombastic supervillain fights, showdowns with enigmatic crime bosses, and heart-to-hearts with Pete's dear old Uncle Ben. Thank you for your consideration.

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

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Supporting Cast

Ben Parker: Peter's Uncle. Ben's always been a father figure to Peter, trying to instill him with his values, but still letting the kid be a kid. He's been one of the biggest enablers for Peter's love of science. He's currently paralyzed from the waist down, and needs a hell of a lot of rest.

May Parker: Peter's Aunt. The old lady's always been a little coddling for Peter's taste, but her heart's in the right place. She's been a greater partner to Ben and a great mother figure for Peter over the years, but she does occasionally have a tendency to clutch her pearls.

Gwen Stacy: One of Peter's closest friends in the world, and one of the most vocal supporters of Spider-Man, despite her Police Captain father's protests. Gwen's always been a science geek like him, but she ended up getting more into the arts and activism than he ever did. She's the drummer in MJ's band, The Mary Janes.

Mary Jane Watson: One of Peter's closest friends. She comes from a bad home, and she's got an anti-establishment streak a mile wide. Harry's girlfriend. Singer, Frontwoman, and Lead Guitarist of The Mary Janes.

Harry Osborn: Son of Norman Osborn and aspiring coder. He doesn't have the head for it, but he wants to make his Dad proud, and maybe use it to make games on the side or something. Also, one of Peter's closest friends, although he can be brash at times, he's always right there when you need him.

Glory Grant: Guitarist of The Mary Janes. Peter isn't very close to her, but she's a friend to MJ and Gwen. She's got the skinny on Flash Thompson's whole deal, and Peter finds it entertaining to listen to every now and again.

Betty Brant: Bassist of The Mary Janes. Peter was never very close to her, but she's a friend to MJ and Gwen. She's very close with Glory. She doesn't seem it on the surface, but she's got a thing for Death Metal.

Flash Thompson: Six feet of raw muscle and not an ounce of sense to fill that head of his. He's the QB of the Midtown High Football team, which he thinks gives him the right to lord over everyone at the school. He tends to pick on Peter more than other kids, Peter thinks its because he still remembers the story of the time Flash pissed himself in the 6th grade.

Liz Allan: Flash Thompson's girlfriend and aspiring journalist -- Liz's trajectory is slowly aligning with Peter's, in ways neither teenager realize.

Doctor Curt Connors: One of Peter's idols, a brilliant geneticist, chemical engineer, and biologist working out of his labs at Empire State University. Peter and Gwen were lucky enough to score an internship with him. He's abandoned most of his lizard-research in exchange for a stem cell-based design co-authored by Michael Morbius.

Doctor Martha Connors: Lab assistant and wife to Curt Connors, but a brilliant geneticist in her own right.

Michael Morbius: One of the Connors' closest lab assistants. Peter had a run-in with him in costume, when Morbius was unexpectedly sneaking around the good Doctor's lab. Peter's suit reacted to him and hit him with something Peter couldn't rightly identify, and things only seem to be getting worse for the Markovian scientist.

J. Jonah Jameson: Local News editor at the Daily Bugle working his way to Editor-In-Chief. JJ hasn't caught wind of the Spider-Man yet, but Peter's more than seen some of his work in the papers; he seems at least a little competent.

Enemies

Tombstone: An enigmatic mob boss known only in whispers to Peter's ears. What little Peter can piece together is that he's the head honcho in New York, and that he's hired a gang of Enforcers to get in Spider-Man's way...

The Enforcers: A three-man squad of metahuman goons rented out from Enforcers Inc., a 'security' company dedicated to providing mercenaries to crime lords. In Peter's case, he's run afoul of Megawatt, Speed Demon, and Kangaroo, who are all dead set on turning him into a Spider-themed stain on the ground.

Changes from Absolute Canon

Though the old posts will remain unedited, the following are the lists of changes made to comply with the new vision of the universe.

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

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SPIDER-MAN: THE DISTANCE
The Story So Far...

A lab accident at a New York-based Oscorp Facility has imbued Peter Parker with powers beyond his wildest dreams, and a black costume that bends to his will. After an attempt to use his newfound abilities to make money goes awry, Peter's Uncle Ben is shot, leaving the gunman on the lose and his Uncle in critical condition.

Desprate for answers, Peter uses his newfound abilities to become the one, the only, Indomitable Spider-Man, and launches on a tear through the city. His exploits lead him into encounters with news editor J. Jonah Jameson, elements of the NYPD, a full SWAT deployment, and even members of the X-Men. But with a new lead in hand, Spider-Man made his way to the Thompsom Memorial Hospital, where he encountered The Enforcers, a deadly squad of mercenaries intent on protecting their boss's interests.

After licking his wounds, Peter is more than ready to launch an assault on the Hospital, and show The Enforcers just what he's made of...

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

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Issues

SPIDER-MAN: THE DISTANCE
Issue 0
Issue 1
Issue 2
Issue 3
Issue 4
Issue 5
Issue 6
Issue 7

X-Men Crossover

Issue #1
Issue #2
Issue #3
Issue #4
Issue #5
Issue #6
Issue #7
Issue #8
Issue #9
Issue #10
Issue #11
Issue #12

Issue #8
Issue #9

Crisis 1

Issue #1
Issue #2

Issue #10
Issue #11
Issue #12
Issue #13

A Vigilante for a brave new world

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

V I G I L A N T E

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^{_{A D R I A N C H A S E ♦ S T U D E N T ♦ T R A V E L}}

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

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^{"Witty Quote"}

This is where you outline your vision for the character including any notable changes or differences from the regularly accepted canon. This should be a short summary that provides insight into where the character is in terms of their overall progress and development.

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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Why do you want to play this character, what is the driving motivation behind both this desire and the character themselves. What do you hope to accomplish and where do you want the character's story/stories to go?

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

---

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:

---

A sample post that can be used in the IC if you so desire upon acceptance. This post should provide an example of your vision for the desired character. This sample post should meet all standards outline in the rules and additionally include dialogue, mannerisms and other actions representative of your intended portrayal.

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

---

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.

the super secret idea that won't work

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

J O J O

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^{_{J O S U K E H I G A SH I K A T A ♦ W A N D E R E R ♦ M O R I O H , M . A .}}

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

---

^{"Witty Quote"}

This is where you outline your vision for the character including any notable changes or differences from the regularly accepted canon. This should be a short summary that provides insight into where the character is in terms of their overall progress and development.

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:

---

Why do you want to play this character, what is the driving motivation behind both this desire and the character themselves. What do you hope to accomplish and where do you want the character's story/stories to go?

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

---

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:

---

A sample post that can be used in the IC if you so desire upon acceptance. This post should provide an example of your vision for the desired character. This sample post should meet all standards outline in the rules and additionally include dialogue, mannerisms and other actions representative of your intended portrayal.

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

---

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.

Batman heavy WIP

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

B A T M A N
I N C O R P O R A T E D

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

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

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^{"Witty Quote"}

Almost fifty years ago, two ringing gunshots in the rainy, cold black of an unassuming alley would go on to change the world. For the better, some might say, sacrificing but two in exchange for the greatest hero Gotham City had ever known. Others say the death of Thomas and Martha Wayne has has only made things harder and stranger, letting new breeds of criminal fester in the city, and depriving Gotham of her last, best hope at leaping forward into a brave new world. But, with the efforts of their son, Gotham may just have a chance.

Gotham's streets have known the legend of The Batman for some-odd thirty-five years; they have known his blood and his sweat, the sweeping black of his cape, the glow of his symbol in the sky, and the blinding fury of his rage. Trained under countless masters in the Far East and pushed through endless trials, Gotham's first son forged himself into something new. No longer a mere orphan, but a weapon of devastating power, a cruel reminder of what Gotham lost that night in the rain. But this is the Batman of days gone by. A younger man, heart twisted by senseless violence into something even those closest to him would not recognize.

The Bat grew as the city did, calming with the years, settling into a new normal. From urban myth to vigilante to hero, and everything inbetween. His campaign against Gotham's criminal element has slowly morphed into something more, no longer a boy's struggle for vengenace, but a battle of hearts and minds, hopes and dreams: security for the next generation, lessons for each of his sons to wear the mantle of Robin, his faithful boy sidekick.

Since the emergence of the Superman, Batman has been preparing for the end: the day he can hang up his cowl and watch the sun set on an unwatched city knowing, for the first time, that it would be safe without him. To this end, he has established the so-called Batman Incorporated, dedicated to training gifted youngsters and up-and-comers the ways of The Batman, passing on the tutelage he recieved all those years ago to a new, extended class of proteges.

But something lurks in the back of Bruce's mind, the same paranoia that his festered within the very heart of Batman since the night in the alley. Something is changing in Gotham -- whispers of monsters and owls in the streets, talk of mutant gangs, and a new kind of unrestrained police force. Word of something that is hunting his students. The Batman may need a few more long nights, after all...

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:

---

For most of my life now, I think we've been getting a different Batman from the one that lives in my heart. The last twenty-odd years of Batman movies have featured a dark, violent vigilante that exacts cruel vengeance on anyone who dares to cross him. I like this Batman, to be sure, and I think it's a wonderful version of the character, but I also think this is a rare opportunity to bring something else to the table.

My Batman is older, and has learned over the years that while scars will leave their marks, they can heal -- especially with a little help from your friends. This is a Batman who wants to be Gotham's protector before he wants to be her 'dark avenger', and a Batman who is getting old enough that the game might be a little more about training the next generation and a little less about making sure to squeeze into the Batsuit every night. I want to write a Batman that has a little more heart to him, one with a storied history and a list of rogues as long as his arm, a long history to reckon with, and a solid troupe of Robins and heroes to help get him through it all.

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

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Supporting Cast

S A M P L E P O S T:

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Sample

Bruce took his sake warm, in Dad’s old whiskey glass. At this point it had been Bruce’s for a decade or so more than it had been Thomas’. But Bruce still caught himself thinking of it that way, Dad’s class, half filled with shimmering bronze that disappeared beyond his lips in measured sips, just enough to calm the nerves and steady the hands. Bruce would think about how it looked on his return from Japan all those years ago, rimmed in dust and looking back at him sadly through the sharp angles of the glass, untouched and uncleaned by Bruce’s own orders. But that was the past.

Still: his glass or not, clean or not, the best manufacturers in the world evidently still hadn’t managed to make sake that went down as smooth Yoru-Sensei’s. Old man never did like to write anything down -- apparently recipes least of all. Bruce supposed that was the one thing he’d admonish his old teacher for, if he ever came back from the other side of the veil: you should have left us something to remember you by. Instead all that Yoru left was a burnt dojo and a class of disillusioned students wondering what went wrong. But this, too, was the past.

This was now: Jim Gordon making his way across the Persian Rug back from the wet bar, holding his gimlet in one hand and steadying his horn-rimmed glasses with another. The scars and bruises and bullets of the years hadn’t done much to shake him. He was still the same old Jim, a little grayer than he used to be, but he still had the same set to his jaw, no matter how many times some crook had gotten the better of him and broken it.

“Sake?” Bruce offered as Jim lowered himself into his seat. He waved Bruce off.

“I’m good.” Jim set his glass on a coaster. He pushed his glasses up from the nose, the blue of his eyes had dulled with age, but they still retained their focus, arcing across Bruce’s features like a searchlight. “Thank you for having me, Bruce. I know you’ve been busy -- all these kids running around...”

“These days I can afford to make time for an old friend. The boys have a handle on things.” Bruce poured himself another glass. “What brings you my way?”

Jim took a long swallow from his drink and then turned his eyes down on it, watching the ice cubes float and bob in the glass. He looked back to Bruce, “just checking up,” he smoothed his mustache with one hand, settling in his seat, “it’s been a while since we’ve talked. Usually I only get the other guy.”

“Hrm,” Bruce tipped up his glass, letting the warm wash into his belly, still focusing on Jim. How the other man’s shoes tapped against the carpet, how he fingered the rim of his glass.

“You hear from Dick much?” Jim asked. Bruce shook his head.

“I get Christmas cards. You know how they are, at his age,” Bruce said. Some part of him wished he really did get the cards, at least. To get some indication of what his boy was up to in his own words, instead of just the whispers Bruce scraped from the S.H.I.E.L.D servers.

“Always too busy for a phone call,” Jim nodded.

“The same with Barbara, I take it?” Bruce set his glass aside and leaned back in his chair, looking out to the stretches of Gotham winking at him in the distance, beyond the ceiling-high windows of Wayne Manor that cast the house’s light across Bruce’s clipped lawn. Jim’s glass clinked against the table.

“You probably get to talk to her more than I do,” Jim said. Bruce caught the edge in his voice and let the silence sit between them for a moment, keeping his eyes out on the city, tracing out her belfries and alleys in his mind, wondering in which ones his proteges lurked, completing their rotations for the night. Jim probably did the same for Barbara, staring at the stars.

“Managing the Watchtower keeps her just as busy as Dick, I’m afraid.” Bruce said.

“I always thought she was happier as Batgirl,” Jim said, “not up there on that station, looking down on all of us.” Jim put his hands together, squeezing them. Bruce looked back.

“Why are you here, Jim? We’re both too old to this dance.”

Jim closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with both hands. “When this started, when Batman started, it was just us and Harvey against the world. Against the Falcones, the Maronis, Cobblepot, even the old Commissioner. Do you remember what we wanted?”

“To save the city,” Bruce said simply. Jim was wound up into himself, muscles tight, with a together expression on his face, lips strained and eyes pressed.

“We wanted accountability, Bruce. A world where cops like Loeb couldn’t take dirty money under the table and let the families run loose. And what do we have now?” Jim leaned forward, Bruce could smell the gin and lime on his breath.

“We wanted safety, Jim. A world where Babs and Jim Jr. wouldn’t have to worry about the gangs, the drugs, the violence,” Bruce began.

“So instead they have to worry about the Justice League hanging over their heads, and a Batman in every neighborhood? It-it’s not right,” Jim shook his head and he stood, pushing back from his chair, “Batman used to be a-a nightmare, a story we made to scare every crooked cop straight. A threat, not a plan. It was never supposed to be this, an unchecked army in your basement.”

Bruce stood, carefully, rising to face Jim, meeting the burning blue beneath his gray caterpillar eyebrows. Bruce felt the register of his voice step backwards, Batman’s voice clawing its way forward from his throat. “What’s the alternative, Gordon? Letting Loeb fester in his filth? You built this right along with us.”

“Jesus, Bruce. We need… We need reform, checks and balances… I don’t know. Harvey always knew the policy. He wouldn’t have wanted this. Big Brother in the sky, a cape on every corner that can do whatever he damn well pleases --”

“Why don’t you head down to Arkham and ask Harvey for his answer?” Bruce caught himself growling, feeling the pressure build in his chest. He fought it down, forcing his shoulders back and making his eyes stay on Jim, calm, level. Jim shrugged his shoulders, and turned, heading for the huge oaken doors on the far side of the Manor. He sighed.

“Maybe I will. I’m going to have a lot of free time.” Jim said. The gears turned in Bruce’s head. Free time?

Jim reached the coat rack by the door, and slipped his arms into his overcoat. He grabbed his hat, the same one he’d held onto since Bruce met him, an old brown trilby finally starting to be pocked with holes.

“I built all this with you, Bruce, but I can’t just sit by this anymore… But I’m too old to fight it. I’m stepping back as Commissioner. You’re the first to know,” Jim said. He took the knob in his hands and pulled, sending the main doors creaks all through the house. Jim sat his hat on his head.

“Stop this, while you still can. And take care of yourself. Give the kids my best.” Jim didn’t look back as he stepped out of Wayne Manor. Bruce watched Gordon as he went, heard his footfalls echoing down the drive as the door moaned shut behind him.

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

---

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.

Doc's Chop Shop

Vigilante For All Seasons

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

V I G I L A N T E

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^{_{A D R I A N C H A S E ♦ S T U D E N T ♦ T R A V E L}}

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

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^{"Witty Quote"}

This is where you outline your vision for the character including any notable changes or differences from the regularly accepted canon. This should be a short summary that provides insight into where the character is in terms of their overall progress and development.

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:

---

Why do you want to play this character, what is the driving motivation behind both this desire and the character themselves. What do you hope to accomplish and where do you want the character's story/stories to go?

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

---

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:

---

A sample post that can be used in the IC if you so desire upon acceptance. This post should provide an example of your vision for the desired character. This sample post should meet all standards outline in the rules and additionally include dialogue, mannerisms and other actions representative of your intended portrayal.

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

---

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.

DC Universe: Genesis - Justice For All

Just wanted to pop in to say it's looking like I'm probably dropping S.H.A.D.E. It just... really doesn't want to happen for me, right now, and I think I need to move onto other ideas.

And as far as other ideas go, I'm thinking of doing something with Vigilante and a 7 Soldiers of Victory lineup... But I also don't want to be that guy that plays the same thing over and over again. So, we'll see.

DC Universe: Genesis - Justice For All

S.H.A.D.E.

Issue 1

---

New York City, NY --- The Ant Farm; 1000 miles above Rudy’s Bar and Grill

---

>S.H.A.D.E. NET LINK ESTABLISHED, AGENT PALMER.
>PLEASE ENTER PASSWORD ___________________
>PASSWORD ACCEPTED! THANK YOU, WELCOME TO S.H.A.D.E. NET.
>QUERY: WHAT IS “THE ANT FARM”?
>QUERY PROCESSING; STAND BY [//--------] 20%

The world around Ray Palmer was awash with static, fizzing white planes of light arcing off into the far distance before levelling, curving upwards, and rolling back into themselves like the tide. Ray might’ve liked it. Lie down and coast off the end of his morning coffee into a nap that might ease the dark circles below his eyes and the caffeine twitches in his hands, Ant Farm be damned. He would have, anyway, if the familiar buzz of background static was enough to drown out the teleporter matrix screaming in the background.

>QUERY PROCESSING; STAND BY [///-------] 30%

“Palmer!” And then there was the shouting, the only shrieking whine of a voice loud and commanding enough to edge out the violent thuds of the teleporter array and nest in Ray’s ears like an overgrown gnat. Father Time.

“S.H.A.D.E. Net, downcycle teleporter test procedure -- listen for Agent uplinks as normal. Send time-stamped logs to my L-Pad from the last... Call it ten minutes. Deactivate mind portal.” Ray said, sweeping his hand at the static that flowed around him.

>EXECUTING COMMANDS, AGENT PALMER.
>QUERY PROCESSING; STAND BY [/////-----] 50%

There was a schlorp as reality bled in from around the static’s edges, ripples in signal folding itself away, back to the world of curved metal and office chairs, lab coats and half-destroyed packets of Twizzlers across each workstation.

“Well?” Father Time’s shrill voice raked across Ray’s ears. He blinked what remained of the static out of his eyes and turned to face the other man. Father Time’s head came up to about Ray’s waist, but he held himself like a man twice as tall, shoulders set and arms poised at his sides, staring up at Ray through the eye-slits of the cartoonish domino mask plastered across his face. He might’ve mistaken him for a Japanese schoolgirl playing dress-up, wandered into The Ant Farm through pure coincidence and trying to play it off like she was meant to be here. Might have, anyway, if it weren’t for the hard look in his eyes that betrayed centuries of experience; and the way Father Time insisted on busting his balls at every available opportunity.

>QUERY PROCESSING; STAND BY [////////--] 80%

“Well, the ah teleporter frequency is definitely reducing S.H.A.D.E. Net’s operational efficiency. Even standard queries get met with significant loading time.” Ray fiddled with his labcoat as he spoke, searching for wherever the Hell he’d crammed his L-Pad.

“And your solution is?” Father Time had already turned on his heel, starting his disappearing act into the labyrinth of The Ant Farm, and expecting Ray to follow.

>QUERY PROCESSING; STAND BY [//////////] 100%
>THE ANT FARM: A MACRO CITY COMPLEX STORED IN THREE-INCH MICRO SCALE SPHERE, DESIGNED BY S.H.A.D.E. OPERATIVES RAY PALMER AND SCIENCE AGENT BELROY. THE ANT FARM SERVES AS S.H.A.D.E.’S PRIMARY HEADQUARTERS, OPERATIONAL CONTROL, AND PRIMARY TESTING FACILITY, AS WELL AS SERVING THE NEEDS OF S.H.A.D.E.’S FULL AGENT COMPLEMENT.

Ray ignored the buzzing of S.H.A.D.E. Net in his head, stumbling forward to keep step with Father Time as he practically skipped ahead like a grade schooler. The Ant Farm before them was a maze of criss-crossing hallways that seemed hand-molded out of the metal that always lead to another laboratory or Agent Apartment Complex secreted away into the body of the metal.

“Uh, Father Time, isn’t this more of a Computer Engineering concern?” Ray’s sweaty palms finally closed around the shape of his L-Pad and he wrenched it from his labcoat pocket, nearly losing his balance and careening into a wayward Agent.

Father Time looked back at him, face blank, “and?”

“Well, sir, I’m a, uh. Physicist.” Ray stammered, trying to look tall in his oversize coat. Father Time rolled his eyes.

“Labcoats like you are what’s keeping S.H.A.D.E. from evolving, Palmer. Get another doctorate, learn another discipline. Two, while you’re at it. It’ll put some hair on your chest.” Father Time’s voice cracked and he resumed his walk. A S.H.A.D.E. Agent wheeled a child past in a bright pink stroller, with Father Time’s S.H.A.D.E. Logo emblazoned on its jumper, marking it as an agency-approved non-agent family member.

“Besides,” Father Time gave Ray a glance, “the nerds in engineering are convinced it’s something to do with your shrink tech keeping us at micro-scale. No issues on their end.”

Ray slowed, gripping his L-Pad. His tech? All Ray was doing was compressing matter, it shouldn’t have affected S.H.A.D.E. Net or the teleporter array’s frequencies. In all likelihood it was the bastards in Computer Engineering passing off a job they didn’t want to handle. And Father Time had to know as much. Ray opened his mouth to comment and found that his legs had carried him off with Father Time deeper into the winding halls of The Ant Farm.

“Where, uh,” Ray began, “where are we going?”

Father Time stopped where they had started -- The Teleporter Labs. The machine whirred to life once again, metal armiture pinwheeling around a central yellow pad.

“I am going to a meeting to convince a board of Pentagon stiff-necks that the energy blip in Tibet was just a blip -- bastards want to make another Roswell out of it. You are going to deal with this.” Father Time jerked his thumb at the open door, as the smell of flash-burned silicon started reaching Ray’s nostrils. Somebody was teleporting in.

“Deal with wh--” Ray was cut off by the ‘WHUMP’ of the teleporter, whizzing bands and thuds and electronic whines as it enhanced a simple signal into the form of a man, piece by piece of the teleporter, transitioning from one space to another. He was huge, mottled, and green, with a sword that had to be bigger than Ray’s whole body hanging off of his back.

“Frankie!” Father Time shouted, “welcome home!”

“Father,” Frankenstein's monster still smoked from the teleporter, “where is my wife?”

DC Universe: Genesis - Justice For All

@Byrd Man That's fine, i'm going to do a you and say that i've pretty much given up on that one. Primarily because i think most of the stories that i had in mind didn't really work in a world that has only just been introduced to super's. As such:

Plan C (WIP)

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

Creature Commandos

_{John "Hannibal" Smith ♦ Elliot "Lucky" Tailor ♦ Medusa ♦ Vincent Velcoro ♦ Warren "Wolfpack" Griffith}

^{_{Project M ♦ Soldiers of Fortune ♦ United States Underground ♦ Formerly United States Marine Corps.}}

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

^{"I love it when a plan comes together"}

10 years ago, a crack commando unit was been sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn't commit. Several of them promptly escaped from a maximum security stockade to the Los Angeles underground. Today, still wanted by the government, they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire the Creature Commandos.

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:

---

The Creature Commandos are a crack team of super-powered individuals that have faithfully served the United States Marine Corps with valor and distinction since the Second World War that certain branches of the US Government wants to get their hands on to update for the modern age. Their main motivation is to find out who really slaughtered the soldiers that they were framed for and why. The other main objective is to find the other Creature Commando's that are still somewhere.

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

---

Team Members

Cpt. John "Hannibal" Smith

A Veteran of the Gulf War, Somalia, Cambodia, Lebanon, Panama, Iraq, and pretty much every other major conflict from the 1980's onwards. Hannibal is one of the most notorious soldiers in the United States army, a master of disguise and guerrilla warfare, he can sneak into anywhere in the world and get out before anyone has even noticed that he has even left his home base. He took over as the leader of the Creature Commando's after the retirement of General Matthew Shrieve. He treats them much better than Shrieve ever did, he leads with authority and courage. He is never seen without his signature black leather gloves and Cigar.

Dr. Myrra Rhodes

Pvt. Elliot "Lucky" Taylor

Sgt. Vincent Velcro

Pvt. Warren "Wolfpack" Griffith

Allies

General Matthew Shrieve

Former leader of the Creature Commando's, Shrieve may have treated the Commando's with nothing but contempt whilst they were under his command, but he only did it out of his sense of duty in order to get the very best out of his freak-squad. Even though it's his job to hunt down the Commando's, he doesn't for a second, believe that they actually did it. He regularly leaks vital information to them in order to keep them one step ahead of himself and Waller

Enemies

Amanda Waller

The ruthless, cold and emotionless leader of a special Government taskforce called Project CADMUS, Waller is a woman of many means with only the President of the United States as her boss, she is charged with keeping America safe from Supernatural threats and she will complete that task regardless of who she has to step on. It is no secret that she has a dream of America having access to whole armies of super-powered individuals. Most call her insane, others see that that couldn't be farther from the truth, she is ahead of the curve in everything she does.

S A M P L E P O S T:

---

A sample post that can be used in the IC if you so desire upon acceptance. This post should provide an example of your vision for the desired character. This sample post should meet all standards outline in the rules and additionally include dialogue, mannerisms and other actions representative of your intended portrayal.

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

---

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.

Yes, i know that there's a Non-DC character in this, but i think he fits the theme so well that i can't throw this in and not ask if i'm allowed him.

@mattmanganon

I'm really sorry to say this especially since you JUST posted the sheet, but AFAIK The Creature Commandos are under S.H.A.D.E. jurisdiction, and I was kind of counting on having them. If you want to shoot me a message and try to work something out with it, we can, (I can drop the Creature Commandos name for instance, and we can talk character options) but I was intending on having Velcoro and Griffith. Let me know! Sorry, again.

Doc's Chop Shop

Experimental S.H.A.D.E. Post

S.H.A.D.E.

Issue 0

---

New York City, NY --- The Ant Farm; 1000 miles above Rudy’s Bar and Grill

---

>S.H.A.D.E. NET LINK ESTABLISHED, AGENT PALMER.
>PLEASE ENTER PASSWORD ___________________
>PASSWORD ACCEPTED! THANK YOU, WELCOME TO S.H.A.D.E. NET.
>QUERY: WHAT IS “THE ANT FARM”?
>QUERY PROCESSING; STAND BY [//--------] 20%

The world around Ray Palmer was awash with static, fizzing white planes of light arcing off into the far distance before levelling, curving upwards, and rolling back into themselves like the tide. Ray might’ve liked it. Lie down and coast off the end of his morning coffee into a nap that might ease the dark circles below his eyes and the caffeine twitches in his hands, Ant Farm be damned. He would have, anyway, if the familiar buzz of background static was enough to drown out the teleporter matrix screaming in the background.

>QUERY PROCESSING; STAND BY [///-------] 30%

“Palmer!” And then there was the shouting, the only shrieking whine of a voice loud and commanding enough to edge out the violent thuds of the teleporter array and nest in Ray’s ears like an overgrown gnat. Father Time.

“S.H.A.D.E. Net, downcycle teleporter test procedure -- listen for Agent uplinks as normal. Send time-stamped logs to my L-Pad from the last... Call it ten minutes. Deactivate mind portal.” Ray said, sweeping his hand at the static that flowed around him.

>EXECUTING COMMANDS, AGENT PALMER.
>QUERY PROCESSING; STAND BY [/////-----] 50%

There was a schlorp as reality bled in from around the static’s edges, ripples in signal folding itself away, back to the world of curved metal and office chairs, lab coats and half-destroyed packets of Twizzlers across each workstation.

“Well?” Father Time’s shrill voice raked across Ray’s ears. He blinked what remained of the static out of his eyes and turned to face the other man. Father Time’s head came up to about Ray’s waist, but he held himself like a man twice as tall, shoulders set and arms poised at his sides, staring up at Ray through the eye-slits of the cartoonish domino mask plastered across his face. He might’ve mistaken him for a Japanese schoolgirl playing dress-up, wandered into The Ant Farm through pure coincidence and trying to play it off like she was meant to be here. Might have, anyway, if it weren’t for the hard look in his eyes that betrayed centuries of experience; and the way Father Time insisted on busting his balls at every available opportunity.

>QUERY PROCESSING; STAND BY [////////--] 80%

“Well, the ah teleporter frequency is definitely reducing S.H.A.D.E. Net’s operational efficiency. Even standard queries get met with significant loading time.” Ray fiddled with his labcoat as he spoke, searching for wherever the Hell he’d crammed his L-Pad.

“And your solution is?” Father Time had already turned on his heel, starting his disappearing act into the labyrinth of The Ant Farm, and expecting Ray to follow.

>QUERY PROCESSING; STAND BY [//////////] 100%
>THE ANT FARM: A MACRO CITY COMPLEX STORED IN THREE-INCH MICRO SCALE SPHERE, DESIGNED BY S.H.A.D.E. OPERATIVES RAY PALMER AND SCIENCE AGENT BELROY. THE ANT FARM SERVES AS S.H.A.D.E.’S PRIMARY HEADQUARTERS, OPERATIONAL CONTROL, AND PRIMARY TESTING FACILITY, AS WELL AS SERVING THE NEEDS OF S.H.A.D.E.’S FULL AGENT COMPLEMENT.

Ray ignored the buzzing of S.H.A.D.E. Net in his head, stumbling forward to keep step with Father Time as he practically skipped ahead like a grade schooler. The Ant Farm before them was a maze of criss-crossing hallways that seemed hand-molded out of the metal that always lead to another laboratory or Agent Apartment Complex secreted away into the body of the metal.

“Uh, Father Time, isn’t this more of a Computer Engineering concern?” Ray’s sweaty palms finally closed around the shape of his L-Pad and he wrenched it from his labcoat pocket, nearly losing his balance and careening into a wayward Agent.

Father Time looked back at him, face blank, “and?”

“Well, sir, I’m a, uh. Physicist.” Ray stammered, trying to look tall in his oversize coat. Father Time rolled his eyes.

“Labcoats like you are what’s keeping S.H.A.D.E. from evolving, Palmer. Get another doctorate, learn another discipline. Two, while you’re at it. It’ll put some hair on your chest.” Father Time’s voice cracked and he resumed his walk. A S.H.A.D.E. Agent wheeled a child past in a bright pink stroller, with Father Time’s S.H.A.D.E. Logo emblazoned on its jumper, marking it as an agency-approved non-agent family member.

“Besides,” Father Time gave Ray a glance, “the nerds in engineering are convinced it’s something to do with your shrink tech keeping us at micro-scale. No issues on their end.”

Ray slowed, gripping his L-Pad. His tech? All Ray was doing was compressing matter, it shouldn’t have affected S.H.A.D.E. Net or the teleporter array’s frequencies. In all likelihood it was the bastards in Computer Engineering passing off a job they didn’t want to handle. And Father Time had to know as much. Ray opened his mouth to comment and found that his legs had carried him off with Father Time deeper into the winding halls of The Ant Farm.

“Where, uh,” Ray began, “where are we going?”

Father Time stopped where they had started -- The Teleporter Labs. The machine whirred to life once again, metal armiture pinwheeling around a central yellow pad.

“I am going to a meeting to convince a board of Pentagon stiff-necks that the energy blip in Tibet was just a blip -- bastards want to make another Roswell out of it. You are going to deal with this.” Father Time jerked his thumb at the open door, as the smell of flash-burned silicon started reaching Ray’s nostrils. Somebody was teleporting in.

“Deal with wh--” Ray was cut off by the ‘WHUMP’ of the teleporter, whizzing bands and thuds and electronic whines as it enhanced a simple signal into the form of a man, piece by piece of the teleporter, transitioning from one space to another. He was huge, mottled, and green, with a sword that had to be bigger than Ray’s whole body hanging off of his back.

“Frankie!” Father Time shouted, “welcome home!”

“Father,” Frankenstein's monster still smoked from the teleporter, “where is my wife?”