Adrianne looked at herself in the mirror. Her reflection looked back, as reflections are wont to do. Her mirror-self didn't stay put, though. She twirled around and gave a jaunty little wave before going still.
She tugged on her scrunchy, pulling her ponytail in place. Then she bit her lip, frowning faintly. Her hair was okay, but her face wasn't. Rummaging in her dresser, she found her old glasses and put them on. Her eyes flashed from pink to brown as they compensated for the lenses, and the lines of her face subtly altered.
Adrianne nodded. It still wasn't quite right, but it was close enough. Any discrepancies could be chalked up to her sudden weight loss.
Anyway, her face hadn't changed THAT much...compared to the rest of her.
Adrianne rubbed her ears, fingering the lobes. They felt a little odd, but she was fairly sure the shape would hold. Not that she expected people to poke her ears, but better safe than sorry.
It would be terribly awkward if someone saw through her disguise. Adrianne Casmir was supposed to be a normal girl, not a purple-haired elf.
Of course, even if the glamour failed...the other kids would probably just assume she'd gone overboard with cosplay. Adrianne smirked. Finally, her geek reputation was good for something.
Satisfied, she smoothed down her skirt, grabbed her backpack, and headed to school. It was a little early, but she didn't want to be late on her first day back. Besides, the walk would be nice.
And if she got tired of walking, she could always teleport.

TALES OF THE LEGENDARY
SPACE CASE

Adrianne skipped into school, laughing all the way. She drew a few weird looks from other students, but she didn't care. Stares and whispers weren't new to her. Nothing could ruin her mood. Life was good.
She all but danced through the building, tapping a staccato beat on the hall floor. Reaching her locker, Adrianne began spinning the dial...but stopped, after only two clicks.
Slowly, she drifted towards the glass case on the other side of the corridor. She'd walked past the thing many, many, times, but she'd never really looked at it. Today she did, her eyes roaming over the trophies and old photographs. Her gaze settled on the centre shelf, the place of honour in the display. It bore a number six football jersey and a shot of the athlete who'd worn it. But what really drew her attention was the other photograph. The picture showed the same man, except older and in a different uniform. One with a cape.
"Someday, Mister Hero," Adrianne murmured, "my picture will be next to yours."
She pressed her fingertips against the glass, and whispered, "Someday soon."
"Um," came a quiet voice, interrupting her reverie, "are you okay?"
Adrianne whirled, blinking rapidly. Another student stood behind her, a blonde girl about Adrianne's height. She wore a t-shirt, jeans, and a concerned look on her face. She seemed afraid for Adrianne's health - more specifically, her mental health, or lack thereof.
"Nonononono, I'm fine, I'm fine," Adrianne said hurriedly, in what she hoped was a reassuring manner, "perfectly alright!"
The girl didn't seem convinced. "Uh, okaaaayy. Um, you're Casmir, right?"
Adrianne bobbed her head. "That's me! Adrianne Casmir! You're...wait, you're in my Modern Lit class, aren'tcha? No, no, I'm fine, really, anything you've heard about my missing school due to a nervous breakdown is completely and utterly false! Well, except for the bits that aren't, but those are only little bits!"
"I'm Raye," the girl said, "Raye Langley. I didn't mean to...I just..."
"It's okay," Adrianne replied, "everyone thinks I'm crazy, I know."
"That's not true," Raye insisted, "we've missed you. Really." She smiled. "Welcome back, I guess?"
Adrianne shuffled her feet, suddenly unwilling to make eye contact. She peered at her shoes, feeling very awkward. "Ah, thanks," she said.
Then she froze.
In a blur of motion, Adrianne swooped down, throwing her arms wide. "CUTE!"
Surprised, Raye jumped aside, but she wasn't Adrianne's target. No, Adrianne was hugging a penguin. The bird seemed just as shocked as Raye, wings failing against the iron grip.
"Eep! I say," the penguin squawked, "unhand me!"
"Oooh," Adrianne chirped, squeezing tighter, "and he's British, too!"
Frantic, Raye spun round, looking up and down the corridor. Thankfully, it was still early, and the hallway was mostly empty. The few students around were preoccupied with their own affairs, and nobody seemed to notice Adrianne's outburst. Raye breathed a sigh of relief, shoulders slumping. Kneeling, Raye grabbed hold of the other girl, gently prying her arms off the distraught waterfowl.
"Shhh," Raye hissed, "not so tight! And not so loud!"
"Er, sorry," Adrianne said, loosening her hug, "is he a secret agent penguin?"
"This is my natural colouration, madam," the penguin huffed, "not a tuxedo."
Raye stared at Adrianne. "You're...not supposed to see him."
"Oh," Adrianne gasped, clasping her hands to her mouth.
The penguin took advantage of the opening, squirming free. He waddled a few steps back, giving Adrianne a wide berth. Then he frowned at her, beak curving in puzzlement. "You CAN see me, Miss Casmir?"
"Yeah," Adrianne answered, kneeling on the floor, "though you're kinda fuzzy. But that makes you cuter!"
She lunged forward, trying to pet the penguin's head, but was thwarted by his quick evasion.
"He's invisible," Raye explained, "to most people. Well, everyone, actually."
"Oooh," Adrianne marvelled, mouth opening in a little 'o' of wonder, "that's totally cool! You're like breaking the no pets rule and nobody can catch you!"
"I am NOT a pet," the penguin stated, puffing his chest out, "my name is Alistair!"
"Alistair! That's a nice name!"
Raye watched the exchange with an air of amusement, but also a hint of worry. It was getting close to the bell, and the hall was beginning to fill with students. So far nobody was looking their way, but it was only a matter of time.
"Look, er, Adrianne," Raye said, "can I talk to you later? I think we have the same lunch period, and..."
"Sure, sure," Adrianne replied, scrambling to her feet. With a final cry of 'BYE MISTER PENGUIN', she flounced back to her locker, spinning the combination with manic intensity.
Raye watched the other girl for a moment, then shouldered her own bag and set off down the hall. Alistair waddled alongside her, but the penguin's presence passed without comment. No students or teachers noticed the talking bird. Just as she'd claimed, the penguin was invisible. Or at least, eyes just slid right past him. It was like the bird had an SEP field - Somebody Else's Penguin.
"That was...odd," Raye said in a hushed tone, keeping her lips still and her voice low. She didn't want to seem like she was talking to herself.
Alistair, however, was under no such restrictions. The penguin responded with a sardonic squawk. "Odd? She's crazy."
"No," Raye disagreed, "Superball's crazy. Looney's weird. Adrianne's just a bit..."
"Crazy," Alistair muttered.
"Different," Raye chided, with a grin, "be nice. She likes YOU."
"I wish she had a different way of expressing it," the penguin grumbled.
Raye smiled again, before her expression grew serious. "How come she could see you?"
Alistair shrugged, his wings rising and falling. "I don't know," he admitted, "I've been to your literature class, and she never noticed me before. Maybe she's just..."
"...crazy," Raye finished, lightly bopping the penguin on the head.
"Ow. Yes. But I don't think she'll be any trouble. Even if she tells people, who will believe her?"
"True," Raye quipped, "invisible penguins are kinda hard to swallow."
"Hard to swallow? Hmph," Alistair sniffed, "no worse than that tripe your History teacher keeps spouting."
"Mister Herman is okay," Raye said, "just a little boring."
"That man," Alistair snapped, "has no respect for the grand traditions of the British Empire!"
Raye grinned. "You do know I've got double History this morning?"
Alistair whimpered, clutching his forehead. "Don't remind me."

* * *

Mr David Herman wasn't a happy camper. Not a happy man at all.
He hated his job. He never wanted to be a high school teacher. But that was the fate cruel destiny had forced on him. He'd been comfortable at the university, but those fools didn't grant him tenure.
And now he was reduced to this, begging for a meagre salary, chained to a classroom of juvenile dimwits. He was an academic of the highest order, a genius! He didn't deserve this!
He deserved respect. Respect that these insufferable children refused to give. They had no concern for the matters of history. All they cared about were their petty little teenage lives.
There, at the back of the class! Did they think he was blind? Whispering and giggling to each other in mindless flirtations. Hormonal stupidity, nothing more.
Such insolence, such unmitigated gall!
Mr Herman glared at the room. There! A boy slumped like a spineless amoeba! The brat was asleep, he knew.
An insult, a slap to the face!
But worst of all were the ones who LOOKED attentive. The ones who pretended to be listening. Mr Herman knew the truth. They were liars, dirty little liars. He could see right through their evil masks. Like that...what was her name? The pretty blonde in the front row, that Raye Langley girl. She sat straight, even writing in a notebook. But the little bitch didn't fool him. He knew that look of concentration was feigned.
He could feel her contempt. It made him angry.
She raised a hand, soprano voice rising...
...and Mr Herman slammed his hands onto the desk, splintering the wood.
"THERE WILL BE NO QUESTIONS," he barked, flecks of spittle flying from his mouth.
The class went still, stunned into silence.
A sneer crossed the teacher's face, a grotesque smirk stretching from cheek to cheek. With an almighty roar, he leapt atop his desk, ripping his shirt open. Buttons tore free, exploding like bullets.
The students gaped.
For the first time in his career, Mr Herman had their full attention.

* * *

Adrianne pranced down the hall, whistling a happy tune. As expected, her teachers had given her an awful lot of work to catch up on. But she wasn't going to let that torpedo her spirits. Life was good.
One of her classmates had a talking penguin! She was looking forward to finding out what was up with that.
"Miss Casmir! Miss Casmir!"
Whoa, Adrianne thought, speak of the devil. She stopped as Alistair the penguin raced toward her. The bird sped between the legs of the crowd, sliding furiously on his belly.
"Hey, chill," Adrianne said, "what's wrong?"
Alistair fell against her ankles, breathing heavily. "It's Raye! She...she's..."
But the penguin never finished his sentence.
A wall exploded, shattering just a few feet from them. Students screamed, many caught and injured by flying debris. But a single figure took the brunt of the blow - a glowing girl.
She flew through the hole, slamming into the corridor floor. She bounced a few times, hen lay still. Her aura flickered, light fading from her body like a dying bulb. A sword dropped from her hand, clattering to the floor.
"RAYE," Alistair wailed, beak wide with horror, "NO!"
Adrianne stared. The prone figure was an entirely different girl. A warrior princess in blue and gold, with a winged headdress sweeping from a mane of hair.
But she WAS Raye Langley.
Another figure appeared, framed by the broken wall. It was taller, unmistakably male. He strode from the cloud of smoke and plaster dust, looming threateningly over Raye's fallen form.
Adrianne gasped. It was Mr Herman! Except Mr Herman didn't normally walk around with his shirt hanging open. And she was pretty sure Mr Herman didn't have a giant cuckoo-clock where his torso should be.
"I AM HISTORIMANDIAS, TEACHER OF KINGS," he howled, "LOOK UPON MY HOMEWORK, YE MIGHTY, AND DESPAIR!"
He lifted one foot, preparing to stomp on Raye's head.
Then a bolt of blazing blue flashed into his gut.
The history teacher reeled, snarling like an animal. He turned to face his attacker, and found Adrianne.
But she was different too.
Her hair writhed like a living thing, snaking into a stream that reached her waist. No longer was it brown: now it shone a vibrant purple, matching her eyes. Gone were the glasses. And surmounting it all, her ears grew sharp and pointy, the ends twitching with anger.
"BACK OFF, BUSTER!"
A second blast surged from her arms, pounding into Mr Herman's chest like a tiny freight train. The force knocked him off his feet, flinging him down the hall.
Her eyes narrowed, closing into slits.
Staff and students had fled soon as the fighting started, leaving only the unconscious and badly wounded. About half a dozen kids...and Raye.
Quickly, Adrianne shifted her hands, sketching a line in the air. Dark energy lashed at the insane teacher, striking him before he could get up. Inky blackness swirled back into Adrianne - before rippling out in a wave of smoky green. It healed wounds, mended bones...
...and woke Raye.
The caped heroine rose in a spiral of light, health flooding back from the spell. Instinctively, she grabbed her sword. Then she blinked in confusion. "What the...Adrianne?"
"Hiiiii Raye," Adrianne sang, "Mister Herman looks really mad. Did you flunk a test or something?"
"Or something," Raye retorted. She twirled her broadsword, adopting a ready stance. "But call me Evangelia, okay?"
"Ohhh, secret identity," Adrianne said knowingly, "I understand."
Running over, Alistair released a sigh of relief. "Eva! Are you alright?"
Evangelia nodded. "Yeah. A little sore, but---" she cut off mid-sentence, muscles tensing, "---LOOK OUT!"
The costumed girl sprang forward, just as the teacher leapt back to his feet. The two collided with a resounding crash, the flat of Evangelia's blade smashing into Mr Herman's skull. But the teacher shrugged off the blow.
Growling, Mr Herman reached for Evangelia with claw-like hands. She evaded his grasp, but only barely, slashing desperately at his midsection. The blade sunk into the oversized clock replacing his torso, kicking loose a few splinters and chips of wood. But the sword only penetrated an inch or two before stopping dead.
"Raye...er...EVA! GET CLEAR!"
Her sword was stuck, but Evangelia managed to wrench it free - by planting both feet on Mr Herman and using him as leverage. She rolled away, just in time.
A massive burst streamed past her, engulfing the teacher in a flood of cerulean light.
An electric thrill ran through Evangelia's body. She'd felt it before, when Adrianne revived her, but she'd assumed it was part of the healing. Yet Adrianne's attacks produced the same sensation, like a spark dancing down her spine.
It must have felt different for Mr Herman, though. The teacher's voice rose in a scream, a shriek of pure unadulterated agony.
The light show stopped, leaving Adrianne swaying on unsteady legs. Channelling that much energy hadn't been easy, and she was clearly exhausted. Panting, Adrianne focused weary eyes on Mr Herman...
...and blinked. Because he didn't look hurt at all.
Adrianne gulped. "Uh oh."
Alistair peeked out from behind her, beak clicking nervously. "I concur," he said.
The clock on the teacher's chest made a soft whirring sound. Hands spun until they struck the hour, chiming with an ominous knell. A hatch opened where Mr Herman's gut should have been. More chimes played as a painted cuckoo shot out, rocking back and forth.
Mr Herman laughed, cackling in time with the music. "YOU CAN'T STOP THE MARCH OF HISTORY!"
"Is it just me," Evangelia whispered, "or is he getting stronger?"
Alistair nodded, unable to speak.
"Okay," Adrianne said, her voice unnaturally calm, "new plan."
Pause.
"RUN AWAY!"
She ran away. A moment later, Evangelia followed suit, sheathing her sword and scooping Alistair into her arms. The girls (and penguin) raced down the corridor, pursued by the cuckoo teacher.
As they dashed through the school, Adrianne glanced at Evangelia and asked, "You're a superhero, then?" Her tone was light and conversational. She sounded as if she were out for a casual stroll, not running for her life.
"Er, yes," Evangelia replied, after a second.
"That's so cool," Adrianne gushed, "I'm one too! Well, sorta. I mean, I registered last week and everything and even made a costume, but I left it at home today 'cause I didn't think I'd need it at school. It's not FAIR!"
"That's life," Alistair sympathised, making a philosophical gesture with one wing.
Evangelia took a fleeting look over her shoulder. The teacher was nowhere in sight, but she could hear him rampaging through the building, bellowing like a rabid buffalo. "So," she said, "do you really have a plan, or are we running all the way to China?"
"It's cool," Adrianne assured her, "just follow me."
Alistair gave her a quizzical stare. "You have some way to stop that thing?"
"Think so, yeah," Adrianne answered, as she charged up a staircase.
Evangelia ran after her, tightening her grip on the penguin. "Mind sharing, Sherlock?"
"Okay," Adrianne began, as they took stairs two at a time, "I do magic, see?"
The girls (and penguin) tumbled onto the fourth floor landing. Adrianne cornered like a racing driver, complete with burning rubber. Her shoes slid across the floor, hard enough to singe the soles.
Adrianne kept running, skirt flaring as she blasted forward. In a breathless voice, she continued, "I...er...sorta figured out how to tap...um, the human spirit, I guess. Dreams, emotions, creativity...that kinda thing."
Evangelia arched an eyebrow. "You shoot people with motivational posters?"
"Noooooo, more like science fiction and fantasy, that's my power source," Adrianne said, long ears shaking, "buuuuut, I can use other stuff, and I know where to get more firepower."
"Where?"
"Here!"
Evangelia stared at the place they'd stopped at. In an incredulous voice, she exclaimed, "The computer lab?"
"Yup," Adrianne nodded, "hold him off while I charge up!"
Without waiting for a reply, she dove into the room, parking herself at the nearest PC. She brushed the mouse, hammered in a single line of text - a URL - then leaned back, arms spread, and began to chant.
Alistair wiggled out of Evangelia's arms, dropping to the ground. The penguin waddled after Adrianne, climbing onto her lap and squinted curiously at the screen.
Left alone, Evangelia pulled out her sword. She stood guard outside the computer lab. She really hoped Adrianne knew what she was doing, because Mr Herman was getting closer. The sound of the crazed teacher's passage echoed up the stairwell, ringing in her ears.
As she predicted, Mr Herman appeared a second later, pounding up the steps like a raging bull. The hands of his torso clock spun and spun, rotating so fast that the breeze ruffled her hair.
"HISTORICAL INEVITABILITY," he proclaimed, fists held high.
"You're late," Evangelia said. Her sword slashed a silvery path through the air, a glittering arc of gleaming steel.
Mr Herman staggered, clutching his head. "I'm late," he moaned, "I'M LATE!" For a moment, Evangelia swore the man had bunny ears. The moment didn't last, however. The teacher recovered, ignoring the fresh cut bisecting his face.
"You're LATE," he snarled, "DELINQUENT! DECEASED!"
Evangelia wove her blade in a stunning display of swordsmanship. She looped through five successive swings, a brutal combination that drove the teacher back.
Yet despite the punishment, the man didn't fall.
The teacher attacked, and Evangelia blocked his punch. The blow had been telegraphed, but that didn't diminish its speed or strength. He hit so hard that Evangelia was forced to use her blade as a shield. That put her on the defensive, an opportunity the cuckoo teacher was quick to exploit. She managed to deflect the next attack, and the next, but she knew she couldn't hold out forever.
"EVA," Alistair cried, "GET DOWN!"
Reacting on instinct, Evangelia threw herself to the floor.
Magic filled the corridor, a cacophony of sight, sound, and raw emotion. A shimmering wall of voices, charged with images, words, thoughts and feelings.
Life, love, death, hate, passion, apathy, hope, and fear...a million voices, screaming, laughing. It was like all human existence compressed into a single heartbeat of light and darkness.
And then it was over.
Evangelia looked up, staring as the last wisps of power evaporated into the ether. There was a very large crater at the other end of the corridor, as if a giant fist had slammed into the wall. The teacher lay crumpled on the ground, body twisted at a painful angle. Only the faint rise and fall of his chest showed signs of life. His clock torso was completely shattered, the cuckoo-bird dangling with a tiny cross-eyed expression.
She could still hear the voices, echoing in her head.
"Ick," Adrianne groaned. She leaned against the lab door, sweat soaking her t-shirt. She was exhausted, but supremely satisfied. "kinda overkill...but cool, innit?"
"What," Evangelia asked, "was THAT?"
"MySpace," Adrianne replied, pointing to the computer behind her.

* * *

"EVANGELIA! EVANGELIA!"
Evangelia blinked as she stepped out of the school. Not at the sunlight - the glare wasn't that bad - but at the crowd gathered round the building. The street was packed with students, staff, police, paramedics...and reporters, lots and lots of them.
Shutters went off in a cascade of clicks, microphones were shoved forward, and video camera lights went on. Journalists screamed questions, each struggling to be heard.
Media attention wasn't new to Evangelia, so she took it in stride. So did Alistair, since he knew they couldn't see him. Adrianne, on the other hand, was stunned. She'd never been in a situation like this.
Adrianne's eyes lit up. She bounced, hopping on the balls of her feet, purple hair streaming behind her. She waved and waved and waved, pumping her arms, flashing peace signs to the crowd. They ate it up, showering her with cheers.
"EVANGELIA," one reporter shouted, pointing at Adrianne, "IS SHE A NEW MEMBER OF THE LEGENDARY?"
Adrianne frowned. "The Legenwhatsis?"
"Eva's supergroup," Alistair explained.
Adrianne's eyes went wide. "YOU HAVE YOUR OWN SUPERGROUP?!" She stared at Evangelia, ears drooping like a puppy's. She leaned extremely close to Eva, her expression a wordless plea.
Feeling somewhat trapped, Evangelia looked away. She met Alistair's gaze, instead...and the penguin gave her an expectant stare.
Evangelia sighed, then raised her voice for the benefit of the crowd. "Yes," she announced, "her name is...er..."
"The wonderful beautiful COSMIC heroine, the magician of the FUTURE, the sorceress of the SPACE AGE, defender of all that is shiny and true, I am..."
Adrianne paused for dramatic effect, striking a pose.
"THE SPACE MAGE!"
As the reporters yelled more questions, Evangelia turned to her penguin. "Remember," she said, "this was YOUR idea."

F I N

A short Alexis interlude
Based on a random idea I had before going to work this afternoon.

Going through old screenshots, I cam across the following interesting outfits.
Optimus Prime!!


I don't remember what this guys name or powers were, but this is just a classic look! Very Silver Age!


An early attempt at an M. Bison clone (Circa 2004). I bet someone has done a better one on the COV side since then.


This one is unique because I caught two different homages at once! A Power Ranger and Captain Marvel!


This guys name? "The Burger King". No - I'm not kidding.


Another unknown, but really cool, outfit.


A shot of a friends character over on Justice. Kinetics/Mind Control Defender named Psychokenetic.


The Mask!!! (With THESE powers! I could be... A SUPERHERO!!! But first...)


I think this guys name was Hippieman or something like that.


Starfire!
-Logan
-----------------
"This kind of thing tends invariably to devolve into the kind of "No, Nakajima, THIS is true power!!" argument that only really works if you're yelling it from the cockpit of a giant robot . . ."
-----------------

Wrong... Just... WRONG!!! Don't click if you value your eyes!-Logan
-----------------
"This kind of thing tends invariably to devolve into the kind of "No, Nakajima, THIS is true power!!" argument that only really works if you're yelling it from the cockpit of a giant robot . . ."
-----------------

It was a pretty evening. The sun was going down, a few songbirds hardy enough to survive in an inner city park were singing, and the sky struck just the right balance between cloud and clear. Maria Pezzini had never been the sort of girl who spent much time appreciating natural beauty, but with the way things had changed for her it was one of the relatively few joys she had left.
Fucking Hellions. Fucking robot-thing.
On the other hand, if those idiots' perverted 'ritual' hadn't trapped her in this eighteenth-century abomination, she'd be completely dead by now, wouldn't she?
Maria sighed, internally - the only way she could, now, since this 'seelepanzer' thing didn't have speakers any more than it had a face - and concluded that, therapists aside, she really wasn't one of those people who were cut out for looking on the bright side of things.
Fucking Hellions. Fucking robot.
"You can't do this!"
"Watch your mouth, bitch!"
Oh, look, a distraction. Thank you for volunteering, asshat. She fed some more coal into the firebox with a mental command that felt sort of like swallowing, and waited for the boiler's pressure to rise to combat levels with a sense of anticipation that should have had a very nasty grin on her face.
"You think all your money's gonna protect ya? You think it gives you the right to diss us Hellions? That what you think?!"
"Hey, man," a second voice broke in. "Ain't that maybe a little much?"
"You backing out, man? Decided you don't want that Langley bitch so much after all? Besides, you're gettin' seconds here, ain't'cha?"
Those few words - the realization of exactly what these vermin planned, and the name of one of the few friends she'd had who'd seemed genuinely disturbed by her apparent death - were enough to sap any fragment of humor from the situation. Fortunately - both for the woman who'd been caught and the Hellions themselves, given the state of her temper these days - that was when the safety valve tripped and pressurized the rest of her system in a cloud of steam that hissed free from pinhole clearance gaps in foot-long, pencil-thin jets.
One step, two, and then she stepped off the roof.
For the space of one long breath she fell free, then slammed into the pavement with a crash that impressed a pair of hobnailed footprints half an inch deep in the pavement of the alley. The one standing lookout she ignored - for now - in favor of lunging ahead to slam the spiked plate carried across the 'knuckles' of her new arm into the jaw of what she figured to be the asshole who had been doing all the talking, what with his having stuck his hand inside the poor woman's shirt and all.
He had turned to look at the racket and was able to duck out of the way enough to make it a glancing blow rather than a direct one, but that only meant that he went down with a bleeding scrape along the side of his head rather than having his skull crushed between the brick wall and a swinging fist with well over a ton of mass behind it.
The third Hellion, the one who had been holding the woman in place, dropped his captive as his companion crumbled, stunned if not yet unconcious, and pulled out a knife. She almost could have laughed.
Something in her posture must have shown it, because he snarled and lunged, completely unconcerned with the fact that he was attacking what was, for all intents and purposes, an armored war machine more than a head taller than he was. It skittered harmlessly off of the grimy steel that had been intended to turn two-inch grapeshot, and then he was staggering back, clutching at the bleeding nose he'd earned when her backhand knocked him away.
She gave him a shot with the city-issue tazer installed in her right arm, to distract him, then turned back to the leader as he came up off the ground with axe in hand and some caliber of pistol bullet whined futilely off of the plating protecting her back. He was smarter than his friend, if even more disgusting, and swung at one of her joints as her nearer arm came up overhead.
That blow missed, but hers didn't, and hammered him to the ground, completely senseless.
The one she'd shocked was only starting to shake it off when she had turned back to him, and she didn't give him time to finish the process, instead driving a fist into his stomach hard enough to lift his feet completely off the ground. Through luck or natural surefootedness he managed to keep himself upright, but that only set him up more easily for the relatively gentle clout that put his lights completely out.
Her entire frame rang like a bell when the lookout caught her squarely with the sledgehammer he had snatched up, but a sweep of her nearer arm as she spun around to face him knocked it from his hands and snapped one wrist like a tree branch. He screamed, of course, and then cut the sound off as she brought the other arm down to club him unconcious.
"Maybe I was wrong about capes," the woman she'd rescued told her stiffly, trying to shrug her expensive suit coat back into place. "Thank you."

#1: It's Kindom Hearts plus BALLS! (is worksafe)
I've been trapped in DeviantArt for hours, clicking link after link to gallery after gallery and picture after picture... it's like a never ending hamster wheel of awesome...
- CD
ETA: #2: Aww, how sweetSERVO: Loook *deeeeply* into my eyes... Tell me, what do you see?
CROW: (hypnotized) A twisted man who wants to inflict his pain upon others.
For the next 72 hours, Itachi intoned, I will slap you with this trout. - Spying no Jutsu, chapter 3
--
"Anko, what you do in your free time is your own choice. Use it wisely. And if you do not use it wisely, make sure you thoroughly enjoy whatever unwise thing you are doing." - HymnOfRagnorok as Orochimaru at SpaceBattles
woot Med. Eng., verb, 1st & 3rd pers. prsnt. sg. know, knows

It looks like Iran's leaders are trying to stop thier citizens from getting second opinions on the official government interpretation of things. They have recently created teams of enforcers to search and destroy all the satellite antennas and recievers they can find among thier citizens.
gatewaypundit.blogspot.co...gimes.html
The Iranian leadership may feel the recent war in Lebonon between Israel and it's Hezzbolla forces has put them in danger of finding themselves in much the same position as the US during the Veitnam period or Russia was in in Afganistan with survivors coming home and telling the truth that was being partially hidden by the official news agencies.
Iran's leadership doesn't have to worry about large numbers of survivors returning home so they are taking steps to remove the free press from the equation.
Another thing that probably worries them is that in spite of the knee jerk reply from across the middle east that the catastrophic war in Lebonon is all Israels and the US's fault there has been a worrying number of leaders and arab citizens that privately and in not so private settings laying the blame at Iran and Syria's feet.
Add in persistant rumour that Israel made a major intelligence discovery at one of Hezzbolla's bases during or near the end of the occupation of Lebonon and you have a Iranian Leadership that is getting worried and tightening the screws on thier control.
Alternately Iran maybe preparing to escalate thier actions or envolvment in Lebonon and they are tightening thier control over thier citizen's in preparation for that.
Wonder if we can convince the American military to start rebroadcasting CNN and FOX news on local Iranian TV channels just across the border in Iraq.

howard melton

Members who are security level 30 or higher should dedicate one costume slot to the Legendary's standard uniform.
Note that this is for heroes who don't have as part of their origin a battlesuit or major modifications to the bodytype, like monstrous legs or large robotic gloves. For those, you can simply use the standard SG color replacement and not have to worry about dedicating a costume slot.
Individual tweaks and modifications are encouraged. If you have a particular "schtick" to your costume -- like Evangelia is the wings on the head and the wide curled up shoulder bits -- then keep that and change the rest. If you shoot eyebeams from a visor that you always wear on every costume, regardless of design, then leave that in.
As a general guideline, when designing variants, always try to keep in mind -- the center is blue, the outside is yellow. In other words. Torso and upper legs/arms blue with hands and feet as yellow. Anything that follows that general rule is going to look approximately right.
Key to descriptions:
Color grid is 10 across, 16 Vertical. Anytime there is a reference the color grid, it is given in coordinates starting from the left to right, then top to bottom. For instance, if an element says:
Color: 7/4 (Yellow)
Then that means that you count 7 over from the left, and 4 down to find find a shade of Yellow there.
Costume pieces and patterns are referred to by their names.

Well after going though the list I've found three that we don't have:
Terra Volta
Talos Island
and
Eden
I tried to grab them earlier and they didn't spawn. Someone is going to have to do a sweep of these areas Saturday and get them, hopefully. I know we're doing Delagation with F.O.R.C.E. we should have them all anyway.When I say Jump, I want you out the window, you got that Demon-boy!
What!
*********************
In the epic rage of furious thunder
legends create their tales
when the twilight calls and the dark lord falls
our glory will prevail

...can be found here.
It is by no means close to finished -- I'll be changing the banner text into Legendary gold when I get home and go back to work with a decent image editor, for one thing. But I wouldn't mind opinions and suggestions. I'm following the same basic layout as the rest of my site, with buttons along the left edge.
Oh, and for those wondering where the Vitruvian Man image came from, I stood Eva on the Round Table and did a screenshot straight down into one of those embedded monitors. Then I cropped and cleaned it up a little.
-- Bob
---------
...The President is on the line
As ninety-nine crab rangoons go by...