Ex_Libris

Please add me to your list of RPers on Justice. I've only been playing for a few days now and have been soloing mostly, but I hope to find some RPers to group with and eventually form a supergroup with. I'm a level 6 blaster.

I play on Justice, characters name is Atomic Marvel.

Indeed running with Warwolf was alot of fun, I look forward to the next time that The Atomic Marvel and Warwolf are out fighting crime together.

(ooc) I play on Virtue... there are alot of roleplayers scattered out... not always easy to run in to.

I know there are alot here though

SnapSwizzle on victory. I am the Director of Devil's Advocate an experienced RP guild that moved alot of members to CoH from another MMO. Feel free to send a tell if you want to ever get in involved with any of our activities. Come on over to http://devilsadvocate.theknowns.net the beer there is always cold.
If you are interested in becoming a member of DA go ahead and fill out an application.

WarWolf ran with Atomic Marvel yesterday... a very classic combination of completely opposite personalities dedicated to a singular cause, good fun! I've placed everyone who gave their character names on my friends list and look forward to running with you sometime!

Ah, thank you for your kind words, Voidchild, my love.

I can not wait for the time that our security levels are closer togather so that we might defend the streets togather...

For now, I will just have to be the sidekick to the one I love...

<grins>

For my lvl 8 Tech/Defender name Giga Prime

"Target marked for deletion."

Mine Blaster on Virtue; named as Garoth; it is:
The breeze of winter shall swallow you!
Other characters I do not have.

It just bears mentioning that I've never seen a superhero say "woot" in a comic.

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Polarlion, thread bumping is not permitted under the forum rules.

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For you I give you a star to make you feel better...I hope Mommy is better to you tonight

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Judging from the posts you all seem to be fairly split on the idea - but no one said they would shun me if i chose to play him as Dorian.

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I wouldn't shun anyone for anything (except being a ***** of course). Last night I grouped with a Hulk knockoff. His name was H U L K (didn't know you could space names and get them that way, but I guess you can). He was a great guy and we had a great time. My whole point was that I think it's more imaginative to create your own hero. Homage is fine to a point, but there's a fine line between homage and rip-off.

BTW, I'll be playing my Shadowen character on virtue, just started him over as a dark/dark defender (need to update my sig) so his rp personality would probalby fit right in with Dorian..hehe. And I agree..read the dang book, it's excellent.

you should, even some of the non RPers are very nice gamers. Granted we have our share of losers - but for the most place it is a nice community.

As i understand most of these posts, paying homage to our favorite heroes is perfectly acceptable. Direct copying is not. Although be very careful in your backstory to not copy to closely. My case with Dorian was slightly different than most comic book heroes due to where he originaly comes form and how he has been interpreted from novel to comic to movie. Although you could technically do the same thing i'm going to do - make a unique character that is the supposed inspiration for your favorite hero.

Hmmm, how would people feel about creating a character in homage to one of your favorites? Not a carbon copy or complete rip-off, but similar in maybe costume and powers? Just curious how my idea for creating a Captain America "clone" would boil over with people. Not exactly the same, but similar costume and possibly a similar background.

Probably too late to implement this - but we could have all put RP at the end of our character's names. Oh well - the best ideas are always in hindsight.

I find it works best to use moderate to light RP in the local or team channel and see what the vibe is around me (unless of course i'm playing with RP friends then i RP like crazy) But i never RP using the Request or Broadcast channels. I also state that i want a RP team when i request team - it seems to work well for me. Hope you have better luck.

CURS3D K40S

/sign I hate the thought of paying 5 bucks extra - but if they did a good job of keeping it a RP server i'd pay it!!

Okay, i had a friend of mine (happens to be a lawyer) look over the EULA for CoH and look into the TM and copyrights for Dorian Grey from LXG. It breaks down something like this.

Random House has the copyrights to the story - but only for profitable publication - hence they couldn't touch me.

LXG has a mild TM on the look of their Dorian Grey - but only the look - the character itself IS public domain. So as long as i don't look like their character they can't do anything.

CoH can delete any character they feel like for any reason - and there is nothing any of us can do about it. Period, the end. No arguements, discussion or any other action allowed.

Now the original post was meant for my fellow RPers - cause i don't want to piss of the community have no one left to play with. Judging from the posts you all seem to be fairly split on the idea - but no one said they would shun me if i chose to play him as Dorian.

Since NCsoft has the ability to delete him if they like, i think i am going to simply do a mild name change, tie it in to the existing backstory and call it a done deal. I'll post the name here as soon as I get him recreated on Virtue. That way if any of you would like to RP with Dorian you can - if not that is okay to.

Once again thanks for all the input and keeping the thread positive (i was afraid this might turn into a flame war)

Oh, and for those that haven't read the book by Oscar Wilde - you are truly missing out on a great story!!

Post deleted by Moderator1

Early the next morning, Martin began making phone calls to make arrangements for his parents. His father was already at a local funeral home, so it wasn't too much trouble to assign the same establishment to take care of his mother. There would be a double funeral in two days' time. He phoned his mother's attorney, and worked out all the details for his parents' estate. The lawyer arranged not only for Martin to receive the entirety of his parents' estates, but also both insurance checks. The attorney was quite helpful, and asked only for a modest fee. Darla came to visit Martin about the time the last phone call ended.

"What are you going to do when you get out of here, Martin?" she asked, sitting on the side of his bed.

"I am not sure. I had planned to go on to college, maybe join the Marines, but now I don't know."

"Well, at least you have a place to live."

"I wanted to talk to you about that. The offer to stay there still stands. I know you have no place to go."

"You want me to move in with you? That's kind of...sudden, isn't it?"

"It's just until you get on your feet. I know you are being dismissed from the hospital today, and I don't want you having to live on the street. It looks as if I am going to be here for some time yet anyway."

"I suppose it would make things easier. I can use the time to find a job, and maybe get into a college someplace."

"It's settled then. Besides, I need someone to watch the house while I am stuck here, since it is standing empty now. There is a key underneath the front doormat."

"Thank you, Martin. I really don't deserve this."

Martin winked at her. "Sure, you do."

A large man in a severe business suit appeared at the door to Martin's room, "of course she does."

Martin looked at the man suspiciously, "and who might you be?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Thorne. I didn't mean to eavesdrop." The man stepped forward, extending a hand. Martin took it and shook hands tenatively. "I am Leo Morgan. I represent the Countess Crey and Crey Industries. We have a propgram set up to benefit the families of those poor souls injured or killed as a result of the misuse of super-powers. I am here to offer you a substantial check, as well as a lucrative job with our firm for as long as you want it."

"Oh, really? What kind of job?"

"We can decide that when the time comes. Judging by your skill, and what we have learned of your educational background, a career in our Security department would likely suit you just fine."

"My educational background? Those records are sealed," Martin said warily.

"Mr. Thorne, at the risk of being blunt, don't be naive. You don't really think that Crey Industries got to where it is today by not knowing everything possible about who it was dealing with, do you? We even know a great deal about your rather.. unique power. We have many ways of obtaining information." Martin's eyebrows went up. "All perfectly legal, I assure you." Martin wasn't buying that, but let it go. "At any rate, I am here to offer you compensation for your loss in the form of a cashier's check," he opened his obviously-expensive briefcase, and retrieved a small slip of paper from it, "in the amount of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars."

The look of shock on Martin's face was obvious, but he quickly regained his composure, "and what's the catch?"

"No catch, Martin. May I call you 'Martin'?"

Darla's jaw was still in her lap as Martin pressed on, "there's ALWAYS a catch, especially when there is a quarter of a million dollars involved. What does Crey get out of it?"

"Publicity."

"Publicity?"

"Yes. Make no mistake, Martin. We're going to plaster your face all over every ad slick we can possibly justify. You see, Crey has gotten a rather.. unfortunate reputation, and this is a perfect opportunity to rectify that unpleasant situation. You get a substantial cash reward to help ease your life, and we get publicity that you cannot buy, no matter HOW much money you throw at it. Crey gets to be known as 'the company that cares; looking out for the innocent bystander'. The positive PR would be worth every cent of this check."

"Okay, that sounds more believable. I'll tell you what, let me think about it. I wasn't really considering a job or career. I wanted to go to college."

"Oh, that's perfect! We'll get you into the college of your choice, that way we will be 'helping an orphan realize his dream of a higher education'", Leo said as he pantomimed putting up signs with his hands.

"I'll consider it."

"Fair enough," Leo said, placing the check back inside his briefcase. He stuck out his hand again. Martin shook it, and sudden drew back in pain.

"OUCH!" Martin exclaimed, the back of his hand sporting a fresh cut.

"Oh, dear," said Leo, jerking several tissues from a nearby box, and moving to tend Martin's wound. "I am so dreadfully sorry. This ring of mine has a jagged edge on it that I have been meaning to get fixed. Please forgive me."

Martin took the tissues and began attending his injury. "It's no big deal. Don't worry about it."

"Thank you for your time, Martin. We'll be in touch," Leo quipped moving to leave.

"Sure."

Leo exited Martin's room and walked to the elevator. Once inside, he pulled out his cell, and hit speed-dial. "Yeah, this is Leo. No, he's resisting the offer. Thought he might. Yeah." He looked at the palm where his ring was, and considered the few drops of dark liquid in the tiny glass reservior carefully. "Nah, it went off without a hitch. He is hesitant, but I think we got a viable sample, despite the crudeness of the device."

Martin glided from his bed to his feet with a catlike grace that belied his large size. Never taking his eyes off of the "nurse", or whatever it was, he circled warily. The nurse, still holding the injector in her hand, did not move. Her face remained expressionless, almost like a manakin.

"Who are you?" Martin demanded.

Without a word, the "nurse" sprang at him with an inhuman speed and agility. Martin caught the outstretched hand that held the injector, and got his first glimpse of his assailant while it was fully inside his dampening field, recognizing the grotesque form from the news. It was a Rikti. It struggled mightily with Martin, and he was amazed at the strength in such a slender creature. However, Martin was far stronger, and soon, he had the hand(or whatever it was) holding the injection device in a white-knuckled, iron grip, and began to squeeze. A sound not unlike someone twisting a bundle of celery filled the room and the creature let out a guttural howl unlike anything Martin had ever heard even in his worst nightmares. Martin release his hold, and the mangled device clattered to the floor. The creature, cradling its ruined arm, skittered away from Martin like some kind of insane parody of a crab. Martin sprang upon it, and soon had it lifted over his head. It was jerking and struggling wildly as Martin moved toward the door. With all his strength, Martin heaved it down the hallway. Airborne for the entire length of the corridor, the thing thudded into the opposite wall, 60 feet away, and slid to the floor. The illusion had flickered back to life as soon as it got out of range, so it looked for all the world like Martin had hurled a pretty young nurse out of his room. The only thing betraying its inhuman nature was the discolored stain on the cracked concrete wall where it hit. Doctors and nurses ran out in the hall, and started yelling. Nurse Grey stared at Martin in disbelief as he broke into a dead run toward the thing.

"Martin!! What on earth are you doing?!?" she screamed above the growing din.

Martin did not answer, so angrily focused on his goal was he. As he approached the limp form of the pseudo-nurse, two burly orderlies intercepted him. He bulled right through them, and grabbed the Rikti invader. Once inside Martin's field of influence the thing was revealed for what it truly was. The voices that had been yells of anger and astonishment quickly turned to screams of horror as Martin pounded on the body of the alien relentlessly.

After many moments, a man's voice was calling Martin's name back to sanity. A gentle hand touched his shoulder, and he whirled to face the new assailant. Doctor Stromberg regarded him kindly. "Martin. It's dead. Calm down, my boy."

Martin's breathing gradually slowed, and his pulse settled down to a low rushing roar in his ears, as a crowd began forming to get a better look at what was left of the thing.

"What did it want?" asked one nurse, tenatively toeing the thing's mis-shapen foot.

"Who knows?" said another, "those...THINGS tried to kill us all once. Who knows how their twisted minds work?"

Doctor Stromberg guided Martin back to his room, as several hospital personnel tried to decide what to do about the body of the thing. "Martin, are you all right?"

Martin, shaken, answered the doctor quietly, "yes. I'm fine."

"What happened in there?"

"I woke up and this nurse was standing there with a syringe. She said it was to help me sleep. It's still in the room."

"Hmm.. I'll have to take a look at it."

"When she got too close, her arm turned into the alien's arm. It was some sort of illusion or something."

"Probably some form of holographic technology. The Rikti are nothing if not advanced."

They reached Martin's room, and the broken device still lay on the floor. "There it is, doc."

"Okay. I'll get something to collect it. You go ahead and climb back into bed, my boy. Would you like a sedative? Something to help you sleep?"

Martin glared at Doctor Stromberg as if he'd made a very rude noise in church.

"Oh, yes. The nurse's needle. Of course. How silly of me," the doctor chuckled nervously. "You just do the best you can to get some rest, Martin.

Martin was still awake when Doctor Stromberg came back in and gingerly picked up the bent injector with heavy chemical gloves, and transferred it to a hazmat container.

"Uh.. Doc? Shouldn't we all be in some protective suits or something?"

"I think not, Martin. The Rikti do not have a history of using biological agents. I suspect because they would be as susceptible as we are, and besides. It doesn't appear to have lost any of the vile-looking liquid within. It will be fine. You get some rest."

Martin rolled over and gazed at the Scarlet Sentinel, who appeared to be sleeping peacefully.

"Get well soon," he muttered, "I want OUT of here."

<====>

Miles away, in a protected installation, a figure picks up a ringing telephone;

"Yes?"

A pause.

"Are you sure? When?"

Another pause.

"All right. I understand."

The figure hangs up the phone, and presses a communicator button.

"The situation has escalated. The Rikti are involved. Scramble the team. I want them on site tomorrow afternoon."

Martin and Darla sat near the Scarlet Sentinel, talking in hushed tones. Darla reached up and took the Sentinel’s hand gently.

“She is so beautiful. I wonder what she’s like,” Darla said, her voice now closer to normal. She had undergone reconstructive surgery on her mangled larynx, and although her power was history, her voice was now very close to her old one. This didn’t stop Martin from calling her ‘Whisper’, though. She kind of liked that.

“I guess so. I hadn’t noticed,” returned Martin, staring at Darla. Darla noticed, and blushed. Clearing his throat, Martin began again. “I wonder how long they’ll need me to stay by her.”

Darla looked at him quizzically. “That’s something I meant to ask you. Why do they have you staying here in the room with her?”

Martin realized that he hadn’t yet told Darla the whole story regarding his unique power. Taking a deep breath, he related the whole thing to Darla. After all, he had to trust someone sometime.

“Hm. Well, a lot of things make a lot more sense now. What do you intend to do with it?” Darla asked.

“Do? I don’t know. I don’t even want it. I mean, my life as I knew it is pretty much over. My father was murdered by Dawg and his buddies, and my mother’s body is still warm downstairs in the morgue,” Martin said bitterly.

Darla put her other hand on Martin’s knee. “Martin, I am so sorry about all of this.”

“You’ve got nothing to feel sorry for. You made the right decision when you left those three. Count your lucky stars.”

Nurse Grey interrupted them by poking her head into the room. “Martin, may I speak to you for a moment?” She turned to regard Darla warmly, “will you excuse us a moment, sweetie?”

“Nurse, she knows all about my power.”

“It’s all right, Martin. I am sorta tired. I am going to go lie down a while. I’ll come back later,” Darla said, patting his hand.

As Darla left the room, Nurse Grey checked the Sentinel’s I.V. bag carefully. “Martin, I have some medication I want you to take.”

“What is it?” he said, taking the pill bottle Nurse Grey offered.

“Well, as you know, your power goes dormant when you are sleeping. We can’t have that. All sorts of things could happen to the Sentinel during the night with your power off. These pills should, emphasis on ‘should’, dilate the muscles surrounding those glands of yours, allowing your dampening effect to work while you sleep. You’ll need to move your bed over as close to her as you can get it, though. I won’t ask you to actually sleep in the same be as her. Necessity or not, there are way too many problems associated with that.”

Martin chuckled. “Not that I am adverse to snuggling up to someone like her, I’d rather not have her wake up after being shot asking why there’s some strange man in her hospital bed.”

“Actually, I was thinking that a certain brunette would be less than approving.” Nurse Grey winked, and now it was Martin’s turn to blush.

“Uh, yeah.. So anyway..” Martin stammered.

“So anyway, these pills should allow your power to work while you sleep.”

“I’ll take one right now. It’ll have time to get into my system before bed.”

“You do that,” said Nurse Grey, turning to leave, “…hero.”

Darla returned a couple of hours later, and they talked for some time, until a nurse came by and shooed her off to bed. Martin pushed his bed over next to the Sentinel’s, and drifted off to sleep. He slept fitfully. His slumber was disturbed by dreams of monsters slicing him to pieces with surgical instruments. In another dream, a monster stood over his bed about to stab him. He awoke with a start to find a nurse standing a few feet away from him, a syringe in her hand. She drew back with a start. “Hey, there,” he said groggily, “what’s this for?”

“This is so that you are able to maintain sleep.” the nurse replied stiffly.

“Oh. Okay then,” said Martin, presenting his arm.

“The pain associated with this shall be minimal,” the nurse said, approaching slowly.

As her outstretched arm penetrated Martin’s dampening field, the illusion dissolved, and her arm resolved itself into the monstrous limb holding an alien injection device that Martin had seen in his subconscious. It hadn’t been a dream.

Miles away, in a darkened room within a bunker hidden deep beneath a hillside, members of Vanguard speak in grim tones regarding the matter at hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you have the young man’s dossier in front of you. Inside you’ll find all of his medical records, family history, and a detailed report on what is known about his powers. His abilities are unique among metas. They have never been seen before. I think you all know what kind of potential threat he represents. He has already caused the injury of one registered invulnerable through reckless use of his powers,” says a male voice.

“What are we to do? The young man has done nothing wrong. He did the right thing regarding the Scarlet Sentinel. Even now he stays by her side so that she may be made whole,” a second male voice intones.

“He did the right thing, THIS time. What happens next time? His parents were both murdered by metas. His psych profile clearly shows that he holds a grudge,” the first voice continues.

“Wouldn’t you? This young man has shown himself to be exemplary in character. He was in high school ROTC, and plans to pursue a career in the military,” a female voice chimes in.

“This young man holds the ability to shut down all of our powers. All of our most advanced technology is vulnerable to it. What happens if he falls into the wrong hands? Even worse, what if he decides to turn to crime?” the second voice says.

“I, for one, am not willing to take that chance,” the first voice says.

“Dear God, what are we? A lynch mob? Have we suddenly become a bunch of witch-hunters? This is still a free country, and we have dealt with super-powered threats before. Unless I woke up in Nazi Germany this morning, this man is still free to choose his own way in life, and if that path is a dark one, then we will deal with it accordingly. We are heroes, not assassins,” another male voice says darkly.

“People, this is getting us nowhere. We have discussed this into the very ground. It is time for a vote. All in favor of my proposal say ‘Aye’. All right, all opposed? Very well, then. Motion carried. I will notify Shadow Ops immediately to assemble a squad. Conventional equipment only. No metas. Subdue and capture only.”

“I wish to go on record as saying that I am vehemently opposed to this,” a male voice says.

“Hear hear. Me, as well,” the female voice says.

“Your objections have been noted.”

“And if he will not submit to becoming one of us?”

“Then I fear he will leave us with very little choice.”

< = = = >

Deep beneath the sewers, in a chamber filled with utterly alien equipment, three monstrous figures study a monitor intently. Pictured within the monitor is a heavily-muscled, stocky young man, talking animatedly with a pretty brunette. They are standing over an attractive redheaded woman who is unconscious in a hospital bed. The brunette is holding the redhead’s hand. Spindly fingers dance over bizarre controls, and the picture tightens up on the young man.

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<tHE eFfEcT is DorManT wHeN tHE sUbJecT iSS uNConCioUS>

<wHEn dO wE PrOcEEd?>

<SooN>

< = = = >

High above the city streets, the Crey Industries headquarters towers above all around it. A well manicured finger presses an intercom button. “Send him in.”

A door clearly designed to give the observer the impression that more was spent to create this single portal than most third-world countries’ GNP opens, and a shifty-looking man dressed in coveralls steps meekly inside, his grimy baseball cap in his hand.

“You have something for me, Mr. Johansen?”

“Yes, ma’am.. uh..Countess..your highness..”

“Countess will do. Well..? I am quite busy.”

“Oh, yes. Of course,” the man says, stepping briskly forward, dropping a baggie onto a desk that screams “obscenely expensive” from every hand-carved whorl of its exotic-wood surface. Inside the baggie are several pieces of bloodstained gauze, along with a couple of fragments of bullets, also stained dark red.

“And I am to be certain that this..sample..is from the hero in question how?

The man hands the Countess a newspaper with the headline “Scarlet Sentinel Critically Injured – Saved By Emergency Room Staff” circled.

“Hmm. We will test it. If the tests return positive, I will make you a rich man. We have tried for years to isolate the invulnerability gene. Getting viable DNA samples are made nearly impossible by its very nature. If I get what I want, you will be the wealthiest hospital janitor in Paragon City.”

The man grins widely.

“However, if it turns out that you are wasting my time, you will be your hospital’s latest customer. How are things in the ICU ward, by the way?” the Countess says, the unmistakable steel of a threat dripping from her voice.

“Noisy.”

“I am curious. You were there. How was she injured? What weapon was used?”

“It looked like a regular police service revolver to me. That is where the thug got it, anyhow. From a policeman I mean..”

The Countess’ face darkens. She presses a button, and two large men in expensive suits stalk inside and regard the timid man with glares that suggests he couldn’t be more in the wrong place at the wrong time. “You take me for a fool, Johansen?”

“No, ma’am. That’s the way it happened. She stepped in front of some big guy, and I mean big like a pro football player, to stop the thug’s bullets, I assume. Then the thug shot her, and she fell. Everyone looked pretty shocked, too. Strange things have been happening around that guy. Equipment failing, shutting down, that sort of thing. He’s been there for a while. He was in the operating room with the Sentinel the whole time. I looked in from time to time. He never touched her, but was always standing nearby.”

The Countess looks genuinely interested now. She gestures to the two walking mountains to leave, and presses an intercom button. “Sherisse, cancel all of my appointments for the rest of the morning.” She turns a smile to the man that makes a good attempt at faking warmth, but really only oozes avarice. “Mr. Johansen, my good man. Are you free for lunch? I want to hear all about your fascinating job.”

At the end of the hall, the cyber-thug had untangled himself from the policemen, scrambled to his feet, and darted down the intersecting hallway towards the exit. Martin sprang to his feet as the emergency staff descended on the fallen heroine, lifing her to a nearby gurney. As Martin dashed back to his room for a pair of sneakers, he could hear the staff shouting.

“Nurse, get me 50cc’s of Demoral and Phenergan, and start an IV of Lactacted Ringers, STAT!” someone shouted.

“Doctor! The needle won’t go in!” the a female voice retorted.

The medical technician monitoring the Sentinel’s vitals shouted, “We’re losing her! Pulse is fading! SHE’S ABOUT TO FLATLINE!”

“CRASH CART! NOW!!”

Martin had on a pair of sneakers now, and was at a dead run towards the exit, the shouts of the desperately working hospital personnel fading fast. Two nurses pushing a defibrillator ran past him as he neared the exit door. He burst through it and began looking left and right desperately for the fleeing thug. He felt a hand on one arm trying to turn him around, and he looked back to see Nurse grey regarding him coldly.

“You’re just going to let her die?

“What are you talking about” Martin returned, looking desperately for the murdering thug.

“The Scarlet Sentinel. She jumped in front of you to save your life.

“What am I going to do for her? I’m no doctor,” Martin returned. He spotted the fleeing cybercreep, and started to bolt for him, but Nurse Grey was still holding his arm.

“YOU are the reason she got hurt in the first place.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Scarlet Sentinel is invulnerable. She has taken tank shells to the chest without so much as twitching an eyelash, but she was in your power’s area of effect when that thug fired.”

“So?”

“So, you turned off that invulnerability. She’s been shot in the shoulder, stomach, and chest. She’s dying.”

“And I can help, how?”

“Did you not hear the conversations in there? We can’t save her. With you gone, her powers are back on. Needles won’t penetrate her skin. We can’t extract the bullets, we can’t suture the wounds, we can’t give her anything for the pain, and even if we could, her invulnerability would keep the drugs from having any effect. She’s bleeding to death, and we can do nothing to stop it. Even now, her heart has stopped, and no one has the strength to give her CPR. It’s like trying to give a heart-massage to a Sherman tank. Even the defibrillator isn’t having any effect on her. You need to come back in there NOW, so we can save her life.”

Martin looked desperately after the thug. He could still catch him, but if he left, he would be directly responsible, through irresponsible use of his powers, for the death of someone that had worked her whole life to help others.

“If you leave, you kill her, as surely as if you’d pulled the trigger yourself,” Nurse Grey said pointedly.

There was no choice to make. Martin looked into Nurse Grey’s eyes, nodded grimly, and ran back into the hospital as fast as his legs would carry him. They burst into the emergency room to find the technicians standing around looking helpless, some crying. Several bent syringes lay scattered on the floor. One persistent young man was pounding on the Sentinel’s chest with all his strength.

“Try the defib again, but set it back to normal range first.”

“Nurse, nothing works.”

“Just try it. Trust me.”

The medical technician adjusted the settings on the machine, and applied the paddles.

“CLEAR!”

A jolt went through the Sentinel. Her body jumped this time, but her heart still remained silent.

“Again. CLEAR!”

A second jolt shot through her body, and this time, her heart flickered back to life.

“Okay, people, we’ve got a pulse! We have a chance! Let’s work this thing!”

The staff sprang to life, working as one unit to save the Scarlet Sentinel’s rapidly-fading life. It was slow going, because they had to keep giving Martin a few seconds to readjust his dampening field to allow for some of their more advanced medical equipment. Martin’s ability to exert fine control over his power was about to be tested to its limit. For hours, they worked. The three bullets proved difficult to extract, as they had fragmented, and piecing the Sentinel’s ravaged flesh back together was a feat unto itself. Martin had to focus his power into several different shapes to get around some of the doctors’ instruments, from tight beams, to arcing bands. His ability to control his field was getting quite a workout. He was feeling the strain, but was at the same time amazed at the stamina of these people, working as one group, with seemingly limitless endurance. There were several times when Martin’s strength gave out, and his dampening field filled the room, shutting most of the equipment down. After a few seconds, he was able to get it back under control, but Martin was succumbing to what could only be described as full-body eyestrain. At long last, one of the doctor’s said, “okay, everyone. That’s all we can do. Let’s close her up. She’s in God’s hands now.”

After they wheeled the Sentinel into a room, Martin got wearily to his feet. He followed the gurney and watched as they laid her gently into a hospital bed. Nurse Grey walked up to Martin’s side. “You did a good thing, Martin.”

“Thanks. Why did they put her in a semi-private room?”

“The other bed is for you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, you can’t leave now, hero. You have to stay nearby in case we need to administer some type of medication. She is going to be in a LOT of pain when she wakes up. She could need a sedative, a painkiller, who knows?”

“I can’t stay here until she recovers. I have things I need to get done.” Martin looked grimly at Nurse Grey. “I have to bury both of my parents, remember?”

“I’m not saying you can’t leave for an hour or two here and there, but we need you close by just in case.”

Martin sighed heavily. “Fine. But once she’s healed up enough, I am gone.”

“We can’t stop you. You’ll even have Darla to talk to for a bit longer. She’s almost healed, but she still needs to stay here a bit longer,” Nurse Grey said with a knowing wink.

Although Martin had revenge foremost in his mind, the prospect of spending more time around his new friend was not at all unpleasant. However, when the time came, there were four murdering punks that he had every intention of dealing with using extreme predjudice.

Martin’s rage welled up like a geyser, and high-tech equipment started failing all around him as he began advancing on the thug. Nurse Grey, fearing what was about to occur, whispered to the thug, "for God's sake, run." A lust for vengeance slithered up from Martin's gut, and curled up around Martin's psyche like a mother bear protecting her cub. It was vile, cold, desolate, and unfeeling. To Martin, it felt like a warm blanket, protecting him from the pain.

"I ain't a-scared of nobody. Back off, feeb. One more step, and this chick gets her throat cut just like your mommy over there."

The thug was within Martin's field of influence now, and the thug's arm dropped lifeless to his side. His opposite hand was also mechanical from the forearm down, and it too ceased functioning. "Run. If you value your life, run! While you still can!" Nurse Grey urged, even as the thug's inert limbs slid away from her. Foolishly, the thug used his body and shoulder to dead-swing his arm at Martin. There was no power in the swing, since the thug was essentially just jerking his shoulder to get the motion. Martin easily caught the arm with an inside block. To the amazement of both Martin and the thug, the metal of the arm started to collapse under Martin's white-knuckled grip. Nurse Grey was not at all surprised, since she had been monitoring Martin's measurements for some time, and knew what Martin's strength could potentially be, given his current muscle-mass. The fact that Martin looked as if he weighed in at 250 pounds was strictly a misconception, one that this thug was buying into to his dire peril. Keeping the arm in one hand, Martin reached down, and grabbed a handful of the would-be thief's abdominal muscle. The thug began screaming in pain as he was lifted bodily over Martin's head.

With an animalistic scream, Martin hurled the thug 20 feet down the hall. He hit the tile floor, and slid an additional 20 feet, skidding into the wall at the end of the corridor. About the time the creep came to rest, a dynamic feminine figure dressed in red hovered through a nearby window. She had been summoned to the scene, and had witnessed the hapless crook's flight. She touched down lightly on the floor, and looked first at the creep, then at Martin. Martin was striding purposely forward. The woman, known to Paragon City as the Scarlet Sentinel, interposed herself between Martin and his quarry. "Okay, sir. I can take it from here. The police will be here in a few moments."

"You don't need the cops," Martin growled.

"They will take him in, once I get him subdued."

"You should have brought the Coroner."

"Whoa, now pal. We can't have that. He needs to get a fair trial just like everyone else."

Martin snapped his gaze onto the Scarlet Sentinel for the first time. Statuesque at 6 feet, she had a short-cropped shock of auburn hair, and clear, blue eyes. Trim and athletic, she surely turned heads wherever she went. Not Martin's. Not now. The Sentinel took an involuntary step back. She had seen gazes filled with everything from adoration and admiration to hatred and avarice, but she had never seen this particular look. She was being regarded as nothing more than an obstacle, an obstruction, a barrier to be removed, and she cared not one bit for it. It's not that she was afraid of Martin. Far from it. She was invulnerable to just about everything, and her strength was matched by few in the city, but this young man's gaze unnerved her. "Move," Martin said menacingly.

"Okay. None of that. You need to back off and let me and the police do our jobs," she said as three of Paragon's finest entered the hallway, and began advancing on the motionless form of the thug with their guns drawn.

"I said move. Now. That piece of filth butchered my mother right here in front of me and everyone you see."

"No. Now back down."

Martin, done with her, placed a hand on her shoulder. The Scarlet Sentinel snapped a hand on Martin's wrist with the intention of putting him in a controlling armbar lock by twisting his wrist up and down. Martin's wrist did not budge. The Scarlet Sentinel however, did. Martin shoved her aside as if she were any other normal person. Her mouth agape, she stared at Martin in disbelief.

40 feet. That's all Martin had to cover to get to his goal. Then things began to happen in slow motion. Martin, Nurse Grey, and the Scarlet Sentinel all saw it at once. The thug had regained consciousness, and had snatched one of the policemen's revolvers. He aimed it directly at Martin. Martin began to duck. A red flash darted in front of him. The Scarlet Sentinel stood in front of Martin, prepared to block the bullets with her impenetrable body as she had done for countless others.

The thug fired three times.

All three officers tackled him, wrestling the gun from his fingers.

The Sentinel's eyes widened as she felt pain for the first time in her life. Three icy-cold lances of agony blossomed in her chest and stomach. She looked down in disbelief as blood, her blood, began to make a trio of ugly, darkening stains on her crimson tights.

Martin watched as she fell, turning to look at him as she passed out.