Romanov

"Have you seen Miss Teen's website? It says she's giving up showbiz and the endorsements to concentrate on her education."

"Well I heard she's just throwing a hissy fit because they announced Lindsay Lohan was playing her in the movie and she had her heart set on Hilary Duff."

An overheard converstation between teenage girls over skinny lattes at a sidewalk cafe in Founders Falls.

Yep, doesn't seem right when you get charged 50p for a soda in Pocket D or when someone makes a call on their "mobile phone".

Safehouse: A Bastinado Joint

Part One - The Cells

The 1970 Plymouth Barracuda raged through the streets of King’s Row with the grace of a pitbull on PCP. The streets were as slick as the car’s midnight black paintwork. Behind the wheel, the masked driver reigned in the beast as it growled its presence exiting a sharp bend. On the passenger seat, six family feedbags from Up-N-Away Burger in Galaxy City oozed a warm smell almost like food. Bastinado fired up a smoke, to disguise the stench he told himself, hating the habit he had picked up in prison. He flicked the embers into the night, wanting to leave his memories on the asphalt like the dying embers.

He drove past a gang of Skulls warming themselves around a brazier, and turned the ‘Cuda into a seemingly abandoned yard. He reached into his leather trenchcoat, fished out a garage door opener and pointed it at the large steel door of a decaying warehouse. The rolling door screeched like something long extinct, one beast yielding to allow another to roll into its gaping maw. Bastinado pulled off the Skull mask he had been wearing, exposing the ever-present rough metal plate and tight hood beneath. One day, when the nightmares stopped and he was ready to look at himself again, he would take it off. He stashed the Skull mask next to its Hellion counterpart in the dash and scooped up the grease-sodden bags of fast food.

He walked across the warehouse, instinctively becoming part of the shadows, so that anyone able to bypass the security measures funded by Mr Carter would still find it near impossible to get the drop on him. But the cavernous space was empty. He climbed a set of metal stairs onto a gantry, unlocked a heavy metal door leading to a corridor. He flicked the switch on his left, bathing the corridor in a dirty, yellow light. On the left side of the corridor were a series of metal doors. Prison issue.

Bastinado slid the small hatch in the first door. Inside, every inch of the room was padded rubber. In the middle of the room sat a wild-eyed man in a straight jacket. Jorge Gorman. A petty thief who’d been stealing charity boxes in the Rivera ER on Valentine’s Day last year.

“How long are you going to keep me here, ya masked freak?” he spat.

Bastinado, tossed a Manticore burger and fries into the room.

“You’re not gonna answer me?” shouted Gorman.

“I can only give you the answer I gave you six months ago,” said Bastinado quietly. “And you don’t want to hear that.”

“But I can control it, I know I can. You gotta give me a chance.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” said Bastinado. “The day you decided to use your powers to rob that convenience store, you gave up your chance of any favours from me.”

“I didn’t mean to kill them,” said Gorman, almost convincing this time although Bastinado had heard it dozens of times. “It was the electricity, it just came outta me.”

“And that’s why you stay in your box,” said Bastinado, sliding the hatch shut.

He continued to the next door. This one wasn’t locked.

Inside, a young woman was laid out on a hospital bed. She was ethereally beautiful, deathly still. The only sound was the shallow rise and fall of her breathing and the monotonous beep on the monitor by her bed. Bastinado, brushed some of the lose strands of blonde hair from her forehead with his gloved hand. His heart quickened as her eyes opened wide.

“Make it stop! Make it stop!” she cried. “I don’t want to hear it. So many voices.”

“Relax,” said Bastinado, placing his hands on her shoulders. “I’m here, try to focus your mind. Shut them out.”

She looked him in the eye. “You killed him. Put the gun to his head. Bang bang. They made you pay. So many years, so much hate.” She screamed. “I’m frightened.”

Bastinado checked her IV and increased the flow of drugs into her system. Her eyes closed and she was quiet again.

“Goodnight, Megan.”

Bastinado knocked on the door of the third room.

“Who is it?” asked a distorted voice from behind the door.

“Were you expecting someone else?” asked Bastinado.

“Ah, dear boy, please enter. I trust you have brought me some supper.”

Bastinado entered the room. “Burgers and fries, some fried chicken, nuggets, salad, spicy wedges, hot apple pie, and a couple of shakes.”

“Is that all? You’ll have me wasting away.”

Bastinado hadn’t thought it possible, but Stanley Splitkin had actually gotten bigger since the previous evening. He was now the size of an adult Africa elephant and his misshaped, raw flesh brushed against two of the walls of the room. When Bastinado had rescued Stanley from the Vahzilok three weeks ago, he had been a heavy-set man in his late 50s. But by the time they reached the safehouse later last night, the Barracuda was tilting to the side under Stanley’s increased weight. A year ago, he was in the final stages of terminal cancer. Whatever happened during the incident had sent the disease into remission, but in the last few weeks his body had swollen by several hundred pounds a day. For the first few weeks, Stanley’s naked flesh would break out in weeping sores as it rubbed against the bare floor of the room. These sores would then disappear as quickly as they appeared. But in recent weeks, Stanley had discovered a new ability. The gargantuan man was hovering several inches of the ground like some grotesque zeppelin.

He inhaled the food. “I apologise for my manners, Mr Bastinado, but my body cries out for food. I am a slave to its cravings.”

“Don’t worry,” replied Bastinado, waiting for the hulk before him to finish dining. Wincing as he crunched the chicken bones to suck out the marrow and snuffled like a pig to devour the last traces of food in the greasy paper bags. “I was hoping to bring someone to see you, Mr Splitkin. A scientist, he may be able to slow down or even reverse this unfortunate regeneration.”

“No, nobody must see me like this!”

“But you can’t live like this forever.”

“Not forever, dear boy.” My heart will not be able to
sustain this body much longer, let me die with what little dignity I have left.”

Bastinado sighed to himself as he considered the logistics of removing several tons of dead blubber from the room. “He’s waiting downstairs. He has been cursed with his own powers, he won’t judge you.”

Bastinado ignored Stanley’s pleas and returned to his car.

I am going to post a journal entry (it will actually read like a story but I think all IC stuff should go in the journal thread now) that will hopefully move things along and be fun to read. If nobody objects I will take on responsibility for Johnny's fate and handle it in this story.

Finally, I was thinking about the SG ranks. Originally James and Bast were voted SG leaders and I was keen than everyone else was a captain as I wanted it to be a shared group. With certain promotions and demotions played out in character, some of the ranks don't sit right. With Psyte's behaviour in the group, I can't imagine that he would be a captain. I suggest that Bast and James stay as Commanders (Bast leading in the field), Solar Flare becomes a Lieutenant (Once he proves he can be a team player in battle he will become a Captain, leading missions when Bast is absent), High Burn will stay as a Lieutenant in recognition of her progress and committment to the group, Psyte and White Vampyr will be Elite Watchmen as they are yet to fully commit to the group but have proved themselves in the field (promotion to Lieu would happen when it feels right in rp terms), and Anhialattor will remain a Watchman.
These are purely rp ranks, all major decisions will be made OOC or here on the forum.
Is that acceptable?

I thought it would be good to create a roleplaying "bible". Long-running television shows have these, it's a series of facts, histories and events that should not be contradicted by future stories. With the nature of our story, obviously nothing will ever be indisputable or concrete fact, but I thought it would be good to have some facts and figures so we don't start contradicting each other. I'll divide it into "Rivera Incident" and "Watchmen Investigations" I'll repost this periodically with new things we have found. Please post any "facts" in this thread and I'll add them or repost the whole "bible" yourself. Ta.

HYPERION WATCHMEN BIBLE

[u]Rivera Incident[u]

* Hyperion Star died at the Rivera Medical Centre in the "Outbreak" district of Paragon City.

* The incident happened at about 10pm on February 14 (Valentine's Day).

* The Emergency Room and other parts of the centre suffered severe damage. Many parts of the hospital were reduced to rubble. Witnesses described the building shaking and many spoke of a flash of light.

* 17 people died in the incident. 44 people survived the blast (the actual figure is 45 as Bastinado has removed records of him being there). 19 of these sustained injuries of varying degrees.

* Survivors known to have exhibited powers:

Daniel Asche, stone armour, deceased
Shannon Moon, ice armour, deceased
Jackson Whyte, fire blast, deceased
Rex Balantine, radiation blast, deceased
Jorge Gorman, elec/elec, the Safehouse
Megan Forster, telepathy, the Safehouse
Stanley Splitkin, regen/flight, the Safehouse
Arthur Penningworth-Smythe/Moonfrost, fire melee, wherabouts unknown
Johnny Ember/Street Flames, fire/fire, wherabouts unknown
Marina "Burnie" DeSousa/High Burn, rad/rad, Hyperion Watchmen
Bastinado, super reflexes, Hyperion Watchmen
Solar Flare, fire/fire, Hyperion Watchmen
Suzi White/White Vampyr, kin/dark, Hyperion Watchmen
James Carter/No Known Codename, sonic/sonic, Hyperion Watchmen
Psyte, mind control, Hyperion Watchmen

* A Paragon Police Department investigation was launched but was never completed. The Medical Centre and Fire Department investigations found that the explosion was the result of a gas leak.

* Although several people saw Hyperion Star on the day, nobody has been able to give a detailed description of his appearance. (More info to come on this when Suzi has completed her research).

* Tests by Johnny Ember suggest the incident has altered the DNA of survivors. These changes apparantly continue after death.

[u]Watchmen Investigations[u]

I'll do this section after this week's session.

Group Name:
The Hyperion Watchmen

Server/Game:
Union/City of Heroes

Theme:
A disparate group of people changed forever a year ago. They have bound together as “heroes” but work to their own agenda rather than carrying out random acts of bravery.

Webpage:
http://watchmen.30.forumer.com

Contacts:
To join the Watchmen seek out the characters Bastinado, James Carter, Solar Flare, Psyte, White Vampyr, High Burn or Fry Up (Wednesdays from 8pm would be the best time to do this). Or contact me in game @Romanov.
Alternatively, post a message in the Roleplaying thread “Maybe, just maybe”.

Usual Activities:
We roleplay in missions every Wednesday evening from 8pm, post IC journal entries and short stories on the forum, and roleplay in our base and Pocket D.

Background & Structure:
One year ago the hero Hyperion Star died at Rivera Medical Centre and the resulting “explosion” killed some and changed the lives of more. In the following months many of the survivors have exhibited “super” powers. Some have died, victims of their own new abilities. Others have bound together under the banner of the fallen hero. Their aims: to seek other survivors; to discover the truth about what happened at Rivera; to find out about the hero Hyperion Star, why he has been erased from city records and bring his killer/s to justice; and find a way of curing or controlling their powers before it is to late.

Admission Notes/Requirements:
Ideally, new characters will have been at the Rivera Medical Centre one year ago. Over the last year they will have exhibited “powers” and come to deal with them (or not) in their own way. However, any hero wishing to help the Watchmen in their quest would likely be accepted into the ranks.

Missy was desperately trying to finish her essay, trying to ignore the growing roar of the crowd not more than twenty feet away.

Her agent Randy Newbar knocked as he entered the small room. “Are you decent?”

“Always, Randy,” she replied, wondering how she was going to write another 3,000 words before the 4pm deadline.

“You’re not wearing that, are you?” he asked, waving a disparaging hand at her black and gold Night Watch costume.

“I kinda thought I would, Randy,” she said. “The Teeners rated it quite highly on my website.”

“Fish in a barrel, babe,” said Randy. “There are firefighters here; I’m talking a whole new demographic. Did you know that 30 percent of the people that bought your last calendar were males aged 18 to 30? So, maybe where the little skirty number. Or the shorts and thigh-highs.”

Missy slammed her notepad onto the table. “I’m getting sick of this Randy. I shouldn’t be worried about who is buying my latest calendar or DVD. Between that and my duties with Night Watch, I have hardly any time to study. I got a D on my last test, and I’ve been a straight C student since the First Grade.”

“I’ll have a word with them, Miss. No prof’s going to flunk Miss Teen.”

“But I don’t want to succeed because of who I am,” signed Missy. “I want to show that I’m not just a near-indestructible, cute, blonde airhead.”

“But you don’t need to. Our projections for the next 12 months would make Donald Trump envious. Just keep on saving the city, getting in the papers and on TV…”

Missy glared at him. “That’s not what Miss Teen stands for. Image rights and endorsements is not what being a hero is about.”

“You’ve been like this since you read that damn petition,” said Randy. “Just remember, image rights and endorsements paid for your mom’s apartment in Founders Falls, bought you that cute little pink VW Bug you love so much, and set you up so you don’t have to work a day in your life. “ Randy nodded to the man who’s head briefly popped into the room. “Anyway, time to jet. You’re adoring public awaits.”

Missy stuffed her work into her backpack and got to her feet. “What is this anyway.”

Randy unfolded the piece of paper in his hand and read. “The Paragon Fire Department want to present you with a medal for helping save those orphans from that bus last week.”

“But that hunky firefighter with the Magnum PI moustache was the one that climbed down to get them, I just held on to the bus to stop it falling off the bridge.”

“Yeah, well that’s is job, isn’t it?”


Among the crowd was the usual contingent of Teeners, dressed head to toe in official white, pink and yellow apparel. But as Missy walked to the stage, four people caught the attention. Three of them were young men, one dressed as a firefighter, another as a ER doctor and the third as a motorcycle cop. They officially weren’t the real deal, looking more like the Village People: The Next Generation. It was impossible to tell the age and gender of the fourth person as they were wearing a fluffy pink rabbit outfit.

Her attention was diverted as she was greeted by a burly man with steel grey hair who, due to his uniform, she assumed to be some sort of fire chief.

“Glad you could make it, Miss Teen. My grandchildren will be green with envy when I tell them I met the Pocket Powerhouse herself.”

“Gee, that’s great,” replied Missy. “Listen, if it’s all the same to you, Mr Fire Chief Guy…

“Bob.”

“If it’s all the same to you, Bob, I’d like to give this medal you want to give me to that firefighter over there. I mean, I just did the donkey work, he’s the real hero.”

“Impossible. Look, when the city is about to budget this Fall I have to show them what we have achieved. Media coverage of how we worked hand in hand with Miss Teen could mean vital dollars. Could mean that your friend over their gets a new BA rig instead of making do with the old one.”

“Could I at least make a speech about how kids should look up to firefighters as heroes?”

“Yeah, you do that, I like it.”

Missy put on her trademarked I’m bored but have to make an effort for appearances smile as Bob made a speech. But then she heard an unfamiliar sound. Was that booing. Yep. The three young guys in fancy dress and their bunny buddy were booing. And holding up placards that read: “Dial 911 for a Real Hero”.

Missy stepped forward to the microphone.

“Hey, guys, I hear what you’re saying. If you just let me make my little speech here I think you’ll agree…

“We don’t agree with anything that comes out of the mouth of a media [censored],” said the due in the doctor scrubs.

A rustle of whispers swept through the Teeners. “He called Miss Teen a [censored].”

In about two and a half seconds the Teeners had become an angry mob intent on silencing those who dared disparage their idol.

“Oh no,” said Missy. “This doesn’t look good, they’re going to tear them limb from limb.”

“But most of them are only teenage girls,” said Bob.

“Exactly,” said Missy.

The mob swarmed around the four protesters, who were screaming for help as they realised their predicament.

Missy began to move.

“Stop,” cried Randy. “You can’t pwn your own fans, not even I can put a positive spin on that.”

“I’m not going to hurt anyone,” said Missy as she flew over the crowd.

She reached to the gold Night Watch badge on her chest, yanked it off and through it into the throng.

“Miss Teen’s Night Watch badge,” shouted one of her older male fans. “I want it.”

As several of the crowd scrambled for the badge, Missy ushered the protesters out of the hall and lead them up onto the roof.


"So , how does it feel being saved by a media [censored]?” said Missy to the fancy dress firefighter.

“Will this be in you’re TV show then?”

“My TV show was cancelled; the company‘s insurance bill was too high. Who are you guys anyway?”

“We’re Paragon University Students Supporting Inner-city Emergency Staff.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” said Missy. “But why is Flopsy over here dressed as a bunny wabbit?”

“The hire shop only had three emergency services costumes, and if he’d come in his normal clothes we’d just have looked stupid.”

“Well, you dodged that bullet, fellas,” said Missy. “Now if you don’t mind I need this rooftop for some serious brooding and soul-searching. “

“Y’know, it’d be cool if you flew us down, Miss Teen.” said the pink rabbit.

“And how cool would it be if I showed you how my laser beam eyes work?” asked Missy, losing her patience.

She waited for them to stumble down the fire escape before calling Randy on her cell.

“Hey, hot stuff, you need to get back here. Channel Six want to run you on the news tonight. They’d also like to interview you about this Heroes for People malarkey.”

“No thanks, Randy,” I’m going clubbing tonight.

“No, please don’t do a Lindsey Lohan on me, babe.”

“I’m not going to do anything dumb, I just need to have a chat with this gal White Vampyr. And, until you hear from me, consider me retired from showbiz.”

“Hey, don’t be…”

She hung up. Stepped off the building. Felt the chill air rushing by her as she plummeted, before opening her eyes and taking flight.

Bulletin sent to all Hyperion Watchmen from Bastinado:

Item 1 – Disciplinary action

Last night’s agenda began with some unfortunate business. Hyperion Watchmen lieutenant White Vampyr has committed acts that have put her in the public eye, consequently putting all Watchmen as well as our mission in jeopardy.
I don’t want to give the petition she has started any more attention than in deserves. Suffice to say, I have regrettably demoted White Vampyr to the rank of Elite Watchmen. The situation will be reviewed in seven days.
However, her actions in our raid on the Outcast leader Frostfire’s hideout and our successful prevention of a bank robbery, terrorist attack and jail break in King’s Row have gone a long way to mitigate her initial transgression.

Item 2 – Defeat of Outcast leader

I wish to commend High Burn, Solar Flare, Annihilator and White Vampyr for their courage in our successful take down of the mutant gang leader Frostfire.
Although our primary motive was to discover if any fellow “victims” of the Rivera incident had sought sanctuary with the Outcasts, his defeat has earned us the respect of those attempting to bring law and order to the Hollows.
As you know, I interrogated Frostfire after we have subdued his gang. I apologise to High Burn if my treatment of him seemed a little rough; but I assure you he suffered nothing more than a terror suspect being held by the US authorities would have to endure.
However, he revealed nothing. I sensed that there is someone or something that he was more afraid of than myself. I did find a note on his person. It read: “Expect company. No survivors”. I leave you to draw your own conclusions and have given the note to Johnny for analysis.
I transported Frostfire to the Zig personally, and I think we can be reassured that he will not be returning to the Hollows for the foreseeable future.

Item 3 – Rescue of Corrine

Last night, we also discovered the source of a strange letter offering to help us in our quest.
Unfortunately, the fortuneteller Corrine had been kidnapped by the cultists that we have seen around the city. Our rescue attempt was successful and Corrine accompanied High Burn and White Vampyr to Pocket D.
One thing to note is that a gang of homeless thugs seemed to be staking out the cave where Corrine was being held. They seemed formidable, particularly the one who appeared to be their leader who was a brutish hulk of a creature.

Item 4 - Tasks

Finally, a reminder that High Burn has been tasked with tracking down AWOL Watchman Moonfrost.
White Vampyr accepted the task of researching the hero Hyperion Star.
Could High Burn or White Vampyr report back on what the forutneteller Corrine had to say.
Can all Watchmen being investigating this homeless gang that we believe are known as The Lost.
Please report back as soon as possible.

I'm really sorry to hear that
Is there anything we can do to make it easier for you - change the day we meet etc?
If you really have to go, maybe we could keep Johnny as an NPC. That way we have someone to do the science stuff while giving you the opportunity to return in the future.

Bastinado had been crouching for three hours on the fire escape. Hidden by shadow, drenched by rain, chilled by the wind, he waited. That’s what he did best.

Finally, one of the Outcasts he had been observing broke from the pack. Ambled behind a dumpster to answer a call of nature.

Suddenly, Bastinado’s rigid frame sprang into life. He fell from the night onto the unsuspecting mutant thug. But this goon was fast, he rolled away from Bastinado, grinning as his hand glowed orange and then erupted into flame. Bastinado kicked him hard beneath the ribs; feeling the reassuring sensation of muscle and flesh turn to bloody pulp before the thug collapsed to the ground.

“Frostfire. Where?” he said in a growl forged by years of silence.

The thug couldn’t answer quick enough, only his pain and shortness of breath caused him to pause between words.

Bastinado grabbed the Outcast’s wrist, lighting a cigarette from his still glowing hand.

As he lent back on the dumpster, noticing a pile of sodden flyers on the top of the trash.

“Heroes for People”

He read the petition, right down to the name White Vampyr.

“Foolish, little girl, “ he said to himself. “Since when have any of us ever been heroes; it’s not as if nobility and selflessness were inherent parts of the powers we obtained twelve months ago.”

He crumpled the flyer into his fist and punched the wall.

Glanced at the Outcast. “Please try to escape.”

I like that muchly and it would get my vote. One thing I would say is I'm not sure the bonehead mask fits with the ethos of the SG. There's not really many full mask options, so maybe each person could choose their own head options?
Are people wanting to change the SG colours to maroon/gold? It certainly would suit my character better so I'd be happy to go with it.

Just editing this to add some tweaks. I've put Bast in the outifit to show how our own head designs could keep character identity. I've also replaced the sleek option for plain tights so there is no harring with boots, gloves and masks. And, remember someone suggested having our own colours on the suits like the X-Men's piping. I've coloured the ampules and centre of the chest star in Bast's colour of black.

Ooh suit you, Bastinado!

((I signed earlier but wanted to embelish))

Missy Winters looked out on to the sidewalk. Although she had spent the last three hours signing copies of the new official

Miss Teen DVD and book, several dozen people were crowded around the store entrance. Their cell phones pointed at her, various pieces of merchandise and body parts thrust out for her to sign.

“So much for retirement,” she thought to herself, aiming a scowl at her agent, Randy Newbar, who was to busy talking into his cell to notice.

She put on her best Miss Teen fake smile, trying not to think of the unfinished university coursework in her backpack, and started to sign.

“Hey, Flyboy,” she called out; realising that she’d just signed what looked like an official document in the hands of a young hero. “What is that? I hope you realise that nothing I sign is legally binding unless it’s countersigned by my mom or my agent.” She shuddered at the thought of the three-month legal wrangling it took to get her out of that three-picture deal with Mink Movies.

“Uh…it’s a petition to, like, recognise the real heroes of Paragon City.”

“Let me see,” said Missy, taking the petition. “Oh man, that’s a lot of words; does this thing have study notes at all?”

She read the petition, stopping to sign a few more autographs and pose for pictures.

“Ok,” she told the young hero. “I’m not to sure about the no more statues thing, that would be kind of neat, but I’m all for education and recognising the hard work of the police and medical services.” She handed the petition back to the hero. “But it’s a once only deal - my spokesgirl diary is closed.”

Message sent by text to Hyperion Watchmen from Bastinado:

Watchmen,

In two days we face what could be our greatest challenge. Our investigations into the mutant gang known as the Outcast have inevitably lead us to their leader - a habitual offender known as Frostfire.
Our theory that fellow victims of the Rivera incident may have found sanctuary with the Outcasts has yet to be proved - but a thorough interrogation of Frostfire may yield the answers we seek.
I ask all Watchmen to prepare themselves for this encounter - train whenever possible and step up your routine patrols.

Bastinado

((In other words please try and get up to level 10 minimum, level 11 maximum, for Wednesday's session))

Signed: Miss Teen
(on condition the petition is not sold on an internet auction site or by any other means as a result)

Cool,

Also, I like Chove's journal entry on the IC thread very much; lots of potential for rp and plot development.

Ok, what I'm trying to say is I'm happy to keep moving the plot in a sotryteller/GM role. I've had discussions with some of you and we've finally come up with a really good story-arc.
If people want to PM me what investigations they're making in downtime I'm feed them info, as well as driving things in game.
Hope that's ok.

I've posted the first entry in Bastinado's Journal on our other thread. This is an effort to start to drive the plot. I've spoken with a few people about the cause of the incident and we have a volunteer to ultimately play our villain. If nobody objects I'll lead the plot to this conclusion, obviously the actions of each player will affect how that conlusion pans out.
I'll incorporate Johnny's findings and Psyte has given me an idea about what he plans to do.

The Journal of Bastinado, Commander of the Hyperion Watchmen

Prologue

For almost a year I had been investigating the aftermath of the incident at Rivera Medical Centre that ended the lives of many and changed the lives of a few. But the person or persons covering up what really happened on that night had several weeks head start. And even when I thought I was making progress, it seemed as though someone was pulling the strings just out of sight. What I did have was a list of patients and staff who were in the hospital at the time of the incident. Once I had removed the names of the deceased, I was left with a list of 44 people who may have been affected by the incident in a similar way to myself.
The first name on the list was Daniel Asche. He lived in a small apartment in downtown King’s Row. I observed the place for a couple of days. Nobody went it, nobody went out. I decided to take a look inside, and made a chilling discovery. I walked through the apartment, the air was a little stale but nothing out of the ordinary. But when I went into the bedroom, I saw that the bed had collapsed in on itself as if something heavy had crashed down on to it. I moved closer. In the centre of the bed was something roughly the size of a large man. But their were no sounds of breathing, no movement at all. Carefully, I drew back the bed sheets from the shape. Small plumes of dust rose into the moonlight. I laid my hand on the shape - it was cold, lifeless stone. But on closer inspection I could see a hand, rigid like a claw, trying to break free from the rock. From the position of the hand I guessed where a face would be. And seemingly carved into the rock was a face contorted in terror. A quick inspection of photographs in the apartment convinced me that this was Daniel Asche. I search the other rooms but there was nothing of interest other than a “hero” registration form.
From the fire escape, I called the police. Within ten minutes an ambulance arrived. I kept out of sight, but was close enough to see two large men enter the apartment. Another five minutes passed and they left carrying a gurney. There is no way they are able to carry that petrified body I thought, but a trail of crumbling dust suggested they were doing just that.
I followed the ambulance, I knew the streets well enough to keep up even on foot. It turned into the tunnel leading to Independence Port. But it did not come out the other side. I searched every inch of that tunnel and could find no clue to how the disappearing act was pulled off. Needless to say, the next day not one of Paragon City’s morgues had a record of the body of Daniel Asche being brought in.
That night I broke into the offices of the Paragon Times. Avoiding the night news desk, I accessed a computer and began to search for the names of the other 43 people on my list.
Four were reported as missing persons. But more disturbingly Shannon Moon has been found frozen to death on a bench in Atlas Park. Jackson Whyte has disappeared, but the paper ran an interview with a close friend who wanted to remain anonymous that was convinced he has spontaneously combusted. Rex Balantine died of radiation sickness, his illness was blamed on his seven years stint as a stuntman making low budget westerns in Nevada.
I’d thought what happened to me on that night was a gift. That I had been given another chance. But in that darkened room I came to the realisation that any number of the people at the Rivera Hospital that night were living with a possible death sentence.
PPD and Freedom Corps no longer have records of a hero called Hyperion Star, if they ever did. But, the fact that something happened on that night could not be covered up. The official line from the joint PPD, Fire Department and Rivera Medical Centre investigation was that there had been a gas leak, causing mass hallucinations and ultimately an explosion resulting in 17 deaths.
It was about time somebody remembered those 17 men, women and children. I filled out one of those “How are we doing?” cards at the hospital reception, suggested they hold a memorial service. The day before the board met for its monthly meeting, I paid a visit to the centre manager. Showed him the sights from the top of a smokestack in King’s Row until he came round to my way of thinking. Two days later the Paragon Times reported that a memorial service was to be held at Rivera, a year to the day of that “gas explosion”.

Ta, Gaz

Thought I'd throw my suggestion for the SG costume out there too. This is how I originally pictured Hyperion Star and subsequently the SG costume.

For your consideration

The cape would be an optional full cape and the outfit would include the SG emblem and the ampules on the belt in each character's own colour.

((Finally, here is Bastinado’s biography up until the day of the incident at the hospital. Sorry it’s so lengthy. This is handwritten on a piece of paper in my safe in the SG base. Only James Carter has the combination and he has been asked only to open it and read this letter on the event of Bastinado’s death. None of the other characters, Carter included, will know this information, Bastinado should be as mysterious as ever. However, if you want to make discoveries about him and rp the consequences let me know how you inted to do it and I’ll drip feed stuff. Lastly, there are some pics at the bottom to accompany the bio.))

Mr Carter,

If you have opened my safe to retrieve this document, I am dead. Inside my safe you will find all the material I have gathered about the incident at Rivera Hospital and my subsequent investigations both before and after the formation of the Hyperion Watchmen.
Below is a brief account of how I came to be at Rivera Hospital one year ago. I hope it goes some way to explain why I have never revealed my identity or face to my fellow Watchmen.

As White Vampyr guessed, I was once a soldier. The commander of an elite group that served our government’s interests where they did not officially have interests.
Our final assignment was some ten years ago now. We were tasked with terminating the supply of heroin out of a small country in eastern Asia. We took out some small time suppliers but never got close to the man at the top of the chain - a man we knew only as Magan. Months passed, we fell increasingly off the radar, our tactics often as ruthless as the criminals we hoped to stop. For my part I increasingly became enamoured with my new home, studying its history and culture as well as learning its unique martial arts. I even fell in love, made a home with a girl called Kyung-soon.
Then, one morning, we had the information we had been waiting for. Magan would be at an opium farm in the mountains that afternoon. I sent a message to our superiors. Our orders were to eliminate Magan and be rendezvous with a helicopter three kilometres north of the farm. Kyung-soon was at the market, I left without saying goodbye. Of all the bad things I have done in my life; I believe that is the only one I truly regret.

We took the farm hard and fast. I put a gun to their leader’s head. He grinned as he told me the truth - he was not Magan, but his son. I knew that we had played our hand - I put a bullet in his head, set fire to the farm and led my men to the rendezvous.
We waited. And waited. One hour past the rendezvous time and the helicopter still hadn’t arrived. Then we heard the low rumble of engines. Not a helicopter, three Humvees and a swarm of motorcycles. And in the mountains, enemies we could not see. They knew our position and our numbers, we had no option but to surrender. Once they had us restrained they executed each of my men. I closed my eyes, thought of Kyung-soon, and waited for the bullet. Instead they pushed me into the back of one of the hummers. The dark shape in the back of one of the other vehicles was the closest I came, before or since, to seeing Magan.

Eight years. Eight years I was kept a prisoner, masked with rough iron plates across my eyes and mouth. Each day without fail I was tortured and humiliated. I had been trained to resist, but even I could not beat the bastinado. They would beat my feet with sticks everyday, until after days, months, years, my mind was as broken as my body. The bastinado taught me more about the infliction of pain than the army ever could.

As suddenly as it was unexpected, US forces arrived where I was being kept prisoner. As they led me out, my weakened eyes hardly able to see in the blazing light, I saw that many of the buildings had been destroyed. I overheard talk of “heroes” attacking the base, but to this day I have found no official records of what happened or whether Megan was captured, killed or if he managed to escape.

I was flown home with two dozen other prisoners. But during the flight, two soldiers approached me and manacled my hands and legs. When we landed I was separated from the other prisoners and taken to a cell. I don’t know what they members of the Paragon Police Department who were sent to transport me were told, but they took it upon themselves to continue my education in pain as if I was the worst kind of criminal and their badges stood for nothing. And one cell or another was my home for the next year. I was never given a full explanation of why I was being held, just that I had killed the wrong person and could be kept indefinitely under new anti-terrorism laws. Every few months, sometimes weeks, I would be transported to a new prison. But they didn’t been walls and bars to keep me prisoner as my health was deteriorating rapidly. My feet and legs had become infected, I was in constant pain. Gradually the infection spread to my blood and my eyes. Finally, it was decided that I needed more specialist medical treatment and I was transported from my latest home, the Zig, to Rivera Hospital.

And you, Mr Carter, no as much or as little as I do about what happened then. I was handcuffed to a bed with two prison guards watching over me. I had been told to prepare for the worst, that I would have to give up my legs and eyes to have any hope of survival. I wasn’t given the option of choosing not to survive. And then it happened. First the noise, then a light that filled every inch of the hospital. But it was more than a light, I could feel its warmth all around me, inside me, changing me. Not just my body but my essence, what some would call my soul. As the light faded I was trembling. But it wasn’t me, the whole building was shaking. The two guards were sprawled on the floor. I inched to the edge of them bed and braced myself to support my own weight for the first time in months. There was no pain. I took the key off one of the guards and uncuffed myself before walking into the chaos of the hospital corridor. Then I saw the light again, and every ounce of me wanted to head towards it. In another room I saw the figure laid out on an operating table, the light all around made it impossible to see. But I instinctively knew. Others have spoken of seeing a hero - I saw an angel. I tried to move closer but he said just two words to me. “Save them”.
I looked down the corridor. Two young children were screaming as the walls and ceiling crumbled around them. I ran, scooping them up in my warms as bricks and rubble fell behind me. I was trapped between the rubble and the exterior wall. I did the only thing I could think to do, I kicked the wall. To my surprise it cracked as if it had been hit with a lump hammer. I kicked again, and again, until the wall shattered. I jumped to the ground, expecting my legs to break beneath me, but I was fine. I let the children go, catching a glimpse of myself in the wing mirror of one of the cars in the parking lot. My eyes were glowing brilliant white.

And that is my story Mr Carter. I hope you understand my need to keep my identity secret, I am not sure how the other Watchmen would react to having a “criminal” leading them into battle. Please keep my secret. I ask one more thing of you. Sell everything I have and send the money to Kyung-soon. Tell her that there was not a day in the last 10 years that I didn’t think of her.

Captain David Jacob Reuther
(Bastinado)

Bastinado in prison
Bastinado as soldier

Bastinado with the Hyperion Watchmen

I levelled Bast up to level 8 and in the process earned us the King's Row and Perez Park beacons with the help of a nice chap called Wing Blade.
I will be posting a bio and some journal entries asap providing nothing distracts me. There showing 1988 episodes of Antiques Roadshow on one of the satellite channels you say?

I'll be there. About 8pm?

Ahoy hoy, Ammon, welcome to the Hyperion Watchmen.
I really like the sound of this character and feel she will round off the SG. We have a nice spread of character types and well as archetypes and I think this is going to continue to be fun.

I was late but I was there. I was the only one though unfortunately

I've always loved the ampules belt, this would look cool in different colours: Bastinado's would be black, Johnny's red, Solar's orange etc.