Tar_Heel

Mine worked fine until the patch today. Now the middle mouse button won't register (Naga gaming mouse).

I was trying to do a Roman Centurian costume but nothing I put together got close. Any ideas?

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I used to have a Inv/SS tanker-Brit named John Bull, but I deleted him a long time ago.

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Hey I've got an archery blaster on Guardian named John Bull. I've also got Crimson Cossack and Yankee D. Dandy.

I think I've seen more people post on this threat than I've ever seen in the Faultline.

Including all my characters, I've been there 3 times. Once for a hunt mission; once just to check out the Dam; and once to hunt Winter Lords.

I'd add to your Accolade list Geas of the Kind Ones from getting all the Croatoa badges. It is +recharge, +recovery, +accuracy and -defense. The +recovery is huge and will fill up my bar much faster than Conserve Power will. The -defense just takes away the added defense that Granite give you. The +recharge isn't as big as Hasten's but it is still noticeable and will reduce the "gouging your eyes out while you wait time period."

I've settled on 2 rechargers, 1 acc, 1 end reducer, and 2 damages in my mallets, tremor, and seismic smash. That gives me a pretty tight attack chain even in Granite. I throw in Stone Fist as a filler between my recharge buffs.

Another thing you can do for recharge is get an empowerment station in your SG base. You can build a recharge buff that will last for 15 minutes. I haven't had much experience with it, but it is worth looking at, especially since you can stack the buff from multiple stations.

I'd like the melee cones to be an untargeted attack like the AoE melee attacks e.g. Footstomp and Solar Flare.

Yeah, that is my conclusion. Thanks for the help though.

Here's what I did based off your suggestions. I wanted to keep Granite on the whole time, just toggle on/off Rooted depending on movement (because the stacked slows from the powers are too much). When I am out in Granite on the other hand, I want to toggle manually between Sprint and Rooted.

Kil.txt (the main bind)
umpad4 "powexec_toggleoff Rock Armor$$powexec_toggleoff Mud Pots$$powexec_toggleoff Mineral Armor$$powexec_toggleoff Granite Armor$$bind_load_file c:\coh\sprint.txt"
numpad5 "powexec_toggleon Rock Armor$$powexec_toggleon Mud Pots$$powexec_toggleon Mineral Armor$$bind_load_file c:\coh\sprint.txt"
numpad6 "powexec_toggleon Mud Pots$$powexec_toggleon Rooted$$powexec_toggleon Granite Armor$$bind_load_file C:\coh\nosprint.txt"

sprint.txtnumpad0 "powexec_name Sprint$$powexec_name Rooted"
w "+forward"
a "+left"
d "+right"
s "+backward"



nosprint.txt
w "+forward$$powexec_toggleoff Rooted$$bind_load_file C:\coh\nosprint2.txt"
a "+left$$powexec_toggleoff Rooted$$bind_load_file C:\coh\nosprint2.txt"
d "+right$$powexec_toggleff Rooted$$bind_load_file C:\coh\nosprint2.txt"
s "+backward$$powexec_toggleoff Rooted$$bind_load_file C:\coh\nosprint2.txt"

nosprint2.txt
w "+forward$$powexec_toggleon Rooted$$bind_load_file C:\coh\nosprint.txt"
a "+left$$powexec_toggleon Rooted$$bind_load_file C:\coh\nosprint.txt"
d "+right$$powexec_toggleon Rooted$$bind_load_file C:\coh\nosprint.txt"
s "+backward$$powexec_toggleon Rooted$$bind_load_file C:\coh\nosprint.txt"


Well, it didn't work in combat. I think the problem is the recharge on Rooted is fairly long so whenever I attack before it comes back up, the binds break. Unless somebody can see where I went wrong, I think I'd have to set up a ton of binds like Gnarley's Speed on Demand binds.

Tar Heel Dead.

The short, unlikely looking basketball star slumped dejectedly in the back of the North Carolina team bus as if wound its way over country roads back from Winston-Salem. The Tar Heels had been beaten, trounced, and humiliated in a game by their fierce in-state rival, the Wake Forest Demon Deacons. It wasn’t so bad that they had lost, the player thought, it was the fact they had lost to an inferior team. North Carolina simply put more talent on the floor that night, and just as simply lost. Typically, when that scenario occurred, fans and the media pointed at the coaching as the reason for the loss. While it was true that North Carolina had a young, inexperienced head coach, and Wake Forest had an old, wily, master of the sidelines, the player couldn’t honestly say that the coaching staff didn’t prepare for a win. The player remembered the pre-game meeting, the halftime conference, and all the time-outs in the game where the coach had patiently explained again and again, what the team needed to do to beat an outclassed, but proud and determined Wake Forest team. The player also remembered the eye-rolls behind the coach’s back; the insistence of some of the players, including himself, to do it their way; and the general lack of respect for the coach, who was after all, barely older than his players and replacing a legendary, Hall of Fame coach. What made it worse was the coach didn’t call them on it. He didn’t act mad or upset at them. Their old coach would have torn the doors off the bus with his language after a loss like that, but the new coach was sitting in the front of the bus, determined not to quit on a team that had almost quit on him.

Silently looking out the window as the bus rolled into Chapel Hill, the player saw a crowd of students, chanting and waving signs, demanding the coach be fired. The player loved the passion of the North Carolina fans, but seeing its ugly side made him sick to his stomach. Then, as the bus stopped in front of Woolen Gym, he saw it. It was stuffed scarecrow with the distinctive features and three-piece suit of their coach. The player looked, horrified, as he saw the coach see his likeness in effigy, and turn away, reminding his players that he expected them all to be in class in the morning and he would see them at practice in the afternoon. Then the player saw Sammy Rosen, the assistant sports editor of the student newspaper and outspoken critic of the new coach. Sammy threw a rope over the old oak tree in front of Woolen Gym, fastened a hangman’s noose around the stuffed figure of the coach and hung it swaying in the night breeze as the players and coaches disembarked the bus.

Suddenly furious, the player muscled his way past the players and coaches still on the bus and ran to Rosen. “Take that thing down Sammy, right now!”

“Screw you Billy,” said the student, “we have to send a message to the University that this coach is in over his head and he is driving this basketball program into the ground.”

“That is a load a crap Rosen,” yelled the player “you didn’t even watch the game; you have no clue as to what really happened, but I tell you it wasn’t the coach’s fault!”

“Whatever Billy,” yelled the student right back, “I’ve been a fan of North Carolina basketball since before your Yankee butt even knew where Chapel Hill was! That “coach” of yours won’t win another game in college basketball and Carolina won’t either if he is still here. I’m not taking the effigy down!”

The rest of the student crowd and the players all stopped and watched in fascination the shouting between the two. Nobody could remember the star player being this angry over anything. Snarling, the player ripped down the effigy and then turned on a suddenly frightened Rosen.

The incident could have ended there, but in the player’s anger, he called out half forgotten words of his childhood; words that had been bequeathed to him by his great-aunt, the daughter of an Iroquois shaman. With the words came the arcane power that was his by birthright. Years later, the man would be able to use that power to benefit people, becoming Philadelphia’s first modern super hero, The Kangaroo Kid, but this time, the first time he tapped those powers, he used them for a far darker purpose.

In a language only he and his victim were able to understand, the player shook the effigy at Rosen and spoke, “You are cursed Samuel T. Rosen. For every win the coach gets, you will spend a year suffering in a dark and loathsome hell. You, Carolina’s biggest fan, will beg every god you know for them to lose.”

With that a blast of dark energy swirled out from the effigy and wrapped around Rosen. Shaken and frightened, the student ran off into the Chapel Hill night. “You had better be right Rosen!” yelled the still furious player. “You had better be right and coach will never win another game!”

The player’s anger now turned to his teammates. “Now, we are the ones who just lost this game. Maybe coach is right and maybe not, but from now on, we are going to give him a chance! Every one of us is going to do exactly what he tells us to do. Anybody have a problem with that?” The players, cowed by the display of their star’s power, and their own guilt, shook their heads. “Good! I’ll see everybody at practice an hour early tomorrow. We have some things to work on!”

That team did come together and put together a few more good wins for their young coach that year. After the first win by the team, Rosen found himself sucked down strange dark portal that appeared in his dorm room. Rosen spent a year in a dark and horrible hell where he was subjected to unspeakable horrors. The dark masters of that hell knew that their torture would be more exquisite were Rosen allowed to leave their care for a time, and then forced back for another year of his curse. Rosen was released, and indeed spent months in dread at being called back. After several months, he was again summoned to the dark pit to serve another year of penance.

After his third year in his dark hell, after his release, Rosen tried to thwart the curse and leapt into the path of a Chapel Hill city bus, killing him instantly. The curse however, would not be denied. When the dark hell called again, Rosen’s dead body clawed his way out of the Orange Co. grave and disappeared into the dark dimension. Now when he was released, he walked the mortal world as a rotting corpse, and, as the years passed, merely a skeleton.

More years passed, both in the pit and in the mortal world, and Rosen discovered that the dark energies of his hell had penetrated his dead body and gave him a deadly power. During his months in the mortal world, Rosen began to use those powers to attack and brutalize innocent students. Finally driven out of Chapel Hill, Rosen wandered the country before being captured by heroes in Paragon City. Rosen was brooding in a cell in the Ziggurat when the coach that he had “hung” so many years before finally retired, and Rosen knew the total extent of his curse.

The coach was Dean E. Smith, and he retired with the NCAA Division 1 Men’s Basketball record for coaching victories…879.

Upon hearing that news, Rosen began again muttering to himself the mantra that he had said for so many years. “I was a Tar Heel Born, I was a Tar Heel Bred, and now I’m cursed, a Tar Heel Dead.”

(Cross posted in the Tanker forum)

Any bind gurus out there that can help? I want to be able to toggle on a Granite mode that would shut Rooted off when I move, but activate it when I stop.

I tried it this way:

w "+forward$$powexec_name Rooted"
a "+left$$powexec_name Rooted"
d "+right$$powexec_name Rooted"
s "+backward$$powexec_name Rooted"

I have a load file bind that will toggle on Granite and then Rooted and load this bind when I push numpad 6. When I move Rooted therefore shuts off, but when I stop it turns it on. The problem is if I execute anything else, the bind "breaks" and I get the opposite effect. Any suggestions?

I couldn't figure out how to do it with the toggleon and off commands. Because I want Rooted to "toggle on" when I am NOT pressing a movement key. So w "+forward$$powexec_toggleoff Rooted" would turn it off when I am moving, but how do I get it to toggle back on when I let go of the key?

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Temporary Invulnerability was once a click buff?


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Add to that that Tanks used to be able to get to 100% damage resists with it. Back Ally Brawler/Maurader appear to use the old power and rule, activating the power and then taking 0 damage per smash/lethal hit.

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Did you know that Fury was originally intended for Tankers but showed to make them to powerful so they saved Fury for Brutes?


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Don't know if it's true, but Fury _might_ have been my suggestion, created in order to solve the damage problems tankers were having at the time.

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I think it might have been sugested/thought of for tanks but I'm sure they quickly decided against it.

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This was probably what Statesman was referring to when he said tanks would get something new and "comic-booky." Tanks got some changes, but nothing that fit the "comic-booky" quote.

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I have a Villian named Momma Cass, and only one person knew who she was....until then, I didn't think I was old, just cultured...*sniff*

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Look out for a hero named "Chickenbone"

You remember Starbuck as a man.

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-You remember the game Adventure on the Atari 2600 (nothing better than your char. being a large pixel)

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go here for some free Adventure.

http://www.simmphonic.com/programming/adventure.htm

The sun burned a sullen crimson along the horizon in Bloody Bay. The sudden explosion behind Tar Heel of the last EN jet barely registered with the weary hero. Tar continued to punch whatever foe appeared in front of him, and toss out random taunts to contain as much of the villains attention on him as he could. This battle was beyond anything the EveryNighters had been in before, but the tactical skills of countless smaller battles served them well. Almost unconsciously, the exhausted heroes buffed and healed, attacked, held, and defended.

Tar raised his fist to strike at the next villain, to find nothing in front of him. Blinking, he saw the remaining Destined Ones break and run away from the battle. Too tired to pursue, the EveryNighters and their allies slumped onto the ground. The day was theirs.

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“Well my captain, it appears as though you cast your net a little too wide,” crackled the voice over the radio.

“My lord,” said Ghost Widow into the communicator, “I was about to join the fight. I can rally the Destined Ones. This day is not yet lost.”

With a dry chuckle, Lord Recluse responded. “Not to worry Ghost Widow. You have done well to gather all the enemies together in our web. Although your prey is too much for you, the power of Arachnos will still be sufficient to strike a blow against the protectors of Paragon City that will leave that city vulnerable for months. Now, I suggest you abandon your listening post and get as far away from Bloody Bay as you can. Farewell.”

Spinning rapidly, Ghost Widow began barking out orders that would get her vessel underway and her out of the devastation that Lord Recluse would soon send.

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Tar Heel watched as Headache Healer, Neut-trino, and others trudged across the battlefield healing injuries and reviving fallen comrades. He then saw PH limping toward him. Far from the confidant leader she usually was, her face displayed only exhaustion with a hint of despair.

“PH,” said the tank, “You look like crap.”

The ghost of the old PH smiled at him. “You don’t look so great yourself stumphead. But let’s save the ugly contest for later. I’ve managed to get the codes that will allow us to punch through the teleportation jammers so we can get out of here. I’ll tell you the story later. Right now, let’s find Ratchet and get him to work.”

Rising to his feet, Tar beckoned to the defender. “Last I saw him he was over on the right flank. Let’s go find him.”

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The two old friends found the gnomish hero pawing through the remains of one of the robot minions that has swarmed the battlefield. Receiving the codes, he delightedly clapped his hands. “Not to worry,” Ratchet exclaimed as he pulled out a laptop and table seemingly from thin air, “All I need to do is to remodulate the field harmonics of the randomizer, bypass the gorbonation wave and GNOMERCY! The spastirus will dilate the q-membrane!”

“Ratchet,” said Tar Heel, “I understood about three words in that whole speech, and God help me if one of them wasn’t ‘gnomercy.’ Just tell me if and when we can teleport out of this hellhole.”

“Ah, sorry. If? Yes. When? Riiiiiiiiiiiiight now. And I should be able to boost our EN teleporters to let us go all the way back to P-City. It will take a while to get everybody out though, I can only send one at a time.”

“Well that should be ok,” said the relieved tank. “Nobody will be able to put up any new organized attack for a few more hours. Let’s round up the troops PH.”

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After the EveryNighters and their allies had gathered, Ratchet began teleporting the heroes back to the main base in Paragon City.

Suddenly, a small mechanical arm extended out of the side of the laptop, telescoped out, hinged upward, and hinged again. The arm then frantically began ringing a large bell.

“Whoops,” said Ratchet, “must have gotten a bug somewhere, that isn’t supposed to happen unless….uh oh.” The hero frantically began typing on the keyboard of the small laptop as the bell continued to clang.

“What is going on Ratchet?” said Tar Heel.

Ignoring him, Ratchet continued to peer intently at the series of numbers and figures that scrolled across the screen. Turning to Tar Heel he asked, “what are we gonna do?”

“Um Ratchet, I can’t answer that unless I know what’s going on,” explained a patient Tar Heel.

“Oh, sorry. My long range scanners have picked up a tiny little nuclear missile launch from the Rogue Isles and it looks like it’s headed our way.”

“How tiny?” asked PH.

“Tiny enough to only wipe out every living thing in Bloody Bay, unless anyone received their powers from a radioactive cockroach.”

“Damn!” exclaimed PH. “We need to call the Longbow base and get them to evacuate and speed up our teleports here!”

“No way we have time PH,” Ratchet shook his head. “We have less than 15 minutes before that thing hits.”

Thinking furiously, PH said, “Talk to it Ratchet, see if you can reprogram it.”

“Yeah, I tried that,” said the small hero. “It’s got a pretty sophisticated AI and it resisted all my sweet talking. Darn rude to me as well.”

“Where is it now?” asked Tar Heel.

Ratchet tapped some keys on his laptop and projected out a holographic map of the Rogue Isles. “We are here in Bloody Bay,” he said, pointing to a small skull icon. “The missile is following this path here in pink. You can see how shoots out over the Atlantic before curving around to impact with us. I guess it has to take that path to make sure it is fully armed. Right now it should be approaching its turn around point.”

“Can you teleport me out there?” asked Tar frowning at the projection, “say within 50 yards or so?”

“Sure, except for…well…sure I can.” Ratchet replied, “But what good would that do? If I can’t deactivate it from here, there isn’t anything you can do out there.”

“I don’t need to deactivate it,” Tar explained. “If I can get it to change course I can get it to detonate out there.”

“How are you going to get it to change course Tar?” asked Pharma Hawk. “You going to call it bad names?”

“Come on PH, you know my Taunt power doesn’t work like that. Ratchet said that thing has a sophisticated AI. I can aggro Jumpbots and Mek-Men. I shouldn’t have any problem diverting the missile.”

Breaking into the conversation, Ratchet said, “Ok Tar, I’ve got a lock. Teleporting in 10…9…8…”

“Tar,” said PH with a faint trace of hysteria in her voice, “There is no way even you will survive a direct strike from a nuclear weapon. We can’t let you take a hit for the entire zone!”

“PH,” said Tar Heel, holding her by both shoulders and looking into her eyes. “I’m a tank. It’s what I do.”

“…2…1…teleport!” Ratchet said as Tar Heel disappeared in a flash of light.

Tar Heel materialized high above the Atlantic. Turning quickly around, he located the missile as it screamed past him. “Nice work Ratchet,” he said into the communicator. “I see your rude friend now.”

As the temporary hover effect from the teleportation wore off, and he began to fall, Tar Heel reached out his hand and beckoned to the missile with a grunt. The missile shook, tried to right itself, and then abruptly turned to chase the falling hero. “I got it guys,” said Tar Heel into the communicator. “You might want to alert the Coast Guard and some of the water-based heroes that they may have a few tidal waves to deal with after this thing goes off. Good Luck. Tar Heel out.”

As he watched the missile roar toward him, Tar idly wondered if it would hit before or after he dropped into the Atlantic. His musings were broken by a frantic voice in his head.

Johnny! What the hell are you doing? Get out of there, please!

What am I doing? I’m about to take a pretty big punch in the mouth, Countess.

NO JOKES JOHNNY! YOU HAVE TO GET OUT! Johnny, I don’t think…I don’t know…DAMNIT! YOU CANNOT DO THIS TO ME. You cannot be gone Johnny. I don’t care if you ever talk to me again, but I have to know you are there. I have to know you exist! I can’t…I want…

Sorry. It’s really too late to do anything about it. You’ll be fine. But you know, I’m glad I got to hear you one more time. Good-Bye Julieanne.

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The EveryNighters turned and watched a second sun appear on the horizon of Bloody Bay as the communication from Tar Heel ended in a burst of static.

“Uncle John?” said Teen Tar Heel in a small voice. He looked up a Neut-trino. He’s ok, right Neut? He’ll be at the base when we get there right? All wet and grumpy? Please tell me he is ok Neut.”

Neut-trino looked down at the small hero and then to Ratchet who was slowly shaking his head. She opened her mouth to speak to Teen Tar and then closed it without a word, not trusting her own voice. She got on her knees and hugged the small scrapper as they both wept. The rest of the EveryNighters silently circled the two and mourned as the full moon rose over Bloody Bay.

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Six months later.

The colorful red, green and gold scrapper flew over the waters of the Atlantic. Gamecock had been ambushed by a stalker in Bloody Bay, but the villain had fled when he couldn’t finish the job, with the hero in hot pursuit. Gamecock, hoping his new IR goggles were up to the task, scanned the open waters in search of his prey. Suddenly, his communicator beeped. Looking down, Gamecock read the message. Wow, he thought, I got a badge all the way out here? Let’s see what this one is. With a punch of button, Gamecock pulled up the badge name and text.

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Tanker:
This spot was the last recorded position of the hero Tar Heel, who sacrificed his life by exploding a nuclear warhead before it could reach its target in Bloody Bay, saving the lives of dozens of heroes and villains, and hundreds of civilians.

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Cool, thought the scrapper, sounds like a good story there. And with that, he cleared the screen and began again his search for the elusive stalker.

The End.

Try putting the binds in a new file, g:\coh\cov\powers.txt. Sometimes if the file name is too long it won't load.

The sinister figure watched intently a monitor of the escalating battle between the EveryNighters and their allies and the Destined Ones. The shadowed room at the peak of Grandville contained dozens of monitors and equipment, designed to allow him to observe first-hand all events in the Rogue Isles.

Glorious, the figure thought. The type of battle that hasn’t been seen since the Trojan War. A war with no footsoldiers or cannon fodder, just heroes. Heroes as Homer defined the term, not the narrow, moralistic definition that Statesman and his ilk use.

Of course, he thought, The Trojan War also had a pantheon of gods striving above the battlefield. For this battle, I am the only god. This time, I am the only one who can hurl lightening and thunderbolts down from the heavens.

With one gloved hand, the figure absent-mindedly tapped a large, green button in the arm of his chair…

A knot of villains exploded outward, leaving Tar Heel standing at the epicenter. Rather than chase his knockbacked enemies, Tar yelled at his team to maintain the perimeter. With the second villain team joining the fight, the momentum had quickly shifted to the Destined Ones. The EveryNighters had continued to hold their own, but at the expense of the endurance of Neuttrino and Headache Healer. The longer the fight continued, the less able they would be to heal and rez the damage dealers on the team. What they needed to do, Tar thought, was to break out while they still had the strength. Once out of Bloody Bay, the team could scatter and regroup at the Longbow base. But before Tar could give the breakout order, he saw another team of villains join the fight, and another, and another…

Instead of being outnumbered 2 to 1, now there were at least 6 villains for every hero. The chances of a successful breakout were slim now, but Tar could see no other choice.

Just then, the roar of jets exploded over the battle, knocking some of the heroes and villains to the ground. Leaping, flying and teleporting out of the four EN jets were dozens of costumed heroes. Tar could not believe it. Almost all of the remaining active EveryNighters were there, from all divisions, even a division Tar had never heard of (“EveryNighters—Black Ops?” He would have to talk with PH about that). With them were other allies. There were Supergroups and heroes that they had teamed with in formal or informal coalitions, like the Angels of Wrath and the T-Birds, Big Smooth and MadRad. He saw friends of Neut from her Hamidon raids. He saw some of his drinking buddies from Tanker Tuesdays. He saw heroes from other dimensions they had met in their portal travels. (He saw at least 3 Captain Indianas). He looked over and saw Neuttrino hugging an embarrassed Manticore, flanked by Positron and Synapse.

“We sent you on plenty of tough Task Forces,” Manticore was explaining to her, “We felt we should return the favor.”

Tar even saw EveryNighters from the inactive list, heroes he had not seen in months, like Mr. Icypants and Nilyana. One of those inactive members flew up to him. The gray-haired hero, decked out in an old-fashioned, red, white, and blue uniform landed in front of Tar Heel and snapped off a quick salute.

“Yankee D. Dandy reporting for duty, Tar Heel suh!”

“Knock it off Great-Grampa,” said Tar Heel, “what exactly do you think you are doing here? You haven’t had a security clearance this high since the Roosevelt administration.”

Yankee put his fists on his hips, lifted his head up to the sky, and laughed a deep, manly laugh, which Tar had only heard before in Errol Flynn movies. “You can’t keep the spirit of Freedom down lad! The call of Lady Liberty is too strong! If these commies want to fight our red, white, and blue-blooded Super guys and gals, then by gum, I aim to oblige them!”

“Great-Grampa,” said Tar, “I don’t think they are communists.

“Scratch any enemy of Freedom and you’ll find a red, boy, believe me! Now, if you’ll excuse me,” said the old hero with narrowed eyes, “I think I see one of my old Russkie friends now!” Tar saw Yankee fly off toward a bearded, uniformed, sword-wielding villain who was, Tar had to admit, sporting the old Soviet hammer and sickle insignia.

Looks like we got an even playing field again, Tar thought. Time to go to work.

“Hamanahamanhamana…” Teen Tar Heel shook his head back and forth, trying to regain focus after Headache Healer had rez’d his unconscious body. Looking up, he saw Screech locked up and trapped by HH and Neuttrino. Thinking he should take her out of the fight for good before she broke the holds, Teen Tar sprinted over towards her. Before he could reach her something exploded in the small of his back.

“Geronimo!!” Teen Tar yelled, and back flipped blindly. Sailing backwards, Teen Tar saw the follow-up punch from Rube strike nothing but air. Landing on the ground behind the Brute, Teen Tar jammed a Thunder Kick into the back of Rube’s knee.

“Yeah, I know what you are thinking Slater,” said Teen Tar as he rapidly hurled more kicks and punches at the Brute, “Believe me, a new battlecry is at the top of my to-do list.”

As Teen Tar sailed a high leg kick towards Rube, the Brute caught the foot in the air. But, before he could take advantage of his block, Teen Tar pushed off and flew backwards, immediately springing into a defensive stance. In the momentary pause in the battle, Rube grinned and beckoned Teen Tar towards him. “Come on kid, I’ll give you a couple more free shots!”

“Gee, I didn’t get you anything!” yelled Teen Tar and he sprung towards Rube. Throwing off more kicks and punches, he watched in satisfaction as the Brute grunted and groaned. Rube grinned from behind a bruised face. “Hit me all you want little man. The more you hit me, the more powerful my punches get, and I got enough power now to take you out with one punch!”

Rube roared, and Teen Tar was barely able to dodge the furious counter-attack. “You might have trouble landing that one punch, Slater!” said Teen Tar Heel. Concentrating, Teen Tar expanded his awareness and focused on the attacks of the Brute that now seemed to be coming in slow motion, allowing Teen Tar to dodge them easily. “You have to hit me though my power of ‘Super-Slick-Noseeum-Star-Spangled-Fist-Dodging-El Supremo!’ or, as the bureaucrats in Paragon City Hall boreingly classify it, Elude!”

Rube’s fury did not appear to dissipate despite his missing punches, if anything he appeared to get more powerful. Punch after punch he threw and missed. Finally, Teen Tar saw a hole in the pattern of Rube’s punches. Calling on his inner chi, Teen Tar aimed a deadly kick in the Brute’s split-second of vulnerability. Rube roared as the critical kick connected, and slumped to the ground unconscious. Immediately afterward, Teen Tar’s knees buckled as the hyperawareness off Elude faded and the exhaustion kicked in. Dropping down to one knee, Teen Tar muttered to himself. “I hope I can catch a breath before anyone else spots me...”

Teen Tar Heel heard a teeth-rattling shriek and saw his Uncle Tar Heel shudder as a wave of sonic energy lashed out at the tank, and then saw a new group of villains crashing into the melee. Dropping another ninja with a Crane Kick, Teen Tar quickly bounded over to zombie-faced female villain with the shredded clothes who was directing her painful scream at his uncle.

“Yikes!” exclaimed Teen Tar as he flipped a Thunder Kick at the villainess’s jaw, rocking her backward. “I guess Archanos’ group insurance doesn’t allow for dermatologist visits!” Recovering, the female directed a burst of sonic energy at Teen Tar, who barely managed to dodge out of the way.

“And really, dressing in rags is so…500 years ago. You don’t want to be wearing that at the MTV awards when you get nominated for ‘Best New Villainess in a Supporting Role,’” he said. Then, Teen Tar dove to the ground as an energy-wrapped fist swept above him.

“Let’s take out this kid, Screech,” said the non-descript Brute in the tank top.

“Whoa, hold up,” laughed Teen Tar as he swept a circular kick that connected on both the villains, “Your name is Screech? So who is the wife-beater back here? A.C. Slater? Mr. Belding? Seriously though, what happened to that wacky nerd from ‘Saved by the Bell?’ Did Archanos conquer Bayside High?”

Teen Tar leapt behind Screech, but for a second, lost his balance from the uneven ground. Seeing her chance, Screech hurled her terrible scream toward the small scrapper…

“Beta Team is in place,” stammered the new Arachnos Captain, “and Omega Team has followed HHH3 and Ice Gost back to Bloody Bay and can engage as well. Gamma, Delta, and Epsilon Teams are also standing by.”

“Thank you Captain,” murmured Ghost Widow, "I believe that Alpha Team has worn down the EveryNighters well enough. Send in the rest of the teams.”

Tar Heel allowed the strange, walking plant creature to bite into his arm. Then, ignoring the pain, he immobilized the creature next to his body and delivered crushing blows to it, until the mangled plant fell inert to the ground.

Tar was pleased at how the battle was progressing. Although none of the Destined Ones had permanently been removed from the fight, Tar had been in enough melees of this kind to get a sense of when they had reached a tipping point. Although it would be a near thing, he knew that it was just a matter of time before they won this battle. Unless they brought reinforcements, he gloomily thought.

Tar Heel wound up and knocked out another in a seemingly endless tide of Ninjas. As he did so, he again heard the woman’s voice from the transmitter buried in his brain.

I take it that our remote surgery was a success, John.

It appears that way, thought Tar Heel, but as soon as I get out of this fight the whole thing is coming out, along with this transmitter, Countess.

Please John, you used to call me Julieanne, thought the Countess Crey.

You used to BE Julieanne, retorted Tar Heel, you made the choice to become Clarrissa Van Dorn aka Countess Crey, not me. And I don’t trust the Countess Crey.

You don’t have to be so testy John, replied the Countess, you came to me, remember? You wanted something that would block any possible brainwash that Ghost Widow might throw at you. Not only did our little procedure work, but based on the feedback from the device, my scientists were able to formulate an antidote that we allowed that creature Ice Gost to steal. I think that I have earned a little trust from my help.

As long as helping me helps you and the Crey Corporation, thought Tar Heel, that’s about how much trust you have earned so far. Spotting a distant figure that appeared to be the one summoning all the Ninjas, Tar Heel began wading through enemies toward him. Now if you will excuse me, I have a battle to win.

“Hey Fridge,” said the dark blue costumed hero, “what’s going on? Where is everybody?”

Looking at him quizzically, the huge ex-Pro Bowler and GI Joe Operative replied “I’m just shutting off the lights and lockin’ up the doors Duke baby. You got your communicator on hide again?”

“What? Oh, yeah, I guess I do,” said Duke Man sheepishly. “What did I miss?”

“Well nothing yet, but PH is calling in everybody to hit Bloody Bay hard and fast, things went from bad to worse to a little better and then to a lot worse and then…um…I forgot where I was. Anyway, follow me, we can get on the last jet over there.”