"You're pretty sharp," Bill nodded.  He gestured at the Kid's insignia, "Is the 'H' for hero?   I've always expected, one day, I'll meet someone who dispenses with the frills, and just calls themselves Hero."

"Anyway, yes, others may have sensed you.  Including, maybe, the person you mention.  I sure have no way of knowing.  But the idea is, how will they differentiate you from others?   Someone came in about a day and a half ago.  And, I think we may get more than one tomorrow.  Arrivals aren't common, exactly -- but we've been lucky to have others around the same time as you."   
This message was last edited by the player at 18:24, Tue 16 Aug 2022.

Despite the graveness of their mission, Valkyrie still smiled when she saw Dollar Bill. “Hey, Bill.” She thought back to a period of weeks the Defenders Motorcycle Club spent in New York City. A vigilante in greasepaint amped himself up on a super-form of Angel Dust, and attacked anyone he saw as violating the law. He’d focused on he Empire State University campus, attacking litterbugs, students smoking pot, and jaywalkers.

The Dollar Bill she knew boldly tracked the attacks, documenting them for his film project. He’d seen Valkyrie fend off the “Lunatik”, and immediately hit the Defenders up for their help. “Val”, as he called her, thought she and her fellow Defenders made fair bait as Bikers. Bill charmed her with his eccentric candor and effervescence. When they defeated the Lunatik, Val made Dollar Bill an honorary Defender, with his own leather jacket.

“Thanks,” she said, taking the soda. She dug her fingernail under the cap and popped it with a quick flick. She didn’t care where it fell. She listened to Bill chat up the clean-cut super-boy. “It’s not Wild Turkey, but I’ll wet my whistle anyway.”
This message was last edited by the player at 05:40, Wed 17 Aug 2022.

Bill appeared to experience some real relief, at the Valyrie's acknowledgement.

In the way someone does when they're holding their breath, anticipating someone might still be mad about something, and then learn they aren't.

He smiled. "You drink Wild Turkey?  That's uh...that's different too.  But not in a bad way."    He eyed her again, and his gaze shifted afterward toward the Specter.

"You know, we had something come in before you folks.  And I'm wagering, Val, that it's either yours or his," nodding toward Specter.

"A super-sleek, bad-ass chopper.  It's in the parking lot, over there," he pointed to the lot not far off.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:42, Tue 16 Aug 2022.

My goal is to not bog down in too much Q&A, after everyone has been able to ask the most important questions they have.

Nor do I want to do a gigantic data dump;  I'm endeavoring to summarize as much as possible.   But this next bit is rather relevant, so I'm going to go ahead and get this in:

Bill further remarked to the group:

"Did the Doc sort of bill this place as a utopia?   A lot of people who haven't been here yet do that.  Don't get me wrong; there's a lot of great things about it. But like all places, it has its good and bad;  its gummy politics, and dark underbelly."

"You know, powers are not uncommon here, though not too many have them at the real superhero level.   But to start, I think you need to know about a little group called the Super Friends. " Bill had another sip of coke.

"Usually, just the Friends, for brevity.   Don't let the name encourage you.   They're basically the top hero team --  a fair amount of the time, it works like that.   But really, these guys are glorified skullcrackers.   Law is strict in Sundown -- but most of the laws are very fair, easy to understand.  But we do get the so-called problematic personalities."   

"The Friends work with the sentinels -- Sundown's police force.   Since you're new and have powers, both will take interest, once you're on the radar.   But the Friends, especially -- you wanna stay off their radar."

"No thanks," Specter shook his head as the drinks were offered. "Soda's bad for you." He dug around in his jacket pockets as if he was looking for something, but when he withdrew his fist, it was empty. "Shit. Anyone got any cigarettes?"

At the rumor of his ride being in the nearby parking lot, he turned to the Valkyrie and smiled. "Dibs." Raising a hand aloft, it almost seemed like he was trying to summon the bike to him by force of concentration. But then he shook his arm and a key fob fell out of his jacket sleeve. He clicked the button on it, hoping to hear the familiar deet-deet that let him know it was indeed his own bike.

“Because cigarettes are good for your health,” Valkyrie said with a sneer, as she dug a lovingly used pack of Marlboros out of an inside jacket pocket. She held out a cigarette. “When you quit playing with that funky whistle, I’d love to see you try straddling Aragorn.”

Barbara pulled out her own keys. Nothing futuristic. Just silvered keys that dangled on a keychain with silver wings over a lightning bolt. “Almost as much as I’ll enjoy seeing Aragorn knock you on your ass when you try it!” She chuckled softly, a sound more fitting for a cozy bar, or a cozier bedroom, as she headed toward the mystery bike in question.

Cipher quietly declines with the soda with a shake of his head.

He frowns ever so slightly at the mention of Sentinels, "These Sentinels. They police people for what they do. Or who they are?"

"About like your police in many other places," he let Cipher know.  "More or less."

"Crime is different here.  See, no one goes homeless, or is left to starve, or anything.  Scarcity isn't nearly as much of a thing.  But, you want the goodies, you still have to work for a living, and be productive.  And some people just don't like to do that.  Or are bent around in other ways."   Bill sipped the coke, ran a hand through his hair.

"There's really no big reason to go yah, boo, the sentinels! One could argue the Friends need to be intimidating, 'cause they deal with the empowered.  But, sentinel brutality isn't really a thing.  And many of'em only work part time, 'cause there isn't that much for them to do.  But people who break the law, exhibit as potentially dangerous, will meet them."     
This message was last edited by the player at 01:48, Wed 17 Aug 2022.

Once the Valkyrie made it over to the adjacent parking lot, she would be delighted to see Aragorn properly and safely parked, shining and ready to ride.

She would also note that the design of the nearby autos wasn't entirely familiar; slightly futuristic looking perhaps, compared to what her 1970s sensibilities regarded as normal.

Not so to Specter, however.   In fact, if he looked closely at all, it would seem there were no designs more recent than late 90s Earth.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:58, Wed 17 Aug 2022.

Mordred's hand tightened even more around the Ebony Staff upon arrival in this Sundown City. It was an entirely alien and bewildering environment, clearly built for humans but assembled by builders who outstripped Arthur's most capable craftsmen. The crystal towers, the perfectly shaped stone, the glittering metal, all exceeded even the most detailed descriptions of lost Atlantis.

Mordred kept quiet as the others talked. All of this was more than he ever imagined to encounter. He accepted the drink offered by Dollar Bill, and was surprised to find it seemingly fermented yet sweet---like premature mead with the fizz of ale. It fit the environs-strange yet familiar.

"These 'Friends' and 'Sentinels,' they are the knights and guard of this city?" Mordred asked. "Which Lord or Lady do they serve, and are they fair or cruel? Given the plenty this city holds for its people I would wager the former, but your caution against crossing those upholding their law makes me wonder if that is true."

"Maybe standing out in the open isn't the best idea," Mark said, looking around. Super Friends? Sentinels? If these were things to be avoided, then they should endeavor to avoid them. "Since this is where people first arrive in this city, it would stand to reason that Bill here isn't the only one who knows we're here."

Cipher's unease doesn't recede with Bill's explanation. Where Doug was from, Sentinels were a very big deal, "If I understand correctly, then, we need to keep a low profile to avoid the Super Friends", he casts a wary eye at Kid Hyperion, "and the Sentinels will only be a problem if we break the law in an obvious way", his wary gaze shifts to Valkyrie.

Cipher shakes his head, "How much do you know about our mission, Bill?"

Bill eyed Mordred while he spoke, likely taking in a greater amount of detail about the man.

"Wow.  I'd say you're either a real big Ren fair enthusiast, or else from some kind of place most us of would compare to the distant past.  More so than anyone else I know who's landed here."   

"But yeah; your assessment of those two is correct, as I think you'd understand it.  Anyway, they're both beholden to the Counsel, who're the elected officials that govern the city.  No monarchy here," he assured, drawing another sip of cola.

"They're decent folks, pretty much."  He gestured toward the city.  "Running any place is hard, and we've got a packed population, in a small place. A fair number, like I said, with powers." 

Bill nodded at the white and blue clad teen's words. "You're right.  We don't want to camp here too long.  Though, I should emphasize, people knowing you're here is unavoidable, and the real thing is not to be known in a bad way.   Which means, be careful what you do with your powers.  Please."   

He then addressed that last question:  "Not a ton, exactly.  I was told you folks would know as much as I do.   Metaphysical heart thingy stolen --  cosmos in peril -- a real shit calamity if it isn't recovered -- and you five are the big hope for doing that.  No pressure?" he smiled ruefully.

"There's someone I think I want to connect you with. Goes by 'Sylph.'  She's the best networker I know, owes me a favor, and has met the Doc.  Like me, he helped her Arrive here.  Also -- she and her brother used to be with the Friends.   Not as heavy hitters, but in a recon position.  The so-called 'Wonder Twins.' She hates their guts, but knows plenty about their operations." 

Specter accepted the Valkyrie's cig, giving a playfully defensive shrug. "Hellfire lungs," he grinned. "What's your excuse?"

His face fell as he realized the nearby motorcycle wasn't his own, but hers. "Damn. Ah, fine, let's go have a look."

As he trudged over, he kept an ear tuned to the conversation. "Sentinels, huh?" he remarked to his companion. "Never heard of 'em. What about you?" While he was game to bring down whatever scum threatened this city, he didn't much care for the history lesson. He'd much rather hang with this intriguing "Valkyrie" than sit there playing class pet to that Shaggy Rogers look-alike, however nice he seemed.

“Stamina of the Gods.” Barbara’s prodigious strength also endowed her with prodigious appetites. She flicked open a Bettie Page lighter and lit her own. Barbara inhaled, letting out the smoke in one smooth blow.



“Right on.” While Dollar Bill answered questions, Valkyrie threw her denim-clad leg over her motorcycle. She inserted the key. Kick started the motorcycle, which resembled a dazzling fusion of Kawasaki performance with Harley Davidson aesthetic. Her bike growled to life.

“Nice to see you, too,” Barbara purred to her bike, as “Aragorn’s” engine seemingly purred in return. Soon, she sped off and left Specter standing there. Valkyrie drove toward her fellow exiles and Dollar Bill. She swerved at the last second, smoothly riding a donut around them before screeching to a halt. “Yep. You’ve still got it, boy.”

Then, Valkyrie looked at Bill. “I missed out while you guys jawed, so give me the Reader’s Digest version later. Tell me about your so-called ‘Friends’.”

Bill watched the Valkyrie's impressive cycle skills, wholly unaware of the man called Specter's silent tirade.

"That's just awesome," he enthused.

"The Friends. Right! Well, the current roster is Speed Demon, Skylark, Dr. Spectrum and Nighthawk. Plus, Hyperion, their leader."   He paused.

"And really, if we're gonna go into any detail, we should have this conversation inside a secure room."

Valkyrie visibly bristled when she heard the names. She flicked her cigarette on the street as her face darkened. “Yeah. We’d better talk someplace more private.”

"But... I'm Hyperion." Mark was confused. He was the leader of a super-hero team? What the heck? "That's what the 'H' stands for."

Though the bland figure of Cipher continued to cut a calm figure, to those who can see every fiber of his being screamed tension, "Do you have somewhere in mind?"
This message was last edited by the player at 23:47, Wed 17 Aug 2022.

Dollar Bill's own deficit of calm was only too plain:

"Wh- what?  Seriously? Dude!  Not good.  You need to pick some other name -- like right now!" He waved his hands on the heels of that.

"Never mind.  We'll sort it.  But, Jesus balls!"    Bill pushed a hand through his hair, then said to Cipher-

"Yeah.  I think we should just go to my pad.  Anyone think that's a bad idea?  I can call a taxi, two if need be, and Val can follow us."    He pulled out what looked like a 90s style flip phone (or perhaps a Star Trek communicator, to the Valkyrie), but waited to hear other suggestions.

"My own car's in the shop, unfortunately," he added, with a slightly embarrassed look.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:28, Thu 18 Aug 2022.

"Distant past," Mordred repeated the phrase softly. The implication was hard to accept, but made the most sense. His today must be many tomorrows ahead of his last remembered yesterday. Wooden buildings and stone towers replaced by these perfectly shaped spires. Horses and carts replaced with snarling, smoldering mechanisms like the device this Valkyrie now rode. It was all quite overwhelming. However, he supposed that a future in a faraway city was not so terrible a location for self-exile.

The word "Ren" meant nothing to Mordred, but he recognized "Fair."

"My clothes were meant to let me move among the peasant folk without drawing unwanted attention," he said as he gestured to the common cut of his traveling cloak, "but I suspect they do make me stand out as a Londinium Legionnaire would in Arthur's Camelot. I shall strive to adapt to these surroundings as best I can." Mordred pulled the hood of his cloak further over his head and did his best to keep his sword concealed. There was nothing he could do to hide his staff, and he dared not let Merlin's parting gift slip out of his grasp for even a moment.

"Sweet ride," Specter nodded. He raised a finger to the cigarette hanging from his mouth, where the tips of both-- finger and tobacco-- each caught fire. Drawing a puff, he turned and called out to seemingly no-one: "Hey! Get the @#$& over here!"

He turned back to the Valkyrie. "Sometimes it takes a sec-- eh?" Suddenly, the blonde biker was speeding off back toward the group. "Hey! Party's this way!" He chuckled. "Alright. Later, then."

Off in the distance, an object wreathed in smoke and fire blazed toward him.

“Back home, we had a few run-ins with a rival gang. They called themselves the ‘The Supreme Power Motorcycle Club’. Nastiest pieces of shit I ever ran across.” Valkyrie stared at Kid Hyperion with narrowly slitted eyes. “Their handles were ‘Speed Demon’, ‘Dr. Spectrum’, and ‘Hyperion’. They ran an extortion racket in upstate New York, shaking down businesses in Watertown.”

She drove a little closer to Mark. “I had this feeling of Deja Vu when I saw you. Now I know why.”

Seriously, what the heck was going on? How many people were going around with the name 'Hyperion'? Mark was told by the people running the project that he was unique. Now he was one of at least three people going by that name, and one of them also had powers. So much for uniqueness.

"Don't look at me like that," he replied to Valkyrie. "It wasn't me."

“But someday, you could’ve be.” Valkyrie watched “Kid” Hyperion cautiously. “The Hyperion I met was a whiner, too.”


OOC:

I’m just doing the usual “Mighty Marvel Meet & Greet”. I won’t beat this into the ground.


This message was lightly edited by the player at 17:54, Thu 18 Aug 2022.