U.S. Star

Name: U.S. Star. AKA Rhonda “Cassie” Hawkins
Tier: Street level
Affiliation: Villain
Team: Argus
Location: Reach City

Background

Dear Gaspard,

Long time no see. I go semi-legit and you people treat me like I’ve opened up a knitting shop. Seriously, PR isn’t exactly like pouncing over town in a leopard-skin, but I’m still paying my membership dues.

As for the offer, I accept on one condition: I get to pick our girl, and I get to run her. That means no outside Argus contacts, no couriers, no friends of friends. The last time we ran this, I was in her shoes, and I won’t have this get screwed by Argus infighting again. All requests go through me; I’m her manager, agent, and handler. You make sure they all know that.

As for our pick, we need something different from the way I ran it. We need someone who immediately inspires innocence, trust, and the teensiest bit of lust. We want more ingénue and less jailbait. The old Wylde-Cat outfit sold the dark action girl angle, but that was the nineties. Everything was gritty, everybody was screwing, and even the good guys were killing in cold blood. We can’t get away with it anymore; at least not like that.

So I’ve looked over the full list of applicants and I’ve got some coverage for you.

-Kate Embra- “Volcana”: Pass. Too short.

-Bianca Luchese – “Angelica”: Pass. Look’s fine, but that accent, my God.

-Sylvanna – “Sylvanna”: Pass. I’m not accepting anyone who lists ‘Mother Earth’ as a reference.

-Becki Rosen – “Ghoul Girl”: Are you guys even serious? Pass.

-Rhonda Hawkins– “Blackbird”: Accepted. She’s perfect. She’ll just need a new name, new wardrobe, new social security, and a dye job.

Your’s truly,
Holly DeWitt,
Partner, Founder, DeWitt Public Relations,

(P.S. We should really get together some time and talk this over. Your place or mine?)


Personality

“Can I see the ‘Polaris’ design again?”

Paul, a superfluously fashionable man with a three-day beard, pulled a sketch from the folder and slid it in front of his boss. Holly eyed the Polaris design; white armor plates overlay black spandex, with a short white cape. She tapped her finger against the paper.

“Who did this?”

“Me and Caroline,” Charles said.

“Hmmm, I don’t love it.”

“It was mostly Caroline.”

Rhonda sulked in a chair beside them, drumming her fingers against the table. Her waves of freshly dyed platinum-blonde hair were matted down under a baseball cap. Holly glanced her way.

“Rhonda what do you?”

“I—don’t—care.”

Holly sighed and turned to Paul.

“I think we’ll go with the ‘U.S. Star’ design. Paul can you give us the room?”

Paul nodded, collected all but one of the designs and left. The door shut loudly behind him.

“What is this bullshit?” Rhonda spat, “They said you were going to make me into one of the Vices?”

Holly straightened her glasses.

“Yes.”

“Well, I didn’t come here for fashion tips. I thought you were going to train me.”

“I AM training you. But, I assume you’ve already killed before.”

“Plenty,” Rhonda said.

“So I’m training you how to do it like a Vice. Any thug can murder; but the Vices have a certain level of detachment, untraceability. Some Vices use stealth, others meticulous planning, I prefer misdirection. And all this ‘Bullshit’, is how you do that. It’ll make sense later, but for now, just get used to the idea of this,”

She slid the remaining design in front of Rhonda. The ‘U.S. Star’ design was tight blue spandex, red accents on the gloves, boots, and belt, with a star on the chest. Rhonda barely glanced at it.

“It’s fine. What’s next?”

Flight
Flight Standard (2):

“Just relax.”

“I’d be more relaxed if you’d undo the straps.”

Rhonda was strapped to a gurney in a private operating room. Numerous sensors were attached to her body, monitoring and beeping constantly. Holly, and Doctor Cross hovered over her. Doctor Cross was grizzled, scarred, with sunken eyes and a stoic grimace that did not inspire faith. He swabbed her neck with iodine then picked up a small attaché case from under the table.

“The straps are for your own safety.” Holly said.

“Lying bitch.”

“Relax,” Holly replied, “We just need to make you Vice material.”

“What does that even mean?”

Rhonda stopped as Dr. Cross extracted a large hypodermic needle from the case.

“Relax Miss Hawkins,” he said calmly, “The serum is safer these days.”

“What serum?”

“It’s a necessity,” Holly said, “If you want to be a Vice, then you need the abilities to look the part. That means we have to change your look on every level.

Rhonda started to hyperventilate. Dr. Cross inserted the needle, and Rhonda felt a sharp pain in her neck. Her pulse began to race faster and faster; the heart monitor nearly broke.

Then everything hurt; every muscle, every cell of her body screamed out, as its DNA was ripped apart, itemized, and reorganized. She thrashed in the gurney.

“You’re doing good,” Holly said, “You’re almost done.”

“LYYYYYING BIIIIIITCH!”

She could barely form words. The leather gurney straps creaked, stretched, then snapped like rubber-bands.

Rhonda flung herself off the table, then hovered in the air. The pain ceased, her body had changed. She was flying.

She collapsed almost immediately to the floor and vomited onto the tiles.

“Unfortunately,” said Holly, “there are some side effects.”

Fireworks
Eldritch Blast superior + ranged +area effect (8)

Benny Watts floored the clutch and the armored van charged forward, sideswiping traffic and smashing its way to an escape. Rhonda flew behind them, soaring above the careening cars below. As Benny drove, his partner hung out the window, firing a Tec-9 at the flying blonde. The gun barked and spewed bullets wildly. A few of the shots nicked her and bounced off. Benny’s partner leaned back in and quickly reloaded.

“I thought you said there was no way Aegis knew what were up to!”

Benny dodged a puttering Honda and swerved down the wrong side of the highway for two seconds before swerving back across the median. The van nearly toppled before coming back on track.

“I am sure!” Benny said, “She must not be with Aegis.”

“She’s dressed like the American god-damn flag, Benny! She’s definitely not with the Hounds or the cops!”

He turned back to shoot, but the sky was empty. Where did she,

Rhonda has flown ahead, and now hovered forty feet ahead of the car. A sparkling nexus of crackling red plasma came from the nothingness around her palm. One of her little Fourth of July ‘firecrackers’. With a flick of her wrist she pitched firecracker orb into the front right tire of the oncoming van.

It crackled, then erupted, sending the van into the air, flipping on its side, and careening into a guard rail.

Rhonda floated down to the ground, cracked her knuckles, and approached the now toppled van.


Super-Strength
Strength, Superior (10).

Benny heard a tap on the glass. His head was still spinning from the crash, and he appeared to be lying on his side. He then realized that the van had flipped.

Rhonda punched through the bulletproof window like it was sugar glass. The shards fell against Benny’s face. His mind began to clear. He felt her grab the back of his head, and he turned to look the hero in the eyes. Rhonda grinned.

“Hi there, Benny. Time to pay up,”

“What?”

She slammed him face first into the dash with a lethal crunch. Benny went limp, and blood trickled down the steering wheel.

Rhonda could hear sirens coming up the freeway. She didn’t have much time to pose this right. She looked across the driver’s seat and found Benny’s partner just coming out of unconsciousness. Good thing these things have airbags, or else there would be nothing to show the cops. She unbuckled him, loosened the bent metal around him, and safely pried him from the van.

Three police cruisers and a local news van pulled through a wall of stopped cars just in time to see her rescue the criminal from the wreckage. She carefully laid the man down on the asphalt, then looked towards the officers, and the camera.

“This one’s all yours boys!”

Then she saluted, rose one hand to the sky, and flew off with a whoosh.


Super Toughness
Body, Superior (12)

“So what’s next?” Rhonda asked,

“Take it easy. It was your first day on the job. Tell me how it all went?”

Holly and Rhonda sat at a private booth at the back of Giovanni’s on a night where you need to reserve a week in advance just to be told no. Holly had a half a bottle of wine chilling next to her and a full glass in her hands. Rhonda had changed back into street clothes and looked as out of place as possible.

“I did the whole thing just liked you said,” Rhonda replied, “Even the salute.”

“The salute’s the important bit. You can’t do it without the salute. But still, you did good. Especially with Benny.

Holly smiled and thought out loud.

“Headline: ‘Wanted criminal dead on impact when the armored van he stole crashed into a guard rail. His crime spree was stopped by mysterious new superheroine, U.S. Star.’ It writes itself, and your name is front page on all the hero tracker web-sites.”

“And there’s one less rat who thinks he can sell out Argus as a CO and live.”

“That too. He didn’t give you any trouble did he?” Holly asked.

“Yeah, about that,” Rhonda said,

She slid in her seat, and pulled up her tank top to show a purplish bruise just above the hip.

“I thought you said I would be bullet-proof?”

“I think I said ‘resistant to knives, bullets, bombs, and all other attacks.’ Resistant doesn’t mean immune, dear. Just be careful next time.”


Misdirection
Illusion Control, standard (14)

“That said, next time won’t be for awhile. Maybe a month or two.”

“So what exactly am I supposed to do in the mean time?”

“In the mean time you’re supposed to be U.S. Star,” Holly said, “This is more than just a cover. There will be crimes to stop, and we’ll let you know which ones we want stopped, who we want to escape, and who should be paraded before the always awaiting cameras.”

Rhonda leaned back.

“So I’m supposed to fake fight, just to keep some superhero rep.”

“Not just some superhero, Star. You’re going to be the most beloved, idolized, and desired superheroine in this city. And that means more than just reputation. It means photoshoots, image licensing, and product endorsements, all of which will go right back to you. Save a small contingency for your manager. Speaking of, I took the liberty with a few things.

She took a manilla envelope from her bag and handed it to Rhonda. Inside was a packet of documents, all outlining things about herself she hadn’t heard before. Rhonda read the first page and cringed.

“Why does all of this refer to me by my middle name?”

“Because ‘Cassie’ tests better then ‘Rhonda’. “

“Uh-huh, and I’m supposed to be an investigative journalist for the Reach City Tribune?”

“It’s a cover for your cover,” Holly explains, “Eventually someone’s going to go snooping for a U.S. Star’s secret identity, and when they find it I want it to lead somewhere very attractive. I know the editor of the Tribune, so it’s a personal favor. You won’t actually be expected to write anything, just pop in the office a few times a week between all that investigative reporting. ”

“All this just to kill some pricks.”

“Well, misdirection is my specialty.”