<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/QAi9yGJ.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: impact;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">Superpowered Alien; Paragon PL 10 (150 PP)</span></span><br/><br/><strong>Real Name:</strong>Athena<strong>Identity:</strong>Public<br/><strong>Alias:</strong>-<strong>Occupation:</strong>Professional Hero<br/><strong>Bases of Operations:</strong>Futura<strong>Affiliation:</strong>LIGA, Former US Agent<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Whiplash's retort brought the faintest trace of a smile to Paragon's lips and sent a quick huff of amusement through her nose. The blonde superheroine's gaze fell to back to Whiplash's chest, a skeptical eyebrow raised. Off balance? Who was she kidding? They were tits, not bowling balls.<br/><br/>Paragon said nothing of her thoughts, though some might have been able to guess them. Instead, she let the conversation end with a dismissive shrug of her shoulders that communicated 'suit yourself' without Paragon needing to say a word. As good as Paragon seemed to be at getting under the skin of others, it was preternaturally difficult to do the same to her. Alien psychology played a large part in that. The scientists that had raised her did the rest -- they thought that conditioning the girl capable of bench pressing buses to not lose her temper would be best for the safety of everyone.<br/><br/>It wasn't a debate worth having anyway. They both knew the branding and costume department would bring it up at some point; every female hero that passed through this place eventually had the same conversation with them. Your numbers are good but they could be<em>better</em>, and a little skin was always good for a poll point or two. It got people buzzing. A superhero at the forefront of people's brains -- even if only for a few days until someone else captured the public's attention -- was good for business. Paragon had heard the pitch three times now herself. As was the case with many things, Athena was entirely apathetic each time. By the third time she had shown the team the cold shoulder, Paragon was skating on ice so thin that she had no choice but to make concessions or find some other line of work. That's how the whole thing with Perfect 10 got started.<br/><br/>Chrome's attempt to bond with her over a snack went completely ignored. Paragon enjoyed eating the snack bars, not talking with someone else about how much she enjoyed eating them. A shared sweet tooth wasn't going to be the dagger that finally pierced the defenses of Paragon's social armor. Anyone that knew her long enough would probably tell you that nothing could; that wall she put up around herself was just as thick as her skin.<br/><br/>Athena's lazy lounging was finally broken not long after by the all too familiar sound of the crisis alarm. Level 6. Full team. At least it beat standing through a press conference and pretending to care about the new Hardware for a few hours in front of the cameras. The alien pushed herself up from her chair and fell in with the others in the hastened march toward the hangar.<br/><br/>As they walked, Paragon glanced at Chrome from the corner of her eyes. "If you're messaging Midnight Angel, tell her that she has two minutes to get in the jet. I don't care what she has going on with her boyfriend. Hell, I don't even care if he's the one we're paying a visit to. Full team means<em>no one sits out</em>."