<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/>Pessimism always felt like a more natural fit in this line of work. It bred vigilance. That robot is<em>probably</em>going to explode, so get it away from the crowd before ripping it in half. That villain is<em>probably</em>going to endanger lives as a distraction to escape, so assess the situation and have a plan. That idiot waving the gun around is<em>probably</em>going to get someone killed, so end it before he can. To Paragon, the world made more sense through that lens.<br/><br/>Maybe that was why Perfect 10's optimism ruffled her feathers. A date. How arrogant did a guy have to be to think that proximity and a persistent belief that they would end up together were all that it took? He must have picked it up from LIGA's attorneys. 'Just sign there.' The pen would be uncapped and already in your hand. It didn't matter whether you had read the contract. It didn't matter if you had questions. You didn't have a choice and the sleazebag already knew it. In a lot of ways, this relationship with Perfect 10 felt exactly like that. Paragon had not picked him -- hell, she didn't even particularly like the guy -- but the assumption that she would fall in line always felt like a foregone conclusion.<br/><br/>But that was a battle better fought at another time and in another place. At the moment, there was a more pressing concern: Midnight Angel. There was a challenge in her words. Was Paragon the leader of this strikeforce that LIGA had assembled? No, that responsibility had belonged to the old Hardware. With him gone, Paragon saw a small light at the end of the tunnel -- a chance to claw back a little leverage. So yes, Paragon had spent the last few days acting as though the position was already hers. Who else was LIGA supposed to pick? The defiled reality star? The clone? The tech geek? The possessed chick? The new guy?<br/><br/>Paragon rolled her shoulders, arms still folded in front of her. She could hurt Midnight Angel. Not in a 'punch her through the hull of the jet' way -- though Paragon was fully capable of making it happen -- but emotionally. The exposed nerve was right there in front of her, dangling so tantalizingly close. Silver Centurion. Just say the name. Ask her if they should bring cameras along when they mobilize to recapture him. Tell her that a<em>real</em>threat would have been dealt with like Council Cougar, not toyed with and humilated like some pathetic plaything.<br/><br/>But for all her rough edges and bad attitudes, that wasn't who Paragon was. She was apathetic, not malicious. It was a fine line, but one that her handlers back on the Paragon Project were relieved that Athena had never crossed. The last thing that the world needed was a Paragon with a reason to hurt people.<br/><br/>"Get Ops on comms once we reach cruising altitude." Paragon stared at Midnight Angel as she gave her command to Perfect 10. "We need to know what they know ASAP."