Tell

From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe

Tell
Player: @Dao Jones
Origin:	Technology
Archetype:	Blaster
Security Level:	35
Personal Data
Real Name:	Unknown
Known Aliases:	The Angel of Bloody Bay
Species:	Presumed human
Age:	Unknown
Height:	approximately 5'10 - 6'2
Weight:	Unknown
Eye Color:	Unknown
Hair Color:	Brown
Biographical Data
Nationality:	Unknown; accent is west coast United States
Occupation:	"Financed Vigilante"
Place of Birth:	Unknown
Base of Operations:	Unknown
Marital Status:	Unknown
Known Relatives:	Unknown
Known Powers
Fire-based ranged attacks
Known Abilities
Tell can leap considerable distances, and appears to have the speed and reflexes of a trained athlete.
Equipment
Tell has been observed using the following items: web grenades, caltrops, cloaking device, targeting device
Tell has stated that his fire powers are "technological in origin", but no outwardly obvious technology is evident on his person, other than his listed devices.

Playboy Interview: Tell

A candid conversation with "The Angel of Bloody Bay" about fighting for money, good versus evil, and how he got his name. - By Jen Odaso

I first met Tell the way most people do: when he saved my life in the dangerous outback known as "Bloody Bay". I had gone there to write an article on the survivors who hang on despite the danger, and against the warnings of Longbow personnel I ventured outside Freedom Base for some "man on the street" interviews. I had barely landed on the far dock when I heard a sinister, whispered voice from behind me. "The mouse shouldn't wander from her hole. The cat is always watching." Reflexively, I turned around, but I already knew what I would see: nothing. I felt a cold chill run down my spine as I realized my plight; nearby, possibly hiding right in front of me, was a "Stalker", one of the Rogue Isles' most feared and hated exports. I wouldn't see him until he struck, and by then, I'd be dead. My heart thudded in my chest as I waited for the end.

But then, the impossible happened. Not more than five feet from me a shadowy nimbus suddenly lit up in a wreath of fire. The stalker's hiss turned into a scream as flaming blasts rained down upon him. He turned to run, but an explosion in his back wrapped his limbs and body in strange, sinewy threads. Another blast flung him to the ground, and there he stayed. From out of nowhere a man stepped, his hands wrapped in fire, a cloaking field even now partially obscuring his features. The telltale flash of a hospital 'porter behind me told me that the Stalker had escaped justice, but the newcomer didn't seem to mind. He looked around casually, swatting at a floating mechanical orb that slowly circled his head. "Looks clear. Need a lift back to the base?"

We met again recently, and he agreed to sit down for an interview. His one stipulation, however, was that we talk in one of the forward observation towers of Freedom Base. When he showed up (late; he explained he was hosting an "educational forum", which I later learned was one of his many phrases for fighting the villains that show up in this zone) he was dressed as I had seen him previously: body armor under a dark trench coat, dark fatigue-style pants, and his ubiquitous white Stetson. He wears a mask over his mouth and close-set goggles over his eyes, preventing anyone from being able to assess his mood, or even where he's staring. His conversational manner was relaxed and friendly, and he seemed entirely unfazed by the occasional alarms and small-arms fire that broke out around us.

Playboy: Thanks for making the time to speak to me.

Tell: Sure. Does this mean I'll get an invite to the mansion?

Playboy: Probably. I need to start with an obvious question. What's the deal with the white hat?

Tell: Good guys always wear white hats. Don't you watch old Westerns?

Playboy: Fair enough. Second obvious question - what sort of name is "Tell"? Shouldn't you be shooting arrows?

Tell: Actually, I did at first. We had designed a wide range of replaceable tips - explosive, concussive; the whole nine yards. But after further testing we came to two conclusions. First, I wouldn't be able to carry enough ammunition for prolonged fights. And second? Arrows just suck. Unfortunately, by the time we settled on fire we had already secured the rights to the name "Tell", so it just sort of stuck.

Playboy: We? Is there a "Team Tell" behind your heroics? Does that have to do with your affiliation with the super group known as "The Valiant"?

Tell: That'd be what we call a "trade secret", Jen. Right up there with "how do you shoot fire?", and "how do you keep your breath so minty?"

Playboy: Alright. Well, maybe you can tell us how you got involved in the action at Bloody Bay? You're security level 35, and many people wonder why you're not putting your power to use in other parts of the city, such as Siren's Call or Brickstown.

Tell: Money.

Playboy: Money? How so?

Tell: They don't pay me to go to those places.

Playboy: "They" again. So then, it's safe to say you are a hero-for-hire?

Tell: I prefer the term "Financed Vigilante". But sure, whatever.

Playboy: You've been notoriously unwilling to discuss your past, and you've stated publically that you're not interested in being "a couch case for TMZ.com". But you have to admit that a hero - excuse me, "vigilante" - of your power level who hangs around in as unpleasant a place as Bloody Bay is certainly unusual. Even for Paragon City.

Tell: <What I can see of his face is impassive, but his voice carries the slightest hint of irritation> Fine. Uh, look... let's just say that there are a lot of people - heroes, villains, scientists, the bored rich - who are all very interested in studying the meteor fragments and weird creatures called the "Shivans" that hang around in the Bay. And let's just say that those people contacted some other people regarding security concerns, and those people called other people, and all these people got together with the end result being me getting paid very well to protect their interests when they want to go exploring.

Playboy: You mentioned villains. So you're not paid to hunt down all villains, then?

Tell: Nah. I don't really draw the line that black and white. I've met some pretty decent "criminals", and some utterly worthless "good guys". I don't attack heroes out of professional courtesy, but honestly, if a "villain" isn't causing any trouble, I rarely bother them.

Playboy: Except Stalkers.

Tell: Yeah, except them. Them, I get paid to deal with. Nothing personal, really. Speaking of which... excuse me a second.

He withdraws a gleaming, fist-sized sphere from his jacket, and thumbs an activator button. Leaning out over the railing of our guard tower, he hurls it seemingly into the heart of the rifle range below us. I look around, but the Longbow near us seem almost eager in anticipation; they've seen him do this before. Moments later, a crackling sound is heard from below, and a short, ugly woman covered in spines (and the sticky threads of Tell's grenade) suddenly appears in the courtyard. Dozens of Longbow and automatic base defenses make short work of the Stalker, and she's promptly lead off to containment. Tell flashes the Longbow below a thumbs up; an Eagle responds with a salute, and Tell sits back down.

Tell: I love when they try that. They think just because someone can't see them that no one can see them. It's like some sort of silly initiation to them: sneak into Freedom Base and whack some Longbow or hero without being seen. Honestly, I think I'm doing the Rogue Isles more good than harm. The smart villains are usually smart enough to carry hospital teleporters, and the stupid ones get caught. I'm ensuring Darwinism thrives among their ranks.

Playboy: So, you hunt some villains, help others. You help some heroes, ignore others, and are content to patrol here regardless of wherever else you might be needed.

Tell: That's pretty much it, yeah. And the money. Don't forget I get paid pretty well. And the "dark, mysterious anti-hero" schtick plays out pretty well with the ladies.

Playboy: What about recent events? The Rikti have returned to Earth, and the Freedom Phalanx and Vanguard issued a joint statement calling on all heroes with a level 35 or higher security clearance to help fight them. Did you respond?

Tell: I think I blasted a Rikti or two who got in my way as I went to grab donuts in Faultline. There are enough heroes swarming all over this place that they won't miss me. Besides, someone's gotta protect the little sheep that stray into Bloody Bay.

Playboy: You really seem to enjoy that place.

Tell: Yeah, I have to admit I do. Bloody Bay's not just some walled-off zone like any other. It has its own dynamic. The radiation... plays with your powers, whether you're some everyday martial artist, cybered-up techno warrior, or alien from another dimension. Some people, it makes stronger. Others, significantly weaker. It's a cool dynamic. Some threat level 50 goon will wander in, thinking he can lord over the place, only to find half of his heavy-hitting attacks don't work. Those guys are my favorite.

Playboy: Are you similarly effected?

Tell: To a lesser extent than most. We studied the effects of that place for quite a while, and designed my abilities for maximum functionality there despite the radiation's presence. I'm a little weakened, yeah, but not nearly as much as most everyone else that spends time there. I'm what you would call "optimized for the zone".

Playboy: What about those who say that only weaklings fight in Bloody Bay? That all the real action occurs over in Siren's Call, or Recluse's Victory?

Tell: Well, Major Mauler told me a little about his time in Recluse's Victory, and from what I hear, it's a joke. People bring out their biggest, baddest ass-kicker power, then run screaming like little girls three minutes later when they run out of juice. Most people there are just trying to fight for their side, anyway, by taking out enemy pillboxes. That's why I keep my security clearance low, so it removes the temptation for someone to offer me money to go there. And Siren's Call? Please. You may get a slightly better cut of enemy there, but for every halfway decent opponent you get ten loud-mouthed idiots screaming profanities for all to hear. Every dimwitted sociopath with a chip on his shoulder lurks in Siren's Call. Half the people there just huddle in their bases and hurl insults at each other. You can have Siren's Call - I'll stick to the Bay.

Besides, I'm not paid to fight villains. I'm paid to keep the Bloody Bay Stalker population low, and to be handy when certain folks want to go out and investigate the meteor impact sites. I sleep plenty fine at night regardless of what people think of me. I have nothing to prove.