Vanguard’s uniform (he doesn’t call it a costume), consists of a utilitarian jump suit, gloves and boots constructed of durable, bullet and blade resistant materials. It is Hawaiian blue with silver piping, along with a silver star prominently displayed on his chest.



In the 1930, just outside Strasbourg, Francois Duval, a charming French chef, hired and then fell in love with Liesl von Sturm, a beautiful German pastry maker. Not long after the Nazis took power in 1933, they began trying to convince Liesl to divorce the “inferior Frenchman,” but she refused. They left Europe, sensing the coming storm. They eventually settled in Chicago and opened a restaurant. Their oldest son, Jacques, became known as Jack. He grew up speaking French and German along with English, and from running the streets with friends he picked up pretty fair Italian and Polish.

He planned on studying linguistics in college, but with war having broken out a few years earlier, people with his qualifications were in demand by the War Department and intelligence world. He eventually was grabbed by the OSS. He could pass for German or French. But as was the way of many who parachuted into Occupied Canada, he was eventually betrayed and captured. Oddly, it was Adolf Hitler who saved his life.

He would normally have been interrogated then shot as a spy, but one of Hitler’s many secret programs was in trouble. They were trying to create, though drugs and science, a super soldier. But all of the brave German volunteers had died horribly. Hitler decided to stop wasting the flower of German youth and ordered condemned prisoners to be used instead. Jack Duval was the first in line. Fortunately for him, but unfortunately for Doctor Trautenberg, this time things worked just right. Duval’s escape involved fists, feets, guns, knives, explosions and ultimately a dive from a chalet wall into a Yukon lake. Now stronger, faster, more agile and a lot tougher, Jack made it to Allied Command.

Jack was pulled in two directions. The War Department wanted to use him for missions, but others also wanted him for propaganda purposes, though they would hide the fact he was actually an Axis creation. Jack did a little of both. Many names were tossed about, but eventually they settled on Captain Vanguard, the Defender of Freedom. One newsreel about his exploits did refer to him as a “major problem for the Axis,” and some would sneering call him “Major Problem.”

He did do some war bond appearances, and even a forgettable film, but his work in the field was superb. He worked with Lady Genevieve Sinclair of British Intelligence on several occasions, and harbored a crush on her, but did. not know if she reciprocatd those feelings.

His last mission took him to Detroit to sabotage a secret project, which turned out to be a giant engine designed to open a portal to another world. He, the Nazis and the city block found themselves stranded in Motor City. Jack found himself recruited by the city council to defend the city in this chaotic time, and when the crisis was over he offered his services to the Federal government, hoping that someone could eventually find a way for him to return home…


Vanguard smashed through the door, just as it closed. He was sure the flash of color he had seen was one of the Sisterhood, so it looked like his lead was paying off. He only wished the rest of the team had been willing to follow it up with him. {Team? Not much of a team anymore…} he mused as he scanned the room, which appeared to be a simple storage room in this warehouse. He took a few steps in, when suddenly he was overwhelmed with bright light and intense pain. As if he had ben dropped into an electrical dynamo. He tried to shade his eyes with his left arm, and even conjured his shield, hoping to ward off whatever was about to hit him. But it did no good…

The next thing he could recall he was strapped down to a table, with titanium bands. He was stronger than most humans, but this sort of thing was way beyond his ability. His bracelet was not covered, and most any shape he could conjure would not form in such a way as to pry the band loose, so that option was out. Whoever had him knew what they were doing. He heard voices and as he tried to turn his head to look, he realized even his head was fairly well immobilized.

“I had been hoping for one of the smarter ones. This one’s a bit too simple. Still, I suppose we could auction him off to the highest bidder. Someone will want to pick his brains for info on the BPA.”

There was a pause, then a second voice said, “I’d like that bracelet of his. It has some shape-shifting ability or tech. I want to study it.” A flash of metal was at the edge of Vanguard’s vision when the first voice said, “No! If we want the best price he should be in one piece. If the buyer wants to do that sort of thing, let them clean up the mess. Try removing it without chopping off his hand.” There was a mutter of acceptance, and the experiments began. He , or rather the bracelet, was subjected to electricity, a welding torch, liquid nitrogen and a hammer…all they managed to do was cause Vanguard agony. His captors healed him after each attempt. The next few tests as far as he could tell were forms of radiation. Throughout the process he kept recalling how he became Vanguard. The Nazi lab in the Canadian Rockies had literally been torture, but in the end it made him what he was. He was sure this would end much differently. After each failure to secure the bracelet, he did his best to snicker or taunt his unseen tormentors, but it was becoming more difficult each time. He wished he could thank the quartet (trio? quintet?…so long ago) of women from across various timelines that had given him the tool. He suddenly laughed aloud. {If I could see them, I’d ask them to get me home to my own timeline. They obviously could do that,} he thought. Though it would just be running from his guilt, and that was pointless. Unless Lazarus arose, and Smoke was contained, and Gordon ever forgave him, he’d carry that weight until the day he died. This one was worse than sending men to die in war…Then the voices began cursing.

“What! It’s…melting?! No, it’s as if it’s withdrawing into his body….No no no!” Vanguard could barely see his wrist, but indeed the metallic object in question was flattening, and being absorbed into his skin. He started to laugh. No doubt the makers had some kind of hi-tech fail-safe, in case of just such a contingency. He could almost feel the metal spread throughout his form, and he laughed harder. So hard he began to cough…and he felt the band about his chest flex a touch, and bend. He froze, but the voice was still babbling about shutting down the machines, so he immediately began flexing and pulling every muscle, every which way. The bands began to all bend, then one by his right knee gave completely. He got that foot flat on the table and pushed hard, so the next ones to give were his left thigh and waist. From there they quickly all bent. He could feel himself still getting stronger as he ripped free the one around his neck with one hand. He rolled to his feet, still naked, ready for the inevitable assault. He did not wait too long. But the fight did not last long either.

During the fight he found himself more tolerant of pain, his skin was harder to pierce, and his strength was much greater than before. When it was over he was still suffering the effects of all the abuse, so he staggered out. He found he was still in the warehouse, just in a sub-basement. He even found his outfit. He stumbled outside, a bit disoriented. But well enough to call the BPA

He eventually learned the team had disbanded. Which increased his guilt, of course. Pathkiller came to see him in sickbay with the news. He said the warehouse had been cleared out but they were going over it with the proverbial fine-toothed comb. As for Jack Duval’s new power set, well the steady shattering of glasses and crushed paper cup, “You’re going to Pure Power’s Plant. No argument.” Pathkiller then left without a further word.


Vanguard’s strength has increased vastly. Where before he could throw a motorcycle 20-30 feet, and with a might heave probably topple a semi, now he could throw that motorcycle a hundred yards, easily. Toppling a semi was now a one-handed job and he can toss one across a highway. He has had trouble getting used to the super-strength, so his manual dexterity needed a lot of work at the Plant. Also he has become tougher, more pain resistant, and quicker to heal. Vanguard is very fast, he can run about 30 mph, and sprint for some miles at 60 mph and leap great distances. He is also well-versed in small arms and in hand-to-hand combat, with no set discipline but a highly eclectic mix starting with boxing through Krav Maga. His is a trained soldier, experienced in urban and wilderness survival and can drive and pilot a wide variety of vehicles.

He speaks German and French like a native of Alsace, though his Italian and Polish have the flat Midwest accent of his upbringing. He also is a very good cook, thanks to both parents. His old comrades back in WWII loved to make him cook for them, and he was glad to. They supported him in so many ways he felt, and still feels indebted to them.


Jack is a man who tends to be both optimistic and trusting.. He always wants to do the right thing, and stands up for those who need help. Although it’s been five years since he arrived on this plane he is still sometimes shocked by the fashions and attitudes of some women. He still bears a lot of guilt from the incident regarding Lazarus and Smoke.


Jack’s costume consists of the latest durable bullet and blade resistant materials and his duties as a BPA officer affords him a wide variety of arms and equipment.


Science City katefan