Tough Justice (IC)

[TopHat]

The new member's of the Gods Watch were not given a grand and spectacular introduction to their new employer. If anything it seemed as though they were still prisoners, and they were in several ways. They were carted through metal corridors with their hands bound in special power-limiting restraints and there was a contingent of robotic guards to keep them in line.

Soon the group was brought into a room with one light in the ceiling above them, perfectly illuminating a row of simple chairs. The former villains were all ordered to take a seat, and once they did their guards all lined the back of the room and stood to attention. At that, the sound of footsteps could be heard, andfrom the darkness a figure in a dark red suit came into view, holding a chair in his gloved hands. There was smething...Off about this man.

Probably the fact that he had no head, and the only thing that showed there was a head there at all was a pair of sunglasses floating in mid-air.

The bizarre invisible man set the chair down and sat in it, crossing one leg over the other and folding his arms over his chest. And then he was quiet for a short while, still taking in everything about the group "I'm your handler for as long asyou;re in gobernment employ. Call me Handsome" the invisible man said, a small scoff at the end of his sentence, clearly enjoying the irony of his codename.

"Now, I suppose you're all asking yourself 'Psh, how's this invisible fag expecting to keep us in line?'" he asked, waving his arms around in a comical fashion "And the answer to that is quite simple..." Handsome said, trailing off and pulling a silver remote from his coat pocket. He held down one button on the remote, and each villain felt a buzzing throughout their whole body, which quickly turned into a horrible, burning pain. Once he heard every villain yowling in pain, Handsome took his thumb of the button.

"That's how. We've taken the liberty of filling your body with nanomachines which have hooked themselves to your central and peripheral nervous systems. If I were to put this rmote here n it's highest setting, they'd completely wipe out your nervous system. And for those of you who have the 'genius' idea of tampering with the nanomachines via telekinesis, electromagnetism, technopathy or magic, they'll self destruct. And rather violently at that...And no, this isn't the only nanomachine remote."

Once he was finished explaining, Handsome got to his feet "Now then, any questions? No? Good! Excellent! Let's get outta' here..." Handsome said, as he led the way and his group of guards escorted the villains to a rather large airship, made of metal that still had it;s gunmetal grey colouring.

"By they way boys and girls, you'll find your old gear aboard this craft in your named rooms. Have fun" Handsome said, walking off to the command centre of the craft, just as it's doors shut and the ship itself rumbled to life, slowly rising into the air.

[Hillan]

8 KM Underground, Secret Location. 6 Months Ago.

Lance was punching the punching bag. Sweat dripping from his body. After a good five minutes of punching the bag, he did a long series of back flips in the dark room. Only to land onto a treadmill that was going at full speed. He began running, at first turned the wrong way, but he soon took a slight jump and flipped around, with ease he could match the phase of the Treadmill.

Two pieces of remote Shotguns came at him, he crouched and punched his fist into the ground. Tokalaka He thought, as his skin got a yellow-orange-ish color and a steel like texture. The bullets just bounced off him. Two Genetically engineered Strong-men appeared out of the darkness.

Arsuni And with his enhanced strength, he was easily able to tear through both of the bigger men, tossing them both aside, without either of them being able to cause much trouble.

As he got out of the room, he was tased down by two gigantic robotic creatures, that captured him.

From that point on, he had been kept under strict watch, even if he was more of an Anti-Hero than a villain, he was still qualified for the project. More than qualified, he was desired even, why? His powers were unlike anything they had ever seen before, but it was his drive to destroy the so called heroes that made him desireable for the team.


** Present Day.*

Lance was put into the same room as the others, the spotlight on him. He had been given a serum some weeks ago, something that was said to help with grow stronger. Lance didn't really care what they did to him, as long as he would be able to execute his revenge.

However, when the man pressed the button, he felt one of the most intense pains in his whole life. He howled in pain from the blast, gripping his ribs.

" THE FUCK!" He shouted, as he stood up. Only to realize why the "Handsom" fucker had done this to them. To him, they were wild beasts, much like the animals he used to tame back home, he could sympathize with the Gods Watch in that sense.

As they got to the location, and he found his room, where his magically enhanced costume and his Tomahawk hung on the wall.

" Now what?" He thought.

[Tigerthorn]

Charlamay stalked to her room without a word, a small twitch in her left eye showed just how angry she was. The psychologist has said no more needles, no more pain and no more prison. So far the only thing true had been the better food.

She smirked at that thought, how sad and pathetic to look forward to a meal. Is this really what her life had become? Brought down from her high perch on top of the world and subdued, tricked into becoming a servant of the government, the very thing she disdained. The politics, the lies, the corruption; the very thoughts that buzzed through her brain were enough to cause her to scream.

However her voice was raw from the last scream she had let out, she looked down at her hands and arms as if seeing the nanomachines crawling around underneath her skin. Her top lip curled upwards and her eyes narrowed. With a deep in take of breath she turned to her old stereo, it had been placed by her bed, she flicked the 'on' button and smiled as Mozart filled the room with a gentle soothing note. just what the doctor ordered she mused as she turned up the volume and quickly unclothed, she needed a shower, a scalding hot one to get rid of the tingling in her skin, they're crawling in there.. she thought but with the music flowing through her, the thoughts were becoming more gentle, she rolled her shoulders back, rolled her head around in a small circle and relaxed as she wandered through the room.

She found the small shower cubicle and turning the nozzle. It had been too long since she had been allowed to shower alone, the state had demanded a guard present at all times with psychiatric patients; in her case they had six.

[Yellow 13]

Omega's mind poked and prodded inside the others minds if they didn't have any psionic shielding. This man seemed to have barrier up so she couldn't see into his mind. When she felt the pain of the nanites, she screamed and held her head. Loose objects in the room whippd and circled her in a malestorm, but they fell harmlessly when the pain stopped and she sighed. She jut glared at the man but didn't ay anything as usual. If he couldn't hear her thoughts, he didn't deserve to talk to her.

Let's just make one thing clear. She said telepathically to everyone that didn't have psionic resistance training. It also helped greatly to get around language barriers since the people on the receiving end would hear their own native language instead of Japanese.Once this is over, I TRUST you'll get rid of these nanites?.

Heading into her room, she smiled when she saw the armor that she normally wore. Placing a hand on it, she sent out a thought and the armor flew at her, flawlessly joining around her. This armor was next to impossible to remove while she still drew breath. Only another telepath could attempt it and then they would probbaly get into what she called a 'mindwar' to see whos will would win out.

Seeing that her armor hadn't been tambered with, she thought and pulled it off of her. Still the same as always. Placing it back on the rack where she found it, Omega lay out on the bed and began to focus her power once again.

[Knighthawk]

Frank had spent the last year in a triple-max prison. A no-daylight slam. Only three of 'em left in this country, two of 'em outta range for a shitty little undercutter like him with no real priors.
He never made a doomsday device, he never blew up a building full of civilians. All he did was shoot come guards and cops from time to time. They get guns, a vest and a healthy paycheck to put up with crap like him. Normally he just cuts them across the legs where most people don't wear armor then keep going while they crawl of to get help, his luck some guy got nicked in femoral and now he was doing life for killing a cop. Waste of time and money in his opinion; Siting and feeling bad at 50K a year for the next twenty to thirty until he finally gets the chair or a hell of a lot less of someone tries to shank him in the super-slammer.

Ah well, write a book, make a million, never see a dime. At least for his efforts and a plead of no contest he got a full gym to himself. He doesn't get book privileges since his oils break the pages, so he gets audio-books piped into his room to pass the time.

Wouldn't you know it, his 'good behavior' got him early parole into some super-cop program. Got him in a room with the first women he has seen in months, then the invisible man Shocks the shit out of him just to show off how small 'Griffin's stick is. Once the little man gets his jollies, he is taken to a room where his gear is.

Apparently someone thought it would be a hoot to give his guns a paint job of pink, but a thin sheen of licking his fingers to go scraping the frozen paint off with a toothbrush. Soon enough he has his two favored weapons with him. An MP5 with a C-mag and his .22 Mini-vulcan. Yeah it was a tiny round, but with no recoil there was so little fatuige he could hold a supressive fire. Besides, 20 rounds of a .22 will still put anyone on the floor.
An hour later he was in his suit ready to go, As a bonus it seems someone set an ipod into his helmet with a number of books for him to listen to.
Hello, I want my book. Bonjour, je veux mon livre.

[Base Four]

---FOUR MONTHS AGO---

The men entered the seemingly empty cell: Two guards, a man under a hooded jacket, and another in a suit that was apparently from somewhere in the government. Electric coils ran through the space between the concrete walls of the cell, creating a dull buzzing sound as well as a stable magnetic field.

"Codename Caligo. Subject to the Gods Watch project." The agent explained as he shut the iron door behind, with him and the other man inside the cell and leaving the guards outside: the scene would appear peculiar observed by the naked eye, for nothing was inside the cell except an almost unnoticeable layer of vapour covering the floor and an intense dampness present. A brief moment of silence as the other man waved both of his hands in the air in a halfhearted circular motion and nodded to the agent, who gave a sign that cut off the power to the cell. What was keeping the ghost-like entity in was an unseen force field that has just been conjured.

"A mage. That's new." A light yet clear voice sounded from nowhere in particular, "Didn't you people only believed in science."

By the time the sentence ended, the air returned to its natural state as the mist collected itself into the image of the top half of a female figure, with shards of translucent clouds still flowing downwards, gathering at the floor before pulling themselves back into being part of the figure. The agent barely managed to contain the obviously displeased expression on his face.

"Stop staring at where my legs should be, know already how difficult it is to even look like one of you."

The mage let out an unseen smirk under his hood, and gestured the agent to move towards the door, and then pulled out a metal container from beneath his cloak.

"Oh well." She sighed, just in time to present the disapproving expression before her human form broke.


Moments later, the two men were seen exiting the cell. The unknowing guards switched the electricity back on and continued to keep watch on the cell that, the only sign to show it was empty was the absence of the mist on the floor.





---PRESENT DAY---

Caroline R. Harper stood in the room among the others. Well not exactly "stood", for the figure still trailed off halfway down to the floor. The lights were way too bright for her liking, however she felt no need to complain as she silently fed off the unhappiness that was shared by the unseen being under the floating sunglasses.

They probably didn't figure out a way to implant any nano-technology fancystuff on a ghost, but the proud, invisible smile on Handsome's face was painful enough to her already. It was fortunate that the ones that stood among her felt the pain, for it was the sole source of power present that still allowed her to keep in form-for the last three years the only thing she had access to was the boredom of the jail guards that, although continued endlessly, was not a sustainable source of energy whatsoever.

Later when the invisible man has finished his speech, Caroline found herself in her assigned room that contained 'her old gear'-which was, in this case, precisely nothing. The only source of light was what shone through the gap under the door (which she did not, did not need to, and was not able to open anyway upon entering and exiting the room). Excellent. She still felt the restraint of the charms that remained upon her-whatever the mage did while she was still in the jar it was making her feel rather uncomfortable, it was restraining her power. But she did not see any need to run away immediately anyway. This sorry little lot will be an outstanding source of unhappiness. Who knows, maybe a few days later she'll even be back to actually feeling the ground again.

Sucking a little more power off her distant neighbours whose minds were still complaining about the nanites, she collapsed back into the pointless chunk of grey that lay across the floor.

[Stein]

Collin glared murder at this invisible fellow. Who the hell did these people think they were!? Controlling him!? He had half a mind to....

He stopped himself, mentally calming himself down as the pain subsided from the electrical shock. He didn't need to be so aggressive, that wasn't the way. Or, at least that wasn't the way he wanted to be. He looked at the group around him. A pretty diverse group, but he could help but grimace internally at them. Some of them looked disgusting. Some of them looked so full of themselves that if left to their own devices they'd try and fuck themselves. He rolled his eyes.

This was going to be some rag-tag group.

As they were led to the aircraft, Collin couldn't help but ponder on what he'd do once this was all over. He honestly didn't know. The burning revenge he'd wanted over all mankind wasn't gone, but it was simmering right now. He had no idea when it flare up, and he wasn't sure whether he wanted it to, or what. But he did know he didn't want to end up in that cell again.

'Well then, either reform or just don't get caught next time.'

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Once in his own personal room, he eyed his special boots. Well they weren't "boots" in the regular sense. More like a skeletal frame that went up the back of his foot and heel, almost like gladiators. He'd built them himself with help from some specs he had stumbled across. By outputting a small amount his heat energy in the right form, he was able to lift himself off of the ground and "fly". The more energy he put out, the faster he could go. It had been a while since he'd been able to use them, so he wasn't sure how good he was.

Unfortunately, his "channelers" were nowhere to be found, they'd been destroyed when he had been captured. It was a shame, really. They had helped concentrate and amplify the beams he shot. Oh well, it just meant he had to get better without them.

After a quick shower, he switched back to his human form and lit a cigarette, draping his bath towel over his shoulders and sitting on his bed, waiting for some sign of what to do next.

[TopHat]

Wicker found himself slipping into his costume almost as soon as he got his hands on it, missing the feeling of the fabric. It felt like a second skin to him, and when he pulled the mask over his head he felt like his true self. Indeed, he barely went by his real name anymore. Now he was the Wicker Man, as it should be.

He took his old grimoire up and stuffed it into a pouch on his belt, and as he did this a message came over the intercom. "Hellllo lovely ladies. Handsome here again, it's time for din-din's" he announced "And you just might get a mission announcement if your table manners are good enough."

Wicker gave a grumble, wanting to burn that invisible man alive. He started to follow the signs in the corridors and came to a stop inside the mess hall. The room was filled with the sounds of Mozart, but it seemed Wicker and Handsome were the only people here at the moment. Shrugging, Wicker pulled his mask up until it was resting on the bridge of his nose and then started to eat one of the salisbury steaks left on the table.

[Yellow 13]

Omega was interrupted from her meditation and after understanding the message, mostly by reading the thoughts of a guard that passed by her room. Leaving, she found her way to the banquet room and at down. As per usual, she didn't bother picking up the utensiles, instead she used her powers to pick them up, cut up and get the food into her mouth. Same thing with the water and other drinks, she simply passed the glass to her lips and drank, then sat the glass back down.

Hopefully this wasn't a grave insult to these people. After all, she wasn't doing anything wrong. This was how she always ate. Besides, it helped with focusing her powers. Much like anything in the human body, psionics got stronger and more controlled the more they were excerized.

[Knighthawk]

" Sorry I am late, I wanted to put my best suit on... Désolé je suis en retard, je voulais mettre mon plus beau costume sur."

Blackice came in bronze as he looked around the table and took a seat. After removing his secured helm he closed his eyes to concentrate, the color returning to his face as he tried to suppress his powers so that even his spit was not freeze drying all of his food. He ate with a brutish manner, prison food did not generate polite manners or civilized company. He was folding the steak in half and wolfing the meat down as fast as he could, not caring for and stain or splatter he might generate.