Zac Wilson | Kelly Brown | Aubrey Adkins
Zac rested his head against the wall of his new cell. He wondered how this kept happening to him (and Kelly); Zac had been captured and kidnapped five times already. Once when he got his powers, once when he was sent to the “dreamverse”, once when they found themselves in Lost Haven, once in wherever they were, and now he had been taken by a man named Christopher Arthur. What was ironic was that Mr. Arthur had come to the factory where Zac and the others were being held in order to save his sister, Veronica. But Veronica was now one of them, just like Zac and Kelly, an animalistic metahuman. So why were they still locked up?

Suddenly a man dressed in black appeared before his cell. He was not dressed like the elemental-based mercenaries that Zac and Kelly had run into in Lost Haven and at the building complex at which they had been just recently. In contrast, he looked as if he belonged in a spy thriller movie or some secret governmental agency, like S.H.I.E.L.D.

He moved toward Zac’s cell, entering into a code that lowered the barrier that held Zac within his cell. Zac immediately rushed out of his cell, attempting to taken down the government man before he could react. Ironically, that man had awe-inspiring reflexes, dodging Zac’s lunge and even using Zac’s own momentum against him, throwing Zac to the ground. He pressed his foot against Zac’s chest as he pointed his gun at Zac’s face.

“Are you going to settle down?” He asked Zac. Zac just replied with several quick nods, knowing that he had just been schooled by a man who probably did not have any powers. After the man saw Zac’s response, he walked over to the other two cells, deactivating the barriers there, too.

Kelly poked her head out of the cell, examining what was outside of it. When she saw Zac sprawled on the floor, Kelly darted to him, dropping to the ground and throwing her four-armed embrace around him.

“Are you alright? I heard a scuffle.”

“Besides my dignity, sure.” Zac replied to his girlfriend, knowing that the man standing before them had just destroyed Zac’s attempt to neutralize him.

Kelly just smiled at her boyfriend and pecked a small kiss on his face. “You can’t win them all,” she tried to reassure her boyfriend.

“Out.” The man said with a stern voice. When both Zac and Kelly turned their heads, they soon realized that he was not talking to them, but to the third “captive”.

“I’m perfectly comfortable in here, thank you very much.” They heard Aubrey say. But the man pressed a button on the wall, which somehow literally ejected Aubrey out of her cell.

“Jeez,” Aubrey said, as she rubbed the back of her head, “a simple ‘please’ could have done the trick, too, you know.”

“Alright,” the man said, apparently ignoring Aubrey’s recent statement, “now that everyone is out, I have something to show you that Mr. Arthur had cooked up in his mechanical kitchen.” He pulled out of his pocket three wristbands, ones that looked almost identical to the one Zac had.

“That looks like,” Zac began to speak, but the man cut him off.

“They might look like the wristband which we found with you, or rather with her,” the man said, pointing at Aubrey, “but they have several, well, upgrades courtesy of Mr. Arthur.” When Kelly heard this, she gave her boyfriend the “jealous girlfriend” look.

“What?” Zac replied to the look his girlfriend gave him, “I don’t have pockets in this suit.”

“Which would be solved by these new bands because of their new on and off switch. There is no more need for removing the band to ‘power up’”

Kelly took one of the bands from the man’s hands and placed it around her wrist. Once she activated it, her eyesight immediately became crystal clear, while her skin returned to her normal, human tone. While her height did not return to normal, Kelly breathed a deep sigh of relief because she could now return to at least a normal looking human form.

“But that’s not all.” The man said, as he placed a band around Aubrey’s arm. He pressed a different button on Aubrey’s wristband and then took a step back. Suddenly, starting from her feet and riveting all the way up to her head, her clothes started to morph into a material similar to that which comprised both Kelly’s and Zac’s costumes. Once her clothes had become stable, Aubrey saw that she know had a red and blue costume on, decorated with a web pattern.

“And yet again, I am still the only one in a leotard. And she’s even a chick, too.” Kelly pouted.

“I think the more appropriate response would be ‘isn’t that copyrighted? I mean, she looks like a gender bent Spider-Man,” Zac said.

“She should be fine,” the man said as he again approached Aubrey, “Now, could you hold out your arm and quickly double tap the middle of your palm with your middle and ring fingers?”

Aubrey hesitated for a second, but in the end decided to follow the man’s instructions because she just had this bad feeling that the man had some means of forcing her to do it anyways, so might as well do it willingly. She therefore raised her hand and did what the man instructed. Out from her wrist came a web line, zipping through the air until it struck the wall.

“Mr. Arthur also quickly put together these webshooters that use your natural skin produced in the spinnerets in your wrists. Quite cool, right?”

Aubrey looked down at her wrist, beholding the silk that came out of her wrist. Everything just did not make any sense. One moment, she was normal, the next, she was healing form several feet drops and producing spider-silk from her wrists.

“Yeh, whatever,” Aubrey replied, as she took of her mask, “I don’t know about you, but I’m heading back to my cell. And I’m definitely getting out of this outfit.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. The wristband replaced your civilian clothes with that costume.”

“Wait, are you saying that I’m not wearing anything under this?”

“No, no, I just mean you outer clothes, although I think it is set to switch in a sports...” The man replied, but he was shortly interrupted.

“TMI” Zac said as he pressed his hand against his ears. Aubrey then pressed the button that dressed her in the red and blue costume again, resulting in her normal clothes returning. Then she began to walk back to her cell.

“Other than the third button, which turns the wrist band invisible, that’s all the updates. Any other questions?” The man asked.

Aubrey suddenly stopped in her tracks because an idea just popped up in her head. This was her one chance to find out the one thing that has been bugging her for the last several months. She immediately turned around and started to walk back.

“I have one last question.”

Zac Wilson | Kelly Brown | Aubrey Adkins
“Would you happen to have my cell phone?” Aubrey asked the man.

“Um, we did find a couple cell phones on site. Why do you ask?”

Aubrey crossed her arms, taking a deep breath before she responded. “Well, about five or six months ago, someone, somehow, hacked into my Facebook account via a cell phone. While using my name, someone apparently promised a guy I knew from high school a date with me. Is there any way we can see who did it and where they were?”

Zac and Kelly immediately looked at each other. They knew what Aubrey was talking about, but they were not quite sure how to explain that they happened to meet an Aubrey from an alternate reality. While they did know that the “Dreamverse” Aubrey was participating in a conversation with that guy, but Zac and Kelly had no idea that she was playing ‘matchmaker’ with her alternate self.

“Well, I pretty sure we can.” The man said, walking over to a table that held all their possession that had been found at the ‘abandoned’ building where the three of them were being held.

“Let’s see here,” the man began as he plug in Aubrey’s cell phone into a nearby computer, “Looks like someone in an apartment near Albany State College in New York state sent these messages, but it was definitely from this number.”

“But how is that possible? I never been to...” Aubrey said, but another thought entered her head. She immediately turned around and faced the metahuman couple. “Where are you from again?”

“Um,” Zac said, glancing over towards Kelly. He saw a worried complexion on Kelly’s face, which happened to match Zac’s own feelings at the moment, “Albany, New York.”

“Why the hell would you do something like this? Do you know how badly you catfished him?”

Zac did not know what to say. He wanted to say that they did not do it, but he was not sure how Aubrey was respond to all the “Dreamverse” mumbo jumbo. However, Zac did not need to know what to say because Kelly beat him to the punch.

“Okay, it did happen in our apartment, but we didn’t do it. We meet a version of you from an alternate universe and her phone happened to work here still. While we did know that she and her world’s version of that guy were apparently an item, we didn’t know she promised him a date with you. I even told her not to talk to him in the first place. Does that make any sense?”

Aubrey just gave Kelly a blank stare, until she finally regain enough of her senses to respond. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

“Well,” Kelly said, deactivating her power-nullifier, “I can fly, you can shot webs out of your wrists and heal from wounds at astounding rates, and my boyfriend” Kelly paused, thinking what she could say about him, “Well, my boyfriend has a tail and claws that pop out like Wolverine.”

“Wow, just make me sound lame.” Zac joked with his girlfriend, poking her with his elbow.

“Well, when there is smoke, there is fire.” Kelly smiled back at Zac.

Aubrey just stood there, unsure what to make of what they were saying. Instead of dwelling on it even more, because she would probably become more confused than it was worth finding out what happened, she turned to the government man.

“So, what’s next?”

“We will be sending you all home shortly, just return to your cells and the transport will be here sooner than you will know it.”

The three of them returned to their cells, hoping that the man was telling the truth. He has been relatively honest so far since he had even given them updated power-nullifiers that could quickly and effectively switch them into their costumes. However, they (or at least Zac and Aubrey) remembered how Mr. Arthur (or they assumed that was the name of the armored man) treated them, knocking them unconscious with knockout gas and locking them up in cells.

The man walked over to a panel next to Kelly’s cell. Before he pressed any buttons, he walked in front of the opening to the cell.

“You’ll find a nice surprise in your closet when you return.” Kelly was not quite sure what the man was talking about, but she said thank you anyways and sat down on the bed provided in the cell.

The man walked back to the panel and pressed a button. The barriers immediately shut closed and the same knockout gas entered into the cells through the exhaust vents. Once the man saw that all three of them were unconscious and that the gas had diffused into the air, he walked over to Aubrey’s cell and opened up the barrier. He picked her off the floor and set her on the bed.

He pressed his hands against her right hand. After a few seconds, a blue image began to appear on her hand. Once the image fully materialized, it was clear that it was a blue owl. Once he saw the symbol, the man picked up his hands from Aubrey’s and the image went away as quickly as it had come.

“Don’t worry child. I’ll be sending you home now.” He said to the unconscious woman. However, suddenly the man’s appearance started to become blurred and undefined. When his appearance finally rematerialized, anyone who would have seen him would have realized that he was actually a woman. She was wearing a long, white, Greek-styled dress with a breastplate equipped over her torso. Her titanium blonde hair was crowned with a Corinthian-styled helmet and her arms bore a long doru spear and a hoplon shield. And perched on her shoulder was an owl.

She pressed her hands again against Aubrey, causing a blinding light to surround the young woman. Once the woman removed her hands, Aubrey had disappeared into thin air, nowhere in sight. Thereafter, the woman moved onto both Zac and Kelly, returning them also back to Albany.

“….Sir, are you listening?” Nathan Sterling asked Director Anderson after noting that the head of STRIKE clearly had other things on his mind.

“Of course, Nathan. Continue.” Anderson lied. In fact, Anderson had very little interest in what Sterling had to say. In all the years that Anderson had been in charge of STRIKE, he had found Sterling to be an annoyance. He had seen him as nothing more than a pencil pusher who valued policy over people, and that sort of attitude was one that he could not abide. However, Sterling was damn good at his job, which was why the director hadn’t had him reassigned to Antarctica by now.

“The fact of the matter is sir,that this Nightmare character has caused us quite a bit of trouble. Forgetting the carnage that he’s caused, he’s also responsible for our own activities coming to light.” Sterling continued.

“I’m aware of what he’s done, Nathan.” Anderson snarled, his annoyance with the administrator threatening to boil over into something else altogether. “We will take care of Nightmare, once and for all.”

“And how do you expect to do that Anderson, you’re efforts over the last half decade haven’t exactly been a glowing success.” Sterling prodded.

“I’ve authorized Arthur’s insertion into the case. I’m sure that he will be able to bring this thing to a close quickly.” Anderson said.

“And what if the Iron Knight isn’t enough?” Sterling continued.

“Then we’ll deal with it.” Anderson snapped.

“And just how do you plan to remove STRIKE from the public conscience?” Sterling asked.

“I don’t.”
“Excuse me?” Sterling asked, unable to keep the shock out of his voice.

“Part of the problem with these super humans is that they didn’t know that we were out there. They’ve thought that they are the ones holding all the cards. Maybe it’s time for STRIKE to step out into the light, and show them exactly who we are.” Anderson said, a slim smile beginning to cross his face.

Aubrey Adkins
Four Days after Raptor and Iron Knight Post
I have been experiencing these extremely weird dreams for the last couple of days. Something along the lines of Kafka’s Metamorphosis (or Ovid’s, although his has an ‘e’ instead of an ‘i’ at the end). One night, I dreamt that I had six arms. In another, I had shrunk down to the size of a household spider and my whole body, besides my head, had been replaced by that of a spider. This last night I had a similar dream, but instead of being as small as a quarter, I was as huge as one of those Godzilla monsters. Even before I could realized what in the world was going on, the United States military and the Super-Heroes of our nations had already arrived in order to take me into custody (although I was not quite sure where they would hold a 100-foot tall spider).

Luckily my alarm clock saved me from my nightmare, or at least at first I thought it did. Subconsciously I reached over and switched the clock’s alarm off. I just reclined in my bed as the rays of the morning sun filled my room. It was a brand new day. No more super heroics for me. Life is already too complicated; why would anyone want to add any more stress to his life than he needs. I was only on the job for less than a week and it was too much for me.

Then suddenly I realized that there were several things wrong. First of all, I realized that today was a Saturday. Why in the world would I wake up so early on a Saturday morning when I could be catching up on my sleep from the previous week?

But that was not the most out of whack thing. Under my sheets where my legs normally would be, I noticed that there was an unusually large bump. I noticed that my legs felt weird. I could feel them, but they just did not feel right. I tried to stretch out my legs, but instead of seeing what I thought were my normal legs extend towards the other side of the bed, I discovered, to my fears, that two, long spider forelegs popped out of my sheets, almost touching my shoulders.

I quickly flipped off my bed covers and was shocked at what I saw. Everything above my waist was perfectly normal, or at least as far as humanly normal goes; however, I could not say the same about my lower body. My lower body was replaced by a cephalothorax of a spider, along with eight spider legs. Connected to that was a spider’s abdomen. In the center of the abdomen was a large, red hourglass symbol. All my ‘spider parts’ were a light brown color. My legs had dark brown bands at the joints, while the abdomen had four brown dots on each side of it. Descending from these brown dots was a streak of tan, which had a reddish-brown streak inside of it.

I flipped myself over, where my normal portion was sitting straight up while the spider portion was behind me. I peered into the mirror on the wall: I looked like a centaur, if you would switch a centaur’s horse lower body with that of a spider. Once the realization that I was now a monster set in, the only natural emotion struck me: despair. How would I ever function correctly in society like this? At least all those other super-heroes could easily blend in with society.

Then my thoughts turned to something so shameful, I would otherwise never admit I considered those terrible thoughts. I, well, I considered suicide. I convinced myself that it would be better than living my life out as a freak. My first thought was jumping out a window and letting the fall kill me. However, I quickly rejected that idea. Namely for two reasons. One, my healing factor would eventually kick in and save me. Therefore, I could not live with myself if I was convicted of attempted suicide. The second reason was more practical: I was never going to fit out the window due to my new body. My upper body could fit, but the abdomen would never make it out.

Then I turned my thoughts to hanging myself. Before I knew it, with my web shooters, I spun a noose that attached to the ceiling. All I hoped was that somehow being hung would counter the healing factor. Like in that television show, Heroes, where the metahumans who had a healing factor had a weak spot on the back of their head. Maybe I just had to find the right spot.

And as I was about to place the noose over my head, suddenly a knock sounded at the door. It was Felecia, one of my roommates. We had been friends ever since we came to St. Henry’s.

“I’m not decent.” I lied, truly not wanting her to see me like this, both because of how my body changed and because I was holding a noose in my hands.

“Aubrey,” Felecia said, “We’re thinking about going out for breakfast today. Do you want to join us?”

“I think I will pass on this one.” I replied, “Maybe next time.” I just couldn’t bear them seeing me like this, so desperate and broken.

“Suit yourself, Aubrey.” Felecia said. Before she turned away, she remembered something. “Oh, by the way, you have that “Skype date” with that guy from high school. Have fun!”

Good God, I totally forgot about that. About five months ago, the guy that Felecia just mentioned, Will, and I were chatting over an IM. He would usually message me every once in a while. He never pestered me with messages, just every now and then. During that chat, he mentioned that I promised I would have a Skype date with him. I personally never remembered saying that. Nevertheless, I told him that I would see if I could, intending just to keep pushing it back in the hopes he would forget about it.

Later, I checked through our recent messages and I stumbled upon the message where I supposedly promised it. It was there and the whole conversation sounded like me, but I couldn’t remember actually promising it. Later, after I was kidnapped not once but twice, I had the opportunity found out the truth about what happened. And you know what answer I got? Some different version of me who came from an alternate universe did it. It’s the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard, or at least what I heard at that time. However, with all the things I have seen in the last week, including what has just happened to me right now, now I don’t know what to think.

Then a thought struck me. If I had indeed achieved in killing myself, I would have caused so much pain to so many different people. Was I so selfish that I didn’t care about my family and friends? Would my parents rather live with me being a freak or carrying my body to a grave, ashamed that their little girl committed suicide? What about my roommates? How would they feel that they had to live in an apartment where their roommate killed herself? And what about Will? I had been dodging this “Skype Date” for the last five months because I thought it would inhibit him from moving on? Wouldn’t killing myself just make it worse?

I was so ashamed of my actions that I tossed the noose at the ceiling, thinking that it would eventually dissolve, hopefully before my roommates got back from breakfast. Then I just remembered something that would have saved me a lot of grief. That power-nullifier! It could at least hide my current form until I figured out what to do with myself. I kind of tossed it under my bed while I was rage quitting from my short-lived super hero career. All I need to do is find it and all my problems would go away, at least in the short term.

My next actions were kind of a blunder. I tried to walk off my bed so that I could retrieve the power-nullifier; however, I tried to walk normally, which resulted in only my front pair of legs to move. Obviously, this resulted in me crashing to the floor. Luckily, all my roommates were out of the apartment. Anyways, I was just in position to reach under my bed for the power-nullifier. However, when I reached under, I was shocked to discover that it was not there! I swear it used to be in there. After I got a little more control over my eight legs, I began to tear up my room looking for it, but that search was in vain. By the time I had given up, I only had about an hour before I had to fulfill that “Skype Date”, and I still hadn’t showered or anything.

I walked over to my door, unlocked it, and checked whether anyone was around. Once I knew the coast was clear, I made my way over towards our bathroom. As I walked in that direction, I noticed that I was starting to get the hang of the eight legs, although occasionally I would trip over myself. Once I reached the bathroom, I opened the shower curtain. I looked at the new changes to my body and back at the shower. How in the world was I going to make this work?

Ares
Ramsey Golaird

A old beater of a black 1970 Plymouth Barracuda, the car shot out smoke from the exhaust as it chugged down the road towards Lost Haven. The car had dents and a torn upholstery, the passenger door was knocking against the frame of the car held in place by duct tape. The street was packed with other automobiles of various makers “Great a traffic jam, brilliant! Bloody brilliant.” A man cursed in stuck in traffic as Ramsey tossed his cigarette out of his window into the mans car.

The man now irate opened his door and slammed it closed as the other cars sat idle in the traffic jam and strode over towards Ramsey.”YOU little piece of Shi…” Before he could finish speaking the car door was forced open into the stranger as Ramsey stepped out and stood up back straight with a grin on his face as the stranger looked up clutching his stomach with the sight of pain in his eyes. Ramsey slammed the stranger’s head against the side of the car, a Volvo or something didn't matter. The incident disturbed onlookers as a few dialed something on their phones probably the cops.

“Well looks like the party’s over, bet this place will be crawling with cops soon enough. Better clear the road.”

His hands gripped the small Volvo, and with a heave he tossed it to the side opening the sidewalk so he could drive his car over. He pulled back the gear shift and pressed his foot on the petal as other motorists moved out of the way fearful of ending up in the side of a building. Pedestrians scrambled in fear screaming and running sirens could be heard not more than a street down as Ramsey drove off. Presumably with the police in pursuit.

Once the car hopped over the curb and onto an empty side street he took off engine running hot.” I thought this place was crawling with Supers, well they’re seriously inept that’s for sure. Haha, right first things first find a bar.”

An FBI agent sat in his airplane seat, musing over the papers that were in front of him. He was from the BAU, the Behavior Analysis Unit, a department in the FBI that specializes in behavior science and uses this knowledge to predict the culprits of almost any crime. When a crime stumps the local authorities, the BAU is called in as a support unit, assisting the local police in any way possible.

“We’ve been called to assist the authorities near Albany, New York,” the FBI agent said to his team who sat around him on the plane, “The police reported that between 1 and 3 o’ clock in the morning, there was a home invasion in a rural neighborhood just outside of Albany. Both the parents were found dead in their beds, while their 10-year old daughter is missing. Neither parent showed any resistance, so it is obvious that the unsub murdered them in their sleep.”

“How could a single person dispatch both parents without the other waking up? How could the other partner not show any resistance?” One of the other agents asked.

“Maybe we are not dealing with an unsub, but rather unsubs?” A third agent said, “If there were two unsubs, each one could simultaneously slit the through of the parents.”

“But why did the unsubs place those animal masks on the parents? Are they trying to dehumanize the parents, making appear as if they were sacrificing an animal instead of murdering two parents?”

“Those aren’t masks,” the first agent replied. The handful of agents sitting around him gave him blank stares, not understanding what this could mean.

“This way!” Haze cried out as she led Icon down the corridor to the elevator which would take them from the bowels of the Valor Institute to freedom.

However, as they made their escape, a sudden explosion rocked the very foundation of the subterranean complex. Brick, mortar and plaster rained down as Icon and his savior were knocked from their feet by the sheer force of the blast. Almost immediately, Haze was back on her feet. She bent down to help Icon, whose legs were still wobbly from his time in his cell.

“Really Sasha?” a voice sounded from within the cloud of debris which swirled around the gaping hole which now stood in the wall. “You’re just going to throw everything away?” The voice said as the familiar figure of Riot emerged from the cloud.
“This isn’t right Riot, this is not what we signed on for.” Haze responded to her former compatriot.

“That’s funny. After everything we’ve done…all the blood that’s on your hands, you decide to develop a conscience now?” Riot sneered. “Too little, too late.” He said as he opened fire on the pair.

Though he still felt weak, and could barely stand on his own, Icon jumped out in front of Haze, shielding her from the hail of gunfire. Fortunately, though he was weakened, he still found that he was impervious to the gunfire.

Riot maintained steady fire on Icon and Haze, making it nearly impossible for Haze to advance toward the elevator, all the while…Riot moved in on them. Icon knew that he needed to do something, however, found that with his powers barely a fraction of what they had been, his options were limited. Finally, out of desperation, the hero fired an optic blast at the ceiling between them and the advancing gunman. Suddenly, there was a loud rumbling and the ceiling collapsed, trapping Riot beneath the rubble. Icon stepped forward to help his attacker, but found that the energy he had to expend to fire the optic beam had been too great in his weakened state, and he was unable to lift the rubble off of the buried attacker.

“Come on!” Haze shouted as she grabbed him and pulled him toward the elevator. Though, he attempted to resist, he was too weak and had little choice but to allow her to drag him into the elevator.

***

Outside of the Valor Institute, Icon stood with Haze as smoke poured from the discrete outer façade of the building. Icon was saddened by the loss of life in the lower levels of the complex, but also knew that as weak as he was, there was little that he could do.

“Where are you going to go now?” He asked Haze, genuinely concerned for his rescuer.

“I don’t know, maybe get out of the country. They’ll be looking for me…for both of us.” Haze said, giving Icon a knowing stare.

“You should come to Lost Haven, we can deal with them together.” Icon said.

“No, I can’t. At least not yet.” She paused, before looking back to Icon and continuing. “Take care of yourself Scott, I’ll be seeing you.” She finished as her body began to slowly deteriorate into a purplish smoke, which soon dissipated with the light breeze. Suddenly, Icon understood how she had gotten her name.

“Take care, Haze.” He said as he took to the skies with great effort.

***

“There you are…” Benjamin White said as he and several members of his security force retrieved Riot’s lifeless form from the rubble which had entrapped him. “Can you hear me son?”

Riot strained to open his eyes, his body was racked with pain. He didn’t know how he had survived the cave in, and part of him wished that he hadn’t. The pain he felt was unbearable, and he almost knew that his right arm was crushed beyond repair. However, the worst pain that he felt came from the complete lack of pain, or feeling of any kind. A strange nothing that he felt just below his waist.

“You…you have…you h-have to kill them…” Riot said to his employer before drifting into unconsciousness.

“No worries my boy, you’ll get the chance to do that yourself. All in good time.” He said as he ordered his men to load Riot onto a gurney.

Scott stumbled toward his apartment from the access door on the roof. Still weakened from the time he spent in his cell, he found that his legs felt like spaghetti and each step was progressively more difficult than the last. Finally, he was able to make it down the flight of stairs and through the short hallway that led to his apartment door. When he reached for the door knob, he realized that something was very wrong.

The door was unlocked.

Carefully, Scott opened the door. He knew that he had locked the door when he left, and he prepared himself for who or whatever stood on the other side of the door. Suddenly, he flung the door open and barged into his apartment, ready for a confrontation. For all he knew someone from the Valor Institute lay in wait. However, when he found himself face to face with the intruder, he relaxed a bit, and a slight smile crossed his face.

“Eric, what are you doing here?” He asked as he moved past his friend and business partner and sat down on his couch.

Eric just stood there looking at his friend in disbelief.

“Where the hell have you been, Scott?” Eric asked, a mixture of relief and concern creeping into his voice.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Scott said.

“Try me. I was getting worried.” Eric confessed.

“Worried, why? I was only gone-“
“Eight days.” Eric said plainly.

“Eight days?” Scott asked, unable to believe what his friend had told him.

“Yeah, eight days. I was worried about you, I was worried that this Nightmare character had gotten to you.” Eric said.

“Nightmare?” Scott asked, not familiar with the name of the serial killer who had been terrorizing Lost Haven.

Scott sat and listened as Eric filled him in on the events of the last several days. The series of murders, the “Jack the Ripper” style notes that had been left at the scene of each crime, as well as the way he had taunted some mysterious organization called STRIKE. Scott had admitted that he had himself had run ins with the organization, but didn’t know much about them.

When it was all said and done, Scott sat on his sofa, a look of stone cold determination bore on his face. After several moments, he finally began to get to his feet. Though he was still weak from his ordeal at the Valor Institute, his sheer determination powered him on.

“Where are you going?” Eric asked as Scott moved toward the large picture window in his living room.

“I’m going to find this ‘Nightmare,’ and I’m going to put an end to this, tonight.” He said as he opened the window. Eric tried to protest, to get his friend to stay home and get some rest. Eric knew that there was something wrong with Scott, that he wasn’t at full strength…but he also knew that it would take more than that to keep him from doing what had to be done.

He just hoped that Scott would live to tell him where he’d been for the last week.

Aubrey Adkins
Four Days after Raptor and Iron Knight Post
That was the worse shower I have ever taken in my entire life. How in the world was I going to explain getting the bathroom floor soaked and using up every single bath towel we owned? I wasn’t even all the way dry because I gave up half way through. I just made sure my human portion of myself was dry, since that was going to be the only part Will was going to see.

Once I threw all the towels I used into our washing machine, I headed back to my room to prep my computer for my “Skype Date”. After I changed into a different outfit, or at least my upper body, since human clothes would never fit my spideresque physique, I headed over towards my desk.

I checked the video feed from my computer and was quite disappointed. Anyone who was at least somewhat attentive could tell that I wasn’t normal because my abdomen was still visible on the camera. I paced around my room for a few seconds, trying to think about what I should do next. I tried to throw a blanket over myself. It would not be too far of a stretch for me to be wearing a blanket. I mean, it’s still winter out there, which means it’s still cold and bitter outside. It made total sense to me, until I realized that you could still tell something was off about my appearance. Then an idea hit me.

I decided to try something different. I leaned against the foot of my bed, pivoting my body so that I would be resting on top of my abdomen. I placed a pillow on top of my abdomen and rested my laptop on it, using my spider legs to stabilize it. This time when I checked the video feed, I couldn’t see anything that suggested something was wrong.

And luckily that was the case, since immediately after I confirmed this, I received the video chat invitation via Skype. I just took a deep breath and clicked accept.

Wills’ face appeared on the main video feed on my laptop screen.

“Aubrey, is there anything wrong? You look a little nervous. I thought I was supposed to be the nervous one.” Will asked me, adding a small grin at his last statement. I looked down at my hand and noticed that I was twirling my hair with my finger. I immediately pulled my hand away from my hair and turned back to the monitor.

“Everything’s fine,” I lied, “I just endured an extremely long and painful week.”

After that, the Skype chat went pretty smoothly. We talked about the same things that we did over IM. It was now just face-to-face. The only really awkward moment (or at least I thought that was going to be the only awkward moment) was when he proposed the idea of a long distance relationship. I was hesitant to stay yes because I didn’t want to lead him on. Although I do give him props for doing it now rather than over IM. Furthermore, he was planning on pursuing a career in Arachnology, which was quite the coincidence, since I am now kind of half-spider. Back in high school, I had a few classes with him and I never took advantage of the situation because I know he was interested in me. In spite of my current condition, I did not intend to start taking advantage of people now.

Suddenly, that web noose that was stuck to the ceiling loosened and smacked me in the face. Of all the times it could have fallen, it had to happen at that very moment. Will asked if there was anything wrong, but I just brushed it off, trying to lie that it was a practical joke made by my friends. But I could tell that my face turning red from the small preview window that showed what Will was seeing on his screen. When I reached up to move the webline out of the way, due to my nervousness, I accidentally reach out one of my legs instead of my arm, flashing my spideresque limb over the screen.

I immediately closed the video call when I realized what I just did. How could I do something so stupid like that? How could I mix up my arm and my leg? Now Will knew that I was a freak, or at least knew something was up. He, in response to me canceling our video chat, sent an IM to me, asking if I was all right. I could have ended everything right there by telling him that I needed to go or something, but I didn’t. I told him I would be fine in a moment. I picked myself up and placed the computer on my desk, while I stood to the side so that I wouldn’t be on screen. I then clicked the button that initiated the video call.

“Will, do you still want that ‘long distance’ relationship?” I asked from the side of the computer. Of course, as I expected, he said yes. After he replied, I walked into the view of my computer, standing far back enough so that my whole body was visible on the video feed. I couldn’t believe I was doing this.

“Well, this is what you would get.” I said, turning around in a circle so that he could see all the changes to my body. “I just woke up like this this morning. I have no idea how or why it happened. I just know it did. I just had such a hectic week and,” I paused, rubbing my face, “God, it’s just such a long story.”

“I have time.” He said. I couldn’t believe I was doing this, about ready to spill all the events of the worst week of my life. Maybe I just needed to share it with someone because I have kept in bottled up for so long. Even though less than a week has passed, it has, at least to me, seemed like an eternity.

Christopher Arthur III
Chris’ mind wandered as he flew above the Lost Haven skyline. He wondered if he had handled his recent incidence with those metahumans, whom he found in West Virginia. Was his sister right? Should he have attempted to help the three metahumans? Fortunately, Chris did not have to find out whether his actions had been the correct ones because someone or something had already freed those metahumans before Chris could hand them over to S.T.R.I.K.E.

When he reviewed the security tapes, it first seemed like a rogue S.T.R.I.K.E. agent had released the three metahumans in Chris’ custody; however, the being eventually revealed her true form, dressed like a Greek Goddess. Chris was a little uneasy about this development because he already had and probably will again have to deal with another metahuman who believed herself to be a god. Chris did not need two of them.

Chris was just glad all of this was over now. It’s S.T.R.I.K.E.’s problem now because he was only renting those facilities to them. In addition, the intruder came inside in the guise of a S.T.R.I.K.E. agent. It’s S.T.R.I.K.E. business to find out how that happened, not Chris’.

Suddenly there was commotion on the police dispatcher. Apparently, someone, labeled a metahuman by the police, had overturned a motor vehicle and had fled the scene of the crime. Police were dispatched after him in response to several 9-1-1 calls.

“This shouldn’t be too difficult,” Chris thought to himself. After receiving the coordinates of the car chase, Chris diverted himself from his original flight pattern and turned toward the ongoing crime scene. Once Chris reached his new destination, he saw a single car trailed by several police units. Chris had to find a way to stop the pursued vehicle while at the same time preventing any bystanders from getting her and preventing a pile up of police vehicles if Chris would cause a sudden and abrupt stop.

“Computer,” Chris stated to the interactive operating system built into his powersuit, “overwrite all traffic lights on this road for the next several blocks. Turn all lights on perpendicular roads and any traffic heading this way to red and prevent any green arrows. Also send a message to those police officers that they need to start reducing their speed.”

Chris darted forward, performing a loop; however, instead of returning to his original course, as one would normally do in a barrel roll, Chris descended to the street road, landing on his feet with a crash. Once he heard the noise, he knew he was going to have to invest some money into repairing this stretch of the road.

Chris drew his sword from his back, prepping it for the upcoming battle. He extended his arm out, pointing it toward the approaching motor vehicle that contained an unknown metahuman.

Ares
Ramsey

Ramsey sped past the police cars in pursuit, his car may be a beater but it still had a good engine, though the left side mirror flew off. At least this chase was a fun distraction something to keep him busy while any potential supers would arrive. Boston was an absolute bust, the only supers were crazy wannabes. They didn’t even put up a fight, between U-Turn man, and Bucket Boy, they were all very pathetic. It’s a wonder how Boston handled their crime, well they had good cakes. “Bar bar.. Bar?” The sirens grew louder as they closed in on Ramsey.

“I really need a bath, that hotel, if you call it that was disgusting. The water was black, just black. I’m starting to smell, and bad. Right after the bar, a shower. Definetly.”

The sirens grew weaker for some reason, but Ramsey was in luck, green all the way. Though it didn’t last long a man? In a knight suit, or something with a glowing sword, didn’t matter. As Ramsey brought the car to a halt. The car screeched as the brakes struggled to stop the momentum of Plymouth, stopping horizontally on the drivers side. The window rolled down slowly, as Ramsey peered out the open window, partly dazed. “SO?... You some kind of Renaissance Fair mascot? Or something, cause you look absolutely ridiculous.” The car door opened as Ramsey stepped out, he was rather well dressed wearing a pair of dress pants and shirt with suspenders. He rolled his fingers into a fist, as the leather of his gloves rubbed against itself. Taking a boxer's stance his fists were raised guarding his face. “You coming Princesss!”

“Yeah, I think I just need some rest.” Adeline responded. Kyle knew that there must be more too it than that, just a short while ago he saw her take out one of the so called “Dark Possessed” as if it were nothing, and now she looked as if she were about to pass out. Setting his concern aside, he smiled and looked to Addie.

“Of course.” He said as he shifted his gaze to his mentor. “Could I borrow one of the cars? I doubt she’d fare too well on the subway tonight.”

“Of course, take the Jetta.” Harry said amiably. “Just don’t trash it, please.” He finished jokingly as Kyle helped Addie into the car, before getting in the vehicle himself and pulling the car away from its parking spot.

As Kyle pulled up to the parking lot near Addie’s dorm, his mind kept drifting to the eventual confrontation with Harry that awaited him upon his return to The Garage. Harry was a very private man, which was understandable considering his past. However, Kyle would just explain to him that it was a judgment call to bring her in.

He was brought back to the here and now when Addie took his hand, rubbing it slightly with her thumb. He had enjoyed the time that he had spent with her in recent days, and was glad in a way that she knew his secret. This way, there would be no need to lie about where he is and what he is doing, which is what had ultimately led to the end of his relationship with Keri. As these thoughts too faded, he got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side to meet Addie, who had already opened the door and gotten out of the car. He closed the door behind her and took her hand as he led her through the parking lot and up the walkway to the dorm, where he kissed her goodnight.

***

After returning the Jetta to Harry, Kyle had returned to campus. He had tried texting Addie several times during the day, but had gotten no response. He had begun getting nervous when she didn’t answer her phone.

“Hey, this is Addie. Obviously I can’t take your call right now, so you know what to do.” The voice message greeted him yet again.

Over the last few hours he had grown to dislike the message immensely. Instead of leaving another message, he simply ended the call. He didn’t know what was going on, but knowing that she hadn’t been feeling well the night before, coupled with the knowledge that she was some sort of supernatural superhero, with supernatural enemies gave him a great deal of apprehension. So, instead of sitting around and waiting for her to call him back, he decided to go over to her dorm and see what was going on himself.

He stood outside of the dorm room that Addie shared with her roommate Emily. Kyle rather liked Emily, she was spunky and generally carried herself with a “devil may care” attitude, and was quick with a joke, often at Kyle’s expense. However, when she answered the door and looked upon him; she looked tired, and more than a little concerned.

“Hey, what’s up?” Kyle asked the pretty brunette as she opened the door.

“Hey Kyle, come on in.” She said, motioning him to enter the room.

The vision that greeted him was something that shocked him to the core. The side of the room which had belonged to Addie was bare. Her bed had been stripped and her closet was empty. There was no sign that she had ever even been there.

“What…” Kyle began to say, the words having difficulty forming in his throat.

“I was going to tell you, I just didn’t think it was right to do it over the phone.” Emily said remorsefully.

“Tell me what?” Kyle asked, dreading what she would say next.

“After you brought her home last night, Addie got a phone call. Apparently, there was some sort of emergency back home. She packed up and left in the middle of the night.” Emily explained.

“Oh.” Was all Kyle could muster. “I see.”

There was an awkward silence that filled the dorm room. Both of them wanted to say something, but neither knew what to say.

“Did she say when she’ll be back?” Kyle finally asked, breaking the silence.

Emily just stood there and shook her head.

“No. Kyle, I’m sorry. I don’t think she’s coming back.” Emily told him, concern and sadness in her voice. “Are you alright?” she finally asked.

He wasn’t.

Kyle had finally felt that he had found the one that he was meant to be with. He had found someone who he could share his life with completely. With Addie, there was no lying. No sneaking off in the middle of the night to face whatever the city could throw at him and making excuses. She was the first person outside of Harry and Ronnie that knew his secret, and he knew that together they could have faced anything. Even though they had only been together for a short time, he knew the truth…He had fallen for her.

And now she was gone.

He was not “alright,” in fact; he couldn’t have been farther from “alright.”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” He lied. However, the shake in his voice betrayed him, something that Emily could plainly see, yet chose to let slide.

Kyle turned and headed for the door, the shock of what he had just found causing him to forget his manners.

“Hey.” Emily said as Kyle made his way out of the dorm room. He paused for a moment and tossed Emily a glance from over his shoulder.

“Yeah?” He replied.

“I really am sorry. And if you ever need anything…” She trailed off before finishing her sentence.

“Thanks.” Kyle said as he continued out of the room and closed the door behind him.

A man sat in the gathering gloom as dusk began to sweep over the city of Lost Haven. The café had lights on and in truth it really wasn’t gloomy in appearance, there were twining ropes of light that seemed to have been intended to resemble vines and even though it was chilly there were a few other patrons of the café nursing drinks or eating a meal at the outdoor tables.

The man held a paper up in front of his face as steam wafted up from a cup of coffee that was set in front of him. The outside of the paper displayed a headline that read “Nightmare Killer To Strike Again?” and the man had a slight smile on his face as he perused the paper. The man wore a beaten up coat that had clearly seen better days, and his face while of uncertain age possessed a certain weathered look that spoke of experience. Dark blue eyes, so deep as to be almost black were set beneath heavy brows and set in a face that was ruddy and looked like he had a few too many drinks. His hands were scarred and weathered as well, seemingly those of a man who had spent years using them.

As the man’s focus was on the paper it appeared that the approach of another had been unnoticed until that person slipped into the seat opposite at the table.

“A penny for your thoughts?” The newcomer asked with a feminine voice laced with an English accent.

“I suspect the paper’s claims of the three day pattern are right.” The man said and lowered the paper down to reveal who it was that had joined him at the table. A woman sat there now, and the first thoughts on who have upon seeing her face was likely one of awe at beauty and then a moment later noticing how the two sides didn’t quite match. Raven black hair framed a face that could have been the face of a doll; no blemishes adorned the perfect milk-white skin, and there were no apparent flaws in the structure. But the left half of her face aside from her eye seemed to be frozen in a bemused expression, and where her right eye was a brilliant gold, her left was dark, almost black in color. Unlike the man her coat was clearly of fine make, expensive and quite likely genuine leather. “And that it has been too long old friend.” The man finished and took the woman’s left hand with one of his own. “How long has it been now?

“Far too long.” Was the answer as the woman half smiled it was the most that she could really do with only half her face able to move. “I do think you could have been more discrete. You could always have sent a card.” And at that comment both the man and the woman with the half frozen face laughed.

The man let go of her hand and raised the coffee cup, sipping at the warm liquid as a waiter came over. “Just water.” The woman preempted the query and the waiter backed away with a nod. “So what do I call you this time?”

“Jack.” He replied simply as he put the coffee back down on the table.

“A fine choice and fitting too. But perhaps a bit tired? Or was it the name?”

“The name.” came as his reply before he asked his own question. “And you?”

“Helen.”

And as she said the name the man laughed long and loud, loudly enough to turn a few heads in his direction for the briefest moment. “And you said mine was tired. Do you plan to launch a thousand ships again?”

“You know it was only 867, and that only half of them were really seaworthy.” She pointed out in return but then laughed herself.

“I have missed you.” Was the man’s reply and there was a genuine smile on his face, an expression that seemed decidedly out of place on the weathered and naturally gloomy seeming face.

“We did keep missing each other.” Helen replied with an unhappy expression of her own. “Just bad luck. We were due for this. Let’s make this one last.” She finished and then as if she had forgotten started up again. “By the way a mutual friend should be here in time for the next set. And he’s rather miffed, apparently some fool villain took his go to name.”

“It will do him good to be creative for once.”

“Perhaps it will. I picked one out. How does Soulfire sound?” The woman asked, with the half of her face that could smile shaped into one.
“It sounds grand. And tonight shall be your night.” And at that point the waiter returned with the woman’s water.
------------------------------------------------------------------

And in the darkness a monster still prowled. STRIKE’s efforts continued to have been in vain and the efforts of more visible agencies had also had very little success. Even the fact that the brutal murderer had struck three times in a pattern had not been enough to make the city stop its nightlife. As a result despite the increased police presence and the fact that STRIKE patrols, as well as the occasional hero were out in force in the city there were still places that were not covered and it was one such place that was about to feel the wrath of the monster in the night.

The rave was going strong in the night, loud music blaring and several hundred people packed tightly into a warehouse that could barely hold them. No one there was worried; the attacks had all taken place in small group settings, a home, a car in a dark street, a woman who walked down the wrong dark alley, surely such a large group was safe. Of course they were to be proven incorrect in that assumption. The first sign that something was wrong came when a scream sounded outside of the building, but with the music so loud and blaring, and with the people inside making so much noise themselves the scream of the bouncer went completely unnoticed.

Then the doorway was broken and a man was sent flying through it, or at least the top half of a man was sent flying inwards through it. Behind the man’s corpse came a visible and creeping darkness that crept inwards slowly, herding people away from the one unlocked entrance.

Albert Johnson admitted that he had panicked when the bouncer’s body had suddenly been thrown into the middle of the crowd and the darkness had erupted from the doorway to start to pour into the room. He wasn’t certain but his guess was that it was something to do with this Nightmare and what he had heard was completely terrifying. Fortunately he thought quickly on his feet. There would be a way to escape, sure the other doors were locked but the guard would have had the keys and there was a chance he would still have them on his body.

Albert didn’t really think there was any other option, especially as he watched a man who tried to run through the shadows be thrown back out in little pieces like so much confetti. And so shoving his way through hysterical and screaming people who were scrambling towards the locked doors he attempted to make his way to the half of the man. He had reached it and was thanking a god who he rarely believed in for his luck as the darkness continued to spread when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

“I’m afraid you can’t let them all out.” The voice was slightly accented and sounded like the speaker was enjoying herself in the terror of the situation. Albert turned around and looked at the person who was speaking. The woman was wearing a costume of some kind, a large pointed cone of a hat, half gold and half black was set atop her head and from the sides came a neck guard of fabric that flowed downward, the left half of her face was covered by a black mask of metal and the right half was covered by a golden veil. Two long streamers, one gold from her right side and one black from her left side hung down her back, the chest of the costume seemed to be armored with thin scales of metal under a layer of fabric that still managed to cling tightly to a generous figure. Her lower body was covered by what seemed to be a long skirt like garment that went down past her knees made of the same sort of armored fabric as the top part of the costume. Both of her hands were left free.

He cast a worried glance as the shadows that were drawing closer and the terrible gurgling screams continued to sound every time they shadows closed around another of the people in the crowd who couldn’t push far enough away. That glance was the last he got as a hand gently brushed against his face and then he burst into flames. “Nothing personal.” The woman said as she laughed and fire lashed out around her in a storm, white fire that seemed to cause those struck by it to simply flicker out of existence.

And from the shadows came an answering laugh, deep and inhuman as the darkness poured forwards, no longer slowly creeping but sweeping through the warehouse like a flood of death.

Christopher Arthur III | Ramsey Golaird (written by VATROU)
Chris was shocked that the man who stood before him had clinched his fists in preparation for a fight with Chris. What did this man want to achieve? A broken wrist or fist? Even if this man was a metahuman, he did not look like he had the power in him to stand up against Chris and his power suit. He seemed like a normal person, but at this moment he had a boxer’s stance, intent on engaging in a fistfight with Chris. Was he crazy or was there something Chris was overlooking? Or both?

“Princess?” Chris asked as he approached Ramsey, “those are bold words coming from a little man like you.” In his armor, Chris towered over the man in the boxer pose, casting an imposing shadow down on his opponent. “Why don’t you just move along and leave with those fine men in blue before this becomes ugly. I was always told not to hit girls.”

This Super, or whatever he likes to call himself, stood before completely clad in some sort of high tech suit. To most that would be enough to scare most off, but Ramsey no. All the training the boss put him through, the cannons that were fired at him and explosives used in preparation for some sort of war if Ramsey had to guess, he was confident in his healing factor, though it did take a number of seconds to kick in, well according to how much damage he took. Nothing he wasn’t prepared for. The armored man? Retorted after hearing the insult Ramsey spewed.

“That’s your comeback? Really? Wow. I was hoping for something with a little more kick to it, besides at least I don’t have to hide my good looks behind a mask. Right well I’ll give you a heads up, see my right fist here. You do right? Well I’m going in for a right straight sweetheart!”

Ramsey’s feet left the ground as he bolted forward at blazing speeds. Even this armored opponent would have trouble reacting fast enough, and if it connected it certainly would send him flying into the nearest building. His fist barely visible at his current speed.

Chris only had mere seconds to react to Ramsey’s opening move. Ramsey’s pure speed prevented Chris from activating his shields because they would take more time to come online than the time it would take for Ramsey’s punch to connect with Chris. Therefore, Chris only had one response left (besides taking the hit). Chris had to sidestep Ramsey’s assault, causing Ramsey’s to whiff on his punch, just like a baseball player whiffing at bat.

Chris barely dodged Ramsey’s attack, but now that Ramsey momentarily had his back to him, Chris had the advantage. Chris could have struck his opponent in the back; however, Chris decided against this action because he had no idea about his assailant’s reaction time. While Chris wanted to finish this engagement, he did not want to place himself at a bad position where he was open for another attack. Instead, Chris activated his suit’s external shields.

“Stand down,” Chris said in a robotic tone over the external speakers, “the less you struggle, the easier it will be.”

The punch that Ramsey had opened with not only failed to connect, but allowed his opponent to get behind him. It wasn’t something he was overly worried about, but it gave him a disadvantage. While the robo man had the opportune moment to strike he activated some shield on his armor. Speaking he told Ramsey to stand down.

“Stand down? Why would I possibly do that!? You’re the most interesting Super I’ve seen yet. Most get buried into walls by that. Though admittedly I was going easy, looks like I don’t have to give you a handicap!” Just then something caught Ramsey’s eye, a coin a penny.”Nice.” As he bent over to pick it up.”Hey what’s that saying about pennies and good luck..? Ah nevermind.” As Ramsey walked towards this armored knight, he played with the coin he found in his fingers. In a blink of an eye, it disappeared shot forward towards the knight. It likely wouldn’t do much damage. Well not against his armor, it could still disrupt his shielding at the very least. As Ramsey’s next attack had him moving even faster than the last, breaking the sound barrier in the short dash. His goal was to use the shockwave to cause a sonic boom, as he sped past the knight.

Chris was not overly thrilled when he heard Ramsey say that he was holding his power back against Chris. Nor was he pleased when he realized that Ramsey almost seem to act as if this was some sort of game. While Chris was not the most serious of all people (he had made jokes in front of Mercy, who could literally rearrange molecules), he knew (or at least he thought he knew) when to pull the jokes back. Chris was actually trying to help people. His humor just helped calm his nerves.

Suddenly, a penny struck Chris’ energy shield; however, instead of piercing through the shield, the penny ricocheted off the force field. The protective nature of Chris’ shield absorbed all the penny’s kinetic energy and reapplied it against the penny, causing the penny to move at an even greater velocity than when it was initially launched. Fortunately for Chris, the penny only embedded into the side of a building, missing any bystanders that could have easily became an casualty if he or she had been in the path of the high-speed projectile.

While Chris was still dwelling on the penny projectile, his computer system started to warn him about an extremely fast moving object heading toward his general direction, although not directly at Chris. Chris immediately returned his attention to the battle and realized that he had no time to react to his opponent’s most recent move.

While Chris was not worried about direct damage from the resulting sonic boom, since the energy shield would absorb the majority of the sound energy, he was at risk for the sonic boom’s effect on his shielding. Although the shielding would dampen the power of the sonic boom, the force would still push Chris back, just as if Chris participating in zorbing. Therefore, all Chris could do is prepare to restabilize himself from this event.

The penny only bounced off the knights’ energy shield as Ramsey he sped past knocking the knight over as he looked like he was stabilizing himself. “Where are you? Got your head in the clouds. I’ll admit it’’s a wonderful day, sun shining birds chirping, just look at those clouds. Hey is that one a ice cream cone? It totally is. Right!? You getting up. Cause I expect more out of you. Names Ramsey, you give me your name otherwise I’ll just call you Tin Man, and we can walk down the yellow brick road! Haha! Oooh a hot dog stand, want one? I could seriously go for a frank right now.”

"Mr Stoker, thank you, we'll be in touch." Those were the death words to your chances of getting a job. They wouldn't be in touch, he'd already been passed over for this one. It seemed everyone did that to him.

"I'll be glad to hear it." He smiled, but he was lying. He'd bet against hell itself that he wouldn't even be mentioned when they were making he decision process. As many times as that happened, you'd think he was purposefully sabotaging these things. Thing is he had no reason to do that. These were favors pulled by hiss mother, his best friend, other people who he wouldn't spit on by screwing up legitimate attempts to help him. And it seemed as though while Elijah tried to find a job that the rest of the world was going down the crapper. Or maybe that was just his world. Each interview he had been to looking for something to keep himself afloat was a failure. He had maybe 3 left and then he was out of ideas and his friends and family were out of IOUs.

The nightmares weren't any fun either. They had started after his black out in the alley. They were always of the same violent, brutal and grisly incident. He recognized the victims as the thugs from the alley and the place it happened as the alley. The news reports of a bloody mess of gore only made it worse and weirder. He couldn't have done that. Hell, he could have hardly taken one of them in a fight, let alone tear 5 of them a part. And how had he found his way home after the black out anyway? It was a question he dreaded asking out of fear for the answer was something out of a horror movie or Stephen King novel. He probably should go see a psychiatrist, someone to help him sort through all this weirdness, but he doesn't have the money for that. He had to get himself a job first. So his problems all seemed connected.

Leaving the building he loosened his collar, tore the tie from around his neck and shoved it in his pocket. What was he going to do? He didn't have any ideas. As he walked down the street, he merged in with the crowd, its New York City, the sides of every street always seem choked like an artery clogged with cholesterol. He bumped into someone who reeked of B.O. just rank with it. As he pushed past, nearly stepping on a small dog he thought to himself how there is nothing on God's Green Earth that should smell so foul. Putting distance between himself and that crowd, Elijah's head began to swim. He put his hand to his brown and tried shaking it off. What a freak sudden dizzy spell. Was his blood pressure hitting the floor?

As he stepped onto the street it began to fade, just as a car came down the way, Stoker an unseen obstacle as the driver was too busy cursing his wife out on the phone. Elijah didn't see him either through the haze, it was the makings of an accident that would be paper and prime time worthy news.
Then it all stopped.

Everything froze around them. Them, the man in the car, Elijah and someone new. He wore a fine tailored suit the color of the darkest night that you've ever seen. His face was pale and gaunt yet lively. His hand stretched out and touching the hood of the car. Inside the vehicle the driver seemed to have just noticed the person in the street, his eyes bugged out feet on the brakes and arms locked on the steering wheel. He would have been too late if not for this fantastical and mysterious stranger's intervention. Even Elijah's head had stopped spinning, like it was never there, not even a fizz.

Eli was in total shock, his heart pounded in his ears and he wanted to run but his legs just wouldn't work, not one step worth of function could be pulled from them despite all the desire that he had to get away from the stranger. He didn't seem to mind, his hand still held before the car. A bird overhead was frozen mid flap, a scattered little flock of pigeons coming off a rooftop in the distance. Not a single thing moved. The world, save for Elijah and this man in black, had been paused.

"Your brother was having a nasty go at you. You have a lunch date with your mother and her friend to attend." The way he talked to Elijah was like he had known him his whole life. Like some kind of uncle for family friend but he had never seen this man before. With a face like death he would have remembered seeing him. "I'll be seeing you later. The restaurant is that way." As he spoke he pointed a long bony finger in the direction the younger man should go.

It baffled him, he stepped backwards, he wanted to get across the street before everything unfroze. The Man In Black however decided to stay where he was, watching the only thing that moved. "Don't be late, that'd be rude." And then he vanished into thin air, seconds later, life returned to the world.

As he soared above the city of Lost Haven, Icon’s mind drifted to everything that he had been through over the last week. The revelation of his origins weighed particularly heavy on him. From the time that his abilities began to manifest themselves, he had imagined a thousand different origins for himself. He had imagined that he were an alien from a far off world, or someone that had been chosen by the gods to wield great powers.

As he grew older, he imagined less as his curiosity grew. He wanted to know where he came from, who his real parents were. He wondered what they would be like, what they would think of the things that he’s done since stepping into the public spotlight. He wondered if they would be proud of him.

He never imagined that he originated in a petri dish. The revelation that he was nothing more than an experiment, nearly a “perfect accident” left a sickly feeling in his gut. However, he knew that he had to put these thoughts out of his mind, at least for the time being. He has been gone for over a week, and in that time a new threat had emerged and begun slaughtering the citizens of Lost Haven, all while making STRIKE look like a bunch of rank amateurs.

This fact is something that left Icon uneasy. In his few experiences with STRIKE, they seemed anything but amateurish. In fact, the efficiency they demonstrated was nothing short of impressive, almost too impressive. Though he didn’t pretend to know STRIKE’s motives, and that did bother him to an extent, he couldn’t deny that at least for the moment, they were good at what they did. To see an organization such as them publicly humiliated the way they had been by this “Nightmare” character was rather disturbing.

He knew that he needed to do whatever it took to stop this psychopath’s murderous rampage. Unfortunately, he was still feeling the effects of the neural dampeners that the Valor Institute had utilized against him. Although he was beginning to regain some of his strength, he was far from one hundred percent. However, that mattered little. He knew that regardless of his own condition, he needed to find a way to stop the rampaging killer, and was willing to go to nearly any lengths to accomplish that task.

However, his search for the killer known as Nightmare had not gone well. Thus far, the night had been quiet. There had been no signs of trouble, not even a pick pocket could be found out on the streets. Though life in the city had gone on, it was hardly business as usual. The streets, even at this hour seemed just a little less traveled. There were fewer people on the streets.

There was a madman on the loose, and the city was scared.

However, through his enhanced hearing, Icon finally found something. Just a short distance away, in what was once the city’s meatpacking district, which now housed a number of warehouses, there was music. He recognized the electronic sounds as a form of trance music that one would generally hear at a rave. It made sense, as the empty warehouses were often rented out to party organizers. However, the music wasn’t all he heard.

There were also the screams.

Icon lowered his head and rocketed toward the origin of the sounds, however, as he got there the screams had died down, now all he could hear besides the music was muffled cries, and an evil, inhuman laughter.

It only took Icon a matter of seconds to reach his destination, a warehouse that had in fact been the site of a late night rave. However, as he made his way into the building, the grisly scene that greeted him was like something out of a horror movie.

The only word to describe what he saw was carnage. Unadulterated carnage. There was blood and bodies strewn throughout the large room which had served as the dance floor. The very sight of the blood and bodies, as well as the individual body parts that littered the floor was enough to send even the most grizzled homicide detective or city coroner into a violent fit of nausea. However, Icon just stood there, horrified by what he saw before him. Then he noticed the figure moving within the room. He had expected to find a hulking monster, perhaps even a hockey masked maniac from a series of popular slasher films from decades ago.

However, instead he found a woman. Wearing a strange hat, she was dressed in black and gold. He didn’t believe that she was the monster called Nightmare, as the murderer’s voice was clearly male. However, he assumed that she might know where he could find him.

”Nightmare…Where is he?” Icon asked, unable to hide the anger in his voice, even as he struggled to stand.

Standing in the center of the room, surrounded by carnage and the ruins of the bodies of hundreds who had already been torn limb from limb in a massive slaughter the woman in gold and black seemed completely unperturbed as she turned in Icon’s direction. She bent down slightly and curtsied as he came into view, her face hidden behind the black of the mask and the golden veil.

“Am I not the one you seek?” The woman took a step towards him, stepping over a bloody torso that had nothing attached to it any longer. Her voice sounded almost normal, though there was a hint of an accent to it. “Who is to say I am not Nightmare?” And as she spoke her voice changed, becoming distorted and heavier. The two streamers that emerged from her back rose and twisted around themselves and for the briefest moment it was as if there was a semblance of wings in their place, but it must have just been a trick of the light on the shimmering streams for it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

Another step and this time the skull of a dead man broke beneath her foot. Her black hair fanned out behind her body. “Who says I did not kill all these men?” Her voice had become more distorted, and twisted.

Then from behind Icon came another voice in answer to her own, a voice that Icon would recognize if he had been shown the coverage. “I SAY SO!” The voice thundered as a tide of darkness swept over Icon and he would suddenly find himself completely blind. In that same instant the superhero was struck hard from behind by what seemed to be a massive and misshapen hand with far too many fingers and perhaps claws or long nails. In his weakened state the claws/nails cut through his skin, and the impact cast the hero forward.

For a moment he cleared the darkness flying straight for the gold and black clad woman, who jumped up into the air and as the streamers on her back flared out again seemed to hover briefly before spinning and delivering a graceful kick straight to his face with the force that snapped his nose to send the hero back into the darkness that reached out to receive him. And as the darkness took him again a hand wrapped around his legs, a hand wrapped around his arms, and another (hand?) wrapped around his waist, all of them clenching tightly with a grip that he could not break.

They lifted him up in the darkness as the smell of sulfur and the hot breath washed over him. Then the voice thundered from inches away and hot spittle that burned like acid splattered over Icon’s face, actually melting away the skin where it landed. “I AM NIGHTMARE!” Then the hero felt a terrible pulling sensation as the (hands?) tightened and began to pull as if trying to rip him apart. At first it was merely painful but then another (hand?) gripped both his arms and legs and pulled again harder. Still there was only pain, far more wrenching pain but no ripping apart.

The (hand?) at his waist moved down and another joined the ones at his arms but still the hero’s body did not rip apart as the being seemed to be trying very hard to do. Finally the hero found himself lifted up higher and then he was twisted as the (hands?) rotated. There was a series of sickening cracks as bones shattered and skin ripped. And then the (hands?) flicked forwards and released, sending him flying forward.

And as his body was sent out of the darkness towards the woman she raised her right hand and white fire billowed forth in a consuming wave to strike him full on.

His body was racked with pain more intense than anything he had ever felt before, then suddenly he found himself engulfed by the white flame, then nothing. A moment later, he stood where he had before the dark mass had grabbed him, though his bones were no longer broken, he could still feel the gashes deep in his back that he had suffered at the hands of the killer, and he also could feel that his nose was still broken.

“Thanks.” He said, as the woman turned to him, lurching backwards in surprise. Though he couldn’t see her face, he could tell that she didn’t expect to see him standing there after what she had done.

She reached back, as if to summon the blinding white flame again, however, Icon dodged to the left and fired a pair of optic blasts at the woman, hitting her squarely on the black half mask. The attack didn’t seem to have much of an effect on the woman, though it did seem to take her by surprise, and in the physical state that he found himself in at the moment, he would take whatever he could get.

He knew that he had to act fast, otherwise he would lose the advantage that the surprise of his reemergence had granted him. He looked up to the ceiling, and noted the rafters that hung below. He grimaced through the pain in his back, and fired several well placed optic beams. Suddenly, there was a loud crash as the rafters came down, burying the gold and black clad woman beneath them. He knew that this would only buy him a few minutes, so he turned his attention on Nightmare, yet all he saw was a massive black mass, almost like a living, breathing wall of shadow.

Icon knew that he needed to press any advantage that he had, which wasn’t much. However, not being able to see the being that he was facing was problematic. However, whatever Nightmare was, he only appeared to be using the shadows as camouflage. He was a physical being, and thus Icon had another trick at his disposal.

He began to concentrate, closing his eyes, he began tapping into the radar like sense that had helped him locate victims trapped under rubble, or other things that could not be scene by the naked eye. As he did so, his surroundings began to take shape within the darkness of his mind. At first the images he saw were almost ghost-like, images that one could almost claim were x-ray like, however, the images blinked in and out as he was able to survey his surroundings. Once he had gotten a bearing on his surroundings, he turned toward the wall of living shadow that stood before him, and for the first time understood the depth of his peril, particularly in his weakened state.

The being that was concealed by the shadow was easily three times Icon’s size. A massive figure with multiple arms and what appeared to be a tail. Although the ghost like “image” he received from the use of his radar sense lacked any real detail, he could tell that this being was like nothing he had ever seen before. One thing was for certain, whatever this thing was, it truly had named itself appropriately.

“Oh my God…” Icon said as he steeled himself, preparing to face the nightmarish beast yet again.

“NOT YOUR GOD!” Came the bellowed response from within the shadows as they swept forward in another wave and the being within them moved like lightning itself.

Meanwhile the woman’s right hand moved and the white fire lashed out to consume the debris that were pinning her down.

As the shadows struck the hero the man braced himself and attempted to use his radar sense, punching with his own fist to strike away one of the massive reaching hands as he launched himself up from the ground to deliver a punch to the creature’s chest. And he felt a burning heat and slime seemingly from the creature’s metal hard skin on the hand where he had struck it. Then another hand struck from the side, leaving deep gouges in his right side and knocking him back with enough force that he would have crashed against the distant wall had another hand in the darkness not struck then from above.

The impact sent him crashing down again to smash against the floor hard enough that the concrete shattered and left an indent, but also made the already wounded man cry out in pain once more. His radar sense temporarily disabled the hero struggled to his feet in time to take another blow as something large and clawed but shaped differently from the hands struck him and sent him crashing down again with the weight of a giant over him, crushing him down into the ground again.

As the (foot?) pressed down on him one of the hands reached down, wrapping long fingers around his arms again, this time the claws/nails at the end of them sinking into the skin and leaving their own wounds as another hand did the same to his legs. As he was lifted he managed to engage the radar sense again through the pain and the vague details showed a mouth opening wide just before it snapped shut, crunching down on his left leg.

Surprisingly there was no snapping of the bones only the burning pain as serrated teeth sliced deep into the muscles there. With great effort the hero tore his leg free though now blood ran more freely from it to kick at the being’s face. But this effort earned only laughter as the hero found himself free of the darkness again, his arms and legs held by what seemed to be solid masses of shadow while he found himself staring into the mask of the woman he had dropped the roof on earlier.

“I LIKE THIS ONE.” The terrible voice of Nightmare proclaimed. “SOUL FIRE, TURN HIM.” The woman nodded and her left hand rose, black fire blooming around it as the streamers at her back flared out again. “He was ours first.” The woman whispered in her distorted voice as she stretched her flaming left hand out towards Icon.

As she did so he summoned a burst of energy and the optic beams met the fire. But they could not hold it back and his strength faltered as the dark fire rushed forward with her hand to press against him. And with it came agony of a different kind then the pain the wracked his body. This pain was in the soul, a malaise that ripped into him on a spiritual level, tearing at his will and leaving darkness like a poison within him.

But the painful process had only just begun when a crack rang out and the dark fire faltered as the woman sagged forward with a hole in the side of her head. Before he knew what had happened he was flung aside to smash against the wall of the room as the darkness engulfed the woman and people in STRIKE assault armor stormed the building.

The darkness charged forward to meet them, heading straight for a man holding a very long gun. The others were brushed aside, and while rays of light from other weapons made the darkness alter course a long tendril lashed out to grip the man and yank him up. Then from within the swirling mass came a flickering of stream white fire that lashed out to strike the man and he vanished.

As the man vanished the fire grew stronger, lashing out as scything whips of flame that left nothing in their wake, no sign that the men had ever been there. Save for one that the darkness claimed engulfing him as the screams sounded and then cut off in a pained gurgle.