The city of Steelport never slept. The sounds of cars and machinery at work filled the city streets and sunlight shone off the mirrored glass of the skyscrapers in the city's downtown district. Sarah was sitting in the chair of her office, looking impatiently at her phone, waiting for the front desk to call her. She was wearing white form fitting dress with matching heels and the whole thing looked extremely elegant and flattering on her, but it did little to make her feel any more at ease.

She was perfectly in her element like this, with only a pistol strapped to each thigh and the certainty that no man or woman would look at her and think she was an assassin or a killer or even threatening in any way. Today, however, things were different. Today everyone coming into her building for the 'job interview' knew who she was and could be one of her many enemies in disguise, waiting to get close enough to strike. Even if they weren't outright hostile, there was no telling if they would trust her or had their powers under their control.

She only knew she had to gather as many of her brothers and sisters as possible to weather the oncoming storm. What little documents she had managed to salvage from the Ark indicated that they were all in danger, and not knowing the face or nature of the enemy they were facing made everything even more nerve wrecking. A killer with her skill would happily tell you there was no job with more risk of death than one where you knew next to nothing about the kind of resistance you were going against.

Her only advantage in this case was that each candidate that showed up today would be shown to a separate room each, and their identities verified before she approached any of them or even put them in the same room. Verify they were the real deal, then put them through a basic test of ability to determine how much control or practice they had with their powers and abilities. The Ark wasn't going anywhere and she sure wasn't going to let a potential time bomb simply waltz into their only safe base of operations.

A text came on her phone from the front desk. First applicant arrived. Sarah took that as her cue to move. On the twenty third floor of the building was the series of rooms she would be using for her first little test. Each candidate would be led to a different room, and all their rooms were connected to a central observation room where Sarah could have a good look at all of them and if need be, gather them to meet and introduce each other for their first time.

The first layer of security would be a fingerprint scanner at the door. Sarah had taken the liberty of modifying it herself to take a skin sample, to make sure that any impostor was going to be found and rooted out as quickly as possible. The second layer of security was a nanotech screen that would eat away any mask someone would be wearing.

Once all of the candidates were gathered, Sarah began her little interview. The speakers in each room came to life as she pushed the talk button on the microphone. "State your full name please." The final test was to verify her visitors through their voice. Accents, synthesizers and the like could be detected and distinguished with ease, she had to make doubly sure this wasn't a trap or she wasn't about to make someone's job really easy.

Coast of Nassau, Jamaica

"They'll spoil soon 'nuff," said a young, Jamaican boy, no older than 15. He had a frail frame and his thin stature nearly gave him off as malnourished were it not for his strong calves and forearms. He smiled at his mother, who looked much weaker in comparison. She simply clicked her tongue and shook her head: "Only thing fi' spoil is that damn duppy. All yeh been doin, pickney. All day, 'ma, I'm off t'see Duppy' or 'Ma, Duppy needs I."

The boy smiled, "You just mad y'never see him, ma," he murmured as he collected the bag of mangoes and ran out of the shabby hut. His mother laughed weakly as her son darted out of their home faster than she had the chance to bless him. "That damn boy and his damn friends..."

---

The wind was elegantly chaotic against Jin's relaxed body. The sea danced against the shoreline, crashing and retreating in beautiful waltz responsible for the breeze that brushed past his features. He sat on a single, white log that had become sort of an icon of his presence - a ghost tree washed up from what-land and what-time. He was alone in the area; no one ventured further along the coast since rumors of his existence began weeding their ways into the local conversations. Jin loved his unchosen alias: "Duppy", or the "ghost" of Nassau. He loved the thought of being significant enough to become and urban legend more than the fact that the people of this coast had correctly labeled him with a nickname that perfectly suited his nature. But they were his people now. He couldn't forget that. From his days of suffering, impoverished and lonely, to his time spent as a living folktale, he knew that his heart now belonged to these people. Jamaica was his, he was Jamaica's.

"I got the kind you liked, boss," came the voice of the young lad holding a sack of mangoes. Jin instantly whirled around and spun a dagger he had been playing with into a defensive hold. The boy flinched and nearly fell back, caught off guard by the sudden motion. However, Jin quickly relaxed and sheathed his dagger with a chuckle. "You know better than to sneak up on me, Goyo. Especially when I'm in my zone."

Jin reached into the bag of mangoes and chose one that fit comfortably into his palm. He then redrew his dagger and tapped it on the log next to him, motioning for Goyo to take a seat. As he began cutting the mango, he tilted his head to the side and spoke to Goyo in a warm, friendly tone. "How's ma?" he asked. Goyo scoffed, "Always gettin' pon me like a hawk, brothah'." Jin laughed and elbowed Goyo gently, "She's yah mother, Goyo. It's her job." Goyo shifted in his seat and smacked his lips in disagreement, "Still..."

Jin smiled and handed a few cut pieces of the fruit to Goyo, who began chewing on them immediately. Jin then brought the rest of the mango to his mouth, taking a moment to enjoy the sweet fruit before speaking again. "Anymore of them suits come lookin' for me?"

Goyo nodded, "Me and the boys told 'em to get movin', mind dey own damn busines, yeah?" Jin shook his head and frowned, "Goyo, no, you can't be doing that. Who knows what those guys are capable of? They look li-"

Goyo held up a hand, interrupting Jin, "Dey look like dey would get dey ass kicked if dey even look at yah funny." Jin sat still for a moment, looking at Goyo with a smile. He knew that it was most of the younger crowds that adored him and his stories. He loved them all like brothers and sisters. But at the same time, he knew that it was his fault that a few of them had been taken away for choosing to hide him. It was this that caused most of the older folks of the city to despise Jin.

Jin finished his slices and stretched, "I'm going with them." Goyo froze. He opened his mouth to argue, but Jin gently put a hand on his shoulder, "I'm going to get them the hell away from our home, then come right back. I won't be gone long." Goyo simply stared at him with a frown. He knew that Jin was contemplating leaving with them, and he hated even thinking about what it would be like without "Duppy." The boy looked down solemnly, failing to think of anything to say to dispute Jin's declaration. Jin smiled and pat Goyo's bat lightly, "Goyo... I..." Jin squint as he looked out at the ocean and then back to the young boy, "I think of you as a little brother."

Goyo's face instantly sprang up with a new spark in his eyes. Jin nodded, "And I'd be the worst man on Earth to break a promise to my brother. I'll be back, I swear it." Goyo felt a single tear build in his right eye, which he simply forced back with excessive blinking. He smiled and looked back at Jin, "One condition."

Jin raised his brow and nodded once, "What?"

Goyo chuckled and pointed to Jin's hair. It had grown past his shoulders and still had the smooth, natural texture about it.

"You let ma lock yah hair."

The first time Owen Bright listened to the audio logs of Doctor Blackburn and the one entry by the Ghost, he was confused to the point where he was sure he had heard it all wrong. Super babies was just too far fetched for his brain to wrap around it. Him being one of them was downright ridiculous. He was nothing special, after all. He was a bit spoiled, he would admit that, but that was about it. And the thing with his hair; but growing out your hair could not possibly be considered “super-human”.

The second time he listened to the audio logs, he started thinking a bit more about his life. Had anything supernatural happened to him that he did just not think about? A few instances came to mind. Like that one time, during P.E., while they had been playing Dodgeball and Evan, that assholeish bully, had thrown the ball straight at his face. It had bounced off without any pain and just went straight back at Evan and hit him square on the nose. He had gotten a nose-bleed and Owen had been lectured about not aiming for the face.

The third time he heard the audio logs, he was really listening. Maybe his science classes were good for something anyways. He really wanted to try and understand. Had he learned of this Ark earlier, while it was still up and running, he and his friends would have been protesting outside. But it had shut down about the same time he was born. If he really was one of those super babies, it would mean that one of his parents were most likely some scientist person that had helped “make” him. His father could barely figure out how the stove worked, so he would put his money on his mother. She had always helped him with his homework, too.

The fourth time he listened, he started to realize what all of this meant. If he really was some super human, he would have to go and help with those enemies that the Ghost was talking about. Sure, she had said that he did not have to, but it sounded like when his mother said he did not have to help her do the dishes. He had a choice, but not going was a bad one and would mean he wound not be getting dessert.

The fifth time was the charm. He finally just sighed, rubbed his face with his hands and resigned to his fate. He would have to talk to his parents first, of course. If he presented them with this evidence and all that, they would have to tell him the truth. Maybe he would be able to learn something that the audio logs did not tell him; like what it was he could do. Yeah... He would definitely have to talk to his parents first.

---

It was a couple of hours after he had made up his mind. Dinner had been served, eaten and cleaned back up. It was just Owen and his parents, since Emily had long since moved out and found an apartment of her own. Owen was nervous, though. As much as he hated his parents sometimes, he loved them, too. He was not quite ready to lose them, yet and having them tell him that he was basically stolen from some government project was pretty much losing them.

“Mom..?” he finally mustered up the courage to all but whimper while they were watching some cooking show on the TV, just chilling after dinner.

His mother, Denise Bright, started at the sudden, utterly heartbreaking sound of her sons voice. She turned in her seat immediately and looked at him with wide, worried eyes, “What's the matter, baby? Does anything hurt?” was her immediate response.

Owen felt his heart break at the look on his mothers face. She was genuinely worried about him. He had never before doubted that his parents loved him. Why would he doubt it now? Even if they had stolen him and were not his biological parents, they had always been there for him. They had never treated him bad or done anything but love him like their own.

“Mom,” he began again, drawing in a shuttering, nervous breath. He could tell his mother was holding herself back from smothering him in worried hugs and kisses. “Mom, I got an email today. From a girl called Sarah Blackburn.”

His mother stiffened up at the mention of the girl's name. Her face went cold and her shoulders tensed. The very mention of her obviously scared her shitless.

“She told you, then?” was her clipped reply. Her expression did not change. She did not want to reveal anything.

Owen sank to try and relieve the lump that was forming in his throat. His mother was going to hate him after this, “In a way. She sent me a file that gave me access to some audio logs from the Ark. Most of what is going on has already been explained.”

“Good,” his father butted in with a calm, soft tone, “Then you understand that we took you in voluntarily, to protect you and give you a normal life?” he inquired with a lifted brow.

Owen nodded dully, his mouth dry as sandpaper. He really did understand. He was just scared, right?

“So...” his mother began, her voice a bit warmer, but laced with a tone of hurt, “What do you want to know? You have a reason for bringing this up, yes?”

“Yeah,” Owen said, not really thinking it through before he said it, “What can I do?”

---

After a long talk with his parents; his mother telling him about his supposed abilities and them telling him a bit more about what had happened back at the Ark and his mother trying to explain to him how it all worked, Owen went to bed with his head spinning with information. Well, he went to his room, anyways.

He was looking at himself in the mirror. He was a good looking guy, he decided to himself. He found himself wondering if he had made himself a good looking guy. Had he unconsciously molded himself into his image of what a good looking guy looked like? Was it the genes used for the project that were just naturally good looking, to ensure that the future super-humans would be attractive, or something. Maybe he had just gotten lucky.

He held up a hand in front of his face, so he could no longer see his reflection. What if he thought about looking different? Would his appearance change to match? He took a deep breath and held it, eyes shut tightly and lips pressed together into a thin line as he concentrated all that he could on trying to be someone else.

He felt nothing.

After a few moments of standing there, feeling silly for even trying, he opened his eyes back up. The sight that met him in the mirror made him jump a bit as he let out a startled squeak. He had breasts. Wide hips, breasts and long, dark hair. His eyes were no longer that powder blue color that they had (supposedly) always been, but a deep green. He reached out one of his thin-fingered hands, with the manicured nails and touched his own reflection gently. He looked just like Michelle. Michelle wearing his clothes, but he looked like her, nonetheless.

Something was not quite right, though. He was certain that Michelle's lips were not quite that plum and her breasts certainly were not that big. Her eyes were not as bright as his were and her hair was not that long. As he realized these things, they changed. It was not disgusting to look at, like Mystique from the X-Men movies or something. It simply changed. His lips shrank, his hair grew shorter, his breasts got smaller and so on, until he looked exactly like he imagined Michelle.

“Cool.”

---

“You're really going to go?” his mother asked him with worry etched into her every feature as she stood awkwardly in the door opening while he packed a few things into his duffel bag.

“Yeah...” was his distracted reply while he stuffed a few pairs of clean boxers into the bag. Neither he, nor his mother commented on the pink ones.

His mother sighed and ran a hand through her graying hair, pushing it out of her face, “There are so many others, dear, and so many of them with powers more fit for something like this.” she rationalized.

Owen stopped to turn and look at her with one brow raised and the other pushed down, “And what if they think like that, too? No one will go. Someone has to do something, so why not me? If what you said is true, I can't really get hurt, right? I reflect stuff, or something, right?”

“It's still dangerous,” his mother squeaked, “Even if you were immortal, I wouldn't want you to go.”

“I'm going, mom,” he deadpanned, shoving his favorite sweatshirt into his bag with a rather aggressive movement.

The conversation ended at that.

The sun was starting to set, though it wasn't much of anything through the brown-stained blinds of the single window in some run-down motel room; or rather, Isaac’s home for the night. The carpet was a dull beige, matted and worn from overuse, and the walls were made of poorly painted cement blocks, vaguely reminiscent of that one brief visit to a jail cell not too long ago. The bed was a double, or a full or a queen or whatever size they usually placed in such a room – Isaac wasn't familiar enough with large mattresses to name the exact kind. The sheets were average, with a plain white with a sort of egg-wash wool-cotton blanket between them and the reddish flowery comforter. It wasn't glamorous, but then again, he wasn't used to glamour, nor had he the money for much past a cardboard box, so it would do. Besides, though the air conditioner box beneath the window was rather loud, and sometimes paused between wheezes of warm air, it worked much better than any cardboard box.

The young man himself was perched at the edge of the old bed, unlacing his sneakers and unceremoniously dumping them to the side before ripping off his socks and marveling at the freedom as he wiggled his toes. It had been too long since he were able to do that, as shown by the putrid smell that closely followed the unveiling and a few shallow blisters on the balls of his feet. He prodded at them experimentally, still getting used to the fact that he couldn't feel much pain on his grotesque skin. He hadn’t known until now that he had any blisters at all, but he couldn't be too surprised. It had been maybe a month and a half.

Isaac shrugged off his thicker brown jacket, followed soon after by a tugged off thin grey hoodie, and then finally a black tee. He gathered up the items, minus the jacket, and started towards the small bathroom near the entrance of the room. Making sure to grab the previously discarded socks on his way, he walked through the open door and placed the clothes on the counter space near the sink. The bathroom was about the same level of impressive as the room – water-stained metal, cheap plastic, and stained tiling – but again, it would do. Isaac turned on the sink, thankful that the water appeared clean, and proceeded to wash then wring out each article of clothing before hanging them on an empty towel rack. He then shed his jeans, repeated the washing, wringing out, and hanging process with his boxer shorts, and pulled back the shower curtain. Fairly certain that the warm water might not work, yet content with any shower regardless of the temperature, he quite literally tested the waters.

It turned out not to be as cold as Isaac predicted, but rather lukewarm, and a pleasantly surprised nineteen year old stepped inside. He pulled the curtain closed and tilted back his head, allowing the water to fall over his face and then trickle down over the rest of his body. He reveled in the feeling of grime washing off of him, and greedily used up as much of the little soap that was provided as possible. He could have easily spent hours in there, enjoying the one luxury that he rarely had, but Isaac wasn't one to waste time on anything. Had he not required sleep and shelter in the first place, he wouldn't be there.

He’d be on his way to the Ark. Unfortunately, it had taken him much longer than anticipated to get there. Before, he and his father had taken a near direct flight to their location, having no time for subtlety and not wanting to stay in the country for longer than a handful of days out of fear of being caught. Now, although Isaac would prefer to be quick and just rush, he now required the subtlety and indiscretion he did not have time for the last time as his intention was to stay in America. So because of this, his initial flight had landed nowhere near the Ark and he had been forced to make his way across the country by foot or hitchhiking or whatever method he could afford by taking a few odd jobs here and there – which is how he was in the motel in the first place.

But now, he was nearly there, and he had another thing to ponder.

Not too long ago, Isaac visited a local library in the area he was in and logged onto one of the computers to check his location in relation to the Ark. Somehow, someone managed to contact him and extend an invitation for a ‘job interview’. Said person claimed to be Sarah Blackburn, the first successful person like him who – according to his father – had supposedly been kidnapped as a child from her father – a coworker of his father – Dr. Blackburn. Considering that this is exactly what he had been looking for, Isaac was obviously skeptical. It could be a trap. He’s had people chasing him for as long as he can remember, and although they may not know his motives entirely, it wouldn't take a genius to realize that perhaps Isaac would want to find others like him. Another option could be that it was Sarah Blackburn, but seeing as how she was kidnapped from such a young age, she could be on their side – whoever ‘they’ were that wanted Isaac so badly – which would be equally as bad.

But then there was the third possibility that the messenger who claimed to be Sarah Blackburn was telling the truth and that his best bet for completing the little quest of his was to go to the location she had given and actually participate in the ‘job interview’ she had planned. Still, though he wanted to believe it, the last seemed unlikely. And yet, of course, there was a draw to it. Isaac was conflicted. So far, he had spent a week mulling it over, and as he drew closer and closer to the interview location, and as the interview date itself grew closer and closer (tomorrow, to be precise), he became more conflicted. By going to the location but not the interview, Isaac could easily put himself in as much danger anyway. Of course if it was a trap, they would be on the lookout for him, even if he didn’t fall for it entirely. He could already be in danger by just being in this city.

Grunting in frustration, Isaac leaned his head on the wall of the shower. What would his father do in a situation like this? Would he want his only son to take this risk? The answer wasn't clear for the first question, but it was for the second. While Isaac was his father’s only child, he also had a responsibility that most children didn’t, and while his father loved him and didn't want anything to happen to him, he would still remind Isaac of this responsibility.

With a sigh, Isaac reluctantly turned off the shower, pulled back the curtain, and grabbed a clean towel. He quickly dried himself and, pursing his lips in contemplation, stared at the wet clothes on the towel rack. He knew, technically, he wasn't supposed to put them on the heater, but it seemed to him that they wouldn't dry quickly enough on their own, so he did just that. Nodding to himself with a sense of approval, Isaac went over to the light switch and flipped it down. Instantly, the room was cloaked in darkness, though it made little difference to the enhanced human in the room. His vision was clear enough for him to easily make his way to the bed, even stepping over his shoes as he climbed in. Trusting his internal alarm clock as well as his survival instinct should anything go wrong, Isaac settled in and closed his eyes. His last thought was more of a feeling as he drifted towards partial unconsciousness – a feeling of finality in his decision and a desperate hope that he knew what he was doing.

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

The next morning, just after dawn, found Isaac awake and already lacing up his sneakers. His clothes had still been damp, but dry enough so that he wouldn't catch a cold or be too uncomfortable, so he donned them anyway. His heart and mind were buzzing in unison with the day to come and his fingers fumbled a couple of times as he tied the last knot. He made a promise to himself a little while back that when he finally came to a decision, he wouldn't go back on it. He couldn't take the chance of flip-flopping and so couldn't turn back any longer. He was going to the interview. He was going to – hopefully – meet a Sarah Blackburn that was on his side.

Releasing a breath that he hadn't realized he held in, Isaac stood from the bed and used the momentum to carry him right out of the room, grabbing the black backpack by the door as he went. Initially, the bag held money, some snacks, and the hoodie he was now wearing, but currently it was empty. Still, he carried it on the off-chance he had something to put in it. On a couple of occasions he did – he didn't always need his jacket or hoodie, so he’d put it in there, and occasionally he wouldn't finish food, so in order not to waste, he’d wrap it up and put it in his bag. He no longer kept his money in there – opting for his jean pockets instead – as he had in fact been pick-pocketed of $20 a couple months back and had learned his lesson.

Pulling said money out of his pocket, Isaac paid for his room and walked out the entrance of the motel. He walked briskly, pushing his hands into his pockets and adopting a posture of ‘don’t f*** with me’. His hoodie was up and he stared at the pavement as he walked, so no one who got close enough could gawk at his skin. It wasn't a constant occurrence, but it wasn't uncommon. Often it was children who walked at their parents’ side down the sidewalk that would stop and point, or odd stares from various strangers that bumped into him and got close enough to notice his ailment. He never met any trouble for it – it wasn't all that noticeable – but he always had one or two ‘incidences’ in each city.

Coming up on the building marked by the number given to him in the message, Isaac slowed his pace. A nervous bead of sweat rolled from his forehead, glanced off his eyebrow, and continued until it dripped off his jawline. No going back. He slowed to a full stop at the base of the building and chanced a look up at it. Enormous, like the other skyscrapers around, and entirely impossible to escape from should he be farther up than maybe the third floor. He took a deep breath – no going back – and without releasing it, walked briskly through the doors. There was nothing off about the establishment, as far as he could tell. It looked like any other office building on the outside as it did on the inside. For a moment, he stood there dumbly before realizing that there was a front desk and someone behind it. Releasing the held in breath, Isaac approached the desk and again, stood there rather dumbly. The lady behind paid no mind to him, apparently busy with something or another on her computer. He opened his mouth to say something, but as he did so, the woman spoke.

“Are you here for the job interview?” She asked, not even looking up from her computer. Isaac nodded, mumbling a quick “yes” before coughing, clearing his throat, and uttering the word again with a bit more volume. Without missing a beat, the lady then asked “Name?” and Isaac was faced with a short wave of panic before he ultimately decided to give his real name. The woman stopped her typing and looked up, skeptical. She didn’t seem too surprised at his appearance, or maybe she didn't notice, but she did appraise him for a moment before pursing her lips. “Someone will be with you shortly” she finally responded before returning to her task, “Please take a seat.” Again, Isaac nodded, feeling a swell of anxiety as he took a seat closer to the entrance of the building.

He could run for it now, before it was too late. Whoever was coming to collect him could very well be associated with whoever had chased him since he was a child. Wiping a bit of sweat off his brow, Isaac knew he couldn't leave now. He made his decision, he was going to see it through, and if anything bad happened…. He would deal with that when it happened. No going back.

Several long minutes ticked by before a clean shaven, suited man appeared. He didn't say much other than the initial “Please follow me” before leading Isaac towards a row of elevators. Upon one arriving, the man ushered Isaac inside and pressed a button for the twenty-third floor. Twenty-third. Again, anxiety swelled as Isaac realized that now he could truly not go back, but he quickly stifled it. When the elevator reached its destination, the man spoke again. “To verify your identity, a skin sample will be taken before you are to enter your room.” His tone left no room for argument, nor did he imply that the sample was anything but mandatory. All Isaac could do was nod, a bit surprised but when he thought about it, smart. Were he in Sarah’s position – and he had all that Sarah had at her disposal – he would have most likely done something similar.

Without a doubt, as they approached a seemingly random door among others, there was a fingerprint scanner – or what looked like one. Before Isaac could do it himself, the man took hold of a finger and forcefully pressed it on. The young man flinched, expecting pain, but after a moment of seemingly nothing, the machine beeped, and a click in the door announced its approval. Without pause, the man ushered Isaac inside. Had there been another measure of security, Isaac did not see or feel it, nor did the man mention it, so he relaxed a bit. The inside of the room was small and simple, having a sort of interrogation feeling to it as there was only one desk and a chair, along with a security camera in the corner of the room. Without a word, the man left, closing the door behind him.

A subtle ‘click’ made it known that Isaac was locked in, but instead of panicking and attacking the door as his first instinct was, he simply sat down. Not too long after, a female’s voice appeared over an unseen speaker. “State your full name please.” And then silence. Taking yet another deep breath, Isaac cleared his throat and in a clear, confident voice said:

“Isaac Connors”

When Merlin heard the audio logs, he knew. He knew that this was it, the reason that he and his brother were the way they were. He wasn't about to pass up the chance to find out more, but equally, he wasn't going to walk into a trap. He wouldn't put it past the government to fake such recordings in an attempt to capture and use people with special powers. After all, more than a few times he or his brother had been forced to showcase something a little more than human in one dire situation or another, and the suited men would always show up a few days later. Not that it ever did them any good.

To that end, he staked out the location for a good few hours, hovering idly in midair as he used his powers to cause a powerful, localised heat shimmer that would obscure him from any concrete viewing or identification. He saw a few people enter, and nothing bad appeared to happen to them. He couldn't detect any of the Suits, as he'd dubbed them, nearby, so either they were very confident or it really wasn't a trap. He decided to go with the latter. It wasn't as if they were in serious danger from guns, anyway.

Retrieving his brother, he entered carefully. They were instructed to place their thumbs on a scanner, which apparently had records of their prints despite their never having any official records and never leaving prints anywhere or even visiting a doctor (they'd never needed to.) That was more evidence of the truth. Entering a room together over any protests that might have been offered about separate rooms, Merlin sat down calmly and began to meditate as he waited. His brother, more a man of action, paced up and down. He'd never liked having nothing to do.

Then, a voice came over the speakers.

"State your full name please."

Merlin raised an elegant eyebrow.

"We have had many names. They change every time we move, but the name I have always considered as quintessentially mine, despite the frequent changes, is Merlin."

His brother followed a little more simply, with one word.

"Arthur."

Jin held a blank expression from the second he stepped into the city to the moment he walked into the doors of the large building. The first thought that occurred to him was of revelation at the air conditioning that instantly cooled his warm skin and to his newly braided dreadlocks. He took in a deep breath, feeling a rush of ecstasy at the cool burst of dry, comforting air. Back in Jamaica, he lived among the trees of the jungles; air conditioning was but a myth from a life he had long forgotten. A life he had just returned to upon stepping through the double doors behind him.

He had arrived in Steelport with no luggage save for the "walking stick" he now carried upon a holster on his backpack. He called it "Phantom", a katana that doubled as a .50 caliber sniper rifle. Of course, it took a little bit of "cheating" to get past the security of the ship that had brought him here. But he was here, and that's what mattered.

Jin stepped forward towards what appeared to be some sort of fingerprint scanner. He recognized it, but had no idea how. They didn't have fingerprint scanners back in Portland. The various officials roaming around the room directed him towards the scanner, and he obliged to their request for him to place his hand upon it. After it ran its scans, he was authorized to move on through to the next room. The following chamber presented him with a facial scan. The guards rambled on about facial recognition, but Jin simply waited to receive direct orders. As they instructed him to place his face within the scanner's range, he did exactly that, and before long, he was allowed to enter the third room.

The third clearing was nearly empty save for a security camera and a speaker. Jin stood in the center like a test subject; being monitored for whatever it was that made him special. He looked at the ground and crossed his arms, trying to relax a bit, though a sense of nervousness overcame his natural cool. Then, a voice broke through the silence that was beginning to calm his nerve.

The Voice said
"State your full name please."

Jin froze, the voice echoing in his head a thousand times over. He knew the voice, but had never heard it. He never forgot it, but never remembered it. It was a sensation he could not explain, and it frightened him, akin to the sensation felt by separated twins meeting for the first time in their lives. After a brief moment lost to his unexplained trance, he cleared his throat and spoke with a slightly changed accent:

"Jin Yensid."

He said it loud and clear, but his tone made it apparent that he was also questioning whether he was Jin Yensid. This was the first time Jin had doubted who he was, the first time he truly pondered whether or not "Duppy" was real or not. It was all because of his name; who gave it to him? Why? Jin never even remembered forgetting his past, mostly because he could feel that there was still something there. There was a past, but one that he could not figure out.

"Ma'am, we have arrived..." The intercom of the private jet spoke out just as the landing gears hit the tarmac. "Welcome to Steelport."

Alma stared out of the small window beside her. "Looks just like any other city..." she said to herself, clearly not impressed. And as Ms Blackburn stated in her memo, the city of Steelport was filled with as much strife and suffering as any other. To Alma, they all felt the same. Concrete for miles, cities rotten to their very foundations with an incurable mold, human greed.

Normally she would appreciate the fact that someone paid for a private plane to carry her dead weight here, but right now she didn't. This Sarah Blackburn rubbed her the wrong way and it didn't really matter if she was Alma's sister or not. She could have just ignored the woman's message, but she needed answers, more about the purpose of her creation than anything else. If Ernest was to be believed, she was created as a means to protect the future of mankind. She didn't feel like she was the protector of the future though. She felt like a contract killer, a murderer for hire.

The jet taxied itself off the runway and into a discreet spot where a silver car with black stripes was parked, a Ford Shelby GT500, waiting for its owner.

With the address of the interview location in hand, Alma lazily stepped off the plane and climbed into her vehicle, adjusting herself in the seat to make herself more comfortable for the short trip that was about to follow. "Malupo Industries..." Alma breathed out, tossing the little scrap of paper onto the passenger seat and turning the keys in the ignition, revving the Shelby to life. "Let's see what this is all about, Ms Blackburn..."
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Malupo Industries HQ, gleamed like a jewel in all it's glory as the sun's beaming light reflected of the countless windows that the skyscraper donned. Leaving her car behind, neatly parked close by, Alma marched up towards the main entrance to the building, not out of confidence, but out of an unsatisfied curiosity that hungered for knowledge, nagging at the back of her mind, forcing her forward more eagerly than she sub-consciously wanted to.

As she stepped through the automated glass double doors, she was greeted by the standard appearance of a corporate building, with a reception desk and a waiting area, all of which eventually lead to multiple staircases and elevators that would take her somewhere else into the building. Her eyes began to glow dimly as the S.A.H.U.D booted itself up in preparation for data collection and the mere probability of combat. There was always a probability, humans are unpredictable as a whole.

With her optical HUD collecting data, Alma walked up to the front desk, to see what appeared to be the receptionist heavily occupied. "I am here for the job interview..." The receptionist put her current duties on a short hold, leering her head up to take a good look at the brunette woman who was interfering with her work. "Name, please."

"Alma..." Replied the seemingly emotionless black haired young lady.

"Surname?"

"Don't have one..."

The receptionist seemed totally unsurprised by that response, expectant of it actually. "Someone will be with you shortly. Please take a seat." With that out of the way, Alma silently left the receptionist to her work, taking a seat at a randomly chosen space that was quite close the reception desk, well within her eavesdropping reach. If things went to hell and Alma needed to reach the entrance quickly, she could fight her way out, so the distance between her and a possible escape route didn't really matter. It was moments later when someone walked through the main entrance that caught her eye. A teen in a hoodie and a backpack. He seemed incredibly out of place in an establishment such as this, and not only that, but he also appeared nervous, or perhaps anxious. Alma wasn't sure. After a few moments of standing around, he approached the front desk, dumbfoundedly staring at the attendant before she herself nonchalantly asked him if he was here for the job interview.

As comical and slightly sad as the boy's lack of confidence was, it wasn't as important as the fact that he could potentially be one of her brothers. But that train of thought was quickly derailed as a well suited man approached her. "If you would follow me, please." Alma groaned in her head as she stood up, slightly annoyed by the fact that this man has disturbed her small moment of peace, but on the outside she was stoic and obedient, shadowing the man's every step all the way to one of the elevators. Upon entering, he pushed the button for the twenty-third floor. As he did so, Alma took note of the elevator panel, it's buttons, and the escape door in the ceiling.

The ding of the elevator made both the occupants aware that they have arrived at their destination, and with the doors sliding open, both the Suit and Alma stepped out into a long corridor that connected to other, even longer corridors. Each wall was covered in unmarked doors. It did raise some minor suspicions in Alma, but not enough to bring her to doubt her decision in coming here, as she was in fact armed. Her pistols and SMG well hidden within her trench coat.

The duo approached one of the doors, and Alma was asked to place a finger on the scanner. She had no doubt that if this Sarah Blackburn knew her identity, then she knew everything about her. So the fact that the door acknowledged Alma's identity was of no surprise. If Ms Blackburn turned out to be an enemy, Alma would seek to rectify this minor leak of her private information.

As she stepped through the door however, her head instantly jerked up as her HUD detected something within the door frame right above her head. The HUD scanned deeper into the frame, seeing an electromagnetic device that it could not recognize the purpose of. A security measure of some kind. It didn't react to Alma's presence, which had to be a good thing.

Deciding to ignore it, she continued on deeper into the room, and the man who had accompanied her, shut the door behind her. Before her was a single chair, an uncomfortable one at that, and a table, and in the far right corner, a CCTV camera.

Suddenly a voice spoke out of an intercom that Alma didn't spot earlier. "State your full name, please."

"Alma." Responded the hitwoman.

Demetrius had been sitting in the lobby for three hours now, patiently waiting for someone else to arrive. No one else is coming, he thought, it’s got to be a trap… He had come all this way for nothing; stuck his neck out for nothing. People died for this…

---

VIP Room of Club Odin, Amsterdam

It was two weeks ago they contacted him, one moment he was alone, the only superhuman alive. Then the notification on his smartphone came, someone had found his blacksite, a woman claiming to be from “The Ark” the place he was born. He wasn’t alone anymore, there were others! Better yet, they weren’t raised by Aegis, confirming his suspicion that the shadowy law enforcement agency hadn’t been the ones who made him. Or at least that was what this woman claimed. It was enough though: hope. Even if it was just an Aegis trap, Demetrius had to know for sure, and that meant disappearing again.

In the past five years, Demetrius had built a small criminal empire under the alias, The Emperor. He mostly dealt in hard drugs ranging from LSD and Ecstasy, to Heroin and Cocaine. For all in person dealings, he used a mask to hide his face, lest it be recognized by any agencies and come to the attention of his former employer. While it lasted, it was a good life, just dangerous and challenging enough to keep him sharp and on his toes, while also affording him luxuries he never before even thought to obtain. But this was more important, there were others like him now, and they were in trouble, maybe even the whole world was too. It had been a good run, but now assets had to be liquidated, transportation secured, and old business resolved.

Everything had been going smoothly until a few of his men caught wind of the move. Demetrius’ plan was to have his second in command, Jack Hallibern take over as acting head of operations until he got back. That way, if the Ark turned out to be a real thing, Demetrius could just slide out of the picture, leaving a smooth transition of power from himself to Jack. It was a solid plan, until everything went to shit.

It was the night before The Emperor’s retirement; in the morning Demetrius was set to leave for Steelport. But tonight they partied hard. The VIP Room was on the third floor, separated from the rest of the club, where Demetrius and his closest friends could do whatever they wanted. The music was hot, and the girls were even hotter. There was booze everywhere, and Demetrius had a cigar case full of blunts on the table in front of him. A glass of cognac in his left hand, and a vaporizer in his right, plus his best friend Dali sitting on his shoulder. Life couldn’t have been better when all of a sudden, six armed men came bursting through the door. “Everyone get the fuck out!” One of them yelled, as he proceeded to shoot out the speakers with his AK-47. People scrambled out the door, running for their lives, all except for Demetrius and Jack.

“What the hell are you doing, Russ, you god damn son of a bitch…” Demetrius demanded.

“Consider this a hostile takeover. You know every empire has to fall sooner or later.” As he finished speaking, Russ opened fire, spraying bullets across the room and hitting both Jack and Demetrius with a few rounds apiece. Jack was down for the count, but Demetrius swung into action, rising to his feet and hurling the table in front of him straight for his attackers, taking three men off their feet, including Russ. Next, two men with ‘45s started firing as Demetrius managed to dive behind a nearby couch just before the third man managed to squeeze off his Uzi.

“Holy shit, this dude is tough as fuck!” One of them shouted, as he reloaded his handgun. Running out from cover, Demetrius charged the Uzi carrying attacker and decked him straight in the face before grabbing him and swinging the man’s body like a weapon and bringing down a second attacker, leaving only one left standing. The man cried out in fear, initially so confident that six armed men could take down just one, and now realizing that he was all alone. “Just die!” He screamed, as he pulled his trigger again and again nearly point blank into Demetrius’ chest. The man emptied his clip and heaved a sigh of relief; thank god it was over he thought…

“What a waste…” Demetrius sighed, to the horror of his attacker. “Had you only known the truth: you never could have succeeded…” Grabbing him by the throat, Demetrius lifted the man off the ground and held him suspended in the air for a moment, looking into his eyes with a deep, regretful sorrow. “Rest now, you poor soul.” He said, before hurling the man headfirst into a wall, the force cracking his skull open and killing him instantly. Jack had taken a bullet in the heart and died during the fighting, so the rest were finished off with his gun, and The Emperor’s mask was placed on Jack’s face and his body laid out in the middle of the floor. The cops would be on their way and there could be no witnesses to his outburst of strength and bullet resistance. Thankfully, Demetrius didn’t have any fingerprints due to his skin, so that wouldn’t be a problem… No one would know how to explain the table and the cracked skull of course, but Demetrius didn’t really care, he’d be long gone before any Aegis bloodhounds could pick up his scent.

---

Suddenly however, Demetrius found himself pulled out of his musings when a man in a hoodie walked up to the desk. He was here for the “Job Interview” too. Soon after more followed suit, to the point where Demetrius was comfortable that whoever this was, it wasn’t an Aegis trap designed to grab him. If he was getting captured, now at least it would be with others like him. Approaching the front desk, he said the magic words and was ushered into the elevator, escorted by some silent attendant. When the reached the twenty-third floor, he was lead to a room with a fingerprint scanner, “I don’t ha-“ he began.

“Just put your finger on the scanner, sir.” The attendant interrupted.

“Whatever man.” Demetrius put his finger on the scanner and after a few moments the door clicked and opened up, revealing a small surveying room. “Oh, it’s the Paranoid-Bitch suite… You know, I’d really prefer the presidential if you don’t mind…” Demetrius’ humor thinly veiled his cold anger. Who the hell does this bitch think she is? Does she really think she’s the only one with enemies, or is it just that she thinks that she’s the only one that matters? If his years as a drug lord had taught him anything it’s that when two dangerous people meet for the first time, it’s only polite to make yourself as vulnerable as you’re asking your counterpart to be. Now he was positive that it wasn’t a trap. If Aegis or some other organization really wanted to capture him, they’d have made every effort to lull him into a false sense of security, not go out of their way to spook him.

The attendant just looked back at Demetrius, completely unamused, “Please enter the room, sir. Otherwise I’ll have to ask you to leave.” The man said. Just because it wasn’t a trap though, didn’t mean Demetrius felt any more inclined to enter the room, but he supposed it couldn’t be helped. Pulling out a bag of weed and his vaporizer from his jacket pocket, Demetrius began to pack the bowl. “ Excuse me sir, you can’t do that here…” The attendant protested.

“What you gonna do nigga? Shoot me?” Demetrius laughed, continuing with his work. The attendant just stuttered for a moment while Demetrius looked back at him with an eyebrow raised, waiting to see if the attendant had anything else he wanted to say. He didn’t, the man simply sighed and waved Demetrius inside the room. Leaving the infuriated man behind, he simply stepped inside and waited for it to be locked behind him. ‘Click’ Just as he expected, but it didn’t matter anyways, at least now he was alone. He leaned back and hit the wall before sliding down till he was sitting on the floor with his legs stretched out in front of him.

“State your full name please.” Came a woman’s voice through the intercom. Probably Sarah’s if anyone had to guess.

Demetrius took a long drag off the mouthpiece on his vape, holding the precious vapor in his lungs for a while. “Demetrius…” He said, blowing out a puff of vapor as he spoke, already bored by the whole process. “You know, you really suck at making friends.

Planes were just about the most horrific thing that had ever been invented by mankind. If humans were supposed to fly, they would have wings, or something. Sitting in a giant steel box, thousands of feet off of the unrelenting ground that was just waiting for the plane to return to where it belonged, well, Owen did not like it one bit. It was not is first flight, though. The first time had been when he was sixteen. He had been going to Germany for a photo shoot. He had had to be doped up something terrible; he was freaking out that bad. Luckily, he was handling it better this time, with all the things running through his head.

He felt like he had been cheating. Being a model was all fine and dandy; he liked his job just fine and he was darned good at it. If he was only this handsome because of his abilities, well, it was cheating. It was worse than doping for professional athletes. Then again, it would not be cheating if he was just naturally handsome, right? Well, he was. He was just naturally able to change his looks to be handsome. Right? He could not exactly help having these abilities.

Owen scoffed at himself and shook his head lightly. Only he would be in a situation like this and still be thinking about his looks.

His mother had warned him about a hundred times that this might be a trap to capture him and his siblings. He had frozen up when she called them his siblings. He had always considered Emily his sibling, his sister, even through all of these mental accusations against his parents. He did not think of them as his “real” parents, but he had still thought of Emily as his sister. It was a little weird. His mother had gone on to warn him about these people that wanted his powers. He had told her that his powers were probably not all that great, compared to what the others might be able to do.

“Really?” his mother had said, looking at him with a look between disappointed and annoyed, “So you don't think that, say, taking the place of a government official is a nice trait to have. You could impersonate anyone perfectly, Owen.”

He could see her point in how his powers could be dangerous in the wrong hands. For the purpose of saving the world, though, they seemed pretty useless. What would he do? Morph into a little girl and start crying so the bad guys would feel bad for him? Yeah, right.

---

Ground, sweet ground! After finally returning to the surface of the planet, rather than hovering high above it, getting his luggage and retrieving his bike from cargo, Owen started by getting himself some overpriced airport food. He was starving. He had always eaten a lot and he only ate more when he was nervous or excited. He was kind of both, right now. After consuming his own weight in sandwiches and coffee, he was on his way.

Looking at the address at his hand helped just about as much as singing a carol would have; he had no clue how to get there. He was already straddling his bike, his birthday gift to himself the year before. He had three options in a situation like this. He could hop off of his bike and go ask someone for directions. He could drive around for hours, hoping to find the right place. Or he could call his mother. Asking for directions was out of the question. He had no idea who here was a good guy and who was not. He could risk putting both himself and his “siblings” in danger by talking to strangers. Calling his mother was a risk, too. She might come get him. Driving around for hours it was, then.

Surprisingly, it did not take him as long as expected to get to Malupo Industries. The fact that the e-mail had mentioned it to be the central of the place really helped. It only took him an hour, rather than several of them. His heart felt like it was attempting to break through his ribcage and onto the floor, though.

He parked his bike and took a deep breath. This could be his last moments. He could be captured, tortured and who knows what. It was best not to think of those things. Bad thoughts usually lead to bad actions, his father always said.

Once inside, he felt a bit more at ease. Everything looked normal. It looked sort of like the agency where he got all of his modeling jobs. There was a front desk and a receptionist and all. Actually, it looked more like the place his father worked than it did the agency.

“Uh, I...” he began as he stepped up to the reception desk, earning the attention of the man sitting there, who quirked a brow at him, “I'm here for... the job interview?” he almost questioned. It sounded wrong, to him. Did he remember it right? That was what he needed to say, right?

“State your name, please,” the receptionist all but ordered, though he sounded very bored with the whole thing.

“Owen,” he said, a little too fast so it came out sounding like a cough or something, “Uhh, Owen. Owen Bright, sir.”

The receptionist gave a curt nod, “Have a seat. Someone will be here for you in a moment.”

Owen just nodded dumbly, standing around for a moment before he actually went to sit. He sat at the edge of the seat, looking around worriedly. He wondered how many of the people passing through were his “siblings”. Some others were there for the Job Interview, too, so he guessed that they, at least, were. If it was a trap, it was a big one. Nice.

Eventually, after what seemed like hours, but were probably just a few minutes, a man in a suit came up to him, “Right this way, sir,” he said and headed off, seemingly without giving a damn if Owen followed or not.

Owen headed after him quickly, probably looking like a lost puppy following the closest resemblance of safety it could find. They entered an elevator, where the man pushed the button to the twenty-third floor. They walked around a bit before they came to a seemingly random room, where the man stopped. There were lots of doors, here. And a lot of little machine-thingies that he had only seen in movies; they looked like fingerprint scanners. He silently wished that his mother was there to tell him.

“Place your finger on the scanner, sir,” the suited man instructed, gesturing towards the machine-thingy with a flick of his wrist.

Maybe they would steal his identity and make a non-super clone of him to take his place in the world and just dispose of him. Bad thoughts, bad. He pushed all bad thoughts away and silently placed a finger on the contraption; his face turned the other way and his eyes squeezed shut as if something terrible would happen.

Nothing did. The door simply opened.

Inside was a room. At the end of the room was another door. For a few moments, nothing happened. When something did happen, it was utterly anticlimactic. He did not even have to do anything; the door simply opened.

Looking back at his suited friend, he realized that he was supposed to go on on his own. The man was simply standing by the first door, waiting patiently for him to get the idea. When he seemingly did not, the man nodded and headed over to the second door, standing beside it.

“Right this way, sir,” he stated, gesturing to the open door next to him.

Owen wanted to roll his eyes and the dude for thinking he was an idiot. He did not, though. He just went through the door as he was told. The door clicked shut behind him. Now, if this was a setup or a trap, there were two doors, a maze of hallways, an elevator ride and another door between him and his bike. He had virtually no chance of escape and his odds were not very good from the start. He felt a little bit screwed.

“State your full name, please,” a female voice suddenly sounded over the speakers and Owen nearly jumped out of his good skin. In fact, he sort of did. He shrank a little bit, on instinct, as if trying to hide in plain sight. He always had been easy to startle, but he usually got angry in those situations. Right now, he was too freaked out to do anything, really.

“Owen!” he practically squeaked out, sounding like a scared little mouse, “I – Uhh, my name is … I mean...” he jumbled around, trying to catch his heart and put it back into his chest; metaphorically, of course.

He took a deep breath and sighed, “My name is Owen. Owen Bright,” he stated, “but before my parents named me, mom said I was Subject-087.”

Once all the "applicants" had verified their identities, and Alice confirmed as much, Sarah pushed a last button. A small buzz rang through the rooms as each of its occupants was scanned for any bugs or listening devices and if there were any, they would be fried with an electromagnetic pulse. None of them did, which was good news.

"Alice, if you would do the honours, please." The walls surrounding Sarah began to rise into the ceiling, as the separate rooms became one large room. The tables moved towards her position in the center, and she stepped aside so she was left outside the ring of tables as they joined into a single round table with a hologram project right in the center.

"Welcome, lady and gentlemen." Sarah began, using the voice of a businesswoman and speaking with confidence she did not have. They were all a strange collection of individuals, each one of them having lived very different lives from the others. "I am Sarah Blackburn, your sister. Oldest sister, if we're going by technicalities, though I suppose we have nothing in common other than birthplace."

"You're probably wondering why I gathered all of you here, and more importantly, you want answers. I can only promise to be as truthful with the information I have." She continued. The holographic projector hummed to life as it displayed the details of Project Genesis and Lazarus. Videos were playing of the scientists working at their labs, and whatever footage there was of the fetuses in their tanks.

"The Ark, as was explained in the logs, was an independent research facility dedicated to preserving humanity." She began. "While Project Genesis and Lazarus were arguable the most successful or vital projects, the Ark's avenues of study were vast. Everything was considered - from meteors, to resurrected dinosaurs, interstellar war, zombies... every Hollywood movie ever made.

"We were created with one purpose - if an extinction event were ever to happen, we would be the ones to rebuild the human race. We are genetically diverse enough that we could breed and provide a large enough gene pool to restart the human race. We're tough as nails and able to survive virtually anything our creators - our parents - thought would kill them. We were also built to fight when needed and exemplify the best of humanity.

"The Ark itself was built to outlast anything. It had to, with all the dangerous equipment and technology it housed, with the intents of being humanity's last hope against its doom. This is also why we are all gathered here today."

Other projects in the Ark began to flash on the hologram. Weaponry, terraforming, space transportation... all the things the minds of the scientists on the Ark could conceive. "I was stolen from the Ark. It was likely an inside job, because the Ark was built to be impenetrable, at least in theory. Whoever stole me also had to have a pretty good idea of what else the Ark contained. Dr Blackburn returned to the Ark after it was shut down to upload an AI, named Alice, to watch over the facility and gather information on our whereabouts."

With that, an electronic, female sounding voice rang out through the speakers in the room. "Of all active projects ever conducted on the Ark, roughly ninety-three per cent of it has been accounted for. The remaining seven per cent are classified as either missing, scrapped, or fallen into disrepair and unidentified."
Sarah nodded, and spoke again. "Alice, throw up all unsolved terror attacks in the last twelve months with abnormal methods." News reports began flashing up in hologram. Terrorist Attack Leaves London Bus in Amber. Explosion in French Restaurant Kills Diners - No Property Damage Reported. Unidentified Yacht Beached - Manned by Skeleton Crew. Images depicted the acts.

"These could be related to the Ark, they might not. I could well have gathered you all here for nothing other than the paranoia of a single man... but..." Sarah's voice trailed off as she sighed. "Alice, cross reference names of all Project Genesis and Lazarus births with recent deaths."
Two lists appeared and names began flying off both into a third list, in the center, with faces next to them. The most recent death was a week ago, and some of the names were victims of the terror attacks mentioned.

"Someone has been hunting us down and killing us. Someone who knows who we are and what we were made to do. Someone who is using advanced technology to kill simply because they can." Sarah crossed her leg, and the lights in the room brightened again as she delivered the news. "Simply put, this isn't just about us protecting the world any more, it's about protecting ourselves."

Sarah leaned back against her chair, arms neatly placed on the arm rest. "You don't have to believe me or even stay, anyone and everyone is free to leave this room and return to your daily life. If you need time to consider this, that is fine as well." It was time to put all her cards on the table, and time for them to make their choice.
It was a heavy topic, and she spared no amount of brutal honesty. She was never one to mince her words when it came time to be frank, and she wasn't going to start just because everyone in that room was capable of leveling the building if they wished. That, however, didn't mean they needed to be all grim and sombre.

"Well, I've talked a lot, but I seem to have forgotten we're all strangers and haven't been introduced. Once again, I'm Sarah Blackburn, CEO of Malupo Industries and more infamously known as the Ghost by the media and law enforcement agencies." Sarah smiled as if her confession to being an assassin was nothing of note. "Please to make your acquaintance."

Jin sat still as his table positioned itself to face the woman who presented herself as his older sister. His arms lay resting on the center of his blade, which lay upon the table parallel to the surface's edges. As she began speaking, Jin reacted with simply a raised brow. It wasn't easy to take in; suddenly, the feeling of being reunited with a twin snowballed into the sensation of a full scale family reunion. However, once Sarah began speaking of the problem at hand, Jin began to feel as if he were caught in the middle of what was more an intervention than anything else.

As Sarah finished her presentation, everyone in the room remained quiet long enough to allow Jin to speak up first. He had a lot to say, or rather, a lot to ask, but he didn't feel quite right starting his family introduction off with an interrogation. Rather, he approached the situation as if he had known these men and women for years, because somewhere deep inside, that's exactly how Jin felt. They weren't the strangers they would've been had he walked by them on the street or bumped into them in the markets. They were literally his family.

'Awkward.' he thought as he stretched his back and raised a finger to indicate he wished to speak.

"Jin Yensid of Portland, Jamaica," he began before looking down in doubt. "Well, that's where I'd like to think I'm from..." Jin took a moment to look around at the people he was now addressing. He took a quick moment to imagine what their lives must have been like and then began speaking to break the nearing awkwardness of his silence.

"Kind of hard to imagine someone would want to hunt a band of comic book characters like us," he said, gesturing towards the rest of the tables. "I hope my decision to leave my people was worth it, Blackburn. If this threat is as big as you make it out to be, meaning I - or, we - would be unable to handle it ourselves as we have handled the past years of our lives, then I believe I may have made the right choice."

Jin spoke with little to no emotion. It was clear that he didn't intend to befriend these people just because their "older sister" told them to. He knew who his people were, or at least he thought he did. On his face, it was clear that he was confused and conflicted. For years, he had been able to settle and call the Jamaican kind "his people." They were the reason he lived; they were his purpose. Now, he was told that he had the option to leave his old life and fight for a new cause, a new purpose. But Jin could feel past the pretty words that Sarah used. Given that Sarah was telling the truth, this was no request. It was stay or die. Jin could simply feel this, a looming thought in his mind that there was no option. It was a passive-aggressive demand, not an invitation. One look at his expression and anyone could see that Jin was not at all comfortable throwing away his old life, but at the same time, he knew he had to for whatever reason he could not figure out.

Jin sighed and decided to just stay quiet. He didn't want to delve further into the mess of speculations tormenting his conscience, as he'd rather stay emotionless and reserved.

As the woman talked and showed holograms, Arthur's jaw dropped wider and wider. Merlin, however, restrained himself to little more than an eyebrow twitch as he took in and mentally filed the information. He looked over to his brother. To an average observer, there would appear to be nothing going on, but if one were to look closely, they would find that tiny motions of head, shoulders and body, facial expressions and the look in their eyes all carrying volumes of information between them in a way that only those who knew them very well could read - and that list was contained to the two of them. After a few moments, they turned back to the center of the room.

Merlin spoke.

"Well, I and my brother have had several run-ins with the Men in Black, or whatever name you wish to call them, over the course of our lives, as well as some... less savoury individuals. We're no strangers to being hunted, and we've never made too much attachment to our home of the moment. If this 'we' you refer to are being killed, it only makes sense to ensure our greatest chance of survival - though I would like to make it clear that I reserve judgement on whether or not I am part of this 'we' based on the individuals in question."

He pauses and looks to his brother, who nods.

"Now that that's out of the way, allow me to introduce myself."

He holds up a hand, and a tongue of fire flickers up. It leans back towards his wrist and turns into water, where it runs up and over his shoulders and down into his other hand where it becomes a miniature whirlwind for a moment before a bolt of lightning leaps back to the original hand and a small chunk of the floor floats up to hover above the palm.

"I am Merlin..."

Arthur reaches into his longcoat and extracts a sword that's a strange, whitish colour before swinging it around himself so fast that it's barely even a blur.

"And this is my brother Arthur."

When the walls started to rise, Demetrius seriously began to reconsider coming here in the first place. Whoever this Sarah chick was, she was an enormous show off. How many times was she going to use this damn room anyways? Installing raising walls and moving tables all for what? They invented doors for a reason… So you didn’t have to go moving walls every time you wanted to transition from one room to another. And then why on earth she couldn’t have just set up a normal goddamn table who the hell knows… If it had been up to him, he would have saved the money and given it to charity or something for christ’s sake… It didn’t matter now though, he supposed. Reluctantly he forced himself to stand up and walk over to the center of the room, shaking his head as he did so.

Taking another puff off his vape, Demetrius wondered how his monkey was doing, all alone in that shitty motel. Normally he would have found something 5-star, but for some reason he guessed that they would have had a problem with letting a monkey inside… As if he wasn’t a beautiful, well-mannered, and refined creature. Either way, he was potty-trained, so Demetrius really couldn’t see the problem. But the only thing more boring than this meeting was arguing with the manager of a 5-star hotel about the cleanliness and respectability of your pet monkey, so the motel it was. Plus, they probably had less quips about the enormous light machinegun and set of heavy armor in his suitcases…

Bringing his thoughts back to the task at hand, Demetrius began to pay attention as the information in the presentation took a turn for the worse. Sure, he had come to find out why he was created, and listening to Sarah’s speech about their creation had been worthwhile, but this was something else entirely. Demetrius was no fool, he instantly began to see the pattern in the Ark’s data, and there was definitely something out there with the Ark’s children locked in their sights.

Hopefully his monkey was okay…

“You talk about our purpose like it matters what our creators wanted from us. You talk about us as if we’re anything more than one of the countless other poor bastards out there; wandering aimlessly through these arbitrary boundaries created by our illusory perceptions of space and time… But the truth is, we’re all nothing but a couple of misguided souls hoping to justify our own meaningless existences through the empty notion you call purpose.” Demetrius said, pausing to take another hit from his vape. “Now, why on earth am I spouting this horribly depressing philosophical bullshit, you might ask…” He continued, exhaling as he spoke, “Because I do plan to join up with you, my brothers and sisters. And I plan to fight alongside you as we battle our way through whatever hell that our mysterious enemy might throw at us. And should it be necessary, I will lay down my own life in this struggle. But you all deserve to know that I fight not for honor, or duty. I fight because I have nothing better to live for, and nothing better to die for.”

"With that out of the way, my name is Demetrius. I like monkeys, weed, and playing chess. I was kidnapped and raised by Aegis to wage brutal counterterror operations in before I escaped to The Netherlands where I became a notorious drug-lord operating under the name The Emperor. My favorite flavor of icecream is rocky-road."

The hood of Isaac’s jacket was up. For as long as his skin was thick and leathery, he wore it that way. It had always been to protect the innocent bystanders, he told himself. He didn’t want his presence to make anyone else feel unsafe, or fearful. Of course, there was the added bonus that those who could not see his skin could not ridicule, but more often than not, ridicule of the unknown is born out of some type of fear, and so his hood was up for others – he reasoned. And yet here he was, sitting in the middle of a room with others just like him, no reason for any of them to fear him as he to fear them. They were all brothers and sisters, apparently, and amidst the few introductions already made, the show of powers, the witty talk of joining Ms. Blackburn’s cause, Isaac discovered a new trait in himself that perhaps he had always known.

He was selfish.

The word was naturally tainted with a bad flavor, but he meant no malice or self-contempt when he used it to describe part of his being. Every person alive had the right to selfishness – to put a few of their needs above the needs of others. Isaac’s need was the ability to walk alongside a fellow human and not feel like a freak. He had felt this need and had attempted to cover it up with noble intentions, but it is what it is. And now he had to also decide if he should be selfish in the case presented before him. He had set out on his journey from home to return to the Ark, possibly find others like him, but then what? He had no idea what he would do after, and now Sarah was handing him his options on a silver platter.

Go and hide, possibly risking death and putting those you love in danger – or, join her and maybe fight? Have a better chance at survival? But then leave behind the life you had. For a brief moment, Isaac considered possibly going back to his father and going into hiding with him and Ilene. The idea was the definition of the word selfish. Isaac entertained the idea for a moment; he had already made it this far by hiding outside of America, but how long before those who were committing these crimes would find him? The young man pursed his lips and looked around the room. Aside from those who had already signed on – and perhaps even in their faces – he saw others struggling with the same decision he was mulling over. Could they really all leave the life they had? Possibly forever?

Unlike some of the others, maybe even all, Isaac had months to think on this idea. Though he didn’t know he would make it this far, he had decided long ago that he had been made for something, so he might as well look into it. And yet, even then, in the back of his mind, he thought that he would be back in time for the next major holiday or his birthday or something. Isaac would have returned to his father and tell him all that he found or not found and then together they would come up with a plan. Maybe he would have even brought any new brothers or sisters he found with him, and they would set up a sort of base with his father to help them. Isaac sighed quietly, well aware that all of that had been nothing more than wishful thinking. He knew which answer was the right one, and he also knew that same answer would be safest for his father and Ilene as well.

Frowning slightly, Isaac dipped his head, making sure to keep most of his face covered by the hood, and raised a hand - much like the first of his brothers to speak. “I am Isaac,” he stated plainly, “And I would like to know what exactly we would be doing…”

It was a moment of silence before everything became a flurry of events. The walls opened, the tabled scooted together and the hologram showed them the truth of what was going on. Everyone else started voicing their opinions and concerns as well as introducing themselves and their abilities.

Owen was dumbstruck. He had barely been able to keep up with the fact that the walls had opened up and he had nearly shat himself when the tables had moved. He was not used to these things. None of the others seemed all that troubled about what was going on, but his worry was blatantly obvious in his features and body language as well as the pearls of sweat that were starting to form all over his body. He was barely able to concentrate on what the hologram was showing him because he was in so much awe about the fact that there was a hologram right in front of him.

He already knew why they had been created; his mother had explained that to him the best she could, but Owen was no scientist, heck he had barely even paid attention to his science classes at school. He understood the idea, though. He knew what the Ark was, to as much of an extent as his mother had been willing to inform him, although she had seemed quite hesitant to share her knowledge of his, well, birthplace with him. His mother had even told him how Sarah had been stolen, so even that did not come as a surprise to him.

The fact that people were trying to kill them, though, was like a slap to the face. It blew his mind. His mother had said that people would likely be trying to use them and their powers for questionable purposes. She had briefly mumbled something about people thinking they were inhuman, wrong and something about playing god, but he had not quite caught the meaning of her muttered rambling.

But... He was just a guy. Until such a short while ago, he was just another regular guy. Sure, he was handsome and sure, his hair grew at odd paces, but he was nothing inhuman. Now, he was risking the life of both himself and his family just by existing. It was all just so unreal.

The thing that bothered him the most, despite the fact that his life was at risk and all that, was that nobody else seemed to be having this mental issue. The first one was simply not pleased with leaving his old life behind, but he seemed to have no issue with what he was. The second one and his silent brother were very comfortable with their identities, as they had apparently been chased around their entire lives and used their abilities with fluent ease. The third one was depressing at best, declaring that he was ready to give his life for their purpose, simply because he had nothing better to do; but even he did not seem all that troubled about the fact that he was created to be the way he was.

The last one to speak, though, was a bit more up Owen's alley. Sure, he was hiding under the hood of his jacket and shrinking away from the others like he was a mouse amongst cats, but that was exactly how Owen felt, too.

Since the mousy fellow, Isaac, he said his name was, had musted up the courage to speak and everyone else had already done the polite thing and introduced themselves by name, he would do the same.

“I'm -” he began, his voice coming out in a dry, squeaky way that made his face flush red at the embarrasing sound. He stopped, turne dhis head away and cleared his throat and without looking back at the others, out of sheer awkwardness, tried again.

“My name is Owen Bright,” he declared in a slightly quivering, but not squeaky at least, voice, “I'm – I'm a little nervous about all this...” he admitted.

"Well, we've all gotten our introductions out of the way." Sarah cleared her throat, trying to find the words. She could not imagine a more diverse group of people if she tried. Criminals, killers and regular Joes trying to work together to save the world. It sounded fantastic. "I'm sure there are plenty of questions, all of which will be answered in time as best I can. Some of them you can find for yourself in the Ark - I don't claim to have them all."

She leaned forward and looked around the table. "For now, though, our first order of business will be to find out exactly who is targeting us. The kind of people who know we exist are the kind of people we'd be hard pressed to find, so for those of us with the means, I'd like to ask you to help reach out through your respective networks. Ferret out whatever information you can while I do the same."

She looked around at the rest of the group who came from less violent backgrounds. "As for those of us who have been relatively unmolested in our lives up to this point... I understand not all us gathered here have been using our abilities fully or trained to do so - the Ark has all the equipment, facilities and information you'll need to get yourself acquainted. I suggest arming yourself at least with a knife or pistol at all times."

"Which brings us to the second order of business - the Ark itself." She began, picking up a stack of boxes and passing them around. "These were left for us in the Ark, created by Dr Blackburn himself. They're communicators and your way into the Ark. Through these communicators, we can keep in touch and make sure each member of the group is safe. They operate on their own discreet frequency and run extremely advanced encryption, so we should be rather safe from any means of eavesdropping. Still, I'd make sure not to lose them. The Ark itself is accessed through the basement of this building, designated a technology research lab containing experimental technology."

She stood up, and stepped towards the elevator. "If you all will follow me, it's time to see our birthplace."

---

The ride down to the facility that was the Ark was fairly dull - all Sarah had to do was show them the button to press on their communicator in order to move the elevator down to the hidden basement level. It took no more than two minutes for them to arrive at the door.

"Welcome home." She commented with a sense of purpose as the doors slid open to reveal a vast tunnel sloping downwards. She stepped forward and revealed the floor was actually a moving platform as rails slid up for the occupants' protection once everyone was on board and she hit the green button at the side to move them along. "The Ark was built under the entire city, and this is its only entrance. There are service tunnels and the like, but they've all been sealed shut after the place was automated. Alice is looking into expanding a few exits for us in case we need to get around quicker."

The main area of the Ark was what Sarah called the "hotel lobby" of the place. She had since converted it into a common area cum living room of sorts, the vast open space set up with displays, tables, couches, chairs and the like. "This was the main lobby, but I've repurposed it into our meeting place for now." There were signs pointing directions to different sections of the Ark or laboratories. Right in the center was a giant display big enough for a convention to read off it.

"This place was built to support around a few thousand staff, but of course since we're so few, it means each of us has a villa's worth of space, at least." She pushed a few buttons on the keyboard before the display and a map came up. "The staff facilities are down the corridor to your right - gym, swimming pool, showers, makeshift bedrooms. We could all live here, of course, though if you have other arrangements or wish for accommodations that get more sunlight, nothing's holding you back. You'll still have your own personal room here, of course - just for gear and equipment that you don't want people finding. Each room has its own terminal with access to the Ark's database, so feel free to dig around and look for your answers, I'd be lying if I said I was done looking through it all myself."

As Sarah highlighted each location - the respective area on the map lit up along with the route from the main lobby. Hangar, armory, maintenance workshops, refuse, agricultural space, fortified test areas, training rooms and the like. She saved the reason why they were all here for last. "Finally, the room where we were all created." She finished, as a door on their left marked "C1" slid open to reveal another corridor.

Sarah led the group into the labs, past the gestation pods they had each been conceived in, past the conference rooms and shelves of petri dishes before she stopped and let them take it all in. "Well, that concludes the tour. I suppose all that's left to do is get to work."

It had been quite a drain on her to play the tour guide and leader while the rest learned what she only recently found out for herself. She was eager to get a break, and knew they would need time to make their choice, gather their belongings and regroup. "I don't presume all of you will be ready to take this step, so take the rest of the day to make your choice, gather your thoughts and your possessions and we'll meet back here tomorrow morning. Whoever chooses not to show will not be judged. There are vehicles in the hangar if you need them, and should you require a place to live on the surface, I'll arrange for you and provide the address via your communicator."

She sighed, an action unbecoming of a woman who had just gathered these strangers on her whim, but she was beyond maintaining appearances at this point. "I'll be keeping an eye on things here, just for tonight, in case any of you do run into trouble on your first night here. If you need me, you'll know where to look."

Jin took in a deep breath. The air was strangely refreshing in the bedroom, opposite of what one would expect to feel in such a setting. Still, Jin could sense an archaic air about him. He was standing in history, while he and his siblings were history in the making. Jin exhaled, nodding to the neat arrangement of the room he declared his own. It was roomy and rather comfortable. For some reason, Jin had imagined a setting more similar to military barracks than what he was presented with. It wasn't a room for battle vets and heroes-to-be, no, it was a scientist's private quarters. Clean, air conditioned, and insanely well-organized. The room was made long before Jin was born, and because of this realization, Jin stood there in the empty space of what he began to call "his dorm", pondering how such advanced technology could have existed well ahead of its time. The door was electronic, it slid in and out of it's rectangular frame, and the room itself was a large, metal prism, polished to provide comfort to bare feet without the need for a rug or carpet. There was a large TV built into the wall across the bed, right above a fireplace. On the ground between the bed and the fire place was a oval-shaped outline: a coffee table that would raise if the control near the room's light switch was activated. To the right of the bed was a simple bed-side drawer, adjacent to the door leading to a beautiful bathroom. Jin smiled and sighed in relief. Under the stress of his situation was a back-up comfort zone he could always return to. If he stayed alive, of course. Jin turned around and left his room; he had managed to unpack and settle in, and decided it would only serve him some good if he got into shape before he hit any actual action.

---

-tsu-
-tsu-

The punching bag shot forward, letting the metal chain click against the stopping point before it swung to a stop. Jin stepped back and rolled his neck; his traps were beginning to tire already, and his heart was having a hard time pushing itself. It had been a good hour of non-stop work out in the gym that Jin had managed to find on his own. For the moment, Jin was in the gym alone, and he liked it. Twenty treadmills, sixty assorted machines, and enough weights and benches for a hundred fraternities. Jin enjoyed it - it sure beat running on trees and doing pull-ups on vines.

He never realized just how strong he had became, even without the use of his abilities. He was able to squeeze out three solid sets on the bench, at weights 190 lb, 220 lb, and 260 lb respectively. He had to get off the treadmill because there never came a point at which he felt he was "working out." It was truly as if he could run forever, though he was never one to waste time. Instead, he began hitting the weights and dummies. Punching bags, standing dummies, moving decoys. Jin even found a place where he could train his blade hand, having realized his swings and thrusts had slowed in his relaxed years on Jamaica. Over and over, Jin asked himself, 'Why on Earth would a scientist need all this?' But every time, Jin would find some way to answer it. Finally, as Jin wiped sweat from his brow, staring at the defeated punching bag, he found an answer that he could rest on.

It wasn't for the scientists, it was for him.
"For us... you smart bastards..." he said, "It's like you expected things to play out this way from the start..."