'Are you the person they're calling Icon? This is a dream, yes, but we're using it to contact you. Me and my friends are in the same business as you, so to speak, and we are interested in cooperation. If you look at the paper in my hand, you'll see a phone number to message. If you're interested in some kind of collaboration, then just send through a location and a time. Don't use a location that you wouldn't meet people who potentially are enemies or we won't send anyone, and anything after 11pm and before 6pm is kinda horribly inconvenient.

Oh, and thanks for stopping the Gold Dawn. You can replay the contents of this message at will, to do so, attempt to access this memory.'

The strange dream began to fade as Scott was pulled from his slumber by the loud banging emanating from the front door of his apartment. It was not the first time that he had seen this message, however the first time he had chalked it up to being an odd dream. However, having the same dream with the exact same message for a second time could not be a coincidence. He knew that he would have to look into it sooner rather than later, and he intended to do so.

“Hold on, I’m coming.” Scott called out to whoever was pounding on the door, who in turned stopped knocking.

He made his way across the living room and over to the door. When he opened the door, he was greeted by the baffled expression of Eric, who looked as if he’d seen a ghost. He stepped into the apartment, and as he did, Scott could see the questions that were on his mind.

“Dude, what the…” Eric started, not having to finish.

“I don’t know.” Scott honestly replied.

“She just…rebuilt Little Ulster.” Eric said, seemingly excited about what he was hearing regarding the incident. “Have seen it? It’s beautiful.” Eric said, almost immediately wishing that added that last part. He knew that Scott had seen it, he was there when it happened.

“Eric, she isn’t what she seems.” Scott warned.

“What do you mean? She’s like an honest to God angel.”

“No she’s not.” Scott said in a tone that was borderline scolding. “What do you think happened to the people that were inside those buildings?” He finished.

Eric stood there for a moment, the baffled expression he wore upon entering the apartment returned. Then he looked to his friend as if he understood what Scott was saying.

“She didn’t.” Eric said, an air of disbelief in his voice.

“She killed them Eric. She killed one of them as I was pulling him out of the ground. She turned him to dust while I had him in my grip.” Scott said remorsefully

“But it looked like you...” Eric started to say, but was immediately cut off.

“I know what it looked like. But it wasn’t like that.” Scott started to explain. “She…she did something to me. She held me is some sort of invisible field. I couldn’t move, as hard as I fought I couldn’t get free. She knew it, too. The whole time, she taunted me, told me how she was going to turn them against me…” Scott said, briefly pausing as he felt the anger that he had experienced in Little Ulster rising up again.

“I don’t know what she was,” Scott began. “I’ve never faced anything like her before…I don’t know if I can stop her.” He said, doubt creeping into his voice.

“But I’ve got to try.” He said with a semblance of resolve.

“Look, you better stay awake. State and Federal law states that I can’t do this unless you’re conscious and consenting.”

“Tha’s alright. I—I’m consentational. I—I’ll stay awake.”

“Riiiight. Okay, have you got anything in mind that you want for a design?”

Dennis pulled a twisted scrap of paper out of his pocket.

“So that’s your design there?” The tattoo artist asked, taking the piece of paper.

“’If found, please mail to 101 Main Street, Lost Haven ME...’ you want your home address tattoed on your... wait 101 Main, where is that?”

“Heh... tha’s the city morgue.”

Yeah... not my brightest shining moment. As a general rule, people’s brightest shining moments seldom happen at 3:15 in the morning. Even less frequently at a tattoo parlour at that hour. But, when I decided to tell this story, I told myself I’d be brutally honest and well... that’s about as typical a moment that really says “THIS IS DENNIS CONNOLLY” love him or hate him, like him or tolerate him, that I could really think of. It may not be the best of me, but it’s honest. Why I was drunk off my ass in a tattoo parlour at 3:15? We’ll get to that later... but for now, let’s show the flip-side of this. Something to show the kids these kinds of actions have consequences, yeah? So, go on. Let’s cut to the next day...

* * * * *

---

* * * * *

Before noon, Present Day

45 Cork Avenue, Lost Haven (the Little Ulster Quadrant)

# In the time of chimpanzees I was a monkey, butane in my veins so I’m out to cut the junkie, with the plastic eyeballs spray paint the vegetables, dog food stalls with the plastic pantyhose #

The bedside table vibrates as the melodious device continues, ignored.

# Kill the headlights and put it in neutral, stock car flamin’ with the loser and cruise control, baby’s in Reno with the vitamin D, got a couple of couches sleep on the love seat #

The bedside table resonates louder, as if the device resents being ignored.

# Someone keeps sayin’ I’m insane to complain, about a shotgun wedding and a stain on my shirt, don’t believe everything that you breathe, you get a parking violation and a maggot on your sleeve, so shave your face with some mace in the dark, savin’ all your food stamps and burnin’ down the trailer park #

The vibrations on the headboard split through the sleeping man’s skull and reverberated in his brain like a thousand tiny hammers trying to break their way out.

Hangovers. The loud reminder of a night of trying to forget.

“Humph...”

# Yo... cut it #

“Hrmph... my thoughts exactly...” the first coherent thoughts of a man struggling to find the disturbance and destroy it before it cracks his head open and leaves his brains trickling out his ears.

# Soyyyy un perdedooooor, I’m a loser baby, so why don’t ya kill meeee #

An arm reaches out from the covers, feels around and picks up the phone.

“Mmmm-eah?” he grunts into the phone.

“Oh thank God you’re OK! It’s all over the news!”

“Geez, ma. Calm down, what’s all over the news?”

“Wait, where are you? Are you home? You can’t be home if you don’t know what I’m talking about... Where’s Grampa Alan?”

“Ma, calm down. It’s too early for this. Now slow down. I am home, what’s all over the news?”

“Go check on Grampa Alan...”

“Alright, I’ll check on Grampa Alan. I’m going now, I’ll call you right back.”

“No! Don’t hang u--! Clik”

Dennis threw on some pants and a tee, to make the small trek from the accessory apartment he lived in to the main house which was his grandfather’s. Strange that his mother would call on his cell. It’s an expensive call from Seattle, she’d normally call the house number. But for all he knew, maybe she had and he slept through it. He was a pretty heavy sleeper after a night on the town, so it’s not unheard of that he could have slept through... oh...

Dennis clung to the door handle. The entire back end of his granny flat (which ironically enough, the grandson lived in) was falling away down into a 70 to 80 foot drop, where it plateaued and the rest of Little Ulster had given way to parkland and greenery. The property seemed to be the border between the rest of the city and oblivion-cum-nature, with his own house seemingly held back from the abyss by the foundations of his grandfather’s house.

Dennis scrambled and climbed back up his door-jam into his own house. Overlooking the vast new countryside.

“I’m not looking forward to Grampa telling me to take care of the back garden...”

---

* ‘Loser’ lyrics written by Carl Stephenson and Beck Hansen
© Universal Music Publishing Group

I am unsettled. The first act of healing had gone as planned, but I had not expected to be challenged by the servant of the infection so soon. I thought I would have more time before the infected pieces of the World could gather themselves to face me. But I faced the servant of the cancer and the parasites within moments of my first action to heal and save the World.

Light that I have cloaked around myself keeps me hidden from the prying eyes of the corrupt as I hover over the sea in silent thought. It is peaceful here, and I can almost imagine that the World was pure and untainted. But I know the truth deep inside and I can see the cancer and the parasites that spread throughout the World. By the time places like this show the sickness the World will be a lost cause. Still I enjoy the peace and the gentle movements of the ocean below me. The peace is going to end soon and I wish that it did not have to end; I wish that I had been chosen for a different task.

But the World chose me to cure it; it created me to act as a healer and to be its champion against the infection. The World is sick but it still fights the infection and I can help it. I will help it. I raise my arms and curl my crimson wings around my body as I gather myself. My vision blurs before I see the glory of the World spread out before me. It is truly wonderful to see the threads that hold it together and I let myself enjoy the sight of healthy threads instead of the sick and dying ones of the cancer and parasite strongholds.

My wings extend and a ripple in the air spreads out from me as I call to the World and tell it to change. I see the threads change and unravel as they shift to fit my design and I smile. I will bring healing to another city, to another piece of the World that sickens and dies as the parasites feast and the cancer multiplies.

The blue skies blacken above me and water streams up into the air to become a dense cloud cover. I feel a cold wind whip across the once peaceful sea and though I do not shiver I feel a moment of doubt. A city will be cured by my actions but so many will die alongside the parasites and the nodes of cancer. I shake my head and call to the World again as I imagine the shape that the gathering storm will take and force the threads to align to create it.

My will directs the storm and winds scream across the ocean, whipping from east to west as the storm begins to move towards the eastern coast. I have looked at the infection and the World cries out to be healed. Today I bring mercy in a storm; today I am bringing my healing to Newark.

I remain in the heart of the storm as an invisible crimson angel. As my storm hurtles towards the city I stretch out my hands and tell the World to change again. I see dark funnels descend from the sky and touch the water to create waterspouts just before the storm hits the city. I will not weep for the people who will die. It is a mercy that they die swiftly in the cure instead of slowly and in pain as the cancer and parasites consume them.

I leave the storm and my platform of air carries me high into the sky. I will let the storm rage and wash away the cancer and parasites for a little longer and then I will descend and build the city anew.

Zac Wilson | Kelly Brown
Lost Haven (unknown to the protagonists)
A chilled turret of water blasted Zac, driving him back into a wall of wooden crates. As Zac regained his consciousness, he realized that wherever he was seemed like an inferno due to the excessive amount of heat and smoke. Next to him laid Kelly, who had also been drenched by a burst of water, evident from her soaked hair. Before them stood two men, one of which was taller and bulkier than the other. Both of them were wearing entirely black wardrobes, along with some military grade gear.

“I’m done torching the place. Are we through here now?” A voice said, although it did not come from the two previously mentioned men. A third and fourth man suddenly appeared, leaving the burning inferno behind them.

“Nope. Boss’s orders are to make sure that these two pseudometa-humans don’t make it out make it out alive”.

“You do realize that we are sitting right here. In fact, where is here?”

“Your final resting place, pseudie.”

“No, really, where are we?”

“What the heck is this?” Kelly blurred out, finally regaining all of her senses. The four mercenary-styled men traded glances amongst themselves, wondering about what in the world she was talking. “Why the heck am I the only one here who is wearing a backless leotard while everyone else is in full body suits? Heck, even my boyfriend here is where a full-coverage body suit! I’m calling sexism on this one. And these yellow and black horizontal stripes on the leotard. Isn’t it a little too clique to give someone who looks like a wasp a stripe pattern? Or at least match the yellow with my skin tone!”

“Um, Kelly.” Zac whispered to her, “I think we have bigger fish to fry.”

“I’ll happily trade costumes with you.”

While Kelly was complaining about the costume she woke up in, the four captors argued amongst themselves about how they should finish Zac and Kelly.

“So, how are we going to finish them? Should we burn them to a crisp? This warehouse is already a burning inferno.” One of the men said, his hands bursting into flames, although the flames did not spread across his clothing.

“No, why don’t we drown them to death. Make them suffocate from water while inside a burning building. What the irony.” The man who said this raised his hands out in front of him, holding his palms toward the ground. Suddenly, two turrets of water blasted from the palms of his hands.

While the four men continued to argue about how they would finish off their two captives, Zac and Kelly noticed their opportunity to escape. They started to sneak away from their captors, quietly making their escape.

“Or we could squash them like the little insects that they are.” The tall and bulky man pushed the other three men out of the way and bolted towards both Zac and Kelly. Zac dove out of the way, making sure he was out of the path of what would have been a crushing blow. As he hit the ground, Zac heard the wooden crates that were behind him crash onto the ground. When he got back onto his feet, Zac finally noticed that Kelly was not behind him anymore.

“Kelly?”

“What a boyfriend he is, right guys!” said the man with the burning hands, “He let his girlfriend take the blow for him. That reminds me of that one time on ESPN where that one guy didn’t try to protect his girlfriend from a fly ball at a baseball game. Now Bruno, hurry it up over there! We still need to finish off one more!”

After he said this, the wooden crates started to stir as someone underneath them started to recover from the enormous crash. However, to the shock of the other three black-garbed men, Kelly emerged from the sea of broken crates, slowly pushing the man called Bruno to the side.

“That man’s girlfriend is tougher than she appears.” Kelly said as she walked out of the pile of broken wood, rubbing her arm as if it would make the pain from being bulldozed disappear, or at least lessen. Meanwhile, Bruno was still motionless on the ground.

“What the hell did you do to Bruno?”

“I think he has temporary paralysis. I guess that what happens when somebody gets stung by a human wasp.” Once Kelly cleared the rubble from the crash between her and Bruno, the three other men saw that a sharp and thin barb protruded from her wasp abdomen.

In defense of his incapacitated ally, the fire-based captor suddenly released a wheel of fire towards Kelly, blasting it at her with such swiftness that it would normally prevent anyone from reacting before the flames would scorch her. However, Zac had the speed and the acceleration to pull Kelly out of the path of the incoming flames.

He was without a car on this night. Didn’t seem necessary and he was yet to make arrangements for one. He walked through cold he couldn’t even comprehend back home. He still had to arrange a place to sleep this night, and that would require a change of clothes, but all that would be resolved in good time.

He walked up to the front of the house and checked the number again. This time, exactly what he expected. White picket fence. Bay windows. Flower garden. Just like a dozen other on this street and like one he’d been to in... another time? Another world? Still unclear of the details as to exactly what happened.

Isaac walked up to the front door and knocked, before stepping off to the side. He heard footsteps creaking on wooden floorboards on the other side of the door.

“Who is it?” he heard a not unfamiliar female voice call out. Distant. She was from deep inside the house, not the one walking to the door. It went unanswered, which made sense considering the hour Isaac was calling and the person he believed to be coming. The footsteps came to a stop and then he heard a slight rattle, like a wobbly table shifting its weight before he heard the rattle of the chain.

Isaac knew exactly what the sounds meant, even without deduction, before the silence was broken by the voice of a man in his 60s.

“Who is it?”

Isaac didn't answer. Standing silently off to the side.

The door opened two inches, before being held by the chain.

“Lewis! Who is it?!” the female voice called again.

Lewis wouldn't answer, Isaac knew. He also wouldn't be distracted by the calling. Which meant it called for something more drastic.

The older man called into the darkness again.

“Who's there?!”

Isaac broke the silence and made his presence known. A small click could be heard and a palm holding a small ball appeared in Lewis’ line of sight.

“Slide the clip through the door and then the desert eagle.”

He could hear the nervousness and recognition in the voice of the older man in his response. A good sign, Isaac thought.

"Is that a—"

Isaac cut him off, just as he had once before. “A frag grenade? No. M67 only has a blast radius of 15 metres and a kill radius of 5. THIS is an M67 casing that has been hollowed out and filled with semtec and a simplified fuse. This will take out half a block.”

“Killing you in the process...” The older man said. The voice coming from around 2 and a half feet high on the other side of the door. He was complying.

“Hopefully it won’t come to that.” Isaac said, knowing full well that it wouldn’t and waiting for the clip. “Since all I want to do is talk.”

“Who is it?!” The female voice called again.

“It’s alright, Maureen!” The man yelled. “You stay there!”

The clip slid through the open door. “How did you know it was a Desert Eagle?”

“We’ll keep her out of it. All I want is to talk...”

“So you said.” Came the untrusting reply.

“Slide the gun through the door, lock the door from the inside and pull it shut behind you.”

Lewis agreed to the terms, as Isaac knew he would. The same good gesture of faith to keep his wife out of the situation.

“What is this about?” The older man asked, slamming the locked door behind him to ensure it closed. “And where in gawd's name did you get that grenade?”

“You gave it to me, Colonel." Isaac said, re-fitting the pin and safety clip. "And that’s exactly what this is about...”

Christopher Arthur III
Chris leaned back in his office chair, puzzling over the video footage retrieved from the hard drive that was integrated in the Daedalos Mark 4 unit that STRIKE had sent as reconnaissance for the Little Ulster incident. The tapes did not contain anything interesting, besides one instance when someone almost fell 80 feet to their death because they did not realize that their door now led to a sharp drop-off. Even the soil samples from both the newly created park and other grassy areas within Little Ulster did not return satisfactory results: there were higher levels of Carbon in the park than the other soil samples in Little Ulster, but nothing outside the normal range for the average soil in Maine.

There was a knock on his office door. After Chris called out that the door was unlocked, a butler strolled into the room, carrying a silver platter in his arms.

“Master Christopher, your midnight snack is served.” The butler pulled the cover off the platter, revealing a whole pie of pizza. Immediately after the cover was lifted, the aroma emitted by the pizza filled the room.

“Thank you, George. It’s just how I like it.” Chris extended out his hand and snatched up one piece of pizza.

“It always my pleasure, Master Christopher”. George quietly walked out of Chris’s office, leaving Chris to both his food and his work. Chris pushed aside all the materials associated with the Little Ulster case, knowing that he was not going to solve it, or at least not tonight. Rather, he decided to be productively unproductive: he wanted to finish the final specs for his new “toys” for his own private armor, the Mark 5.

“Long trip home?” A feminine voice said. Veronica, Chris’s teenage half-sister, entered into his office.

“How did you know?”

“Well, for starters, you had George make your favorite midnight snack. Then you have a bunch of I don’t know what scattered on your desk, but instead of working on that, your tinkering with that tin soldier armor you have. Finally, there’s some strange girl wasted in your bed.”

“Hey, she was just some reporter who caught up with me while I was getting off my plane. She just wanted an interview for her magazine, although I don’t remember which one exactly.”

“Why can’t you be a normal person and try having a normal relationship, rather than these one-night stands? What are you know on? Six or Seven?”

“More than that. I’m probably in the double digits and I am not talking about the teens either.” Chris turned his eyes away from his sister and towards a statue that stood in the corner of his office. It was a carefully restored Venus de Milo, although this version actually had arms and was painted with realistic tones for the skin, hair, and the clothing. At the base, there was an inscription: Κηδίστη Κυνθία*.

“You know that statue is kind of creepy.” Veronica said as soon as she noticed Christ turned his attention towards it. “I know you two were friends, but owning a replica of the Venus de Milo that has its face replaced by your friend’s is a little bit over board. I mean, she was married to another guy, even though he turned out to be a dick by leaving her when she got cancer. But still, this is getting into Pygmalion-level weirdness.”

“I have definitely NOT reached a Pygmalion-level of weirdness. If I had, that statue would be in bed right now, not that journalist.”

“Whatever. Think what you like, but I still think it is creepy. Just don’t stay up too late. Even super-geniuses like you need their rest.”

“Good night.” Chris said. Veronica exited his office. Chris continued to work throughout the night until his body was so exhausted that he fell asleep right where he was sitting at his desk.

---

*Κηδίστη Κυνθία = "Dearest Cynthia"

Scott stepped out of the front door of Mario’s Pizzeria with an oversized slice of buffalo chicken pizza on a paper plate, which was a common scene that played out time after time, every day of the week. Marios’s was a popular destination of hungry college students as well as those who worked in the area. It had been known by locals as the best pizza place in Little Sicily for years, and it was a secret that many refused to share with tourists and other outsiders.

It was an unseasonably warn might, the temperature somewhere in the low 50’s, for most people in the city, it was a much welcomed reprieve from the brutally cold January nights that they had been forced to suffer through. Not only was it warmer than usual, it had also been a quiet night. There hadn’t been any trouble in the city since he had engaged that strange woman in Little Ulster, the sting of losing so many people just as he was about to pull them to safety was still fresh, however, there had been no further signs of trouble.

Eric also had been spending a lot of time at his own apartment, apparently spending time with a young woman that he had recently met, which left Scott to complete the last of the tasks that needed to be finished before the club would finally open to the public. Scott had put the finishing touches on the bar, as well as the dance floor, selectively augmenting his progress by using some of his abilities to speed the process along. It was just after he had finished installing the video screen beside the dance floor that he had decided to take a break and grab a bite.

As Scott ventured down the street on his way back to the club, he became aware of an odor in the air, the smell of smoke. He immediately knew that something was wrong. It was not the usual smell of families burning wood in the fireplace, which was so common this time of year. With his enhanced senses, he was able to make out the smell of burning electrical wires and plastics.

“Great…” Scott said to himself as he made his way further down the street, stopping beside an alley. He took a quick look around to be sure that nobody was looking before he stepped into the alley, where he set his pizza down beside a dumpster. Quickly, he pulled off his clothes, revealing the now famous blue and silver costume of his alter ego. He took another look around ensuring that nobody was looking before he secured his clothes under the dumpster and took to the sky.

It was not long before Icon had pinpointed the source of the fire. Once he found that the conflagration was coming from a small warehouse on the east side of the city, he lowered his head and rocketed towards it.

Not knowing whether there were people trapped inside the warehouse, Icon focused his hearing, and much to his dismay he picked up several voices. Quickly, he scanned the warehouse with his radar sense, and confirmed his fears as he had located at least six people within the burning structure, and from what he was able to make out, they appeared to be in the middle of a confrontation of sorts. Not wanting to waste any more time, Icon rapidly descended toward the warehouse, crashing through the roof and landing between the combatants, four men in what looked to be black tactical paramilitary garb, one of who was laying motionless on the floor, and two others.

Icon looked around at the three men in black, and then to the other two. He noticed at first glance that there was something different about them. The girl, who he estimated to be no older than his little sister had what looked to be insectoid features.

”I don’t know what’s going on here, but I think it’s time to take this outside.” Icon said as the warehouse groaned under the stress of the heat from the fire raging within.

Zac Wilson | Kelly Brown
After Kelly and Zac nearly dodged his first assault, the fire-based “man-in-black” prepared to launch another pyrokinetic blast. However, something crashed through the ceiling of the warehouse, sending dust and debris in all directions. Once the cloud of dust had settled, an imposing figure dressed in silver and blue towered over the others in the warehouse.

“I don’t know what’s going on here, but I think it’s time to take this outside.” Icon said as he landed between the two parties, with Zac and Kelly on one side and their captors on the other.

While the “men-in-black” had not expected Icon to appear on the scene, they did have a back-up plan worked out just in case some other meta-humans decided to show up and play “hero”. Therefore, the fire-based “man-in-black” approached Icon and began his carefully planned charade.

“Icon, you have to help us!” The fire-based “m-i-b” said, “Earlier this morning my buddies and I were just hanging out when all of the sudden these two savage beasts (*pointing towards Kelly and Zac*) sprung from nowhere and attacked us. The next thing we knew, we were tied up here and dressed up in these para-military clothes so that we might be mistaken as the villains here, when in fact those two really are the bad guys!”

Zac clinched his fists, forcing his black claws to project out of his knuckles. “You liar! We’re the ones who were kidnapped and placed in funky costumes.”

“See, Icon. That monster over there is already threatening to skewer us like pigs with his claws! His abomination of a partner has already killed one of our friends, Bruno, who know lies dead on the floor after she pumped God knows how much poison from her disgusting barb! Icon, you have to save us!”

Kelly stood there motionless, paralyzed with fear. Before her and her boyfriend stood a man who had stopped a falling space station from transforming Lost Haven into a second Ground Zero. Kelly and Zac would be powerless against Icon if he was somehow persuaded into believing their captor’s lies. They were strangers in a huge city, with no ways of proving who they were.

“I didn’t...I didn’t” Kelly cried, the only words she could utter while under so much stress, as tears starting to flow from her black eyes. Everything was just happening way to fast.

Icon stood his ground between the men in black and their targets, listening as each pleaded their cases. The three men in black paramilitary gear swearing to Icon that they were attacked, and that the girl had killed one of their own. Even as they told him their tale, Icon tuned them out, focusing his attention on the large man who lay sprawled upon the floor. He looked at the man, and listened. His enhanced hearing picked something up, a heartbeat. The large man was stunned, that much was certain; however he appeared to be in no mortal danger.

He knew that the men in black had lied to him about the girl murdering one of their own, and that mere fact gave him little reason to believe that the pair had attacked them at all. In fact, he was pretty certain that just the opposite was true. However, there were more pressing matters to attend to. The fire that raged within the warehouse continued to grow, and if he did not get them out, it would matter very little who was telling the truth.

He quickly looked around the warehouse, and much to his relief found that the path to the front door was clear of the flames. He pointed to the door and began to bark out orders.

”Get to those doors, now.” Icon demanded, and much to his relief none of them had offered any resistance. Though the men in black seemed hesitant, they did as they were told, as did the two meta-human teens, who kept their distance from the men in black.

Once everyone had begun to move, Icon wasted little time. He faced the wall of flames that was beginning to spread throughout the warehouse, raised his arms and began to move them in a tight circular rotation, increasing the rate at which he moved his arms exponentially. Before the others could blink, Icon had produced a mini cyclone within the confines of the warehouse, extinguishing the flames, even before the others had made it to the doorway.

With the flames extinguished, Icon turned to the others who looked on as he elevated him nearly half a foot off the floor and drifted over to where they stood, aside from the large man in black who was still stunned from whatever the girl had done to him.

”Now, why don’t you tell me exactly what happened.” Icon said, turning to the man in black who had initially addressed him.

Zac Wilson | Kelly Brown
Kelly and Zac stood outside of the warehouse, deliberately keeping their distance from their captors. When Kelly wrapped her arms around Zac, Zac could feel her body shaking due to the situation they were in.

“Do you think Icon believed them?” Kelly asked.

“I’m not sure. He hasn’t apprehended the real villains here, but at least he hasn’t laid a smack down on us.” As Zac finished his answer, he noticed that the water-based man-in-black was making a gesture as if he was casting a fishing rod. Then he acted as if he was reeling in a fish, then he plucked the imaginary fish from the invisible rod.

“Hook, Line, and Sinker.” The water-based man-in-black said. He gave Zac a quick wink, attempting to tick him off even more than they had already done by lying to Icon. In response, Zac held up his right arm and allowed the three claws on that hand to appear.

“There’s no need to threaten us, you monsters.” The water-based man-in-black said, “We will be the least of your problems. You will be no match for this Icon bloke. Once he finishes...” But at the same moment, Icon extinguished the flames that were consuming the old warehouse. Suddenly, Icon appeared before the five of them (six, but Bruno is unconscious), hovering in place.

“Now, why don’t you tell me exactly what happened.” Icon demanded from the fire-based man-in-black.

“I already told you what happened. They jumped us, dressed us in these funky outfits, killed our friend Bruno here, and tried to kill rest of us. What more do you want?”

“I said ‘exactly what happened’” Icon said.

However, before the fire-based captor could response, Kelly rushed up to Icon and wrapped all four of her arms around him. Icon was taken by surprise by this move, unsure what Kelly’s motives were. While he could easily break out of her grip, he was surprised by how strong of a grip Kelly had for a girl of her size.

“Please Mr. Icon, sir, whatever you call yourself. You have to believe us! We are the victims here, not those liars over there. We were just in our apartment in Albany, about ready to watch a movie, when someone broke in and knocked us out somehow. And now we somehow woke up here, wherever here is! I didn’t kill that man over there. He is merely stunned! I would never kill a person! I mean, why would I ever become some criminal when some jerks back at college released a video on YouTube that shows me transforming into what I look like right now! Please, you have to believe us.” As she beseeched Icon, the waterworks started to flow from Kelly’s black compound eyes.

Icon was surprised by the young meta girl’s reaction. He wasn’t sure what she was going to do, but he wasn’t prepared for her to embrace him in a bear hug and beg for mercy. He knew that the men in black were lying, he could hear the change in their hear rates when they told him their side of their story. He was also aware that their downed member was still alive as he was able to hear his heartbeat as well. Icon let the girl speak, before placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

”I know.” Icon said with a knowing smile. ”I heard every word they said. I’ve got them, ‘hook, line, and sinker.’” Icon finished and turned to the men in black.

I don’t know what you want with them, and I really don’t care. It’s not gonna happen.” Icon said as again stepped between the men in black and the two young metas.

“You can’t be serious!” said one of the men in black, stepping forward, his fists clenched, flames beginning to engulf them.

”Try me.” Icon said, daring the flaming man in black to make a move.

The fiery man in black reached back, throwing a fireball that hit Icon in the chest, exploding upon impact. It was an impressive light show, however one that had no effect on the blue and silver clad hero.

Icon looked down at his chest and patted out several embers that were smoldering on his costume, looked up at the stunned man in black, who had clearly believed that his attack would put an end to the hero and shook his head.

”You do know who I am, right?” Icon said as he stepped toward the man in black. The fiery man in black made a move to repeat the assault, hoping that a second effort would have the desired result. However, before he was able to unleash another fireball, Icon have him an open hand shove to the chest, sending him crashing into one of his compatriots.

”Anyone else?” Icon asked the three remaining men in black, and was somewhat surprised when there were no takers. He had expected a fight, however, instead they looked around at one another, then back to him, raised their hands and got down on their knees.

Icon took a length of steel pole and bent it, encircling it around the three remaining men in black. Just as he finished securing the mysterious men, the sounds of police and fire responders could be heard racing toward the warehouse.

”Now might be a good time to get out of here. Do you need to get back to Albany now? Or, were you planning on staying in Lost Haven for awhile?”

Zac Wilson | Kelly Brown
”Now might be a good time to get out of here. Do you need to get back to Albany now? Or, were you planning on staying in Lost Haven for a while?” Icon asked.

Kelly and Zac looked at each other, shocked that Icon said that they were in Lost Haven.

“We’re in Lost Haven? How in the world did we end up here?” The three of them turned toward the three ‘men-in-black’ who were restrained by a metal bar, expecting them to spill the beans.

“I knew we should have taken them to Albuquerque. Who’s bright idea was it to take them to New Haven, where there are probably more meta-humans than ATM’s and banks.” One of the ‘men-in-black’ said.

“Shut your mouth!” Another one said, “You know our agreement with the boss. No talking!”

“What boss?” Icon questioned the second speaker. However, he only gave Icon a determined face, keeping his lips zipped.

“I wonder if they still have the stuff we had on us before they jumped us at our apartment.” Zac blurred out abruptly, scanning the area around him.

There was a black Humvee a few feet away from the charred warehouse, undoubtedly the ‘men-in-black’s’ escape route. Zac rushed up to it and peered inside. Within the parked vehicle, Zac noticed that their clothes and other personal items (keys, wallets, etc.) had been stored inside the Humvee. When Zac pulled on the door handle, he was surprised to find that it was unlocked, since he would have thought people who looked as professional as the “men-in-black” would have been more careful.

“Well, they held onto our stuff, so at least we will have clothes to change into.” Zac said when he came back to the spot where Icon and Kelly stood. “So, Kelly. Would you want to stay around for a little while?”

Kelly turned her head toward Zac, giving him a face as if she was trying to tell him ‘are you kidding me’. “No way. I already been kidnapped twice in the last five or so months. I just want to go home.”

“Well,” Zac said, turning to Icon, “We probably better be getting back to Albany. But first, do you have a place where we could quickly clean up and change clothes? That fire in there really threw some ash and soot on us while we were in there. Plus I would feel more comfortable not prancing into our apartment wearing these ‘super-hero’ costumes. Maybe we could even get a quick bite to eat? I, at least, haven’t had dinner yet today. While under normal circumstances I would not ask this of you, I just don’t think people would take it so kindly if they saw a woman with the characteristics of a wasp and a man with a dinosaur tail walking around. How does that sound to you, Kelly?”

“Um...” Kelly began, “I don’t feel like eating right now. I just haven’t had an appetite all day.”

“Wait,” Zac said in response, “You haven’t eaten all day?”

“I’m not trying to be anorexic or anything. It’s just that when I went to have something to eat, I never really felt hunger. I even made my favorite breakfast today. I almost cried because I had to throw the majority of it out!”

“Maybe once you have cleaned up, you might feel differently.”

“Maybe.” Kelly replied, wrapping her four arms around her boyfriend.

SIC PARVIS MAGNA

{OOC: I've provided what I could save of my previous posts for those interested.}






“It’s a little tight, don’t you think?” I ask as I pinch uncomfortably at the kelly green fabric.

“Precisely the point,” Giuseppe assures me. He’s a soft-spoken, older Italian gentleman. His hair has all but turned white, and he wears a pair of thin, rectangular glasses. The arch in his back causes him to appear even shorter than his frail frame would suggest. “You wouldn’t want it getting snagged on anything, would you?” he asks. “Besides, this way you can wear it under your clothes, and no one will be the wiser.”

I frown. I suppose he’s right. You don’t exactly see Icon zooming around in a hoodie and parachute pants. Although I can’t imagine that the cape serves any practical purpose. I mean, imagine if it got stuck in a revolving door or sucked into a jet turbine or something…

Okay, wow. This is probably super confusing, huh? I should start over.

My name is Sean Joseph Abbott. I’m eighteen years old. I’m the younger of two children in my family. I grew up in Carver, and I currently attend Lost Haven University. I have a new girlfriend, Mary Elizabeth Robinson, whom I’m quite fond of. I work part-time at Tons of Buns in the Duncan Commons student center. I have no idea what I want to major in or what I want to do after college. Up until about a month and a half ago, I was – by any definition – “normal.”

Fate, it seems, had different plans for me.

If you’re going to understand my story, you need to know about Gene.Co. They’re a prestigious scientific firm based in Lost Haven, specializing in any number of fields from quantum physics to robotics to genetic engineering. Last year, their CEO – a real slimeball named Nelson Rivers – announced a new initiative to produce a line of DNA Recombinant serums. Ostensibly, these serums were designed for military and law enforcement applications. Depending on whom you ask, Gene.Co planned to sell the serums under the table to the highest bidder.

So, how does this all relate to me? Well, one of Gene.Co’s scientists realized what his company planned to do with their metahuman serums, and he stole a prototype. That’s when he ran into me at Central Station. Literally. In all the confusion, the scientist slipped the serum into my backpack before hopping on the first train out of town. I discovered all this later when, upon opening my backpack, I cut myself on a shard of broken glass. The serum mixed with my blood and produced a number of changes to my genetic code.

I woke up the next day to find that the cut on my hand had healed practically overnight. If only that were the end of the strangeness. I was also faster and stronger than ever before. I could produce yellowish bursts of energy from my palms. My hands and feet were sticking to everything. Perhaps most disturbingly, I found that I could extend and retract segmented plates of exoskeletal armor over my entire body. The exoskeleton also produced a color changing pigment which allowed me to blend into my surroundings to an extent.

Needless to say, I freaked out. The first order of business was to learn how to control these new powers so that I could avoid any public “outbursts.” The second order of business was to talk to someone way more qualified to deal with this situation than I was. For that, I turned to Google. A few minutes of searching brought me to Dr. Milton Reed, a biologist specializing in the study of the metahuman phenomenon. He’s the one who told me about Gene.Co. I asked Dr. Reed to develop an antiserum, to which he reluctantly agreed but not before urging me to consider the “opportunity” I had been given.

Opportunity? What a joke. Through no fault of my own, I had been turned into some weird half human, half insect hybrid. My normal life had been turned on its head overnight. If my friends and family ever found out about this, they would never look at me the same way again. I just wanted things to go back to the way they were. I wanted to return to the days where a chemistry exam was my biggest concern in the world.

Of course, it’s never that simple, is it? In spite of myself, I did start to think about the opportunity I had been given. My mind was already changing when someone close to me got hurt. Colleen Frank, my chemistry partner, was mugged walking home to her dorm one night after meeting with me to discuss our class project. If I had been there, I could’ve protected her from that mugger with ease. The incident made me think about all the people I could protect, friends and strangers alike. After all, folks like the aforementioned Icon had abilities, too, and they were out there using those abilities to make the world a better place. Who was I to put myself before the needs of the world?

Dr. Reed was thrilled when I told him that I had made my decision, and he referred me to Giuseppe, a tailor he knew who specialized in being… discreet. And that’s how I got here.

“Say, Giuseppe,” I begin curiously, “you don’t take commission from super-criminals, do you?”

“Not for anything less than double price,” he answers in a tone so straight that I honestly can’t tell if he’s pulling my leg or not. “The fabric on the hands and feet is thin enough not to interfere with your adhesion abilities, and your exoskeletal plates should be able to pass through the seams with ease.”

To test this, I close my eyes and concentrate, calling forth the segmented brown plates from under my skin. It has taken no small amount of practice, but I’ve gotten a lot better at extending and retracting my armor. The transformation is almost instantaneous now. Sure enough, the exoskeletal plates slide right over top of the spandex as if it wasn’t even there. With a thought, I retract the armor, and the hardened browns are replaced once more with vibrant greens.

Giuseppe hands me the mask, saying, “I think the colors really fit the insect motif.”

I slide the mask over my face. It settles into place snugly. The rounded yellow lenses do make me look a lot more bug-like.

“Have you given any thought to the name?” Giuseppe asks me.

Underneath the mask, I smirk.

Icon stood by and watched the scene unfold before him, and really wasn't sure what to make of the entire ordeal. The mysterious men in black mentioned a "boss" for whom they worked, but refused to elaborate further, despite Icon demanding that he give him the information about just who this person was. The men in black's demeanor told him that they were more afraid of whoever this "boss" was than they were of him.

As the sounds of the police and rescue sirens came closer, Icon watched still as the two metas went to the men in black's escape vehicle, and to his surprise they had found that it was unlocked. After rummaging through the vehicle for a moment they emerged with some of their personal items that the men had taken from them.

“Well,” Zac said, turning to Icon, “We probably better be getting back to Albany. But first, do you have a place where we could quickly clean up and change clothes? That fire in there really threw some ash and soot on us while we were in there. Plus I would feel more comfortable not prancing into our apartment wearing these ‘super-hero’ costumes. Maybe we could even get a quick bite to eat? I, at least, haven’t had dinner yet today. While under normal circumstances I would not ask this of you, I just don’t think people would take it so kindly if they saw a woman with the characteristics of a wasp and a man with a dinosaur tail walking around. How does that sound to you, Kelly?” the young man with the tail said in response to Icon's question regarding their plans.

The girl, Kelly, seemed apprehensive about staying in Lost Haven any longer, however regardless of whether or not they stayed in the city, they needed food and to get changed. He thought for a moment about possibly inviting them back to his place, and just as quickly dismissed the idea. He knew that they weren't at fault for the events that took place here, however he couldn't jeopardize his identity by bringing them to his home. Then he remembered that he didn't have to. He knew of a woman, not much older than him who had set up a safe haven of sorts for metas and other outcasts in the city. They would be welcomed and provided with a shower and a hot meal. The the refuge maintained a low profile, he had learned about it soon after his first public appearance and paid a visit. He had been impressed with what he had seen and knew that Alice would be able to help them.

I do actually." Icon started. "Go to the Wayward Center at 121 Paris Avenue and ask for Alice. She'll get you what you need. Tell her that I sent you.

Zac Wilson | Kelly Brown
Icon heard the sirens of the police cars approaching nearer and nearer to their location. Before Zac or Kelly could respond to his last statement, Icon grabbed them both and pushed off the ground with his powerful legs, launching the three of them into the air. After Icon soared for several blocks, he finally landed on one of the rooftops that stood below him. Once they were back on the ground (or rather on the rooftop), Zac stumbled out of Icon’s grip, showing that he was rather uncomfortable in high-speed flight. However, Kelly did not show any signs of fatigue.

“Let’s do that again!” Kelly said.

“Um, no thanks.” Zac muttered, still on his knees as he tried to recover from the short, but high-paced flight that he had just experienced.

Then an idea struck Kelly. She has wings, so she probably could fly. The only reason why should would not absolutely know whether she could fly was that she never tried to fly in her wasp form. When one had been hiding their powers for the last several months, that person usually does not have the liberty for trying out their powers. She tried to focus on her four wasp wings on her back, trying to get them to move. When her wings had finally started to vibrate back and forth, as insectoid wings do, Kelly lightly pushed her feet off the ground. Once she looked down, she was amazed that her feet were still suspended above the ground, that she was actually flying!

“So we just head straight in that direction until we come to Paris Avenue, then we just need to find 121 on that street?” Kelly asked Icon, making sure she knew the directions correctly. Icon nodded, showing that she had the directions right. “Great! Zac, I can fly us there! And since you are in your ‘raptor’ form, you are just the perfect size for me to carry, since you are around my height!”

“No way. I had my fair share of flying for today, or for the rest of my life, even if it only lasted a few seconds.”

“Fine, you can walk there. Good luck getting down to the ground.” Zac peered over the edge of the roof, seeing a several story drop. And for some strange reason, the fire escape was closed off, due to it being “out of order. Zac sighed and reluctantly acceded to the idea of Kelly flying them there.

“Hey, Icon.” Kelly said, “I just want to say thanks again for saving us back there. We really appreciate that you gave us a hand back there and believed us while those other men were trying to trick you. Maybe we can return the favor someday.” Kelly flew over to Icon and plucked a small kiss on Icon’s right cheek. Once they both said their goodbyes, Kelly wrapped her arms around Zac and took off, flying toward the center of the city.

“Why did you do that?” Zac asked Kelly.

“Do what?”

“Kiss him?”

“What? He saved us. It is the least I could have done. Anyways, it was only one kiss on the cheek. It’s not like I kissed him on the lips or anything. If you are so jealous, I can take you back and you can kiss him too, if you want.”

Zac just grumbled something under his breath in response. Kelly just took that as a no for going back, so she continued to fly on.

Icon stood and watched the two young metas argue about just how they were going to get to the Wayward Center from the rooftop and he tried not to laugh. There was a certain innocence about the pair that he found to be refreshing. Far too often, one tended to find people were jaded and cynical, however, that was not the case with these two. Even though they had been through a lot, they seemed to take it in stride and maintain their positive outlook.

After a moment of discussion, the young man relented, and allowed the girl to carry him to the ground. As the young pair began their descent, Icon took off himself, rocketing over the city, thinking to himself that he had a funny feeling that he hadn't seen the last of the young pair.

***

Scott checked the settings on the lighting system inside the club. The multicolored lights flashed in sequence, illuminating the otherwise darkened dance area with a wide varieties of brilliant colors.As he cycled the lights through their progressions, he was suddenly aware of someone else inside of the club. He wasn't surprised, he had been expecting Eric to arrive to help him with the last minute preparations for the clubs opening at any time.

"Busy day?" Eric said, aware of Icon's earlier exploits.

"Not too bad. Just a few things here and there. Stopped some guys from torching a young metahuman couple. You know, the normal stuff." Scott quipped.

"Well, I'm glad you're here now. After we finish here, we're going out." Eric said nonchalantly.

"Oh? Where are we going?" Scott asked, genuinely surprised.

"We're going to The Elite." Eric told him.

The Elite was a lounge in the heart of Sherman Square, where people had once come from all around the city to listen to live music, enjoy overpriced appetizers and decent drinks. Scott had only been there once himself, and had been impressed with the lounge itself. Though, he was somewhat skeptical about Eric's motives for visiting the Lounge.

"And why are we doing that?" Scott asked.

"Business, mostly." Eric replied.

"Mmmhmmm..."Scott answered back.

"Buster Keaton's Revenge is playing tonight, and I was going to talk to them about playing here opening night." Eric said. It made sense, Buster Keaton's Revenge was one of the up and coming bands in the area and they had been amassing a steadily growing following. Booking them to play The Hub opening night would be a major coup for the fledgling nightclub.

"Okay, I'm in." Scott said before he remembered Eric's full reasoning. "You said, mostly business."

A smile crossed Eric's face at Scott's statement. "Amber's going to be there. She can't wait to finally meet you." Eric said, barely suppressing his glee.

Zac Wilson | Kelly Brown
Zac leaned back in a sofa chair, resting his limbs from the excitement that had happened over the last few hours. Wayward Center was a small, but a well-kept facility that provided aid for the less fortunate, especially meta-humans who seemed to have suffered discrimination. When Kelly and Zac had arrived at the Wayward Center, the owner of the property, Alice, started a batch of Mac’ and Cheese, a very economic, yet delicious meal. Alice brought over a bowl filled with the warm pasta to Zac; she also brought over a bowl for Kelly just in case she changes her mind after she had finished her shower.

Once Zac started to eat the generously offered meal, he already started to feel better. Not only did he have a warm mean entering his stomach, but he also found the power-nullifying band mixed in with the clothes and their other possessions. It felt wonderful being 5 foot 10 again. And sitting down without a tail was infinitely easier, too.

“Where are you two from, if you don’t mind me asking?” Alice asked Zac. However, before Zac could answer, they both heard a loud ripping noise coming from the bathroom. While the noise did not sound like cloth ripping, Zac and Alice thought they heard something more hard crack open. Zac jumped out of his chair, placing his bowl of Mac’ and Cheese on a nearby side table, and he went over to the bathroom door.

“Is everything alright, Kelly? Zac asked as he knocked on the door.

“I think so.” Kelly said in response. However, as soon as she had finished her response, another cracking noise happened. Zac heard the shower suddenly shut off and after several seconds, Kelly swung open the door. She had changed into her scrubs, not wanting to wear the leotard for anther second. In addition, she had a towel wrapped around her hair. However, her skin had turned almost albino white with a hint of her previous yellow tint.

“What happened?” Zac asked.

“Um, I think I molted.” Kelly held up something damp that seemed to have been the outer covering of her skin. The color of her old exoskeleton had even changed slightly because it was no longer attached to her.

“Don’t worry about it. We can handle it. This isn’t the weirdest thing that even happened here, by the way.” Alice said with a chuckle as she took Kelly’s old exoskeleton away from her. Zac began to place his hands on Kelly’s shoulders to lead her over to where he was sitting, but she suddenly jerked away from his hands.

“Sorry,” Kelly said, “Ever since I molted, my skin had become extremely sensitive that touch becomes extremely painful.”

Kelly and Zac took a seat in neighboring chair, and they started to eat their late-night dinner. Zac was surprised, yet relieved, that Kelly was actually eating something.

“I thought you weren’t hunger?” Zac teased her as she scarfed down the Mac’ and Cheese.

“Shut up.” Kelly replied with a smile.

After Alice had disposed of Kelly’s discarded exoskeleton, she came back to the two meta-humans. “I think you two should remain her overnight so that we can monitor Kelly. We just want to make sure she will be fine.”

“But we need to get back. I have homework to do!” Kelly protested.

“Kelly, I think your homework can wait. Anyways, who does homework on a Friday night, anyways?”

“I do...” Kelly replied.

“Anyways,” Alice said, disrupting their little argument, “While I do not think anything will happen, I just want to take it as a precaution.” Kelly and Zac looked at one another and Kelly nodded, accenting that she will stay for one night. “So, I see I need to get a second round of Mac’ and Cheese for the both of you?” Alice said when she saw both of their bowls were empty.

“But I haven’t finished...” Zac said, but when he looked down at his bowl, it was empty. He turned to Kelly and she had a small smile on her face.

“Sorry. I was hungry. Anyways, I just now am having a craving for milk and hamburgers. Why that combination, I don’t know.”

“While I could fetch some milk, you would have to get some hamburgers from somewhere else. There is in fact a Five Guys and Fries around the corner. I am sure your boyfriend here would get you something if you really wanted something.”

Kelly turned her head toward Zac, making a sad face as if she was begging him to go.

“Fine, what do you want?”

“Oh, nothing much, maybe five or six burgers and a large fry or two.”

Zac sighed. He wasn’t sure if she was buying food for his girlfriend or for one of his teammates who played on the offensive line (he kept that thought to himself, wisely enough). He just swallowed his pride and decided to go out and get what his girlfriend wanted and hopefully she did not change her mind when he came back.

William’s lips curled up into a smile, his eyes twitching left-right left-right as he read through the summary of leads they had collected. He was gripping the paper maybe slightly too tightly, and caffeine and exhaustion as well as excitement caused it to shake. The last few days had revolved around finding more out about the demons that had set up the meatpuppet ambush earlier. Will’s main contribution had not been phoning contacts or looking online or talking to the police or remote magical means, however. He had drawn the short straw, and from that his exhaustion stemmed. Where his comrades had been doing behind the desk amateur detective work, Will had been walking around the city, looking for signs of magical activity and asking at everything from churches to below-bridge hobo gatherings about disappearances or vaguely defined ‘strange activity’.

His capacity, unique among his group, to not be threatened by most things in New Haven had functioned as him drawing this straw, as it let him continue the job alone, at night in any part of the city, for hours. At least it had paid off, along with the other methods. A number of disappearances in the city, with no link between the victims, aside from them all having seemingly been chosen for living alone and being reclusive- people who won’t be missed. A decrease in the homeless population in the poorest district of the city. A small streetgang in the same district all becoming reclusive and eccentric. Finally, numerous magical signatures, centred upon a building known as the main clubhouse of said gang. Best of all, all of these different events fell into the same timeframe of ‘just after the painting was stolen’. This is colloquially known as ‘the demon timeframe’.

Will put the sheet down onto his desk, and rose to his feet. He began getting more thoroughly dressed; a helmet/gas mark combo bought from a military surplus store, a Kevlar motorcyclist’s jacket and trousers, welding gloves and welding goggles beneath the helmet thing, and strong shoes. Not exactly a superhero outfit, but good enough for what he intended; light protection against shrapnel catching him by surprise, and against gas and blinding flashes. Finally, a pair of binoculars, and contacts so he could avoid having to wear glasses under the mask.

Will moved over to the oft-stared at mirror, and inspected himself in all of his makeshift armoured glory. “I look like a rioter but I feel like a very well protected teddy bear.” He stretched, getting used to the extra weight, and the slightly-more rigid feel of the clothes. He looked down at his hand, and noted that he was shaking more than before. “At least these guys won’t be able to walk through my shields. I’ll have to go to that clubhouse like this and fight the demons soon, but for now, globetrotting.” Finally his gaze rested upon the red spray painted plus on his chest, matched by an identical one on the back of the jacket. Plagiarising the Red Cross would hopefully make his intentions clearer.

Thanks to Will’s ability to create temporary or permanent portals between locations, Will can theoretically range across the entire world to engage in heroics. More information is needed before they can attack the demons, but with the variety of flashpoints around the world, there is generally always somewhere for a super-powered individual to drop in and open a can of justice. Will already had a destination in mind, but first a view would be required. Turning on the news, will began to focus upon the live coverage of a prison riot, currently occurring in Mexico. After a few seconds of observation, he turned away, and began to trace patterns, listening to the correspondent talk.

‘…12 minutes ago, when a series of explosions destroyed large sections of the main cell block’s eastern wall and the prison headquarters. It is unknown who perpetrated the bombing, however speculators have pointed towards terrorists, cartels or it being a simple accident. What is known is that soon after, a general prison riot began, with contact being lost aside from handheld radios to the prison after 10 minutes, when the back-up generator was destroyed, as power had already been cut in the initial attack. Mexican army forces are preparing to move in, with the first goal being to reach the warden barracks, where the majority of the guards and staff are barricaded in, as of last contact.’

The camera panned out to show the prison from a helicopter, filming live. 16 tower-block sized compounds, arranged in four squares, A, B, C and D, made the cell blocks. The centre of each block held a large courtyard, with an even larger one placed between the four blocks. A high concrete wall topped with razor wire and dotted with watchtowers surrounded everything, in one place marred by a gaping crater. A short bridge connected the compound to the barracks, built on a separate part of the island. The whole facility was situated on an island at the centre of a lake, with the only connected being a heavily guarded docking station on the one area that was safe to sail to. In total, 42,000 people lived here, guards and inmates.
Will froze, realising he needed to go to the barracks rather than anywhere else in the prison first, and began to adjust the pattern, removing, altering and adding to account for the slight difference. Before he was going to appear in the main lobby, as had been shown on the news, but now he was adjusting to appear in the picture of the barracks courtyard from before the riot, flashed onto the screen as part of the report.

‘For those of you just joining us, we are reporting from the Islas Marias Federal Prison, in the Marias archipelago, Mexico. A prison riot is currently unfolding, with much of the prison being lost to the rioters, having begun 12 minu-’

There was a *click* as the gate reached completion.

For a split second, an archway appeared in the middle of the pandemonium filled concrete barracks, through which music and a reporter’s commentary could be heard, as Will looked in. The gate would last only a second, long enough for Will to wish he could speak Mexican Spanish while also raising a dome shield around the exit. Screaming and gunshots and breaking and burning noises all filtered through the gate to his side, muffled as if through water. Wisps of smoke, dust and ash gently wandered through into his apartment, accompanied by a magical after-image.

Will’s gut clenched at this last sensation, wondering that their demon problem might be greater than previously thought, but cast aside that thought. It was too unlikely, and he had no more time to think, as he stepped through.

Will was immediately aware that he had stepped into a warzone; smoke was thick in the air, and all the sounds from before were no longer muffled. At one end of the courtyard, double bunks, desks, doors and all manner of furniture as well as a few cars were piled up, blocking the exit from the bridge onto the barracks area. Guards, with varying levels of injury- ranging from unharmed to stab and bullet wounds- were manning it, numbering around 6 dozen. Sparse gunfire and the sound of blunt and bladed objects hitting flesh and armour ringing in the air. The defenders were in some cases fully kitted out in riot gear and armed with guns, in others they had clearly had to wake up, grab a baton and start fighting, with everything in between. The attackers had stolen a few guns from wardens, but in most cases were armed with chairs, batons, and knives, as well as the ubiquitous combination of fists and rage.

At the back of the room, piled up on mattresses, were the wounded; wardens, staff, visitors and some prisoners, along with those tending to them. A quick glance told Will that the barricade would hold for now.

‘Now for the difficult part.’

Still protected by his shield, this time using one that was fully invisible, Will raised his hands above his head, and began to approach the medical area. Two medics, with a panicked, determined look and what looked like tire irons ran out to greet him, yelling and brandishing their weapons. This was expected, as Will had appeared from midair, looked like a bandit, and was attempting to reach the wounded. As soon as they were a few metres away, Will placed two dome shields around them, and turned his head from one to the other, making eye contact both times and instilling calmness via his pacification power. They stopped struggling to get to him as he let down the barriers, and when he gestured back to the wounded, they turned and rushed back to what they were doing before.

As he approached closer, he was confronted once more, but the same trick worked, and the pacified defenders convinced their friends that he was on their side, at least long enough for him to approach one of the wounded. A quick demonstration upon a man with a jagged chest wound, and trust was gained, now without needing to use his psionic powers.

Will spent a minute being led around by medics, healing everything from a Sinola member who had fled from an attack by Zetas, to a warden with a bullet lodged just left of his spine. Once he was done, he was approached by an officer, bearing a megaphone.

‘Come on, save my monolingual barbarian ass, speak English, be awesome.’

“Are you Icon?”

“…Oh god yes. I mean no. Hello though. He has different powers, though with only one ‘out’ metahuman, I can understand the confusion.” ‘Rambling.’ “I’m here to help you though.”

There was a brief pause as the officer gave him a strange look. “Okay. Good. What can you do? Flying and strength as well, or is it entirely different?”

“Entirely different. Healing, energy shields, some weak mind control and… magic bullets.”

The officer seemed relieved, understandable. “We want to survive until help arrives, with you that should be possible.” He paused, as if considering whether he really thought what he was about to say. “Despite so many of them being horrible bastards, if your power would let us, we would rather stop more deaths amongst the prisoners by stopping the riot than merely survive the siege. Plus there is the matter of other wardens still elsewhere in the compound.”

“I may be able to help. I think there may be something more than cartels and rioting inmates here, but I should be able to subdue them.” Will stopped and realised that his habit of adding qualifiers to everything was not reassuring here. “Scratch that. I will be able to subdue them, this is within my power. Don’t worry. However, before the attack, was there anything abnormal, you might call magical or spiritual?”

“Good. Magical? That’s… Well, one thing springs to mind. Cell 4582 in Cell Block B1. The prisoner there was found dead yesterday. No shadows could be cast in that room after that. That is coincidentally around where the first explosion seems to h-”

*KOOOOOMM*

Everyone seemed to jump an inch into the air as a wave of force rippled through the barracks, knocking dust and small bits of debris loose, and knocking some off of their feet. Will and the officer were motionless for a beat, as if waiting for something more to happen. The part of the cacophony that was breaking and crushing noises seemed louder, but nothing more.

“Do you have a megaphone? Also tell me what to call you. We’re going on the attack now. I’ll subdue, make sure everyone I take down is contained, have everyone ready to turn back when I say. No offense, but there’s something here that is far out of my power league, and you don’t register on the scale. When it comes to dealing with that, I want you and your men to run to safety.”

“No, but I can get one. Aurelio.” The officer gritted his teeth, not wanting to leave the safety of his men and the facility entirely over to Will in the case of them fighting this unknown. “Fine, I will trust you to handle this.”

“Thank you.”

Will jogged over to the barricade, as Aurelio’s voice began to boom out of the megaphone, as far as William knew, he was repeating in more words what he had said. A wall of silver force flashed into place at the front of the barricade as Will ascended, and the defenders moved back from it. Prisoners that previously had been smashing weapons against riot shields and bodies now attempted to break the shield, with no real effect. Will cast his gaze around the screaming throng of inmates, catching their eyes through the transparent shield, rapidly inciting mass panic as the rioters at the front of the crowd went temporarily mad with terror, wailing and clawing as they fought to get back from Will. This sent a wave through the crowd, which became less bunched up as parts moved away from the wall, allowing Will to raise another two shields, one trapping 95% of the crowd between it and the barricade, the other shield being raised to split a third of the crowd off from the rest. He continued to cast his gaze around, now focusing upon the isolated third. At the same time, he conjured up 20 of the magical projectiles, each shaped like an equal sided pyramid. He slotted them together, forming two basketball-sized diamonds of magical energy. With these, he bludgeoned select members of the crowd, those showing the strongest resolve, those with covered eyes, those armed with guns and those attacking others, using enough force to incapacitate but not wound. After a few dozen seconds, the isolated third of the crowd was reduced to a panic-stricken mob, allowing him to mentally dominate them easily despite their large numbers. Over the course of five seconds, over a hundred rioters stopped trying to escape the shield and Will’s gaze, and merely dropped down motionless upon the floor. Using the same tactics, Will pushed the remaining rioters further back from the barrier and moved it forward, before motioning for the wardens to take the bodies.

This corralling continued for a few minutes until all the rioters that previously had been besieging the barracks had been defeated and captured. By the estimates of the guards, this represented about a tenth of the prison’s population, which totalled around 40,000. Despite Will’s best efforts, 51 prisoners and 6 wardens had been killed in the barracks area since his arrival. He could now detect a powerful magical signature near the eastern section of the prison, with the signature occupying a worryingly large amount of space. Will and Aurelio now stood on the top of the barracks, looking out onto a courtyard connected to the bridge linking the barracks area to the bulk of the facility.

“Aurelio, why haven’t the soldiers moved in? They’ve got a lake to cross, sure, but it’s been half an hour and their base is close by, surely?”

“…I don’t know. They’ve always been here in half this time in the drills, maybe they’re holding off?”

“Gahh.” Will took out his binoculars, and peered at the banks of the lake.

“I see armoured vehicles, I’m no expert so it could be anything from APCs to MBTs, but either way, they’re just staying there, they have hover crafts ready, but... And the helicopters we spotted earlier are definitely military.”

“Cowards. Can’t they see what’s happening?” The warden balled his fists and glared out at the bank, before letting out a sigh and continuing. “In any case. We have to re-take the rest of the facility. And you need to deal with whatever monster you can feel, if the army is too-” he stopped, his gaze transfixed at a point in the sky for a moment, before leaping sideways and tackling Will to the ground. Something grey and trailing fire moved through the air above them, going from a point on the horizon to somewhere behind them in a handful of moments. A deep thud was heard as they got to their feet, unharmed due to the distance from the impact, as they saw a burst of fire blossom out from somewhere on the island.

“WHY- Why are they [B]bombing us![B]” yelled out Will, as a slower and much higher metal shape passed over them, piercing through clouds with its sonic scream following behind.

A deep roar echoed from the direction of the explosion, sounding disturbingly similar to that of a wounded, angry animal.

“Ah. They’re afraid of the monster, and this is how they want to fight it.”

A series of smaller booms were now heard, accompanied by flashes of light along the bank and the hills around it. Then, more explosions near the point that the fighter had attacked, as the projectiles landed.

“To state the obvious, they’ve begun shelling us.” Spoke Aurelio. “We need to get people to safety, the closest thing to that would be the other side of the facility. You need to stop this thing as soon as possible. This is going to be a massacre for the prisoners, even if the military wins.”

The metahuman nodded, staring in the direction of the monster, unable to see it for the buildings. “After each impact, it seems to become weaker, but then much stronger than before. I think they’re hurting it, but as prisoners die, it becomes more powerful. This whole prison riot situation must have been done to summon this in a place where there would be huge numbers of deaths to feed off of.”

“No more time to waste then. We’ll start trying to evacuate those that we can, fighting those that won’t… You can go slay the dragon.” Replied the officer, adding a smile with the final statement.

Will grinned. “Good luck. Happy to have been able to fight on your side. I just want to mess with numbers and rockets, someone like you should have been given this power.” The two men finished their goodbye and ran down the stairs, one heading back to the barracks to organise the wardens, the other walking out onto the courtyard.

Without the rooftop vantage the banks were hidden, though Will could still see puffs of smoke from mortars on the hills, and the helicopters hovering over the water. There was a terrific crash, and the sky seemed to flash as if with lightning. For a moment everything appeared in negative, harsh unnatural colours that hurt the eye. When the colours returned to normal, one helicopter was falling and burning.

Will began to sprint, forming shields around himself as he ran into the main prison compound. Three mace-like energy constructs floated around him, preparing to batter away anyone in his path.

He moved through a lobby and a smashed security station, entering cell block B3. Prisoners occasionally appeared running in the opposite direction, ignoring him for the most part, but at times warning him back. A few times he stopped to heal wounded, in some cases they were abandoned, others walking and still more being carried by their friends. A few wardens were intermingled in the mess of prisoners, this close to the monster it seemed that the hatred had been shelved.

Dull thuds continued to call out, as well as that horrific scream. Artillery and missiles kept firing, now only coming from over the horizon; those that had not retreated from the banks had been scoured from it. The helicopters no longer graced the skies with their spinning murder-presence, and even the roaring fighters were at risk when they appeared in the distance to fire their missiles.

The demon now seemed to be expending most of its efforts at shooting back at the military and firing into the fleeing crowds as they attempted to reach the shore or the dock, realised Will. He began to encounter destruction caused not by the riot, but by the military’s attempt to contain the creature. He took this as a cue to harden the shields around him, the faint silver glow solidifying into a shell of energy.

‘Next time we bring ear defenders too,’ he thought, as a high pitched wail shook the air and walls around him. Will could sense at least a hundred prisoners and wardens trapped or fleeing ahead of him. He saw signatures winking out every few seconds, victims of the monster or those fighting it, and had to stop bile rising up in his throat, and keep running.

Finally he burst out into the courtyard between blocks B1, 2, 3 and 4. Or rather, he transitioned from concrete corridor to crater, where a house-sized section of B3 on the edge of the court had been gouged out by a tremendous force.

Will ignored a burst of heat and light above and to his left as a mortar shell hit his shield harmlessly, instead staring at the demon before him.

It possessed a light grey, bordering upon white, chitinous carapace, with a flat lozenge-shaped body held off of the ground by 8 double jointed trunk-like legs. Its feet each had 5 thick chitin spokes fanning out upon the ground to help distribute weight, and when lifted, revealed writhing lamprey mouths, about 20cm in diameter, with the feet slightly below twice that width. The demon’s carapace plates were entirely smooth, apart from where marred by burns and dents from the weapons used against it. For the most part, it seemed unhindered by any injuries it had.

From under the hood of its shell, near what was presumably the front of the creature, 3 pairs of purple glowing points swivelled and peered out. Below this, there was a wide opening adorned with mandibles of varying size and uniform viciousness. The opening did not seem to be a mouth as it seemed, so much as a tear or rip in space, held in place by the demon’s body. Will felt himself being drawn in as he stared into it, to his mind and eyes it could equally be a furious inferno, an expanse of stars or a simple void. The sensation of energy being stopped by his shields snapped him back into attention, however. Constant and low level bombardment, invisible aside from the ripple on his shield, seemed to emanate from opening. With a sickening feeling, Will understood that it was radiation, powerful and strongly ionising as far as he could tell from the impacts. He observed as the demon unleashed another strike of false lightning to the horizon, his mind turning to the question of how many of those that escape would succumb to radiation poisoning soon after.

It had yet to notice him, as it seemingly focused on a point in the sky, the air seeming to shimmer in front of its ‘mouth’ as a fighter came screaming out of the clouds. Will saw it waver in flight, something barely perceptible, and felt a sinking feeling, realising that the creature must have bombarded the pilot with a lethal dose. A few seconds later, the jet crashed against the hills around the lake, with no ejected seat appearing to give hope.

‘Are we gonna fight this thing or just watch it slaughter those that try to stop it? Come on, we’re Aegis, we can do this and thus we don’t have the choice to not. False bravado, then we’ll finish this.’

Will took a step forward from the crater, clapping his hands once above his head, and yelled at the demon. Any spoken language, intention or body language would be understood by any demon, if the speaker wished and was magical in some way, however for Will talking to his more hyper-powerful foes was just a way to bolster his nerve.

“Ha, what are you meant to be, a bloody trilobite? Did you forget to go extinct with the rest of your kind? Fish with vertebrae destroyed you lot, and I ate one of those for dinner yesterday.”

With surprising and worrying grace, the demon turned to face William. The air in front of the tear shimmered and melted, but Will merely laughed, and placed his hands upon his hips, cocking his head as if disappointed or unimpressed.

“Is that some kind of microwave? I think you’re just a confused meal.” In the air above Aegis, sky-blue shards of energy started to form, gathering into sets of 8 arranged in octagonal patterns, slowly rotating like barrels on a Gatling gun.

“Now tell me, are you gonna roll over so I can kill you quickly, or are you planning to fight your atonement?”

SIC PARVIS MAGNA – EPILOGUE

TWO MONTHS LATER…

“How does that sound?”

“…”

“Sean?”

The sound of Mary’s voice breaks my concentration. “Huh?”

“Did you hear what I said?” she asks.

“No, sorry,” I admit, “my mind was wandering.”

Over the phone, I hear her softly sigh. “I asked if you wanted to come over tomorrow night and watch a movie or something.”

“Yeah. Sounds great,” I answer, trying to sound enthusiastic. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea. I do want to have a nice quiet night in, but not tonight. Tonight I’m needed elsewhere.

“Where are you right now? It’s really windy.”

I survey my surroundings. Currently, I’m perched about ten stories above the bustling streets of downtown Lost Haven. Of course, I can’t exactly tell her that. “I’m just out getting some air,” I half-lie. It kills me to be dishonest with Mary, but I don’t have much choice. It’s not as though I can just admit how I’ve been spending a lot of my time lately. “Pick a movie for tomorrow. I’ll text you in the morning, okay?”

“Okay. Good night.” Her words hang in the air for a moment. You see, Mary and I have been dating for almost four months now, but we haven’t quite reached the “l”-word stage. You can tell we’re both aware of it. It’s almost like we’re playing relationship chicken, seeing who the first one to break it out will be. Until then, our goodbyes carry a little extra tension. I just don’t want to say it until the moment is right, you know?

“Good night,” I answer back. I hang up my phone and slip it into one of the concealed pockets that Giuseppe put on this suit. The pocket snaps shut, ensuring that none of my belongings will go tumbling out in the course of action. I pull the mask down over my mouth. Can’t talk on the phone with the mask down because it muffles my voice, which is a bit of a plus, I suppose.

For the past two months since I’ve embraced my powers, I’ve taken to going on these citywide patrols when I’m free. After all, what use is a superhero that simply waits for trouble to come to him? Proactivity is the name of the game. If I’m being honest, though, I mostly enjoy the patrols for the sense of freedom they give me to explore the city. Ultimately, most nights don’t amount to much more than a spirited midnight run across the Lost Haven rooftops, but every now and again…

WEEOOO!WEEOOO!WEEOOO!

Jackpot. Moments after hearing the sirens, I watch as three police cruisers race past in pursuit of a speeding muscle car. Looks like the “boys in blue” could use an assist from the bug in green. Ugh, I hate myself for even thinking that. I hop up from my crouched position and began running in the direction that the speeding cars went. When I reach the edge of the rooftop, I feel the muscles in my legs tense. The stored up energy explodes through them like a cannon, propelling me through the air. I clear the next two rooftops with ease and hit the ground running on the third.

As I run, I peer over the ledge at the ongoing chase. The speeding car weaves in and out of traffic wildly. The police cruisers in pursuit do their best to keep up without putting other cars and pedestrians in danger. One of the cruisers is forced to slam on the brakes to avoid slamming into the back of a delivery van. Someone’s going to get hurt if this chase doesn’t come to an end soon. I leap across the street, grabbing onto a flagpole jutting out from the side of the building. My momentum carries me through a full rotation before I release and launch myself towards the car.

I land on the roof of the muscle car with a thud, and the driver swerves. I cling to the roof with ease. I peer down through the windshield and see the panicked, upside-down face of the carjacker. “I don’t suppose asking you to stop is going to do much good?” I ask rhetorically.

“Mantis!”

“You recognize me? Wow. This is kind of a big moment for me.”

The carjacker grimaces. “I’m gonna kill you!”

“Oh. Well, I gotta say that I’m a little bit less flattered now.”

The carjacker grabs a gun and takes aim at me through the roof. Acting on instinct, I raise my exoskeleton and brace myself. The first bullet punches a hole in the roof of the car and bounces off my chest. Although the armor protects me from penetration, the sheer blunt force of the shot still hits me like a strong right jab. The second shot misses by a wide margin as the carjacker is forced to swerve to avoid a collision.

I hop down and land on the hood of the car, facing the windshield. I fire a quick stinger blast from my hand, shattering the windshield. The carjacker raises his free hand to shield his eyes from the broken glass, and I kick the gun from his hand. It lands in the backseat with a clatter. I glance over my shoulder. We’re on a collision course with the median. Reaching through the broken windshield, I yank the steering wheel hard to my left. The car squeals as we’re spun around ninety degrees, perpendicular to the flow of traffic.

The carjacker sneers at me. “You’re gonna regret that, you little—“

I kick the carjacker hard across his jaw. His head slams against the driver side window, splintering it into a million little cracks. He slumps down in his seat, unconscious. Disaster averted, although I hope the owner of this car has good insurance. Still, at least no one seems to have been hurt. I stand up on the hood of the car, retracting my exoskeleton. The two police cruisers are pulling up now. I think they can handle it from here.

I give the police officers a polite nod before leaping into the air once more. In the distance, the faintest bit of red from the sunset is giving way to the blue skies of night. The night is still young, but I better start heading back towards LHU if I want to get any homework done before I go to sleep. I’ve done my good deed for the night. It’s time that I handle my responsibilities as Sean Abbott. Lost Haven survived just fine before Mantis, and it’ll survive the rest of the night without him.

“Somebody help!”

Okay, one more good deed couldn’t hurt…

Next time: A GROWING PROBLEM!

Kyle took a seat in a booth along the wall of the LHU commuter cafeteria. He was thankful that Dr. Robinson’s class got out in time for him to get breakfast, because not only was he absolutely starving, but they made some of the best omelets that he had ever eaten. Normally, he would enjoy his meal with several of his friends. However, Ronnie had another class immediately after Dr. Robinson’s class, and Sam didn’t have class until 11:30 on this day, so she was more than likely sleeping in a bit.

He had eaten nearly half of his omelet when someone had patted him on the back rather hard, nearly causing him to choke on the concoction of egg, cheese and meat. He turned to find that the culprit had been his friend Dmitri Nikolov. Kyle smiled and motioned for Dmitri to join him at the booth, which he did. Kyle had first met Dmitri following the gang attack on the fall carnival. Kyle had helped get Dmitri to safety after he had thwarted the gang attack and changed out of his Lyger costume. Dmitri had searched him out to thank him shortly after the attack, and the two had been friends ever since.

“You cheeky bastard…” Dmitri said good naturedly with a barely noticeable Russian accent. “So, what’s she like?”

“Huh?” Kyle asked, knowing exactly where this was going, yet not really wanting to repeat the same conversation that he’s had with just about every one of his friends.

“The new girl. I heard she’s something else.” Dmitri said, not getting the hint, or in the very least, pretending not to.

“She’s pretty cool.” Kyle said. “You’d like her.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Dmitri said, leaning back in the seat and crossing his arms over his chest.

“How’s that?” Kyle asked.

“The way you smiled when you answered me. Dead giveaway.” Dmitri said.

“So, where’s Hannah?” Kyle asked, looking to change the subject. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy talking about Addy, it was quite the opposite in fact. However, things were still a bit rocky between he and his friends, despite Ronnie’s immediate approval as well as Sam’s support.

“Theater class. She gets out in a bit.” Dmitri answered.

“Nice.” Kyle said as he shoveled a bit more egg into his mouth. “We should all get together soon.” He said as he swallowed.

“Definitely. She’s been asking about you lately, pretty much saying the exact same thing.” Dmitri told him.

“Oh?” Kyle asked.

“Yeah, but I know you’ve been busy with class…and some extracurricular activities.” Dmitri teased suggestively.

“Shut up.” Kyle laughed as he gathered his tray and got up from his seat. He disposed of his trash and the two of them made their way out of the cafeteria, stopping in front of the water fountain just outside the large set of double doors that led to the hallway. Dmitri turned on the fountain and began filling a water bottle which he had taken from his bag. As he filled the bottle, the two friends talked and joked

“You’re wasting water.” A snarky voice shot from behind them.

“You’re wasting air.” Kyle shot back, before turning to see the source of the comment.

He felt his heart stop as he laid his eyes on Kerri, who’s expression was mixture of genuine hurt and surprise. He knew that she didn’t mean anything by the comment, and though he didn’t intend any malice with his rebuttal, he knew how it sounded. Given their recent breakup, it was perhaps even harsher than he realized.

“Hey, I’m…I’m sorry.” Kyle stammered as Kerri began to walk away from the pair, not saying another word.

“Dude, that was harsh.” Dmitri said. “You’re gonna hear about that later.”

“Yeah…I know.” Kyle said remorsefully, guilt again beginning to wash over him.

***

RenCo

Maxwell Renfield watched the security footage from the night that his warehouse full of advanced assault weapons went up in smoke. He had watched the footage almost nonstop since the footage had been retrieved from the remote server that stored the security footage from this and other black sites. Each time he viewed the footage, he was forced to choke down the rage that threatened to boil over. He finally paused the footage and looked intently on the black clad figure that was on the screen.

Renfield had been impressed by the masked figure’s athleticism and resourcefulness, however, the masked man had also cost him over a half a billion dollars due to the destruction of the Tek-53 assault weapons.

“There, which one is that?” Renfield asked the Costas Dennard, his head of security. Dennard stepped closer to the monitor and took a long look at the image.

“I’m not sure, sir. It seems like there’s a new one popping up every other day. Though, this one does bear a resemblance to a so called vigilante that we’ve heard rumors about. I believe he goes by the name of Lyger…though I can’t be sure.” Dennard said.

“Then get sure.” Renfield said. “Do you know what that freak cost this company? I want him eliminated, immediately.” He finished, dismissing Costas and picking up the phone on his desk.

“Dr. Richmond, this is Renfield. I was hoping for an update on the Nanosuit.”