Emmanuel

"Motherf-" Emmanuel cuts himself off before he finishes, now's not the time for cursing. Not the time for a sparring match either apparently, as the siren continues blaring. "Alright fine! I'll kick your fishbutt later!" So there's an option huh? Fight supervillians or deal with a hostage situation? Thats not even a choice though. Obviously he's gonna go over to the prison and kick some butt. He doesn't like bragging about himself too too much, but Emmanuel knows he can really do some damage on the battlefield, so if there is in fact a battle going down, he needs to be there to help mitigate as much damage to others as he can.

But that's besides the point. Other than that, he also just kinda likes fighting. So with a grin and a crackle of electricity in the air, Emmanuel's arms and legs begin to dimly glow. He centers himself and in his head figures out the best way to get to the transport areas and in a split second, crouched and launched himself off, a a pulsating electrical footprint left where he had sprung off from. Many footprints actually. Through many years of running practice, Emmanuel has found that the most efficient way to run is in as many steps as you can possibly take, and he can take a ton. This isn't top speed though, far from it. He reckons it would be a bad idea to let loose a sonic boom indoors, but he's still booking it at about 150 mph. The glowing footprints are a good way for anyone to follow him too, which is why he let them stay there. He doesn't have to make those.

As he runs, lights flicker and dim, currents of electricity leaching out of them and arcing into his body, charging him up to max power, the hair on top of his head standing on end. "Man, I always forget how GREAT it feels to be at full. This is awesome! Not for long though. People could get seriously injured right in just a bit." Sombering up, Emmanuel slows his speed way way down as he hits the transport bay, seeing all the heroes of differing power levels gather for the upcoming shitstorm. Even with his normally carefree attitude, he wears a serious face. Its highly likely that some people here, himself included, might not make it back.

Which is why it'd be nice if he could find someone to work with. He's still relatively new here, and honestly doesn't know the first thing about teamwork. So who could he work with in here? Preferably one of the older members of the League, and someone who's power type could at least not hurt him as well. Of course, there isn't anyone who's power he actually really KNOWS, so thats a bit of a moot p- Wait a second. Ohoho that feels familiar. Oh yeah, thats definitely the feeling of electricity being pulled out of the air. Where's that coming from?

Peering around, Emmanuel searches for the electrical signal closest to his own. That's a particularly useful trick he's picked up over the years. All living things put off an electrical signal, and Emmanuel can search for them and pick them out. They all have a different feeling to them, and he can find out who's who that way. So if there's an electric user, he or she will have a DISTINCTLY different feel about them than anyone else would. And they do! So let's go over and say hello, hmm? Try not to make an ass of ourselves, eh Emmanuel?

"Um excuse me! Bolt! Uh no, that's Volt. Mr. Volt!" Following the trail over to the other electric man, Emmauel calls out to him cautiously. After apparently pissing off Ocean Warrior, he'd like to stay on everyone's good side as much as possible. With a light jog and the clacking of homemade shoes on the floor, the scarred man gets within range of Hi-Voltage. Well, about 5 feet. He's certain that's close enough, especially considering how tingly the air around them must be getting. The electrical concentration is through the roof. "Excuse me," He says with more than a hint of respect in his voice, cause age or not, Hi Voltage has been an official member longer than he has, and that gets some credit where its due. "My name is Emmanuel. I couldn't help but feel some electricity draining out of the air when you walked in." Holy shit dude, really? Are you hitting on the guy right now or something? That sounded like a terrible pickup line at like, the highschool prom or something. "Okay that sounded bad, but I meant it literally. I'm also a user of electrical based powers, and I know we're about to go into a real deal combat situation, so I was wondering if you wouldn't mind giving me some pointers on how you use your powers to full effect and or team up to take some people down. I ask, because I haven't been a member but a little while, and I'd like to be able to keep as many members safe as possible, so any advice a more experienced vet like yourself could have would be really useful." That.....should be good? He thinks? Maybe. It may have come off as too nervous. Emmanuel's cocky, but he doesn't want to screw anything up right before something so important.

A host of rainbows shimmered about the plaza, reflected from the rays of light that had caught the rows of fancy fountain streams at the side of League Hall. An expansive garden dominated the area, prettying a winding path that looped around the side of the monolithic building. Sitting upon one of the concrete benches secondarily serving as the garden's potting, Zaphkiel awaited patiently for his tiny compatriot to finish speaking with the most patient superhero he had ever witnessed. A hero who supposedly went by the name of "Beatdrop" crouched on her knees to meet the younger girl at face-level. Through all of the frantic speech that came from the girl, and her constant need to praise Beatdrop, the heroine still maintained an attentive appearance.

Since coming to the Hall, Heidi Tanja stepped into the boundaries of her greatest day ever. Zaphkiel simply escorted her about the premises as countless autographs were signed, and even more individuals pointed out to him with an eagerness that rivaled the excitement a child entering Disneyland displayed. Zaphkiel laughed shortly to himself. When did she ever ask for his autograph, he wondered with little seriousness. The girl's face beamed as Beatdrop ended up offering her obnoxiously pink captain's cap for keeps, patting it down onto Heidi's head tenderly before rising up. They exchanged a few more words, and Heidi watched as Beatdrop left, off to do something surely more pressing. Heidi fixed the oversized cap on her head and skipped over to Zaphkiel, hoisting herself up onto the bench at his side.

"You are quite lucky," he said, looking over the new hat she had acquired. Zaphkiel recognized Beatdrop as the equally famous DJ going by the same name; the woman could pay for another hat of the same make. Still, giving up the clothing without hesitation spoke words about the heroine. Printed on the front of the cap was a pair of letters, 'B' and 'D' obviously an homage to the original wearer. Zaphkiel pondered how much the thing would sell for. "I can name a few 'heroes' who wouldn't have even granted you audience." Heidi swung her legs to and fro, touching her hat as if learning about it simply through contact.

"I like her the most out of them all," Heidi proclaimed, influenced by the single act of selflessness. She'd change her mind later on, he was sure. Being twelve years old meant your attention span was still only getting a hold of itself, and loves and likes were whimsical. Zaphkiel stood himself up, his armored body clanging as he did so. Standing at his full seven feet, he towered above the tinier human at his feet. He was a golden giant of metal, wings retracted at his back though still apparent and immense. Heidi launched herself from her seat in tandem.

"Are you satisfied with the heroes you have met?" Zaphkiel asked, "Surely there cannot be more." His face but a helmet, offering no glimpse of facial expressions, though his voice clearly indicated a tone of suggestion. Heidi pouted and crossed her arms.

"Well if you've got things to do yourself, then I suppose I don't have anymore," she said. Zaphkiel's wings fluttered.

"Nothing important, Miss Tanja, though I would benefit from meeting others myself. I am after all, to become an esteemed member of this League," Zaphkiel explained. Having no need for a bed, Zaphkiel had forgone requesting a room for himself, instead vying for a single-bed room to allow Heidi a place of refuge due to his situation. He was inevitably given one, and Heidi promptly invaded the place, prancing about her plentiful room. During times in which he was needed, Zaphkiel would have to leave Heidi in the Hall's custody; such a place was the most well-defended spot on Earth, he thought... and hoped. Already he contacted a phew heroes affiliated with high Heaven, entrusting them with the task of caring for her should he be unavailable or simply gone. He did not bet on such a thing occurring, but hope ultimately is not a tactic. Anything could happen.

Before he could enter the Hall and converse appropriately without the prospect of Heidi hijacking the conversation, an alarm was sounded, heard even from the exterior of the building. Zaphkiel listened intently, the words of the announcement ringing clearly in his mind. Heidi looked up at the archangel half-worriedly, half-expectedly. She knew what was transpiring, and Zaphkiel's faceless gaze relayed enough information for Heidi to take her leave in silence.

Heidi turned to Zaphkiel and shouted from afar, cupping her hands at the sides of her lips. "Kick butt!" Satisfied, Heidi jogged into the safety of the Hall. Zaphkiel watched diligently until her small frame disappeared behind glass doors. He stood for a moment and considered the options; Zaphkiel was not one to purport himself to be any greater than what others said of him, and being a new recruit for the League, knew few individuals could tell of his accomplishments. Thus, he believed that the "Active Duty" members were best suited to dealing with the county jail issue. Zaphkiel would meet within the atrium and hear of this planning.

Heidi had vanished within the great halls of the League's HQ when he had entered, and though such was to be expected, Zaphkiel couldn't help but look about for her, just in case. He limited his turning gaze to the paths and areas ultimately leading into the atrium, where he found himself surrounded by other heroes intent on alleviating the hostage situation.

Joshua shifted uncomfortably from his position in an alleyway across the road from the restaurant. He'd seen the attack as it happened, the large insectoid creature, the girl tearing out the man's throat through the glass, he'd heard the screams but he couldn't do anything. This wasn't like his other most recent hostage experience, simply striking someone over the head, this was intense. This was precisely the reason he avoided Chicago, there were too many metahumans playing hero and too many sub-metahumans who got off on killing.
He had no idea what to do. Could he teleport in and save people? He'd heard what sounded like gunshots and there were likely too many people to get out quickly. Would they even trust another metahuman? He couldn't attack anyone, at best he had some metal pipes, a baseball bat and a knife stashed in his Pocket. He had experience with guns, but he didn't actually have any guns stashed away, he'd never needed them! His only real options were to either turn his back and walk away or to become intangible and scope the place out to try to come up with a better plan. He'd be impervious to bullets or physical harm, but he wouldn't be able to help anyone if they needed it.

Opening his Pocket, Joshua let his physical form fall away. It was always a surreal sensation, losing the ability to be physically affected by the world. He couldn't even feel so much as the wind on his face anymore, like his entire body was numb but not at the same time. He still had no idea how he could walk and stand without falling into the ground.
Dropping low, he ran as quietly and discreetly as possible, out of the alleyway and to the restaurant, ducking beneath the front window. He almost passed through the wall as he subconsciously attempted to lean his weight against it, but caught himself at the last moment. His heart was racing and his guts were twisted. He felt sick. This was the last place he wanted to be, but people were screaming. Women and kids could be inside. Turning slowly, his body tense, Joshua stole a glance through the storefront window.

Extensive body modifications? Petya held back a cringe. That sounded unnecessary. Creepy was another a good word for this. Her powers were (probably) an accident, with no real purpose until she gave them one. Her newest friend? It was obvious what his abilities were meant for, and it had nothing to do with helping old ladies cross the street.

Petya let out a laugh and a clap of excitement when Quentin showed off his abilities, easily hiding her discomfort. Was it just his feet that could do that, or were his fingers just as fast? The thief could think of a worthwhile use for such quick fingers, though considering who the man had allied himself with, it was unlikely that the man would approve. Then again, she was part of the League too and was more than willing to get her hands dirty. Before she could truly ask any questions though, the siren rang through the Hall, Killshade running off to do his duty. ”I'll see you on the field!” the shapeshifter yelled after the man, letting out a huff of laughter before taking her leave as well. Now, they probably wouldn't notice it if she didn't come along, but she was curious. Excited, even. Yup, definitely excited. This was actually kind of cool!

Discarding her clothing as the Shifter's costume grew on her, the hero walked the hallways with a spring in her step. For a moment, she lamented the fact that she couldn't do much about the boring dark brown of her suit. Compared to all those bright colors of her fellow heroes, she must have looked like the blandest thing in the world, especially if she was standing right next to them. Of course there was still the matter of finding the atrium first. Shifter just hoped that she would reach it before she was left behind.

Volt was waiting nervously to board one of the League VTOL’s, trying not to dwell on what might laying ahead of him. It was true, he’d fought his share of meta-villains in the past, beat em too, but it would be a fool who wouldn’t be a worried about what was coming. He was afraid, yeah, but that didn’t mean he was gonna turn tail. Sonja was standing next to him, and he wouldn’t feel right leaving her to shoulder this burden without him. And what about Hot-Rod, if Volt left who would watch his back, after all Ryker was so fast it took someone who was a living lightning bolt just to keep up with him. They were his friends, and he wasn’t gonna fail them. He’d failed one friend to many in his life Let’s just hope ma mates are as concerned aboot ma safety.

Hold the phone, what is that? Thoughts of his friends were chased away as his skin began to tingle. Since the Awakening Volt could always ‘feel out’ sources of electricity, be they big or small. It has been disconcerting at first, his skin prickling whenever he so much as walked into a room with an active current, but he’d grown accustomed to it by now, coming to see it as a sixth sense of sorts. Right now that sense was singing to him, this source was so powerful it felt like he was vibrating. Another electro kinetic maybe?

He was proven right as ‘Emmanuel’ came and introduced himself, and stating his power. He also called Volt ‘Sir’, which was a nice touch. Emmanuel was covered in tiny scars that almost seemed to be tiny lightning bolts. Volt couldn’t decide if they were badass or bizarre.

Even without the introduction the Lightning-Slinger would have known what Emmanuel was capable of, the air practical hummed between them In fact Volt was slightly surprised that whole building hadn’t blacked out, the pair of them were draining so much juice. Guess ah ain’t as unique as ah thought. If he makes terrible puns during a fight too ah might sue. The Lightning-Slinger grinned a little at his fellow electro kinetic, the gesture strained but genuine.

“Good tae have ye on board Emmanuel, ah have a feeling this one is gonnae get hairy.” Understatement of the year.

“As tae advice on powers? If yer here ye must have a handle on them, then ah doubt ah can help ye, and if ah could we mighta left it a bit late, eh?” He said, gesturing to the hectic scene of the quickly departing VTOLS. “When we get back we can talk shop, see if we cannae learn a thing or two.”

“And stick close tae a vet if ye can. Ye look like ye’d be pretty tasty in a scrap, but all it takes is one misstep and its all over.”

Chris had been one of the many people who had dashed towards their rooms when the sirens had gone off but thanks to her super speed she had been one of the first to reach her room. With well-practiced finesse Chris quickly got changed into her own more practical clothing, but making sure not to wear the shirt and jeans she had done in the training, before diving back out of her room just in time for everyone else to arrive. After a few ungraceful hops down the down living quarter corridors retying her shoes Chris pelted back down the corridor either sliding through the crowd or weaving through the stragglers.

It was a few minutes later that Chris found herself in the Atrium along with, to her discomfort and worry, a very large number of other recruits being pulled into the throng of loudly chattering people Chris started to worry that if this many recruits suddenly showed up at once wouldn’t that force the captors to try and kill off some of the hostages. Her stomach churned with nerves under the pressure of all these people around her, the air nearly crackled with energy or quite possibly from another recruit nearby. Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, despite knowing from experience it never worked before a mission, she prayed that whoever would be calling the shots for this mission had a plan.

“No, no. Can’t, nope.” Chris thought aloud.

Of course her luck had guaranteed that she was stuck right in the middle of the throng of people in the Atrium and squished between a few other recruits as they babbled excitedly with each other. With an excessive number of “pardon” and “excuse me”s Chris managed to push her way back out of the crowd and the Atrium, she could always jump back in near the back when they began the briefing, to the large open hallway.

Lean back against the wall beside the wide open doors Chris took a few deep lungfuls of the cool fresh air grateful to be out of that stuff room. As she stood there, getting a few odd looks from the other recruits that ran past her, she spotted another recruit who looked fairly lost if the look on their face was anything to go by.

“Hey there.” Chris pushed herself off the wall and walked with a friendly smile towards the…person. A flicker of a frown passed over her face as Chris once again tried, and failed, to decide on the sex of the person before her. “Are you okay? You look a little bit lost.”

Hot Rod zipped about the area checking to make sure that everyone was where they should be and shouted, "Remember newbies are only heading to the hostage crisis, veterans are to go to the prison! Please make sure you are all properly equipped for field duty so that God doesn't have get any new guests in heaven!"

He spotted Chris in the crowd of heroes and he quickly dashed over to her.

"Hay are you good to go? Because these new recruits are headed to the hostage situation, they want us veterans to gather by the transports but I think I might be able to get to the prison quicker" he said to her, hoping that they could stick together since they both were speedsters.

---

Ocean Warrior glared angrily at Flashbolt when he talked about kicking his butt and was almost tempted to blast the arrogant hero with a beam of energy from his trident. But he decided not to for now, maybe later he would freeze head and then set Flashbolt's ass on fire. He chuckled at the idea as he entered the Atrium and looked at the crowd of people. He spotted a speedster moving around the crowd and shouting things. Ocean Warrior couldn't remember who the speedster was but he looked familiar. No matter, he walked over to join the other new recruits and stood by them.

Marconi Estate

The crack of the gun silenced Bender forever. Fontana crossed himself and several of the Bosnians hung their heads, all was silent. Music looked Sixgun in the eye and nodded walking off. Marconi light a cigar and nodded, "Welcome to the Outfit, Mr. Ross." He gestured to four men by his side and they went to Bender's body, picking him up at the same time and visibly straining under the weight of the giant of a man. They walked off and the circle remained silent. Marconi approached and clapped Sixgun on the shoulder, "I believe you'll be a great asset Ross. Legion won't know what hit it."

Suddenly a man rushed from inside the estate and up to Marconi who shifted the side to listen him whisper in his ear. Marconi's mouth went slack and his cigar fell from his lips, fingers swinging loosely. He blinked and then his eyes turned into granite, fists balling up. He gritted his teeth and said, "Goddamnit They went too far this time. Too far." He shouted to Fontana, "Get the boys together, we're going for a ride." Fontana nodded and the mobsters withdrew.

Marconi grinned bitterly at Sixgun, "Alright seems like Legion has stepped it their game. They've taken my wife and kids hostage. Nothing we can do for them now, police and heroes will be swarming the place. But now we're going to hit back. There's an old meth lab that used to be ours, they took it over and word on the street is they make all this unholy potion crap with it. You're going to take the Witchfinder, Chunk, La Sombra, and some of our guys to clear it while we hit their other public places. I've had enough of this shit. Get ready and Fontana will show you there." Marconi pulled his gun cocked it and walked off. The gang war was now turning into a bloodbath.

Michael's Team sans Furious

Michael punched the bulkhead and made it bend as he cursed for the second time that day, "That impossible boy. He should have left me to do my duty." Arachnid sighed head in her hands. Furious was the first member ever to be captured in the field, perhaps even the first to have been killed. She shook her head. No, they had wanted him alive and Furious was too damn stubborn to just die. He was alive and they'd get him out. She spoke up, "Furious would never have left anyone behind, and he knew that you were more useful out there then dead or captured." Michael's eyes burned with holy fire, "Whoever took our friend will pay dearly. I swear it."

The pilot called out from the intercom, "Looks like we'll have to make a detour. Cook County Jail is experiencing a riot and reports say there's dozens of superhumans trying to break in at the same time." Arachnid banged her head against the bulkhead, "Dammit. We won't have anyone left to go after Furious." Michael sighed, "No doubt that was all part of their plan." Michael pressed the intercom button, "Drop us at the nearest station so we may deposit the boy. Then let us join our comrades in the field." Michael looked back out the VTOL at the rapidly shrinking slaughterhouse, "We'll come back for you my friend."

Hall Airfield

The Airfield where the League kept its fleet of VTOLs was a hotbed of activity as support staff rushed to get the transports into service and the space was crammed with scores of heroes. Zenith, Olympia, and several others had already gone on ahead but the bulk of their force was assembling here. Psion broke through the crowd, her telepathy projecting her presence and parting the human tide as she ran through, ripping off her suit to display her white costume. Nitrous, Aurora, Raptor, Rainmaker, and Menagerie were present and Psion stepped up to join them. They were two-thirds of the Founding Council Zenith, Olympia, and Pariah filling out the rest of the seats. Renowned members like Savant, Destiny, and Apogee were at the head of the crowd.

Psion stared at the crowd her face grim, "Zenith and Olympia, two of our strongest as well as several who were nearby are already on scene. Cook County Jail is being ravaged by a cross-facility riot with dozens of villains breaching the facility at different points. Thomas's spirits have determined a magical dampener field has been placed over the prison proper and anyone with supernatural powers will find their abilities severely curtailed. As such low-tier Supernaturals will be put in reserve and support. More than half of the League is spread out around the country and are rapidly mobilizing to meet at the prison, but right now we're all that's left to the job and most are more than an hour away."

Psion looked several members in the eye, "If we don't contain the riot, hundreds if not thousands supercriminals and violent normals will be able to wreak havoc on Chicago and every population center in proximity. We have to stop them before they escape at all costs. No matter what we must stop the breakout. Thousands of lives depend on us." Every member there was sobered and Apogee felt her heartbeart rising. It was the only time in their short operating history that more than a few dozen Leaguers had been assigned to the same mission. And so far, it was its most high-stakes operation to date.

"We'll be joined by National Guard units and agents from the local DSA station, every boot on the ground helps. Save as many guards and staff as you can but the priority is to contain the inmates. If we work together, hit them hard, and stay cool we can do this. Everyone who can get there faster now, go. Everyone else to the transports." Raptor, Rainmaker, Aurora, Menagerie, and Destiny took to the sky followed by dozens of flyers as Nitrous sped off into the distance. Apogee swallowed and her eyes turned resolved as she flew off into the sky and Psion was the first to board a VTOL followed by the rest of the League, less than 500 superheroes who had to quell a jail with more than 12,000.

Later when they arrived, dozens of VTOLs and lone heroes flying in the air towards the prison, they found a huge smoke cloud drifting up and fire was everywhere. The VTOLs flew around the prison and had a nice view of the chaos. DSA and National Guard vehicles were already present. The armored vehicles and infantry had formed a perimeter around the prison as it continued to rumble and boom with the sounds of pitched combat. Psion closed her eyes and concentrated. A few moments later Zenith floated next to her VTOL, his cloak fluttering in the wind and displaying evidence of tears and scorches. The man's uniform had been cut and filled with holes in several places, his hair out of place, but his face was set in determination.

Zenith grimly nodded, "You're here. Olympia, myself, and the rest were able to pacify the immediate perimeter and take down the first wave of runners, but we didn't have the numbers to get in any farther than the first few cell blocks and one of the yards. Now that you're here we should be able to-" He was cut off by a sound of a large ground-shaking rumble and he snapped his head down expecting to see the aftermath of an explosion. Instead what he saw was the ground boiling, as holes seemed to open in the ground and shapes began to emerge. Portals opening in the very ground. Destiny looked out, his eyes glowed gold and he cursed, "Corpses. Golems. Creatures I've never seen before. There must be more than a thousand of them. They must have a nercomancer and an enchanter to create their zombies and golems. As well as a summoner strong enough to bind so many Netherworld demons. It would have taken months to gather so many."

Zenith narrowed his eyes, "They planned this from the day we learned of them. Something to keep the big guns from getting in and everyone else trapped in it. And there's nothing to do but clear it." Legions of dark monsters swarmed the perimeter of the Prison, not entering but forming a wall of flesh between the heroes and government and the beleaguered prison. More than a few Leaguers shifted their sheets, cursed, and crossed themselves at the site and the men on the ground seemed to move into high gear while setting up positions. Zenith's radio buzzed with lines from the National Guard and DSA and he nodded, he spoke out to the League channel, "Listen up. Myself, the Founders, and every top-tier superhuman will engage. We'll clear a path straight to Olympia and her team for the rest of the League, they're trapped between Legion's minions and the inmates. Our VTOLs and the government's armor will open up a path for the guard and agency to secure their own sides while flyers offer fire support for them."

Zenith stared at Apogee who flew in the air, "It'll be up to you to pacify the riot until the rest of us can move in, veteran like Apogee and Savant will lead the League units while DSA and the Guard will secure the other entrances. Stick together and stay alert, the lives of your friends, comrades, and countless innocents depends on it." Zenith floated into the air again and was joined by the other Founders who could fly, Zenith said, "Good luck."

He flew off and into the air before diving down and creating a huge crater, sending dozens of creatures flying, then he opened his eyes and scythed through a dozen more zombies before launching throw a rank of stone golems. Nitrous streaked through the enemy, striking them with a club and firing off a sub-machine gun before speeding away and doing it again. Rainmaker floated in the air and a thundercloud manifested over the prison lightning striking down on the enemy while huge hailstones pounded others into mush. Aurora manifested a giant dragon of rainbow light who roared cerulean fire and stomped creatures beneath it. Menagerie had turned into a T-Rex and charged through the enemy pounding them beneath his saurian feet and crushing them between his jaws.

Raptor flew in from above and struck left and right with a sword and axe in head, decapitating zombies and eviscerating creatures. Destiny floated in the air and fired streak after streak of golden energy into the enemy. Psion and a couple dozen other superhumans from the League and DSA had disembarked from their VTOLs or moved in and joined their strength. Psion raised her hand a dozen creatures grabbed their heads and sank to the ground in inhuman pain. Fire, Ice, Lightning, Wind, Water, Earth, Sonic blasts, and energy of all kinds were being thrown everywhere and pounding into the Legion's inhuman army. There were only a few dozen against a force of a thousand but they managed to get their attention, a path had been opened straight into the prison. VTOLs streaked overhead on other sides of the prison and pounded the enemies there with machine guns while the government's APCs rolled in firing turrets and crushing zombies beneath their tires. The DSA and National Guard were moving in. Now it was up to the League.

Apogee floated in the air, the rest of the League's present flyers at her back and they flew at the prison several branching off to fight flyers who suddenly rocketed into the air or to support the DSA and the Guard. Apogee herself dove down into the first courtyard, the other VTOLs dropping off the rest of the League teams. In the courtyard was a pitched battle, Olympia and a handful of Leaguers fighting back several mundane prisoners and superhumans. Olympia was slashing and bashing the inmates, blood pouring onto the ground. It seemed as if the prisoners had had their meta-blockers dampened but normally Olympia would have already defeated the enemy. The dampening field robbing her supernatural attacks of most of their strength and even taking some of her physical power. Dozens of inmates were down but more were still up.

A bruiser ran at her and she side-stepped him swinging her blade with such strength that it cut deep into his back and slammed him into the floor, then she was thrown back by a gout of wind and into a wall. Apogee picked up the bruiser and threw him into the aerokinetic, taking care of them both for the moment. In the yard where another bruiser named Brick, pyrokinetic named Scorch, a man with metal tentacles called Twister, and a human bomb that was named Boomer. Volt and Sonja may have recognized the last three as some of the first villains they had taken down six months past.

Brick had managed to catch an acrobat named Daredevil in his arms and was twisting his limbs, Twister grabbing at Bullseye an archer that was trying to hold him off with her gadget arrows several of them being grabbed in the air. Morph, an amorphous blob hero was screaming as Scorch burned him. Magnetar a magnetism controller was backed into a corner firing small metal spheres at a crowd of inmates. Redeye a woman with heat vision was battling with Boomer, one firing pinpoint lasers while the other fired large handfuls of yellow explosive energy neither managing to hit in their running battle. Several guards in riot armor were trying to hold back inmates with batons and shields but were on the verge of being overwhelmed. Immediate intervention was necessary.

Atrium

The couple dozen or so rookies that were all the League had left to deploy crowded in the atrium until Pariah arrived at the head of the room, and they went silent. Pariah took up his position and spoke his words echoing throughout the now quiet hall, "The place is Maroni's Restaurant an Outfit front. Legion has taken the building over and every person inside hostage. They have a cryokinetic who froze all the windows and the entrances shut. They must have a magic-user because any attempt to scry or otherwise magically penetrate the building has been rebounded. Besides that we know nothing other than upwards of a dozen supervillains are inside thanks to infrared scans. Assume all are armed and willing to kill. CPD has formed a perimeter with vehicles, SWAT teams, and Snipers but their attempts to communicate have failed and the Legion is demanding at least two League representatives."

"I need someone to go in, wearing wire implants, and identify the sorcerer or the device powering the ward. If they can take them out or disrupt their spell and it'll allow any supernatural members to enter and assist and at the same time deploy these," Pariah held up a series of very small marble sized half-spheres, "These are advanced concentrated concussive and flashbang hybrid explosives. Keep them hidden and plant them wherever they can do the most distraction, they'll stick to anything solid and are strong enough to disorient everyone for about a dozen feet around. When you can report on positions of enemies and hostages. You'll be searched but keep them hidden anyway you can. Then we breach with an assault time and subdue the villains and rescue the hostages."

"Do I have any volunteers?"

Cordelia raised an eyebrow, legitimately impressed with Sonja's wardrobe trick. Some of these powers had seemed kinda limited, only usable for one situation. She wasn't sure how Sonja's powers worked, but if she just straight up turned that coat into Kevlar, Cordelia imagined Sonja was a very rich woman. Cordelia made a note to accept more of her hospitality in the future. Cordelia tightened the straps of her backpack, fastening it to her back and clipping it in front of her waist. Did it look stupid? Yes. Did Cordelia give two shits? No. As long as it made it that much more likely her gear would stay on, she'd be happy to do it. Before the Awakening, Cordelia would've considered taking a backpack into a warzone-too easy to latch onto and throw you to the ground from behind. From there, it was a steel-toed kick to the face and you were out of the fight.

She, however, had a guardian angel now. She didn't know what Cook County held, but she was always good at improvising. Either she could swipe a few valuable toys from the cops (because any prison holding that many people had some stuff people on Chicago's gun-controlled streets would kill for) or help bust a few old friends out to redeem for favors. Ideally, she'd slip out without being spotted by any members of the League. If not...well...she'd ridden the rails before. League would be too busy cleaning this mess up to chase after one lowlife ex-gangbanger, and she planned on being long gone by the time they got back to her on their priority list. They may have tremendous resources, but they couldn't be everywhere. Couldn't know everything. As long as she stayed off the radar, they'd have no cause to come after her when there were infinitely bigger fish to fry.

"Oh," Cordelia said, sticking tight to Sonja. Sonja was her ticket to getting to the prison, and by extension, to getting food and a place to crash for the next few weeks. She cursed herself for not stealing somebody's wallet on the way out. Hauling ass after Sonja, the girl held her own-she wasn't matching The Spirit Of St. Louis' 40 time, but she could sprint. Maybe not at super speed, maybe not at Olympic levels, but she could move. With a sudden twitch of fear, Cordelia realized she'd never ridden on an airplane as they clambered onto the VTOL. Let's hope I don't get airsick.

SIXGUN

Already a direct assault on the Outfit, and already Sixgun was considered in the top ranks of muscle. It had been quite a night, and it looked to be just getting started. Trying to put Bender out of his mind, and realizing that he was going to need to watch his back around the Bosnians now, he went on over to the Road Kings president and reclaimed his jacket and weapons before snatching his Panama hat off the ground. "Alrighty, gents," he said, looking over at the expert assassins he had been teamed with as he checked the load on his revolver. "Time to be a-hootin' and a-hollerin' down at some kind of voodoo lab. Best be loadin' up, yeah? Look forward to seeing how y'all operate up here in Chicago," he said with a toothy smile, still thinking of the look in Bender's eyes as he had rolled around trying to squeeze his throat back open. "Show the way, Tony," he said to the capo.

Something then occurred to him. If the League had been called out, who was going to back him up in case of danger?

No one, probably. Pariah probably wasn't too happy with how he had handled Bender anyway. Maybe support had been withdrawn altogether. Maybe he had been left to his own devices.

This was going to be a long night.

---

SONJA

The VTOL lurched heavily as it approached the besieged prison, the sheer size of the battle below enough to displace massive amounts of air. The Windy City was living up to its name, a literal breeze blowing through the streets, pushed by explosions and fire. Sonja felt her stomach drop as Zenith mentioned a dampening field for supernatural beings. Right as she was thinking about how she could be useful in the rear lines when Zenith ordered the top-tier sorcerers to go in as well.

Oh crap.

Apparently that included her, from what Olympia and Destiny and several others had said. Sonja didn't feel top-tier. Her tricks were just that, spells best suited for a stage or a parlor, the absolute basics of magic. Granted, she did them really really well, but still. It was like comparing someone who knew how to throw a single type of punch to someone like Bruce Lee. And at a time when she was already on the downslope. This was going to be rough.

Still, she had advantages, she knew. Volt and Hot Rod would be watching her back, as always, and of course she'd look out for them. Sonja smiled at the new girl, Cord. The teenager had been brave enough to come along to this Hell- the kid was definitely earning Sonja's respect just for that alone. "Stick close, Cord," she whispered. "You watch my back and I'll watch yours, and we'll get out of this in one piece. Or two. Or, uh, three, I guess," she said with a glance at the girl's shadow.

The VTOL bumped again, this time making contact with the ground to disgorge its passengers outside the walls. Sonja flicked her wrist, and the Stan Musial baseball bat slid out of her shirt cuff into her hand. She had some confidence in this weapon, at least- its power depended less on the enchantments Thomas had placed on it as a safeguard and more on it being a symbol of hope, goodwill, and righteousness- raw emotional power contributed by two million St. Louisans and concentrated into one Louisville Slugger. This simple piece of hickory could deflect bullets, shatter concrete, overturn trucks. The field might dampen its force somewhat, but even so the bat would be a formidable weapon. Hope can't be quenched, not completely.

Holding the bat, long fingers crossing over the sweat stains and autograph of Baseball's Perfect Knight, Sonja felt a hell of a lot better as she ran towards the melee at the prison walls, hoping to batter through and aid Olympia.

The air suddenly turned freezing cold to her left, and Sonja threw herself aside before where she had been standing congealed to a formation of snow and ice. A stray shot, not aimed at her, she thought as she rolled on the ground. To her horror, she landed on something soft and fleshy. Covered in Spandex, not fatigues or prison oranges. One of theirs.

Sonja looked down, sadly seeing the smoking hole where the man's left eye had once been. The poor bastard hadn't even made it inside the jail. She recognized the costume. Bluegrass, a young and excitable man who had protected Nashville. Sonja remembered him as somewhat ridiculous, a little klutzy, the very face of wounded dignity. But nice, always holding a door for someone or trying to organize a canned-food drive. A man who believed in heroes. With a pang, Sonja realized she didn't know Bluegrass' real name. She was going to find out after this, she resolved.

That was it. It was only going to be Bluegrass. No one else was going to die on her side. Not today. Not ever.

She cracked her neck, twirled the bat in her hands, loosened her wrists. "Welcome to the International House of Pain Cakes. My name is Sonja and I will be your server today," she muttered, taking off towards the walls at a dead sprint.

Killshade listened carefully to each word that Pariah, one of the veteran members said about the hostage situation. After careful thinking, he realized he would be able to do this, just would take a little stealth and some usage of his flash step, both of which he had done many times before. He stepped forward, looking at Pariah.

"I volunteer. Killshade at your service," He stated with a nod. "I have done many stealth operations in the past, that combined with my powers lead me to believe I'm the right person for this job. I can get in quickly, take out anyone you need, plant the explosives and then do whatever else is asked of me. If that is to let myself get captured by the enemy, then I will do that."

MC listened to the briefing, bur wasn't very interested in what was said until something was mentioned about wards blocking various magical means of getting in Curious, MC asked. "So... They're blocking magical means of getting in. Does this include shift, 2 point, or 3 point teleportation? If so, then whoever goes in will have an easy time trying to find a huge and/or brightly glowing ward object. Blocking Shift teleports takes a lot of energy and doesn't even work perfectly. If they aren't, I'll just portal us in. If they are, once its down, I can portal us in anyway. And if they're not blocking shift, I can just port in and take out the mage or whatever." Just so everyone knows." He waited for a reply, floating lazily in the air. "Or maybe not. Seems this one wants to go instead, probably better, I'm rather... boomy?" MC said after Killshade spoke up to volunteer for the mission.

On the way over to the jail, Light didn't interact with much of anyone, or at least, no one seemed to want to interact with her all that much. So Light was mostly bored on the ride over. Though she did see the massive army of, for the lack of a better word, things, that the senior league members had to fight off, which sort of made her sad, Dhe'd have a blast punching all those golems and demons, working her way to the sorcerer who would probably be evaporated from a fusion punch, but that was then, this was now. Soon they were at the drop off point, Light following after Sonja.

Light was overjoyed with herself as she was dropped into the courtyard with the other league members. Here all she had to do was beat up the escapees and make sure not too many guards died to the retaliatory fire. She'd have to work off the little guys first though before she took out the bigger villains causing all the chaos, assuming the others didn't take them out first. What she found odd was how a few of the others seemed to be affected by some sort of power dampening field. She was too, but she didn't really feel it as much as some of the other league members. "Probably because of that ability. Light thought to herself. While Sonja was moving to help out another one of the league members, Light decided it would probably be better to stop the stem of criminals coming out form the jail, after all, without reinforcements, the riot's front line would falter.

Light dashed at nearest group of inmates and guards, the guards barely holding off the inmates with their riot shields. It was unfortunate for the first inmatet, a medium fitness Italian man with a broken nose, that his back was turned to Light. While one of the spotters called her out, he didn't have enough time to react before he got punched in the kidney. While Light didn't mean to punch him there, she couldn't really do much else as some of the inmates broke off from the group and went after her. Things were going to get interesting...

Agnes -Killjoy

Nooks and crannies, all over the city. Places no one would ever consider looking into, or for that matter, think to be a place for hiding things. Agnes had a knack for turning otherwise unusable locations into secret stashes, confident in her abilities enough that even the greatest of gadgets she procured or invented seemed secure. Riding along the streets on a dirt bike, she stopped at the locations marked on her crumpled map, small X's in red marker denoting their many positions. She couldn't have memorized them all.

Grenades, C4 packages, pipe bombs, gasoline canisters, lighters, matches, and a pair of welding goggles were what was retrieved, stuffed into a worn-out backpack Killjoy carried with herself. The combined weight of the materials was uncomfortable, but she was as energized as ever, and no amount of heaviness would weigh her down. With a rev of the handlebar, Killjoy set off for the Cook County Jail, the thought of probation and trouble far behind her. The girl pulled out a stick of bubblegum and popped it into her mouth, adept enough to blow bubbles within a few seconds despite its dwindling hardness. Zooming down the streets, she screeched to a halt, turning her bike to absorb the momentum even more quickly. Agnes stepped off her bike, letting it drop to the ground unceremoniously.

"Hot damn this'll be amazing!" she howled, swinging her arm downwards. She popped a bubble as she looked over the carnage, eyeing the many monstrous forms that clamored about the exterior of the prison. Folks didn't want anyone to get in, clearly. Agnes pulled up a pistol from the sling on her thigh, spinning it about on her finger once before stopping it in its proper place. With a click, she grabbed a grenade clipped to her belt, tossing it up and down a few times in contemplation.

"Can't imagine it'd be bad to kill all these critters. No harm done right?" Agnes spoke to herself. She shook her arm violently, rattling the grenade in her hand. Her voice became growling, mimicking that of a gruff man as best she could. "KILLJOY I'M ITCHIN' TO MAKE HURT. THROW ME. THROW ME!"

"Have some patience my liege. Just kidding have at it!" Killjoy stepped forward and threw her arm into it, lobbing the grenade a good distance away. "Pew!" she feigned a gun sign at the soaring explosive, and instantly it detonated above the menagerie of monsters. That surely caught their attention at that point, and Killjoy was well under way firing her magnum into the heads and bodies of those nearby; whichever ones looked juiciest. Killjoy made a sidestepping approach to the creatures, careful not to let them get too close for her to make an escape. The heroes needed to get in, and she needed to wreak havoc. Perfect!

Killjoy resolved to focus her attention on cutting down the enemies numbers rather than infiltrate the compound. She could kill these guys to her hearts content after all; exactly what she wanted to do! Killjoy's screams of laughter crew more and more intense with each supernatural body she counted, a hail of fire, flame, and blast unleashed upon the darkness.

Emmanuel nods at the other man's words and chuckled, though its far from genuine. Its the kind of chuckle you give when you hear your tire just went flat for the fifth time this week. The 'oh. Great.' Kind of chuckle.“Hairy is probably just a little bit of an understatement. Its definitely not gonna be a walk in the park. I thought it'd be a good time to go ahead and introduce myself encase you had any advice on usage efficiency. Its not that I don't have a handle on them, its that I have way too much power to use at once. When I do, my muscles start to literally tear themselves apart. I can go full power for about five minutes. It turns me into a literal lightning bruiser, but if I stay in it as long as possible, I can barely move till my shit repairs itself. Course, we probably have different fighting styles, so we could probably teach each other some new tricks using electricity. If it's okay with you sir, I'll take your advice of sticking to a vet and just hang by you once we're both in the middle of combat.”

Turning towarsd the VTOLs before take off he hears “If you can get there faster, than do so!”

He looks at Hi Voltage and nods “Well, that seems to be my cue. I have no idea how fast you can go, so if you can keep up, fantastic! If not, come find me on the battlefield once you get there, cause I know you know how to find me, sir. If nothing else, we won't have to worry about friendly fire from each other.. And if you need a charge during battle, let me know. I've got enough power for the whole of New York City, and I mean that quite literally.” That's not an overstatement either. Emmanuel possesses enough of a kick to power the entire city of New York for a solid 24 hours. That's where the problem lies with efficiency. Hi Voltage probably has troubles with this, but full power will do more harm than good to Emmanuel. That's way too much juice for even his supernaturally altered body to take.

With a raise of his hands, Emmanuel's scars being to crackle and light up, his eye's turning golden and sharp, his holy lightning filling his body to suitable levels. He doesn't need even close to full power to hit Mach One, but it's hard to push past that without a little extra help from the Halo. He doesn't even need electricity to run that fast either, his muscles are already boosted to speedster levels, but it puts on a good show, and the electrical current, like the one suddenly forming in front of him, helps to not have wind rip his face off.

Crouching in typical runner's position, Emmanuel aligns himself with the open gates of the hangar. Really good thing those ARE open, cause other wise he'd have to make a brand new hole in them. Pushing off, lighting courses through his legs into the ground, allowing him to get going with an immediate sonic boom as he hits Mach One. Again, that's what the electric barrier is for. Otherwise he'd have no face. Leaving Hi Voltage behind, maybe, he doesn't know if he's following or now, Emmanuel resolves to live up to that statement of meeting him back on the battlefield. He's confident in not dying, but he needs all the help he can get, and a vet will be very, very good to have. Plus Hi Voltage seems like a cool dude. Got a nice bit of zapping potential in him, the air really buzzed between them. Emmanuel grimaces. Again with the shitty prom night pickup line sounding statements.

The air rushes around him, the Flashbolt coursing down the street. Whoops, there goes a trashcan. My bad, but we've got bigger fish to stir fry. Pounding his legs right as he arrives outside of the prison walls, running to the other side to avoid potential super high level baddies, he crouches and pulls a super high jump, right over the prison walls. He lands on one poor bastard of a villain, stomping him into the ground and electrocuting him with the excess discharge.

After that though, he notices that he feels kind of funny. Like, two days after eating too much Taco Bell kind of funny. Hmm, that's really not good. Oh well, gotta make do with what we've got. Locking onto a couple of baddies attacking a poor couple of guards, he leaps at them. In midair, two thick, pulsating chains of electricity shoot out of his shoulders and wrap around the Legion members. “Hey boys! Looking to have a little bit of fun!? Well STOP IT.” Landing on the ground in front of the guards, the chains slam the metahumans into the ground while shocking them, their bodies bouncing a couple of feet. “You're lucky I feel a bit weaker than normal. Now you should only be out for a couple hours instead of days! Now, does anyone with a name actually feel like stepping up!?” Emmanuel knows how this goes down. People who introduce themselves by name are stronger, and if you take out the named baddies, the other ones just kind of collapse somehow? That's what he learned playing Dynasty Warriors anyway.

---

Khold blanches at the sound of the sirens. Red alert already? Oh man, this isn't shaping up to be pretty. A prison break? Oh gods, even worse.

"Khold! This is perfect time for you to prove your metal! Get in there and kick some ass!" Stribog is very vocal when he needs to be, which when it comes to actually getting into fights, oh boy, he needs to be. "Yes, yes I KNOW Stribog! Cut me some slack! Im not going to avoid a situation where people are actually in danger!"

"Ah, yes. Good job Kholodny. I'm very proud." Kholodny shakes his head after this short mental conversation. “Thanks Stribog. Really appreciate it.”

Watching everyone else around him, Kholodny really has no choice but to go with them. Looking at Doppler, he motions to come on. “Alright man, lets go. I think I'm as hella nervous as you, but we've got to make ourselves useful somehow, right?” He then turns back and starts walking forward, an icy breeze beginning to follow him. His eyes begin to glow a piercing blue. Oh man, Stribog's starting to take over. Its the best solution to his nerves problem. Stribog is braver than a Grizzly bear on Cocaine after being stabbed in the heart with adrenaline. He honestly dislikes having to merge more with Khold in order to make him braver, but he does what he has to do to keep his Scion safe and in fighting condition. Plus, he thinks that the more he does it, the more of his courage will rub off onto Kholodny.

Entering the craft, Khold takes a seat, the chair icing over underneath him. That's not too bad. Thankfully he's built up at least enough control over the years to not turn everything he touches into solid ice. That's the kind of temperatures Kholodny Zima deals with. He's calls himself the Russian Freeze for a reason. At temperatures as low as his, things don't just get icy, they turn into ice. Everything. Air, trees, rocks, steel. It all turns to ice under his power. That's why its so hard to keep control, and its tiring to use for long periods of time. Its potent man, gotta keep that shit under wraps when its not in use.

The flight over is uneventful enough for Khold. He could have flown, but this is probably easier, safer, and it saves power for him, which is always important, he needs every drop he can get. Once over the prison, Khold takes a deep breath and opens up one of the doors. He prepares himself, and jumps right out of the thing. Using his/Stribog's might, he forms a massive icicle, then rides it down out of the sky like icy death. Smashing into the ground, he knocks about more than a couple of baddies, now frozen solid and sliding across the floor, then touches down and catches his breath. "Ohhh okay. This is feeling very unpleasant. Stribog, this is like what, half capacity? That's not good. Okay, time to start planning for big blasts." A cone of ice begins to form on his left hand and arm, taking a barrel shape. If you've ever seen Megaman X's X Buster, just imagine that, but with ice. An intake valve on his shoulder begins drawing in air, slowly at first, and picking up speed, compressing huge amounts of air down into the gun.

With his coup de grace beginning it's formation, Kholodny runs around, kicking people in the head as well as he can. Which is to say, pretty well. Just because one of his arms is frozen, doesn't mean he can't move fast. Obviously his wind manipulation abilities are down, but he's still able to jump more than high and fast enough to connect with people's heads. Its a good thing everything's so chaotic as to not have too much focus on himself yet. He doesn't know what all these inmates can do.

Hot Rod watched as Volt was talking to another electric hero named Flashbolt, and when it came time to go he saw that the hero had super speed as well. Hot Rod gave snicker as he saw the hero take off at superhuman speeds. Ryker smiled and decided to show off by igniting himself and taking off at supersonic speeds. He zoomed past everything as a fiery blur, leaving trails of fire behind him and he quickly hit mach 2. He was half way up to mach 3 when he passed by Flashbolt on his way to the prison and Hot Rod gave smug grin as he dash ahead of the electric hero and then took off into the air flying since flight was another aspect of his powers.

Not too long after taking to the skies, he spotted the prison and all of the chaos going on below. He dove down and next to the other heroes to listen to the plan that was being made. He was ready to get into action and since the supernatural heroes would be weakened from the field of magic that surrounded the area, he would have to work extra hard to keep the weakened heroes covered.

"It's time to start a blaze" Hot Rod said with a smile as the fire around his hands became ever more intense and he shot out flaming vortex that was aimed straight at the undead enemies. He then began to zip around the area supersonic speed, punching and elbowing with insane quickness. At his speed a punch made by him would easily have enough force to badly injure a villain and break some bones. Hot Rod was trying to alternate between incapacitating the villains and taking down the undead monsters. He soon saw three of his fellow League members in trouble and he dashed towards Scorch when he saw him burning Morph.

"Hay hotshot? Why don't you pick on someone whose just as fiery?" he said as he closed the distance and landed a supersonic punch to Scorch right in he gut and sent flying back for several feet.

---

Ocean Warrior looked at the heroes in the atrium and wondered if any of them were going to know what do in this type of fieldwork. He was use to stuff like this by now but who knows when a hero is seasoned or a novice when they have never been seen in action. When Finn heard Pariah tell them the plan and asked for volunteers in trying to get rid of the spell that would hinder the magic users, he decided to volunteer.

"I'll volunteer, I hope inhuman appearance won't keep me from doing the job" he said to Pariah as he held his trident in one hand.

Macroni's. It was a pretty nice place to kick it back and relax should the mood strike you – and should you not be an exceptionally good cook,. Honestly, a nice expensive apartment in the good side of town in great and all, but he didn't exactly have the means of a well-tailored man or woman in the kitchen making Abraham his favorite meals anymore. He lived alone in Chicago, and eating shitty pre-made food was not even the last thing on his agenda. It was non-existant! Even if it was a talent that Abe had possessed (ha, yeah right! Cooking is no activity suited for a man!), surely he'd still wish to kick it back. After all, sometimes after you beat to a pulp the underworld types on the streets of Chicago, it is nice to put your feet up. And a second floor window booth was a great spot. With his feet propped upon a chair next to the booth, and his hand digging into a deep dish pizza, he could help but narrow his brow in discontent. It was a little cold! Was the pizza truly freshly baked this time? Did it sit? Was it stale? Now, Abe's palate wasn't so tuned as to figure out what exactly was wrong, but he had engaged in enough fine dining in his experience to know when something ain't right. But the problem with a lengthy rant about how the dish wasn't ideally served was that he was feeling particularly lazy and subdued this day (and perhaps even slightly frisky ands sexually charged, as he noted while he stared off into a passing woman's curvature) and that the service didn't quite act as personal assistance for their own vices, or even recording devices, for Abe's rants were quite lengthy should he conjure the energy to perform such.

He downed half of a black cup of joe. The real drink of men! The real drink of men assuming you wished to remain sober. Delicious, powerful, and isn't weakened by the likes of cream and sugar – and Abe wasn't a “puts-cream-and-sugar-into-his-coffee-kinda-guy”. A black coffee was his drink of choice. But even better? Cuban coffee. Unfortunately, a half-baked Italian restaurant in Chicago wasn't a place to obtain Cuban coffee. Half-baked... half-baked... why did he come here again? Was it a pretty nice place? Eh, suppose so, Abe always figured. The food was just okay. Really, it was the atmosphere. But what restaurant was a restaurant that was all atmosphere and no food? Good God, when put that way, you might as well call it a casino! But even casinos have pool boards and roulettes and other gambling games! It was this sudden point A to point C epiphany that led Abraham to exclaim loudly, “what a shitty restaurant!” before he tossed the ceramic coffee mug at the wall on the other side of the restaurant.

Whether it be dumb luck or divine intervention or neither, the shattering cup was overpowered by the comparatively deafening explosions that came with the posse shooting up the building downstairs and the synchronized obliteration of the windows a couple tables down. In the span of ten seconds, the upstairs was stormed by five people, and a whole mob he couldn't count from where he was currently. The sudden bombardment was enough to jump-scare him and prompt him to clumsily fall over the bench seat and under the table. The natural reaction of getting up was of course thwarted by his head striking the bottom of the table! Instilling the jarring of several plates and empty glasses and a glass of ice water. The brought forth a whining groan as he rubbed the back of his head. Ugh, hopefully no cute girls around saw that. During his time recovering and rubbing the back of his head, he managed to pick out some words from downstairs. Along with the obvious gunfire from before, something was said about “stay in your...”, “quiet...”and “burn... down.” Obviously, nothing good.

Most of Abe's crime-fighting was street stuff. This, though? This actually sounds like loads of fun! He'd have to play it smart though. After all, there were quite a few people playing this game with him... but Abe never lost. It'd be okay in the end.

Now, how was this place, really? They were in downtown Chicago. Most of these places were brick houses. And brick houses were nice – sort of. Adobe brick houses had rustic charm, and many places and many restaurants that were made of such adobe bricks were considered valuable for their real estate value and the price it took to build it. And Macroni's was all about atmosphere. Of course Macronu's was a brick house! He looked at it when he walked in! What did he think the floors and walls were made of, marble? Oh gosh, no, full marble restaurants is royalty stuff. Brick is more Chicago style. And brick was fair game.

Sticking his head out of his booth, Abe checked out the upstairs goons. Five? Just five? Oh please, what a joke. And from the sounds downstairs, they secured the building. They had him surrounded? Those poor bastards. This was a hostage situation! Well, of course. The shooters WERE the hostages! Well, they will be. Hell, why not – they are! They just don't know it yet. He smiled to himself rather smugly before he retracted his head back into the booth where he stretched his neck and arms, prepping himself for the wonderful surprise he had in store for the lot of them. He took a deep, relaxing breathe before he stomped his foot onto the ground beneath the table, where Abe expected he was obscured from the vision of the assailants. From there, the impact carried its way across the floor. The bricks and stone of the floor and its support beneath the five upstairs was reconstructed and fell apart, causing a cave-in within the restaurant where Abe expected the gang members to be caught off guard by the surprise attack (the floor falling apart beneath them – surely not the kind of resistance they'd be expecting!) and fall with the chunks of stone one story down.

The VTOL's course to the League Headquarters had been quickly changed from what Abaddon saw, but it didn't take long for him to realize they were looking for a safe place nearby to drop off the child. He had fallen asleep due to all the shock he had gone through, something Abaddon considered to be fortunate. He didn't think that having to spend time with a demonic looking guy would really bode that kids psyche well after he nearly got sacrificed by Satan's fanclub just a little while ago. Hopefully the cops at whatever station they'd be dropping him off at were good with kids. He made a mental note to tell them to give the boy a crap ton of candy and pizza, he probably needed it to get over the experience.

A few minutes later, a decently sized station came into view. Having wings, Abaddon didn't wait for the VTOL to land and simply flew the remaining distance.

"I hope I can just like... ring the doorbell after leaving this kid on their porch. Don't think these guys would take to well to someone with my looks carrying a kid..."

He actually was going to do that too... if the station had a doorbell, but instead it had two glass doors meaning everyone inside could look out and see him plain as day. Two officers immediately rushed out to "greet" him with some concerned looks. Abaddon stretched out his arms to tell them to take the child.

"Don't ask. Long story short: Kid almost gets sacrificed to Satan, me and some League guys stop that and save him. We would have stopped by headquarters to have Zenith or his cousin Pogo-stick drop him off, but uh... apparently we're pressed for time..."

A short moment of confused silence.

"Just take the damn kid!" He said loudly before thrusting him into the arms of one of the officers. "Make sure you feed him plenty of pizza so he can forget about the terrible stuff he's been through," Abaddon laughed as he flew back towards the VTOL.

Now this time Abaddon rode inside the vehicle. He did need a heads up on what was happening after all, and according to Michael, there was a large prison riot going on at the Cook County Jail. Abaddon actually laughed.

"Hahaha, the League forbids it, but if you guys actually did things the way I see they should be done, there'd be no one in these prisons to worry about!"

With a an arch of an eyebrow Volt watched Emmanuel zoom into the distance, the man little more than a rapidly fading flash on the horizon.

“Whelp, I cannae dae that.” he said to no one in particular, thrusting his hands in his pockets. Another whoosh of air informed him that Hot-Rod had fired off now as well, no doubt eager to prove who was faster between him and Emmanuel. He doubted that would be a contest Ryker would lose. The Lightning-Slinger shook his head slightly in wry amusement before striding towards a VTOL, being the last to slope up the ramp. That was by design, the last in was the first out. Better him than someone else.

He didn’t know anyone else on the VTOL, or at least not enough to make conversation, so he busied his hands by flicking his ear bud on. The bud was his secret weapon, his link to Silvertongue, master hacker and informant. Silvertongue, born Szymon Glowski, was a Polish resident of London, a bear of a man with a natural affinity for computers. Volt had met him years ago, and the two had worked together ever since, Szymon providing technical support to the Lightning-Slinger. As usual Szymon was waiting for the link to open, his network of information probably making him aware of the prison break as quick, if not quicker, than the League.

“This is what it takes huh?” began Szymon without any preamble “A crises the likes of which the world has rarely seen for you to finally call your old friend. I have half a mind to hang up on you, you ingrate!”

“Ye wouldna dae that Silvertongue, cause then ah’d be forced tae inform her majesty’s finest about yer less than legal hobbies. Credit card fraud is still a crime, right?” A few of the other occupants of the VTOL were giving him queer looks, but he could handle queer looks. The help that Silvertongue gave him was indispensable.

“Damn you, you un-educated Highland bastard! I curse the day I ever met you. At least turn on those new goggles.” The goggles in question were the ones currently on Volt’s head, the same pair that he had requested Savant to whip up for him. These, though looking like his old aviator’s, were in fact high tech pieces of kit, capable of recording and broadcasting images of all they seen. A quick flick of a switch turned them on, enabling Silertongue to see all he seen.

“Ah, that’s better. Ooo, is that Stunner there? Zoom in on her cycki!” Volt looked away guiltily, a breath catching in his throat as a scene that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a blockbuster action movie met his eyes. This wasn’t a movie though, this was real life. Unfortunately it was his life. The scene must have been bad, because it was enough to even silence Szymon, who usually didn’t even close his mouth to chew. The sprawling chaos was hard to focus on, the billowing smoke and raging fires adding to the confusion. A horde of supernatural creatures blockaded entrance to the prison, but Zenith and several other heavy hitters crashed into the beasties lines like a typhoon, clearing a path for the VTOL’s to enter the prison. Show time.

“Blondie,” Whispered Silvertongue down the earbud.

“Aye?”

“Good luck in there.” Now that was worrisome. Szymon was never serious.

The VTOL was touching down in the yard now, the wind from the other crafts and chaos of the running battle making them difficult to land. Volt could almost taste the nervousness coming off in waves from the other occupants. None of them, himself included, had ever seen action like this. He had an advantage though, an unspoken trick that made him better suited to this than the rest of the heroes with him. The truth was that he was always terrified, so to him this was just any other mission. He would just pretend at courage again, like any other time, and pray that he made it out the other side. The doors slid open, Volt preparing himself to charge out.

“First round at the fortress is on me, once this is all over!” he called, receiving a few laughs from the other heroes, and at their laughter he could feel the group calming slightly. Not much, but enough to count for something. And with that he disembarked, jumping out into a swirling hell of energy blast, battle cries and howls of pain. Almost as bad as the streets of Glasgow after an Old Firm Game.

Precious moments were spent trying to make sense of the anarchy, but he finely managed to get his bearings. He couldn’t see Sonja or Hot-Rod, and Emmanuel was no more than a pulsating source of energy across the yard, but he could see his old ‘pal’ Boomer, taking pot shots at the hero Red-Eye.

“Ain’t that the exploding guy from the bank job?” Silvertongues voice was nothing but a whisper against the backdrop of the raging battle.

“Aye, ah reckon it is,” replied Volt, gritting his teeth and charging up a blast. Volt was part of the reason that Boomer was here, and he’d be damned if he would be letting the big lummox out. The villain was tough, but as history showed he wasn’t tough enough to resist a shock of the good stuff. Boomer’s back was to him, as big and inviting a target as Volt had ever seen, but he had a lot to do so he sent a quick high volt, low amp blast the villain’s way, the arc of lightning searing across the courtyard. If it connected it would disrupt Boomer long enough for Red-eye to get in a good shot, freeing up Volt to continue on. If it didn’t then the Lightning-Slinger would just have to work a little harder to put the exploding hazard down.

Cordelia smirked when Sonja said "or three", and-perhaps eerily to some-her shadow conjured up a hat out of nowhere, which it graciously tipped to the woman. Cordelia seemed unaware of this happening, or at least didn't seem to care-she was studiously watching the battle below, eyes flickering back and forth across the chaos, looking for anything of note. She was no Napoleon, she hadn't read up on Clausewitz, but she did have quite a bit of common sense, and she figured a battle of this magnitude was going to mean thing-no one was going to be paying attention to her. There was Zenith, posterboy of the League, getting gunned at by twenty or so inmates. Who was going to shoot at the un-uniformed street rat when people like that were going around. As the VTOL swooped lower, Cordelia's smirk deepened, seeing a particular inmate below. "Hey, I know that guy. Can we land this thing on him? He's a prick."

The VTOL landed and Cordelia smoothly and calmly reached back behind her, opening the latch on her backpack and pulling out her .45. She tucked it into her back pocket, which broke nearly every rule of gun safety, but she'd be able to reach it much more easily this way. She checked to make sure her switch blade was within quick reach and-she did a double-take, seeing that Sonja now...had a baseball bat. I mean, that was fine, but if she could whip a bulletproof vest out of thin air...maybe, ya know, pull a GUN out of nowhere too? Why downgrade to the bat? Maybe she was a softball player...Cordelia's brow furrowed. Nah. Not butch enough. "Hey, Sonja, not telling you how to do your job, but...maybe after all this is over, why don't you make some money materialize out of thin air. Just a thought, what do I know." Cordelia was trying to figure out a plan on what to do, given that she had completely ignored the too-long, too-boring speech that Zenith had given back at the base. In her opinion, any plans you have going into a fight tend to last about five seconds. She really doubted that rule changed when the scale of the fight increased.

Cordelia felt the tingling of nerves, the bloodrush of anxiety make her a bit jittery. This was a pretty big throwdown. Easily the biggest throwdown she'd been in. But, there was a lot to offer her-a fair amount of cash, if she could get her hands on some of the Kevlar and weaponry the National Guard or prison guards were packing? Ooooh man. She would be SET. And besides, a prison like this....one that held superhumans? It had to have some pretty damned good technology to do that. If she could get her hands on some of it, she was willing to bet that she could ransom it back to the League or sell it to one of these guys who escaped (because there was no way they were all staying-surely one of these convicts could fly or teleport or turn into a bird or something) for a pretty penny.

As ordered/suggested, Cordelia stuck close to Sonja once the bird landed. She figured this chick was going into the thick of it, and it would offer her a good bodyguard while she got close enough to get inside. See, Cordelia had a surprising leg up on most of the members of the League in this fight-she had actually been to juvy. While it was nowhere near as big as Cook County Jail, she knew how halls, cell blocks, so on and so forth were likely to be arranged. Most of these goody-two shoes had likely never set foot in there. Even if somebody got pissed at her for looting, she was confident she could dart inside and lose them in there. Huh? Sonja was getting all sad over somebody who'd been killed. She almost wanted to remind her that, hey, if she didn't get a move on, that was gonna be her, but felt it may not be wise. After all, Sonja was a potential unlimited source of money in her eyes (Cordelia being mostly ignorant of how her conjuring worked), and there was no need to piss off a gold mine.

"Heh, pain cakes." Cordelia scanned the battle around her, surprisingly calm. A bullet came close to her, but her shadow lunged up and slapped it out of the air before falling back to the ground. "What I need is some camouflage." Cordelia scampered over, crouch-running to minimize herself as a target, to a fallen inmate. His head was missing. Looked to be cauterized, by the wound, maybe somebody had just burned it off or whatever. This triggered a bit of revulsion in Cordelia, but she forced herself to man the fuck up and move past it. Ripping out her switchblade, she flipped the body over (this took a minimal amount of effort, Cordelia grunted and used her legs and core to flip the prisoner ore. Thank God he was a featherweight) and, as quickly as she could, began tugging the shirt up over his....well, over where his head should've been. Cordelia sidled out of her backpack and put on the shirt, then tugged off the guy's pants (no shoes, so this was easy) and stepped into them, pulling the waist up and cinching it as tight as it would go. A little big and baggy, but that was fine by her. She put her backpack on and nodded to her shadow, who was ready to throw down the minute one of these people tried something.

This was a risky gambit-it could draw the attention of the League, and maybe some trigger happy prick would try gunning for her. However, Cordelia was both a young girl and not planning on fighting anyone if she could help it. She figured they'd be more focused on bringing down the big dogs than picking up the strays-likewise, she knew prisoners, and while there would be a couple looking to settle some scores in this chaos, they were mostly going to be focused on trying to escape. She'd effectively made herself invisible to half the conflict within about a minute of arrival.

"Damn, I'm good," Cordelia muttered.She saw Hot Rod blitz by and bitchslap a prisoner without impunity before rushing on. "...alright," she muttered to herself, a nervous tic of sorts that helped her stay cool in tricksy situations. "Not my best plan, but not my worst. Definitely not my worst." Cordelia continued her low-profile sprint, darting into the cleared pathway of-Jesus, what WERE those things-broken bodies that Zenith and his buddies had left, entering the prison. She'd lost track of Sonja, and Cordelia felt a vague pang of curiosity. She was concerned for the woman...that wasn't...Damnit, you've been with these pricks for a week and you're going soft. Get your shit together and move.

Volt hopped out of the VTOL and proceeded to give some unlucky bastard the mother of all Tasers. She wasn't one to approve wanton violence towards criminals-they had rights, after all-but that was kinda badass. "Kick some ass, Nessie," She shouted as loud as she could over the combat, moving around the VTOL to avoid being targeted by any of the new arrivals. All around her, prisoners were facing off against National Guardsmen, those who had weapons or powers were targeting the supers, and seemingly no one was gunning for her. For now.

Now, she needed to get inside the prison, which was truly a first for her.

SONJA

The thing that looked to have once been a guard was now mottled, already yellowing, just brainless instinct and snapping jaws. A zombie, a walking corpse that could barely tell friend from foe, brought to unlife by an experienced necromancer. Through dumb luck, it had escaped the spearhead thrust from the Founders, and now waited to take on the stragglers. It lurched towards the doors, following the loose orders it had been relayed. Something like satisfaction emerged in its simple mind as it spied an approaching chunk of meat, coming right towards it. It bared its teeth, lunged towards the approaching-

Sonja didn't even break stride for the zombie, catching it dead in the face with the Stan Musial bat. For an impossible fraction of a second, its head seemed to stretch and distort like someone tugging on a cheap Halloween mask, before the head completely separated from the newly limp body and flying off to some corner of the yard. "Bam! Home run! Go crazy, folks!" Sonja said with grim satisfaction as she kept on moving. The bat still had at least some of its mojo, good. Her other tricks were going to be much much weaker- her fireballs reduced to small spurts, her teleportation virtually impossible, her mentalist abilities requiring much more focus. Looks like hitting people was going to have to do.

She looked around, took stock of the situation. Cord, worryingly, seemed to have gotten separated from her. The girl obviously knew how to take care of herself, but still. Sonja shook her head. She'd find Cord if she could, but she had to figure out how best she could help with the general situation, which was feeling like World War Three. Sonja was relieved to see Hot Rod and Hi-Voltage had made it there, and both were mixing it up with the powered prisoners. She squinted in disbelief as she saw Volt taking on Boomer. Christ, that guy again. Hopefully Round Two would go in Volt's favor.

Suddenly, Sonja turned at a muffled cry of pain, and turned to see- Daredevil, was it?- being manhandled by the rogue known as Brick. The acrobat was clearly outmatched and in danger of being literally torn limb from limb by the bruiser. Sonja decided she might as well even the odds. Coming up behind Brick, she swung the bat full force into his lower back, hoping to force him to drop Daredevil. Hopefully her own (admittedly limited) strength and proper batting technique would at least fractionally offset some of the weapon's diminished efficacy. "This is the League, bitch!" she heard herself yelling. "You step to one of us, you step to all of us!"