The Desert Vampire - Cook County Jail

Blood. The floor of the prison was decorated with it. It was almost like the drying blood was the result of unleashing a legion of ten year olds with chalk onto the prison grounds, only there was one difference that mattered. One of the many inmates who had the idea of attempting an escape made a horrible miscalculation. He'd discreetly made it close to the edge of the prison and hidden a trail of the fallen bodies of former security guards, having seemed to slither past many of the great heroes who'd stormed the prison. His only mistake was that he'd smelled so much like the blood he'd shed.

Approaching one of the doors of the prison, he let out a sigh, preparing to step out through the door and charge, maybe get lucky and escape. With a mighty thrust the would-be fugitive threw the doors open before being blasted by a metric ton of sand.

The inmate was thrown back, his body arcing twenty feet through the air before crashing down, bouncing and skidding across the facility's unforgivably solid floor. He moaned and tried to raise his head, to get a glimpse of his assailant, but all his eye could see was more sand rocketing into his face. The criminal tried to scream, but could only gurgle as the sint filled his face's orifices.

Stepping through the opened doors came a grimacing figure who stood tall, ready for battle. The Iranian super-soldier, Azar Bezadi, stepped into the prison and immediately felt the fear of the criminal, and he began to feed on it. Despite the terror that consumed the pathetic-excuse-for-a-man, Azar's strength returned very slowly. The magical inhibitor must clearly limit his own ability to feed. It seemed that he would have to resort to more orthodox methods.

Unsheathing his scimitar, Azar began to sprint through the halls, running toward the war zone within the prison walls when he heeded the call to head to the Maximum Security Wing. Drawing on the power within himself, he forced himself to sprint, yet hushing his footsteps with painstaking technique as he bypassed the awareness of several inmates he spotted on his way.

The Sewers

Wire found himself in some disgusting surroundings, a dark and dank sewer filled with the unmentionables of a major city. Rats skittered around and a long tunnel went down into the dark, it seemed the only way to go was forward. If he listened carefully he may have caught the suggestion of a sound, but perhaps that was just his imagination.

The Lab

Binary whispered in Sixgun's head, "It'll take a while to go through all the contacts but we seem to have a whos who of all the active supercriminals in the Midwest, going by the contact names. I also got a bunch of files and pictures on operations, mostly related to alchemy and references to the Den. I'll update you when I have more concrete info but it looks like we got the start on some good intel. Nice job Sixgun."

Fontana came back and said, "I didn't find nothing man. Let's get the hell outta here before the cops show up." Everyone that was still alive got back into their vehicles and drove back to Marconi's estate, Binary spoke up again, "You'll probably get another nice chat with Marconi. After that see if you can snoop around. Morningstar, keep your vigil but I'd like you to check out the address for the Den and do some recon."

The group of criminals drove away from the scene of the crime, sirens in their wake. Once they made it back to Marconi's there was more work to be done. They were lead into Marconi's office, where the man himself and Music stood at a table. Marconi was quite livid and shouts could be heard when they approached, though it was all Marconi's voice. He forced a smile when they all came in. He stared at Sixgun, "So give me a report Ross. What went down? Did you find anything?"

Maroni's

Outside the helicopter roared off in the distance away from the chaos. In the air Ghost succumbed to the dual attacks and simply passed out in mid-air floating unconscious in mid-air from the combined assaults. On the ground, one of the officers rolled his eyes before pulling out his tazer and sending a massive electric shock through Salvation's body, "I hate vigilantes." The nearby officers drew weapons and made sure Salvation stayed on the ground, "Do you League fellas wanna put him in your lockup?" Consequently, this is exactly when the magical ward suddenly disappeared. Inside Locust still shrieked as he attacked Ocean Warrior and gunshots rang out as Pariah shot at him.

Upstairs in Marconi's Shrieker shrieked as he was knocked into the floor. He was down for the count. Nearby a woman cried out in pain, a wooden stake sticking out of her stomach where Shrieker's sonic scream obliterated a table. Another man had a broken arm from the unintended consequences of Zaphkiel's ceiling assault. There were scraped and bruises otherwise but no other massive injuries.

Prison

Styx laughed as she was led into the VTOL, "Don't worry yourself. I'll behave." She quietly sat down in the VTOL. The battlefield was turning in the League's favor as the heroes and the government pushed back the weakened creatures. League and Government teams pacified huge swaths of the Prison proper as they subdued the riots and potential escapees. Within a few hours they'd have it all under control.

Outside the Warden's office, Apogee sighed in relief, wiping away an incipient tear, "Should have known you were fine. Volt I was just so worried, I... snapped... I" Apogee looked back at the headless man and her hand flew to her mouth, finally taking in the implications of what she'd done. She started gasping and then stood up hastily before throwing up in a corner,going sick at the sight of her first kill. After a few moments it passed and she collected herself, "Sorry. I... just never..." She shook her head and walked over to Flashbolt before lasering him free of his bonds.

She looked at the two of them, checking to see if they were ready before entering. They stepped into a charnel house, blood and body parts were strewn all over the once regal office a mix of prison uniforms and formal business clothing, a woman's leg easily identifiable among them. A circle of blood spread around the Warden's desk where the man himself was seated. On the desk was a large crystal, blood red and pulsing with energy, producing a field of almost tangible malevolence.

A man stepped around the chair and raised a finger, "Stop right there heroes. Before I scramble the dear Warden's brains. But then again it's not like he could do much worse I suppose." The man was thin, almost reedy and of only average height. But his blonde hair, blue eyes, and pale skin all seemed to only cover an air of gleeful savagery. The sat on the desk, "This crystal powers the dampening field keeping your Supernatural friends at bay. But it's also an amplifier, of power. And if you step any closer, I'll use it to turn every League hero in this prison into a vegetable." The man drew a gun and stepped behind the Warden, "Now may we talk terms? Nothing too bad. Just the release of my comrades and my own freedom in exchange for all your lives."

The cameras painted a very dismal view of Maximum Security. All of the guards were dead, throats ripped open or guts spilling onto the floor while a lone man, opened each and every maximum security cell with the push of a button. At once, more than a dozen cells opened and nightmares exited. They all wore collars around their necks before those too fell off. The man stepped in front of them and smiled as the worst supercriminals for hundreds of miles around walked free again. A portal suddenly opened and the man gestured to it.

Zaphkiel

The angel, having had disposed of Shrieker for the moment, took the opportunity to survey the damage, looking about for whatever hostages may require his aid; the chaotic nature of Shrieker's yells more than likely had disrupted a few ears, and sent several innocents careening... or things careening into them. A woman in particular suffered from the worst of it, having a wooden piece of shrapnel embedded in her stomach. Zaphkiel rushed over to her side, examining the injury and intensifying the natural aura that surrounded him; one that aided in soothing the minds of all that looked upon him. With a quick gaze about, he noted a man with an arm in pain, and a few scraped persons -nothing in comparison to the life-threatening wound the woman faced. Zaphkiel hovered his hand around the shrapnel, as if to derive some information by it.

The angel scooped up the woman as tenderly as possible, taking care to keep her abdomen in the same position as it was before. With a few flaps of his wings, he gently lifted through the hole in the ceiling and made his way to the exterior lot, looking for anyone with greater medical expertise than himself. An ambulance sat in the back of the police-car barricade, surely there in preparation for whoever might survive. The angel dropped to the ground slowly, and left the woman to their care, awaiting to see her fully rested and looked over. Zaphkiel flew back to the second floor, and began lifting individuals in twos, threes, and fours to the sanctity of the outside world; he could hear that the fighting still transpired on the first floor, and so he carried them in a different direction than by the stairwell.

Wire

The thought of a sound was not something he would like to dwell on when it could easily have been a rat. Elongating his perception of time would elongate his perception of the waste; the smell of which was making him gag.

He pulled out a torch that he had hoped he wouldn't have to use, attached it to his helmet, and cautiously proceeded down a path of almost invisible footprints. His feet let out a slight squelch with every step. He let out an irritated sigh which equated to some static through his voice filter.

Why is this joker down here? Usually when you run from the law and you're paid to smash skulls, you run to your boss to sort out the mess.
Well, you've been doing these sorts of jobs for a while now. They're metas: a sudden and unwarranted increase in power can make people unpredictable.
Damn right.
But still, if they've fled down here, it could mean two things. One, they've just gone insane.
And two, they've suddenly realised that what they've been doing is wrong, and are afraid of their own power.
Uh huh. And that would mean to make this month's rent on the office, we're going to have to convince him that he's not developed a conscience, and has instead turned into a wuss.
...
I really hope it's the former.

Wire realised that he was, once again, talking to himself in his head. He tapped on the side of his mask with a soft clunk, as if somehow that would prove to himself he wasn't going insane. It worked for now, as the otherwise cramped tunnel began to open out into a larger cavity. He gulped as the footprints disappeared. He debated for a second whether or not he should keep the torch on, before slowly reaching up, and turning it off. His eyes could adjust to the dark quickly, but that by no stretch meant that he could see well. But still: a cone of good vision was only useful when you aren't likely to be attacked from any angle.

He stepped further in.

Hot Rod nodded when Sonja told them that she was going to transfer the necromancer to one of the VTOLs and looked at the others.

"We should get back to this security wing" he told them as he began to head towards the room. If there was trouble in the maximum security wing then it would be a much more serious threat than the ones that they had faced already. Oh well, at least it meant that he would have more justice to dish out.

---

Ocean Warrior blocked the oncoming blade with his trident and countered with a whack from the head of his weapon right at the face of Locust. The beast was still coming at him when Pariah came to help and fired several bullets at the creature. Ocean Warrior used this chance to morph his left hand into into a giant lobster pincer and clamped down on Locust's shoulder with a lot of force.

Killshade dove to the floor as he noticed the tablecloth coming towards them. He began crawling forward, trying to get out of it. He managed to get away and drew his pistol as he rose, scanning his surroundings. Bishop and several of the other villains disappeared, leaving their injured and beaten allies. He turned his attention to Locust, who had just removed Killshade's blade from himself and swung it at Ocean Warrior. He shook his head at his foolishness, leaving his weapon ripe for the taking for an enemy to use. He rose the pistol, clenching it, then aimed towards Locust. He fired off four shots, moving towards the large insect, trying not to hit Ocean Warrior by accident. Pariah had the same idea as he too was firing on the enemy with his weapons.

Hi-Voltage

Volt gave Apogee a weary look that nonetheless held a wealth of sympathy for her. It was easy to forget that when you take away the powers, costumes, alter egos and larger than life personalities then League members were just normal, day to day people, just like anyone else. And Emily was still so young, not much older than he was when he first started the 'good fight.' You never forget taking a life. Thats the price for taking one. Ah should know.

Togther the three League-mates entered the wardens office, and it was like stepping into the feverish, drug-addled nightmare of a madman. Blood already stained the thick, plush carpets, with detatched body parts strewn across the room. After the raging battle in the yard, and the fight in the corridor Volt had been beginning to think he was frowing numb to the effects of violence, at least for today, but he now realised he was sorely mistaken. His stomach lurched, and he suddenly felt dizzy. A few breaths let him steady himself, and he forced himself to focus. Even to his untrained eye the postion of the bodies, the state of the room, and the pulsating red orb all scream 'black magic' to him. Memories of his fight with Dr Whitechapel flashed through his head, and he was left wishing that Sonja was here.

Perhaps most disturbingly was the blue eyed man, who looked so at home amid the carnage. At least he's wearing tha flesh of a man, yet he feels more like beast. Something about the mans demeanour set Volt's flesh crawling, and he had no trouble believing blue-eyes would have little trouble with blowing the wardens brains out. He didn't know if what the rest of what he said was true, but the Lightning-Slinger was sure of one thing. He didn't want this guy tasting free air, if for no other reason than he just knew it would cost countless men, women and children untold horrors if he got free.

"Ah cannae say ah'm too in love with those 'term's." interjected the Lightning-Slinger. He must have looked a right state, costume in tatters, bloody from a dozen wounds, goggles cracked across his face, but he stood a little straighter as he spoke, held himself a little more disciplined. He hadn't gone through all this just to fall at the last hurdle, he hadn't let Emily bloody her hands to be pushed around by some blue-eyed butcher.

"Ah have a counter offer. Ye stand doon, calm and quiet like, and ah dinnae fry ye lika cheap steak." Other than he didn't make any other movements, but he wasn't being meek. Instead was scanning the room with the eyes of someone who regularly throws himself into these kinds of situations, probing for anything that could give him and his team an edge in the fight he was sure to follow.

---

"Hmm, max wing. . . " Silvertongue was quick to respond to Sonja, "And by the way, I'm Polish." he added absentmindedly before gasping.

"The max wing. . . its. . . they're out. They're all out, the worst of the worst. And theres a portal, to God knows where. If you don't get there quick they're all going to be free!"

Morningstar

"You got it Binary." Morningstar responded. She sounded eager enough, but there was an edge to her voice now. She resented Binary taking charge, purely because the Meta human was only in the League because she had powers, and didn't have half the training or skills that Pariah, Sixgun or Morningstar herself had. Still, it wasn't and ideal world, and she wouldn't rock the boat for something as simple as recon.

"You need anything you just holla Cowboy. I'll keep the link open." With that Pariah's former apprentice loaded up and made her way to the red light district, and whatever the Den was.

Mr Joe Black

Joe couldn't contain himself when the officers tazed Salvation, his laughter bursting outwards. Now that was succseful police work. For that small act he was almost considering not making a formal complaint to the CPD for the fact Salvation had escaped them in the first place. Almost. He was still laughing when an officer asked him if they wanted to put Salvation in the Leagues holding cells.

"You want my opinion?" Joe asked after regaining his composure. "I say just take him outta view and give him two to the back of the head. Huh? Blam! Blam! Hey presto, no more problem! Anything less and he'll probably just escape again in six months, and just end up making himself a bigger pain in my decomposing ass. I should know, I've been a guest of the state enough to know how it works."

Joe hadn't noticed the magical ward drop yet, but when he did he would be compelled to enter the building.

*

*

SIXGUN

Ben Brady was entirely uncertain what a "holla" was. Maybe it was like challah, that bread the gang had stolen from Chlomo Weiss when they were starving in the Utah territory. But that didn't make sense, did it?

He was snapped out of his reverie by Marconi looming in front of him, the unimposing man demanding to know what happened, what they had found. "Well, sir, you got one less wizard to worry about, not to mention about a dozen fewer hired guns. The lab ain't running no more. Also got this," he said, sliding the smartphone across the desk. "Could be somethin' worthwhile on there. 'Fraid I got some bad news, though, sir. Chunk didn't make it. He ran in without waiting for me, got hisself killt." Sixgun removed his Panama hat and bowed his head, a gesture of respect he didn't feel. "If it makes it any better, there's some hitters down in Dixie I can reach out to. Know guys in New Orleans and Tallahassee, quality muscle. For the right price they'd be glad to lend a hand." Sixgun hoped his offer would be accepted. It would mean an opportunity to insert more League members into the Outfit.

---

SONJA

"Polish. Right. Thanks, Mr. Computer Man," she said as she infiltrated the bloodstained max security cellblock, doing her best to keep to the shadows. She had happened to be near it when she dropped off Styx, it had been a short run from the VTOL. The worst of the worst were in here, the Pole had said. Guys like Xaxx and Knightmare and naturally the Schizoid Man. Just one of them could swat her aside without too much trouble. Which meant going in swinging wasn't likely to work. Trickery and confusion were needed. Sounded like a magician.

She licked her lips, focused. The way Sonja felt right now she figured a kitten could probably defeat her without undue exertion. Using magic in the dampening field, on top of the problems she was already experiencing- it was like running a mile after having wet cement poured over you. But she had to do something, try to buy a few seconds. She focused on the room, the situation Mr. Computer Man had appraised her of. She focused heavily, marshaling what little strength she had left, until her voice layered over itself, two voices speaking at once. Much like a possessed person. One of Legion's slaves. It was worth a shot.

The cellblock filled with the two voices speaking in unison, echoing through the narrow corridors to reach the ears of the unleashed supervillains. "You cretins, don't you recognize a League trap?" she demanded imperiously before striding out in full view of all of the escapees. Her sunglasses hid her decidedly normal eyes, not to mention the squint of intense concentration. This was taxing, she couldn't keep it up for long. She pointed to the actual Legionnaire, spoke again in the booming double voice. "Do you not recognize Destiny behind his disguise? If you step through that portal, you'll merely be in a more secure facility in Antarctica. I should not have to debase myself by taking the body of this pathetic conjurer Simpson merely to save you from your own foolishness!"

Emmanuel grimaces at all the carnage around him, and at the man's 'terms'. He's done his fair share of hero-ing, but he'll be the first to admit, he's got a fairly weak stomach, and blood and gore isn't something he's well experienced yet. He's dealt with some psychos, but nothing quite up to this level. After this, he's gonna take a nice break to clear his stomach. Lord knows he needs it. And he suspects his comrades will as well. Volt as least, Apogee's already taken her break. Black magic man. This stuff is no good.

"You know man, I can't say I'm too much a fan of becoming a vegetable, so normally I'd have to call it here and go home for the day." Emmanuel begins, after listening to Volt's rather angry retort, understandably so. In fact, Emmanuel's pretty angry himself! His brows furrow and his body tenses, though he doesn't move. He's got no idea if that threat to turn everyone into vegetables is actually good or not. "However, and I know I speak for all of us, if we let you out, that's it. Game over. Who knows how many people you plan on killing? If we have it our way, a grand total of zero. Well." Emmanuel looks around the room, grimacing as he counts the body parts. "Maybe like seven, including the Warden. That's not the point though! The point is, we cant let you go so easily."

That being said, Emmanuel has no idea what he's going to do to get out of a situation like this. If he gets about 30 seconds, he can go into Acolyte Mode and hit this dude before he even can think, but its not an unobvious thing. Oh no, putting out that much power wold be a sure sign for "Hey Im preparing to kick your ass, go ahead and kill everyone." And that's no good. He could potentially shoot some of his chains down through the bottom of his feet and into the floor, then have them come out and grab Psycho Social over there, but he still needs to tense up for that, though it would take significantly less time, all things considered.

Break Neck wasn’t feeling too well. With the battle, at least in the large central area she was in, finished the adrenaline that had been running rampant through Break Necks body was starting to die down a bit. And with the fading of adrenaline pain starting to seep it’s all too familiar way around her body along with the left over odd tingles of electricity that made her muscles twitch slightly uncontrollably.

Chris could do with a long soak in a warm bath. After her visit to the leagues hospital wing of course.

“Yeah, everything’s still here and working.” Chris sat up with a pained groan, throwing away the no longer glowing table cloth with a hateful glare. “Mostly.”

Casting a roving eye over the unconscious or simply deciding to wisely come quietly Chris made an attempt to push herself up off the ground. For a moment it looked as if she might fall back down with eyes bulging and cheeks puffed out reflecting the odd grinding sensation and spasms of pain churning around her midsection. Pushing through the pain with another groan Chris stood up tall, somewhat, clutching her throbbing left arm trying to ignore the stickiness of her blood. And too think just a few hours earlier the worst she’d been concerned about was the large bruise on her cheek.

Ignoring Ocean Warrior, Pariah and Kill shade take out the last of the enemy Chris turned her attention to the Shifter and that other hairy guy near her. “What about you two? Nothing too serious I hope?” Chris hissed with a grimace trying to ignore her own pain.
The hairy guy didn’t seem too bad but Shifter looked a bit worse for wear.

“Hey, can you hear me?” Chris asked Shifter with some concern. She, it, person looked very pale.

MC nodded to himself as Ghost went down, MC noting that he was unconscious from all the energy fired at him. "Serves you right. Next time ghost man, don't hide behind your wards." He then shifted his attention towards the restaurant again, which was no longer blocked by the ward. "FINALLY!" He said in excitement as he phase shifted through the wall of the restaurant, announcing his arrival into the restaurant in a shower of exploding confetti. Unfortunately most of the villains had been mostly taken down. MC only noticed the new aura of some new guy, although he seemed to be hobbling over Shifter.

The one villain that made a huge presence was Locust, although MC didn't know their name, he did see the big energy signature of the villain. Noticing Ocean warrior was taking its attention, MC charged and shot a bolt of chaos energy into the villain. What it would do not even he knew, but it would be interesting just the same.

---

Following Hot Rod, Light reached the Maximum security wing of the prison, where apparently the worst criminals were held up. "So, whats th eplan, i'm guessing these guys might be a bit more challenging than the small frys outside." Light said to the group, looking down the ominous hallway. for some reason, she felt even weaker here than she did before, probably the dampening field being extra strength to contain the powers of these baddies.

”Hmm?” Shifter turned her attention away from Killshade (what could she say, the man was just a joy to look at), blinking at the injured woman before her lips twisted into a smile. ”I'm be fine, just a little dizzy. I could use a drink though.” She sounded surprisingly well off considering the drowsy look in her eyes. ”What do you say, beautiful? We should go for a drink sometime. You're invited too, Puppy,” she added, smile widening to a grin. If she was being completely honest with herself, aspirin and a good nights sleep sounded a lot better, but getting a few more drinking partners sounded like a whole a lot of fun.

MC captured Shifter's attention by eagerly rushing inside the restaurant, confetti in tow. A huff of laughter escaped her. The guy seemed entertaining if nothing else. She just hoped that his enthusiastic behavior wouldn't get him in trouble before the shapeshifter could properly meet him.

The Sewers

Wire kept walking along, the sewer somehow getting even more filthy as he travelled deeper into it. In the dark, dank, and disgusting sewer he kept walking along until he heard another sound. Definite sound, the tones of breathing coming up ahead in the dark.

The Estate

Marconi nodded and took the phone, grimacing, "We lost a lot of men today. But they knew what they were in for." He pursed his lips and nodded at Sixgun, "Go ahead, bring in your guys. We need all the muscle we can get." Beside him Music stared blankly at Sixgun. Marconi handed the phone to one of his flunkies and he sighed, "Those bastards are gonna pay. If nothing else they're gonna pay. They crossed the fucking line."

He looked at Sixgun and said, "You did good Ross, I had a good feeling about you from the start. Fontana will show you to the guest quarters, take the rest of the day off. You're going to need the rest for tomorrow." Fontana nodded and escorted Sixgun and the other surviving hirelings to the not as massive but plenty extravagant guest house. He showed them in and promptly left, leaving them to their own devices. And leaving Sixgun to do his own snooping.

The Den

Morningstar found herself in one of the seediest neighborhoods in the city, one that hadn't been pulled into a new area of gentrification like much of Chicago. The streets were barely paved and at this time of day, almost nobody walked around. Weeds grew through the sidewalk and several buildings had boarded up windows. Trash littered the ground and broken down hulks of cars dotted the street.

At night this place took on new life as the new found hub of illicit entertainment in the city, but at day it's nature was clear. The air was heavy with an oppressive presence, one that made the few pedestrians hurry their steps to their destinations. Perhaps it was the urban decay and almost palpable sense of corruption in the neighborhood. But perhaps it was something else.

The Den was the largest building on the street, a three-story affair that took up half a block. An unlit neon sign proclaimed its name and it seemed completely deserted. The steel doors were shut and further investigation would reveal the same for the alley and back entrances. The windows were covered with metal shutters and a few cars with blacked out windows stood in front of the building. Around the building were several loiterers, in pairs or alone. They all wore hooded jackets and had their hands in their pockets. The Den was close to other buildings and on the rooftop the access door was cracked open.

Maroni's

Locust shrieked as Ocean Warrior's pincer clamped down on him. Killshade's and Pariah's bullets cracked his chitin, staining his plates with blood. Locust backhanded Ocean Warrior with a pincer, adding a deep cut across his cheek. MC's sudden appearance and spell confused Locust who suddenly found himself colored pink. He almost had time to squawk in confusion before Pariah jumped forward and and shoved a concussion grenade in his maw. The grenade exploded and Locust fell down to the floor with a screech of pain before he blacked out.

Pariah reloaded, "Get the wounded out to the ambulances, CPD will assist in securing the area. Bring the downed villains to the VTOL. We're taking them back with us to the Hall. Move." He was about to depart after cuffing Villa before turning and saying, "I expect after-action reports by tomorrow. And you all performed adequately." Pariah stared at Rift Hound, "If you're interested in helping any further, come with us." He pulled Villa to her feet and shoved her in the direction of the VTOL where the cops had decided to remand Salvation into the League's custody. Pariah spotted Neon and nodded, "A little late but good work. You can hitch a ride with us."

The Prison

The Warden's office didn't offer much. There was an unused fire extinguisher on the wall next to the man and his hostage and there was a heavy file cabinet diagonal and behind the villain. The sprinklers had not activated in the room and the overhead lighting occasionally sparked and coughed out smoke. Apogee herself stood stock still, debating whether or not her Heat Vision was quick enough to subdue the man.

The man himself laughed, "I have all the cards hero. With this beautiful toy here, I can tap into the brains of every living soul in this building. The ones who don't die from hemorrhaging will have trouble cleaning up after themselves. Now that wouldn't stop your friends outside from blowing this place to all hell and me with it. So it's in our best interests for you to let me go." His gun pressed into the whimpering Warden's head, "And even if you somehow stop me from scrambling everyone's brains this one will lose his. And you heroes get all up and bothered by that kind of thing don't you?" The man smiled, showing rows of perfectly straight white teeth. His blue eyes shined with a barely restrained maniacal glee.

Inside Maximum Security, the worst of the worse were free. They included the body snatcher Xaxx, who could project his own spirit and forcibly control another's body. He was renowned for making people commit suicide, murder each other, and even rape the ones they loved most. His motives remain completely unknown. Then came Knightmare, a metahuman hitman who could enter a person's mind, usually when they slept and appeared as a hulking Black Knight before killing them in their dreams, his victims dying in real life from sheer terror and panic.

Next was Sarco, a man who had mutated into a giant crocodile-like humanoid. His scales could deflect bullets and he could break a grown man in two under his taloned grip. He was an outcast for his mutant nature and had went on a rampage devouring a slew of people in Cleveland before being captured. After him was the Behemoth, a metahuman that once enraged morphed into ten foot tall, super-strong rage monster. He rampaged through Indianapolis, killing a score of people and injuring dozens, before Zenith took him down.

Then came the Reaper, who with a touch could drain a person's vitality to increase her own power, if she touched someone long enough they would die. Her powers had led to one accidental killing and she became addicted to it, literally stealing the lives of more than a dozen people in Omaha, before Pariah stopped her. Pestilence was one of the extremely rare disease controller Metahumans, and had made a fortune in curing patients with terminal illnesses. However he also double-dipped by contracting discrete assassination services to the Outfit. Nobody is sure how many he killed before he was discovered.

Diluvian was one of the nation's most powerful hyrdokinetics, able to transmutate himself into water as well as control large bodies of it. He had flooded a Detroit neighborhood and drowned almost a hundred people before being taken down. When asked why he simply stated he thought the neighborhood was filthy to the core and needed to be purged. Sickle was a size-changer, able to shrink down to microscopic sizes. He had been a scientist and used the power to advance his studies before he was found to be experimenting on humans, his own co-workers and family without them ever knowing. Sickle's case had ended in the gruesome deaths of several officers before his arrest.

The Growth was present as well. He had started out as a farmboy in the middle of Kansas when the Awakening mutated him, giving him the power to turn into an amorphous blob, able to elongate his mass and grow by dissolving material in his blob body. He had kept trying to get bigger, eventually moving onto animals before absorbing his family. He went on a spree through his home town and had devoured dozens before being stopped. Sanguine was the token Supernatural, a newly minted Blood Mage who had developed his powers through ritualistic sacrifice and had amassed a large cult before being defeated by Olympia. They never found all the bodies of the children he took.

The Schizoid Man was one of the most powerful psychics alive in America and was hopelessly insane. His random travels had broken the minds of many inadvertently before Psion and Destiny had barely managed to rein him in, the League's Premier Telepath and Sorcerer just strong enough together to allow his capture without killing him or harming anyone else. Now that he was free of his inhibitor the voices came back and the Schizoid slipped back into Insanity. With him was the Siren, a woman who combined sonic powers and strong empathic powers. With her voice alone she could cause fear, despair, rage, as well as peace, happiness, and contentment. She had been a prostitute before her powers turned her into an even more demanded commodity. She had tired of the oldest profession and turned to Professional killing, responsible for the death of several criminal bosses before her capture.

The greatest black mark on America's heroes was also present. Polaris, the North Star. He had been a hero since the first days of the Awakening, fighting the good right next to Zenith, Olympia, Psion, and the others with his awesome photokinetic powers. Polaris was at one point as famous and beloved as Zenith or Olympia, perhaps even more so with his good looks, charm, powers, and daring exploits. However he had lost it when a Supercriminal gang found out his secret identity and murdered his family. Polaris had wiped the gang off the face of the Earth and went on a vigilante spree, murdering suspected criminals in broad daylight. His rampage had also taken the life of several innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire. It had taken a dozen heroes including Zenith, Olympia, and Pariah to work together to subdue their old friend. He was also the only one who still had his inhibitor on.

They were the worst of the worst of Metahumanity between the two coasts. And they were all free. The shapeshifter who freed them turned around to face the interloper and snarled, "She lies. I am here to free all of you." The inmates seemed unsure of themselves, split on the issue. The Schizoid could have easily reported the truth but was busy drowning in the sudden deluge of voices. Polaris grimaced, "It doesn't feel like Thomas. But without my powers, I cannot be sure." Polaris glared at the shifter, "And even if you speak truly. Why should I work with criminal scum like you?" Sarco roared, "I say we kill them both just to be sure." The group seemed to be reaching that consensus, to the Shifter's dismay when another voice spoke up.

It was feminine and while sultry, carried an edge of malice, "That one is a hero. I'd recognize her from anywhere." The woman walked up to reveal an old friend of Sonja's. Sarin, who could transmutate herself into an self-compelling cloud of poisonous gas. Sarin laughed and stepped forward, "Remember me hero? You... embarrassed me quite thoroughly last we met. I didn't take it well. It seems my hate ratcheted up my powers. And you never know how desperate some of these guards can get for a woman. I managed to poison a whole cell-block before they put the collar back on me. All for practicing on you," Sarin seemed to be quite gleeful as she sighed, "That one is real. You may go if you like." Her eyes narrowed before she turned into a human-shaped cloud of yellow gas, "But I'm killing her first"

Immediately Siren, Sickle, and Pestilence left took their leave through the portal, Pestilence dragging the Schizoid with him through it. The shapeshifter, now recognizable as a mercenary named Copycat, stayed back to watch with Knightmare close by and Polaris keeping his distance as well with eyes narrowed. The rest of them had murder in their eyes as they spread out, Sarin taking the lead towards Sonja.

Wire

For a moment, he stood still. Listening. The breaths were erratic, as if they came from a wounded animal. And they were close. He scanned the area in a split second: he couldn't see him in the gloom, but there weren't any signs of activity. He didn't think he'd be with any outcasts.

"Howard? Is that you?" He called into the gloom.

The breathing came to a sudden stop. Wire gave a short exhale, followed by a slight twitch of his head.

Ah, thats a good sign. From what I know, he isn't the type for sneak attacks.
He's going to listen to what I have to say.
Alright, whats the best thing to say in this situation.. We don't know his current mental state. We don't know if he's scared his boss is going to be gunning for him, or he's scared that I'm from the league here to bring him down. Either way, we need to find some common ground. He's not insane if he's willing to listen.
He could just be trying to see what I am before he attacks, but I see your point. I'll ask him why he chose a sewer; I'll say what he's not expecting me to say, maybe lessen his fear slightly.
Go for it

He realised he just referred to himself as "we". He gave the twitch as if that would shake it off.

"Why'd you choose a sewer man? This place is filthy. You'll catch something."

He waited and listened with a relaxed posture. But his world was spinning at 75% speed. And he was listening intently.

Rift Hound - Maroni's

"I'm okay. I just can't really use my arm right now." Joshua replied, indicating to his dislocated shoulder. Looking up at Pariah, he simply nodded and began following the group to the VTOL. He knew he should probably seek some help for his arm, but right now he was just tired and sore. He was about to travel with the League, anyway. Surely they had a medical bay.

"A drink sounds amazing." he said, responding to Shifter, "I vote for tequila or stronger. I think this country has something called Everclear? That would work too."

---

E-Vyle - Outside Maroni's

"Looks like you weren't needed after all." E-Vyle commented to Joe Black. The entire situation seemed to have finally been resolved and an aircraft was landing to pick up the League members while the religious fanatic had returned only to be taken into League custody.
Jumping down and shifting back to his human form, E-Vyle approached Pariah, the man he'd observed to be organizing the League members from the rooftop during the start of the crisis, as he exited the restaurant.

"Mr. Pariah? Sorry to approach at a time like this, but I'm here to apply for the League."

The Desert Vampire - The Maximum Security Ward

Azar watched, shrouded in the shadows by the one of the doorways as some of the most vile criminal offenders known to man briefly began to disperse. Seeing Sarin take the lead toward Sonja, he quickly weighed his options. Hand to hand combat was obviously out. In dealing with psychopathic monsters, such as these, it seemed foolish to attempt further negotiations. Self-sacrifice seemed wholly unnecessary and a distraction would likely only result in madness. So, he decided he'd have to do what he could. Given the slightest chance, Sarin himself could kill them both.

Not seeing a good tactical option, he sheathed his scimitar and unholstered one of his pistols, taking aim. Careful to not put Sonja in the line of fire, he snapped his trigger finger three times, waving his hand after the first shot, which had been aimed for Sarin's skull. With luck, perhaps some of the others would catch a bullet in their bodies. But before anyone would have a chance to crush him like a saltine under a can of soup, he withered himself into a mass of sand.

While he was still standing, a breeze, weaker than usual, spread him across the room, roughly three yards away from the spot he'd been standing, and brushed into a corner like dust on the floor.

Hi-Voltage

Volt held himself tall as he scanned the room for any sort of advantage. He could use the extinguisher to attack the villain in his blind spot, just like he had done with Shank, but truthfully he wasn't sure if that would be enough to bring down the villain seeing as he was fresh, and Volt had no idea of his identity or abilities. It was possible that the man was more than capable of making good on his threats, so magnetism was just a risk Volt couldn't take. Still, he couldn't let Blue-eyes cow them into inaction. For better or worse they had to stop him here.

A thoom of thunder roused Volt from his maddening search for some advantage in the room, the storm no doubt caused by Rainmaker outside. He barely paid any heed to Blue-Eye's taunts as his gaze was fixed on the warden's office window, and the brilliant display of crackling lightning that visualised just outside the yard. Black clouds dominated the sky, and he realised with a start that the air outside was thick with electrical energy. A plan began to formulate in his mind, one that he would never try to employ if they weren't in such dire straights. When tha situation is desperate as this, then a desperate plan is tha only one that fits.

Without making overt movements the Scotsman began to bend the electrical energy that was thick in the outside atmosphere to his will, nothing obvious yet, just setting pieces into play. It was as he was doing this that he turned and caught the warden, whimpering softly as Blue-eyes ground the gun barrel into his skull. Volt was suddenly gripped by a wave of regret. Yes, heroes didn't let innocents die, not even to stop the bad guy, but despite the fact that he looked the part, talked the talk, and tried to walk the walk, Volt was no hero. He knew life didn't work out like the comics, the good guys didn't always win, and that victory's always came with a price. The Lightning-Slinger swallowed back his bitterness, knowing the outcome of the next few moments were probably going to end up featuring in his nightmares for the rest of his life.

"Ah'm sorry. . . But ah ain't yer typical hero." He whispered. Today, the warden would probably be todays price. Then, before anyone could react, Volt's body was suffused by a flickering blue light, and the Lightning-Slinger did that which he was named for.

He slung lightning.

Glass from the warden's office window shattered into a million jagged pieces and flew into the room in a flesh shredding torrent as a spear of lightning arced down from the grim clouds and screamed into the room, guided by Volt's hand. The strain to commit such a volatile act was too much for Volt's wearied frame, and he was already falling unconscious as the room burst into chaos. His last thoughts as he lost consciousness was that he hoped it was enough to give his team a chance to defeat Blue-eyes.

Morningstar

The neighbourhood where the Den was situated suited Morningstar down to the ground. Lucy had grown up in a place like this. maybe not quite as filthy, but similar enough for her to feel a twinge of nostalgia. No time for that now though, there was work to be done. Binary called for recon, and recon was what Morningstar did. First she scoped the place out. Exits, entrances, fire escapes, number of windows, that sort of thing. She was careful, taking her time. No point rushing it at the first hurdle and ruining the whole operation. Then, after she had got a feel for the place, she began to place sticky cams all around the Den, taking note to situate them in places that would be able to observe the doors, streets and any other locations of interest. These would provide her, Binary and the rest of the League with a way of remotely scouting the place, useful for surveillance.

By the time she had finished this almost an hour had passed. Thankfully no one had noticed her, but that was more due to her skill in not be detected than luck. There were a few deadbeats hanging around street level, most of them looking like junkies, but Morningstar scanned their faces regardless. She sent the images to the League database, figuring if any of them had a rap sheet then they would show up. Pariah was meticulous with his records, and with Binary was backing him up then it was very difficult to hide your face from them.

Finally, precautions completed, she felt secure enough to enter the Den itself. Her earlier investigations had revealed that the buildings top access doors were cracked open. Pariah's former apprentice approached the doors silently, part of her whispering that this was all too easy. Fortune favours the bold she told herself.

But she'd also heard enough stories to know the bold die young.

A satisfied look came across Killshade's face as he watched Locust get taken down by the combined efforts of himself and two other heroes. He looked at his pistol, clicking the safety on before carefully holstering the weapon on his hip. He then walked over to the downed villain, finding his sword laying on the ground nearby. With a groan Killshade grasped the weapon then looked it over, noticing the blade was bent and dulled in the area where it struck Ocean Warrior's staff. Well, damn, he'd had to fix that when they all got back to the hall. He stuck the blade in its back sheath then glanced at Locust, mulling trying to handcuff the strange being.

He'd leave it to the others, he seriously doubted standard handcuffs would be enough to contain that monstrosity, so he turned and walked over to Permafrost who was still out cold. The last time Killshade put his hands on her skin, he got a nice case of icehands and he really didn't want to go through that again, so without touching the skin, he tied her hands together, then grasped her by her armor and clothing, carefully lifting her up into an over the shoulder carry, once again being extra careful to not touch her dangerous skin. He then started towards the door, following behind the group, remaining silent as he walked.

Eventually he reached the VTOL which was to head back to the hall with the downed villains in tow. With another grunt he placed down Permafrost inside the vehicle, near the others. Then Killshade took a seat inside of it, waiting for the rest of the team to join him so that they could depart from this place. His mind focusing on Bishop and his cohorts. They were insane to even attempt something like this, they had to know it would have not ended well for them. He shook his head, clearing his mind of the thoughts, then crossed his arms and waited for everyone else.