SONJA

A good magician knows how to work an audience. A big part of showmanship is carrying along the audience, getting them to think or believe something they might not otherwise. If necessary, to do something they know is foolish.

Sonja knew there was no point in the charade anymore, the Kansas City Shuffle wasn't going to work once Sarin blew the lid off. With some relief, she stopped doing the voice trick- it was a massive strain under the magic dampening field anyways. So, she had managed to get herself alone in a room with about a dozen of the most powerful and dangerous criminals in the entire country. Good work, girl. She had been thinking of headlines and talk show interviews, her own action figure line. Now, inevitably, hospitals and funeral homes were coming to mind.

"That's your plan, huh?" she snorted derisively as Sarin dissolved in front of her. Sonja knew Sarin wanted her to show fear. Even though her heart was pounding and she felt sick to her stomach, she still managed to keep her voice steady. She wasn't going to grant her that. "You really are a chickenshit, you know that, Sarin?" Sonja said as she took a few steps back away from the looming cloud of gas. "You didn't need my help to become a national joke, because you already are one. Look at you. Yellow's the right color for you. You're so scared of me that the only way you dare to attack me is with a bunch of other guys backing you up. Not only that, but you wait until your buddies cancel out my magic and then turn yourself into gas. What a bunch of bullshit," she scoffed. She took another nimble step backwards, gently set down the baseball bat. "What's this going to prove, huh, Sarin? That the only time you can win is when you've completely stacked the odds in your favor? No one's going to look back and say 'Wow, what a victory.' No, what they're gonna say about you is 'Wow, what a pathetic coward.' Because that's what you are, Sarin. If you had any guts at all, you'd go solid and fight me one-on-one." Sonja ridiculously waggled her small fists. She wasn't at all a great fighter with just her own two hands. But a small chance was better than no chance, right?

---

SIXGUN

"Alright, here's the skinny," Sixgun whispered, hoping whoever was on the other end was listening. "Marconi asked me to bring up more muscle from the South. This gives us a chance to insert someone else, and I can't say I'm averse to having a partner. Start shopping for someone on your end."

"Also, there's this," he said as he pulled out the vial labelled "Apex", then took a good hard look at it for the benefit of his handler. "Some kind of snake oil. I'ma gonna hang on to it for now, but let me know what you want done with it. Also, I want a background on La Sombra and the Witchfinder. Something tells me those guys are going be tougher nuts to crack than the Irishman, or maybe even the Chicago boys. Music is the one to watch for, he might make a leadership bid." Sixgun stashed the vial beneath his mattress. He'd find a better place later. Then he got up and carefully listened at the door. Hearing nothing, he opened it, stepped quietly into the hallway. Time to have a look around, see what he could learn.

Hot Rod listened to Light when she asked what the plan was, and he had to think for a moment. These villains that they were about to face may probably be among the worst of the metahuman villains, which meant that they most certainly could not fool around. Ideas raced through his mind and he tried to figure out what was the best course of action. His mind eventually came upon an idea that may in fact work.

"I've got one, we need to hit these guys as quick and as hard as possible without killing them, before they can react at their full potential. I have my speed and fire power, we also need some heavy muscle as well as another person who can do range attacks for cover," he said looking to each of his teammates, hoping that in their set of powers they had the abilities that would be useful in the fight they were about start.

---

Ocean warrior grunted in pain when Locust lashed out and gave him a deep cut across his cheek. The force of this blow was strong enough to knock him away from the terrible beast and let get of his shoulder with his pincer. But thankfully Pariah had managed to take down the creature and now was ordering them to help the wounded citizens and retrieve the defeated criminals. Ocean Warrior went about doing just that and helped a family who were very shaken from ordeal out of the restaurant and to an ambulance. For his first day as a member of the League, he hoped that he had done his duty well and would continue to do better with his heroics.

The Sewers

The breathing stopped and for a second it was dead silent before a deep voice grumbled, "Go away man. Get the fuck outta here. Don't come any closer or I'll fucking kill you man." It was Howard alright, but this wasn't the confident street metagangster. Howard was almost another person right now.

The Estate

"Roger that Sixgun, I'll pass it on" Binary chirped in his ear before continuing, "Soonest chance you can put the vial in the covert drop. An agent will retrieve it." The drop happened to be in a storage locker in a place nearby. Binary hummed before saying, "La Sombra is a grade-A hitman. Cartels love using him for their wet work. Never quits until the job is done, he'll be a tough one. Witchfinder is a merc, but all he cares about is killing Sorcerers. Blames all magic-users for the murder of his son. You might be able to use that to your advantage."

The hallway was empty, all the hires in their rooms at the moment. The guest house had a moderate guard and a pair of soldiers would pass by every so often, keeping an eye on the new hires. Fontana happened to be staying in the largest room in the guest house as he was responsible for the mercenaries. Fontana himself was still in the main house. His room was on a different floor and had two guards in front of the doors, the men themselves barely paying attention as they talked among themselves.

The Den

Binary cheerily piped up, "Thanks for the view Morningstar. We're getting clear feeds. IDing the suspects now," after a few seconds of mangled Poker Face the Technopath spoke up, "Hmm basically all of them belong to small street-gangs that paid up to the Outfit. Looks like Legion took over more turf than we thought. All of these guys have priors for assault, burglary, dealing, and other cheery stuff like that. Watch your step, they probably have a few Superhumans there too." When she entered the building nothing happened. The hallways were dark, dirty, and dank with detritus and debris littering the hall. Light barely peeked in through the shutters and on this floor the hallway had several doors. Five were on each side and they were all closed.

Marconi's

Pariah stared at E-Vyle, "Just Pariah to you." He looked him over and said, "I know you. E-Vyle. Well we'll need all the help we can get with what's been going on. Get on the vehicle, we'll fast-track your membership when we get back to the Hall." Permafrost, Shrieker, Villa, Ghost, and Salvation were all bolted into seats with cuffs and power inhibitors on their necks. Locust had to have a cage lifted in for him which the VTOL would lift back to the Hall. Once all of the members were onboard the craft left to return to the Hall of Heroes.

The Hall of Heroes was mostly deserted, only the support and security staff left after the prison riot. The VTOL touched down and a security team arrived to take the captured villains into custody. Pariah exited and said, "I'll begin interrogations of the suspects. Anyone that wants to help is free to accompany me. E-Vyle and Rift Hound, see Anima at the front desk. The rest of you are free to do what you wish. You can use the R and R, we'll be busy again soon enough."

The Prison

The Lightning bolt burst through the window and hit in the middle of the room between the two parties. As Volt fell to the ground, the room erupted in chaos as glass flew everywhere and the bolt of lightning threw up a massive wave of sound, light, and fury. The part of the wooden floor that was hit enflamed and the small fire slowly spread. The flying glass shards shredded the man's back and he howled in pain. Combined with the light, noise, and sudden force he was taken completely off guard. His gun was unsteady in his hand and Apogee fired a tight beam of heat vision, the laser heating the gun until the man dropped it in a reflex of pain. The Warden was just as surprised as his captor and shouted in surprise. This was the moment to act.

In Maximum Security, the situation accelerated. Realizing his powers were almost useless, Sanguine decided to retreat through the portal as well. Copycat, Knightmare, and Polaris still stood next to the portal watching the action, Polaris picking up a discarded rifle from a dead guard. Copycat was anxious to leave but he didn't wish to draw the ire of his much more powerful and numerous associates. The bullets flew right through Sarin and impacted against Sarco. The pistol rounds bounced right off of his plates and he snarled ignoring Sonja completely to look around for the shooter, followed by Behemoth and the Growth all in their superpowered forms.

Sarin paused before the yellow gas turned into a woman again. Sarin stared at Sonja, "You're right hero. No glory in an easy victory. I might enjoy killing you with my own bare hands even more," She screamed in a primal battle cry and ran towards Sonja with fists upraised. Xaxx and Reaper each picked up assault rifles and strapped on body armor before turning to watch the brawl. Xaxx and Reaper watched the two fight with a certain animalistic hunger. The Diluvian leaned on a nearby wall and idly played with a ball of water as he watched them.

Wire

That response was expected. Expected, and filled with paranoia. But paranoia for whom: the League or his boss?

Either way, he still didn't know where he was, but he had a general idea: the sound of his voice echoed around the slimy brick walls, but the sewer water dampened it slightly. If he was correct, he was directly ahead, and to the left, which was just out of his line of sight.

But before he resorted to anything physical, he would continue to talk him down. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the sewer. He still listened intently, but showing that he wasn't there to fight always helped with these sorts of jobs.

"Calm your tits. I'm not with the League."

Ocean Warrior was proud of himself and hoped that his teammates were also pleased with how things went down at the restaurant. He was curious to know if the others had returned from the mission at the prison and stopped the outbreak. He had wished he could have gone but seeing how he was new to the league, he had to go help out as Marconi's, but he felt like his powers could have been really useful in the fight against the escaped prisoners. He was still prone to getting the feeling that people might still think of him as a fish out of water and useless in a situation that didn't involve water. If that was true then he would work even harder to prove everyone wrong.

---

St Francis was flying high in the clear blue sky on his griffon Horin and felt the cool wind blow about him as they flew at incredible speeds. The feeling of flying on top of his bond and close friend was incredible. He sometimes really enjoyed being in the sky with Horin and experiencing its great natural beauty. Like with the forest, the sky was also harmed by the pollution of Man andit saddened him to see even in places where humanity didn't live, and at the expense of their natural resources. St Francis preyed to God that the people would come to their senses and put an end to the destruction of the world's environments.

His griffon's flight course took them over the city Chicago and if St Francis remembered correction, the League of Superheroes was somewhere within the city and he had to look for it. Despite the city's incredible size, St Francis soon saw the hall of heroes not too far off in the distance and told his griffon to slow down a little as they began their decent towards the hall. They came to the building and Horrin gracefully landed on the steps of the Hall of Heroes. Some people shocked at the sudden appearance o him and his bond. St Francis let Horrin return back to the divine and while gripping his wooden staff nervously, he entered the hall.

The first he noticed was that there were hardly any people staffed at the base which meant that most of the other heroes were out possibly on business. He also noticed the return of the other heroes who had helped with the hostage situation at Marconi's. He was a little too wary to go up and instantly introduce himself to the others, but he did begin to feel his powers lose some of their strength since he was no longer surrounded by fresh and healthy tries, and beautiful wildlife. He really hoped that he had made the right choice in coming out of seclusion to join this League for the greater good.

The Desert Vampire - The Maximum Security Ward

As much as his name suggested he was a vampire, Azar was well aware that he would likely lose a fistfight against the three oncoming savages. The Growth could absorb him--sand form or not. Sarco was evidently immune to gunfire completely, and he didn't have firepower to spare. In such a desparate situation, he believed every bullet counted. As for the Behemoth, he could potentially be brought down by a bullet-storm, or maybe even choked out by the sand. But it was proving difficult to get a gust of wind powerful enough to cycle around anything, let alone cause a Behemoth to suffocate.

As the hulking beast known as Sarco came closer to his position Azar assumed he had remained unseen. So he summoned the mightiest wind he could gather, a mere puff that entered through the doorway and hugged the wall before sweeping Azar out of his corner and down the walls edge, still a respectable distance away from Knightmare, Polaris, and Copycat.

With The Growth, The Behemoth, and Sarco on their way out, Azar silently summoned another puff to toss his sinty grains behind the trio that was headed fornhis former location. Out of their range of sight, his sand grains stacked back up and quickly climbed on one another, in seconds the pile had refined itself into the form of The Desert Vampire. Whipping out both of his pistols from their holsters, Azar unloaded eight bullets into the back of The Behemoth, four from each gun, before shoving the one in his right hand into it's holster and reaching onto his back, unsheathing his scimitar once more.

Loudly, he declared, "It vould seem zat your victory as been delayed!"

SONJA

Mike Johns, the League's primary hand-to-hand instructor, would be embarrassed to see this fight. Sonja knew just enough about fighting to know she wasn't very good at it. With no real idea of Sarin's skill level, all she could think to do was throw herself at the other woman and drag them both to the ground. It was not a Brazilian match, either. There was no technique in their grappling as the writhed on the ground, raining blows on one another and grasping for the throat and sensitive eyes. There was no science to it. Just two cats in a sack trying their level best to kill each other. The plus side, if you could call it that, was that several of the other heavy-hitters stuck around to watch. At least whenever help arrived they'd be able to recapture a couple.

Sonja felt a fist crash into her jaw and tasted blood. No, more than that, her mouth was swimming in it. She spat, only slightly accidentally into Sarin's face, saw a tooth flying among the spray. She hardly registered the pain, instead twisting her long fingers in Sarin's hair, getting a good grip.

She smashed Sarin's head against the concrete floor as hard as she could. Then she did it again. And again. And again.

---

SIXGUN

Might as well eliminate the obvious, just in case. Sixgun stepped directly over to the guards in front of Fontana's unoccupied room. "Evening, gents," he said politely. "Fletcher Ross is steppin' out to get hisself a pack of smokes. Want me to grab anything from the shop for you fellas?"

If it turned out he was free to leave at any time, he'd save himself a lot of hassle. If he was meant to stay here, then he'd know to be careful. At any rate, couldn't hurt to ask.

Chris slumped into the padded VTOL seats, then immediately regretted that action with a small gasp of pain. Blood loss, exhaustion and a horrendous headache combined to prevent her from even registering the trip but Chris was relieved when the VTOL touched down in front of the League. With another hiss Chris prised her battered and bruised body from the surprisingly comforting embrace of the VTOLs seats and hobbled her way into the building.

“Okay then. Which way’s the way to the Hospital wing?” She asked aloud to the others nearby.

In all honesty Chris was a little bit in awe of her team mates, and maybe slightly jealous, and they’re ability to just shrug off their injuries with a joke and a laugh. Sometimes she wished she was somewhat impervious to attack, it would make everything so much easier. But then again, a small smile crept over her face, this time a few months ago she’d barely been able to do anything in even a training session. And now here she was striding, well more limping than striding, back from terrorist attack she could easily die in, or worse, with nothing more than a bullet wound and possibly some internal bleeding.

Her smile faded along with the warm fuzzy feeling she had been revelling in.

Morningstar

“Great, so what you're telling me its just the garden variety scumbags outside, while the real party people are inside. The locked building. With no way of telling who's in there. Which I'm going into blind. Alone. . . Great.” Morningstar's reply was as dry as dust, sarcasm dripping from every syllable, but she spoke quietly and was infinitely careful as she entered, showing that she was still respectful of the danger inherent in the situation.

The hallway had all the appeal of a run-down crack-den, looking like that'd managed to pull in Sid Vicious to serve as the interior designer. She spent several heartbeats in the dank corridor simply listening, seeing if she could pick out any suspect noises or tell-tale sounds in the half light. Then, with lack of a better option, she would work her way down the corridor slowly and methodically, stopping at each door. She would retrieve a length of what looked like thin, flexible black hose from her utility belt, as it was actually an inspection camera, known more colloquially as a snake scope. She would feed the camera head of the snake scope under the crack of the door frame, with the live feed displaying on her in-mask HUD. If she found anything she would stop and make a plan.

Mr Joe Black

Joe tramped up the VTOL boarding ramp behind Pariah, mumbling about how no one ever thanked him for his help, and how that instead of taking his advice and shooting Salvation they were instead taking him back to League Headquarters. Truthfully none of what he said really formed a sentence, it was more of an outpouring curse words, foul diatribes and racial slurs. As he sat in the jet he removed his whiskey flask and took a long swallow, glaring at anyone who gave him an admonishing look for his casual alcoholism.

The VTOL swiftly covered the distance back to the Hall of Heroes, Joe shoving and pushing the other heroes out of his way to be the first off the plane. He scoffed at the idea of helping Pariah anymore today. No, it was just coming up to that time of day when Sky played all the Simpsons re-runs, and he reckoned he had just enough time to settle his ass into the couch before it all kicked off. On his way out he heard some chick ask were the infirmary was. She was asking the group at large, but Joe stopped and gave her a deep, meaningful look, not the sort of glance you spare someone in a crowd, but the kind of penetrating gaze you would use when you are really, really looking at someone. Slowly he peeled off his raybans, revealing his glazed dead eyes.

"Hospital wing. . ." He infused the words with a great amount of solemnity, managing to flex his skull like face into something resembling concern. "I'm afraid to say you might be a bit late for that Rolling Girl. I've got a sense for the Supernatural, ever since I became mortally challenged, and I hate to tell you, but you got the touch of the Reaper to you. I'd say, professionally speaking, you got the best of eight hours left. I'm sorry." It was utter bullshit of course, but you had to make your own jollies in a place like this, and hazing the new kids never went out of fashion.

E-Vyle

E-Vyle hadn't wasted anytime once the VTOL landed.The zombie may have been the first off the plane, but E-Vyle wasn't far behind him, the advantage to his abilities being that he didn't need to shove anyone out of the way to do it. By the time the girl had asked for directions to the infirmary, E-Vyle was already gone, following Pariah's directions to the front desk. He'd already dispatched a small handful of insects to map the place out while he did, he had no intention of getting lost on his first visit to the League's HQ. Like any building, there were vents for air-conditioning and air flow, places that would allow him to travel or hide. There was also undoubtedly next-fen security measures all over the place, but nothing that he could recognize, being largely unfamiliar with such things.

Reaching the front desk, it was a simple matter of registering his information. It seemed that Pariah had been expecting him, so much of his information was already on file in anticipation of his arrival, including his abilities, hardly surprising considering the publicity they had attracted when they first appeared. Completing his registration, he bagan to wander through HQ, absently searching for any sign of a library.

---

Rift Hound

The sling that held his arm was uncomfortable and rubbed his fur the wrong way, but Joshua had little choice but to wear it. Fortunately there were medical staff on the VTOL who had set his arm back in place and given him the sling. The girl with the bullet wound needed more specialized medical attention however, and was currently asking for directions to the medical bay, something he couldn't help her with at all. He'd be surprised if he could find his way to the registration desk!
Leaving the group behind, Joshua actually did find the front desk and Anima with surprising ease, adding his information to their database. A lot of it involved simple things, like name, age, height, weight and ability, but he paused when they asked him for an alias. He'd never actually thought about any sort of X-Man-esque call sign before, but he supposed it made sense. He settled on 'Rift Hound'.

Following Anima's instructions, he made his was to the Rec room once his registry was complete, slumping into a comfortable armchair and closing his eyes. He was only dimly aware of Simpson re-run playing on the television. He'd need to take inventory of his Pocket when he next had a chance, he had no idea how many guns he'd stored and he swore at some point he'd collected a table while trying to trap the tap, crazy guy he'd stuck a bat into.
His mind was racing from the day's events. He'd saved who knows how many people in that restaurant. Most of them would likely have survived, but the girl he'd knocked out of Bishop's grip was almost certainly alive now because of him. Joshua wondered if that made up for the henchman he'd killed with his Pocket. Did saving a life redeem you from taking one?

Joshua was by no means religious, but he felt suddenly aware of the possibility of an afterlife. Was there a tally being kept now? Sure he'd stolen things before, but he'd never killed anyone before! That was one of the big ones! Was he supposed to apologize to someone? Repent? Enter self-imposed exile? Turn himself in? Joshua hadn't seen the look on the sea man's face as he'd fallen out of his Pocket and down the stairs and he found himself thankful for that. The last thing he remembered seeing on his face was a look of surprise as he fell in.
He was blonde, Joshua remembered that much, but what colour were his eyes? It seemed like such a small thing, but he felt like he should at least remember the colour of the eyes of the man he'd killed. He found himself thinking about little pieces of information about the man's life. Was he married? Where did he live? Who was his family? Once the thoughts started to enter his mind they wouldn't stop. They started to consume his every thought, flooding his mind. Joshua pulled his feet up onto the chair, shaking uncontrollably. He suddenly felt very cold and like he had done something very, very wrong. He found himself suddenly wanted to to be somewhere, anywhere more private than this. But more than anything right now, he just wanted to sleep.

Petya let out a sigh of relief as she felt the VTOL land. Resting in the comfortable seats of the aircraft had been better than sitting on the hard floor of the restaurants, but the idea of actually getting medical help sounded like a dream come true right now. The cranky dead looking man had a whiskey flask with him, and she didn't try to hide her jealousy. She really, really wanted that drink.

She stepped out of the VTOL and walked towards the building with sure steps, only to slow down as the woman she'd rescued asked where the hospital wing was. Petya had an idea of where it was, as Orchid had a habit of spending time there whenever she wasn't helping people on the streets. Sadly she was cut off before she could even start talking. She let out a bark of laughter before hissing in pain. Yeah, laughing definitely wasn't the best idea right now.
”I doubt you can literally count someones hours, mortally challenged or not,” the shapeshifter dismissed the man's words with an unimpressed raise of an eyebrow. It didn't matter what anyone said, Petya refused to believe that there was a set time for anything. Still, she couldn't help but turn searching eyes towards the woman. She looked much worse off than Petya, she couldn't deny that. It didn't matter if she was dying or not. It was better for both of them to find the hospital wing as quickly as they could.

”Just ignore what the dead man says, darling,” she said to Rolling Girl, giving the woman a pleasant smile. She gestured towards the building before starting to move towards it with slow steps, talking as she went.
”I know where the hospital wing is. If we're lucky, my partner will be there. One of the best healers I've ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

Killshade was one of the last ones of the VTOL, he quietly hoped out of the vehicle, then entered the hall. His first priority was to fix his weapon, though the prospect of helping Pariah interrogate some of the villains did interest him admittingly. He stepped inside and headed straight for his room where all the items needed to repair his sword were. He didn't speak with anyone else as he walked, just going by them, stepping around and through crowds. Soon enough he reached his room, popped open the door and stepped inside. He reached under his bed where he placed one of the metal suitcases and placed it on top of the bed, then he removed his weapon from its sheath.Luckily he had done this procedure on the sword many times before, like the back of his hand to him.

After a few minutes of careful handling of the blade, he had straightened it out, next he needed to sharpen it, another easy task. He tightened his gloves then removed the oiled whetstone from the briefcase, then he laid it down on a nearby table, then very carefully ran the blade along it dozens of times. After every so often he paused to inspect his work, after he reached the perfect sharpness for the weapon, he slid it back into his sheath then removed the sheath from his back, laying it down for a moment. He quickly changed out of his battle apparel, getting into workout clothes once more. He folded up his previous outfit along with setting down all of the weaponry he carried, leaving the items and the outfit on the bed.

He walked through the hallways to the training center, the look on his face changing to one of surprise as he stepped into the room, his eyes gleaming over the rows of seemingly endless equipment. A smile almost popped on his face as he strolled over to an area in the room containing the pull-up bars, one of which he stopped in front of, then grasped a bar and began lifting himself up and down, no signs of strain on his face as he went along with the workout, his enhanced muscles and bones able to breeze through most of them, but he was not a superhuman, and as such would tire out at some point, that was what he was aiming for as he pulled himself up, bringing his chin above the bar, then back down, avoiding smacking his face on the equipment with each rise of his body.

Oh buddy, this is gonna be a big one. Better get ready to take the moment I get when I can. The guy, or the orb? Emmanuel thinks to himself, feeling the massive lightning bolt that is about to strike the room building. There's no way he COULDN'T feel something like that. So as Volt prepares, so does he. Gathering energy in his feet, he condenses it into his trademarked electrochains. Well, soon to be trade marked anyway. His lawyer hasn't figured out what jurisdiction it would fall under. Its a work in progress. Nifty trick though. Condensed electricity so dense it forms solid mass and shape. Samuel taught him that when he bequeathed his powers upon him. However, he didn't teach him anything else, which is the reason his abilities with actually doing things with electricity is so minimal. He can absorb it, use it to make himself better, shock things, and do the chains. Not much else right now. So no fancy electricity blasts, and certainly not calling lightning from the sky! After this is all over, he's gonna ask Volt to tutor him in the ways of electricity.

Speaking of lightning, with a BOOM and a CRASH, the lightning bolt bursts into the room, exploding the window and sending shrapnel everywhere. This is the moment to strike, as Apogee shoots a laser out of her goddamn eyes and zaps the gun out of the madman's hands. Woah. Laser eyes? Lets not fuck with that lady then. Anyway, as Apogee shoots her lasers, Emmanuel makes his move. His chains shoot out of the bottom of his feet, running under the floorboards, then burst out behind the desk where the mysterious orb is being kept, floorboards splintering and flying as the chains shatter them.

Emmanuel decided to go for that orb after all. Yeah, getting the suppressant out of the way as soon as possible is definitely the best option here. That'll let Apogee and I go full blast and take out any remaining goons that we have to after we're done here. As he thinks that, the chains coil around the dark orb and begin to tightly constrict, clearly meant to be trying to shatter it into a billion little pieces. If that does in fact work, Emmanuel will probably dissolve the chains and go in for the victory himself.

In the back of his mind he registers hearing a thump as Volt hits the ground. Gotta make sure to treat him to a pint later or something. That move will change the whole course of the battle here. Plus, that was fucking badass.

The Estate

The guards looked up from their reverie and one absently nodded, "Yeah ok man. We're not your babysitters. We'd appreciate it if you got some booze though. Guard duty get's boring as hell." His partner snorted, "Unless those meta-freaks decide to bust in. Then you wouldn't want to be drunk." The man chuckled, "I wouldn't want to be sober to have some freak rip off my head. I'll take being drunk thank you very much." The guards began arguing and they stopped paying any attention to Sixgun.

The Den

Morningstar's cameras revealed something. In fact all of them revealed something. In each and every room there was a human being. Most of the rooms were occupied by young women in their late teens or early twenties of various races. They were all sound asleep and chained to a bare bed in a room with a toilet, a sink, and nothing else. Runes ran over the walls, floors, and ceilings in thick black. Each bed have an IV hooked up to the woman on it and anomalous fluids dripped into them. Three or four rooms didn't have young women. Three had adult men while the last had a woman in her thirties.

They were superhumans. The woman had bat-like wings spread out on the floor beneath her while one man's skin seemed as much too reflective and plastic to be organic. Another man had skin as black as pitch while the last looked completely normal save being almost seven feet tall. They all had the same set-up as the woman. And in the last room there was a young girl, with pale skin and long black hair she couldn't have been more than ten years old. All of them were in the exact same state as the young women, dead to the world.

The Hall

At the front desk, Anima barely batted an eye as the security team let St. Francis enter. She smiled at him and said, "How may I help you? Here to sign up?" On his travels E-Vyle eventually stumbled onto the massive library that League members like Destiny and Savant had amassed. The Library's size and collection of texts would rival any library worth the name in the country if not the world. Shifter and Break Neck found the hospital wing, the busiest section of the Hall as the League doctors and healers processed the casualties from the Prison Riot.

One of them Orchid, smiled at Shifter and waved them in, finishing up with one Leaguer who broke an arm. She looked at Break Neck and settled her onto a bunk before getting to work. In a holding cell close to the captured Legion members, Salvation remained out cold. Suddenly, Joe Black felt a voice in his ear. It was Prudence, one of Destiny's apprentices. The young woman said, "Joe I require your presence in the Sorcery Circle. I need your help with some experiments."

The Prison

As Emmanuel's chain wraps around the orb, it shatters into hundreds if not thousands of tiny shards. The man screams in agony and clutches his head as he does and suddenly the dampening field is lifted, ambient magic energy flowing back into the Prison like water into a hole. The blue-eyed man stumbled and groaned when Apogee shot forward and punched him in the gut, sending him flying into the heavy shelf with a grunt of impact. He hit the floor and then the shelf crashed on top of him and he was out. Apogee raced to Volt's side and easily picked him up with one hand. She picked up the Warden with the other. Apogee turned to Emmanuel and said, "Restrain the villain. Then get to max security and help the Leaguers there. I'll make sure Volt and the Warden get medical attention." She flew out of the open window to a VTOL which would send Volt back to the Hospital Wing of the League.

Sarin grunted as her head hit the floor until finally she groaned and could barely move. She weakly strained and the predators around them seemed to anticipate the kill. With a weary, wet laugh blood sprayed out of Sarin's face, "Well you win. But I still kill you." Slowly but surely, Sarin's wounded body started to transform into her gaseous form, the process much slower than usually as skin started to melt away into yellow gas. Xaxx, Diluvian, and Reaper all stepped back as Copycat cursed, "They took out the dampener! We gotta go. We'll have the whole League on us soon!" He turned to go into the portal, Knightmare on his heels.

Polaris stood, "I'm not going anywhere till you take this off. I know them. You'll need me if you want to beat them." Copycat sneered, "And why should I trust you? You love killing criminals like us." Polaris smirked, "True. But I love living too. And I hate the League just as much as you. We can work together as long as it takes." Copycat smiled and pressed a switch, suddenly Polaris's collar fell off and immediatly the fallen hero began to shine with a lambent glow. Knightmare snarled, "What about Sarin?" Xaxx, Diluvian, and Reaper were starting to leave. Copycat shrugged, "Leave her. She's not essential to our plans."

Suddenly the Desert Vampire attacked Behemoth who bellowed in rage and pain. The pistol rounds barely did any damage to his enhanced hide but they still hurt. The rage monster twisted around and barreled at Desert Vampire, with the Growth and Sarco spread out on either side and all charging at him. Copycat cursed and shouted, "Kill that guy and let's go!"

Wire

There was a miniature pause, either from slight relief or to build up rage.

"I don't f*cking care who you're with! I will f*cking kill you if you don't f*cking leave!"

He was playing for rage, but the emphasis on 'care' and the lack of emphasis on 'kill' showed more irritation than anger. But irritation with what.. That was the question. Wire took a breath.

Hmm.. this is sounding pretty standard now. And not in a good way.
Alright then, lets wear him down, just like all the others.
Don't think I should tell him why I'm here just yet.. He knows I'm not here for a fight, or at least doesn't know whether I'm here for one or not, and thats good. So I think its time for some shots in the dark.
Sounds good.

He knew he was talking to himself, and he didn't care. Right now it was helping. His world began to spin again.

"What happened? Lose your temper?"

Wire paused to hear the loud exhale through gritted teeth coming from up ahead. With a very slight snarl. Well now he knew it was another standard case. It still didn't explain why he was down here in the sewer though. Wire breathed again.

Alright. What would make him come down here? I'm ruling out that it was for his own safety: he's frustrated, and no one else has gone after him since he disappeared.
Well then the only other alternative is that it is for everyone else's safety.
Why yes, thank you for stating the obvious.
Hey. Shut up.
Alright, alright, thats not helping.
Damn straight. So, as I was saying, that would mean that he knows he has a problem with his temper.
That makes things easier. But what started it?
Think. You've memorised the data, just connect the dots.
...I'd call you captain obvious, but that would be unproductive.
So why are you saying you would? Isn't that just as-
SO.. lets think.. we know that no one from his outfit was there at the time, otherwise they'd have been among the injured and this would be a whole lot worse for him. Come to think of it, why was a guy like Howard in a coffee shop like that? It's really out of character.. What would make a tough guy like him go into that sweet little place?
...
Ah. I see. This makes sense now.
Oh, what makes sense?
You know what makes sense, you're in my head.

Wire waited for Howard to say something. And as he heard the intake of breath to signal speech, he cut him off with a laugh.

"Heheheh.. What was her name?"

The only reason he could think a tough guy like him would go to a cafe would be if he was soft on someone. And that person would either be family or a person of the opposite sex. Family was unlikely, as they lived in another state, and he doubted that anything they could have done would anger him if they could get him to a cafe. So the logical choice would be a girlfriend.

Wire heard movement: brick leaving concrete. He leaned forwards off the wall as he watched the cinder block smash where his head had been a second before. He had struck the nerve. He smiled beneath his mask.

"Had a domestic dispute? I've been there. Every couple has been there."

He reached up and turned on his torch, while keeping one adjusted eye closed. He aimed it below where the projectile was thrown from. And there he was: an 8 foot tall monster of a man huddled up in a corner. He wore an unnaturally nice shirt and a pair of jeans. They were both grimy. A pair of pale eyes stared at his with a quiet fury. Now on to stage two.

"Doesn't mean you have to be so melodramatic. Now are we going to talk, or are you going to try and f*cking kill me?"

Provocation. The man let out a roar, and charged at him with both arms poised to grapple him. Wire aimed the torch at his eyes, blinding him before jumping up out of reach. He switched off the light source, and plunged both of them into darkness. He opened his other eye, and regained his vision enough to see him grab at air. He kicked hard off of the back of his head, and landed behind him. Wire watched as he began to swing an arm around for a right handed backhand, but ducked long before it could reach him and landed a strong punch against his twisting knee. The titanium connected and the blow was sent upwards in an arc. Howard fell backwards with the momentum of his strike flipping him onto his back. A jumping punch was aimed at his elbow which recoiled in pain. He didn't know what to clutch, his arm or his knee, but it gave plenty of time for Wire to get him in a headlock.

"Now tell me big guy, what happened?"

"SHE F*CKING LEFT ME, THATS WHAT HAPPENED."

He regained some composure, and with his good arm, grabbed Wire by the coat and threw him across the room. Wire let go of his grip, and cushioned his impact against the wall with his legs. He looked up to see Howard back on his feet and coming for him. His good arm was throwing a fist in his general direction.

"SHE SAID I HAD ANGER ISSUES. I'LL SHOW HER F*CKING ANGER ISSUES!"

Wire jumped as the punch shattered the mossy brick, and watched for his right arm. As expected, he attempted to grab him as he sailed over his head for a second time. He slapped his hand away before he could grab, and it gave way with little resistance due to the damaged elbow. Wire again landed behind him, and he watched as Howard made to slam his back into the concrete. Before he gained any momentum, Wire had already backstepped, and was brining a punch down onto the crown of his skull. It connected with a soft crack as he pulled the punch and Howard fell for the second time. He tried weakly to stand back up, before falling but was too dazed to properly move. Wire raised his fists in case he got up again, but lowered them again as his opponent started to stare through him.

"She said I have anger issues, and then I went on a f*cking rampage."

A tear came to his eye. Wire wondered whether or not he had hit him too hard. But onto stage three.

"I wouldn't call it a rampage. You broke a few bones, and smashed a few tables. You didn't kill anyone."

Howard gave him a hard look, as if he was seeing him for the first time.

"Who are you?"

"The name's Wire. And I've been hired to find your sorry ass and tell you your boss has already sorted everything." Wire held out his hand. "You're not going to prison, and he wants one of his best men back on the streets ASAP."

There was a look of suspicion that flashed between the mask and the hand.

"He doesn't want me dead?"

"If he wanted you dead, I wouldn't have taken the job. I'm a private investigator, not a God damn hitman. Besides, if I wanted you dead, I would have brought a gun."

He gave a slight nod, and took the hand. Wire helped pull the mass of muscle up, and gave him a small handshake. Howard was limping on his damaged leg.

"Sorry about the knee by the way. To be fair, you were being difficult."

"Yeah. I do that."

Wire turned on his torch, and they began to walk back out. The sound of footsteps and flowing water were the only sounds. The big man gave a slight sigh of defeat, with a subtle hint of relief.

"So why a sewer? There are plenty of cleaner places to hole up while you simmer down."

"Maybe. Its hard to think straight when you get mad."

"...You know.. its harder to stop swearing than it is to keep your temper in check."

"Bullsh*t."

"..Just something to think about."

They plodded on into the darkness. One was going back to organised crime, and most likely attempt to repair a probably doomed relationship. The other just wanted to get paid and sit down on a comfortable chair. And in after this job he could: he was getting some decent money from this. He wouldn't need to take another job for a few days. Wire let himself relax a little after a good day's work.

"...bullsh*t."

St Francis looked around the hall and was somewhat impressed by the look of the building but it still was set in the middle of the city. After the security let him and he came to the desk with a woman working at it, he heard her question.

"I was invited to join the League, and if I have to sign up then I'll do it," he told her. He hoped that is writing would be sufficient since it had been so long since he has had to write anything. As St Francis, Luca had received the ability to write in Latin very easily but English would be more difficult. He was also interested in seeing who his teammates, he knew St Michael was a part of the League and he was looking forward to seeing his old friend again.

---

Ocean Warrior had been to the infirmary to get the cut on his cheek properly tended to, even though it was big and had bled a good amount, Finn wasn't worried about the cut since his physiology would help him heal, but it was better to be safe than sorry as his adopted parents had told. He wondered how they were doing, it had been a long time since he had last seen them. He kept his distance from his them to keep them safe from any sort of plot that his grandfather Orinor the king of Numanor would try against him. Finn was still trying to give his people a better future but their numbers were still not great enough to defeat the king and his armies, but someday he would see his people returned to the great city where they belonged and have all the wrongs done against them righted.

Light looked on as the villains all escaped out of a portal, one after another, while a few seemed to stay back and have honorable combat with Sonja, 3 of the others rushing some vampire looking person after he had interfered. "Hey, Hotrod" Light whispered. "What are we supposed to do? Do I just go in and try to take out a few of them, or close the portal, or what? Unlike the other bad guys, theses people haven't openly attacked us." Light did notice that the dampening field had gone down, whcih means she was at full strength, and form the looks of things, there was only one bad guy that was here that could overpower her.

---

"Its over already? I just got here!" MC said, trying to pout. He followed the other heroes into the aircraft, some of who were apparently injured, back to the hall. He noticed that Light wasn't there, so he assumed she must still be on her jail breakout mission. Bored, MC, decided to just wander around the hall until someone or something caught his attention, lazily floating in the air along the way.

SONJA

Sonja stood exhausted, watching helplessly as Sarin slowly began to dissolve into gaseous form. All that and there was nothing she could do but watch. Damn. If only she wasn't so damn powerless under this dampening field-

-wait, did someone just say the dampening field was down?

It was true, she realized. She no longer felt like someone had draped a wet blanket over her. She was at the same power level she would be if she walked out of here. If she acted quick, she could still save herself.

Sarin was taking longer to change than she normally did, seemingly fitfully as bits and pieces of her body remained solid even as others melted to gas. One of them being her head.

The Stan Musial bat flew across the room, smacking perfectly into Sonja's outstretched hand. The bat was back at full power, as well, giving it the approximate striking force of a pile driver. Sonja, pushed into desperation, swung it downwards as hard as she could, aiming for Sarin's still-intact head. It might be too much. But if Sonja didn't stop her, she'd be dead herself in the next few seconds. There wasn't time to do anything fancy. There just wasn't time. She was exhausted from the effort of using magic under the field, there was very little gas left in the tank.

Sonja closed her eyes just before the bat made impact, felt the ragged edge of unconsciousness pushing itself over her. Despite it all, she was so tired she welcomed the sensation. Not to mention she didn't really want to face what she had just done to Sarin. It seemed like as good of a time as any to pass out. So she did.

---

SIXGUN

"Thank you, gents," he said with a nod. "I'ma just pop back into my room and grab my wallet, then I'll be off." Hands in his pockets, whistling a jaunty tune, Sixgun walked back to his room, his confidence bolstered by the guard's lax attitude. Making sure no one was watching, he regained his jacket and Panama hat, then carefully slipped the vial labeled Apex into his interior pocket. He'd take a stroll out, drop it at the dead drop, stop at a general store (or what did they call it nowadays? Convenience store, was it?) and get the cigarettes and liquor. Simple as that.

But first things first, some eavesdropping. Watching carefully and doing his best to keep out of sight, Sixgun sidled up closer to the main house, hoping to find the window to Marconi's office. If he could get an idea what he was discussing with Music, he might learn something valuable. Assuming he didn't get caught, of course.

Sitting down happily on the bunk, the white linen smelling as unnaturally clean as the rest of the room, Chris answered the questions she was asked and with some difficulty managed to remove her jacket. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Oh god.” Chris blanched at the sight of her arm and quickly turned away from it.

The entry wound itself wasn’t too bad, the little crater of ruptured flesh sat there without a care in the world, but of course blood from the wound had smeared itself over her arm much like a child discovering crayons and a wall.

The snap of plastic accompanied the pungent smell of antiseptic and Chris felt the nurse firmly take hold of her before vigorously cleaning around the wound. Once again Chris’ eyes bulged in silent agony. The pain meant the wound was being cleaned but dear lord did the nurse really have to be so rough? Glancing around the large hospital wing Chris absently watched the healing people help injured people in order to try and distract herself from her own throbbing arm and stomach. Then a very loud rumble echoed from her stomach and Chris turned very red.

“Well that explains my stomach ache.” She chuckled under the nurse’s unimpressed glare.

“That and possibly some internal bleeding.” The nurse returned to fussing over Chris’ bullet wound. “Once I’ve finished dressing this wound I’ll need you to take you shirt off so I can examine you abdomen. It takes a lot of force to throw an average human being and the fact they you blacked out after the collision is concerning.”

Chris simply nodded in compliance as she watched Ocean warrior having that nasty gash looked at and hoped he’d be alright. What a wonderful start to her evening this was. With a painful sigh Chris gave a small smile towards Shifter nearby.

“Mind if I join you and your mate for that drink or…?” Chris asked tentatively. Nothing helps with making friends like suffering a bullet wound and internal bleeding. Then, thinking better of it, Chris then shook her head. “No, no, never mind.”

Hot Rod replied to Light's question, wishing he didn't have to explain twice but he had no choice if he wanted his plan to work, "Because they don't know we're here, we are going to hit them very hard and very fast before they have a time to react. I'll go in first to surprise them and then you guys make your move the second I go in, are we in agreement?"

He wasn't sure if his plan would work but they had to do something since these criminals posed a very serious security risk to the entire facility. This sure had turned out to be one long and crazy day for the hero, and he hoped that there weren't any surprises ahead. He clenched his fists in preparation for sending some hypersonic punches in the villains directions, he hoped that they had icepacks because they were about get one hell of a shitty headache.

---

After Ocean Warrior was done with having his cut tended to, he walked over to Chris and Shifter to strike up a conversation.

"You two did good today, I am sure Pariah will be pleased and if he's not then he just wants to hide it so we don't get cocky" He said to them with a slight smile and a chuckle. This case of fighting crime was little more tame compared to some of the adventures he had been on, but he liked to sometimes help in situations that weren't world ending or the death of a country, sometimes helping out with the small problems can sometimes be just as important as solving the big problems.