The Prison

The Growth seemed frustrated that it could not envelope Abaddon quickly and it rippled in pain as parts of it were burned off by his foe. After being ripped into pieces by telekinetic force, it slowly reformed and was about to attack again when the massive sandstorm came in and smothered it. A pile of sand covered the Growth and then Zenith flew back in. His eyes glowed red and steamed the pile of sand, burning it to such an intense degree that the sand turned to glass and encased the Growth within, forming a temporary prison. The Growth itself had suffered catastrophic damage from the assault and it stayed inert in the glass.

The two pieces of Growth that Abaddon held stopped moving and didn't enter Behemoth or Sarco. Michael fired a blast of light right in Sarco's face and promptly knocked him out, Behemoth following shortly later as Chrome got him into a chokehold and squeezed until he didn't move anymore. Behemoth reverted into his regular, scrawny human form while Sarco remained as a mutant crocodile man. They were both placed in cuffs though Sarco's were rated for super-strong bruisers. Chrome and Michael hauled them off to a VTOL for temporary containment at the Hall.

Olympia cursed under her breath and flew off to help pacify other areas of the Prison and Zenith stared at Abaddon, "Report back to the Hall, we'll talk later." Zenith cast his attention to Desert Vampire, "Bring the wounded team members back to the Hall and rendezvous with Pariah's team in the city. They need their own assistance." A few VTOL's arrived outside of the building to bring the wounded and captured back to the Hall, EMTs and security staff helping them back in.

The Den

Pariah reloaded and said, "The hostages are out, Morningstar already set charges. Now we just bug o-" he was interrupted by a shout over the radio from one of the VTOL crew. Pariah shouted, "Secure the VTOL now! We'll cover this side!" When the heroes got back to the transport they saw a firefight. A squad of heavily equipped and armed men were trading bullets with the few men who had been left behind on the VTOLs. One security staffer lay prone on the roof while another five fired back at twelve men, using the transports as cover.

With the Legion men was the teleporter Flasher with pistol in hand. Next two him were another man and woman, the man was completely covered in stone while the woman's hair trailed out in long tendrils that seemed to move on their own. One such strand snapped out and caught a man around the waist and lifted him screaming in the air. The VTOLs would be overrun in moments if they didn't do something. Vigilance drew his pistols and started shooting at the woman.

Another clump of hair had shifted in front of her and the bullets dug into the mass with little effect. The stone man had bullets bounce off of him as he slowly walked towards the VTOL and Flasher suddenly appeared behind Vigilance with a pistol raised at his back. Vigilance snapped his arm back without looking and caught him in the face. Flasher stumbled and Vigilance caught his gun hand and twisted it behind him, making the pistol drop. He raised his pistol to shoot but Flasher was gone. He appeared above him and fell on Vigilance making him crash to the ground. Flasher sat on his chest and trapped Vigilance in the worse position possible as he wrapped his hands around his neck and started to squeeze, Vigilance choking and trying to raise his gun.

Inside the building Pariah and Morningstar could hear another wave coming. Pariah raised his pistols to fire when suddenly one of the boarded windows shattered in splinters of wood as Stalker jumped in. She deftly twisted to the side as Pariah took aim at her and fired. Then she jumped at Morningstar with knives flashing in both hands, crossing the distance in very little time. Pariah tried to shoot at her in the air when another wave of henchmen rounded the corner and forced him to take aim at them and start trading bullets. He trusted his former apprentice to take care of the metahuman.

Wire

Daybreak came with a high pitched buzzing from a duffel bag. Wire raised his head slightly. He was slumped back in a chair, as he wouldn't sleep lying down if he wanted to keep his helmet firmly on his head. It was uncomfortable, and made him much too vulnerable to surprise attacks.

Not that he was expecting one. Still, he slowly pulled himself out of the chair, and stepped over to what he knew would be something important. He reached into the bag and pulled out his strange little device. He held it to his ear and focused on the sound, until finally, it was slowed enough to make some sense.

"..mmmaaaxximum security meta-criminal prison. There has been a breakout from the maximum security meta-criminal prison. There hass bbbbeeeeennnnn..."

It turned to white noise again as he unfocused to tap a button. The sound shut off. This was a lousy way to start the day. He'd have to get more information when he returned home: his software could only convey so much information automatically. But this was pretty important: he wondered how this would affect the fight that he had finally joined. Wire chose not to worry about this gigantic issue too much, as there was simply nothing he could do at the moment. He was just happy to be in the know.

With that, he put the gadget back into his bag, and went in search of some breakfast. And by "went in search", he went in search of the nearest other person who could direct him to where the mob stored their food.

SIXGUN

Sixgun was unable to sleep. Too many thoughts racing around his head, not to mention Pariah's occasional updates. Just because that man got by on three hours a night didn't mean everyone else had to. Instead, he had taken to spells of sitting quietly, punctuated by pacing the room with a cigarette in his mouth. The factory tobacco wasn't a patch on the old-fashioned stuff, but it helped calm his jangling. Just in one night, he had almost been beaten, shot, stabbed, magicked, and other things he couldn't describe.

The 21st Century was weird.

Time seemed to pass slowly, the individual minutes taking forever, but still every time he looked at the clock he was shocked by how much time had passed. He shook his head. The air in this smoke-filled room had grown stale. Sixgun sighed to himself, stepped out in the hallway hoping for a breath of fresher air.

He was greeted by a bizarre sight, a man dressed entirely in black with a steel helmet covering his head. "Now you is an odd-lookin' feller," he said, slipping back into his Ross character. "How do you breathe in that bubble? Fletcher Ross, by the by. Pleased to make your ah-quaint-ence."

---

SONJA

Somewhere in the middle of it, something jarred her and she snapped back into delirious wakefulness. Engines hummed- she must be on one of the VTOLs back to the Hall.

Something had happened, something terrible. "Hot Rod, Light- are they okay?" she mumbled. "And Volt?" Someone patted her hand, told her to rest, but Sonja ignored it judiciously. "Did we win?"

The memory flooded back, the sickening crunch that had been the last thing she heard before passing out. "Sarin. I need to know what happened to Sarin." Unconsciousness tugged at Sonja, but she refused to pass out again until her questions had been answered. She felt the weight of the Stan Musial bat next to her. Someone had picked it up, set it next to her on her gurney. It made her queasy to be near it. If it turned out she had killed Sarin, she would ditch the bat. That simple. She didn't want a reminder.

Having grown frustrated with not being able to cram the Growth's pieces down Sarco and Behemoth's throats, Abaddon intensified the pseudo-telekinetic force around them to burn the slimy things to ash, then used the floating energy to inflict more damage to the two bruisers before Michael and Chrome resumed their attacks. Along with the damage that Abaddon had caused them seconds earlier, the two superheroes very easily could have just ended their pathetic lives right then and there, but they did nothing other than just knock them out and put them in specialized handcuffs. A pity really, Abaddon would have thought that after today's incident his allies would be a little less willing to leave these guys alive, but apparently not. Zenith himself had shown up and actually restrained himself from flying the Growth, simply turning the sand around it into a glass prison.

"You won't even put that thing out of its misery?! It's not even human, Zenith!!!"

Zenith turned to face Abaddon with a stern stare, saying nothing. After some seconds of silence between the two, all Zenith told Abaddon was that he should report back to the hall. Abaddon said nothing either though, but he did let out what seemed to be a displeased growling sound before flying out of the building through one of the many holes throughout its structure. The VTOLs were already flying away; this whole mess was already wrapped up it seemed.

"We've had quite the day here! A demonic cult prowling the city, and one insane, powerful Polaris. Yes... Zenith and I WILL talk later..."

Hot Rod had trouble hearing clearly, but he heard Light's voice and he was somewhat relieved. When she asked him a question, he tried to remmeber what had happened, but it all was blur to him with vague flashbacks popping in every couple of seconds.

"Polaris...Beam of light....wall....concussion..." that was all he could say, his head felt terrible and he felt some kind liquid run down his face. When he rubbed his hands over the place where the liquid was, he looked at his hand and despite his blurred vision, he saw that it was stained with blood, The liquid was his blood, which was coming out of a wound on his head.

When he heard Sonja ask if they won, Hot Rod was unable to talk, he just gave a pained groan as he tried to stay conscious. This mission was most certainly not his best and he would have some explaining to do to his wife when he got home.

---

Ocean Warrior followed Vigilance, and soon came upon the hero being strangled by the villain Flasher. He pointed his trident at the criminal and carefully aimed a beam of heat at the villain.

"Taste the wrath of the ocean, scum!" he shouted at Flasher.

---

St Francis trailed behind Pariah and Morningstar, keeping a look out for eminent danger. Just then, he saw Stalker come at them and then the legion's henchmen also came. St Francis had to quickly make a choice on whether to assist Morningstar or Pariah. He decided that Pariah looked like he needed more help, and St Francis made sure to keep himself covered from bullet fire. He drew from his large wells of Divine Mana to cause large vines to grow rapidly out of his staff, and the plants shot towards the henchmen, seeking to ensnare them in tight bindings. He managed to get two tangled up in the plants, but he was hoping to get the others before more could come to their aid.

Wire

In his quest for sustenance, he was stopped in his tracks by a man he did not know what to make of.

"Now you is an odd-lookin' feller," the man said "How do you breathe in that bubble? Fletcher Ross, by the by. Pleased to make your ah-quaint-ence."

Well if that isn't the most antiquated of accents I have ever heard.
Just roll with it.

"..Wire" He said after a calculated pause. He wanted him to know that he thought that he was 'odd-lookin'. Especially with those old fashioned revolvers strapped to his hips. And then he disarmed any tension that could arisen by changing the subject back to the business at hand.

"Any idea where to get some damned food in this place? I'm bloody starving."

His British accent coming through his voice filter. He wondered what his response to that would be. He kept a hidden eye on 'Fletcher Ross's' facial expression. He didn't yet know how much he wanted to get along with this guy, but friends were certainly better than acquaintances.

Morningstar

Well this was going about as well as Morningstar had expected. It was almost like the first and only law of the League was Murphy's Law, that whatever can go wrong will. Still, this was what she had trained and prepared for, and she wouldn't let a little trouble stop her from completing her mission. Herself and Morningstar remained behind to handle the goons charging their position, while the meta's and Vigilance went to reinforce the VTOL's. She dropped into a firing position once more when she heard a crash from behind her. Murphy's Law.

Lucy had been a cop before becoming Morningstar, and before that she had grown into womanhood in a fairly rough neighbourhood, the daughter of a well known crooked cop, a fact that attracted all the wrong attention, and the only girl in a family of four kids, a sister who was always treated as a brother, so it's safe to say she was used to trouble. So used to it, in fact, that she had almost developed a sixth sense for trouble, a small twinge at the back of her mind that fired off whenever things were going to get hot. That twinge was going off like crazy now so she knew, just knew in her core without having to look, that whatever had crashed through that boarded up window was bad news for her. Without any more thought or preamble she threw herself backwards, diving into a tumblers roll but pivoting on her feet as she rose so she was facing the space she had just vacated, to see Stalker landing on the spot where she had been standing.

Hours upon hours of research into likely suspects for Legion members kicked in, and all the information she knew on Stalker flew through her head at breakneck pace. Super agility, reactions, leaping ability, everything someone would need to be an acrobatic menace. Maybe not the greatest win in the super powered lottery, but more than enough to kill Lucy if she's wasn't careful. Better to put Stalker down hard now than try to go easy and take her in alive, maybe easier said than done, but in the middle of a fire fight half measures got people killed. Morningstar raised her pistol and fired three shots, two at Stalker's chest and one at the meta's head, a classic Mozambique drill.

Mr Joe Black

Joe hadn't even made it to the door when he heard the commotion from behind him. He turned to see a group of stereotyped bad guys attacking the VTOL's. Where the hell had those guys come from? At least when he had been alive criminals still had the decency to try and avoid a fire-fight with the authorities. Now they were like attack dogs, snapping at anything that moved. He just didn't understand law breakers anymore, and that thought depressed him something awful. He'd just have to take it out on the Legion fucks.

Which one though? The teleporter was already kicking Vigilance's ass, an excellent turn of events really, so he was out. The stone guy looked like he was damn near impervious to whatever Joe had to offer, and even being immortal didn't mean he wanted to go around getting his head knocked off by every jerk he met. That left either the assault rifle totting, knuckle dragging, badass hard cases, or the chick with the stupid hair. That was a choice that made itself.

He stomped through the battlefield, heedless of the crossfire, making a bee-line for the hairy girl, probably called Medusa or something equally unintelligent. He had approached her without her noticing, a single, calmly moving target hardly the most attention grabbing object in a war zone. Now to make a snappy one liner before taking her down.

"Get a hair cut ya hippy!" he snarled as he twisted her around and threw a punch at her face.

MC only vaguely noticed the trouble at the VTOLs until a bullet impacted metal near her head, the bullet missing Ocean Warrior as he charged at the attackers. "I do NOT like kinetic contact. You all should just sleep." MC said, hiding behind cover, conjuring a portal behind the attacking Legion members, and blasting each one with a blast of Arcane energy, occasionally hitting the random shooter with Chaos energy, laughing as the chaos magic took effect on a couple of them. When a soldier decided to look at MC's portal, she closed it, opened up another one a few moments later, and began the barrage of magic anew.

"I got your back guys and gals. Its hard dealing with being pincered, isn't it?" MC said to everyone fighting at the VTOLs.

---

"Polarus? that light using guy? I can take him." Light said brushing him off. "Worse comes to worse I shove my arm down his throat and let Entrophy kill him." she said, laughing to try to ease the tension. She then told Sonja that Sonja had won her fight, and explained how she caused one of the villains to take an unstable portal, probably causing the poor guy to be a pile of inside-out organs in some desert or something. "although I'm sure there were more villains there. I got hit by like 5 attacks all at once, mos tof them being lethal. Thats how I was knocked out."

Light paused, waiting for the other two to regain more composure, before she asked. "So... you tow are injured, I guess we're going back to the hall then? Lets hope they have healing magic there so you two can get back on your feet. Still lots of baddies to deal with."

The Den

On the roof, Flasher's choking of Vigilance was interrupted as Ocean Warrior shouted. Flasher instinctively teleported away to the side and dodged the beam. He didn't dodge Vigilance however. With the sudden disappearance of Flasher, aired flooded back into Vigilance's lungs and his gun hand jumped up to track Flasher. Vigilance pulled down the trigger until the pistol clicked empty. Several of the bullets were caught in his body armor but one caught him right in the forehead. Flasher stopped seeing and he tumbled backward over the roof. A few seconds later a crash sounded out and a car started honking furiously.

Scratch one scumbag thought Vigilance as he reloaded and started firing at the henchmen adding his own fire to the remaining escorts. MC's attacks hit several men, turning some into different colors or their weapons into harmless objects like flowers or guitars. One beam managed to hit the man of rock and his rock form suddenly changed into one of clay and bullets started to take chunks out of him as he slowed down.

The woman with the prehensile hair was about to choke the man she held to death when Joe charged in. The woman, who's codename was in fact Cersei, held the man in her hair as blocked Joe's punch with another tangle of hair. Then long strand of blond hair snaked at Joe and grabbed him by the neck, trying to strangle him as she brought him closer to her face. She had no idea her target was a zombie.

St. Francis and Pariah managed to subdue or eliminate a fair portion of the henchmen and the rest took cover behind walls and started slinging bullets down the hall. More were coming up the stairs. Stalker saw Morningstar raise her gun and immediately curled up into a ball and dropped her weight straight down to avoid the barrel of the gun, though one round did graze her side. She crashed to the floor and her foot shot out to try and take Morningstar's feet under her while her hand flung a knife at her.

The Hall

The EMT near Sonja said, "Sarin got a pretty nasty blow but right now she's still breathing. They're rushing her to the Hall and they have a chance of saving her. I put it about 50/50" he looked at Light and said, "We don't have very many healers, meta or magical, and they're all busy with critical cases. If you can't regen quick enough you'll just have to stand by." Finally the VTOL's arrived at the Hall and medical teams began carting the wounded to the medical bay while armed guards and security staffers escorted supercriminals to the holding cell. Abaddon himself was asked to remain in the Hall until Zenith arrived. No doubt their arrival would be noted by everyone else already at the hall.

SIXGUN

"Well, I reckon you might try the kitchen, for starters," Fletcher Ross said as he put on his Panama hat and white suit jacket. "These folks can afford to have a second house just fer guests, I do imagine they might have shelled out for some cornflakes." He smiled at the helmeted figure, even as his mind was racing yet again. Music had international connections, he knew that. The man had discussed bringing in more soldiers, some of them metahuman. By the voice, this fellow was a Limey, and by his costume he wasn't just some wannabe Kray twin- this guy was likely serious. That was worrying- barely a few hours had passed. Was the muscle just waiting here in Chicago waiting for the go-ahead?

More importantly, was the Panamanian already here?

He forced the thought out of his head, focused on his mission. He'd burn that bridge when the time came. "Let's find some food, pal," he said with a smile, giving Wire a friendly pat on the shoulder. Hopefully he wouldn't notice the tiny camera and mic Sixgun had placed on his jacket- the better to learn more about him.

---

SONJA

"She might make it? Good," Sonja said, nodding sleepily. Her energy reserves were pretty much spent, she would need a few hours of sleep and some food before she could get back in the mix. If she could- she doubted having MAJOR SUPER-CRIMINALS ESCAPE, DOZENS KILLED on the front page of the Post-Dispatch was going to solve her magical problems. She began to drift off to sleep. She thought about Sarin, she thought about Bluegrass, she thought about Music. And of course her teammates.

Hi-Voltage

The Lightning-Slinger came too with a jolt, aptly enough. His mind was blank as he shot up into a sitting position, a sharp pain careening through his chest. He was near panicked for a heartbeat, unsure of where he was or how he had got there. Ever since the Awakening Tommy had been unable to sleep, he wasn't sure why but Clara reckoned it had something to do with the uniqueness of the electrical impulses in his brain.

Regardless to the cause, it meant for the best part of five years he had been completely conscious, so those times he had been knocked out in his heroing career – more than he'd care to admit – were a novelty with a terrifying undercurrents. Imagine never sleeping, never surrendering control of your awareness of the environment, never having to let your guard down in such a total and encapsulating way as closing your eyes and letting go of consciousness. Now imagine having that state forced on you.

This was what Volt was dealing with, and it's fair to say he wasn't taking it well. In his moment of panic he flailed wildly, kicking and swinging his arms wildly, shaking the guerny he was placed upon so fiercely that he whole thing began to tip, gravity stepping in to calm him by way of a short drop into hard ground.

He hit the floor with a pained [b']Whoof!'[/b] air rushing from his lungs as his body was given a sharp reminder of the beating he'd already taken. Painful way tae find oot yer still alive. He began to recognise the place as the League headquarters, the constant beeping and whirring of medical machinery and the slight tang of antiseptic in the air making him guess the med bay. Thats reassuring.

The slap-slap-slapping of approaching feet roused him enough to push himself to his feet, still a little unsteady truth be told, but he'd rather be standing than sat on his arse like a bairn that can't get up. An orderly appeared in front of him, and started clucking at him, stating that he shouldn't be out of bed.

"Haud yer wheesht mun, ah'm nae guannae die." Ah hope nae, anyway. "Tell us, how'd tha riot gae?" What he really wanted to know was how were his friends, Hot-Rod, Flashbolt, Apogee and most importantly Sonja, but he didn't have the courage to frame the words, to afraid to find out the answers. He was a despicable sort of coward, and no mistake. Still, reckon he'd find out soon enough.

Morningstar

Stalker was fast and agile, a bitch of a combination in the middle of a fight like this, dropping away from the path of the bullets and only taking a graze in the process. Still, Morningstar was fast too, as fast as a regular person could get, and she'd trained for these sort of situatuations morning, noon and night, Pariah and her own obsessions insisting on it. She backed off a step, no more than she needed to to avoid Stalker's kick, while swaying aside from the thrown knife with an ease so practiced that it was more sub-conscious reaction than active thought. As she dodged she fired another couple of shots Stalker's way, hoping for more luck than last time, while her free hand dropped behind her belt to grasp at a small flashbang grenade. If Stalker avoided the shots again Morningstar would toss the flashbang between them, trusting to her visored mask to protect her from the explosion then going in to take down her foe in the confusion.

Mr Joe Black

Well this was a predicament he had never pictured himself ever getting into. Then again, being strangled by a woman with super hair in the middle of a roof top gunfight involving a rock monster, fishman and zombie, probably wasn't a situation most folks figured themselves to get stuck in. Hippy-Chick had wrapped her hair around his neck, unaware of how useless a move like that was against someone who neither felt pain nor the need to breath. She pulled him in close, showing how fucking stupid she was. What was she wanting, to see the light fade from his eyes as he died, or something equally stupidly poetic? Hadn't she watched the movies, never toy with the good guy when he's in your power!

Then again, he wasn't much of a good guy.

"Oh toots, you got no idea who I am, do you?" He chuckled. He was near now, near enough to kiss her, to lick her, to bite her. She should never have brought him so close, and he aimed to show her why in a way that meshed with his own particular idiom, namely by kicking her. In the crotch. Hard.

Contrary to popular belief a kick to the groin will hurt a woman just as much as it will a man, probably more in fact, you just have to know were to hit. Sister Katy Gamble, the karate kicking nun who had effectively killed Joe the first time around, and currently his spiritual adviser, had given Joe a few pointers on close combat when she discovered he was going to be joining the League, pointers that would play to Joe's strengths, namely his penchant for dirty tactics.

Long story short, Joe knows where to hit to make it hurt. . . And it was a nun who taught him how to do it.

Wire

With little to say to the man. He treated him like a colleague, but he hadn't actually heard of him before: not that he'd expected to be exceptionally well known... But still, Wire was quite unsure where this would lead.

Ideally he's just a friendly merc. It's uncommon to ever find one, but there are some..
More likely, he'll be the other type. The type that is all jolly, and friendly, and they draw you in, and then they snap like a twig when you say something you shouldn't.
...
Lets assume it's the first, but be ready for the second.
Done.

Wire gestured forwards. "Lead on."

---

They came to the kitchen, and found a few guards drinking their morning coffee. Howard was not present, and he spent a few idle thoughts wondering what possible punishment he was being subjected to. He banished the thought as he picked up a box of cereal sitting on the side, along with a carton of milk from the sizable fridge. Upon realising what he was after, a courteous thug handed him a bowl and a spoon. Perhaps they thought he was a meta by his get-up, and it was better not to mess with him. Perhaps they were right. Still, he gave them a small "Thank you" through his voice filter.

He found a seat, and poured the bowl. Eyes were drawn to him in a disinterested form of anticipation. How was this masked idiot planning to eat while keeping his face hidden?

Hot Rod didn't remember when they had gotten back to Hall of Heroes, but he woke up in the medical center of their headquarters and his head still hurt badly. He felt his head with his hand and found that his wound had been bandaged up and was no longer bleeding. He gave a sigh of relief when he knew that he wasn't dead and in heaven. He would never want to leave his wife for the afterlife until they could go together. He sat up in his bed and looked around to see if there was anybody around. Despite the pain in his head, Hot Rod wanted to get out of bed and go find the others.

He got out of bed and realized that he wasn't in his costume. He looked around for his suit and soon found it in a closet. He quickly dressed and started to leave the medical room.

---

Ocean Warrior was preparing to try and attack Flasher again, when Vigilance shot the criminal in the head and killed him. Finn was disturbed by the act and was almost tempted to shout at the hero for killing the man. But his attention had to turn back to the henchmen who firing upon them, and of course they would also likely die from Vigilance's bullets. Ocean Warrior may have been a fierce fighter, but he hated having to kill and liked heroes that did. He knew about the whole self defense excuse for killing an enemy, but with powers like theirs', Finn thought that there had to be another way to dealing with criminals without killing them.

Turning his head into the head of a shark, Ocean Warrior charged the henchmen as their bullets bounced off of him. With his teeth gnashing violently, he hoped that it would scare the scumbags in fleeing and if they didn't then he would swipe them with his trident.

---

St Francis was glad to see that him and Pariah's efforts were paying off in subduing the henchmen, but there will the ones who were taking cover behind the walls and began to shoot bullets wildly down the hall. Francis knew that they had to act quickly before one of the criminals' bullets hit their targets. He focused on making his plants even more powerful by pouring more divine mana into them, and he made them bigger and more numerous as they went after the men behind the wall.

He couldn't see them with his normal vision, but divine mana sight allowed him to see the henchmen's energy glowing around them, and St Francis ordered his plants to attack them as quickly as possible. Each of the vines lashed out at the criminals and were attempting to knock them off of their feet and hopefully drop their weapons.

As MC watched her chaos attacks turn things into harmless flowers and the like, she cursed, causing a lightning bolt of Arcane energy to hit one of the miinions. "Seriously, what does ti take to get some fun things! I haven't gotten tentacles all day!" MC said, closing her portal. Spending a couple minutes behind cover as Ocean Warrior and the other heroes fought, MC charged chaos energy. When it was finished, she attached her floating hand to her arm, aimed from behind cover, and blasted a bunch of minions with a large explosive ball of Chaos Energy. "Sorry if I hit anyone! It shouldn't be lethal! But.... well, no more kittens or flowers!" MC said with glee as the ground near some enemies erupted into tentacles, curious ones at that!

---

Light scratched her head as she arrived at the hall. While the injured were taken away, she was mostly fine, although a bit hungry. "So... got anything for me to do, or should I just go eat?" She asked with a puzzled look on her face.

The Den

Cersei gasped in pain and dropped both Joe and the security guard to the ground as she reeled from the blow, screaming. The guard got his wits together and drew his sidearm before triple-tapping her in the torso. She wore body armor but the rounds knocked her to the ground and she gasped for breath. The guard took out a suppressor neck band and slapped it on her before cuffing her.

Meanwhile, MC and Ocean Warrior wreaked havoc on the henchmen who were either knocked back by Ocean Warrior's blows or turned into disturbing forms by MC while being assaulted by tentacles. The guards managed to take down a few more henchmen and the formerly stone man suddenly crumbled into a pile of clay as bullets tore through him. Within moments they were all suppressed. The guards hustled Cersei and the captured henchmen along with the muddy sections of the clay man into one of the VTOLs as they prepared to take off.

Inside the building, Stalker took another bullet on the side of her calf. She grunted in pain and was about to throw another knife when the flashbang went off and she was blinded for several moments. Morningstar's next move took her down and she slumped to the floor. Pariah tossed a smoke grenade down the hall and fired both pistols while shouting, "Take her or leave her, we're going! Move!" He backpedaled steadily while firing to give the team cover to escape.

Whether or not Morningstar took Stalker they piled into the VTOLs and lifted off and when they were safely away Pariah nodded at Morningstar, "Do it." Moments later, the top floors of the Den exploded in a fireball, sending debris raining down on the sidewalk. The ceiling crumbled and the building collapsed in itself as Legion's house of control and terror was destroyed. Pariah said, "Nice work. Let's go home. It's the beginning of the end for Legion."

The Hall

The orderly next to Volt said, "It went about as well as it could have. The feds and our boys managed to lock it down. The Guard and the DSA suffered minimal casualties and we managed to save most of the prison staff. A lot of inmates were killed in the riot, around half. A lot more wounded. We managed to stop most of them from escaping but a dozen of the max security guys escaped, with a few other no-names elsewhere, we captured two Legion villains and their henchmen but the rest got away too. The worst part is that Polaris managed to fight off our team and he bugged out. You're free to go, you're fine. Do whatever you want, we'll be called again soon enough."

The orderly sighed, "We lost some of our own. Maybe a half-dozen guys. Bluegrass when it all started, and the rest were newbies including that Whisper girl. It's a damn shame. Bluegrass was a good guy. Right before this they ambushed a team and abducted Furious with Marconi's family soon after. They're getting bolder. And I have a feeling it's going to get worse before it gets better."

A few moments later the VTOLs arrived at the Hall and security teams escorted the prisoners to the holding cells while the EMTs rushed the captives to the medical bay. The conduit was out into a special observation room, and she was still unconscious. Pariah kept his mask on and spoke to Morningstar, "I could use someone to work with Vigilance interrogating all of our prisoners in the holding cell, there's around a dozen Legionaries. We have good actionable intel but we need more. Take any volunteers you think would be useful, that zombie of Thomas' might help. And when you're finished, we're altering our plans for the Marconi investigation. I want you in there with Sixgun not watching from a screen. You know the standard OP and I want someone else in there incase the cowboy gets in over his head." Villa, Ghost, Locust, Shrieker, Styx, Permafrost, the sadist from the Prison, Cersei, and perhaps Stalker were all in lock-up. Now it was time to choose who to question and how.

With that Pariah strode off to take care of other matters. Zenith later arrived at the Hall and found Abaddon waiting in a special conference room with a few other League members close at hand. Zenith looked weary as he walked in and drew out a chair before sitting. He stared at Abaddon, "I want to talk about what happened today. I saw you out there. A lot of people did. And I have to say your conduct in the field is not the kind of message we want to send to the public. We're here to help keep the peace not terrorize people. It's one thing to kill in combat but quite another to pursue it so sadistically. I want you to explain yourself."

The Estate

Fontana soon strode in and nodded at Ross before taking a seat and preparing his own breakfast of cereal and milk. While crunching down he said, "You guys want to get to know each other a bit better. And get ready for action. We're having a meet with all the other big bosses we've been sending out for. Music and the boss want to form a strategy. Or so they tell me. All I know is that you're gonna want to be ready for things to get loud. Getting a lot of these guys in the same room is a lot like penning up rabid dogs. There will be blood. And it's our job to make sure Marconi and Music come out on top of it. We leave within a few hours."

SIXGUN

This was all moving so fast. Brady shot a look over at the newbie, Wire, before turning back to Fontana. "Right, boss, just a couple question. One, where's this meetin' going to take place? Even if'n it's on neutral ground, might not hurt to suss out the joint, yeah? Two, who exactly are we meeting with and what groups do they represent? If there's gonna be blood spilled, fine, just wanna know what to expect. Yardies ain't like Yakuza, they use different weapons and tactics. I may not be a boy scout, but I do like to always be prepared."

Despite his flippant attitude, his mind was already racing. If any of them had thought to reach out to Phoenix, he might very well be meeting with one of his old foes, such as Hector Espinosa, the Cartel boss for Arizona, aptly nicknamed El Rey. Or worse, the mercenary known as the Panamanian, as talented with a submachine gun as Sixgun himself was with a revolver. Not to mention the man literally had the ability to make people fear him. Sixgun was in no hurry to trade bullets with him. While he felt reasonably certain that they knew him only in mask and costume, he couldn't help but be concerned.

Besides, reaching out to other crime syndicates meant a wider talent pool. That mean more top-shelf muscle, even some metahumans like the one sitting beside him. And that meant an even larger threat to both the League and the general public.

---

SONJA

Although she felt about half-dead and voraciously hungry, Sonja still managed to drag a comb through her hair and get herself out into the hallway. She had only allowed herself a little time to rest- there was still more to do. This night just wouldn't end. It wouldn't be right to spend it curled up in bed, much as she wanted to. Not while she could still contribute. Besides, what would people think of her then? She'd be roundly lambasted, for sure.

She spied the prisoners being marched to their cells. Great. Interrogations. Not fighting, but still useful. She'd volunteer for that.

With some relief she spotted Hot Rod, bleary-eyed and bandaged under his outfit, but for the most part looking none the worse for wear. She quietly slid up beside her friend, gave him a light touch on the shoulder. "Glad to see you're alright," she said quietly. "Got pretty rough in there. Not everyone made it out." She thought sadly of Bluegrass, tried to picture him alive, not with a smoking hole where his eye had once been. The TV she had switched on while washing up in her infirmary room had mostly covered the battles in Chicago, but there had been a thirty-second sound bite showing the mourning in Nashville, the candlelight vigils occurring in Centennial Park. The kid deserved better than that.

"You feel up to going good cop bad cop on one of these thugs?" she asked Hot Rod. "We could definitely learn something valuable."

"Oh cheese Louise, you'd think someone with superspeed and flying capabilities would have shown up by now, right?!" Casimir questioned jokingly as he nonchalantly spun around in the chair he was in. The current League members that were there said nothing, simply exchanging glances with each other before turning their attention back to Casimir, who quite honestly didn't even seem to care that he was about to get questioned by the League's big boss.

Because he didn't. This was what, the second time this month he'd gotten onto him about something? This whole ordeal was just trivial now, a mere formality that he was sure the other Leaguesters thought of a waste of time because Casimir (or Abaddon, whatever) never actually did anything that was against Zenith's policies.... that they knew of anyway. Casimir sighed, and then smirked as he crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. He wasn't going to get anything out of this group right now, so he might as well pass the rest of the time watching the screens. On them were video feeds of what was going on around the Hall, and Casimir paid particular attention to the prisoners being escorted to the holding cells. Disgusting. He recognized a few them too, the ones which he had had a great part in stuffing into the prison in the first place. Others could probably tell this too, as these prisoners bore a multitude of wounds and scars that would never go away. Some were even missing an arm or leg!

*tsssszzzzz*

"Hey! I was watching that!" Casimir remarked as a Leaguester shut off the screens.

We know, she said simply.

"Huh.... so... anyone got board games? I can completely own at Monopoly!"

For God's sake, SHUT UP!! Where the FUCK is Zenith?!

"Awww! Perfect timing there mah boy! He's right there!" Casimir chuckled as Zenith walked in wearily to take his place in the room. He stared at Abaddon, "I want to talk about what happened today. I saw you out there. A lot of people did. And I have to say your conduct in the field is not the kind of message we want to send to the public. We're here to help keep the peace not terrorize people. It's one thing to kill in combat but quite another to pursue it so sadistically. I want you to explain yourself."

"What is there to explain that we haven't already covered before?" Casimir replied, an air of more maturity replacing the childish one he had moments before. "I was keeping the peace, or rather helping to restore the delicate peace provided everytime you cram more of those criminals into that prison. That does nothing but hold back a tide, which, once it breaks through, causes one hell of a mess... like today. But that's not the point of this, right? You want to know about my obvious sadistic pursuit of the prey. I intended for it to be as it was, because if I can't have them all, at the very least I planted fear deep into their being to dissuade the ones that got away from showing their faces, and to dissuade any others that would follow their ways."

Wire

Listening intently to the conversation going on to his side, he unclipped the chin from his mask, and with minimal noise devoured his breakfast.

It would appear as though we're going to be filling the role of a bodyguard.
Thats a stressful role.
Maybe, but all the best roles were. We're going to be up close and personal with all the un-powered crime bosses in America, and they are going to welcome us.
That might not be a good thing.
Hey, delayed hostility is better than immediate hostility.
True. In fact, I don't know why I'm arguing against this, as I don't have a choice. I'll need a gun though.
Obviously.
Anything else?
... No I think thats about it.
Good good.

He continued refueling his stomach as his new buddy shot him a quick glance. His face betrayed a subtle anxiety.

"Right, boss, just a couple question. One, where's this meetin' going to take place? Even if'n it's on neutral ground, might not hurt to suss out the joint, yeah? Two, who exactly are we meeting with and what groups do they represent? If there's gonna be blood spilled, fine, just wanna know what to expect. Yardies ain't like Yakuza, they use different weapons and tactics. I may not be a boy scout, but I do like to always be prepared."

Before he would reply to his anxieties, Wire slowly turned to look at him and held his gaze for a full 3 seconds. Although his mouth was now visible, his voice was still going through a filter.

"What you should expect are a large number of armed men waiting to be impressed and hate having their time wasted. And correct me if I'm wrong, but Marconi and Music are going there to persuade them to part with their valuable Metas so they can better fight off Legion. There are going to be bosses there happy to watch the competition burn, and there are going to be people there who don't want to give away their most valuable assets. The former are short sighted idiots, and the latter are cautious and probably hoping the League will finish them off first. One of them are dangerous, and the other puts their hope in what is doomed to fail."

He took another mouthful of cereal, swallowed and continued.

"So really, if we're going to be dealing with anything it'll be an upstart who wants to take out the competition before anyone else can. If thats the case, they'll be outnumbered by the bosses that don't want to bow down to Legion, but they'll have us outgunned. If they're going to try a takeover, they're going to have some kind of trump card that they think will turn the tables. It'll quite likely be a Meta."

Wire pointed his spoon at the two he realised he was talking at instead of to.

"But I wouldn't be too worried. They'll be forgetting that they're not the only one with access to superpowers. And as to where we're going to have the meet? It wouldn't hurt to arrive early."

Wire was content to give his insight to the situation. Perhaps he'd given a good impression. Either way, something was bugging him. Why would a man like Ross be showing some anxiety? And what was that about Yakuza? He assumed that he'd spent time in Japan, and that the anxiety came from facing an unknown foe. But that couldn't be right.. Although it would make sense if he was an import: he'd never heard of him before.

He paused for a second to clear out his head and everything around him stopped. He was going to think this one through.

..So, Ross appeared on the American map moderately recently. He's uneasy at the prospect of the meet. He's the friendly type, but now I know he isn't volatile. If he were, then he'd be a cocky prick; he wouldn't be so calculating. If we piece that together, then we have an apparently good guy who came out of nowhere. Innocent enough. Until we start to dissect why he's nervous. It could easily be because he doesn't want to enter a killing floor. But then why would he mention the fact that the folks he'll possibly be fighting aren't what he's used to? Thats a deflection. It has to be a deflection. And I don't buy that he'd be shaken up no matter how minutely by a change of opponent.
...
Maybe there is someone he wants to avoid? He asked who was going to be there, as if there were people he didn't want to see. In that case, I really doubt that he'd just recently shown up. He had some history here. He was used to fighting American gangsters contrary to his claim.
...
There are too many possibilities here to deal with. I should watch him closely; he's bound to slip up eventually.

No change in emotion reached his body: it couldn't react fast enough for the small twitches that usually accompanied deep thought. Time snapped back to normal, and he buried his spoon into the bowl. He waited for his vocal opinions to be critiqued.

Hot Rod smiled as he saw Sonja come into view, and was glad that she was okay. He replied, "I'm glad your okay too."

He felt sadness enter his mind when she said that some of their teammates didn't survive the prison riot and he realized that he was also very lucky to be alive, because he could died as well especially when Polaris knocked him unconscious. He owed his survival to his teammates and hoped to repay them if the time ever came.

"The life of a hero isn't as flashy and cool as the public sometimes thinks it is" he said with slight smile. When she talked about the prisoners that the League were interrogating, he wondered if he could be of any help. Interrogation wasn't really his thing and he was mist certainly not one for torture.

"The good cop, bad cop routine is not really my thing, I leave that to the darker hero types like Pariah. The best I could do is vibrate my hand quick enough to make it feel like their using a very powerful joke firelight that gives off the feeling of being shocked, I'm just can't torture someone with my fire powers, it wouldn't feel right to me" he replied to Sonja.

---

Once they were back at the Hall, St Francis had an eagle, a bluejay, a cardinal and a humming bird perch on him and staff before her entered the building. Having the animals with him made him feel better while he was in the artificial head quarters of the League. While he was following the others, Francis spotted Zenith talking with Abaddon and he gave shiver at the sight of the man. Even though he was in his normal form, Francis' divine senses showed him what was inside of the man and it made him feel repulsed by the sight of the hero, and the birds on his shoulder gave distressful calls. The birds shared his feelings, and Francis knew that he would never grow to really trust the man.

South Side, Chicago

The sun shown down brightly upon the streets of one of Chicago’s seedier neighborhoods. The streets were poorly maintained, and trash littered each side. The sidewalks were covered in the remains of beer bottles and cigarette packages. The houses that lined these rundown streets weren't any better. Broken windows, boarded up doors, ferocious dogs guarding the few houses that looked as if they hadn’t been broken into yet. Shady looking people gathered on every street corner, dressed in baggy and dirty clothes. Many of them smelled of alcohol and drugs and smoke. The few cars in driveways and on the sides of the roads all shared the same features: broken windows, dents littering the chassis, and missing radios.

In short, it wasn't a very nice place.

Atop the roof of one of numerous apartment buildings stood the only man in this godforsaken part of the city who still had an ounce of good in his heart. This man was dressed in black, except for the red hoodie that adorned his chest. On the streets, people were calling him Supercell. Aban could do without the pompous names and the fancy getups, but Malachi had insisted that the League would appreciate it. So Aban took upon himself the name and a disguise. Over the months that he has worked South Side, he’s learned to love it. The men respected the alter ego; if not respected, then they feared it. Fear was something Aban could not have given them without the costume and the name and the theatrics.

Today, Aban Ali Sahar was on the lookout. He was trying to think of something he could do to really get the League’s attention. Busting a few ribs and breaking some noses was a start, but Supercell had already earned as much respect as he could beating up gangsters and small time drug dealers. No, he needed to hit the criminal underbelly of Chicago where it really hurt. But Aban had no idea where that was. So he stood on the roof of an apartment building, wearing his costume, hoping for some sort of sign.

Aban was thrust from his thoughts by the sound of a trash can banging in an alley below. That was odd. The local homeless knew to stay out of this area: the gangs weren’t exactly hospitable of uninvited guests. Supercell stepped to the edge of the roof, looking down. What he saw was a man depositing an orange jumpsuit, in favor of an oversize brown coat. Now, that was very strange. Who owned an orange jumpsuit like that? Then it hit Aban: he’d heard of a prison breakout earlier. Cook County Jail wasn't too far from Aban’s location, so it could make sense that a prisoner had made it out this far. It seemed fate had decided to smile upon Aban today. Reaching into his pocket, Supercell removed his brass knuckles and slid them onto his hands. Aban dropped his backpack onto the roof, before jumping off the side of the roof. Supercell grabbed onto the fire escape to keep himself from falling and breaking his ankles. He then swung into the fire escape, sliding down the ladders until he reached the bottom and his boots hit the pavement.

The escaped prisoner glanced over at the sound, and a look of surprise crossed his face: he obviously wasn't expecting someone dressed like Aban to appear out of no where.”You are coming with me.” Supercell said in an even, authoritative tone. His accent was very heavy, and quite noticeable.”Like hell I am!” The prisoner exclaimed, tossing a ball of fire at Supercell before turned on his heels and running for the other end of the alley. Aban rolled to the ground, narrowly avoiding being turned into a roasted turkey. Supercell went with the roll, jumping up to his feet and pursuing his target on foot. He reached out to the clouds above, and they began to move after the pyrokinetic villain. The man turned back around, sending another blast of fire in Supercell’s direction. This one was fired with far less precision, allowing Aban to jump off the wall and continue moving after the prisoner, with little loss of momentum. Man, that move was cool. Aban thought idly as he gave chase.

The pyro stopped as he turned a corner and found himself at a dead end. He whipped around, finding himself staring into Supercell’s blank mask.”I’ll fry you!” He yelled, before sending another fireball at Supercell, who avoided it as he had the other two. Luckily, this guy’s projectiles were rather slow. The clouds above began to turn gray, and pour rain down upon the metahumans. The prisoner cursed under his breath, and Supercell knew he had him. Aban ran at the villain, full speed, jumping into the air a few inches and landing a brass knuckled punch to the man’s nose.nose. Supercell quickly followed it up with two jabs at the man’s lower abdomen, before uppercutting him in the throat. The pyro, obviously not used to relying on his fists for defense, stumbled backwards, dazed and bloodied. He raised his fists, throwing a massive hay-maker with his right hand, in a bid to take Supercell down quickly. Aban saw the wind-up, and successfully predicted where he should dodge to avoid being hit. He moved fluidly, using the momentum from the dodge to put some power behind a roundhouse kick with his left leg. The pyro was flung back into the alley wall, and slid down it to the ground. It was obvious he was slipping out of consciousness.

Supercell approached the downed prisoner slowly, each step careful and soft. Upon reaching the prisoner, he dug his fingers into the man’s bald head and slammed his face into the pavement.”Nighty night, glowstick.” Supercell said, a touch disappointed that no one else heard his amazing line. Aban picked the man up and threw him over his shoulders, before turning on his heels and walking back down the alley.”Maybe the League’ll want this guy..” He said to himself. It was then that he decided he’d approach the League with a gift: an escaped convict, and hope that they would let him join. Aban retrieved his things, and made his way towards League Headquarters.

Outside League Headquarters

Supercell jogged up the stretch of sidewalk towards the two bruisers guarding the large doors to the building that housed the largest superhuman organization on the planet. He stopped a few feet in front of them, before taking the man off his shoulders and setting him on the ground. He quickly opened his backpack and removed the man’s jumpsuit, before tossing that down on top of the unconscious fellow. Aban then removed the piece of black cloth that hid his identity, and took his hood off his head as well. Finally, he removed the glove from his right hand, reaching it out towards the two guards.

“Aban Ali Sahar, at your service. I found this man in South Side wearing that jumpsuit; figured he was a baddy, and took him in. He’s a metahuman, by the way. Pyrokinetic. I’d like to talk to your superiors about perhaps joining your organization. Is that alright?”