A long, desperate scream echoed throughout the empty hallways of a long forgotten building. Hidden from the bustling hub of an underwater city known as Rapture, the building was being used as a torture chamber. Innocent men and women, lured into what they thought was an innocent experiment, only to find out that they were in for a whole lot more than an overnight stay to test out a new plasmid. Here, scientists had caught wind of an experiment done by a woman named Rosalind Lutece. During her experimenting with what were to be known as "tears," she unknowingly had created a small portal from Columbia to Rapture. The scientists stumbled upon this tear, and proceeded to eavesdrop on Madame Lutece and her experiment. Eventually, the tear was closed. Frustrated, the scientists wanted to recreate this phenomena. They took the bits and pieces of what they had overheard, and began to lure in "volunteers" to test on. The experiment has only gotten out of hand since then.

The screams continue, coming from the gut of one man who had been pushed to his limits. Weeks of experimentation had taken its toll on him. The scientists were relentless, angered by their failed attempts. They continued to push each person the the breaking point, and each day people would lie lifeless on the floors of their cells. Families had no idea what had happened to their loved ones. Questions went unanswered, and the scientists continued to torture the victims with painful and cruel experimentation. Weakened and defeated, the man was thrown back into a makeshift cell where he lay on a cold, hard floor. No more... He slowly slipped out of consciousness, and lay broken and bruised on the ground.

---

It was a bright, sunny morning in the floating city of Columbia. All of the citizens had risen and done their morning prayers before carrying on with morning routines. Kennedy McIntire had awoke with the rest of her town, no real way to avoid it with Comstock's voice blaring through the streets, preaching nonsense at the people. She shook her head and sighed, and then rose to prepare herself for the day.

It had been a year now since her father was killed, but everyday she was reminded of it. It didn't hit her as hard these days, but his memory was something she intended on preserving, and that included the Knights. It had started out as a rag-tag bunch of people who took jobs that needed to be swept under the rug. But it has evolved into something more now, with Kennedy at the lead. More members have joined the ranks, many young and ambitious. The Knights of Songbird are a respectable society, known for their willingness to help those in need, whether it be a small task or a big problem.

Kennedy walked out of her small home into the streets of Columbia, where people were already bustling around. In her hand she held several posters, intended to alert her fellow members of the next meeting, but in a discreet way. She walked down the street and pasted one of the posters on a building in the square. On it was an image of Songbird, and under the picture was a quote: "The Songbird flies where the soldiers fight. Join him in protecting Columbia." Kennedy knew that her trusted Knights would understand the coded message, and she knew most of the regular Joes' would pass it off as a patriotic homage.

She made her way down the street towards Soldier's Field, pasting her posters on walls and benches as she went...

Lucas shielded his eyes from the intense rays of sun shining through his open window. He absolutely hated Columbia mornings, they were so bright due to the dearth of clouds. He groggily rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and got up to stretch. He yawned before replacing his night clothes with a nice vest and some slacks.

He grabbed a biscuit to eat while thumbing through the telegrams of various soon to be customers. He had started up a business independent of both his old company, and of the Songbirds. He was doing pretty well for an independent place, and though he wasn't swimming in silver eagles, he could afford food, housing, tools, and, if needed, ammunition. He decided on a job near Soldier's Hill, it read

MECHANIC NEEDED
MOTORIZED PATRIOT MALFUNCTION
WILL PAY 200 SILVER EAGLES

Lucas stuffed the telegram in his vest pocket and strapped on his tool belt before hooking onto a Sky-Line heading towards Soldiers Field.

Subject Gamma knelt on the ground, staring down at the tiny, prone figure that lay unmoving on the metal floor. "What's the matter tin man? Did your little bitch finally give out? Well, give it here! There might be some ADAM left!" Gamma turned to face the source of the cruel, mocking voice. A man with crazed eyes and a revolver in his hands stood behind the Alpha series big daddy, twitching and panting. Gamma stood, and revved his drill, letting out a low roar. The splicer dashed forward, "If you won't share, I'll just take--" the last words in his throat were cut short when Gamma grabbed him by the throat and lifted him from the ground. Gamma drove the drill into the gut of the splicer, and activated it, messily disemboweling the fiend.

Gamma turned back to the sister. Already, Gamma could feel the effects of her death, a sense of deep-seated wrongness had wormed its way through Gamma's entire body, alerting the big daddy to the consequences of ihis failure to protect the little sister. However, in the loss of the sister, Gamma felt something else, a memory surfacing. It was little more than a single word. "Persephone"

Charlotte
“Do you want to be an angel, mister?” giggled the small girl as she inched closer to a cowering man before her. At her side, a bulky figure wearing modified diving gear advanced aggressively toward the bloodied man. As it approached, the creature emitted deep moans, communicating its harmful intentions.

“No, no, please,” begged the man, his eyes darting around the ruins of the bedroom.

A light chuckle slipped out of the little girl. “Silly,” the sound that came from her was both innocent and eerie, as if two people were speaking in unison. “It’s okay mister. It’s our turn to be it!” The girl continued forward, Mr. Bubbles stomping behind her. As she neared, the man found the corner of the bedroom, the shadow of the girl engulfing him around a crimson glow.

He held up his palms in front of his face defensively. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he cried, choking with fear. “I-I didn’t mean it! Look! Not even a scratch on ya!” All the while the child continued to giggle, her small, sinister sweet voice ringing in his ears.

The sound of a drill revving echoed from the small, confined room.

“No! PLEASE!”

“Are you scared?”

The man nodded profusely, frantically pushing his body up against the wall in a futile effort. In the background the revving grew louder and he could now see the Bid Daddy standing over the girl, it’s deep red glow showering down on him in a blinding light.

“Don’t worry, mister...soon…you won’t be.”

The light grew larger, drew closer. He could still hear her over the roar of the drill.
“Whaduy—FFFFAAAAAHHHHH--!!!” The tip of the drill punctured his stomach, churning its contents in a furious motion. The man could hardly spurt out another plea before its owner shoved the drill through his body. As his vision began to blur and his hearing deafened with a shrill ringing, he could still make out the small figure standing idly before him, laughing playfully. He managed to maintain consciousness a few seconds longer, crying out in agony, before his senses failed altogether and his body fell limp against the ceasing drill.
~
Mr. Bubbles took a step back, allowing the lifeless body to fall to the ground with a thud. The red light illuminating the carcass transitioned into a light green as Charlotte slumped down beside the body. She impaled the body with a syringe, oblivious to the blood pooling beside her. “Tag!”
A small stream of blood puddled around her knees, its sticky warmth catching her attention.

“Hmp, Mr. B~~” she whined, looking up at her protector, “I can’t get the ADAM if it’s not inside the angels, silly.” Her Protector groaned in protest.

Charlotte drained the remaining ADAM from the corpse before pushing herself up on her feet and used her hands to wipe the traces of blood from her legs. She licked a bit off before dipping her hands in a dirty puddle. Looking around the sad, dimly lit remains of her bedroom, Charlotte couldn’t help a sigh escape her. This is where she grew up, she remembered. This is where her real father would tuck her in, kiss her goodnight, and greet her in the morning. That big, walking chunk of metal was not her father, nor could he imitate him. But still, she can’t help but attach herself to it. And she knew it felt the same. That woman’s plasmid may have reversed the conditioning, but she could still remember...still feel the bond between her Protector and herself.

A yawn emitted from Charlotte as she jumped on her rickety bed. The mattress was stiff and springy and the covers were torn and lightly damp but it would make due. She sat on the bed, her short legs dangling carelessly from the side. She pulled the nipple of the syringe up to her face and ingested its contents. A sense of calm fell over her as she lie on her side, syringe in hand, and pulled the cold, thin covers over herself.

“Dream time…Mr. B…” she murmured before drifting to sleep. She felt the rumble of her Protector as it positioned itself at the foot of her bed, letting out a low groan before leaving the slumbering girl to rest.

---

Mason
As beautiful as it was, Columbia was no peaceful promise land. Every day Mason Flint felt disgusted by its façade. The city truly is beautiful and in it lies so much potential. But it’s all interrupted by the mind-numbing preaching that blares throughout the streets. Mason had made a habit of blocking out the righteous chatter that managed to escape the walls of the local house of worship. He never could understand how those self-holy old men could make their voices carry so far. Maybe they have the place wired with speakers the transmitted the preachings. Nonetheless, he had to endure it ever since it was built a few blocks from his apartment. With his fist nestled in the pockets of his coat, Mason continued toward the school yard. He could already hear the playful cries of the schoolchildren, the preaching barely dull in the background. He folded his arms and let them rest atop the metal fence.

In the distance, a small, brown haired girl stopped and waved at him. He couldn't help but wave back with a smile just as a woman caught his attention. She was eyeing him and immediately his expression dropped and he returned his hand to its previous position. He could feel himself blush as she quickly called the children into the building. Oh, God… he looked up just as the woman closed the door to the back of the schoolhouse, still keeping an eye on him as she shut the door. She probably thought I was a goddamned pedophile… He had only wanted to wait for his daughter to get out. Usually she would walk home with a friend so it was understandable that his face wasn't recognized. Today, however, was her birthday and he had promised to take her out for a treat after school. Glancing down at his watch, he realized he was fairly early and she wouldn't be out for another 10 minutes.
~
The ice cream parlor on Soldier’s Bay Main Street was unusually crowded today. As his daughter ran to the display case to choose a flavor, silver eagles in hand, Mason sat at a table outside the parlor. In his hand was a flier that read "The Songbird flies where the soldiers fight. Join him in protecting Columbia."

“Dammit,” he glanced up into the store to find his daughter half-skipping toward him, an ice cream cone in both hands. “Today of all days, McIntire?” He let up a cheerful grin as his princess settled herself in his lamp. He crumpled the paper in his hand but not before she noticed.

“What’s that, daddy?” she asked curiously, taking her father’s free hand and closing his fingers around the base of the second cone.

“Nothing, sweetie,” he assured. “Daddy’s gotta go see some friends. I’ll call your mother to let her know you’re coming over.”

He could hear the disappointment in her tone as she uttered out a hesitant “Okay.”

Mason curled a half-hearted smile as he pushed the bottom of her cone slightly. She laughed, wiping the ice cream from her nose. Looking at her now, Mason’s smile grew and he remembered: this is why he left the Vox.

Thomas woke up in his ussual 'home' being an alley way between a apartment building and local bakery but he was met with a friendly sight as he saw a crow prowling around the alley searching for some food. He smiled a bit as he stood up from his small sleeping spot and stretched out. It was already light out and people were walking by the alley way occasionally glancing at him but just playing it off as their imagination or just someone using the possession vigor in an alley which in its self would be suspicious but luckily no one seemed to have enough time to investigate. "So what's on the agenda today..." Homas said as he walked out of the alleyway and literarily directly into someone. He struggled for a moment for control of the body but easily took over as the man didn't seem to have much will at all. Thomas took a deep breath letting the air fill his new lungs then exhaled "I got myself a feeling that today's going to be especially pleasant" Thomas said to himself as he continued down the sidewalk in his borrowed body. While walking he managed to catch a glimpse of a patriotic poster from across the street and figured he would take a closer look. Thomas crossed the street and looked over the poster more closely and realized it must have been put up by one of the Knights of songbird as it had their craftsman ship all over it and the fact that Thomas had seen another Knight putting them up all over town when he woke up earlier then went back to sleep. "Don't know where they're meeting... Better find a Knight and tag along." He said out loud as he began looking around for any knights that he recognized. He couldn't see any in the immediate area so he began strolling along the sidewalk looking for a body to catch a ride in.

After walking for about an hour he came across a crowded ice cream palor and saw himself a familiar face from one of the meeting he had once been too. "His name was Marvin or somthing, it started with an M. Marvin, Marty, Maxwell, Mason! That's it!" Thomas thought as he entered the parlor. Casually Thomas walked near Mason whom of which had a little girl now sitting on his lap which he assumed was family possible ya niece or daughter but regardless of that he still needed to discreetly get a ride so thus Thomas walked his borrowed body up behind Mason and made it seem like he was just trying to get around Mason's chair but 'accidentally' bumped into him and thus Thomas quickly transferred himself into Mason's body but didn't not fight for control, instead he just relaxed and let Mason do all the moving of the arms, legs and other appendages. Now he just had to wait and hope that Mason would go to the Knights of songbird meeting.

A chill ran through Mason's body. Probably just a breeze, Mason figured. They were eating ice cream outside so it seemed plausible. Though, it wasn't a particularly chilly day.

"Are you cold, daddy?" a tiny voice asked. Mason smiled down at his little daughter and shook his head. "No," he told her, motioning her to hop off his lap so they could get up. He finished what was left of his cone and knelt down. His daughter carefully wrapped her free hand around her father's neck as he helped her adjust on his back. She wasn't heavy but it dawned on him that she may soon grow too old for piggy back rides. She was five now and was already growing to be quite independent. She won't want her dear old dad walking her around all the time. Until then, however, he would make use of the time he had before meeting up with Kennedy and the others. You only turn five once, anyway. He let her enjoy a few rides around Soldier's Field before deciding it was time to go. He started for his ex-wife's house, daughter in tow, stopping by a passing toy store so that she could pick out a present. Unsurprisingly, she picked out the largest Songbird plushie she could find. Mason carried it the rest of the way, listening to his daughter talk about how she would play with her new toy, having it free the Lamb and lock scary ol' Comstock in a cage atop the Monument. He couldn't help but feel proud.

After walking his daughter to her mothers, saying his 'happy birthdays', exchanging 'I love you's and 'goodbye's, and calling back to say "See you soon", Mason finally trekked back toward Soldier's Field, this time passing Crolean's Ice Cream Parlor. He pondered the occasion of his summoning, hoping that whatever it was it wouldn't take up too much of his day. Maybe someone had put up a reward to catch a suspicious dark-haired man lurking about the local primary school. He scoffed at the thought and made his way to The Fellow Traveler, a tavern located in Soldier's Field's lower portion. He often went here with his fellow Vox comrades after they had set up a small base of operations within the bar. He had come here before with his new cohorts after joining the Knights of Songbird to have a drink or two. He took a seat in the back of the bar and sipped at his Merlot, which he had purchased upon entering. Despite his scruffy appearance, Mason liked to drink classy.

Arch Vexx

There was a slight chill running up the back of Arch, he couldn't react though. First rule of a true marksman, once you have you're spot and target, nothing shall persuade you to even breath differently. Laying on his stomach eye through the scope of his trusty Bird's Eye sniper rifle, he saw his jobs location. 500 meters, elevation, 300 meters. Wind, 3 kms. Mark. Situated on a tall building over looking a small cafe in a very menacing ally way. Three recorded murders, but the employer said 8. Comes in everyday at 1400 hours to collect his "protection" money and then leaves through the side entrance which leads into this ally way. His "protection group" killed the owners husband and kid. Sick bastard. Beep. The sound came from his watch. It was now time.

Arch surveyed the people going into the shop when he saw a gentleman in a white suit and a black cane. The canes handle was a fist holding a plasmid. This is the guy. Just as he was told the man left through the side entrance, he stopped to light a cigar and leaned against the wall counting his "protection" money. Mark. Arch let out a final gust of air and pulled the trigger lightly. The gun jolted back and the bullet traveled through the air cutting the wind apart. The bullet hit its target and it's target was his head. Sliding down the wall, blood smeared all over it and on the pavement, Arch's job was now complete. Sigh. Another job down. I just hope that i am really helping people.. Arch got up from his laying down position, packed the gun away into a buissness case and made his way to a street nearby. I used a silencer, surveying that street for a week, no one could see the ally from the main street, and only one couple leave the side entrance. 3 days and his body'll be found. Arch continued wondering the streets until he saw a poster saying "The Songbird flies where the soldiers fight. Join him in protecting Columbia." I guess it's that time. Arch turned directions and started whistling a calming tune.

Valentin Schwarzwald

---

Valentin found himself wandering the streets of Columbia once more, having nothing better to do that look for stuff to do in the streets. Usually, he'd have been busy with Vox Populi related bussiness, such as recruiting prospective soldiers, or working on setting things in motion. The things that the leaders didn't want to do themselves. Because even in a world of people who fight for equality, there must be inequality. He chuckled and grinned at the thought. “It's quite interesting to see how every culture in the world has suffered the same fate of inequality. But perhaps the 'Knights' were fit to change this trend. They certainly seem up to it.” Thinking out loud, as Val pretty much always was. He pulled back his sleeve and looked at the time. 1 PM sharp, perfect. Time for a coffee. Valentin had found himself at the region where the welcome centre was also to be found, so the crowd around him was mostly customers of the various shops, shopping and having a good time. These fools had no idea what was going on around them, caught up in their own little lifes where everything was perfect.

But Valentin had discovered long ago that every one of these people had a secret - something that would ruin their reputation in Columbia if these secrets ever came out. Some were relatively innocent, such as that they had made out, or even had sex with a relative. Meanwhile, others had been of a more serious nature. People that were involved in murderous practices, strange experiments and such things. While Valentin couldn't prove it, he felt strongly that everyone was hiding something. Including himself. What was he doing again?

Oh right, coffee. He took a look around and saw a pretty little shop, with a nice terrace outside with beautiful tables with umbrella's over them. Quite a good spot for a coffee. He entered the store, a bell ringing as he opened the door, and a short balding man, who must've been in his 80's, entered the store from behind the counter where there must've been a trapdoor leading down. He greeted Valentin with a smile, and without even asking served him a fine cup of coffee. “Thank you very kindly, sir, how much do I owe you?” The old man waved the question away, and pointed to the red pamphlet that was on the plate that the cup was on. It seems that this one was on the house. Valentin nodded his head to the old man, saying that he understood. He went outside and sat down, taking a few sips of the coffee before even bothering with the pamphlet. He sort of already knew what it was, but he was somewhat startled that the old man was somehow related to the Knights' cause. “The Songbird flies where the soldiers fight. Join him in protecting Columbia.” Valentin's face grew somewhat more serious, and his hand would run across his beard as he thought about the pamphlet, and the oncoming cause that he'd be involved in. The Songbird flies, eh? Time to see how much of that was true. He drank the rest of his coffee, brought the cup and plate back inside and put the pamphlet in his pocket, knowing it'd be handy to prove he was a part of the knights. Well, not really knowing. He had no real idea how any of this would go down, since he was only recruited into 'Knighthood' relatively recently, and this'd be his first meeting or operation of any kind. Still, the thought of a mission, a purpose, a cause.. it made his mind run wild with the many many ideas of what could happen. Somehow he felt like a child again - thinking about the dangers ahead, and what a hero he would be.

Lucas hopped off the Sky-Line near Soldier's Field and readjusted his tool belt and hair. He loved riding the Lines, the adrenalin, the wind in your hair, it was fantastic. Columbia was beautiful, true, but it was corrupt, with two idiots spewing their beliefs at each other, fighting for supremacy. That is why Lucas never joined the Vox, even though he was a worker. Fitzroy was just pissed at Fink, albeit rightfully so. He joined the Knights of Songbird because they fought for everyone, not just the working man, or the rich, white believers. Speaking of the Songbirds, he noticed a suspiciously familiar poster. A meeting? He stared at the telegram, and then at the poster, thinking it over.
"The motorized patriot can wait." Lucas said to himself, stuffing the telegram in his pocket and making his way to the usual meeting place for briefing.

Waking up with a start on the cold hard floor, the man writhed as the aches hit his body with his consciousness. He looked up to see the woman in the cell next to him lay lifeless on the dirty concrete. He pounded the floor with his fist and pushed himself up with his remaining strength, his body popping and cracking as he did so. He sat upright against the cold steel bars and looked to the woman on the ground. Her eyes were open, cold and still, and her face held an expression of sorrow that froze on her face as death saved her from the misery. The man felt a single tear run down his cheek, Dammit, Samuel, hold yourself together. He wiped the tear from his cheek and let out a small breath. This has to end... With a pained expression on his face, he slowly used his curse that the scientists gave him to open up a small tear. Where to? He did not know. He saw a woman walking along a sky lit sidewalk, and with a groggy and raspy tone, he whispered: Help... He was not able to hold the tear open any longer, and he soon came to the realization that wherever he had just seen must be incredibly far from Rapture, for no ray of sunlight could penetrate the sea and reach the underwater city.

---

Kennedy had placed all of the posters and fliers she had brought with her but one, which she held on to for the purpose of guiding her Knights to the right spot. She was making her way towards Soldier's Field when something caught her attention. Help... "What the?" She turned around and looked around, but there was nothing in sight except for a tiny, quickly disappearing hole which looked like a window about ten feet up in the air. She stopped in her tracks and looked around, but there was no one else there to validate what she had just witnessed. "What in the hell is going on?" Kennedy was baffled, but she looked down to her pocket watch and noticed the time. "Shit..." Turning her attention back to the task at hand, she continued to Soldier's Field.

Walking down the boardwalk of Soldier's Field, she soon spotted a saloon and grinned. Outside of the bar, you could see a small plush songbird figure sitting in the window. Ah, good ol' Henry. Such a kind man, she opened the door and entered the musty and dark saloon. In the back of the bar, she spotted a fellow Knight, Mason, and she locked eyes with him. She held the gaze only for a moment before progressing towards the bar. "Hello Henry, how are ya today?" The old man behind the bar grinned and poured Kennedy a shot of whiskey. "I'm doing well, Miss McIntire! Say, what have you got there?"

Kennedy held up the poster in her hand and Henry nodded. "Mind if I hang it up? I think it goes nicely with your songbird there in the window." Henry motioned towards the staircase that sat in the corner of the bar. It led downstairs to a basement in which the Knights had held several meetings before. Kennedy took her shot of whiskey and tossed Henry a few silver eagles before walking over and pasting the poster on the wall next to the stairs. Whistling, she slowly took the stairs down and took a seat on one of the plush chairs that stood on the dusty floor. She crossed her legs and pulled out her pistol, humming and cleaning it while she waited for her comrades to join her.

Valentin Schwarzwald

---

Valentin found himself wandering around the Soldier's Field. It had been a boring day all together, excusing the fact that he did sort of receive an invitation to a super secret mission briefing. Well, it was doubtable that it was actually so super secret, but it surely was only accessible to members of the Knights. That was sort of exciting, but that aside the day was boring. No damsels in distress for Valentin to help, no men that needed a hand lifting a heavy crate - nothing. “Perhaps quietness and boringness is something that can also be nice.” Valentin contemplated, twisting his beard as he walked into a woman, distraught with his thoughts. He made some quick apologies but the damage was done. She had given him the death stare of perverts. Great, now he'd feel bad the remaining part of this boring day.

But then something happened - Valentin spotted a woman hanging up the very same poster in a.. well, it looked like a saloon. It must've been a saloon. “I can probably get some answers there. Got no clue on where I should head really. I should've asked that shady guy that recruited me into the Knights where we meet. Dang. Why am I so forgetful when it comes to bussiness like that?” he told himself, but quickly put a hand in front of his mouth as he likely wasn't supposed to talk about the Knights so openly. Still though, he was right. He approached the saloon and went inside, spotting Mason. He seemed to be preoccupied with something else, but Valentin made sure to quickly nod in his direction, hoping Mason would see him. He would then flash a quick smile, as he was a bit happy to see a former Vox colleague.

After that'd passed away, he'd move to the poster, taking a look at it to see if it was exactly the same. Val would look at the guy behind the bar too, who'd look back at him. Well, that was only a little scary, this old guy staring at you right in the eyes? Completely normal. “Well, good day to you too.” he said quickly before hurrying down the stairs. The comment he had made was only a little bit cheeky, but he now faced another dilemma besides being kicked out by the creepy bartender, and that was the pretty lady sitting downstairs. Deciding he'd rather not be seen as 'mysterious creepy guy that enters silently without saying anything' he coughed into his fists shortly, before greeting her with a quick wave. “Hey, I'm Valentin Schwarzwald. I'm the new guy, but you can call me Val the New Guy.” He smiled before grabbing another chair and sticking it down on the floor next to her chair. He sat down and admired the lady for some time, not saying anything because she likely had nothing to say to him, either. After he'd seen enough of her, he'd stare forwards and lean down into the chair, taking a relaxed position. He could get used to this.

"So, the ol' saloon." Lucas said to himself, readjusting his brown vest-shirt and clearing his throat. He normally wouldn't be allowed in the saloon, as he was only nineteen. Fortunately, he was a Knight, and this was the regular place for meetings, as the bartender/owner was also a Knight. Although he didn't help on missions, he was still a great ally, providing a base of operations for the squad. Lucas quickly checked his tool belt to see if he had stashed his Hand Cannon in his tool belt. He luckily did, but silently cursed himself for not checking before leaving the house.

Lucas entered the bar, his nose immediately assaulted by an odd smell. He hated that smell, this was why he would probably never drink, booze smelled awful. He assumed it also tasted awful too. He shot the old man tending the bar a glance before making his way down into the wine cellar. He saw the boss, as well as a new face. He was young too, most members of the Knights were. They were the young, fresh, and lively, they had to be to fight the punks and jerks of Columbia. "Hey, new guy, I'm Lucas. Who're you?" He asked, pulling up a chair, and pulling out his Hand Cannon and investigating the chamber.

Looking up from his half-full bottle, Mason noticed Kennedy McIntire, the spunky young forbearer of the Knights of Songbird, and he would say she was a fairly attractive woman. Still, he wasn’t one for romantics. He could admire a woman from a distance without any desire to pursue an interest. After all, his divorce still stung him inside. In the end, he convinced himself it was for the best. Mason let out a heavy sigh before catching Kennedy’s eye. He curled up a smile and lifted up his bottle, nodding in acknowledgment. Well, guess the show’s starting soon, he thought to himself, taking another drink. He turned the bottle in his hand. “Might as well,” he uttered, finishing up the rest of the bottle. He regretted the decision immediately, coughing in disgust. Too much at once just ruins it but he didn’t want to go down there with it in hand. He could smell the wine in his breath.

As he adjusted his position in the booth he noticed a familiar face walk into The Fellow Traveler. He’d seen him before. A lanky, bearded young fellow from his Vox days. Val. That’s right. Valentin. His last name was always a weak spot for Mason. Something that left a twisted feeling in his mouth every time he’d try to pronounce it. Valentin seemed to be examining a poster Kennedy had put up just a moment ago. I-is he one of us? he though. It was hard to tell. The bartender allows both the Vox and the Knights to operate through his tavern so it was possible Valentin was still a Vox. Mason let up a friendly grin toward Valentin when they made eye contact before watching him go in the direction Kennedy had gone. Huh, I’m not surprised. A light chuckle escaped him at the thought.

He got up from his seat and set the bottle down at the counter; oblivious to the fact that another comrade of his had just walked behind on their way to the basement. He thanked the bartender before placing a few silver eagles beside the wine bottle. Mason turned to walk toward the meeting place.
Inside he found Kennedy, Valentin, and Lucas getting accustomed from their recent arrival. He shoved his hands in his coat pockets again, feeling only slightly cold. He gave Lucas a friendly nod and walked near Kennedy’s side.

“Afternoon, McIntire,” he greeted. “Someone better be dying,” he spoke with a hint of laughter. “I cut my daughter’s birthday short for this.”

Gamma stared up at the lit up neon sign. "The Sinclair Deluxe" underneath the metal feet of a trident wielding woman, reminiscent of the gods of old. Gamma had passed by and through the hotel many times while protecting his little sister without giving the place any thought, but now the building filled Gamma with that same odd feeling of a memory just below the surface.

Gamma lumbered through one of the door leading to the entrance of the hotel, and through the front door, ignoring the stare of the man at the front desk. He continued through the lobby and up the stairs, past a small group of people in shoddy clothes. Their conversation halted as the group turned to stare at Gamma as he slowly walked up the stairs. Gamma was following some old memory or instinct. Finally, Gamma stopped in front of a door. This one was no different from any of the other rooms, but Gamma felt there was something important behind it.

Subject Gamma entered the darkened room, his helmet mounted flashlight activating automatically. The room was a mess, clearly unoccupied for a long time, with books and papers scattered all over the floor. Gamma scanned the shelves and floor for anything that meant something to him. After a few minutes of searching, Gamma picked up a small photograph. When Gamma got a clear look at the photograph's subject, he fell to his knees as waves of memories washed over Gamma. A gaunt man, with a thin face and dark eyes stared out from the photograph. Written on the back was "To my brother Peter, because I can't afford a postcard. Hope you're doing well. I was hop--" the text was cut off with a scribble, as though the writer had been interrupted. Gamma stood, placing the photo in his belt, and turned, leaving the room.

Arch Vexx

He had been walking for about five minutes when he ran into Kennedy, keeping to himself he merely followed her a couple paces back. He often wondered what people thought of him, he always kept to himself and hardly ever spoke. The only times you ever heard him talk was when he had a plan or he was reporting a mission, all about the mission. Help... With an odd expression to come across his face he was very intrigued by this. This doorway or window didn't stay open for too long. That place looked like a torture chamber, too dark to see anything else. A certain smell has come into the air though. Salty, ocean. That place was near water. Hmm. Lost in his train of thought he hadn't realized that Kennedy had already left for the meeting spot.

He entered the bar through the back way, nobody really uses it. Knowing where the spot was he immediately headed into the basement, no one was here yet. He had taken up a spot in the corner, too dark for anyone to see him. He waited now, for this meeting to start. But what was that "Doorway...?

Kennedy looked up as people began to make their way down into the basement. The first man to enter was an unfamiliar face, but she had seen him once or twice before. She bit her lip as she tried to remember his name, but he supplied it to her before her brain was able to. Giving a half smile, she nodded her head. "Hello Val the New Guy, I'm Kennedy. Welcome to the Knights." She outstretched her hand to shake his and then returned to polishing her pistol before securing it back at her hip. Soon, others flooded in to join them on the musty chairs. The room was bleak and smelled like an antique shop, but it suited just fine for a meeting place. Kennedy gave a small wave to Lucas and then to Mason.

Her half smile disappeared and she frowned at him. "Jesus, Mason, all ya had to do was pick up the damn phone." She patted his shoulder and stood, her smile returning. Speaking up so the others could hear. "As a matter of fact, someone came very close to dying. I've been contacted by quite a few people over in Shantytown. As bad as it is already, I guess some lowlifes have organized a sort of gang and are robbing people of what little they have. Last night they almost killed a man over a handful of silver eagles." She shook her head at the thought. A lot of people saw Columbia as a wonderful place, but that was merely a facade for the wealthy and well off. There were people who suffered everyday, and Kennedy took over the Knights with a promise to continue their mission to help those in need, no matter how big or small.

"Alright boys, that means we have a little bit of a stake-out to do before going all in. I hope everyone is free tonight, no hot dates right?" She smirked and flashed a grin at the men. The Knights were a family, and they took care of each other and their own. Even as new members would join, they soon learned that they had just gained trusted allies and friends. Kennedy looked to the new guy, "So Val, this'll be your first official mission with us. Better bring snacks," she winked and then opened her arms and shrugged her shoulders, "Any questions?"

---

Footsteps could be heard coming down the hallway, the sound echoing off of the cool concrete that surrounded on every side. Samuel opened his eyes and looked to see a couple of guards coming to check on the prisoners. They discovered the lifeless body of the woman next to him and grumbled. "You have your keys? We gotta take this one to the crematory." The other guard opened up the cell and they dragged the woman down the hall. Samuel watched as the woman's cold eyes stared at her as she skid across the dirty floor. Dammit... this is too much. He heard the guards coming back, and they stopped in front of his cell. "Alright buddy, time to go back to the chamber." Samuel stood up and put his back to the wall, "No."

The guards laughed. "No? You think you have a choice?" They entered his cell and grabbed him, not before he got in a few punches however. He struggled against them, but they held on and began to take him back to the scientists. He kicked and punched, but they held on. He soon tired from all of the struggle and lack of energy he had in the first place. But he decided to give his last ounce of energy to a possible signal for help. He quickly searched his mind for a connection to the same place he had opened before, the same woman. He flipped his hand behind the guards and managed to open a tear that was about a foot in diameter. "Let go of me! You cannot do this! Help! Help!" The guards punched him as he yelled and turned a corner. He could not see whether the tear even went to the same place or woman, but he hoped that it had.

Arch Vexx

Listening to Kennedy make her speech and discuss the plan Arch had realized that not one of them knew he was even there. Just the way he likes it. Get his mission then carry it out. Kennedy has given me over thirty plus stakeout missions, so why is she getting everyone in on this,even that new guy Val. This must be big. Or another motive...? Arch didn't get a lot of time to ponder this thought as that Doorway appeared right before the group. Wanting to test his theory, even if it meant giving up his position, he grabbed his knife from his belt and threw it. Going straight through and not hitting the basement wall, his theory was now proved. Only his hand in the light, Arch was still completely hidden, Baddass points... 10+ As he gave a little smirk.

Valentin Schwarzwald

---

Another person had appeared and he sat down, before pulling out a gun and interrogating Val. “I'm Valentin Schwarzwald, but call me what you wanna call me. Do you need to take out a gun when you talk to me?” He said it with a smile and a laugh, as miss Kennedy also had her gun out, but he felt like it wasn't that good an idea to take out a gun either way, considering this was a group of comrades and not enemies. Valentin looked around the group and noticed that Mason was, indeed, a Knight as well. Val had almost forgotten that this veteran also had a daughter, which wasn't something you'd expect from him. Well, Val didn't expect it for that matter. “I forgot you had a daughter - how is she, Mason?” It was one of those questions that you really just had to ask out of niceness. He was about to ask him something else when some weird.. well, a weird window appeared.

Rather than jump in straight away after the knife went through, Valentin first looked at Kennedy and the others. “That looks cool. Did you do that, miss Kennedy?” He walked closer to inspect it, just as this mysterious guy in the darkness had done, except Valentin was a bit more.. straightforward. He looked in, saw two guards beating up some poor soul and denoted that this was almost like watching a TV show. He slowly extended his hand towards the 'tear' and pushed it in, unsure what might happen. It seemed to be quite.. okay. “Hm. What channel is it on?” he joked, before realizing the situation. If he can stick his hand in, and not feel anything strange or weird, and there was two guard-guys beating up this fellow.. “OI! This is real!” he yelled, before extending his hand further into the tear and grabbing one of the guards by his collar. The guard yelped, “What th- EY!” he yelled, before he fell through the tear. Valentin threw him unto the ground and cocked his arm back, before sending a hard punch into the guys face. “Don't beat up people, man, it's bad for your health!” he yelled in the mans face, before throwing another punch towards him. He let him go, then stood up, looking into the tear where likely Valentin's actions had set off some sort of reaction from the guards - either that or someone had seen this as a que to get into the tear.

He was about to hop through to see where the TV-window-tear lead, but the guard tried to get up, holding onto Val's leg. “Hey, stay down.” he said, looking like a true badass as he pivoted on his foot, sending his other foot into the guys face at mach-10 speeds. Or well, perhaps not quite that fast. But it was certainly hard, as the man instantly let go of Valentin's leg and slid a few feet away into the nearby cellar wall.

Mason
Mason cleared his throat, scanning the room. Not a large crowd today. It was still early though. Not every member sees the posters or has time to group up and that was fine. He gave Kennedy a half-hearted smile. “I wasn’t home…and I’d rather not go inside my ex’s house,” he admitted. Just a year ago it was his house too. A sigh escaped him. Before he could ask Kennedy anything about the reported gang activity, a familiar gruff voice caught his attention. He looked ahead and noticed Valentin addressing him. “Oh, yeah,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “I think I only ever mentioned her once during my time with the Vox.” Mason had always weary about letting personal information slip out, in case it was overheard by the wrong people. Mason had few enemies but he’d rather not let them use his family against him. But, this was the Knights of Songbird. He had been around long enough to know that these were good people. Trusting people. “She’s fi—” before he could finish his sentence an unstable warp-like window slowly materialized in the room. It grew until recognizable features appeared within it. It was dark, even compared to the dim-lit basement. He stepped away from Kennedy and Valentin to inspect the mysterious formation when something flew past, nearly grazing him. He jumped back in cautioned before realizing it had come from behind him.

“I see you’ve been here a while, Arch…” he muttered under his breath. Mason hadn’t had many interactions with Arch but was familiar with him as a Knight and a skilled marksman. He was young, very young, but Mason respected him for his skill and devotion to his trade. A quite boy, never bringing attention to himself if he could avoid it

A sound came from beside him. Valentin must have been equally as curious an approached the odd window as well. He peered inside and saw a figure, most likely a man, overwhelmed by a group of what looked to be guards. As he watched the men pound on the helpless figure, Mason remembered the time he was arrested. These men were no better than those employed by the Prophet. Before he could process what this thing was that showed him this unforgiving scene, Valentin stuck his hand through the window and pulled out a struggling man. Mason backed up, giving his comrade space as the man he pulled through fought for control. Mason stood by, his chest shaking with suppressed laughter. Now he remembered why Valentin stood out to him. Many of the Vox recruits were there to fight for themselves, their own rights. Some, perhaps like Valentin, fought for more. Valentin struck the man and sent him sliding across the floor of the basement, knocking the wind out of him as his body made contact with the wall. Mason clapped his hands a few times, hints of laughter still in his voice, before remembering the beaten man within the window.

Turning his attention to the window now, he could see a small mass of angry looking men approaching the window or, more appropriately, the portal. His hand flew to his waist and produced a small blue bottle. He chugged the contents down his throat when a sharp, familiar pain shot through his right arm. The length of his arm darkened and a few black bird feathers grew from his pores. His nails grew as well, tapering to a point and turning black. He lifted his arm up at the approaching men and a murder of crows flew over his head, as if out of nowhere. They surrounded the men, tearing bits of their flesh with their bloody beaks. In the midst of the mayhem, Mason saw the subject of the guards’ abuse. It seemed all of his assailants were now preoccupied.

---

Charlotte

Lucas nodded to himself as Kennedy explained the mission. "Freakin' lowlifes, stealin' from the poor." Lucas said to himself as he got up and stretched. Then, the strangest thing Lucas had ever seen in his short life had happened. A portal to a broken down, soggy, prison looking hellhole opened up in the Knights' meeting place. Everyone else had noticed it too, so he wasn't hallucinating. In fact, Val had reached in, and pulled a man who mas beating an obviously weaker man. out. Lucas questioned his sanity while Val was beating the tar out of him.

More guards attempted to join in the fray before Mason downed some Murder of Crows and promptly fired it at them, the birds providing a nice distraction. Lucas slammed six bullets into the chamber of his Paddywhacker and lined up a shot, before firing, end the life of one of the guards, and spraying viscera on his friends. Lucas then unloaded the rest of his clip on the crowd, killing three more guardsmen before the familiar click notified Lucas that he needed to reload. "Cover me, I'm reloading!" Lucas said, as he scrambled for more bullets.