It had been two days since he last saw Styx, not that it mattered to him. His interest had waned. And whatever creature she saw or thought she saw had already left by the time he returned - the door ripped open and window busted. He sat watching more T.V. Gorging himself on pizza and fatty foods. All of the excess waste normally incurred from eating such foods only enhanced his healing powers, giving that little but much needed extra boost. He had almost fully regenerated his arm leaving only the upper section of his wrist and entire hand to grow.

All the news ever spoke about was how those iconic heroes saved New Haven from the demonic invasion. He cursed his luck during his recovery - though he now has little desire to leave this apartment as most of his strength was sapped - drained by his regenerative abilities. Leaving him weak and groggy. During the times he dozed off his memories of the time he spent with the Family resurfaced.

“You lack the ability to utilize your power properly.” An older man spoke with a wise and irritated tone. As Ramsey lay sprawled over the floor. “If you can’t even beat me, how will you handle other Supers. There’s more and more sightings of them these days, playing god damn hero. Ain’t none of their business butting in. That’s what you’re for. You’re our ace, our muscle. You’ll give the heros something to think twice about. But we need your powers to mature. All you seem to think they’re for is messing around.”

The man paraded about the room, ranting about the misuse of this gift. Whilst Ramsey pulled himself up. “Quiet Old Man! I’m doing as I’m told, taking your lessons, studying schoolwork.”

The man swatted Ramsey across his left cheek as he rushed in.”You ain’t doing nothing boy! You’ve yet to grasp your importance to us. Yet to realize the extent of your powers. You you..”

The memory faded as the bottle crashed to the floor stirring him from his slumber. “Aw fuck.. Damn Old Man. Just won’t leave me alone, not even in my sleep. Fuck it all, need another drink.”

“He who would learn to fly one day must first learn to walk and run and climb and dance; one can not fly into flying.” - Friedrich Nietzsche

Earlier

A solitary figure burst out of Little Ulster, the day the sky turned and the the space between spaces dissolved, creating a portal to Hell. Dennis Connolly had trained a little with his grandfather, but not for this. Nothing approaching this scale.

After all, what could prepare a man for the End of Days?

What would his grandfather tell him? “Keep calm, think clearly and do what you can”? He didn’t know if the old man had ever said those words to him, but in this instance they sounded right.

“No use to anyone dead, and you’re still new with this.” He thought to himself. The Golden Rod was a powerful tool, but Dennis was still very much an amateur with it. His grandfather and even Sean - who barely had the Golden Rod for a year and a half - could make it do things far beyond Dennis’ ability.

Far below him, Dennis saw demons terrifying the people of the now aptly-named Lost Haven. Dennis winced and turned his focus to a problem he felt he could solve, identifying a fire in a block of apartments caused by a car being hurled into the building by one of these dark beasts.

Dennis flies through a high level building’s window and…

...nearly explodes as a fireball blasts him back out of the building.

“Oh… right… fire feeds on oxygen.” He said, realizing his mistake. “Such an ID-iot! Less than a minute at this and I already nearly died…”

“Help..!” He barely heard a weak voice call from deeper inside the building. Forcing his negative thoughts aside he created a weak forcefield around himself with the Golden Rod and flew deeper into the burning building.

“HELLO?! Does anyone need help?! Call out! Let me know where you are!”

“In here…” The voice called, a little louder this time.

Dennis flew through and found an old lady pinned under a supporting beam.

“Oh God… I’ll get you out of there! Stay calm!”

Dennis first tried to lift the beam, but then found he couldn’t. It was a main structural beam that was holding the whole side of the building up.

“Alright, we have a problem here. I can’t lift the beam…”

“WHAT? What kind of damned hero are you? Get me out of--”

“I haven’t finished. I can’t lift the beam. But I think I can break it off. I think I can get you out of there, but the building might come down…”

“GET ME OU--”

Dennis got the message. Desperate times, desperate measures and all that junk. He eyed a fair way up the supporting beam, not wanting the cut off segment to drop right on her.

“On three! One-two…” Dennis never gave a three, he used the Golden Rod to sever the beam, scooped the old lady out and flew the pair out the nearest window - another fireball in tow - in seconds.

“My house…” the old lady moaned, once safely on the ground. Dennis barely heard. He’d pushed himself more than he could ever remember and just realized there may be others still inside. The weight of the building had shifted and the top two floors had sunk in on the corner he retrieved the old lady from.

“My Katie!” another lady yelled, pointing to her apartment. She’s still up there!

Seconds later, Dennis was back down with Katie in his arms.

“Alright, got Katie… now is there anyone else up there? And this time, if we could go with people rather than pet Yorkshire terriers first, that’d be greatly appreciated…”

* * * * *

Now

The old man spoke, the grandson listened.

“Overall, you did OK. I mean, sure you made mistakes, but people lived because of what you did today. At the end of the day, that’s what it’s all about. I mean, me? Your brother? You think we never made mistakes?”

The silence was deafening, as both were immediately reminded of the one mistake that Sean made which neither of them would never forget.

“It’s a learning curve, and frankly you far surpassed my expectations.”

“I’m still alive,” Dennis thought pessimistically, “so I far surpassed my own.”

* * * * *

Earlier

After numerous trips back into the burning building, Dennis stood doubled over on the street coughing violently.

“It’s alright. You did it, everyone’s out…”

“‘s not that. My grandpa… my parents told me… I should give up smoking… starting… to think… not a bad idea… ugh.” he spat into the drain.

RARRGH!

A demon bellowed in the street. The people screamed. Dennis quickly straightened with a surge of adrenaline. Reflexively, he drew down and fired an energy bolt at the beast with the Golden Rod. The demon hollered again, this time in pain. It reached across the street, looking for something to beat the cause of his pain with an chose a brown SUV.

It moved so fast. So strong. Dennis’ eyes doubled in size as it raised the car over it’s head. Instinctively he pointed the Golden Rod and…

...for a fraction of a second, the demon seemed trapped in two places. Somehow both frozen in place, and stretched out, as if dragged back towards the epicentre of it all - the portal - before it suddenly ceased to be.

But there was still the car. Held upside down by one of Dennis’ flimsy anti-gravity fields.

“MOVE! NOW! GET OUT OF THERE! I can’t hold it!”

Quickly, the people inside struggled with seatbelts and doors, managing to get out and dive clear. The person in the passenger seat fell under the car though. Struggling to escape the car after opening the door upside-down.

“GNN! GET OUT!!” Dennis struggled under the strain.

Finally, the young boy managed to dive clear. The Aquilifer dropped the car on it’s roof which crumpled under the weight of the rest of the SUV.

Dennis lay on the street gulping in air.

“Can’t say I care about the gas consumption… But would it kill you to have a smaller car..?”

* * * * *

Now

“But what you need to understand, Dennis, is that it IS a learning curve. And that’s not a finish, it’s a start.”

“You held up a couple of tons for a few seconds. That’s more than impressive for a normal man. But we shouldn’t be grading you on that scale. The things this Golden Rod can do… The things you will be able to do WITH the Golden Rod. With time, those two tons will be like child’s play.”

“You’ll be able to move 4 times that much.” The old man smiled.

“Now do it again.”

“I still don’t get it. The Rod does that… why are you making me lift weights? Hit the bag?”

“Because the bond with the Rod does it. Not the Rod. The Rod AND you. And the more prepared you are, the more you’ll be able to do. Now do it again.”

Dennis squatted with some paltry weights across the bar. The sum of the weight not as important as the understanding that one day it would be much more.

The old man sat back in his chair with his legs crossed watching CNN. So many new faces, new players. The game had changed beyond Alan years ago. He’d struggled to prepare Sean for it, too many years had passed. But it was all important now. Know the players, know the game. Icon was huge in the media, Alan couldn’t have missed his exploits if he’d tried, but some of the others… the news said a mercenary, some recent newcomers, an armoured powerhouse working for the organization called S.T.R.I.K.E which was recently pushed into the light (and were trying hard to return to the shadows, from what Alan could gather), and another.

The footage replayed in front of Alan for what could have been a dozen times or a hundred over the past 24 hours. A mysterious man in black walking to the wormhole and punching it out of existence. Alan furrowed his brow. That one in particular, something wasn’t right. Call it prejudice, call it instinct, something about that one… he knew he’d eventually somehow be a problem. Maybe it was because he was from another time. Good guys just didn’t wear black.

Aubrey Adkins
I’m never going to be able to live this one down, am I? I blackout right on the sidewalk, even before I had an ounce of alcohol. Knowing my luck, this was the result of Athena’s twisted humor, because, according to her, beer is the drink of uncivilized barbarians, while wine is the refreshment of the civilized world. Talk about old fashioned. And when I mean old fashioned, I mean dinosaurs walking the earth old.

But, yes, I’m never going to be able to live this one down, if I am able to get out of here, wherever that is. Chain-link fence flanked me on both sides and metal bars, just like the ones you would see in prison, enclosed me within the two chain-link fences. But this wasn’t the only cell in this room (how many times have I gotten myself shoved into a cell since I received my powers?). On either side of me and even across from my cell were similarly constructed make-shift enclosures. I would reckon that there were probably nine other cells like mine in this room.

I threw myself onto the cot that was provided by whoever kidnapped me (is this the third time? Really?). Why is this happening to me, of all people? What have I done to warrant me being kidnapped almost as many times as how many championships LeBron, Wade, and Bosh promised to win in Miami? Okay, that was an exaggerations, but why me?

While I was brooding over my current situation (and also the recent past), I glanced over to the cell next to me. In the cell was another woman, about my age. Maybe younger, but I would bet money that she’s in college (or at least old enough to be in college). Our captors must have drugged her up on something, like with anesthesia, since she was laying there almost motionless.

Why am I just sitting here? I’m a meta-human for crying out loud. If my captors had tried to drug me, just like the girl next to me, it is quite obvious that it did not work. I have super strength, right? Shouldn’t I be able to bend these bars? For once, I’m glad I have these powers because I would look like that girl in the cell next to mine if I didn’t. God knows what they are planning to do with us. I would rather not find out.

After allowing one of the guards to pass-by, I leapt up to my feet and tried to create an exit in the bars that enclosed me within my cell. While something seemed to have been affecting my enhanced strength, either the anesthesia or something else, nevertheless, with a little more effort, I bent two of the bars away from each other, creating a small gap large enough for me to slide through.

Since the guard walked toward the right, I obviously choose to go down left corridor. I didn’t want to be caught, right? I sneaked down the hallway, hoping that my ‘spider-sense’ wasn’t affected in the same way as my strength was. By the time I had almost reached the end of the hallway, I still had not found an exit from wherever I was.

Suddenly my ‘spider-senses’ began to buzz (at least they were working). At the end of the corridor was a kind of break room for the guards. There was a refrigerator and a table and even a phone. However, another guard was beginning to walk out of the room. In a split second, I leapt up onto the ceiling, hoping that he wouldn’t see me. Once he passed the threshold and began walking down the hallway, I felt a feeling of relief run through me. I actually was surprised that worked.

But what was I going to do now? I literally have reached a dead end and that guard who just missed me will realize I’m gone from my cell when he gets there (although him missing me just a few seconds ago gave me a little bit of hope that he wouldn’t notice that I was gone).

Wait, there’s a phone in there. I can call the police. They can track a call, right? They do that all the time on T.V. and in the movies; I’m sure that they can do something similar in real life.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” The operator asked me.

“I’ve been kidnapped and I don’t know where I am,” I bluntly blurred out, “I’m not joking! I don’t think I have much time until they discover that I’m out of my cell.”

“Miss, let me transfer your call to another department that might be able to help.”

After a few seconds of silence as the 9-1-1 operator transferred my call to someone else, I heard a softer, more feminine voice on the other side of the phone.

“Hello, this is FBI Special Agent Allison Johnson. Just please stay calm. We’ll be there before you now it.”

But as she was talking, I could hear a commotion down the hall. Obviously, the guards had finally discovered that I no longer was waiting in my cell like a good captive.

“Could you hold a second?” I asked the FBI agent, placing the receiver down on the table before I heard a response from her.

I rushed over to the entrance of the room where I presently was. I slammed the door shut, pressing my back against it with a hope that I could hold the guards back. But how would I talk on the phone at the same time?

Then an idea hit me. I reached down to the wristband and pressed a button, causing my red and blue costume to appear. Finally fully clothed in my ‘superhero tights’, I shot a strand of webbing at the door. While I couldn’t instantaneously shoot out a complete web from my current web shooters, I could still use these strands as a way to hinder anyone on the outside from opening the door.

After I plastered the door with numerous strands of webbing, I returned to the phone.

“Please tell me you can trace my location from this call.”

Zac WIlson | Kelly Brown
“Come on, Kelly. If there’s anything wrong, you can tell me.” Zac told his girlfriend, who was sitting across the table from him.

“Everything is peachy.” She responded, hoping he would just drop it. “Anyways, we’re in a library, so you need to be respectful of everyone else.”

“Do you really believe that you need to study anymore for that test? You know that you will ace it, like always.” Zac cracked a small smirk on his face, trying to get his girlfriend to lighten up.

“I really do,” Kelly said, averting her attention back to the textbook that laid open in front of her. “How much time we have been spending on, well, you know what, I have gotten a little behind.”

“You’re so wound up. You just need a deep breath and a nice break.” Zac reached across the table, snatching Kelly’s text book from out of her hands.

“You do know that I can snap you in two.” Kelly whispered under her breath, making sure no one else could hear her besides Zac. Zac, however, was astonished by his girlfriend’s threat. She has never been this violent. She’s the kind of person who wouldn’t harm a fly! Something definitely is bothering her; Zac just couldn’t place his finger on it. Therefore, in order to escape the wrath of his girlfriend, Zac slid the book back to her.

“Jeez, what’s gotten into you?”

“I’m sorry, Zac,” Kelly replied as her face began to glow bright red, “I’ve just been under some stress lately.”

“Maybe we should relax tonight. How about watching a movie back at the apartment?” Zac reached across the table and placed his hand onto of Kelly’s.

“That sounds great.” Kelly diverted her eyes away from Zac, still embarrassed that she had threated to snap him in half.

A moment of silence hovered around them as Kelly returned to her studying. However, that silence was a short one.

“Zac? Long time no see!” Another voice said. When Kelly looked up again from her book, her heart almost leaped out of her throat. It was that waitress back from Chili’s! This had to be some illusion or something. She had to be seeing things, right? Or were all the past things all real?

“Victoria? Wasn’t it middle school when I last saw you? What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were going to Albany State College.”

“I’m here for the same reason that everyone else is here for. It seems like you need a college education to get anywhere worthwhile. And who’s this?” Victoria motioned toward Kelly.

“Oh, that’s my girlfriend, Kelly. Kelly, this is Victoria. We went to middle school together.”

Kelly was silent for the whole time. All she could was crack a small smile and nod. She was just bewildered that something like this was happening right now.

“Well, it seems like you two are busy, so maybe I’ll see you later?” Victoria told Zac when she saw the textbook sprawled out in front of Kelly. She departed, leaving the two metahumans at the table.

“What?” Zac asked when he saw Kelly’s shocked facial expression. “It’s not like we dated or anything. And that was middle school, for crying out loud.”

Russel Skronsky, or Leather-Jacket to Caine, didn't stop running for a long time, not until his legs were burning and his chest felt ready to burst, and even then he didn't stop moving. He kept stumbling forwards, the imagined terrors of what the stranger at Lord of the Wings would do to him if he caught acting like a cracking whip that seen him fleeing back to his apartment over twelve blocks away like a dog with it's tail between his legs. Even there he didn't feel safe, triple locking his door and pulling shut his curtains and blinds.

It took time, and not a small amount of cheap whiskey, but when he did he started to come to the realization that because Charlie and Niall had been taken down and for all he knew killed then that left it up to him to contact Mr Stone to make him aware of the situation. A dire prospect, as Mr Stone isn't the type that you would want to be bringing bad news to. The phrase "don't shoot the messenger" never really seemed to have much effect on him. As daunting a task as it was though Skronsky knew he had to do it, and do it quick. It would be like removing a band-aid, better to get it over with quick. With a sigh he dropped himself into his couch, picked up his phone and dialed.

It rang for so long that Skronsky actually began to hope that it would never get picked up, but his shitty luck for the day held up and the call was answered on the last ring.

"Mr Skronsky. To what do I owe the pleasure." Redford Stone, known to the general public as the owner of a chain of fitness gyms and healthy living delicatessens, while rumored to be the head of an extortion and steroid dealing racket, was master at the faux-pleasant greeting. His voice was as warm as bread fresh from the oven and as smooth as honey from the comb, but Skronsky had been working for Mr Stone long enough to know that the man's explosive temper was never far from the surface.

"Eh. . . There's been a problem boss. With the wing joint." Skronsky involuntarily winces, ready for the fallout.

"A problem you say? Now what sort of problem could that be, pray tell Mr Skronsky?" Stone's voice is deceptively calm when he answers, that coupled with his verbosity, which he only ever employs before he explodes at someone, is never a good sign.

"Well it was going well, Giovanni was just about to cave, when some guy came outta nowhere, packing heat. He took out Charlie and Niall, I had him on the ropes but the cops caught wind of the commotion so I had to bail out before they collared me. For all I know Charlie and Niall have been pinched, or maybe even dead. That guy was crazy."

The line was quiet for what seemed like an age after that, but could have only been about ten seconds. Still, it was more than long enough for Russel to seriously consider putting down the phone and fleeing the city. At that moment it seemed like the safest option. Then the bomb hit.

"WHAT THE F**K DO YOU MEAN SOME GUY!!! THAT'S WHAT I PAY YOU RE**RDS FOR, TO DEAL WITH THE GUY'S. SWEET F*****G CHRIST, IF I GOTTA DEAL WITH THIS F*****G THING MYSELF SO HELP ME GOD, THE THINGS I'LL DO TO YOU SKRONSKY, NOT EVEN YOUR WHORE MOTHER WILL BE ABLE TO IDENTIFY YOUR USELESS ASS! GET F*****G BACK THERE AND GET MY F*****G MONEY!" The phone beeped then, signifying the call was over, leaving Russel into no doubt that he had just been given his orders. Having them and acting on them were to separate beasts though, and he didn't think that he'd have anymore luck with that big, barbarian looking guy at the diner this time than he did the first time. Not like he could run though, Mr Stone would find him to easy. He was literally stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"Damn." whispered Russel.

(Collaborative post between myself and Marra Mistborn)





And so it came to pass that on the night when Nightmare would have struck again, the 5th third night in the cycle of slaughter that had been brought to Lost Haven, that the gates of a hell were opened within the city and the city was plunged into the depths of chaos. And so it came to pass that upon that night nothing was heard of the being who had claimed the name Nightmare. The night after the demons had been driven back to hell with the work of the assembled heroes and villains of Lost Haven there had been some who had feared that the Nightmare in the darkness would return. The thousand eyes of a metal angel were ever vigilant, the city's cops were still on high alert even as new waves of crime washed over the city, Icon was spotted patrolling the skies, and STRIKE's task forces still combed the streets.

But nothing happened and in time the sun rose again and a new dawn broke. The city breathed a sigh of relief and slowly took a step towards putting Nightmare, along with the horrors of hell behind it. Even so the next night, the second after the invasion, the thousand eyes of a metal angel never wavered, and STRIKE still combed the streets, but the cops had become busy with other things, and Icon was not seen. Still there was no sign of Nightmare and as the sun rose on the third day Nightmare was rapidly losing the status as a terror in the city. Some at STRIKE began to talk about scaling back, and the public's attention had slipped away. Still though there were some who remained convinced it was only a matter of time.

Sun set on the third day and the darkness swept over the city once more. The thousand eyes still watched, and STRIKE still patrolled, but the city had moved on. Perhaps they thought Nightmare slain, perhaps they thought that hell had dragged the murderer down with it, or that even a monster like Nightmare had been scared into fleeing, perhaps they thought these things, but really they didn't think about Nightmare much at all. But it was on this third night that things were about to change once more.

For those who knew of the pattern, Nightmare’s fifth strike was always against the forces of law enforcement, just as his first always targeted a family. While there had already been variance this time that element would ultimately prove repeated. Little Ulster, a den of scum and inequity that had been the first subject Mercy’s rapid urban renewal programs did feature a police station. Like most of the area it seemed almost disturbingly pristine, a product of the force that had rebuilt it from the ground up in a wave of changes.

The clock had just struck midnight, and faint ringing echoed through the streets as a bell tolled in an old church that had been spared the wave of remaking. And it was as this bell tolled that the peace that had prevailed for the last three days was shattered. From the darkness of an alleyway came a black cloud that pulsed and seethed. The dark cloud swept across the street in an instant, the shrieks of protesting metal and the crunch of impacts accompanied this cloud as several parked cars were bowled over in an instant, and another simply vanished into the darkness.

But it quickly resurfaced as it erupted from within the cloud as if it had been thrown to smash against and through one of the walls of the station. Shouts of surprise and curses yelled in shock filled the air, wafting out through the hole as the darkness closed in and the hole seemingly vanished within the cloud. The sound of gunshots joined the chorus of ripping metal and tormented screams, but the only response the weapons of men received from whatever lurked in the darkness was a growing laughter. Within moments the darkness had vanished from the street, having fully entered the station and the sounds from within grew to a new level. The ripping of flesh, screams of pure agony and terror, the frantic gunshots and the terrible laughter and chewing sounds that sent a chill down the spine of anyone who heard them.

It took only a few minutes for the sounds from within the station to fade, but those minutes had been time enough. Even as the darkness billowed forth through the hole that had been made in the side of the station weapons were deployed against it. Lasers rent the darkness, cutting swaths of brilliant luminescence through it. The dark cloud parted as the laser weapons that had been given to STRIKE lanced out again. But there didn’t seem to be anything within the portion of the cloud that had parted. Six vague shadowy masses erupted from the main cloud, streaking towards the men as the cloud moved closer.

But light shone forth again, the team of men keeping their heads as precision fire sliced through the dark masses. The portions that had been severed simply faded, the dark vanishing as if it had never been, and it seemed that there was nothing within the tendrils of shadow, no flesh to burn, no body to damage, it was a surprise to the men.

And even as the severed portions of the cloud faded away it billowed outwards again and the laughter came from within, and with that laughter came a voice that sounded strangled and heavy as if it was spoken through a thick layer of snot and mucus, a voice that seemed to burn and hang in the air with malevolence. “YOU ARE ALL FOOLS.” The voice bellowed as the darkness expanded in a solid wall. The lasers cut swaths through the darkness but whatever lurked within never seemed to be in the part that the beams cut through and then the tide of darkness had washed over them.

For a brief moment beams of light speared outwards from within the darkness, but then there was nothing save the screams, and then an eerie silence that spoke of death. At least for a few seconds there was silence and only the darkness remained upon the street. Then the light came. The street was plunged into broad daylight as a dome of light formed over it and the darkness shrank recoiling and becoming denser and smaller as the light’s intensity grew. On the ground half written in the bones and blood of agents was a message that had been interrupted.

Hello Lost Haven
5 of 20
The Protectors Die
So Easily
Recr

There was little time for the dark to adjust as from beyond the light descended a shining figure. Metal glowed in the false sunlight as plasma wings blazed with a light all their own and in that moment what descended would seem almost to be a true angel. The brilliant reflection of light from polished and engineered metal nearly masked the raising of a spear, but even that radiance could not hide what came next.

The tip of the spear spat forth a bolt of its own, a brilliant shaft of light that plunged into the heart of the darkness. And as the bolt did so the darkness shuddered, the bolt of light not emerging like the others had previously. But between the coiling darkness and the blinding brilliance of the bolt of light there was still nothing that could be seen within the darkness. Tendrils of dark flicked out again, though now they were thinner and there seemed to almost be an impression of many jointed arms within the tendrils. They seized another vehicle and even as the energy ray continued to fire downwards hurled a car upwards with great force. Though the spear was swung and the laser sliced through the car before it could reach the metallic angel the damage had been done.

The stream of light had been cut off for a moment and the dark cloud moved with shocking speed. It engulfed more vehicles, and these too were quickly thrown upwards, and while none of them struck the metallic angel they did keep the spear’s laser from firing into the darkness for valuable moments. The dark reached the wall of one of the buildings and rapidly ascended, boiling upwards and spreading out once more even with the pseudo sunlight shining on it.

In the wake of the darkness were great gouges and claw marks that seemed to have been left by hands with too many fingers and claws to count. And as the darkness drew level with the shining metallic figure five tendrils of darkness lashed out again. But before they could reach her, two orbs emerged from the back of the metallic angel’s suit and fired similar beams of energy that sliced through the tendrils from the sides as again the spear was levelled and the energy beam shot forth.

The destructive beam cut through the wall like it was butter but the darkness had already moved and from within it came a new assault as chunks of concrete and cinderblock were hurled at the orbs that had provided the metal angel with her supporting fire. One of the orbs was struck and with a sickening crunch the sphere dropped to the ground, the other however had survived but it alone wasn’t able to generate the wall of light and the shadow lashed out to smash it as easily as the other had been destroyed.

But as the dark tendrils against shot towards the metal angel it jinked, slipping between them with a speed and reaction time far in excess of what should have been possible for a human, even one in a power suit, though there was no one to see that. From the forearms of the suit two more plasma blades emerged, and in a single swift motion the spear, still emitting that beam of hard light was hurled forwards into the heart of the darkness while the metal angel spun, each of the other blades slicing through the exact spots where the dark tendrils would have struck.

No more tendrils came forth from the cloud of roiling darkness and a moment later the dark cloud suddenly descended and from below came a great thud as if some giant beast had struck the earth. The metal angel descended upon wings of plasma and waited outside the darkness.

For several long moments there was a standoff as the metal angel and the motionless cloud of darkness both sat there until finally the heavy congested voice that could not possibly have come from a human throat, which sounded as if it was spoken through a layer of slime sounded from within. “BRAVO HUMAN.” The voice bellowed out as the darkness surged upwards again and from within the dark there were signs of the spear as two clumps of darkness extended with the metal between them. Its tip was slick with some sort of black ichor that dripped to the ground before the darkness twisted and the spear snapped in half.

“BUT FUTILE. FOR I AM YOUR NIGHTMA---” The darkness had begun to unfurl again and surge forwards in a boiling mass when the metal angel’s back had unfolded as a pair of cannons emerged and a bright light appeared in both barrels. Then with a blast that eclipsed the false sunlight of the barrier they discharged and the darkness was blown apart before it. But in the blinding glare of the discharge, even though the metal angel’s sensors were able to filter it out effortlessy there seemed to be nothing there.

A nothing that was soon given lie to as massive appendages struck the metal angel and sparks flew as the suit was lifted up and metal screamed under pressure. “INTERESTING” The voice sounded again. “YOU ARE AR-” Again the voice was interrupted, this time as the suit seemed to break apart and detonated violently in an explosion.

As the dust from the explosion settled the darkness had reformed and that same horrible laugh was booming forth from within it as a smaller, sleeker version of the metal angel, still looking large enough to hold a person inside, if only barely continued to fire bolts of light into the darkness.

It was then that her cavalry arrived.

It was a beautiful day on the campus of Lost Haven University. Unseasonably warm, many of the students were frolicking on the Quad, some playing Frisbee, others kicking around a hacky sack. The mood on campus was surprisingly light after the demon attack that had shaken the city, and one had a feeling, that once classes resumed the next day, things would be more or less back to normal.

Kyle made his way through the open lawn that made up the Quad. As he navigated his way through the other students that were taking advantage of the weather, not to mention the freedom that came with the cancellation of classes, he noticed Sam sitting in the grass at the edge on the lawn, her attention focused on the sketch book that she always seemed to carry with her.

“Hey.” He said as he sat down beside her.

“Hey.” She said, smiling as she looked up to meet his gaze. “What’s up?” She finished as she closed the sketch book and put it back in her bag.

“Same ol’.” He said, grimacing slightly as the pain in his ribs flared up.

“Hey, are you okay?” Sam asked.

“Oh, he’s fine. His lady was just alittle rough on him last night.” Ronnie’s voice came from behind them.

“Oh shut up, it’s not like that.” Kyle said more than annoyed at Ronnie’s crack. “Didn’t you have some place to be?”

“Nope.” Ronnie said bluntly.

“Waitaminute…Addie, I thought she left.” Sam asked confused.

“She did, but she’s back.” Ronnie again butted in.

“Ronnie, do you mind?” Kyle asked as he began to grow irritated.
“Not really.” Ronnie teased.

“Seriously, stop.” Kyle said.

“What?” Ronnie asked with mock indignation. However, the look on Kyle’s face made him realize that now wasn’t the time for this particular brand of humor.

Kyle turned his attention to Sam, who’s expression had changed. She kept her eyes on the ground, almost as if she were afraid to look up. Kyle had noticed that over the week that Addie had been gone, Sam had seemed to show more of an interest in him. There had been a time when he would have jumped at the chance to be with Sam. But that time had passed. He was with Addie, and she made him feel something that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

“Yeah, she came back the night of the demon attack.” Kyle started.

“So…you guys are…?” Sam asked, not wanting to finish the question.

“Yeah. She um…her mother passed…unexpectedly. That’s why she took off like that.”

“Oh God!” Sam exclaimed, “How’s she doing?”

“She’s holding up as well as you could expect. She’s strong.” Kyle said. “She’ll be okay.” He added.

“Wow.” Was all Sam could say. Though her disappointment was evident, she forced a smile.

“It sounds like she really needs you right now.” Sam said as she stood up. “Tell her I’m sorry about her mom.” She finished as she turned and began to walk away.

“I will.” Kyle nodded as he watched her leave.

In the days since the demon attack, or “D-Day” as it had been called by some in the media, Scott had rarely had a chance to walk the streets of the city. In the days following the disastrous attack on Lost Haven, Scott had spent much of his time helping to undo the damage that had been done to the city. Be it helping repair the physical damage to the brick and mortar buildings, or just being visible to the public in an attempt to help raise the moral of the citizens, he had been very busy.

However, on this day, he decided to take some time away from his exploits as Icon, see how things were on the streets. Though the people of Lost Haven were known to be a resilient bunch, it was easy to see that the psychological scars of the attack were still fresh among the city’s residents.

The city was unusually quiet. There wasn’t the constant noise that normally filled the air. Aside from the occasional honking of a car horn, it was almost silent. It was so quiet in fact, that if one weren’t careful, they might forget entirely that they were in a large city.

It was almost as if the people of Lost Haven didn’t want to be noticed, out of fear of inviting another attack.

As Scott made his way down Eastern Avenue; towards the heart of Sherman Square, he noticed something that seemed out of place on this particular day. A crowd had formed at on the sidewalk in front of the Chambers Building, the tallest building not only in Sherman Square, but all of Lost Haven.

When Scott looked up to see what the crowd had been staring at, his heart jumped. Standing on the ledge of the roof was a young woman. The pretty brunette looked to be in her mid twenties, and as she stood on the ledge of the building, with the wind whipping around her, threatening to throw her from the roof, she looked entirely too calm. Then, the unthinkable happened, as she simply stepped off the ledge and began plummeting toward the ground.

Not today. Scott thought to himself as in a blink of the eye he quickly stepped out of view into a nearby alley. Once he was out of sight, he spun in place, and in what could only be described as a whirlwind, shed his civilian clothes in favor of the familiar blue and silver garb of the hero Icon.

In a flash, Icon raced from the alley and flew up the side of the Chambers Building, meeting the young woman nearly halfway down the structure of glass and steel.

"It’s alright, I’ve got you.” He said as he caught her in midair, bulling her into his chest. ”You’re going to be alright.."

I didn't really have any doubts. I was sure that he would come. After all I had read up about what superheroes were and he definitely fit those descriptions almost perfectly. But even so I felt a little shiver of uncertainty as I approached the halfway point of the drop and hadn't seen any signs of his coming yet. Then I saw it, the blurred streak of blue and grey rising up towards me and I feel another wave of anticipation and eagerness run through me. Things are about to get very interesting. I don't move or resist at all as the human in blue and grey catches my body and pulls me against him. Though I try, I can't quite control myself and laughter starts to bubble forth from deep inside. It looks like he is taking it for crying at first but then he looks down at me with an odd expression and I know it is time to get things going.

"No," I say half laughing and feel my smile widen even more. "I've got you." I will the fire to come and my hands ignite with crimson flames that I can no longer feel. I raise them quickly and press the blazing hands against Icon's face. In my studies I had learned that humans have this aversion to blows coming at their faces. The shock should force him to respond appropriately and without thinking to lash out at the threat.

Icon was stunned by the sudden attack from the woman. The searing heat, the likes of which he had faced several days before during the demon siege distracted him momentarily, nearly causing him to crash into the side of one of Lost Haven’s many skyscrapers. As he came within inches of the side of the concrete building, he pulled hard to one side, the combination of speed and sudden change of direction caused him to lose control. He tried to right his trajectory, however the damage had been done, and he found himself careening out of control into the nearby RenMart parking lot, which sent panicked shoppers scattering in all directions as Icon crashed into a row of vehicles.

As he got to his feet amid the wreckage of a number of vehicles, he realized that he had lost sight of the “woman” who had ambushed him. Then, he saw her. She moved lithely towards him, smirking as she advanced on him.

”What is it that you want?” Icon asked, his eyes beginning to glow with a reddish tint.

I keep the crimson fire wrapped around my hands as Icon crashes to the ground. I am surprised that he did not strike back at me like the information on human reactions had suggested. Was this yet another error in the already problematic and information light bestiaries that I had been provided for earth? Regardless it seems I will have to provoke him further if I am to get what I want. No, a shudder runs through me and my smile widens, what I need.

But at the same time I have no desire to bring permanent harm to the humans here and a fight will cause damage. The crimson flames lick out to melt the asphalt and it releases a foul and acrid smell as I slowly make my way towards the hero. There is ample time for the humans to have fled far enough and with that concern delt with I can now get things started.

"What do I want?" I laugh, a pure and clear sound even in this human form that distorts my natural voice. "What do I want?" My laughing is louder and my smile threatens to extend too far to be natural. The fire races up and down my arms now, though it doesn't burn me anymore. "Already ready for me to make demands then?" I wink, mocking him with my words. This was another tactic that was said to produce an aggressive response in humans.

"Shall I take your surrender? I guess the great Icon can't even handle a little heat?" I laugh again, my voice teasing as I thrust my hands forward and the crimson fire erupts outwards. But while the blast of fire may seem chaotic I carefully control it, keeping it in check and focused only on the target, Icon.

Icon felt the intense heat from the woman’s unrelenting hellfire attack. Though the heat would certainly burn most men to a crisp, Icon was certainly not most men. He pressed forward against the assault, feeling the heat intensify with each step he took.

As he moved toward the woman, he could smell the acrid odor of melting asphalt as he felt his feet sinking into the softening surface beneath him. He was fearful for the people who were still in the parking lot, however, as he forced himself to look around to assess his surroundings, he found that, much to his relief, most of the people had scattered to the safety of the shopping center.

”You know…” He strained to say as the hot air from the inferno burned his lungs. ”I’m…getting…sick…of…being….attacked…by…every…psycho…who…wants…to…make…a…name…for…themselves.” He finished as he jumped up and slammed his fist into the ground, buckling the parking lot beneath the impact. The blow to the pavement, even in its softened state felt like an earthquake, and sent the mysterious woman, and everything else within a ten foot radius into the air, leaving Icon alone in the crater he had just created.

Still nothing? I sigh, my smile fading for a moment as the human wades through the fire but does not strike back or unleash that power of his. This is supposed to be fun, to be a chance for multiple changes and growth, not another waste of time like the red midgets. I see that he is getting closer though and at last he raises his hands and responds to my taunts.

But the response is offensive. I am no frivolous psychopath or deviant seeking brief fame and human attention. I am May'El'Lin and I am a Shylren highborn. I open my mouth to offer a retort when he finally strikes. But even this strike doesn't actually hit me. The blow crashes down on the boiling asphalt and almost like this thing humans call a trampoline the ground beneath me flexes and then shoots me up into the air.

It is a bit exhilarating, but honestly can't compare to the thrill that a dive from orbit, or even the top of a skyscraper held. Clearly I'll need to turn this up a bit. I focus and the crimson fire erupts downwards with new ferocity, pressing against the ground and actively holding me aloft, again I take care to limit the spread so that the humans are spared roasting, even if I can't see why they dislike such rich sensations.

How should I respond? More baiting, I decide quickly and smirk down at the hero. "I don't want a name for myself. I already have a name." My laughter sounds again and I let it out freely. "No." I let the flaming pillar fade and drop even as I ignite my foot instead of my hands. "I want you"

My flaming foot collides with his face and a crack sounds even as he is knocked away to the ground from the momentum as the bones in my leg break. I am filled with a small explosion of sensation and I grin even as my leg sags slightly. "To really fight."

By the time he starts to get back to his feet my leg is steady again and he likely didn't notice that it had broken at all. "Is that all you've got?" I extend a hand, my smile still on my face as I take a pose that my research tells me is taunting in several contexts in addition to a combative one, and I crook my fingers. "Bring it on Icon. Hit me!" And as I say that my fire flares again around my body as if it too is taunting him.

Icon staggers to his feet, surprised that the kick from the woman was as powerful as it was. He realized that this woman, whoever she was, was much more powerful than he had anticipated. As he looked to the woman, who laughed as she prepared to unleash another assault with her hellfire.

I don’t think so…” Icon said to himself as he fired back with a powerful blast of energy from his eyes.

The direct hit from his optic blast seemed to stun the woman, however, he was not one be satisfied with a single good hit. He charged toward her, hitting her with a hard right cross that connected on her jaw, nearly taking her off of her feet. Then an uppercut to her abdomen, the impact of the blow caused her to lurch forward. As Icon pulled back for another right cross, the air around his fist began to glow with a bluish hue as he struck her with a hard right hand, which had been reinforced with an energy blast of its own.

The sudden assault sent the woman crashing through the undercarriage of a black Ford pickup truck that had been turned on its side from the impact when Icon and the woman first crashed into the parking lot.

”Stay down.” He said to the woman, who had already begun to stir.
I feel my skin sizzle a bit and it is almost like the sensation of fire, just more intense as the optic blast strikes me and I revel in that. This is more like it! My smile only widens as I let myself seem knocked off guard by his blast and then the blow to my face brings out a gasp as the bones crack a bit and a flood of sensation fills me. Yes, this is more like it indeed.

The blow to my stomach sets off similar fireworks and I smile, revealing bloody teeth now from the cuts in my mouth and internal injuries even as he swings his hand again harder, this time glowing blue to strike me in the face again. This time there is a crunch and the explosion of sensation and feeling is far more extreme. For a brief moment I am driven out of concious existence by the wave of it that engulfs my awareness. That's new, and I'm pretty sure I like it.

And as I come back to myself, my nerves jumbled and my head slightly hazy from the sensation overload, seemingly engulfed in the wreckage of what the humans call a truck I realize that I have changed. I start to laugh, and the sound is rich even as I call on my new gift. "No." I call out as a blue glow starts to shine from my body, radiating out through the wreckage of the truck. "I don't think so."

The blue expands and the truck simply melts away before the energy and I step out of the melted truck with a smile on my face. "We are just getting started. The fun has only just begun." I lick my lips and wink, then thrust my right hand forwards as a pulse of blue energy erupts towards Icon.

Icon was more than surprised at the woman’s reemergence from the wreckage of the truck. Somehow, she had changed after his assault. It was an assault that should have put her down for the count, yet here she was freeing herself from the mangled truck.. Somehow, it seemed as though she had evolved with his attacks. It seemed impossible, but as he saw the familiar blue hue of energy that had enveloped her, he knew that somehow she had absorbed his powers.

However, is shock at the new developments only lasted for a moment as she thrust a pulse of the blue energy at him, sending him crashing into one of the protective concrete guarders that encircled the lampposts in the parking lot, reducing the concrete portion to dust, and toppling the lamppost on top of him.

So…that’s what that feels like. Icon thought to himself as he lay beneath the light.

After a moment, he pushed it aside and got to his feet. He looked at the woman and saw that she was smirking, which only aggravated him further. As he moved toward her, he watched as the blue glow around her grew more intense, as it did when he were about to use the energy attack himself. He ducked to the ground and pulled a manhole cover from its setting and used it to deflect the energy blast, then, with the makeshift shield still glowing from the energy blast, he launched it like a Frisbee, hitting the woman square in the midsection, slightly lifting her off of her feet as it drove her into the ground.

I'm pleased to see that the energy didn't cause any permanent damage to him. It'd be a shame to waste so much potential, and I'm just getting warmed up. I summon up more of the energy and unleash it at him, but am surprised when he wrenches a chunk of asphalt and metal up from the ground and deflects the energy bolt. I make it dissipate before it can strike any of the spectators. It is curious that one who has a reputation in protecting other humans would neglect to notice what happened with the deflection.

The brief distraction of dismissing the bolt of energy left me open to his counterattack and I gasp, a long exhalation as the great hunk of metal strikes me straight in the chest and lifts me up off my feet before I crash back to the ground with it on top of me. That was quite the hit, and while the sensation was nothing compared to the explosion that had filled me at his last blow it was still a highly enjoyable aftershock. I reach for the hunk of metal and grip it in my own hand to attempt to pull it off.

Strangely this takes almost no effort, I most have gained something new and my smile grows as I climb back to my feet. I smile at the hero, giving a half mocking and half highly appreciate wink and wave, holding the metal disk in my hand. "Ooooo, Oh that was fun. But really now. Show me what you've got!" I infuse the disk with the blue energy and then hurl it at him with strength I didn't have before.

Icon catches the charged manhole cover in his hands, the force of the throw pushing him back several feet. This woman was nothing like any of the villains that he had ever faced before. By and far, they have held very little regard for the safety of bystanders, often times targeting civilians specifically. This woman didn’t do that. In fact, he could have sworn that he had seen her dissipate an energy attack when it threatened to travel too close to the growing crowd.

That was another problem altogether…The crowd had grown significantly larger as the battle had waged on, and as he had seen far too often, they were treating it as entertainment, getting uncomfortably close to the action., making the situation far more dangerous than anyone seemed to realize.

He knew that he needed to end this, and end it fast. He made a quick movement toward the woman, and then left his feet, rocketing toward her just a couple of feet off of the ground. He plowed into her midsection shoulder first, then wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted off, bringing them both skyward. Within just a few seconds, he had taken them to the outskirts of the city, where the threat of civilian casualties was minimized.

Once Icon and the woman were clear of the city, where the concrete jungle of Lost Haven gave way to the vast forest, Icon began to plunge toward the ground. Suddenly, he stopped his decent, but gave the woman a hard shove. The woman flew earthward at such a rate of speed, that it sounded something like a cartoon bomb being dropped that one might expect to hear on a Saturday morning cartoon. The woman crashed hard into the side of a massive oak tree, splintering the trunk upon impact. Icon lowered himself to the ground into the impact crater that had been left by the collision, and to his horror, he found that the woman was not as invincible as she appeared. A large shard of the ancient oak and wound up lodged in the woman’s stomach, essentially impaling her. As he approached to try and help her, he noticed that there was a strange golden light emanating from the wound. Within an instant, the golden light erupted in a brilliant show of light and heat, knocking Icon away from the woman, before everything around him turned to black.

I am caught off guard by Icon's speed as the human grabs me and lifts me up in the air. But as he slams into me I laugh, enjoying the sensations that this battle has brought to me. He flies quite fast and I'm actually surprised by just how fast, and actually feel a flash of envy, this isn't a power that I have, though it is one I wish my body would develop.

Then I feel the flight suddenly stop as we have left the city. His grip releases and I with the inertia from the flight and what seems to have been a shove am sent hurtling towards the ground. Ah, hello high speed collision my old friend.

I am still laughing even as I smash into the tree and feel another explosion of sensations of various types. A tilt of my head reveals that I have been impaled and that a long shard of wood goes through me from front to back. The impact had also shattered several bones and damaged internal organs. My regeneration starts to kick in but the damage is enough that my other power triggers.

My wheezing laughter is broken by an expression of concern as the pulse of destructive radiation erupts to strike the man at extremely close range. Physical resilience and skin like armor doesn't mean he is immune to radiation and I have no desire to kill one who has been so fun, or really to kill at all.

I call up the blue light and the wood that impales me melts away just like the wreckage of the truck had earlier before I struggle up to my feet. My regeneration is already making the injuries fade as the sensation from them dwindles. I move to where the man lies and look down at him with some concern. That was not supposed to happen, there was not supposed to be any death today.

But then he begins to stir and as the eyes open I drop the expression of concern and replace it with the same smile I had worn before. But I did not drop it so quickly that he would not have noticed it. I raise a hand glowing with blue light and start to thrust it downwards. "Well, come on." I say in challenge before blasting.

Icon struggled to get to his feet amidst the onslaught of energy raining down upon him. As he looked up at the woman, he noticed something about her that he hadn’t seen before…and it confused him.

For the slightest instant, it almost appeared as if the woman were concerned for him. He didn’t understand this woman at all, but he hoped that the momentary lowering of her guard, involuntary as it may have been, would give him the chance to end this without any further violence.

”We…we don’t have to do this.” he said as he finally managed to stand on his own two feet.

However, the look on the woman’s face told him that she disagreed. Realizing that he wasn’t going to be able to end this by reasoning with her, Icon decided to act quickly.

As she continued to blast him with an energy assault, he reached way back behind him with both arms, and then quickly brought his hands together, the resulting impact caused a deafening clap, which in turn produced a shockwave so powerful that it uprooted several trees and knocked the woman off her feet, if only momentarily.

Without hesitation, Icon unleashed another optic blast at the woman. This attack was more powerful than the one before. He held his gaze on the woman, bombarding her with energy even as a blue glow began to outline his hands.

Icon lunged forward, and fired another wave of blue energy from his fists. This was not the short bursts of energy he had used earlier, but a more sustained assault.

” I think it’s about time we ended this.” Icon said as his assault sent the mysterious woman reeling.

I am surprised when he shrugs off the energy that I had used before to send him flying backwards without much effort. But if he is more powerful than I thought it is not a bad thing. Father did say to seek greater foes, and this Icon is one of the greatest I have seen or heard of. I feel a strange vibration and a new sensation as he claps and a shockwave erupts to knock me over.

I don't stay down long, climbing back to my feet with a smile still on my face even as he blasts me with the energy from his eyes again. The heat is glorious, a rich burning sensation that makes me shudder and gasp as it fills me. It is more intense than before and I feel my flesh starting to burn away beneath the force of the beams and I revel in it.

My regeneration quickly kicks in and I feel a change beginning even while I watch his hands erupt in blue light again. The blows strike me as an overwhelming wave of energy that knocked me backwards and pins me against another of the massive trees. The crack as I strike against it means more broken bones and more little explosions of sensation, though nothing quite compares to what had happened when he hit me before. That had been something incredible.

But as he continues to attack me the burning lessens and the sensation diminishes, the energy he is pouring into his attacks starting to be absorbed at least in part as I feel a new build up inside. I allow him to keep me pinned against the tree even as I smile and raise my arm to wave with some effort.

"I don't think so." I call out, and tilt my hand differently as if making a gun with my fingers and then making a firing motion. A single bolt of red energy that looks almost like his optic beams just more concentrated fires out and strikes him with enough force to knock him flat on his superhuman ass and I can't help but laugh as he awkwardly tries to avoid landing on a pointed stump from earlier. Humans have such a strange aversion to sensation.

"Come on now Icon. Show me what you've really got. HIT ME!"

Icon sat on the ground for just a moment looking at the perplexing woman. He didn’t understand her in the least. He knew that she wasn’t trying to kill him, as she had shown concern for his wellbeing after he had been stunned by the sudden explosion of golden light that had erupted from her body. He had also seen her avert energy blasts away from the civilians that had gotten too close to the action while they were in the RenMart parking lot.

He slowly got to his feet, keeping his eyes firmly on the grinning woman.

”Sorry ‘sweetheart,’ You can’t handle it.” Icon said as he fired an optic blast at the woman’s face, then rocketed toward the woman, just a couple of feet off the ground, hitting her with the force of a speeding Mack truck as he drove his fist into her jaw. The impact knocked the woman off her feet, sending her crashing through a hundred year old oak, causing the tree to splinter under the impact.

Icon was stunned when the woman again got to her feet. Before she could attack again, Icon raced toward her. He clutched her around the waist with one arm as he drove his shoulder into her midsection, and then immediately veering up, where he and the woman accelerated toward the clouds. After climbing for several hundred feet, Icon reversed course, and began racing toward the ground.

Although every fiber in his being told him to pull up, he pushed forward, slamming both the woman and himself into the ground with such a force that the impact was felt for miles around. Beneath them, the earth buckled, spitting up a cloud of dust that enveloped the entire area. When the cloud finally cleared Icon was kneeling over the woman’s prone body in the center of an impact crater.

”Don’t move.” Icon said as he got to his feet. ”It’s over.”

As Icon rises to his feet again, having dodged the stump in a way that was still amusing I am surprised to hear him say that I can't handle what he can throw at me. It is even a bit offensive, too much sensation for a shylren? Blasphemy! Heresy! Some random y words that escape me at this moment! I open my mouth to protest his claim when his eyes suddenly light up and I find myself beset by a burning heat to the face. The sensation is glorious but nothing compared to his earlier blows and I am disappointed.

Then another blow strikes my face and in an explosion of sensation I let out a surprised gasp from the sheer overload that it brings and bones snap and twist with the force. I am sent flying backwards to smash through a tree as the sensation fills me. Perhaps it would be too much for another, even another Shylren, but I am high born and a child of Vael'El'Lin. I will not be overcome by this. I rise again and my stll mending jaw is forced into a lopsided smile even as the hero charges again.

Well this is new, is my first response as he rockets up into the air clutching my body, aside from the fact that it isn't. Then he turns and plummets towards the ground and my eys widen. Hello high speed collision my old friend yet again. Then we strike the ground with a force that does overload my body and as I lay upon the ground in the midst of the crater my broken body shudders and spasms.

"There," I say through gasped breaths "Is nothing," I raise a shuddering hand as the overload response continues to flood my body. "I cannot handle." And the golden light begins to leak from my body before exploding outwards in a tidal wave of force that knocks the hero out cold.

A few minutes pass before I am healed enough to stand and the overload has subsided but as it does I rise to my feat and walk over to the fallen hero. There is fondness in my gaze as I look down, that had been quite, humans have a good word for this, sensational, and I'm sure this is just the beginning. But for now it's time to end this fight, and I have certainly gained much from it.

I call for the light and scar the ground before him with a message before I turn and walk away, knowing even he will take time to wake up from that one.

That was fun, let's do it again sometime. Beware of the stumps.
-May

Icon struggled slightly to get back to his feet after he and the woman slammed into the forest floor with the impact of a crashing airliner. He was sore, and he was weary. Though, he had to admit that he was glad to see that it had appeared that his mysterious attacker was just as worn down as he had been.

The woman looked at him defiantly as he approached her. “There…is…nothing…I cannot handle.” She said as a golden light began to emanate from her body. Though he tried to avoid the sudden explosion, he was quickly overtaken by the golden glow, and almost instantly, he was consumed by blackness.

***

The world of darkness that had overtaken him, ever so briefly had given way to light. At first the light only appeared in flashes, as he attempted to blink the grogginess away. However, after a moment, he began to recognize the broken trees and upturned rocks that had been created by the crater that had been a result of the high speed impact that he had manufactured, hoping to put the mysterious woman down.

The thought jarred him back into consciousness. He forced himself to his feet, to be ready for another attack that he had to assume was coming. However, his legs were weak and his head throbbed. When no attack came, he breathed a sigh of relief. Then, that relief gave way to worry.

He looked around the crater, and then the surrounding forest, but there was no sign of her. She was gone, no doubt having slipped by him after he had been knocked out by that explosion of golden light.

When he spotted a message that had been burned into the ground…a message specifically for him, he knew that this was exactly what happened.

“That was fun, let's do it again sometime. Beware of the stumps.
-May”

At that moment, he knew that no matter what her intentions were, he and “May” would be crossing paths again soon, and he had no idea what that would mean.

Jilly wont stop thanking me, can hardly finish gushing out one 'thank you' before starting on the next, and all I can think is I didn't do nothing worth thanking. All I did is that thing I can't seem to stop doing, that thing that's sure to see me burn in hell one day, that thing that I know is so inherently wrong and yet always feels so right. All I did was hurt people, and it ain't over yet. Sure as shit others like the wee group I gave a seeing to will come, eager to rip retribution outta Jilly and her Pa, Giovanni. The bad guys will come, and they'll hurt this innocent family all the worse, because I was daft enough to get involved. Don't need the Great Song to see that one coming.

I'm slouched on the De Luca's couch, De Luca being Jilly's surname, in their apartment located above their diner, trying not to think about how badly I've f****d things up for these people. My eyes search the room, for the hundredth time, in a vain attempt to get my mind offa my failings. I take in the photos that line the walls, Jilly and her Pa laughing in happier times, strangers who I take to be aunts, uncles, cousins. Must be nice coming from a close knit family like this. No sign of a Mrs De Luca though, but I know enough about the P's and Q's to stop myself asking about her. Candles of all types line the flat surfaces, their light giving a warm and flickering light to the place.

I can hear Giovanni walking up the stairs now, finally done speaking to the cops. He said he'd cover for me, tell the law that I'd already done a runner just so long as I kept quiet upstairs, yet I still feel like he's bringing judgement for my crimes with him. It's like I'm awaiting my own hanging and each tramp of his feet coming up those stairs is a bell tolling noon. The door to the apartment opens and there he stands. I push myself to my feet, not quite sure what happens next. Jilly falls quiet quick. I miss her chatter already.

Mr De Luca near stumbles into the room, the nights excitement must be making his limbs feel like lead. He falls into the couch and releases a long sigh, halfway between pleasure and pain. A moment passes as he sits there with eyes closed, just recouping before throwing himself into again, before his pale blue eyes flicker open. He pats the seat next to him, instructing me to sit. I don't need telling twice.

“Jilly, fetch your papa and our guest some coffee please.” The girl looks like she wants to stay and see what goes down, but she goes to the kitchen without complaint, leaving me and Giovanni to our own devices. He sits silent again, but his eyes are open this time and I can near see the thoughts working behind those blue orbs. He's working out what he wants to say and how he wants to say it. I don't feel like rushing the issue myself, so I give him all the time he needs. Finally he takes a deep breath, and I know he's ready.

“I told the police it was a masked vigilante who saved us, that he left pursuing the third man and has not returned.” he opens. I grunt my approval, say something about how there's enough of them in Haven now for that to be believable.

“I didn't think you would want to be involved with the police. You strike me as a man who does not enjoy the scrutiny of the authorities.” I can't do anything but agree. It's not like he's wrong.

“In fact it is my belief that you were once a man like those that assaulted my daughter and I today.” I feel my face freeze. So, Gio's the observant type. He's sure figured me out quick. But what he's planning on doing with that knowledge, that's the question. Maybe he's got Johnny Law sneaking up the stairs and surrounding the building, stalling me until the boys in blue are ready to pounce. Somehow I doubt it though. He's seen just a slice of what I can do, but I reckon he's smart enough to know that trying to trap me would end badly for everyone involved. No, he's wanting something else.

“You ain't far from the truth there. Only difference between me and those boys is I was worse.” I answer him, more to fill the space between him getting to between points than any other reason.

“And being a man who knows their minds and how they think, would you say that this is the end of it?”

And there it is. Giovanni realises just how bad I've f****d him. He knows that those boys mighta hurt him earlier, him and Jilly too, but that woulda been the end of it. Beat a man and he can pay you later. Now that I've gone and got involved though, it's gonna be worse. Their boss, this Stone character, he probably already knows what's happened, and he'll be spitting mad.

“No sir,” I answer “I'm feart that this is just the start of something worse. Those boys took a kicking tonight, and that wont look good on their headman. He'll have to make an example of you, or other folk he extorts might start getting the idea to stand up to you. My guess is that more lads of his will come knocking soon, and they wont be gentle. You'll be lucky if they stop at killing you.” I stop there. I could say more but the more I spoke the paler Giovanni got, ended up looking a bit like an albino. He swallows down his fear and his apprehension, getting a bit of color back in his cheeks. My respect for him grows.

“And what would you suggest we do? I know where Russel Skronsky lives, the man who got away. Do you think if we called the police it wouldn't be to late to stop them.” There's a tremble to his voice, but there's an edge of steel there too. I'm betting he's thinking of Jilly. Giovanni strikes me as they type that would do whatever it takes to protect his daughter. An suddenly I realize, I would too. Mr Stone will probably hound these people until he gets what he wants from them. It'll take some damn dark work to save them from him, and who better suited to it than me? I got them into this mess, I'm gonna be the one to get them out.

“You? You do nothing cept tell me where Russel lives. I'm gonna have a wee talk with him and his boss, this Mr Stone, sort this all out for ya.” The relief that Giovanni feels at that is almost palpable, and I realize this is probably what he was angling for all along, trying to fight fire with fire as it were. Or maybe its more like using a monster to hunt monsters. But I can see an edge to him, like he's worried of what the consequences of his actions might be. He leans in close, conspiratorially close, and whispers in my ear.

“What will you do?”

“Maybe better you don't know that.” I answer.

An uncomfortable pause, Giovanni's mind probably racing as he goes through all the various scenarios as to how I might be dealing with Stone and his men. Like I said, better he doesn't know. I ask him where Skronsky lives. Turn's out Leather-Jackets only a few blocks away. We fall silent again after that, it only being broken when Jilly returns with the coffee. Giovanni wraps his hands around his cup like he's trying to drain the warmth from it, while I near down mine in two swallows. I got work to do after all, and it ain't gonna wait for me to finish my coffee. I get to my feet, an eager spring to my step. Even after all this time I still look forward to the work, at the prospect of hurting folk. Da always said No one can deny the call in their blood boy, and the call in ours is violence. Damn if he ain't right again.

“Are you leaving Caine?” Asks Jilly. She looks sad at the prospect and I'm reinforced by the knowledge that I'm doing this to keep her safe.

“Aye Jilly, I've got things to do tonight.” I make for the door. I've got a grip on the handle when Giovanni calls.

“You must return here when you are done Mr MacFondoir. We have a room you can stay in until you're ready.”

I turn to look at him, my heart lifting when I see there ain't no deception in his face. He means it, there really is a space here for me. Giovanni's seen me for who I am, a mad dog, yet he's willing to take a chance on me. Might be he's doing it cause he feels obligated, but hell if it doesn't mean something to me despite that. I'm more determined than ever to protect these two, to prove to Mr De Luca that I'm worth his consideration. Tonight's work is still gonna be dark, no arguing with that, but it feels like I can see a light shining bright at the end of this tunnel.

“I think I'll take you up on that sir.” I reply. Jilly beams that smile of her's again, and even Giovanni cracks a little grin. A return them one of my own, then step outta the door.

Time to go clean up my mess, starting with Russel Skronsky.

The jet's propellers hummed through the reinforced steel of the private jet, giving a tiny bit of background noise to the long, quiet ride of The Cowl and his best thugs, all sitting in a large communal compartment of the plane. The four subordinates sat together at a circle of comfy leather chairs with a game of cards at the table, a large pile of money sitting in the center. The four men chuckled and murmured between one another, the smell of cigar smoke beginning to burn the air as they played another hand. However, one man did not sit at that table, The Cowl was far too enthralled in his own work to play games of chance with his men. He sat away from the others, secluding himself at a solid mahogany desk, littered with newspapers of Lost Haven, every front page littered with pictures of meta-human activity, particular the recent "D-Day" invasion, as the papers called it.

"Incredible...simply incredible..." The Cowl muttered aloud, flipping through the page of a paper describing an early battle between the hero Icon and some criminals, the hero's picture at that point only being a small blur on the page.

Eventually, his peace was interrupted, a young woman came from the cockpit area, dressed in a fine silk dress and carrying a clipboard. She moved to The Cowl, waiting patiently at the man's side until he acknowledged her with a brief glance away from his papers. He sighed, motioning with a free hand for her to speak as he buried himself within another paper.

"We will be arriving in Maine in about 3 hours, sir."

"Ah, good...thank you." The Cowl said, grabbing a highlighter from the desk and etching out another sentence on the page before grabbing a second newsprint to compare the two, his eyes darting between the collection. It was not for another minute or so that he noticed the woman had not gone back to the cockpit, or to the others. "Was there something else you wanted? Or are you hovering over my shoulder because you have a problem with personal space?"

"N-no, sir, that's not it." The woman responded, seemingly shaken by The Cowl's annoyed tone. Of course, she had every right to be considering the man's reputation, The Cowl was a powerful crime lord, and she had been told before she got on this plane that he was not one for conversation while he was busy, and this was certainly one of those cases by the looks of it. Nevertheless, she spoke very curtly with him, hiting on the extreme sight of caution "I just...was curious about these heroes as well..."

Another pause, The Cowl took a minute from his paper before dropping it to the table, causing the four men at the table to snap to attention. They all now noticed the Cowl's change in positioning, his eyes now leering at the girl from behind his hood, his emotions hidden within his mask. It was a brief silence, but to the young woman it must have felt like an eternity, the five men now all glaring at her.

Eventually, the Cowl's body seemed to relax, he let out a small chuckle as he motioned to the papers. "As you should be, young lady, this is a once in a lifetime event." As soon as The Cowl's tone changed to a more friendly tone, the four men went back to their cards, no longer caring since The Cowl seemed delightfully amused by the woman, judging by his gesturing for her to look closer. "Well, twice in a lifetime if you were alive around World War 2, but still..." He pointed at Icon. "First this one shows up, and within a few weeks the city has exploded into a nest for superhuman activity." He pointed at another hero, one the paper called the 'Raptor', "Look at this one, a monster of some kind, possibly a hybrid of human and animal DNA." He then pointed to a woman hero, one the paper had not given a name, seeing as how she looked like she just put on whatever was available and started shooting lightning bolts at demons. "And we have people who can even harness the elements themselves...incredible, simply incredible..."

"And...that's bad, right?" The woman asked, pointing at the paper. "These people, they're putting a wrench in your operations back at home..." She looked to the man, raising a brow. "But you seem so...jubilant about the whole thing? If I may be so bold to ask...why?"

The Cowl paused, glancing back at the woman as he leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming together as he responded. "Because, young lady, these people give me two very enlightening revelations. One being that the impossible is real, and two, the impossible can be bought."

"You're...going to try and buy meta-humans, sir?"

"You make it sound so cut-and-dry."

"That's...I'm sorry sir, it's just...buying superhumans? I'm not sure I understand."

"That's because you're simplifying it, my dear" The Cowl swung in his chair as he responded, scooting up flush to the desk as he continued. "The truth is much more complex, but it gives the idea context. While money can indeed be used, it is not always the case in terms of 'buying' someone's loyalty. Every person has their price, every politician has the dead hooker in the trunk, every law enforcement official has the unlawful brutality they don't want getting out to the public, every celebrity has their sex tape...everyone is vulnerable once you know how to negotiate with them."

"And you think heroes have things they want to hide?"

"Oh, I don't think, I know." The Cowl let out a small chuckle. "Identities, loved ones, weaknesses that are exploitable, all it takes is a bit of prodding, and they become another chess piece on the board." He gestured to the window."We've known a few metas existed. Hell, that mercenary War-Pulse was a great asset with our Teddy Williamson problem, wasn't he?"

"I-I think so."

"Of course, and as much of a pain in our ass these heroes will become, this isn't the end for our way of life...Far from it my dear." Another dark chuckle from beneath the hood. "This is the beginning of a new arms race, a test for how strong we really are. With the introduction of so many supers in one place, everyone will want a piece of the action. Yes, the people will herald these paragons of society as saviors...but they neglect their own failings, something we can reveal."

"You've...lost me again..."

"Do not worry, what I speak of goes far over your head, anyhow." He gave the woman another sideward glance, his fingers running along the desk as he spoke. "Just know that The Shroud Syndicate will prevail, and we will adapt to this new occurrence."

The sound of the plane's landing gear opening up punctuated the conversation, The Cowl rising from his chair to glide past the young woman. A snap of his fingers beckoned the thugs to abandon their game, following their leader to their secured seating for landing.

"Best get to our seats, then. It sounds like we will be landing soon."

Southern Ural Mountains
0455 Local Time

"Something's not right," Teddy Roosevelt said under his breath.

His three-piece suit was gone, swapped out for the khaki Rough Rider's uniform with a the silver eagle of a full Colonel on the collar. He wore his slouch hat with the bill folded on the right. Slung over his shoulder was the massive elephant gun that could take out nearly any creature on the planet, clipped to his belt was a truncheon -- the proverbial big stick.

Roosevelt stood in the middle of the small camp set up on the mountain plateau. A soft flurry of snow fell from the sky and coated the ground in the powder. Andrew Jackson, a Colt 1911 in hand and his saber strapped to his belt, checked the shacks in the facility with his squad of six tactical officers, former US special forces and police officers handpicked to be part of the elite work the Executive Branch did. Halfway across the camp, Nixon shuffled through the snow with his hands making arcane gestures.

"Have you found anything, Mr. Nixon?" Teddy called to him.

"No," Nixon said too quickly. Roosevelt couldn't see it, but Nixon was sweating profusely even in the cold. His enchantments were picking up magic unlike anything he had seen before. It was old and it was powerful, very powerful. There was a hum, ever so soft, and he appeared to be the only one who could hear it. It called to him, it whispered things to him and beckoned him closer. Nixon looked towards the rest of the group before he slowly shuffled further into the camp towards the source of the hum.

“What is your science telling us, Dr. Feynman?”

Richard Feynman and two scientists in radiation suits combed the area with Geiger counters.

“There’s radiation here, albeit very background. UV lights show some kind of… liquid all through the area.”

Teddy walked over to the scientist and read their displays. He furrowed his brow as he saw the invisible contrails under the UV light.

“What the devil is that, Doctor?”

“I don’t know.”

Teddy beckoned Jackson and ordered him and his team to slowly follow the trails towards their source. Roosevelt and the tactical squad spread out through the camp, Teddy griping his elephant gun tightly.

“Sir,” one of the officers yelled to Jackson. “Contact left!”

The tactical officers, Jackson, and Teddy all turned towards the officer. Shuffling in front of him was a man in tattered clothing. Black, inky liquid dripped from the man’s mouth as he approached the young officer.

“Get the fuck back!” the young man yelled.

In response, the raggedy man belched loudly. A large dollop of the black liquid spewed from his mouth and coated the officer. He screamed and fell backwards, yelling in pain as the liquid coated his chest and face.

“Open fire!” Teddy yelled.

His elephant gun roared, mingling with the automatic weapons fire of the rest of the unit as they tore into the strange assailant.

---

Nixon heard the sounds of gunfire, but distantly. That hum was now filling his ears. Like a siren song, it guided him through the dig site towards a pit. Nixon could see strange energy pulsating from the hole. His breathed quickened as he approached the source of the power. He looked down into the abyss and felt like he was staring into his soul. A voice whispered in his ear, a dead language that hadn’t been spoken for thousands of years.

“My name? I am Richard Milhous Nixon, 37th President of the United States and Archmage of the Trilateral Guild…. Why am I here? I’m here because I know power when I see it. My whole life I’ve craved power, more and more and more. Maybe… maybe we can work out a deal.”

As War Pulse settled into the overly soft and supportive cushions on the chair and the waiter left there would be nothing save the faint chatter of several other customers and the sound of the band playing in the distance. The place he had been instructed to sit in was well out of the way even in this upper class lounge of luxury and as such it took a moment after the waiter had vanished for anything to change. A few minutes passed in the stillness of the luxury lounge in High Spire before they were at last broken as a man approached the chairs in which War Pulse now sat.

He was a tall man with sandy blonde hair, pale skin and faint blue eyes. His face had a slight irregularity to it as if it had been the subject of a few too many procedures designed to alter it. He wore a formal suit that put the mercenary's ratty clothing to shame though his eyes did not seem to hold any disdain, or in fact much at all. They were blank and so was his face, utterly lacking expressiveness as the pale blue eyes took in War Pulse. The man's right hand was covered by a black glove and it gripped the handle of a briefcase as he walked over to the chairs and sat down in the one directly across from the mercenary soldier for hire. The briefcase was set down on the floor.

The man leaned forwards and extended his right hand to shake. War Pulse would likely notice that the grip was abnormally hard and unyielding. "I am Randall Weims." The man began as he pulled his hand away. "And I represent our mutual employers. They are pleased that you agreed to this meeting." The tall man cracked his fingers and gave a somewhat predatory smile. "Your track record is quite impressive."

"But on the whole your work has been done alone and has been less than discreet. Our employers require appropriate discretion in many situations. How well prepared are you to act in less public ways?"

A small huff left Trent's lips as he propped his head in his hands, it had been a little too long for his liking for the appointment to get to him. Was this a negotiation tactic? Were his possible employers testing how badly he wanted this job? His hands drummed on the table, his eyes darting to the nearby bar, maybe another drink would wash down his boredom.

However, almost as soon as his mind began to wander, he spotted the tall blond man coming towards his table, dressed in a suit so fine even the other guests made a passing glance of envy at the gentleman. Though not exactly one to put on airs, Trent managed to move to his feet long enough to shake the man's hand and greet him professionally.

"I am Randall Weims." The man began. "And I represent our mutual employers. They are pleased that you agreed to this meeting."

"Nice to meet you Randall, though I gotta say you took your sweet time getting here, were you getting that suit made in the back?" He joked as he clapped his hand into Randall's. The man's grip did bring him pause, his brow raised as he shook a firm hand. Did normal humans have grip like that? He couldn't be sure, he had never been one, but it still raised some questions. Already this deal was becoming more interesting, and terms had not even been agreed to yet.

"Your track record is quite impressive."

"Damn right it is." Trent gave the man a cocky smirk in return to Randall's creepy grin. "You guys aren't hiring an amateur, after all, and I got enough dignitary's heads on my wall to prove it."

That's when the man brought up his track record in a way that actually caught Trent off-guard momentarily, his brow furrowing as Randall spoke.

"But on the whole your work has been done alone and has been less than discreet. Our employers require appropriate discretion in many situations. How well prepared are you to act in less public ways?"

Trent took a minute to process what had been suggested, were they asking him to do a sneaky job? They had read his file, right? That's why he was here? Why was he being called in to do something that required subtlety? Now he had to know the job, the curiosity eating away as he prepared his answer.

"W...well, I'm usually called in for heavy artillery, to be honest." Trent said. "I'm usually the guy who leaves a crater to punctuate a job well done...but that isn't to say I haven't done jobs that called for discretion." He leaned forward. "And if you're payin' how much you say you're payin', I'll make every effort to make sure nobody even knows I was there."

As Trent described his work experience and attempted to defend his method of doing business Randall remained seemingly impassive, simply maintaining a level stare directed at the mercenary. "The present task does not require particular levels of discretion. However our employers do not frequently incorporate new elements and we must be certain you are compatible." The man stated this rather matter of factly as he picked up the briefcase and placed it on his lap. "You have done a number of bounty hunting jobs in the past, and your present task is simple. To retrieve a troublesome individual and bring her to a specified location alive. It is imperative that she be brought back alive"

Randall opened the briefcase and from within it removed a folder. He fanned through it as if to ensure it was the correct one and then passed it to Trent. "This woman" the picture was grainy and not of particularly high quality, but it showed a woman with long platinum blonde hair, exotic features, and oddly canted eyes, "has become a person of interest to our employers and they require that she be brought in for questioning." Other information in the folder included several locations at which the woman had been sighted and a number of other grainy photos that looked to have been pulled from various security cameras.

The man continued as War Pulse perused the folder. "Several previous operatives have entirely failed to even report back to us with information. You are to consider this woman extremely dangerous and proceed accordingly. As our employers would prefer this to be the start of a lucrative partnership your fee will be payed if you either retrieve the woman for us, or provide us with further information from an encounter. Your handler has instructions to contact us when you have retrieved or engaged this woman."

When explaining himself, Randall seemed to show no outward concern to his words, nor did he seem to have any ease about Trent's capabilities. The guy was indeed a hard man to read, but Trent assumed that was intentional, nobody wanted to come across as desperate or uncaring on the first contact, made setting the terms a bit of a hassle. If one side had a different amount of interest in a contract, it tended to give the other person a certain amount of leverage against the other, client or employee.

Once the original volley of back and forth was exchanged, Randall went straight to business, placing a briefcase on the table as he spoke. "You have done a number of bounty hunting jobs in the past, and your present task is simple. To retrieve a troublesome individual and bring her to a specified location alive. It is imperative that she be brought back alive"

Trent took the dossier when it was offered, allowing the man to show him the picture before he flipped through the possible sightings. He stopped and mused over the woman in question, tall, blonde, and sultry, a potent mix of traits, especially for one on the run. There were a few hunts he were on that had similar targets, and it was usually the pretty ones who hid the best. They could surround themselves with thralls of men desperate enough to let a pretty woman manipulate them into hiding them for a long time, ended with a lot more people injured than usual.

"This woman" Randall explained with a gesture. "has become a person of interest to our employers and they require that she be brought in for questioning."

And there was the other catch. Alive. A much more delicate procedure than dead or alive, or preferably dead. Usually when someone asked for a person alive, it meant a much higher paycheck due to the hassle. No wonder these guys were offering so much.

Randall then proceeded to give Trent a warning, how several operatives had already failed or something, words that Trent tended to tune out at this point. It was not that he did not care, or that the concern was not warranted, it was simply he had heard the warnings so many times he could recite the dangers of targets from sheet memory.

"Alright, Randy, this whole contract seems pretty solid, and hey, if this works out I'm absolutely interested in a continued partnership." Trent said, folding up the dossier. "But I gotta ask, what exactly is it that makes her so dangerous? I'd prefer not to walk into this with a cryptic warning and end up having her shoot surprise fireballs up my ass."

“…Don’t get me wrong Sir, I respect your opinion, but I don’t think that silence on this matter is the way to go. We had demons running amok on our streets for God’s sake!” Nathan Sterling said emphatically to Director Anderson and the others in the SitRep room.

“I hate to say it Alex, but I think Sterling has a point. It doesn’t matter what we tell them, we just need to tell them something.” Ryder said to his long time friend. “Hell, we could tell them that it was all a mass produced hallucination caused by a single meta that was killed during the ordeal. They’d accept that. Nobody wants to deal with what we saw that night.”

“It is a fact that the American people are, as a rule, inherently stupid. They would buy whatever we’re selling. Well, most of them would anyhow. However, we’d still have to deal with the conspiracy theorists and the truthers, and such a statement could cause them to look into our operations a bit too closely.” Anderson said coolly with the charm of a used car salesman.

“So you’re going to do nothing because you’re afraid of a few idiots out there whose tin foil caps are on just a little too tight?” Sterling asked in a slightly mocking tone.

“Nathan,” Anderson said with an unsettling smile, dragging the man’s name slightly as he spoke. “I’m doing no such thing. The simple fact is, that we live in different times. This isn’t a new Roswell, these things are very much public knowledge. It’s here, it isn’t going away, and it’s something that we have to adapt to. The very fact that these metahumans are such a public phenomena actually works in our favor. It won’t be long until something else happens that makes the people forget all about ‘D-Day.’”

Just then, the door to the SitRep room slides open and a pretty brunette sticks her head into the room.
“Director, I’m sorry for the interruption. But you said you wanted to know if Archangel made contact with Nightmare. Contact has been made in the police station in Little Ulster.” The woman, Elizabeth Powers said.

“Very good. Thank you, Ms Powers.” Anderson said to his personal assistant as he got to his feet and headed for the door.

“Sir?” Sterling asked as he watched in disbelief as the Director simply got up and began to walk out of the meeting.

“Not now Nathan, I have important matters to attend to.” Anderson said as he turned to the door.

"But Sir, we're not through discussing what to do about the demons." Sterling whined in protest, causing the Director to stop short.

"We are." Anderson said simply. "Let the Vatican deal with them." He finished as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

The man's lips curled upwards into a barely perceptible smile as Trent joked about surprise fireballs up the ass. However this momentary show of emotion and humor quickly faded away. Once again Randall reached into the briefcase, this time taking out a second folder that he examined himself for a moment before speaking in reply. "We are uncertain as to her full capabilities. However she has dispatched 4 known metahuman operatives to date." Randall passed over the second folder, this one was noticeably thicker than the first and contained a small headset. An inquiring glance was met with a nod before the mercenary was to put it on. "One the previous teams were kind enough to provide us with an audio transcript of their failure. They believed they had cornered her in a warehouse. Unfortunately they did not contact us prior to engaging and were outmatched."

When War Pulse donned the headset it would begin to play the records from the failed attempt. The words of dead men echoing in his ears as the audio record played. Notably it was incomplete and several parts seemed spliced together.

V1- "This was easy. You'd think with all the money they were paying us she would have been harder to track down."

V2- "Heh, well I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth. Besides it isn't over yet."

V1- "It's a freaking retrieval mission on a girl. She's probably some bigshot's whore who ran off and now's threatening to blackmail them. Did you see those pictures? Damn."

V2- "And a bureaucrat's woman somehow managed to kill two other operatives?"

V1- "Shut it, they were clearly inept if someone like that too...."

V3- "The target's presence is confirmed, cut the chatter."

V1- "Fuck you man. Or better yet, let's hit that before we bring her..."

V4- (With clear annoyance) "He said cut the chatter, and seriously think with your brain not your dick for once."

V1- (Inaudible words of grudging ascent.)

V3- "Move in like we planned it. Remember, stun settings only and switch to team only signals it is possible she could listen in on this one."

(Several minutes of silence)

V1- (Laughing) "Got her! That was damn easy. Just took one shot from the stunner too."

V3- "What's your location?"

V2- "About halfway back, near the stacks of pipes. I'm about to restrain heugh"(Cuts off abruptly.)

V1- "What the fuck!?" (Sounds of weapons fire and a high pitched shriek that sounded inhuman.)

V3- "Report! What is happening?"

V1- "She killed ----" (More shots fired and disjointed words) "too ... fast... can't..."

V3- "We've got this. In position now." (Additional fire from multiple weapons) "Damn she's fast."

V1 "She fucking killed him man."

V4- "Shut u" (Voice cuts out abruptly with a heavy thud)

V3- "Direct hit." (Several more shots follow) "Target down."

V1- "We should kill her for this. She fucking killed --- and ---"

V3- "We are getting paid for this now restrain her and let's get out of here."

V1- "I'm not going near her."

V3- (Inaudible mutterings followed by a scream.)

V1 "Fuck this shit. Die!" (Harsher weapons fire and repeated shrieks mingled with curses) "Hah! Eat that!" (Heavy breathing) "How do you like that!?" (Hysterical laughing) "Your fucking dead n" (Gagging)

Unknown Voice- "Three times I play dead and three times you fall for it? You are disgraces to your profession and your....."(The voice was clearly female but odd as if with clicking undertones and a strange buzz to it.)

V1- (Faintly) "What the fuck are you?"

---End

"As you can see, this was not the most competant band of operatives. However our employers trust you will prove more capable." Randall spoke once more after the headphones were removed.

Christopher Arthur III
It was finally that day. While some would have wished that this ‘Nightmare’ character would never rear his ugly face back into Lost Haven again, S.T.R.I.K.E. has finally found (or rather been gifted) a means to counter this mysterious killer. Or at least a theoretical means. Everyone privy to this mission hoped that the designs that Archangel produced would work.

While Lost Haven was recovering from the ‘Demonic Invasion’, Chris had also spent his time resting up so that, whenever Nightmare would strike, Chris would be ready for it. Chris’ armor was repaired and restocked and Chris tried to allow any wounds or bruises that he had sustained from the ‘Invasion’ to heal.

For this short period of time between the end of the Demon invasion and Nightmare’s most recent massacre, Chris finally had time to tackle Archangel’s ‘problems’. From examining the data that Archangel had transferred to Chris, he deduced that whatever device that were based on these designs was suffering from an overheating problem. However, it wasn’t something that Chris could not solve. After a few nights and a couple glasses of wine, Chris finally developed a system that would provide adequate cooling for Archangel’s device by utilizing cooling liquids within the device.

However, since Nightmare had already struck again, reporting these findings would have to wait until the mission has been completed. This time, Nightmare had targeted a police station in Little Ulcer, that section of Lost Haven that received a face lift from Mercy through means incomprehensible to the human mind. First was the eradication of the filth that infested Little Ulster, then came the Demon Invasion, and now, the onslaught of Nightmare. Could this section of the city ever get a break?

Chris landed upon the roof of a building opposite of the Police Station. Below him was where Archangel had attempted to neutralize Nightmare. From her current condition, Chris could tell that Archangel had taken some severe damage, so much so that she was in a smaller and sleeker suit of armor. It looks like Chris had come just in the nick of time.

Now it was his time to enter the fray. Chris lifted up his arm above his head and activated his energy pilum. While the spear manifested itself, the computer system within Chris’ armor locked onto the dark mass that, as Chris assumed, was Nightmare. Once his weapon was fully formed, sparks flaring off of it as he held it in his hand, Chris hurled it down at his attended target.

The energy projectile crackled as it flew through the air towards Nightmare. It was almost like a scene out of Greek mythology, where Zeus, the Father of Gods and Men, hurled his threatening thunderbolt towards an enemy of Olympus. However, unlike Zeus’ mighty thunderbolt, Chris’ projectile would not cause that much damage. When the pilum hit its mark, there was a large crash. Nevertheless, the dark mass the billowed in the street seemed to be unfazed by his attack.

“Damn, that doesn’t look good.” Chris thought. However, Chris knew that he needed to give Archangel some breathing room. Therefore, Chris yelled down to the dark mass, hoping to get its attention, although he already assumed that his energy pilum already did the trick.

“Did you mother ever tell you never to hit girls? I was always told that was a major no-no.”

As expected, the man explained to him that the woman's powers were at this point unknown. Of course. A super secret job to chase down a woman who took out other metahumans with mysterious powers? Great, about as vague as you could get without Randall just shrugging and giving him the old 'I dunno". However, just before Trent was about to shrug and roll with it, the man produced him a bit of evidence in the form of an audio recording.

"...I'm...honestly a little surprised that your employers knew I was going to ask that question. More so that apparently you have dudes dying on tape and thought 'you know what would be great to keep around? This. I bet we're going to need this in the future." He chuckled and placed the earphones on, adding. "Oh who am I kidding? I bet this is comedy gold."

As advised, he placed on the headphones and listened patiently to the whole recording, and surprisingly, his attitude seemed to change when he heard the killings begin. His brow furrowed, lips pursing as he listened to the men describe what little they could explain about the attack, the woman's voice, everything he could analyze from an audio file went through his head. He made a few conclusions almost immediately, the people this group was hiring before him were nowhere near prepared to fight a superhuman. Whoever or whatever this woman was, she was fast, able to either dodge or avoid weapons fire, possibly resist it entirely as well from the sounds of it. Her voice at the end also had a clicking to it, either pointing to robotics or some kind of mutation, he couldn't tell which. He'd certainly be sending this information to Warden to see what he could make of it, but he was indeed dealing with a threat, not a victim. If this woman was going to be captured, she would not be captured without a hell of a fight.

And Trent would love every minute of it, guessing by the enthralled grin he sported when he put down the headphones.

"I think you've made a good choice hiring me, Randy." Trent said, popping the SD card out of the audio recorder and placing it with his dossier. "This ain't my first metahuman rodeo, and I don't need a gun to make an impact. I'll bring her to you alive, but don't hold it against me if the goods come a bit...damaged."

And with that, he tucked the dossier into his arm and got up from his seat. "Nice talkin' to ya, Randy. I'm sure we'll be keeping in touch."

---

"Welcome home, boss, I trust you had a decent flight from the East?"

A larger man in a suit was there to greet The Cowl and his entourage when they landed in an airport just outside of Lost Haven, shut down for the night after some money was exchanged for the airport's security systems to have 'malfunctioned'. He had a large scar on his right cheek, punctuating his strong jawline and slicked back hair, a smile on his face as The Cowl came over to shake his hand and clap him on the shoulder.

"It was long, but necessary, Wesson. It's good to see you're still in charge when I left."

"Well, I'm only running the manpower, Smith took over the books." the man known as Wesson smiled and placed both hands on Cowl's. "I don't know how you managed it all yourself, or how you kept that rat-bastard Teddy in check."

"Honestly, he was going to turn eventually, I just had to make sure I had a backup plan."

"You couldn't have taken him down without us losing a cargo ship?"

The joyful gaze of Cowl's turned sour on that question, his eyes boring holes into Wesson as he asked in a very calm tone. "Are you questioning how I handle things, Wesson?"

"N-no, I don't think--"

"Good, because without my careful planning we could have lost a lot more than one cargo ship." The Cowl stated defiantly, striding past the bigger man to the waiting limo. "Now, I trust that the party has already begun?"

"Most of the guests have already arrived." Wesson said, walking alongside The Cowl with a clipboard. "Gang cells from all over the city have appeared, the Syndicate still stands fairly strong, even with the inclusion of superhuman interference."

"Of course, there were a few absences, I trust?" The Cowl asked, a few of the thugs around him moving ahead to open the car door for him.

"That's where the interference comes in, boss." Wesson sighed, scratching the back of his head. "I know Mr. Stone could not make it, something about one of the places he shakes down fighting back."

"Is Mr. Stone attacking the defenseless again?"

"It keeps the revenue coming in."

“No it doesn’t, but that’s his problem.” Cowl muttered. “I offered him my advice, and as long as he continues to kick up to us, I suppose he can do what he likes. Is there anyone else missing the party tonight?”

“A few, Bulldog and Johnson are both pre-occupied in protecting your territory in Little Sicily, there are a few others dealing with possible heat down in the Financial District.”

“Fair enough, everyone else made it to the festivities tonight, then?”

“They’re already enjoying themselves back at your estate. Everyone is eagerly waiting for your arrival.”

“Then we should not keep them waiting, shall we?”

8 Years Ago
Catherine sighed as she made her commute on a rainy April morning. Some kids who were given up for adoption fantasize that their parents were rich and powerful people who would come and rescue their own child from the kid’s current situation. And Catherine was no different.

However, when she had grown older, Catherine left her biological parents with great disappointment. While the grandiose nature of the fantasy of her parents did not help much, even if Catherine had hoped that her parents were like everyone else’s folks, she would have been in for a rude awakening. Instead of a middle-class family living in suburbia, Catherine saw that her real parents were traveling gypsies, thieves who made a living from pawning stolen goods. And when she asked about how her biological brother met his wife, her family just gave her cryptic responses, making it seem like they were trying to hide something.

To Catherine, it almost seemed like it would have been better if she never had went at all and continued to believe in her fantasized image of her biological family. But that was no longer possible anymore. The only good thing she got from that visit was that she finally found out that her powers were hereditary. As a hair stylist, Catherine found that her powers were especially usefully for getting rid of gray hairs from her older patrons. As long as the changes were not too extensive, there was never any pain.

But now Catherine was preparing for one of her appointments. A high school girl took a seat at Catherine’s salon chair, intending to get her hair ready for her senior prom. However Catherine wanted to test her powers. She had always stayed with small and simple changes that her patrons would either never notice or she could have lied and said that she used a special product to get those results. Catherine wanted to try something bigger. More complex.

While she was working on the teen’s hair, Catherine made some small talk, trying to pry from the girl information about her favorite actresses, musicians, and models. And as the appointment continued, Catherine little by little made alterations to her patrons so that there wouldn't be any pain. And when she had finished, Catherine saw that her completed work was not like Frankenstein, a mish-mash of unlike body parts sown together. Instead, the changes that she made on this girl blended together flawlessly, as if that girl had been born like that.

“You did a wonderful job, Catherine” the girl told her stylist as she admired how Catherine had arranged her hair.

“I know.” Catherine said, knowing that she did a fabulous job on more than just this girl’s hair. Catherine had never tried to make her subject oblivious to more blatant changes, but as that girl walked out of the salon without batting an eye at how she looked different besides her hair style, Catherine concluded that she could indeed make her patients oblivious to the changes.

With this knowledge, Catherine continued to press her powers to the limits, practicing on three more junior and senior girls who had made appointments for the same reason as the first girl. When each of these girls walked into the salon, they were beautiful on their own accord. However, when they left, they could have matched any super model.

On the following morning, Catherine woke up to crosses fixed in her yard. Someone (or some people) had painted a brown cross upon her door and scorched the words ‘witch’ and ‘demon’ in the grass in her yard. Upon her door, Catherine found a note from the parents of the girls who came to her salon the previous day, threatening that ‘bad things’ would happen if she did not change their daughters back to normal.

Catherine crumbled up the note and went back inside her house. For that whole morning, she gathered up all her things and packed them into her car. If the people of this town could not appreciate her masterpieces, then she would stay there. Therefore, after she had everything packed up and ready to go, Catherine slipped out of town, intending to begin a new life.