In the wee hours of the morning, the guild's Hollow was quiet. It was a good time to beat the crowd and get a little exercise in before the day began. Orren's personal favorite was a swim in the indoor pool, kept at a refreshing 78 degrees year round. He got up around 5, donned his swim trunks, and made his way down to the gym. One of the many perks of joining the Guild was the gym: it was kept in good shape and well supplied with enough equipment, the pool of course, and even a sauna room. What more could a guy want?

Orren dumped his towel in a chair at the poolside and dove in. He, personally, wasn't one of the more paranoid types that wore their mask even inside the safety of the Hollow. Honestly, he didn't have much of an identity to hide. Superhero-ing was a full time job, and he didn't really know anyone outside the Guild that a villain could get their hands on. After a few laps, Orren got out and dried off. He headed back to his room to wash off the chlorine and get dressed; other heroes would be getting up soon and then the whole damn place would be chaos as usual.

Orren entered his room to find that his roommate was still sound asleep, curly hair sticking out from under his blankets. Orren was one of the few that actually shared his room, and it was mostly by accident that he did so. When Dylan had first come to the Guild, he was deemed 'unstable', and needed to be watched 24/7 to make sure he didn't get up to anything. Orren was saddled with clownsitting duty, of course. Dylan moved into his room and just sort of stayed there. There was plenty of space for the two of them, and after the first few days, they'd gotten the kid a bed.

Dylan had made major improvements since then, but Orren still couldn't help but feel bad for the guy every now and then. The clown was handed a pretty raw deal. From what he'd shared with his deemed 'best friend', he'd lived with his asshole uncle for most of his childhood. He'd forgotten what real parents were like; what acceptance and love felt like. Sooner or later, he'd gotten smart enough to run away. Then came the circus. Orren had thought that running away to the circus was just a cliche; no one actually did it. But he supposed he was wrong. Dylan always got a wistful look in his eyes and a stupid grin on his face when he talked about the circus. Smelly animals and hot, crowded tents; Orren didn't see the appeal. But Dylan had loved it. He was treated like family there. Until his powers developed and ruined it for him.

Dylan was fired and left to his own devices. He'd found himself homeless; nowhere to go and no one to take pity on him. People were afraid of him; shelters wouldn't let him in, no one would give him work. He was fucked. His only option was to steal what he needed and hope he wouldn't get gunned down. Dylan would walk into a gas station, grab and armful of whatever food was closest to the door and run. Of course, after a while, the places would station police outside their doors. The clown had to travel if he wanted to live.

The day Orren and Leech had found him, he was wearing the same dirty, smelling clothes he had the day he was fired. Dylan had a little dufflebag filled with all his worldly belongings; mostly his clown suit and circus paraphernalia. Orren remembered watching as Leech told him to quit fucking around with his powers, the confused expression on the poor kid's face. He had been bone thin, marred with infected wounds from where terrified people had attacked him, and his bag clutched close to his chest as if he was afraid they'd steal it from him. There was no way Orren could just walk away from that; it was like leaving a puppy to starve. A big, gangly, horror inducing puppy.

Orren got the Guild to accept him with the understanding that any fucking up on the clown's part was on his head. Dylan had cleaned up and filled out fairly well. He no longer looked like some kind of horrific Nightmare Before Christmas cosplay. Still, the clown didn't escape all mental scars. Orren had never said anything to him about it, but he occasionally caught Dylan sneaking bags of chips and snack crackers into his side of the room and squirreling them away, never eating them, but just hiding them here and there. It was like he secretly thought that they, too, would turn on him some day. That basic human needs like food and clean water would once again be taken from him. There was just something about a sad clown was extra depressing. It made Orren appreciate the fact that, even though his father was gone now, that he'd at least had a caregiver that gave a shit about him.

Orren could still remember the sounds of gunfire and his own crying. His father had been killed in a shootout between a crime group called the V Street Gang and the police. Orren had never found the guys responsible, and the lack of closure still hurt him. Luckily, he wasn't one to dwell on the past. The black haired man gathered up a clean uniform and went into the bathroom for a quick shower and a change. By the time he was done, it was almost 7. Surely there would be other people up by now. He left his room, leaving Dylan to likely sleep till noon again, and went down to the kitchen to see if breakfast was afoot.

.

Takeshi senses were currently being overwhelmed by the grill in front of him; the sound of the stakes sizzling, and the smell of the felt like heaven to him. This is where he truly belonged; in the kitchen, not out fighting. But alas, it was not to be. While the guild provided him with a place to sleep and a kitchen to work in, it also required him to actively fight crime, something he was far better at then he wanted to be. However for now, he could take solace in his sanctuary

"Now lets see..." he mused to himself as he looked through the spice rack "oh! This would be just wonderful" he said to himself as he took out a bottle of some spice. Gingery sprinkling it over the cooking slabs of meat, he waited a few minutes for it to sink in before flipping them over. Already he could detect a small change in the aroma they gave off "ahh, perfect." Rushing over to the deep fryer, he flung the contents; a bunch of potatoes out into the air. When he did, time seemed to slow down around him. Drawing his sword, he swung it at the airborne spuds again and again, slicing them into bite sized pieces. Right before they hit the ground, he grabbed a large plate and caught ever last bit. Taking time to savor the scent of them, his attention was quickly drawn by the sound of the oven "oh! My cake is ready!" Putting the plate of potatoes down, he hurried to the oven to remove his cake; it was a glorious thing, made of 5 different kinds of chocolate "and those hacks thought this was too much chocolate, ha! When it comes to dessert, there's no such thing as too much chocolate. If only they could see me now" he mused as he looked over his delicious looking chocolate coma waiting to happen. "Alright. Time to check on my bacon wrapped scallops"

Persephone wasn't much of an early riser. Sure, she loved the sun. That was why she spent a lot of time at the top of Mount Justice. But she had never liked to rise with the sun. She much preferred using the early morning sun to keep her warm as she slept. And waking before the sun? That was just not an option.

But there were still some days, like today, where it didn't matter how much she wanted to sleep. It didn't matter how much she tossed and turned or how high she pushed the heat up in her room. She couldn't sleep. Her mind was restless, replaying everything that had ever happened to her. All night long she saw Orren's face, his dad's face, her parent's faces. She saw Orren's face as she had last seen it before she left - covered in a grief she had no words of comfort for. I'm sorry? What did that even mean? I'm sorry it was your dad and not mine? I'm sorry it wasn't someone else? I'm sorry I let this happen? She had no control over it. Her apologies were meaningless. Still, she should have said something. The next morning she had woken up in the car, packed boxes next to her, with her parents telling her it was for her own good. They had no idea. They did all the wrong things, but for the right reasons? It was nights like this, sleepless and lonely, she sometimes though she had made a mistake. Maybe her parents had meant well, and just handled it wrong. What would she have done? She wanted to say she would have listened to her child, she would have believed them, but how could she know that?

And then she tried to push the thoughts from her mind. No, she had done the right thing. And anyways, it was too late now. What was done was done. But she was still a child who had had to grow up too fast. Most of the years she should have spent maturing she had spent arguing and hiding and resenting, and then all of a sudden she was too busy being self-sufficient to be anything else. Too busy finding a job to find herself. Too busy surviving to live.

Sometimes, on those nights, she thought about where she'd be if she hadn't found the team. If she hadn't been late to work that one day and she hadn't gotten stuck driving to the store to get more decorations for the library's party and she hadn't had to take the long way because of traffic, and if by the time she got there, she hadn't driven past Orren. What would have happened if she hadn't seen him as he looked now, eleven years later, and convinced herself that he was Ichor. The superhero had stuck in her mind after she saw a news report about him, but she couldn't figure out why. And then she had seen Orren, and realized that was where she knew Ichor from. It was a small chance, that her childhood best friend was now a superhero, but wasn't it also a small chance that she could produce fire from her body? So she had scoped the place out, and sure enough he was there. An incident later, she was on the team too.

And then, of course, her mind wandered to the incident. That face, and the hat. They had come out of the darkness all of a sudden. Just thinking about it made her skin crawl and her heart beat faster. And then, unable to deal with her fright, she would have to light up her hand and scope out her room to make sure he wasn't lurking there in the shadows.

That was usually when she got up. She needed to move, stop allowing her mind to wander. Sure, there was a chance he was out there, but not at this hour. He slept late, surely she was safe for a few hours. So Persephone pulled herself out of bed and tugged on a tee-shirt and shorts and took a walk around the place.She took a few laps around the halls, amusing herself with her hand torch, before she heard other people moving around. Eventually her stomach growled, and she headed towards the kitchen.

Collin was driving his mustang through one of the secret passages that led to the Guild's main base of operations. Collin had a busy night, "fighting crime". He first halted a ship approaching the harbor loading cocaine for the Colombian cartel. He tied up the crew and sailed the ship as close to the harbor as he could without damaging the ship as he wasn't much of a captain. Once the cops came, as late as always, he then went to a meth lab which he busted and subdued the people inside. He again, waited for the police to arrive before he left for his next caper. The next place he got to was an underground weapons store. He knew he couldn't go in there straight away because he'll be met by a wall of lead. He instead took out the main electric switch which turned off the light in the building. It was pitch dark but Collin could see the place well enough. He took them down and cuffed them. Oddly enough, some of the people there were gun enthusiast and collectors who either wanted to get a low price for a rare gun or a gun that couldn't be bought on the open market. Neither the less, they would have to be taken to court too. He waited for the police, who were now hot on his tail, getting their within seconds of the bust. He then went after his goal of the night, an old friend of his. He went to the house of Michael "Murder Mike" Dela Cruz, the 777 Mexican cartel's head honcho in Bay city. He got he's baseball bat and sneakily got into the compound of the mob boss. He snuck inside the garage and smiled as he smashed the ever-loving shit out of his favorite car, a Ferrari 458 spider. He then spray-painted the car with pink and white colors. He took a look at his master piece before hurrying out the door. It took a while for the mob boss's guards to figure out what was happening. Collin watched from a far as he saw Dela Cruz yelling at his guards while knelling in front of what used to be his car.

Collin parked his car in the parking lot where only a few other vehicles where also parked. He headed inside, taking his duffle bag filled with his equipment with him. This was one of the few times he visited in the base without any assembly or emergency. Usually, he would stay at his home but this time the base was a nearer location and he was in desperate need of sleep. As he headed for his chamber, he smelled something coming from the kitchen. Basil, salt, paper, bay leaves, beef... steak? Someone was cooking steak this early in the morning? He dropped his bag off at his room and headed for the kitchen. It was Takeshi, Collin should have known.

"Got any coffee? I'm dying for a cup." Collin said as he entered the kitchen.

When Orren walked into the kitchen the smell of...steak? Seafood? Cake? Who the hell was making fucking cake at this hour? He turned the corner and was met with the sight of one of their younger recruits cooking his little heart out. Of course it was the robot guy; he was always in here.
"Hey, any chance you got some breakfast cooking? Are you cooking for the whole goddamn city or what?" Orren asked, rather rudely. Around the cave, he was known more for his bark than his bite. He went to the refrigerator to pull out some eggs. He could do eggs and steak. Steak was breakfast food, right?

Orren set the carton on the counter and bent down to dig around under the counter for a frying pan. After pulled one out from the disaster zone under there, he put it down on the stove and began to make some sunny side ups. Having learned from mistake over the years, he was sure to make enough to feed a small army. It wouldn't be long before everyone would show up and snatch them like the filthy vultures they were. And because he was nice sometimes.

When the eggs were done, Orren figured that he should probably wake up the clown before he actually slept till noon. He sat down at the table and pulled out his phone.

Down the hall and around the corner, an obnoxious piece of circus music played. Of course Dylan's ringtone was circus music; what else would you expect? There was a groan of complaint as a long, lanky arms slithered out from the covered to pick up the loud little device. It was pulled back under and soon answered.
"Hello?" The voice was groggy and heavy with sleep, but still smooth and slow. Dylan never spoke fast.
"Get out of bed you worthless piece of clown shit." The other voice was slightly deeper and a bit rougher, and most certainly quicker paced.
"Oh, hey there brother," Dylan purred, still having not made a single effort to get out of bed.
"Were you just planning to sleep around on your ass all day? In the time that it will probably take you to get your snail paced asshole down here, I could have breakfast ready, eat it, stop a psychopath from taking over the fucking world, read a book, grow old and have grandkids!"
"Heh. Man, I you know I ain't a brother to get ready before breakfast." Dylan was completely unphased by the harshly delivered words. He slowly sat up, his eyes half lidded.
"Just please put pants on before you come out of our room this time, for the love of god."
"You got it best friend."

There was a click and Orren hung up to enjoy his breakfast. Meanwhile, Dylan climbed out of bed and went to dig around in his drawers for something clean to wear. Should he put on the purple pants with the teal spots or the teal spots with the purple pants? Dylan just shrugged to himself and grabbed one. After pulling them on, he left. No hairbrush, shower, or shirt was touched in the process. The clown meandered his way down stairs to the kitchen, where he found Orren with eggs and steak. Oh, and Per was there too.

Dylan paused to look at her with a smile on his face. Wasn't she just the cutest fucking little thing? Dylan remembered the first time he saw her, all skittish like a baby deer. He'd heard a noise while getting some water in the middle of the night, gone to check it out, and had apparently scared the living shit out of her. Half the Guild heard the commotion. Dylan hadn't done any scary mumbojumbo or anything. Orren came in and got her all calmed down; apparently she knew him. All Dylan knew was that a little blonde haired angel had appeared out of nowhere.

The second time, he'd met to properly introduce herself. Orren had made him take his clown makeup off. Dylan had held out his hand for her to shake, and when she grabbed it, it popped right off. Apparently she hadn't thought the ol' fake hand trick was funny. It was a classic! Orren had to come calm her down for that one too.

.

Thalesin had been up for several hours, he had never gotten use to the time shift he experienced from his world to this planet Earth he was stuck on. He sat alone in a room that acted as a garage for vehicles, working on his ship. It would be ages until he could fully fix it, humans still lacked the components he needed and were still several centuries behind what he was use to but despite this gap in evolution he found humans quite fascinating in many ways. How they lived in such a chaotic world, more then his anyway, and yet there was a balance and peace to it that he couldn't quite explain neither did his human counter parts seem to be able to, even when he asked them about it.

He put down the tools he was using and decided to head for the kitchen, by now some of the others had to of been awaken and he could grab something to eat. He went down the numerous hall ways, first stopping in his room to switch out clothes, finding it unnecessary to be dressed up as the hero all the time, especially when the suit was designed to put him in constant pain in order for him to use his powers. Though anymore it was rather a numb feeling to him, his body still felt sore when he took off the suit and was relieved from its torment. He got dressed and then made his way to the kitchen. Ever since he found the Guild with the others he had found a way to integrate into human culture to some extent, the only issue was his markings which to most he told them they were tattoos but in reality they were not. However in the Guild he didn't have to pretend they were tattoos which made him feel relieved that he could be himself more even despite being the only alien amongst them.

The smells that filled the air were intoxicating as he entered the kitchen and he saw that a few of the others were awake, some in the process of eating while others seemed to of just woken. He decided to grab some eggs and bacon for his morning meal. While he waited for his meal to cook he decided to also make himself a cup of coffee, an addiction that he had that was apparently quite common amongst humans. To drink the warm liquid to help them wake up. He didn't need it much to wake up, mostly he enjoyed the taste of it, though he had learned to take it in doses, only having one cup a day or else he would be 'bouncing off the walls' as the humans would say.

When she reached the kitchen door, Per could hear Orren talking to someone. It was strange, being on the team with them. They had been so great together as kids, but she couldn't help but feel her move still stood between them. She had just up and left, right when he needed her. She tried not to bring it up - she felt guiltier about that than anything else. She wanted to lapse back into their friendship from before, when they knew what the other was thinking just by saying one word. But a lot had happened in eleven years. They had both changed, for better or worse, and now their friendship seemed to have a completely different language. New letters, new words, new variables. The only things that still seemed present were themselves, and the feeling she got around him. That, despite time, had not changed. His voice still sent electricity through her veins, and just seeing him have her butterflies.

And then, of course, there was how he looked. Time had not been cruel to him. His awkward thirteen-year-old body had filled out more than nicely. When she entered the kitchen, she got a magnificent view of just how much he did have now. God, if she could only be his super suit and get to hug him in all the right places.

He found his pan and straightened and, realizing she was starting to drool, Persephone turned into the pantry. It looked like breakfast was going to be eggs and steak and whatever else Takeshi had cooked this morning. Per grabbed the bread and pulled a piece from the bag before setting it back on it's shelf. She toasted it in her hand and moved back into the kitchen, buttering it and then making herself a cup of coffee, which she immediately downed. By then some eggs were ready and she took a few on a plate. She set everything down and grabbed the empty mug and turned and-

Aaahhhh! Per dropped her mug and fell backwards against the kitchen counter, screaming violently. Her body shook with terror. All she had done was turn around, and then he had just been right there, inches away, staring down at her with that fucking creepy smile. There were no such things as monsters under the bed, Per knew that. But monsters a few rooms down from you? Dylan was living proof that was true. This happened all the time. He would sneak up on her and she would freak out uncontrollably. Thankfully, the rest of the house had caught on quick to not give her anything breakable if Dylan was in the area. The mug she had dropped at the sight of his face was plastic, and had just bounced a little and rolled away. When she managed to catch her breath, she looked around warily. Usually, when he scared her this bad, something lit on fire. Flames caught the corner of her eye, and she found the mug that had fallen and rolled away burning in the corner. "Shit," she said, scrambling over to grab it and put it out. By the time she got there the top had melted, and she let out a groan of frustration before throwing it out. No more coffee for her today. First she couldn't sleep, then Dylan scared the shit out of her, and then she burned her coffee mug. Of fucking course.

Her mouth twisted into an angry frown and she headed back to her plate of food, keeping a careful eye on Dylan's whereabouts around the kitchen as she sat down with the others to eat.

Pulling out the bacon wrapped scallops out, he let the aroma fill his nose. That's when he heard a voice "Hey, any chance you got some breakfast cooking? Are you cooking for the whole goddamn city or what?" it was that Orren guy

"Well if you're going to be like that, then no cake for you" he declared. The kitchen was his domain! He was in command here, not this guy! Going back to check on his steaks, he made a small incision on one of them the check inside "ah, just right" he said, satisfied with the color of the steak's interior. Using his sword, he tossed all the steaks straight into the air. At the height of their assent, everything slowed down to Takeshi. Using his sword, he sliced them all up into bite sized pieces, like to potatoes before. Then right before they fell back on the grill, he grabbed a large plate and caught them all. Grabbing a fork, he took one of the steak pieces and tasted it. A smile blossomed on his face as he ate it. "Perfect" he said after swallowing it

Collin fixed himself a cup of coffee and sat down at one of the tables. He saw Orren cooking up some eggs but he wasn't in the mood for breakfast. He took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, took one out and placed it on his lips. He got his trusty lighter out and lit the cig a flame. He smoked while taking sips of coffee, not minding the other two people in the kitchen who were clearly irritated. He flipped open his phone to check on the news. He's capers the night beforehand were being aired. He smiled when he saw the banged-up car of murder Mike. Word would get out of this and somebody was going to talk to him about it but he didn't really care. What's the point of being a hero if you can't have some fun? He heard a scream behind him and felt a huge wave of heat. Seems that Persophone was awake too. He didn't even bother turning around, why bother? The next news cover came up and it was a bank robbery in progress at South-side. He questioned himself why anybody would rob banks nowadays when most criminals could just hack bank systems and steal their cash their. Collin called Orren.
"Hey blood boy, somebody's robbing the bank again. Why don't you and clown face go over there and check shit out?" He said. If Orren was known for bark rather than his bite, Collin was known as the grumpy grandad of the guild. He wasn't that old but he was usually an ass to everybody. It got on most people's nerves at times. "Could you like do it... today maybe?" He asked sarcastically.

.

Dylan cringed at Per's reaction to him. Day 102 and the girl he was hopelessly head over heels for was still terrified of him.

"How about instead I take this salt shaker and shove it so far up your ass you'll taste it?" Orren snarled. "I'm not some kind of fucking crime fighting slave. Or maybe you could at least tell us where the hell it is." He grumbled as he pulled out his own little alert device to check the status of the robbery. The crooks were now in a police chase down Main Street. He looked over at Dylan, who was still wearing only a pair of stupid clown pants, not even remotely ready. Dammit.

"Per, why don't you come? Dylan probably won't be ready for another nine hours." The clown only grinned as he piled some eggs onto his plate. Orren pulled his mask out of his pocket and put it on, his eyes behind it turning bright red. He pulled his hood up, ready to go.

There was nothing like the sounds of the beach when it came to calming a disturbed soul. The gentle crash of ocean water against the sand, the chirping of seagulls and the soothing breeze all flowed together in perfect harmony. John loved the beach. It was always so calming to the otherwise flustered and frustrated superhero. John stared down at the water of the bay, and he desperately wanted to take off his accursed armor and leap in. Then Banister remembered that if he did, he’d most likely end up responsible for poisoning half the city. With a sigh, John forced his massive bulky suit to stand up from its sitting position. He grabbed the large half filled trash bag that had sat next to him, turning and starting back up to the road. Once his large metal boots hit the sidewalk, John noticed the over abundance of litter lining the road. He’d been at this since 2:00 AM, and filled three bags full yet he’d barely made much of a dent. Luckily for John, he rarely slept. Partly do to the fact that sleep was barely necessary due to his powers giving him energy, but mostly because of the nightmare: those horrifying memories of the past that the Russian hated to recall. John reached a massive gauntlet down, and scooped up a beer bottle, and threw it into the trash bag. The large metal man began to walk down the sidewalk, cleaning up the streets.

Fallout contemplated silently to himself as he moved down the quiet morning street, picking up other people’s garbage. He found it humorous what other people thought of him. He’d been called a monster, a menace, a danger to the human race. John knew it was because they were afraid of the power he held inside, but that didn’t take away the sting of their words. John grabbed some form of paper up and was about to toss it in the trash when he caught sight of what was written on it. It was an old newspaper, and who was on the front didn’t surprise Fallout in the slightest: G-Force. For the millionth time, Bay Times had made her front cover. To be fair, most of the heroes had been on the cover more than once. Except Fallout, who had only ever been in the front cover of a newspaper titled: “WALKING ATOM BOMB DESTROYS BUILDING.” I mean, John hadn’t meant to hit that support beam. That thief was just too fast, and he might have gotten a bit carried away with shooting and-

BOOM!

The hero’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a small explosion, and a force hitting his back. Fallout turned, raising his energy blaster on his right arm towards the source of the attack. Lo and behold, there was a group of laughing teenagers wielding firecrackers.”You could hurt someone with tho-“Fallout was cut off as another firecracker exploded by his feet. As the next firecracker flew through the air, Fallout blasted it apart and sent the teenagers packing.”Rotten kids…” John muttered to himself. The underappreciated hero turned on his heels and went back to picking up garbage. After a good while of walking, Fallout found himself on Parker Street, with a full bag. After making sure there was no one nearby, John incinerated the bag using his powers and pulled another one off the roll he’d attached to his ‘belt’ before he left this morning. John continued down the road, picking up trash, sub consciously being drawn towards Mount Justice. They were all probably up by now, eating breakfast. There was no real reason to head home just yet. He didn’t need to eat, and if there was an emergency someone would have rung Fallout’s communicator. But no, it seems everything is quiet today. At least as quiet as Bay City got. John found it quite ironic that criminals still tried to pull the occasional bank robbery off, or sell any drugs. This was the so called ‘City of Heroes.’ Who robs a city filled with Super heroes?

John shrugged to himself, and continued to work as he enjoyed the peace and quiet that plagued Bay City. ’Life isn’t all that bad.’ John thought to himself with a smile as he looked at the sky. There was an extra hop to the hero’s step as he continued to do his job. Perhaps he should change his alias to Janitor.

She barely looked up when Orren snarled back at Collin. She was more than accustomed to his bark now, and it didn't bother her one bit. Maybe that was because she was rarely on the opposite end of it, but that was because she never expected or demanded anything from him. She knew him well enough to know when he wanted feedback and when he wanted a yes sir, and she gave him it wholeheartedly. Besides, most of the time the other person had barked first, and that was their fault.

At the sound of her name, Per perked up. It was an uncontrollable reaction - it just sounded so perfect on his lips. Staring, it took her an extra second to process what he had said and by the time she had it figured out he had put on his mask and his eyes were two shining rubies. Go on the mission with him? Hell fucking yeah. She looked at him with an excitement as though he had proposed marriage. "Yeah! Sure!" she exclaimed, taking a step towards the door and then freezing. She was still wearing her tee shirt and shorts - not something she was ready to fight crime in. "One second," she added, and, with a wide circle around Dylan, raced out of the room. Within a minute she had stripped and thrown on her super suit, slid on her mask, and ran back to the kitchen. "Let's go!"

They sped to meet up with the chase. The villains were headed east down Main, and the two heroes took a different route than the police in an attempt to cut off the car. But they were two seconds too late, and ended up right behind it. Per turned to Orren from the passenger seat. "See how close you can get, I can try to burn out his tires and engine."

"If you wanna keep talking shit, maybe you should start talking from your ass." Collin said as Orren and Per left the room. He finished the last of his coffee and dropped it off at the sink without washing it.

"If anybody needs me, I'll be in my room." Collin said as he left the kitchen. He stopped outside of the room and took another cigarette out of his pocket, placed it in his mouth and lit it. He then proceeded to walk back to his room. leaving the scent of tobacco smoke behind him. Once he got back to his room, he dropped on his bed but found that he couldn't sleep anymore. He sat up straight and grabbed the remote to his small t.v besides him. He opened it up and switched it to the sports channel. He watched the rerun of the game he missed last night when he was out on his vigilante missions. He then searched under his bed for a treasure he's been hiding for some time now. He reached for a bottle of whiskey and pulled out. He opened the cap and took a sip.

"Perfect." He stated to himself.

He spent the next two hours and a half watching the game and drinking, or rather chugging down, his whiskey. About half way through, he ran out and took out another bottle from his closet. By the end of the game Collin was fast asleep while still in his full costume, two large, empty bottles of whiskey by his bedside, he's television still open and his door wide open.

The interactions between everyone was normal in the guild but none the less it still was somewhat fascinating to Thalesin how they interacted compared to his homeworld. For the most part he just watched as things unfolded and to see how it played out, only deciding to voice an opinion if it got out of hand, but that rarely happened. He finished eating his breakfast and slipped out of the room to get ready for the day and prepare to be on stand by for any crimes that may happen. His so called suit was actually what was considered normal clothing on his planet, a means of telling which clan you were from. Here though it worked well with concealing his identity of who he was. A few modifications had made it the perfect suit for him. Unlike most of the people on his planet though, his was specially designed, an odd thing about his powers were that they were more of a self defense mechanism, he could not use them at will, he was forced into suffering pain in order to be able to use his gifts. At first it had been excruciating, but now he was use to it, the odd little spikes inside only causing him a slight numbing sensation to his nerves though the next day after a nights rest he would be sore.
He grabbed the rest of his equipment before putting on his helmet which completed the outfit. He then left his room, deciding to wander a bit around the base to pass some time and wait for the next crime alert to happen.

It didn't take Ichor and Firefly long to subdue the bank robbing thieves. They were back at the headquarters in a couple hours, having spoken to the police, gotten the criminals secured, and taken care of their loose ends. Orren went off to read whatever shitty romance novel he had picked up recently , and Per went to go do whatever it was she did to spend time.

By now, Dylan had finished breakfast. He was dressed in his purple shirt and goofy costume, his face painted up like a clown. The guy would walk around all day with the paint on, occasionally smearing it on things, much to Orren's dismay. He managed to track down Per to show her some stupid magic trick he'd recently learned, only to scare her half to death and catch a hallway on fire. It was business as usual.

---

Meanwhile, across town, trouble was brewing.

"Sir, are you sure this plan will work?"
"Do I look unsure to you?" The voice was lightly accented. It belonged to a fairly young man who was probably in his late twenties or early thirties. He was tall and lean, dressed like he was from the North Pole, and sported a large blade of some type on his back. He didn't look like the friendly type. The two were standing in an elevator that was slowly rising.
"It's just that...your father tried this very plan not but a few years ago, and you see where that got him."
"My father was a fool," The man snapped at his assistant. "He went about it all wrong. One can not just blindly attack the city of heroes and hope to kill them all. You must have a plan, a strategy. I will prevail where my father failed; and then he will see who is better than who." The man clearly had some sort of parental issues going on here, and probably a few others as well.
"With the heroes fallen, the city will follow, and then the country, then the world. This is the beginning of a beautiful thing, Rubin."

The elevator doors opened, revealing an old, worn out grocery store, the cover for the villain's layer. The store had long since been closed. The man strode out of the front door and onto the street. He grinned sinisterly as he passed a group of schoolchildren walking home from school.
"Remember the name Frostbite, kids," He said with a sneer. "It may be in the history books some day." With that, he held his hand out towards the street, ice shooting from his fingertips. The road froze over, sending an oncoming car jackknifing. It hit a water hydrant, water spurting out everywhere. The man continued across the street, freezing and chilling whatever he pleased, causing as much of a scene as he could.

"This is Dispatch, we've got a 10-50 on Crown Street. Possible 10-100.10-0 advised, how copy? " (10-100 isn't an actual code, but I figured in a world with super powers the police would have a call out for super villains.)

Another officer spoke up through the police radio."10-4. My partner and I are 10-76 to the scene. 10-77, approximately ten minutes."

Fallout pressed a button on the neck of his suit, activating his communicator."I have the 10-50, brothers." He said in his deep Russian accent. The armored hero turned around and started heading in the opposite direction he was going, and began to move towards Crown Street. Despite the massive bulk of the armored suit that contained John, the hydraulics within made movement within it far easier than if they were not present. Fallout arrived on the scene a few minutes ahead of the police. What he saw was much more than an accident.

With only a glance, Fallout could tell something was very wrong. The street was frozen, and there was ice and snow everywhere. It shouldn't be there, considering the season and the fact that the skies were more or less clear."This is Fallout again. Back up might be necessary.." While he may have called for back up a bit prematurely, there was never any harm in being careful. John powered up his laser and slowed to a jog as he moved down the sidewalk. With the amount of citizens running towards him, Fallout speculated that the threat was straight ahead. So the metal clad warrior moved ahead, careful to avoid running into one of the terrified people. The super was easy enough to identify, wielding a sword and dressed for such weather. Fallout approached, training his weapon on the fur wearing man."Freeze." John said, rather ironically.

"Don't mind if I do," The villain hissed as he turned around, ice shooting from his hand to coat the hero in a thick layer. He then reached behind his back to draw his weapon: a strange looking blade indeed. The villain strode towards the frozen hero. "Don't tell me you came alone. Where are your friends? I was hoping for a bit more turnout."

The hero before him was too big and bulky; he simply would not make the plan work. But Frostbite figured the more danger their ally was in, the pep the heroes would put in their step. He raised his blade up and brought it down into the suit's shoulder. The blade didn't penetrate the suit, but left icy crystals behind in the gash it made in the ice prison. The crystals soon began to grow inwards. Strong and fast, it wouldn't take them long to penetrate the armor. Of course, the villain didn't know that this was probably not the best idea.