In some ways, Cedric Wessex can consider himself blessed. He was the youngest head of an International Agency at 20, one of the most influential voices within the Reformist Movement. Handsome, skilled, and, due to his parents retiring early and giving him his inheritance, rich, the brown-haired, blue-eyed man had 'pull' and 'weight', far more than his Metahuman powers could have given him naturally. But this good fortune was more than balanced out by tragedy, tragedy that, for the most part, came from what happened to his mother figure, Elena Reyes, formerly of the FBI, and his 'elder brother figure', Constantine Ramiel King. Both of them had been his mentors and guardians, and, well, Elena had manifested the worst possible Metahuman powers, slowly mutating into a feral felinoid woman whose apperance brought tears to his eyes... ...While Constantine had been killed in the line of duty, trying to infiltrate a North Korean Airbase. Let's just say that Cedric, then 18 and barely legal age, took it hard, but working closely with Light, that helped. So was working to keep Metahumans and Normal Humans from killing each other, as well as keeping both categories of people off a prison system that he considered broken. And, finally, there was finding justice for people screwed over by both Corporations and Government, rooting out conspiracies in both. For five years, he had found nothing major, but as Constantine had warned him, he had to be wary, he had to keep being sure. For he did not want new grievances to inspire new incidents, which in turn result in more greivances directed even against those who had nothing to do with said incidents. You cannot stop things; another conflict is inevitable, a voice from inside told him. Said internal voice referred to the so-called 'Underground Movement', an 'umbrella group' of people who had given up on peace, decrying the recent state of truce as false. This group was not able to be infiltrated, any evidence of its activities only gained through documents and verbal accounts. But, to Cedric's genius mind, a picture was slowly emerging. A clandestine group with both terroristic and non-terroristic elements, filled with its own ideological geniuses, formed from the remaining greivances that the Reformists were not able to tackle, from cynicsm at Baseline Humanity, and finally, from distrust of wider institutions as a whole, the very same institutions that the Reformists were trying to, well, reform. To the 'Underground Movement', the Reformists' decision to work with the institutions... ...Had corrupted the latter. Was it true, could the Reformists have gotten too comfortable, too used to the reins of power? True, they've done a lot of good, passed and enforced a lot of laws to help everyone, extended concrete aid to those who needed it, but, they've become an institution as well, with all that entailed. And, Cedric had to admit it, lawful means had its limits. Which was why he had to find a way of affecting the small-u underground as well. He needed an arm in the underworld, he needed a proxy in the metaphorical alleys. Hmm, should he try and call back Elijah Craigh from the US? Or should he just call Alto and his Mercenary Group? Hmm, the latter; it's cheaper, and besides, he hadn't personally met that person for five years and counting now, even though they had fought on the same side; one of the shortcomings of being a kid then. It was settled, he was going to call Illegal Stuff. pty - oh, wait, there was that Trickster person; from what he heard, that guy was still doing his mercenary work, and Cedric wanted to work with an Illusionist; enough information had come out about the man for him to make the deduction. Actually, he was probably going to call both Illegal Stuff ptd. and Loki, which he did, sending two separate calls: To Illegal Stuff Ptd: Here's 5 Million in Cash upfront; with 5 Million more if you can get me information on the Undergeround moment. I'd also like to give you 2 Million for an unrelated job, additional protection for civilians in Los Angeles; another Disney cannot happen again. Oh, and if I and your leader can meet in person, I'll be at the StuCorp Labs, visiting Gary. To Trickster: You don't know me, but Gary Stuart has fond memories of you. If you are still working for cash, I have 5 Million if you can find out stuff about the Underground Movement; also, if you encounter any plans to mass-murder another few thousand people like in Disney, don't hesitate to tell me. Oh, and if I and your leader can meet in person, I'll be visiting Gary at the StuCorp labs.

Ashley Winters was on the Winters Enterprise's private jet. She was traveling to the company headquarters. She had a business meeting with her second in command Jonathan Summers. They were to discuss investing in Kettle Pharmaceuticals, Inc. Ashley had her doubts about the company, their rise to fame was suspicious in her mind. They rose from a small pharmaceutical company on the brink of failure to a major conglomerate that people were claiming to be blessed by God, their first drug was a cure for A.I.D.S. Ashley spent the flight checking up on Kettle. She was deep into their network hunting down every dirty little secret. She found a file that referenced a special subject but absolutely no other information, which led Ashley to infer that the subject was a meta. She didn't care for all the politics involved, what she did care about was the exploitation of any living being be it animal, human, or meta. The file referenced a unique coordinate system only Kettle used. She began rooting around their systems for their coordinate system. After translating from the unique system to the latitude and longitude. Ashley informed the pilot to expect some turbulence, they were used to her suddenly jumping out and somehow closing the door behind her. They long since given up trying to figure it out. Ashley jumped out of the plane with her pant suit in the black ops suit's portable bag.

The Owlman stood in the park, feeding ducks. He stood like some tall, dark scarecrow jutting out of the landscape, the gentle wind ruffling the feathers of the nightmarish head emerging from the neckline of his finely tailored tailsuit. Carefully stepping forward in his well shined shoes he took the bread loaf he grasped in one of his ghastly talons and scraped a small rain of crumbs into the water with the other one. Then he dutifully stepped back so the ducks would feel safe enough to eat, whereupon they swarmed up and began to gorge themselves. Off to the side he heard a distinct beep, and he turned slowly to take a look at what he knew would already be there. Two young girls, teenagers by the look of it, one with her phone out and pointed at him. They froze when he looked over, like rabbits, but if he could have smiled he would have. This was an opportunity to use his favorite move. He brought his hand slowly up to the brim of his tophat, gripped it between his thumb and index talon, and silently doffed in in their direction. There was another beep, then the girls ran off down the path. Giggling. That made his day. That was the whole point of everything. The suit, the hat, the ducks, the cartoonist french bread. Combined with his big ol' head it was a downright comical scene. It made people laugh, and if they were laughing they didn't have time to scream. He hoped they posted those pictures on the internet. Be public, that was the first thing he'd decided to do when he set out on this path. Walk around. Attend parties. Let them see you in broad daylight. Be silly. He could be a brooding terror stalking the night in search of crime to thwart. Some unholy thing spoken about in hushed whispers by criminals, always a superstitious and cowardly lot. He would be good at it, too. He was built for it. He was made to be Batman. However, Batman wouldn't help other like him. Becoming a symbol of fear would only drive him into the dark. What he needed to be was a symbol of normality. If he was going to be helping others whose power had turned them into monsters he would have to normalize being a monster. He was already Batman. When he put on his costume he became Bruce Wayne.

"Legion Security" "No" "Seven Sons Incorporated" "No" "Army of One" "...Maybe?" Nate scribbled Army of One on the napkin on the table in front of him and drew a little smiley face next to it. "This is hard" came a voice from next to him. With the corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk, he replied "That's what she said" and gave his companion a well received high five. Ok so maybe it wasn't mature but it was funny...to him at least. "No, naming things is hard" clarified the rather handsome gent sitting next to him in the busy coffee shop. Nate had come here to satiate his caffeine addiction and eat as many blueberry muffins he could stuff in his face in one sitting. Turns out it was six. He liked this place. The rustic nature made it feel cosy, especially in the back corner where he had, miraculously, managed to secure a seat. The place was always busy too, which only added to the reasons why Nate liked it. He enjoyed having people around. Getting lost in a crowd was strangely pleasing for reasons he couldn't quite explain. There was probably some deep psychological explanation but that was way beyond his area of expertise. Plus the cute waitress was an added benefit. "We should talk to the folks who own this place" said his friend as he looked around with narrow eyes. "Why?" asked Nate. "It's called Lattetude!" came the overly excited response "They obviously know how to name things" "It's just a cheesy pun name" Nate complained "We're trying to come up with a serious name here....We just need to brain harder". He slumped back in his chair and let out a sigh. That Army of One thing was pretty good though. A third voice joined the conversation then, softer and much more pleasant "Are those muffins coming back to bite you?" Nate turned to see the cute waitress, Raven, approach the table as he flipped over the napkin with names written on it. Raven was a full foot and a half shorter than Nate and he found himself wondering if she took this job simply because it was one of the few jobs where she didn't have to look up at people...He had a strange mind. Her dark hair was cut close to her head in a pixie cut but still swept over one of her eyes. When she moved said hair out of the way, Nate couldn't help but stare into those dark blue eyes. Damn she was cute. "Not yet but my toilet's in for quite a night" he said, suddenly realizing he was staring and looking away. He really wished he had said something cooler...and less gross. "Heh heh" came a slight giggle to his other side. "Well can I get you boys something else?" Asked Raven with a slight blush, seemingly noticing that Nate was staring. Damn it. "No thanks, we're good" Nate informed her. "We're great actually" his companion added. "Great" she replied, taking a few steps slowly backwards and bumping into another customer as she went. "Sorry! Sorry!" she apologized before looking back at Nate with a smile then quickly dashed off. With another sigh, Nate said "Well at least I'm not the only awkward one around here" He suddenly felt someone kick him in the shin "Why didn't you ask her out!?" he was asked with a distinct level of exasperation. "After that line about the toilet?" he asked, rubbing his leg. "Yeah, that was pretty terrible...But she's clearly into you. Chicks dig twins" "You're not my twin. You're me" Nate corrected. "Same thing" his 'twin' said, sitting back and folding his arms over his chest. "Yeah. literally" replied Nate, provoking a smile from his duplicate. "Lets just get back to work" He was his own worst distraction. Nate was able to create exact copies of himself and had a tendency to talk to them far more than was normal for a healthy mental state. A psychologist would have a field day with him. In fact the military shrinks had. If any of them had been allowed to publish anything relating to him, it would probably have made their careers. Nate redefined the term "Split personality". But military shrinks and the military in general were all behind him now. He had been tossed out on his ass and left to fend for himself...and himself...and himself. What was he going to do now? Well he had a metric crap ton of experience in 'special operations', maybe he could put it to use. But who would hire him? He had had the bright idea of going into business for himself as hired security or a private spec-ops team...Or maybe one of his duplicates had the idea. Who remembered? But it was a good idea. He could bring a lot of manpower to any operation and only required one paycheck. Albeit a sizable one. What? He wasn't going to give his services away for pennies. No he could hire himself out. Other companies could hire...Army of One...or whatever name they ended up choosing...to fulfill contracts. He would get paid and everyone would be happy. Maybe he could even use some of the money he would earn to take Raven on a date. Then everyone would be really happy. He looked up from doodling on his napkin to see Raven behind the counter, serving a customer. His mind started to wander again. "We're never going to get any work done" said his duplicate as he took a sip of his coffee.

“-eautiful day. It’s an excellent time fo-“ The radio droned on, filling the quiet office. It sat atop an oaken desk, its gears and wires whirring and humming. A shuttered window lay behind the desk, letting in soft, warm light. The desk was adorned with various supplies; a mechanical typewriter, a stack of worn, leather bound books, a glass of amber liquid. A teenager sat behind the desk, his eyes focused on the typewriter in front of him, tapping away at the keys. His black suit was neatly folded, fresh and pleasant, his loafers resting on plywood flooring. A neat, pressed stack of empty manila folders lay to his right, smelling faintly of wine and ash. The typewriter contained a paper, of which he planned to slot into a manila folder once he had successfully completed it. By the desk, a disheveled filing cabinet sat, its pull-out drawers opened and messily stuffed with manila folders, almost to the point of bursting. Each manila folder was labeled with a name. The names were members of the metahuman population of the city, organized in an A-Z system. The manila folders each contained a detailed dossier on a metahuman within the city, accompanied with photography and notes. The more popular metahumans contained more detailed descriptions and photography, while the lesser known contained little information or notes. They all contained power information and a threat level, however. Thomas Wick took his job as a mercenary seriously; he made sure he knew all of his potential victims and/or co-workers. He made sure there was always another plan to refer to. He never panicked or broke in the middle of a job; that was what unprofessional mercenaries would do. He sighed, pulling the paper free of the typewriter’s clasps. It had become almost an obsession of his to be professional; he countless stacks of notes, plans, and backups. He had become accustomed to spending long, late nights, sipping from a glass of Scotch and typing away. Thomas reached to his glass, sipping lightly at the smoky, oak liquid. As a mercenary, he made sure he could be prepared at all times. Even now, sitting at his desk, drinking Scotch, he had a plan of escape and action. He always did, in either jobs or daily life. If he was given a job, he would not stop for anything until that job happened to be done. He usually suffered from insomnia, in fact. A few metal filing cabinets adorned the office walls, some dented, and others corroded. One filing cabinet contained plans of how to kill each metahuman. While some were easy, such as D-listers, others were slightly more difficult and costly. For example, Ruby Greenfoot would be a costly and dangerous metahuman to kill. She wasn’t afraid to put a bullet in someone’s brain if needed be, and controlling technology was a potent skill, considering she had essentially mastered the ability. He tried to keep little electric technology in his room, but it was near impossible to live without it, unfortunately. The boy began finishing up the paper, scrawling in green ink, “low threat level.” As he began to straighten it, tucking the photos in, he felt a crawling, burning sensation in his skin. A low plume of fiery smoke wafted by. He quickly strapped his gas mask back on, the black rubbery material bending around his skin as he took a breath of filtered air. He still needed to keep that on, unfortunately. One day, he’d be in public, he’d start leaking smoke, and he’d end up killing someone without intending to, which would be an embarrassing death. Killed by accident. He made sure all of his victims were assassinated were finished cleanly and dignified. He tucked the finished manila folder under his arm, tucking it in with a thin smile under his mask. Another profile finished, another metahuman documented. He intended on meeting with several of the ones he documented; Elijah Craig, Ruby Greenfoot, Light. They were all particularly interesting ones.

Sunlight streamed in through the half-open second story window of Capricorn Consulting’s main office, bringing with it a faint wisp of new air, lightly stirring the papers that sat on the edge of a broad, sturdy wooden desk. The burgundy tiling on the floor was clean and polished, the large set of stainless steel filing cabinets against the southern wall were free of dust, and large ficus tree sat in its fired ceramic pot near the doorway. A handful of artistically done photographs of the local Los Angeles scenery hung on the walls to help fill out the room. The thick wooden door was closed and locked, tied to a small buzzer on the desk across the room. A small window of glass and wire allowed one to see through to the other side. Behind the desk sat a young man, well-dressed in a plain white collared shirt beneath a dark suitjacket that had been tailored to fit his slim, tall form. The window, behind him and just over his right shoulder, cast the only faintest of shadows across his face in the well-lit room. He was staring with a look of routine disinterest at the monitor of the computer sitting atop his desk, scrolling through a list of names and dates. Samuel Capricorn smiled lightly, his lips pulling upward at one corner of his mouth. He folded his hands atop the desk, tilted his head slightly to the side as if considering something for a moment, and then typed a half-line of text, long graceful fingers tapping quietly against the keys. Reaching down between his knees, those fingers found the butt end of a shotgun harnessed to the underside of his desk, presently pointing directly at the door. A thin wooden panel across the upper half of the desk hid the weapon from view, but would hardly slow any shot coming from it, still leaving enough room between it and the floor for a thin man such as Samuel to slip under the desk if need be. Opting for a more conventional mode of egress, Samuel pressed the safety on the gun back into place, rising from his comfortable leather cushioned office chair. He closed and locked the window, grabbed his briefcase, and stepped outside of his office, the door closing behind him and locking itself with a reassuring click. He ran his hands across his chest and outer thighs, feeling several familiar objects neatly concealed within his inner and outer pockets. He adjusted his collar, pulling it upward to cover a second, tighter one beneath it, pressed against his skin. He let out a long breath, straightened himself, and strolled out into the waiting room, where he told Julie, the receptionist, that he would be stepping out for lunch. Making his way out onto the street, he grinned and stretched lightly, the sun shining softly on his pale blonde hair. Business was going well. He had just finished up a small corporate contract, asking a few pointed questions about a suspected case of embezzlement, and he had three more meetings scheduled this week so far. Considering his fees, he estimated that the next few days would be quite profitable for him. Stepping into a small, cozy café called Lattetude, Samuel’s light grey eyes passed over a set of identical looking men seated toward the back of the room. He raised one thin brow slightly, but didn’t look too much closer, as he didn’t want to be rude. Moving up toward the counter, he ordered the soup of the day and a small coffee before moving to take a seat, coincidentally finding a small table free nearby the one already occupied by the men he had noticed a moment earlier.

Ashley knew that her boot jets would probably get her to the former oil rig, it was in international waters so no nation had jurisdiction over it. Since she wasn't sure she took an emergency life raft from the plane, she made sure that it was always stocked with at least enough for a full plane plus one extra. She couldn't swim and even she could she rather not tire herself out swimming. She dropped the life raft into the water one nautical mile away and slowly descended upon it, a trick she had plenty of practice at. She used the buzzsaw belt buckle as a propeller, once she was under the oil rig she made her way to a small maintenance platform. She began to worm her way into the local computer network that had absolutely no connection to the rest of the world. "No wonder I couldn't get any information this place is as off the grid as one can be." She had a habit of talking to herself sometimes as she worked. She found a subroutine that would force must people to evacuate, she activated it. Within minutes people were jumping off the platform into the water some took her life raft others brought their own. She then turned her attention to the security cameras, guards were still inside wearing gas masks. "Guess they are paid enough that a gas leak that could result in a catastrophic explosion is worth the risk. That or they are incredibly stupid loyal." She downloaded a map of the place into her onboard computer and created a subroutine to put a small portion of the map on her hud in the upper right corner. She then added another subroutine that monitored guard movements and would add a red arrow on the minimap with the arrow pointing the way the guard was facing. She picked that idea up from a kid she saw playing a video game. She never found much use for things like that but she may have to look further into them for more useful ideas like the minimap. She climbed her way up an entrance, once inside she engaged her stealth capabilities. There was only one room in the etire facility that was not monitored, even the bathrooms and sleeping quarters had cameras. She knew that this one room without cameras was her destination. She slowly navigated several stories of the rig, to find the room at the heart of the facility. Numerous times she had to take detours to avoid the guards, she wouldn't risk the gas masks also having some kind of anti-stealth tech. Finally she reaches her destination and she hacks the lock, inside she found an unconcious woman. The woman was gorgeous and bound if she was anywhere else Ashley would have found the scene errotic. Ashley looked to see what was in the bag being fed into the woman. "Some kind of sedative." She noticed a pile of discarded bags. "A lot of sedative." She turned the fingers of her left glove into claws and freed the lady. Then it dawned on her, stealth would not work on the unconcious woman, and it would give herself away. She stopped to think about what to do for a while. Just as she came up with the beginnings of a plan she heard a rustle and turned to look to find a fist and two bone claws each a foot long coming towards her face. Ashley barely dodged in time, she noticed the claws were able to pierce the metal bulkhead. Ashley thought to herself. "Claws can piece this suit. Avoid at all costs."

((Collab Post between Letter Bee and NarcissisticPotato)) It wasn't exactly usual that Cedric's phone began buzzing in his pocket and never ceased its buzzing. When he finally lifted it out, it was clear that things were not going good for the device. The screen was flickering intently, moving from a bright green to a deep silvery-black. Finally, the chaos seemed to resign down into a single black in which the phone gave up to the long-range hacking it was going through. Suddenly, words began to appear on the blackened screen. "Heard you were offering a few million for information on the Underground Movement. Meet me at the Chaos Club; you'll like to hear what I have to see. ~ a friend." The Chaos Club was renowned for being a nightclub where humans and metas could intermingle - it was commonly known as a wholely Reformist club so it was quite peculiar as to why an informant chose there, of all places. Cedric was suspicious, and, judging from how his cellphone was working, he had a pretty good guess as to who was calling him; hint, it was not Alto, although it was clearly someone obsessed with him. There was also the fact that his attempts to reach out to Loki and Alto were discovered so completely, despite the military-grade encryption. Nevertheless, he was clearly going to go to The Chaos Club...after giving some orders to Light and Adam in order to push his agenda of keeping people safe, as well as covering his tracks. Picking up his cellphone again, and using his tool-proficiency metahuman power to override the hacking temporarily, he sent orders to the two Metahumans: Warpath, Light, I'm sending you a mission: There is a Metahuman called Beau 'Bo' De La Fontaine, a Metahuman who gains powers by killing and eating other Metas. He is present within City Limits. Take him, dead or alive. Here are the relevant files... and with that, Cedric sent them the person's FBI dossier, as well as his last known locations in LA. There, now he can go. Timeskip Cedric was now at the club, whose loud music and bright lights brought out his inner partying side. He had been a playboy during the days after Elena and Constantine's losses, using his now-legal age to involve himself with a lot of young women. Even then, though, he was careful not to push any limits; the women had to be sober, or at least sober enough to give meaningful consent, and, quite frankly, he preferred it if they were the ones who took the initiative. But enough talk of his amorous adventures; time to meet with his contact. Despite being in 2020, Club Chaos was definitely a few years ahead of the trend in terms of technology. The flashing lights seemed to be hovering of their own accord and the speakers looked more like alien technology than actual speakers. The person in charge of the music had their head covered by some sort of helmet but a blaze of ginger hair fell from the back of it. Upon entering, Cedric was greeted by a young waitress who quickly ushered him to a private booth and took his order. It seemed that his position as the head of the Reformists earned him some credit. In the private booth, Cedric did an improportu bug sweep as he waited. He must have been waiting for nearly half an hour before anything happened. In the meantime, he was constantly supplied with drinks by a rather nervous looking waitress who kept flicking her eyes from him to the floor. Cedric had a reputation now, even if he was the leader of the Reformists. Anyhow, after half an hour the music seemed to calm as someone who clearly couldn't do as much work onstage as the earlier DJ took over. After another few moments, a woman emerged, ginger hair gently curling down her back as she took a seat in the private booth with ease. "It's been a while, Cedric." She yawned, stretching shortly before peeking her shining blue eyes at him. "You've grown." She stated, almost like it was a surprise. "Hello, Ruby," Cedric said kindly. "It's good to see you again," he said without any trace of irony; he'd forgiven the woman for the attack on the FBI headquarters some time ago. "So it's starting again, isn't it? What is it this time? The Government? Corporations? Organized Crime or Terrorist Groups? Some combination of both?" The young man's voice was both mature and expectant, as though he had not fallen into the trap of complacency, which indeed he hadn't with Elena's departure from sanity, and Constantine's departure from this world. She gave him a quick roll of her eyes as she leaned forward in her chair and stared at him. It was as if something finally clicked and she frowned again. "I like to think that I've transcended the petty squables of man and I simply guide them forwards now. People know me by various names but I haven't just been helping the bad guys, you know. Do you know how much NASA appreciates it when a strange Indian Doctor in Aerospace Engineering suddenly comes up with a brand new rocket propulsion system? Humanity just haven't seen my efforts because I chose to hide them. Nevertheless, I did tell you to come here for a reason. We have a common enemy; the Underground Movement. The difference, however, is that you can't plant one of your rats in them and I'm handcuffed to their bed. But everything comes for a price. An eye for an eye. Information for information." She seemed sporadic, almost, like her people-skills had taken another dive for the worst. "'What would you want then?" spoke Cedric, sounding business-like now. "First of all, I want Alto Ganze's phone number for ugh... business purposes. Secondly, I want you to get in contact with some of your buddies and figure out what this is." With that, she removed a small cellphone-sized metal object from her pocket and slid it across the table. Within a second, it morphed up into a screen in front of him. "This video was caught over Syria. The object you see there quickly disappeared but another video shows your government buddies sniffing around followed by the International Hero people. I think they'll be sending someone in in the next few hours but I need you to find out what that thing in the sky is." Just as she spoke, a video popped up on screen. It was amatuerish but it depicted a small circular object blasting through the sky for a few seconds before disappearing behind clouds. "There's no secret missions scheduled for today; trust me." "Alto's phone number is [Insert Number Here], while as for the other thing, yeah, I'll do what I can," said the young man. "That said, though, I haven't been informed of this; I'm worried as well." She frowned but nodded quickly. "Got it. Anyway, you gave me the information I needed so I'll give you what you want. You have three questions. I'll choose which ones I think will put me at too much risk and I won't answer them ones. Choose wisely." "All right, that works," said Cedric. "Anyway, let's eat!" he said eagerly as the food came.

"Emperor, an employee has requested to see you." He snapped awake, drool running down his chin. He blearily raised his head to see Theo standing over him, a rather neutral expression on his face. "They are waiting to be let in." "Uh, just hold up a sec." Sitting up in his chair, he stretched a little as he wiped the drool off of his chin. He stood up, straightening his lab coat and making sure his hair pins were still in place and that his hair was neatly tied up. "Con, check their employee ID please." He said aloud. "Yes, master." she said from somewhere behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see Con, staring out of the window as always. "No ID found." she said after a few moments. "Ugh, damn it." Alto said to himself. "Not this again…" Now that Alto was a CEO, he’d been introduced to the world of corporate espionage. It was sort of a rare occurrence, generally speaking, but last time he'd had to deal with corporate espionage, he'd blown out all the windows in his office. A lot's changed in five years… He looked back at Theo, who now had a physical form. He'd made the physical manifestation program not long after the destruction of Aperture, and ever since then Theo and Con had rarely ever gone back. Theo mainly stayed because he was more useful to Alto in his physical form, but Alto didn't really know why Con stayed around all the time. She seemed to be very interested in the world, and how it worked. Not that she ever told him, but it hardly really mattered. He could see it in her eyes. On another note, he'd given them free reign over their appearance. Theo had been fairly straight forward, he was about average height, short black hair and dark eyes. For some reason he always wore a butler uniform, not that Alto really cared that much. Con however was somewhat more interesting. She looked about 10 or 12 years old which fitted her voice somewhat, she had short black hair which only went just past her ears, but she also had mismatched eye colours, one blue and the other hazel. She'd tried a few different clothes in the beginning when he'd first activated his program, but in the end she'd settled for a rather airy yellow dress. But in the end, it may as well have been wallpaper. In reality, they were really just his arms. He looked down at them now, the true forms of Theo and Con. Theo was his left arm, a seamless, grey-blue metal-like construct. The glowing circle on the back of his left hand pulsated softly. Con was his right arm, a complex looking piece of machinery made entirely of black steel. His right arm’s complexity was really just to satisfy his sense of aesthetic value. Alto stifled a yawn as he sat back down into his chair. "Theo," He said as he rested his chin on his hands, "Send them in." "Yes, emperor." Theo walked towards the heavy double doors that made up the entrance to his office, tugging on one of the knobs and pulling the door open. He said something to the guest that he didn't quite hear, but he knew it was something along the lines of ‘Mr. Ganze will see you now’ or something. Alto watched as Theo led a woman with long black hair holding some kind of clipboard into the room, and took his place beside Alto’s desk. "Mr. Ganze sir," the woman said, holding her clipboard out, "Here is the monthly financial report." He looked at the clipboard for a few awkward moments. It was completely blank. He put his head in his hands and sighed. It's her... "Sal, are you even trying?" "I-I'm sorry?" she said in a worried tone. "Sal, it’s the middle of the month," Alto said, "There's nothing on that clipboard, and I don’t even handle financial reports." "Oh, right. The woman said, her voice becoming more childish and juvenile. "I forgot about that." As Alto watched, the woman slowly changed form into another little girl. She looked to be a little older than Con, but she still wouldn’t have been over 12. She had sandy blonde hair, similarly coloured eyes and she also had cat ears and a tail, for some reason or another (kind of like this). "Why do you like that form so much anyway?" He asked wearily. She skipped around the table over to Alto’s side. "Because," She said, jumping up and putting her arms around his neck. "I know how much you like it...” she whispered in his ear. Alto sighed as he pushed her off, letting her drop onto the floor. "C'mon!" She said, pouting slightly, "That’s no fun." "You know I'm working, right?" He said, "Why are you even here?" ”I wanted to see you!” She said sweetly, opening her arms widely, as if gesturing for a hug. Alto didn't oblige. "If you only wanted to see me, you could've just asked you know." He turned to look over his shoulder to see Con staring at them with a kind of wistful look in her eyes. Well, she always looked wistful, but she was more wistful than usual right now. "Uh, hey Con?" He said carefully, "Do we have any messages?" He saw the wistful look fade slightly, as she replied. "Yes, we have received a call from the Reformists council." "Oh, the council," He said, "I wonder what they want with me. Con, play it back, please." "So, Cedric wants me to do stuff." He said after finishing the message. "Hey Theo, have I got anything coming up?" "You have no appointments, emperor." "Alright, thanks Theo." Alto pulled out his phone and sent a message back to Cedric specifically. It was sort of a secret, but he had the phone numbers of all of the people in the Reformists council. <May as well drop the pretense, Illegal Stuff Pty. Ltd. Is just me right now, plus a couple of part timers. I’ll do the job for $5 total if it’s interesting enough, I don’t need an extra $10 million. Just tell me when and I'll go and visit Gary.> He pressed send, then got up and stretched. Sal popped up from under his desk to look at his phone. "Who's Cedric?" Sal asked. "He’s an old acquaintance I suppose." Alto replied, "I don’t know him that well though."

Five men sat in a small, white, room illuminated by white ceiling lights and multiple monitors situated at various terminals. However one man stood in a black business suit. The large monitors showed various angles and data readouts on a particular figure, only one monitor was absolutely dedicated to numbers. The data monitor showed various statistics, power levels, and other data the scientists would record and study for later. The man in the black suit began to speak up. "Are you sure the speed function actually works this time?" A scientist with a slight beard responded. "Yes, I tested it in my lab personally." "Then let's see how it preforms in 'battle'." The suited man said while making air quotes. Speaking into a connected microphone the scientist this time addressed their subject. "Overdrive, you may begin when you receive the signal. As you may have noticed we've set up multiple cardboard targets so we don't have a repeat of last time, your goal is remove all the civilians from the area and 'apprehend' the terrorist. Keep in mind if you pass we'll finally be able to unveil you." "I understand Dr. Smith." The robot answered back, some of the screens back in the monitor room began to transcribe the previous conversation. Overdrive himself was in an significantly larger area, an 'abandoned' warehouse built specifically for his testing. The warehouse itself looked brand new, but inside were a multitude of empty cargo containers, cardboard figures spread around the area, and 'innocents'. In a few moments after the Doctor's last transition red letters showed up in Overdrive's view, the letters read 'Ready' then proceeded into a count down from five. As the timer dinged '0' a small puff of steam pushed itself out of his back, and in a moment that's all there was left of Overdrive as he took off. Overdrive left blurred streams of red and blue in his after wake. His first goal would be to gather all 'people' and put them in the safe box, a taped off corner of the warehouse, and then 'subdue' or break the cardboard men; while anyone could do this, Overdrive was being timed. His metal pattered rapidly against the cement flooring, leaving slight footprints after every other step, the safe box quickly filled up in a matter of seconds. Returning to the false terrorists Overdrive promptly dug his fists into each one, causing the wooden fakes to explode into a million splinters. With his mission done Overdrive simply stood motionless in front of the warehouse doors. "Was this demonstration satisfactory Doctor?" Overdrive asked, his voice seemed to carry some eagerness. Back in the monitor lab multiple scientists were typing away at their keyboards or writing down numbers, equations, and various other notes. "Yes, thank you Overdrive. Wait for the company vehicle to pick you up, we don't want to unveil you quite yet." Dr. Smith responded via microphone. This time directing his head to the man in the suit the doctor spoke up again. "He clocked in at 338 m/s, just under the speed of sound. With some adjustments I think I can improve that slightly, but he's already far faster than we anticipated." Turning his chair around he continued. "So, what do you think Mr. Hannon?" "I think I want it faster. They say there's always a bigger fish, I want him to be that fish." Hannon said as he left for the door. "I barely managed to push him this far. I can make some slight adjustments to his magnetic actuators but to actually reach or break the sound barrier is impossible!" "So make it possible, or I'll find someone who can." Hannon replied almost with a growl, after his response he promptly slid the sterile white door open and calmly walked out, the doctor simply fell back into his chair and let out a heavy sigh of frustration.

After what happened a few years ago, Light had been sponsored by a division of the Government and given lots of media exposure, eventually becoming one of the most well known heroic metas of the country. She guessed that it was because she was easier to market than the others that had fought alongside her or something, or maybe it was because she already had fans prior. At any rate she was no longer living in small dank apartments, but some nice looking ones all paid for by her government contacts. Light didn't spend most of her time at home though, but was mostly on patrol as it was her obligation now. No more shows at comedy clubs, just patrolling the streets for crime and the occasional meet and greet. It was sort of boring to her, as crime wasn't all that common and the meet and greets where mostly people who seemed like they had a perpetual stick up their butts and wouldn't know how to laugh properly if their lives depended on it. It was a new life she had gotten accustomed to over the past couple years. She did long for the bigger adventures she had back when she was recruited on the meta response force, but at least now people cheered for the most part when they saw her. "At least I get paid to walk around and occasionally fight, so I guess thats a good thing." Light said to herself as she moved around the city, sticking to the rooftops so that she didn't get mobbed or shot, depending on what district she was in. Speaking of getting paid, a few moments later, she was called in by her controller. It took the government a long time, but they managed to make a comms device that worked on cartoon physics. The downside is that it was incredibly simple and could only send and recieve messages on one frequency. When she reached the building, she was told of a meta that seemed to gain powers from other metas by eating them. "Wonderful. Like that guy 8 months ago who used that tail thing to get powers. yay." Light said, moving out with Warpath to try and locate this 'bo'.

The special subject that Ashley was after pulled her bone claws from the bulkhead and went after Ashley. Ashley did her best to dodge, using several defensive measures such as tranquilizer darts. The special subject would be momentarrily slowed but would quickly recover. It also didn't seem to bother her to be stark naked. Ashley eventually positioned herself in front of a door, just as the special subject lunged towards her she moved out of the way as the door opened. The special subject went flying through the door and it was sealed shut behind her. The special subject attacked the door, until guards who passed nearby heard the noise came to investigate. The guards didn't know much about the special subject but they knew enough that to survive they would have to kill the special subject. They fired their machine guns at the special subject, the special subject didn't stop as they fired she pushed forward and killed them. Ashley watched over the security cameras as the special subject went from guard to guard killing everyone she encountered. Ashley began to wonder if this special subject had any intelligence or if it was just a feral animal. Ashley quickly got bored of watching the slaughter, she began to look through the room for more sedatives. If she could keep a steady supply of drugs in the special subject she could get her somewhere safe and eventually, maybe, hopefully tame her. If not find her a nice jungle to drop her off in.

It was to be considered a lovely Los Angeles by the morning news report and the news anchor had recommended a healthy dose of sun and activity in a park or in your backyard. So that's exactly what Ann, a girl of sixteen, had done. Not because she particular wanted to spend the day at the park but because she had no where else to go. Ann had found a vacancy on a swing set, gently swing back and forth, in some park she didn't care to know the name of and just sat there, lost in a whole world of different thoughts. The world was strange to her now. She no longer lived by the societal norms for a girl her age, if she could still count herself as a real human girl. No parents, no family, no friends, no house, no responsibility, or really anything other than the clothes on her back. But there was one more thing that Ann had that probably no one else in the world could have. Ariadne. Ann stopped swinging for a moment and glanced over at her identical partner. Ariadne sat motionless on the swing next to Ann. She looked just like Ann, not that anyone could see her twin as she was best described as "not of this world". But on that swing Ariadne sat, completely visible to only Ann. It was always a curiosity to Ann as she tried to think what was Ariadne thinking about. Ann's mind slipped into a trance as she studied Ariadne's face. It was clenched together as if she was searing in rage and she hardly ever moved. Was her twin always like that? Why couldn't Ann remember anything before her days of captivity? Could Ariadne know and that's what made her so angry? If so, why didn't she ever talk? Ann's existence was already so lonely, she didn't need this constant tease of a family or friend... As Ann's mind trailed into her mulling over her frustration, the chains of Ariadne's swing rattled a bit causing Ann to snap out of her inner trance. Ariadne was now displaying her teeth and her face was scrunched up in an expression of even fiercer than normal anger. Her gaze remained fixed on some spot and Ann followed it to a where a large figure was taking his hat off in an old fashioned form of greeting to two giddy girls, who laughed after taking a picture and scurried away. Ann frowned and her heart felt heavy with sympathy for the large figure, who was no man at all. The little bowler hat rested on top of a large owl-looking head and a claw, with large talons, returned to his side in a lethargic manner. The creature didn't display any emotion, probably because it couldn't, but Ann immediately defaulted to thinking the creature had just been hurt by being gawked at like some caged animal. Whatever it was, Ann could sense it was just like her. A Meta-Human is what they like to labeled Ann and Ariadne but Ann could at least appear normal, this creature.. No this man was probably stuck in this state for the rest of his life! Emotion swelled inside little Ann and she immediately got up and headed towards this "Owlman". Ariadne must have known Ann was heading that way because Ann watched her glide past her sister and settle herself on the grass next to the pond, leaving a place for Ann to sit next to the Owlman. Ann had to admit, she was a bit frightened at first but she began to feel comfortable as she studied the Owlman. He was dressed up as if he was a man out of history, wearing that suit and all. Most comforting was to see him in the harmless act of feeding ducks, which to Ann seemed like the sweetest thing she had seen all day. Ann sat down next to the Owlman, her knees tucked in close to her body, and glanced up at him, she gave him a meek smile as she reached into the grass and gathered up a small handful of the feed he had probably dropped and tossed some of it out into the pond. She didn't speak as she really didn't know what you could say to an Owlman, but Ann kind of had a feeling that he couldn't talk back anyways.

Now this was odd. It wasn't every day that someone chose to be in his personal space, at least not without some important reason. Even most meta-humans were uncomfortable around him, even after a year of operating in the city of angels, which just went to show that there wasn't as much difference between normal and meta humans as was advertised. Still, she wasn't saying anything. He slowly moved one of his talons up to the inside pocket of his jacket. He had spent a long time cultivating a slow, deliberate style of movement. Not only could he seriously injure someone else or himself with a quick, thoughtless movement (something he'd learned the hard way mere hours after his transformation when he'd nearly gored out one of his own eyes) but those sort of movements were predatory. Whether human, rabbit, or full grown deer, they had a habit of sending things scurrying away. His talon caught on what he was looking for, and he pulled out a small, spiral bound notebook. Upon the cover. which was black leather, was pressed the image of a large owl. He set his bread down on the bench and laid the notebook flat on the palm of his hand, opening it to reveal that it was filled with laminates while cards that he began to gingerly flip through. He didn't have to go far before he found the card he wanted, and he gripped the notebook by its spiral bindings to hold up to the girl. On it was a realistically drawn picture of an owl, one wing extended out and a speech bubble emerging from its mouth. In the middle of the card, within the bubble, were the words in big letters: He had had the notebook specially bound through a friend in the Reformist Council. It had cards for most basic human interaction, "Hello", "How are you", "What's wrong", "I Speak English", and the like, along with one that just said "Chicken." Every card signed The Owlman, every one featuring a different owl picture, and it was the best he could do without being assigned a dedicated translator or having a helmet that could broadcast his thoughts. He loved it.

Pulled Jackson burgers with Greg Scratchings and Jackson Eyes Ingredients: One head of Greg Jackson Salt & Pepper Parsley Pulled cheeks Head meat Ears Mama's BBQ sauce Vinegar Brioche rolls Method Pulled Jackson burgers 1 Place head and cheeks in crock pot for two 2 Take pulled pork and lay in an oven dish. Coat with a layer of barbecue sauce. 3 Bake in oven for 20 mins, then serve in brioche rolls Greg Scratchings 1 Give ears a good scrub with hot water 2 Cut ears into thin strips 3 Deep fry ear strips until golden brown 4 Drain on kitchen roll, adding salt, pepper and parsley as they cool. Jackson Eyes 1 Remove eyes with a fork, careful to not puncture them 2 Soak in vinegar for ten minutes 3 Add them to the oven with the burgers for the last 30 seconds ------------------------------ Flickering orange candlelight licked the meta-human's ivory skin, which glowed like the moon on a cloudless summer night, glowing in the reflection of the faux silver platter that carried with it a meal most divine. The musky scent of baked meat lingered in the humid air, the steam crawling from the burger taunting the senses, saliva accumulating at the edges of the chef's lips. The platter slid effortlessly along the mostly spotless table cloth that donned a table far beneath the quality of what was being served atop it. Sitting just beside the platter of delicacies was the candle which bathed the meal in warm light, the chef lingering for a moment to admire his work before listing back to the counter to remove his apron and wipe the sweat perched on the edge of his brow. He sat before the meal, giving a long moment of silence out of appreciation for the strength he had been given and the strength he was soon to receive. Long, wide fingers sink into the buns of the burger, a globule of sauce crawling over his thumb as he brought the burger up to his parting lips. The bite was careful and precise, every mastication patient and paced as the flavor sank in and grew sending a warmth that build at the back of his throat down his spine and through the rest of his body. A shudder ran down his body as a sigh crept from his content lips and he returned the burger to the plate, picking up one of the eyes. "Evening," The cook said, rolling the eyeball between fingers before aiming the dulled iris directly into his, "My apologies. Really." He popped the eye into his eye, rolling in on his tongue before placing it between his canines and biting down, the warm gelatin like fluid spilling into his mouth. He could already feel it beginning. The touch of power surging through him, welling up behind his eye, begging him to explore what was on the precipice of being awakened. In an instant, it returned. The hunger. Beau De La Fontaine, known to those who had the privilege of meeting him in their final moments as none other than "The Cook". The name Scourge still lingered on the tongues of those in Detroit, but that was a name best left to the dead. Beau was here now; The city of angels. And he will gorge himself of every angel the city has to offer. ------------------------------ Journal # 2,544 Haven't thought about my folks in an awful long time. Days like this tend to remind me of the little things I did way back when. My number one regret would probably be that I left without sayin goodbye. My folks were heartbroken when they found me up and gone after the police showed up lookin for me. I could hear mom wailing half a block away, back when I didn't know to to jaunt. I almost turned back to go home and be with my them at least one last time, but I didn't. I couldn't. Tom was officer Warren's boy and as far as it looked, I had outright killed him in the street earlier that day. Warren was known for being a mean son of a bitch to just about anyone that pissed him off. Department always looked the other way, especially when he beat the piss outta metas. They got it the worst and I had just joined their club. My option was to stay and die or run. It'd be nice if it didn't still feel like the wrong choice. One of these days I might have to pay them a visit. Nothing too long. Just a hello, maybe. Can't even remember dad's face nowadays. I'm scared to see how much older he's gotten; How much older mama's gotten. Happy birthday to me. ----------- The cigarette had cycled from his lips to his hands and back again more times than he could count as a lighter sat in his clenched hand. He had given up smoking shortly after he became her guard. Most of his days were spent with her inside and that left little time to pop out for a smoke. Still, when he laid here alone twirling the stick of tobacco between nimble fingers the relief of taking a long slow drag on a brisk winter morning crept up his spine and sat squarely in the back of his brain. "Just compartmentalize it," he sighed as he shifted up and out of his cot. She wouldn't be up for a few hours normally and Harper had always been one to keep himself busy. She got up at relatively the same time every morning, which left him to patrol the area or do small jobs for the boss-man whenever he was needed. His number one job had always been to keep her safe though. Well, not so much safe as... to keep her 'theirs'. She was powerful after all or so he had been told. Nothing she had ever done particularly made him go wild with excitement. The only thing that tipped him off to how powerful she was was her scent. There was no real organization for what kind of smells meant what and every meta had a distinct scent to them, but with every scent came an intrinsic understand of just where their power belonged on the scale. The girl was high up on that scale. Awfully high indeed. She was one hell of an asset to lock away in an ivory tower guarded by none other than Hailstorm himself. Well, Harper now, but Hailstorm in another life. Back when he was a reckless living weapon. He was more controlled now. Mostly. Some things never leave you no matter how far you run. "Harper," frowned a young 20-something with flaming red pixie hair and a Napoleon complex snarled at him as he made his way out of what was a former broom closet and now his room. "Morning, Erin" Harper half-waved as he staggered past, bloodshot eyes and the taste of chalk in his mouth. "Still hiding something, huh?" the girl said before turning and walking away from him as if a point had been made. "Sure," he surrendered and went on to the showers, the day already off to... well, a start. He never had the energy to deal with telapaths. They couldn't read his mind so they couldn't trust him. Insecure bastards. The shower went by in the blink of an eye as did his normal morning chores and H found himself outside of her door nearly an hour earlier than his usual time. He was wearing his usual get up: a pair of tan cargo pants tucked snugly into a pair of jet black boots, an olive green long sleeve shirt that was half tucked into his pants, and a similar ballcap that simply read "H" on his head. It might have been warm in here, but the near full body coverage did wonders hiding just how badly he'd been torn up by years of playing war in a dying city. Even if it gave him a bit of a paramilitary vibe. Harper rapped his knuckles on the door, pausing for a moment. "Ruby, you up?" He called, giving her another few seconds before he popped the door open, finding a silent, empty room. "Shit," he hissed, biting down on his lip as he swung the door closed and spun around to make sure no one had passed by and caught him utterly failing at his job. No one was in his direct view and that'd have to be a thorough enough check for now. He had a certain girl to catch. Harper took a long, slow breath and jaunted back into the empty room, standing just to the right of her bed. Slowly he inhaled deeply through his nose, taking in the scent that was distinctly his charges. The scent of raspberry flooded his system and drowned out all other smells. Harper took a quick glance around and seeing nothing out of place jaunted back to his room for a quick change of clothes. Less than a minute later Harper was out on the streets in blue jeans and a white t-shirt, racing through the streets after the scent. In many ways he was nothing more than a bloodhound and if that was the case, then so be it. He was a damn good bloodhound. The scent led him straight to the Reformist den, "The Chaos Club" which he had never had the interest in entering until now. H slid into the club and quickly whipped out his Ipod, taking a picture of the club to log in case he ever needed to jump and couldn't get the image right. Immediately he had a good idea of where she was, but with the sheer number of metas roaming around it was easy for scent to get muddied. Harper walked through the club while scanning the environment for a familiar face, a few people throwing compliments to his glowing wrists which they seemed to assume were painted on for the club. It would be a lie to say that he wasn't tempted to show them just how wrong they were. He spotted her sitting at a table with another person, who smelled of freshly poured paint. A meta. A meta with a face he swore he recognized. He blinked and took a long breath before grabbing a knife from a nearby table and making a jaunt to their table, appearing next to the meta Ruby was visiting. "Morning," he grinned at the two of them, swinging an arm over the man's lap, bringing the knife to his wrist. Ruby would know enough by now to know that if he sliced open his wrist, a nice faucet of acid would be poured onto her new friend's lap. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

It had been along time since Elijah Craigh had been in LA. Hell, America for that matter. He had been given credit for the death of Ruby Greenfoot. Only him and Ruby knew what really happened that day. What happened as a result wasn't even widely known. A full pardon for all the crimes he had committed, even those done under the name of Baba Yaga were wiped clean. With a fresh start he was free to live a normal life, one that would last for a short time. He first went home to see his loving mother. When asked why the only responce he could think of was even bad men loved their mommas. He spent a few months with her and his family, while there he even took pains to avoid fighting with anyone. Some time under the radar was just what the doctor ordered. Even still that had to come to an end. His activities for the next couple of years remained unknowned, even to those who were watching him. He didn't have work anymore, his past life and Uncle Sam took care of that. He did resurface about three months ago, he was at the side of the Dali Lama. How he ended up there even he didn't know. He woke up at the man monastery, in a near death state. It took three months before he could move around and show any sign of injury. He couldn't remember what happened just who ever beat him had to be an SS class. Over the Yeats he had gotten much stronger, he was now a soild S class when he fully erupted, even able to hold his form for multiple hours even in his strongest state. Whatever happened was really bad, the fact that no one knew about was even worse. Still he was able to push it from his mind. A few weeks after he resurfaced he was as good as new. His new friend the Dali Lama had even told him that while he would always have a place there he needed to rejoin the world. The two had grown found of one another, each enjoying the others outlooks and philosophies on life. Even with that it was not lost on either of them the dangers that Eli could bring on monastery. With that he sallied forth into the world. For the first time in five years he had returned to LA. A newspaper was just enough to fill him on the latest goings ons. He knew from past experience that whatever the newspaper said things were always worse. Things didn't look that great in the papers. He did come to find out that his old buddy Cedric Wessex was now the head of some dumb shit coincle thing. In Eli's mind Cedric still owed him for shooting him in the back. Not to mentioned the fact that Eli never got square with him for it. Stupid fucking kid. A better man might listened when the Dali Lama told him to let it go, but not him. Eli hailed a cab, when he got in he asked for the best coffee joint on this side of town. The jet lag was catching up to him. The cabbie dropped him off at some latte place. Walking he notice two or three guys that damn near looked identical. He walked to the counter and wait for a stunningly cute girl with dark hair. "Man alive girl, ain't you as pretty as the day is long?" Eli said his southern accent alive and well. She giggle and blush asking what she could get for him. "Ma'am I am in a pickle, Delta lost my bag and I need to make a phone call and the strongest cup of coffee you can legally make me!" He smiled brightly. She returned the smile bashfully. "I also need the number for the metahuman console if you be so kind!" She honored all his requests even going as far to dail the number for him. He thanked her and sent her a flirtatious wink. When the moment was right he asked for the kids office. He was promptly transferred, it was Cedric's assistant that turned to be the worst of this. "Yeah, my name is Elijah Craigh, I'm in dire need to talk to the kid." She denied his request stating he was out of the office and requested not to be disturbed. "Sweety that dog just don't hunt. Let's try this another way, you remember that Elijah Craig that massacred the LAPD and made Ruby Greenfoot go bye bye? I'm that Elijah Craig. Now tell me where he is and all will be okay. Don't and well... ask the cops how that worked out." There a silence and the other end of the and cute girl began show almost immediate signs of fear as she handed him his coffee. He smiled and mouthed a thank you to her. Finally the voice on the other end of the line found a voice, only too fearful to speak. "Listen I'm not gonna hurt him, unless he tries to kill me again but its very important I speak to him." The voice finally gave up his location. A Club Chaos, how he hated clubs. "Thank you for your help and have a great day." Eli hung up and handed the phone back to the terrified girl. "Oh, relax sweety. If I was gonna hurt someone I'da done by now. Threats are for people who don't was to do anything. Now could you tell me where a Club Chaos is, please?" Eli pulled out a hundred dollar bill and wrote his number on it. He had a cell phone but why waste a burner phone? After he found out what he needed to know he handed her the bill winked once more. "Smile sweety, life is good!" Sometime later he found the club. He was impressed that so many seemed to know his name but not the face. He figured a face was eaiser to remember than a name. Still just same he made his through the crowd and again was reminded how much he hated these places. He didn't even have a gun or knife on him. He didn't need but he still wanted them. While had been along while since seeing the kid or talking to Stewie. He needed to look in on him next. Eli knew that the kid would be in the VIP area and sure he enough he was right. He was also just in time to see some doppy looking douchesucker ask if he was "interrupting." "You know where I'm from we at least buy a girl a drink before we start trying feel her up. Now if you'd be so kindly to keep your dickskinners to yourself, I won't light you up like a human torch. Or... You can let the grown up finish talking and we can get a drink. Ask either one of them I've killed for much less." Eli was ready to snap his fingers and erupt into the second this kid tried anything. He erupt fully in an instant, the snapping just made it so when he did he could be a much higher level.

"Harper Hudson," Cedric said calmly, "nice to meet you; didn't know you were part of the Underground Movement," he said nonchalantly. "Let me see, Xenomorph powers; acidic blood, fangs, the ability to infest others, you are a competent asset to whoever must have hired you. You must be the one charged with keeping Ruby in a gilded cage, right? If so, I must congratulate on on your persisitence." "By the way, your parents miss you," the 20-year old man continued, hoping to shock him, just in time for Elijah to come inside the private booth, and make his own set of threats. "And, considering that the Meta who just came in and said added his own two cents' is a person who can set you on fire faster than you can drip acid on me, you may not be able to see your parents again unless you listen to me." "As head of the International Metahuman Bureau," Cedric continued, "I have the power to request a formal pardon in exchange for services to the nation and the world, and the power to define the very meaning of 'service'. With a few swings of a pen you can see your folks, legally, if you would just let me talk with Ruby." Cedric flashed him a smile. "Please, I'd rather not stain this place with ashes; it has too many good memories." He was being sincere. "Oh, one more thing," Cedric turned his face to Elijah, "sorry for shooting you in the back of the head and the kneecaps when we first met; those, well, those would have hurt."

"You must take me for a special brand of idiot if you think I'm not well aware of that," Harper said as his eyes caught the dark eyed dark haired mother fucker who looked intent on breaking up this little event even moreso than Harper himself. Harper did his best to listen to what the lunatic was saying, but it mostly came out as garbled gibberish wrapped up in an atrocious accent. For a moment he glanced to the man Ruby was meeting with, his expression clearly reading 'What did he say?' As the kid laid things out for him, he mouthed an 'Oh,' before returning his focus to the pyro, letting the boy who he now recognized as Cedric drone on. "I'm afraid I'm not all that sure I can take that offer, Mr. Wessex." He glanced to Ruby, placing the blade tighter against his skin as he did, before returning his focus to the suave governmental boy. "You two have five minutes. Since you know who I am, you understand a bit of my track record. Neither you nor I want my past to become present now, do we?" Harper dropped the knife on the table, spreading his fingers out and jaunted, disappearing as quickly as light could fill the empty space, reappearing by the pyro. "Time starts now," He said with a snap, "Tell the pyro he can buy his own fucking drink while he tries to think up more convincing threats." H paused only for a moment to take a quick whiff of the scent the pyro had. "Rotten meat. Delightful," he sighed, disappearing once more. Harper dropped onto a stool at the bar, swiveling around to the bartender. "Vodka 'n Cranberry, hold the vodka. Wessex over there insisted to put it on his tab," He ordered, giving a point toward Wessex as he mentioned the tab. The drink came seconds later and Harper turned to patiently watch the two and count the seconds as they passed. He could only hope the oh-so-lovely pyro would leave him be, though judging from what he saw a minute prior, that was very unlikely to happen. Harper always hated clubs.

Nate had been too busy staring at Raven to really notice the man she had been serving. His duplicate however, Duplinate, definitely had noticed him though. He knew this man but couldn't place the name. He had seen a file at some point on this guy...Damn it! What was his name? He flipped through files in his mind until he found what he was looking for. Capricorn! They name burst into his mind. Nate had never met the man but he remembered seeing a brief file on the man. Capricorn had done contract work for the government in the past. Nate had never been entirely privy to the details of the jobs but he knew Capricorn was a Meta. He remembered reading that this guy was some sort of human lie-detector though, so he could imagine what kind of work he did. But what was he doing here? Was it just a coincidence or had he come looking for Nate? Nate didn't really believe in coincidences. Chances were Capricorn had come here looking for him. When the man took a seat at the next table, his suspicions only seemed to be confirmed. Meanwhile, Nate had noticed a much more immediate threat. Elijah god damn Craig! What was he doing here? Nate was all too familiar with this man. Everyone knew Elijah Craig. The man had massacred the LAPD and now he was flirting with Raven. This just pissed off Nate more than he already was at the mere sight of the man. He tried to listen to their conversation but was too far away to hear anything. After Craig made a phone call however, Nate noticed Raven's expression change to one of sheer horror. He held himself back from pouncing out of his seat, his training telling him him not to cause trouble if he didn't have to. "Calm and quiet" he heard the voice of his former commander say in his head and with that he eased. He watched and waited until Craig wrote something on what looked like a hundred dollar bill and handed it to Raven before leaving. Once he was gone, Nate sprung to his feet and was quickly at Raven's side. He put a hand on her arm and asked "Are you ok?" She jumped at the touch but calmed when she realized who it was "That was--" "Elijah Craig, I know" said Nate, cutting her off. "He gave me his number" she told Nate, staring at the note in her hands with one eyebrow raised in confusion. Nate took the note from her and read the number, filing it away in his mind. You never know when you'll need to call a psychopath. "Never call this number" he told her as he handed her back the note. "What am I, nuts?" she replied in obvious annoyance. "What did he want?" "..What?" she asked, distracted by her own thoughts "Oh, he was calling some guy...then he asked me where club Chaos was..." Raven trailed off, consumed by her own thoughts again. Nate probably wouldn't have cared so much about this whole encounter if it had been with anyone else. But Raven wasn't just anyone else. He actually knew Raven and cared about her. There were very few people he could say that about. "He's gone now. Don't worry about it" he told her. Trying his hand at the unfamiliar art of comforting someone. "Yeah...Yeah" she said quietly. With one last look at the note in her hands she gave him a halfhearted smile and said "I should get back to work". Nate watched as she strode off and shoved the hundred dollar bill into the cash register before heading into the back room. He looked back at his duplicate who had been watching the scene unfold while keeping one eye on Capricorn, who Nate was still unaware of, and gave him a quick nod as he headed out the door. He was only gone for a brief moment before he returned and took his seat next to his duplicate again. "We good?" the duplicate asked as he typed something on his phone. Eyes locked on the door, Nate replied simply "Three's on it". A familiar ding sounded from inside his pocket, alerting him to an incoming text message. He looked over at his duplicate, knowing exactly who had sent it. The clone only stared back with a blank expression. Nate reached into his pocket and took his phone out to read the message: Nate only sighed in annoyance as he came to the same conclusion his duplicate had already come to. He glanced up at Capricorn, wondering if he had indeed come here looking for him.

Things had a tendency of going from bad to worst for Ruby. While she was filling Cedric in on a few of the Underground Movement's darker secrets, her oh-so-noble guardian arrived on the scene. Don't get me wrong, Ruby appreciated what he did for her five years ago when he jaunted her out and spared her from getting Elijah Craigh's fire-fist directly to her exposed stomach but the guy was boring! He never injected any sense of fun into his job so Ruby, who was basically his job, had a dull existence. Why was he so surprised when she did slip out like this? Of course, she did have unfinished business so she couldn't go back just yet. Speaking of the devil himself, Elijah Craigh suddenly appeared as well. She hadn't seen him since that incident at Aperture so she was left a little shaken by the very sight of him. Fire was a pain that branded itself into your mind and if she ever forgot, she had enough marks to remember the fight by. She stayed silent up until a point - Harper knew she probably wasn't just getting caught up with an old friend but she didn't believe he would purposely betray her to his superiors. She was mostly safe as long as she didn't push the boat out. Granted, Ruby really loved pushing boats. When he moved over to the bar, Ruby leaned over towards Cedric. It was difficult trying to convey all the necessary information. "That waitress is pretty. She finishes her shift at ten. I wouldn't advise leaving the place without her." Ruby seemed brutally forward, abandoning her typical teasing nature as she nodded to him. His phone buzzed in his pocket once then twice. "She has all the information you need on a memory pen. Password is 'Albatross528'. Find out all you can on that video and get back to me." The message read as she got to her feet. "You've grown Cedric, but I've yet to decide if it's for the better or not. I'll be seeing you around." Turning, she gave a sour look to Elijah which took every ounce of bravery she had before brushing past him and moving to Harper. "I hope I didn't cause too much trouble." She pouted as she took a seat beside him, locking her arm around his arm in a single motion. The touch seemed too personal - Ruby had already figured out that Harper did possess some sort of conscience so she took advantage of it when the need arose. "You could have left it a few hours though! Jeez, I was actually having a bit of fun!" She complained with a resounding sigh that spoke lengths of her thoughts on her current situation. "Actually, I'm going to need a few more hours. Don't take this personally, I just haven't been out in a while." With that, she unhooked her arm and extracted two small slivers of metal from her pockets. In a quick swipe, she placed them on her ears and they covered them protectively, morphing to fit the shape. "Sorry." She murmured again before she removed a small pencil-like object that had its own stand. Placing it on the bar, Ruby activated it using her powers and it began emitting a noise that was barely even audible it was that high-pitched. It filled the room, causing chaos as screams erupted and people rushed to cover their ears, only to discover it didn't work. Getting up from the chair, Ruby left Harper who didn't look very pleased and quickly exited the building. It would be a good half an hour before he recovered and even then he would be too delirious to track her effectively. Now she had to find Alto Ganze.