The joyful shrieks of children could be heard around Central Park as the carnival began to get underway. It is noticeable that everyone is on edge though. A threat has been made against the carnival today by the Urban Raiders gang, the biggest gang in the city and the most known for having the most updated weapons, which could cause some serious trouble among the carnival today. They are known for being ruthless and merciless… even toward children.

Though this threat has been made, the carnival was given the go ahead, and the announcement of the attack was made secret in hopes that it would be a ruse. “After all,” the government officials had said, in their endless swaths of wisdom. “Raiders might want to have some fun, too.” Government officials were known in the town for not being the brightest people on the block, especially when it came to the Raiders, who had almost all of the officials under their thumb.

Some of the parents, after at least an hour of nothing happening at the carnival, began to relax and have fun with their kids.Others remained uneasy, and even those that knew nothing of a possible attack were still suspicious, as the carnival was a big target. Not just for a gang, but for anything up to a terrorist attack.With almost all of the heroes being gone, and the citizens knowing it, it is possible for any type of villainous act to transpire. The fear of the villains was at an all time high, as was the need for heroes. But of those who could become heroes, some hid in the shadows, worried for their life, whereas others didn’t realize their potential, hadn’t unlocked their secrets yet, and were never to do that as they wished to live simple lives. Those that had become heroes had fallen quickly, either by overusing their powers or by attacking a foe too strong, with no allies to support them, or nowhere to retreat to.

But the time for heroes are beginning to rise again. They will need to be strong and they will need to work with other heroes if they are to succeed in once again keeping this world safe from harm. Only a small spark is needed to start the fire. A small spark is needed for a fire that can burn on forever.

A distance away from the carnival, a group of men holding guns stands in the trees of Central Park. They stroke the side of their guns as the leader, a young man by the name of Jason Blades, approaches the front of the line. He looks to the men in front of him, a wicked grin forming on his face as he says, “Alright, men. We have been training for today over the past couple weeks. Get it together and we could come off richer than we ever wanted!” The men laugh and smile gleefully as Blades says, “Let’s go!”

They march on the carnival and immediately people run screaming into tents or out of tents, all recognising the tattoos on the men, and recognising that men with guns in the carnival could mean nothing good. Blades grins at the sight of people fleeing, and approaches the front stage. He gives everyone a grin as two of his men bring a tanker full of deadly chemicals onstage, a small terminal on the side of it. “Welcome, one and all, to the most anticipated event of the year,” Blades says, another evil smile appearing on his face. The crowds become uneasy and silent as they watch him. A few in the back taking steps backwards before fleeing. “I am sure you are all wonder what is in this tanker. Well, within the next five minutes, you will be choking on some of the most poisonous gas found in the United States. Grab your families and hold them tight, because within five minutes, they’ll be gone.” Blades grabs his gas mask, Before pressing some keys on the terminal. He turns back to the crowd, and says,“You may all be wondering why I have set it on a five minute timer. The first reason,” He holds up one finger, “Is that I love a bit of poetry, and this is a perfect, poetic ending. The second,” he holds up a second finger, “Is so you can all enjoy your last moments at the carnival, knowing you are going to die.” He smirks. “As you all will be.” The Raiders all begin putting on the gas masks and begin to form a barrier around the outside of the carnival, making sure no one can escape. Blades laughs maniacally. With all the heroes gone, no one could stop him.

---

A young woman stays toward the back of the crowds, looking up toward the front of the stage. Her discolored eyes narrow behind pitch black sunglasses and she cracks her knuckles. Urban Raiders. She’s always hated them ever since they killed her best friend on the streets. Her hood pulled up close around her face, she begins to slide through the crowds, slipping with ease between arms. She looks up as one of the officers of the Raiders, Jason Blades, begins to make a speech and she rolls her eyes. She carefully grabs two knives from her forearm sheaths and holds them loosely in her hands. At this point, she is at the very front of the crowd and standing right below Blades, who is just finishing up his speech.

As soon as he is done talking, though, she whips the blades up at him, slicing both of his cheeks. “Hey Blades!” she snarls and he looks down at her. Recognition crosses over his features and she laughs without amusement, catching her falling knives in her hands once again. “Remember me?” She leaps up onstage and draws in energy from around her, forming a wall of invisible bricks. She lets out a grunt and shoves her arms forward, forcing the wall toward him.

He leaps off the stage and screams, “Get her! Get the bitch!” Captain whirls around on her heel and turns to face the oncoming horde of Raiders. She smiles as she twirls her knives in her fingers. Oh this is going to be fun.

Screaming from the stage removed Jennifer from the joy of eating candy floss, and she stares in the direction of the sound, an eyebrow cocked. Someone must have fallen off, She thinks to herself, as she approaches, bound to get a look at the red face of whomever had slipped off. Not to her surprise, however, she could not see past the crowds. However, she could clearly hear something was wrong, as the screaming had stopped and someone had stated that those at the carnival were going to die within five minutes. This definately was something she needed to get a look at.

She withdrew her tablet, and picked through options until she found the camera. Selecting it, she holds the tablet up high to get a look over the crowds to see a familiar face approaching who seemed to be Urban Raiders. Zooming in on the woman’s face, even with the sunglasses on Jennifer instantly recognised her. “Is that-”

Jennifer was interrupted by two things at the same time. The first of which was the black-sunglassed woman giving the man on the stage dual cuts on his cheeks. Jennifer blinks as she realized that Captain, as she remembered the nickname the woman had given herself when they had first met, was attempting to stop the Raiders.

The second interruption was a voice in her head, one that Jennifer had grown to both hate and love. “That is her. And you might want to help. Overload the stage lights or something, make them shatter.”

Jennifer somewhat loved Mack. He often gave her helpful advice, such as in the situation they were in, now. But, as Jennifer pulled her tablet down from the air, she realized that Mack would brag afterwards about how he had come up with the idea. Jennifer already had access to the power to the lights of the festival (she had been using them to play a prank on one of her friends earlier in the day), so she accessed them quickly. She jumps, watching as the stage lights closest to the moving group of Raiders shatter with a crack, showering the raiders left on -and around- the stage with shards of sharp glass, but leaving Captain untouched. Jennifer hadn’t even selected those lights yet, let alone overloaded the power. ”Sorry, I’m faster than you, and some were going after Captain.” Mack says, as Jennifer turns and sprints toward the stage.

---

Unbeknownst to both Jennifer and Captain, as well as the rest of the crowds, one of the Raiders had run off and was standing among the trees with a headpiece. He murmurs something into the earpiece before pausing and waiting for an answer. He smiles when he hears it and looks back to the carnival. If any other heroes were going to decide to come down, they would have a surprise waiting for them. Within two minutes, Raider cars were surrounding the carnival and the civilians.

Raiders began to get out of their cars and start toward the carnival, carrying weapons loaded to the max. The two girls were majorly outnumbered, but little did the Raiders know that others were amongst the crowd, waiting for their moment. And the Raiders had just given it to them.

He was expecting this...he really was expecting this.

A tall figure was approximately fifty meters away from the stage, his body lying down, prone, on a sturdy tree-branch, hidden amongst the forest around the carnival. The figure was dangerous, obviously so. A dusky, dark gray hoodie was on his muscular torso, blending in well with the atmosphere. It was worn and obviously battle-hardened, with a crossed American flag dutifully painted onto the shoulder of the hoodie. Over this, was a deep brown and black combat, bullet-proof vest, with a multitude of pockets filled to the brim with different small items. Sandy, rough-hewn pants acted as protection for his lower body, black knee-protection strapped over the knee joints, and a black combat-knife sheathe on the right knee-strap, the dangerous, glinting metal hilt of a combat blade obvious.

Heavy-duty combat boots completed the lower ensemble. As for his face...it was completely hidden. Hidden behind a what appeared to be a dusky black cloth mask, painted, rather ghoulishly, over with a bone-white skull, the figure also had on a pair of deep black earmuffs connected to a small mic that was pointed towards where his mouth would be, if not for the mask. A pair of black sunglasses covered his eyes from view, and dogtags dangled from his belt. As if to make his appearance even more unsettling, a large, black sniper rifle, vaguely similar to the models issued to highly-valued special forces in the military, was pressed against his cheek, his eyes narrowed into the heavy-duty scope. 'Should have taken him out before this shit started...Bastard.' The man's inner voice was it's usual deep, rough, and dark growl of it's owner, even as the figure breathed in deeply...before settling down his sights...and pulling the trigger...once...twice...three...four times, his hands twitching instinctively to slightly turn the lethal weapon each time for a new trajectory. Only soft 'pings' escaped the barrel, even as literal fire roared around the muzzle each time, four pieces of burning hot lead escaping the barrel.

_______________

Jason Blades was still in mid-leap, having jumped off the stage, silence suddenly rang throughout the air. Civilians, still in the crowd, could only watch in shock as the man screamed out in pain, his voice abruptly ripping his throat's flesh from the pure agony. The reason was simple; something had come from far, far away, continuing right through the point of impact. The point of impact? Something had ripped completely through his left shoulder joint, easily destroying the bones into melted mush, going through the body, piercing the spinal cord, and continuing on through the right shoulder joint...all throughout the entire time of 1 second, at the most. Pure, unadultered blood flew through the air, coating the area around him as the permanently disabled man fell to the ground in a bloodied, unconscious heap, the sharp, shocking pain having knocked him out instantly. The pure heat from the bullet had cauterized his wounds as it went through his body, effectively sealing his fate as a, to put it roughly, vegetable that could only talk...only spill his secrets to the officials. Unknown to the surprised, fearful crowd, a Raider that had been behind Jason had died instantly, the still-travelling bullet piercing his heart directly in the center, after going through Jason.

_____________________

The second bullet and third bullet had traveled swiftly through the air, it's targets clearer. It was blood-shed instantly. A row of marching Raiders suddenly stood stock-still as one piece of hot lead pierced through the first man's forhead, the second man's, the third...fourth...fifth...sixth...seventh...It stopped in the eight's brain, and before the last two could even react, another bullet ripped through the eight's head completely, killing the last two instantly, and travelling into it's final destination...the car. It tore through metal, ripping into the car's gas canister.

It exploded into fire, gas, and general shards of scrap metal, destroying another group of Raiders that had dashed towards the scene.

______________________

The fourth, and final bullet, had a more specific purpose than the second and third. Two Raiders had cornered a woman behind a tree, assault rifles pointed straight at her forehead. "How 'bout we make this one dance 'for we shoot her?" Raider Number One asked, a grin on his pock-marked face. "Hell ye-" Raider Number Two had began, only to abruptly stopped as a spray of blood escaped his chest. Slowly, he glanced down, hands finding the hole that was still spurting blood. Slowly, he looked up, seeing the exact same hole in his partner's chest, and a hole in the tree, as well.

Before he died, he saw the woman collapse into tears, thanking her invisible savior.

______________________

All of this happened within a brief milli-second after each other. The first bullet, the second, the third, and then the fourth.

As panic spread amongst the Raiders, the same skull-painted figure fell from his tree, knife finding purchase deep within the skull of a Raider. Before the rest of the group could react, he had already dropped the knife, two smoking pistols in his hand as five bullets found purchase within the Raiders' skulls.

With only a brief glance at the corpses, the figure dashed towards the 'action', his pistols disappearing into mist, and an AK-47 forming within his hands.

She wanted to say going to the carnival had seemed like a good idea at the time, but it really hadn't even when the idea had come up.

Morgan Duchesne honestly wasn't sure if this was work, or pleasure, or really what this was supposed to be. Miles, from her wine club, was a nice enough guy. A little bit of a stuffed shirt, sure, but good-looking and pleasant in that stuffed shirt sort of way. So when he had somehow worked up the courage to ask her out, her honest response had been "sure, why not"- which, Morgan knew, was truly something coming from her. He seemed like a fairly sweet guy. Besides, word around the wine club was that Miles' father had a case of 2068 Beaujolais stashed up in his 37th floor condominium- not to mention a fine collection of African art. If she cozied up to Miles, she might get an invitation up there and an opportunity to case the joint.

But seriously, as monied as Miles was, this was his idea of a first date? Dragging her to some sweaty outdoors carnival, the air full of bugs and the sickly sugary smell of cotton candy. Morgan had expected maybe something on Fifth Avenue, not this kind of display.

"Isn't this nice?" she heard Miles' refined voice beside her, his arm looped properly through hers. "This little soiree is just delightful." Morgan forced herself to smile. She wasn't really having a very good time, and this hot sun was nipping at her fair skin. It was getting difficult to picture herself on a second date with Miles. She reminded herself of the 2068 Beaujolais. A few bottles for her own cellar, and she'd see if Yevgeny or Lo Wei or one of the other fences could get her a good price for the rest.

Morgan ignored the screams at first. Probably just kids chasing each other around, enjoying themselves. Good for them, right? But it was becoming clear that something was deeply, deeply amiss here. "Oh, dear God," she heard Miles whimper, letting go of her arm.

Morgan looked over, one eyebrow arched quizzically. Her confusion was short-lived as she saw the Raiders rushing into Central Park, weapons at the ready and clearly meaning business. Their leader and a small honor guard dragged something onto the stage that Morgan had been pretty sure would only be occupied by a lame band, gave a little speech. She strained to catch it all. Something about poison.

If it had been only adults here, Morgan would have just left quietly. It would be so easy. Just activate her pheromones and be completely ignored as she strolled nonchalantly past the Raiders setting up a perimeter. Leave it all behind, count herself lucky for escaping.

But come on. There was kids here. They didn't deserve that. And who was going to help them? Miles? She looked over at her date with a sneer. The milquetoast was going pale and actually shaking at the knees. He wouldn't know what to do if he was served Sevruga caviar instead of Beluga.

Like they say, nut up or shut up.

Morgan concentrated, breathed deeply. Through long practice, she had learned to turn her pheromone camouflage on at will, exactly as she was doing now. After a moment, she knew that no one could see or hear her, that the people around simply did not realize she existed. Unless she were to do something obvious to them like grab them by the arm, she was essentially invisible.

Even as Morgan started for the stage, unseen and unnoticed, she saw others making shows of resistance. A young woman stepped out of the crowd and hurled knives at the apparent leader. Shortly afterwards, the lights shattered, and bullets begin to tear through Raiders all over the park. Clearly she wasn't the only one thinking of putting up a fight. So much the better. While the Raiders were busy violently murdering these idiots, she could just walk up onto the stage unchallenged and figure out a way to disarm this device. She wished she had her gear with her, she'd feel a little better if she was wearing her gas mask. As it was, though, she had nothing more than a pair of designer sunglasses to obscure her face. Oh well. It wasn't as if anyone could see her. Right now the biggest danger she faced was probably stray bullets.

And so, she walked calmly and invisibly through the panicking crowd, climbing up on the stage. She knew this was dumb. So, so very dumb. But Morgan did it anyways.

Walking directly in front of a gaping Raider, she crossed to the tank, presumably full of gas, and began to study the terminal mounted into it. She had some familiarity with systems like this, particularly from burglar alarms. Maybe if she looked over it for a moment she might be able to work out some way of disarming the damn thing.

The day had gone off to a lovely start: Katrina had originally decided to attend the carnival because of the threats that had been floating around, but she soon forgot about this upon realizing that some of the people here had dogs. Unfortunately, this perfectly-reasonable distraction meant that she completely and totally forgot to stick to her original plan. She had entered the place with the idea of going into a tent for some privacy and entering one of her trances so that she could scout around the perimeter of the carnival; that way if Raiders showed up she could swiftly re-enter her body and warn everyone who listened so that they could escape before it was too late. Of course, the plan wasn't perfect. She hadn't taken into account the very real possibility that they could just shoot anyone who ran before gaining much proximity.

At first, Katrina was taken off guard when the bull terrier she'd been petting looked up in shock as his owner loosed a horrified scream. Then her heart sank as the Raiders dragged a tank of God-knows what kind of lethal gas onto the stage. The next series of events half-terrified and half-relieved her as she realized that there were real heroes here: First a girl sliced the leader's cheeks, then the lights somehow found a way to explode, then there was an unimaginable amount of blood as bullets tore through many of the raiders before she even realized what was happening. All of this made the blood drain from her face, but Katrina was here to make a difference, dammit, not just sit on the sidelines and watch everyone else take the reigns!

The petite woman ducked into a tent and took a deep breath. She sat cross-legged on the floor, closed her eyes and detached herself. She looked for a second at her physical body, which had slumped forward and gone completely limp, and turned away. She moved toward the tank of gas and then noticed a woman standing beside it. How long has she been there? she found herself wondering. She'd thrown a panicked glance at the stage before retreating and she could have sworn that the only people near the tank were a few cadavers and the seemingly-knife crazed woman who'd sliced the leader's face. Katrina's consciousness came up closer and scowled at the terminal. She hoped the other person knew what she was doing, and then moved away to address the cars that had blocked the carnival goers' escape.

She didn't quite know what she'd do about this yet, as she had never been able to influence the physical world before while in a projection, but she figured that she might as well have at least a look around since she was invulnerable and, she assumed, invisible. She tried to crack her knuckles but it was apparent that her joints hadn't made it into this plane of existence.

The day had started off so well in Leo's book. He had managed to evade the police after stealing some grinder stones from one of the stores down the way and now he was eating a stolen lunch from one of the nearby fast food places. He smiles calmly as he sits on the bench, deep in Central Park and he leans back, popping the muscles alone his back. The sky is clear and blue and it looks beautiful. No one is really out and about because of the carnival that is going on a little ways down the trail, and he's okay with that, considering that he is in his uniform. He pulls down his mask to take another bite out of the burger.

Suddenly there's a scream and Leo jumps to his feet looking around. That sounded like it had come from the direction of the carnival. He looks that way and immediately takes off at a sprint toward it. He pauses just on the outside of the carnival and blinks twice. His eyes shift into hawk eyes and he examines what he is going to have to deal with. He glares angrily at the stage when he recognizes the Urban Raiders' leader, Jason Blades. Here he was hoping to have a nice day off, but instead he would have to take care of these jokes. Suddenly, two knives slice Jason's cheeks and Leo looks to see a young woman, one whom he vaguely recognizes, climb up onto the stage and begin to fight Jason. Suddenly the lights shatter and every is just going to hell. Leo blinks and his eyes turn back to normal. He pulls up his mask and is about to approach.

Suddenly, four gunshots rang out and Leo slides to a stop, blinking rapidly to get his hawk eyesight back and he notices that Jason is on the ground, bleeding from a wound in his shoulder while the Raider behind him died instantly. Leo turns to look to the trees, calculating the distance that bullet would have had to go and he notices a guy in a ghost mask dropping down from a tree, the sniper in his hand shifting into an AK-47. Leo narrows his eyes, but he doesn't follow the man. If he's going after the Raiders, then he is a friend in Leo's book.

Leo descends from his vantage point on the hill, heading for the fence of Raiders outside the carnival. He draws his double katanas and rushes down the hill. The Raiders on this side don't know what hit them. Instantly, four are down and killed, bleeding profusely from the neck. He stabs the next ones through the heart and then slicing the next ones in the back of the legs, causing them to fall to the ground with no tendons to stand with. He looks to the front and sees Jason still there, but more Raiders approaching. Someone needs to disarm that gas. All of the Raiders around him dead or wounded, Leonardo looks to the stage, but he notices something fuzzy up on the stage, directly by the tanker full of gas. He blinks a couple times, his eyes switching from normal to infrared and he sees the body of a woman crouched over the terminal. He blinks again and it disappears. He would give her time.

He rushes farther down the hill and begins to take out more Raiders, unaware of the rising sound of police sirens in the distance.

_{Collab between Scarlett's Captain and Asuu's Ghost}

Captain looks up to see Jennifer approaching the stage and she chuckles under her breath. She didn't expect to see that child here. She deflects multiple Raiders attacks, knocking out two of them with two blows to the temple and knocking down a couple more with slices to the back of the knees. She whips around and throws her throwing knife behind her, stabbing one of the Raiders directly through the heart. She leaps on him, drawing out the knife back out and throwing it at one of the other Raiders, getting that one right through the neck.

She yanks the knife out of the man's throat right as four gunshots go off. She whips around and sees Jason on the ground, bleeding profusely from a wound in his shoulder and a Raider dead behind him with a bullet through the heart. She turns in the direction of the bullet and does not see anyone, so obviously they were farther away, which means that they are good. She leaps down off the stage, walking through the panicking crowds, and walks over to Blades, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and yanking him up. "What bigger purpose do you have here?!" she yells at him. "No one walks in with a tanker of gas just to kill for fun. What's the bigger purpose here?!"

Blades laughs and says, "I ain't telling you shit, doll." Captain raises her hand and a field of energy forms close to his face. He flinches and looks up at her. "What are you doing?"

"All I have to do is close my fist, and you suffocate on your own air," Captain says. "Now, either you tell me your purpose and give me the code to shut it down, or you'll be drowning on your own breath. Your choice."

Ghost had been quite a dash away from the main stage, having hidden amongst the trees. After the minor skirmish that ended with the Raiders underneath his perch dying rather brutally, the young Hero began his sprint towards the carnival's main area, AK-47 held firmly in his hands, safety off and trigger-finger twitching sporadically in wait. Not too many Raiders were out this far, he noted, eyes narrowing from beneath his mask as yet another peculiar sound echoed from far away - a scream. Abruptly, it ended, and he closed his eyes solemnly at the one gunshot that had accompanied the scream...another civilian's death.

"God damn it!" He growled underneath his breath, his sprint increasing until his form was nearly a blur of beige, black, gray, and white. In a hail of leaves, he exploded from the underbrush, assault-rifle easily held up to his shoulder as he released a spray of accurate, burning lead into the slowly dispersing crowd.

A Raider fell to the ground, a bullet-hole bleeding profusely from his cranium, while another three were whipped through the air from the onslaught of bullets, dying as soon as they hit the ground. Ghost threw the AK-47 away, a silver deagle building from his gloved palms. Instinctively, he gripped it, bringing it down towards his waist as he dashed deeper into the crowd.

Civilians were funneling around, and although the Raiders had taken a significant hit, it was far from over. He had just pistol-whipped the brains out of another fumbling Raider when he came upon his destination...only...there was a woman threatening the target.

Ghost made for an intimidating image - tall, and scary, with the skull painted onto his facemask. His Deagle was held up in one hand, pointing at the woman's head, while a smaller Glock was pointing towards Jason's. "Move away from the dick." Despite the vulgar word, his voice, disembodied and raspy due to the mask's speakers, was deadly serious, spoken with a quiet intensity. He didn't need some civilian playing hero messing with the operation.

Captain freezes when she hears the voice behind her and rolls her eyes under her glasses. You've got to be freaking kidding me. she thinks to herself as she drops the force field away from Jason Blades's face. She could see the fear on Blades's face as he looked passed her at the man standing behind her. Who exactly is standing behind her that is that horrifying. She stands up slowly and turns around, raising her hands up slightly.

Her fingers itched for her knives, but Captain held her position as she says, "I don't think you understand who exactly I am." A muscle in her jaw jumps as she slowly moves her hands to push her sunglasses off her face so she can get a better look at this guy, even though she knows her eyes are flaming red at the moment. "I want the exact same thing you do, soldier." She narrows her blood red eyes at the guy and turns back toward Blades, who is trying to crawl away. She throws out her hand and pins him to the ground. "Stay put dammit!" she snaps at the Raider leader. He can no longer move so she turns back to the man in front of her. "No if you'll excuse me..." She kneels back down next to Blades and grabs his shirt once more, lifting her hand above his face again. Blades noticeable swallows.

Great...just great. Ghost watched as the woman pinned the man down to the ground with some sort of...power, completely ignoring his 'Move away'. No...not ignoring it, simply deciding not to do it. His mouth's normal frown turned into a scowl, invisible from underneath his mask. He watched the girl bend down and grab Blades by the collar, noting the man's swallow. This wouldn't do. People were dy-

An assault rifle slammed against Ghost's shoulder, causing the man to only take a brief step forward, not a sound escaping his mouth. However, in response, the gun bent backwards at the barrel, having obviously slammed against some sort of armor. Before the ambushing Raider could move, Ghost had turned around, a trench knife finding itself buried hilt-deep into the Raider's throat. Swiftly, Ghost gripped the metal blade, slashing it out through the jugular and turning around all at once. Blood dripped into the grass.

"Blades." He knew what he needed to do. Make it seem as if he was helping this woman. Blades was already scared shitless; two intimidating vigilantes getting answers? He would cough it all up. Ghost's booted right foot abruptly slammed forward, a loud, disgusting crunch sounding through the air as Blades' nose was completely turned to mush. The man could only let out a hoarse scream of pain, eyes going into shock as he fell backwards. Jason grabbed him by the hair before he could fall, crouching low over the man. His disemboided, gravelly voice was quiet, too quiet for Captain to hear.

"Tell us what you know...now. How to turn off the machine? What must we do? It will honestly be a shame if every single nail on your body was slowly pulled off, a certain...appendage following suit, right before you turn into a limbless fool." He tightened his grip. "Tell. Us. Now." A dark spot was evident on Blade's frontal...region, and underneath his mask, Ghost crinkled his nose.

Blades was pretty much ripped from her hands by the guy behind her and Captain was furious. She jumped to her feet, about to snap at him for taking her interrogation, but instead she paused, seeing how good of a job he was doing scaring Blades. In fact, she noticed that Blades wet his pants. Captain's nose wrinkled and she coughed to the side, covering up a gag. She glared at him as this guy murmured something to him and Blades looked over at her. She held up a hand and closed it into a fist and Blades spit some blood off to the side.

"Alright, alright!" he said, almost snarling at the man above him. "All you need to do is input the five digit code: five, four, seven, seven, nine." He dips his head in defeat and Captain leans back, raising an eyebrow.

"That was almost too easy," Captain murmured to the guy as she walked closer to him, glaring down at Blades, who was spitting out some more blood. "Do you think he's telling the truth?"

Ghost simply stared, focused, at Blades, watching as the man fell back after spitting out a massive glob of blood, his inner injuries finally getting back to him after the adrenaline and shock wore down. After a brief second, he growled audibly, clenching his fists with a 'pop'. "We have no other choice. Go see what you can do with the code. I'll keep you covered."

With that brief statement, Ghost gripped the air, a rifle appearing in his hands, lacking a scope. Bringing up the sights, he backflipped through the air, showing inhuman agility as he landed smoothly into a crouch, in front of the machine, and pressed the trigger of the gun at a blurred pace. Rapid sounds of high-caliber rounds tearing through the air. All across the carnival battle-field, heads suddenly began being blasted apart, the onslaught focused on the Raiders getting closer to the stage.

Edgar didn't know he was out of his house and at a carnival, what was the point? He would never feel happy or feel the warmth of people's happiness. Maybe he was just being desperate to try and find some sense of normality in his life. Whatever shred of happiness he would make the Coat of Madness would take it away.

"I never understood why you humans congregate for such joyous events, it's revolting to me. Maybe a little chaos would make this torture more bearable" his coat spoke to him and Edgar got horrible visions what the coat would do to the carnival if wasn't tethered to him..

"Shut up! We're not killing people" he replied with a growl and his anxiety was going up, what if the coat tried to make him create a riot and kill people? It could cause a lot of destruction. He was contemplating whether he should leave the carnival or not when the deadly gang known as the Raiders attacked the place and Edgar felt fear rush over him, he was afraid of what he might do to the gang. But when the gang started hurting people, Edgar knew he couldn't do nothing.

"I need you, give me some of your power" he said to his coat and he heard it give a laugh in his head.

"Finally I will have some victims to drive insane and slaughter, let's get to it" it said in a menacing voice and Edgar went into action. He held out his right hand and a blast of pure energy shot out of it. It flew straight towards the group of gang members and caused a loud explosion. Edgar then drew deeper into the dark powers of the Coat of Madness and created a large spectral demon of horrifying appearance. the creation was not solid and was merely illusion, but it looked extremely real and was making loud roars.

As the fight raged around her, Morgan continued to intently study the terminal on the massive tank, even as time continued to count down. It had to be fairly simple, right? If Raiders (not known for being Ivy League graduates) were expected to use something like this in the heat of battle, it would have to be.

The interface wasn't terribly intuitive, though. Old-fashioned and clunky, it was clearly cobbled together from some outdated tech. 80s stuff, really. It took her a few moments of fiddling to reach what she wanted.

SUSPEND TIMER? YES/ NO

"Hell yes I want to suspend the timer," Morgan said triumphantly, unheard and unnoticed amid the general chaos. She punched at a few more keys.

ACCESS DENIED

"Damn."

FINGERPRINT AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED

"Damn!"

Maybe this would be a good time to just cut her losses and fly out of here. Morgan wasn't motivated by altruism or heroism, really, just more a feeling that someone had to do something. She was tempted to just extend her wings, even beginning to flex the muscles required to extend them from her back.

But then serendipity reared its head.

The horrific, towering demon abruptly appeared in the midst of the crowd, making an unusual day even stranger. Long story short, the end result was one of the Raiders backpedaling in abject terror, firing clearly ineffective rifle rounds at the abomination.

Right towards Morgan.

"You just might do," she mused, reaching into her purse and closing her hand on the familiar weight of the telescoping baton. Sure, it was a bit of an old-fashioned weapon, but it did the trick nicely. She knew that physically attacking someone was too obvious even for her natural camouflage to disguise, so she had to make this decisive.

With a practiced flick of the wrist, she deployed the baton, and then went to work. Two quick strikes- wrist and elbow, forcing the man to drop his weapon. A third to the temple, just behind his gas mask, and a fourth again just to be sure. The Raider went limp, crumbling like empty clothing. Morgan knew that now she was visible and had to act quickly. She quickly tore the mask from the man, fitted it over her own face- both to protect her identity and for protection should the gas be released despite her efforts.

Then she grabbed the man's limp hand and pressed a thumb up against the terminal, hoping he would have sufficient access to curb this madness.

In all of the chaos (bullets had passed through Katrina’s consciousness at least twice now), the woman noticed that one of the cars parked to hole everyone up in the carnival was unguarded. She had a quick peek inside and felt a small spark of surprise: the key was in the ignition. She glanced outside. A group of Raiders were moving toward the stage, where people were working to disarm the gas canister and get answers out of the Raiders’ leader. They’d be outnumbered if no one did anything about them.
Her physical body opened its eyes as her consciousness reunited with it. She strained to look outside the tent and make sure the way was clear as it more or less had been during the projection, took a deep breath and started to move toward the empty car.

Jennifer bit her lip as she got onto the stage. The area was chaos, and she had to focus to not panic at all of the gunfire. Swerving through the crowds had spent a bit of time, and by the time she was approaching the tank there were others already on the stage. Captain and someone else were interrogating the man, and a woman with a gas mask was attempting to get a fingerprint of a Raider onto the terminal of the tank.
“That’s not going to work,” Mack says into Jennifer’s ears, as the latter jogs quickly to the tank. Jennifer repeats what Mack says. “That’s not going to work,” Jennifer pants, sliding onto her knees, her tablet sliding out of her pocket. Her eyes widen, and she quickly turns around, grabbing her tablet off the ground, cradling it in her hands. “You’ve got to get a harness for that thing,” Mack says, as Jennifer lets out a breath. Not taking a glance at the gas-mask woman, Jennifer speaks to her. “It’s a regular Raider. He won’t have sufficient permissions to edit the parameters of a device that is programmed to respond to a higher official.” She taps one of the top corners of the tablet against the terminal, which connects the two wirelessly and electronically. “I’m not sure I could turn it off, there are too many options, but I may be able to change the parameters to allow those of a lower ranking standard to change the options of the device.” Jennifer taps on her tablet, and then a few times on the terminal, and then she continues to fiddle with her tablet, Mack helping her along the way.

The door was unlocked, which was a huge relief. Ducking below a spray of hot lead, Katrina climbed into the driver’s seat. “I’m going to lose my license,” she whispered to herself, and turned the key. Someone shouted at her to stop, but of course she ignored it. She started to drive, got the car pointed toward the group of Raiders running toward and shooting at the stage, who apparently hadn’t noticed Katrina. It was time to take care of business. She stepped on the gas.
Her aim had been true. The sound of bones shattering and crunching under tires made her nauseous, and before she could do anything--it was all so fast--she had driven straight into the stage. She rocked with the impact and undid her seatbelt, panting. Shakily, she opened the car door; this took a bit of elbow grease because of the damage done to the front of the car. She stepped out of the vehicle and put her hand on the handle of her knife, which she planned to use in case any of the bastards had survived the impact.

The sound of a crash made Jennifer jump just as she was going to finish. She looks around, and sees that a car had driven straight through a crowd of Raiders, a stray few remaining from where the car had assaulted them. Jennifer blinks as the driver exits the car, and exhales as the person looks - from her angle - unharmed. Though, it takes Mack saying, “Hurry up, that thing is still timed!” for her to turn and press the last few buttons on her tablet. “There. It’s set to change the settings at his fingerprint,” Jennifer says, beckoning to the man’s finger.

Morgan nearly jumped out of her skin when the other woman ran over with a tablet. Her wings almost came out involuntarily, but she caught herself just in time. It'd be a shame to shred her top, at any rate.

She relaxed, though, when the other woman began working to help her. "Relaxed" was a relative term, considering the two of them were trying to disarm a deadly chemical weapon together, but you have to take what you can get in this situations. Morgan took a moment to glance over the melee. The Raiders seemed to be getting the worst of it, by far- here a car mowed down a group of them, there more were cut down by heavy bullets.

And all the while the countdown ticked on unabated.

After what seemed like an eternity, punctuated by gunshots and the cries of wounded, the newcomer announced she had reconfigured the timer to accept the captive's fingerprint. Unwilling to speak and knowing the mask would muffle her voice, Morgan flashed a thumbs up with one slender hand, then grunted as he strained to lift the dead weight of the limp man's hand to the terminal. She pressed his thumb against the screen, heart in her throat as she waited to see what effect it might have.

COUNTDOWN SUSPENDED

She wanted to jump for joy and scream, but instead settled for a satisfied nod. The danger was far from passed, though. Someone could easily detonate the weapon remotely, or even a few stray rounds might puncture the seal. With that in mind, she took up her baton once more, crouched down and looking for a more permanent solution to the problem.