In the coastal metropolis of Modern City, Georgia, a ship transporting a cargo of chemicals explodes just off the coast and sinks into the bay. This tragic disaster will give rise to a variety of people developing superhuman abilities. They are Meta-Humans, the first of their kind. But are they friend or foe? Hero... or villain?

---

It was morning, well, the tail of end of the morning hours anyway. At almost 11:30 AM, Modern City was well into its busy day, citizens traversing to all manner of places for all manner of reasons. Some were taking an early lunch break, others perhaps were heading into work late that day for one reason or another. Either way, it was sunny and the city was bustling with its usual daily activity.

At city hall, the mayor's office to be exact, Mr. Rick Wellington sat at his desk with an exasperated expression. The incident a few months back had given rise to certain individuals with unusual abilities, Meta-Humans, he believed they'd been dubbed. Well, those Meta-Humans were causing all sorts of headaches for his office, what with the political controversy that had sprang up with their appearance. Not only that, but the ones who apparently decided to either take the law into their own hands or use their power for crime were also being rather irritating thorns in the Mayor's side, mostly because of the collateral damage they had a tendency to cause whenever they decided butt heads with each other. And all it ever meant was even more paperwork for his office and even more of the city's budget getting spent to keep these things in check.

"Ms. Andrews to see you, sir." the receptionist's voice on the intercom snapped Wellington out of his thoughts.

"Send her in." he responded in kind. A moment later his office door opened, and in walked his Deputy Mayor, Claire Andrews. Ms. Andrews was lovely, but sharp young woman with blond hair she almost always kept tied up in some form of ponytail or the like. She wore a slim pair of glasses and a woman's business suit. As usual, her tablet stayed in her hand, in fact she was inputting something on it as she entered, "Let me guess, more paperwork?" he asked in an incredulous. Honestly that seemed to be all he ever did anymore.

"Actually, sir, you asked me to remind you about your 12 o' clock meeting? It's close to that time." Claire said, her voice even and her eyes never leaving the tablet's screen.

"Oh, right..." Wellington checked his watch and stood up, "...thank you, Claire. Be a dear and look after the office for an hour or so 'til I get back?" he asked, then walked out the door without awaiting a response.

When he was gone, Claire briefly put down the tablet and rubbed her temples, "Sure, Mr. Mayor, I'm already practically running the city for you, may as well make it official and sit at your desk while I'm at it." she muttered to herself under her breath. She wasn't exactly exaggerating, either. Wellington was charismatic and his family-man persona earned him popularity, but the man was terrible at management and so it ended up falling to her to take care of that, while he essentially just made speeches and signed papers.

"Gretta, please have all calls to my office redirected to Mr. Wellington's, please. Looks like I'm gonna be in here a while." she spoke to the intercom, then sat in Wellington's chair. Once again she picked up her tablet, only now she was not only working on it but also simultaneously on Wellington's computer as well. Quite the multi-tasker, Claire, always was. Before she could get too wrapped up in work, she remembered something and paused her work in order to use her cell phone. Finding the number she needed to dial, she pressed the call button and waited for an answer.

---

In a newly refurbished office in the downtown area, a man sat at his rather empty desk. He could see the sign of his office on the window though he letters were backwards in order to be read from the outside. They read 'Andrews Detective Agency', and Carter sighed to himself. He sometimes wondered if perhaps he should change the name of the office to something a little more exciting, but no ideas ever came to him. He sure as hell wasn't gonna call it "Condor Detective Agency" since that would have made his secret identity way too obvious. He wondered if maybe he should ask someone for suggestions, like Eli maybe.

Elliot Sinclair, Eli to her friends, was a young woman Carter met on a previous case. Actually, it was his first real case since opening the office, now that he thought about it. Anyway, the case had him investigating a college student that was said to be able to shoot lasers from his eyes and was apparently using that to hold up convenient stores. Well, as it so happened Eli was investigating the same Meta-Human, and so Carter had bumped into her while looking into the student. They seemed to hit it off pretty well, or at least Carter thought so, and they ended up working together to find the guy. That was how Carter learned about Eli's little talent, her ability to see visions of an object's history. It made finding the Meta-Human a complete walk in the park, and once they did it was just a matter of taking him down as Condor. Funnily enough, Eli discovered Carter's secret by happenstance, essentially her ability kicked in when she came into contact with Condor, and she saw the history of the suit and that it was made by Carter. In the end, Carter told her that he could definitely use a talent like hers in his cases if she was ever interested, though he had a feeling she probably wouldn't be.

The sound of his cell phone snapped Carter back into reality. He fumbled around with it until he clicked the answer button, "Hello? Andrews Detective Office, you got mysteries, I got answers." he said, greeting the caller with his office's slogan. It wasn't exactly the greatest slogan in the world, in fact it was kinda corny.

"I thought you said you would change that stupid slogan?" asked the voice of his sister, Claire.

"Huh? Oh, hey, sis! Uh yeah... I, uh... I'm working on it," he answered, feeling a bit embarrassed, "So what's up, anyway?"

"It's about lunch. Doesn't look like I can make it today." Claire answered bluntly.

"Aw, too bad. You sure you can't skip out on the office for a break?" asked Carter nonchalantly.

""Skip out"? What are you, 16, Carter? We're not in school, you know. And no, I can't get out of the office, Wellington's at a meeting and decided to leave his office in my care."

"Oh, playing office sitter again, huh?" asked Carter, knowing how much she hated when Wellington did that, "Okay well, another day I guess. Is tomorrow open?"

"We'll see." she answered.

"'Kay. Talk to ya later, sis." Carter said, and then they hung up, "Well, crap." Carter said to himself, leaning his chair back and even lazily propping his feet on the desk, "There goes my afternoon."

"No man, please. I don't know shut about what you're lookin' for." the gangster pleaded as he tried to escape the monster in front of him.

Average height, and black haired the meta human was almost normal, except until he took off his sunglasses. The same gaping maws of teeth had greeted the gang in their hideout. They were part of the sudden influx of criminals that had immigrated into the city after the explosion. They primarily focused on the burgeoning drug trade in the now abandoned port area.

"Sorry buddy, but you and your chucklefuck pals have caught the interest of the police department," the meta human replied, surrounded by the broken corpses the criminals comrades, "'sides, it's your fault for getting involved the drug trade." Then, stopping low, the monstrous man retrieved his knife from the neck of one of the gangsters, and began prowling towards the man on the ground, who was attempting to crawl away. He immediately began wetting himsel in fear.

"Relax," the bloodied T-shirt clad man knelt to eye level to the gangster, and brought the knife down on, "It's for a good cause." Slitting the man's neck, the man began his grisly.collection of the dead men's eyes. Popping them leaders eye into his socket, and learned that there was going.to be a drug deal that evening. Quickly, the survivor called a special number, and reported his findings.!?

"Wake up, boy. You have work to do. " Oozed the voice inside of the young man's head. The man looked up to the ceiling of his bed room. He was still wearing his jeans from the night before. He must have collapsed after whatever he had done. Sometimes he could not remember his times walking the streets trying catch as many scumbags as he could. Course the voice did not seem to care. It was furious about something. Jack got up and walked towards one of the mirrors in his room. He thought he looked pretty good but the Whisper thought otherwise.

"You are fragile, child. If you want to help in the city you must be stronger than this. You are weak. We can do this if you work. " The voice said being helpful. It seemed to switch between trying to drive Jack insane. Other times it tried to mentor him. Sometimes it demanded he kill every thug he find while other times it said to think of their children. Jack gave up months ago in his struggle to understand the voice. All he knew was that it was connected to his powers.

"Well I don't have work today so I could work on that?" He offered seemingly talking to the air. That seemed to shut the Whisper up. He needed an outlet for all his anger. It was either an outlet or thugs would be found impaled on wrought iron fences around the city. He wanted to try boxing but that seemed out of the question. There had to be another way.

Jack grabbed his headphones and quickly changed up so he could go run. Five minutes later he was heading towards downtown. His powers did give him a great deal of stamina. He had his mask in his pocket should he need it.

Elliot had to shower at the boat shack the university owned down at the docks to service the two large cutters that served as ocean going classrooms for the school. They were gone at the moment the Savanna up at the Grand banks studying the fishery and it's troubling rate of decline. Her sister ship the Numa was in Barbados working a sunken ship thought to be an English warship named the "Terror" which had been sunk by an American Privateer named the "The Faithful" in 1813. Elliot would have loved to have gone with the Numa but was still busy with her study of the disaster's effect on the life in the bay for her Masters as well as curiosity.

Once she'd washed up Elliot sat down and labeled her samples and put them away, some she'd do the work on and others would need to go to the state fish an game labs. She enjoyed her chosen field but now found herself distracted by her alter ego and demands on her time. Her worst problem was that she'd found that as a volunteer crime fighter as she euphemisticlly called herself she had new expenses.

Night Vision Goggles, her neoprene suits, Cameras that could be used to gather evidence and extend her range of eyesight among numerous other things that helped her. She had find creative ways of earning extra money and had resorted lately to being a pet finder. She had a good record for finding lost pets so long as they were still alive and sometimes even took in some cash.

She thought "Carter would laugh his rear off if he knew"

Eli couldn't help herself, even when they put down they'd pay $2,000 or $200 a lot of these people couldn't really afford it, they just wanted the pet back.

"Oh well good vibes are as good as money" she giggled as she finished up her work

Four men sat at a circular table at the back of a small restaurant in the quieter part of Modern City. A fifth empty chair at the table, cold from waiting for its occupant. The joint itself was closed to the public, these men having reserved it all to themselves for their meeting. One of them also 'convincing' the owner to not have any of the employees go to work when the meeting took place. The four figures were similarly dressed, suits of varying expensiveness. One of the men had a cigarette in his hand which he took a smoke of as unbeknownst to the group the fifth man entered the building through the side kitchen door flanked by two accomplices. Truthfully the two were nothing more than grunts, but reliable and trustworthy ones, the kind you'd like to have with you if the meeting went to hell.

The fifth player appeared in the dining room, his eyes scanning the room for moment until he found the table in the back. His two grunts flanking off to another table in which more of their type that had accompanied the other men were playing cards. As the man approached the table he felt the eyes of the four already seated glance up at him, one of them moving his lips to speak.

"Rocco, what took you so long? We've been sitting here twiddling our thumbs." One of them said, an older man, his hair gray, eyes honest.

"Traffic." The one the others figured to be Rocco replied as he took his seat in the empty chair, all five men at the table now, the meeting ready to commence.

"So, between the cops and the super freaks business has gotten a lot harder of late. Ever since that tanker sank those punks have been a thorn in our side. Getting involved in our deals, dragging people to the pigs. It's a mess." The cigarette smoking man at the table said, a pair of sunglasses over his face, he capped the words by putting out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray.

"What do they think they are? They've been reading too many of those comics, real life ain't anything like that stuff." Another man at the table replied, the youngest looking one there, his arms folded, a glass of whiskey in front of him.

"At least you can pay off the cops. Haven't been able to pay off the supermen, they're acting all heroic out of boredom I think." Another added.

"Now you all know that I have a shipment of guns coming into the port, but it's at risk with those freaks running around," The man who addressed Rocco pitched in, then glanced over at Rocco. "They've been giving you trouble too?"

"Yeah, but I think I have a plan for them." He said, his voice unusually calm like the topic of their conversation wasn't even an issue to him or his dealings.

"It's not that easy, Rocco, they're freaks, you can't just shoot them, some of them are so fast they dodge bullets, others don't even get hurt by them." The man who poised the question said, almost lecturing Rocco.

"Oh I know."

"What does that mean?" The sunglasses wearing man asked, one eyebrow raised. Now was the time for Rocco to disappear.

"Experience of the personal type." Rocco said, then rose from his seat and changed form before the criminal's eyes, turning from a shorter, middle aged man with a thick goatee to a clean cut, almost pretty man of impeccable style. The four men all reacted in different ways, all forms of surprise at the act they had witnessed, one of which had rose to his feet, pointing a pistol at the shapeshifter.

"You're one of them! You're not Rocco, he's not one of those things. What the hell is going on? What did you do with him?" The man said as the shapeshifter gave him a glance, the others not yet having made a move, though another at the table had his hand on the revolver tucked inside of his jacket. The display had also drawn the attention of the other men in the room, their eyes set firmly on the table, some of them too clenching firearms, waiting for the signal from their bosses.

"Oh don't worry, he's fine, well, not dead, let's put it that way. You are right though, I am one of those things, but a more refined breed who sees the potential for my gifts. I wouldn't have let you bask in my presence if I didn't, you might have heard of me. The name's Melion." The shapeshifter said, having raised both arms to show he was not a threat.

"I say we put a bullet right in this guy's head, he can't possibly survive that." Another man at the table said, his gun drawn, he now out of his seat.

"By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes." Melion said, his facial expression a straight one.

"The hell does that mean?"

"Those 'freaks' you were having a chat about? They know all about you all, maybe not me, I hope not me, but many of them want to stomp you out, see you in chains. I do not want that, I can help each of you, my powers allow me to become anyone I want, I could turn myself into the mayor and run the town in his place, the President and run the country, the possibilities are endless." Melion said, a smirk forming on his face.

"Why do you want to help us? What's in it for you?" One of them asked, one of them men still seated.

"Well, we share the same interests, I too do not like the others like me, they don't realize what they can accomplish. We can work something out, if not then I'll quietly leave and release Rocco back into your hands, you'll never hear a peep from my beautiful mouth again." Melion said, taking a seat once more, one of the men still with his gun pointed at the meta-human.

"I don't like it, what if he's working with the cops?" The man in shades asked the others.

"Would I have exposed myself if I was?" Melion asked back.

"He's not wrong. I never liked Rocco anyway, guy was an asshole." One of them said as two of the others nodded in agreement.

"We'll give it a shot, but you'll be watched like a fox. One bad move and you'll be 100 feet underwater with cinderblocks tied to your ankles."

"I assure you, I will be of the greatest assistance." Melion said with a smile, hiding more complicated intentions, unbeknownst to the gangsters.

"Afternoon!", the old man greeted, almost excitedly, reacting to all the daily salutations he'd receive from the townspeople when up for his scheduled morning jog. Taking a hike around the Modern City park, paying a visit to some of the city's famous landmarks and then stopping in front of the nursing home where his Mother, and his only family as of yet, was facilitated. Such a prolonged trip would totally destroy a lesser man, however Lance had previously inhaled a healthy dose of chemicals which increased his stamina and physical strength. As a matter of fact, the only thing preventing him from completing his itinerary in about 10 minutes was the fact that it would arouse suspicion, and that's the last thing he wanted. Plus, he enjoyed the small talk he'd squeeze out of some of his acquaintances.

Pausing in front of the nursing home, barely sweating, he ran his fingers through his graying hair and made sure that he wouldn't appear before his Mum looking like a slouch. Even at the considerable age of 57, he still saw himself as a Momma's boy. Confidently making his way into the living room which, as expected, was crowded with old people, his eyes moved around until he singled out an old woman seated on an armchair and knitting. She was your standard urban Mom; short gray hair, glasses and rocking a pair of white, silk pajamas. Putting on a smirk, he grabbed a stool to his right then approached her, maintaining the same pace. It was not only 'till he placed the stool near her that she actually noticed the scruffy man standing above. Shifting her sight back at her garment, seemingly unimpressed, she exclaimed "You know, you don't have to visit me every day."

"It's not big deal. I'm just checking up on you", Lance responded, already used to her bickering. She had gotten grumpy after reaching her 70s, but still maintained the adorableness.

"Well, you shouldn't.", she rapidly came back, a noticeable voice crack occurring as she did. She then proceeded, her tone getting calmer while she simultaneously resumed knitting. "It's not like there's going to be a robbery in a nursing home.", her last sentence made it obvious that she was well aware of his secret identity.

Unfazed, Lance chortled at Francis' grumpiness, putting his hand on her shoulder before adding "I'd pity the robber who would choose you as a victim. I don't think anyone deserves to be subjected to your wrath."

Lance's last sentence got his Mom lightened up too, as she smiled at his little joke. It wasn't a lasting smile - more like a blink and you'll miss it moment, but Lance caught it and knew that he finally cracked her shell. She remained serious for the duration of their daily conversation, then it was time for old man Furlong to change his attire and get down to attending real business. His escapades as the vigilante "Shepherd" got the mayor worried. and he had to do something about it. He needed to assert that he wouldn't pose a threat in the future. But how?

The white haired girl was the only one in the lab at the moment which was a rare moment of quiet. The girl was examining fish samples from before the accident and after the accident and had found something interesting in some of the tested fishes DNA and chemical make ups. Some of the fish seemed to have been altered to the point were they may look the same on the outside but could not even be called fish anymore if looked at their DNA. The results showed almost the same thing that as the tests that she had done on herself, that the chemical had altered the DNA and RNA of the meta-humans allowing them to get their powers. "If only there were more meta-humans willing to let me take blood samples from."

Angel wrapped up her experiments and stuck them back into preservation before hanging up her lab coat and leaving the room just as a group of undergrads came into the room. As she walked down the hallway she pulled out her phone and shot a text to Elliot who was working on some similar work.

Found some interesting results. Might need a second opinion on meta-human gene experiments.

Angel was trying to prove how the chemical explosion created the meta-humans and if there was a way to reverse the changes that had been done to them. All she wanted to do right now was go to the beach and relax but you never knew what was going to happen these days and that meant she ran the risk of being exposed as a meta-human as well. She just decided to go back to her dorms and relax for the moment, it was still early with the rest of the day ahead of her might as well get a quick nap in.

The park was oddly lonely. Though the sun shined through the dense leaves, giving the world a emerald hue, it still felt very much dull to him. Amidst the burning of his right side and the tight squeeze of his left, he could only wince occasionally from the pain that now consumed him. To distract himself, he leaned his head back on the black iron bench and gazed at the clouds.

There was three in his line of vision. All of them wispy and almost transparent. He felt like that should have been him for a moment, all transparent and invisible. How lucky was a cloud to be considered so mundane. One look up was all it took to be able to ignore them for the rest of the day. He leaned back up minutes later when the pain would tolerate no distractions.

He gritted his teeth before holding his arms, the few kids that were around seemed to not notice.

"Dammit! What the hell am I suppose to do about this?"

"No lollygagging." A fat cop called out.

In downtown Modern City, a relatively tall, broad-shouldered, and masculine figure boredly walked past the traffic officer, hands resting in his pockets, every step unhurried, and yet concise and brisk. His appearance was incredibly shady, but only due to the literal lack of any skin showing. Otherwise, he only got a small glance from the drivers and passerbys, before they went on their way. The man in question wore a black hoodie, with the hood up, in a color that was so black, it seemed to absorb the light from around his body. Along with this was a simple pair of the same midnight-colored jeans, and regular sneakers that broke the all-black monotony. It was black, but with white completing the ensemble. Otherwise known as Chuck Taylors. Over the hoodie, he wore an open collared jacket - the exact same color as the rest of his clothing. If he had anything on his hands, it wasn't evident, due to the fact that said hands were currently hiding in his jacket.

Not to mention, his face was completely shaded by darkness - probably from the hood. You could see absolutely nothing.

As he walked by a parent-child combo, on the sidewalk, the man finally took his right hand out of his pocket, revealing that yes - his hands were gloved as well. In his grip, was a plain white note, with neat, yet scrawling black letters scribbled through the middle. "...Pick up some milk, flour, and taco shells. I would do it, but I'm...crippled." He read slowly. His voice was...odd, as well. It seemed almost muffled, and it didn't have any specific tone or pitch. It was just low, and rather disembodied, as if he was speaking through a veil of pitch-lowered speakers. It had an almost inhuman feel to it, but not quite. The figure snorted, pocketing the note, and looking up at the sun. Curiously enough, even as he looked straight up, physics did not come into play. His hood stayed completely still, and his face was still completely shadowed. Odd.

"Dick." He hated going out during the bright, sunny days.

Jason pocketed his hands once more, heading for the local supermarket.

Being up high was her favorite part of the whole day. Shadow took a deep, calming breath, sucking in the fumes of old books and dust, two of her favorite smells. She smiled at the dusty books in front of her and she heard a small mew on her shoulder. She turned her head to the side and looked at her young kitten. The little white kitten mewed at her again, yawning to show it's bright pink tongue and teeny, sharp white teeth. Shadow smiled and murmured to the kitten, "Don't worry, young one. I am almost done." Pushing herself off the bookshelf, the rolling ladder rolled down the aisle, heading to the next bookshelf. She grabbed onto where she wanted to be and pulled herself up a little ways. She then shifted some books around and placed her final book in the empty space the rested.

She then hurried down the ladder and meandered through the hallways and aisles, smiling at people. She noticed, as she went into darker rooms, that a small golden glow appeared around her bare skin. She cringed slightly and shrugged on her jacket, hoping to cover up the glow. Moon mewed at her again and Shadow gently placed the small kitten in her side pocket.

Someone then rang the bell at the desk and she sighed. She hurried up to the front and found a young man standing there, looking over the card catalog. He smiled up at her as she approached and asked for a specific book, one that was almost in the very back because no one really read books like it anymore. She raised an eyebrow, curious as to why he wanted it, but she didn't push. She wasn't that type of person. Instead, she hurried to the back, whistling for Pooch as she went. The small beagle ran to her, panting and grinning as the basket on his back wobbled slightly. She pulled Moon out of her pocket and gently placed her in the basket attached to the back of Pooch's collar.

"Now you be careful with her," Shadow scolded, looking down at the year old beagle. "Remember what happened last time you tried to go fast?" The beagle nodded, smiling up at her before starting off a gentle trot down the hallway, heading toward the children's reading area. He probably wanted to play with some kids. Shadow smiled and hurried off to find the book in the back.

She reached the back book cases and climbed up onto her ladder. She pushed off and zoomed down the bookshelves, scanning for the point system. She saw it immediately and paused, looking for the correct book. She raised an eyebrow when she spotted it and she pulled it out of its place. "Memories: Tales of Our Past," she murmured. Yeah, this was the right book. Shadow slid down the ladder quickly and headed toward the front once again. Children laughed and stroked Pooch as she walked by. He was happy. She laughed under her breath and hurried back up front.

The man was still there, but there was something off about him. He was talking furious into his phone, almost angrily. He looked up as she approached and snatched the book from her hands. He tossed his library card at her and began flipping through the book. She narrowed her eyes at him, but checked the book out to him. As soon as it was done, he took off, still talking furiously on the phone. He made sure to shout thanks of his shoulder though. That was slightly odd...

Mundy sat in the darkened alley, rain pouring down onto the top of his mask like a waterfall from the heavens. His breathing was slow and heavy, each breath sucking in and gradually blowing out as he stared at the wall in front of him with his piercing, crystal blue eyes. He quickly got up, a machete in his gloved hands. He stared at the brick wall ahead of him, he'd planned this for weeks, he couldn't let it go to waste now. He shoved his face against the wall, slowly merging through it until his entire body was in the mostly empty storage room, save for a few brooms and such. He rose to his feet, a machete at his side. Mundy opened the door in front of him, checking left and right as he exited. Mostly everyone was asleep or too tired to notice Mundy in the dark, the only light coming from the tv's that were left on throughout the night.

Mundy's eyes narrowed, he stalked over to one of the more awake guards before quickly slashing his throat and sending him to the ground. He repeated the process with the rest of the guards before butchering the gangsters who had been asleep or almost asleep, leaving only the kingpin and the 'innocent' prostitutes alive. He let the prostitutes go, but kept the kingpin awake for what he was about to do next. He grabbed him by the hair, dragging him halfway through a wall before letting him go, trapping him in between rooms. Mundy then proceeded to cut off just about every limb the kingpin had before cauterizing the wound with a handy blowtorch he had found in a maintenance cabinet. He left the kingpin alive to warn his friends about what had happened that night. Mundy's blood lust was satisfied, for now. He took off his mask a few blocks away before heading home.


Mundy woke up. His bed was messy and the sheet that covered his mattress had been pulled from its tightly tucked position and was now halfway up the bed. Mundy never was a still sleeper. He got out of bed, had a shower and got dressed before having a breakfast of toast and butter and coming to the realization that it was actually his day off from work. He had practically forgotten what day of the week it was, let alone if he was working that day. He usually didn't have much to do in his free time other than watch TV or read, and TV was boring recently. He loved to watch nature documentaries and the like, but the channels he regularly watched them on often ran repeats throughout the day and the good, new stuff only really started at around dinner time. He decided to check the local library, he had a book to return anyway.

Mundy entered the library with eyes like a snake on the hunt. He moved over to the crime section, scanning for any new novels that had reached the shelves. Disappointed, he almost reached for the packet of cigarettes sticking out of his jackets upper front pocket, only to remember the time he actually had done that in the library and had received one hell of a scolding for it. He instead resorted to biting the nail of his thumb to bide him over, one habit replacing another. He eventually decided on some sort of fictional history novel, set in the wild west. He moved to the front desk, placing the two books on the desk along with his library card on top of the two.
"Hi, just returning this and checking this one out" He mumbled, still chewing his thumb.

@Mr_pink @ScarlettWaters16
Gordon hated going into the main city. There weren't enough places to set an ambush, It was too bright, and above all, it was do DAMNED noisy and smelled to much like cleaning chemicals. But here he was, wearing his wrap around shades that covered his eyes from all angles and carrying a white walking stick, walking to a library to meet with his police contact/handler to exchange information. Gordon scowled down at the bag on his back, which carried a safe and a laptop he took from the dead gangster's hideout. He already knew the information in them, but the police needed hard evidence to carry out their raids.

He thought back to the first time he had used his powers. He had just washed up on shore, and a gangbanger was looting his body. Next to his hand he felt a fragment of a metal pole, and grabbing it he shoved into the thugs leg. With his leg broken and pierced, the thug fell down and began crying in fear and pain. Finally opening his eyes, he found that he couldn't see, but he knew where the gangster was, and by some unnatural instinct, he grabbed the man's face and crushed it. When his eyeballs popped out, Gordon unconsciously put them into his eye sockets, and he felt his eye sockets moving like jaws, tearing and mashing the eye into a gooey pulp. As his eyes continued to chew, Gordon fell on his knees and began hurling his stomach's contents on the beach, and hurled again after he brought his bloodied hand to his face and got the sticky substance in his mouth. He didn't know how long he was their, but eventually his eye sockets stopped moving and he saw. he saw every memory of the man's life, all his secrets and all his goals. He saw his triumphs and failures, and how he was a low ranking member of a gang who was sent shortly after the explosion to scout out a landing spot for the spread of their gang. He saw how he was a family man who wanted to keep his children out of the business he was in, and how he was a well-liked and respected member of his group. Gordon nearly hurled as he delved through the man's memories, but eventually he made it to the now deceased man's car and opened it.

Going by the man's memories, there was a gun in the glove compartment, and Gordon fumbled slightly as he followed the acrid scent of propellant. Eventually finding it, he pulled out the gun and placed it to his temple, when suddenly a radio crackled to life. "Hey Thompson, ya there?" a voice called over the device, "Get your ass over here, we need more help unloading the gear." The memories helped him identify the voice as Franklin, a high ranked member of the man's gang. putting down the gun, Gordon began mimicking Thompson's voice, "Yeah man, I'll be over there soon, had to wait out a few cops but I made sure they didn't follow me." Franklin, satisfied by the answer shut off the radio, and Gordon began searching for a phone. he eventually found one, and called the police station. He gave the operator the run down of the situation. At first, the man was skeptical, until Gordon began going over the details of each member's life. Hanging up, Gordon drove the car a few blocks away from the hideout, and waited for the police. As he was waiting, he sneaked to the parking lot where the gang had parked their vehicles and began slashing the tires with a knife after the gang members were drunk celebrating.

Eventually he heard the sirens of the police force, and the loud crashes as the gang members attempted to escape to the vehicles. Hiding in the shadows, Gordon pounced into the center of the group and began knocking them out. And that was how he was found, surrounded by unconscious gangsters, with blood streaks from his eyes, and a bloody hand. He was incarcerated and interrogated as one of the first official meta-humans. He told them what his powers were, and after weeks of meetings and debates, they decided to hire him as a "specialist". Of course that meant he was effectively exiled to the now burgeoning crime scene of the pier.

Reaching his destination, he was pulled from his thoughts when he almost ran into a person exiting. Catching his scent, which was a smell-les, ephemeral breeze that tickled his sinuses, he quickly identified the figure as a super, but decided to leave it. He was even more shocked to scent another one behind him, a myriad of smells that nearly overwhlmed him. Walking in, he smiled to himself, "Well this is certainly interesting." He thought, as he scanned for his contact.

Most comic book heroes had to worry about protecting their secret identities from friends, family, normal people and in theory their enemies as well to various degrees of success. This was often an exercise that cost time and money while causing the hero or heroine in question to undergo great stress and possibly lose friendships and relationships. It was meant to show how hard it would be to be a hero by showing how difficult it was to maintain a social life/cover up the secret identity at the same time.

In this regard, Andrew considered himself quite lucky. Since he was an anti-social hermit who never hang out with people in public and was on the computer all day (Unless he had to go to work/shop) before he gained his new found abilities, no one cared enough about Andrew or what he did on a day to day basis to require the need for secret identity ruses or covers. Hell, on the off chance that one of his enemies actually got a picture of him in order to track him down when he wasn't wearing the mask it would be the first picture taken of him in almost... four or five years now? They would know what he looked like, but they would have no idea who he was or where to begin looking for him...

Shoving his Farseer costume into a duffel bag for safe keeping, he turned his head towards the TV for a moment to make sure he had the address right. "The police have managed to set up a two block perimeter. While the identity of the gunman or his demands are currently unknown, our most recent reports suggest that there are currently nine hostages in there with him. We will keep you all updated as the situation develops here at Luther Street. Back to you Tom."

Destination confirmed and equipment at the ready, Andrew walked out his front door. It was time for Farseer to make an appearance...

@Mr_pink

Shadow looked up at the young man who walked over and set two books and a card down on the table. She smiled at him gently and set down Moon, who began butting her head against Shadow's hand. The guy looked slightly nervous. It was curious, the characters that came into the library, but Shadow never pried. Instead, she scanned the cards and the books, pulling in the one that he said he was returning and handing him the book he was checking out and his library card.

"Have a nice day," she said sweetly. Her sweatshirt pulled up slightly as she handed him the book and she gasped a little bit, shoving the sleeve back down. Her glow had gotten brighter. She flushed a dark pink and set the book and card down on the desk for him to pick up. Luckily for her, right then another customer came up and asked for a specific kind of book. She nodded with relief, stating, "We do have that in stock, but it is in the basement, so I will have to go down and get it." The customer nodded, stating that she was in no hurry.

Moving quickly to get down there, she hurried into the office, heading toward the basement door. The old wooden thing creaked as she pushed it open and began walking down the many steps to get to the basement. Unfortunately, the woman had asked for a book on Alchemy, so it would be in the very back, almost against the back wall. Her feet hit the solid cement floor floor and she looked around. It was pitch black down there. She took a deep breath and looked behind her, making sure that there was no one there. There is a specific reason as to why there are no lights in the basement. There was almost no need to come down there every day, so they figured they didn't need lights.

Also, they had Shadow. Shadow held out her hand, palm up, and suddenly a bright yellow orb appeared in her hand. She smiled at the beauty of the light and she tossed it up into the air. It sailed up and bump against the ceiling, but filled the room with a bright yellow light as it did so. She grinned again and headed toward the back. Unfortunately, the little orb did not give off much light, so she created a beam with her hand, guiding her way to the back. She found the book with ease and with a snap of her fingers, both lights were gone and she made her way back up from the basement.

She walked over to the woman and handed her her book. The woman checked it out before hurrying off. Man, people just seemed to be in a hurry today. She waited at the desk for the next customer, whoever it may be.

@Double@MonkeyBusiness

Eli heard her phone chirp announcing a text message so she pulled it off her hip and looked at the screen.

"Found some interesting results. Might need a second opinion on meta-human gene experiments."

It was from Angel a platinum haired girl who she knew from school and worked here at the lab. Eli smiled then thought about it for a moment before returning the text.

"No problem, glad to lend a hand, are you still in the lab?"

Eli had been thinking about revealing to Angel what she was and that she'd seen what Angel was when her powers had briefly failed and she'd become a puddle of water. Eli was worried that Angel might think she'd spied on her just to be nosy when in fact it had been because her own ability had gone wonky sending her mind backwards in time. The same trouble had revealed Carter's identity to her as well and lucky for Eli he'd actually proved understanding.

It was while pondering the trouble her ability could cause that Elliot decided to send Carter a message.

"Hi Carter, I've been thinking about your offer to mentor me in investigation and decided it wouldn't be a bad idea..If you're still up for it let me know an we can set up a meet..Elliot"

Following the conclusion of his daily visit, Lance jogged back to his place, his place being a small apartment pretty close to the bay where the chemical incident occurred. While he wasn't conducting any sort of investigation related to the happening, he was always on the look for any sort of government sanctioned operation that would further shed light on the case. That was also why he rented the apartment; so that he could be closer to the site.

Quietly slinking up the stairs, making sure that he wouldn't disturb his unemployed, lazy young neighbor next door, he unlocked the door to his apartment and made his way in, making sure to lock the door afterwards. The apartment was very neat and tidy, a habit that passed onto Lance from the disciplinary training he received during his time as a spook. Back then, not fixing your bed before 6:30 a.m led to a severe 10 minute beatdown in a basement several feet down a farm. Putting the keys on the dining table, Furlong took off his shirt and walked to his bedroom, opening a wooden closet and selecting one of the towels that were carefully stacked in there. He always took a shower after the jog, but never used soap, shampoo, or anything that might release a scent. He made that mistake during his first week as Shepherd, and got into a fierce battle with a mutant dog. Needless to say that while he managed to crawl out alive, another scar was added to his large collection. Bullet wounds, shrapnel, knife wounds, shattered bones, burn scars, you name it, he has 'em. His most noticeable scars are the ones passing through both of his eyes, which he obtained during a botched operation in St. Petersburg where he was serving as support for a NAVY Seals team.

After taking a hot shower, Lance made sure that his feet were dry before moving back to the living room, the towel wrapped around waist. He fetched the remote control from one of the couches and turned on the TV, skipping through the many ridiculous infomercials, talk shows and reality TV channels. Whenever he turned the TV on, he either did so to watch a movie or, most likely, the news. And, in a twist of fate, it turned out at that very moment, there was something rather interesting happening over down at Luther Street.

"...our most recent reports suggest that there are currently nine hostages in there with him. We will keep you all updated as the situation develops here at Luther Street. Back to you Tom."

"A hostage situation? In the middle of the day?", Lance thought, scratching his temple in almost childlike manner. It was then that an idea popped up into his head. He pranced all the way to his bedroom again and opened his closet, this time revealing a hidden compartment within the closet where a single, black briefcase was located. The briefcase was locked and there was a code needed to bypass it. Paranoia - another thing that passed onto Furlong from the CIA. The briefcase was revealed to contain his suit and both of his weapons. After some brief pondering, Lance picked up his suppressed handgun and suited up, deciding to wear the mask only once he got out of sight. His bike was parked in the back and covered by a brown blanket. If he could actually manage his way in and disarm the criminals, he could gain recognition by the Mayor and perhaps strike a deal with the people in charge. That way, he could avoid prosecution AND gather intel on enemies or potential enemies. The tricky part of his master plan was avoiding suspicion by the public eye.

Mounting his vehicle of choice, he drove a few feet away from his apartment, put on his mask and rode away to the crime scene.

@ScarlettWaters16

Seeing the women run off into the back of the library made Gordon a little uneasy, as he didn't know if she knew what he was. Shrugging, he finally scented his handler a female going by the signal perfume she was wearing. She was a young thing, probably fresh out of training and given the short end of the stick. He could smell her fear in waves, and he heard her plain clothes rustling as she fidgeted in her seat attempting to blend in. Walking over silently, he knew that the girl's attention was lax when he smelled the sudden spike of adrenaline when he popped in the seat in front of her. Deciding to keep get the deal over with, he began speaking.

"You know Heather, it's dangerous for a young women to walk around alone. You never know who would be eyeing you." He whispered to the policewomen, who paled at the statement. He began pulling out the laptop as he continued, "Our friends on the water are planning a wedding, and they want us to look at locations for the afterparty" He booted up the computer and began bringing up the details of the gun deal he had found. "Now there are three places they are looking at; a waterside spot," he said pointing at a dock on near the explosion, "a ballroom," he continued moving the digit to an abandoned warehouse 2 miles away from the dock, "or a mansion." He finished, pointing at an apartment complex on the edge of the former port and the city proper. As he finished, the police women managed to find her voice again, "Yeah b-b-but why would they ask us for help?" she laughed awkwardly. Gordon sighed, and was about to rub the bridge of his nose, when his hand bumped into his glasses. Turning around, he made sure that no one was watching and that the other meta was still gone, he then turned back to face the woman.

"Look," he said, "you probably think i'm a monster. I couldn't agree with you more, but the force and me have a deal. So give me the cash, and i give you the rest of the information. After that, we don't see each other till you have another job, or I find something" Nodding vigorously, the woman pulled out a small, opaque plastic box from her hand bag, and passed it to him. Gordon placed the laptop back into the bag and held it up to the women. "Careful," he said as she gripped it, "it's heavy." The women let out another squeak of surprise as he let go of the heavy bag, but she managed to catch it in both hands before it dropped. He ignored her as she slowly dragged/carried the bag to her car, pushing past a women who was waiting at the desk. Sliding the box into his pocket, he walked into the maze of shelves as the meta-woman returned from where she disappeared.

Jason boredly slunk into the Modern Man's Super Market, shaded face glancing around the store with a gaze that seemingly took in everything around it, despite the gaze itself being lazy and half-lidded. No one spared the teenager a second glance - and that was completely alright with him. Matter of a fact, he quite preferred it this way. "Milk, milk, milk..." He whispered, his disembodied voice many tones too quite for anyone to even catch. He took his hands out of his pockets, grabbing a shopping cart as he passed by the 'stolen-item-detector'. Swinging the cart around, Jason began leading it towards the 'dairy' section of the market.

MM Super Market was a place he knew quite well, due to the fact that his crippled roommate often made him go out and get groceries for their consumption. Surprisingly, his roommate was quite the excellent cook...surprising, since Jason couldn't really remember the other teen taking any cooking lessons back in highschool. Then again, he didn't really check all that much. Regardless, judging by the ingredients he was buying, they were going to be eating enchiladas tonight...which he really, really loved. Sadly, it gave him gas...which he could catch inside of a darkness bubble, and use as projectiles against annoying people, so everything worked out quite lovely.

Sometime during his thoughts, he had made it to the dairy aisle, and was currently heading straight towards the iced milks. Full, or skim...? He thought to himself, eyes narrowing from beneath the darkness of his hood. Opening up the display, Jason reached towards the full milk, before pausing and twitching his hands towards the skim milk. After a second of this, he growled lowly, grabbing both gallons and setting them in the cart. It didn't matter; they needed more milk, anyways. The dilemma avoided, Jason closed the display case, and began heading towards the foreign food aisle.

All the while, the Super Market music played softly over the intercom.

Mundy nodded to the girl at the counter, taking his book and his card and stuffing them both into the almost empty backpack he was carrying over his shoulder. He looked around his area as he exited the library, the streets were filled with people rushing in both directions. But what could he expect? Modern City wasn't exactly the rural backwater villages of the far south. A rather rude, lanky man shoved past Mundy as he shouted down his phone to a business partner. Mundy's eyes followed the man, narrowing as he got further and further away.

He soon brushed his bleach blonde hair back into the style he regularly kept it in, before making his way down the street. He was moving at a fairly slow pace and got a few dirty looks from those having to manoeuvre around him to get to their destination. He looked in a few shop windows whilst moving through the crowds, he rarely ever saw anything he wanted to buy though and this seemed like another time where he'd go home empty handed, par the book of course. He passed an electronics store and glanced at a news report on one of the tvs in the window before diverting his full attention to it. Apparently a hostage situation was going down less than a block away from where Mundy was now. Well, he had nothing else to do today, might as well check it out. He made his way there and blended with the crowd, the only thing seperating him being the bright colour of his hair. He watched on as the situation unfolded.

@RumikoOhara

Angel had just reached her room and laid down on her when her phone vibrated on the nightstand.

"No problem, glad to lend a hand, are you still in the lab?"

"Not anymore, if your not near the lab we could meet for coffee off campus if that is better."

She sent the text with an address for the cafe located near Luther street and wondered if Eli wanted to even meet up. Some of their work was overlapping, but for the majority of the time they didn't work with each other. There was also the problem of what kind of meta-human would allow her to draw blood from them and run tests on it to find a way to cure the genetic alterations. With these thoughts running through her head she face planted into the pillow and drifted off into a light nap with her phone still in her hand.