The dealer was a skinny bastard, though decently dressed and clean. He nodded habitually in conversation, bobbing his head as Taylor approached. “Been waiting to hear from Nan,” He said, nervously glancing around and stepping toward Taylor, out of the streetlight. “Got a new shipment of Hypo for your better-paying customers. They got Icon envy, just give ‘em this. Gives you a nice little rush for a couple minutes, but I’d be careful with the dosage, it gets you fucked up quick.”

--

Nan cursorily checked over the goods when Taylor brought them back; it was a gesture and they both knew it, though it had become so ingrained after years of distrust that they saw no reason to stop. “Good stuff this guy’s peddling. Where’d he get it?” Nan scanned over each vial, making sure they were sealed and full.

Taylor admired the clarity of the vials the dealer had managed to pack into the slim, concealable box. The needles would have to be provided, but she figured Nan could damn well sell this shit as enemas and people would buy. Everybody wanted a little power, even if it wouldn’t last. Taylor stood awkwardly by the box, recalling the poisonous taste of pills on her tongue, before she remembered Nan had asked her something. “Uhh, prob’ly through the Coats. They don’t got too many people, but they’re selective.”

“Oh. Well, better say goodbye to batches like this. The Coats won’t last.” Nan carefully tucked the doses away, sliding open the stash compartment behind the microwave and putting them away until she can deliver them to her club. She wiped her palms on her shirt and set to serving the cake she’d promised for dessert.

”Any reason why?”

“There’s a whole lot of stuff brewing with the gangs, from what I’ve been hearing, which means little homebrew groups like the Coats are screwed. Keep your eye out, cuz’ if anything’s going down I want your buddy Maverick to put a stop to it. You and I both know a war would fuck business for months.” She stuck a fork in her portion of the cake slice.

”Yeah, yeah, I’ll crack some skulls if it keeps the peace. You gotta fix my suit though, I’m not looking like some thrift shop Supe.” Taylor grabbed her plate, suddenly wondering why May wasn’t in the room. She turned to Nan, poised to ask, and shut up when she saw the older woman’s cold expression.

“You’re not looking like any Supe, got it? That’s not what I made the costume for.” She set the cake down and frowned into the floor, any by her expression Taylor could tell she was thinking of her sister, killed in some hero’s fight.

Taylor scratched at the back of her calf with a toe, refusing to apologize but feeling a heat creep up her face. She grabbed May’s slice of cake and made her way to her room. The door was closed, and Taylor’s eyes met the scribbled-in gaze of a princess from a coloring book, torn out and taped up. ”Maaay! I got my hands full of cake, open the door!” Her playful tone was met with sharp silence, making her frown and abandon the plates on the hallway table.

”May? You know I hate the quiet game, c’mon.” She opened the door, and was immediately met with a bullet, straight to the gut. The table toppled over as she fell back on it and Nan’s scream rang out a thousand miles beneath the sea. Consciousness washed away like the tide sucking back into the ocean, and the lights dimmed.

Racheli looked up briefly to the darkening and grey skies. Its clouds swirled around angrily above the small gathering crowd, thundering slightly in loud warning. Her green eyes stared intensely, drawn to it because she realized her own mood reflected the heavens above a little too well. She recognized the sorrow, betrayed, but mostly she could relate to the anger pitted against the world caught in its path. The notion the skies seemed almost as bitter about her loss as she was, made Rach's lips twist into a bitter smirk. Instinctively her hands pushed deeper into her volante design jacket, bright orange stripes followed her torso side and snugly hugged her feminine shape well enough. It was the only comfort she could use against the growing numbness filling her bit by bit, threatening to empty her of all strength. Rach wouldn’t let it win but it didn’t mean she was immune to its mental effects.

While the priest’s monotone voice droned on in the backdrop, Racheli’s mind took the moment to remind her of her pain's source.

Her mind was no longer at the funeral, surrounded by people clustering around the floral urn set on a pedal stool, but back home. It turned out home was a cheap, remodeled trailer with a few room additions to make it look less trashy than its origins. Most of it was her own sweat and blood mingling with her hard work, thanks to weeks at web surfing, putting aside small cash amounts, and buying the right tools. It didn’t help her perfectionist nature kept getting in the way and stirred up her pride to repair it several times.

The sweetened memories were easily blackened when her mind moved past the history and into the actual day, her figure starting in the shoddy living room. Her breath held in her throat the moment she slowly moved past the bathroom and into the bedroom. A sourness leapt to her throat back to the vivid image of her grandmother’s figure, thin and aged, laying on the floor. Naturally Rach’s impulse pushed to the surface when she dropped the take out cartons in her arms, leaving them to splatter onto the ground and keen over to shake the still woman. No response. Rach’s body stiffened while her ears blocked out the voices around her, unable to tell the proceedings had finally concluded, and completely lost in the follow up scene. The rain overhead rumbled and the sky vibrated with the sound, growling at the small figures below. Rach didn’t move. Her eyes stared vacantly into her grandmother’s set up in front her and bore into the delicate, fragile looking urn holding the old woman’s ashes. Blaming it with her haunted expression.

Still as stone, her hands pushed farther into the jacket’s insides. It was the only good coat she owned since the debt collectors finished with her grandmother’s assets, taking nearly everything save her clothes, her grandmother’s ashes and meager belongings she owned herself. The trailer was gone and with it, any memories from her childhood. All of it to just greasing their slimy fingers. Wetness made her head jerk the moment a droplet touched her, jerking her back into the present and twisted in place to finally acknowledge she was alone. The young priest, whose voice she had zoned out, approached with the china urn carried in both arms. She couldn't help but studied him. He was about in his late twenties, dressed in a black suit and white collar pushed tightly about his pale skin giving him a traditional yet modern look. His beard was neatly trimmed about his chin, jawline and upper lip, aging his features some. Thin lips curled up into a modest smile, his blue eyes seemed to look right through her. It made her uncomfortable while she reached for the person she loved the most in this world.

“Heaven gained an angel, rest assured in knowing that. She’ll be watching over you from above.” The man popped out calmly, letting her take the urn.

“I know, but doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Racheli stated coldly as she turned and walked away. Rain started to drench her when the heavens poured down in her wake, her figure unfazed by the jacket’s thin outside becoming sopping wet. Instead, it merely hid the tears cascading silently down her cheeks.



The Robert D. Sherman Airport terminal was packed when Racheli made through security.

She just walked out away from the guard frisking for any weapons, her stuff finally the last to be check, with bags grasped tightly in her hands. Her passport and identification was wedged deeply in her mouth during her need to get the hell out of the way. Rach’s teeth deeply bite into the tasteless plastic while fighting not to gag. Green eyes shifted from side to the other, discovering the nearest customs counter occupied by the airport’s service attendant and the whole time trying not to drop her luggage on route to the woman. It wasn’t easy. Every few steps Rach had to abruptly stop, her sneakers squeaking loudly against the overly polished floor, then curtly adjust her bags’ strap. Pulling them back up, she tried to rush over to the main desk before someone else cut in front of her. It seemed the bastard upstairs had other plans because no sooner than when she was a few feet from it, a fat, male tourist shoved himself right into her spot without a word or glancing back to note her struggle.

Racheli’s teeth grinded a bit, creating bite marks into the plastic, while she glared at the man’s back. It was clear she wanted to punch his ass to the ground as she inhaled, using a cleansing breath to purge the thoughts. Her action was a temporary fix but better than her alternative preference. When she saw no other options available to her, Rach huffed and hauled her bags to form a line behind the asshole where she stood for another hour until he was finished. The woman’s patience was worn thin by her prior customer, or likely wasn’t a people person, gave a frown at Rach still clenching the needed items in her mouth. Grunting a bit, her bags were shoved against the counter front while she passed over her identification quickly.

It took another hour when the bitch finally finished, waving her off for the new woman. Using that same plastic smile and cheeky tone on the new customer, Rach grunted her thoughts, pleased to have escaped. It wouldn’t take long for her friend’s cousin to arrive and retrieve as scheduled though the wait was a bother to endure. Rach had let Garret take a picture her before she departed on the plane wearing her current outfit. Her dress was simple with a colorful flare and sex appeal in it to make her stick out. She naturally was still wearing the coat she had at the funeral since anyone should be able to see the vibrate orange unless they were color blind or stupid. Zipped a third the way revealed her low cut shirt, green covered in the mixture made from black, faded zebra stripes and dotted paint stains. It was topped off with a silver, celtic pendant choker hanging tightly against her neck. She liked the shape most of all, a unique knotted one that fit inside a circle design, where it rested close to her pulse. Her bottoms were raggy and looked like cheap, overly loved jeans. Her shapely thighs had one or two rips on the inside, showing fishnet stocking though the widen gaps, just below mid-way. From the knees down were faded, torn holes and rips giving the illusion these pants had been around the block for a long while. Ironically they were thrift shop purchase only a few days ago, their current condition a way to purge her creativity. Rach only hoped the woman didn’t forget her and force her to hitchhike to the address in her back pocket.

Causally strolling to the nearby cafe, the rush hour ending, she plopped into the nearest iron cast chair and tossed her bags down with a heavy thump. Her body slumped over and the soreness filled her flesh, the effort in shifting from lengthy sitting on the plane to suddenly walking through the vast terminal, finally brought to her awareness. It hurt it a lot. Leaning forward, her hands reached up and covered her face to rub her temple and release the tension headache building. It had started just a few minutes after getting off which she now waited for the advil to kick in.

Racheli licked her dry lips and skin bumped, sensing the guy at the cafe counter eyeing her for loitering. Inwardly she knew the guy wasn’t going to leave her alone unless she bought a coffee or something, the knowledge causing her hand to reach for the nearest bag. It was unzipped easily and her hand revealed a woman’s wallet, also paint covered, then popped it open. She pulled out her debit card while she gracefully rose to her feet, bring her to the register shortly. Nothing looked but in her situation, beggars couldn’t be choosy. Eyeing her language from the corner of her vision, she ordered a hotdog, cheesy fries, and soft drink hoping the combination between the three might hasten her relief. At least for twelve bucks worth it better keep him off her ass about taking up space and not adding to his profits. Gruffly thanking him, she took the cheap, plastic tray with her back to the table where she released onto the marble surface. It made a loud clatter, spilling some soda and almost toppling her overloaded hotdog.

Rach slid into her seat where she poked a single cheesy fry into the globbed on ketchup layers, surprised to hit something underneath the insulating sauce. At least it wasn’t a bun and squeezed tomatoes, she thought mildly and popped the greasy, cut potato into her mouth. She chewed carefully as she leaned down to slip her wallet back into the original bag. Making sure it was closed and tightly, the woman returned to enjoy her meal, her eyes watching the hour tick by slowly.

“Yo Ashley! I got the tacos!” Shouted Lamar with a huge grin on his face as he walked into the dingy apartment these two now called home. He plopped the heaping bag on the coffee table that sat in front of the television set which was currently displaying an old fighting game. “Yeah, yeah, give me a sec.” With absolute precision her fingers audibly tapped the buttons on the controller translating to the character on screen preforming an intricate combo that ended the match. Satisfied, Ashley placed the controller on the table in victory. “That online?”

“Nah, we haven’t gotten the internet set up yet. I don’t think this game has an online scene anymore anyway.” Taking one of the many tacos from the bag, Ashley crunched into it as she watched her character on screen dance over the bloody corpse of the opponent. “So, you settling in alright? It ain’t much but it’s the best we could do on our budget.” Ain’t much was right. The apartment building was situated in one of the poorer parts of Lost Haven. The suite itself, if you could even call it that, was a dimly lit sardine tin with a bedroom, bath, living room, and kitchen. “Yeah, about that. I was kind of hoping with the money we made on the road that, you know, we’d be able to get someplace less dumpy? I mean I’m not asking for much but I’d at least like to have my own room.”

“That’s the problem, we didn’t actually make all that much money. I’ve tallied up what we got and if we don’t make more, we’ll only be here for a couple months tops.” Ashley nodded her head rather unfazed, finishing her first taco and grabbing the controller for another round, this time selecting a four armed muscly creature as her fighter. “It’s no big deal. We go out and hit up a few places every now and then…” It was clear to Lamar that his friend wasn’t looking at the big picture here. What they had been doing before was small time, and in a city like this the potential was almost limitless. “If you haven’t noticed, we’re not just a couple of high-school dropout punks anymore. We’ve actually got a bit of a name behind us. Now, I’ve been using that to get in contact with some of the groups around town, to try and figure out what’s what around here. Right now it looks like there are a ton of Meta’s running around trying to hold the law. Fortunately, there’s an equal number of big bads around, guys that might be willing to partner up on some jobs, and that’s where you come in. All you have to do is go out there, make yourself look professional when you’re hitting up places. Earn respect with the locals, and maybe they’ll find it in their best interests to have you do things for them.”

Grinning, Ashley finished her second match and reached for another foil wrapped taco. “Cool, I can handle that Mr. Mastermind. You weren’t at the top of our grade for nothing. It’s too bad you couldn’t graduate, I’m sure you would’ve been so happy buried under paperwork in an office somewhere.” With a sigh Lamar plopped down on the couch and gabbed the controller, content to relax after a long day on the town. “You and I both know that wasn’t an option, for either of us. After what happened to Kell, there was no way we’d get off the hook. He was the kid of one of the richest families in Miami after all, not to mention that they’re rumored to have connections with the Mafia. If we had stayed in Florida, we’d either be in Jail, or dead.” With that in mind, it was up in the air if it was known that Ash and Lamar were even involved in the James Kell case, but a particularly smart individual would be able to put two and two together. Hell, there could be somebody after them right now and they wouldn’t even know it.

“You ever figure out if Leviathan’s been seen around here?” As the demonic invasion took place right in the middle of Lost Haven, this city seemed like a likely location for the Sea Serpent to slither off to. If there were even any demons left that survived the incident and Leviathan was here, they’d of probably joined up with him. The whole demon thing was pretty confusing to the cursed teen who wanted nothing more than to destroy the great beast she encountered all those years ago. Even so, doubt festered inside her in the form of the very thing that gave her power. Thoughts of instead joining his ranks were born from the blood, insisting that there was no way Ashley would be able to take out such a powerful being. But this was to be expected, as the girl was now a part of him, an auger to spread his influence. “Everyone I’ve spoken to hasn’t seen or heard of Leviathan, but I wouldn’t count on him not being here. Don’t worry, we’ll find him, I promise.” Feeling the sincerity in his voice, Ashley simply reached out her fist for a friendly bump. Their hands collided for a brief moment, then reached down to the two controllers.

One of the fallacies regarding powered armor, and the suit that the woman had donned, was that it gave a particularly large resistance to blunt force trauma. In truth the best way to damage a knight in armor was often blunt force, force that dented the armor and damaged the person behind it. As the superhuman's blow struck the woman, the energy was absorbed, and would seem to have had very little effect on the armor, but caught off guard by the way he had recovered from her plasma blasts the woman was barely unable to avoid the rising knee coming straight for the headpiece of her armor.

There was a sickening crack as the woman's head made contact with his knee, the armor oddly seeming to bend and indent a great deal, enough that it would seem to indicate that the head inside had been thoroughly pulped before bouncing back. And as the crack sounded the woman went limp. The energy wielding meta-human likely would fear that he had been more successful than he had expected and accidentally killed the target he had been sent to retrieve alive. This misconception would be strengthened as a faintly orange fluid, dripped through the reforming headpiece in a manner that was disturbingly blood like.

But there were rustles after a moment, the woman's hands clenching spasmodically and the sound of faint, if distorted breathing slowly began to sound. What exactly was going on inside the suit was likely uncertain, but it was clear that at least for the moment, she wasn't moving and wasn't a threat.

The whole world is one big pain-in-the-ass pile of shit. The city, its people, the people’s kids, their damn cats and dogs, the sidewalks, the drugs, the birds. Shit.

Taylor awoke with a little less flair than she would’ve liked. There wasn’t any drama to it—not really. No violent waking jolt, no sudden alertness and lust for the murder of her captors. She felt consciousness in her toes before her brain, her muscles uncoiling and twitching to attention until her body recognized that it was horizontal. Her head lolled to the side, and she straightened it out and struggled to open her eyes. The lights were blinding, all lined up in a bigass circle pointed at her face.

Wait, did she get shot? Where was she? Where was May or Nan? Was she dead? The thought drew her from her daze and into a panic. She made to sit up, but was retrained by thick fiber straps, and somehow her body told her she couldn’t use her powers. For the first time in months, she felt trapped, truly helpless. She wheezed in confusion, like a wounded animal, and made a ruckus out of slamming her extremities against the surface she lay on.

”Hhh…hey, what the fuck…?” She was afraid, and it was evident in her tone. She would’ve chided herself for showing weakness if her underwear wasn’t dangerously close to needing a change. Sweat beaded at her hairline and dripped down her temples.

“Geez, now you decide to wake up.”

Taylor writhed to spot the source of the voice, craning her neck and arching her back only to conquer about an inch of wiggle room. She could see the top of a head and the puff of her captor’s blond hair, as well as a portion of the wall beside her. The room was stark, but not in a particularly sterile way: the walls were a bare concrete, dotted with eerie vents, and on the gray ceiling above Taylor hung an operating lamp, the kind surgeons would use. Her heart gave another leap of icy horror.

”Ohhhh fuck, oh fuck, dude, don’t cut me up. I step on your toes? Your boss’ toes? I can fix it, I’ll give you all kindsa sweet deals, just lemme go!”

She could hardly even discern the gender of the voice: an alto pitch with a wavering, almost sing-song tone. “Hey, relax! I’m not some crazy doctor, this is just so I can see you. You stole something and all I want is for you to give it back. Got any guesses?”

She gave up her stretched position and slammed back down against the table, moaning anxiously. ”Mm…my powers?”

“Not far off. Two more tries.”

”Uhh, the drugs? I-I didn’t steal them, another dude did! Bryce Manella, he was fuckin’ crazy, he made me take ‘em.”

“Seriously? I’m gonna believe that the same guy who pulled off a heist against me and made off with not only batches worth millions but years of our research up in flames blew it all on some Chinatown punk? What gang you from? Black Turtles? Boxers?”

”I’m not from Chinatown, I-I just work for some people! Bryce was sharp before, but your drugs fucked him up real bad. I dunno why he wasted ‘em on me, I swear!” This was humiliating. Seeing as she wasn’t dead yet, her heart rate was steadying, but the gravity of the situation wasn’t boding well for her tough façade.

“Hmm. Well, you seem too stupid to pull off a convincing lie right now.”

”So stupid, dude, so fuckin’ stupid—“

“—Quiet. I’ll let you off the hook if you pay off the damages. See, all those neat little powers you’ve got going for you are unusually strong, so killing you and starting fresh with what we can salvage from your bloodstream and a few spared notes wouldn’t make much sense.” Taylor lifted her head, eyes wide.

”Wh—seriously?”

“Say goodbye to the days of answering to the next dead crimeboss for his monetary leavings. Things are stirring up, have been for a long while, and if you want in on the action you’ve got to get in with the right people.” Taylor heard the clicking of shoes against the linoleum flooring, and a door behind Taylor’s head opened. “Now, we’re no supervillain organization. But we’re getting closer everyday.”

Taylor struggled to shoot a glance over her shoulder, writhing uncomfortably as she heard extra sets of shoes hustle in. SWAT-looking guys surrounded the table she had been strapped to, undoing her restraints and cradling their rifles as she sat up and attempted to look past them at her mystery captor.

That sprig of blond hair remained the only part of the speaker she could see, and any attempts to stand was quelled with several hands slamming down on her shoulders. “Hey, relax.” The blond hair bounced a little. “We’ve nullified your powers, but it’s temporary. We’re dropping you off at 33rd and San Juan with a communicator.”

Taylor glanced down at herself, realizing her street clothes had been replaced with a very plain pair of shorts and a sports bra. Her abdomen twitched as she fought for breath, and she ran a hand along the area above her belly button—no marks, entry wounds or bandages. ”Wait, I got shot—bullets, I thought…”

“Tranq rounds, stupid. I don’t know where you got bullets from!”

”Wait a minute.” She tried to take a step forward, fury suddenly overcoming her features, but two pairs of beefed-out guard arms held her back. The way they simultaneously kept her from moving and lifted her up onto her toes made her feel like they expected her to collapse rather than attack. ”Where’s May? The little girl?!”

“Oh, relax. She’s fine and being taken care of. The older woman is currently knocked out in her living room, you’ll be able to catch up when we cut you loose.”

”What the fuck are you gonna do with May? ¡Cabron!”

“What, you’re speaking Spanish now? Choose an ethnicity, damn. Listen, she’s safer than when she was with you. She’ll be turned over when you finish our list of errands. Sound fair?”

”How do I know you aren’t lying?”

“You don’t. But you’ll do all this anyway.”

A sharp prick of pain drew Taylor’s attention to a needle in her shoulder. Any protests died in her throat as unconsciousness bloomed from the syringe, creeping and final. When she managed to open her eyes, it was as if she had only blinked, not even changing position; yet the bustling Lost Haven streets surrounding her promised otherwise. Feeling like she was submerged in gelatin, she dazedly dragged her eyes across the street signs: 33rd and San Juan. A slim little device had been pressed into her palm, and she was back to wearing her hoodie and jeans.

Nan. Nan is in the apartment, alone. May’s gone.

Get going, idiot.

Little Sicily, Lost Haven

The sun had begun to set. Clouds intermingled above the city, their grey mass blocking what little rays of sun light were still left. A crash of thunder, and the flash of a lightning bolt told all who watched the sky above that night that a storm was coming. Water fell from the heavens in great quantity, pouring over the roof to the shrine. Sicilians darted in doors, as the rain increased in volume and intensity. It was as if the skies themselves opened up, weeping over the bloodshed that was no doubt approaching. Two gods would clash soon. They would make battle, and the world would shake. Many people would die. The earth itself would tear in two, and death itself would come up from the depths. The news warned of the possibility of flash floods, informing all who would listen that the storm would continue for quite some time.

Across the street from the shrine, within the residence of Eric Saxer, Ceri and the doctor are hard at work. After SuperIOR's goons had been dealt with by Chike and Ares, Eric had decided it was time to begin work on the serum. Ceri had grabbed a handful of people, and set to work gathering the equipment from Eric's old residence. They had sent Varnia to scout out nearby buildings for the other researchers, but he had no luck in finding them. Eric thought that they might return to the old hideout after some time had passed, so Ares had a few sentries put in place in front of the old store. To avoid a repeat of earlier that morning, the guards had been sent with proper arms to defend themselves incase things went wrong. It had only taken a few hours, but the myriad of laboratory devices had been successfully moved into the apartment with no reported complications. Once all the equipment was in place, Eric sat down in front of a chalk board and began brain storming. How were they going to begin? Eric was perplexed, unable to come up with a good starting point. The bonding agent that still alluded him was critical to the serum's success. Yet, the placebo was less than useless for study. He had no idea where to begin his search.

That is, until Ceri approached Eric with an idea.

"Hey, doc?" Eric turned around in his chair, pointing his bloodshot eyes at the young woman."Yes? What is it, dear?" He replied, glad to have even the slightest break from his work."How are you holding up?" Ceri inquired, as she moved around the lab and toward the chalk board, which Saxer was seated in front of.

"I'm fine. Yet..Gah." Eric slumped back into the office chair, turning once more towards the chalk board to look at the list of ideas he had come up with, alongside a string of numbers and letters representing the genetic code of the serum itself. He needed to find the perfect chemical to replace the placebo."What is it? I might be able to help. I'm no scientist, though." Eric shook his head at this."Well, I suppose having someone to bounce my thoughts of wouldn't hurt." The doctor gestured to a nearby chair."Please, take a seat." Ceri stepped around the desk the chairs stood behind and slid into the second office chair."You're looking for a bonding agent, right? Something to connect the liquid energy with the nanobots more efficiently?" Ceri asked, to which Eric replied with a nod."Yes. This wouldn't be nearly as difficult if I had somewhere to start. An equation can't be completed by even the greatest minds if they are unaware of the process in which to solve said equation." Saxer sighed, running a hand through his wily hair.

"Well," Ceri began, examining the array of formulas populating the chalk board."Didn't SuperIOR confiscate some of your research and equipment when they raided your team's lab?" Eric gave his compatriot a questioning look."Yes. What of it?" Ceri turned around and faced the desk, flipping open Eric's laptop. She quickly accessed a local news sites, and opened on article on SuperIOR."Have a look." Ceri slid the computer over to Eric, who skimmed the article."SuperIOR is one of the leading experts in bio-organic engineering, and robotics; and they're hosting an expo this weekend at the Harlem Convention Center right here in Lost Haven. Apparently they're unveiling their new 'super soldiers.'"

A small smile played at the edges of Eric's lips, as thoughts and ideas rushed into his cranium."Yes! This is perfect! SuperIOR must have been holding on to the bonding agent the whole time, and only wanted us shut down to save money. They must have made billions off the sale to the U.S military. We need to speak to Mr. Baatul when he returns from his most recent escapade." Eric declared, standing to his feet."I'll go wait for him in the shrine. Ares said he'd be back in no time." Ceri stood up as well, and moved towards the door."Alright, I'd best start prepping the lab. We have work to do!"

Across the Street, In Ares Shrine

The shrine of Ares - a marvel of human achievement. Built in only a few days, the shrine was nearly identical to the Greeco-Roman architecture featured in the Pantheon in Rome, and the Parthenon in Greece. The shrine stood twice as tall as any of the surrounding apartment buildings, its great marble pillars were as thick as the trunks of the greatest oak trees, and the floors shined in the torch light. Stood near the back wall of the impressive structure was a statue like no other. It pictured Ares, stood over a pair of corpses, his spear impaled into the back of one of his enemies. Ares' muscles were exaggerated, and his face more rugged than granite. To each side of the statue sat two large basins, each burning with an immortal fire, producing enough light to shine throughout the great shrine to the God of War.

A portal opened in the very center of the building. Out stepped the monstrously large Ares, who stood nearly four feet taller than Polemos. The beastly god smiled from ear to ear, one huge arm strung over Chike's broad shoulders."We have done it, my warrior! Now the world knows of my existence, and it trembles before my might. I have caused the world's greatest hero to crumble before my might. None shall challenge me. With this new victory, the people shall flock to our horde. They will join us in our war against the rulers of earth, and soon we will be without number!" Ares let go of Polemos as two of his human attendants approached them. Ares handed them his spear and his shield, while taking a cup of wine from another.

"Tonight, I shall hold a banquet. Right here, in these halls. We will celebrate the rise of my new kingdom..The Empire of Olympus!" Ares bellowed, before taking a gulp of the drink within his chalice."I came, I saw, and I conquered! Hahahaha!"

"Sir, if I may?" Chike asked, slinging his shield over his shoulder, alongside his spear. The warrior's sash - a cloth designed to allow a man to carry his spear and shield on his back. It was a simple piece of linen, attached using leather strips and bolts to the carrier's shield. The spear was held in place inside a sleeve on the sash, allowing for quick access in case of an ambush."What is it, my avatar?" Chike cleared his throat, before addressing his god."If we're planning on creating an army here...Let me be frank, my liege. We do not have the manpower necessary to conquer this city. We need soldiers, trainers, food, metal workers, supplies, better housing, siege equipment...These are not things that we have. We don't have anyone to teach these people how to fight. We don't have a steady supply of food, outside of what we buy from the locals. We lack architects, skilled laborers, doctors. What we have now is a glorified trash heap. Sir."

Ares set his wine cup down on a nearby table. He frowned, his crimson eyes locked with Chike's."Do you believe me incompetent?" Chike straightened his posture, and set his jaw."You are a warrior, not a king-" Ares then shouted, interrupting Baatul."I AM A GOD!" Ares stalked towards Chike, each step causing the ground to quake beneath him."You believe me incapable of such frivolous tasks? I command an army of the most advanced automatons this world has ever known. I have access to more resources than half the countries on this rock. Metal workers? Hephaestus lives at my beck and call! You want me to train an army? I gave you thousands of years of experience with a minor surgery. Do not forget, Chike Baatul. I am not your friend. I am not even your king. I AM YOUR GOD."

"gabriel."

Dr. Gabriel Cole, possibly the smartest man in the world, probable crazy person, and current metahuman, ignored the metallic voice in his head, enjoying the sunset as he watched it sink slowly below the horizon.

"gabriel."

It helped that he had such a magnificent view from where he was standing. Floating. Whatever. He was here. And the view was magnificent. Almost magnificent enough to let him forget--

"gabe."

Gabriel winced. "You know I hate being called that, Daedalus. You better than anyone else. Besides me, of course."

"yes. i do know that. therein being the point, as it was the only way i knew how to get your attention. we're supposed to be running 01 through its paces, not dwelling on the romanticism of a particularly small yellow star as your planet continues the same orbit it's performed hundreds of billions of times before."

"Oh, come on. You can't honestly tell me you don't find this lovely," said Gabriel, sweeping his arm across the tableau before them. Hundreds, maybe thousands of feet in the air, above even the tallest buildings in Lost Haven, Gabriel drifted along, clad in the armor of ARTEFACT-01, his wrists, ankles, and the six Modules hovering just over his shoulders glowing green as they suspended him in his own private orbit. Strange to think that he used to be afraid of heights. Even riding on a plane was disconcerting in the worst possible way. Now he could probably fall from a height like this and stroll away unharmed. He smiled as he enjoyed his private space up near the clouds.

"You can't honestly tell me that you don't see why I'd want to slow down and enjoy this?"

"technically, i do not see anything. i merely interpret your own sensory input."

"Ha ha. I'm serious, though- this is the first time I've been out in the sun and fresh air in days. We've been cooped up in the Forge for gods know how long. Let me savor this moment."

"you have been savoring this moment for several moments, sir. might i suggest we return to the task at hand?"

Gabriel sighed, though Daedalus had a point. They were here to do a job, after all.

"Fine. Fine. Boot up the AEGIS program." A rush of colors, shapes, and above all, information exploded onto the inside of his visor, inundating him with any number of things that demanded his attention. "Looks good so far. Some of the sensors look like they might need adjusting, but overall, the grid seems to be in place. How are we on reception?"

"some mild interference, well within our anticipated parameters. the probes seem to be functioning at close to optimal levels, with your proposed adjustments increasing AEGIS' efficiency to such levels. in other words, another successful endeavor."

Gabriel grinned. "Of course it's successful- we made it, after all. Close program." The program faded from Gabriel's visor, as he adjusted his body, preparing for his descent. "So. We have our tracking devices, and they work perfectly. Almost. Kind of. Now, all we need for our first successful night as superheroes," he said as he scanned the cityscape below, "is something to track."

As the woman’s body slammed into the floor, War-Pulse was quick to keep her there, setting his foot on her stomach with a fist full of crackling energy if she were to get up again. However, his assault came to a complete stop once his eye caught the glint of an orange fluid leaking from her mask in the dim, flickering lights of the ruined warehouse. A small exhale sounded from the mercenary, he dropped to his knees and made a closer look at the liquid. It was different, but the only conclusion he could make was that it was blood, a lot of blood.

“Shit…” He murmured to himself, trying to figure out a way to safely removed the helm without damaging the target. Had he gone too far? Had he taken this woman’s life? They had wanted this woman alive, and in his excitement, he may have gone too hard on his target.

However, by the time he had begun concocting backup deals in his head, as he would still know many who would want a dead metahuman creature with a robot body, his thoughts were interrupted by the faintest gurgle of breath. In the silence of the aftermath, the breathing was barely noticeable, but it was there. She was alive, albeit barely.

Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, he returned to his feet, keeping a trained eye on her as he radioed for Warden. Raising his arm to his ear caused him to wince, however, as a flash of soreness went through his body from movement. With the adrenaline wearing off, the mercenary had begun to realize the consequences of a metahuman fight of this kind of magnitude.

“You called?” Came Warden’s monotone over the comm link almost instantly, as if he had been waiting for this quietly.

“Mission accomplished, buddy!” War-Pulse said with a jubilant sneer. “The target is in custody and ready for pickup....and possibly some severe medical attention.”

“Medical attention?” Warden repeated. “You realize you are supposed to take her to them alive, right?”

“Yeah, and she will be….for like another hour or so.” War-Pulse replied, looking back at the body. “I’m not going to lie...I had to hit her pretty hard to put her down…”

“You didn’t get carried away again, did you?”

“Oh, no no no no no no....ehhh a little.”

“Dammit, War-Pulse, this is like Madagasgar all over again.”

“Hey hey hey! First off, Madagasgar was fine, I only blew up -one- of the water towers. We still got paid!”

“That’s not the--nevermind, I’ve signaled our clients to come to your GPS signal and bring a medical team, they should be there hopefully within the hour, as you said.”

“Sweet, I’ll just...be here, watching over the crumpled tin can.” War-Pulse replied, crouching down next to the body. His eyes began to scan over his opponent, now that she was not trying to kill him, he had time to really study the weaponry of his adversary. His brow furrowed as his hand glided across some of the plated metal, bearing designs he had never come across before, with weaponry he had never even experienced until now. “So...how much of that fight did you witness, anyway?”

“None of it, honestly.”

“What? But you always hack the security cams to watch my fights, how are you going to tell me my technique was sloppy now?.”

“Because I couldn’t bypass the camera’s security protocols.”

“They’re basic security cams, bro. How could you mess that up? Are you drunk, or just losing their edge?”

“The cameras were rewired with added encryptions, making them seem non-functional to anyone looking to investigate further. This target seems very, very good at concealing herself.”

“Really?” War-Pulse remarked, moving around her defeated form, giving the armor another look. “Sounds like she knew her stuff, which kind of coincides with the way she fights…”

“What do you mean?”

“Well-trained, tactical, well-armed...I think she’s more than an escaped test tube project.”

“You mean like a super soldier program?”

“Possible...but she seemed more...experienced then something newly made. I dunno...maybe it’s just a weird vibe.”

“Either way, it’s not our concern, the client will be there to pick them up soon.”

“Eeeeeyyyyup! Nothing to do but lie back, groan about my bruised ribs from being smashed into a car, and I dunno...keep her from bleeding too much?”

There was no reply from Warden other than the sound of the comm link ending early.

“I’ll just take that as a ‘good job, buddy, way to give it your A-game’...friggin’ emotionless nut.”

The woman in her suit of armor remained motionless on the floor as the time ticked away, though the mercenary would likely notice other sounds coming from within the armor in addition to the gasped breaths. Faint liquid sounds as if something was going on in there and whatever it was could not be pleasant, but the details of what was going on would remain uncertain.

It would not be a full hour before a representative of his employers arrived. What seemed on first glance to be a large garbage truck pulled up outside of the warehouse. The truck then proceeded to back in through the damaged doorway and when it came to a stop the back of the truck folded outwards revealing that rather than a trash compactor the truck instead was filled with advanced technology and what would likely be obvious at first glance to be soldiers of some kind. Their uniforms were black and crimson in color with the red appearing mostly on the sleeves and chest. Each of them wore black gloves, and boots, each of them held a weapon that looked similar to an assault rifle but with a cable that connected it to a pack strapped to their backs. And each of them had their faces covered by an almost featureless black mask that was obviously sealed off.

The first to emerge from the back of the truck was a man who War Pulse would recognized as Randall, the man who had given him the mission in the first place. He unlike the other men was dressed in a suit rather than the uniform that the rest wore and in on of his hands he carried another briefcase. His blue eyes flicked around the warehouse, over war pulse and the fallen figure in armor before he raised his hand and made a gesture. His stretched, oddly uneven face, bore the slightest hint of satisfaction as the ten men from the back of the truck also emerged.

They moved with clear training and precision, always keeping their weapons trained on the target as one of them moved forwards and bent down to examine the figure.

Randall's voice sounded then, voicing something that War Pulse would likely not be surprised to hear. "Your contract was to bring her in alive. If she is-"

"Sir, the asset is still breathing."

"Good." Randall replied then to the soldier who was bent over the fallen woman. "Secure her for transport." Then he turned his attention back to War Pulse again. "Well done, you have not disappointed, and our employers are pleased with your performance." He held out the briefcase for the mercenary to take and once it had been taken he continued. "There are two things enclosed within. Firstly your next assignment for which you will be paid double what you have received thus far, secondly a syringe, follow the instructions concerning it. Once ou have completed this task you will have proven your worth and our employers will meet you pers..."

But Randall's explanation was cut off as chaos was briefly unleashed in the wreckage of the ruined warehouse. One of the soldiers, one who had been attempting to set up the restraining field on the woman fell to the ground in two pieces with a spray of blood and a grunt of surprised pain. The armor had largely pealed back and what had now risen to its feet bore only a passing resemblance to the woman who War-Pulse had subdued earlier.

The hair had been completely replaced with the electrical tendrils that had earlier shocked the man, still platinum blonde in color, but now crackling with electricity and lashing around in a frenzy. The face which had earlier split wide with an abnormally large mouth was now inhuman, the brilliant orange eyes now looked completely alien as her mouth hung open and a horrifying set of teeth showed. There was an unfinished look to the face, the features vague and ill defined. Her tongue, now coiling within her mouth appeared bladed, but what was truly shocking where the bony blades that had grown from her arms, and which had just sliced the man clean in half.

In that very moment the same shriek that had proved so effective earlier sounded, and as the soldiers staggered for a moment the horror that the woman had become moved. The scything blades cut down another soldier and the tendrils lashed outwards towards Randall. The man though simply held up his arm and as the tendrils coiled around it, grabbed them and pulled, ripping a number of them away, seeming completely unphased by the electricity. Recovering with great speed the soldiers began to fire as well, their guns firing a stream of something that looked awfully like pudding, but that clearly wasn't. Where they struck the streams solidified but the woman had moved too quickly and one of the explosive orbs that had been used earlier dropped and detonated, this time with a blinding flash of light and a thunderous bang that covered her escape.

For when the dust had settled she was gone. Randall still held the writhing tendrils that he had ripped free in his hand and his facial expression was now one of extreme interest. "Follow the instructions." The man said simply, "And our employers will meet you personally." There was something odd about how he said it, and the fact that rather than anger or irritiation he seemed interested in what had occurred was certainly unusual. He turned and walked back into the vehicle the unwounded soldiers removed the corpses of their fellows with the same efficiency they had shown before. War Pulse would likely be able to see as the tendrils were bagged and then the truck closed off again and drove away.

Likely there would be a number of questions, Just who were these people? What had he been hunting? And many others.

The rhythmic clink of weights after a droning set of morning errands always helped to clear Taylor's mind and work up her appetite. She just started her first shoulder press set after a good twenty minutes of running at the gym a few blocks from her apartment, and was making good on her plan to squeeze in an hour of pumping iron before her next job. A little TV in the corner was playing the news, catching the eye of a few other gym-goers in passing. It was a common habit among Lost Haven citizens to always leave at least one TV tuned to the news, just on the off chance they might see Icon or some other Meta save the day or wreck shit or whatever. Taylor never was the sort to keep glued to the screen, hoping to see awesome stuff happen, when she could just make it herself. Even before her recent powers she was more volatile than any average teen. Of course, they could only add...

She jolted out of her workout, dropping the weights and feeling the machine clatter as she turned her face toward the windows on the far wall. Further out, in the heart of what looked like Sherman Square, she could see the sky peel back and in on itself, opening up with a deafening crack of dark energies. The other gym-goers gasped, weights were dropped, and they rushed for the elevator in a mass panic. Taylor spotted a dumbbell on the mat near her feet, and she glanced down at the street ten stories below. Snatching it up, her skin sunk into a dark, cold iron, and she burst through the glass and into the air.

A chorus of screams erupted behind her but were quickly cut off by her rapid descent--she'd never jumped from a building before, but then again a giant portal hadn't ever really opened in the sky before either. The drop was much longer than she expected, and about twenty feet before she made contact with the asphalt some...thing made contact with her first.

It sported fleshy wings, and was swooping down low, attacking people running in the street. It shrieked as her heavy metal legs collided with its fleshy form, and she brought it down to the street with a sickening pop and squish. As she struggled to stand, some woman shrieked, catching Taylor’s eye long enough to see her dragged off by a cluster of spidery little nightmares. ”Ah, hell!”

She took chase, and luckily was quick enough to club the hellspawn off of the older woman and stomp them into twitching piles. She glared at the woman as she shakily got to her feet and stared in awe at her unknown metallic savior.

“I—I’ve never seen you on the news before, I thought I knew all the heroes—“

Taylor wasn’t about to argue her identity to the woman if she really wanted to think she was some kind of hero. She didn’t have to be nice, though. ”Get the fuck outta here! Run, you idiot!”

Taylor didn’t bother to stop for anyone else—May had a cold and was staying at home with Nan, and Randy and the other kids were probably still in their apartment. Shit! Nan’s probably at the Tomb setting up, and May’s hanging out with Christian at his place. There’s no way I can keep them outta this all together. She grit her teeth and sprinted to her apartment building, busting through the back alley door and leaping up the stairs to her room. She picked up on a few distant screams, shattering windows and monstrous shrieks, but her mind was set solely on getting to her apartment, finding Randy and holing the Lost Boys up nice and secure while she cleared out the building. She made it down the hall, all but kicked down the door--



Nan’s apartment would have been terrifyingly still, quiet as Taylor and Nan were, if Christian hadn’t gotten called up the moment Nan snapped out of her tranquilizer-induced nap and realized Taylor and May were missing. He was pacing from the living room to May’s room, stepping over the toppled endtable and plates of cake as he went. He clasped his tanned hand over his mouth every time he paused in his rant, which was often sporadic but not long. He went off again after the tenth time walking into May’s room.

“Gone! May’s gone, just like that!” His tone was a mix of despairing and furious.

Taylor sat on the couch, pivoting to see him finally stop in the kitchen and run his hands through his hair. He lifted his eyes to lock with hers, lip curling. “And you couldn’t fuckin’ do anything? You spend all your damn time working out just like Andre used to do and you can’t take out some lowlife who snatches up little baby girls?”

“The guy had tranqs. He blindsided me and Nan before I could even get a good look.” Taylor felt a buzz in her pocket; when she realized it wasn’t her phone, her hand went to the smooth little communicator she’d been given. Her cold, distant tone took on whole new levels. “I gotta go.” She gave a pointed look to Nan, who caught it but didn’t appear to care. Well fuck her, then. Whatever.

She ignored Christian’s protests entirely, slamming the door to Nan’s apartment behind her and slipping into a nearby alcove to press the communicator to her ear. A solid, robotic voice droned out instructions--no explanation, just orders for the newest puppet.

”EASTERN AVENUE AND 33RD. TARGET: ARMORED TRUCK, LOGO ‘BOREALIS SECURITY’. RETRIEVE THE TRUNK INSIDE AND AWAIT DIRECTIVE TO DROP ZONE. IGNORE WITNESSES.”

That isn’t so bad. But an armored truck? Seriously, my life is turning into one big comic book, and not even the well-written kind.

--

It was a little eerie how well Maverick’s kidnappers had mended her suit in such a small amount of time. She couldn’t help but imagine some room of their shady organizational headquarters devoted to seamstresses, sweating away over the next teen Meta’s outfit. Well, regardless of how they did it, it felt better-fitting than ever, and her chest insignia gleamed in the light of the setting sun.

The streets were about as crowded as usual, meaning the density of people gave her a nice few seconds of anonymity before they realized who they were brushing shoulders with. She wasn’t well-known by any stretch, but the people of Lost Haven were well-conditioned to give Metas in costume a hell of a lot of space—they’d all known cousins, partners or work buddies who’d been caught in the line of fire.

She paid the non-powered plebs no mind, and as the armored truck rounded the corner of Eastern and 33rd, as promised, she leisurely made her way down into the middle of the road and waited for it to screech to a halt. The driver’s eyes were filled with fear, and she loved it. Some security guy sat next to him, cradling a rifle and gritting his teeth.

Maverick rolled her shoulders and took on a form that was a little more heavy-duty. Her metallic skin caught the orange-pink sunlight and scattered blinding rays in every direction, making her look like a localized star. ”Alright, guys. While I’d love to have a little fun with this, you know you’re both screwed if you try to mess with me. Get outta the truck.”

The two men hesitated; a grave mistake. Maverick growled and stalked toward them, the asphalt caving in and forming crags to connect her strides. Her hands plunged somewhere into the hood and bumper of the truck, crushing the reinforced metal, before she tore off the entire front of the cabin: windshield, engine and all. The men scrambled to safety as she roared and chucked the crumpled chasse off to the side, sending it through a storefront across the street. ”You think I’m messing around?! Yeah, fuckin’ run!”

Lyger stood on the ledge of the building adjacent to Bogart’s Pub, the very pub that Kyle had first run into the thugs that killed Ronnie. He knew that if he was going to find the man who pulled the trigger that night, this would be the place to start. The pub itself was once the go to destination for local college kids to get good, cheap food and drinks. Although it had garnered a bit of a reputation over the years as a sort of rough and tumble establishment, it was still a popular destination for the college crowd. Because of this, people tend to let their guard down and are not as aware of their surroundings as they probably should be.

When Kyle Porter and his friends visited this establishment a week ago, they fell into the same trap. Kyle got involved with some business that, though it was the right thing to do, he probably shouldn’t have. As a result, the men he interfered with came after him looking for retribution, and because of that…his best friend is dead.

From is perch he watched as the bartender, who through some research, Lyger learned was a man of questionable repute by the name of Jimmy Goodell went about shutting the pub down for the night. The rest of the staff had long since gone home, leaving Jimmy alone inside to finish cashing out and locking up for the night. As Goodell made his way to the door, Lyger made his move.

Jimmy Goodell didn’t know what was happening. He was stunned when the front door of Bogart’s exploded inward at him, so stunned in fact, that he barely saw the black clad vigilante who had in fact, kicked in the glass door. He didn’t get a good look at the
feline-esque figure until he was looking up at him, unsure of whether this were actually happening.

Lyger reached down and grabbed the bartender by the throat and forced him to his feet. He pulled Goodell toward him, and then slammed him up against the wall. Lyger leaned in closer to Goodell’s face, so close that the terrified barkeep could feel his breath against his cheek from behind the mask.

“Last week there was a fight in here.” Lyger said, his voice had an edge of anger to it that surprised even him.

“Ye-yeah, I was here.” Goodell said, unable to contain his fear.

“There were four guys, the leader was a guy with dirty blonde hair, drove a black Cadillac.” Lyger said, pausing for a moment. “Who is he?”

“I don’t know. Never seen him before.” Goodell said unconvincingly. Lyger pulled him toward him, before slamming him hard against the wall again, digging his fingers into the nerve bundle just at the base of the cervical spine. A shot of pain shot up and down Goodell’s spine, for an instant his right arm went numb.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Lyger growled. “They killed a kid after they left here. I want to know his name. I want to know where I can find him.”

“Troy, his name’s Troy Orton. I don’t know where he is.” Goodell cried in pain. Desperate for Lyger to release him, he continued. “I-I don’t know where he is, but he likes to drink, and when he drinks he likes to talk. He’s in with some real shady characters, he runs drugs and guns for The Shroud…something or other. Look, that’s all I know! I swear!”

Lyger hesitated, and then released Goodell. He hadn’t ever heard of this “Shroud,” but hoped that perhaps with his intelligence connections, Harry may have some insight.

“I know.” Lyger said as he let go of Goodell, the bartender dropped to a knee as he tried to get the feeling back in his extremities. When he looked up again, Lyger was long gone.

The natural bustle of the city felt refreshing after so many hours on the open road. In a sense, it was quite similar to that of their former home, but far larger. Ashley couldn’t help but stare into the sky at the buildings that towered overhead as she followed her friend down the cracked sidewalks. It was hard to imagine that a portal was up there once spilling demons from the sky. Sure, everyone and their mother saw what had happened on the news, but to witness that in person? A cold chill went up Ashley’s spine at the thought.

“Alright, we’re here.” A five block walk had taken the pair to an innocuous looking Mexican restaurant at the base of a four story bricked building, with a sign above the door labeled “Casa Grande”. The large glass windows revealed an attempt at homage to the south west with old world architecture and desert plant life scattered about. From the outside, the smells of various cooked meats and spices as well as the sound of Mariachi wafted out. “I mean, we did just have Mexican, but food’s food…”

“Yeah, not why we’re here. I didn’t just go out to pick up dinner, remember?” The clamber and friendly environment of the eatery was overlooked in favor of the apartments that lied above. As they climbed the stairwell, Lamar would explain that the building was owned by the parents of the kid they were going to see, and that he and his friends were bangers that watched over the neighborhood. In their time of the streets they were able to set up a few weed houses, and help supply some of the bigger operations around the city.

“Seems like pretty standard stuff.” Lamar nods, and they enter a long hallway lined with doors on the top floor. “Yeah, but now these guys want to dabble in bigger work, just like us.” They reach the end of the hall and Lamar quickly knocks. After a moment, a few muffled voices surface in what seems to be Spanish. The door cracks, an eye near the top of the door frame peers out, and Lamar simply stares back. The door closes, another unheard conversation ensues, and then the door swings open.

The inside of this room was far more clean and well-furnished than Ashley would have thought. Upon entering, they were greeted by a warm living area with couches and loveseats that formed a half circle around a coffee table. Seated in the center were two young men that looked to be in their early twenties. One of them motioned for Ash and Lamar to sit, and so they did so. At that, the large gentleman that let them in sat at their opposite.

“Ashley, this is Carlos, Ed, and Ricky. Guys, this is Ashley.” Everyone nods, and the one who answered the door, Carlos, begins. “So, I hear that you guys have experience in hold ups. I’m just gonna be blunt, we’re about to do something bigger. We’re gonna rob a bank, and Lamar here tells me that you’re meta, and that you can help us with this.” Ashley’s eyes go wide for a moment, her head turning to face her partner. “A bank? Are you serious Lamar, a bank?” This was nuts. More than nuts, it was crazy. Convenience stores and pharmacies were one thing, and while it was true that they successfully hit up a hospital once, the very grandiose nature of a bank robbery blew Ashley’s mind. She smiled, this was gonna be the job to make her rich.

“Yeah, I can most definitely help with this! When? Where? How? Lamar?” Her overwhelming giddiness garnered some strange looks from the three gangsters, but they too smiled and went along with it. “We’re staging a heist at Reagan National. Your friend Lamar is planning the whole thing out. And us four…” He motions between his friends and Ashley. “We’re taking the money. With what they’ve got stored in that place, It’ll be enough to…” The crashing sound of glass on the hardwood floor was enough to get the attention of everyone in the room. An elderly woman in her mid-sixties was cowering over her dropped tray of drinks, clutching the crucifix that hung around her neck and spouting “Demonio! Demonio!”

A wave of uneasiness crept over Ashley once the woman began pointing at her and started to raise her hands to the sky as if she were talking to God himself. Unsure of what to do, Carlos made an attempt to calm the woman down and walked her out of the room. After a couple minutes he came back with an embraced look about him. “You’ll have to excuse my grandmother. She is very religious, and has been paranoid ever since the day that demons attacked the city. Just yesterday the same thing happened when I took her out shopping.”

Ashley peered at the muscular man when he said this. That could mean… “Where did this happen exactly?”

An alert chimed in Gabriel's visor as he more or less fell toward the city of Lost Haven below. He rolled his eyes. Never fails- something always needs my attention just when I'm getting to the good part. He pulled out of his dive, just above the level of Lost Haven's more lofty buildings.

"I see it, Daedalus. Isolate incident- what are we dealing with?"

"phase signature consistent with meta activity. obtaining visual." Within fractions of a fraction of a second, the necessary information appeared before Gabriel's eyes, just in time to watch the meta in question rip the entire front off of an armored truck and toss it into a nearby storefront. He sighed at that as he began moving toward the alert.

No points for subtlety. He checked the address in question- Eastern Avenue and 33rd. Not too far from where he currently was, though he could say that about a lot of places now.

"meta ability appears to be some form of shape-shifting. she appears to have shifted her physical state into some sort of metallic alloy. AEGIS functionality is not sophisticated enough to identify alloy in question from this range."

"So we need a close-range scan. Interesting. Has she caused any casualties?"

"none yet, but given the apparent proclivity for violence, i would suggest we not delay."

"Heh. Don't have to tell me twice. Have ARTEFACT-02 on standby, focus AEGIS sensors on the event area, and set them to record. Whatever goes wrong or right here, I want to know."

"acknowledged. do try not to have too much fun, gabriel- we'd like the block to stay standing, after all."

"Yeah, yeah. Just get everything in position," he said, finally arriving at the scene of the incident where his quarry was, thankfully, still gloating over her "kill." He smiled to himself, took a deep breath, and configured the Hex-Feathers to RAPID-FIRE Mode. He let loose a volley of low-power shots in front of the meta in question- none that would come close to hitting her, but enough to get her to hopefully back away from where they impacted. Which is where Gabriel himself then landed, arms folded in front of his chest.

Configure: Hex-Feather Modules- SNIPER. The Modules responded to his mental command, floating in tight formations over each shoulder, pointing straight at the meta. He glanced at her skin, intrigued. Run analysis on composition. He took a step forward as Daedalus went to work, appearing to size up the criminal in front of him.

"I... don't think this is yours, miss," he said, gesturing to the armored car (or what was left of it) next to him. "So here's the deal- no one's gotten hurt yet. We can both just walk away and call it a night. If not, though... well. There are six high-powered particle beams pointed at your chest for a reason."

The Hex-Feathers hummed ominously as they charged up, as though to punctuate his remark. He tilted his head.

"So. Are you going to leave peacefully? Or am I going to have to encourage you to do so?"

Maverick had only just finished her taunt and taken a few thundering steps toward the truck before a volley of stubby laser beams cracked down on the pavement a few feet ahead, leaving bubbling, fist-sized patches of asphalt. She looked up and caught her assailant as he descended, arms crossed like he was some two-bit Icon. When he stepped forward, she stepped back, bunching her shoulders up and giving him a grimace like she was preparing to charge. He didn’t look like just another asshole with a pretty gadget or two, and that made her a little more contemplative on the best way to crush him.

"I... don't think this is yours, miss," he said, and waved an arm back to indicate the wrecked truck. Maverick’s eyebrow twitched. No shit, tin man. "So here's the deal- no one's gotten hurt yet. We can both just walk away and call it a night. If not, though... well. There are six high-powered particle beams pointed at your chest for a reason."

There was no way Maverick was going to back down--for all she knew, her new boss sent this prick over to see if she was competent in a real Meta fight. Oh, she’ll show them a goddamn fight. But not without milking a little enjoyment out of it. When the man stopped talking, she laughed. ”You really think a couple lasers are gonna do shit? I’m Maverick!” She smacked her insignia, the force of it kicking up a circle of gravel and very briefly shaking the ground. ”You wanna stop me? Go ahead and try!”

She punctuated her last word with a fist drawn back, coming in hard and fast toward his right. She surveyed his stance and height, gauging that even if she’s blocked she might be able to grapple him around his waist and either throw him or squeeze him until he started barfing nuts and bolts.

“You sure about this Lamar? Come on man, what’s in this thing?” Bluetooth in ear, Ashley sat in the backseat of a yellow town-car as is cruised down the street. Lamar talked from his laptop in Carlos’ apartment, instructing the gang on where to go. “Does it really matter what’s inside that truck? Borealis Security carries some important shit. I can say for sure that what they’re transporting, we could use for the bank job. Besides, we’ll be able to see how well you work with these guys like this.” Somehow Ashley didn’t think that would be an issue. The three men were currently decked out in submachine guns and yellow accented bullet-proof vests, with bandanas of the same color covering the lower half of their faces.

“Oh shit.” Lamar’s eyes went wide as the camera of the store he had hacked suddenly went to static from the trucks front being thrown in the establishment. “Looks like somebody else is after the truck. Be careful, they’re Meta too… looks like super strength. I’mma try and see if I can’t figure out just who this is.” Ashley felt a strong thumping in her chest at the thought of fighting another meta. She was still a virgin in that field, biting her lower lip with nervousness. “Hey guys, we’ve got a meta after the goods, you might want to step on it.” With a nod, Ed floored the petal and their ride rocketed down the street. “And now there’s a guy in a power suit apprehending her. This could be your chance. You gotta get there and make your move.”

“Yeah, I know. We’re looking at it right now…” The car slowly came to a stop, the group peering at Icarus as he made his decent. “They’re distracted, we should get in there!” Carlos raised his hand for silence to Ricky’s remark. He turned to Ash, fully intent on taking control of the situation. “You’re the one with the powers, you bust that bad boy open and get the package. Ed stays in the car to get us out of here, Ricky and I cover your back. Everyone ready?” Before you know it, the trio had made it to the back of the truck, the two gangsters flanking Ashley. There was a keyhole on the back of the hulking vehicle, keys that the driver would have, or…

Taking out a razor blade, Ash made a small cut in her palm and set it to the keyhole. After a moment, she pulled away and the blood extended out to have a handle. Ashley ginned as she turned her impromptu key, no lockpick needed. “Impressive!” Carlos remarked, him and Ricky swinging the large doors open. Inside was a single trunk, further cementing its importance. With the package in hand, the gang sprinted back to the car, causing trunk inception by storing it in the back of the getaway vehicle. Piling inside, they loudly hooted and hollered as the town-car peeled away down the road. “Hey guys, do you want them to know you’re getting away!? Get ready, they’re sure to be on your ass now…”

Gabriel sighed as his request was refused. Not for the refusal, he'd anticipated that. She didn't seem the giving-myself-in type. No, it was something else that irked him. He raised a hand as the girl prepared to (in her mind) drive a fist through his head, and a green haze of what looked like electricity surrounded her, stopping her in her tracks. He took a glance at the ongoing analysis of whatever marvelous metal the girl had shifted her flesh into. It had impressive qualities, to be sure. But it was still metal. Which meant it fell under his sway. Though she couldn't tell, he fixed her with a head look behind his visor.

"Not lasers, particle beams. Completely different process. Not that I really need it, as you can see. Intimidation, mostly." He smiled, mostly for his sake, than for hers, as he lifted her into the air. "So. Perhaps you'd like to rethink your strategy?"

Of course, the current crowning moment of his career (yeah, not a great start) was soon cut short by the sound of tires peeling out. He frowned behind his visor, and saw, through AEGIS, a yellow town-car driving away from the back of the truck. Which was now open. And empty of whatever had been within. Which, considering there were now two separate parties going after whatever was in this truck, was obviously important, and likely dangerous in the wrong hands.

...Oh, godDAMMIT. With an almost contemptuous gesture, he sent the metal meta flying, as time started to go liquid in his mind, and everything began to slow.

Begin analysis.

Designate priority: Package/"Whatsinthebox"

Designate first suspect: Meta/"Maverick." Highly strong. Lacks restraint. Containment required.

ARTEFACT-02: Engage. Quantity 2. Command: detain Meta/"Maverick"

Designate second suspect: "Thiefcar." Number of suspects: unknown. Meta presence: unknown. Suspect/"Thiefcar" in posession of Package/"Whatsinthebox."

Isolate pursuit of Suspect/"Thiefcar." Detain.

Consider: Meta/"Maverick" and Suspect/"Thiefcar" both consider Package/"Whatsinthebox" priority.

Conclusion: Package/"Whatsinthebox" is HIGHLY desirable/valuable/dangerous. Separation of package from suspects is ideal.

Adding consideration and conclusion to analysis. Processing.

Processing complete.

Designation altered: Important/"Whatsinthebox"

New priority objective added: acquire Important/"Whatsinthebox." Secondary objective to detain suspects as needed once priority objective is complete.

Analysis: complete.

Course of action: decided.

ENGAGE PROGRAM.

Time dropped out of its liquid state as a pair of robotic entities materialized out of thin air next to him. They resembled him, somewhat, but less human, less organic-looking. He quickly uplinked to the two of them, his vision going triplicate briefly as his mind adjusted to the sensory input from the LEGION drones. Two of them launched off in the direction of Maverick, palms glowing in preparation for combat. Gabriel himself launched off in the direction of the car, quickly identifying it among the throng of traffic travelling down the street. Quickly catching up, he flew past it a fair way, until he could land in front of it. The reason for which quickly became clear as Gabriel thrust his hands forward, and a haze of green surrounded the town-car.

And then, suddenly, the car came to a quick stop as Gabriel lifted the car from the street, its wheels spinning uselessly as Gabriel floated the car toward him, turning the passenger side toward him. With a flick of his wrist, the both doors on the side of the car facing him opened, exposing the passengers inside.

"Yeah, that trunk? Not yours, either."

Configure: Hex-Feather Modules- SUPRESS. The Modules floated somewhat threateningly closer to the thieves, crackling with electricity.

"So. This is how things are going to go. I'm going to grab that package in your trunk, and then I'm going to leave. If you guys sit there quietly, you can leave when I do. Try anything funny, I tase you so hard that you end up without bladder control for days. Understand?"

“Sir...if I may be so bold, was that really your big plan?”

The Cowl’s assistant had spoken up after the meeting, a man by the codename of Specter, one of the men who had been running the Shroud’s operations in The Cowl’s stead. It had been a few hours since the meeting between those under the Shroud’s influence, and it had been clear people had not heard what they wanted to hear from their intrepid leader. At this point, The Cowl and Specter were all that remained in the large room, with the Cowl staring out the window of the room, looking over the City line of Lost Haven.

“Of course not, my dear Specter, that was just to make sure nobody does anything stupid.” The Cowl responded, turning on his heel to face the taller, more imposing figure. “If we’re going to be operating under the radar of demi-gods and superbeings, we have to do it without anyone deciding they want to get all the credit for offing a tight-wearer.”

“Then what is your plan?”

“To keep business flowing, Specter, what else?” The Cowl took a few steps back into the room, walking by his lieutenant. “Like I told our collaborators, we shouldn’t be combating these superheroes with the intention of eradication. We aren’t going to be able to fight these men and women like any other...problem. We have to adapt to these new circumstances, not overcome them.”
“And how are we going to...adapt, sir?”

“Simple, by giving them a scenario they cannot plan for.” The Cowl responded, moving back to the table, pulling a small device from one of the pockets on his utility belt. Placing it on the table, he hit a small button on the side of the device, causing the device to whir and glow spontaneously before projecting a blue light straight up to the ceiling. The light began to shape and form, the lines slowly drawing out the lines of roadways and districts, the labels of streets and business popping into the air, eventually detailing an entire holographic map of Lost Haven. With a flick of his wrist, The Cowl manipulated the map to a nice bird’s eye view of his standpoint. “How are we doing on purchasing those contracter companies?” He asked, surveying the map and twisting it to get a better view of certain locations.

“Well, we own the owning shares of most of the contracting and insurance companies operating in the city.” Specter reported on queue. “We’re already making revenue on the rebuilding of Sherman Square. However, construction will be done fairly soon, and all the businesses in the area can begin our laundering factions right under City Hall’s nose”.

“Good, then we can begin our operation.” The Cowl confirmed, pointing at parts of the map, each area highlighting on each point of the Cowl’s finger. “Tonight, we will have our first wave, I want sections of our street-level gangs to start widespread robberies in Chinatown, Little Sicily, and the French Quarter.”

“What about the Financial District?”

“Oh, no, we own far too much of that, the studies in Gene Co alone can’t be replaced. We cause chaos there, we lose far too many resources for it to be worth it.”

“Hm, fair enough. However, what about these ‘heroes’ you mentioned? What about them?”

“Oh, I’m counting on their involvement…”

“You are?”

“Of course,” The Cowl responded, moving the map to give Specter a better look at the layout of his plan. “How else are we going to identify who our enemies are without having them reveal themselves to us?”

“I’d know better than to doubt your schemes, sir.” Replied the Specter, moving alongside his master. “You’ve met and destroyed every challenge I’ve ever seen you go up against, be it men or gods, you know I’m at your side.”

“Excellent, which brings me to a task for you.” The Cowl replied, walking over to a nearby bureau, his movement slow and graceful as he picked up a dossier, handing it to his right-hand man.as he walked by. “If we’re going to move on with the next step of this plan, we’re going to have to acquire help.”

“Help?” The Specter replied, swerving on his heel to see his commander slowly stride back to the window.

“Superhuman help, to be exact.” The Cowl raised a finger as he spoke, returning to his position of staring out at the window, his eyes returning to the glistening gem that was his city. “In that dossier are the names I have had compiled of metahumans in the city that could be influenced.”
“And you want me to talk to them?”

“Yes, some of them, anyway.” The Cowl’s cautionary eye was fixed on the city, hands drifting behind his back as he continued to stare. “Others I just want a closer eye kept on them, see where they stand on things. Some I want to hire, some I just want to observe, but all of them will play a part.”

Specter nodded, opening the file to look over what information the Cowl had compiled. As he flipped through the pages, his eyes widened in shock. He kept switching between the Cowl and the folder.

“H...how did you get all of this?” Specter asked, his jaw actually opened as he glanced at more of the files. “You have only been in town for a week, this is...months of data!”

“Oh please,” The Cowl reassured, giving a momentary glance to Specter. “Do you ever think I really left this city?” He made a quick ‘shoo’ gesture, glancing back to the window. “Now go, see that my will is done.”

“As you wish, sir.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



The current employer that War-Pulse was working for appeared much quicker than Warden had led him to believe, and in a garbage truck no less. His brow raised as the men began to surround the charge, their truck opening up to reveal a full workstation inside. A smirk appeared as he leaned his body slightly to get a better look inside the garbage truck. With the kind of payment he was getting from these guys, he should not have been surprised at the kind of technology they were sporting, but the merc still had a smirk across his face, these guys certainly did not mess around with this.

Eventually, Randall made his way into the building, suspiciously attired when compared to his hazmat-clad squad that he toted with him. Of course, the man was quick to assume the worst had happened, and quickly began to rail into the mercenary about the woman’s condition.

“Ey, ey, ey, easy there slick, you should have told me what she’s capable of.” War-Pulse explained, raising his hand in a nonchalant shrug. “If I had known she was armed with laser beams and glam-rock razor hair, I would have charged you extra.”

During his explanation, one of the soldiers made the comment that she was still breathing, to which War-Pulse gave Randall a wide, cocky grin and gestured to the woman. “Also; I was going to tell you she was still alive, but you decided to begin telling me that I didn’t deliver on my promise. I’m a damned professional, buddy, and despite my mannerisms I always deliver!”

Randall, of course, ignored the arrogant chest-beating that was War-Pulse’s speech, and simply explained a good job was done. Even more so, Randall’s employer had another job for him.

“Oh, really?” War-Pulse began. “Double you say? Well count me in, slick! If the jobs keep being as fun as this one, then I’ll do them for--.”

“Uhhh...War-Pulse?” Came the staticy voice of Warden on the comms, interjecting into his conversation. “I don’t want to interrupt, but--”
“Not now Warden, we’re getting another job!”

“Yes, but--”

“Not now, mommy and daddy are talk--”

“DAMMIT, THERE IS AN ENERGY SIGNATURE COMING FROM THE ARMO--”

Almost on queue, the armor shattered in a ear-splitting explosion. Thanks to Warden’s warning, War-Pulse was able to erect a distorted energy barrier in front of him and Randall to shield both of them from the explosion. At first, the mercenary’s vision was cut off from the scene due to the blinding light, but as his eyes focused, the vision became horribly clear. What once looked like an enhanced human now was revealed to be something much more. Her hair was now replaced with crackling tendrils of lightning, her maw now unhinged and expanded, with rows of teeth on full display.

“Holy…” Came a small utterance as the sparking figure lashed out in a sea of vengeance-ridden bladed tendrils. The soldiers didn’t stand a chance, the crackling whips tearing people apart as if they were made blood and entrails encased in tissue paper. A chorus of screaming soldiers echoed through the building, the woman darting back and forth in a blurry barrage of electricity and knives. Of course, War-Pulse kept his shielding up, ready to move in and try to put the woman down again, a pulsating handful of energy at the ready. However, he was stopped by a very peculiar sight, the sight of Randall catching and ripping some of the tendrils off of the woman’s head, almost as if he was unphased by this result. And even as she made her grand escape, Randall had almost no expression of panic or anger as she fled the scene.

While the dust settled, War-Pulse kept his eye on the man in the suit, observing his reaction to the whole scenario. He did not seem surprised by this outcome at all, in fact, almost as if it was a delightful change of pace for him. A brow raised as the man repeated his instructions, the same as before, no changes despite this new development. He was not ordered to pursue the woman, nor was he reprimanded for her escape. Just to do what he was told before.

“Yeah, sure thing, buddy.” He said, lifting the suitcase up to get a better look at it as the man and whatever left of his squad got back in his garbage truck. “You...good luck with…” His eyes shifted to the large hole the woman had left through, his brow furrowing as his spoke. “With that...whatever it is.”

Of course, Randall would not have heard those last words, as the garbage truck was peeling out way before Randall even heard his response. With another glance at his suitcase, he made a small shrug, his feet lifting off of the ground as he ascended into the air. “Well, better get started on job two! As soon as I get away from this...bloody, corpse filled warehouse…”

And with that joke to himself, an energy burst erupted from his feet to launch him up into the air, far away from the wreckage he left in his wake.

Eva Walsh

11:48 PM Museum of Natural History. “Come on, it’s just ahead.” Eva, Leon and Shari followed just behind Julius as they carried a number of amplifiers and boxes along with them. Julius’s plan was simple sneak in during the Guard shift set up quickly ahead of the partygoers who were on their way for a flash Rave, an idea Julius had. Get in a back door using a lifted keycard from one of his buddies party for thirty minutes or so then bug out. All the police would find was a trashed storeroom filled with uncatalogued artifacts and more plastic cups then they’ve ever seen before. He had it all planned out for a strung out druggie, and to Shari’s surprise it was far too easy.

“Were in, were in. We don’t have much time. Leon find an outlet, Shari keep an eye out on the door. Eva help me bring the rest of the boxes in. We need more cups, chips and booze.”

Leon rushed around checking the walls, while Shari nervously waited by the door. “Julius you sure this will work out? I mean this is a museum, a big one! You’d think there’d be more guards or cameras.”

“Relax Shari.” Eva spoke calmly. “We’re here in between shifts, there’s no one watching the cameras.”

“I.. I just don’t know Eva, there’s just something wrong about this. I can’t explain it.”

“Found the outlets!! Julius give me a hand with the equipment.”

“Eva bring in the rest of the stuff the party starts in five!”

As I nodded and ran back to the car, I stopped just for a moment as a sound caught my attention. Like footprints though not nearly as pronounced. No, nothing I thought as I opened the car trunk and reached inside grabbing a banana box filled with food. I tossed a few smaller ones on top before closing the trunk and heading back inside.

When I walked up to the door I spoke out.”Hey Shari give me a hand here will ya?” A second passed while I entered the room and looked about.”Shari, Leon, Julius!!? Come on guys it’s no time to be playing around.. We.. Oh. My. God!” The boxes I held dropped to the floor as bloodstains splattered the walls. The panic and fear gripped my voice as I called out again.”SHARI! LEON! JULIUS! Wher..”

From behind me the door closed and a arm thick as a tree grabbed me by my hoodie and tossed me into a rack.

“Another unaccounted guest, this one will not hinder our work.” The hulking figure spoke as others came in from the shadows.

“Finish it quick, we need you to help the rest of us look.”

He turned his gaze back to me.”She won’t take long at all.”

I scrambled back into the metallic rack, covered in blood. My own, my friends? I.. I looked to see him stretched out to me hand poised to snap my neck. My hands reached back fumbling over vases and stone tools, until I grabbed what I thought was a stick or was it a club, it felt hard as if made of stone. I swung it at him hitting his shin.

He acted as if it hadn’t fazed him in the slightest. But I could feel it, his anger penetrated my soul, like his eyes burned right through me. He slammed down with his fist pounding the club into me and cracking the floor. I felt the wind leave my chest completely and my own eyes were so heavy, they were being pulled down against my will. I saw him in that moment smiling as he walked away, and a light flashed before me.

Next thing I knew I awoke and just in front of me a specter wearing old clothes and a crown was shaking my body.

“Awaken! Awaken already!! Quickly now you must flee!!”

I groggily looked about to see the room engulfed in flames. My bones felt as if they were glass, I was overcomed with fear, desperation. I wanted to scream at the sight of the Ghost, of the fire.

“Young Miss! Young Miss! Eva!! Get a hold of yourself, you’ll burn. Take the sword, it will protect you. Do not let it leave your grasp!!”

“How do you know..”

“Eva! Now is not the time. Take the sword. And hurry!!”

The Ghost confused me more than the fire, my assailants. This night just couldn’t be real none of it could. The Ghost spoke of a sword and as I looked about I saw no such thing. But clinched in my hand was no other than the sword he spoke of. I didn’t remember holding a sword. But it was there sure as day. I stood to my feet limping away, I could feel the heat liking my back. The pain felt unbearable, I shouldn’t be walking I must be dead, I have to be dead. The cracking of the flames tore the walls down to my left, my right and all around me.

“You must hurry Eva! Before the flames consume you!”

The door seemed so close now, the handle was just in reach. But I couldn’t lift my arm. It was then the door flew open as the Ghost blasted it aside. I fell to the ground as I lost all the feeling in my legs.

“Just a little farther Eva. Crawl if you must.”

Strange, I should be afraid of this Ghost. But his words were so familiar so comforting. The concrete tore my skin up I could see the flesh under my skin. But no blood, not a drop. As I managed to crawl to saftey. I looked up at the Specter. “Who, are you?”

“I shall answer my King. I am Arthur Pendragon. Former King of Camelot. And you who have broken the curse sealing my sword, your sword. Excalibur. Is the rightful King of England.”

“Kin...g” I said with my last breaths before everything went blank. The sounds and sights gone as I passed out.

“So, China…huh?” Eric said, half questioning Scott from the back office of The Hub.

“Yeah, China.” Scott confirmed. Scott had told Eric about the confrontation with the powerful newcomer as well as the sudden attack from the stranger’s companion, and how he had suddenly been teleported halfway around the world.

“Huh.” Eric grunted, almost seeming perturbed.

“What’s wrong?” Scott asked.

“You went all the way to China, and didn’t think to bring me back an order of authentic Crab Rangoons?” Eric said in a manner that suggested he wasn’t entirely joking.

“You do realize those aren’t really from….” Scott began, then paused as Eric looked up at him with a look that he imagined Eric gave his father when he was told that Santa wasn’t real. “Nevermind.” He finished.

”I’m glad you’re back, We’ve got business to attend to.” Eric said in that deadpan tone of his that made it nearly impossible to tell whether he was joking or serious.

“We do?” Scott asked, unsure of what Eric was talking about.

“We do.” Eric said with a grin. “We’re auditioning house bands.”

Scott felt his spirits dampening. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the idea of auditioning house bands, in fact, he was fully on board with the idea. It was just that he wasn’t sure that he was up to it tonight. That was until Eric lead him from the back office to the dance floor, where one of the bands was in the process of setting up their equipment on what would have passed as a stage in The Hub, a elevated section of the floor that was more or less the height of a single step, and something that Scott knew that they would probably have to address if they were going to start having live bands play the club. He found himself watching, almost staring as a beautiful brunette plugged an amp into the power source. She was tall and slender, and moved with a certain grace that he found irresistible.

“Careful Cute guy, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were checking out my lead singer.” A sultry voice called in a sing song tone from behind him.

Scott turned to and saw another pretty young brunette carrying a bass guitar, smiling at him teasingly.
“Clara Mynought, “ She said as she stuck her hand out to shake his. “We’re your new band.”

Infuriatingly, before Maverick could land a solid hit, she froze. Her every muscle strained against the green field, and it cracked and arced violently, but held steady. "Not lasers, particle beams. Completely different process. Not that I really need it, as you can see. Intimidation, mostly."

Oh, fuck you.

"So. Perhaps you'd like to rethink your strategy?"

Maverick worked her jaw muscles, feeling the field crack and pop. Her gleaming skin shot away into shimmering crystal, refracting light even more strongly than the metal and letting her drop down into a crouch. She sharply heard the sound of car tires shrieking away, and her heart dropped. For a moment, her opponent seemed to go silent and still, before two new suits appeared out of thin air--teleportation, maybe--and locked onto her position. Her main adversary lifted up higher, preparing to zip off.

”Oh, like hell am I getting left behind!” Maverick yelled and lunged forward, embedding diamond-tipped fingers into the ankles of his boots and somehow finding a good enough hold. She’d never in her life gone so fast down city streets, and screamed the whole ride, finally stopping and losing her grip. She switched over to rubber before the landing, and flopped down hard against the asphalt. ”Ughhhh…fuck man, I’m gonna be sick…” She found her feet again and stumbled toward the car, but before she could interfere two impossible forces cracked into her side and sent her through what had to be an entire building. She found herself embedded in a concrete wall facing a massive hole, two of those robots looming overhead, combat-ready.

She couldn’t see that tin asshole anywhere, which meant the metal was back on. ”You stupid toy fuckers. That the best you got?”