“Go go go go go!” The speeding vehicle was no match for the high speed suit that gave chase, and even with a crystalline girl anchoring him down he still managed to overtake them. Ash’s eyes darted to the suit, to following the girl as she crashed, and then back to the suit in its brash attempt at blocking their progress by standing in the middle of the goddamn street. As the distance closed, the tension was so thick that you could slice it 8 ways like a pizza. “B-Boss, what the fuck do I do?!” Ed’s movements were tense and sporadic, shown as the car weaved back and forth, unsure if he wanted to commit to this game of chicken. “What the fuck do you think, ram him!” As if to bolster the morale of his men, Carlos leaned out the window and took a few shots at Icarus, but at these speeds they only proved to whizz past Icarus and lodge into the wall of a random building.

“Ram it?! Are you serious? Ash, that thing’s practically a tank. If you collide, the car’ll go up, and… and…” And the car went up. From the apartment, to those in the car, a wide eyed and mouth agape shock overtook the whole lot of them when the vehicle lifted from the road and into the air as Icarus willed it.

"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?"

Ashley looked down at her right arm. By now it was bathed in blood up to the elbow, and slowly climbed up in an attempt to protect its host. She was not about to get shocked today, that was for sure. “Does THIS look funny to you?!” Swinging her arm at the air in Icarus’ direction, the blood that had amassed on her flung at his face, colliding with his helmet like a pie to a clown. Writhing around on the man’s mask, the deep crimson covered his visor and bashed against it in attempt to get to his face. “Bail!” The four jumped down to the ground, Ricky and Ashley retreating behind Icarus on one side of the road, and Ed with Carlos on the other. The three opened fire, unsure if their firearms would even make an impact. While they did this, Ashley kneeled behind a bus stop and made an incision on her other hand. This was about to get messy, and she needed her armor as soon as possible.

As the mental forks embedded in the two LEGION drones caught up to Maverick, he sighed, more than a little frustrated at the meta's tenacity. And worse, she'd put the mystery hyper-metal back on again. Inwardly, he rolled his eyes (both pairs) at her taunt, before the two of him took a step forward.

"Toys? Miss Maverick, you wound me."

"These constructs might not be as powerful as my prime form..."

"But they are still 100% me."

"With all that that implies," the drones finished, raising their palms toward the girl, glowing with a familiar-looking green electrical haze. The implication, of course, being that his drones had the same metal-warping powers as his prime self. This, of course, was an awful lie. He hadn't even gotten around to testing the Pseudo-Mag units that would have made that implication true, much less equipping them in all of his drones. But that was irrelevant, as long as Maverick thought that he could do so in this form. Even if she didn't surrender completely (which, to be fair, was unlikely), he liked his odds of beating her with LEGION better when she wasn't some sort of wonder material.

So he left what was actually particle beams equipped in the drones' arms warming up, hoping the empty threat of paralysis would at least convince her to power down from the super mode.

"Last chance to surrender, Maverick."

"Power down and stay out of my way-"

"Or I start breaking things."

==~==

Meanwhile, Gabriel's prime self had his own issues as one of the crooks in the car suddenly lashed out at him with... something. Something which then latched itself to his face and tried to pry into his helmet. He was secure in the knowledge that to do so would take... well, he wasn't precisely sure, but it was a very long time. But still, the fact that it was impeding his vision and actively resisting his attempts to remove it was... aggravating. He clawed at it ineffectively again, before an impact warning suddenly came up on his visor. Several, in fact.

...Are they... shooting at me?

To be fair, he couldn't really tell. He couldn't feel the impact of the shots too well, and had to rely on the impact warnings from Daedalus to realize when and where he'd been hit. For all their effectiveness, they might as well have been pelting him with Milk Duds.

But the indignity of it was still so... galling. Reduced to clawing at his face like an idiot, while a bunch of low-life thugs used him as target practice. That was... very not kosher with him.

Gritting his teeth, a plume of fiery plasma gathered in his hand, which he then pressed to his visor, savoring the thing's dying screech as it burned away from his face. His vision now cleared, he turned in the direction of the meta (for OF COURSE there was another one of them running around tonight) who had tried to blind him, seeing her make an incision on one of her palms, blood flowing strangely from the cut.

"meta appears to have hemokinetic abilities of some sort. be on your guard- we don't know what else she can do."

Duly noted. He checked in on the LEGION drones who would hopefully be dealing with Maverick, feeling ever more frustrated at his situation. I so do not have time for this. He took a step forward toward the blood meta, his arms and Hex-Feathers crackling ominously with green lightning.

"Alright, Red. Before I begin, I would like to remind you that I did in fact warn you of the consequences, and thus, everything that is about to happen to you, is entirely your fault." And having said that, he gave a dismissive flick of his wrist, sending the Hex-Feathers shooting out, tracking each of the four crooks scattered around the area. Anyone the devices attached themselves to would feel a very unpleasant shock. Or they would, whenever it was they woke up- the Feathers likely wouldn't kill anyone, but they'd hurt worse than a hot iron.

While that was happening, Gabriel focused on the car again, lifting both it and himself into the air- he had to get out while the going was good, before Maverick dismantled his drones, and before "Red" could do anything more-than-annoying with her blood... stuff.

Maverick tensed and growled at the sight of the green haze, her muscles automatically beginning to tighten in order to strain against it. But wait--she could move, even when it seemed the robots had the magnets working full-blast. Looks like she could resist it with just a little practice!

”Hah! Nice try, assholes! Looks like Papa Bear’s the only guy with any actual power.“ She rolled her eyes when he started spouting some more bullshit about surrendering, like that was gonna happen. ”Yeah, sure, I give up! Go ahead and drag me off, I’ll go quietly. Right after I’m done SCREWIN’ YOUR MO--“THOOM. Four smaller particle beams shot from their hands, pummeling her squarely in the chest and stomach and cutting her burning retort short.

Maverick was sent tumbling end over end through the rest of the building, her inertia sending her halfway into the street behind it, leaving behind a deep trench of broken concrete and asphalt. God, these robots are assholes. Her costume was blasted up to shit now, miraculously still covering her essentials but leaving her abdomen and ribs bare and charred slightly. The robots came floating out of the hole she left, hands glowing once more. Like hell was she gonna let herself get caught by a blast like that again.

The closest of the robots was about ten feet off the ground, a distance she closed in short order. The sheer added weight sent them both cracking into the street, Maverick poised well enough to wrap her legs around its chest and shoulders, using her smaller stature to curl in and twist out of the way just as the other robot shot off two more beams. Her fingers found the plates under the current robot’s jaw and chin, attempting to wrench its head off--at the very least pull off something important.

Exekiel was very much at a loss. It seemed that the city of Lost Haven has been the staging ground of some rather ridiculous things as of late. If it wasn't Metas running to and fro, then it was surprise visits from bloodthirsty so-called demons from the Pit. That was a hell of a busy night (pardon the pun) for Exekiel. Many had died in the French Quarter, and there wasn't a whole lot he could without exposing himself to some pretty prominent Metas. Between Icon, Iron Knight, and that angelic looking meta, the half-demon was just about ready to dig in and wait it out. Instead he shifted in his demonic form and harvested many of the invaders that night. He kept to the darkness and the fringes of the invading force; picking them off little by little. Honestly, it was more likely that others would assume that he was a part of the invading force than an ally of any kind. It wasn't their fault that they couldn't tell the difference between a Pit demon and an Abyssal demon.

Thankfully, the aftereffects of the invasion led to reduced crime rates at night... albeit only temporarily. By day, Exekiel was your everyday Engineer, and attended a pretty standard 9 to 5 job over at Midas Industries. It was a fairly well-paying job even though he didn't really have an immediate use for a greater portion of his income. He lived in a cheap but cozy apartment in Chinatown with rather spartan arrangements of a few pieces of furniture; the only thing of worth being his top-of-the-line computer that he pieced together and upgrades as needed. His daytime schedule was predictable for the most part. Other than work Exekiel would make himself attend some local singles functions to acquaint himself with society a bit, and at least once a week he would volunteer at the Lost Haven Home for the Elderly. His own grandparents were rather horrible people and died in a failed attempt to harness a demon from the Abyss. Despite that he always wondered what it would be like to have an older relative around who had lifetime of experience they could share. He tried to fill that aching void of family-ties by attending to the elderly and in-firmed of others. By allowing himself to be seen and considered a normal (if barely remarkable) functioning member of human society, the half-demon would remain hidden in plain sight.

At night, Exekiel would not sleep... just as Lost Haven does not sleep at night. The darker elements of crime rise up at this time, and he rises with them. Of course he doesn't abet and aide them... rather he hunts them and punishes them for invading his territory. As Predator, the half-demon terrorizes the night but he does so carefully and with great deliberation. At first, in his naivety, Predator took out whatever thug and gangster he could rend with his talons. He learned quickly that underlings were replaceable and that killing them only made their bosses paranoid and harder to track. As a result, he learned to listen, to stalk his prey slowly, and to savor the hunt. There was no satisfaction in a sloppy or unorganized kill. Exekiel always believed he was in harmony with his demonic self but there were times he felt that maybe he was slipping a little too deep into the Predator role. He killed off a few small time crews and cleared out some territory for himself. Occasionally, Predator would pin the crime on a rival gang so as to avoid suspicion. Eventually, he came across a few Meta crooks and found himself at odds with strange powers that temporarily threw him off the hunt. However, he was not easily put off by a few obstacles. He made special examples out of those who abused their powers to hurt and hinder the common people. He also found that killing them gave him a rather large boost in his power and allowed for quicker elevations to the next evolutionary stage.

All those years of careful hunting and discovery pre-dated the Meta explosion of heroes and villains that swarmed onto the scene of Lost Haven. It threw off Predator's hunt for a couple weeks, but soon he adapted once more to the helter skelter of new players on the field. The objective was the same even if the playing field was warped. Predator found himself stalking and spying for longer hours as he figured out the major power players that had changed the game up. It was only recently though that he found a couple names popping more and more often in the underworld.

"The Cowl. Shroud. The Cancer." rumbled Predator in his deep other-worldly growl as he stalked outside a particular warehouse on the wharf.

The people behind these names yielded no direct search results. It took several weeks of careful spying and stalking to obtain the information he wanted. Even then, it was greatly insufficient to serve his needs. Too many unknown variables surrounded these names. That was why he was going to slowly draw them out. Predator would start near the bottom of the chain. Clandestine and low key jobs that were easily disrupted if he picked off the right people. Tonight happened to be a night where one of those scheduled routines were to happen. The Cowl had his fingers in everything related to crime in Lost Haven and Predator wanted to see what it took to start pricking those digits. The massive creature slunk gracefully through the darkness and the intermittent shadows cast by powerful lights onto boxes and other obstructions. It was fairly easy to get inside the warehouse and he ignored any grunt that wasn't directly in his way. His target was in the offices near the rear of the building. Of course this part was more heavily guarded but guns meant nothing to the half-demon... not anymore. Despite that invulnerability, Predator did not want to alert his prey so he took to killing them softly. Not much of a sound was made as he blew out the lights above them; casting them into darkness. He worked quick and methodically. He left the bodies there. No one would see them in the darkness.

The blown out lights would eventually attract attention so Predator soundlessly vaulted up the stairs and sidled up to the office door. He listened in carefully for sounds and could hear the prey speaking oh so smoothly to whoever was on the phone.

"Listen. Let The Cowl know that even with the whole fiasco with the demons and the Meta flunkies, we've been on schedule without fail. Today's shipment will go without a hitch. No one in this town gives as s*** about the shipping ports and with all the hub bub surrounding these Metas we've pretty much got no one snooping around." soothed the man to his recipient with an almost greasy air like that of a loan shark.

Predator waited patiently as the man finished his call and then burst into the room with speed and power far greater than a normal human. There was no time for screaming. Massive scaled hands wrapped tightly around the middle-aged man's neck and applied the proper amount of strength to strangle him but not break his neck. The man's eyes popped out of his eyes in sheer terror as he looked upon a creature from the Abyss in rarely viewed majesty. Saliva dripped down jaws filled with rows of razor sharp teeth and burning red eyes glared at the prey beneath him. The prey's name was Jim Wilson. He was a criminal with a rap sheet as long as Predator's arm but the Shroud Syndicate's influence was strong indeed. Wilson served a very key role in the import and export of very very illegal things. He handled the contacts, the shipping manifestos, the bribery, and the thugs needed to keep the operation running smoothly. Tonight he would die in a rather cruel manner as he was forced to look upon his killer's horrific visage while his life slipped away. For Predator this method was least used but often the most prolific to him personally. To strangle someone to death was a very purposeful act. To hold your hands at another persons throat as they thrashed about for life and deny them that breath of salvation truly could not be mistaken as an accident.

"Hellfire and suffering awaits you my prey. I thank you for your contribution to my evolution." snarled the half-demon with a mocking sneer.

Jim Wilson died that night of forced asphyxiation and his office was stripped clean of both evidence of the killer and information on the illegal operation. The first prod at the massive underworld organization was made. Predator would now wait and observe.

With Icarus distracted and the boys taking fire, this gave Ashley the perfect chance to get into costume. Bloody hands transformed into sleek gauntlets that led into a leather like cuirass with rich crimson fabric flowing over it. Her legs gave way to a slightly baggy pair of pants with strapped boots climbing up to just under the knees. Finally, the blood climbed up the sides of Ashley’s face and situated itself around her eyes for a mask. In the span of minutes, a slightly inconspicuous teenager has become the one known as Krimson, emerging valiantly from her hiding spot for the world to see. Grabbing at the palm of her hand with the other, she’d slowly pull them apart to reveal the curved blade of a sword emerging from her stream, seeming to appear from thin air.

Meanwhile, as their bullets pelted into Icarus, it became apparent that their firearms weren’t much more than an annoyance. Throwing their guns down in frustration, they each pulled a grenade from their belts, confidant that a more explosive measure would do the trick. But by now, the armored man had cleared his vision, looking like he wasn’t up to having any more of this situation. He launched a series of objects at the group, and upon seeing some sort of device heading right at her; Krimson readied her blade, slicing the object in two before it got the chance to fulfill its purpose. Smiling brashly, she looked to her companions expecting to see them equally on top of things.

They would be if they had been Meta, but they weren’t. Krimson frowned at the twitching bodies of her compatriots flat on the ground, in no condition to continue this fight. “And there goes our meal ticket…” As Icarus lifted both himself and the car into the air, Ash shot a rope of blood to the ascending vehicle, and using as a grappling hook by drawing it back into her stream. Now situated on top of the car, she took a stance, facing Icarus and staring him square in the eyes. “And I’ll remind you that this is MY score, that was MY boss that you just made extra crispy, and that was MY blood that you evaporated. For that, I think you owe me some in return… and it’s Krimson! Krimson with a K!” Drawing her katana back, Ashley swung, giving a flurry of slashes at this armored do-gooder.

Gabriel winced as his drones pulsed Maverick through the rest of the building and literally into the street behind them. He was still trying to work on controlling his own strength with these devices. He was hoping he'd be able to minimize collateral damage, but he supposed that was a hopeless endeavor at this point. Things got broken in meta fights- he just had to live with that for now. The drones floated through the hole he'd blown the metal meta through, aiming his particle beams at her in the hopes that he could keep her down-- OHSHITWHATHTHEHELLISSHEDOING

The girl leapt straight toward one of the LEGION drones, catching him in some sort of wrestling hold. And putting a LOT of tension on some very significant components.

Oh, that is so not happening.

The drone in question steered itself into a wall, trying to dislodge the very persistent grappler. Then into the ground. Then the wall again. Then the ground again. There were quite a few craters, and not much to show for it. And he could feel something start to give. He growled in frustration before pressing his hands to the meta's face.

"Get... OFF!!"

THOOM. A pair of particle beams discharged straight into Maverick's face, finally loosening her from her perch- which, given the grip she had on the drone's head, also loosened said head from its perch. For a brief second, as Maverick flew through the air, she'd find herself clinging to the drone's severed head, while the body twitched and fell from midair. And then, both body and head would vanish in what looked like a flurry of green pixels.

After a short pause, a similar pixel flurry would herald the appearance of another drone where the other one had just been floating. Another short pause, and a twitch, and the drone turned toward Maverick with... well, it didn't have any actual expression to speak of, but it kind of looked... angry.

"Okay. Now I'm frustrated. I am done. Playing.

"And you are going down."

Another flurry of sparks and pixels, and another drone appeared next to the other two. And all three of them aimed their particle beams at Maverick, discharging all six at once.

==~==

Meanwhile, Gabriel himself was just considering which authority would be most prudent to bring the package to when "Red" grapple... blood... lashed her way onto the roof of the car.

Oh, for FUCK'S SAKE. Gabriel looked on, unimpressed at the meta crook's taunt, before she swung her blood-sword at him. Which, normally wouldn't be a concern, except for the fact that said sword had chopped one of his Hex-Feathers in half. Sure, it was busily reconstructing itself even now, but the implication was that Phylactery-alloy wasn't much of a deterrent to her attack. Which was impressive, in its own way- there wasn't much he'd found that was capable of actually doing damage to his armor, and he was getting off the subject and that sword was very sharp.

He flew back out of range of the blade's stroke, and the flare of green around the car flared even brighter as the car suddenly tipped vertical, dislodging... "Krimson-with-a-K," from the roof of the car. His Hex-Feathers sparked with bolts of green lightning as the destroyed module rejoined the other five. He leveled the car off, and, with a dismissive gesture, peeled the undercarriage of the car- suspension, axles, tires and all- from the vehicle, as casually as de-veining a shrimp. He then set the crippled car down on the ground, just to allow himself to focus on the meta.

"It's not your score anymore... Krimson. Seriously- with a K? I thought they were teaching you kids better in school." The air filled with sound of crackling as electricity flowed across his arms. "In case you haven't realized yet, I do not have time to deal with the likes of you."

Configure: Hex-Feather Modules- SUPPRESS/CONTAIN.

"So, as I am on somewhat of a tight schedule, I shall bid you adieu." The Modules shot forth, embedding themselves into the street in a wide ring around the thief. In the time that it would likely take for Krimson to realize that none of the Modules had come even close to striking her, the six of them would discharge a massive green dome of electricity between them, painfully incapacitating anyone caught within the ring.

Is God punishing me? It almost feels like it, if you take into account all the crazy crap that has been occurring ever since I got these powers. Crazy mad scientists and secret agency government men. Demons and so-called ancient gods. What the heck is happening to this world where I am living at the moment? Life just never seems to give me a break. Take this morning. Before I went to bed last night, I felt perfectly fine. However, when I woke up this morning, I felt like I had the worst stomach bug that I had ever had. So bad that my friends had to leave me behind when they departed for mass. While they were probably praying for me to get better, I was stuck vomiting the little food I had for breakfast in the bathroom.

I suddenly heard footsteps moving about in our apartment. It couldn’t be my roommates. While they have been gone for some time, it hasn’t been an hour yet. Was someone hear to rob our apartment? If I wasn’t feeling so miserable, a robber would have found a rude awakening when he discovered that he was trying to rob a metahuman’s home. However, when the bathroom door swung open, I discovered that it was actually Athena. Of course it would be her. Why wouldn’t it?

However, when she saw the condition that I was in, I saw for the first time an expression of confusion on her face. If I wasn’t feeling like my innards were turning inside out, I would have laughed so hard and enjoy the moment. Unfortunately, even if I was feeling well, I would not have enjoyed it for long. Before I knew it, Athena was kneeling down beside me. She pulled the power-nullifier off my wrist, causing me to revert back into my ‘drider’ form.

“Hey! These are my favorite pajamas! You could have made me ruin them!” However, Athena completely ignored me, continuing to examine my wristband.

“Looks like I should not have only examined that male metahuman’s device. These reverse-engineered versions made by Christopher Arthur seems to be faulty.”

“What?” In response to my question, Athena gave me an expression that made it seem like she was talking to a child. How much I wished that expression of confusion was still there.

“The imperfection of the nullifying mechanic within this device is causing your sickness. I’m assuming you are feeling better now.”

In fact, all my symptoms had disappeared once I returned to my ‘drider’ form. However, I didn’t realize anything because I was more worried about my pajamas, although I would not admit it to anyone. Then came Athena’s version of 50 questions: how long have you been wearing it, have you kept it on for this long before, when did the symptoms start.

“Well, it appears that it will take several hours until your body can endure the nullifier without negative symptoms. Until I can get Mr. Arthur to correct his faulty design, you probably could sleep without your nullifier to prevent these symptoms from reappearing. However, you will have to find something to do for the next couple hours until you can safely use this device again.”

“Wait a second.” I told her, “Why can’t you just fix it yourself? You’re supposed to be a goddess. Shouldn’t you be able to make it work properly?”

“Unfortunately, mortal, those like myself have sworn an oath that forbids us from doing so. If I would fix this device, it would become a slippery slope. Next, someone will ask me to solve something else, something that is outside of your current technology. Unfortunately, even if this technology was intended for good, your species will eventually discover a way to use it as a weapon and probably wipe yourself out of existence.”

“Am I hearing this correctly? You’re refusing to fix this device because you think in doing so you will eventually give humanity the means to destroy ourselves! You’re joking! Right?” However, Athena just stared at me, wearing an expression that unfortunately did not show that she was joking. “What in the world do you have mind now?” I knew she had already planned something. She already once dragged me off to Lost Haven to help fight some demon invasion. While I wish it wasn’t the case, how could she not already have something up her sleeve (if she had any sleeves)?

She did not answer me. Instead, she did her usual ‘place her hand on my shoulder’ and ‘teleport to somewhere else in the world’ trick. In a blink of an eye, I found myself (and Athena, of course) in what appeared to be an abandoned apartment complex.

“I know this might be something you might tell me anyways, but I’m going to ask it anyway and get it out of the way. Where the heck are we?”

“Lost Haven. Little Sicily to be exact. A while ago, a powerful metahuman gave this place an extreme make-over. If you thought that you got one, it was nothing like what happened here. While the Olympians have this being on their radar, we have a more eminent threat.” Athena strolled over towards a nearby window. Once I get beside the Greek goddess, I peered out of the window, catching sight of a Greek-styled temple.

“So, what’s up with that? Someone trying to outdo the Parthenon in Nashville?”

“I wish I could say so.” Athena responded, “But unfortunately my hard-headed half-brother, Ares, has gone rogue. But don’t worry. I always have a plan. I’m the Goddess of Wisdom, am I not?”

Krimson wasn’t satisfied with her blade slicing air, and so she leveled her palm once again at his face to attempt to blind the man. Only, as she took aim, the ground she stood on tipped and suddenly she found herself falling to the ground. To prevent damage, the blood that had formed around her body began to detach and formed a safety puddle on the ground. Landing with a soft thud, the blood would reform on Krimson’s body, standing undefeated.

“School has nothing to do with it, the name just sounds cooler like that!”

“Ash, he’s doing that electricity thing again.”

“Come on, you live to fight people like me! Otherwise you wouldn’t need that overpriced movie prop!”

“Will you stop throwing stupid remarks and listen to me? He’s going to fuck you up!”

“No, fuck that, I’m not letting you get awa-“

And just like that, a dome formed around Krimson and sent a painful shock through her system, causing her to scream in pain and her skeleton even flashed before Icarus’ eyes for a few seconds. Her shock soon faded and Ashley lost all consciousness, but even so the blood armor that was encasing her body still allowed her to stand, albeit it being in a limp zombie-like fashion. Creeping up to the side of the dome, the blood made Ashley’s arms began to bash at it, in an attempt to break free from the prison.

From the apartment, Lamar looked on through various security cameras in defeat. Their first job in the city and it had to end like this. He rubbed his brow, staring at Icarus. Such a powerhouse couldn’t be taken down by a group of thugs, that was for sure. But people like Maverick… that was a different story. During the battle, Lamar was able to find information about this young meta, manly on her fiendish escapades through the city. With her track record, they wouldn’t even need the local gangs to get what they wanted. And if more people like her revealed themselves, and let’s be honest, there would be more people in this city with her moral values, then maybe something great could happen. Unfortunately, that would have to wait. Packing his things, Lamar quickly fled the apartment and began the long trek to the ruined truck.

Reaper

The bike had been abandoned pretty quickly, it drew too much attention to be in the full get up driving around on a motorcycle. His Scythe sat on his back, the pole retracted as far as possible (Technology was impressive these days) and his traditional .45 was strapped to his hip. Almost as old as him himself, he smirked at the thought of that. In the past several people had leered at him for using such an antiquated weapon however they failed to realize it killed just the same and by him keeping it in the best condition possible it worked as good as the day it had came out of the factory. Guns these days had no personality, they were just an instrument for killing. Kind of like me. This city, he'd heard about it from all over. The events of this so called "D-Day", things here needed to change. The Heroes here seemed unwilling to do so, so he'd do what needed to be done.

He jumped down through the fire escapes of the building he was atop, working his way lower and lower and sliding the ladder at the bottom to step down gently, he then walked into the front. The door unlocked, why would it be? Many had left this building in a hurry. Walking in he was immediately greeted by the Land Lord, a greasy fat stub of a man. Someone who looked like he wasn't used to having to do the manual labour however he doubted that the man could find much help for hire around after the events that transpired in the area. The mans entire stance changed, understandable. Gabe was almost six foot tall, dressed from head to toe in black and had a mask on. Thankfully his weapons weren't readily visible or he likely wouldn't have gotten the chance to speak.

"What do you want?" Gabe took a second to think on his words, then spoke in an obvious Texan accent, though there was something about it that was richer and more raw. "I need a room. Nothing fancy, cash up front. No paper, no hassle. I'm gone if you get uncomfortable and people start asking questions." There was hesitation, anybody could see that. It was a tough deal, on one note he would have a paying (or another paying) tenant until he could get the place up and running. Though this was a stranger off the street wearing a helmet, and seemingly with no possessions.

"Depends how much you're willing to pay." Gabe moved his arms under his coat, careful not to allow the gun to be seen (Not wanting this to seem like a threat) and pulled out a wad of cash. Literally all the cash he owned, two thousand, and handed it over to the man. "Here is my deposit and my first months rent." He looked around the hall, the landlord would be lucky to get two hundred dollars a month for this place in this condition. He had to do better than that. "Six hundred dollars a month from here on. Do we have a deal?"

The man extended his hand slightly, recoiled but then took the cash. "Deal, let me show you to your room." He lead him up a flight of stairs onto the second floor, and pushed open a door with an obviously broken lock. "I'll fix the lock later-""No hurries." Gabe looked around the room, he had slept in worse places and this would work quite well. It was shelter from the elements and wouldn't really be the place that someone looked for a vigilante. Or so he thought, he was kind of new to this whole staying in one place thing. "Oh, and we got new tenants across the hall. If that's a problem-"

Gabe just turned. "No. It will be fine." He didn't want to raise too much suspicion after all. "Now if you'd kindly excuse me. I've had a long journey." The man just nodded and left. When the door closed Gabe lifted of his helmet with a hiss, the cool air stinging his flesh. he walked over to the open door in which he could see a bath, on front of a cracked mirror and peered into his scarred face. Very little of his original handsome looks remained, no matter how much he hurt. How much he healed it was only ever to how he was before this started. It was only to keep him alive and in one piece. He sighed as he pulled the mirror, seeing if the Landlord had forgotten to loot anything and finding some bandages, and after that he began wrapping them around his face.

Pulling them tight to the point it caused pain he left enough room for him to see. He nodded to himself in the mirror. It was time to bring pain to those who caused it here in Lost Haven.

The feeling of being sharply torn away from something by her face wasn’t a pleasant one, and Maverick grunted and felt the whole world churn end-over-end. The brief victory of knowing she at least messed up one of the robots lasted about a second, as before she even landed the damn thing turned intangible and disappeared like a glitch. This guy is serious news, fuck. Fuck! I couldn’t get some dickwad with a magic whip again?!

She felt the street crunch beneath her shoulders, the back of her head following suit. She lay there, panting and dazed, but as soon as more robots materialized she leapt to her feet and brandished her fists, swinging drunkenly. ”Alright! I get it, you fucking wimp! You don’t wanna fight head-to-head ‘cause you know I’d win, so you send your stupid robots!” She scooped up a watermelon-sized chunk of the street and chucked it at the nearest robot with full force, roaring.

She didn’t even get the chance to see if she landed a hit. More force than she’d ever felt before struck her squarely in the torso, some piercing the fabric at her stomach, some threatening to dent the metal at her neck and collarbone. She cried out, launching back a good fifty feet across the street to destroy the front of an office building. She landed on the second floor in a heap of shattered glass and twisted metal, writhing in abject pain, belting out curse after curse.

Through the ringing in her ears, she heard the office workers who’d gathered at the window to watch the fight scatter, screaming like stupid asshole bystanders loved to do. Through the hole in the building, the robots hovered closer. Oh god, this guy is gonna fucking kill me. She scrambled for something to throw, but her silver skin faltered, threatening to turn back to weak flesh after all the abuse she’d taken. ”Nooo! No no no, fuck!”

Her hands lifted up in front of her face as she spotted the robots. "Stop! Fuck! You're a good guy, yeah? You won't kill a teenage girl! Shit, message received dude! Just lemme go!"

Satisfied that Krimson-with-a-K had been sufficiently contained, Gabriel turned to the car, taking a leaf from Maverick's book as he wrenched the door off of the town-car's trunk, revealing the crate within. He breathed a massive sigh of relief. All of this chaos over something like this- whatever's in here better be worth it to whomever I saved it for. He levitated the crate out of the trunk, then grabbed it out of the air, settling it on his shoulder. It was somewhat awkward, given the thing's size, but it would do- he could fly faster this way. He turned, sparing a glance toward the girl he'd contained, still somehow trying to batter away at the walls of her cage, despite being very, very unconscious. It made his stomach churn a little.

"hemokinetic abilities appear to possess advanced autonomous functions, as you noted before. we'd do well to keep an eye on this one in the future."

No need to tell me twice. Log her information in the database- have AEGIS keep tabs on her. If we get even a whiff of her phase signature, I want to know about it.

"are we not taking her with us?"

Too much trouble- despite that jolt I gave her, she'd still probably hack me to pieces if I tried to carry her off. Besides, the authorities can probably handle her. You called them, right?

"as soon as she lost consciousness. lhpd will be here to collect her and her cohorts within minutes. on this topic, what were you planning on doing with maverick? i doubt even lost haven's police force has a way to restrain her."

Yeah, I was afraid of that. We'll keep her at the Tartarus sub-station for now, until we can find someone else to contain her properly.

"acknowledged. i don't suppose i have to warn you that she may not take kindly to being kidnapped."

I prefer to call it, "a citizen's arrest."

"i still doubt she'll see it like that, but acknowledged. she may need time to recover from the beating you've given her, anyway.

In my defense, I did give her ample opportunities to surrender. He linked back up to his beta forks in the LEGION drones, pleased to see that the fight was at least going... somewhat well.

Priority objective achieved. Commence secondary objective of detain Meta/Maverick. A mental command later, and the cores of the Hex-Feathers detached from the CONTAIN units embedded in the street and floated back into his possession. Even without the cores, the containment field would probably be able to sustain itself until the police arrived, and the units themselves would harmlessly self-destruct afterward- no fussing required. And with that, he began traveling in the direction of the Forge with his cargo, while his other selves finished the job with Maverick.

==~==

Despite not actually breathing, all three of the LEGION drones breathed an internal sigh of relief as Maverick finally threw in the towel. Not that it would have done her much good to continue- even her wonder metal form was starting to feel the strain under his abuse, and moreover, her phase signature was fluctuating wildly- she probably wouldn't be able to maintain these shenanigans for much longer.

Still, just leaving her here was a risk Gabriel wasn't willing to take- the police weren't likely to be capable of detaining her, what with her many varied abilities. Which meant she was going to have to come with him until such a time as he found a proper authority to turn her over to.

He was quiet for a few moments as he looked at the scared young meta. This is going to be unpleasant. For both of us, I'd wager.

"You're absolutely right, Maverick. I wouldn't kill a teenage girl. In fact, I'd be hard-pressed to kill anyone."

"But at the same time..." said one of the drones, as a flurry of sparks and pixels behind Maverick heralded the arrival of a fourth drone, which then grabbed the back of her head suddenly, "I can't just let you leave, either."

"Forgive me," said the newly-arrived drone, as a pulse of green electricity surged from his arm in an attempt to incapacitate the girl.

The robots backed off when she shouted, and the tin man’s voice came in through speakers. "You're absolutely right, Maverick. I wouldn't kill a teenage girl. In fact, I'd be hard-pressed to kill anyone." She sighed out, preparing to stand up and look for an escape route while her opponent wouldn’t blow her up from behind. "But at the same time..." She froze, her every muscle tensing with sudden anxiety--

--the same voice, much closer this time. "I can't just let you leave, either." Anything he might have said next never reached her ears, as electricity arced through her skull and all over her metallic skin, which quickly gave way to vibrant, violent sparking. For a single microsecond, just a few flashes to the unaided eye, she was pure green static, her scream reaching a crescendo as she let out an energy pulse, knocking over the fleeing citizens and launching her at the street a story below. As quickly as the electricity came, it went, and she was flesh again, plummeting, limp, towards the pavement.

Whatever was left of her consciousness latched onto May's face--she'd failed, and it was all this asshole's fault, and now May would get killed, or stuffed into some kinda experiment, or when Maverick escaped she'd get a little girl's finger in the mail--she bit her lip and hoped the fall would kill her, because she's dead anyway as soon as Nan learns that Maverick had a chance to save May and failed. You dumb piece of shit. You're about as good a superhero as any other douche in a leotard.

One of the LEGION drones dove after Maverick's falling form, gently sweeping her up before she hit the ground, cradling the girl's body with unusual care, given the kind of damage they'd just been trying to inflict on one another. He looked down at the unconscious girl's face, sighing internally.

This wasn't exactly a banner start to his career as a superhero. All he'd ended up doing was assaulting two teenagers and a bunch of armed thugs, one of whom actually tried to surrender- an offer he couldn't really take her up on just yet, but still, it was a difficult pill to swallow. In her un-augmented form, she looked uncomfortably young- barely out of high school, if that. And he'd spent their entire fight knocking her through walls.

Right. Walls. That was also a thing. He looked ruefully at the damage he'd caused- it would take weeks or months to fix these buildings, and thousands of dollars. He probably had ended up causing more collateral damage than Maverick tonight, and there was no guarantee he'd actually prevented anything dire. Just smacking around a dumb kid until he'd had to tase her into submission.

It wasn't that hard to see why people distrusted metas.

Yeah. This... is definitely not something I'll be bringing up in polite conversation anytime soon. The other three LEGION drones dismissed themselves back to the Forge, while the fourth, holding Maverick, headed off in a completely different direction, toward his Tartarus station. He'd be keeping her there until he decided on what exactly he should do with her. Which left him (or this part of him, at least) a lot of time to ponder on the events of this evening.

I have to get better at this. I can't just be smacking people through walls helter-skelter or blowing holes in the street. And I can't have my contributions to this city just be beating up on high schoolers. If I want my actions in this city to mean something... then I have to make them mean something. Which means I have to be more careful after tonight.

He sighed internally again, thinking of the package he'd retrieved- the one potential positive he'd managed to scrape up after this debacle.

Whatever's in that crate better goddamn well be worth all this trouble...

Exekiel was at odds with himself. The last few excursions were quite fruitful and his next evolutionary stage was coming on faster than he originally planned for. Despite the apparent success on the surface of things, the truth of the matter was he only managed to sabotage fringe operations of the shadowy organization known as the Shroud Syndicate. He waited patiently for the results of his actions to bear some sort of response but it seemed that either the underlings were too afraid to report their... accidents, or they were simply apathetic to the losses. Either scenario was extremely unacceptable, but the half-demon didn't survive so long by slipping into habitual impatience. The Cancer was a far more elusive prey and striking his operation centers proved inefficient at best. It was like striking at a foggy entity that only shifted around his careful prods.

The Predator within was content with the bloodshed, but it hungered evermore for bigger game. Metas showed up every now and then, but they proved to be small timers with lackluster or useless (to him anyways) powers. The top tier power players were probably not likely to hang so freely with the bottom feeders. Another issue was caused by the murderous entity known as Nightmare. Exekiel couldn't confirm without meeting the creature firsthand but he assumed it was not a demon. At least it wouldn't be an Abyssal demon since he would have sensed a powerful demon like that. Regardless of its origins, the mere presence of the creature instigated wide searches throughout the city by various organizations and so called Meta Heroes. Since he had a rather similar habit of sticking to the darkness and had a tendency to terrorize people. In all fairness though, he only targeted criminal elements but he doubted most people would be understanding and open at first glance.

"I did meet that strange so called Hero a couple nights ago... What was his name again? Just A Guy? Justice Guide? Juice... Gourd?" muttered Predator to himself as he hung upside down from the edge of one of the buildings in the financial district by his powerful tail. He was too high off the ground to be seen from the ground and it was far too late... or early for there to be workers hanging around.

Predator originally dropped by in order to observe one of the more legitimate (superficially) associates of the Cowl. A mere legal cog in the bureaucratic machine that ran the town. It proved to be a rather pointless venture. He could eat the man but it was hardly worth the effort. Instead he found himself simply hanging there and watching the empty streets with vague interest. It hasn't been too long since he began the campaign against the underworld. He was pretty much working blind. No contacts and no informants meant that he knew far too little about the inner workings of the Syndicate. Perhaps he would need to break out of isolation and work with another.

"Kukuku... I don't think that's an option. Too many questions... too many variables." chuckled the massive beast mirthlessly as he dismissed the notion. He crept back up to the roof and headed home for the night. He had much to do and even a little sleep was more than enough to satisfy his human side.

“The Shroud…Something or other.” Harry said, the words coming with a mixture of disbelief and dread. Though he tried to mask his concern, Kyle could see right through him.

“You know something.” Kyle stated.

“Maybe.” Harry said. “While I was still in the intelligence game, there was talk about an criminal organization called ‘The Shroud Syndicate.’ We didn’t know much about them, they were good at what they did, and they were…discrete.”

“So…basically, you just have hearsay.” Kyle said, growing frustrated with the apparent lack of progress.

“I’m saying that I’ve heard of them, but I don’t know much about them, except they are the real deal, and nobody knows anything about them that they don’t want known. Kyle, these guys...they aren’t to be taken lightly. When I was working in London I heard about an agent that we had go in to infiltrate the organization. The story goes that they killed him before he was able to report back. And then they killed his wife, and his children.” Harry said, uncharacteristically shaken.

“That doesn’t sound so unusual.” Kyle said.

“Sadly it isn’t. But they didn’t just kill them, the tortured them. They cut them into pieces and left them in little boxes in front of our headquarters...just before Christmas. I assume it was their ‘gift’ to us, warning us to back off.” Harry said as he looked down to the floor.

“Kyle, if the Shroud Syndicate is here, things are going to get bad…Fast. We can’t let that happen.” Harry said with resolve returning to his voice.

Just as Kyle was about to tell his mentor that he understood, and would do whatever it took to bring down the Syndicate, a beep registered from the computer that Harry uses to monitor the city. Then came another beep, and another after that. Harry looked down at the monitor and keyed in several commands.

“We’ll have to talk about this more later, something big is going down.” Harry said as he watched his monitor. “There’s a spike of activity, 9-11 calls coming in from Chinatown. It looks like the gangs are mobilizing there and causing trouble. And not just there, it looks like the same thing is happening in the French Quarter and Little Sicily.”

“I’m on it.” Kyle said as he pulled his mask over his face and made his way to Kaiju.

“Be careful.” Harry said quietly as the supercar roared to life and took off out of The Garage toward Lost Haven.

It didn't take long for shit to hit the fan, and when it did. It was literally just outside the window. Of course it would start in the downtown area if it were to start anywhere. He grabbed his helmet, sealing it before stepping out onto the fire escape then jumping down. Wincing through the pain as his legs broke. No matter how many times he felt that level of pain it still hurt like a bitch. His legs then began to snap and move as they moved back into place and healed. He then walked over to the gangbangers, who had guns drawn firing down the street.

This was odd, no gang just decided to reign anarchy. He grabbed the handle of the scythe, hitting a button as the handle then lengthened to let him get it in a good two handed grip. "You have made your point. You're big, bad and ugly. Now I recommend you drop those guns and get yourselves back inside before trouble starts. I'm sure you've all done your fair share of misdeeds however, as today seems like a busy day. This is your chance to go home, and have a chance to rethink your lives. So what'll it be?"

Several shots hit his armour, the kevlar vest underneath stopped some of them and the bruises ebgan to heal. He just smirked under his helmet. "Alrighty then." With that he ran, scythe held behind him, blade on the left trailing as he ran at them, they began to recoil slightly as he was moving his way up to them. Avoiding what bullets he could he got within range,. AS he went down there was surprise on their faces as with his right hand he drew his .45 and came up on the other side. Firing two shots at the members on the left aiming for the lower leg, hitting his mark. "That's two, and theres four of you left. You gonna drop your guns yet?"

One of them dropped his gun, before pulling out a pretty big (and painful looking) knife. He just chuckled. "Let's do this."

Zac heard a thud coming from behind him when he had already retrieved his cell phone and pressed the “nine” and the “one” buttons. When he turned around, he was relieved that all that noise was Victoria tipping the chair, in which he had tied her down with duct tape, as she tried to struggle her way out of her predicament. Zac just rolled his eyes as she continued to flail in vain in order to free herself from the gray-colored tape.

“I think we might want to hold off on calling the police.” Zac, turning his attention away from their unlikely prisoner back to Kelly and Sammy, quickly understood why his girlfriend made that suggestion. What the heck would the police think when they show up and find the circus that they had at their apartment: a wasp-girl (although Kelly could technically hide it), a cat-girl, and a woman, who was dressed up like a sorceress, tied to a chair with duct tape. Heck, even Zac was still in his “super hero” costume.

As a result, Zac cleared his cell phone, which was one “one” away from calling the police to take away their little intruder. “So, what are we going to do about all of this,” Zac motioned his arms in a circle to gesture all the wacky things that had taken place in that apartment.

Kelly was the first to act. She pulled off the power-nullifying band from her arm, since it was not activated at the time, and strapped it around Sammy’s wrist. “It’s already public knowledge that I’m some kind of a weird human-insect hybrid. I might as well be the odd man out.” She then clicked the activation button on the wristband and stepped back, waiting for the band to turn on its effect.

However, after a few seconds, Zac and Kelly knew something was wrong. Even with the wristband activated, Sammy’s appearance did not revert back to normal; the few vestigial feline features that she had still remained. In response, Kelly pulled the band off and slapped it back on her own wrist, hoping that something was wrong with the band. Once the wristband was around Kelly’s arm, it immediately negated her powers, removing any trace of her wasp traits.

“This should be working.” Kelly pulled off the wristband and examined the device. Even though her compact eyes hindered her eyesight, from what she could tell, nothing seemed wrong with the power-nullifier.

“Maybe these wristbands can only negate powers that originated from the same source that ours did.” Zac pondered aloud, “We were ‘juiced up’ with that serum, while Sammy got transformed into a human-headed cat by some crazy magic.”

“So…what’s plan B?” Sammy asked as she twirled the end of her tail with her hand.

“Zac, keep a watch to our fine guest. I’ll see what magic I can work.” Kelly grasped Sammy’s wrist and dragged her into her bedroom, leading her on like a ragdoll.

Once in her bedroom, Kelly ransacked her closet, looking for anything that could help hide Sammy’s feline attributes while the police takes Victoria away. She first pulled out a toboggan cap, which could easily cover Sammy’s cat ears and hide where normal human ears would have been. Kelly also found one of her t-shirts. When she held it up to Sammy, Kelly saw that the shirt was too long for her friend. However, besides the length, the shirt itself was not too large for Sammy. Finding pants that would hide Sammy’s tail would be the difficult part. Everything that she had would be too long for her friend. Fortunately, Kelly found a pair of athletic shorts that would only look baggy on Sammy.

When Kelly turned around, she saw Sammy pull a small, circular device off her own tail. As Sammy pulled the device off her tail, it seemed like more fabric instantaneously devloped. However, once the ring-shaped object had been removed from her tail, the previous observation must have been only an optical illusion since Sammy's costume did not look any different besides that her tail was contained inside her costume. Kelly's jaw gaped open as she was puzzeled at what had just happened, glancing back and forth at both the small device and Sammy's costume.

“Those guys who claimed to be Greek gods gave me this device.” Sammy tried to clear up Kelly’s confusion. “Apparently, it was developed to give snipers better protection while still being able to perform their job. However, they never saw the light of day. Funny what unintended applications can be found from stuff like this.” Sammy gave her friend a small smile.

“Where the heck was that thing when I first was transformed into this wasp-human hybrid?” Kelly’s lower set of arms rubbed the side of her wasp abdomen. “Without this power nullifier, anything that was not a dress was a pain in the butt to wear. And no pun intended.”

“Don’t worry. They left some extras for you and Zac. Wait, how do you get into your costume?” Kelly proceeded to activating her wristband, which not only caused her powers to be negated, but also swapped out her superhero threads for civilian clothes.

“Wow. I bet any superhero would want that convenient trick!” Both Kelly and Sammy cracked out into laughter at the idea that they were superheroes.

---

A man in a trench coat and a fedora strolled down a dark alley. Even though this neighborhood was one of the rougher parts of town, the man journeyed down the alley without a concern in the world. A group of gang members saw the man, thinking him to be easy prey. They began to stock his every step, but no matter how close they got to him, the man did to show any fear.

“What’s in the briefcase, Doc?” One of the hoodlums pulled a knife from his coat pocket.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The man threatened. The men who surrounded him broke out laughing, wondering how this one man could fend off several other men at once. However, a chill of fear dissipated through the spines of those men when they heard a roar echoed through the night. Out from the dark shadows of the alley, a giant man appeared. However, when the men saw the newcomer’s face, they were paralyzed by fear when they realized that the man had a shark’s head instead of a normal human’s head. Once this shark-man roared again, displaying his sharp teeth to the assailants, the men who thought that had stumbled upon easy prey scrambled, just like wounded animals with their tails between their legs.

“Your aid was much appreciated, Jaws.” Jaws gave the doctor a toothy grin. However, Jaws picked up the scent of another person. A woman. The human shark repositioned himself in order to face this newcomer.

“There is no need for that. I have been expecting her.”

A woman in a silver dress approached the doctor. However, she held a second person in her hands, a young girl, probably just graduated from high school.

“It is nice to meet you in person, Dr. Dorian Dipillan.”

“And you too, Victoria, or should I call you by your other nickname, the Silver Sorceress?”

“Either would work.”

“And who’s our little guest?” The girl was struggling in Victoria’s arms.

“My younger sister. I assume she would be perfect for you, well, experiments. I can tell that they have been quite the success, haven’t they?” Her sister even struggled more, in vain, once she heard Victoria talk about this “doctor” experimenting on her. “I picked her up after I escaped from the police’s pitiful attempt to restrain me. Quite laughable, if you asked me.”

“I assume this means you will accept my invitation?”

“What do you think?” Victoria gave the man a coy smile, as if he was stating the obvious.

The idyllic countryside of the small nation of Charonia is not what it once was. The sounds of gunfire and the cries of the dying have replaced the serenity that was once the calling card of the Mediterranean nation. The sprawling countryside has been ravaged by war, and the once turquoise waters of the shoreline have turned red with blood.

In the months that have followed since the Crimson Talon had taken control of the small, but wealthy nation, Charonia has been embroiled in a bitter civil war. The forces of the Crimson Talon fight to confirm their stranglehold on the nation, while a small band of rebels have been fighting to restore the democracy that once thrived in the nation.

From the confines of the control room of the former Presidential Palace, the new ruler of the nation of Charonia watches as reports come in from the various battlefronts within the tiny country. As he watches the reports, an anger whirls within him. The rebel forces may be small in number, but they are growing, and they are well trained, and they put up a much more fierce fight than they should. At the beginning, the Crimson Talon mostly ignored the growing threat. The rebels were made up of farmers and former Charonian Republic Guardsmen. The Charonian military had proven ineffective when the Crimson Talon mounted its coupe, and the man known only as The Forsaken had taken his place on the throne within hours.

Yet the people fought back, and by the time that the Crimson Talon realized that they were facing a real threat, the country had fallen into total civil war. A part of Forsaken was not surprised. The Crimson Talon’s victory had almost been too swift, too clean. He knew deep down that there was a price that he and his government would have to pay for their victory, yet the rebellion angered him no less. He had freed the people of Charonia of an incompetent government that was run by corrupt imbeciles. Under the Crimson Talon, the people of Charonia would benefit from the fair, yet firm rule of The Forsaken and his organization.

However, for the most part, The Forsaken was mostly a myth. Few knew that he existed, and of those who did, many believed he was nothing more than a mascot, a creation of the leadership of the Crimson Talon to instill fear in those who opposed them. He knew that if he was going to end this destructive conflict, he would have to change that. He would have to present himself to those who fought against his control, and prove that not only does he exist, but that he is not one to be trifled with.

“Sir, the rebels have moved into New Sparta and are taking up position. I’ve ordered several regiments into the city to cut them off. I advise that you move to the bunker before….” General Crispin, one of The Forsaken’s military advisors was cut off before he could finish.

“No, General. Assemble the Elite Guard.” Forsaken said, his voice radiating throughout the control room.

“Of course, Sir. I shall lead the charge.” Crispin affirmed.

“No, General. It is time to put an end to this rebellion. I will lead the Elite Guard myself.” The Forsaken said as he turned away from the vast array of screens and made his way toward the gathering point.

Tartarus Sub-Station
Location [CLASSIFIED]

There were a few surface similarities between the Forge, Gabriel's main base of operations, and Tartarus Sub-Station, a side project he'd developed concurrently to it. For instance, both of them had been constructed by the nanites he'd sourced from Daedalus, both of them contained highly-powerful technology of his own design, and both locations were secured in just such a way that no one but Gabriel, or someone similarly empowered, would be able to find them, much less access them. Of course, this is where the similarities ended, for the main difference between the two was thus:

The Forge was a dedicated research, development, and fabrication facility. Tartarus, on the other hand, was designed to be a prison.

Gabriel stormed into the facility, very upset by his recent findings regarding the activities that had led to this point. In other words, what was in the crate was very much not worth it. Someone had played them all like suckers, and he wanted some answers as to who and why. He passed into the main area of the facility, which housed rows and rows of strange-looking pedestals set into the floor. One in particular held something of interest, as he made a beeline over to it.

Maverick hung suspended in the air over the pedestal, unconscious, surrounded in what looked like a heat blur (in actuality, an anti-gravity field). Her belt lay on a table near the girl's "cell," where the LEGION drone had left it. He picked it up, popping open the compartment on the front. Inside were all the materials that Maverick had transformed into during their fight, including a few others she hadn't gotten to test out before the fight was over. All of this implied that she needed to be in close contact with the materials she was channeling in order to maintain her shape-shifting. He plucked the piece of wonder metal out of the belt and closed it, before walking out in front of the containment unit. He activated his armor, so as to protect his identity in case the girl woke up, and spoke.

"All right, Daedalus, what's the situation?"

"well, as you can see, she is stable. and she has been disarmed in anticipation of any breach attempts- her power sources have been confiscated, and she is out of contact of any materials which she could use to facilitate an escape attempt."

"Good. Gods forbid she do anything with the Phylactery-alloy. I don't even want to think about what she might be capable of with that in her system."

"agreed. i assume you are here to interrogate her, then. shall i awaken her?"

"Yes. But please, gently- we've put her through enough already tonight."

"understood." The anti-grav field around Maverick suddenly took on a greenish cast, as well as a static-electricity-looking crackle across her skin. Nothing painful, just enough to stimulate her into a more wakeful state. As she stirred, Gabriel fiddled with the piece of metal he'd taken from her belt, waiting for her to be conscious enough to hold a conversation.

"So... Miss Maverick. We need to talk."

Find a handhold, a foothold--no! Arc like lightning, wrap yourself around rain and metal and glass, blind them all, shoot into the stratosphere--

Consciousness. Welcome, almost, if she was in bed, staring at her dented wall, while everything was alright and May wasn’t doomed to die. Her head lolled forward, brain scrambling to make sense of the haze in her vision--no, it wasn’t her, it was whatever was containing her, fuzzy and green. She weakly made to stretch out her muscles, but they held fast where they hung, immobile, feeling suddenly much too stiff. She writhed weakly against her restraints, letting out an exhausted groan that quickly escalated into a long, frustrated scream.

She slumped down, and that’s when she saw him. He’d popped open her belt, holding aloft the cubic inch of augmentium she’d stolen only a month ago. She could only stay there, unable to swing at him, while he turned it this way and that in the sterile lighting. He was speaking, and it took her a moment to comprehend what was being said.

”…verick. We need to talk.”

She shut her eyes tightly, making to squeeze the disorientation out of her brain. ”…What the hell did you do to me? ¡Vete a la verga culero! Lemme outta here, I don’t have to say shit to you.” She strained against her metaphysical bonds, grunting and growling as her powers struggled to latch onto something. She briefly turned into the material of her clothing, then of the soles of her shoes, but all was soft, burnable and absolutely useless. She flashed back to her normal skin, huffing furiously. ”I bet the populace’ll just love how you keep teen girls tied up in your nerd basement.”