Vivian Goodman (Martyr)

---

"I've told you before and I'll tell you again, for the last goddamn time."

Vivian's tongue burned as she slammed the door to her locker and snapped the padlock shut before spinning around to face the triad of her fellow Freedom Fighters looking on at her hungrily. She could feel the air beginning to heat around her mouth and eyes, but she could still hold off on her abilities. She wasn't without her control. Vivian's tone was warm and cooing, but had the slightest hint of venom.

"I tend the medbay, I heal the injured and I console the mourning as well as I can. That is my job. My duty. I refuse to get out there and become a part of the problem that I am working to solve."

With an impatient huff, she cuffed a dangling piece of short hair behind her ear and grit her teeth. They were becoming more and more persistent with each person that was brought to her. It was terrible. Horrible. Burns and bulletwounds and dismemberments and blood and guts everywhere. It was non-stop. All she wanted to do was to try and stem the tide of violence that came spilling in through her medbay doors every time there was a major conflict. "Come on," One of the rebels pleaded, "With your light-show bullshit we could really hit them where the sun don't shine, y'know?"

She turned from them and walked from the locker-room over to a basin to wash her hands. The water was cold and her hands let off a belch of steam as she shook them dry. Her expression was completely unamused. Looking him in the eye proved less welcoming than she anticipated, as they flinched away from her icy glare. "First of all, really? A pun was supposed to convince me? Come on, guy." She planted her boot forward and stopped at the doorframe between the lockerroom and the main floor of the medbay. Vivian may have been a shrinking violet when dealing with her patients, but she was fervent in her beliefs otherwise. She was not a violent woman. She vowed to do no harm, even before she qualified for her schooling.

"Second of all, no. No, and that is final."

Jack Hawke, Shadowjack;

Insurgent Countermeasures And Reactive Ubiquitous Strike force (ICARUS) Command

Helios Corporate, Arcadia.

___________________________________________________________________________

Jack was pacing around his office casually, his hand placed thoughtfully on his chin and his arm crossed over his chest, comfortably tucked against him as he looked at the active roster for ICARUS, his private company of soldiers and innovators that he always trusted to carry out his directives, or rather those of his boss, who was none other than the CEO himself. It wasn't often that Mr. Cypher would come down with a direct order for them, but it seemed as though something was needed of him and his men.

The meeting earlier had been swift, and the details of it were kept scarce. Jack wasn't even sure that anyone else knew about the meeting. It wasn't broadcasted through any channels, there were no summons. He simply walked right through the door with files in hand and took a seat.

The masked man shook his thoughts away as he came back to the matter at hand. ICARUS needed more agents, more operatives than the common soldier he could call upon. Jack grew rather tired of having robots around all day, and wanted some new talent. He quickly put up some fliers and sent out broadcasts to every Helios base in existence, hoping. To draw the attention of at least a few people.

Icarus had been created as the main instrument of justice against the terrorists who called themselves Freedom Fighters. He laughed to himself as he considered them. "These nimrods need to get it in to their thick skulls that all they're doing is causing the problems that justify whatever actions we take. You'd think that would occur to at least one of them!" he spoke out to the room, as was his habit. However, unlike most people, he was answered back.

"Well, Jack, some people just aren't as insightful as us."
"Or as capable."
"Not nearly as good looking."

All these voices came from around the room, as shadowy figures stood at each point, their hand upon their chin, arm crossed over the chest.

"Aww, thanks Jacks, you're all too kind." he replied to his clones as they gave their encouragements. "I mean, we could work this ourselves, sure. But we need more than a handful of Jacks in this card game" He said aloud once more, looking to the incoming communications and hoping to find some recruits, or at least returning team members.

"Y'know, five of a kind is an unbeatable hand."

Seeking Intelligent Logistics Assault System (S.I.L.A.S.)

Armoury and Weapons Locker

Helios Headquarters, Arcadia

The Seeking Intelligent Logistics Assault System, or Silas, sat on a bench in the Helios Armoury, silently cleaning his knife. The bench creaked with half a ton of metal and wires, his imposing 7'3" tall statue sat scrutinising the blade for any bloodstains or imperfections. His photoreceptor 'eyes' glowed blue in the rather dim lighting. He was a rouge war robot turned mercenary who was stuck here for the time being, but was fine with the amount of money offered. He looked up when his communicator bleeped. Attached was a file on an important member of the Metahuman terrorists. He opened the file and stated analysing the details.

[://<CONFIDENTIAL>FILE: DATA ON {NEW TARGET}: TARGET CODE: 'MARTYR': <BEGINNING FILE>

Name: Vivian 'Viv' Goodman

Race: Metahuman

Skills: No combat training. Well-educated. Trained in medicinal care and first aid. Skilled long-distance runner and climber. Good eyesight.

Powers: Photokinesis, Wound Transferral and Regeneration.

Appearance: Vivian is lean and is 5'2". She has a slightly tanned skin tone and has blue eyes. Her hair is black and has somewhat of a pixie cut. She is usually seen smiling, and her lips are riddled with small cuts. She is lithe and wiry from continuous cardiovascular exercise and training. She wears practical outfits, usually consisting of cargo pants, long-sleeved shirts, heavy jackets and work boots, usually in brown and black. Light sometimes shines from her eyes and mouth when using her powers

<SEE IMAGE>

Mission: Eliminate at all costs.

<END FILE> <CLOSING FILE>\\:]

"So, my first mission in this world," Silas said, staring at the image of the young woman, his voice metallic and slightly distorted as he closed the file and kept his combat knife. He picked up his signature Dispatcher Handgun and loaded it with Helios-manufactured high penetration explosive rounds, and spun it. He knew his target probably wouldn't last very long, but then again she had powers. A real challenge.

Standing up, he began making his way to ICARUS command, some sort of newly-established elite soldier team. He wanted to see their skills.

"Let's see how tough its inhabitants really are."

When the call had gone out for more capable agents, the doctors had realized it was time to finally field test their weapon. A project long in the works, a soldier who would match even the most capable of mutants in combat. Armed and armoured in the best technology Heliod could provide, and nearly unkillable. He was the Fist of Heliod, the genetically engineered killing machine.

Clad in his full armour, Micheal walked through the door, as well as some of the wall on either side. His broad armoured frame left imprints with each step, a walking tank with the power of a bulldozer in each punch. His very steps left imprints on the stone floor, each boot lined with the text 'Heliod was here', left firmly printed into the rock. Perhaps one might have found this funny, but it was clear from Micheal's face that he did not. In fact, he looked like he would find Funny and kill it's mother.

"I heard you needed capable men. I am ready to serve Helios in any way necessary." The voice was deep and strong, although just slightly inhuman in nature. It was hard to mimic the human voice perfectly, and while nobody could quite define what it was, Micheal sounded.... off. Like a doll that looks so human, but just a little bit too plastic. "Where is the enemy?"

Max was making his usual runs going from one building to the other, collecting money from the owners since they needed to for protection. Max loved the life of crime and was very close to joining the freedom fighters but money is what he loved most. Since Helios is actually willing to pay a lot of money just to bring down the freedom fighters so well Max gave command to his right hand man since Max will be gone for awhile. There is another thing that Max loves and that's spending money especially on explosives which he stores all of them in his penthouse. He keeps them in a display case in secret room that he built when he got the penthouse, you could call it a firework collection.

Anyway Max and couple of other guys finished counting all the money they collected after getting back to the penthouse. Max went to his wardrobe and got out a black tuxedo to wear for when he goes to sign up for Helios. So after all that Max went down the elevator down to the lobby where he went out the front doors and got into his limo...well not actually since it's stolen. His limo driver drove him near the Helios headquarters and Max thought that he should walk from there. With that he stood in front of the doors to the HQ and thought that this was it, the time in his life where he will get to face enemies that actually have skills for once. Then Max opened the doors and noticed that a few bit of people were already here. "I heard you needed capable men to bring down the freedom fighters and I came here to deliver but of course if you've got the money," said Max with enthusiasm.

Dr. Rodney "Cagehead" McNivens

Insurgent Countermeasures And Reactive Ubiquitous Strike force (ICARUS) Command

_________________________________________________________

The door to Shadowjack's office opens, as Dr. McNivens walks in, straightening the dark purple tie that barely stood out from his black suit. He glanced around the room, long nose crinkling in disgust at the other occupants as he sat down at an open chair and set his attaché case on the floor next to him. He felt...trapped. Closed in by these closed minds that surrounded him in this obnoxiously tiny office. Brutes, the lot of them. Ignorant, mindless drones used to taking orders and following commands without thought. And his clones. And, from the sounds of it, a mercenary, of all things. How utterly dreadful. But, no matter, he would make use out of whatever tools Helios gave him, meager as they are.

Taking off his glasses, Dr. McNivens pulled a small cleaning towel out of the breast pocket in his suit and started cleaning the lenses, not even bothering to look up at Shadowjack or the others in the room.
"Do not misunderstand my intentions in joining this...unit, Mr. Hawke. I care nothing for whatever political agenda you are working under, or for this revolution you are attempting to do combat."
He sets his glasses back on his thin face, peering over at the masked soldier. The contemptuous disdain in his expression was clear as day.
"However, I have been hearing reports that these 'freedom fighters' may possess certain items and information that could prove useful to my research, and joining this decidedly motley travesty is the fastest way to procure it. My considerable talents would undoubtedly be useful for you to utilize, and you" meat shields "are the safest way to escort me to my goal. You have your mission, commander, and I have mine. Understood?"

_______________________________

Jack would have noted each individual as they walked through his door, into the small confines, he noted, of the preliminary office He had chosen to do business in. After the last one, the snooty lookin' guy, Jack dispersed his clones to allow for some more room, noticing how they fell in line well enough. He heard what each one had to say as they made their entrance and took note on how to address each one of them.

He of course approached the first attendee, whom he noted was already prepared and on his side. "Oh, hell yes! I've been pouring so much money into your development, god I'm actually excited! Of course, I already have all of your information, big guy. 'The Fist of Helios'! Consider yourself onboard and hired! Now, just head on over to the next room and I'll try to figure out where to send you first. Oh and, since you'll be hitting the shooting range, tell the guy in there to do a full weapons check. I wanna see what you can do!"

Jack would pay him on the... Armor... And move right on to the next guy. He eyed him up and down, his eye doing a quick scan to identify the man before him. The tuxedo was a bit surprising, and kinda funny really, but Jack his his smirk well enough. He had already known who the man was and had him tagged the moment he approached the building. "Well, I honestly didn't expect to see you here, Maxie boy. Seeing as how you have a minor bounty out for your arrest and are pretty well known for your antics, 'El Diablo'. I will say that it took some really cahones to waltz into my office. Hell, I'll clear your bounty and pay you off... If you do some real, honest work for us. THEN I'll consider not turning you in just for kicks. Clear? Of course I am. Now, if you're still interested, go to the third door down the main corridor. There will be another desk and a decent chair. Sit there and wait for me." He took one more look and stepped away.

Thus, Jack came to the last person currently on his list, and the only other person in the room. He would sigh and sit down at the small desk, fixing a few files and straightening up. "To be quite honest, Doc, you're the most interesting person that's signed up, I was hoping for more. Besides, y'know, my walking f'ing tank in the next room. You might as well make yourself comfortable." he would say as a shadow clone pushed a chair up in front of the desk. Whether the doctor would or not, Jack would continue. "So, you're into research then? I was really hoping more for the war doctor type, but I'll make it work. I'll keep this brief so that we don't need to drag things out. What's your motive here, why do you want it, and what makes me want to give it to you? Convince me, and I'll have a nice little spot for you up in Skyreach with funding." He didn't really feel like wasting anyone's time any more than he wasted his own.

Vivian Goodman (Martyr)

---

The scissors sliced through the bandages as if they were ages-old papyrus, ready to crumble into dust. The gauze was stained with red and yellow, dried and crusted over from the deluge of blood and puss from the infected cut upon this patient's shoulder. A laceration from shrapnel in the field. Her best guess was from a crumbling building or an vehicle explosive, judging by the chunk of fiberglass she pulled from the man just a few days prior. She hissed along with him as she peeled back the absorbent dressing in one large chunk. The swelling had gone down, and the wound was beginning to scab normally, which was great. It brought a smile to her face.

"Gotta say Ma'am, you're doin' fine work here. Up, down and around, I've seen ya rush." The man said between soft groans and weak coughs. "How d'ya find time to rest with all the busywork?"

Vivian paused for a moment before rolling up her sleeve. The man took a sideways glance to her before returning his eyes to his feet at the end of the bed. He hissed again as she applied pressure around the laceration and her breathing slowed. "I'll need you to hold still for a sec." She said softly, heat building behind her eyes and deep in her chest, funnelling out through her throat. A few silent seconds passed before the deep cut began to knit itself back together, like paper burning in reverse. Vivian could feel dozens of tiny fingers prying open the flesh and skin of her shoulder as she watched the wound recede on the man's arm. This time she hissed louder than him, but she grit her teeth until the cut had shrunk to half the size and severity before letting go.

"Darlin' are ya alright? Yer lookin' mighty pale alluvuh sudden." Vivian ignored her wobbling step backward, spitting out a slurred, "I'll be aight. Don't worry." From her shoulder down to her elbow was covered with deep red, and flowing slightly still as she sat down beside the bed, next to the window. As soon as the rays hit her, she sighed in relief and closed her eyes.

"Just gimme a minute."

Artour had been in his living quarters for the past few days. He hadn't left it once. Other people had been bringing him his meals and whatever he needed. It wasn't uncommon for him to hole up in his room until a mission started. He hadn't been doing much, anyways. He had no talents outside of the battlefield.

For the past 12 hours, Artour had been taking apart his large sniper rifle. He had been doing so in such a slow and meticulous manner. Anyone watching would be bored by the third minute. Every time Artour removed a part, he wrote inside of a small notebook. Each "chapter" had almost the exact same writing as the last. Every small blemish on a single part was noted by Artour. Any rational person wouldn't notice the small fragments of missing metal. Due to his precise writing inside of the book, Artour always noticed.

Nobody called Artour "Artour". They never called him anything because he was always alone, writing in his notebook. People who did want him tended to call him Hush, as they would never remember his full name.

Artour had finished has catalogue of his rifle. The large period of silence had given him time to think. He had thought about many different things. Things such as why he helped the freedom fighters or what traps he could make. He gave a long sigh, and began to put his sniper back together. The process was much faster. He didn't inspect each bolt, screw, piece of metal or glass this time. He just put them together with his eyes closed.

Once the Artour put the sniper together, he placed it on the large table next to his bed. From outside of a drawer from that table, Artour brought out another notebook. This notebook had the word "14" on the cover. Artour flipped the pages and found an empty section. He began to write in this one too. His writing was much faster than his inspecting. Artour omitted the smaller details. He drew a picture of a cylinder with a valve on it. Inside of the cylinder was a small disk that would open up when someone would turn the valve. A small trap that would someone would never use. Artour wrote many chemical names next to it. He connected each chemical and where it would go inside of the tube with a line. Underneath was. Artour wrote "For use with pipes with valves" at the bottom.

In truth, someone wouldn't use most of Artour's traps. Still, it was a hobby that Artour enjoyed. It kept everything nice and quiet. Just like it should be.

Artour sat on his bed, waiting for something eventful to happen.

"Firepower, huh? Yeah, I can do that. Then ima go take a patrol of the Glade. I'll leave the paperwork to you." With heavy steps, the one-man tank marched in teh direction of the firing range. Most doors weren't constructed for his bulk, but he really didn't mind. He simply raised a foot, and made his own door. It was fairly obvious that if this had been the second floor, Micheal would likely would have sunk through the floor like it had been wet tissue paper.

The firing range currently accommodated several of Helios' elite troops. Specialists in their particular fields, each armed with high-tech weaponry of one variant or another. As Micheal took his place however, he knew he'd draw some looks. His weaponry and armour was a step above most, the newest of the new.

First, he chose to demonstrate perhaps his most impressive weapon. The Magnetic Pulse Generator, or the Power Glove as he liked to call it. The Gauntlet was equipped with a series of powerful electromagnets that could be rearranged to form a variety of patterns. They functioned as a kind of railgun, rapidly accelerating any metal thrown object to supersonic speeds. It could further be used as a shield that deflected incoming bullets, and a piston allowed it to fire part of the gauntlet forward. Thus punches with his right hand could hold the power to crush even heavy tank armour, as it was briefly accelerated to nearly supersonic speeds.

A large block attached to his right shoulder ejected what appeared to be a tank shell. He caught it, and extended his hand towards the target range. An automatic targetting system wtihin his helmet allowed him to aim with impeccable accuracy. As the electromagnets fired, the shell launched with a short bang. It exploded upon contact, annihilating not only the target, but the wall behind it, and anything else within 3 meters of it. Shrapnel tore through bricks like butter, as the tungsten high-penetration tip continued through the back of the facility. It was a good thing the target range pointed out towards a forest, because that tip was intended as an anti-tank weapon.

His other weaponry would have to wait. Micheal felt he'd left the impression he needed to leave. Equipping himself with his modified Heavy Flame Thrower and a secondary shoulder-mounted fuel canister, he left the facility. He'd been stuck in a lab for two years now, moving through training simulations, fighting captured foes, practising combat in a variety of martial arts. And all the time he'd hungered for some action, to personally bring the light of civilisation to the savage mutants. And he had the intention to do just that, as he set out to find the rebel base. If he did, he would singlehandedly bring it crashing down, or at least so he believed.

Dr. McNivens

____________________________________

Dr. Rodney McNivens started pulling the mother of all sneers. War doctor? The sciences he practiced was such a degree above any petty warmonger that being relegated as some petty li-hello there. There it was, the magic word. Funding. For ages, all of Dr. McNivens work was operating on the barest of shoestring budgets, constantly overlooked in favor of unbelievably sub-par projects. Such as the strike force whose office he was sitting in. Or the large armored man that had been in the room with them. All he had to do was sell his work to this soldier. Should be easy, right? Any fool with half a brain could see his vision!

"Insects are insects, Mr. Hawke." He smiled. Or tried to, considering that it's a face he doesn't usually put on. "And, even if we could create an insect that was stronger or faster than most insects, this does not change the fact that it is nothing more than an insignificant bug, eternally convinced that it's view an inch off the ground is all the universe holds." He takes a rather poignant glance to the hole left by Micheal.

"No. In order to truly free ourselves from scuttling around the ground, we must break free from this. We must evolve, we must break free from our paltry bonds and escape from the bondage into a higher plane." Careful there, Rodney. You get worked up when talking about your vision, and that's turned away more than a couple of investors before. He clasps his hand together. "The metamorphosis, the evolution beyond our life as insects into a true power on the cosmic stage. Truth be told, I am on the verge of some rather...interesting breakthroughs, however I am missing a few key points of research. I was quite hoping that these 'metahumans' may have been have stumbled upon some useful pieces on their own and that I may...acquire them. Should that prove fruitless, then they could at the very least provide some useful testing subjects. On their own, they may very well prove useful in some way, shape or form. All I require is a proper envoy, as my funding is rather...limited. At the moment. Research we all shall benefit from. Yourself included. If you wish to see the experiments I am currently working on, I would gladly set you up to tour our facilities, yes?"

As Silas continued to make his journey from the Armoury to ICARUS Command, he observed the many equipment and technologies Helios seemed to use. They just seemed rather... primitive. Then again, it would probably be best to ask some guy he met along the way for the date.

After all, it was was year 2731 back in his world. His world. Silas knew that even his inbuilt processing matrix could not predict how long he would be here. Come to think of it, the compound sure was pretty, with its mostly black walls and shiny gold trim. He had heard that Helios made some good machinery and weapons, and he could only hope that they would work on him, as he made modifications to himself every now and then. Maybe he might even find better armour for his battle-damaged exoskeleton. He doubted it, though. This world appeared to be nearly two-hundred years behind his. But hell, the money was great! He had more advanced equipment than what he observed the other grunts and drones carrying around. Silas didn't think any of them could deploy a nearly unbreakable dome shield.

Of course he didn't like the looks that the other Helios soldiers gave him, but he was used to it by now. His tall frame and reflective material attracted a lot of attention, even though the metal plates we slightly dull from years of use and battle. He was snapped out of his thoughts when he saw the admittedly small entrance to the office of some guy named Shadowjack, the apparent leader of the strike force ICARUS. Strange name. But he had time to think about it later, as Silas pushed the door open.

The door of ICARUS Command flew open with slightly more force than Silas expected. Nonetheless, the mercenary walked in, his metallic feet clanking with each step. Already, he could see that there were a small number of people in the room. He scanned each one of them. One was an enormous figure in bright red armour who was slightly taller than the Metallic Mercenary. One was some guy in a tuxedo and had a katana behind his back. Another was a guy who wore a jacket, jeans, and a bulletproof mask that resembled... His own face? These people were weird. The last one was wearing a cross between a lab coat and a sharp black suit, obviously a scientist. God, how he hated scientists. Now, Silas could see that all the eyes in the room were on him.

Max was a little pissed off because this Jack guy called him Maxie but Max didn't really care all too much. Jack did mention that his bounty could be cleared which Max kind of forgot about. He was only here because of the money but clearing his bounty might be good as well. Things are going to get very interesting from here but until then might as well listen to what this Jack guy has to say.

As Max was walking toward the room that Jack told him to go in, some people came through the doors. One was a scientist that looked sketchy and a big robot at least that was he thinks it is. He looked pretty dangerous which was good to Max, 'maybe he could work for me' is what Max thought about. But that is for later anyway Max intends to try to get along with everybody since he had idea. Well now that it looked like that no one else will come through the doors, Max went into the room and sat in a chair.

Shadowjack

_________________________________________

Jack looked pretty eased by the obviously mad scientist that sat before him. He had noticed that the man had a particular set to his shoulders that showed he was a cut above, or perhaps a sanity's cut thinner, than the rest. He always had room in Skyreach for irrational projects, and as long as it brought even a slight increase to the stores of knowledge Helios had, he couldn't possibly turn it down.

"You know, doc, I gotta say that I didn't expect that little speech of yours. I can see that you are a passionate man, one that might be a bit off his rocker, but I will gladly supply you with the things you need."

Jack leaned a little closer and continued. "Everything you need will be sent through my department here at ICARUS as requisitions. I have top level access, so the sky is the limit. Just get me results, and I'll support your work."

He stared at the scientist with a look that showed his appreciation for the man as he extended his hand to seal the deal, hoping a firm shake would do in lou of official papers thus far.