"What a happy day." Edge thought to himself without a care in the world. He was wrapped in a trench coat. Today like many others Edge was walking towards a personal haven of his. The L.A. Center for Humans. If was a thin vailed Metahuman hate group and the perfect place to see the start of his newest plan.

For over four years, since it became apparent to Edge that the humans would fear and hate the Metahumans. Edge had been working on a plan to place the Metahumans at the top of the mountain where they should be. The humans were weak and frail. They feared anything that was different from them.

The growth of the Underground had been rabid and unencumbered. Just the way Edge wanted it. The Reformist Council knew nothing as far as he could tell but they were all cowards to start with. Infact not even the U.S. government knew anything about what Edge had planned. Today really was a good day.

When he walked he was elated to find everyone all together. Edge should have felt bad for picking such easy targets. Edge however, felt nothing but joy.

Everyone was gathered together. Sitting in their would be church pews. This was gonna be easier than shooting fish in barrel. Edge moved quickly to the corner of the room before letting out three invisible slices. With a few waves of his arms and a couple of seconds, almost everyone was sitting in their seats minus their heads.

Edge looked to the lead hate monger and took off his coat. Tossing the coat around his arm. He spoke softly. "Tell the world what you saw here today. And know, this is just the start. What comes next is much worse." Those were Edge's last before a wave of the hand took out the lead hate monger.

All that was left was a small family of three. Edge bowed before leave and out his coat on before leaving. From his helmet he sent a message back to his base of operations. "Call everyone in. Mission complete."



"I just want you to know. This isnt personal. I'm not doing this because I hate you. To prove that, I won't kill your family like have done for everyone else. They can go on for the rest if their days without fear me. Truth be told I like you. Because if you I become Baba Yaga. Because of you I became the man you sent to kill the Bogeyman. I got a lot out of that and I am thankful for it." Elijah said as he flicked the last of his cigarette away from him.

I just promised I'd do this so I can't be made a liar now. Any last words? Knowing that I don't sit upon you in judgment."

"Please just leave my family alone." The last of the Russian Mobsters said.

"More then fair and admirable. I'll go the extra mile and offer you how would die. I can burn you or I can shoot you. Either way you don't feel anything. Gun shot, you can have an open casket and your family can Identify you." Elijah said from the edge of his seat.

"I will take the burning, like my comrades." Yuri said bravely.

"Yuri that's why I always liked you. Anyone else would have would have taken the bullet. I admire that in you, brave man. Well, the sooner we get to it the sooner we get through it. Last words or requests?" There was a certain solemnness to Eli's tone.

"Bottle and a pleasure woman." Yuri said with a laugh.

Eli couldn't help but laugh as well. He reached behind himself to pull a bottle. It was a fine vodka, either I didn't ever care for vodka but he knew Yuri would. Eli brought a bottle special for him. Rising from his seat, he gave Yuri a drink before frying his brain and killing him.

"Yuri, of them all them all, I hate this one the most. May G-d love you as much as I do." There was pain in the voice of Elijah Craigh.

After offering Yuri a drink. Elijah Craigh fried his brain by way of of the ear. It was quick and painless. Better than anything he offered the rest of them.

Sable Smoak

Sable Smoak, leader of the Reformists, was sitting in her office. Reclining in her chair, she blew out a plume of smoke, a cigarette resting in her weathered fingers. Though perhaps it would be more accurate to say she sighed it out. She held the paper she'd been reading up in front of her face, her mouth flattened into a displeased line.

And it is with great pleasure and humility that I welcome Mayor Joseph Martinez…

She snorted. The only thing that would give her pleasure would be walking into his house for just an hour, so she could watch him cough and gag away the smoke for the next month. But he was the only official willing to support them openly, and such… friendship required reciprocation, usually in the form of bullshit speeches, smiles, and handshaking. Sable lifted her cigarette and pressed the tip into his name, twirling it a little as orange embers fanned out around it, eating away at the ink and paper. The corner of her lips quirked up. She was pulled out of her petty enjoyment though when the phone rang. Pulling the smoke down to the paper to smother the embers, she looked down at the caller ID and rolled her eyes. Speak of the pompous devil.

"What," she said into the phone, her gravelly voice no doubt even harsher over the phone.

"I-its… the… the LA," Mayor Martinez stammered, and Sable made a face.

"Out with it boy, you ain't askin' me to prom." Sable pursed her lips in what might've been a smile. The mayor hated when she called him that.

There was a moment of silence before the mayor answered. "The LA Center for Humans has been attacked, and sources all but confirm it was the Underground Movement," he finally managed. Sable froze. Then she turned to her computer – surprisingly current for a woman of her age – and pulled up the local news.

Sable cursed, using language that no doubt made the mayor blush.

"We ain't your super powered police dogs," she said when she finally finished watching the footage. But even as she said it, she knew that wasn't true, and so did he. As the self-appointed ambassadors for Metas all over the world, the mayor, and more importantly, the public held them responsible any time the Underground decided to play.

"Deal with it, Smoak!" The line went dead.

Sable slammed the receiver down before lifting it again, pressing a sequence of numbers.

"I want everyone available down at the LA Center for Pea-Brains and Racists," she bit into the phone, more and more smoke filling the room. The person on the other end was confused, and rightfully so. The group wasn't exactly subtle with its beliefs – that all Metas should be eradicated immediately. But apparently the other person's response had been the wrong one. "Was that a question I heard?" the Reformist leader all but shouted. She pinched her eyes shut and brought her cigarette hand to her temple.

"Just make sure no more end up dead," she said at a more reasonable volume. "And someone better tell me how the hell we didn't know jack shit about this until now!" Then she slammed the phone down.

Aya

Aya was walking back towards her apartment after a day of work. Today had been one of her longer days, and all she wanted to do was to unlock her door that didn't open unless you yanked at least three times, walk up the creaking stairs, and collapse into her flat, uncomfortable bed. At this point she was seriously considering just buying a futon and throwing some pillows on it. It couldn't have been any worse than the sorry excuse for a mattress she had now.

Sighing, Aya gathered herself up as she turned the corner. This block was her least favorite part of the walk home – right past one of LA's more vocal anti-Meta groups. Of course, no one knew she was a Meta. And if she had it her way, no one ever would. But still, walking past that building made her hair stand on end, and her stomach migrate to her throat. Unfortunately, this was the quickest way home, and the next best route took her right through a notoriously violent ghetto. Aya supposed she'd rather be uncomfortable than mugged.

But something seemed off today. The sounds of the city were more frantic, more alarmed than they normally were. People normally talked or shouted, but Aya was certain she heard screaming. Her eyes widened when she realized the screaming was coming from further down the street, from the very building she dreaded to pass every day. People were clamoring like ants, some running away, others frozen in place with their phones out, no doubt recording whatever spectacle was on display. Aya's heart pounded in her chest to turn around and take her chances with the ghetto, but her feet drove forward, speeding up until she was sprinting to the scene.

Aya skidded to a stop when she reached a clump of people standing on the sidewalk, gawking at the building. It wasn't until she pushed her way to the front, chest panting – whether from fear or exhaustion, she couldn't tell – that she finally understood.

The grand double doors of the building were held wide open, blood seeping from the carpet to the asphalt as it crossed the threshold. The corner of the back pews could be seen, stained crimson. A sickening lump was resting just within her field of vision, covered in light blue cotton that had once been an immaculate shirt. Just to the side of it on the floor, resting in a growing pool of blood was its head.

Aya smothered a scream, clamping her shaking hand over her mouth. But her heart stopped when a figure strolled through the door, wearing a splattered trench coat. She knew that figure. Everyone in LA knew it.

Edge. The leader of the Underground Movement.

Aya stood frozen, paralyzed by fear as he made his way out of the building.

The sun was setting on Los Angeles as Alex's helmed visage peered out from the rooftop of an office building. Everyone was going home, their jobs concluded, looking to sit in peace, see their families, treasure the quiet hours of their simple lives. But always, always, there were those out there who would prevent this order of things, who did not see peace and prosperity for all as good, and necessary, and... possible. That was why, even though Alex Trebon's job was concluded, The Paladin's was just beginning.

Well, sort of. It'd been a good day, and he'd been able to get in the armor and intervene in two muggings during his lunch break, so his job wasn't really just beginning. But then, maybe that meant it'd been a bad day, since there'd been two muggings for him to stop, and he'd certainly prefer it if there were less muggings rather than more.

He was getting sidetracked, and Alex shook his head and yawned inside his helmet. His... 'activities' were taking a toll on his sleep schedule, but he wouldn't - couldn't - stop. Not to act with the power he'd been given seemed so... selfish, even if it was just for a night to catch up on sleep.

There was a buzzing in his ear from the police radio he'd set up in his helmet, and he was quickly jolted awake. With alertness came sickness as the details of the dispatch became clear to him. A massacre... a bloody mess made of a local anti-meta meeting. Doubtless the work of some disgruntled Meta-human, believing that senseless violence would help their cause, bring things to a better result, a more advantageous peace. Or maybe they wanted no peace at all - maybe they wanted massacre after massacre, stretching on forever.

The Paladin ground his teeth and rose. He wasn't far, and the report was recent. He could get there before whoever had done this could make a clean getaway. He could make it.

He began to jog across the rooftop. Running in the armor wasn't easy, but it wasn't impossible, especially not when he could get some momentum going. When he reached the edge of the roof, he shot out his hands. At his command, the light solidified, making a shimmering bridge between this roof and the next. Without a second thought, Alex stepped onto it and carried on his course.

In this way he ran, rooftop to rooftop, until at last he could see the scene of the crime. A great number of people were congregated outside, murmuring and gasping at the blood running from the doorway.

Alex watched from the rooftop as a figure he didn't recognize emerged from the building. There was the killer. The Paladin jumped down from the rooftop, a sword of white light solidifying in his hand.

"Emperor, intrusion has been detected." Theo said.

Alto could see him out of the corner of his eyes, his black hair and the i'll-be-neutral-even-when-the-world-explodes look in his eyes were easily recognizable.

"Intrusion masked." Con said on the other side of him.

She looked similar to Theo except she looked more like a little girl while Theo looked about 19-ish.

"Wow... You guys are so intense," Alto said, "You realize you're just watching a movie from over my shoulders right?"

Alto was at his computer, in his office, in his skyscraper, in his company which he'd made. On the screen, he was watching Mission Impossible and he wasn't entirely sure why they were so into it.

"Yes."
"Yes."

They both said, eyes still firmly fixed on the screen.

"You guys..." Alto sighed. These two were physical projections of his two robot arms. They had a consciousness but they were limited to his arms until he made a program to manifest their physical forms. Both of them were technically coming out of his left arm which was Theo because he had the mystic space energy stuff while Con had the Black Steel.

They basically had functional human bodies but they didn't technically have bodily functions. It went as far as senses and movement and that was just about it.

"Is that transfer done yet?" He paused the movie and he noticed Con drooped slightly. It was barely noticeable but her mouth turned into a very slight frown as he tabbed out to his other window. "Sweet, 90%." he said.

He was actually hacking a certain scientific database and he was stealing all of some unfortunate scientist's research on meta-prosthetic interactions. Truth be told, he'd written the entire theory on the whole thing and he was only stealing the guy's research results after repeating Alto's experiments, because you need to confirm that your experiment can be repeatable to prove theories and doing it himself would've taken the better part of a week which he didn't want to lose.

Instead, it was now only taking the better part of his lunch break, and he could go back to eating ice cream very soon.

"Sure am glad I lied about that." He said, switching back to the movie.

Yeah, he'd said he'd done multiple experiments on it but he'd only done about 6. But he already knew it would work, so he didn't feel like doing any more. But thanks to his lies, someone else did his work for him and proved that his theory really was right, and now all he had to do was change the names around, edit the powers a little and he would have a full research study done, proving that Meta powers could be streamed through prosthetics.

Being illegal really did have its benefits. Suddenly, his phone rang. He picked it up and started talking.

"I'm almost done up here." He said. He stepped back from the desk so Theo and Con could watch without disturbing them. "He was actually there? You were wearing a mask right?"

He stepped over to the window and looked out over Los Angeles.

"You got the back-ups as well right?" He said, pausing for a few seconds. "Good, the money will be in your account soon."

He went to hang up, but there was one more thing said.

"Illegal Stuff's the name of the game Sefia," He said, smiling mischeviously, "Illegal Stuff Pty. Ltd."

---

Nancy Jewels' expertise never really was of any use in demonstrative operations such as this one. In fact, it would be quite ludicrous to bring out the underground's main medic and human resources responsible in such a risky environment. The Zombie of the underground movement could only wish to join such a free genocide, dream of the piles of goods she could turn into a true workforce in the service of the one and only: EDGE. Was she completely dedicated to him? Absolutely not, however no other organization seemed to be very accepting of her death-dealing habits and questionable ambitions.

Jewels was residing safely in the Underground Movement's HQ, in her small and messy office, in front of a computer with what seemed to be a skype call opened on one of her tabs. In another she was playing some internet personality quiz, retaking it over and over until she got the personality she wanted. What personality was that? She wasn't sure herself. Every ten seconds or so, her eyes would quickly peer over at the small tab where the skill video call was taking place, but it remained dark, until some movement could be heard. Somehow, she had managed to capture Edge's play on camera. The thing was that Nancy was in no way a computer wizard and wouldn't ask for some hacking for such a quick mission. The camera seemed to be attached to someone, a person in the same place where the whole ordeal took place. They were still quite far away from the family left alive, but at a distance where Nancy could see everything.

"Oh no, oh no! Such great potential lost... If only I was there..."

She sulked upon witnessing the act. She didn't feel bad in any way for the souls of these people who had lost their lives nor the danger that could face the man in the scene. She was sad because she couldn't have her way at the decapitated bodies. They were fresh, their brains were generally intact as well. Easily glued up and ready to go for a hell of a party. Sighing, she couldn't do much other than maintain her orders to the things she had sent to supervise the whole operation, supplying cover to the leader.

"Oh well, maybe next time. So... Hello Chief Edge, I hope the owprartio- Arg!"

She grunted in frustration over what seemed to be a recital of something. It was almost ritual for her to prepare in advance various greetings of expected visitors, or in this case the return of her superior. The reality of it was that she'd always screw those up and make a fool of herself each time, but it didn't bother her one bit, she'd just try again later. Another thing would be this constant, fake-looking smile on her face. Whether it'd be fake or not would be anyone's guess, but she always kept it up and never once appeared angered or upset over something.

"Ahem... Hello Chief, I hope the operation went as planned. I've prepared the files..."

She'd go on with it until something would pop up of any interest.

---

The individual holding the camera was none other than a simple policeman with absolutely nothing particular about him. He simply wore a go pro camera on his uniform and supervised the area. He didn't flinch when the instant executions happened. Quite the contrary, he moved forward without a single sign of anxiety or stress. Along with this man, five other men emerged, four of them wearing cardboard masks of various animals while the last one appeared like the average Joe with a plaid shirt and jeans. They all had the same indifferent behavior toward what had just happened and almost mechanically proceeded to do whatever they had to do.

They were the monstrous Heralds very few in the world knew about, Nancy's foot soldiers and slaves. They worked like a hive mind, doing anything their queen asked them to do and behaved like a collective. There was no place for individuality. The masked ones were somewhat slower in their gait than the normal looking Heralds, but they were simply heading to the mass of bodies left behind. They each proceeded to grab three to four bodies each, two on each shoulder if possible while their fingers grabbed the hair of the nearby heads. When full, they'd bring the corpses to a van parked in a corresponding alleyway. They'd rinse and repeat until interruption.

Those unmasked simply followed Edge, provided that he'd not shred them out of annoyance. The one with the uniform was already wielding a typical shotgun while the other seemed to equip himself with an M16 Assault rifle concealed in a garbage can. They were the people turned Heralds before dying, and thus they held a high level of cognitive capabilities, as demonstrated when the zombified police officer released a shotgun round right as the assailant attempted to strike the leader of the movement. The other one with the assault rifle had just begun loading it as the action unfolded, but he'd swiftly aim it at any sign of hostile movement, or more precisely, right at the face of the attacking metahuman if he were to survive.

It'd be a dangerous game, facing creatures with no regard for their safety and hellbent on getting their objective completed. Not to mention, the inevitable fact that they were all disposable. Trained fighters could only notice the bulk behind their clothes. With such loyal slaves, the concept of a martyr wasn't even needed; they'd strap themselves with explosive jackets at the snap of her fingers.

As the two zombies took aim at the night in shining armor, two thin knives with glowing, red hot blades flew through the air to enter the barrels of the two weapons, making them useless as the heat from the knives fucked up their internal mechanics. From behind the Paladin came a tall man with a big box of what appeared to be frosted Safeway cookies and a cake with a label on it saying, 'For the L.A. Center for Humans, please accepts this cake and learn to be more accepting yourselves while you enjoy it. With Love, Ian Blackwood!'. The man holding the Cake was tall, with a slight bit of black, five O'clock shadow, his long, dyed blond hair tied into a pony tail behind him, the hair in front kept in check by a bandanna with the Reformist logo on it in full view. He was dressed in what was supposed to be formal attire, a black three piece suit with a white dress shirt underneath, but the suit and the shirt were both unbuttoned, showing off his well-muscled chest, a tribal-looking tattoo, and a couple nasty looking scars as well.

His dark grey eyes went from the armored man and his zombie goons, to the guy in knight armor, then to the womanma short ways away who looked scared shitless, before going back to the obvious villains. Whether Paladin was on the ground or standing up after getting shot, the man would grab him by the back of his armor with his left hand, push the sweets into his arms with his right, never taking hus eyes off his opponents.

"Look, I don't know who you are or what you're trying to prove, but I'm telling right now, get the fuck out of here if you want to live. I can tell just by looking at you that you can hardly walk in that armor, so you'll just be collateral damage in a fight against this guy, unless you can use a light bow, or something. If you want to be the hero, take that woman over there to safety." The man tilted his head a little, tapping his finger against his chin as if he was in deep thought before he continued. "Oh, and have a cookie if you want, it and the cake will probably go to waste in my fridge. I don't have much of a craving for sweets these days."

After giving the Paladin his orders, the man stepped forward, looking at his opponents with a critical eye. He didn't think much of the two thugs, but the guy in the trenchcoat was definitely not someone to be underestimated. He could feel it in his gut, that guy was bad news. Raising up his hands, he'd reveal the strange gloves he wa wearing, which were black with blue lines running through them and looked kinda like a biker glove. The lines glowed as a puff of reflective powder enter the air, before instantly forming 6 knives, these ones being a bit thicker in both the blade and the handle, but were still perfectly balanced.

"Well then, Mr. Genocidal Maniac and Co., allow me to introduce myself." As he spoke, Ian threw two knives at each person, aiming for either the shoulder orthe knee. The knives were special shock knives,,and each one packed the strength of a taser. "I'm Ian Blackwood, face of the Reformists and the guy who gets crucified by the public everytime dumb Metas do stupid shit, like you and your cronies did here." Ian waited to see if his knives would hit, and if they did, if they would even work, before charging the enemy. He was currently in his Vibration set, which was how he heated up those first two knives, molecular friction through Vibration, so if the main guy got hit and seemed to be affected by the shock, he'd go in while he's stunned at him with gut punch that would have enough seismic force put into it to make him throw up rather violently. He was onky slightly worried about the armor getting in the eay of the knives, for their thinner blades were made to pierce armor, though the shock ones were a bit thicker, so they might not work as well in thia instance, especially since he has no idea what the armor is made of.

Today was just supposed to be a simple publicity visit to show that the Reformist were trying to work with those who hate Metas as well as try and foster a sense of acceptance. And it had been fucking working too, before this asshole comes in and flushes a years worth of ass kissing, gifts, and tolerance in one fell swoop. He's lucky I don't aim for his balls, hell,,I still just might do it anyway! Man, I really, really . . . . . . really hate this job.

@c3p-0h
@Savato
@AcerRo
@TheWizardLizard

The day was nearing an end in downtown LA, and a young woman had made the unfortunate mistake of taking a shortcut down an alley. As she walked, nervously, always looking ahead of her to the opening back on to the streets, her fears were confirmed. A hand grabbed around her neck, and pushed her up against the wall.
She was face to face with a scruffy looking kid, no older than 18. He had a wild, drugged up look in his eyes, wispy facial hair, and most importantly, held a pistol in his other hand, which he pushed up to under the lady’s chin.
“ Phone, wallet, jewellery, now.” The kid spoke in a raspy, low voice. But as the woman began reaching into her purse, the gun in the kid’s hand flew from his grasp as if wrenched out of his hand by some invisible force. It flew down the alley. The kid turned his head to the direction the gun had gone.
“ What the fu-“ he was cut off by a steel chain wrapping around his neck. He was turned to face his assailant, a very large bald man in full biker attire. The other end of the chain, the one not tightly wrapped around the mugger’s neck was held in the biker’s right hand.

“ Hi. I’m Chainz.” The biker said, with a smirk. Chainz turned 180 degrees, swing his right arm overhead as he did so, using both his physical strength and his powers to swing the mugger overhead, releasing him from the chain and sending the mugger crashing into some bins. Within a second the chain was back around his neck, and he was slammed up against the wall, his body held 2 feet off the ground.
“ Please… please I’m sorry… I can’t breathe!” the mugger barely managed to get the words out. A frown crossed Chainz’ lips, and he very slightly loosened the chain around the kids neck.
“ What are you then huh? Mugger? Rapist?” Chainz near shouted, before turning his head to the woman, who was still stood there in shock. “He try to rape you?”
“ No… No I think he’s just a mugger.” The woman responded.
“Well, did he take anything?” Chainz asked, to which the woman shook her head.
“Alright, well get the fuck outta here. I can handle this kid.” Chainz said, as the woman turned and walked off in a hurry.

Chainz unwrapped the chain from around the kids neck, and the mugger fell to the ground.
“Thank you… I’m sorry I won’t do it again, I just-“
“SHUT UP! You think we’re done? Oh no.” Chainz interrupted, and as he finished his sentence his chain wrapped around the muggers ankle, and Chainz began walking down the alley, dragging the mugger along behind him.
“Please, stop! Oh god, what are you doing!?” the kid cried, and Chainz just rolled his eyes. They turned a corner, and there parked up was Chainz’ pride and joy, his Harley Davidson. He walked over to it, still dragging the kid behind him, and sat himself down in the seat. Placing his finger to the ignition, his power made it unnecessary for him to have a key. The engine spluttered to life and he drove, the kid being dragged along behind him. But then, suddenly, and in much surprise to the kid, it began to fly upwards. It was not a smooth flight by any means, but soon Chainz had reached quite a height. A height that a drop from would surely kill a normal human.

It was at this moment, up in the air, that Chainz noticed the abundance of police cars heading in one direction. He looked around, and saw what looked to be some sort of commotion over at the LA Centre For Humans. He snorted derisively. If something had happened to any of those bigoted assholes who’d love to see Chainz and all other Metas wiped out, he couldn’t really care less. Still, it was best if Chainz knew what was going on. He turned his attention back to the kid, who he swung in front of him, holding him upside down by the chain around his ankle and their faces only a few inches apart.

“ Looks like I don’t have time to give you the full speech and really put the fear of god into you. So I’ll make it simple. I see your ass doing some stupid shit like that again, I bring you back up here. And then I drop you. Understand?” Chainz said, a near expressionless look on his face.

“ Yeah… yeah… I’m sorry can you please put me down now?” the kid responded, and Chainz began to make a descent, landing on top of an apartment block building. He let go of the kid.
“ You can get down by the fire escape.” Chainz told him, before flying off on his Harley again. He landed on a rooftop across the street from the Centre. He stepped off his bike, flipped down the stand and walked over to the edge of the rooftop. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulling out a lighter and a smoke from the pack, he placed the cigarette to his lips, using his left hand to light the lighter and his right hand to guard from wind. He placed the lighter back in the pack and the pack back into his pocket, enjoying his cigarette as he surveyed the scene below.

He could see Edge, the dangerous leader of the underground movement. Chainz certainly didn’t agree with Edge’s ways, and he knew Edge was extremely dangerous. In many ways Chainz would be one of the more useful Metas to work against Edge, assuming that armour was made out of metal Chainz could throw him around like a ragdoll. But all it would take would be one moment of clarity for Edge to remove Chainz’ head from his shoulders. He also spotted Ian Blackwood, the pretty boy who was one of the faces of the Reformists. Chainz agreed with the reformists in many ways. The only reason he wasn’t a part of them was because he was done with following orders from other people. There was some other dude there, some douchebag in a full knights armour. Chainz wondered if the guy knew how ridiculous he looked. For now Chainz stayed on the rooftop. Just watching. If he needed to get involved, it would of course be helping out Ian and the tin man, but Chainz always worked best if he could get the upper hand through an ambush.

The Paladin whirled around at the sound of weapons being loaded. Immediately, a white shield materialized over his left arm, and he shifted his body to be covered by it. Bullets clattered into the hard light and fell still, sending ripples through the surface and making a really interesting noice - sort of a deep, resonating 'bwoop' sort of thing.

Just as Alex was planning his next move, the situation was altered quite drastically - in his favor. Knives came arcing through the air, destroying the weapons, and a new figure entered the scene.

Immediately he rattled off a set of orders to the Paladin, who glanced at the woman he'd pointed to in shock. How had he missed a potential victim so close to the fight? She could have, would have gotten killed if he'd engaged without this new figure. Maybe he would have to, come to think of it - the man seemed pretty certain that the killer was not a man to mess with.

Alex accepted the box of sweets and nodded. "I will get the civilian to safety, then return to cover you. Should you have any need of direct assistance, do call for me, and I will come as quickly as I am able."

Holding the box under his arm and probably crushing most of the goodies within, the Paladin took off running towards the woman - more of a girl, really, getting closer to her. "Apologies, my lady, but the hour is much too desperate for chivalry!" he shouted out as he grabbed at her and kept running, already forming a thick bubble of hard light to protect his passenger from harm.

Edge was there only long enough to be seen. He was sending a message. I'll be seen when I want ans never when I don't want to be seen. He ducked into alley way before disappearing. This was all part if he plan.

The wanna be pirate had made his appearance. Video was readily available on all the prominent member's of the Reformist. Meaning any of them that are worth damn or could ever hope to stand against the UNG. The wanna be would run his mouth and throw some knives the moment he was done talking. It had had been seen and done so many times it was like clockwork.

Edge waved his hand back sending back a yellow shock wave that cut down the knives and everything else for nearly ten yards.
He disappeared from sight a sewer entrance he made use of was the final act of vanishing. The alerts came through on the helmet. There was Nancy, ever the faithful solder. She was an odd one that Edge never fully understood. He didn't need too as long as goals we're met.

"Nancy my dear, how is the evening treating you? The operation went splendid. I undoubtedly think they got the message. How goes your newest experiment?" Edge spoke with a soft calmness that was almost uncomfortable as crept down the sewers whistling a joyful tune.

What was there to be down about? He had killed a great many people who wanted to do them harm. He just fell upon quicker than they could the Metas. This was only the first of many attacks.

As long as there even a shread of antimeta thoughts. Edge would keep killing. When the thoughts were gone he would take over. Take over everything and everyone. The pathetic norms will bow before the Metas. End of story.


Russia was fucking cold, how people lived was beyond this place. The building burning down behind helped. The body of his once good friend Yuri didn't help at all. Just kinda made the cold cut in a little more.

Eli would do as he promised and leave his family alone. It was against his standard operating procedures. Normally he killed everyone, no one left to bring him harm.

It was always hard to tell what side Eli was on. In a few years, he had pretty killed every leader in the Russian Mob and their families, and their friends, even when so far as to get their pets.

He had done a good thing, the right thing. Yet, even he had to wonder if all this blood shed was worth it. Hell the only reason Interpol had left him alone waa because he was better at killing than they were at find him and for some reason, people liked what he was doing.

He was a bad man doing very bad things but that was no reason to feel bad about it. Or so he told himself.

Tossing the body in the back of a car, he drove Yuri's lifeless remains in the back. It was in fact Yuri's car. Eli drove it to the front Yuri's house, put him the passenger seat and left a note that said "It's over."

In the hours that followed Eli found himself in bar. He thank whatever deity came up with the idea of 24 hour bars. A couple whiskey's and bar stool later he found himself watching the news.

Some ass hat had killed a bunch of people. Now the Reformist, I'm all their questionable glory we're gonna save the day. To Eli, they were little more than the Metahuman beat cops. From what he had heard, they've done an major overhaul of the Metahuman image in the past few years.

Elijah looked at his watch, he was late on weekly phone call to Aiko. A darling of a Japanese girl that he had found on his travels. They were only together for a couple weeks but that was enough for them to build a very close bond. Eli even went as far as taking her to reformist to see her control her powers. Even at 12 she was stronger power wise than Eli himself might ever hope. She was a sweet kid that deserved a decent life.

With thoughts of that little girl in his head and all that was going in L.A. Eli couldn't help but feel like was time to go back. He couldn't remember the last time he was in the US for more than a day or two. Had to be upwards of two or three years. He had nothing else going on right now. "Bartender!" Eli shouted while pulling a large was of bills. "I'll give you all this if you get on that phone of yours and get me a flight to L.A." Tossing it the woman behind the bar "My name is Dimitri Yuri Yurievich. Another whiskey while your at it.

I'd take a day, maybe two to get back to L.A. and all the fucking traffic. Still it would a trio worth taking.

Jon grimaced as he came to a halt on a street corner, turning his mouth into the crook of his elbow to let out a cough that sounded as miserable as he felt, while waiting patiently for the cross sign to turn green. The lights blurred as his eyes watered, once again mentally restraining himself from sneezing like a madman for the umpteenth time today, oh what a joy it was to be him.

Four weeks had passed now and Jon was still sick, his GP was baffled by the rapid appearances of symptoms and the constant bruising and grazes he seemed to gain overnight without knowledge. It was like he was cursed or something.

Today had left him more worn out than usual, slumped over his handlebars he almost missed the lights while watching the shadows play on the pavement. He groaned softly to himself as he got the bike in motion, frowning as he thought back on today. His boss Rebecca had been getting on his case lately, like it was his fault he was sick all the time and how he should be more like Jerry who had the good grace to recover fast from his cold while working in the shop and once again he had been assigned to stacking boxes in the back, followed by sitting on his ass whilst he watched the minutes tick by. God Rebecca can be such a bitc... He sat up suddenly at the sound of gunfire, from just around the corner, ripped from his thoughts by the startling sound.

"Jesus.." He muttered, squeezing the brakes to bring his bike to a stop, the sound of a commotion emanating just out of his sight. Fear held him still for some time as he strained to hear what was going on, sweat trickled down his spine as he sat poised on his bike, ready to move at the first signs of danger.

Shockingly enough to Jon he found himself dismount his bike, gently resting it against the sidewalk as he moved along at a crouch toward the scene, curiosity finally getting the better of him. Nervously he peeked around the corner, a small crowd of people was all he saw, yet it looked like they were about to face off against each other. His heart raced in his chest as he slowly looked out from his cover again, he might just be lucky enough to witness a battle between Metas.

Light was having a good time traveling along the streets of LA, visiting her usual stops after having spent a good amount of time abroad doing whatever missions the Government wanted her to do. She was a bit thankful that she wasn't being swarmed by fans having not been in LA for quite some time as she grabbed some food, jumping into one of her portals before people realized who she was.

Appearing on top of a billboard Light started to eat her lunch. "Man, its nice being able to travel the world and get meals for free, but I don't know if I like being so famous." She thought to herself, noticing the billboard she was on was an advertisement for a soda brand that had her face plastered all over it. "If its not being swarmed by fans, its being a target for those anti meta groups. oy... Being shot isn't fun."

Thinking about that, she looked around the area where anti metas were often hold up, and noticed some smoke coming from that direction. "Yay... I'd better check this out before I get a call about it. Better to be already there then doing something embarrassing again." Pulling out a portal from her dress, Light made her way over to the fight in front of the human meta relationship building. When she started to get near, Light could now hear gunshots and when she could overlook the situation, she noticed that there were a lot of bodies in piles, with some masked people carrying them away while some officers were shooting a guy.

"Well, this is confusing. What the heck is going on down there?" Light said, noticing that while some cops were attacking a meta, others were trying to stop them and save the meta. "Well... They probably have that. The body thing is a lot more suspicious. Why would anyone want dead bodies?" Jumping down from her perch, Light made her way to intercept one of the masked guys who were carrying bodies off.

"What are you doing? Did you kill all these people? Carrying off bodies is mighty suspicious..." Light said, getting in a ready stance as she got in the way of the masked man who had just picked up a couple bodies. While he did look quite big, Light wasn't too worried. While she had a thin frame, she was very strong.

Fletcher woke with a jolt sweat dripping down his forehead, sitting up he rubbed his forehead looking at his damp hands another nightmare. He had been plagued by these nightmares. He could never remember what they were about, he just knew that every night he dreaded closing eyes and going to sleep. Whatever these nightmares were about they sure as hell scared him. Jumping out of bed he rubbed his mustache as he looked at himself in the full length mirror that made up the doors to his walk-in wardrobe. These nightmares were troubling but he had other things on his mind. Leaving the room he made himself breakfast and teleported to the local store to buy a newspaper. Teleporting back just as his toast popped out of the toaster he started spreading butter as he read the paper. The main story was about a terrorist attack on LA Center for non-metas. Fletcher dropped the toast, he had to report this!

Teleporting into his room he threw open his wardrobe and got dressed as fast as he could. Grabbing his jacket and reporting things he teleported to LA into an alleyway. Smiling he tapped his head, he had forgotten his hat. Teleporting back to his home in Washington he grabbed his hat of his coat rack and then returned to LA. "Much better" He said to himself. Stepping out of the alleyway he began to do his thing, gathering information from the locals he began snooping around the scene and more importantly the police. The "Terrorists" were part of the group called the Underground movement. He had heard that name before, but only as a rumor. From what he had gathered they were a group of meta's who had no problems using violence to get their point across. The thought made his blood boil, he was a meta and to have this group essentially representing him and painting all meta's in such a bad light was infuriating.

Looking at the sky he saw it was getting dark, snapping his notebook shut he would write up the story later. He wanted to look one more time around the city. However it didn't take long for LA's night to start with a bang. He heard the scream of a woman coming from the right of him, teleporting back to Washington he telported into his costume and telported straight back to LA around the area of the scream. He found the source quickly blood bodies and a man splattered in blood emerging from the building. "Jesus Christ!" Fletcher had seen his fair share of blood and bodies in England but this was ridiculous. Then the fighting began a Meta wearing armour and some other reformist leader appeared. Both attacking the other people who followed the trench coat man out of the building.

"what are you doing don't you realize that you're just painting us Meta's in a bad light. Are you just stupid?! How does that." He pointed at the open doors. "Prove anything except that none of us are capable of reasonable thinking?!"

He saw the reformist offer the man in armour a box. He accepted the box of sweets and nodded. "I will get the civilian to safety, then return to cover you. Should you have any need of direct assistance, do call for me, and I will come as quickly as I am able."

Holding the box under his arm and probably crushing most of the goodies within, the Paladin took off running towards the woman - more of a girl, really, getting closer to her. "Apologies, my lady, but the hour is much too desperate for chivalry!" he shouted out as he grabbed at her and kept running, already forming a thick bubble of hard light to protect his passenger from harm.

"Hey Holy Knight? I'm a Teleporter need a hand getting these people out of harms way? Or you Reformist man? You need a hand either or should I consider you an enemy?!" Fletcher may be a hero but he wasn't going to make a move until they said something. This reformist fella could hurt someone if he wasn't careful then he would be an enemy. A simple 20'000 foot drop would finish him. This Paladin guy though he defiantly seemed a good guy.

@TheWizardLizard
@Raijinslayer

Not long after Nancy made contact with Edge, a scream full of agony and despair tore through the base, likely interrupting the woman’s response to the movement’s leader. These would continue for a short while longer before stopping with a sudden quickness. Something that anyone who had been apart of the movement for any length of time would find odd. The screaming usually went on for at least an hour, usually more. The sound of a door slamming open was the next sudden sound to come, followed by a set of harsh footsteps coming from down the way. It wasn’t long before a young man walked into Nancy’s office, and with him came the heavy metallic smell of blood, a surer sign than the screaming that he had been enjoying his hobbies again. If Nancy looked up from her computer at the man, she would notice something else strange about him, his lack of a smile. He was usually always smiling, no matter what horrible, depraved deed he was taking part in, but right now his face was set in a rather childish pout. One that really didn’t fit this man if you knew him well enough.

“I’ve got a new body for you, Nancy,” Sebastian said rather disinterestedly as he sat down somewhere in the room that seemed relatively stable. “Oh, and you know that cliche in movies where the psychopath tortures people while quoting literature and scripture, well I tried it with this one, but it was beyond dull and really distracted me from the fun of the work. The guy might have a big gaping hole in his chest from when I decided to just call the quits, but I doubt that matters much anyway. Everything important to his movement and motor skills is mostly undamaged.” Letting out a sigh, the psychopathic haemokinetic sadist began to fiddle with his red hair, looking down at his blood-stained clothes. He made a single motion with his hand and the blood rose off from his clothes, a white long-sleeved T-shirt, black jeans, and a pair of loose fitting sandals. His bright green eyes looked around the messy office, the blood forming a small sphere in his hands that he began to twist and turn into various geometric shapes.

“Nancy, do you have any minions to spare, cause I need to beat the crap out of something and watch it bleed, even if it is the weird black gunk that they have, or maybe I can play with Issac again, that’s always fun to do.” Sebastian snickered to himself a little, cheering up at the thought of kicking the crap out of the mutated Meta. Tearing zombies to pieces was fun, but they didn’t feel any pain, which took quite a bit of the fun out of the activity for him. Getting back on to his feet, he’d walk around the woman’s desk to look over her shoulder at whatever she was doing on the computer. “Hmm, looks like you won’t be getting to use those idiots at Center for material now that the Reformist’s number one Mascot and poster-boy have arrived on the scene. I don’t know why Edge let the Blackwood guy escape, it would be better to kill him now and get it over with, but hey, who am I to question the motives of our oh-so brilliant leader. I still say a better message would’ve been to blow up a corporate building or something. More attention grabbing and likely to actually help Meta’s.”

Sebastian turned his emerald gaze to nancy, a smile splitting his face into as he continued to speak. “If you ask me, I think the whole ‘for Meta’s everywhere’ line is just his excuse to kill people. He should just accept his insanity and do what I do, kill for the sake of it, and bask in the suffering of everyone around you. Torture is a very, very relaxing past time once you get the hang of it.”

@Savato

Aya

Aya was still frozen when a group of people emerged out of seemingly nowhere to surround Edge. Then the gunfire started. This time Aya really did scream. The people around her erupted into panic and began scrambling every which way, but the large armored man who'd jumped down shortly before seemed unfazed. She was still trying to get her bearings, her ears ringing from the gunshots, when another man, younger than the first, materialized in a blur.

Before she even comprehended what was going on, the knight was charging at her, scooping her up in a none too delicate grip. Adrenaline potent as it thrummed through her veins, she reacted in fear before she could even comprehend what was going on.

"No, no let me go!" she shouted as she began squirming in his arms her mind ran through years of training, but it was hard to flip someone when you had no leverage to work with. So she pushed against him, trying vainly to escape his grasp. A burst of light enveloped them and on a terrified impulse, Aya shut her eyes and shoved her hand up at her savior's face, finally managing to escape his grasp. She expected a harsh impact with the street – but it never came.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw the astral plane. Suddenly, the overwhelming LA heat, city smells, the pain of being held against hard metal armor, all disappeared. Sounds became muffled, as if Aya had cloth over her ears. The world was dark around her, objects and people outlined with brilliant stars, hinting at their shapes and colors. Only her spirit, and the spirit of the man holding her carried the same colors as in life. Aya's eyes widened as they darted from the stranger's spirit to the shimmering outline of their physical bodies, her own still in his grasp, still as statues.

"Oh my god," she whispered, taking a step backwards, away from the man. She'd been doing so well. She'd managed to stay under the radar in a city so rife with Meta politics. It'd been over a year since she'd used her power.

Another twilit man materialized next to their bodies, speaking to them – or rather, speaking to the knight. Apparently she didn't warrant any consideration. In spite of the situation, a bubble of annoyance rose in her stomach. But it was quickly smothered with fear again as she looked down at her hands, to the knight, to their bodies.

"I –… I…" Her mind drew a blank as she tried to think of what to say. What was there to say? Sorry I just ripped your soul out of your body, please don't hurt me? She just snapped her mouth shut and stared at him with wide eyes, watching him like a cornered animal would, ready to jump at the slightest action.

@TheWizardLizard@Nytefall

"My lady, I am here for your - " The knight's attempted reassuring words were cut off in a flash of white as the girl shoved her hand into his faceplate. Suddenly, the pair were standing apart from each other, in a world of dark, washed-out shadows and brilliant constellations.

The Paladin jerked from side to side, trying to get his bearings straight. What had happened? Was this an attack? Had the same meta who'd comitted the attack somehow transported them to this strange place? He raised his fist and tried to direct light around it, trying to make a torch, cast away some of the darkness. His powers did not respond.

He looked back to the girl, who was stammering not far from him. "My lady, have no fear. Whatever foul power this is, I will..." His voice trailed off as he caught the look in her eyes, wild, desperate, terrified... guilty? "... You did this."

Obviously, there was more to the girl than had previously met the eye. Had she attacked him? Was this some act of malice designed to hinder or impede him? Alex rejected the theory out of hand. Even if it wasn't entirely against his principles to assume malice when other explanations were available, the way the girl was quivering like a leaf seemed to belay that theory. An accident, then.

The Paladin brought his armored hands up in an attempted placating gesture. "My lady, I mean you no harm. It seems that, in our misunderstanding, we may have been taken somewhere we should like very much not to be... where are we? What do these constellations mean? How do we get back?"

Despite the rather significant milestone of starting their pro-Meta crusade, the Underground Headquarters was rather quiet and dull. EDGE, leader of the Underground Movement, had opted to take the assignment alone and outside of Nancy's shambling drones, nobody else was permitted to join in. This left the majority of the Underground stuck inside their headquarters with not much to do other than twiddle their thumbs and listen to the sparse updates of their absent leader. In order to pass the time, Ellen Bowers and Isaac Grimes sat just around the corner of a tiny office that Nancy liked to hold up in. The both of them knew that she would likely be the first to receive any information on the account that she had "eyes" in the field.

It was all ruefully boring and in Ellen's opinion, a "complete waste of time". If the decision were left up to her, she'd go straight at their opposition without all the need for these scare tactics and propaganda actions. Of course she expressed her disinterest in their current situation by complaining a lot, which would probably drive anyone to a bitter annoyance but Isaac was a very patient man and the fact that Ellen wasn't openly repulsed fueled a romantic fantasy that interpreted the situation very favorable.

The moment EDGE's comment came in from Nancy's radio, confirming his mission had been carried out, did Ellen finally quit complaining about boredom and start complaining about something else. "Holy shit! Way to go! It is over! We can finally all celebrate a victory!" She threw her hands up in a sarcastic celebration before returning to her leaning on the wall. Her conversational partner, Isaac merely sat in silence and watched. "Seriously, who the fuck cares if we killed a bunch of asshole cultists. Nobody really cared about them before so why would they now?" Ellen said aloud, not really wanting a response to her rhetorical question.

"I think it is better that they are gone. They hated us." Isaac finally chimed in. His voice was hoarse and tired as if he had stayed up all night. Ellen rolled her eyes before dignifying that with a response. "So? They couldn't do shit to us if they tried. We are wasting time with this bullshit when we could just go after the people who can actually do something about us." Ellen came off as being short with Isaac but she was always a bitch and thus, Isaac was never really taken back by it.

The two of them sat in silence until they heard Sebastian storm into Nancy's office. "God, what a weird fuck." Ellen scoffed under her breath as she listened in to their conversation. Isaac breathed a short laugh as he didn't like Sebastian all that well. The man was in this for the wrong reason, he thought, and they shouldn't be rewarding psychosis or anything.

As the neighboring conversation continued, Ellen and Isaac continued to listen in until finally Ellen spoke loud enough for Sebastian and Nancy to hear. "That's fucking dumb of you to say, Sebastian. Not all of us here get sexual pleasure from killing things like you do." She turned confidently came around the corner and leaned up by the doorway. "Its all about the money and power after this is all said and done. Edge is just a fucking idiot and is wasting time with pointless shit like this." Isaac came around the corner shortly after and hovered out in the hallway. He didn't agree with either Sebastian or Ellen. He believed it was all meant to be about ending this feud between Metas and Mundanes. The only way it would work is if EDGE got his ideal world, at least this is how Isaac saw it.

Sebastian turned his head to give Ellen a cheery, if mocking smile, as if she had just told a bad joke, and he was doing it just to be polite. "Well then, if it isn't two of my favorite people in the world. How are you today, Issac, still enjoying your romanticized delusions about what the Underground's all about? And Ellen, if you can tell me with absolute honesty that you didn't feel just the tiniest bit of satisfaction and pleasure when you killed all those people after you hit rock bottom in your acting career, I might consider what you said to be less than hypocritical. Besides, the pleasure I get from torture and murder is like the pleasure an avid gamer gets from beating a hard level, or a professional athlete gets from scoring the winning goal. It's intoxicating, invigorating, and satisfying, but never sexual." Sebastian chuckled a little more, before a pondering expression overtook his features.

"However, I myself have never had a genuine sexual urge in my life, so maybe the pleasure of self-satisfaction is the closest I'll ever get to experiencing such a thing." He shrugged his soldiers before turning his attention back to Issac. "So big guy, up for a spar. I promise that I won't kill or cripple you." He looked and sounded sincere enough, but then again, Sebastian always sounded sincere in every promise he's ever made, and has yet to keep a single one. Taking the blood sphere in his hands, he quickly shaped it into a small dagger, which he proceeded to have float around the room in a slow, somewhat menacing fashion. His blood constructs were able to move rather quickly, which means he could launch the projectile at anyone in the room and kill them(except for Nancy unless he got a headshot) before anyone else could react. And the thing is, he was very likely to do just that, for no other reason but he wanted to, but he wouldn't. Ellen was wrong when she thought the kill is what gave Sebastian the most pleasure, that was just the result. No, he liked to torture, to enrage, to mess with people and manipulate them into the palm of his hands. He didn't do that hear very much because Edge gad promised him as many toys as he wanted as long as he stayed. A good deal to him, so he didn't try to be someone else here. he showed his true face, and didn't care how other's felt about it. In fact, the more they hated him, the better he felt. Sebastian was like in that way, a very dangerous child, but a child none the less.

Let's see, we have Issac the mutated Romeo-tragedy who lost his love and so, to avenge her, decided to join a group of murders and criminals, thinking that what we do will bridge the gap between Metas and humans, Ellen, a whiny former starlet with a strong-will, and Nancy, the clumsy, zombie making enigma. Basically, we've got an easy target, a moderately difficult one, and then the unknown, hmm, and our leader whose probably just as crazy as i am. I've seen the way he acts when he kills those Meta haters, the difference between us is marginal at best. He's just likes to discriminate, while I'm an equal opportunity psychopathic murderer. Snickering to himself, he called the blood-dagger back to him and turned it into a flue, solidifying hit so he could blow into it. he wasn't even trying to play it either, he was just blowing into it to create an annoying, high-pitch sound just to piss off everyone in the room. When Sebastian isn't on the job and gets bored, this is basically the whole of what he does: Torturing a bunch of people in his room or annyoing the crap out of the rest of the Movement.

@Pirouette
@Savato

---

The Fresh Heralds looks down at their weapons in confusion. They didn't shoot, and they were supposed to shoot, but they weren't functioning. Upon closer inspection, they'd realize their tools had been sabotaged by an unknown assailant that seemed to be some reformist kid talking speeches about things the zombies were practically programmed to disregard. Throwing away their primary weapons, they each drew a pistol, only to have more knives thrown at them. The police officer seemed a lot more agile with a gun, a likely reminiscence of his life before being a Herald and would manage to shoot the knife despite its enhancement, barely deriving it. The other one took it to the should, but almost shrugged it off as he unloaded toward Ian, and consequently, to the panicking people riled up.

The masked Heralds took the knives but acted as if they weren't hit at all. Even with damage to the knee, they walked more or less fine. They dropped the bodies they were carrying at the sounds of gunshots, however and simply started jogging toward the panicked masses and in the middle of the roads. It would quickly be revealed that they'd be wearing explosive vests, the kinds prepared specifically for genocides (considering they're likely slow down good infantry). In various corners, they'd quickly detonate themselves no matter the interruption. They had to kill as many as possible like fanatics.

The remaining two would do their best to at least handle Ian before the civilian fresh Herald would detonate himself in hopes to take out Ian while the Officer would attempt an escape. The van stocked with a few bodies would of course take off during this entire dramatic scene.

---

Nancy always kept a pretty upbeat smile all the time, like a well trained secretary doing her best to handle customer service. However, whenever Sebastian would come in and blather on about his exploit and desires, she'd have the most over-exaggerated frown depicting just how upsetting his monologues could be. Her hand was slowly reaching into one of her drawers, blatantly making it obvious she was reaching out of a weapon as she rattled through the junk in there, taking all his monologue time to actually get what she wanted. Suddenly, she slammed a machete onto her desk, severing her right hand in the process. It already leaked black blood almost everywhere, but she seemed completely unfazed by it. She'd toss the hand on Sebastian's face and revert to her usual smiling stance.

"Here you go Sebastian! Yes yes! You definitely know how to spray my blood on them right?!"

She he spun on her spinning chair, only noticing now the message sent by Edge through the radio as she was in her little fantasy world of chopping off her own member. She quickly grabbed the mic of said radio and replied.

"Y-yes sir! Yes yes I am super duper fine, with all my buddies, thank you! I hope the operation was an absolute success!"

She said nervously, he feet sporadically stomping the ground as she replied to the leader. She jumped out of her chair, her arm pissing blood all over the office floor and furniture. She only acknowledged her two buddies from the underground, buddies she sure wished she could blow the guts out off to turn into Heralds of course. Randomly, she froze into position, for absolutely no reason. She was in deep thought, but her posture made her seem like she was frozen in place. She'd let all the events fly by her head, as if she pushed everyone away from her mind before snagging a bag of what seemed to be cheetos on an unopened box near her desk.

"Hey! To celebrate, anyone wants to have some good ol' Cheetos?! They're greeeat! I made them myself you know?"

She'd open the plastic to let the aroma of the treats invade the near vicinity. Approaching Ellen of all people, she'd wave the sack of cheetos right in front of her face like some kind of leech trying to devour the famous woman's face. Cheetos were just flinging out of the bag and rubbing against her face. It was almost as if she was treating Ellen like some kind of imagined animal she fed, but all the food would drop down. The cheetos were of course, poisoned with a toxin capable of killing pretty much anyone who simply ate one of those.

"Mmmmm some good cheetos aye Ellen? Do you like cheetos? Mmmm I love cheetos! C'mon, delicious cheetos..."

Though no matter the response, she'd rinse and repeat, next stop was Sebastian and she'd give the same scene she did with Ellen to the psychopath. Hopefully, he'd eat it and fall into cardiac arrest, finally getting rid of his constant monologues. And finally, the giant ugly man she just wished should mutilate and turn into something super awesome like a giant Herold. Her dialogue would change however with Isaac as she had other ideas roaming his mind concerning him.

"Isaac! These Cheetos are the best, mmmm! If you eat one I'll fix you up and make you look the way you've always wanted, yes yes!"

She said with so much glee, but it'd be almost a known fact that giving one's life in the hands of Nancy would be a death sentence, or at least a forfeit of any freedom they had. Plus her attempts in killing pretty much anyone would be under more blatant forms more often the naught. Her favorite maneuver being to try and shoot someone with a shotgun, missing, and flying backwards with the recoil. Luckily for everyone, she'd be way too much of an incompetent klutz to actually kill anyone. Though, there shouldn't be any confusion, she'll turn anyone into a Herald if given the correct circumstance.

After both having no answer from the masked man, the guy running away and Light giving chance, Light saw a large group of the same people running towards the streets. She noticed another reformist there, Ian, who Light hadn't seen in some time having spent a good amount of time overseas. He was also dealing with these masked thugs, and from the looks of the knives on the ground, had tried to attack them but failed as he was attacked by two of them with a third running at him, breaking away from the group that Light was chasing.

"Well, if they're going to be openly hostile..." Light said, grabbing a black glob from under her dress. When she let go of the glob, it turned into a shadowy portal which Light entered, popping out between Ian and the charger, punching said charger causing it to explode in her face, turning her black as if she was covered in ash and causing one of her arms to go flying in Ian's direction.

"Really? REALLY?" Light said, exhaling a large cloud of smoke as she was momentarily stunned from the explosion, shaking it off after a few moments. Noticing her missing arm was by Ian's feet, she called to him. "Hey Ian, mind giving me my arm? It kinda hurts when your missing a limb." When she was all fixed up, she'd tell Ian that she'd go after the masked Heralds going at the civillians, groaning at having to set off so many explosives in her face.

Aya

Aya couldn't help but step back again when the stranger (knight? He'd called her 'my lady' four times in the last two minutes, and was wearing a full suit of armor in Los Angeles. He seemed pretty serious about the knight thing.) held up his ands. It was no doubt meant to be a calming gesture, but fear still pumped through her veins like blood. She flinched when he said she was the cause of this. There went her anonymity. But this man seemed… nice? At least, he didn't seem as psychopathic or murderous as Edge, though that wasn't saying much. She'd reacted out of pure fear, but now that she had this moment to take everything in, he seemed ok. Her heart still pounded in her throat, and her ears rang with the sound of gunfire… but sense slowly leaked back to her. Her gaze darted around as he patiently asked his very reasonable questions. Still not looking at him, she finally opened her mouth to answer.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out in a rush. Her eyes flicked up to him, gauging his response before quickly darting away again. "I–… I didn't mean to…" She ran a hand through her hair and risked looking up at him again. Goodness, he was tall. "The… constellation you're standing in. That's us – our bodies, I mean. We're still on the street." She looked away to see the shimmering outlines of buildings around them. "That's the salon," she said, gesturing to a shorter cluster of stars, tinted pink, "and that bookstore that only stocks volumes in Russian," she said, pointing at another.

Aya pulled her arms around herself, searching for anything to focus on aside from the man she'd revealed herself to. She could still hear the muffled sounds of chaos even from beyond the veil. The situation at the Center for Humans no doubt devolving even more. Whoever this knight was, he was fast and in the few moments he'd had before she'd freaked out on him, he'd carried her almost an entire block away by now. But it likely wouldn't be far enough to escape whatever was going on. Their bodies would be sitting ducks, his shining armor like a beacon. She knew they had to go back. But that meant touching this man and activating her power again.

She chewed her lip a moment before drawing out her hand, holding it out. "I can put us back," she said, looking down again. But she made no move to close the distance between them.