Racheli's head throbbed and ached. Each movement had her gut twisted itself into knots, turning itself inside out, and creating a strong urge within her throat to hurl. The room abruptly tilted to one side causing Racheli's knees to wobble in their weakness as she whiten her knuckles on the marble counter. This was ridiculous in her mind. She only just laid down a few hours ago after taking some medication, but nothing had gotten better. Instead she was weaker.

Now... This bozo shows up.

She coughed again and pulled away her hand, revealing what she had hacked up blood. Her body shivering, and more alarm triggered alarm bells went off in her heart. It was a cold fact that scared her. Racheli leaned further into the counter edge where she tried to stop herself from crumbling into the floor, her eyes fixed on the asshole that barged into her current home. It might've been shitty but it was still being rented.

Racheli's free arm reached for a knife setting she jerked it smoothly from within the block then quickly flipped it across her forearm. Briefly she couldn't help but notice the cutting edge was pointed outward. Inside her skin shivered at the thought of how easily she had made the movement. However she shook it loose, clearing her mind because now wasn't the time to be distracted.

The masked man merely snickered, his eyes studied Racheli making her neck hairs crawl. He took a step further in and came to face her from the opened space leading into the kitchen. The whole time his eyes twinkled with a familiar light she knew sparked in her own. A sick, twisted enjoyment of making others scream and plead for life. Very same sickness her own father suffered from when she was a young child.

Racheli coughed again and her knees crumpled, bring her to one knee, while she held a hand to her mouth. Her cough rattled her very bones. More dark colored blood splattered upon her hand making it stick and wet, Racheli sensing herself becoming helpless when the man loomed over her. He raised a fist to strike her down completely.

He chuckled easy, his hand up over her head and aiming downward. “Too easy… barely worth the challenge.”

The woman braced herself, unable to roll, and expected to feel the fist impacting immediately.

Shit… I can’t let it happen this way.

Footsteps, heavy and thick, as someone padding in from her room wearing a tin suit. His face was covered by a mask in the theme of black, teal and dark greens looking like some hollywood or video game character over dressed for the part. Rach rolled her eyes at hearing him speak when she turned her head to face him.

The guy waved his hand, getting the goon’s attention as well as hers, then spoke. ”I know this is rather hypocritical of me to say, but you really shouldn't be here, sir. Leave. Now."

Six hexagonal shaped spheres floated about his back, pulsing with some sort of energy, seeming to dare the ass to make a move. The man shook his head, his eyes shifted from her to the new comer then the crows’ feet on his eyes deepened in pleasure. A soft chuckle rumbled through him as he turned upon heel and approach the man, unfazed by his appearance. ”So a super, meta or something else?”

Without warning, his words barely finished, the man shot forward. His right fist clocked back as he tossed his full weight into his strike and thrusted it at the newcomer’s head, aiming to slam the man’s helmet head into the ground.

Gabriel was wary as he watched the bulky meta turn toward him. He looked toward the woman he'd been threatening, making sure she wasn't injured in any way. He was... disappointed to find that wasn't the case. Blood spattered her hands- suspiciously dark blood. And her body temperature was dropping rapidly. He raised an eyebrow as time shifted slightly into liquid, his mind speeding up accordingly.

Daedalus. How hurt is she?

"well, it's... strange, actually. i can detect no injuries on the woman's person."

She is coughing up blood, Daedalus.

"hence why i find it strange. physically, she seems fine, aside from the blood and temperature."

You think that's Bozo's meta ability?

"uncertain, but unlikely. his phase signature implies enhanced physical abilities, not any sort of corrupting or disease-like... effects..."

Daedalus? What's wrong?

"...this can't be right. What on...?"

Daedalus, talk to me.

"the woman. the blood, the temperature... i can't be sure, but she seems to be... doing it to herself. or some part of her physiology is, at least."

Gabriel paused, confusion evident (to Daedalus, at least) on his face. Come again?

"it's not intentional, of course. but if i'm detecting things properly... i believe she is undergoing a traumatic genesis effect."

Gabriel blinked. She's... a meta?

"becoming one, yes."

Before either of them could find out what to do with this information, the bulky intruder turned toward them, almost seeming to be chuckling to himself as he did so. Gabriel rolled his eyes as his mind slipped back to normal-ish speed. Great. One of the cocky ones.

"So, a super, a meta, or something else?" rumbled the masked man, before he shot forward, a fist cocked back to strike him. Gabriel flinched slightly, amping his mental processes a bit more to compensate. Damn, that was fast! He flowed back to avoid the man's strike, positioning his Hex-Feathers above the man to avoid flinging him back toward the woman with the force of his attack. He looked down at the man, still in the middle of his swing.

"Hero," he corrected him, before six high-powered particle beams slammed into the man's back, smashing him into the floor.

Eva "Mouse" Walsh

The Morning came that Eva decided it was time to start working on the trail of her friend’s killers. Arthur had no idea yet what Eva had planned as she dressed herself to go out. A black hoodie would suffice she nodded as she wrapped a light scarf around her neck. Arthur was floating about the house as Eva strolled up to him ready to get answers one way or another.

“Eva. You look abysmal. You should dress more fitting for a Noble, Purple is the Noblest Shroud.”

“Arthur it's about time you tell me what you know about the Criminals at the Museum.”

“You’re not ready.” Arthur stated as he floated towards another room.

“Not ready! Not READY! I’ve been training the last few months I at least deserve to know what the Bastards look like, I’ll do the legwork dig something up on them anything!”

“Eva. -” Arthur stopped and floated with his back still turned to her. “I understand you're frustrated and you certainly have a right to be angry. But now is not the time for..” Arthur was interrupted as he spoke. “I’m going out there and I’ll find them one way or another! If you don’t help me I’ll do it myself.” Eva proclaimed. As she made her way to the front door. Arthur following. “Eva wait. Wait!” Eva stopped - her feet nearly touching the door. As she lingered hoping that Arthur would tell her something.

“Come here. I’ll give you the first one for now.” Eva slowly walked over as Arthur held his hand out towards her letting the Memory of a thin lanky man of African American descent. He had some sort of gauntlets that pulsated with electricity. “That is all Eva. I do not know his name.”

Eva stood quietly for a moment and spoke softly.”Thank you.” Before she opened the door and rushed outside trying not to attract attention. She snuck past the front lawn and checked the streets. Most of the Neighbors were off at work, the Quick Cleaning service is at the Hendersons today and Mrs Hall was a full time Mother. She’d have ran through the backyards if some neighbors didn’t keep pets, but it was already late Morning Excalibur waited at home until she needed to call for it. Arthur had made her practice so that it teleported to her hand and that it wouldn’t land on her feet. Eva had an idea of what her first target looked like but she needed information. Shaking down a few street thugs probably won’t give her anything, she’d have to wait for some big time Villains to rear their ugly heads guys like Turbulence, or the gun nut Hyperion to name the more active and flamboyant Super Villains. That poses another issue as guns would certainly be a one sided advantage; perhaps another lesser known Villain might know something. One less likely to overpower her. Whatever the case may be she needed to head into the city, hang around banks or tech firms the most prominent targets.

A few Bus rides into the City took her to Times Square where Banks littered the streets every block or so. And sure enough as Eva arrived a commotion broke out. A gang of bank robbers had just broken into the Bank of America, gunfire rang out and police cordoned off the area. A Newscopter circled overhead as the Cities finest sprung into action. By that the Boys in blue of course. Eva watched as the City’s so called Heroes bumbled over each other. Absurd Heroes like Stick-It-Note Kid shot his sticky note gun only for it to blind Sewer Gator who crashed into a patrol car, while American Rocket overshot his course and landed ten blocks away from the Bank. Eva stood stunned watching the failing Heroes work, sure there were extremely capable ones like the Green Beret a British Super Soldier in the truest sense of the word. But he was called back to England by the Queen.

As the New York Police Force swept in and defused the situation the Heroes began their walk back to their Hideouts in shame; all the while the crowd laughing at their incompetence. “We might as well face it, Sewer Gator. We’re failures.” Stick-It-Note Kid proclaimed as he threw down his gun while the trio wandered down an alley.

“Nonsense! A true Hero never admits defeat. Life is like a Road, for as long as you walk on it you’ll always move forward in this Strawberry Jam filled world. We just need to keep spreading the Peanut butter of experience over the bread that is our lives until we can sandwich the two in perfect harmony!!” Sewer Gator exclaimed

“You know I never understand where you get this stuff, but I feel oddly inspired. I guess.” American Rocket said as he adjusted the straps to his rocket pack. Before Eva walked out before them.

“A FAN!!” Sewer Gator said as he whipped out a notepad.

Eva cringed at the thought, but tried not to be impolite.”Uuh no. I actually have a couple of questions.”

“Well of course!! What can we do for you young Miss?” Sewer Gator politely said.

“How does one become a registered Hero, and have you ever seen a Villain with dark skin, that’s tall and lanky with a couple of gauntlets that generates electricity or lightning?”

Sewer Gator thought for a moment before Rocket spoke up. “You don’t really register, you just kinda show up and solve problems.”

“Verily!” Sewer Gator shouted. “As for a lightning Villain. None come to mind, there is one but he’s a minor offender; never made it past small time crimes.. Shock Jockey was his name. All he could do was make your hair stand on ends. Why do you ask about a Villain Miss?”

“Right. You’re a little young to be heroing. Are you a new meta?” Rocket asked.

Eva was unsure how to respond, so in her confusion decided to deny their suspensions. “Uuh. No; nothing like that. I saw a Villain like that the other day, it was late and I was out partying. He seemed to be uu, carrying something. He looked far too scary to be a Hero, and some cars, fancy ones were there to meet him. I didn’t hang around so I don’t know what happened next.”

Rocket stroked his chin.”Well that does sound off. But nothing we can do now, thanks for the heads up. You better be careful staying out so late it’s dangerous you know.”

“Of course. After that night I became a little curious about Heroes is all, most of you seem well prepared so I wondered if there was a Superhero union or something.”

“Haha!” Sewer Gator laughed as he wiped tears from his eyes. “A union would make our lives easier but no, other than the occasional run ins on the Job we don’t see each other all that often. You best run along now.”

Eva nodded as the trio walked off. Shock Jockey. She thought to herself. It was a name at least but there was no way to tell if he was involved until she saw him. Big Villains are all over the News but small ones they will be harder to find. It was time to head to the local library, maybe there was something on him, an old newspaper clipping.

It had been two days since the disappearance of the college students from Orono, but it had been far beyond those six alone who had vanished. Frank Mason, a detective in the Augusta area, was now embroiled in case files of countless people who had vanished at an alarming rate, with more reports coming from the North describing more of these mysterious disappearances.

"Another case coming your way, Frank." Came the voice of his partner, Dan Peters.

"Jesus, who is it this time?"

“Hmmm...looks like another family of four on the I-295.” Dan said, tossing the file onto Frank’s desk as he passed him towards his own office around the corner. “That’s the fifth report today, and there is no guarantee that there aren’t more coming in.”

Frank sighed, bracing his head in his hand as he rotated the folder in front of him, absent-mindedly flipping it open on his desk to see the four faces in this new disappearance. The report came just a few miles off of the exit to Waterville, a roughly 20 minute drive to Augusta, where a family of four tourists were travelling south from their time up in Bangor, where they had been enjoying camping and hiking in the vast northern wilderness.

“Damn shame…” Frank mumbled to himself, looking through the papers as he called out to Dan. “How many is this now? Ten?”

“Fourteen, Frank.” Dan’s voice came back from the other room. “The Fourteenth case in two days...yeah, it’s that crazy.”

“Not just crazy. Impossible.” Frank replied, flipping through a few more pages before standing up from his desk, walking behind his chair to a nearby corkboard, a map of Maine plastered upon it with a series of thumbtacks upon its highway. Frank snatched another loose thumbtack from the desk, firmly jamming it into the newest known incident in this long line of possible kidnappings. “In the span of two days, over thirty five people have gone missing across five different towns.”

“Well maybe it just wasn’t one guy.” Came Dan’s voice amongst the usual background chatter and ringing phones in the police station. “Maybe this was a group...some kind of gang or something?”

“But there’s no motive, none of these victims are connected in any way.” Frank replied, running his hand along the thumbtacks. “No familial connections, no job similarity, barely any of them even live in the same area, why would a gang just be picking people off of I-295? And how would they do that with nobody noticing?”

“Well, to be fair, they weren’t all on I-295, a few were in the respective towns.” Dan replied. “Orono, Old Town, Bangor, Waterville, the list keeps expanding. The other fact of the matter remains, with this much going on in two days, this cannot be the work of one guy.”
“Maybe not one normal man…” Frank responded, taking his mug of lukewarm coffee from the desk and pressing to his lips in a quick sip. “With all that’s going on in Lost Haven, I don’t doubt it’s some kinda...meta or something.”

“Frank, c’mon.” The sound of Dan’s hands hitting the table echoed through the hallway. “Just because these disappearances seem weird on the surface, doesn’t mean it’s some kinda flyin’ goober that shoots laser beams from his eyes.”

“I’m serious, Dan.” Frank sat back at his desk. “With the world as it is, we can’t simply pass off the idea of metahumans anymore.”

However, as Frank spoke, he noticed a shift in the air, as if it had thickened in response to his words. His eyes drifted to what was originally daylight, but now had begun to descend to darkness. He had originally thought that it was just a storm coming in, possibly a fog, but it typically did not get this dark as fast as it did, not to the point of the lights coming on in the station. On that note, Frank now felt unmistakably aware that all the chatter in the building had become unreasonably silent, almost as if the entire police force had just left the building.

“Dan?” Frank asked, getting up from his chair. “You agree with me...right?”

No answer.

“Guys? Anyone?” Frank said, scooting around his desk, hand now dancing lightly over his pistol as he crept out of his office, moving down the hallway to Dan’s nearby office. “I-Is anyone there?”

As he turned the corner, he noticed the original darkness was much denser than he had originally suspected, now getting a view of a nearby window, it was clear that the outside of the building was shrouded in complete darkness, had everyone just gone home? Did nighttime creep up on him that quickly?

His answer came when he turned into Dan’s office to find his body slumped in his chair with a shadowy humanoid jabbing a long tendril down his throat.

Almost immediately Frank drew his weapon, bullets singing from it almost as soon as it cleared the holster. Judging by its interest in murdering his partner, the figure had no interest in surrender. Nine shots rang out as Frank emptied his clip, all grouped at the head and chest of the creature. Its smoky frame buckled and shook as the bullets entered its body, each shot meeting its pinpoint mark.

However, the creature simply turned in response, the obsidian darkness reforming into its humanoid shape almost as quickly as it was lost. The two white dots on its head, presumably eyes, now staring straight at Frank as it took a few casual steps out from behind Dan’s desk, the tendril sliding out of Dan’s body and withdrawing back into the being as it advanced. As it walked, it extended an appendage, forming what looked like an open palm parallel to the ceiling, the nine bullets appearing in its hand to Frank’s apparent dismay.

“Are these what you use to stop criminals?” The creature asked, holding out the bullets. “Tiny bits of metal? That’s all you need? Humans keep getting more and more pathetic with every passing second.”

Frank could not find the words to answer the entity, and before Umbraxis could give the man another comment, Frank was sprinting as fast as he could from it, ready to warn the others of their new intruder.

However, it was far too late, as soon as Frank entered the main room, he found himself slipping on a pool of the new secretary’s blood, her body cut open and flung against a nearby wall. The cubicles had been turned into a slaughterhouse, bodies strewn all over the tile floor. He recoiled in shock at the parts draping the room, unmentionable pieces flopping to the floor.

“Like my work?” Came Umbraxis’ voice as it strolled around the corner, calmly striding along the floor to the terrified cop. “I made sure to soundproof you and your partner’s room with Dark Matter while I sorted this out, I really wanted to see the look on your face when you witnessed what I had done before I consumed the bodies.”

Frank’s jaw dropped as all color left his face, his eyes in fear as he continued to make space between himself and the shadowy creature.

“Ah! That’s the look right there!” Umbraxis said, pointing at Frank’s face. “I am really enjoying that look on you humans, it suits you.”

“W-w-w-w-why?” Frank said, motioning around. “Why are you doing this!?!”

“What, kill everyone here? Or all the disappearances that your office was looking into?” Umbraxisa asked, cocking its head slightly. “To answer both questions, it is delightfully entertaining, and I learn something more with each kill.”

“But you...you’re human, right?! How could you do something like this to your own kind?”

“Ohohoh, well aren’t you just straight to the point? It’s no wonder they made you a detective.” Umbraxis teased, now close enough to grab the lapel of Frank’s collar with its smoky, formless fingers, lifting him off of his feet as if he weighed nothing at all. “I am many things, but human I am not.”

“T-t-then what...what are you?”

“I am your end.”

With those words, Umbraxis tossed Frank across the room with a simple flick of its wrist, the man crashing through a cubicle and landing in a pile of his former co-workers before sliding along the floor into a nearby wall. The creature again advanced without a care in the world, slowly striding along the ground, each passing step caused more of the room to be covered in a void, an impenetrable mass of darkness now enveloping the room.

Frank, now barely conscious, struggled to raise himself to a sitting position. The entity had thrown him hard enough to shatter ribs, now causing the detective to struggle with his breathing as he propped himself up against the wall. Once he got his bearings, he found himself starting at the void once more, the humanoid figure now surrounded by a swarming mass of flailing black tendrils, swirling and grabbing for him as Umbraxis came ever closer.

“Well, whatever you are, you made a mistake comin’ here!” Frank sputtered out, shortly thereafter coughing up a chunk of blood.

Umbraxis made an audible laugh, leaning down to meet the man eye-to-eye. “Really? I made a mistake?” It scanned the room, its arms crossing as it spoke. “You’re going to have to elaborate on that, as everyone you have ever worked with is now dead.”

“Y...yeah, but it’s not in us that you made the mistake!” The shaky, wavering voice of the detective belied his tough guy speech. “There are cameras all over this place, they’ll see what happened here, others will know who you are!”

“Oh, those, yes. I wanted those to see me.” Umbraxis replied.

“W...wha?!?”

“Oh come now, human. As fun as it is tearing you normal folk apart, I do eventually want to see what this planet has to offer. Your kind is beginning to bore me, and I’d hate to see my travels wasted only to discover that people like you are the best of this backwater planet.” Umbraxis glanced up to the camera, giving it a short wave. “I do hope it has audio, I think it helps present what I am capable of...if you can hear the amount of screaming.”

“You sick sunuva--”

“Ah ah ah, no need for vile language.” A mere gesture from Umbraxis’ hand wrapped a long tendril around Frank’s mouth, once more lifting him into the air. “If the world wants to know what I am, they’ll see me on my terms. To formally introduce myself on camera, I am Umbraxis the Destroyer, and I am making an example out of you and your little...police force you had here.” The other tendrils began to wrap around Frank, his screaming muffled by the tendril around his face. “But, I’m also here to have a bit of fun. I haven’t figured out everything about human physiology yet, so bare with me here, how many bones do you think I can rip out of you while you’re still alive?”

Frank, of course, could not respond due to the tendril.

Umbraxis, merely toying with the rhetorical question, merely shrugged. “Oh well, looks like we’re going to answer that question together.”

Well, now I know what Athena meant by that whole wasp metaphor, although I did not think that that would entail having my skull crushed. I tried to pull his hand away from my face, but all my attempts were in vain. Anyways, even if I did achieve getting his paws off me, in doing so, I probably would have gotten my face ripped off. So, what was I supposed to do now?

I am not entirely proud of what I did next. While the desperate nature of my situation could excuse for my actions, I’m pretty sure we all were told not to do this as far back as elementary school. This Greek wannabe had his palm planted directly over my mouth. Therefore, I bit through my mask and clamped my teeth down on the man’s palm. I continued to apply pressure on his hand with my teeth until he released his own grip on my face. At that point, once I no longer felt an excruciating pain on my face, I released my jaws.

Now that I was free from his powerful grip, I suddenly tasted iron in my mouth. I must have broken through his skin. With a quick glance towards the man’s hand, I could see that my assumption was indeed correct. Well, looks like so far the trick is kind of going as planned. However, I had this confusing and mixed feeling about the blood that I tasted in my mouth. Obviously, the normal reaction would be disgust, which I definitely felt. But at the same time, there was this strange satisfaction in its taste. I felt horrified at such a thought. Hopefully having conflicted emotions is a good sign that I am not some sort of wierdo. Hopefully.

Now for the next stage of the plan. Throughout the short battle between this man, who seemed to be a Greek warrior, and me, if you could even call it a battle, the portion of my costume that had been covering the lower section of my spider abdomen had partially ripped, which revealed a reddish-orange hour-glass symbol on the underbelly of my abdomen, right below my spinnerets (yes, I know that this is kind of weird. Its not my fault). I repositioned myself in my web so that I was more than an arm's reach from that man and so that he could clearly see the hour-glass symbol.

“You see this, you pagan? That’s the definite mark of a Black Widow spider. Black Widows usually only bite and inject venom when threatened by an external force. A regular sized one could kill a man without proper medical treatment. What do you think will happen to you now that you have the equivalent amount of venom for someone my size in your veins? Give up and maybe we will give you the necessary medical treatment.” Hopefully this will work. While I am not entirely sure I have venom glands in my mouth, I still have that whole statistic that the human mouth is more "dirty" with bacteria than the mouth of a dog on my side.

Luca Garretti watched from his makeshift bunker as the Elite Guard of the Crimson Talon marched directly toward his location. It was a sight that he had grown used to in the months since Charonia’s government fell to the terrorist organization and their ruthless leader, the man known only as The Forsaken. Luca, and every freedom loving man, woman, and child had watched on in horror as the Crimson Talon’s shock troopers, lead by the Elite Guard decimated the country’s admittedly weak military. However, it hadn’t ended there, with the Prime Minister already dead, having met his fate while on the wrong end of an assassin’s rifle, the members of the Charonian Senate had been locked inside of the old senate building, while the shock troopers set the historic wooden building ablaze.

“Now?” said a young man, of no more than 18. Instead of worrying about the things that most young men of his age worry about, such as women, jobs, and what university to attend, he was worried about troop placement and battlefield tactics. The resistance had stolen his youthfulness, and replaced it with the heart of a soldier.

“Not yet Matteo.” Luca said in a hushed tone, noting the worry in the young man’s face as the Elite Guard moved ever closer.

Luca took several deep breaths, after he began inhaling his fourth deep breath, the area just outside of the bunker was rocked by an explosion.

“Now.” Luca said as he began racing for the exit, with Matteo just behind him.

As Luca and Matteo rushed toward the Crimson Talon troops, their comrades in the resistance movement blindsided the shock troopers with high powered assault rifles which they had taken from several military stores soon after Charonia fell. Just as the Crimson Talon forces began to return fire, Luca advanced toward the front line, no longer running, the resistance fighter who had celebrated his 22nd birthday just weeks before the Crimson Talon had taken the country flew toward the enemy forces. Though he only flew several feet above the ground, he moved at an incredible speed, and impacted the first line of troops with the force of a Mack truck, sending the men clad in black armor flying in every direction.

For years, Luca had kept his abilities a secret. He had been ashamed of his gifts, seeing them as more of a curse. He never wanted to use them, and when the so called meta humans began crawling out of the woodwork all over the world, he sought out help, as he wanted nothing more than to find a cure. However, soon after the fall of Charonia, he was forced to embrace his abilities, as they allowed him to fight off the invaders like few others could, or would.

The Crimson Talon’s forces were not taken by surprise for long. They immediately began to return fire at the rebels, with several troops focusing their fire directly on Luca. The bullets had no effect on the young soldier, who seemed to simply brush off the gunfire as he pressed the attack on the shock troopers. However, as he fought, he noticed that the sounds of the battle had died down, until the gunfire had almost completely stopped. He paused, and dared a look behind him, and found that much to his chagrin, most of his comrades had fallen. Even Matteo, his closest friend within the resistance wasn’t spared, as he lay a dozen yards or so behind Luca, with a gaping bullet hole right between his eyes. Just as he realized that he was all alone, and assumed that the Crimson Talon’s forces were about to move in for the kill, the shock troops as well as the Elite Guard lowered their weapons. Luca was confused, as the troops fell into formation as if their were waiting for something, and Luca didn’t have to wait long to find out exactly what, or rather, who they were waiting for. The formation of black clad troops parted, and as they did Luca could see a man making his way through the troops. He was a large man, Luca estimated that he had to be at least six foot five and probably over 250 pounds. He was dressed in a red and black costume, with a mask to match. His arms and legs were adorned with large metal spikes, and he wore a blood red cape. Luca knew that this man could be none other than the leader of the Crimson Talon himself, the man called Forsaken.

“So, this is the meta human that has been leading the resistance against me? A mere boy?” Forsaken said, incredulously. “I have to admit, you have impressed me. I could use a man with your…talents.”

“No, I’d never join forces with you.” Luca said defiantly.

“Pity.” Forsaken said as he took a step toward Luca. “Then you will die.”

“I don't think so.” Luca said as he rushed toward Forsaken.

Luca didn’t make it very far. He had only taken a few steps when he felt as if a large invisible hand had taken a hold of him in a vice-like grip. Before he knew it, he was several feet off the ground, unable to move, and the harder he struggled, the tighter the grip became.

“You can kill me, but the resistance will continue to fight. We will force you from our land, and there is nothing you can do to stop us.” Luca said with absolute hatred in his voice.

“No.” Forsaken said as he tightened his telekinetic grip on the young meta. “The rebellion dies with you.” He finished as he twisted the young man’s head nearly completely around, the sickening popping sound as his neck was broken echoed off the walls of the buildings in the once peaceful neighborhood. Then for good measure, Forsaken focused on the young man’s corpse, and in an instant, the body began to burn from the inside out. The inferno burned so hot that nothing survived the blaze, save for a few scraps of clothing that had drifted away on the wind.

As Forsaken and his forces turned to leave, he stopped.

“Let this be a warning to anyone who dares oppose my rule. Not only will you be destroyed, but the same fate will befall your entire bloodline.” He announced to anyone who may be listening as he turned toward his new palace.

The Spider’s next actions were unexpected. In a desperate attempt to make Polemos loosen his grip on her cranium, the young hero sunk her teeth into the Greek warrior’s hand. Chike yelled out in pain at the surprise attack. It didn’t take long for Chike to let go of the girl, and pull his arm out of the Spider’s reach. How dare she put his immortal hand in her filthy, disgusting mouth! Polemos growled in anger as he examined the new wound. Blood trickled down his ebony colored skin, falling onto the web below. She...She managed to hurt him? Make the mighty Avatar of War bleed? This is impossible! Chike thought, utterly outraged at the entire situation. Polemos looked towards his attacker and examined the centaur-like creature more thoroughly. The girl’s costume had been ripped on her lower abdomen, revealing what looked to be a reddish orange hourglass symbol. It was then that Chike realized what he was facing: a Black Widow, larger than any bug he’d ever seen. The implications were terrifying. Fear seeped into the warrior’s very soul, and Polemos’ control over Chike Baatul wavered. The man within capitalized on the opportunity and pressured his alter ego into surrendering to the Spider in hopes of gaining an antidote of some description.

“You see this, you pagan? That’s the definite mark of a Black Widow spider. Black Widows usually only bite and inject venom when threatened by an external force. A regular sized one could kill a man without proper medical treatment. What do you think will happen to you now that you have the equivalent amount of venom for someone my size in your veins? Give up and maybe we will give you the necessary medical treatment.”

Chike didn’t feel any different from before he was bitten. For a brief moment, he wondered if she was actually poisonous. No, impossible. She bore the symbol. Perhaps the venom lacked any noticeable symptoms, and would kill Polemos at a later date? Yes. That had to be it. Otherwise she wouldn’t have the gall to threaten the mighty Avatar of War.

“I- I surrender to you. Just cure me, please!”

Uskriss Ranore heard the shouting three hours before the riots began. It came from upstairs in the apartment building that they lived in, and didn't sound like it would stop any time soon. Uskri disregarded it, thinking it was just another young, hopeful couple becoming disillusioned by the reality of Lost Haven, when the shouting went outside. And it was louder than just another domestic dispute.

Throwing on his leather jacket, Uskri kissed his mama Via on the cheek, and said, "Ai, mamma, I'll be going out, I need to see what's going on. Be right back, I promise!"

Nodding her assent, the tiny woman said, "Ah, no worries Uskri, I know you'll come back fine. By the way, the stew will be done in an hour!"

Deep in his mind, voice made a rough approximation of a snort. Yeah, right. Knowing this city, it's probably some person who can spit glue, making a mess of the neighborhood.

Smiling, and walking to the door, Uskri thought, Hah, Mot, don't be so pessimistic! For all you know, it could be something cultural! Like a parade- Uskriss opened the door, and his expression hardened. I hate it when your pessimism wins, Motega, you know that?

If a smirk could show in Thoughtspeech, Motega would be grinning from ear to ear. Pessimism? I call it realism- Uskriss had to stop listening as a metal baseball bat swung towards his head, in the hands of a hooded, bandanna-wearing thug. Ducking a hairs-breadth, Uskri waited for the thug to get overbalanced, and then simply pushed down on the baseball bat, causing it to clatter to the cracked concrete. Grabbing the thug by the collar of his shirt, he pulled him up so he was looking him in the eye.

"And just what, exactly, didja think you were gonna' accomplish by doing that?"

It had been two days since the notorious night of nonstop rioting in Lost Haven, a time still occupied with rebuilding and recovering from such an onslaught. Already the community had gathered in force, with contractors, city workers, and even officials working to fix what had been broken or lost, with a surprising amount of funding to those who were paying attention.

Of course, this did not concern a mercenary by the familiar name of War-Pulse, who had also been working around the clock since that night had occurred, albeit for a much different job. Since his conflict with Equilibrium, War-Pulse had been able to deliver three out of the four vials in total. While the first one had admittedly had fuzzy results, the following two went off without a hitch. After all, nobody seemed to be paying attention to one man amongst crowds of city workers repairing numerous damages.

Today was different, however, for two reasons. One reason was that the rebuilding effort had been relatively concluded, with help from the city’s metahuman population and round the clock rebuilding efforts, the short-term damages were all but fixed.

The second being was his target was a large storage tank on the coastline of Little Paris. Since his last conflict, War-Pulse knew better than to walk into the nearby treatment plant and simply dump the vial in there, what with his last attempt being thwarted by a large mech suit. However, this storage tank was the connection point for a Purification Plant designed to purify seawater from the nearby Lost Haven Harbor. From here, the purified water would be distributed to the nearby Little Paris and Little Ulster areas, a much bigger area than any other drop points had covered. With such a vulnerable and experimental device, this particular drop point was a far more valuable structure to the community, and thus more likely to be defended.

There would be no attempt to disguise himself this time, nor would he desire to be there for any extended period. Unlike the other Water Treatment Plants, this was out in the open, anyone approaching it would be spotted very quickly, so he had to make this as quick of a drop as he could.

Of course, very few people would predict him coming from the air.

War-Pulse had pinpointed the drop point from a high spot, levitating almost within Lost Haven airspace as he locked on to his target, barring no interruptions, his plan was simple; drop down onto the top of the storage container, rip open the top, and dump the contents before anyone was any the wiser.

“Okay, War-Pulse. This is the last one, you can do this.” Warden’s voice came onto the comm link, his bland tone belying his sincere motive.

“Dude...we talked about this, you are the worst motivational speaker.” War-Pulse replied, “Just let me know when I have the window.”

“Okay, the shift worker is finishing the Ph test.” Came Warden’s voice, the clacking of the keys over the comm link signifying his surveillance. “There are no visible bogeys in the immediate area, you should be clear in five seconds….”

War-Pulse tensed, light kinetic emissions altering his flight pattern to re-direct him towards the storage tank’s roof.

“Four…”

His body aligned, eyes straight on the steel hull.

“Three…”

His body humming with power, the familiar blue glow emanating from his form.

“Two….”

Already he was beginning to descend, vial in hand as he began to drop.

“One….Now!”

A burst rocketed him down from the sky, careening at a breakneck speed towards the tank. There was an audible whistle as he dropped, a bomb dropping from the sky. However, his velocity was interrupted, a pulse of kinetic might slid from his mouth about halfway down, immediately jolting his body to a halt. At roughly a hundred feet, he should not break through the top of the tank from this height at a free fall, letting gravity do the rest of the work for him.

He landed on the thick steel with a tremendous thud, the heavy metal buckling under War-Pulse’s impact with the very center of the tank. War-Pulse could not help but wince at the shock, had he hit the top too hard? Was he just going to blast straight through?

To his relief, the steel groaned and creaked to a stop, the top layer now bent into a U-shape from his impact. His chest heaved a deep sigh of relief, placing the vial lightly onto some nearby grating as he knelt down to the roof.

“Okay, now I just have to get to diggin’.” He murmured to himself, raising a fist back to begin punching through the stainless hood. He had to act fast, it was only a matter of time before someone heard that impact and came running to…

“I assume from your fashion choices that you’re not from the city maintenance unit.” War-Pulse whirled around at the voice, quickly discovering that he was not alone on the water tower. A woman was clinging to the side of the storage tank. However, this was no ordinary woman, since her entire lower body was replaced by a scaled-up version of a Black Widow spider. This woman wore an entirely black costume. She had her midnight black hair styled short, perfect for preventing her hair from being caught by anything or anyone. “Mind you telling this little old spider what you doing all the way up here?”

War-Pulse literally stopped mid strike to the woman’s voice, his torso whirling around to face the mysterious woman. His eyes popped wide as he saw her, the arachnid woman form causing him to audibly emit a “Whoa” subconsciously. As he rose to his feet, the snarky side of himself kicked in as he gestured to the woman. “Y’know, I keep thinking I’ve seen everything this town’s got to offer. We got gods, demons, and superbeings flying around everywhere, you would think that would be all the crazy in the city. Now I see a giant friggin spider-chick hybrid concerned about water safety, unbelievable.”

He moved from the large dent he made, eyes still on her as he adjusted his footwork. “As for what I’m doing, I’m just making sure the roof of this tank is durable. We wouldn’t want any contaminants coming in from the sky and ruining the water supply, would we?”

“Sure you’re concerned about the water supply?” However, even though the same voice had spoken those words, they did not originate from the same woman who was standing before War-Pulse. From behind him, War-Pulse could hear the spidery feet of a second metahuman click against the metal shell of the storage tank. Quickly taking a glance over his shoulder, War-Pulse realized that there was not just one but two ‘spider-chicks’, as he had referred to them. And it was not just two ‘spider-chicks’, but it almost seemed like they were clones!

As he whirled around to face an identical looking woman, he could not help but emit a cocky laugh at the sight. “Wait, you mean there are more than one of you?” He asked, pointing at the two. “Don’t tell me you’re related to that other Spider-Girl I met...I mean she didn’t have the...spider-butt, but there has to be a coincidence here. Oh god, please don’t tell me there are a legion of radioactive spiders going around biting hot chicks...I don’t think this place could take that kind of invasion….”

“You do realize that radioactivity does not work like it does in the pages of the Amazing Spider-Man, right?” The second ‘Black Widow’ countered as she took a few steps forward.

“Oh, right, sure, there are no comparisons to comic books being made right now. After a demon invasion and a widespread metahuman-infused riot, this looks completely normal.” He snapped back, taking a few steps away from the advancing driders.

The second ‘Black Widow’ rolled her eyes at War-Pulse’s sarcastic taunts. “While we’re on the topic of that ‘Spider-Girl’, if you’re talking about that blonde who was wearing a genderbent Spider-Man costume, there might be a possibility that our powers have similar origins. In fact, she actually now has a physique very similar to mine.”

“Except she has a rack that would make Power Girl blush.” The first ‘Black Widow’ interjected, considering War-Pulse’s comic book references in his taunts. This ‘Black Widow side-stepped to the side, ensuring that she and her ‘twin’ had War-Pulse as the midpoint between them.

“Friggin knew it!” War-Pulse interjected, pointing at one of the Widows. “Get ready Lost Haven, this city’s going to be attacked by Mean Girls spliced with Eight-Legged Freaks!” The words of the first ‘Black Widow’ quickly sunk into his head, and a brow cocked while he turned to address the comment. “Wait, why are you focusing on her rack? That’s a weird thing to advertise, are you vouching for her dating viability or informing me of a mutation?”

“I was just pointing out a difference between us and her, namely that [i]she[i] has an almost impossible physiology, while we fall within the normal range for the average person, as long as you ignore the obvious spider parts. Nothing more. Nothing less.” In response to what her 'twin' has said, the second 'Black Widow' just shook her head as she placed her hand on her forehead, partially covering her eyes.

“What, you jealous? I bet a push-up bra and some socks could fix that.”

“Who wants to carry around that much weight? And she’s the one who brought it up, not me.” The second ‘Black Widow’ mentioned as both of them started to close in.

“I don’t---you know what? This got weird, let’s not talk about your blonde friend or her enormous rack anymore and focus on the real situation here.” War-Pulse said, crossing his hands in a quick gesture as he now found himself cornered on the edge of the tank. “What exactly is going to go down now?”

“That blonde-haired metahuman isn’t our ‘friend’, for the record.” The second ‘Black Widow said as she place her hands on her hips, or at least what was left of them since that’s where her human half merged into her arachnid part.”

“What, did she say mean things about you on Facebook?”

“Well, I can confirm that we are not planning to do anything to you at the moment,” the second ‘Black Widow said, seemingly ignoring War-Pulse’s latest taunt. “Although I cannot speak for him”

From behind War-Pulse, a giant man bulldozed through the air toward the mercenary. However, there was a blue aura surrounding him, implying that he was not ‘flying’ by his own means, but rather that the blue aura was propelling him through the sky. Once the man came closer, it became obvious that he was not entirely a man. His skin was a silver tint, while his underbelly was a pearly white. In addition, his head was replaced by the skull of a Great-White shark.

“Annnnd you have a shark man.” War-Pulse commented, his eyes widening once more as the creature was air-lifted to their position. “A flying shark man to be exact, is everyone on your team a human with animal parts stapled on, or do you just wheel out the freaks first for shock value?”

“Well, wouldn’t it be counterintuitive for us to give away our ‘troop’ composition?” Before War-Pulse could answer the second ‘Black Widow’, Jaws, or the shark man, as War-Pulse called him, slammed into the mercenary, who now seemed to be challenging Deadpool for the title ‘Merc with a Mouth’, knocking him down onto the ceiling of the water storage unit.

Finally, a fourth figure floated up to the top of the shortage tank. However, unlike the first three characters, this last one was not a human-animal hybrid. Once the blue aura, the same one that caused Jaws to levitate and slam into War-Pulse, dissipated, the woman's soles tough down on the metallic surface. The gust caused by the altitude caused her long black hair and her flowing, silver dress to billow in the wind.

"So, this is the metahuman who has been causing some havoc across Lost Haven. I would have thought you would wear something a little less, how should I say this, flamboyant." Before War-Pulse could even react, the Silver Sorceress extended her arm and mumbled a spell.

Manus Manium

Once these two words closed out of the silver-clad woman's mouth, dozens of ghostly hands rose up out of the ceiling of the storage tank and grasped the metahuman mercenary. If War-Pulse struggled to free himself from the hands of the shades, these creepy appendages just tightened their grip.

“Eh, what can I say? If you live the kind of life I do, you might as well do it with some style.” He spat out, the weight of the shark man bearing down on him while the ghostly arms wrapped around his body, binding him to the metal. “Which--ngh!--reminds me, how did you guys get the drop on me? You people are about as flashy as I am, I’m not sure how I didn’t see you on the way down."

“We’ll show you.” The Silver Sorceress gave the mercenary a toothy grin, taunting him. She then turned her attention towards the first ‘Black Widow’. “Effigy, show him your little trick.”

Effigy began to step forward. With each step, her appearance began to dissolve into a disorderly mass of tissue and flesh. However, just as quickly as Effigy’s body had become a formless mess, the metahuman’s appearance reformed. It was now obvious that Effigy had copied the appearance of the other metahuman, who was called Black Widow. In fact, once Effigy’s body had reverted back to ‘normal’, it was not immediately obvious what gender she (or he) was.

The only defining feature she (or he) had was that her (or his) face was entirely blank. No nose. No eyes. No mouth. A slenderman like appearance. Not uttering a sound, since she (or he) did not have a mouth, Effigy crouched down beside War-Pulse and placed her (or his) hand on the mercenary. A dim, silver light emanated from her hand and it crawled up her arm. Once the light had passed any specific section of Effigy’s body, that particular body part had now been replaced by what looked like an exact duplicate of War-Pulse’s counterpart of that part. After a few seconds, an exact duplicate of War-Pulse was standing next to the mercenary.

“It’s good to be male again.” Effigy said in a voice identical to War-Pulse. “How does it feel to no longer be ‘special’ anymore?”

War-Pulse’s eyes widened, jaw dropping slightly underneath the facemask as the entity shifted into an exact replica. He even emitted another subconscious ‘whoa’ as the copy spoke in his exact voice. However, this reaction was nothing more than an overacted ruse. He was letting the group feel big, allowing them to talk their big game and show off how powerful and awesome they were while he worked on his bindings. He had done this before during D-Day, his experiences with demonic energy teaching him that while magical energy is much harder to define, it still at some level falls under the limitations of physics, and therefore can be absorbed in its bare kinetic form. He just had to focus, when he had tried it before it felt like drinking salt water through the nose. It was uncomfortable for the most part, the unnatural elements of magic affecting him much differently than the more common forms of energy.

But he could do it, the magical energies of the constructs subtly flowing into War-Pulse’s form, strengthening him as the supergroup had taken the time to reveal a very big card in their deck of surprises, foolishly telling War-Pulse something they could have ambushed him with later. This small group of superhumans now believed they had the edge, but in reality it was the perfect time to strike for the crafty mercenary.

“That’s a pretty neat trick, right there.” War-Pulse admitted, nodding to the little group now formulated around him. “But if you think it’s just my incredible good looks that make me ‘special’, you’re sadly mistaken...flattering, but mistaken.”

Then, all at once, he snapped his arms forward, having absorbed the ethereal constructs enough to rip through their restraints like it was tin foil, the ghostly grabbers shredding and dissipating in the air as the gleeful energy-bound warrior smashed his elbows into the tank below him, causing him to vault to his feet. The rest of the motion happened in a blur, concentrating the energy he had absorbed into the center of his body before extending it outward in an energy wave, forcing the group surrounding him to be launched back.

“Now, I’m still thinking this is an uneven fight, so I’ll give the four of you a chance to run and find more teammates to even the odds.” War-Pulse quipped, a gleeful, hungry smile appearing on his face as he cracked his knuckles, energy flaring off of his body in bright blue wisps. “Otherwise, you can give me your best goddamn shot!”

While the Silver Sorceress reacted quickly enough to construct a magical bubble shield around herself to block War-Pulse’s counterattack, the others did not have the same means to protect themselves. While Black Widow instinctively used her silk to create a rope to break her fall and wheel herself back to the top of the storage unit, the other two did not have an innate means of saving themselves.

Using whatever mental concentration she had left while simultaneously holding up her defensive shield, the SIlver Sorceress was able to cause Jaws to levitate in midair, saving him from a collision with the ground. The blue aura that had guided Jaws into slamming against War-Pulse now led him back to the roof of the building on which the were standing. Unfortunately, she did not have enough time to prevent Effigy’s fall, causing him to crash into the ground. He lay there motionless, not moving an inch.

Praestgiae Manium

After the SIlver Sorceress had muttered these words, a red aura irradiated from the woman, spreading around the storage unit. At first, it seemed as if this ‘spell’ had done no harm to War-Pulse, since it did not even exert any force on him at all. However, after a few seconds, eerie phantasms began to rise from the ground below them. These ‘ghosts’ slowly climbed up the tower, despite the fact that the tower was unscalable without any equipment designed specifically for the job. Once these specters had reached the top of the tower, they, in a zombiesque fashion, stumbled towards War-Pulse, seemingly ignoring the other three combatants that were standing right there. But these were not any originary undead. In fact, they all appeared to have been the shades of numerous men that War-Pulse had killed during his so-far successful career as a mercenary.

The advancing horde indeed gave the mercenary temporary pause, a brow raised as he met the deformed eyes of every shambling corpse, his fighting stance undeterred. It took a few seconds, but he began to notice familiar parts of the phantoms’ attire. Between the familiar insignia, all too coincidental armaments, and even certain scars that the mercenary remembered, it did not take long for the mercenary’s eyes to pop wide open in realization that the zombies he was facing were indeed men he had killed.

“Whoa, that wasn’t what I meant,” He shouted, shuffling his footwork to keep them at bay. “And honestly, you aren’t getting much support. I already killed all these schmucks, you think they’ll have a better shot the second try?”

"Pulse...what are you yelling at?" Came Warden's voice from the comm link. "I don't see anything on the camera, where is your head at?"

War-Pulse furrowed his brow at Warden's words. He couldn't see the undead horde? How could that be? They were everywhere, disposable goons as far as the eye could see! Of course there was one exception that War-Pulse's eye kept falling on, a shorter figure in red and gold robes and a cape, thematically attired in the form of a superhero. There was a pang of sadness in War-Pulse's eyes as he saw the caped figure, he knew his past would come to haunt him, but he always hoped that figure would not be one.

He was quickly snapped out of his inner turmoil as a crash, not unlike the rumbling of thunder, erupted from the base of the storage unit, which was quickly followed by a flash of light. War-Pulse felt an energized sucker punch that struck him square in the back. When the metahuman mercenary turned to see his assailant, he discovered himself standing there.

“Didn’t see that one coming, did you?” Effigy taunted War-Pulse as the shapeshifter pulled out a vial that was tucked away within the uniform that was an exact duplicate of what War-Pulse wore. “I wonder what’s inside this. Anything worthwhile, my second-rate friend?” Even as Effigy gloated over War-Pulse, he turned his glance towards the Silver Sorceress. After only receiving a slight nod, the magic user mumbled yet another spell, causing a yellow aura to sweep across the top of the storage tank. However, once it returned to the Silver Sorceress, it seemed as if the yellow aura had done nothing.

War-Pulse spun on his heel to face the doppelganger, his eyes narrowing as the copy revealed the vial to him.

“Well, first off, for the metahuman equivalent of a glorified cover band, you sure are full of yourself.” War-Pulse sneered, taking a step closer to Effigy. “Second, that vial is none of your business, and all of mine.”

With that comment, War-Pulse launched himself forward, slamming right into Effigy in a tackle straight off of the tank to throw the pair into the air. Quickly he pried the vial from Effigy’s hands, his other hand delivering a solid right to the copy’s chest to send him hurtling to the tar below, following close to stomp on him as he impacted into the ground, causing a minor shockwave of tar and concrete to be kicked into the air. As soon as the pair hit the ground, War-Pulse leaped clear of his opponent, dropping the vial off in a nearby car window as he tried to re-evaluate the situation.

“War-Pulse, you may be biting off more than you can chew here.” Warden declared. “I’ve got a reading on this...Effigy...character. He’s definitely more than just a miraged fake, he is emitting almost exactly the same kind of energy signature that you are, almost an exact copy. If you have to fight yourself as well as three others, this may be a fight you cannot win.”

At those words, War-Pulse couldn’t help but scoff. Warden was smart, but severely underestimating the mercenary. He would never back down from a fight, especially now that his professional record was on the line. These guys had some big cards on the table, not only was there a magician and two mutants, but now a version of himself was bearing down on him with intent to show him up.

Just the kind of challenge he was looking for.

He extended his hands to Effigy, goading him into attacking. “C’mon, copycat! You want to be the better version of me? I ain’t impressed yet! Show me what you can really do!”

War-Pulse saw Effigy pull himself off the ground. The shapeshifter brushed off the fall from the top of the tower as if the fall had only been for a few inches. “You know what’s the difference between you and me?” Effigy cracked his knuckles as he prepared himself in a fighter’s stance, “I don’t need to rely on myself to be the ‘best’ to win a fight. Better is also such a relative term. In of itself, the word cannot qualify the degree of difference on its own. Me being better than you could range from me overpowering you and beating you at your own game to being the slightest bit superior than you, which could tip the scale of balance.”

Effigy siphoned the kinetic energy from both his recent fall and the impact with the ground into the energized glow in his hands. Once the doppelganger had taken his aim, Effigy released the kinetic energy as an energy blast, causing a beam of energy to be emitted from his hands. However, instead of aiming the blast at War-Pulse, Effigy had fired upon the ground.

From above, unbeknownst to the silver-clad mercenary, the Silver Sorceress had lowered Jaw via her magic until he was at a height that would not be fatal to the shark-man if he fell from that distance. Once she had gotten Jaw at this position, the Silver Sorceress released her magical spell that was causing Jaw to levitate. When Jaw had almost reached the ground, he wound up his arms and slammed them into War-Pulse.

Due to the spray of rubble from Effigy, War-Pulse was unprepared for the attack by Jaws, only getting enough time to face the shark-man before the impact slammed the mercenary into the ground, cratering deep into the rubble, nearby automobiles shifting and rolling over from the shockwave. War-Pulse grunted, his back firmly in the dirt as the shark-man wound up to deliver more thunderous shots to War-Pulse’s face and chest, driving him further into the dirt with each strike.

However, it was not long before War-Pulse’s hands came up to catch the beast man’s fists, slowly rising from his crippled position to push himself back to his feet, bearing down on his monstrous foe.

“Sharks have vital sensory organs in their nose,” Warden’s voice came in, still monitoring the fight. “If this...creature has a similar structure, then a firm blow to the nose should shock its system at the very least.”

“Ngh...okay...maybe you’re right, copycat!” War-Pulse replied, slowly pushing the shark-man back by the fists, forcing both of them out of the crater. “Hell, I’d even be so bold as to say that you’ve got a point. You don’t have to rely on being better than me, you got three other people to give you the advantage!”

With those words, he brought his head back slightly before slamming his forehead directly into the shark’s nose, hopefully delivering the exact system shock that Warden had reported to stun it. In one smooth motion, War-Pulse took this moment to grab the thing’s leg and twist, lifting the creature off of its feet and slamming it into a nearby van like a wrecking ball, impacting into the steel with a vicious crash. He continued the motion with another twist, spinning to gain enough momentum to toss the creature far into the air, directly at the floating spellcaster.

However, his momentum did not stop, for the moment he released Jaws, he bolted for Effigy, delivering a solid straight jab to the bridge of his nose. If Effigy was as powerful as he was at the moment, the punch would not deliver any damage, but it would startle Effigy enough to continue an assault. A barrage of kinetically charged jabs and hooks, each impact echoing through the neighborhood like a shotgun blast, forcing Effigy to take to the defensive.

“But hey, the challenge is what makes shit like this fun!” War-Pulse called over a vicious rising knee to the chin, followed by an elbow down on his collar. “If it was just you,I'd have beaten you three times over by now. You may have my powers, but an amateur like you severely lacks in the combat training and focus to make those powers useful!”

To punctuate his remark, he delivered a straight boot to the chest, throwing Effigy back into a construction zone, smashing into a pile of steel i-beams.

"And I really do have to label you as amateurs. The only exception being spirit fingers with the undead army. You're an uncoordinated mess!"

A small blast erupted from the jumbled pile of steel i-beams, causing the debris to fly to the side as Effigy pull himself to his feet. He calmly, yet purposefully, walked towards War-Pulse, making sure he was prepared for the mercenary’s next move.

“By definition, of course we are amateurs. We’re not getting paid to knock people off. That’s your job!” Once Effigy was in front of War-Pulse again, he began to shuffle from side to side, like a boxer. He began to feign jabs and uppercuts as he moved to and fro.

However, from behind War-Pulse came a silky thread that adhered to his back. Once it had firmly clunk to the mercenary’s back, War-Pulse was yanked away from his doppelganger, being dragged across the ground as he was pulled. Once he had been stopped being dragged, when he looked up, War-Pulse saw the Black Widow standing above him. She bent over and planted her hand on the ground right above War-Pulse’s shoulder so that her human half was parallel to War-Pulse’s body and that her face was several inches away from his. She took her other hand, licked her fingers, and then slicked War-Pulse’s hair to one side.

“I think you forgot about your friends.” Black Widow grinned as she looked back up towards the storage tank, as the shades of War-Pulse’s past victims tumbled off of that building’s roof. Even as they crashed into the ground, the restless ghosts pulled themselves off the ground with ease. In response to the now gathering mob of phantoms, the Black Widow scrambled to the side, allowing the undead to dogpile War-Pulse.

Soon afterward, Silver Sorceress, along with Jaws via the witch’s magic, floated back toward War-Pulse’s position. Once they made a soft landing, the Silver Sorceress knelt down to where War-Pulse was barely visible amongst the mass of undead shades. She began to whisper another set of words, causing a darkness to envelope the silver-clad mercenary.

Aeternum Somnium

The spirits now had enveloped the mercenary, grabbing and clawing at him in an attempt to keep him pinned. He struggled in response, swinging wildly at the mass of phantoms in a vain attempt to keep the swarm from enveloping him. A few were dissipated on contact with each swing, only to have more take their place. It seemed all of Pulse's confirmed kills were going to pin him to the ground.

All but one. The hooded vigilante, the most fully-formed of them all, remained floating just above the carnage. This was the true struggle of this swarm, not the mass of undead surrounding War-Pulse's person, but the single spirit leering down upon him, a resentful glare searing out from the torn and bloodied face mask.

"You enjoying this, asshole?" War-Pulse cried to the floating spirit. "This make you feel better?"

The spirit said nothing.

"Pulse...what are you yelling at? What are you even fighting?" Came Warden's voice through the comm. "There is nothing there, you are swinging at air. What are you--wait. It's the sorceress, isn't it? She's casting some kind of illusion, you are seeing something that isn't there. Snap out of it!"

But Warden’s words now fell entirely upon deaf ears, as War-Pulse continued to shout at the cloaked phantasm.

“What do you want? Why are you just staring?” War-Pulse shouted, yanking one of the undead free from his arm. “What do you want?”

The hooded ghost said nothing, it simply stared.

“Look I...I’m sorry, alright?!” He yelped, the air distorting around him as he continued to devolve into instability. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to kill you! It was a job! You...you should have just stayed down! Pretended to be dead, that would have been enough! You didn’t have to get up and keep fighting…”

The ghost said nothing, it simply stared.

“There, you happy?! I’m sorry, I said I’m sorry! But what’s done is done, now leave me alone! ALL OF YOU LEAVE ME ALONE!”

The ghost said nothing, it simply stared.

“WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT?! LEAVE...ME...ALONE!!!!”

When War-Pulse began to emit waves of light due to the hysteria caused by the Silver Sorceress’ illusion, almost all of the other metahumans began to panic. What would happen when War-Pulse reached the critical point? Would he destroy the entire block? However, there was one of them who had her head in the game.

“Jaws, grab that car and drag it over towards the shore.” The Silver Sorceress barked with authority while pointing at the same car where War-Pulse had deposited the vial that Effigy found. “Effigy, since you can absorb some of the energy that this crazy mercenary is emitting, aid Black Widow in wrapping him up in her webbing.”

Immediately, the three metahumans went to work. While Jaws was working on getting the vehicle in position, Effigy spun War-Pulse around, allowing the Black Widow to wrap her spider silk around him without touching him. Once War-Pulse was now all but a silk cocoon, with one hand, the Silver Sorceress caused War-Pulse to levitate. She sent him over to where Jaws had set down the car. With the other hand, the Silver Sorceress used her magic to unlock and open the car door. Immediately afterwards, she shoved the still levitating War-Pulse in the backseat and slammed the door shut with her magic.

“Effigy, Jaws. We’re going to need you to toss this car as far as possible into the sea. I’ll decrease the density of the car so that we can increase both your throwing range.” Therefore, once both Effigy and Jaws had lifted up the car, they heaved it into the air, sending it into the ocean.

Once the car plunged into the depths of the sea, only a raising tension of silence remained as the four individuals waited on the shore for the explosion. Luckily, it seemed like they managed to get War-Pulse as far away from the nearby residential area in the nick of time. Suddenly, a deafening blast echoed across the coastline as the sea erupted into a dome-like expanse of blue light visible for at least a few miles down the coastline, the docks along the coast shaking from the impact. The area around the explosion had forced the seawater outward, allowing the ocean floor to momentarily be exposed to the air before the water came rushing back in. More importantly to the metahumans on shore, the resulting explosion had sent a series of tidal waves racing to the shoreline, threatening to envelop the docks.

However, while using her magic to assuage the raging water, the Silver Sorceress managed to transform what could have been a tsunami into what would have seemed like normal waves that would crash onto the beach.

Once the crisis had ended, all four of these individuals took a sigh of relief, knowing that their confrontation with War-Pulse had not ending in a similar fashion as the mercenary’s last fight at the water treatment plant, or in a fashion far worse.

Then, the Silver Sorceress pulled out a vial, which looked exactly like the one War-Pulse had been carrying. She caused it to levitate in the air, allowing the others to see.

“What a twit.” The Silver Sorceress berated the now absent War-Pulse, “I cannot see any reason why anyone would want to hire this guy. He’s almost up there with those four elemental mercenaries that the Doctor hired several weeks ago.”

Now that their work here was done, the Silver Sorceress muttered another set of magical words. As soon as she had finished the spell, the four metahumans vanished into thin air, as they were teleported away from this location. While a positive media appearance was something that the group thought would be desirable for their plans, at the same time, they did not want to overstay their welcome.

There was short, tense silence after the detonation. The water refilling the large gap serving almost as background noise in comparison to the recent sounds of battle echoing through the block. However, that silence was short lived when the water was once more ruptured. Barrelling up in a mighty water column, War-Pulse found himself high in the air, a wild glint in his frantic eyes. His anxious panting only overtaken by his rage.

"Alright, that was a dirty trick!" War-Pulse called out as he shook water off of his face. "For that, I am so gunna--"

He stopped his threat mid-sentence, glaring around the coastline for any sign of his opponents.

"Hey! Where did they go!?" He shouted, his body now crackling with kinetic power to reflect his provoked state of mind. "I swear I am going to just start blasting until they rear their--"

“They're gone, Pulse, now pull yourself together.” Came Warden’s voice barking through the comm. “I take it you are relatively unharmed?"

“Unharmed? I'm pissed right the hell off!" A snarling response came from War-Pulse, "That magic bitch messed with my head! I am going to kill her for that!"

“I don't think that's possible. They disappeared in a flash of light while you were in the throes of insanity. What makes matters worse is that the car they threw you in contained the vial...”

“Wait, does that mean...” War-Pulse glanced around, his brow furrowing. “I didn't blow up the vial too, did I?"

“You can say it wasn't your fault, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Dammit!" War-Pulse held his hands on both sides as he cursed. "At this point, we’ve only got a 75% success rate on this job.”

“I’d make that about 65%, we don’t know how much of that first vial got into the water supply. Nevertheless, I’m sending our report to Randall...we may not have been entirely successful, but as professionals, it’s our duty to--”

“Warden, can you just do it instead of scolding me like a disapproving dad?.” War-Pulse interrupted, floating along the water’s surface back to the shore. “Right now I’ve just come the closest I’ve ever want to come to a debate of my own morality, I’m not in the mood for reminders that this Randall guy is going to chew us up."

“That’s…” Warden began, though knowing better at this point was quick to switch topics. “The report is being typed up and sent as we speak, we should be hearing from them within a few hours.”

“Terrific. I’m going to go find a mountain to punch to clear my head.”

“Shouldn’t you try to stay under the radar, for now?”

“Nah, wouldn’t work anyway, people can see me on radar, what’s the point of hiding?”

“Fair enough, I’m going to go dig up some dirt on your four assailants, maybe point you in their direction once we’ve finished with this job.”

War-Pulse sighed, clicking off his comm link as he touched down onto the docks. “Yeah, then it’s payback time.”

The street tough frantically struggled in Uskri's arms, trying to escape. "Sorry sorry sorry, Ranore, I didn't mean it! I mean, I did, but there are a bunch of guys tearing everything up, and you know, I thought you were one of them! I was heading up to my sister's, to check up on her, and my nephew."

Uskri sighed, and set the young man down. "Listen, Jeremy, you might want to stay in the apartment fr' now. There's gonna be a lot of crazy stuff going on, and I want everyone to be safe." The Canadian picked up the baseball bat and handed it back to the kid, and gently shoved him towards the door. "Go, kid. Be safe, and give your sister my regards."

Shaking his head, he thought, What's the world coming to? Riots in the streets, ugh. I guess I'm gonna have to do something. A murmur of assent from the various spirits that resided within him, and he was looking up and down the streets, seeing gangs, looters, and other folk. Down one road, it lead to the harbor. Down the other, though, it led to Sherman Square, and Little Ulster wasn't the most... secure neighborhood. He decided to go to the intersection by the square, there would be a bigger concentration of rioters there.

As he approached the entrance to the neighborhood, his very presence caused most of the in-neighborhood criminals to flee. When he had first came to Lost Haven with his family, the most famous tough guy on Easy Street, John Damian, had tried to hustle the Ranores. Uskri had broken both of his arms when he had swung at Dathan. Needless to say, the local riff-raff knew to not mess with Uskri, and if he said to not bother someone, they didn't bother someone. However, Uskri was more concerned about the out-of-neighborhood criminals who might try and wreak havoc. He had made the neighborhood safe, and he wasn't about to let it get wrecked.

Standing in the middle of the road, Uskri's eyes narrowed, as he saw a group of gangbangers swaggering down the road towards him, wielding chains, bats, and switchblades. Cracking his knuckles, he readied for the inevitable conflict.

I had heard that things were bad in Lost Haven. I knew that there had been major riots throughout the city last night, but I was completely and utterly unprepared for what I saw as my car traveled through the streets, occasionally having to swerve to miss debris that was still strewn about the roadways. The burnt out buildings and sheer desperation that I saw on the faces of those who had lost everything was more than I could stand.

“Stop the car.” I told Brody, my driver.

Miss Winstone?” Brody asked. He was a good driver, and had served my family well over the years. He had a number of skills that he acceded at, however acting wasn’t one of them. He couldn’t hide the fear in his voice. “Here?”

“Yes.” I told him. “Stop here.”

Although he had reservations about stopping in a section of town that had been so ravaged by the riots, he did as he was told. He guided the car over to the curb, and as soon as it came to a stop, I opened the door and stepped out. The smell of smoke was overpowering. I almost wanted to get back in the car and continue on my way to Winstone International, but I just couldn’t. Just down the street, there was a young immigrant family standing outside what had remained of their convenience store. The pain that these people must have felt as their livelihood burned to the grown must have been indescribable and I knew that I had to help them some how.

I felt some responsibility for their suffering, as well as the suffering that everyone in the city had gone through over the last twenty four hours. I was given these extraordinary gifts, and aside from D-Day, I’ve done nothing with them. I let my city suffer and burn while I spent my time on business trips all over Europe. In fact, I was halfway home from Paris when I saw the report of the riots, when that walking tank brought that news copter down on that other meta…I have a responsibility to them too, and their families. I can’t just sit on the sidelines while this city goes to shit, I have to do something.

I owe it to them.

Well, um, that was sort of unexpected. We’re talking about the man who used me as a battering ram through a section of Lost Haven. This guy is either extremely gullible or he’s planning something devious. Either way, I have to carefully plan my next move. I obviously don’t to see Round 2 of our first ‘fight’ (if you could even call it that). I actually want to go home in one piece, despite what it might look like.

Then I heard two, small wings flapping beside my ear. When I turned my head to see what was making that noise, I discovered a small owl perched on my shoulder, balancing itself on one leg. In the other leg, the small bird was holding a small vial that contained a clear liquid. Now it is time for the final stage of the plan. Now, unless this Greek demigod wannabe is actually faking it, I need to convince him that this is the anti-venom for the poison that I had supposedly injected into his blood stream. However, the serum inside will actually make him seem like he is suffering from Latrodectism (don’t ask me how I know that. I blame Athena). Although it is sort of weird that Athena sent a little owl. Couldn’t this be animal cruelty, especially since it was sent in this almost literal warzone?

Therefore, I took the vial from the small owl, although I did so with a little hesitation. This isn’t Snow White or the Lion King. Animals just don’t do that (unless you’re a messenger pigeon, of course). Anyways, after I took the vial from the bird’s claw (cannot believe I just said that), I tossed the glass container over towards the man, which caused it to adhere to the silk that had ensnared the man.

“Here is the first batch of the antidote. If you happen to behave yourself and turn yourself over peacefully, we’ll give you the second batch which you need to cure yourself.”

While the man was downing the clear serum as if his life depended on it, suddenly Athena appeared next to where the man was ensnared by my spider-web. The Goddess of Wisdom took her spear and began to twirl the spider-silk around the man. Once she was finished, the man was now tied up with the silk that my spider-web had only a few moments ago been composed of.

“I shall take this miscreant back to his master,” Athena said as she picked the man up with one hand. “However, I will still require your assistance, Eikon. Take my young pupil here and meet me at Ares’ temple. Bubo knows the way, don’t you my fine feathered friend.” The small owl flew off my shoulder and darted towards Athena. It landed on her one free hand. For a moment, the Greek goddess dropped the servant of Ares onto the ground and feed Bubo something. After she had fed the little owl, Athena took hold of the servant of Ares again and disappeared into thin air.

Meanwhile, Bubo began to hover in the air. First, it flew over towards me, circling my head. Then, the little owl flew away from me and did the same to Icon. Once it had finished trying to get our attention, the owl so called Bubo darted in the opposite direction and headed toward where Athena wanted us to rendezvous.

Sometimes, I question Athena’s decision making. Why couldn’t she have had Icon take that Greek wannabe? Ironically, the one time I wanted her to do her little ‘teleporting’ trick, she doesn’t do it. Maybe that’s what I get for complaining about it so much. Honestly, I have no idea how this is going to work. I’m sure that this Icon guy could carry a normal person. But I’m not quite normal, at least when it comes to my lower body.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I also ‘volunteered’ for this little job, too.” I made air quotes with my figures to emphasize that I did not really have any choice in the matter.

Budapest
2310 Local Time

Theodore Roosevelt walked through the lobby of the hotel as calmly as possible. A defector from the Secret Soviet Union was on the top floor with James Madison. The plan was for Madison and Roosevelt to debrief him here in Budapest before smuggling him back into America where a more thorough debrief awaited at Mount Rushmore. The man, an ex-KGB colonel, knew the ins and outs of the secret Communist cabal the Executive Branch still knew very little about. If they could get him to America, then they would finally have an idea on how the Russians worked.

Roosevelt wore a plain black suit and tie with a white shirt. The magic of the EB's mages distorted his face to the public at large. To those out of the loop, the twenty-sixth president of the United States of America looked just another accountant or some paper pusher instead of what he really was. He pressed the top button and waited for the doors to close. They were nearly shut when a hand reached through and caused the automatic doors to spring back open. A dark-haired man in a tuxedo gave Roosevelt his thanks and selected his floor before the doors finally closed.

Theodore gave the man a glance out the corner of his eye. His tuxedo was of a baggy cut, but he could tell the cloth hid a muscular frame underneath. His dark hair, which was gelled and combed back, had bits of gray in it. There was a thick black goatee on his face. There was something oddly familiar about him, and Roosevelt was overcome with the sense of déjà vu by just glancing at the man's profile. He kept his eyes forward, but his body language told Teddy that he was on high alert and focused on something. A cold, numb sensation began in the pit of Teddy's stomach. He was not a believer of things like a sixth sense or telepathy, even in the shadow world of magic and advanced science he now inhabited, but a lifetime constantly seeking out danger gave him an acute sense of recognizing it and when it was imminent.

Roosevelt flung himself backwards just as the man's large fist moved to strike him. He grabbed the man's wrist with one hand to try to twist it backwards behind his back, but the man's muscles tightened and flexed. He slapped Roosevelt hard in the face with the open palm of his free hand. He reeled backwards and slammed against the lift's wall. While sTeddy recovered, the assassin slapped the emergency stop button at the tenth floor and began to encroach towards him.

Teddy pulled a compact Glock from a shoulder holster in suit. He was aiming it when the man's powerful hands slapped it out of his grip. The gun clattered to the floor as the man got his hands around Roosvelt's neck and lifted him upwards. The top of his head smashed against the lift's ceiling, knocking a light fixture loose and popping the fluorescent lightbulb. The small space was now basked in half-shadow as the man throttled Teddy's neck. His tough hands scratched at his throat the way sandpaper scratches at wood. He kept his eyes forward and watched Teddy with gleeful anticipation as he squeezed the life out of him.

Flailing, Teddy's foot connected with the man's chest with the heel of his shoe. The shock from the blow caused the killer to drop his prey and stumble backwards holding his chest. Roosevelt slammed against the floor of the lift and coughed violently as air returned to his lungs. He looked up and saw the man sucking for air as well. The Glock was in the far corner beside the assassin. Teddy stood just as the man was standing.

"Suppose we can't talk this out like civilized people?" he asked the man in a rough, scratchy voice. "Come to some sort of consensus?"

"Talking is for cowards," he said in a thick Russian accent. "But we will talk like the real men used to."

"Bully," Teddy said with a wide grin.

Like that, he was back on Roosevelt with his wide fist cutting through the air. He held an arm up and blocked the blow with a left forearm. The blow sent shockwaves of pain through his arm, but it didn't affect Teddy'ss aim as she struck the man in the face with a right hook. The blow knocked the man unbalanced, and Teddy kept up the barrage with a series to body blows to the chest and sides. He had been a boxer at Harvard many years ago, and that old training came back as he worked the man's upper body over like a side of beef. Teddy had the man backed up against the side of the lift, but any advantage he had evaporated when the assassin grabbed one of his blows with an open palm and flipped him hard on to the lift floor. The wind rushed out of his lungs and he gasped for air. While Teddy struggled, the man stood over her.

"Not bad," he said with a slight bow. "Especially for an old man like you. I have met better, but not many. You were nearly a worthy opponent, President Roosevelt, but you were not good enough. The Secret Soviet Union sends its regards. Rot in hell, American сука."

The man raised his leg and was bringing it down when Teddy rolled to his right. The foot came down on the lift's metal floor with a loud metallic bang. Teddy swept his left leg, knocking the man to the ground. He again saw the Glock on the floor out of the corner of his eye. He rolled in its direction, picking it up in his hand. Before Teddy could turn, he felt the powerful assassin's hands around the back of his neck. Roosevelt swung the gun behind his head and felt the butt of the weapon strike the man square on the head.

The blow didn't seem to faze him, as his powerful hands reached out to take the gun away from Teddy. They struggled with each other, rolling on the floor. In their tug of war, one of them squeezed the gun's trigger. It went off straight up in the air, first a three round burst then the rest of the rounds in the magazine followed. Roosevelt kicked away from the killer and yanked the Glock from his grip. Turning, he struck him again with the gun, this time straight across the face with the barrel. He screamed as the gun's iron sight scratched across his eye.

There came a loud metallic twang from above, followed by a groan. Both Teddy and the assassin looked up. The gunshots had pierced the lift's ceiling, one of bullets must have damaged the cables that operated the lift. Roosevelt and his would-be killer exchanged looks before they tried to strike. While the assassin reared back for another punch, he used his left hand to poke the killer in the scratched eye. He screamed again, falling back to the floor. There was another twang, this one shaking the lift. Teddy carefully stood while the killer rolled on the ground. He tried to pry open the lift's doors as gently as possible while the man tried to regain his composure. He was on his hands and knees when Teddy kicked him in the face and dropped him to the floor again. With a wedge big enough to pass through, Teddy stomped down on the lift's floor hard before he slid through the opening. He came through the doors and out on the tenth floor just as the lift's cable gave a loud twang and a snap, the man's scream was loud at first, but got smaller and smaller as the car fell down towards the lobby.

Breathing hard, Teddy bent down and rubbed his sore neck with her hands. He heard a crash and a rumble far below him. "Looks like he found his floor," he said softly to himself.

Icon was unsure of what to make of the situation that was unfolding before him. Part of him was horrified that the spider woman had bitten Polemos and poisoned him with her venom, yet somehow, as if someone had been whispering in his ear he just knew that she actually hadn’t. It was as if someone had spoken to him on a subliminal level and told him that Polemos was in no real danger. While he wouldn't necessarily endorse such tactics on a regular basis, Polemos had proven to be a significant threat, and he was just happy to have the maniacal warrior subdued for the time being. He just hoped that the rouse would keep him on his best behavior until they were able to figure out just what to do with the madman.

Just as the mysterious woman who had come to him several times before finished wrapping Polemos in the web, Icon saw the familiar form of an owl appear before them. Just then, the woman began to speak.
“I shall take this miscreant back to his master,” Athena said as she picked the man up with one hand. “However, I will still require your assistance, Eikon. Take my young pupil here and meet me at Ares’ temple. Bubo knows the way, don’t you my fine feathered friend.” She said as the owl began to circle both Icon and the spider woman, before darting off.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I also ‘volunteered’ for this little job, too.” The spider woman said somewhat sarcastically.

”Right.” Icon said as he took the spider woman in his grasp and took off after the owl called Bubo.

Apartment Complex
Lost Haven, Maine
2 Months Ago

Tiny cracks all over the walls...the voices of others from above the aged ceiling and below the creaky floor...the occasional tinging of pipes within the walls....

Yup. This was life in the city--and Charlotte was gonna have to get used to it.

And it wasn't even the decent part of the city, either; it was some slum on the outskirts of town. This crappy little hole in the middle of nowhere was, unfortunately, the best place Charlotte could afford. Being a high-school graduate with no college education and no parents to provide financial support would do that to a person. At the very least, she still had some of her inheritance from her late father, and with it she could keep a roof over her head, even if said roof was barely holding itself together.

So she had money for the apartment...but not much else. She could either keep the roof over her head for a week and be able to buy food, or she could pay for the rest of the month and try and find food...well, by other means. She shuddered at the thought of what "other means" entailed. Her father had always told her never to steal, and for all her life she'd followed that rule.

And that was a rule she'd continue to follow, even if it meant only having a house over her head for one week.

Charlotte stared out of the one window in her apartment room, gazing at the gloomy slums outside. But what she'd have to do after that one week was up....

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden buzzing of the phone nearby. Good thing, too; she hated pondering the darker things in life. She hopped up from the seat by the window and headed over to the phone, picking it up once she reached it.

"Hello?" she asked, looking back at the grayness beyond the window.

"Hey, honey! It's Felicia," came a warm, familiar voice from the other end of the phone.

"Oh, hey!" said Charlotte, her lips starting to form a faint smile. "How are things back in Kussatawnee?"

"Everything's good back here," Felicia said. "I gotta say, with the Karks dead and gone, things are pretty easy going for us officers. Whoever took 'em out did the town quite a lot of favors, especially for the police force."

"Yeah...they sure did...." Charlotte trailed off, a bit unnerved by the memory of the Karks being killed...the memory of her killing them....

"And oh, how brutal it was, too!" continued Felicia, obviously unaware of Charlotte's lack of comfort on the subject. "I don't know what kind of glass they used to shank 'em with, but they really were effect-"

"Okay, I get it!" Charlotte snapped, not wanting to be reminded of her handiwork. How exactly had Felicia not realized just what that "glass" was? She'd told her about her "ability" a long time ago, and while Felicia had kept that fact secret, she should have been able to recognize what those fragments at the crime scene really were.

"Oh, I'm sorry honey, I forgot that you're still trying to get over the whole ordeal. I promise I won't bring it up again, okay?" Felicia apologized.

"Yeah, just...let's just leave it in the past," Charlotte replied, still trying to block the memories from her head.

And so the two of them talked. Felicia asked how Charlotte's first few days in the city had gone, and Charlotte told her. Charlotte asked a few questions in turn, about the town, the other officers, Felicia's two children and their schoolwork, and so on. Eventually, Felicia had to leave, and so the call ended. But for that brief time, during that one casual chat over the phone, Charlotte felt a sense of peace that she hadn't felt in a long time. Perhaps--just perhaps--life in Lost Haven would bring back that peace.

So long as she didn't run out of food first.

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Slums
Lost Haven, Maine
6 Weeks Ago

She ran out of food first.

Well, first, she'd run out of money for food. Charlotte still had one payment saved for the apartment, so there was that; but having an apartment to stay in wouldn't matter if she didn't have food. And what would you know, she ran out of food just three days after she ran out of money.

Things weren't looking on the up-and-up.

So she'd been reduced to the two basic options that most human beings have: get food, or die of starvation. But the only way to get food would be to steal it from somewhere....

As she walked down the street, Charlotte shook her head. She'd already thought this through, and made her decision; there was no turning back now, because turning back meant death.

Up ahead was a small gas station. There were probably some snack foods in there that she could take home with her. Hey, if she was gonna steal something, it might as well be tasty.

Stepping inside, she met the careless glance of a middle-aged man with quite the mustachio'd face. She took care to keep her head hidden underneath the hoodie she had on, just so the station worker wouldn't remember the face of his thief. He went back to looking at something on his cell phone; Charlotte figured years of working in a store of any kind would lead to that kind of boredom. Over to her left, she saw small packs of food: Pop-Tarts, Pringles, Skittles, Sour Patch Kids, and so on. She began to browse amongst them to see which ones would best suit her tastes.

Behind her, she heard the door open as a third person entered the building. Placing two bags of Jelly Beans in her left pocket, she scowled; she didn't need any witnesses around.

Witnesses? You're already thinking like a criminal, Charlotte thought. It was strange; the voice felt more akin to that of her dad than her own regular thoughts. Maybe it was the ghost of her father trying to disguise itself as her conscience, or some other crap like that. If it were a cricket, she hoped it would show itself soon so she could step on it.

Suddenly, she heard a swift noise of motion over by the counter. Her eyes were involuntarily drawn to the sound, and when they glanced back at the counter she saw that the third person in the room had just pulled a gun on the man at the counter.

"Be quiet and give me all the cash in that register! Don't make me pull the trigger!" said the man, his hands on the gun trembling slightly.

Charlotte froze. Had the man not seen her? Or did he simply not care that there was another person in the room? Either way, that cashier was about to be done in if he didn't move soon.

On impulse, Charlotte held her hand forward and thought of punching the man. Instantly, a golden, crystal-like ball of solid light materialized in her hand, and she threw it at the gunman. Before the gunman could even realize that someone else was in the gas station, the ball hit the man square on the side of his head, knocking him onto the floor.

Charlotte ran forward and took the gun out of the man's limp hand, then, after making sure the safety was off, tossed it across the room. She then turned back and check the man's pulse; he was alive, merely unconscious from the blow.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she stood back up, only to realize that the cashier was still there. He'd seen her materialize that ball; he knew her power.

"Mister...uh...there's a good reason for what just happened...." she said, holding her hands forward as if he were approaching her.

"My goodness, you just saved my life!" he cried, both exasperated and grateful. "I don't know how you did that, but frankly I don't care. Is that man alright?"

"Yeah, I checked...uh...he's just out cold," she said, still wary of the cashier but a little calmer now.

"Bless you, woman! God bless you!" the cashier continued. "Listen, if there's anything you need from me, anything at all--"

"Don't tell anyone about what I just did," she said quickly, seizing the opportunity to keep the cashier quiet.

"Absolutely," he replied, still showing signs of exasperation.

Charlotte turned to look back down at the man, who was still unconscious. He'd come into the store with the same intentions as Charlotte, yet here they both were, one knocked out and the other being praised. She suddenly felt that twinge of guilt not unlike the guilt she'd felt about the takedown of the Karks...and then she remembered the food in her pockets.

"Um...before I go...would it be alright if I just...took some food with me?" she asked. "I can leave it here, if you really need it--"

"Lady, for as long as I'm in charge of this place, you can come by and grab whatever you want. I'm in your debt, and I will do whatever I can to see it paid," the cashier assured her, wheezing a little.

"Oh, thank you so much!" she said, beaming. Free food and gas whenever she needed it? That sounded like a good deal to her.

She briefly went back over to the food aisle and grabbed a couple of other packages before turning and leaving. Behind her, she could hear the cashier continue to thank her again and again; but all the while, she still sensed a bad feeling in the pit of her gut, simply because she knew that she fully intended to do the same thing as that gunman had, just without the gun.

Regardless, the outcome of her attempted robbery was far better than she'd expected. Once again, maybe things were finally looking up for her in this desolate city.

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Apartment Complex
Lost Haven, Maine
6 Weeks Ago

Charlotte had just finished placing the newly-acquired food into the pantry when a buzzing came from the phone. Walking over to it, she picked it up and said, "Hello? Who is it?"

"Hey, honey, it's Felicia!" came that familiar warm voice from the other end of the phone.

"Oh gosh, hi!" said Charlotte, now even more cheerful that a good friend had called to talk.

"How's everything going up in Maine?" Felicia asked.

"Oh, well, I just had the wildest day today...I think you're gonna like this story," said Charlotte, smirking a bit.

And so she went ahead and told her what had happened just an hour or so ago in the gas station. Everything...well, excluding the part where she intended to rob the store owner. Aside from that, however, she didn't hold back on the details.

"Oh my goodness! That's quite the adventure you had today!" said Felicia; from the sound of it, she was probably holding back a giggle of some sort. "And so you can just go in there and get anything you need from now on? Gas and food and all that stuff?"

"Apparently so," Charlotte replied, still smirking.

"Wow," Felicia sighed, evidently exasperated from the story. "I guess it's good that after two weeks in that city, only one other person knows about what you can do."

"You don't think I could keep my abilites to myself? I've been doing that for quite a while now, you know that as well as I do!" Charlotte replied.

"Oh, hush," said Felicia.

"But anyways," said Charlotte, "how are things holding up back home?"

"Oh, honey, you wouldn't believe how busy things were today," said Felicia. "The whole police force is in an uproar, because someone in the bureaucratic divisions apparently miscounted the bodies found at the scene where the Karks were killed. Apparently there were only four bodies, not five."

Charlotte froze. Did she hear what she just thought she heard?

Returning to reality, she struggled to find something meaningful to say back to Felicia. However, all she could muster was a single "What?"

"Yeah, everyone's been in a fuss. We know that all five of them were there at the scene because there's all sorts of forensic markings that indicate the five of them were there, as well as the killer themselves. So people are saying that the killer must have taken one of the bodies, or perhaps it was crushed under all that debris, or something along the lines of that," Felicia went on, seemingly unfazed by what she was talking about.

"Just...just four bodies?" Charlotte said, her heart beginning to beat faster and faster. She had killed all five of them, she knew she did.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I forgot that you didn't want me talking about the Karks. I'll drop the issue, don't worry. Besides, if it's any comfort, there's really not much more to go off of than that. The body's probably just buried in the rubble somewhere," Felicia assured her, still apparently not worried at the slightest by the recent revelation.

Charlotte wanted to say something, but Felicia spoke up again.

"Hey, my doorbell just rang. I think it's the neighbours, they said they were gonna come over to eat tonight. I'll call you back after dinner is over, alright?"

Charlotte stood there, still stunned by what she'd just been told, and then said, "...uh-huh."

"Alright honey, I'll talk to you later! Bye!" Felicia said, hanging up without giving Charlotte a chance to answer.

For a minute, she stood there, with the phone still in her hand. Then it all hit her: a body was missing. Could that mean that one of those monsters was still out there, somewhere...?

No, don't think about that. Felicia is probably right, one of the bodies has to be buried under the rubble is all, she thought. This time, the voice she heard in her mind was her own, not her father's.

She continued to tell herself that in her head, over and over and over again, until she realized that she was too tired to stay standing up. Moving over to one of the other chairs, she slumped down and kept thinking that same reassuring thought to herself, over and over and over again, until the comfort of the chair eased her into a deep slumber.

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Felicia's House
Kussatawnee, New Hampshire
6 Weeks Ago

Felicia placed the phone back down on it's little stand, then turned to get the door. She'd been baking a nice cake for desert once the neighbours arrived, and it would only take about 10 minutes or so to be finished. Hopefully, the neighbours could wait just a second.

Before she opened the door, she said to the knocker, "You're free to come in, Mr. and Mrs. Winston, but I'm afraid you'll have to wait for the cake!"

When she opened the door, however, she discovered that it wasn't her neighbours knocking on the door at all.

"I want you to tell me everything you know," came the man's ragged voice, "about Charlotte Gilligan."

“This is Addy, you know what to do.” Kyle heard the voicemail of Adeline Strayer say. He found it ironic, because although she was supposed to be his girlfriend, he hadn’t heard from her in weeks, and because of this, he really did not know what to do. So instead of leaving yet another message, he just hung up the phone.

With the campus closed for a second straight day, Kyle had made plans to hang out with Dmitri. Though he knew that he should probably go over to The Garage to train, he understood that he needed some down time otherwise he’d end up burning himself out, which would only lead to him making a mistake that would get himself or someone else for that matter, killed. And that was something that he wouldn’t allow. Unfortunately, the plans that he had made with Dmitri had fallen through. Just as Kyle was getting ready to leave his dorm room, Dmitri had sent him a text message.

“SRY, Can’t make it. Have to work. SMDH”

Though his plans were shot, Kyle had headed out anyhow. It was an unseasonably warm day, so Kyle thought that he’d go out for a bit and take advantage of the nice weather. He made his way through the campus, and aside from the a few students making their way to and from the campus center, the campus seemed deserted. As he walked, he found himself thinking about the recent events not only in the city, but the events that had so completely altered his life. His mind drifted to the riots two nights prior, as well as the strange meta human woman who he had left for the police the night before, however, his mind always drifted back to the night that Ronnie had been killed. Since that night, Kyle had carried within him an anger that had never been there before. And though he felt responsible for Ronnie’s death, he wanted nothing more than to find the man who pulled the trigger and make him pay. Unfortunately, the trail had gone cold. He didn’t know if he would ever find the man who had murdered his best friend. He did know, however, that he would never stop looking.

As Kyle rounded the corner that would lead him directly to the campus center, he saw Sam sitting on a bench just outside the library. It wasn’t until he had already started toward her did he notice that she was not alone. Sitting beside her was his ex, Kerri. Since their breakup, Kerri and Kyle had not exactly gotten along. She was constantly directing barbs at him, and he was not above returning the favor. In fact, things had gotten downright nasty between them, to the point where they both just chose to stay clear of one another, which was easier said than done considering that they traveled in the same social circles. However, since Ronnie’s passing, their frigid relationship had seemingly thawed slightly, almost to the point that they could be in one another’s presence and not want to kill each other. Still, despite Kerri showing genuine concern for Kyle at Ronnie’s funeral, Kyle preferred to keep his distance. He thought that maybe it was best if he pretended not to see them, and just keep going, however, it was too late. Sam had seen him as he had set a course toward her, and called out to him. Reluctantly, he continued toward them.

“Hey.” Sam said as he approached she and Kerri.

“Hi.” Kyle said, before meeting Kerri’s gaze, and letting out a slightly awkward “hey.”

“Hey.” Kerri said as she looked down at the ground. “Hey Sam, I gotta run, I’ll catch up with you later.” She said as she got up and turned to leave.

“Oh, okay. I’ll see you later.” Sam said, her voice slightly more upbeat than it had been in weeks.

Before Kerri left, she turned to Kyle and put a hand on his shoulder. “Kyle, if you ever need to talk…I am here for you.”

“Thanks.” He said as Kerri turned and made her way up the sidewalk back toward the dorms.

As Kerri disappeared from view, Kyle sat down next to Sam on the bench. As he took a seat beside her, he noticed that she had been writing in her notebook, which she promptly closed. Though he was curious as to what she was doing, he didn’t ask what she was doing.

“How are you?” He asked, genuinely concerned. Although he knew that she had been having a hard time dealing with Ronnie’s death, she seemed to be taking it extra hard.

“I’m dealing.” She said. “Not very well, but I am dealing.” She confessed.

“I know what you mean.” He told her just as an idea come to him. Although they had both attended Ronnie’s funeral; neither of them ever really had a chance to say goodbye. There were so many people at the service all looking to get some sort of closure that is two best friends had seemingly been pushed aside.

“Come with me.” Kyle said as he stood up.

“What? Where?” Sam said, unsure of what Kyle had in mind.

“Trust me.” Kyle said as he reached out, offering her his hand. As he took her hand in his, Kyle felt something, and from the look on her face, Sam may have felt it too. It was almost like a jolt, though not necessarily a physical one. He felt something in the pit of his stomach- excitement, comfort, something else. It was almost as if the pent up feelings that he had for Sam finally forced their way out and made themselves known. He looked to Sam, and for the first time in weeks, she gave a smile. Not the forced, insincere smile that she had faked for the sake of everyone else, but an actual, honest, smile.

“Let’s go.” Kyle said as he led the way.

Executive Branch Headquarters
Mt. Rushmore, SD
1722 Local Time

From hundreds down into the heart of Mount Rushmore, Franklin Roosevelt monitored Executive Branch activity from the command nerve center. A giant map of the world was plastered on the far wall with glowing lights in each corner of the planet where an operative or operation was taking place. A half dozen computer technicians worked on terminals pointed towards the big map. Roosevelt sat in his wheelchair, hands in his lap, while one of the technicians brought up information from the blip in Brazil. From the blip, a light shone on the floor that projected a hologram of a man's shape that soon came into focus.

"Lancelot checking in," John F. Kennedy's hologram said. "I am... err... currently tracking down leads here on the Fourth Reich here in Rio De Janeiro. So far nothing has surfaced--" A feminine giggle came from somewhere to the Kennedy's right, where he looked and sheepishly smiled. A pair of tiny panties fell on his head. "But I am hard at work getting down to the bottom of it. Lancelot out."

Roosevelt sighed as the hologram disappeared. Young Kennedy always thought he was James Bond, drinking and bedding women constantly. He never took his work seriously and one day that would cost him and the Executive Branch dearly. Franklin realized that part of his complaint was simple resentment. The magic that had resurrected them had given Kennedy his vitality back, curing the diseases that plagued him all his life and left him relying on drugs and back brace to survive. Franklin was not so lucky. Not long after his death, he awoke to find his legs were still as dead as they had been. A long time ago he had been just as active and virile as Uncle Ted, it was the Roosevelt way. But the affliction that robbed him of his legs had seen to the end of that.

But, Franklin reminded himself, as bad as his situation was it could be worse. He could be like President Harrison. William Henry Harrison, ninth president, was famed for only serving a month as chief executive before pneumonia killed him. During the Great War with the Timekeepers, he was resurrected only to die thirty seconds later from a mishap with the spell. His ghost haunted the old offices beneath Washington D.C. and now he could frequently be seen floating through the halls of Mount Rushmore.

"Mr. President," said a technician. "One of our satellites spotted something."

Roosevelt turned towards the map as it dissolved away and was replaced by a live satellite feed of the ocean. The camera zoomed in further and further towards the water until a shape could be seen in the waters. The outline of a submarine that recently surfaced. The satellite spotted something on the hull and intensified its focus on the object.

"Oh my lord," Franklin said under his breath. "It's him.

Written on the hull of submarine was its name: Bataan.

--

"MacArthur is back."

Theodore Roosevelt perked up at the mention of the old general's name.

He and Abraham Lincoln sat side by side in the briefing room while Franklin presented them with their situation. On a monitor behind Franklin were surveillance photos of a submarine, an island, and a figure wrapped in a trenchcoat walking across the submarine's deck. Theodore let out a chuckle. Only MacArthur would wear a trenchcoat in the South Pacific heat.

"MacArthur was presumed dead over twenty years ago," said Franklin. "The mission to kill him was dubbed a success. But it seems our presumptions were wrong. Somehow, MacArthur was able to survive President Truman's atomic destruction."

"We of all people should know not to ever assume death for anyone," Lincoln said with a wry laugh.

"MacArthur had contacts in the Far East prior to going rogue, yes?" Theodore asked his distant cousin. "Perhaps some of them have been harboring him this whole time?"

"That seems most likely, Uncle Ted. Wherever he's been, we know where he's at."

The monitor behind Franklin focused on an island. He wheeled out the way to show the two men the information.

"We tracked his submarine to this island in the South Pacific. It's a tiny volcanic island that's at the tail end of a massive, thousand-mile chain. There seems to be very little vegetation and almost no animal life on the rock, but the heat signatures on the island are through the roof. It's believed that MacArthur is using this island as a base for whatever he's up to. I have chosen the two of you to take part in the mission because of all our available agents, you two are the least involved with MacArthur both in life and in death with the Executive Branch. President Eisenhower, Truman, and myself knew the man when he was alive, and he and Jackson were partners for the longest time. You knew him briefly when you were president, Uncle Ted?"

"Yes," Theodore nodded. "He was one of my White House aides when he was a young officer, but he was just a boy then. Nowhere near the man he later became."

"Good," Franklin said. "Because what I am asking of you two is important. You are to infiltrate MacArthur's island, find any intelligence as to what he is doing there, and finish the job Truman could not accomplish twenty years ago. We cannot suffer traitors here, gentlemen. Terminate him with extreme prejudice."

Eva Walsh


Eva walked into the main street where the Boys in Blue lead the would be bank robbers away in cuffs all overseen by a large military mech painted to match the color scheme of police cars, with flashing lights atop their shoulders. Eva strode past the scene trying not to attract any attention, but she had the sneaking suspicion that she was being watched and not by Arthur.

A man wearing a long overcoat simply sat in his car; a hotdog on his dash. As he noted Eva’s movements onto a small pocket notepad. But Eva did not know this as she looked over her shoulder to see nothing but the gathering crowd of onlookers snapping selfies with their smartphones. A cold wind blew through the streets picking up scattered papers, one article about Mayor Sampson floated to Eva's feet; he was a suave looking, well heeled dressed man with the brains to appoint a special Police Task force for subduing Supers. The Mechs were his ideas as well as Public Security Section 1, a SWAT force highly specialized and diverse in their experience. Though rumors circulated there was another secret security section with more advanced weapons and tactics; no one has confirmed this however.

Eva took a moment to pick the paper up and glance at it’s contents. Sampson wanted to increase the budget of the New York Police force following the Riots of Lost Haven and the earlier Demon Invasion. He argued it was because Haven’s police force was lacking and that if such an event occurred in New York; he would be prepared for it. “His smile always gives me the creeps.” As she tossed the paper aside.

Continuing to walk down the street Eva came to a bus stop and proceed to read the route times. “Let’s see. Two O Five.. It’s just after One Forty, got some time to wait.” The bus stop bench looked rather beat up, some slabs of cardboard lay soaked on the cement just underneath. The wait was rather annoying a man who looked like a drug addict pestered her for smokes until a passing Police car drove him off. But the Bus came a few seconds late as an older male driver opened up the doors.

Meanwhile as Eva rode towards a Public Library. The three Heroes descended into the Sewers, and through a hidden passage they rode an elevator into a secret cafe, only to be greeted by the loud angry owner. “Where the Hell have you useless louts been!?” She tossed a apron towards Stick-It-Note Kid. “And you these dishes aren’t going to wash themselves. I saw your bungled attempt at heroism, in my day I’d have riveted you all into the pavement for your pathetic behavior. Luckily I just got done baking some fresh pies, pull up a chair already!”

American Rocket grumpily took a stool.”Good to see you too, Rosie.”

Stick-It-Note Kid tied his apron and passed Rosie on the way to the back. “Sorry Mrs. Riveter.”

Karks Hideout
Kussatawnee, New Hampshire
2 Months Ago...?

The sounds of machinery and sawblades were constant, as Charlotte had learned over the past week. For a bunch of criminals, they sure did seem to be busy carpenters.

Donnie had gone over it with the whole gang in the form of a "Here's-where-we're-at" meeting. According to him, the building still wasn't quite up-to-date in terms of proper defenses in case the cops came by and tried to take them down. This needed to become a fortress, and it needed to become a fortress quickly; you could never know when someone might try to take the gang down....

Well, that was exactly what Charlotte had intended, wasn't it? And so far, none of them had had a clue as to what she was doing. All of them seemed to be comfortable around her, except for two people.

"Jagg" and "T".

"Jagg" was a blondie who had shoulder-length hair and knives. She didn't seem distrusting of her, so much as she seemed...jealous, maybe? Neither one of them was particularly petite or ugly, so there wasn't much to bother over in terms of appearance. Perhaps it was the attention she was receiving as the new girl in the gang, or maybe it was the fact that she wasn't the only lady in the team anymore. Either way, Jagg had initially been irksome around Charlotte, but it had worn off. At least, if it hadn't worn off yet, she certainly wasn't showing it.

But then "T" was a different matter altogether. This guy was tall, well-built and quiet--in all her time, she hadn't heard him utter a single word to her or anyone else on the team--and was almost what she'd call handsome. However, he wasn't exactly appealing in that his left eye was completely black, from the pupil to the sclera. It seemed to function like any other normal eye, it was just...unnerving. Every time he looked at her, it was as if a demon was staring at her, piercing into her soul.

Yet that wasn't what was wrong with him. Every time the two were around each other, T always gave her a certain look. It wasn't threatening or full of desire...rather, it was just...alert. Like a dog that had spotted a home intruder...or something like that. In any case, there was something about him when he looked at her that just screamed that something was wrong...but was something wrong with him, or her?

In the end, it never really mattered that much, simply because T was always busy in the other building of the hideout. The hideout itself was an abandoned refinery that had been composed of two different buildings. One building was a rather large shed, too big to be a garage but too small to be a hangar; this was where T went to do...well, whatever it was he did. When asked, the gang members said it was some kind of "personal project" that T had gotten into in the past few months, using funds and materials stolen during their robberies and heists. It was such a busy project that Charlotte hardly saw him during the entire week she was with the gang. But when she did briefly see him now and then, it was always a very chilling moment.

Regardless, nothing really came of the two gangsters. This was fortunate for Charlotte, as she only needed to bide her time for the right moment to kill them all. She couldn't find the opportunity to do so, simply because if she tried, they'd all be there to shoot her. She'd learned during her time there that they were a clever group of individuals, clever enough to figure out when they'd been betrayed. So she'd have to wait for the right moment, the moment when she could make the perfect strike....

That moment came at the end of the week.

Johnny Smith and Jagg came barreling into the main building of the hideout inside the gang's van. It took them a while to catch their breath before one of them explained that they'd just gotten into a really bad chase, and that they had had no choice but to come back to headquarters...with the cops still in tow. Naturally, Donnie was furious, but this soon changed from fury to determination. He ordered the three gangsters he'd known the longest to prepare the hideout's defenses so that they could be properly shielded when they evacuated; as for Charlotte, he asked her to go fetch T from the other building so that he could help with the defenses.

"And when ya get 'em, Girlie, ask him to bring his 'project' with him," Donnie had said.

"The 'project'? What does that have to do with anything?" Charlotte asked, curious as to how Donnie seemed to know what T's "project" was.

"Now's not the time to ask questions, Girlie! Just go and get the man before the cops get here!" Donnie snapped.

Charlotte hardly wanted to press questions on him when he was this angry, so she simply ducked away and ran over to the other building. As she darted between the buildings, she began to feel her heart thump. If the cops came and saw her helping out the Karks...if Felicia thought that Charlotte had been helping these monsters all along...was this the day that she would have to do the deed? If she didn't, the cops would catch them all, including her, she was sure of it....

She opened the door to the other building and looked around. In all her time, she hadn't been over to this part of the hideout. All around were parts from deconstructed vehicles and armor and weaponry and equipment and...there was just so much stuff in here! And over by the opposite corner of the building was T, sitting at a table, working on some kind of black-and-red cylindrical object. He appeared to be...rolling up some kind of wire?

T didn't seem to realize that Charlotte was in the room; he hadn't moved his head up from the table, and she wasn't in his peripheral vision.

The thought from earlier came back into her head: If you don't act now, the police will find you....

His back was exposed, and he didn't even know she was in the room.

You have to do it.

She began to slowly creep towards him, being careful not to make any noise as she did so.

This is your only chance.

Closer and closer she came...it was only the two of them in there, there wouldn't be any other gangster to come running in to help "T"....

You have to act!

She was right behind him now. All she had to do was create a dagger from the light around her, and it would be done....

You have to kill him now!

"I know you're behind me, 'Girlie'."

The sudden remark made Charlotte take a few steps back. How had he known...?

T whirled around and suddenly grabbed Charlotte by the cuff of her gray hoodie. Both of his eyes, the human one and the black one, stared straight into her own.

"But that's not what you'd like to go by, is it?"

He knows!

"Ah...T! What are you...I'm one of you guys, remember?" she panicked, trying to keep her cover but instead blowing it with her nervousness.

"I knew from the start you weren't running around the streets like the rest of us were when we joined the gang," he snarled, his eyebrows beginning to furrow. "You ain't got the dirt or the scars...you're not a freak, like the rest of us. I don't know where you came from, but you certainly aren't who you say you are. I haven't called it into question around Donnie because he seems to trust you...but don't you dare think for a second that I do. So how's about you tell me who you really are? And how's about telling me what you're planning to do to us?"

A whirl of emotions was building up inside of her. Fear from being caught with the real wrongdoers, surprise at being nearly found out, and just plain old hate for the goddamn Karks was all that was clouding her mind. And in her chest, she felt a strong urge, an impulse, to do what she needed to do.

She returned the glare that T was giving her and said, "I'm Charlotte Gilligan--but that's all you're ever gonna know about me."

With that, she spat in his face, causing him to flinch a bit but not let go of her. She mustered all her willpower and used it to create a bright orange shard of light that cut T's left arm, causing him to drop Charlotte as an involuntary reaction to the pain. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she kicked the gangster in the chest and sent him stumbling backwards into a pile of barrels, all marked as hazardous. Still acting on impulse, she took the floating shard and threw it at one of the barrels, piercing it well enough to release what seemed to be canned air into the air.

T began to get up, looking to his left as one of the barrels continued to shriek with the sound of some escaping vapor. A look of horror became etched on his face, just moments before said barrels exploded.

A vast orange plume of fire swept up from the spot where T and the barrels had been. Charlotte was far enough away to where she could only hear the blast and feel the heat; but T himself was smacked by the fire, and consequently caught on fire himself. The fire itself began to spread along the roof and floor of the shed, and spread fast it did. Charlotte, still acting on impulse, ran for the door, taking one final glance back at the room before leaving.

The last thing she saw was T, still alive but screaming in agony as he clawed at the burning side of his head. A rumble came from the roof above them both, and Charlotte leapt from the room as the ceiling collapsed, burying everything within it.

She kept running, not stopping to take a breath until she returned to the main building where the four other gangsters were waiting on her. Naturally, they wanted to know what had happened in the building, why there had been a huge rumble and roar, and most importantly, why T wasn't with her.

"The...the cops...launched something at the building...T, uh...didn't make it...."

"You mean he's...?" said Jagg, the "truth" of the matter dawning on her face.

"Look, they're here!" she cried out instinctively, trying to draw the focus back on the "cops" that had supposedly attacked Charlotte and T. "Outside! They're already surrounding the building!"

"Where? Where are they?!" said Johnny smith, turning around to face behind Charlotte.

"If they did in T, I'll kill every last one of them! I'll kill them all!" roared Donnie, arming himself with a rifle.

As the four gangsters grew more paranoid and angry, they began to form a circle around Charlotte, as if mindlessly protecting her like she was what remained of their deceased comrade. And this, this moment right here, was the moment she knew was too perfect to let go. All of them, unaware of the true threat that lurked behind them....

All it took to stir 'Girlie' was the memory of her father's dead body, lying still on the ground with a bullet lodged through it's forehead. That was enough to create a whirlwind of shards and glassy daggers, all sent flying into the four gangsters.

All it took was a painful memory.

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Apartment Complex
Lost Haven, Maine
1 Week Ago

That memory was the dream she had. Not the memory of her dead father, but of the memory of her killing the Karks.

Ever since Felicia had called her, that was all that seemed to be running through her mind. One of the bodies was missing...one of them might still be out there, somewhere....

But surely it was impossible for them to be alive! She had watched all of them die! T had been crushed by a collapsing roof, and Donnie and his cronies had been stabbed to death by flying light-debris! She'd seen it all happen, and it was enough to haunt her.

So how could one of them be alive? There's no way, Charlotte, there's no way....

Time passed on. All the while, Charlotte had to keep reminding herself of how a survivor was impossible. It was enough to keep her from breaking down and forming some kind of freakish shard of light, that was for sure; but it was never enough to keep her at ease.

Eventually, she began to rationalize other factors. She was in an entirely new city, for one thing; how could one of them find her? If they were alive somehow, were they even in a healthy enough state to get revenge? Did they even know it had been her? How would they find her if they managed to get into the city at all?

Fear and paranoia were building up inside of her. But one thing kept scratching at the back of her head, enough to keep her on edge. Yet she couldn't quite figure out what this thing was...was it a thought? And emotion? Some piece of the puzzle gone missing?

It took her a while, but she finally figured it out, after about 5 weeks.

Felicia had said she would call back after dinner with her neighbours. She never did.

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Slums
Lost Haven, Maine
1 Week Ago

It had been a pretty long day of work for the cashier. Tons of customers, a bit angry and a bit sad, came in to buy stuff. The odd thing was, few of them had even gotten gas; maybe he should've just turned this old heap of a store into a small store after all....

He certainly knew that that girl in the hoodie would like that. All she'd come for in the past few weeks was just food and supplies, never for gas or anything else. Was this place all she had? A shame, someone as courageous and kind as her deserved more than what a gas station's aisles had to offer.

Regardless, it was getting late. Maybe he should just close up early tonight, get some rest for tomorrow...he did need to go out and get a coat to keep him warm, after all; the winter air of Maine was already here, and he needed to be better protected than in just worker's casual....

As he pondered these thoughts, a single customer walked through the door. He seemed to be wearing...well, a very strange outfit. It seemed to be some bulky, metallic suit of some kind.

Man, cosplayers were weird.

The stranger kept looking forward, his entire left side hidden from the cashier's view. He simply stood there, staring ahead.

Yup, cosplayers were definitely weird.

"Um...sir? Can I help you with something...?" the cashier asked, a bit unnerved by the stranger.

"That girl who keeps coming in here. Why do you continue to shield her?" the man said all of a sudden, still staring forward.

"I beg your pardon?" said the cashier. "Do you mean that girl in the hoodie?"

The man remained silent.

"Uh...well, she did save me from a thief...." he stuttered, not wanting to get into the details; he'd made a promise, after all, not to reveal the girl's secret.

"You don't know what she's done, then?" the man spoke up again, continuing to keep his gaze fixed away from the cashier.

"I...look, what do you want from me? What do you know about her?" the cashier began to speak up, now starting to grow worried.

"Why don't I let you know just what a monster she is," said the man, ignoring the cashier's questions.

And with one turn, he looked straight at the cashier, no longer obscuring the charred, torn side of his face, as well as his dark black eye.

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Apartment Complex
Lost Haven, Maine
The Day of the Riots

After realizing that Felicia hadn't called back, she tried over and over to call her back. Had something happened to her? Why didn't she call her back, let alone just answer her own telephone?

It was so stressful that Charlotte nearly broke down and cried one night. It was all too much for her to bear; the guilt of the murder, the loss of her father, the paranoia of being hunted down, and now the silence from one of her only remaining friends...it was becoming too much to deal with.

She had decided that perhaps going on walks would be the best way to handle the situation. She would take laps around the city, just clearing her mind of everything that bothered her. But this time, she didn't try to find some explanation; she just ran, ran to keep her thoughts free of anything that might come out of Kussatawnee to haunt her.

As she jogged along, she heard passer-byes talk of all sorts of strange things. She kept hearing the words "super" and "meta" and all sorts of stuff like that, but never stayed around to hear what they were talking about. Just what exactly did this city have to hide? Maybe when she got over the issue of a Kark survivor and Felicia's silence, she'd look into it.

One particular night, she managed to go on a pretty short walk. She hadn't gone far when, in the distance, she began to hear the loudest commotion. It wasn't a regular city bustle, but instead a mixture of yelling and banging and all sorts of noise. It unnerved her, to the point where she felt like staying home would be enough. So she turned back and headed for the Apartment Complex.

On that subject, she'd actually managed to stay far longer than she should have. As it turned out, the owner of the apartment was a drunk who often forgot about the people living in his building. During the few times he remained sober, he didn't even seem to care about a lack of paid bills. Sometimes he'd remember, but the others in the building had learned a simple trick: leave a bottle of whiskey outside the door, and he'd be on his way with nothing to scold you about. She'd caught on to this trick and had used it to keep her roof over her head. Perhaps money wouldn't be at the root of her problems, unlike so many other people in the city...let alone the world.

As she reached her door, she fumbled through her pockets to grab her key. She turned it and entered the room--

It was dark.

This took her by surprise. She didn't remember turning off the lights in her room. Had the power gone out in this side of the complex? The stair lights seemed to work, anyhow....

She walked over and flipped the switch by her lamppost. Yeah, the lights worked...but she hadn't turned them off.

Slam!

She whirled around to see that her door had been closed by someone standing in the room. That part of her apartment was still dark, so the figure couldn't quite be seen. However, what she could tell was that he was wearing something very bulky, and was almost taller than the door itself.

"Who's that?!" she demanded, taking a step back.

The figure began to take a step forward, revealing a brutish man with a disfigured face as he came into the lamp's light.

"Oh, you don't remember me?" said T, his torn mouth forming a grin.

Charlotte gasped. It was him, the one she had burned and buried in the other building of the Karks' hideout. How had he gotten out of there, he should have been crushed!

"Well, if you still don't know...maybe I should jog your memory." he snarled, raising his forearm forward. On the forearm was a part of his suit, a black-and-red cylindrical gauntlet--the same one he'd been fixing during their brief struggle. Out from the side of it a little nozzle popped out, hissing like some kind of...canned air....

Instinctively, Charlotte lept out of the way as the nozzle on T's wrist launched a stream of fire above her head. It missed her by mere inches, and more fortunately it missed everything else in the apartment room.

She scrambled up from the floor, backing away until she found herself pressed against the window.

"You're gonna pay for what you did to my friends, Charlotte!" he yelled, whipping out another nozzle on his other arm.

In just a matter of seconds, she found herself slamming a shard of light through the window behind her, and herself leaping out of the broken window as flames licked behind her. On impulse, she solidified the light around her into a slide, bringing her safely to the streets below. At this point, she couldn't care less if someone saw her; she needed to get out of that apartment, and out of there fast.

How had he survived?! How had he even found her?! Was he the reason Felicia didn't call her back? She feared what she had done to her police counterpart....

Those thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of yelling and banging, the same she'd heard in the distance earlier. Looking over at the other end of the street, she saw a gigantic crowd of people, running down the roads with torches and hammers and all sorts of things, furious over...well, frankly she had no idea.

Behind her, she heard the shattering of her light slide. Wheeling around, she saw T, leaping down to the ground, staring right at her with a glare more hateful than she had seen before. That was all it took to get her running forward into the crowd, making sure to lose herself in the chaos ahead.

Meanwhile, T watched as she disappeared in the crowd. Her sudden loss in a wave of civilians didn't seem to matter to him, however, as he began to jog after her.

"Oh, you think you can run, can't you?" he smirked. "Well, you better believe that I can, too. And you'll come to find that out very soon."

The chase was on.

“Right.” Icon said after I told him how I also ‘volunteered’ to help Athena. And when I say ‘volunteered’, I mean that I was impressed into service. However, almost as soon as that single word response had exited the blue and silver clad superhuman’s mouth, we were both airborne, soaring after Athena’s little owl friend. Icon had picked me up with his right hand, carrying me so that we were parallel to each other.

“Holy $%!@” I blurred out when I finally realized what the heck was happening, seeing that we were several yards off the ground and rising as every second passed. Instinctively, so that I might not fall if for some strange reason Icon dropped me, I wrapped my arms around his neck and my eight legs around his body, just as any rational person would do if she ever happens to find herself far off the ground.

“What the hell?” I yelled into Icon’s ear. “If you’re going to pick me up, at least give me a warning first!” However, my yelling did not seem to faze Icon at all. In fact, he did not even seem fazed by having a half-human, half-spider person wrapped around himself. I know that there was a ‘demon’ invasion in Lost Haven (I would know, I actually helped out for a while until that Iron B!#&* restrained me after I decked that wannabe Iron Man), but come on! How many animal people do you see running around the country?

“Please don’t tell me you have some weird fetish. Because this could get very awkward very quickly.”

Icon slightly turned his head to give me a glance and then immediately turned his attention back to following the small owl named Bubo. From his expression, it seemed like he was trying to say ‘where the heck did that come from’. On one hand, it was a relief to know that he did not have any weird ‘interests’ that would apply to me. On the other hand, I’m kind of embarrassed that I asked that. Well, what’s done is done, I guess.

“Actually, I ran into a wasp-girl and a raptor-man several weeks ago. They were quite the cute couple.”

“WAIT. YOU MET THEM TOO? HOW THE HECK DO THEY GET AROUND SO MUCH?”

Icon just shrugged his shoulders, or at least as much as he could while he was flying. I guess I shouldn’t expect him to know how those two get around so much. For their own sake, I just hope they don’t have someone like Athena dragging them around from place to place. That gets kind of annoying really quickly.

After a few minutes of following Bubo the owl (I cannot believe I just said that), we finally arrived at the Temple of Ares that was constructed in Lost Haven by the Greek God of War himself. Once we were firmly standing on the ground, I immediately released my grip on Icon and jumped to the side, just to make sure I wouldn’t give the paparazzi any bad ideas, if there were any around, anyways.

Athena had already been waiting for the two of us on the steps of the giant temple, with that man clad in Greek-like armor still in her hands. Bubo the owl promptly landed on her shoulder, which prompted her to pull out a little food and feed him with it. Then she turned and began to enter the temple, assuming that we would follow her in. Once inside the temple, Athena tossed the servant of Ares onto the floor in front of Ares.

“Your champion has been vanquished, half-brother. Remove this temple from this city at once and leave these lands immediately. Hopefully the beatings that I have given you in the past, which have been recorded by the poets, should spur you to obey, lest you suffer more embarrassment.” Athena declared to the seated God of War.