---

---

Morrigan hated plans.

She hated plans. Even with first class amenities, she hated it. It was unnatural for things without wings or magic to fly.

The people on the plane were annoying too. Crying babies, people clicking on their weird computers, others talking loudly on their cell phones.

She opened her book and spoke, "Chainthe silentio" and the entire plane was silent. No one spoke, no child cried, the stewards went about their business with a smile on their face. Everyone just sat there in silence.

This was how you flied.

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

Finally arriving in St. Louis, she decided how she would get to the funeral home in question. Perhaps she could teleport there and scare everyone. Maybe summon a large snake and ride it there. No, she decided, too much chaos would cause trouble. She didn't want trouble. Yet.

She walked outside where taxis were lining up. One man leaned against his, "Hey gorgeous, need a ride?"

She merely smiled and nodded. "Hop in then." he said.

She did so and they started driving. "Where to lady?" She gave him the address and he looked at it quickly before putting it down, "Someone close to you die? Sorry to hear that. My sister just lost her fiance. Our families going through our own struggles, you know how it is. It's a bad world, he got shot, some gang business. He was a good man. Lost too soon. I told my sister, I told her look, things happen. And when.."

Morrigan spoke up, "Do you know what it's like to feel your blood boil inside your body? Do you know what it's like to feel your skin rip off delicately? Do you know what it's like to bash your head against a wall countless times until your brain spills out? If you keep talking, you'll find out. Now drive!"

The man sat and drove in stunned silence as they pulled up to the funeral home.

She got out, didn't pay and took out her book. She spoke a spell and the man drove off. He would be fine, she didn't want him dead, as annoying as he was. She just told him to keep driving and not stop. He'd end up somewhere else entirely, but he'll be fine.

She walked into the funeral home, book in hand, should things go sour.

The slush alternatively crunched or squished under her feet, which she hated. When she moved fast, the surface under her feet didn’t matter; it seemed she barely touched it. She’d been running earlier, ever since dumping the stolen car at the state border and that had felt good, stretching herself, being able to run. She eyed the building dubiously and checked her watch. She wasn’t late, but evidently other people were already in the building. And some outside too. She knew a grunt when she saw one.

Cassie shoved her hands in her pockets. The right touched the reassuring stubby feel of her handgun, the left, claws half-extending, brushed against the invitation that had brought her here.

~~~

The invitation was propped up against her cap. Her fucking cap. Nobody touched her cap; nobody. She read the invitation through twice, her lips tightening. A conference. Huh. She considered it carefully; could this be a trap, something set up by Redlame and his new friends? Cassie shook her head. He wasn’t smart enough to arrange something that complicated. Anyway, it’s not flashy enough for him, the dumbass.

She’d binned the plane ticket and stolen a car instead; maybe that was stupid with the airport practically on her doorstep, but there was the risk that her claws might set off the metal detector wand at the airport, and thinking up some story which explained why her hands were making the wand beep wasn’t what she did – she couldn’t be bothered. Besides, in a car she wouldn’t have to risk some fat greasy fuck sitting next to her.

She stopped the car at the border, shrugging into her leather jacket as she got out. Her breath plumed out like smoke as she considered the sky. The western horizon was still a rich, royal blue, but the east was grudgingly allowing the sun to assert itself; the dawn was almost colourless with just the faintest edge of pale pink as a concession to the sunrise. A tight smile pulled her lips back as she sucked into another lungful of cold air and started to run.

~~~

Cassie regarded the two sets of goons in front of the building. She could start shooting before they knew she was there, but why bother when she could get in before they could stop her? She stretched and ran towards the building, her pace no more than a moderate jog to her. There were no gunshots, no shouting. She heard a voice from behind exclaiming “Where the hell did she come from?” when she was at the door. Then she had twisted the door handle and stepped inside.

I didn’t expect this. She felt a surge of something like claustrophobia at the sight of the people inside. Her claws slid out inside her pockets. She took a steadying breath and let them slid back under her nails. You can deal with this, it’s cool. You just weren’t thinking so many people would be here.

She glanced around at the others, raising an apparently disinterested hand to flick her hair back from her face. A couple of balding villainous types, a couple of dark haired women with red eyes – they could be contacts, but she didn’t think so - a woman dressed in clothes that probably cost more than the car she'd borrowed earlier, a shorter blonde woman, and - holy shit, he looks like Godzilla’s little brother! A huge freaking dragon man; she’d seen him on the news, fighting some flying chick. A flying chick who had joined up with Redlame. He went up several points in her book for that alone.

She took another look at the others. Actually a few of them did look vaguely familiar. She looked at the woman in the demon costume. Have I see her on the news or in a soap opera?

---

Vibrating suddenly started coming from one of Frank’s front pockets. He reached into his coat, and instead of pulling out his communicator, out came what looked like a cell phone. There was a number on the screen but no name – as it should be. It had been the calling number plenty of times for Frank to recognize it on the spot. He answered and held the phone up to his ear.

“Yeah?” Frank said.

“Hi dad!” Responded the voice of a young girl, no older than ten from the sound of her.

“Hey!” Frank replied, keeping his voice down. A smile grew on his face but, not the malicious kind he was so accustomed to. This one was sincere. He waved Cliff over to make sure no one was eavesdropping as he continued. “How’s my favorite flower girl doing?”

“I’m okay.”

“Are the boys taking good care of you? Food, rest, everything?”

“Yeah, everything’s good. When are you coming back?”

“Baba and Uncle Cliff are still here with me, we’re gonna be, uh… in a meeting, pretty soon. Then we’ll be on our way back if we’re lucky.”

“Okay. I saw Mister Magarac on TV again. He was with some reporters and they were talking about you.”

“Is that right?” Frank said, shaking his head a bit. “What’d they say this time?”

“One lady called you a man ass, and she said Mister Magarac was going to start looking for you more.”

Frank couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. After stifling it, he replied, “Menace, honey, she said menace, not… nevermind, it’s okay. Did she say anything else?”

“Not really. Just a lot of boring stuff about Mister Magarac's friends.”

“Right. Thanks for telling me. I’m gonna get back to work with Baba and Cliff, so you be good, okay? Make sure the boys are doing their jobs.”

“I will. Bye dad. Love you!”

“Love you too honey, bye-bye.” Frank ended on, shutting off the phone and putting it back in his coat pocket. He leaned back and sighed, still smiling a bit. He glanced around the room, making sure everyone was still minding their own business. The guy with the crummy accent, the group of evil-looking women, and the hulking thing sitting ahead of him… he was starting to get the notion that he and his men were the only humans here. And he didn’t like that notion at all. He passed Cliff a glance, who simply nodded back, assuring him everything was alright for now.

_{“Something better happen soon.”} Frank muttered under his breath.

The interior door of the chapel suddenly burst open, and several men walked in. The first few carried folding tables which they carefully deployed in the viewing area. They were followed by several others carrying tureens, pans, sacks, stacks of plates and silverware. These men wordlessly and efficiently set up a small self-service buffet before settling into positions around the room- positions that would afford them cover and lines on fire on entry points. Several of them kept their hands inside their coats.

Finally, in walked a man who most would describe as “dignified”. The splash of gray at his temples, the turtleneck under his tailored suit, his lean body, the easy way he carried himself- everything suggested a confident and self-assured man. He walked over to the meal service. “Bread,” he said, pointing to one covered pan. He tapped the next lightly. “Salad,” he explained, before pointing out the one next to it. “Coq au vin. My favorite. For beverages, we have coffee, mineral water, a selection of soft drinks. And for those of you with more particular tastes, we have made an accommodation, of course.” He whisked away the white cloth that had covered what proved to be a cage full of live mice. “I am Cesare, your host,” he said as he grabbed a plate and began to serve himself from the table. “Forgive the breach in etiquette by going first, but I do not wish for us to speak in an atmosphere of distrust.” Making sure to face the group, Cesare tore off a large chunk of bread, took a healthy bite with a broad grin. “Dig in, friends.”

As the group served itself, Cesare continued between bites. “Coq au vin is a bit of a strange dish. Chicken cooked in red wine. An unlikely pairing. If you walked into an old-fashioned restaurant and ordered a glass of red wine with chicken, they'd laugh at you. And yet, in this stew it works so well, so harmoniously, each giving the others strength.” He delicately dabbed at his lips with a linen napkin, took a long sip of mineral water before continuing.

“I imagine you're wondering what this insane foodie is talking about,” Cesare said with a self-deprecating grin. “I'll come to the point. Without going into too much detail, suffice to say that I represent an organization based in Chicago. The news of The Coalition is frankly quite alarming to us, as well as their intentions. They are contrary to our interests. We've made peace with several other groups in a similar line of work as us and chosen to pool our manpower and funds, but we're afraid even that may not be sufficient to counter The Coalition. We had to look beyond.”

Cesare leaned forwards. “And this, my friends, is where you come in. It took a great deal of convincing for the bosses to permit me to contact you. This thing of ours is a conservative organization, you know. No facial hair, no blue jeans, no women or homosexuals as members. But we are living in exceptional times and exceptional measures must be taken. Each of you are imminently qualified to be here. You have opposed members of The Coalition and remain free, proof positive of your talents. You know how they operate, how they fight, how they think. And of course, you are filled with hatred for them. What better motivation is there?” Cesare smiled. “Essentially, my organization wishes to bankroll an operation intended to put The Coalition and all of its members- permanently.”

Cesare got up and served himself a second helping of food, still continuing in his conversational tone. “However, we cannot pretend such an effort will be simple or quick. We still need time to prepare, and The Coalition may not allow us that courtesy.” He sat back down with his food and continued to eat voraciously, like he hadn't had the first serving. “Accordingly, we have a strategy to keep them busy and have them look elsewhere for the real threat. Julian Capizzi, the head of the St. Louis branch of this thing of ours, has offered himself up as a sacrificial lamb. He is leading a brave but doomed charge against The Coalition, and has accepted that this will most likely end with his imprisonment. But it has to look real, convincing. Capizzi has thus gone and hired several in your field. Bush league, for the most part. Vesuvius, Sleepyhead, Exceptional Karate Man Kobayashi, the Rad Fiddler, Madame LeThal, Stab Tank, Arena, Manticore. B-listers, all of them, but enough to be considered a potential threat. They all think that it only goes as high as Capizzi.” Cesare, finished his dish, pushed it aside.

“With the time that will buy us, we must organize and plan. At the moment, however, there are three small issues facing us. I would like for you to handle them, as a sign of good faith. Also, not to put too fine a point on it, to prove to the bosses in Chicago that you can be trusted.”

Cesare ticked the items off on his fingers. “One, we are negotiating a purchase of weapons this evening. Heavy-duty stuff, the kind that might even give pause to Joe Magarac or The Scholar. However, we have reason to suspect that our suppliers may attempt a double-cross. We need security for the transaction.”

“Second, there is a gentleman named Royale Patterson. He operates an extremely successful narcotics racket here in St. Louis and owes a great deal of his success to Mr. Capizzi. We have long considered him an honorary member of the family. Imagine our disappointment when Mr. Patterson refused to get involved in our plan.” Cesare shook his head, a look of affected sadness on his face. “Visit him in his home, make him see reason. He cannot sit out the war- if Mr. Patterson is not with us, he is against us.”

“Third and last, we have had an offer of friendship and cooperation from a gentleman known as Argus. A surveillance expert who operates out of Indianapolis. He claims to have discovered some helpful information about one of the members of The Coalition and is willing to sell, under the caveat we meet him in a public place. Speak with Argus, find out what he is offering, and negotiate a fair price.”

Cesare, finished, wiped at his lips once more. “There. Now, I have given you my confidence and shared our plans. It is up to you if you wish to follow them or not. Should you not desire revenge on your greatest enemy, then you are more than free to walk out the door,” he said with a wave to the exit.

“But remember, my friends- I found you once. I can do it again.”

---

What is this? As the young man peered into the top drawer of his work desk, a strange sense of dread washed over him. A sealed envelope scented with something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Joseph glanced around outside his cubicle, but none of the coworkers on his floor seemed to be paying any attention to him. Surely this wasn't from anyone here, was it? His left hand moved from the keyboard and assisted his right in grabbing the letter and opening it. He was now ignoring the spreadsheet on the computer screen before him in order to figure out what was going on.



He calmly set the letter down on the desk in front of him, next to his keyboard. Somebody has found us out, another, deeper voice rang out in Joseph's thoughts. You don't know that, though it wouldn't be surprising. Surely somebody has gotten footage of you and managed to track me because of it. That's your fault. I wasn't complaining. This could very well be a trap, but our best course of action is to follow through with it. I will attend that conference personally. After all, it's me they want to talk to. Joseph stared at the letter for a moment longer before folding it and stowing it in his coat pocket. I'll have to take time off work... Damn your job! You call this work!? Your job is to get my armor back! Petty work indoors isn't nearly enough to be considered important! We will leave for this city tomorrow. Yes sir...

---

The rental car was nice, at least Joseph was comfortable with that. The spare money in the envelope allowed the rental of a hotel room and a 2010 BMW. His nervousness of the whole ordeal, a mystery conference pertaining to the angry spirit that has possessed him in a city he was unfamiliar with across the country, was slightly mitigated by the heated seats. But as he pulled up to the parking lot any and all comfort he had was lost. There were already several vehicles outside in the snow, as well as probably armed guards at the door. Whatever was going on in there, they definitely had business with Amon and not Joseph. Alright, now you stay quiet while I handle this.

Joseph briefly seized up at the wheel, almost as if he was having some kind of attack, but his muscles quickly relaxed and a confident grin replaced his concerned expression. His brown eyes now seemed golden as he stepped out of the car, even slamming the door shut behind him. This was no longer Joseph. Joseph was trapped, locked away temporarily in the back of his own mind. This was now Amon Ru-Amen. Despite looking like an unimpressive young Arab American, he seemed to ooze confidence and power. After adjusting his brown coat he walked across the parking lot, eyes locked on the front entrance. The two guards faced Amon, though they didn't draw their weapons. Perhaps they recognized him, perhaps they could feel his presence and assumed he was invited. They may have even been afraid. With a complete lack of subtlety or courtesy, Amon thrust open the front doors with a loud 'bang!'

He stood alone in the doorway as they slowly closed shut behind him. The scene before him was certainly an odd one. It seemed that he had arrived late, though Joseph swore up and down that they would make it on time. A makeshift buffet was in place with several tables and chairs to accommodate those present. There were even a respectable number of armed guards lined around the room. But Amon seemed completely uninterested in the henchmen and paid more attention to the outstanding members. A large, draconian being was the first one he saw. There were a couple women and a couple older-looking men. One of them was bald and noticeably had two lackeys hanging near him. Amon could see power in some of them, but not all. "Ha," he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. "And here I was expecting to see something impressive but instead I have found a band of misfits instead." When he opened his eyes they were immediately locked onto Cesare, naturally identifying him as the host by his position, wardrobe, and presence.

"You have called me, Amon Ru-Amen, and here I stand. I do not grace just anyone with my attendance, however tardy it may be..." His eyes drifted to the food table now. Keeping his arms crossed he approached the cooked chicken, giving it a confused look. After sniffing the air once he returned his gaze to Cesare. "The food you provide is merely chicken soaked in alcohol. Do you expect a god to eat this?" Actually it's a very good dish. I didn't eat anything on the way here so- Silence! A scowl formed on Amon's face briefly, though it appeared to not be directed towards the host. He took a quick glance over the others in attendance before looking back at the dish. "Very well. I will respect the host's decision."

Amon silently served himself a plate of the Coq au vin, taking it with him over to the tables where the others were seated. However, once he arrived there, he gave everyone a distrustful look. I refuse to dine with mortals as if they were my equals. Rather than taking a seat at the table the man, whom everyone likely thought was strange and full of himself by now, began to levitate as he crossed his legs and set the plate on his lap. Amon floated above the ground at the head height of those who were seated, floating at the end of the table so that he could have a view of everyone present without having to turn his head. This was not only a display of power but also a display of arrogance. After carefully cutting a bite-sized piece of the chicken, Amon closed his eyes and ate it. After a moment of chewing he swallowed the food and opened his eyes to look at Cesare. "I am surprised. You have served me poultry yet its taste does not displease me. You have earned my audience." I told you it was good. The god-king silenced himself now, so as to maintain his manners as he dined and to be able to listen to whatever was going to be discussed during the conference.

_{In collaboration with @Polyphemus}

---

"Alright, now hold the FUCK up." Frank called out, slamming his hands on the table as he stood up and proceeded to round about, approaching Cesare. Some of the men who set up the food started making motions, with Frank merely tossing up his hands and calling out, "Keep your fucking dicks tucked, It's my turn to talk!" He turned back towards Cesare, pointing at him. "You. Drop that mysterious benefactor bullshit and start telling me, crystal clear as you fucking can, who the hell you think you are."

The man looked calmly back at Frank, though the slightest spark of irritation danced in his eyes for just a moment. "I am Cesare from Chicago. More than that, you do not need to know."

Frank shook his head, no hint of his usual smile on his face. "That's not fucking good enough." He said, "You get me, and this table of fucking circus freaks together, make an offer coupled with what I assume to be a threat, and that's it?"

"'Offer' is generous. I consider what I've done to be more along the lines of describing what you will be doing for the foreseeable future. You will, of course, be amply compensated for your time." Cesare smiled, perfect white teeth gleaming in his tanned face.

"Amply compensated, yeah?" Frank retorted, motioning towards the rest of the table. "Got enough currency for all of us? Or is there a hint of 'repayment through non-direct, lucrative opportunities' here? You know who I am, right? What I do?"

"Franklin St. Jopling," Cesare recited in a bored tone. "South African, former rank-and-file and now managing director of the Sunflower Group. If I didn't know who you are or what you do, my friend, then you would not be here today. Listen, I understand your recalcitrant attitude. I really do. I could be anyone. However, I can assure you that my intentions are exactly as I have stated. This is not a trap of any kind. I am not affiliated with The Coalition or any law enforcement agency, and I would be happy to prove it."

Frank stood there for a moment, thinking of how to respond. He turned his head towards Baba, who shook his head. Then to Cliff, who just stared back. He turned again to Cesare, pointing at him again. "As much... as I fucking hate the very idea of the Coalition... I still don't like you expecting me and my men to just go along with your first orders of business, BUT..." He raised his finger, taking some glances around the room to make sure no one was getting ready to shoot him or anything. "But... I... expect, to a reasonable capacity, that if you know what I do... then you'll understand why the idea of the Sunflower Group working with some of these... things, is not the best idea, yeah?"

"These are strange and miserable times, Frank. And misery makes for strange bedfellows." Cesare considered a moment, then leaned in. "I'll make you a deal. Call it a signing-on bonus. Any leftovers from Capizzi's motley crew of hired help that manages to get away- they're yours. I'm sure they'll fetch a fantastic price abroad. We can even help you arrange a pipeline to Pittsburgh- we have a very small but very professional branch there. Deal?" Cesare extended a perfectly manicured hand for Frank to shake.

Frank turned his head, again, towards his adjutants. Shrugs from both of them. He looked back at Cesare's hand, then back up at the man's face. He pointed once again. "If these 'leftovers' don't fetch satisfying prices... then I can't guarantee I'll continue offering mine and my group's services. But..." He grabbed Cesare's hand and continued. "I suppose we'll tackle that weapons deal you mentioned and... see what happens." Their hands shook, and then detached. Frank backed up a bit before saying, "But if any of these other chucklefucks decide they want in on that op too, can't tell you for certain it's gonna be all buddy-buddy. Understand?"

"Perfectly," Cesare replied. "I don't ask for miracles, Frank. Just a shipment of weapons, however necessary."

"Yeah." Frank replied, nodding. "We'll see how it plays out, Cesare." He turned again towards his adjutants and called out, "Baba! Cliff! Outside, with me." As the two men began making their way towards the doors, Frank turned back to Cesare and said, a tad sarcastically, "Assuming you already have some way for me to contact you in mind or, should I write you my number on a napkin?"

Cesare grinned. "I'll be in touch."

Frank nodded, putting on that smile once again. He proceeded past Cesare, passing one last glance at the other occupants of the table - those who looked not all too human, especially - and then left through the doors, following Baba and Cliff.

---

Abyss

---

If there was one thing disconcerting to a man like Lester someone adjusting his water glass just to place a letter under it was and the lilac smell made him feel weird when he inhaled it so he quickly removed the letter tossing the envelope to a random corner of his hideout, not so much a hideout as an abandoned water channel but he liked to think is was a good place. He read it not entirely sure what to make of it at first not being someone who received mail often or generally at all out of personal preference but also unsure of why he of all people was being asked. Its not like he wasn't a busy man after all constantly trying to find new, interesting things to steal or people to harass though he had been missing on quality time with his favorite hero recently to his dismay. Then again it could be a good opportunity to find a number two do-gooder to have fun with in the meantime while he tried to think of where Night Terror had gone. Couldn't trust the news these days because there was no way he would just be left here to his lonesome right? The thought instilled genuine concern in him which would help the decision, plus free food was offered and it was not something he intended to pass up for now not to mention the free flight saving him the time/effort of trying to find his way by power alone. Soon enough the darkness manipulator was on a first class flight let alone his first actual flight which had him struggling to contain himself for most of the ride but no one here really needed to know who he was so it was a concerted effort except the snatching of an occasional bauble to hide in his bag.

---

Lester, now dressed in a nice pair of jeans and light grey hoodie after the flight, had taken more than his fair share of time actually getting to the meeting mostly because he wanted to explore the city and its wallets. It took sometime for him to rein himself back in from his excitement of a new city, free food, and maybe even possible business to start around him but once it got down to getting within eyeshot of the funeral home he got more serious. Obviously he was late to the party but a few moments of watching the outdoors from the darker corners of nearby alleys or under a suspect van he found outside until he was satisfied on his security. There was not a chance he was using the door, doors were for people who actually had to use them not people like him, so his next best solution was to just slip into a dark corner of the building to find where everyone was which took maybe a couple minutes at most for his keen eyes. He found himself rather pleased to see a well stocked food table surrounded by some interesting looking people it made him wonder if they all were here because of a letter too though he suspected they actually got them more often than him, even the massive lizard man thing which he was staring at for a couple minutes.

Beyond the massive...he would say elephant in the room but it was a lizard which was entirely different as well as several women, a couple were a bit broody but he didn't mind much, and some bald guys who looked like they needed to join a hair club because it must be horrible having nothing to keep the cold off. It seemed like that was everyone that would be arriving up until another younger man made a rather loud entrance via slamming the door, he seemed maybe just a bit too serious for his liking but he stopped caring momentarily, which gave him pause because he acted like he owned the place afterwards refusing to sit like all the others or eat with them really was the problem in his mind. The older man who looked like he actually owned the place was talking business with one of the bald guys who seemed rather paranoid about the proposition which he had been passingly listening to, finding the task of convincing the one employee entertaining in the way he could become his new best friend until the big man said not to also finding out someone loved recon and surveillance too made him equally interested.

Having choices is great, hate being stuck just doing the same shit on a different day on a job. Unless its fun like what I do.

Lester realized he should actually participate not just it in the shadows like some common creeper because he was anything but common in that area. Though how to introduce himself was something of a question which he decided in plain old fashion to make a big show of after all first impressions matter the most if what a lot of people said was right. He did notice however that some of the balds were leaving seeming like they were actually going straight to work which irked the darkness manipulator who was hoping to share food with more company but it wouldn't deter him from grandstanding. He focused on the room looking at the dimensions and figuring out a exciting way of making his presence known or at least it was to him though he hoped temporary blindness wasn't annoying to everyone if it was a couple seconds. In that moment the light level of the room started to decrease rather quickly leaving it pitch black only to go away just as quick with him sitting at the table with a smile his bag of goodies kept right next to him in reach.

"Sorry for the lateness but this is one hell of a town you have here, not to mention the spread and company for this party...or meeting. Kinda feels like both come to think of it but anyway this whole thing sounds like a great time though it feels like I got left behind by my buddy Night Terror because of this whole Coalition thing, which I thought was just rumor from the people on the news because they lie a lot to be honest. Oh woops." Lester said in a rather rapid way up until the end were he finally seemed aware of his pace." Looks like I forgot my manners, I'm Abyss...and well I guess you just saw part of what I can do so that's sort of an off topic now. Oh well might as well dig in and quiet down for a little, just hope those other guys don't freeze they could have at least left with hats to keep them warm."

After his spouting the darkness manipulator proceeded to tear apart what food he could get on his plate having not eaten since he got to the city out of anticipation and well he was busy stealing things so there was no time to eat. He looked about in between bursts of eating with a trademark friendly smile not entirely caring if or what many of the table guests were thinking about him at that moment but was jut plain enjoying being around other people who he was apparently going to work with also curbing the thought of snagging anything because he had a feeling they might not find it as endearing as him.

Broker and her man settled down in a pew and watched the mixed group mingle. A lot of shouting was involved and she was more than content to just watch. Watch and observe where people placed items and what they touched. Unfortunately a casual touch would tell little about the person and far more about the object. In a funeral home such objects were soaked with grief.

Still, any little bit of information was valuable in its' own right. The doors opened once more and an elegant man stepped through. Broker approved of his manner and dress. When he identified himself as the mysterious letter writer Broker inclined her head at Ted. When everyone joined Cesare, they didn't. The two sat quietly and listened through all the interruptions and late comers. As Cesare laid out his plans, Broker had to admit to herself that she was impressed with the man. He knew what he was talking about and knew just how far to go.

However her respect wasn't earned. Not with the people he choose. They were a loose canon. A powder keg next to an unattended candle. This was bound to implode in their faces. Yet she found herself agreeing with the mobster who identified himself as the Sunflower Group. Broker quickly recalled what she knew about the group. Saint Frank was the leader and the man who spoke matched his description. It was possible that the men with him were also from the upper echelon.

Broker didn't hesitate to meet Frank's eyes as his gaze passed over them. As things settled down again Ted stood at a small gesture from Broker.

"We will talk to Argus." Ted didn't even glance at Broker as he stood firm and looked Cesare in the eyes. He might know that it was Ginny who was Broker, but that didn't mean she had to tell everyone else here. "If there is nothing else you desire," Ted left the sentence hanging. If there was nothing else, Broker and Ted would leave. They would talk to Argus and then Broker would decide if she'd join.

---

The three of them were standing outside, in the cold of the snow. Frank didn't bother putting his cap on. Somehow it seemed the level of internally pissed off he was, was keeping him warm enough already. Baba approached him, while Cliff kept an eye on the doors.

"Just what fuck was that, Kaal?" He asked, definitely somewhat irritated. "How can you fucking agree ta participating in dis shit show with these... fucking, animals? Have you gone insane?"

"Net te luister na my, ja? Luister net." Frank responded.

Baba stopped for a second, sighing. When the Afrikaans got broken out, it was time to calm down. Think rationally. The English came back soon after.

"I will be the first to admit how fucked up this is." Frank started, "But right at this moment, let's forget the... usual process, that we are so accustomed to, yeah? I think... Cesare, whoever the fuck he is, can be of some help to us in expanding our network. Don't ask me why, I just... I think we can trust him. For now, at least. The most I want to see is this weapons deal and how much it can get us if we play ball. And..."

He motioned inside, towards the table full of freaks. "We can consider most everyone sitting at that table a potential grab. Let's not start all the snatching before we know what we're up against, yeah? See how deep this rabbit hole really gets."

Baba paused for a moment, hands on his sides. He looked at the snow under his feet briefly before turning back up to Frank. "I hope ya know all da kinds of shitty situations ya could be gettin' us into."

"Baba, trust me. The ideas are racing in my head." Frank replied, half sincerely, half sarcastically. "For now, you and Cliff head back in there. Want you to gauge who's who and can do what. Make a... potential shopping list, I guess. I'm gonna go talk to the other guys, make an announcement. I'll radio you when we're leaving."

"Fine." Baba replied, turning to Cliff. "Let's go."

Frank turned and made his way from the lot, while Baba and Cliff walked back inside.

An unkempt African man wearing sunglasses in winter, and a hulking brute with a gaping blast injury along his face.

The buddy cop scenario possibilities were strong indeed.

Of course. It was a trap of a much different kind. An irrefusable offer. Arguably the best one in his entire career, but still a trap. At least the cards he held in question were on the table. He could relax.

With composure and gentlemanly daintiness uncommon for someone of such particularly brutish appearance, Ibor moved food onto his plate with practiced elegance. Cesare was either a powerful man, or a man who could create the perfect elaborate illusion of power. A man who could provide useful information.

"I am pleased with this offer, there are so little opportunities for truly great trophies in Ohio. But the best prey in the world is all together here, along with a party of fellow hunters. Truly exciting!" His voice wavered madly across the syllables of 'exciting', and his eyes wandered, as if he was already examining the corpse of whatever unfortunate soul he considered prey.

He took a break to sample a small cut of his chicken.

"But any good hunter must know his quarry. I have seen many ignorant men slaughtered by the lions they hoped to kill themselves... So ever since I hear of Coalition, I watch news. Listen to radio. Read internet. But we both know media never tells full story. Especially not full story about people it loves... Not until they are dead..." Ibor paused for a moment, relishing the word in his mind just long enough to make any particularly sensitive individuals feel a tad uncomfortable.

"So I cut to chase, then. Is there anything you know about these 'heroes' that the reporters do not?"

(Just marking my place)

Cassie sat silently and remained quiet as the man introduced himself as the mysterious Cesare. She helped herself to the food, ignoring the bread and only taking a couple of forkfuls of salad before adding a more generous amount of chicken. She wasn’t especially fond of it, but food was food, protein was protein.

She cut her food into neat slices as she listened to his plans. No emotion crossed her face, but her fingers tightened on the cutlery slightly as a rush of anger flooded through her. Oh really, and we’ll just fall in with your plans, will we? Sure she hated Redline and wanted to slit his throat, but she disliked being dragooned into working with a bunch of others she didn’t know with a passion as well. Her eyes flickered around the others sitting in the room – were any of them thinking the same sort of things?

She suspected that none of the others wanted to work with the rest of the group either. Cassie wondered which of them, if any, would be at least bareable. She almost rolled her eyes at the idiot levitating in the air, silently marking him down as a first class prick, and barely resisted the sudden urge to stab him in the leg with her fork. Her ears pricked up when the bald guy Frank had a little temper tantrum and shouted at Cesare, flicking him a more thoughtful glance when Cesare mentioned selling Capizzi’s ‘leftovers’. Trafficking in superhumans, eh? She decided to keep well away from him, at least until she had more of an idea of what he could do. So long as she kept her claws sheathed she looked human.

She pushed her empty plate away, and listened as the other balding guy asked what he knew about the heroes. Cassie leaned forward in her chair, fingers lacing together, waiting for Cesare’s answer with interest. If he knew so much about them, surely he knew more than most about the heroes as well? Not that there was much that was unknown about Redline – the guy as such a frigging poser he liked every detail of his life being known to the world.

When she heard Cesare’s answer she’d decide what she was doing.

Cesare shrugged. "We've done what homework we can. We've compiled some information on the heroes with public identities- family, finances, medical records, things like that. And we've scraped together what gossip we can. All sorts of unflattering information is available out there if you dig deep enough. It gets hushed up, of course- no one wants to think ill of their heroes. Sonja is close to bankruptcy and has been investigated for tax fraud. Professor ESP drinks too much and turns into an antisocial mess after his third or fourth gin. Sixgun has made some very ignorant statements about Hispanics. Cherry Bomb isn't a natural redhead. But I imagine you're not asking about that tawdry tabloid junk, are you?"

Cesare poured himself a coffee. "The fact is, it's easier to find information about people like you than people like The Coalition. Not that you haven't done well at covering your tracks, some of you were very difficult to find indeed. But it boils down to one simple fact- you inspire fear, not trust and loyalty. People aren't willing to help you hide if they think they can get away with it. Finding out things about the heroes requires time and dedicated professionals- people like Argus. Talking to him will be a good first step to learning more."

"Ah, I have read even the tabloids, though I take usually with grain of salt... But, you know, every bit of information comes in handy. But I cannot say I am not very hopeful that the Professor's drinking problem is real and not the exaggerated checkout trash. Would so love to see how it affects his ability to use mind powers." He smiles and grunts deeply once or twice. Presumably a small chuckle at the hypothetical situation.

Ibor took another bite of chicken and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

"I would like to be one of the peoples you send to meet this Argus. The public know my name, but I assume the costume draws more attention than the face. Nobody recognize me yet. It would draw not much attention if I were to arrive in the destination with some others in street clothes also... If they would be willing?"

He tosses a casual glance toward his new compatriots with a mild hint of skepticism in his eyes.

Broker sat there while Ted stood. Both were a little frozen that they were just completely ignored. By the stiffness in Ted's body, she knew he was dying for direction. But she didn't give him anything. After a few seconds he made up his own mind. He turned and extended a hand to help Broker to her feet. She gave a small nod of her head. Not out of thanks, even though that was how it looked, but of agreement he was making the right decision.

If Cesare was intent on ignoring them, Broker could play at that game too. She knew names and faces. That was worth so much more than most people realized. She also knew two more names. Names of possible rivals for Cesare's little band of evil. Ted lead the way out of the pew, then Broker took the lead. Keeping Ted between her and potential danger. She still wanted to pay Argus a visit. Anyone who had information on the "good guys" was worth meeting. She might no longer be meeting on Cesare's behalf. But that didn't negate her own needs.

If Argus knew anything about Mixtape, she'd pay handsomely for it. And if Cesare got his knickers in a twist... Well, Broker wasn't above fighting dirty. After all, be this all on his head. She was willing to play nice, if only for the moment. The two stepped back out into the cold. Broker snug in her fur coat once more. Liam appeared as if by magic. Broker's eyes cast over the spot where St. Frank had been with his men. Liam would have collected any items that might be of use. There was no longer a reason to linger.

---

The levitating man briefly stopped eating, setting down his fork and knife to glare at the scene unfolding between Cesare and Saint Frank. His red eyes seemed completely unamused, finding their exchange the least bit entertaining or useful. That is until the bald, angry man mentioned a weapons deal. I see, so that is his order of business. One of the tasks he surely will be giving us. However... that man seems incompetent. Amon continued to watch Frank and his troupe as they exited the building, only after the door closed did he bother to speak again. "Vulgar filth. We used to cut the tongues off of people like him," he mentioned casually, not particularly loudly or to anyone specific but with enough volume to express his opinion on Saint Frank. Amon silenced himself again and only listened while he resumed eating, using this time to gauge the importance or relevance of everyone present.

It was only after he finished his meal did he decide to make a call on what to do. "Cesare," he spoke, setting his silverware on the plate on his lap. "I can see what kind of man you are, and what kind of men the others are." Notably he said nothing of the women. "You command attention and respect, but you are no leader." Amon took the plate in his hands and ceased levitating, putting his feet on the floor to stand like a normal person. "However... I will lend you my strength for we share a common enemy." A menacing and malicious grin took Amon's face as he shifted his gaze from Cesare to the two men that were with Saint Frank who had returned from outside. Amon held the plate in the palm of his hand and lifted it up high, brandishing it for all to see. While keeping his grin and eye-contact with the two Sunflower members, the plate suddenly ignited in an intense yellow flame. The display only lasted a few brief seconds as the plate was burned to ashes and the silverware melted, dripping down from Amon's hand onto the floor where it burned the carpet.

As the ashes scattered when the flames ceased, Amon's expression returned to a neutral state and he returned his gaze to Cesare. "I will also attend the weapon deal this evening," he announced, bringing his hand back down to his side. "Amon Ru-Amen will annihilate anyone who interferes with the business, with extreme prejudice. If that vulgar mortal and his soldiers cannot keep the situation under control then I will step in and demonstrate true power." Amon took a brief moment to look around at the other gathered men and women, making sure to look each one directly in the eyes. It was almost as if he was looking straight into their souls. "I will take leave from this meeting early in order to make preparations." The brown-skinned man brought his fists together in front of his chest, giving a slight bow in the general direction of everyone at the table. Without another word he began his casual stride to the door, making sure to lock eyes with Baba and Cliff on the way out. Of all the people that had attended, something was different about Saint Frank that Amon picked up on immediately: he was only human. That was his greatest distinction from everyone else that Cesare had called upon. And the God-King knew that humans are weak.

---

Abyss

---

Between bites Lester was taking a look at the bald, apparently Russian, man who seemed to also think poorly of the media and listened more intently to the call for serious information on the heroes they would be fighting and to the response of they're host also noting that he wasn't the only one silently interested in the conversation not to mention the Russian looking at him and the others. It was not a thought that graced his mind often because he rarely thought about how much fear someone like him could strike in the public but then again he was generally self-reliant rarely having to depend on someone to help or hide him if they even could. One thing that struck him was how no one seemed to call after the obvious fun to be had in dealing with Royale Patterson, he would call him Roy out of laziness, not to mention the possible threat posed by someone like him going rogue. Knowing how drug operations and the leadership worked it wasn't like the man was untouchable even with money/means though if he was smart enough with some balls he could cause them setbacks if it came down to it and Lester hated the idea of ruining an awesome gig like this because some lackey decided he was done. It gave him one clear target that he knew would bring him some enjoyment though he would have to hold back because the boss man still wanted him in line if possible, possible being the key word for him. Watching a few more people left, the mostly silent pair who left without a word with the fancy fur coat in tow and Ali Babba The Magnificent who could float and melt things as he was eager to show it, made for a wonder for how the other jobs were going to fair with them attending. Probably shouldn't keep the boss waiting for an answer for much longer, he might not let me choose if I do.

"As much fun as that sounds friend I'd like to know more about this Roy Patterson guy. After all I would be more than willing to give him a nice reason to keep with your plan but I do like to have some specifics about my targets beforehand, I mean I could always take my time with it to find out myself but you don't seem like a waiting man." Lester spoke with more purpose and focus ending in a more wily/playful smile at first giving feedback to the Russian before moving his attention to the man of the hour Cesare.

"However, you seem like a nice enough boss so if I might get a little heads up on Night Terror's activities after this trust exercise it would be great. I can understand if maybe you aren't willing but it would make tracking him down much easier when its time to, not to mention make me a happy clam." He continued suddenly feeling like he wanted clams but immediately striking down the stray thought even if he did get a few more bites of chicken in right afterwards.

I wonder if he would actually say so or not, depends on just how much he knows about me probably. Gonna be a good job either way but gotta wonder also who else is coming with if any in case I have to work with them...or they have to work with me which seems better.

It seemed as if this wasn't really a fan meeting, but still, it looked like there was at least one fan present. A man wearing jeans and an old t-shirt. Not the usual kind of fans, but she did not mind. A fan was a fan and possibly a next meal.

"Why thank you. It's always a pleasure to meet a fan." She said to the man. (@Sombrero)

Then, more and more people started to arrive and she just quietly sat on a chair and waited for what was going to happen. She was ready to transform at any time in case something went south, and with the amount of people in the room, she was sure that she could survive for a long time just be consuming whoever was closest.

It was then that Cesare, as he introduced himself, finally appeared and started by explaining what food was available. Shame that she had just eaten. She kept hearing the man without interrupting him just to see what exactly was going on. A team against the coalition? That sounded good in her mind. If they could help her track down Cherry Bomb and find out who she really is, that would be perfect. Of course, she wasn't going to allow anyone to harm Cherry Bomb. That was a pleasure for her and her only. She wanted to say what was on her mind, but she instead decided to keep quiet and just listen to what everyone had to say and what jobs they would do. It seemed as if the people were divided between going to the weapons deal and this Argus guy. She thought that the Argus job was bad for her. The meeting would be in a public place, and if she was recognized, that could spook Argus. As for the weapons deal, guns weren't really her thing. That left the Patterson job up. She was still deciding on what she was going to do when she caught a conversation between Cesare and another men. More importantly, she heard him mention Cherry Bomb. The moment she heard the name, her skin became slightly darker. Anyone that was looking at her could have spotted this transformation. Still, she quickly calmed herself and returned her skin to normal. Once the conversation was over, it was time for her to claim what she was going to do.

"I'll talk with this Patterson guy. Seems a job suited for me." She said to Cesare. "And if anyone wants to join me, I'll be glad to have them on board." She didn't really want company, but like they used to say in Hell, never go anywhere without a prepared meal...

Cythlla had spent most of her morning working with some of her underlings on making a new drug trafficking route into the city oh Pheonix. It wasn't until midday that she got a message from one of her underlings. "What's this?" Cythlla said looking at the letter. She had a criminal empire to run and going to something that could be a trap wasn't something easy for her to choose to do.

She turned to her underling from her table, holding a fan in front of her face. "I guess I can leave Bob in charge of things for now, I should get to checking this out. Ready my plane." Cythlla said to the underling who brought her the letter. Cythlla was in a sane state of mind at the moment, not many would even know she was connected to Cthulhu if it weren't for green kimono with an octopus design near the bottom.

After a rather boring flight with a delay due to weather she finally ended up at her destination. She arrived to the luncheon a bit late. But she figured that if she was going to be late she may as well create an entrance. She was fully prepared for this being a trap. As she opened the doors she flung out her arms, small portals appeared next to her summoning a few tentacles out of mid air.

Cythlla exclaimed.

She had a few of her underlings with her as well. Cythlla had a crazed look on her face. Using her powers often made her go into a state of insanity, but currently it was only mild insanity. "So who's in charge here? Who do I need to kill?" Cythlla asked with a toothy grin. She had almost no idea as to what was going on.

---

"A'ight. Das' it, fuck dis." Baba said, shaking his head and raising up his hands. "Cliff! We seen enough, we be leaving!"

Cliff followed past Baba towards the door, pushing past tentacles and henchmen alike to pave the way. Thankfully they managed to get out, and starting making their way to the truck.

...

"How's your mother by the way, Carson? I haven't asked in a while, she doing alright?"

"Yeh."

"That's good. Tell her I said hi next time you see her, she's a lovely woman."

"Yeh."

Frank nodded. He was leaning up against the door of the truck, talking to his men still seated inside, waiting for Cliff and Baba to show up. And show up they did, in fact, quite soon after the discussions regarding the weapons deal were over. Cliff drove up to the opposite truck while Baba stuck his head out the window and called out, "I seen enough bullshit today. Les' go get McDonald's."

Frank did naught but smile, nod, and get in the passenger seat of the truck. Sure, they had some time before Cesare sent them on their way to the weapons deal.

@Cuccoruler

Cesare seemed unfazed by the entrance, something you picked up from working with supervillains. "I'm in charge, and I would prefer you didn't kill me, at least not until you hear me out." He brushed imaginary dust from his lapel, before sighing and moving on. "I have gathered each of you here today because you all possess singular experience in fighting a member of The Coalition- in your case, Sixgun. My proposal is that we all work together to defeat The Coalition. The thirteen of you combined with the money and connections of the organization I represent should be up to the task. However, a great deal of prepatory work is required before we can directly combat the heroes. Accordingly, I am delegating three tasks to all of you: an arms purchase, a meeting with an information broker, and intimidating a local drug lord into joining our campaign against The Coalition."

Cesare poured himself yet another cup of coffee. "Are there any further questions?"