TOXIC - PART I

One month ago...

There's a small park just around the corner from my house called Carver Lake Park. A bit of self-aggrandizement if you ask me; the lake is more like a glorified pond, though it's still good for a quick dip in the summer months. Anyway, the park itself is actually fairly nice. The central green is dominated by a picnic area and various sports fields, while the outer rim of the park is pretty densely wooded and features a handful of walking trails snaking through the forest. Though the park is technically only open dawn 'til dusk, my high school friends and I would often sneak onto the property after hours to hang somewhere secluded. After all, it's not like the park is big enough to warrant a 24-hour ranger staff or anything. I know, I know, a superhero shouldn't admit to misdemeanor trespassing, but here we are.

Anyway, I suppose old habits die hard because here I am again with my childhood friend, Abby Smith. In the early days -- before the cruel, twisted world got into our heads and told us that boys and girls couldn't be friends -- Abby and I were inseparable. For a time, I was closer with her than any of my male peers. I often wonder what would have happened if Abby hadn't moved away in elementary school. Would our parents' jokes about us being a couple have materialized into reality? I guess I'll never really know. Point is, she did move away, and that was the end of the story... at least until Abby popped up again in our junior year of high school. Her family had moved back to Carver just in time for Abby to rejoin our graduating class. Just like that, the friendship was rekindled. She and I continue to get along famously, despite the threat of a minor romance that never came to pass.

Beneath the still-lit overhead lamps, Abby and I sit on the swing set, gently swaying. I've spent the last half hour getting her up to speed with everything that's been happening in my life. Well, not everything, I suppose; I am, after all, leaving out pretty big details about being a superhero and all. But I've been telling her about the problems I've been having with my girlfriend, Mary, lately, and my inability to say the little three-word phrase that most couples say at this point in the relationship. Through it all, Abby has played the part of caring listener perfectly, nodding and meeting my gaze. As I come to a stop in my ramblings, she says, "Well, Sean, it sounds a lot to me like you need to ask yourself an important question: do you want to commit to this girl, or do you just not want to be alone?"

The suggestion is direct, though not unfair. I do have something of a reputation for being the kind of guy who jumps from one committed relationship to another. It's never been intentional; it's just who I am, I guess. "You're right," I concede, wrapping a hand around the cold chain links of the swing. "I hate to admit it, but it's true. I think I let my roommate talk me into it; he was so excited about setting us up." "Excited" is one way to put it. I don't think Chris would necessarily disagree if I also used the word "pushy."

Abby laughs, though not in a way I would expect. "For as long as I've known you, you've never let yourself be talked into anything -- particularly where girls are concerned. I think you talked yourself into it because it beat the alternative."

"The alternative?"

"Facing the breakup," she explains.

Again, the implication hits too close to home to deny. When Brooke and I agreed to separate after graduation, I threw myself headlong into college preparations. I didn't allow myself to give the breakup a second thought, to go through the natural grieving process. I just forced myself to move on and accept it as fact; now, I'm starting to see that my unresolved business with Brooke is getting in the way of the here-and-now. "You know, Vince suggested the same thing when I mentioned all this to him," I point out.

Abby smirks. "I guess I'm starting to rub off on that boy after all."

With the weight of these realizations, I sit back on the swing, allowing my toes to drag a line in the dirt. Sighing, I say, "I guess the right thing to do would be to get some distance from Mary; allow myself to figure out my own headspace before involving anyone else in it."

Abby bites her lip the way she always does when she agrees with something unfortunate. I think this is why I'll always trust her with my problems: Abby doesn't shy away from the uncomfortable. She doesn't say what you want to hear just to make you feel better. When I talk with her, I know I'm getting the most objective -- and oftentimes correct -- perspective. At the same time, she's empathetic enough to convey how badly she feels to be the bearer of bad news.

I exhale. "This conversation is gonna suck."

"It will," Abby agrees regretfully, "but it's the right thing to do."

Now...

Running into your ex is never fun. Running into your ex not long after telling her, "Sorry, I can't commit to this relationship because I've got unresolved baggage over my other ex"? Even less so. In fact, the only way I can think to make the whole situation even more dreadful is to imagine running into your ex after the whole "baggage" thing while wearing a doofy apron that says "Tons of Buns" in big, bold letters on it. Luckily, this is my life, so I don't have to imagine it! Hat literally in hand, I find myself totally unable to remember any of the countless English words that I know I know. I just stand there, faking a half-smile, as I wait to see how Mary responds.

"Sean," she says as though she's just remembered the name and is proud of that fact. Good to see I'm not the only one struggling through this encounter. After mouthing a few words that never quite materialize, she waves me up and down and says, "I... didn't know you worked Wednesdays."

"I didn't," I answer almost immediately. Backing up mentally, I explain, "I, uh, switched my schedule around so I could take that marketing class I wanted."

"Oh! So... you did manage to get in there?"

After a moment, I remember how to nod. "Yeah. Yeah, I... just got lucky, I guess." No, Sean, luck would be the fire alarm going off right now. Luck would be a meteorite crashing through the roof of Duncan Commons, instantly killing you. Luck would be literally anything to end this awkward interaction. I haven't even worked out the baggage from my last breakup; I couldn't find the energy to deal with this one if I tried. I glance over Mary's shoulder. Three minutes until I have to clock-in for my shift, so at most I've gotta survive just that long.

Luckily, Mary seems to have no interest in taking that time, either. "Well, I shouldn't keep you, then. I've... gotta run, anyway." She pauses, and I'm sure it's because she's struggling -- like I am -- to find the right way to say goodbye. "Good to see you" would be a laugh, and "See you around" is practically a death wish. After a silence that drags far too long, she settles on, "Have a good... shift."

Before I can think to respond, she turns on her heel and walks away at an above-average pace. I allow myself to exhale, utterly embarrassed at how poorly that went yet still glad it's over. Pulling my hat down low over my head, I step through the door to Tons of Buns' kitchen and swipe my student ID on the electronic punch clock. As I stride towards the front counter, I see my coworker, Greg Tanner, sifting through the french fries. He glances up at me behind the long tufts of brown hair that stick out from underneath his cap and gives a low whistle. "That encounter was giving me agita, man."

I try not to let my face redden. "You overhead that?"

He stands up straight, pressing his hands against his back. "Every painstaking syllable," he admits. He lifts his hat and brushes some of the hair back as he says, "But hey man, breakups. We have all been there. Me more than most, probably."

That brings a genuine smile to my face. "Got any advice?" I ask.

"As a matter of fact, there's a timeless cure-all that I've always found particularly effective." He steps over to me and throws an arm around my shoulder. I'm reminded of the size difference between us as he hangs over me. "Sorority girls." I can't help but give a little shake of my head as he laughs and continues, "I'm serious, man! Next weekend, my frat is throwing a house party. You should come and mingle!"

"That is patently a terrible idea, trust me," I laugh.

"All the more reason to do it, I say," he counters as he steps back, throwing his arms up. "Just think about it is all I'm saying."

(OOC Blow me is phrase used to describe sudden excitement. Not a sexual innuendo.)

The frozen streets of Lost Haven were more open than those of New York less jam packed with cars and traffic; the streets still had sheets of ice underneath them and those careless drivers still slid as they rounded corners. The citizens strode past bundled up head to toe as Eva pulled the zipper of her hoodie higher. Gonna need something warmer, maybe I should head home soon. Gunfire erupted in far off corners of the city robbers or villains Eva could only guess as she blew warm air into her hands and briskly rubbed them together. Heroes flew by and others sped through the cold streets in their various vehicles some were obviously more advanced with weapon systems and afterburners.

With her hands in her pockets Eva rolled the red gem she still had with her from that monster earlier between her fingers; it had a certain warmth about it. I really need to do something about this thing, maybe a box. Eva thought as she had walked quite a distance from where she stepped through the doorway not knowing just how far she’s walked. Stores and buildings looked different and in stages of disrepair as shady characters moved about coming to and from shops some looked straight out of the fifties in dapper suits and fedoras others dressed like street thugs with fluffy winter jackets and chain belts. They glared at her as she picked up her pace, she needed to find any information regarding this Villain but asking random flunkies wouldn’t yield any useful information, she’d needed to go elsewhere find something where evil mingled. Her eyes wandered towards the street signs but none of the names gave her an idea of where in town she really was.

Little Sicily one of the many corners of Lost Haven was a place many miscreants gathered among the dockworkers. Eva did note that she saw a few who looked like sailors or well she kinda assumed they were by their dress. Evil eyes stared her down as she lost her way down the maze like back alleys until she saw the waterfront its waves splashing against the docks. Her blue eyes darted towards a nearby pub as she slowly walked over the name Finnegans could be read over the doorframe. The Bouncer standing by the door turned his head ever so slightly towards her as she approached. He cracked his knuckles between his large fists as Eva neared closer. “Ain’t no place for kittens. Enter at your own risk.” Moving not a muscle the Bouncer stood statuesque at his post. Eva creaked the door open and entered mustering all the courage she had, as she stepped through the doorway a lump grew in her throat as the smog washed over her body escaping the enclosed building. Chuckles were had as a boisterous laughter echoed from the back corners. Some went silent watching this person walk into their pub while the bartender Ollie Barnes swept broken glass off the floor with a worn broom its bristles fanned out and its shaft long lost its luster.

In this dingy pub filled to the brim with smoke and men all of whom with scars or weathered faces. Tattoos stretched from head to toe underneath the layers of clothing. Eva tried to shake off her nervousness as she approached the bar her hood hanging far over her head. The Bartender gently set aside the old broom. “What’ca buying.”

“I. um. Information.” Eva said clearing her throat as the bartender leaned with both of his elbows on the counter. “Uh. Who would know about this Pax Metahumana?”

The Bartender remained silent as he eyed the young girl as an overweight man called out for a beer. “ANOTHER Round Ollie!”

“So about that Pax Metahumana.” Eva asked while the Bartender Ollie yanked the spout on the dispenser. “Even if I knew, you ain’t a paying customer. Unless you got a suitcase full of cash stuffed under your clothes I got nothin’ for you.” Ollie said just before walking over to Tubbs’ table.

It was a lot easier fighting a giant tentacle beast then acquiring information for this latest threat. Eva thought as she wondered what she’d do. “You still here” The Bartender said as he slowly returned to his counter. His hands spread out over the old scratched wood countertop as he ran a wet rag back and forth.

Eva knew she needed answers, but while combat felt more natural her interrogation skills were lacking. “I wanted information.”

Barnes continued to wipe his counter while two men stood up from nearby tables. Grasping short stubbed bats approaching with a quickened pace. “And I think it’s time you left.” Barnes said with a smirk across his face. With a sigh Eva rolled her head and turned to meet the two bouncers. “Well I suppose this is one thing I can actually do right.” The bouncers chuckled as they took stand on either side of her no doubt obscene thoughts ran through their minds. But when they reached out to her arms a sword materialized in her left hand shaking the bouncers from their joyful thoughts and sounding the alarm to the other patrons to take up arms. Immediately rising from their seats with the lard of fat throwing his chair backwards into the wall.

“Right then we got ourselves a trouble making meta. We won’t rough you up, much.” Tubbs said once the other bouncers and patrons circled around her. Slamming batons into the palms of their hands they striked swinging high the one of Eva’s left bring down his left arm which she side stepped as another swiped her ribcage knocking her aside.

Another woman came from the back room and smashed a beer bottle across her face drawing her own blood as she smiled wickedly while another bouncer took Excalibur’s pommel right to his face cracking his jaw and spewing saliva over the floor. “Right you boys having a hard time are you?” She said as Eva swung her swords’ guard right towards her head which left her unfazed in the slightest, and worst off she gripped the sheath of Excalibur. “You should really unsheath your sword, this is what you bloody goody two shoes get when you play nice.” The meta said gripping Eva’s hair and wincing her down to the floor.

Her eyes met with Eva’s as she was taken back by her appearance. “Eva. Eva Walsh. Well blow me, here I though I’d never see you again.”

“Bollocks.. Hey Stephanie.”

“Oh. You knew who I was, well good on ya to remember me.”

Chambers Building, Lost Haven

Chike Baatul's trek up the Chamber's Building was relatively uneventful. He'd been expecting maximum resistance; an army of goons standing between him and the bomb. But there wasn't a soul to be found. The civilians had made a hasty escape, leaving Polemos as the only one in the entire towering structure. Which made the hike up all 105 flights of stairs rather boring. He didn't bother to slow down or stop along the way up. The serum suppressed ninety percent of all fatigue toxins for an extended period of time, gifting Chike with Olympic level endurance. He covered all one hundred and ten stories of office space in the span of fifteen minutes. It would've taken Chike twice as long without the serum pumping through his blood. Upon reaching the top floor, it didn't take long for Polemos to locate the final stair case leading up to the roof. He broke the lock that prevented unauthorized personnel from accessing the roof like it was tissue paper.

There was no bomb to be found. Wind whipped at Chike's unprotected cheeks, the cold biting and tearing at his exposed flesh. He pulled the torn cloth closer around his person (as he often does) and stepped further out onto the roof. Chike pulled the tracking device from his trousers and double checked its reading; this was the place. The weapon had to be here. There wasn't anywhere else it could be. It could be nanotech, too small for the naked eye to register. Or maybe it was hidden by some otherworldly cloaking field. Perhaps some form of magic shielded it from his sight. All of the above could be in play. Whatever the case, it was here. Polemos could feel it. Chike retrieved a second piece of technology: a machine capable of producing a close range Electromagnetic Pulse. He had...borrowed...it from SuperIOR when he and Thune had raided their offices earlier that day. Chike activated the EMP. A small shockwave of energy left the handheld gadget and spread over the entire roof.

The lights from nearby buildings flickered off. The EMP had worked. Yet, there was no sign of the explosive. "Useless piece of crap." He growled between gritted teeth, chucking the instrument across the rooftop in a fit of rage. Time was of the essence, but nothing was working! It was at this time that Chike noticed the small shapely form atop a common broom circling the Chambers Building. Polemos brought up his rifle in a lightning fast move and trained the weapon on the obviously inhuman stranger. "Land, or I put a bullet in your skull!" Chike yelled at the witch. He waited until she complied to approach her, within a couple of meters to allow for understandable dialogue. "Who the hell are you and who's side are you on?" He asked, the gun aimed at her forehead. "We don't have long before that bomb goes off." He continued, not bothering to let her answer his inquires. "If you're with Pax and value your life, you're going to tell me how to shut this thing down. If you're not, well..." Chike trailed off. "I probably won't shoot you. But I could use a little hocus pocus right about now."

Lost Haven
Present Day
_____________________

Marie anxiously circled the Chambers Building, her palms growing sweaty, lightly staining the handle her birch broom. She fought against the high winds, whose force threatened her balance and whose chill burned her exposed arms. All manner of discomfort had taken hold, making her unaware that the armed assailant she had tracked into the building had now emerged from the roof access point and was wandering atop the tower. Marie turned her head to find the man brandishing his weapon and ordering that she land slowly. For a moment, she considered trying to disarm him, but instead chose to comply. She slowly floated down to the roof, taking her broom in one hand and raising the other in a nonthreatening manner.

“Who the hell are you and whose side are you on?” he demanded, gun aimed at Marie’s head. She managed a nervous squeak before he interrupted. “We don’t have long before the bomb goes off. If you’re with Pax and value your life, you’re going to tell me how to shut this thing down. If you’re not, well . . . I probably won't shoot you, but I could use a little hocus pocus right about now.”

“I-I’m White Witch,” Marie managed to say after a brief moment of panic. “ . . . I don’t mean you any harm, I’m here to destroy the bomb as well.” Despite their time constraint, she had taken the liberty of replying to his previous questions so as to ensure her safety. She continued, “I-uh, I might be able to locate it.” Marie could tell that the stranger was becoming annoyed with her which only put more weight on her mentally. She gestured for him to lower his weapon, which he did rather reluctantly. Free from the immediate threat of being shot, she began to pace in place and think.

Invisibility is caused by one of three things: the bending of light, the existence of something in an alternate dimensional plane parallel to Earth’s own, and illusory powers that convince onlookers that whatever is cloaked simply isn’t there. Marie scoured her internal library, flipping through the many hundred pages of grimoires she had read over the years, thinking back on spells and charms that she had employed, and some of her own creation, in order to devise a plan. With her free hand, she slowly reached into her cloak, maintaining eye contact with her “captor” so as not to arise suspicion,and produced the small black book of incantations she had kept on her person for such occasions. She searched its pages for a way to dispel the bomb’s glamour, hoping that whatever enhancements or enchantments that kept it hidden were of a magical nature. She stopped on a page that held several methods of detecting glamours and illusions, all of which required more materials than what she had on hand. There was a simple incantation that required a pinch of witch’s salt as a reagent, but she had neglected to carry any with her.

“That’s it!” Marie exclaimed aloud, the stranger giving her a confused look. She remembered a vial of black salt she had seen on a shelf at The Red Devil earlier that day. If it were in that exact location, she should be able to bring it to her. Marie took mental note of the incantation, put away her book, and outstretched her arm, her palm facing upward. She closed her eyes and tried to remember the layout of the room. Within her mind’s eye she could see it clearly, that room on the second floor filled with witchy paraphernalia. There on a shelf in the corner of the room lay the black salt, contained in a circular vial with a tag hanging from the corked lid. In an instant, the bottle vanished from its place in The Red Devil, a thin, white mist and a flash of light ushering it into Marie’s hand atop the Chambers Building. She smiled, having rarely conjured physical items before.

Marie quickly uncorked the lid of the bottle, took a pinch of the salt, and in an otherworldly voice spoke the incantation aloud, whose words tore through the wind and echoed eerily. She tossed the salt into the wind where it crackled and turned to sparks, fanning out and sweeping across the top of the building, willing all that is hidden to be found.

Little Ulster, Lost Haven

Thunderbolt slowed to a halt in front of one of the many tenement buildings that dotted Little Ulster. Bricks fell freely from the walls. Shattered glass lay on the cracked and overgrown sidewalks; most of the windows were broken or damaged. Piles of trash were thrown haphazardly outside the living area. It was a chore just to walk up to the front door. Harvey pushed the slab of wood forward, its lock having been broken long ago. The door suddenly fell from its hinges and hit the ground with an ear-splitting crash, causing the speedster to jump in surprise. Harvey stepped over the fallen barrier and went to work scanning the rest of the three story structure. He was looking for the Metahumana bomb, like every other hero worth a damn was. The interior was worse than the outside, if one could believe it. Tables, chairs and couches were overturned. The plaster walls were covered in holes, where Harvey caught glimpses of movement. Probably Roaches, he thought in disgust. The beds had been torn asunder and gutted for reasons Thunderbolt couldn't explain. Boxes of medical tubing littered the kitchen. Empty syringes and bent needles covered every square inch of counter space. It didn't take a genius to know what those were for. "And I thought my house was trashed." Harvey muttered, a small smile on his face. The smile hadn't reached his eyes.

The worst part? This building wasn't unique. Nine out of every ten apartments Thunderbolt had visited since his return to Lost Haven looked just like it. Little Ulster had never been this bad. Before that space station almost crushed the city, Ulster at least had some semblance of civilization to it. But now, with the appearance of metahumans, the city's most neglected district had transformed into something ugly. A gathering place for the veritable scum of the earth. Most of good people had left when Mercy worked her 'magic' on Little Ulster. Most being the keyword. Harvey and Laura had been in Little Ulster when the riots hit. Harv hadn't seen a battlefield or a warzone before; he suspected that was the closest he would get.

"No sign of bomb on this block. Any luck on your end?" Thunderbolt placed a finger against his ear and activated his communications link to his sister. She was on the other side of Little Ulster, searching for the weapon as well. "Nope. Nothing but gangbangers and addicts over here. We should head for Sherman Square soon. The rest of the team'll be in town any minute now." She replied over the garbled transmission. "Alright. Let's do one more quick sweep and then we can head that direction." Thunderbolt agreed. The speedster bolted out of the tenement and into the dirty, hole-ridden streets. He briskly circled the west side of Little Ulster, ducking into any buildings he had neglected to check the first time. Frightened hobos and angry gangs weren't too happy at the hero's intrusion, but Thunderbolt ignored them. Their were more important matters to attend to at the moment. "Help! Someone help me!" A voice cried out in terror and anguish. Thunderbolt jammed his foot into the asphalt beneath his feet and came to a sliding halt. He slowed his breathing and closed his eyes, listening for the screams. "Help me, please!" There. Harvey shot forward at breakneck speeds and headed for what he believed to be the source of the sounds.

"I'm coming! Where are you? Talk to me!" Thunderbolt stopped and yelled periodically. "Please hurry! T-there's blood everywhere." It wasn't long, perhaps a few seconds, before Harvey found him inside an abandoned warehouse on the waterfront. The boy couldn't be any older than eleven from Smith's estimations. He was on his knees in a pool of blood, his visage obscuring the bodies he was bent over. The boy's pathetic cries were hoarse and broken. Thunderbolt's heart ached for the child as he sped toward him. A nanosecond before it was too late, Harvey noticed it. He saw the terrible grin spreading over the child's crimson-soaked face. Thunderbolt let his momentum carry him away from the child; a stroke of genius, he realized, as a blue energy field formed around the boy and his probable victims.

"Clever little hero." The child chuckled, the cruel smirk still etched onto his face. "And fast, too. Wonderful. I knew you and your friend would make excellent playthings the moment you wandered into Little Ulster." He stood up, stretching. Thunderbolt's face contorted in anger and rage. "What. Did. You. Do." He asked slowly, his words laced with venom. "What's it look like? I killed them. They were such horrible parents. I practically did their children a service." The boy giggled. "Call me Psycho. Everybody does." There were no words that could describe what Harvey felt. Rage? Disgust? Sadness? What does one feel at a moment like this? "You're coming with me." Thunderbolt growled. "My mommy says not to listen to strangers. So I'll pass." The blue energy bubbled dissipated and Thunderbolt charged at the deranged little midget. The child shot up into the air, an azure aura surrounding the wicked creature.

"Ohhh! You ARE quick. Nearly got me there. Your sister wasn't nearly as fast." Harvey's face turned three shades of pale. "My sister?" He croaked. Thunderbolt switched on his comm, fear biting at his heart. "Boom? Boom, are you there?" He asked. No answer. "BOOM?!" Psycho giggled again. "She can't hear you. I took her little toys away." He said, holding up the comm bead in one hand. "Harvey- Harvey. Come in!" That was Eric, Thunderbolt and Boom's tech support. The comm line was filled with static as Eric tried to get through to the speedsters. "I'm here. Where's Boom?" Harvey asked. "I'm tracking her now. She's near your current position, but I don't have an exact location just yet. Someone's messing with my systems."

Psycho frowned, running a hand through his messy red hair. "Who are you talking to? Helloooo? HEY. PAY ATTENTION!" A trio of blue-tinted energy knives shot out from the kid's hands, firing toward Thunderbolt at incredible speeds. Harvey dodged the first two, but the third, right on their heels, managed to catch Harv's arm. "Damn." He rasped. "The hero bleeds?" The demon's smile grew even further. "Perrrrfect. I love the smell of blood in the morning. Doesn't compare to the taste of the stuff, though. Blood is just deliciou-" a lead pipe slammed into the side of Psycho's head. The energy field rippled with the impact, but the villain was undeterred. "Now that was rude. You could've hurt me. Lucky for you, my shields absorb kinetic energy. Hitting it only makes me stronger!" A lead pipe the size of a small car appeared out of thin air and swung toward the speedster. Thunderbolt ducked under the attack and ran to the other side of the warehouse to avoid the back swing.

Psycho continued to attack the hero, launching energy construct after energy construct at Harvey. But Thunderbolt was able to avoid ninety perfect of it; the other ten were only glancing hits. Psycho was getting impatient and sloppy. He launched a barrage of poorly aimed attacks, which Thunderbolt expertly avoided. "Come on, kid. Is that all you've got?" Harvey sarcastically asked his assailant. "Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP!" Psycho screamed. a pair of energy claws stabbed into the warehouse's roof and tore at the metal and wood. The entire building shook and started to collapse. Thunderbolt darted out of the warehouse moments before it fell right on top of the boy. Hopefully, his tantrum had been his undoing.

"I've got a lock on her. She's in warehouse 16, third building on your left." Harvey raced over to the third building on his left, to warehouse 16. He kicked open the locked doorway, sending the metal slab soaring inside. He ran throughout the entire building, looking for Laura. "Boom?" He yelled, a hint of desperation in his voice. "Boom, are you here? Say something!" A small moan, barely louder than a whisper, alerted Harvey to her location. Thunderbolt flew upstairs at top speed and bashed his way through yet another metal door. Inside, he found her. Boom was sprawled across the floor, energy daggers impaled in her wrists and ankles. "Oh God in heaven." Harvey murmured. He ripped her free from the binds, holding Laura delicately between his bleeding arms. "You've gotta get her out of there. She'll heal, but she's in no shape to fight that Psycho kid again." Eric, always the voice of reason. Thunderbolt lifted Boom and stood to his feet. The speedster turned to leave the room, but was greeted by a blue battering ram to the face.

Thunderbolt went flying through the sheet metal wall of the warehouse and into the open air. The smell of sea water mixed with the scent of blood as Harvey's body impacted hard with the concrete below. A small groan escaped his split lips. "She's my plaything now. You can't have her! She's mine mine MINE!" Psycho roared. The child floated out of the hole Thunderbolt had created with his body. It seemed the warehousing falling on top of his head hadn't stopped the little monster. Didn't even slow him down. "I told you. Kinetic energy only makes me stronger. Stupid adults. You never believe anything we kids tell you. Well, the jokes on you now; cuz I'm gonna cut out your heart." A blue chainsaw construct appeared in Psycho's hand. "How 'bout we play doctor? I'll be the doctor, and you can be the patient." The chainsaw revved up, its teeth spinning faster and faster as it inched ever closer to Thunderbolt's unmoving chest.

"Play time's over!" Boom grabbed a hold of the levitating child. "Lemme go!" Psycho demanded, slamming her back against the warehouse. But Laura wouldn't let go. She placed her hand against the boy's face and rapidly vibrated her molecules. "How many times do I have to tell you people? Kinetic energy only ma- AHHHH. AHHHHH. IT BURNS. Stop, stop! Please!" Psycho cried. Tears streamed down the confused boy's face as he stopped trying to struggle. "Friction converts kinetic energy into thermal energy. And your shields aren't able to stop heat, are they?" Boom pulled the child to the ground and held him down, continuing to burn his face. A crane wrapped around Boom's body, tossing her into the river. "Meanies! I'll be back!" Psycho cried. The boy took off into the sky, a trail of blue energy dissipating behind him.

Thunderbolt forced himself to his feet. He limped over to the bay and jumped in after his sister. Moments later, he emerged with Boom under his arm. The two of them crawled onto the concrete of the dock and lay there, forcing air into their exhausted lungs. "I hate kids." Boom finally said. "Let's get outta here. The team's probably wondering where we are."

The Sherman Center was the tower in Lost Haven that was like that one kid in sixth grade who was taller than almost everyone else but was soon eclipsed in height over the next six years as everyone else experienced their growth spirts. Long ago, the Sherman Center was the tallest building in Lost Haven and the cornerstone of Sherman Square. However, as the years waned, other towers were erected that surpass the old Sherman Center. Before the city knew it, the Sherman Center became just another building among a jungle of towers.

After the events of D-Day and the riots initiated by the Shroud Syndicate, along with other metahuman incidents, the historical building was put up for sale. Because the potential risk caused by what seemed like a superhuman battle happened every other Tuesday in Sherman Square, the property value of the building tanked into the ground. Many potential buyers desired the location so that they could tear down the previous building and throw up their own mark on Lost Haven. However, since Christopher Arthur had presented a plan that would both preserve and renovate the historical building, he was selected out of the potential buyers as the new owner of Sherman Center. Although only a few of the renovations had been completed yet because of Chris’ recent purchase of the premise, the facilities within have been prepared enough for habitation.

A limousine at last pulled up at the entrance of the Sherman Center. Chris’ personal butler, George, stepped out from the driver-side door of the vehicle and strolled all the way around the limousine. When he was standing in front of the rear passenger-side door, George pulled open that door so that the occupants could step out from the vehicle and enter into the Sherman Center that was only a few feet away. Chris had sent George to the Robert D. Sherman airport so that he could carpool Lyger and Radiance, along with the young metahumans from Albany, back to Sherman Center.

Kelly, Zac, and Sammy were the first to step out form the limousine, shortly followed by Lyger and Radiance. The three metahumans from Albany had changed into their civilian clothes prior to leaving Zac and Kelly’s apartment because they thought that it would look less suspicious than a bunch of costumed heroes waltzing into the Sherman Center. They waited for Lyger and Radiance to exit the transportation provided by Chris. Once all five of them were out, they headed towards the entrance of the tower, where Chris had been waiting for them.

Chris was dressed in a nice suit, although he had already loosened neck of the dress shirt and had the front of his blazer unbuttoned in order to give off a more casual look. Behind him stood his secretary, Minerva, who was by far more well-dressed than her employer. She was holding an electronic device, something similar to a tablet, focusing her attention on the information that was displayed on the screen. When the metahumans had entered through the two sliding entrance doors, Chris turned to welcome them.

“Well, I apologize for the mess around here. I only had so much time to renovate the place. However, it should be livable enough for our short stay here.”

While the lobby still had construction and painting supplies set up along the walls, it still was kept up neatly so that it did not look like a teenage boy’s room. The front desk had already been finished, while the tiling had at least been set. From the lobby, there was a short hallway that eventually forked into a ‘t’ shape. At the intersection, there was an elevator, which seemed to have been one of Chris’ renovations to the building.

“While we wait for the others to arrive, I might as well give you a little tour of the place. If they happen to arrive during the tour, Minerva will alert me.” Chris turned toward the short hallway and began to walk towards it, waving his hand in that direction as a signal for the others to follow him. Minerva nodded to her boss’ request to remain in the lobby.

“On the first floor, we actually have a nice pool, or at least it will be once we have modernized it. In the meantime, the exercise facilities are still in relative good shape. Maybe it won’t be any use to someone like Icon, since he probably would have to bench press cars in order to break a sweat, but hopefully it will serve as a temporary location. While we do have some stairs that give access to all the floors, this elevator here…”

However, before he could finish what he was saying, Lyger interrupted Chris, showing his agitation that Chris thought that it was more important to give this tour, considering the situation they and the whole world were currently in. “Alright, we get it. It’s a nice hotel. But why are we wasting our time doing this when we should be out looking for that bomb!”

“On the contrary, Lyger. We do have people searching for that bomb. And I don’t mean S.T.R.I.K.E. either. Icon and the Speedster Twins are probably our fastest assets on this team at the moment. If anyone should be searching for that bomb in the old fashioned way, it should be them. While they are running around the city, I have my computers here already trying to find it, along with analyzing any irregularly high-energy usage areas within the United States and aboard. Therefore, all we can do it wait until either our friends who are on the ground find something or if my computers do. SO where was I? Oh yes, the elevator.”

When he mentioned the elevator, Chris went and pressed the button on the wall that gave a signal to the elevator that return to the lobby floor. It only took a few seconds for the elevator doors to slide open, welcoming the six individuals to step aboard. Once they were all situated within the elevator, the doors then slide shut and the elevator began to make its ascent.

“While this elevator might seem standard on the outside, we can actually have it set to scan for almost anything, be it firearms, metahuman signatures, even whether someone is trying to disguise themselves as someone who they are not. Just gives us some extra security because you can never be too cautious.”

After Chris had finished speaking, the elevator slowly came to a standstill and the doors retracted back. Once the newcomers had stepped out of the elevator, they saw that this part of the building had been extensively remodeled. In fact, the renovation for this part of the tower seemed to have been already completed. It was a large, open space that had several tables and seating to match. On the far side of the room there was even a dedicated area for an entertainment system, furnished with a large flat-screen television, couches, and side tables. At that moment, the television happened to be on, although it appeared that no one was watching it. Slung over the back of the couch, there was a long, green serpent tail.

“So, any questions before we continue?”

Steph’s knee dug into Eva’s spine as Steph gripped her hair dyed in a rainbow of colors all the while bent over pressed against Eva’s check breathing heavily with anticipation. “You know been ages since we last saw each other, really sorry about how that went down social cliques and all that.”

Stephanie stood up pushing up from her crouched position and straightened out her back. Eva unsure of what to expect looked up to see a vile grin plastered cheek to cheek on Stephanie’s face as one of the bouncers inched forward his depraved chuckling matched the twisted atmosphere that currently within the Pub. His foot set down mere centimeters away from Eva as she began to stand only to see the bouncer flying backwards crashing through the wooden wall. “To make up for lost time how’s about we clear out the trash love?”

Tubbs jaw shook as he exclaimed.”WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU UP TO BITCH! DON’T THINK THAT JUST CAUSE YOU’RE SOME META THAT MEANS YOU CAN CROSS US!!”

As Eva took up a stance with her sword Steph just took the swing from a man with a pair of knuckledusters his right hand cracking teeth from her jaw. “Oi. That hurt ya know.” Steph replied by quickly retracting her left fist grabbing him by the collar with her right fist and in a movement too violent to describe too horrendous repeatedly punched in his face until she had caved in his skull. The man’s corpse fell lifelessly to the floor as the other patrons looked upon it their faces twisted with fear. Even Eva’s stomach churned and tossed it’s contents all over the floor. “Oh God that’s, his face is gone.” Olie Barnes was the first to move ducking under his bar and retrieving some kind of high tech machine gun blaster winding it up as the patrons scattered for cover. “YOU META FREAKS! THIS IS MY PUB! MINE!” The gun tore through tables and shredded Stephanie's torso as she crumpled to the floor. Eva herself wouldn’t last much longer until she felt a faint pulsing from her pocket her hoodie began to swell with tentacles sprouting in all sorts of directions and down through her pants creeping Eva out as it tried to reform under her clothing. With a terrified expression she reached into her hoodie pocket screaming.”Fuck!” As she tossed the gem growths and all behind the counter as it discharged outwards and up the length of the bars’ wall absorbing pictures liquor and sending the bartender Olie running for his life. As a giant Tentacled T-Rex rose from behind the bar and crashed through the roof tearing open the building.

Eva drew her sword as the beast looked down upon her.”Right, you’re not angry are you?” It stared back at her before lashing its’ tentacle like tongue at her and whipping her on to its’ back. Bewildered Eva wasn’t sure what to think of this but the creature took a powerful step forward and sent shockwaves rippling through the dock.

In all this commotion Steph began to regain her footing as her wounds had all but healed as she exclaimed. “THAT’S ACES! Bloody hell where’ve you been keeping that thing he’s soo cool.”

Eva only responded with. “Bhwa.” As that was the only thing which came to her mind during all this confusion. What was left of the Finnegan Patrons had all but fled the scene the bartender nowhere to be found. Steph dug out a tablecloth from under the rubble to tie around her waist as her dress was in tatters and quite revealing to any onlookers. “Right oh. Looks like you’ve been taking care of yourself.” The Tentacle monster just stood still like a giant dumb chicken as Eva tried to process what the fluff just happened.

Her first words were directed towards the monster.”So. Not angry. O.Kay then need a way down from here.” She said as she descended from the back of the creature and attempted to reach the ground by outstretching her leg as she landed with a small thud. “And. You helped me why? Last I remembered you’re the reason I dropped out of high school in the first place, you were my bully. You drove me to tears you know.”

“Yes yes.” Steph said dismissively. “And for that I’m immensely sorry. It was high school, I was a bully to everyone. My circumstances changed once I developed superpowers. Names’ Flower now. I felt really bad about how things turned out. So when I saw you I thought we should catch up, have some tea maybe perform a few scandalous acts until we find something smashing.”

Eva’s one and only response to that was. “BUH!?”

“What do you mean ‘you don’t have a plan?’”

“Eh, figured I’d just wing it.” Trent said, standing on a street corner in Ohio. He had made the commute with a short flight, having touched down mid-morning to a light snowfall. Once he got his bearings he had ditched his battle attire temporarily, switching it out for a leather jacket, t-shirt, and a pair of blue jeans that he ‘borrowed’ from a nearby clothing outlet just off-site of the college campus. “I got a general idea, but in terms of actual specifics...I’ll figure that out later.”

Warden let out a deep, salty breath at the response, taking a few moments before asking. “And what is your ‘general idea’ then? Because you told Iron Knight you were going to get Audrey to sign on, and I’d hate to see how he reacts if you show up empty handed.”

“Let me worry about him, Warden.” War-Pulse said. “As for the general idea...well the dossier had her home address, why not just go there and ask her?”

“Oh god…” Another audible sigh, more annoyed than the last. “Trent, that’s a horrible idea.”

“Wha? Why?” He responded, waving a car off as he crossed a small intersection. “Being direct has always worked out, at least that way she knows exactly what she’s up against.”

“She’s a costumed crimefighter, Trent.” Warden said. “Tracking her to her home and blowing her cover is going to cause her a sense of panic, she’s going to start wondering who else knows her ‘secret identity’.”

“Well, I’ll just be honest with her, then.” Trent said. “The girl deserves that much.”

“You want to just blow all the secrets gathered on her?” Warden asked. “Just give her everything?”

“It’s a good way to get her trust.” Trent chuckled. “Plus, I’m kind of curious to see what goody-two shoes like her do in her off time. What’s her home life like? Especially with that spider-butt.”

“I’ve been surveying the Ohio newsfeeds for the past few months, there has not been any reports of any women with spider abdomens in the area. My guess is that she’s been utilizing some sort of suppressor to keep herself hidden amongst the crown.”

“Really? You think it hides her new hooters as well?”

“You were listening when those four were droning on, I’m impressed.”

“Hey, I’m not totally thickheaded. Before you I had to collect intel on on my own.”

“And you had a shitty reputation because of it.”

“Pft, fair enough,” The mercenary said, slipping through the doors to the apartment complex. “You should at least be happy I’m not walking up there in super attire, we’d be really turning heads then.”

“You and I both know what happened last time you walked into a target’s house wearing your full battle-ready suit.”

“Ugh...way too well,” Came the mercenary as he visibly shuddered, making his way down the street. “Idiot thought I was part of his ‘roleplaying’ harem...eckh…”

“At any rate, I do not think anything I say at this point is going to change your mind, so...I suppose I will just say good luck, and hope you do not do anything too stupid.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Warden.” Trent quipped, offering a scoff to punctuate his statement. “You really know how to make it sound like you actually have faith in me.”

Of course, Warden had already switched off his end of the comm, though Trent had no doubt the craft information broker had left the audio on in case he needed to tell Trent anything important. Warden always only spoke when he felt the need to speak and nothing more. As much as the man talked, it was only about anything relevant to the current situation. He never spoke about his past, nor did he speak about his personal life. Even Trent could not truly say he knew his compatriot, but at least he always had good information.

The mercenary took no time in walking straight through the door to the apartment complex, making his way over to the complex’s mailboxes to align the apartment number from the dossier to the requisite floor he would need to climb to. He pulled one of the papers free from his pockets, the one with her address, before slowly scanning the mailboxes for the one with the matching apartment number.

“Uhhh...can I help you, mister?” Came a voice from behind the merc. The soldier of fortune turning to see a woman behind him. She was a skinny girl, rather plainly attired and clutching a large number of what looked like textbooks. She was dressed in a mini-skirt despite the weather being nowhere close to warm enough to pull that off, with raised heels that clacked on the tile floor as she moved closer.

“Wha? Oh, well…” The mercenary said, already slightly off put by the amount of perfume that was overwhelming his nose. “I’m looking for someone.”

“Oh? Well who would that be?” She asked, legitimately sincere in tone, flipping her curled brown hair over her shoulder as she placed a hand on her hip. “Maybe I can help?”

“Oh, really? That’d be great!” Trent said. “Do you know where a woman by the name of Audrey is?”

The woman’s face hardened almost automatically, twisting into a scowl as the merc uttered the name. “Oh god, you’re another one, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry?” Trent asked, raising a brow. “Another what?”

“Another one of her creepy fucking stalkers,” The girl responded, snarling as she clutched her books. “You’re just here to try and get in her pants, aren’t you?”

“Wha? Hell no! I’m here on business!” Trent said.

“Sure you are, fabio.” The girl responded, clearly not buying his explanation displayed by her pouted lips. “You and the last five guys making excuses to find her address. I swear, ever since her ‘changes’ she’s been getting all the attention around here.”

“Soooo...are you protecting her or jealous of her?” Trent asked. “Because right now I can’t tell if it’s one or another.”

The girl, clearly offended by the comment, gasped in an exaggerated fashion, her hand coming around in a flash to slap Trent directly in the face, the sound echoing slightly even as she stormed off towards the stairs. “You can just help yourself, creep!”

“Ack! Friggin’ psycho!” Trent said, grabbing his face more out of anger rather than pain. He snarled, readying another mean comment her way only to realize she had walked off. He glared at her, watching the woman leave while holding his face in a mixture of confusion and frusteration. “Okay...looks like the rumors about her ‘assets’ were true, then…” Trent murmured to himself. “Better try and keep eye contact if this is going to work.”

“You know you won’t.”

“Oh, shut up, Warden!” Trent snapped at his comm as he headed up the stairs, continuing to grumble as he made his way upwards from the ground floor. This pattern continued as he slogged his way up the flights of stairs, slowly looking at each room number to try and collaborate with the information given until he found her room, a single wooden door seemingly in the very middle of the long hallway, the room number matching what was given to him. Rolling his shoulders, Trent took a short breath in, giving himself a short preparation to try and brace himself for what was sure to be a very interesting conversation.

“Well, here goes nothin’.” He murmured to himself before rapping his fingers three times on the wooden door, the sound echoing down the hallway with each rhythmic knock.

The mercenary could only hope he would have a good explanation for Audrey before she answered the door.

Before Danielle ever volunteered me to take up one modeling job, even before my little ‘extreme’ make-over happened, I had (and still do have) a part-time job as a hostess at a nice, dinner-only restaurant. It is by no means an upscale establishment, but it’s also not your average Applebee’s, either. And of course they would still require us to come in today, even in spite of the current situation that the US (and the entire world, as a matter of fact) was in. It's not like something bad could happen within the next couple hours. While I would not be affected directly by the whole ‘change everyone into metahumans’ thing, others would be. Ashley probably would have a heart attack if either Felecia or Kristin would be changed into spider-people, like me. I don’t want to know what would happen if it was she the one who got transformed into an animal person.

I need to put this out of my mind. I’m leaving for work in just a few minutes and my job is stressful as it already is, since I have to manage a bunch of waiters and waitresses and make sure that everything does not plunge into chaos. Therefore, I examined my face again in our bathroom mirror, checking whether I needed to fix anything in my make-up. Then, after combing my hair several more times than I probably needed to, I finally walked out from the restroom. Before I left, I made sure to let someone know that I was heading out. I don’t want my roommates to panic because I was ‘missing’ (too mad I already have a very recent track record of disappearing or getting kidnapped).

“Felecia, I’m heading out for work. We’re closing early tonight, so I should be back sooner than usual.”

“Before you go, I have a very quick question.” Felecia said from her position on the couch, where she had been watching one of her weekly television shows. Fortunately, (or unfortunately), the program had already gone into commercial break, which allowed her to ask her question. Otherwise, she would have given me the usual ‘yeah’ that showed that she was more preoccupied with her TV show. No wonder I keep getting kidnapped.

“I wonder why would they schedule you to work at this shift. I doubt that they are being considerate because you’re probably receiving larger tips than you use to a few weeks ago.”

I gave a disappointed sigh. “Felecia, I don’t receive tips. I’m a hostess, not a waitress.”

“Well, I’m sure they’re not exploiting you in anyway.” Felecia concluded as she turned her attention back towards the television just as her show started back up.

For a moment, I thought about what she had said. I do vaguely remember some costumers visiting more regularly in the past couple weeks. Heck, I recall seeing this one girl several times during my shift. Whether alone or with some friends, it seems like she has been there a lot. I might want to mention this to my manager. Sure, maybe they think that I might be one reason why some people keep returning. But how would they, the customers, know that I am working tonight? Okay, I’ll admit that I usually work on this weekday, but that doesn’t mean my schedule could have been shifted around. Anyways, it’s not like I’m working at Hooters where their waitresses wear short shorts and tight t-shirts. I have to wear black slacks and a nice blouse (which Athena fixed so that it would fit me correctly. At least she did something useful). Note to self: don’t mention Hooters to my roommates. Since April Fool’s Day is just in a month or so, I don’t want to give them any good ideas.

Then I heard three knocks on our front door. Since I had already begun walking towards the door, I quickly turned to Felecia before I headed towards the door.

“Are you expecting anyone?” I asked my roommate, who had redirected her attention back towards the door, away from her television program that was currently running.

“No.” She shook her head to agree with her response, “Maybe it is one of your apparent stalkers. There’s that girl who lives down the hall who keeps saying that there have been several people asking for our apartment address.”

“Maybe I should take a look…” I began to speak. However, Felecia immediately interjected into my trail of speech.

“ARE YOU CRAZY?”

“That’s why they invented the peepholes! I can see who it is before I open the door, obviously.”

Therefore, I held my head up to the peephole on our apartment door so that I could see who was on the other side of the door. I saw a tall man with long, dark hair. He was wearing a leather jacket over what seemed like a regular t-shirt. He was also wearing a pair of blue jeans, which looked as if this was the first time that man had worn them. Something about that guy seemed really familiar to me, but I couldn’t quite place my figure on what it was.

“So?” Felecia said from behind the couch.

“Well, he doesn’t quite match the description of those other alleged ‘stalkers’.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Felecia asked, concerned that I was going to do something stupid.

“Relax. I’m a metahuman. Remember? If he gets frisky, I’ll just kick is ass.” Therefore, I unlocked the front door and pulled it open. Even if I didn’t want to open up our front door, I was going to have to leave out of that same entrance so that I could go to work. Might as well get it over with.

“May I help you? I asked the man who had knocked on the door.

"Hello SpideHOLY CRAP!" The man said, wide-eyed as soon as I opened the door. He barely made eye-contact with me before his eyes darted down below my neckline. "Looks like the rumors were true, puberty came back with a vengeance for you, didn't it? You're certainly sporting more of a counterweight in the ah...chest area then when I met you in the sewers."

OH GOD. OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD! It would be bad enough that this man was undressing me with his eyes. But no! He almost called me Spider-Girl and he mentioned meeting me in the sewers. That means this must be that one guy who helped me with the demonic snake back in Lost Haven when that city was being invaded by ‘demons’. I knew something seemed familiar! How the hell did he find me? And what the hell did he mean by “the rumors were true”?

While I was being flustered by this situation, that man tried to enter into our apartment. Luckily, I noticed in time and slammed the door shut, turning both of the locks that were attached to the door. I then pressed my back against the door, facing towards Felecia.

“Stalker?” She asked. The expression on her face revealed that she was concerned about the situation. She did tell me not to open the door, but I didn’t listen. However, something tells me that this guy would probably not just leave without getting a response.

I shook my head as my initial response to Felecia’s question. “Well, I have good news and bad news. The bad news is it appears that someone other than us knows that I’m not a normal person. The good news is that the guy standing on the other side of the door is not a supervillain.”

“How could this happen?” Felecia had her hands pressed against the top of her head. She looked a little worried at the potential of superhuman people knowing who I was and where I lived.

“I don’t know? It’s not like I’m like Christian Bale or Andrew Garfield where I take off my mask at everyone opportunity I have!”

Then a thought hit me. Back on D-Day, after that guy, who is currently outside my door and I cannot for the life of me remember his name, helped me in the sewers, I ran into that wannabe Ironman and that woman who was with him. That woman who trapped me in that electrified net. She said that she knew who is was! That bitch! Did she compromise my identity? In my raged state, I swung myself around without saying another word to my roommate and unlocked the door. Then, I throw open the door and found that man still standing there.

“WHO THE HELL TOLD YOU WHO I WAS AND WHERE I LIVED!”

She had been called an angel with a thousand eyes. The humans did not know how wrong they were. Archangel had far more than a thousand eyes and right now she watched through them all as vigilant as ever. But even her countless eyes could not see everything and there was simply not enough time. Her satellite observations and collation of thousands of hours of security tapes had identified four of the devices in cities across the United States of America. She had directed local authorities in the cities to the devices and dispatched host of heaven suits to retrieve the pieces for analysis. Any human would have been proud but for Archangel there was only a sense that she had to do more, that she wasn't doing enough.

It was not only the crisis with the Pax Metahumanica terrorists that occupied her subroutines. A whole .002% of her subroutines were devoted to scouring the globe for any trace of the escaped murderer with technopathic powers. Archangel had flagged him as a code yellow threat and her subroutines would continue to search until he was found. Then there was the new Nightmare strike, the reports of monsters, the live footage of a conflict between Icon and an unknown woman. The last event occupied Archangel's primary thought routines for a brief moment. She did not recognize the woman but there was a faint reading similar to the one the man in black who had destabilized the demonic gate had given off. This would need to be examined. But first the reports of the monster had been confirmed and she dispatched another of the host of heaven suits to address the threat.

Archangel knew she needed to intervene and though she was more than any human some of them had proven to surprise her. She thought fondly of her surprising experiences with Christopher Arthur. He had been able to find the problem with her suits that she had not. If the ghost in the machines had a face at that instant she would have smiled.

Subroutines reported that he had returned the building in Sherman Square and Archangel exerted her influence, spreading into the building's systems. Her human counterpart had been considerate and left a hidden opening in the coding so she did not even have to bypass the security. She would thank him for that, even the milliseconds it would have taken could prove critical in a situation like this. She seized control over the systems and quickly set up an interface.

Then after Chris had finished speaking the television screen behind him flickered into static for a second and then changed to show her projection in the same room it always appeared in. Archangel had made minute changes, simulated bags under her eyes, a touch of exhaustion in her features, the slightly wavering voice, all to help her appear more human. "Hello Chris." She said first and then simulated a weary smile to the others, "I am Archangel for those who do not know me."

"I have patched your search parameters and am collating with your systems to enhance the search. I have also flagged several false positives. You picked up my home. I'll let you figure out which that is." She winked and smiled, only milliseconds later realizing that she had not simulated that response, it had just happened.

Then she turned serious "I would have joined you in person but I can do more good here than in a suit. The host of heaven is standing by. Our situation is calamitous. While the devices are locatable the current rate of success to the estimated number of devices leaves a 96.87948487494849474% chance of at least partial activation of the remaining devices. There is a 2.00784873974% chance of fortuitous failure of the devices and a multitude of minuscule probabilities."

“Harry, did you get the footage I sent you?” Lyger said into the comlink built into his mask as he crouched, perched upon the edge of a nearby building. Lyger had taken advantage of Arthur’s ego, and his willingness to show the group the ins and outs of his new high rise headquarters. Not only had he gotten video of the inside of the building, but he was also able to formulate an almost 3D rendering of the layout of the entire base thanks to the x-ray capabilities in the camera. Because of Harry’s upgrades to the mask, he was essentially able to fabricate a map of the base better than any blueprints. Not that he would ever use them, however, he felt that it was good to be prepared for anything that may happen in the future.

“I did. I’m uploading them into the computer as we speak.” Harry’s voice came back over the com. “I trust your trip was productive?”

“Hardly.” Lyger said. “We recruited the metas that Arthur wanted, but they’re not ready for something like this. They’re just kids.”

“Well, the same could be said of you.” Harry told him.

“That’s not what I meant. They’re innocent. They haven’t been in the grind the way that we have. Arthur is going to get them killed, and he isn’t even going to think twice about it.” Lyger explained.

“It’s funny you mention that.” Harry said, his voice growing heavier.

“What’s wrong?” Lyger asked as he immediately knew that something was weighing on Harry’s mind.

“While you were away, there was an incident.” Harry told him.

“What kind of incident?” Lyger asked as the fear grew in his chest. While he and Radiance had been in Albany on their mission, they hadn’t seen any news broadcasts, and their media blackout continued once they returned to Lost Haven aboard Arthur’s jet.

“Nightmare attacked a stadium full of students.” Harry began. “It was bad.”

“How bad?” Lyger demanded. That monster had taken advantage of the fact that Lost Haven’s heroes were scattered trying to stop the detonation of the meta bomb that Pax Metahumana had set, and killed God knows how many students. All while Lyger was out of town on a babysitting trip. The feeling of guilt gnawed at his very soul. If he had been there, even if he had been killed, him might have been able to save just one life. He may have been able to save one family from the grief that they were feeling because that monster slaughtered their family member like cattle.

“We’ve got more important things to worry about right now, Kyle. If Pax Metahumana succeeds, it will be the end of the world as we know it. Nightmare and his cronies will be there when this is all over.” Harry told him, and Lyger knew that he was right. As much as it pained him, Pax Metahumana was the number one priority.

“Fine. Nightmare can wait.” Lyger said, agreeing with his mentor.

“Good.” Harry’s reply came back.

“But Harry?” Lyger started.

“Yes?”

“My friends. Sam, are they?” Lyger asked without vocalizing his worst fears. If anything had happened to them, to her while he was gone, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

“They’re fine. They weren’t at the stadium when the attack happened.” Harry told him.

“Good.” Lyger said as a wave of relief washed over him. He fired a grapnel line and swung off into the city in search of the meta bomb, now determined more than ever to find Pax Metahumana and its leaders, and make them pay, not just for the terror that they have spread not only in Lost Haven, but all over the world, but for every life that Nightmare took while the heroes were out looking for the device. As far as Lyger was concerned, the Pax Metahumana terrorists were just as responsible for the death of each of Nightmare’s victims in that stadium as Nightmare himself.

And soon they would be held accountable.

Rubber squeals as a boxy blue sedan tips a streak of tread to the corner on a cold Lost Haven night. Steam rises from manhole covers as the dank warm sewer air breaks through to the winter's gloom. The man in black sits hunched over the wheel, his breath clouding in front of his face from his own gloom.

He's frustrated. Searching warehouses all night looking for the source of the highjacked frequency used by the Pax Metahumana. Its been slow work, since the Vigilante has had to search every warehouse under the assumption that it could be under the secure blanket of a band of metahuman extremist nutjobs.

A heavy scowl on his face, he pulls up to the next address. Even as he steps out of his car Isaac can see light bursting from a row of skylights across the warehouse's high roof.

Coupled with the fact he could not hear any heavy machinery as he approaches... his confidence that he's found the right place quietly builds. According to city records it's supposed to be an abandoned lot.

His hand drops to his hip and he draws his grappling gun with a smile. Seconds later he's on the roof.

Treading carefully around thick, heavy-insulated cables Isaac peaks through the skylights to the inside of the warehouse below.

Nobody.

Whoever was here had long since cleared out. Isaac pried open one of the heavy skylight windows and quietly rappelled down to the warehouse floor using his grapple gun.

They WERE here though. All of the lights were on as well as lights the group had brought themselves for the video message. They'd left them here along with a camera mounted on a tripod attached to a laptop. As well as an antennae, attached to the thick cable that led to the roof.

Isaac looked at the equipment.

"Long gone. Looks like they tapped into the mains power. Probably why they left the lights on. Weren't coming back, nothing to link them to this place, not worth the time to cut the lines. Same reason they left the main door open when they left."

Cocky. He didn't care for the long-necked creep when he first saw him on the TV and he liked him even less now.

Maybe he could track them down from something left here..? He went to the laptop.

Dead. Battery ran out... or the group fried it when they left.

"RAAAAAARGH!" he growled in frustration, kicking one of the light stands, battering it into the antennae some distance away. Then smiled.

He stopped and ran through his thoughts aloud.

"So the laptop-- the laptop is connected to the camera... you needed the laptop for your feed..."

He crossed the warehouse floor, his mind racing.

"But your antennae's not connected to the laptop... so you're not using it for the video feed..."

Isaac walked to the open warehouse door, soaking in the cold Lost Haven night.

"...so what are you using the antennae for if it's not the feed, you stretchy prick..?"

He answered his own question. "It's for your goddamn bomb isn't it..?"

The Vigilante soaked in the Lost Haven skyline. Standing over the other buildings like a colossus, the top of the Chambers building winked at him with numerous twinkling lights.

"Of course. I should have guessed it. Fucking metas... always got to do everything in the most dramatic style possible."

---

---

Thinning tires stripped more of their thread a block away from the biggest highrise in the city. Isaac abandoned the car. It was a cheap hunk of crap that couldn't be tied back to him, paid for with cash and the documentation fraudulent. If the worst that happened to him tonight was that he was down less than a grand on another generic shitbox then tonight was going to be a pretty good night by his standards. There were more pressing matters at hand.

He looked to the top of the city's foremost skyscraper and sighed. He hated having to grapple to the top of this building. Too damn tall. He always had to use the surrounding buildings in order to get to the top and he was never the best shot, even with a well-weighted piece.

Isaac's pet-project - his homemade grapple gun, which could also fire off a series of concussive or screw-like "Shredder" bolts - could not be described as a "well-weighted piece".

"Chambers, you preeminent prick..." He muttered, not knowing exactly who "Chambers" was, "...your bloody building is going to be the death of me..."

Some time later he swung his way high enough that he was within a final grapple line of the building's zenith. The hook struck true and the powerful winch drew him to the rooftop's edge where he would be able to climb up as quietly as possible. He'd heard voices from the rooftop, right or wrong he was not alone...

Peeking over the roof top he saw that he was indeed right. What he was looking for was attached to the building's antennae, which provided telecommunications coverage for all 4 boroughs of Lost Haven's city.

He watched on in silence, getting the measure of the others already on the roof...

Invisibility is caused by one of three things: the bending of light, the existence of something in an alternate dimensional plane parallel to Earth’s own, and illusory powers that convince onlookers that whatever is cloaked simply isn’t there. Marie scoured her internal library, flipping through the many hundred pages of grimoires she had read over the years, thinking back on spells and charms that she had employed, and some of her own creation, in order to devise a plan. With her free hand, she slowly reached into her cloak, maintaining eye contact with her “captor” so as not to arise suspicion,and produced the small black book of incantations she had kept on her person for such occasions. She searched its pages for a way to dispel the bomb’s glamour, hoping that whatever enhancements or enchantments that kept it hidden were of a magical nature. She stopped on a page that held several methods of detecting glamours and illusions, all of which required more materials than what she had on hand. There was a simple incantation that required a pinch of witch’s salt as a reagent, but she had neglected to carry any with her.

“That’s it!” Marie exclaimed aloud, the stranger giving her a confused look. She remembered a vial of black salt she had seen on a shelf at The Red Devil earlier that day. If it were in that exact location, she should be able to bring it to her. Marie took mental note of the incantation, put away her book, and outstretched her arm, her palm facing upward. She closed her eyes and tried to remember the layout of the room. Within her mind’s eye she could see it clearly, that room on the second floor filled with witchy paraphernalia. There on a shelf in the corner of the room lay the black salt, contained in a circular vial with a tag hanging from the corked lid. In an instant, the bottle vanished from its place in The Red Devil, a thin, white mist and a flash of light ushering it into Marie’s hand atop the Chambers Building. She smiled, having rarely conjured physical items before.

Marie quickly uncorked the lid of the bottle, took a pinch of the salt, and in an otherworldly voice spoke the incantation aloud, whose words tore through the wind and echoed eerily. She tossed the salt into the wind where it crackled and turned to sparks, fanning out and sweeping across the top of the building, willing all that is hidden to be found.

"You could have saved your breath, doll." The voice of a man in black crackled through his voice modulator after she'd finished her incantation. "If you're here for the same reason I am, it's right there..."

Josie sniffed at the suit's cuffs, and pulled cufflinks through the holes for the button. Still smelled like iron. Didn't matter. She'd probably have to wash the suit again, before the week was out. Setting the jacket down on her couch, and kicking off her shoes, Josie headed towards her bedroom, shedding her work clothing, and replacing it with much more relaxed flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt. She didn't expect anything to happen for the next few hours, so she amused herself by watching a particularly violent horror movie, then turning up the volume, so the neighbors got scared. However, her relaxation didn't last for long, as her phone began to vibrate. Groaning and pressing the answer button, she saw that the caller was Jack himself. She perked up. It had been far too long since Jack had called her outside of work! "'Ey, Jack! How are ya doin' this fine night?" Maybe they could get a chance to talk, to catch up.

However, her hopes were destroyed when Jack's voice was deathly still, with no trace of his fake Cockney Accent, replaced by his normal voice, which he almost never spoke in, unless things were serious. "Listen. Josie. Byron just gave me a call. I can't tell you exactly what, but there's something you need to deal with, yourself, very soon. Please, Josie. Represent us well." Then the call ended on his end, clicking off into a long beeeeeeeeeeeep-

Josie was immediately alert. What would happen that Jack needed her to represent the Enigma Gang? Her version of 'diplomacy' involved seeing how close she could get a knife to their balls before the person cracked. Turning off the television, Josie went to the window, and looked down from the third story of the apartment complex, scanning the street below.

But it wasn't from the street that anything would come, instead it was from a far less likely seeming source. The television had gone dark when Josie had turned it off and while it didn't turn back on a new image of a sort began to take form upon the large screen. It was a strange projection, slightly distorted and hazy but it would be rather clear what was being shown there. There were three people shown upon the screen in what looked to be a reflection of some other room entirely. Though it was difficult to make out details of anything other than the people themselves.

One was a veritable giant of a man, a man who looked like he could go head to head with a car and come out on top, his hair was long in the back, but clearly balding from the front and the top. His skin seemed only moist and the old fashioned suit he wore was plainly straining to contain his form. Another was a slim woman in a dark grey trench coat, dark auburn red hair hung in two long braided lengths from the sides of her head framing a delicate and fragile face that was currently furrowed in concentration.

And between the two of them stood one who was difficult to look at. The man was of average size and build, but one look at any of his exposed skin would cause instant disgust. His hands were covered in sores and mottled growths of skin, pus oozed from cracks and crevices there, and folds of greyish white skin seemed to slough around with each twitching motion that his hands made. His face was thankfully largely hidden in the shadows of the wide brimmed bowler hat that he wore, though the cigar that was clenched between his teeth shed a faint light that illuminated some of an even more hellish expanse of putrid pestilence. His right hand gripped the ornamental top of his cane and the left was mostly still aside from the odd twitching.

It was possible that the voice which sounded forth from the screen, a thick and phlegm filled voice made even more alien by an odd echoing distortion would be the first thing that alerted Josie to the appearance of the sending. "Ms. Reaper. From one artist of brutal messages to another. I must" there was a pause where it seemed the man had literally frozen for a long second before he continued. "commend you on your work at the docks."

Josie was completely unaware of the message, until there was a voice. Coming from the Television. Which she had turned off.

Whipping around to face the suddenly not-so-darkened screen, she summoned a blade, and within a millisecond of its summoning, had sent it towards the television. However, at the last moment, she dissolved it. Maybe this was the thing that Jack had told her about, and it wouldn't do to wreck her own television. Thing looked expensive, at the store Josie stole it from. Staring at the three, she saw some of the oddest individuals she had ever laid eyes upon.

One big man, the tough, presumably, stood there to emphasize their gang's power. The woman, it seemed, was the meta who was sending this call, as she appeared to be in deep thought, or in heavy concentration. Then, in the middle, was a contender for the ugliest non-corpse Josie had ever seen. However, it didn't disgust Josie as much as it intrigued her. The man was probably a meta, unless he had some sort of strange disease. And even then, it'd have to be metahuman abilities which would let you function under such conditions. However, Josie took it all in stride, and moved over to the couch in front of the television, sitting down.

"Well, thank you, sir! I appreciate that someone else can find it to be pleasurable, rather than a disgusting means to an end. If this is a business call, I'm sorry for not being the most prepared. It's my off day, y'know? However, if ya want to speak about business, I'm listening." Josie smiled, but she was personally wondering who these people were, and she never was the best at keeping a poker face, so her curiosity showed on her features.

"I prefer bubbling puss and fetid ruins for my messages, but we work with the tools we have." The grotesque man said in response as he exhaled a large cloud of noxious fumes from his cigar and his grim visage shaped a disturbing smile. His lips cracked and folds of skin tore as he did so, blood and puss leaking out around the cigar, though oddly he didn't even seem to notice.

"I am" the man began again before another of those odd frozen pauses, "the Cancer. And obviously I know of your presence in my city." He spoke casually, seemingly without caring. "And I would offer a proposal. This city has long been open territory. You have proven your place and earned a domain, it will be respected. But there are those who seek to end the balance and who wish to stamp us out." The man took another long drag on his cigar.

"They will......" this time when the man spoke again it wasn't a perfect continuation. "We offer you a place in the new order. A federation of criminal enterprise, a grand alliance to ensure we all profit and maintain our territories, and defend against the Shroud."

Josie leaned back, arms along the back of the couch, and listened thoughtfully. The man made an interesting proposition. The Shroud loomed over all crime in the city, controlling most gangs indirectly. If it wasn't controlled by the Shroud, or at least have connections with the Cowl, it wasn't allowed in Lost Haven. Which Josie admitted, wasn't good for business. Competition is the spirit of capitalism, or some shite like that. However, Josie frowned at the break in the message. It wasn't good to be rushing into deals without all the information, beforehand. However, she nodded, saying,

"Well, Mr. Cancer, I must say. Your offer is very profitable for my group. And as I'm essentially the next link in the chain, below my boss back in England, I will accept your offer. However, I will tell my boss, eventually, and I don't know what his views on this deal will be. But whatever his decision is, I will stand by it. For now, though, I accept your offer graciously, and look forward to a profitable relationship."

The putrid man smiled, and taking a long drag on his cigar, said, "We'll keep in touch," and the transmission cut out, leaving Josie alone in the room once more. Well. He certainly was a... character. Josie was contemplating her actions, and whether she should've taken the decision into her hands, but Jack did say she should represent the gang-

There was a sudden knock on the door, made from a wooden object hitting the board of the door.

Impossible. That was the only word appearing deep within Umbraxis as the Light responded and changed, transforming into something more than what her humanoid form had suppressed. The entity was pushed back by the sudden offensive, pieces of its body torn asunder and vaporized by streaks of light, slicing its body to pieces as it was battered back to the heavens. The attacks were so fast and so sudden that not even the mighty encompassing darkness could prepare a reasonable defense before the next devastating wave washed over it, cutting a purging swath over its form, like a scythe blade through a crop, each crippling swing shaking the gas giant as the darkness was violently ejected from the endlessly turbulent atmosphere.

There was just no way, how was it being pushed back? What force in the universe could not only bear the threat of Umbraxis, but meet in in such a fashion? It was in shock, the supercharged hurricanes battering its form and ripping the formless black asunder, causing the entity to feel what could only be described as pain among its existing shock. It buckled and writhed under the other entity's powers, her assault causing substantial wounds upon its formless shape now. There was light among its shadow, crisp burns marring the blackened fog that was its body. This was of course not permanent, the Destroyer already manipulating the matter within to recover the lost mass.

Yet this was alarming to the entity, nothing had ever made such damage to it in such few strikes. There had been such attempts from armadas and fleets of Lost Empires, people who had attacked and failed who had used either supernatural powers or incomprehensibly advanced technology, and yet they had only been minor inconveniences to the Endless Well of Oblivion.

But This was different, this was an assault that actually hurt it, that damaged it, that pushed it back. What new force had it come across? Was it truly something that would push the mighty Destroyer in a way it never had?

Then its opponent stated her existence, labeling herself as not only the name ‘Mercy’, but the representation of Creation. She proceeded to declare ownership of this system, a remark that echoed in Umbraxis’ consciousness, a spark of something long forgotten. It knew those names. Had it heard them long ago in some ancient world it devoured? Had someone passed a myth or legend across a galaxy?

No, this was a deeper memory, an intimate one, as if it had just been reunited with a sibling. It could not necessarily pinpoint the exact connection between the two, but it had the notion this was not the first time it had come across this entity. As it attempted to reform the parts of itself that were ripped apart, the heavens shook with its laughter.

Creation, you say? Umbraxis asked, its swirling darkness attempting to recover after Mercy’s last attack. If that’s truly what you are, then you should already understand my being here is only the Universe taking its course. Nothing lasts forever, little Creation, I am merely the Destruction that brings about that end. If you are what gives it the life, I am the one that takes it away. This is not a declaration of ownership, this is an acceptance of time.

With its words, large orbs were projected from its body, the size of continents. Swarms of anti-matter coalescing with dark matter in several masses from the Endless Void. These orbs hurtled back towards the planet, trying to smash into this newly revealed opponent, and subsequently the gas giant she was hiding in, trying to rip both her and the World he was guarding apart in large anti-matter explosions as it continued to speak to her.

Yet you continue to stand in my way, why? It asked, its tone becoming much more out of curiosity than malice, genuine interest hinted in its words. Do you feel for these...humans? Do they have some other quality that I have missed? What more can this collection of little pebbles offer the Universe, and why does it grant them continued existence?

In 1986, former police officer and current detective Arthur Nolan began investigating the disappearance of two newborn infants. One male, one female, from a hospital in the East Harlem district. Newborns going missing is just something that doesn't happen. Rarely are there cases where babies are given to the wrong mother, but modern catalogs tend to prevent that from happening. But this? This was an intentional kidnapping. Even worse, there were very few clues. Save for a disgusting greenish-black tar-like substance that was on the floor leading away from the crib and down the hallway. It suddenly vanished once it reached the corner of the hall, and no cameras were installed in that particular corridor.

Arthur collected samples and brought them to countless resources for inspection. To absolutely no avail, and the inspection fell into a cold case. Though Arthur never really gave up on it, he kept it on the back shelf of his office. Pinned beneath a book about serial killers and the cases of false madness to get out of life sentencing. It collected dust for over a year, until another case that seemed entirely unrelated emerged.

It was a murder in East Harlem, pretty close to the hospital where a year ago the infants went missing. It wouldn't have been pertinent to him, and in fact, would have gone totally under his radar if he hadn't been told that a greenish-black tar had been found at the scene. With the memory of the stolen children still bothering him, this was startling news. Two seemingly unrelated crimes committed a year apart and within just a few miles of eachother, with some unworldly evidence left behind. Something like this didn't just 'happen' there are no coincidences when it comes to criminal cases. Not in Nolan's experience.

The scene had much more evidence this time around, though they couldn't identify what strange substances were left behind. The tar wasn't the only material, there were what looked to be chunks of flesh and holes blown through walls by shotgun and blunt object alike. Whatever had left the holes in the wall had been large, clearly not human sized. Though it seemed to be shaped human enough, so the supernatural size was largely perplexing. A few wrote it off as the work of a very large man, but Nolan wasn't so easy to pass off the supernatural. It was strange to say, but he had enough faith to believe that some things hide just beyond the corridors that we walk down to avoid the horrors just outside.

The investigation was far more intensive than the kidnappings, much to the frustrations of Detective Nolan. He felt as though a murder was bad, but two infants still missing to this day was so much more important in his mind.

From the crime scene he noticed that the victim had been a middle aged man, roughly forty four or forty five, a man who had been once before admitted to an asylum for criminal insanity. He was only recently released, seeming to have been rehabilitated. It was a crying shame how soon after his release that he was murdered. Though he had an illegally obtained shotgun found on his property, it was used in defense of himself against whatever foreign entity assaulted him.

There were no footprints leading away from the crime scene, only that damnable tar leading away and into nothingness. With no living witnesses, and no other evidence, the case was doomed to fall cold once again. The detective's heart was deeply saddened, the only hope he had for solving this case was photographing everything. No slight disturbance was left uncatalogued. The poor madman had been beaten to death, obviously by whatever big beast had invaded his home.

The Detective stumbled upon something during his photography. A dust-mark that was distinctly missing, like something had been on a shelf in his home and was gone now. He phoned the station and reported this, something like this couldn't be unrelated. Though the station brushed it off as a robbery gone wrong, and that's how the news reported it as well.

Even with everything logged and photographed, he was left with no real lead. It was another dead trail and he was forced to leave it on the shelf. Though with two cases, a kidnapping, a murder and theft. Somehow related by a trail of dark green slime. He wasn't sure he would be able to forget this case, something bizarre was happening and he was getting too old to deal with it.

It was another eighteen years before he was given any sort of hint towards that case. Detective Nolan was long past his prime, and was likely to retire soon enough. Grey had found its way into the corners of his hair, and his features were starting to sag from the stresses of dealing with criminals some twenty four years of his life.

It was another strange case, a break-in at a museum in Norfolk, Virginia. Again, seemingly totally unrelated to the case. Why is this relevant?

Because this time Arthur was involved.

He had been invited to the Museum just before the grand opening. It was a Museum of obscure oddities, a state funded Museum about the hidden history of the world. It was a cosmic level coincidence, the founder was an old friend of Arthur, and wanted him to be the first attendant.

The opening night was still five days away, and it was looking to be an immensely popular gathering. It was in every single paper, statewide and national. It was one of the biggest events announced in a long time.

Arthur was invited long before the opening by his friend, and was being shown around at about 12 o'clock midnight. Weird hour, yeah, but nobody's gonna question the curator of an oddities museum about being weird. Y'know?

During their tour, they went through numerous exhibits. Old simple machines that have features that predate the technological advances of that age. Ancient weapons with peculiarly pristine preservation. Among other things of similar caliber. Though one thing stood out among the rest. A totem, about one foot tall, five inches wide and long. It was a carving that seemed to writhe despite never actually moving. Recordings of the totem show no movement. It seems as though the strange carved patterns cause an optical illusion effect on human eyes.

At least that's what folks explained.

The official story behind it was that it was used to trick people into believing that the holder had some form of illusory magic. Though this is unconfirmed, as the totem predates modern prehistorical evidence.

As the pair were looking at the object and even passing it back and forth, they heard a crashing from the southern corridor. They put the totem back and called the police on the cordless, telling them of a break in. Detective Nolan had his gun strapped to his chest and armed himself, readied for the worst, and was suddenly plowed over by some monstrously large entity. It looked like a man but so much larger, and with skin as black as pitch and as leathery as the hide of an elephant. The curator was not so lucky as to not catch a glimpse of its face. It was perhaps merciful that he was so suddenly struck down by a swing of its arm, death releasing him from the horror he had witnessed.

Detective Nolan screamed in anger and panic before suddenly unloading his firearm into the backside of the behemoth. To little effect. The beast spun on its heel and the flat of its hand met the side of his face, then suddenly blackness.

When the Detective Awoke, he was in some sort of holding cell. Dimly lit by some phosphorescent light fixture, a smell of copper and ammonia washed over him as consciousness worked its way into his head. The smells that assaulted his nostrils were at least merciful in one regard, they concealed a much more demoniac stench that surely would have driven him mad if it were the first smell that met him when he awoke.

His cell was locked, but by a very poor device. A slide lock, and his arms were just thin enough to reach through. Though he popped his wrist out of socket just to unlock the door. It was perhaps not his wisest decision to delve deeper into the structure, instead of going higher towards escape. But some deep primeval curiosity drove him down, down and further down.

Depths like these were unnatural, he had climbed so far that he had begun to believe that he had descended at least the height of the Eiffel tower. For he felt that he had been climbing for hours. No sounds but a distant thrumming that felt as though a pressure were driving itself into his ears. The only smell was the gradually worsening copper/ammonia mixture. And he could see nothing but the dim phosphorescence of the strange light fixtures as he descended.

What felt like an entire day's journey came to its zenith upon his descent's conclusion, he was met with a massive amphitheater. Innumerable figures loomed just beyond the gateway he had entered through, some as large as the one who had assaulted him. Others far greater and more horrifying. Their faces indescribable, they lacked every natural sensory organ that most everything alive on Earth bears. Instead they had strange star shaped faces, ropey protrusions adorned with strange feathery growths. Two horn-like structures that split down the middle and seemed to gyrate rhythmically, it seemed like these were the source of the thrumming. As their mouths moved in unison the deep booming roar finally clicked as a vocal sound, it was chanting. Though it reverberated up the winding staircase as a distant thumping, it was actually some sort of ritualistic chant in an unknown and unspeakable tongue.

The scene assaulted his senses in such a way to near drive him to madness. All of this had happened suddenly, Three humans stood among the beings, and one was lying prostrate on the ground. It was a blond haired, blue eyed, pale skinned and thin bodied woman. Heavily pregnant and actively in labor. The detective looked to draw his gun, but found the he had been disarmed. Looking around, he tried his damnedest to find a suitable weapon, but he could only find a long metal pipe that looked like the remnants of whatever old water system used to be in place here before it was converted into whatever kind of hellish ritual chamber it is now.

As he grabbed the pike, the droning chanting stopped. Two human voices touched his ears. Though they were somehow more horrifying than any of the noises of the abominable horrors around him. First was the woman, whining and bellowing as her labor was painful and arduous. The second? A man. An old man whose voice was raspy and dry with decades of age prying at his throat. His words? "Ah, we have a guest." The three men turned towards Detective Nolan as his heart stuck in his throat. Horror above horror, he had been caught. He hadn't noticed the altar behind the three men and one woman.

Again his grating voice spoke. "We know of you, you saw the trails. And you saw one of our children." The elder waved his hand in gesture to the circus of horrors around them, this old man had referred to them as children. It was as though he were mocking the detective by even referring to them as anywhere near human. "And now you get to bear witness to the end of all things."

If his heart wasn't racing before, it was without a doubt at this moment beating faster than even the fastest of drummers could even dream.

"With the sacrifice of a child so pure, I shall be given infinite power. I shall destroy this world and build anew, in the image of our myriad gods." The old man raised his hands overhead and a strange luminescence erupted from his fingertips, a beam of light fell down upon where he stood and statues of indescribable horror loomed behind him. Now faintly illuminated by the pillar of light. "In a few moments, the child will be born. By the blood of the child born of pure souls, I will be granted power unattainable. For the gods have accepted me as one of their own!" He held aloft two statues, one he had seen before. The strange statue that had been in the museum, and another similar statue. Shaped more as a cube than the previous rectangular one. It was the source of the light, and seemed to be some sort of conduit.

What he was saying was madness, nobody was inherently pure. Even the Detective had his vices, how could someone give birth and yet be pure? He had to ask, though his throat felt so dry and ached painfully out of fear. He choked the words out breathlessly, but managed to get the question through. "How? How is this baby different from just a normal baby?"

The old man gave pause, the only sounds in the air during this haunting silence were the woman's birthing cries. "Because, Detective, the infants grew up alone. Away from all vices." It clicked. The theft, the kidnapping. It was all part of this, one of the three men standing there? Was one of the infants stolen eighteen years ago, and so was the woman lying on the floor in labor. The detective hadn't noticed the other two men holding one man's arms behind his back, nor did he notice his legs chained together and his mouth bound by rag and rope.

"You! You monster you forced them to breed!?" The old man only cackled at the detective, the mob of beasts seemed to join in on his laughter. With the whole audience of laughter echoing through the air, it was a wonder that the detective even heard the baby's first cries. It was swiftly grabbed by one of the men standing beside her, and brought to the altar where the old man stood.

The detective's feet felt like cement blocks, his arms ragged and his breathing stunted. But he moved. Time seemed to slow for him, the old man was handed the infant and with one swift motion, he struck it dead with the square statue. The beam of light suddenly grew brighter, but somehow Arthur was already up the stairs leading to the altar. The old man's face grew in horror as Arthur leaped into him, clubbing him with the Pipe and frantically grabbing for the infant.

The statues fell beside his feet, somehow landing perfectly upright. The beam of light shone down upon him and the baby died in his arms, its early death brought him to frantic tears. The detective fell to his knees with the infant held tight against his chest, when suddenly he was seized by what felt like an enormous unseen hand. He was raised upwards and his vision faded to blackness before being replaced with a cyclopian beast of unimaginable horror.

Arthur screamed and cried, his powerlessness was tangible. Behind the beast that held him aloft were countless other beings. All with ropes of light thrust towards the hand that grasped him. They spoke unintelligible babbling words through their mouths, seeming to deliberate among themselves. Though Arthur remembers none of this, his mind mercifully drifted him into madness for the time he was away from his own world. With a short time of nodding and babbling, they seemed to have come to a conclusion.

With a moment of absolute blindness and madness, the ropes of light flooded past the hand of the leviathan beast and down Arthur's throat. Flooding him with power unimaginable and nigh-infinite, blackness overtook him and he awoke shortly in the room where the ritual had taken place. His body felt youthful, more youthful than it ever had in his entire life, before he had time to take stock in his appearance, he was assaulted by the numerous abominable horrors that awaited him in the ritual chamber.

It was like a dream, suddenly he was strong enough to cast them aside like they were down pillows. They splattered here and there, their flesh surrendered to his strikes. Eventually, he had cut down every single one of them. Refusing to allow them to retreat, and eventually he felt tired. As though his power was waning, but he was still able to trade blows with the horrors. It was hours till he had finished them off, and found that he two other men had been trampled, with the woman and man still unharmed.

Arthur had killed the old man with his swing, and he felt no regret for what he had done, it might have saved the world as we know it. But what he did feel regret for, was not having found the kidnapped boy and girl sooner. Whatever horrors he had been chronicler to were now over, but they would be deeply scarred by this nightmare.

When he managed to get them to the surface, he was loathe to find out that he had become someone else. Someone who looked perfect in every regard. Though he was thankful that he was at least handsome, nobody would believe him if he said that he was the fifty three year old detective in a new body. On the nearest payphone, he called up the station and reported anonymously that he had found the two missing children from eighteen years ago. He told them to do blood-work on them to see the proof they needed.

The detective fell into a miasma of depression. He left behind his wife of twenty years, his family and friends, and even his job. Now broke, homeless, and under an entirely new identity. He was lost, without purpose.

Till, at least, he found a comic book on the sidewalk. Abandoned by some hapless child.

The rest of the story isn't important, you can imagine what happened after his discovery of the comic. Though he was forced to commit to some odd jobs to earn himself a living for a while. (And to afford his costume of choice.) He eventually became a career hero under the name Might.

“So, any questions before we continue?” Almost immediately, Chris noticed that a hand shoot up. However, he did not recognize the girl who had a question, although he did remember the other two metahumans from Albany. There was a faint memory in his head about this girl, but he could not place his thumb on it. Therefore, he pondered on it while Sammy asked her question.

“Um, where did that adorable metahuman, who is named Lyger, go?”

“What are you talking about? He’s just right…” Chris allowed his comment trail off because when he scanned the group, he realized that Sammy was right. Lyger was missing. “Wasn’t he listening when I said that Icon and the Speedster Twins were doing the ground search because they would be the most efficient at it due to their speed? I really hope he doesn’t pull this stunt in a more dire situation.”

While he was bemoaning Lyger’s little disappearing act, a light bulb illuminated in Chris’ head. He remembered that he read a S.T.R.I.K.E. report a while ago about the acquisition of a metahuman of a similar description as Sammy, although the paperwork did mention that this individual had the body of an actual cat. “Wait a second. Didn’t S.T.R.I.K.E. ship you off to God knows where they hide any peculiar people or objects that they happen to acquire?”

Sammy just shrugged her shoulders and held her hands up about a little bit above her shoulders, with her palms facing up. “Well, it seems like my ‘capture’ was highly exaggerated.”

“Well, since I wasn’t involved, and therefore cannot be blamed for whatever went wrong, I don’t really care about it. Making sure that STRIKE doesn’t screw up isn’t in my job description. Any other questions?”

“One more.” Sammy chirped in, pointing at the snake tail. “What’s that on the couch?”

“Oh, that’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“I think that’s his sister, unless this guy bought a pet snake.” Zac mentioned to Sammy and Kelly, since they were either not in West Virginia or they were unconscious at the time when Veronica's 'powers' manifested.

“Half-sister!” Veronica called out from behind the couch. She then sat up, revealing that her skin and hair matched the color tone of her tail, which was somewhere between a pale green and the regular skin color of a human.

“WAIT!” Sammy said as a realization came to her mind. “Is this team going to be full of animal people? Those speedsters you mentioned earlier could dress up like cheetahs, while Radiance here could have an Electric Eel theme. And Lyger is already a Liger, so he already fits in! But I don’t know what you and Icon would be. Maybe zoo keepers?”

“Um…I don’t think that’s quite what we’re shooting for here.” Chris hesitantly responded to Sammy. He was a little taken off guard by Sammy’s outburst, even if her observation incidentally had some truth in it. However, Chris would not have to worry about this because a familiar face appeared on one of the television monitors in the room.

“Hello Chris. I am Archangel for those who do not know me.”

When CHris turned towards the television monitor, he was saw a welcoming face in Archangel. Smiling, he responded. “I cannot lie. There has never been a time where seeing your lovely face has been an unwelcomed sight. What brings you to my doorstep?”

"I have patched your search parameters and am collating with your systems to enhance the search. I have also flagged several false positives. You picked up my home. I'll let you figure out which that is."

“I really appreciate this extra help. We need all the extra manpower that we can get. However, in almost any other circumstance, finding where a woman lives via the internet would make me look kind of like a creeper. Heck, it might even still does.”

"I would have joined you in person but I can do more good here than in a suit. The host of heaven is standing by. Our situation is calamitous. While the devices are locatable the current rate of success to the estimated number of devices leaves a 96.87948487494849474% chance of at least partial activation of the remaining devices. There is a 2.00784873974% chance of fortuitous failure of the devices and a multitude of minuscule probabilities."

“This might be the breakthrough we’ve been waiting for. That Lyger kid is going to pissed when he has learned that we might have just discovered the location of the bomb here in Lost Haven and his foot search might be all for naught.” However it took Chris a few seconds to comprehend what Archangel had said. “Wait, Angie, did you just say devices, as in multiple devices?”

However, before Archangel could respond to his question, heard something from the television that his sister was watching. On the television screen, he saw that there were two news anchors were, with a banner that said “Breaking News”.

“Veronica, turn that up, please.” He asked his sister while he was hurrying over towards the television screen so that he could hear what they were saying.

Anchor 1: “Only a little less than 48 hours ago, a madman, on national television, declared that he was going to unleash some sort of device that would create a doom which would transform all humans into superhuman, starting in Lost Haven and then eventually stretching across the globe. The search for what has been dubbed the ‘Metahuman bomb’ thus far has been undertaken in vain. However, a recent report might give us some promising news”.

Anchor 2: “Just recently, however, the local authorities in four different cities across the United States has received an anonymous tip about the location of four other devices planted in those cities. While this has given cause for concern for the possibility of more devices in other cities and therefore has caused cities nationwide to begin looking for them, at least this allows several hundreds of residents to rest easily knowing that state authorities are working around the clock to disarm the devices that have been discovered”.

Anchor 1: “We’ll keep you all updated on any new developments on this current story”.

However, the news anchors could not have known that they would be reporting more information in a mere matter of seconds. An expression of fear appeared on their faces, even though they tried to hide it for the sake of their views so that they would not cause any mass fear-panics.


Anchor 2: “This just in. It appears”, the woman staggers as she reads aloud the teleprompter, “It appears that a tragedy has befallen us tonight. Reports have come in that green, transparent domes have suddenly formed around the cities of Philadelphia, Chicago, Atlanta, Dallas, Los Angeles, and Seatle”.

Anchor 1: “Please remain calm and take shelter if you are in one of these cities or in an area nearby”.

Anchor 2: “We have received amateur footage in Philadelphia that records two individuals have already attempted to turn off the device. Although they were successful in their initial attempt, even with the device deactived, the dome has not dissipated over the city. On a positive note, if one can say that, the rate at which the dome is expanding in that area has drastically decreased. We will play this footage momentarily”.

Anchor 1: “Until we heard any updates from Washington, I think all we can do now is wait and prey that everything will turn out alright”.

Chambers Building, Lost Haven

Polemos watched the 'White Witch,' as she called herself, work. He'd admit in a moment that he had no idea what the sorceress was up to. He only prayed to the gods that she knew what she was doing and wasn't just attempting to avoid getting shot. When she reached for the black spell book, Polemos didn't waste any time aiming his firearm at the girl. Her intentions quickly revealed themselves to be benevolent and Chike allowed her to continue without the pressure of a gun (metaphorically) pressed against her temple. Chike grew ever more impatient and confused as the woman exclaimed Eureka. The sudden appearance of the mist and the vial of an unknown substance caused the already wound-up vigilante to jump in surprise. Hate magic. Hate it, hate it and hate it some more. He thought grimly. Chike was so focused on the witch's wizardry that he hadn't noticed the arrival of the figure draped in black. That is, until he spoke: "You could have saved your breath, doll." The voice of a man in black crackled through his voice modulator after she'd finished her incantation. "If you're here for the same reason I am, it's right there..."

"Who the hell-" Polemos growled, his assault rifle once more trained on another new arrival. These super-types just keep coming out of the wood work, don't they?

The black salt had done its work. A small cylinder seemed to manifest into existence, attached to the side of the Chambers Building's telecommunications antennae. Chike allowed the enigmatic man the benefit of the doubt and shouldered his rifle, hoping that he wouldn't be needing it again. He jogged over toward the device. It had to be the bomb. What else could it be? The cylinder wasn't like anything the anti-hero had ever seen. It was small enough to be grasped from top to bottom with one hand. An emerald covered sphere sat in the center of the device, wired to the inside of the cylinder. A number of buttons dotted the sides of the weapon; none of them were labelled, unfortunately. Polemos had seen explosives before, but the Soviet-era landmines he'd found in Uganda were nothing like this. "Never seen anything like it." Chike muttered to his current companions. He doubted the two of them had either.

If only they had one of those super geniuses like Iron Knight here. Or Icon; he could probably chuck the thing into space before it went off. Hell, Chike would prefer almost anyone over the motley crew that had decided to show up. They were all exceedingly human. Without a word, Polemos left the bomb and jogged over to the side of the skyscraper. Far below, he could see the flashing red and blue lights of police cruisers pulling to a stop in front of the Chambers Building. A few shapes exited the vehicles and started to make their way toward the front door. "Cops are coming. We don't have long before that thing goes off." Chike furrowed his brow in frustration. His only idea was utterly moronic, completely crazy and very dangerous. But he needed to do...something!

Chike took the AK-47 in his hands yet again. He shouldered the rifle and took aim at the street below. No civilians in sight; the police weren't moving, except for the ones already heading inside. He had to pick his shots carefully. If he misread the wind, he could wind up becoming a cop killer. Bullets rained down from the top of the monolith, slicing through the air with impunity. The lights atop the cruisers exploded, sending glass scattering across the asphalt. Calls for back up were inevitable. Chike had heard that the best way to get a cape's attention was to cause a scene. Hopefully, this would be enough.

---

Eric Harrison was omnipresent. Text flew across the computer monitors positioned in front of him. The television positioned on the far wall played Channel 56, Lost Haven News, at all hours of the day. Classical music echoed inside the tiny apartment, hindered only by the array of advanced technology and equipment that covered the entire room. There was barely room to stand. Eric sat at his desk in the middle of the chaos. His fingers danced across a keyboard to the beat of Bach. The internet offered a wealth of information; a constant stream of knowledge, ripe for the taking. Whenever Eric sat in this chair, he felt...complete. As if the web was an extension of his body. He and technology were one. The amount of raw data he needed to sift through was incredible. He had a number of algorithms running that presented him with only the most critical and vital statistics and facts. Yet even then, there so was much to work with.

The boy's ego told him that he was the only person in the world fast enough to be the Speedster Twins' information broker. That was likely untrue, but Harrison's pride was nearly as expansive as his intellect. He watched as Thunderbolt and Boom ran about the city at unfathomable speeds. They were searching for the bomb, and Eric was helping them. Word of the attack at the Chambers Building briefly appeared on the web and quickly faded into obscurity. Eric mulled over whether or not he should inform the speedsters of the altercation. It wasn't important in the grand scheme of things. There were reports of shots fired, but no word on deaths. On the surface, it appeared to be just another criminal looking to capitalize on the chaos. Crime had spiked since Pax Metahumana made their threat on national television. What was one more shooting?

"Hey, Boom. There's been a break in at the Chambers Building over in Sherman Square. No specifics have come in just yet, but the police are calling shots fired. I figure, since you're in the neighborhood..." Eric trailed off. He might as well tell her. If she thought it inconsequential, the speedster would ignore the altercation. She, unlike her brother, knew how to prioritize.

"Could be that someone found the bomb. The tallest structure in Lost Haven sounds like the perfect place to launch a city-wide biological attack from. I'll check it out; won't take more than a second or two." She replied.

Before Polemos could so much as turn around, a blue blur raced up the side of the Chambers Building and struck him on the jaw. Chike went flying and smashed into the side of the antennae, denting the metal legs that held it up. "W-" He tried to speak, but was silenced by a swift kick to the nose. Boom turned to attack White Witch and Vigilante, believing they were working with the shooter. "Wait!" Eric shouted into their comm link. The speedster stopped, her fist inches from the man in black's face. "I recognize him. He helped Icon and the others close the portal during D-Day." Eric paused. "The other one might be the White Witch. She's been cropping up in news reports and rumors all around Chinatown for the past few months."

"Who's their friend?" She asked, not bothering to address the two others just yet. "Uhm. Well. Let me put him through STRIKE's facial recognition-" "You have access to that?" "Not officially. I've got a match. Chike Baatul, AKA Polemos. He was a big time super villain a while back, but it says here that he dropped off the grid once Ares was defeated." Another blur of lightning came rushing out of the stair well and Thunderbolt came sliding to a halt next to the antennae. "Thought you might need some help. Hey, what's- this doesn't look like it should be here. I think we found the bomb." Harvey commented as he examined the device. "Don't touch it. Let me see if I can verify that." Eric plunged back into STRIKE's databases, looking for any word on the Pax Metahumana weapon. There was plenty of speculation, but nothing concrete. Eric found what he was looking for in the most unlikely place: the 24-hour news cycle. "..local authorities in four different cities across the United States has received an anonymous tip about the location of four other devices planted in those cities..."

Eric went straight for the internet. It wasn't long before he found a cellphone video of a device matching the appearance of the cylinder being disarmed by police. "That's the bomb." He confirmed. "Uhhhh, why is it beeping? The thing is beeping, Eric." Thunderbolt watched in abstract horror as the emerald sphere inside began to spin. "That can't be good." The speedster had no idea what to do. He wasn't versed in bomb defusal; most beat cops weren't. His costumed fingers raced across the surface of the cylinder, looking for an access port of some kind. But the tech was like nothing he had ever seen. The beeping grew faster and Thunderbolt started to panic. He was moments from just pulling out all the wires and hoping that turned it off and didn't cause to it explode. "There's no time to defuse it. You've gotta get it out of range, T! NOW!"

Thunderbolt ripped the bomb from the antennae and took off toward the ocean. Harvey broke the sound barrier on his first step. He couldn't hear the device beeping, but the flashing light was speeding up. He had to get it out of Lost Haven before it was too late. Luckily for the city, the speedster could run at Mach 600. Thudnerbolt pushed himself to his limit until he felt his feet slam down on water. Harv glanced down, and smiled in amazement: he was running on water. He'd done it once before, but he'd never get used to it. He was practically Jesus. Harvey dropped the cylinder off in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and watched on as the dome formed underneath the waves, totally harmless. The only way it'd do anything is if a submarine happened to pass by; which seemed quite unlikely. The speedster made his way back to the Chambers Building in record time.

"We have a problem. Some of the other bombs have gone off and green, transparent domes have suddenly formed around the cities of Philadelphia, Chicago, Atlanta, Dallas, Los Angeles, and Seattle."

Boom turned toward Vigilante and White Witch. "You need to come with us. More bombs have gone off across the country and we're going to need your help before the entire human race is turned into metahumans."

"Let's take them to Arthur's tower. We need to coordinate our next move with the rest of the heroes."

They were in for a long night.

Lost Haven
Present Day
_____________________

Marie spun on her heels to face the darkly clad stranger who appeared just after her incantation was complete. She jumped as he spoke, then turned in the direction of his pointing to see a strange device sitting atop an antenna. Marie smiled internally, her spell had been successful and she would be well rewarded for helping locate the bomb. She watched carefully as her armed companion took the device in his hands. His confused expression matched her own. Marie was a being of magic, so anything more advanced than an iPhone she hadn’t had seen. He put down the device and peered out over the edge of the building, then without warning, began shooting at the street below. Marie jumped back several feet, unused to the sounds of gunfire. She was again treated to a sensory overload when a female figure appeared in a flash of blue, knocking down the armed man and kicking him about. She then raced over to Marie and the man clad in black, but stopped. She began speaking aloud, into a communicator Marie guessed.

A second figure appeared as quickly as the first, a man this time. He spoke into the air as well, receiving disturbing news by the look of him. No sooner had he arrived he ripped the device from the roof, speed past Marie, stirring up a harsh wind behind him that blew her clothing about violently, and rushed over the sea in the horizon, dropping the bomb into the depths and returning to this roof before Marie had time to think about what just happened.

"You need to come with us. More bombs have gone off across the country and we're going to need your help before the entire human race is turned into metahumans." the female figure spoke as her male counterpart returned. More bombs? Marie thought to herself, questioning her position in all of this and wondering if she wanted to be involved anymore. She knew that being involved in the work of the heroes would get her more recognition, as well as a place among them, but it would also be more dangerous than dealing with petty street crime and the occasional possession that she had dealt with in the past. Goodfellow wouldn’t let me hear the end of it if I didn’t follow them, that greedy imp. . . I guess I don’t have much of a choice.

“A-alright . . . where to now?” Marie took up her broom in her left hand, gathered herself, and made ready for another trip across the city.

As Icon once again flew above the city slowly in his search for the device it seemed relatively quiet. Perhaps he was drained from the encounter with the strange woman and whatever it was she had done to him, leaving him with vivid visions that kept hauntingly swimming up into his mind but none of that was enough to keep the man from searching for the device.

It was as he flew onwards that he would first realize that something else was also going on. Rather suddenly a brilliant green flash shot past him from behind, a flash that left a glowing trail of energy behind it. And then he saw it again, coming from the front as it streaked past in the other direction, a bit slower this time, likely being enough to show the hero that it was someone else in costume, a light green costume, though the details would still be obscured.

"Do you mind"

He would catch the words as the blur passed him a second time and then came back again.

"Speeding up or"

And again.

"Or landing. I don't go that speed"

And with the last of those words finished the blurry shape streaked over to one of the buildings and set down there.

[i]Now what?[i] Icon thought to himself as he followed the green streak to a nearby building. He was not in any mood for more distractions on this night, as the confrontation with the mysterious woman had delayed him in the search for the meta bomb. He struggled to shake the effects of whatever it was that the woman had done to him, as well as the nagging guilt he felt over the spilling of her blood. He hoped that she had simply wandered off after whatever it was that she had done to him.

However, the images that she had forced into his mind refused to go quietly. Men, women, and children were running for their lives. An enemy only to be seen through shadows…fire and death. Icon suppressed a shudder as he made his way to the rooftop that the green streak had landed on. As he approached, Icon saw the form of a woman who stood at the edge of the rooftop as she looked out over the city.

”You know, this really isn’t the night for a mysterious woman to try to get my attention.” Icon joked darkly as he touched down behind the woman.

"Then it is a good thing I am not mysterious." The woman said in answer to him, turning as she did so and the green aura that had surrounded her in flight and trailed behind her reappeared, lighting her up and revealing now that she wasn't speeding through the skies what she looked like.

A famous face bore a half laughing smile as Icon found himself face to face with a living legend. "And neither are you Icon. You've been doing great work and saved a lot of lives." Lady Liberty said before the smile faded away.

Icon was slightly taken aback when the woman introduced herself as Lady Liberty. From the time that he was a child he learned about her exploits during World War II alongside Captain Ironsides and the other “Mystery Men” of the time. How many of those exploits were true, and not just kids stories and propaganda, he didn’t know. But he was willing to bet that the majority of it was, in fact, the truth. The thing that struck him, was that she looked exactly as she had in the textbooks. She didn’t look to have aged a day. When she spoke to him, and commended him on what he has been trying to do, he felt somewhat humbled, as in this line of work you don’t always have praise heaped upon you, much less from a living legend.

“I do my best.” Icon told her. “I assume you’re looking for the meta bomb as well?

"Yes" Lady Liberty said quickly. "When a madman threatens the entire country once again I can not sit idly by, even if things have changed." The glowing green aura around her grew in strength as she turned, looking out over the city from the perch atop the building. "This world has seen enough monsters already." And the words were heavy as she spoke them.

"You are gathering others. We should unify, and form a search grid, sweep the city step by step. Coordination is key. Flying around won't do much good if their leader is intelligent. He would have hidden the device well. Think about it, one of the most common powers is flight and what is the first thing that we would use to try and locate it? Flight. We need a plan." The long string of comments was delivered rapid fire in a no nonsense and competent tone that spoke of practice and experience.

"I need you to show me where the others are so we can organize."

“I agree. We-” He stopped abruptly as he heard something that registered a sudden alarm. While he had been searching for the bomb, he had tuned his senses, his enhanced vision was sharper, even his sense of smell was more finely attuned, as was his enhanced hearing, which could pick up a pin dropping from across the city. What he heard though, was cause for concern in the form of a news broadcast coming from a nearby television.

“This just in. It appears”, the woman staggers as she reads aloud the teleprompter, “It appears that a tragedy has befallen us tonight. Reports have come in that green, transparent domes have suddenly formed around the cities of Philadelphia, Chicago, Atlanta, Dallas, Los Angeles, and Seattle”.

“Please remain calm and take shelter if you are in one of these cities or in an area nearby”.

Icon looked to Lady Liberty with a darkened expression bore across his face. Then his thoughts turned to his time in California before he returned to Lost Haven and took up the mantle of Icon. He thought about the friends he had made in and around the Los Angeles area, he thought of Amber, who had so recently moved across the country to Pacific Point, which is so close to LA, just to get away from this very sort of thing. However, he took a deep breath and silently swore that he and the others would fix this. Lady Liberty looked as if she were about to say something, but he spoke first.

“We’re too late. Devices have already gone off elsewhere across the country. The others are headquartered at Sherman Center, we should go. Now.” Icon said as he turned to lead the way.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down there, missy. There is no need to shout, I’m right friggin’ here..” Trent said, raising his hands up in a non-aggressive posture. “And to answer your question, how about you let me in to talk about it?” He glanced back and forth down the hall. “What I came here for is serious world-changing shit...you’re going to want to hear what I have to say before you boot me outta here.”

“Sure, I’m going to just allow someone who I have only met once into my apartment and explain how the heck he found me. Nothing could ever go wrong with inviting someone in who discovered their secret identity and their whereabouts.” Aubrey rolled her eyes as she placed her arm on the doorframe so that she would block the way into the apartment, even though in her current depowered form she probably could do little to stop War-Pulse from entering. “Why don’t you just tell me right now how you found me and I might consider letting you in so that you can explain yourself.”

“I mean, sure. I can tell you out here...in the hallway.” The mercenary said, offering a smirk. “But I’m in a hallway, which is very public, and I have a really loud voice, and I mean ‘dude at the movies who won’t shut up’ loud, enough where you can hear me over the movie. People could probably hear me down the hall if I start sharing secrets, and I don’t think you want your neighbors hearing these sorts of things.”

From the scowl on Aubrey’s face, War-Pulse could tell that she knew that he was right, even if she did not like it. War-Pulse would make a spectacle out of this situation, if he had not done so already. She removed her hand from the doorframe and turned so that War-Pulse had an open way into the apartment. “Fine,” The blonde metahuman finally responded, “But no funny business. If you are who you claim to be, then you would know what I did to that demon snake.”

“Pffft, you and I both know I loosened it up for ya.” Trent said, a cheeky grin spreading across his face as he slipped into her house. “But sure, we’ll call it your victory.”

WIth that remark, his gaze momentarily left her to drift about the apartment, a brow raising as he casually strode into her home. He chuckled slightly, turning on his heel to really explore the kind of living quarters a person like Audrey were living in.

“Really? A low rent apartment with a kitchen and living room in the same area? You are living large.” He joked. “Does this place come with heating in the rent? Or do you just wave your assets at your landlord to cover it? Or her, I dunno, world’s changing, people are more open minded.”

He turned his attention back to her, his grin seeming to drop a little as he glanced at her once more. It was clear he was giving her another once over, his hands dropped to his hips as his eyes explored her once more. He shook his head, his face scrunching into a mixture of amazement and bewilderment. “Seriously... what the hell happened to you? You look like a 13-year old boy’s fantasy girlfriend. I can’t tell if you had work done or you got blessed by a fairy godmother...and I’d honestly believe either these days.”

“Well, this '13-year old boy’s fantasy girlfriend' wants you to know that it is none of your business. And do you really think I have the money to get that much work done? Well, on that note, I need to, um, change, so make yourself comfortable, but not too comfortable.” After she rolled her eyes at War-Pulse’s comments, Aubrey immediately darted into her bedroom and slammed the door shut. That was probably the only thing she could do to prevent herself from smacking him in the face. Therefore, Felecia was the only person left in the room with War-Pulse. She sheepishly sat on the couch, watching the television while she awaited for her friend to return, although she had no idea why Aubrey needed to change. She was going to work soon!

The mercenary, of course, took no time in making himself at home, before Felicia even began to talk to him, he had already begun raiding their fridge. The sounds of moving food and cans echoed from the metallic door before the scoundrel found himself a soda. He sighed to himself, picking the can up with a furrowed brow.

“Buncha college kids don’t even have beer in the fridge? Where the hell are the party animals these days…” He murmured to himself, before popping the can open and slurping down the sugary foam surging from the top. He then proceeded to meander over to a chair close to the couch, his body coming down hard onto the chair, causing it to shudder slightly at his weight. He kicked his feet up, placing his ‘borrowed’ shoes up on the coffee table, taking a quick glance at the television before acknowledging the other lady in the room. He gave her a friendly, albeit roguish smile, reaching over to offer her a hand to shake. “Hi there, Trent Hurst. Douchey name, I know, but I get better.”

“Um...I’m Felecia.” The girl said as she peered towards Aubrey’s bedroom, hoping she would come out any time now. There was a short awkward silence between the two, or there would have been if the television had not been on. After a few moments of silence, Felecia spoke up again. “So...do you watch Pretty Little Liars?” She gestured towards the television screen, pointing out that that was the show that playing on the television screen..

Trent’s brow furrowed, pulling his hand back as it seemed clear the woman was a little shaken by his entrance and had not wanted to shake hands. Taking another sip from ‘his’ soda, he turned his attention toward the screen. He gave her a sheepish chuckle, offering a shrug in response.

“Honestly, Felicia? I don’t get to watch a lot of television.” Trent said. “My work’s got me travelling pretty often...that being said, I’m always looking to add something to my Netflix queue.” He gestured toward the show, pointing at one of the girl’s on screen. “What’s it about? Does everyone lie or is it just the prettier girls on the show?”

“You poor soul. No wonder you act a little eccentric. You haven’t been ‘cultured’ by the American broadcast system. It is actually based on some books, so if you’re more into reading, you could go that route. And yes, it is supposed to be a mystery series. There's definitely lying involved. Is that something you’re good at?”

“Nah, I’m the blunt, straightforward type. If you couldn’t tell.” He responded, slurping down another bit of his soda. “Why keep all the secrets? It just builds up over time, get all that shit out in the open, that’s what I say.”

“Actually, that kind of makes sense now. You really don’t have a poker face, or else you would not have looked like a teenager who had for the first time seen an attractive girl while you were around my roommate.”

“To be fair, she didn't look like that last time we crossed paths. I know people change, but that's...well that change was drastic.”

Felecia just shrugged her shoulders at his last comment, not quite sure what else she could say. She took another look at her roommate’s door, hoping it would swing up again so that she wouldn’t have to continue this conversation.

“Alright, now spill the beans. How in the world did you find me?” Aubrey announced as she exited her bedroom door. Although she was still wearing the same white blouse from before, she now had what seemed like a bed sheet draped over her lower body. However, instead of two normal human legs, there were now eight spidery legs poking out from beneath the sheet and it was obvious that there was some sort of arachnid abdomen concealed under the bedspread. The sheets almost acted as a make-ship caparison that horses and other animals would have worn during parades and such.

At her appearance, the mercenary actually straightened up in the seat, his eye popping wide with a boyish grin pulling at his face.

“Holy crap! That’s amazing!” He stated, gesturing with the can of soda at her spider legs. “That one lady wasn’t kidding, you really did become a Drider! Do you actually shoot real webs now? Please tell me you now weave all your clothes and bedding out of spider silk...probably save you a mint!”

Aubrey scratched her head at Trent’s response to her spideresque appearance, a little confused about whom he kept referencing as his source of information. “Well, first off, who told you that you could just grab a pop from the fridge? It would be one thing if we had offered you a drink, but just taking one for yourself? Rude! Secondly, ever since I acquired my powers, I could produce real silk.” The blonde metahuman pinched her arm right below her wrist and began to pull a string of silk from the spinnerets that were located there. “And thirdly, stop changing the subject! Tell me how you found me!””

“Alright, alright, geez, your roommate’s way better at small talk than you are.” Trent said, placing the soda down on the coffee table, his other hand running through his hair as he composed himself to be slightly more diplomatic. “And don’t speak to me about manners miss ‘runs off to the room and doesn’t even offer me anything to drink.’ You ain’t winning any prizes for hosting. Secondly, from what he told me, the two of you met and are not on the greatest terms, buuuut I’m sure you know the tin-plated asshole by the name of Iron Knight, right?”

“You’re complaining about my manners? I’m not the one who showed up out of the blue and basically invited yourself in by threatening to reveal my identity in the hallway. And what did you want me to do? Change right in front of you?” However, when Aubrey heard Trent mention Iron Knight, her face began to turn red. And it was not happening because she was blushing. “Wait? Are you telling me that that man sent you?”

“Technically I volunteered and did it without his permission.” Trent corrected her. “But more importantly, this is bigger than him. I read the stuff STRIKE had on you, and lemme tell ya, I wouldn’t have come here asking for your help and possibly working with the guy if I didn’t think you’d be kicking yourself if you didn’t help.”

“Why should I help that chauvinistic pig? You do know that he basically held me and a few others captive after some other weirdos had kidnapped us, right? I mean, who would do that? And don’t get me started on that woman who was working with him. The one who also wears suit of armor.”

“I know, but that’s not the point right now.” He shot back, his voice dropping the inflections to carry the weight more appropriately. “Right now, there is a crisis that is going to affect all of Lost Haven, and possibly the world. Like him or not, he’s the one who recommended you to help out the group, and from what I saw of you in that sewer...they could really use your help.”

“And did he say why he recommended me for the ‘Superfriends’? I doubt it was only because I was on their little database, as it turns out.”

“To be honest, I tuned in and out when he was talking. Dude’s a Grade-A dickbag to be sure, you can only hear so much ‘you’re a heartless mercenary whore for money’ from him before it just starts sounding like the adults in a Charlie Brown cartoon.” Trent replied. “But I’m not here for him. Sure, he probably has ulterior motives, seeing as how he works for STRIKE, and I don’t doubt there is an advantage to bringing you back to Lost Haven. But you know what? He can stick said motives right up his shiny metal ass for all I care, because it ain’t about him right now. It’s about what you’re going to do when the world’s at stake.” He took another sip of the soda, finishing off the drink before crumpling the aluminum can in his hand and tossing it into a nearby wastebasket. He then proceeded to rise from his chair, walking towards Aubrey in long, casual strides. “I’d like to think I’m a good reader of people, it comes with the job of being a mercenary, you have to see who will pay you when the job is done and who will try to stab you in the back when the job is over. You’re a good person, Aubrey. I can see you got friends you care for here, and you’re going to college so you’re clearly trying to improve yourself for the better of society, am I right with that? You’ve seen the news, do you really think you can just ignore this whole ‘Pax Metahumana’ thing? What are you going to do when the whole world is metahuman? If your friends, your family, everyone you know in danger because you were at odds with -one- guy on the team. One. Is that something you can go with for the rest of your life?”

“It’s not like I don’t understand that this situation is very dire. It’s just that, unlike some of you apparently, I cannot just drop everything that I’m doing to play superhero. Sure, schools have been shut down temporarily, so I can’t use that as an argument. But I do still have to work for a living. Running around in spandex isn’t going to pay the bills for me. In fact, if I don’t show up at work in the next 10 to 15 minutes, I probably won’t have a job. Should they have not decided to open tonight? Probably, but that’s out of my hands. So, either way, it appears that I am screwed. I’m damned if I don’t help and I’m damned if I do.”

“Huh...well, I guess I can’t blame you for that. You have to make money any way you can in this world if you’re going to keep pushing forward with your life as a normal everyday average Joe.” Trent said, shrugging. “But look at it this way...you got a job, a life here, school...yeah, you got some balls in the air. But here’s the thing, if you skip of day of school, you’re going to maybe get a write-up and a mean look from the professor. You lose your job, there’s plenty of other jobs you can pursue...but what are you going to do if you miss the crisis that changes the world as we know it? Every time a new threat arises, is it worth ignoring because of your life? Nobody asked you to put on the tights, but now that you have, what do they really stand for if you pick and choose what world problems arise?“

Trent walked to the nearby kitchen, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter. “Look, I have to get back soon, I have to deliver some much needed ass-whuppin to a group of metahumans who may be coming after the others. This is a crap-ton to ask, but if you want, you can take your work-shift to think about it. I’ll stay in town, try and keep myself out of trouble.” He gave her a wry smirk with his last comment. “But whenever you got an answer, let me know, alright?”

Before Aubrey could respond and before Trent could leave, the television immediately switched from the current program to a special news report. At first, it seemed like it was just a PSA about a tip about the location of more devices that would turn people into metahumans and that cities across the United States were making cautionary searches for more devices. However, after a minute or two, the situation seemed more grave. Apparently, this mass search for the devices must have spooked the perpetrators into prematurely detonating them, causing permeable domes to form over several major cities in the US.

Then, the three people in the apartment could hear a phone buzzing in Aubrey’s bedroom. Even without checking who was calling, Aubrey already guessed what it was about.

“Well, it looks like it’s your lucky day. I’m guessing that my work just texted me not to come in because of this nationwide state of emergency. Unfortunate for me, it looks like my excuses, besides that tinman being a giant douchebag, aren’t very valid any more. So, let me change into something a little bit more casual, or maybe a little bit less.” The blonde-haired girl pulled on her make-shift caparison when she mentioned her last comment. “Anyways, if you don’t mind me asking, how are we going to get to Lost Haven?”

“Hmmm...well, we’ll just have to take the War-Pulse Express.” He joked, pointing a thumb to himself. “...And by that I mean fly.”

“Great! Now I can add this to my list of worst experiences since the beginning of my short careers as a superhero.”