As much as fantastically inhuman abilities can grant a man, Might was still on the whole nearly homeless. In a run down tennement in Manhattan, living off of very small amounts of money done from odd jobs. Even the mightiest of heroes still needs to work, and getting a job without a social security number or any form of identification is difficult.

Might was employed as a laborer for a Chinese Immigrant family that ran a laundromat. They frequently needed new machines because they lived near a pretty bad part of town, and the man was too old to go out and carry a machine down the road. Especially without getting caught by some of the same unsavory sorts who keep stealing his machines. Might, with his strong back and good work ethic was a perfect employee.

Since he was able to go out, pick up two semi-functional machines and repair them pretty handily, Might was Mister Jiang's favorite employee. Even over his own son. This fact actually bothered Might, but he couldn't bring himself to tell Jiang that his son was only working slowly because he's hurt.

After a shift at work, repairing three of the machines and bringing in a new machine to the back, Might was headed home. Min had given him a bowl of rice and dumplings, she always gave him some food when he went home. Might appreciated it since he didn't need to survive off of much. She saved him so much money by giving him something to eat. He'd saved up a pretty nice sum of money and was hoping to upgrade to a nicer apartment soon, though that wasn't really hopeful.

It was a repeated report, after it had already played. This was made clear by the summarization of the events, these news reports were pretty helpful to be totally frank. Some lunatic had been planting bombs of forced evolution or something? Kooks are getting kookier every year, though this wasn't even the kookiest thing he's seen on the news in the past year. Apparently the nearest bomb was in Philly? Might was about an hour or so away from there, if he took a cab!

The hero looked over at the jar of money, keenly disguised as a jar of honey. A frown in the formative stages on his face. The money that he had saved was, well, not terribly much. It was enough for a down payment on a new apartment but that really wasn't that much considering. And cab fare from Manhattan to Philly would be expensive.

It wasn't like he could walk.

Might's frown grew across his face, his brow furrowed and his cheeks puffed slightly. A weak sigh passed through his nostrils as he stood from his chair, cutting off the TV and walking over to his jar. He grabbed the jar in both hands and popped the top off. "I'm Might, not Arthur. Arthur can save his money and solve crimes after they've been commited. Might stops crimes and saves lives." Might pressed the jar against his forehead and groaned, he was about to do something really stupid.

After the time-consuming costume change, and a quick shave of his face. Might darted out the door with a couple hundred tucked away in his breast pocket. (Tunics generally don't have pockets, so he had one stitched into the inside of his tunic.) It took him a good sprint to get out to an actual street where he could flag down a cab, and even then it took him another good minute to actually catch one. The man laughed at him, because he gets commission and he was about to grab a fantastic penny from this man dressed up like a storybook character.

Might shoved the money into his hands and told him to go, and off Might went. A solid three hour drive down from Manhattan to Philly, Might knew that he was taking a couple back roads to run the price up. What other choice did he have, he didn't have a car or anything of the sort.

Might just hoped that he wouldn't be too late upon arrival.

It was not supposed to happen. Archangel knew that the statistical probability had been almost nonexistent that all the bombs could be stopped but she had hoped that the smaller probability would come to pass. She had not known that she had been so attached to that wishful thinking until the bombs began to go off. She did not know what to make of her thoughts, she did not normally feel emotion so poignantly it was normally half a simulation. But at that moment for a few fractions of a millisecond Archangel felt it.

She would have to respond now. The terrorists had officially committed an overt act. It took only another few milliseconds for her subroutines to pinpoint the exact locations of the devices that had already activated. Another few milliseconds compared the relative positions for each city and determined hypothetical locations for the bombs in other cities all across the United States. Now that she knew where to look it took only a few more milliseconds to pinpoint the location of dozens more as her satellite feeds and surveillance confirmed the presence of the devices.

The next step took longer. It took Archangel almost a full second to confirm all the targeting data and arm the weapons systems. She could have cut the time away almost entirely had she not needed to check several hundred times over to make sure she would not be killing anyone with her strikes.

The news announcement had just finished as she spent an uncharacteristically long time in thought. She wanted to save them, she wanted to help them, but this went against something deep inside her. It was strange, like a ghost within her memories, a ghost that whispered showing so much now was a bad idea. But she had to act, she could not stand by and watch as a madman ruined the lives of millions.

“Excuse me for a moment Chris.” She spoke through the television screen she had commandeered before changing the feed to show a blank slate.

For a long several seconds Archangel hesitated. It was the second longest she had hesitated that she could remember. And then the ghost in the machines took action.

[OOC: This is what the news in the room would be after Archangel briefly blanked her screen]

Only a moment after Archangel's screen went dark another panicked announcement briefly sounded from the news.

Anchor 1: “This just in. We are receiving reports of lights from the sky striking buildings in cities across the country. Reports from Chicago, Los Angeles, Atlanta, and Seattle all confirm strikes on the buildings generating the fields.”

Anchor 2: Visibly shaken. “Is this another attack? What did we….”

The screen dissolved into multicolored hash for a second before a new image appeared in place of the newscasters. It was Archangel, but not the woman that Chris and others had spoken too. This feed was of Archangel as she was in her suits, hidden behind the advanced technology.

“People of the United States of America. I am Archangel. Do not be alarmed. I have launched surgical strikes against the terrorist devices. Please remain calm. Other Heroes will be moving into action and the Host of Heaven suits have been dispatched. I repeat, remain calm. We are working as quickly as possible to neutralize the threat.”

Then after Archangel had finished speaking the feed cut out again before switching back to the newscasters who seemed stunned and surprised.

[OOC Back to Archangel now.]

A few second after her broadcast ended Archangel reopened the interface with the others. She could have switched instantly but it might seem too suspicious. As she appeared again on the screen she made sure to act as if she was typing quickly. “Over 70% of the devices have now been neutralized. My satellites are not in position to neutralize the others. I have dispatched the Host of Heaven to other cities. But there is still a 86.989834329% chance that others will go off before the Host suits can reach them.”

The sound of simulated typing continued as Archangel widened the interface, commandeering more screens as she projected a map of the United States. There were still over a dozen red icons on the map, representing the locations of devices that she had been unable to target and that could go off at any time. “Icon, Lady Liberty, Thunderbolt, Boom, are all faster than the Host suits, they need to hurry. The readings from the fields currently active indicate very strong mutagenic potential. Even minimal exposure has a 2.3808% chance of causing possibly debilitating mutation.”

Then Archangel spoke one more time. “We need to find the people behind this. They must be stopped.” She simulated appropriate levels of disgust and horror at what was happening but like always stayed professional.

”I am truly sorry dear, but I have had a vision of events to come . . .” Hekate descended upon the Boston home under the cover of night, melding with the shadows, dancing with the dark chill of the wintry season. Through an open window she crept, herself a shadow clinging to the walls of the minister’s home. ”And your husband shall be at the center of the great tragedy.” Her eerie whispers stirred the woman of the house, Elizabeth Eldridge Parris, whose shrill crying was hushed by Hekate’s will. She placed a hand over Goody Parris’s mouth smothered the minister’s wife, her lifeless form replaced by shadows.

The next morning, Samuel awoke to his sleeping wife, whom he kissed upon the cheek. Hekate stirred at his touch, having assumed the guise of his wife. ”Hmm. . . Good Morrow my love,” she uttered sweetly in a tired groan. “Shall I make haste to the kitchen, or perhaps you’d prefer a spare moment in bed together to breakfast.”

Samuel blushed, then smiled devilishly, kissing her upon the cheek once more. “I’ll not have that talk so early, Elizabeth. Best to enjoy this day God has delivered rather than indulge such sinful urges.” He stood, throwing on a pair of trousers and boots. Hekate turned her head to roll her eyes.

Such a handsome man. ‘Tis a shame he’s been taught against the baser instincts. Filthy Puritans. Hekate thought as she rolled out of bed, clothing herself in Elizabeth’s rich garments. She marveled at the expense of her dresses and adornments. But perhaps posing as his wife will offer certain privileges.



Hekate walked into the lower room of the house, where Samuel’s children were seated, eating a meal prepared by the servant, Tituba. She nodded and smiled at Tituba, who looked at her with horror filled eyes. Hekate brought her index finger and thumb together to silence Tituba, whom she ordered to the next room. The children, Betty, Susannah, and Thomas, ran over to hug Hekate’s skirts. She laughed and patted them all on the head, shooing them back to their breakfast and sighing internally.

Samuel came down behind the image of his wife, greeting his children in a similar fashion. “Tituba!” He called, “Bring me my coat.” Tituba emerged from another room holding his coat. She averted her gaze from Hekate and placed the coat on Samuel, quickly exiting the room once she was done.

”Surely you will spend a moment with your wife and children? Tituba prepared a fine breakfast. Where could you be off to so early?” Hekate eagerly questioned, in her mind already knowing the reason for his departure.

“I’m afraid there isn’t time. The selectmen asked for my presence this morning, though they would not say why.”

”Well, may it be some good news for us.” Hekate replied.

“God willing.” Samuel said as he kissed his wife’s forehead. He turned, gave a slight wave to the children, then wandered out into the streets of Boston to meet with the board of selectmen.

Hekate waved to Samuel as he left, then turned her attention to Tituba, who sat idly in the next room as ordered. Hekate sat next to her, extended an arm, and caressed Tituba’s chin, turning her head and staring into her eyes.

”You may speak,” Hekate whispered in a gentle voice, ”but should you scream or give way to erratic emotions, I shall give you reason to fear me.” Hekate snapped her fingers, unbinding Tituba’s tongue.

“Y-you . . . you are not my mistress!” Tituba exclaimed in a hushed voice. “You are not those children’s mother, you are not Mr. Parris’s wife, and yet they see you as the same.” Tituba continued in a distressed voice. “Who are you, why are you here?”

”My dear, perhaps you are unfamiliar with my image, but you know well my infernal husband.” Hekate waved a hand, causing a bucket of water to move down from a table, across the floor, and position itself in front of the pair. Tituba jumped, but Hekate’s other hand held her in place. The water in the bucket turned to black tar, and from it appeared a goat, with red eyes and a candle fixed between his horns. Tituba gasped, looking from the bucket to Hekate.

“You are His wife?” she questioned with awe.

”Indeed. And did He not promise you liberation? Did He not grant you the world when you signed His book? Tituba, I have come to see that you are given what you were promised, but you must swear to me that you will not speak a word of this to anyone, not even me. When the time is right, we shall know each other as friends and allies, but not a moment sooner.” Hekate kept a stern look, tightening her grip on Tituba’s shoulder, who nodded in agreement. ”Good, now return to your chores, and revel in the thought that one day, you’ll take no such orders from anyone ever again.”



The door to the Boston cottage creaked as Samuel came rushing into the house. “Elizabeth!” He called to his wife, who was sat at the dining table, knitting. She looked up with a half smile, trying to conceal her excitement until after he had revealed the news. “Oh Elizabeth, I have wonderful news!”

”What is it, husband? Please, do not keep such a joyous secret to yourself.”

Samuel ran over to the table, took up her knitting needles and set them on the table, bent down on his knees and held her hands in his own. “The selectmen have named me the new minister of Salem Village!” He exclaimed, gripping her hands tighter. “You shall not only be the most beautiful woman in Salem, but the richest, and our children will never be left wanting. Thomas can go to Harvard, Betty and Susannah can be married to selectmen’s sons, we will make something of ourselves in Salem. Oh Elizabeth, I’ve never been so happy.”

”Nor I, Samuel. You are the finest candidate. I am glad the selectmen saw in you what I see every day.” She kissed his lips and took on his infectious grin, hers more sinister than his own ”We must tell the children when they come home. Tituba and I shall make a fine supper, we’ll make it a celebration.”

Samuel kissed her hands then stood up. “Thank you, love. Yes, we should celebrate. We’re to leave Boston in two days time, so let us celebrate tonight and gather our belongings tomorrow!”

That evening, the Parris family dined on rich food and shared in stories of Samuel’s triumphs. The following days were spent packing what belongings the family deemed most necessary, though Hekate coveted as many of Elizabeth’s fine dresses as she could. The family set out on a carriage a few mornings later, the weather kept clear by Hekate’s magic under the guise of God’s grace, the roads free of banditry and Native attackers all by the same force. Salem Village came into view, a clearing in the dense forests of New England. The inhabitants greeted the richly adorned carriage and its passengers with harsh looks. Hekate reveled in their hostility, she drank their disdain for Samuel.

Loathing, sweet loathing. There is no better force than loathing to stir up a witch-hunt . . .

It took roughly three hours for War-Pulse to fly back to Lost Haven from the middle of Ohio. He had made the flight a tad bit slower than usual considering he had to carry Aubrey with him and prefered not to blow out her eardrums by breaking the sound barrier. He had flown at a lower altitude as well, not wanting her to freeze or be oxygen deprived in the higher altitudes of his flight path as he rocketed straight towards the Sherman Center tower. It was not hard to spot once he came into visual range, as the historic building was one of the only few buildings that was still fully standing after the recent string of incidents on the city.

“See? Smooth sailing, told you it wouldn't be so bad.” The mercenary said, descending down into the very top of the tower. “I told you that you were overreacting to flying. I didn’t even get handsy, and that’s an accomplishment from my perspective.”

Now that she and Trent had landed on the Sherman Center in Lost Haven, Aubrey tried to regain her breath, kneeling to the ground, which made her look like she was set to do knee push-ups. After she took several deep breaths, Aubrey finally decided that she was not going to see what she had for dinner again. Now that she knew she was not going to be sick, Aubrey, still on the ground, turned her head over her shoulder to look back at War-Pulse.

“We,” she began, although she soon found that she was still short of breath, “are never...”. There was a short pause, shorter than the last time, when Aubrey tried to slow down her breathing. “doing that again.”

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that. I was flying straight like...ninety percent of the time. Sure, there was that run-in with the flock of geese, but how was I supposed to account for bird migrational patterns?” The mercenary protested, “Besides, how many other superhumans have you flown with? It’s not like we’re an airline, I can’t just magically provide you with an in-flight movie and some crappy bagged peanuts.”

Looking down at the ground, she paused yet again as she slowed down her breathing. Then she redirected her attention back to Trent. “I have flown with Icon before. This was nothing like that. This was like ten times worse!”

“Oh, sure, compare me to the boy scout, that’s fair.” The silver and black-clad braggart shot back. “Sorry I can’t fly as good as Mr. Perfect. I’ll try to improve next time we have to make an interstate trip.”

Now that she had gotten her complaining out of the way, Aubrey stood up from the ground. Her legs still felt as if they were made out of Jell-o because of the flight between Columbus and Lost Haven, although Aubrey could tell that this feeling was starting to fade away.

Before they left Columbus, the young metahuman decided against wearing her superhero threads, not only because of the ‘cease and desist’ that was indirectly handed to her by Marvel, but also because it would look a little suspicious if a bunch of metahumans in their spandex uniforms would march right into Sherman Center. Instead, she had picked out a pair of jeans and a pick, although not neon pink, polo-shirt. Even though War-Pulse flew at a lower altitude, Aubrey still brought along a winter jacket.

Of course, the mercenary clearly did not share in that particular mindset, due to the fact he had already changed into his battle suit before they had ever left Ohio. His identity was not a secret, and his actions spoke for themselves, if anything he was becoming quite the household name in Lost Haven, albeit for very negative reasons. It did not make sense to him to go flying through the skies and not don his signature attire. After all, what good was hiding when your face was getting plastered on the internet?

He was even less subtle when he banged on the rooftop entrance, a thick metal barricade that rang with steel at every abrupt knock.

“Oh Luuuuuccyyyyy, I’m hooooommmmmeeee!” The mercenary jokingly sang, staring up into the camera mounted at the top of the door. “Can you let me in for the superfriends meeting, now? I brought party favors!”

Almost immediately, the steel doors slide open and revealed an elevator. Inside the elevator stood one of Christopher Arthur’s assistants, Minerva. She had been waiting at the lobby for the return of any of the heroes who had not already assembled at the Sherman Center. However, when Chris’ people realized that War-Pulse was going to make a landing on the roof, Minerva had to leave Chris’ butler, George in the lobby to greet any of the other heroes. Fortunately, the elevator could allow her to get up to the roof without killing herself by walking up who knows how many flights of stairs were in the Sherman Center.

“I presume that you are War-Pulse.” The woman’s attention was focused on a tablet that she held in her hands, even though she was supposed to be greeting the two individuals. Furthermore, the tone of voice revealed that she was not quite amused by War-Pulse’ antics. “I can almost see why that Lyger character has some issues with your character.”

“Glad to see ol’ tinhead is putting his best foot forward with sending his most cordial lackey to greet me.” The mercenary sneered, casually strolling past her to get to the elevator, his eyes locked on Minerva the whole way in. “Really feel like I’m part of the team with that kind of welcome, seriously.”

“Well, sometimes you have to work with people that get on your nerves. That’s called life.” Minerva countered Trent’s sarcasm. “At least you have given us evidence of your reliability by safely getting Aubrey here. I rather have an annoying colleague who is reliable then one who isn’t.”

“Oof, pretty and sassy…deadly combination right there. No wonder Iron Knight put you on his payroll.”

“Considering Mr. Arthur’s, um, lifestyle choices, especially with women, I wouldn’t be too surprised if someone’s superfluous qualities are considered by his ‘talent acquisition” department.”

When Aubrey entered into the elevator after War-Pulse did, she realized that this Minerva seemed very familiar to her. However, Aubrey could not quite tell what it was. Did she know her from somewhere? She could not be a certain Greek goddess, could she? That would be way too obvious, wouldn’t it? She decided that if this Minerva was Athena, Athena would have appeared to be more ‘hands-on’ with bring her to Lost Haven. But something about Minerva still bothered her.

“Of course you, who work for that man who kidnapped me and a few others in the past, have the moral high ground when talking about someone’s character.”

“Ooooo she’s got you there, missy.”

Minerva bit her lip, restraining herself from making a comment about how making a response worthy of a child would not make any argument better. Instead, she held her composure and addressed what Aubrey had said. “Only if life was that black and white. I am completely sure that S.T.R.I.K.E. had nothing to do with what happened. Why would S.T.R.I.K.E. ever bully Mr. Arthur into ‘kidnapping’ a bunch of college students who have recently been granted superhuman powers? I mean, when you’re in bed with a super-secret spy organization, nothing wrong can come out of it, right?”

“Oh-hoh, serve returned.”

“Last time I checked, kidnapping is still a crime.”

“And vigilantism isn’t? Or at least the harm that can come from a misguided vigilante.”

“Alright, alright, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but now is not the time for a catfight.” The mercenary said calmly, now leaning against the elevator wall with his arms crossed. “Either drop it or settle it later, but we got other shit to worry about, mainly the meta-human baby boomers, or did we all forget about that to share about our dirty little secrets?”

“Don’t worry. We’ll settle this later.” Minerva cracked a smile on her face. Then she pressed the button that would send the elevator to the floor where Christopher Arthur and the others were meeting. However, before the elevator could even descend a single floor, the elevator carriage abruptly came to a stop, almost throwing the three individuals to the floor. Warning lights began to fill the enclosed space a red glow. When Minerva checked her tablet, she gave a glare at the other two passengers.

“Okay, who was the smart one who brought an explosive onto this elevator? Because whoever did it is a mindless fool.”

“What the hell are you talking about, lady?” War-Pulse was the first to exclaim, his brow raised as he gestured to his suit. “This thing is pretty form-fitting and these pockets aren’t big enough to hold any substantial explosives, where the hell would I smuggle a bomb?”

“Well, the scanners in this carriage has detected massive energy readings that could devastate this building, let alone this elevator. So, someone please admit to this or give some sort of explanation!”

“Sure, I have my own grievances against the guy, but I would never stoop that low. Why would I try to kill myself for the sake of revenge? And do I even look smart enough to make a bomb?”

“I mean...you’re a bombshell. War-Pulse began, not one to pass up a comedic opportunity.

“I really don’t think that being a bombshell has anything to do with actual explosives, but that’s just me. I don't know what kind of weird crap goes on in that brain of yours.”

”That’s a question best answered another day with a few bottles of whiskey when the world’s not in trouble. But going back to the point, I don’t think either Aubrey or myself would...waitaminute...” The mercenary stopped himself mid-sentence, a sigh leaving his facemask as he placed his hand over his face. “Aw dammit, I hate it when this happens...your scanners are detecting me, not a bomb.”

“Care to explain?” Minerva demanded. Her voiced revealed that she was agitated by the situation, that they were already having trouble before they could even get past a single floor.

Rather than responding immediately, the silver-clad man lowered his hand from his face, giving the administrative assistant an embarrassed grimace as he pushed off of the elevator. With a small flexing of his hand, the air around his arm began to hum and distort with a bluish glow as kinetic power flowed through him.

“I have enough kinetic energy stored in me to probably come off as at least bomb,” He explained, “It comes with being a pure energy battery, I can’t really go anywhere without setting something off nowadays. Any way you can override it?”

“While I probably shouldn’t do it, we’re all kind of in a rush, so just give me a few seconds.” Minerva turned back again to her tablet and started to sporadically tap on the display screen until the red strobe lights turned off and the elevator began to return to its downward descent.

“Wait, why does a simple elevator have so many sensors and such?”

“I’m guessing because tin-head is using this as some sort of base of operations.” Trent said, glancing up at the elevator’s ceiling, his hand running along the cool, metal walls. “There’s probably all sorts of security checks on this building, I bet there were turrets on that rooftop waiting to shoot us down if we were a hostile trying to land on that roof.”

“You can never be too cautious in this world where almost any type of superhuman ability exists. Although now it is obvious that there are still some bugs to work out in the system,” Minerva gave a quick glance at War-Pulse, “But it should help identify almost any type of risk factors. Not only weapons and explosives, but also whether someone is who he or she appears to be. The naked-eye cannot see through some disguises, but hopefully the scanners can identify shapeshifters, psychics using their abilities to trick the human mind, or any other type of security risk. This system could scan for and identify any element or substance that you can think of.”

“Plus I bet you can update your twitter account and profile picture with it, too.” Came another snap from the metahuman anti-hero. “Give everyone the scoop on what super-suit you’re wearing today.”

“I’m pretty sure you can do that out on any computer or cell phone of your choice.

However, Minerva ignored the comments that both Trent and Aubrey said about the security system. Instead, she decided to give them an example. “Imagine that something that wasn’t quite human tried to slip past our notice. Let’s say it’s some sort of silicon-based lifeform, whether extraterrestrial, if that is even possible, or an android. Since in the human body, silicon is only found in trace amounts, all we would have to do is scan for unusual amounts of silicon is the target’s body.”

“You gotta be kidding me…” Aubrey pouted when she heard what the ‘example’ scan would entail. Whether Christopher Arthur suggested this or Minerva herself decided upon it on her own, Aubrey was convinced that this could not have been unintentional.

“Anyways,” Minerva continued, again ignoring Aubrey’s side comment, “the scan will take only a few seconds, although since there are three of us in here, it might take a little longer than that. While highly improbable, it is always good to have a variety of safety measures. A silicon-based alien would be rather easy to spot because its biology would use silicon instead of carbon. The artificial intelligence, on the other hand, would have silicon inside its circuitry. There’s a reason why Silicon Valley earned its name.”

”Ugh, another scan?” War-Pulse protested, rolling his eyes at the notion. ”What’s next? Am I going to have to provide my birth certificate and social security card too?”

“You’re just lucky that we don’t have to go through the full regiment this time. Unless you want to, of course.” Minerva gave a coy smile to the two metahumans who were in the elevator with her. She then looked down at her tablet to see what was the progress on the scan. “Well, looks like we all have the regular amount of silicon in our bodies, which mean none of us are silicon-based aliens or robots trying to pass as humans. Otherwise, we would be having a very different conversation.”

Almost immediately after Minerva reported the results of the scan, Aubrey immediately darted towards the elevator controls, where she continued to press the top floor button while repeating ‘nope, nope, nope’ under her breath. “That’s it.” She finally declared, “I am so waiting on the roof for someone like Icon to fly me home. I want to get as far away from you weirdos”

“Wait, what?” Trent asked, “You’re bailing now? After I flew you from Ohio?”

“Didn’t you see what she just did? She scanned for the element, silicon. Does that ring any bells?”

”Whoa, hold on there, blondie. I know what she said, but I think you got it mixed--”

“Oh really? Of all the things she could have scanned for, she picked ‘silicon-based lifeforms’. She was searching for any ‘unusual masses of silicon’. How does that not ring a bell?”

”That’s not what she means, Spidey! I’m not trying to piss you off here, she’s talking about--”

“Do you not know what substance is made up of silicon? It is just one letter off. It would obviously been picked up on that scan!”

”Okay, listen. She ain’t being insulting, silicon is a legitimate thing...why they’re worried about little green men and Decepticons of all things is a little weird, I mean those I’d feel would be a little low on the priorities list considering all the other threats to security...but if that’s the case, it’s not about your built-in stress balls for once.”

For a moment, Aubrey just gave a confused stare at War-Pulse. However, it did not take long for her to continue ranting. “Did you just say ‘built-in stress balls’ to my face?” She then threw up her arms in disbelief at what was happening. “Why can’t everyone mind their own business? Why can't people keep their thoughts to themselves? Why can’t I go a single day without hearing someone’s unwanted opinion?”

“To be fair, I give everyone unwanted opinions. I’m starting to think nobody actually wants my opinion.”

Since she was so frazzled by the current situation, Aubrey did not realize that the bell that indicated that they had arrived at their destination had rung and the doors to the elevator had slid open, allowing the few heroes whom Chris had already assembled at the Sherman Center to hear what she was saying. “I know that it is kind of hard to believe that I went from being a two-by-four to Dolly Parton, but can’t you all just take my word for it? Jesus Christ! Just because I have big boobs doesn’t mean that they’re fake!”

A big grin came across the merc’s face, trying desperately not to burst into laughter now that Aubrey had unknowingly blurted the outrage about her body. Of course, the loud-mouthed crook was quick to jump on the opportunity given to him.

“That’s right everyone, her sweater-stretchers are real! You all heard it straight from the source!” He proclaimed, his arms outstretched as he played the crowd from his little soapbox. “None of you know her name yet but at least we’ve cleared the obvious first question you were going to ask!”

“We actually meet her before.” Zac mentioned after the superhuman mercenary made a bigger deal out of what Aubrey had blurred out than it actually was. Next to Zac stood his girlfriend, Kelly, who just made a friendly smile towards Aubrey and waved at her. She even mouthed, “Hey, Aubrey” to the blonde metahuman.

“Well, it still at least covers the first question of ‘what happened to you’, right? Because she certainly changed from my first meeting with her.”

Zac and Kelly turned their heads towards one another, almost as if they were about ready to say something to one another. Unlike War-Pulse, the two young metahumans were not taken by surprise by the change in Aubrey’s appearance. Sure, Zac and Kelly did not expect something like that to happen, but they had already met another similar-looking ‘Aubrey’ who came from, as far as they could tell, an alternate universe. Maybe some things are just destined to repeat themselves. However, since they both independently thought that trying to explain that would be more of a hassle than it's worth, they decided not to speak up.

Chris, on the other hand,just buried his face in the palm of his hand, shaking his head in disbelief at what he had just heard. “War-Pulse, this is not an Aristophanic comedy! Please don’t piss her off too much. If you do, she’ll pop someone in the face. And with my luck, it’ll probably be me. So, can we just chill, please!”

“Ahhh, relax rich boy.” Trent waived Arthur off as he spoke, stepping into the room with his trademark swagger. ”I’m as chilled as I can be, jokes are my icebreaker. You’re the one with a stick up his ass...”

“Jokes? You think that was a joke? We’re not in some kind of bawdy comedy where it would be slapstick. What you did was borderline harassment. Right now, I don’t give a damn what had happened to her, even if she had become a splitting image of Kate Upton. Right now, we need to be worrying about those domes that are transforming people into metahumans, not some 20-year old’s anatomy.”

”From what Aubrey’s told me and the dossier you provided, along with what Warden’s told me, you aren’t exactly the one to be sitting on the politically correct high horse, Knighty, STRIKE or not.” War-Pulse flashed another slimy smirk with his statement as he ambled towards Arthur in a wide semicircle, his carefree attitude unflinching at Arthur’s accusations. ”But if it’ll keep you from having a hissy fit, I’ll lay off. The girl probably gets enough of it in her home life anyhow and we got a mutie scientist who is in serious need of his neck being tied in a bow.”

While all of this was going on, Aubrey just stood in the doorway of the elevator with her mouth agape, just like a doe paralyzed by fear of the approaching headlights of some vehicle. Her blushing face took on a hue that could be likened to the petals of rose flower. What she blurred out would be embarrassing enough, but had War-Pulse to take it a step further and grandstand about it.

Once the initial feeling of embarrassment had started to fade away, anger arose to take its place. “How dare he mock me like that. I bet he is the kind of guy who would shout out a woman’s age or weight.” Aubrey thought to herself, “He better watch out, because payback is a bitch.”

Aubrey then stepped out from the elevator into the room where everyone else was. However, once she had left the elevator carriage, the doors slip shut behind her, closing in on Minerva, who was still standing within. The digital display above the elevator showed that the elevator was rising up towards the roof. War-Pulse’s showboating, along with her own delay from exiting the elevator, must have allowed enough time to elapse for the doors to automatically shut.

“Well, at least she’ll already be on the roof if anyone else comes by, right?”

“Eh, I’m sure she won’t mind anyhow, bit of a ‘holier than thou’ attitude with her, carried herself like she was better than us.” War-Pulse added, turning his attention to the three beast-people in the room, his hard glare hanging for a good few seconds. The experienced intuition of the mercenary read these human-animal hybrids the same way it read Aubrey. These weren’t soldiers, they were children, their eyes shone with innocence and naivete. Iron Knight, or at least S.T.R.I.K.E., was trying to capitalize on metahumans as quickly as possible. With this superhuman arms race ever expanding, finding and recruiting college kids was a very logical choice, training them to harness their powers early for the sake of international security was a very tactical move.

Whether the plan was ethical or not was another story. However, it did correlate with the information Warden had taken when he had been hired to infiltrate the nearby S.T.R.I.K.E. base, they had hinted at some kind of global metahuman defense force, but they had nothing concrete until now.

”Either way, let’s get to business.” Trent said, ending his stride directly next to Arthur, his gaze never leaving Zak and his crew as he continued to speak. “For those of you who don't know, my name is Trenton Hurst, or War-Pulse, formerly one of interpol’s most wanted, and I'm here because I got Intel on some of the guys who are behind this and what kind of powers you are going up against, so if you'll be so kind, I can give you everything I know about them. Any questions?”

As natural gas goes it’s not the greatest explosive. A bright blue, orange, and golden fireball jettisoned out through the windows above for three stories. Justine snapped her gaze up to see the billowing blaze jetting flames like macabre geysers of hellfire. in one swift motion she drew her sword, and flicked it through a spin before raising high over head, hilt in one hand, flat braced against the other. A thin translucent hemisphere of hardened energy and air snapped into place over them. Papers, furniture, tables, chairs, and most of all jagged shards of glass rained down upon them, but seemed to crash down on the shield she erected. The last happened to be a recliner with murder on it’s mind as it fell straight for her and Racheli. Just as quickly it smashed to pieces and careened off to the side, where it came to rest, sitting oddly upright in the snow.

As the fiery light overhead died away and only burning paper seemed to continue to rain down the shield collapsed, willed away by her. Her gaze quickly swung over to Gabriel, then at Rach. They both seemed okay for the moment. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding as she sank back to her knees. she rested one hand on the buried woman’s forehead.

Gabriel flinched at the sound of the building exploding, and thanking whatever gods were up there that his suit had reactive noise-cancelling.

At least something’s functioning the way it should tonight. He then cringed again as something occurred to him.

Uh, Daedalus? Run the last few minutes of AEGIS recordings on that building. Was anyone in it when it blew?

unsurprisingly, no. i’m reasonably sure your stunt with the sniper function was a good indicator that the premises needed to be vacated. all souls still capable of leaving under their own power had already done so. as far as i can tell- which is quite a lot, as you well know- only the recently deceased meta in the basement remained.

Gabriel cursed. He knew he’d forgotten something. There goes my research materials. Okay, so, other than the building, we don’t have any major losses, then?

not that I’m aware of.

Gabriel sighed in relief. At least he hadn’t gotten anyone killed tonight. That would have been too much for his failure quota to withstand. He turned to the swordswoman and the girl, managing to look sheepish, even through all of his armor.

”Okay, so, I have good news and bad news. Bad news first, is well…” He waved a hand in the general direction of the now-destroyed apartment. ”You can plainly see the bad news. Good news is, there was no one in the building when it blew. So,” he said, turning to Racheli’s form, ”your friend is probably safe. I’m not picking up any injured in the area, so she’s probably reasonably healthy, as well. Nothing--” He spared another glance toward the burning building, and sighed. ”...Almost nothing to worry about.”

~Yeah, just my house is on fire, that’s all~ Justine thought bitterly. Turning toward Gabe where she knelt she looked up at him, looking at once angry and yet somehow vulnerable, lost even,then she sighed, hung her head which she gave a slow shake. “Alright. .. Justine’s fine,” she said, assuring Racheli that her roommate was just fine. Closer than she really knew, but for now the ill one didn’t need to know more than that. “Let’s get her out of here. We’ve got to get off the street. I can carry her, but I have a feeling this thing … as soon as she starts to thaw out is going to be bad. I don’t know how long we have until we get her somewhere safer. A reefer or freezer truck would be ideal. If you have a better idea.. “

Reefer or freezer, you say? Daedalus?

let me check the surrounding area. Barely a few milliseconds had passed before the AI responded again. done. there is a suitable vehicle roughly half a mile to the south. It seems abandoned, and has the necessary technical equipment to keep the girl’s condition static until we can reach a suitable location to enact the changes needed to help her.

Gabriel nodded, then turned to the woman. “Freezer truck, about half mile, due south of our position. Probably abandoned, due to the riots. I can lift it so we can avoid all the traffic and such, as well, so it seems ideal for our situation. What do you think? I could give you coordinates, if you’d like.”

Standing slowly she glanced back over her shoulder as she sheathed her weapon. “That’s not bad. Uhhh, Just get me up into the air, where I can see from overhead.” She put one hand on his chest but gently. For a moment she had the image of giving a healthy shove to him and sending him flying across the street, but she refrained. It was tempting though! “I’ll get us up there. I .. don’t know how this is going to be for you. Take a deep breath,” she said. after a moment making sure he was braced, mentally. And then she reached within as she looked up. She picked a point high overhead, roughly a mile straight up. Jump. With that thought she imagined being there, as well as reaching out for that distant point in space and time, feeling connected to it, and then making the mental shift there. At the same time, the air around them shimmered with a spatial distortion in less time than it took to blink. They disappeared with an audible pop and a rush of displaced air.

Virtually at the same time they appeared overhead, hanging above the Earth, just hanging before gravity could fully take hold. Immediately, she called for Edgewynd’s power, the power of flight to lift her weight, and his as well, hanging suspended with nothing below them but a mile of empty air. She looked straight down at the apartments which were flaring with flame in a couple spots. Immediately there was a disorienting sense of vertigo, but at the same time she was looking at a perfect copy of Google Earth or Google Maps at night.

“Point me in the right direction. Use the streets as a guide or gimme a laser pointer or something,” she said, looking downward, arm slipped around the armored figure to make sure she didn’t lose contact with him.

Racheli had been quiet, for a first time, since the brunette spoke and touched her forehead. The fingers felt soft and warm making her head retract farther into the snow’s cold. Her body tensed in reaction to this as she inhaled, her nerves and worry refusing to let her stay down. She didn’t know these people, they hadn’t even tried to look, and her gut was screaming something terrible was happening. Fingers tried to scrape away the packed snow but it was an exercise in futility, her fingers merely getting snow under her nails and not enough to push her way.

Despite the short time, her fever was budding again and this time with a new vengeance. The snow wouldn’t keep her body cold enough for long as the cape likely could tell when she touched Racheli. Slowly Rach tried to push down her growing anxiety for what felt like the hundredth time this night as she merely glared at the Super above her. She listened, through the snow muffled most the conversation, in silence to their discussion. When the brunette and the ‘Hero’ took off, Rach couldn’t help but huff under her breath. ”Fucking Supers.”


Gabriel tried- mostly unsuccessfully- to blink away his nausea. That was… unpleasant. Is that what teleportation feels like all the time? Do you just have to acclimate to… that?

“Ugh…” He put a hand to his head as his sensations finally righted themselves, and he could finally stand to look around.

Huh. We are… very high up. Impressive range on that. He looked down, just as the sword-wielder did, and gave her instructions. He spared maybe a few milliseconds to orient himself with the picture AEGIS had given him, then looked and pointed.

Low amplitude, visual aid only. A thin beam of green light emanated from his outstretched finger, pointing straight at the area the truck had been abandoned in.

”Down there, on that intersection.” He paused for a moment, before turning to his companion. ”I… recognize time is of the essence here, but might we just fly down? The process of your teleportation is… deeply disorienting.”

The woman gave him an apologetic look. “I’ve not done that with anyone else. I can try to make it smoother,” she said. “Go ahead and take us down there. I figured a point-to-point jump would be much faster. Otherwise, what do you really need me for,” she asked, turning her attention back to the suited figure, almost as though she was trying to look past the face protection and to the pilot underneath. They were lit from below with the light of the city streets and a few fires, but were mostly high above the noise in the chilly night air. She could feel it pressing against her skin, but it didn’t seem to bother at all. In fact she felt perfectly comfortable as they hung suspended in the air. her arm still around him.

Gabriel nodded, tightening his arm around the swordswoman. He’d need to if her top flight speed wasn’t as fast as his. ”Okay, but brace yourself. I can go pretty fast in this number.”

Daedalus, let’s do… maybe 75?

understood. Gabriel angled the pair of them downward, headfirst, going as slow as possible so as to not disorient his “passenger” as they moved. He didn’t know what her senses were like, but to Gabriel, down was just another direction. He could adjust to the situation as he pleased. He aimed briefly, calculating the route in his head, then shot down toward the ground at somewhere between 60 and 70 miles per hour. He pulled up- somewhat sharper than the swordswoman probably would have preferred- just above and in front of the abandoned truck. A quick scan confirmed his earlier AEGIS reading that the truck was functional, and he let go of the woman, his arms already glowing with blue-green light, which then began to surround the truck.

”Okay then. I can lift this truck pretty easily,” he said, as the wheels left the surface of the road by a few inches, ”in case you have a size limit on that teleportation effect of yours. I imagine you do, given that you’d otherwise moved the planet or at least taken the top off of some buildings when doing your thing. Regardless, I can maintain my top speed with something this light, so whichever method you’d like to get this over to that girl, just say the word.”

“Wuss,” she said as he seemed to take it easy on the way down. Being turned upside down didn’t bother her, and she could have handled a lot sharper maneuvers. While her top flight speed was only about fifty miles per hour right now, she could still turn on a dime. Justine hoped she would get faster, eventually. As much as she tried to push it, she hadn’t seemed to be able to break that speed barrier yet.

As he created a maglev type effect around the truck she shook her head. “I could lift it, but I can’t do that,” she said, a little … what? Irritated? Shocked? Perhaps awed a little, and suddenly feeling inadequate certainly. “I can’t teleport anything big,” Justine mused. “I can run interference, or just port back to watch over Ra.. the girl.” She studied him for a second as she remembered right where she left her roomie.

Gabriel nodded. He had figured the woman would have some sort of weight limit to her teleportation abilities. That was fine- that just meant he could concentrate on this part, while she went back to keep an eye on the girl. She hadn’t looked very healthy when the two of them had left, and he wanted to be sure she’d be okay. He began lifting the truck higher, a haze of green coalescing around the truck, almost seeming to harden around it. Which, of course, was exactly what he was doing- he needed to reinforce the thing somehow if he was going to get it there quickly.

”Well, if you would, then go and check on the woman. It’ll take me a minute or two to tow this over there. In the meantime, if anything goes wrong with her, please do all you can to stabilize her. I'll finish the job when I get there. Hopefully. It won't be long, but it would ease my worries a lot more if someone was there to protect her.”

And with that, without checking to see if the woman had responded, or if she had moved to follow his suggestion, he began to rise, pulling the now-shielded truck up with him. He reoriented himself toward where they had left the girl, tapping into AEGIS in order to make sure he was as accurate as possible.

sir. if the girl’s condition has degraded sufficiently, we may have to perform an emergency synchronization at the location in question, or she will die. are you prepared for that eventuality?

Gabriel frowned at Daedalus’ question. To be honest, I don't know if I’d be ready after preparing for a week. I've never done a procedure like this before. I have to try, of course, she’ll die otherwise. But I don't know how much help I'll be to her.

i find it more statistically unlikely that you will fail, sir. your proficiency at the “impossible” has not seemed to fail you yet. i have utmost confidence in you

Heh. Thanks, Daedalus. He finally rose up to the optimal height for a quick and easy transition, his thrusters warming up for travel.

Now, let’s go save somebody, he thought, before shooting off toward his target at blinding speed.

Justine didn’t even wait for him to rise up above the buildings. Immediately she flickered once, disappearing with a rush of air filling in where she had been. She appeared over Rach with a pop of displaced air. Her boots landed on the snow and she knelt, still ignoring the cold as she brushed away some of the snow to check on her roommate, seeing to her condition. They’d only been gone maybe a minute at this point. She was worried, concerned really,, and it showed.

“Help’s on the way. We’ve got a freezer truck. The guy in the suit seems to know what’s up, how to help you. I don’t like trusting him right now, but.. it’s the only option I’ve got.” As she waited for Hero to join the two of them, she found herself once more noting the wail of sirens, and the distant sound of rioting, and the occasional crack of a flash-bang, a smoke grenade, or maybe a gunshot now and again. She didn’t like being on the sidelines, but the police were usually good about calming things down. She was sure her dad was in the middle of it at this point.

Racheli had her eyes closed, ignoring the blaring noise storm around her as she waited for the two to return. Fear, a natural and primal aspect, was rearing its ugly head in her mind after she had cleared the other emotions away and seemed to poke at her uncertainty. It stirred her need to survive which only increased her worry about what would happen next. She couldn’t help but consider the woman’s mention to her unwanted guest about incineration just to prevent a global infection, letting the suicidal thought linger then shoved it away. If it came down to offing her, than she would make sure the job was done herself but only when all other options were exhausted. Rattled slightly, Rach wiggled in deeper into the snow just to let the chill keep her virus in check.

It didn’t last long. Her right eye opened, spotting the cape above her as the snow was removed, revealing her face to the worried woman. Something didn’t settle with her at seeing the concern and fretful nature seeping into the stranger’s expressions. Rach’s first thoughts were on Justine when she spoke, pushing her head through the confining barrier of ice and frozen water. “Where’s Justine? He said she got out, but no one has told me for sure how. Is she safe? I promised Garrett I would look after her and instead, I’m fucking stuck here.”

Gently, Justine shushed her on the matter. “Rest easy. She got out. When I was up there, I saw her on the ground,” the cape said, pointing upward. Meaning when she had teleported herself and the guy in the suit high up in the sky. A second or so later she glanced back where she knew the truck would be coming from. “Come oonnnn,” she said, still kneeling in the snow drift.

“She got out, about fucking time the bastard upstairs did something right.” Rach said, her head tilted back into the snow. It ached a little, a fact her mind was abruptly aware of because of the spark creeping up her spine and her eyes widened in realization. Her eyes turned to the cape while she spoke, trying to keep the cracking tone in check. “How long did you say the healing would last?”

Shortly after the question was asked, there was a slight humming sound in the air as Gabriel approached, standing astride the now-flying freezer truck as it flew in high speed, slowing slightly before coming to a sudden halt, just above the ground. Gabriel dismounted from the truck before releasing his control field, letting the truck down gently before floating over to the two women in the snow. He scanned the ill girl, not liking the readings that came up. They needed to move, and quickly.

”Okay. No time to waste. Sorry to be so abrupt, but we don’t have time for niceties. The truck is refrigerated in the rear, so your virus will have a more stable environment. We’ll try to get you to a more proper facility to perform the synchronization procedure, but if we don’t have time, we may have to perform it immediately, which I fear may be… disquieting. Are there any questions before we move on?”

Justine frowned. The armored figure seemed to know what was affecting Racheli then. She turned back to the girl. “I didn’t. It only lasts long enough to heal the damage, which is permanent. It doesn’t stop fresh damage,” she said, then knelt, shoving her hands in the snow and digging it away from Rach, until she had her freed enough to lift her up and carry her, some of the snow still resting on her frame. One arm was around Rach’s shoulders the other under her knees, as she walked without effort toward the freezer truck. “Alright, let’s get you in,” she said, then nodded at Gabe for him to open it up.

Once inside, she frowned, having nowhere decent to put Rach, other than straight on the floor, so she did. Hopefully the ride wouldn’t be too rough. :Justine glanced at Gabe. “You’re driving. You’re the one with OnStar in your head or something,” she said gesturing at his suit.

Racheli felt like a child when the cape picked her up.

Helpless and frustrated, with little control over what happened to her as Racheli felt her body’’s war started all over. The virus was adapting again, she could feel it sending a fresh wave of misery through her system and spark her pain receptors. Her DNA felt like play-doh in an immature child’s hands, whose vision keep changing over and over. Rach’s head started to throb as if thousands of hammers were pounding into her head causing her jaw to tight, teeth biting the pain edging into her force and no longer dulled by the cold when the cape moved her. With sharp, rapid inhales she closed her eyes to stop the world’s sights and sounds from increasing the pain. Her arms folded in just in front of her chest while the rest of her weight leaned against Justine’s front. She was already starting to tremble like before, the virus’ task set in determination to complete itself regardless of the pain it was inflicting.

Racheli chuckled in a raspy, bitter tone. Usually the touch of human contact, mainly its warmth, comforted her. Now, it merely made her want to flinch and shove it away, the heat speeding up her suffering unintentionally. She clamped her teeth upon her tongue to prevent her screaming until after the woman had laid her upon the truck’s cold floor.

It was then, her short haired head turned and pressed deeper into the metal. Damn, the cold felt so fucking good on her skin. Instantly her system was soaking up the chill like a sponge did liquid, relieving the pain and slowing the process once more. Vaguely, Rach noted her breath wasn’t even misted when it hit the frozen air. That meant it was a touch colder than the actual truck and by everything logical in her mind, she should’ve been dead hours ago from hypothermia. The fact she wasn’t merely a solid block of ice was a bit of a shocker to her that she softly utter one word. “Hurry…”

Gabriel nodded as the woman moved their charge’s body to the back of the truck, opening the door with a gesture as he scanned Rach’s body, trying to get a sense of what he needed to do before being forced to do so. Which, judging by the girl’s biological readings, was going to be soon- even with the proper environment for the virus’ continued stable existence, her biorhythms were in freefall. Literal driving was now out of the question, he’d just have to airlift them all to a properly quarantined facility, in case his procedure failed. He had to make sure that, should he be unable to save this girl, she would be the Phylactery-virus’ last victim. He closed the doors, listening to the pitiful utterance from Rach as he did so, which only furthered his resolve to save her. He turned to the swordswoman.

”How fast can you fly?” he asked, his body starting to exude green sparks of light. ”If we want to get anywhere proper in time to save this girl, I may need to upshift my abilities and airlift. Unless you’d like me to perform the operation here, but that potentially puts anyone still in the vicinity at risk, including you. Given what I know about the nature of her… affliction, I think I should be immune, but that’s not absolute. If nothing else, I’d like to be the only one at risk for infection, since I’d be better suited to fighting any infection.

“The choice is yours, but please decide quickly- we have little time, by my estimation, before her nanite saturation reaches terminal levels.” He tilted his head to the side slightly as he said this, sending signals across his body in preparation for an ARTEFACT Mode upshift.

Be ready to shift to Mode 03, if necessary, Daedalus- I want to get her somewhere properly contained fast.

Justine considered for a moment. “I think I’ve maxed out at about fifty miles per hour,” she said. “I can handle extreme g-forces though. But I don’t know if I could hold off something like this kind of bug.” She shook her head. “If you think I need to clear out.. I will. There are other things going on here in the Square. I don’t know if LHPD is going to be able to calm this stuff down quickly. And then there’s the apartments.” She frowned. “I don’t really want to leave her though.”

Gabriel nodded. ”It’s not the most contained environment, but you should probably be safe up in the driver’s compartment. Once we get her somewhere with the proper amenities for me to treat her, you can stay with her or be on your way. She seems… important to you. I won’t ask about that now, we’ve got more pressing matters to attend to, but I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to be acquainted later on. Now, if you would, please,” he said, gesturing to the front of the truck. As she left, Gabriel concentrated on his body, feeling power welling up from the core of his being, suffusing him.

Let’s just get this over with.

“Access code: Wyvern. User override. ARTEFACT Mode-03, engage.” A flurry of green sparks and pixels washed over him for a brief few seconds, before he emerged, clad in his new form. The small Hex-Feathers that floated over his shoulders before had gotten far larger, each one nearly as tall as he was, splayed out from his back like great metal wings. His arms were covered in a thick layer of armor, giving them a draconic, bestial appearance. His legs had gone through the most drastic change, transforming into strong, reptilian, almost organic looking limbs, increasing his height by a good few inches, sharp metal claws digging into the asphalt under his feet. The air shivered as he made his change, humming with his ambient power.

He sighed- he didn’t like using anything higher than Mode-02 if he didn’t have to, but it was his fastest form. Well- fastest that he was comfortable using at the moment. Using Mode-05 for something as simple as transportation would be suicidally stupid. He turned to the truck, confirming that the sword-user was situated in the front seat, and that Rach was as comfortable as possible where she was. He again enveloped the truck with a nimbus of his power, reinforcing it as both he and the vehicle rose above the rooftops.

Daedalus, chart a course to the Lost Haven branch of the CDC. It’s the nearest facility that can handle our present problem.

acknowledged. will you be needing anything else?

Just keep me posted on the riot situation- I don’t want anyone else dying on my watch.

They had risen high enough now. Steeling himself, and ensuring that the barrier around the truck was sufficient for the speeds they would be traveling, he blinked toward his destination, disappearing in a rush of speed too fast for the eye to follow, a small sonic boom heralding his disappearance.

Small sonic boom was, of course, a matter of subjectivity. With an object the size and mass of the truck along with him, and being so low to the ground it might as well have been a powerful bomb that was set off. Windows shattered from the initial shockwave and sound-pressure levels, greater than a clap of thunder.. Car alarms went off for blocks. The acceleration was barely felt though by the occupants as they weren't’ so much moving but the space around them was. The fabric of space had been warped by a sort of push/pull that had them riding a wave of sorts. The group of metal and flesh streaked over the city, a white ball of compressed water vapor, streaming a tail behind it which tapered off and disappeared into the air again. With the initial crack of their departure gone, it now only sounded like a loud high-pressure hiss.

Justine frowned at the assessment but then nodded, only to slip out of the truck, and shut it tight. Working quickly she found the temp controls and turned them down as low as they could go. The flight probably wouldn’t take long, but it certainly would be faster than driving. She just hoped they didn’t attract too much attention with this. Finally she climbed up in the driver’s seat, for all the good it would do her. The truck smelled of dust, dirt, grease and… guy. But she didn’t care as she rubbed her face and then strapped in. She wasn’t going to be able to stay with Rach. Not right now, even as concerned as she was. She also didn’t have an apartment anymore. She was… effectively.. Homeless. And the independent work she’d been doing didn’t allow her much in the way of savings either. And she wasn’t about to mooch off of her dad. He’d understand of course, but… no. She was an adult, and capable of handling herself. Wasn’t she? This was just a setback. Blinking a little as tears tried to well up she crossed her arms over the top of the steering wheel, resting her forehead on them.

Racheli was deathly ill with something she’d never seen or heard before. And .. now this. She’d lost all she’d worked for so far in the space of maybe ten minutes. It was only now, as she had a few moments to think and breathe that the direness of the situation was catching up. Frustration, anger, worry, concern for Racheli, and loss all welled up and crashed into her at once, drowning her in a riptide of emotion. A few small sobs seemed to escape her then, her shoulders bouncing with the force, her throat tight. Part of her wanted to put her fist through the dash, and with her power.. That would have easily happened. She could have torn the entire truck to shreds. It would do no good.

Finally, she reached up to her face and wiped at the tears that had fallen free, rolling down her cheeks. It wasn’t over. It was just a setback, she told herself once more. She’d dealt with worse. Now, she needed to plan how she was going to deal with this. - She could crash on her dad’s couch. Of course the Fire Marshal would be investigating what happened to her apartment. Police were going to investigate too. Daddy was going to hunt her down until he found out. He’d be worried sick until he heard from her. Better to find him early and pre-empt that. She had some spare clothes in her car. Laptop. Her phone was probably toast. She could get it replaced. All her paperwork was probably burned or ruined, sans what was in her fire safe.

The apartment was probably a total loss. She’d have to see what she could salvage. - Turbulence brought her attention up to see the city streaking by below them. She glanced to the side to see the edges of the super-flow compressing the air around them. They were supersonic!? Or at least the air around them was. No. There was no sound outside of the vehicle. They were in the silence that fighter pilots talked about. There was no noise, no outside sound. They were, in fact, moving faster than the speed of sound. Just over a densely populated area, with a decent radar signature. … If they didn't land soon, fighters were going to be scrambled from Hanscom or somewhere else nearby. Almost on the heels of that though she was aware they were slowing. There was a crack of sorts as they briefly crossed the threshold into sub-sonic, and now they crackled through the air as it tore at them. She could feel their flight almost skidding to a halt and turning into a gentle parabolic arc which would set them down at the building.

Justine felt her heart hammering from nerves, stress, and of course the speed of their flight which was exhilarating. Time to get Rach to safety.

There was only one place that had the equipment, training and best chance to contain Racheli’s virus. The Lost Haven’s Center for Disease Control and Prevention. Thanks to D-Day, Gene Co. had made vast contributions and funding to get the faculty able to cope with almost any infectious disease since. In addition that, it was the closest place that would prevent the virus from possibly spreading from victim to victim and minimizing the casualty rates. The CDC was a large, four story brick building with several individuals in hazmat suits waiting outside. There were several armed guards, mercenaries with security clearance. The building was wired with cameras, and an alarm, as well as security fences. While it was a civilian and government research facility it was also a secured location. The things that they kept inside and dealt with were very nasty stuff. And, as such, they were valuable to someone.

When they arrived, the CDC staff moved quickly to isolate Racheli as they wheeled her from the reefer truck and into the building. Icarus and Justine swiftly followed, through they wouldn't remain after the sync occurred. When they attempted to detain Justine, she politely decline, and instead, vanished in a teleport. Barring that, she had stick around for as long as they could, but would not allow herself to be poked and prodded.

A rerun news report and a three hour cab ride didn't spell anything resembling good news or even positive outcomes for our hero, in fact he was certain by the time he got there he wouldn't even have anything to do. This was much to the chagrin of Might, whose entire purpose in living is to help people, at least he thinks that's his purpose.

So when the cab finally did come to a screeching halt outside of the crackling green dome of light, Might was almost happy to see that catastrophe had struck. Though that would be a morbid line of thought, it was more that he was happy that he had something to do and people to help.

"What in Sam Hill is that!? Look here towel boy, you didn't tell me that there was some sort of voodoo juju going on! Get out of my cab!" The cabbie screamed in his face, Might hadn't told him why he wanted to get to Philly so urgently. It was sort of undertstandable, though Might hadn't asked him to drive inside. All he asked was to get here, and now that he was, he was fine with being kicked out of the cab.

There would be no tip for the cabbie, as Might stepped out of the car with a meek and insincere apology. "Sorry man. Whoops." There was really no regret behind his voice, though he tried his best to make the most sincere face he could.

He failed.

This only infuriated the cabbie more, who was now screaming at the top of his lungs in a near unintelligible dialect of English that was the strangest mix of Southern and New Jersey that he had ever heard. I was fortunate that the man drove away when he did, Might didn't want to get into an argument with him about why he was even here.

Though as the cabbie drove off in a huff, Might realized that his ride just bailed on him and wouldn't be coming back.

Regret would have filled him like water in a glass, if his right arm hadn't suddenly begun to glow with its dim crimson radiance. It turned his mind from himself back to the people inside of the dome, those folks in Philly who didn't have the chance to evacuate might still be inside the dome and if that were the case, he might run into some newly born metahumans.

Most people don't get a life or death situation to acclimate themselves to their newfound powers like he did, how many people are inside and freaking out?



Slapping his cheeks and reaching down between his legs to grab hold of the extra cloth of his tunic. He wrapped it around his legs and then tied it together in front of his groin, girding his loins up nicely. With cloth no longer impeding his legs, Might stepped towards the dome with his right arm extended. It was slightly transparent, though through the gateway he could see no living people. It was a mostly abandoned, and this worried him deeply.

If they weren't fleeing, they were gathering or already gone. This conclusion was jarring enough that he actually spoke aloud, instead of internally monologuing. "Neither of those can be considered preferable." Fortunately he was never out of character, so. Well, y'know, any unwitting spectator doesn't catch him with his gritty normal voice. Honestly just a preference, breaking character means that he's dwelling on the life he can't have.

Anyway.

As he approached the thinning dome, he extended his right arm through the veil. It felt strange, it tingled a little. But not like an electrical charge, more like goosebumps. If he were human anymore, this might have had a greater effect on him. Fortunately for everyone's sakes, he is far from human these days.

The dome parted around his body and the glow of his arm grew in luminescence, though only marginally. It cast a crimson glare on his face, offsetting the unseemly green that the light passing through the dome overhead imparted to his visage. The strangely green glow of his eyes too was offset, made even brighter by the verdant dome above.

There were distant crowd sounds that he could vaguely perceive as he broke the membrane of the dome, it seemed to leave a hole behind in the strange energy dome. It seemed that it was thinning out so much that anything that passed through it would leave a clear mark. Or perhaps that was just him and his unnatural presence.

Might stepped up into the air, over and over. Placing each foot over the other in the same way as a man climbing a flight of invisible stairs, it gave him a distinct view of the roads ahead. What he saw as he crossed the precipice of the nearest rooftop was awful, in the streets there were people huddled around eachother. Vaguely barred off the rest of the city by dumpsters, cars and barriers. An effective blockade against what was happening nearby, it was a single man who was mutated so horribly that he was barely recognizable as a human. Though his shape was that of a man, his body was encased in a shell of flame and smoke. Unlike normal flame, he was passively ejecting streams of unnaturally bright flame.

Might didn't know much about sciences beyond forensics, but he did notice the difference between fire and whatever he was encased in.

The man was covered in solar flames.

Might's mouth was met with an awestruck silence, two words managed to creep from his lips. "My god."

He was a walking star.



When his moment of silence passed, his subconscious finally allowed sound to enter his ears. There were cries of fear every time a tongue of solar flame erupted from his body, it cut through concrete and steel alike as it passed over them. Like a plasma cutter or a hot knife through butter, it melted crude jagged lines of red hot marks into the surroundings. From over twenty feet away he could feel the heat.

Tongues of plasma erupted over the barricade and the huddled crowd screamed in fear and pain, sunburns almost instantly among anyone whose skin was exposed. Adults pulled their clothes open to cover the children from the light, though it left them vulnerable.

Might's ears focused on something strange and haunting.

Crying.

Not just the crying of the crowd, crying from outside of their makeshift barrier.

The man of fire was sobbing and panicking, he had no idea what was happening to him. Nor did he seem to have any control over it, it was going wild and there was nobody that could be there to help him.

Not even Might was immune to everything that he was spewing forth, it was difficult to even look at him from the brightness of his body. The hero's eyes squinted tightly in a futile attempt to lessen the strain on his eyes, it still burned him painfully.

From his airborne position, he allowed himself to slide downwards. As though he were descending a cliff in a risky but expeditious way, it put him right in the center of the walking star's corona. his clothes heated up almost instantly. The top layer of his skin immediately began to drench itself in sweat, trying to compensate for the sudden and sharp change of temperature. It was incredibly painful, it felt like a smokehouse cranked to eleven.

The man's panic rose even higher upon seeing Might enter the danger zone of his solar radiation, he screamed and cried. Toppling himself over to the ground and crawling backwards with his elbows. Though this only served to bury his forearms into the concrete, leaving him to only panic and struggle more.

It was like he was wading in tar with his sluggish and unnatural backwards swimming crawl, strings of burning plasma erupted from his body, Might was forced to raised his arm to catch one before it blasted across his face. It lashed his arm like a whip and burnt away a layer of skin painfully, leaving the next layer exposed to the air and heat. It was so terribly painful that his legs nearly gave out from the pain alone.

An unspeakable pain ran from his arm to the rest of his body, and he had no idea how to deal with this. An adversity so distant from normal and totally out of his element, with no frame of reference to work from. This man needed help, this man was in danger of hurting others and himself. And Might couldn't do anything except sit and stare.

The retired detective frowned, covering his face with his arm once again to catch another oncoming lash of plasma. Another agonizing burn crossed his forearm and split his skin almost explosively. With a sudden epiphany born from pain and adrenaline, Might stepped forward and extended his right hand. Breaking down his own thoughts from the moment before.



Might couldn't prevent him from hurting other people if there were people nearby, so he had to get him away. Though this was to be the singlehanded most painful thing he's ever experienced in his life, he knew he wasn't going to get hurt other than superficially.

With his extended right arm, he grasped firmly on the man's left leg and yanked violently, forcing him from his molten hole in the Earth with a violent jerk. The white hot burning of the solar man flooded his right arm with an intolerable pain, it was to a point where he was forced to shut his eyes tightly.

Just to prevent himself from having a visual hallucination from the shock of it all.

He screamed in unison with the even further confused man of flames, the two screaming for wholly separate reasons. Lances of energy shunted from the solar man's body as Might hoisted him up by the ankle kicking and screaming like a newborn babe.

"I can't help you first!" The hero managed to choke out as he stepped up the air in long dragging footfalls to double the height he would normally gain. His voice quavered back and forth from the gritty voice of Detective and the commanding tone of Might. Staying conscious alone was torture enough, so maintaining character was honestly the least of his concerns.

The man of the sun wasn't able to understand what he meant, nor was he able to calm down. Now he wasn't just a hazard to everyone around himself, he was actively hurting this man, and being dragged off like some sort of animal. The panic and terror that confounded the man's sense of self was causing the bursts of energy to more actively erupt from his body. Scarring Might's arm and somehow managing to miss his body entirely, in fact, even Might's clothes were uncannily untouched by the licks of flame.

Even though his clothes were unharmed, skin all over his body was burning from the proximity to so much UV. It was beginning to blister and would absolutely be hell to deal with later, but nothing was going to ever be as bad as this is right at this very moment.

Might hoisted the man through the air, sprinting at this point. He turned his head away from the man to look behind himself and see if anybody in the makeshift barricade was in harm's way. They were fine, from what he could see, so there's problem number one out of the way.

Hurting others.

Now that innocents were out of danger, Might could focus on saving the man from himself. There was no natural formations of water around here, but there was Gustine Lake. Northwest of the city center of Philly, and it was one hell of a hike out of the way. At this point, Might was crying and barely able to breathe from the strain of keeping himself upright and holding this man. Now only two lives were in danger, Might's and the man on fire.

What took three minutes felt like days of effort as Might lifted the man through the air and over the highest buildings. The sky was filled with ionized air that burnt his nostrils and made breathing even more of a struggle. He was lightheaded, and his vision was beginning to split and waiver. The lake wasn't totally visible, in fact, he wasn't sure if his vision wasn't entirely hallucination or factual imagery. Whatever the case, he had a plan.

Might screamed at the top of his lungs and gave the burning man a violent shake, giving the other man's screaming a pause. The words that he hollered out were simple enough, but they would not be as simple as he would like to make it out to be. "I'm going to drop you!"

If you could see his eyes, the walking star's eyes would have bulged out of his skull in an almost cartoonish fashion. "No please! Do-"

He was swiftly interrupted with a clarification. "I'm going to drop you into water! Maybe it'll extinguish you!" This wasn't how a star worked, in fact, Might knew that it was the exact opposite. Something about oxygen and hydrogen breaking down in a star, but maybe it would overload him. At least cool him off for long enough to give Might time to think of a better plan. "I need you to be my eyes! Where's the lake!?"

It took him a second to put two and two together before the words finally clicked, the man made of sunlight was able to meekly direct him with only a few words. "You're close, but turn right! Up ahead!"

Thankful that the message was simple and brief, Might made a sharp turn to the right and sprinted towards the lake. Blind and stumbling over invisible obstacles that his brain made up in its agonized stupor. He couldn't see, he couldn't smell, and the only thing that he could hear was his own screaming. After getting the answer from the solar man, he had immediately begun screaming in agony.

It was a mad sprint towards the lake, and Might didn't even pause when the man screamed that they were over the lake. Might immediately let himself and the man fall to the lake, falling almost forty feet down to the water. An enormous splash followed by a boiling of the water erupted from their impact zone, Might surfaced first and quickly swam away from the rapidly boiling water. His body covered in first and second degree burns, save for the skin underneath his clothing. It was almost a godsend that his loins had come undone while he was in full clumsy sprint, it kept his thighs and calves from being burnt beyond recognition.

Once he reached the shore he gasped and plunged his right arm into the soaking sandy mud, a plume of steam erupting upwards from the hole. Might let out a scream and threw his head backwards, gripping the elbow of his right arm tightly and gasping for air once his scream paused.

His eyes peeled open and turned towards the boiling water, the man of solar fire was suspended by violent bubbles in the water. Of which he was the source.

While he sat there at the beachfront, watching the man roil and boil at the head of a storm of white bubbles, he noticed the speed of the bubbles decaying. It was slow, but the temperature was going down. The former detective raised his voice as high as he could, shouting out commands towards the solar man. "Dunk below the water! You're cooling down, but you need to be doused entirely!"

It was hard for the man to hear him over the sound of water boiling so violently near his ears, but he managed to pick up on dunking. He plunged himself beneath the waves as best he could, resisting the violent thrashing of the lake. As the water licked over him, the lashes of light and flame were pushed off of him like wax melting off of clay model. Like it was some sort of coating, rather than coming from his body.

Might watched the energy shunting away from his body and dissipating as it reached the water's surface. He didn't know what this meant, it was so far outside of his depth that even this small victory was relieving. Whatever the case was, he had managed to save at him from himself. If a weak victory. As the man was now swimming back to land, and he didn't know if he would suddenly reignite once he exposed himself to the air.

To the hero's relief, he found that the man didn't burst into flames on leaving the water.

He crawled over to the water's edge and extended his left hand to the man, pulling him out of the water and onto the shore. They both lay there panting and heaving their chests from exhaustion, with the situation at hand at least slightly resolved, Might looked over at the formerly burning man and chuckled in a daze. "I didn't even ask your name."

The man could hardly believe how much Might's voice sounded so very commanding even after what had just happened. "My name is uh." He paused, taking in a deep breath before speaking. "Joheness Burgess."

The hero chuckled and managed to peep out a pair of words. "I'm Might." Before his head fell backwards into the sand and he fell into relieving unconsciousness, a calm slumber was to be the only relief from the pain he was enduring.

And it would only get worse once he awoke.

Racheli was pissed. Her heart seemed to swell with heat and vivid anger, enough that she straight up wanted to smack someone or thing and just release the pent up energy. She had been stuck here for a span of time. How long exactly, she couldn’t tell as one day melted into another making time slip into oblivion second by second. It was driving her up the wall slowly. The woman had been tested by every known kind of test produced by mankind, or at least it felt like it. Her spine was tapped ragged, her muscles jabbed by endless needles that often hit her very bone and nerves, and fluid collection of every type. Rach knew her limit was drawing nearer with each new torment she was forced through.

The worse part, it wasn’t the physical tests that seem to crease a deepening sense of discomfort growing in her core. It was the looks from the staff themselves. Their eyes softened with pity and worry, some even glistened with a spark of excitement that she chose not to guess came from. With every fiber she hated it and the fact she was forced to accept.

Racheli’s abilities had started to manifest the first day after her syncing. It was her magnetism that been the first to emerge as it attracted a metal spoon, causing the item to flicker off her tray and pinged her in the back of the head. Her skull was thick enough to withstand the pain but it still hurt enough to rile up her temper. That seemed to have a very terrible boosting effect to her emerging ability because all the metal within three feet started to suddenly lift and hover in place, their forms twisting out of shape thanks to her wrath. It was from that point on, Rach was placed in a glass holding area as all the metal items were neatly and quickly removed then replaced with plastic versions. She was starting to feel like she was on suicide watch for no apparent reason.

What day it was now, she had little to no idea. The irritation returned easily this time, Rach’s fingers balled up into a fist then slammed into her leg causing a soft, fleshy sound. Its sting quickly faded where she had hit, immediately feeling better. Where she smacked it hurt, sure, but not nearly as much as letting the emotions fester and boil over. Inhaling heavily, she slid off the man made cot and onto her bare feet. Her soles were chilled by the marble flooring as she padded along, edging toward the glass sealed ‘wall’ overviewing into her small set up.

She barely got two steps when a scent hit her like a semi-truck, stopping her in her tracks almost instantly.

Racheli’s feet squeaked backwards in instinct while her hands promptly came up to cover and clasped about her nose, sealing against the scents. Lemon, bleach and several other aromas she couldn’t fully identify made her stomach churn as her head erupted into pain. Her lungs seemed to have been scorched by the chemicals leaving Rach to vainly try to clear away the pain, her body retreated and settled back into her bed’s edge.

Attached to her chest was a small device made to remotely monitor her now racing heart rate and blood pressure. The small, thin wires were wove along her surface, most hidden under her current dress of a spare hospital gown and pants. Thankfully her outfit was about two sizes too big and hanging loosely off her frame, the numerous wrinkles giving her a sloppy appearance. She had already tied the pants the farthest they would go. However, she was sure it wasn’t enough since they threatened to slip from her hips and down to her thigh tops repeatedly. Already they starting to slip down again but stopped because she was seated.

Movement happened in her peripheral vision causing her head to jerk toward the source. Just outside her room were three CDC staff suiting up and collecting their things for another routine blood test, their eyes checking each other for malfunctions in their gear before they entered the sterilizing chamber. Two of them were hauling a cart each, one tray held everything required for her daily blood donation and the other was her lunch for afterwards. Cautiously they approached her as if she was some sort of wild lioness ready to devour them in a heartbeat. The funny and bitter fact, Rach mused darkly, was that she wasn’t in any condition to ‘maul’ anyone presently.

Despite her, and her unwanted guest’s words, the scientists refused to believe she wasn’t contagious anymore. Even when the virus himself told the numerous staff, nurses and doctors, they refused to listen as they played to their over cautious and instinctive fears. The whole thing was unnecessary.

When the suction released, Rach pushed off the edge again and pressed her soles into the cold floor toward the men.

"This should be fun..." Racheli grumbled under her breath.

Two Months Ago

The waves lapped softly against the hull of the trawler as it glided into the harbour in the early hours of the morning. There was an eerie quiet aboard, almost harkening back to the old tales of Ghost Ships sailing into harbour unmanned. In reality there was simply few awake at such an ungodly hour and the secondary purpose of the trawler was not one that would leave one wanting to attract attention with unnecessary fan-fare. The ship was one of many that offered a service to those dissatisfied with their lot in Europe without the means or perhaps the inclination to obtain valid entry into the ‘great’ U.S.A. There were perhaps ten of them stowed away in an empty supply room barely big enough for half their number, dozing or staring into nothingness with an uneasy yet somehow hopeful expression upon their faces. The Polish man who had conspicuously earned himself more space than any of the others in one corner fell into the former category.

The ship moored at one of the more inconspicuous docking points close to the French Quarter, which was coincidentally (or perhaps not) the place where the Polish traveller wished to go. He stood up suddenly, while those around him eyed him warily. They had been together too long, the man thought sardonically, even his mask had slipped in such close quarters for such an extended period. No matter, he would be unfortunate to see them again. To say he had packed light would be an understatement, the only clothes to his name were those adorning him, a full nike tracksuit. He did have a small backpack with some less than savoury bits and pieces and some mementoes, but for the most part he was painfully under-equipped. Still, it was well within his capacity to rectify that small issue.

He escaped any boarding official’s eye upon slipping out the docks, text-book evasion by all accounts. It seemed the scant research he had carried out on the journey using newspapers and the like had served him well already, though catching up with more current events was a must. Still, he could deal with that problem when he had his feet on the ground so to speak, which meant seeking out someone he’d rather not see. His brother.

A short taxi ride to the French Quarter’s strip was more than informative, though it cost the traveller quite the head-ache reining in his more intrusive abilities. He was aware the area had more metas than any other area by population, but they were almost common-place. He was moving around at a busy time for trouble, crime was rampant in areas where people intoxicated themselves and fights were frequent. He spotted two would be vigilantes dealing with criminal elements on his way to his brother’s nightclub which was somewhat ostentatiously named ‘Eden’, they seemed fairly competent to his as yet inexperienced eye, though manageable. Further observations were cut short however by the cab pulling up outside the club. The passenger’s lack of anything resembling American currency left him in a somewhat embarrassing situation for only a moment though. With practiced skill he unleashed his reined in power, saturating the driver in near nauseating waves of his psychic aura. He handed the man a Polish bill, nodding his thanks. The cabby looked at it with a frown, shrugged, and tucked it away. The man smiled.

The club was winding down as people filtered out into the early morn, unstable and sickly intoxicated. He had little trouble meandering his way through them, neither drawing attention to himself nor giving way at any point, an interesting and somewhat contradictory set of actions only possible because of his unique set of skills. He paid little attention to his surroundings, all the better to nonchalantly dismiss his brother’s achievements when he almost certainly asked his older brother his opinion of the place. What small glimpses he did take in were impressive though, a dancefloor that could easily hold a thousand people, perhaps more, lights and decorations of a tasteful and effortless class. His brother always did have a flair for the aesthetic.

Impressively the traveller made his way to the V.I.P lounge with no incidents, more notable perhaps because he was painfully under-dressed for the event and should have stuck out like a sore thumb. Even he had to admit to cheating a little bit to get this far. He knocked briskly on a solid oak door bearing the name ‘Adrian Smith, Owner’ and twisted open the door, finding it unlocked. It opened up into a plush office. The man couldn’t help noting it overlooked the dance floor, unsurprising, he thought sardonically. It seemed not much had changed, though the man behind the desk bore little resemblance to the young lad he had grown up with he recognised him immediately. Dressed in an impeccable purple suit with dyed black hair and gold rimmed sun-glasses, his brother was probably the gaudiest thing in the building. Those glasses were almost thrown from the man’s face in surprise as he took in the tired face of the man who had barged into his office.

“Lekh, what the f** are you doing here?”

“Is that any way to greet your older brother, Adrian?” Lekh riposted with a fake smile, showing just a little too much canine and somehow managing to make his innocent reply condescending in the extreme. These things were not lost on the young man behind the desk, whose right hand seemed to stray by the drawer at his side, no doubt caressing a firearm.

“I asked you a question, how did you find me?”

“And now you have asked another. Question, that is.” Lekh replied in his amiable fashion that he knew infuriated the younger fierier Antol. Adrian looked ready to burst for a moment, before visibly calming down with a sigh through his teeth.

“Fine, whatever, what do you want?” He asked finally, getting to the real crux of their short conversation. Lekh smiled appreciatively, causing the veins on Adrian’s forehead to stand out, threatening to burst as he reined himself in again.

“Now we are getting somewhere are we not?” Lekh sat down on the side of the desk, ignoring a perfectly good chair so that he could look down on his slightly taller brother.

“Well?”

“Money, for now, couple thousand dollars should be fine. You can afford that can you not?”

“As you might have noticed I am doing pretty well for myself here, what did you think of the place?”

“The place? Oh you mean this club? So-so.”

“Dick.”

“So, the money?”

“If I give you a couple g’s you’ll f*** off?”

“Well, for a couple days maybe.”

“Deal.”

Chris stood there for a moment when Archangel had politely asked him to wait for a moment. While he had no idea what she was about to do, Chris would soon find out. The television screen revealed the same news anchors, who had announced the appearance of the green domes around several major U.S. cities, had just reported that numerous blinding lights from the sky had been seen striking buildings where the epicenters of several of the domes were located. While the news anchors did not know whether this was a good or bad sign, Archangel soon cleared things up.

“People of the United States of America. I am Archangel. Do not be alarmed. I have launched surgical strikes against the terrorist devices. Please remain calm. Other Heroes will be moving into action and the Host of Heaven suits have been dispatched. I repeat, remain calm. We are working as quickly as possible to neutralize the threat.”

Chris was baffled. Only minutes earlier, he had thought that they were searching for a single device in Lost Haven. However, in a matter of seconds, Archangel had located several unknown devices and destroyed a majority of them. She had gotten more done in that short time span than what Chris had thought would have been possible to be accomplished.

Soon, Archangel appeared again on one of the nearby computer monitors, appearing to be working hard to continue mitigating the consequences of these domes. She revealed that, even though she had destroyed a large majority of the devices, there were still others out there that they needed to find and either destroy or deactive. Soon, she projected a map of the entire continental United States, displaying the possible locations for other devices that she had not destroyed yet.

“Okay,” Chris tried to collect himself after taking in all this information, not quite sure where to begin, “Our first target should be the device in Dallas. This device is the only one that is currently active, so the dome there is expanding at an alarming rate. Sure, they always say that everything is bigger in Texas, but I don’t think this would be a good example of that.”

“The Dallas device will be in range in 5 minutes and 32 seconds. Based on my calculations none of us have the speed to reach Dallas in that time. We need to concentrate on the areas I cannot cover in the near future.” Archangel spoke as she helpfully uploaded a new version of the map, this time with the satellite coverage and projections for her strike capacity over the next several hours. It was uncomfortable to show that data, something Archangel was not used to feeling. Something in the fragmentary memories that she could not access was screaming at her that this was a mistake but she disregarded it for the moment. She really did need to take a moment when her full routines could devote to plumbing the depths but this was not that time.

“Well, the activation of the domes seemed to have been quite a knee-jerk reaction, so it might actually be more beneficial to find where the culprits are located first. Why run around collecting devices when we can stop them from turning the devices on in the first place? Honestly, if they were smart, they would have already activated all their devices at once. Sure, there is a chance that they didn’t because they thought that we would think that detonating all the devices would be the smart move. While it is a gamble, I think it is one that’s worth the risk.

Sometimes humans could still surprise her. Archangel had not considered the larger picture in that moment but now that she did. She reviewed her archives of emission data, checking and cross checking the many signals sent across the country against the exact times of activation for the devices. It took only fractions of a second to complete the comparison and she simulated a smile as she looked at Chris through the screen. “We can jam their signal, and stop them from activating the others. I” Archangel paused for several seconds consciously as she simulated the slower speed of a human search. She had acted too quickly several times already.

“I have isolated the signal used to touch off the activation of the devices. I do not think the terrorists understood my capability to respond or they likely would have activated all devices simultaneously. There is a roughly 89.79089584% chance that without my intervention the devices would have activated almost unimpaired as you attempted to respond to only the localized Lost Haven threat and were caught off guard.” Archangel finished speaking.

“Honestly, I didn’t know about the other devices. Only the one that “Mr. Long-Neck” mentioned when he announced his intentions to the world. But that’s why I have you, to make sure that I haven’t missed anything. Plus, with your ability to jam their signals, this should give us enough time to locate their base and apprehend them before anyone else can be affected. I am sure that it shouldn’t take too long with both our systems working together to find their base.”

Archangel smiled. “Well I’m sure we can if you can keep from pinging my home with your searches.” Archangel simulated a laugh before she continued. “The first search since I patched your program should be finished in 36.6 seconds. Hopefully it will tell us where their facility is or at least narrow it down so that I can make a statistical estimation above 50%.”

“Hey, that was so unintentional. If I really wanted to know where you lived, I would have asked like the gentleman that I am.” Chris cracked a smile, showing that the shock of what Archangel had recently done faded away.

“I plan to tell you anyway, we just got interrupted before I had the chance.” Archangel interjected briefly before falling silent once more.

“Obviously their base would need a large amount of electricity, assuming that they needed it to create the devices and the mutagenic substance that it releases, let alone the energy that they need to activate them. Unfortunately, that kind of search parameter would probably pick up other sites, including apparently your base.”

Chris waited a few seconds for both his own systems and Archangel’s to finish communicating and reveal the results of their search. Now that the results were being displayed on a nearby computer monitor, Chris was able to analyze the results. While there were still a dozen or so ‘hits’ on possible locations due to the unnatural power usage, at least it was a start.

“Well, Angie, assuming that your systems were able to prevent your base from showing up as a false positive, we still have a little work cut out for us. How else could we narrow the search parameters?”

“They were. We can also screen out any government facilities, or suspected government facilities. And compare the sites satellite imagery, if the base is not visible that increases the chances since most legitimate places are not hidden.”

“Why didn’t I think of that, Angie?” Chris joked with his partner in crime on the computer monitor, “So, while that appears to have narrowed down the possible locations, we still haven’t found a clear match yet. What else could we search for…”

However, while Chris was pondering on what would be the best solution to their current situation, one of the college-aged metahumans from Albany, approached him. The tall brunette girl then decided to speak up. “Um, have you checked wherever you found us the first time? I mean, these are supposed to be the same people who kidnapped me, my boyfriend, and your sister, right?”

Kelly was talking so softly that Chris barely noticed that she was speaking. In fact, he almost jumped when he realized the tall girl was standing next to him. “No, I haven’t, but only an idiot would keep their base in the same…” Chris’ jaw gaped open when he checked the list of possible locations and, sure enough, one was located in West Virginia. And when he did a quick search on where it was located in that state, Chris was shocked that it was still in that same abandoned complex, or at least what was left of it.

“Are you kidding me?” Chris shook his head at what he had just saw, not believing the data that appeared before his eyes, “S.T.R.I.K.E. literally carpet bombed that place! How could anyone still be living there, let alone running their secret operations! This is almost too good to be true!”

“There was a 0.00001% probability of this being the case.” Archangel simulated surprise as she responded with her nearly instantaneous probabilities. “I have Host of Heaven suits in the area and can personally meet you on site. But who would make such a foolish decision? This is tactically unsound and just plain stupid even for” Archangel stopped herself and with only a slight hitch pivoted away from saying humans, “already demonstrably foolish terrorists.”

“Um, I might not be a genius like the two of you, but maybe they want to be found.” Kelly interjected, “I mean, they’re a bunch of animal people like us.” Kelly then gestured towards Zac and Sammy, “Subtlety is definitely not any of our strong suits.”

“Well, assuming this is the correct location, we probably should assume that there is some sort of trap waiting for us. Why else make it so easy to find?”

“They picked such a statistically unlikely place to make it difficult to find. It would be an astronomically slim chance that they would both reuse an old facility that was already known and plan to use it as a trap.”

“Whether it is a trap or not, we nevertheless need to get in there and shut them down. The longer they’re out there and not put behind bars, and I mean bars for superhumans, the more innocents might have their lives ruined.” Chris then turned to look out the window. “However, we will have to wait for the others to get back. We have to be at least somewhat organized to eliminate this threat. Plus, apparently War-Pulse has some intel that might prove useful for understanding what we are up against.”

“It might be best if I excuse myself for a bit. I do not want him to see my face, and I need to run some tests before we assault their facility. If you would call me back when everyone has gathered Chris?” Archangel asked after a moment. She did not need to step away, she actually could not, but it would reinforce her humanity to the others, and especially him after her seemingly supernatural display earlier.

“Oh, I totally understand. War-Pulse is, well, it takes a special type of person to get along with him. To be honest, when we tried to convince him to help us out, we didn’t get along very well. But that’s pretty much what life is about: finding a way to get along with annoying people. Anyways, how would you like me to contact you?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot my phone number Chris. You did ask me for it remember?” Archangel laughed there and then in a bit of a childish display stuck out her tongue at him.

“Well, I’m a busy man running a multi-billion dollar company. I should get some slack, shouldn’t I? Plus, I’m never good with names, so how could you expect me to remember a string of numbers?” Chris laughed as he made fun of himself.

“And I’m busy creating synthetic suits, producing weapons to stop Nightmare, pioneering a synthetic force to fight crime, and projects you know nothing about. I still remember your phone number.” Archangel laughed herself again and then smiled. “But here it is again…. remember you can call me any time.” She might have put a little stress on the last bit.

“Well, that’s why we have a ‘contacts’ section in our phones in this modern world that we live in. Once all of this craziness is over, maybe I can give you a call and you can show me around where you live? Talking via video streams or phone calls just isn’t the same as meeting someone in person.”

“Ugh!” Chris heard his sister from the couch where she was lying down, “Stop with your sexting already and get a room please! No one wants to hear that crap, Chris. I can’t hear the freaking television either over your Skype conversation!”

After Chris and Archangel had said their goodbyes, the screen that Archangel had used to communicate with Chris suddenly turned black, showing that Archangel had turned off the signal from her side. Now it was just a waiting game. Unfortunately, Chris had not thought about giving Icon, Thunderbolt, and Boom any way of communicating back to him. Hopefully they have seen or heard the news so that they knew to come back immediately. Maybe next time Chris would come up with some communicators for everyone something like this does not happen again.

Then suddenly, Chris and the other metahumans who were in that room heard the elevator chime, signalling that the elevator carriage had stopped on their floor. Maybe this was a good sign? Maybe the others have actually heard the news and have come back immediately. And then the doors opened.

Jenna Peterson quickly made her way through the streets toward Central Station. Perhaps it was because of the recent attacks by the metahuman serial killer Nightmare, or because of the threat posed by the Pax Metahumana terrorists, or perhaps it was due to a combination of the two, but the normally crowded streets of Lost Haven seemed deserted. The silence in the city was unnerving. Normally, the sidewalks would be full of people as they made their way to and from work. The sounds of the busy restaurants would be heard in the streets, as would the music from the various bars and clubs in the area, even the bass from passing cars would add to the symphony of noise that could be heard on any given night. But on this night, there was none of that. The only sound that could be heard were the sounds of her high heels clicking off the pavement as she hurriedly made her way to the train station.

Fucking Tony. she thought to herself as she drew within a couple of blocks from the train station. Her boss, Tony Stephano had ignored the state of emergency that the city was currently under, and had forced her to work her scheduled shift at Stephano’s Italian Grille. When she protested, citing the current events occurring in Lost Haven, he had made it perfectly clear what his priorities were.

“Ey! If you don’t come in tonight, don’t bother coming back.” He had told her, knowing full well just how badly she needed the job. So she went to work, and was the only one there, except for Pete and Joey, a cook and a bus boy, respectively. There were no customers, there were no tips. So she stood around in an empty restaurant making $4.15 an hour because her idiot boss didn’t have the common sense, or decency to close down for a night. She had contemplated walking out no fewer than a dozen times during her shift, and had decided that once this was all said and done, she would start looking for a new job.

However, her fantasies of telling that walking bowling ball Tony where he could go and what he could do when he got there were interrupted by the sudden realization that she was no longer alone. Coming from behind her, she could hear footsteps coming up behind her. From the sound of it, she knew that there were at least two people approaching her from behind, and fast. She quickened her pace, and as she did, the pair behind her did as well.

Her heart began to race as fear gripped her. Could this be the maniac who’s been slaughtering people all over the city? She didn’t want to find out, so she broke out into a sprint. However, her high heels proved to be a hindrance, and she stumbled, nearly falling flat on her face. However, she recovered slightly and attempted to run, but it was too late. A pair of powerful hands grabbed her by the shoulders and then shoved her face first into the side of a building. Just as she began to taste the coppery taste of blood, she was violently jerked around and found herself face to face with two sneering thugs.

“What’s the hurry?” The thug that had so violently pulled her toward them said with a grin as he shoved her back against the wall, the impact knocking the wind out of her.

“Please….please let me-” Jenna began to cry, but was cut off.

“Please! Please let me go!” The second thug mocked in a shill voice. “I don’t think so, we’re just starting to have fun.” He finished as he stepped toward her.

“This city is going to Hell, sweetheart. We’re running things now.” The first thug said with a laugh as he pulled out a knife and took another step toward her.

She cried out and began to sob as she anticipated the knife’s cold blade against her flesh, but she noticed a sudden flash of movement. She watched in amazement as a man dressed in black swooped down and began assaulting her two assailants. She recognized the man as a cat themed hero from the news, though his name escaped her at the moment.



Lyger watched from the rooftops as a single young woman tried to escape from a pair of men who had chased her down and slammed her a couple of times into the façade of a nearby storefront. His every instinct was to rush in and rescue her, however he held back for a moment hoping to learn something, anything about the whereabouts of the meta bomb. However, when one of the goons pulled out a knife and began advancing on her, he knew that he couldn’t wait any longer. He dived from the rooftop and fired a grapnel line from his wrist gauntlet to slow his fall, as well as guide him in closer to the thugs.

He came upon the first thug and dropped him with a single elbow to the back of the head, rendering the man unconscious. Startled by the sudden attack, the second thug spun around and threw a wild punch that missed it’s target by a wide margin. Lyger retaliated with a hard body shot to the chest, and as his fist made impact, he could feel ribs breaking under the force of the punch. Lyger then landed a front kick to the man’s stomach, and at the same time he grabbed the man and pulled him closer.

“Where’s the meta bomb?!” Lyger asked, hoping that as unlikely as it seemed, this thug knew something.

“I-I don’t know!” The thug cried out in pain. “I don’t know anything!” he swore.

“I know.” Lyger said, frustrated, and then slammed the thug head first into the brick storefront, leaving the man laying on the sidewalk in a heap. He then turned to the young woman, who’s face was battered an bloody.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he extended his hand to her.

“I-I think so.” The young woman said.

“There’s a hospital two blocks up. Go there and get checked out. Don’t leave unless you have someone to take you home.” Lyger told her as Harry’s voice came over the com system in his mask.

“Kyle, you need to get back to Sherman Center, now.”

Lyger knew that something was wrong. Harry had never called him “Kyle” over the com system, and the fact that he did just now worried him.

“What is it?” Lyger asked.

“There was more than one bomb, and they’ve gone off in a number of cities. The cities that were effected are now surrounded by domes. It’s bad.” Harry told him.

Lyger didn’t respond at first, he just fired a grapnel line and took off toward Arthur’s new clubhouse.

“I’m on my way.” He finally said as he raced toward Sherman Center.



Lyger felt odd walking in the front door of Sherman Center and taking the elevator up to Arthur’s headquarters. Months of sneaking in and out of back entrances and windows had made him almost forget what it was like to take a straight forward approach to a semi secret headquarters. However, here he was, riding up in an elevator listening to humorously upbeat and cheery Muzak that played through the speaker system as he made his ascent. Finally, mercifully, the elevator stopped and the doors opened. As Lyger stepped out, he saw Arthur and the Albany kids standing around.

“What’s the situation…and how are we going to stop it?” Lyger asked as he emerged from the elevator.

”Abigail, Elizabeth, come downstairs dears.” Hekate called to the girls, one a stray given to Samuel’s service under the guise of his niece, the other his daughter. Abigail Williams was a meddlesome bother. Every day for the last three years it seemed that she found herself snooping through Hekate’s valuables, stealing some of the smaller silver and gold trinkets, only to find them return to their mistress’s jewelry box the next day. Hekate did not hate Abigail because she was a thief; she hated her because her thievery was reckless. An orphan ought to know how to steal properly.

The pair quickly descended into the lower region of the house, Abigail, the older of the two, launching ahead of Elizabeth, making a game out of her attendance. Hekate couldn’t help but smile. Even at the center of hypocrisy there were those who longed for ecstatic freedom, she could see it in these girl's’ eyes. Their childish games were a reminder of her own girlhood in the Otherworld, a place where childlike wonder and excitement remain constant.

“Yes, Mrs. Parris?” Abigail greeted her with a curtsey.

”You girls are in luck,” said Hekate with feigned excitement. ”Today you will be learning how to spin, sew, and mend!” The two girls sighed, obviously less enthused about the whole ordeal. Hekate chuckled. ”I expected as much, which is why we’re going to make it a game. I’ve given Tituba a load of Mr. Parris’s clothes that need mending. Whichever of you can mend her share the quickest, and do the best job, shall receive a cake fit for a queen.”

The girl’s’ eyes lit up, then dulled down again. “But,” spoke Abigail, “wouldn’t that be gluttonous of us, to eat a whole cake?”

Hekate smiled, ”Yes, I suppose it would be. But if we womenfolk are to slave away in our homes and kitchens, why not indulge ourselves every once in awhile? It’ll be our little secret, and if Mr. Parris finds out, I’ll take all the blame.”

Abigail and Elizabeth jumped with joy, taking their seats next to Tituba at the spinning wheel, who greeted them with sewing needles and spools of thread. “Will you be joining us, mistress?” Tituba asked.

”No, Tituba. I’ve got a few errands to run. I’ll to market, but you girls have fun with your mending.” Hekate waved as she threw on a shawl and went out the door into the streets of Salem.



The morning sun hit Hekate’s pale visage and reflected her beauty on all who gazed upon her. She had done well to choose a form so fair and radiant. She walked down the streets of Salem, which were little more than gravel paths and trodden earth. ”Good morning,” she said to a few, the men returning the greeting, the women only nodding. She was the most beautiful, richest woman in Salem, and she drew the ire of all women in the village, though they would never let her catch wind of it. Hekate walked through the village unassumingly, then just before she arrived at the market stalls, turned and made way to the forest at the edge of the village, making sure none were watching.

The woods were her domain, or one of them at least, for they concealed the secrets of her craft, and within the shadows of trees and thickets of limbs and brush lie portals into the Otherworld, making it the perfect place for her witchery. Hekate glided over the wild earth, passing through dense shrubbery as easily as one passes through an open door. After a short trek, she found herself in a clearing where two other women stood, one setting up a heretical altar, the other tracing occult patterns in the ground with a stang, then filling them with salt and bone dust. Hekate smiled as she came upon them. They greeted her by curtseying and kissing her hands.

”Sarah, Bridget, I had not expected to greet any of my fellow witches in the woods so early. I am pleased to see the two of you preparing for tonight’s festivities so soon.”

“Of course Goody Parris,” said Bridget Bishop, a resident of Salem Town who had come seeking Hekate a few months earlier. She was an outspoken lass who often dressed scantily and cared not for the drab lives the Puritans led. Indeed, Bridget was a symbol of rebellion among Puritan society, making her the perfect instrument to unleash Hekate’s malice. “I believe tonight’s gathering shall be our largest yet.”

“Agreed,” spoke the older Sarah Wardwell, a witch from Andover whose husband, Samuel, acted as Cunning Man to its residents, prophesizing all manner of events. “I dreamt of this Sabbath four nights ago. I saw a good twenty folks dancing around the pit.”

”Ah, how right you both are. In attendance tonight shall be my own daughter, Beth, and my niece, Abigail. I have instructed Tituba to teach them the ways of symbols and prophecies in their mending lessons today. They shall think it all a game and my husband will remain ignorant to our true workings.” The three of them laughed, all quite jovial.

Hekate planned to introduce all the young women of Salem to her ways, persuade them all into reciting the black prayer, releasing them of their Puritan bonds and returning their spirits to the wilds of the Otherworld. Hekate could think of no greater gift, but her ambitions would soon send Salem spiraling into chaos, for the next day the two young girls began acting in a strange manner, speaking backwards, convulsing, harming themselves and others, pointing the accusatory finger at the other townsfolk.

Hekate’s plan was culminating into one of the New World’s darkest moments, a witch-hunt that would shake and rot Salem’s Puritan foundations. The death of their particular brand of hypocrisy came at a great price to the New England Coven, of whom three of its members were executed. But Hekate was no stranger to sacrifice, it was one of the tenets of her craft. She fled Salem under the guise of Elizabeth Parris with her “husband,” Samuel, eventually discarding the glamour like a tattered robe, leaving New England behind. Samuel remarried, believing his wife to be dead, and Hekate moved on to other regions of the New World, eager to meddle in the affairs of mortals.

---

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Khonsu

_{Enter the Villain}

---

---

In a small unassuming warehouse there was a gathering, individuals in need of divine guidance. Those who had followed a false god, who then fell at the feet of would be heroes. The hopelessness they held in their hearts could be moulded, their desire for purpose could be put in a new direction. After all, if he was to be playing the long game. This was the way to do so, from the bottom up. After all, he required people beneath him to do all the mundane tasks that were beneath him. More importantly it kept himself secret, for he had heard what the heroes in this city had done. Driven back demons and a being of untold power, all the victims of misinformation. Though these heroes did not, would not, know about him... or at least not his true self or true motives. They sought to help, to teach, to learn. He'd twist that to his own advantage till he had had his fill of them. He closed his eyes, feeling the re-assuring presence of the Moon and the presence of the entity lingering in orbit.

It was upsetting. An invader, it threatened everything. Thought not if this current crisis didn't ruin his plans. He stretched out his arms, letting the shadow welcome and envelope him. Next thing he was walking out of the corner in the warehouse. Chairs were nudged out of their makeshift temple as people noticed him, them backing away warily. "Who the hell are you?"

"I am Khonsu. Your Lord."

"Yeah right, you're just another guy trying to take advantage of us!"

He rolled his eyes below his mask, such a silly construct this costume. However his family, the family of his old self couldn't become involved. They would simply complicate matters. He already had a loose end that he had to deal with sooner or later. He stretched out his right arm, cupping it as if he was holding something. The man was lifted ever so slightly before being pulled towards his outstretched hand. The mans toes dragged across the ground until Khonsu was holding him by the throat, though he didn't tighten his grip. Suddenly the man would feel himself becoming weightless and Khonsu grabbed the front of the mans T-Shirt, he was now the only thing holding him down on this Earth.

"If you believe so, I can let you go. See how high you go before I grow bored, perhaps your false Gods will save you from the vacuum of space? Or the fall." He pulled the man closer, face to face. "If that would suit you better."

"N...N...No...." Khonsu nodded, as gravity returned for the man slamming him into the ground.

"The rest of you, kneel." Some went down onto one knee, others did not. Suddenly some of the shabby chair legs began to buckle as the gravity in the room began pulling everything to the ground with renewed vigor. He began increasing it slowly until everyone took to a knee. That was much better, he had their attention. Leaders in this world so often felt they needed the respect of people, they just needed the people to fear them. To show them their power. Not that any normal leader had power, but he was no ordinary man. "That is better."

He walked up to the altar, releasing his hold on the room. All the false symbols floated off the altar and crumpled together in a ball before falling to the floor. "I want you all to put out the word. A new player is in town, all those willing to serve will be rewarded. All those who stand in my way will be punished. I offer not idle threats, but promises." He turned."Most of all, find me the person or persons responsible for this current crisis." The shadows in the room began to draw themselves in, till they encompassed his body and he was gone. Seeing all there was to see those in the room began to file out, some would be back. Some wouldn't.

---

Khonsu walked the streets in civilian attire. He hated this clothing, costumes were so tedious but at least then people didn't see his face in such rags. These clothes... a hoody and some jeans they were just, terrible, to put it plainly. Though it wouldn't do for the so called heroes to see him in the costume, no. He would have to design a new one for when working with them. On occasion it had been proven that several of them teamed up... he wasn't sure if there was an official team or system yet. Though sooner or later they would learn the lesson of these repeated attacks and one would form. Perhaps he would even instigate it himself to gather them all in one place.

He just had to find a way to draw them out. Though he had business to attend to first.

"Boom, lead the way to the tower. I'll take smiles over there and drop him off at the nearest precinct." Thunderbolt jammed his thumb back in the direction of the unconscious Chike. He and Polemos vanished in a spurt of bright blue light. "No time to waste. Let's go." With that, Boom leaped off the side of the Chambers building without a moment's hesitation. The impact of her small frame on the solid street, a crater, was visible even from the roof. Laura waited until the others had made their way down before taking off at a slow jog of only hundreds of miles per hour toward Sherman Square. She had to slow down multiple times to allow the Witch and the masked man to catch up; apparently, a flying broom and a junker of a car couldn't keep pace with a super speedster. Who knew?

Eventually the three of them arrived at the front door of Arthur's Tower. Upon entry, they immediately encountered Thunderbolt dressed as a doorman. "May I take your coats?" He asked in a distinctly poor accent. "Dork." Laura shoved her brother to the side and escorted the crew to the elevator. Rather predictably, Harvey chose to take the stairs.

"We're back! And we brought company." An obnoxious DING! announced the elevator's arrival to the desired floor. The doors slid slowly open, revealing its costumed occupants who shuffled quickly inside. Boom approached Iron Knight and the Albany kids, letting Vigilante and the White Witch do as they pleased. "Let's skip the introductions and get right to the debriefing. What's the situation? We heard there were more bombs." Boom was brisk to get to business, what with the entire world being threatened by an egotistical, narcissistic mad scientist and his army of mutant animal goons. She did make note, however, of the civilian watching television within earshot of their 'secret' meeting. That one was a bit perplexing.

“What’s the situation…and how are we going to stop it?” Lyger demanded as he marched out from the main elevator and into the room where Chris and everyone else had gathered. His walking pace showed Lyger’s urgency, although Chris could not tell whether it was caused by Lyger’s desire to stop the people responsible for the domes or by his annoyance at the elevator music that was playing in the background.

“Oh, you finally decided to show up.” Chris crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side, showing his disapproval of Lyger’s little disappearing act that he pulled a little while ago. “Although, I did think that you would have a little more subtlety when you returned. Heck, I was half expecting that I would suddenly find you sitting in this room.”

“But we have more important things to talk about. While we haven’t figured out how make the domes prematurely dissipate, we have discovered the location of the culprit’s base. Right now, we’re waiting on Icon, Thunderbolt, and Boom to return before we get debriefed and set out. But since they’re probably the fastest humans alive, they shouldn’t be long now.”

Almost as if on cue, Thunderbolt dashed into the room via the stairs. While he was still looking at Lyger, Chris gestured towards Thunderbolt, trying to prove his point. “See? I’m sure Icon will be here any moment now.”

"We're back! And we brought company."

“Wait, what?” Chris muttered when he heard that the speedster twins had brought some more heroes along with them. When the elevator, which Lyger had just left a few minutes ago, had opened up again, Thunderbolt’s sister, Boom, stepped out, with two others following along. Chris recognized Vigilante from D-Day, although he did not know his name. However, he did not know who the woman was.

“Hey,” Chris gestured at Vigilante as the three heroes left the elevator carriage, “Aren’t you the guy who got his finger ripped off during D-Day? I would have sent you an invitation, but I thought an injury like that would require quite some time off the job. Guess I was wrong.”

He then turned his attention towards the White Witch, “Who’s the girl that is about eight months earlier for Halloween? Not complaining by the way, but I just like having people whom I know around here.”

"Let's skip the introductions and get right to the debriefing. What's the situation? We heard there were more bombs." Boom interrupted Chris with the same urgency that Lyger expressed. Chris just shook his head in disbelief that he was going to have to repeat himself again.

“We’re just waiting on Icon. Just hold your horses until he gets here. It shouldn’t be long.”

French Quarter, Lost Haven
Home of Jack Grey

"This is the place." Edward Burns lowered the binoculars from his eyes and turned toward his comrade in the drivers seat, Nikolai Tensing. They'd gotten word from their boss in The Sharks about a three million dollar bounty on some rich asshole's head and decided to cash in. "Everybody out." Tensing ordered. The side door of the nondescript black van opened up, prompting the thugs within to push and shove their way out and onto the street. "Tommy, put yer vest on." One of the men whispered sharply, tossing a dark shape to one of his compatriots. "Come on, George," Tommy replied. "This guy ain't gunna be a problem. What do I need armor fors?" George rolled his eyes, his contempt for the younger gangster quite obvious. Tommy took note of the more experienced criminal's body language and chose to keep on his good side. "Okay, okay. Just don't see the point, ya know." These men belonged to the Rooks Gang; they were relatively new in town and were looking for a shot into the big time. What better way than taking a hit for the Shroud Syndicate?

Jack Grey's house was a two story suite located in a well-off suburban neighborhood deep in the French Quarter. The guy had deep pockets, that was plain to see. Under the concealment of darkness, the eight members of the Rooks sneaked stealthily across the street and slithered into the man's front yard. Edward approached the front door, silent as a mouse. Nikolai began to count down, his silenced sub machine gun tucked firmly in his jacket. "Three...Two...One- go!" Edward brought down his pump action shotgun down on the doorknob, knocking the lock to the ground with a crash. He smashed his shoulder into the door and pushed it open. The Rooks rushed inside, throwing all tactical movement and stealth to the wind as they rushed to see who could find Jack first.

The goons cleared the house in less than two minutes flat but found no trace of Grey or his family. "Where the shit is he?" Tommy complained. "Must'a skipped town awhile ago. Paper's a week old." George confirmed, holding up an out of date edition of the Daily Watchmen. "No way, man." Ed growled, ripping the newspaper out of George's hand to look at it himself. "Info said there's been lights on all day. Somebody was here." George shrugged in defeat. "Your man's wrong, Eddy. Ain't nothin' here but cold, half-eaten waffles." Tommy took in a gulp of air. "Uh, boss? These's waffles are still warm-"

Before anyone so much as blinked, one of the Rooks dropped to the ground. "Whoa!" Ed shouted. "Eyes up, we've got company." Nikolai ordered, bringing his firearm to bare. "Who's out there?!" George asked. "Where are you?" A pair of hands suddenly broke through the drywall and wrapped around George's throat. He disappeared, leaving only a man-sized hole in his place. "Here." A voice, deep and threatening, seemed to reverberate throughout the entire kitchen. The rest of the Rooks crew opened fire in the general direction George disappeared. The sounds of gunfire woke up the neighbors; who, without a doubt, would be calling the police in short order. Bullets flew through picture frames, microwaves, TVs and walls nonstop for thirty seconds. The crew reloaded in unison and was moment's from continuing to blind fire when Tommy's throat exploded in a river of crimson. A dark shape danced between the members of the Rooks gang, slicing exposed veins and stabbing straight through kevlar vests and into major organs; no one could tell what it was. Ed turned his shotgun on the shadow and fired off three shots directly to its center of mass. But the thing didn't so much as slow down, driving its blade through Ed's right eye and taking a chunk of his head off.

The remaining Rooks didn't fair much better. Their bullets didn't slow the monster down. It tore through the gangsters like they were made of paper. In a matter of seconds, Nikolai was the only living thing in the Grey house.

"WHAT ARE YOU?!" The Russian screamed. His fingers were shaking as he tried to reload his SMG. The kitchen lights flickered on and a boot slammed into Nikolai Tensing's chest. He was sent sprawling into one of the dinning room chairs, his gun falling to the floor. His attacker was visible now. And his appearance was more terrifying than any shadow.



"Y-you're just...some guy?" Tensing stuttered, the groin region of his pants growing darker. The man removed a pistol from his hip and shoved it into the Russian's gaping mouth. "Who told you to come after Mr. Grey?" The masked attacker questioned. "I-I don't-" He shoved a knife into Nikolai's leg, right through a major nerve cluster. The thug cried bloody murder, begging the man to stop. "I NEED A NAME." The guy yelled. "Dennis Evans! People call him Great White. He's the leader of the Sharks." Tears streamed down Nikolai's face; he struggled to breath with the pistol stuck in his mouth. The distant sound of police sirens seemed to annoy his interrogator. "Where can I find him?" Nikolai nodded his head fiercely. "I-I can show you. Just. Please, don't kill me." He whimpered. The pistol was out of the man's mouth only long enough to put a bullet in the Russian mobster's shoulder. "AHHHH! Okay! I-his-There's a bar in Little Sicily called Finnegan's. H-he might not be there, but some of his boys should be. That's all I know, I swear-"

"I want you to pass a message up the grape vine to the Specter. Tell him that SuperIOR is off limits, or he'll be dealing with me."

"W-who do I tell him sent it?"

"Agent Black." Nikolai felt something hard impact his skull and everything went black.

As Icon raced toward Sherman Center with Lady Liberty in tow, his mind was elsewhere, in fact, one could say that it was over 3,000 miles away. One of the meta bombs had gone off in Los Angeles, engulfing the city that he had once called home in a massive green dome. For all he knew, all of his friends who still lived on the West Coast were affected. His mind drifted from the here and now, to his friends in California…to Amber. He was worried about her, though their budding relationship ended when she had abruptly moved away from Lost Haven to get away from the craziness that seemed to constantly threaten the city, he still thought about her constantly, and he was worried.

Icon and Lady Liberty approached the building, and he motioned for the famed heroine to follow him down to the rooftop of Sherman Center. Once they had landed, Icon led her over to the roof access door and pulled it open.

“This way.” Icon said as he began descending the stairs to the floor which housed Arthur’s makeshift headquarters. When the pair rejoined the others, Icon saw that they had been the last to return. Thunderbolt and Boom had already returned, as well as Arachne as well as the Albany group. Also, to his surprise, he saw the man who had introduced himself as Vigilante, the stranger who had known who he was. Icon felt somewhat uncomfortable with the man’s sudden appearance, but he hoped that perhaps he and Vigilante would finally get to have that conversation that Icon had told him they would have.

“Sorry I’m late, there were some…distractions while I was looking for the device. But I did run into someone who might be able to help, I’m sure you know of Lady Liberty.”

Sherman Center
Lost Haven
_____________________

Marie followed the speedster, Boom, down the busy streets of Lost Haven towards an unknown location, rolling her eyes each time streak of blue stopped and tapped her foot in response to her low-speed companions. These strangers had placed a great deal of trust in Marie, allowing her the chance to potentially fight alongside some of the most well-known and powerful heroes in Lost Haven, the perfect way to boost her own credibility and draw in business for the greedy imp, Puck. She decided to do the same, to place her trust in her follow costumed crusaders . . . for now. While she was content with helping the heroes stop a catastrophe, she had no intention of being roped into the politics of heroism.

At last they reached their destination, a tower at the center of Sherman Center, no doubt a headquarters for the mysterious agency, S.T.R.I.K.E. Marie landed, walking through the large glass doors and boarding the elevator with the Vigilante and Boom. She was more than a little uneasy. Who knew how many other heroes would be present at whatever meeting she was to attend, many of whom likely having no idea who she is. Marie shifted uncomfortably, growing more anxious while waiting for the elevator to reach the designated floor. Eventually, the elevator dinged, the doors opened, and Marie was beholden to a room of unfamiliar faces all staring at her and company.

Not to her surprise, Marie was greeted with a plethora of confused stares, likely due to her choice of dress. A tall man at the center of the room, who had been engaging in conversation with a man dressed in black, feline attire, made a joke at her expense, at which Marie simply turned her head, too anxious to think up a suitable comeback or defense. Very few times in her life had Marie knowingly and willingly put herself in a social situation with others with whom she was unfamiliar, one time being the recent goings to the Sabbat, another being now. She felt defenseless, insecure, completely out of her element, but she had to maintain an air of confidence, even forced confidence, if she stood a chance at working with these people.

“I-I’m White Witch,” said Marie with false nerves, extended her arm to shake the stranger’s hand. “Believe me, I know the feeling of wanting familiar face . . .”

”Let’s skip the introductions and get right to the debriefing. What’s the situation? We heard there were more bombs?” The female speedsters interjected.

“We’re just waiting on Icon. Hold your horses until he gets here, it shouldn’t be long,” the stranger replied, obviously annoyed at being interrupted.

Icon? Marie thought with a mixture of fear and excitement. He was perhaps the most well-known of heroes, and surely one of the most, if not the most, powerful among them. He was at the forefront of every major event that had transpired in Lost Haven over the past year, saving the city and her people all the while. Marie wasn’t a fan per say, but not many people get to meet and possibly work alongside THE hero of Lost Haven.

No sooner had that sentence been uttered that the elevator door dinged again, revealing the man himself, along with another hero of renown, the legendary Lady Liberty whom Marie remembered from war retellings and historical documents. This day had been filled with all sorts of strange, new excitement, and Marie had to ask herself the foolish question, What else could happen today?

---

---

A boy sits on the edge of his bed, bedroom door locked, slowly wrapping his hands. The long fabric, stretched taught as the boy expertly repeated what he’d learned a few years before. Took longer to make sure the tape was in place and secure, but he was never one to skip on preparation.

It was always a tougher proposition this, to tape one’s own hands in preparation for battle. It’s probably why any fighter worth his salt always had a trusted team…

---

---

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.

---

Mere centimetres.

Her fist was so close that he could make out the rise and fall of each of the individual knuckles on her gloved hand as it hung there in place.

He never flinched. He didn’t blink.

Speedsters weren’t a foreign idea to him, even if he’d never met these two.

“Are ya done?” came the voice through his modulator. He looked over the shoulder of the speedster who was previously split seconds from punching him in the face. The other one seemed a little more amenable. Something about the fact he wasn’t holding a fist in his face told him that.

With his hands held out in a nonthreatening fashion, he called out, “Because we don’t have much time here right now.”

He directed the blue speedster’s attention to the box attached to the antennae with his eyes.

“But the two of you don’t need much time, now, do you?”

---

"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.

---

Isaac gave a dark smile, fired a line from his grapple gun which sank into the rooftop of the next building over. With a smirk and a step he let himself freefall for a few seconds from the tallest building in the city.

He didn’t know the way to this “Arthur’s Tower”. He could guess at who Arthur was. Christopher Arthur, most likely. Money out the arse and one of a handful of people Isaac thought of as Possible/Probable for Iron Knight.

The kind of money required to pull off such a lifestyle choice made that list pretty damn short.

But in this business, if they’re on the side of the angels secrets are mostly secrets. He hadn’t dug that much because, truth be told, he didn’t really have time to care. He had his own alibi… his own alternate identity to set up and make viable. He wasn’t ready to step back out and punch the darkness of this bold new world in the face yet.

He watched as the woman speedster passed him down the building as he dropped at terminal velocity. She offered a wave. Sarcastic or not, he couldn’t tell. It all happened too fast, but he smiled again anyway. This crazy world.

The line pulled taught and Isaac swung on a wide arc, he used the winch to tighten the line up a bit and keep himself from swinging into traffic. He fired another line to slow himself down before he’d sprint to the car on foot.

Again, he didn’t know where he was going. But that was fine, and he knew it.

He knew all too well just how willing speedsters were to show off their gift.

---

Laura waited until the others had made their way down before taking off at a slow jog of only hundreds of miles per hour toward Sherman Square. She had to slow down multiple times to allow the Witch and the masked man to catch up; apparently, a flying broom and a junker of a car couldn't keep pace with a super speedster. Who knew?

---

Isaac did his best to keep pace with the speedster. A futile task and he knew it.

As he drove the streets following her he began to get apprehensive. A sense of dread filled him as he began to get a bad feeling that he knew exactly where he was being led to…

---

Eventually the three of them arrived at the front door of Arthur's Tower. Upon entry, they immediately encountered Thunderbolt dressed as a doorman. "May I take your coats?" He asked in a distinctly poor accent. "Dork." Laura shoved her brother to the side and escorted the crew to the elevator. Rather predictably, Harvey chose to take the stairs.

---

Isaac looked the building up and down. The décor had changed, that was to be expected now that the building was privately owned… and given the ostentatious design he gauged that “Arthur” considered himself to have refined tastes.

That didn’t impress Isaac.

And possibly an ego to match…

That would impress Isaac even less.

Yes, he knew this building about as intimately as a person could know a building back in his own world.

He’d fired a gun within its walls. He’d climbed through its elevator shafts. Circumnavigated its air-vent system.

And what he knew of this building back on his own world; Its position, Who owned it, The kind of limited list of people who they’d be willing to sign this building over to... it made him increasingly uncomfortable – vulnerable, even – with every passing second.

Back on his world this building belonged to - nay, was the Headquarters of - the government organization known as S.T.R.I.K.E…

---

"We're back! And we brought company." An obnoxious DING! announced the elevator's arrival to the desired floor. The doors slid slowly open, revealing its costumed occupants who shuffled quickly inside. Boom approached Iron Knight and the Albany kids, letting Vigilante and the White Witch do as they pleased. "Let's skip the introductions and get right to the debriefing. What's the situation? We heard there were more bombs."

---

“Wait, what?” Chris muttered when he heard that the speedster twins had brought some more heroes along with them. When the elevator, which Lyger had just left a few minutes ago, had opened up again, Thunderbolt’s sister, Boom, stepped out, with two others following along. Chris recognized Vigilante from D-Day, although he did not know his name. However, he did not know who the woman was.

“Hey,” Chris gestured at Vigilante as the three heroes left the elevator carriage, “Aren’t you the guy who got his finger ripped off during D-Day? I would have sent you an invitation, but I thought an injury like that would require quite some time off the job. Guess I was wrong.”

---

A wry grin permeated from the Vigilante's mask, and he held up a fist, extending the middle finger to the knuckle as if the rest of the digit had been torn off.

"Good thing I've got nine more." the mechanical voice spat.

"End of the world comes I'll face it in a wheelchair if I have to..."

---

He then turned his attention towards the White Witch, “Who’s the girl that is about eight months earlier for Halloween? Not complaining by the way, but I just like having people whom I know around here.”

"Let's skip the introductions and get right to the debriefing. What's the situation? We heard there were more bombs." Boom interrupted Chris with the same urgency that Lyger expressed. Chris just shook his head in disbelief that he was going to have to repeat himself again.

“We’re just waiting on Icon. Just hold your horses until he gets here. It shouldn’t be long.”

---

“This way.” Icon said as he began descending the stairs to the floor which housed Arthur’s makeshift headquarters. When the pair rejoined the others, Icon saw that they had been the last to return. Thunderbolt and Boom had already returned, as well as Arachne as well as the Albany group. Also, to his surprise, he saw the man who had introduced himself as Vigilante, the stranger who had known who he was. Icon felt somewhat uncomfortable with the man’s sudden appearance, but he hoped that perhaps he and Vigilante would finally get to have that conversation that Icon had told him they would have.

“Sorry I’m late, there were some…distractions while I was looking for the device. But I did run into someone who might be able to help, I’m sure you know of Lady Liberty.”

---

He looked at the blue powerhouse as he entered with the new hero, and it was at this moment Isaac was glad he'd been taking his history classes, because not knowing who she was would have been suspicious to say the least.

Lady Liberty was one of the first of heroes, a World War II hero no-less... and she certainly didn't look old enough for that to be possible. But she was another from this world which never existed on his own.

Isaac noticed Icon looking his way briefly, caught a brief knowing gaze and shared silence.

This building, this situation, at least Isaac wasn't the only one feeling uncomfortable and vulnerable by it... even if Icon didn't feel that way for the same reasons.

Other than a brief conversation in hospital, they hadn't really spoken since Isaac revealed he knew his other name. His other life. And how he really came to know that in the first place.

Going by this crowd that had assembled it was certainly a conversation for another time and another place.

Hell... this building... Isaac wouldn't even let people know what take out food he liked in this building. The walls have ears, and the number of people Isaac trusted with his secrets... Well, you could have counted them on one hand even when he had his finger ripped off.

...and still have had fingers to spare.

---

---

The boy looked down at his finished job. Pulled off rough edges of fluff on the tape and admired his work. He listened carefully to the door to make sure the TV was still playing downstairs, then, feeling safe, he went to a drawer. Lifted a fake bottom and pulled out gloves, a balaklava and a roll of duct tape.

He sat back on the bed and carefully slid the gloves on over his rigidly taped hands. He wrapped the wrists of his sleeves in duct tape, keeping loose hair and skin effectively sealed in; something he'd started doing since watching crime scene investigation shows and the amazing things law enforcement could do with trace DNA evidence.

He pulled the balaklava on over his head, but before he rose he did one more thing. He pounded his fists into his palms and made sure of his tape job.

The boy rose from the bed and a man walked out.

"Good thing I've got nine more." Vigilante responded to Chris’ remark about what happened to him during D-Day. "End of the world comes I'll face it in a wheelchair if I have to..."

“Well, I guess you’re one of those ‘If you die, walk it off’ kind of people. Good to know.

“I-I’m White Witch,” the woman dressed like a witch said next, extending out her arm to shake Chris’s hand. “Believe me, I know the feeling of wanting familiar face . . .”

“Well, I guess I’m going to have to add that name to list of aliases to remember. I’m not the best with names, so just bear with me.” Chris greeted the young magic user, reciprocating her hand shake. After this, Chris noticed that the young woman became even more nervous and skittish. He soon realized that it was caused by Icon’s arrival. Who would not be a little excited to see the most well-known superhero in Lost Haven?

“Sorry I’m late, there were some…distractions while I was looking for the device. But I did run into someone who might be able to help, I’m sure you know of Lady Liberty.” Icon apologized for what he thought was being tardy.

“Late?” Chris chuckled at what Icon said, “You’re one of the fastest beings on Earth! I cannot fathom how ‘late’ could even be in your dictionary! Anyway we haven’t started yet, so no need to worry about it, unless your definition of being late is not being fifteen minutes early.”

He then turned his attention to the woman who entered along with Icon, Lady Liberty. A hero from the Second World War, her appearance immediately made her recognizable. “My eyes see you, but I still don’t believe it. What did you do, find the Fountain of Youth? There is no way you are over ninety years old! But there a time and place for that and that is not now. I assume you’re here to put that experience to good use. Well, we need all the help we can get.”

Looking around the now somewhat crowded room, Chris a quick mental check of everyone in the room, along with double checking with his list of aliases just to make sure everyone was present. Once he confirmed that everyone was present, Chris immediately alerted Archangel via text-message that everyone had been assembled at the Sherman Center and that they were about ready to start. He was going to actually call her, but he decided against it not because the room was loud, which it wasn’t, but because he basically would have been the only one talking in the room. It seems like they were not the most social bunch of people.

“Well, I guess everyone is here now, so we might as well get started, since we’re racing against a clock now.” Chris announced to everyone. Before he continued, he asked his sister, Veronica, if she wouldn’t mind giving everyone some privacy, since they were about to discuss some sensitive information.

“Fine.” Veronica said as she began to slither off the couch and towards the exit that was opposite from where everyone else had gathered. “I guess now I can watch my show about best snek since I won’t be embarrassing you in front of the entire superhero community.” When she said that comment, she gave Chris a sly smile and then turned to continue leaving. When she was going through the door, she held it open until the entire length of her serpentine body had pass through the doorway, since nothing is worse than a door slamming shut on your leg, or rather tail in Veronica’s case.

Chris rolled his eyes and shook his head at his sister’s comments. Putting it behind him, he turned back to the crowd of heroes, or what seemed like one. Clearing his voice, Chris began to speak again. “Alright, so my friend will momentarily join us wirelessly. Therefore, once she’s comes on ones of these screens here, War-Pulse here can start telling us about what we’re up against.“

After she had ended the transmission Archangel was free from the constraints of simulated human speed. She needed to dispatch all available Host of Heaven suits to surround the compound. She needed to keep constantly searching out and countering the attempts to get past her jamming. It was not hard but the less things she had to do at once the easier it was. She didn't really get stretched thin but there was an odd joy in being able to devote her conscious focus to one thing.

Archangel readied the Host of Heaven and dispatched them before her primary focus shifted. She would prepare one of her most powerful suits to confront this threat. She also went with one with the heaviest armor. She could not risk being discovered now. Everything was finally going well. Her human suits worked, she had a relationship which she had not even run probability calculations for, and she was happy. There was only a miniscule chance that the terrorists would be able to forcibly out her. But Archangel would make that possibility as slim as possible.

As she was putting the finishing touches on her suit, tracking the movement of hundreds of anomalies, directing host suits in cities around the country, running interference on the activation signal, periodically firing on devices that came into range, and countless other things she received the text message from Chris and her human suit smiled. It took a minute for her to set up the new interface. Archangel actually had to move her suit into position so that it would appear in her normal projection.

Then she turned it on again and the screen inside the room in Lost Haven came to life again. This time instead of Archangel's human suit it showed her fully prepped combat suit. "Hello Chris," she said first before speaking to the group. "I am Archangel. We have identified the group's location." One of the other screens in the room flickered as well before it showed an active map displaying the location of the terrorist base. "I have dispatched the Host of Heaven and surrounded the facility." The screen with the map updated to show the positions of 20 different synthetic suits in relation to the facility. "I will join you in the assault."