Laslow Airbase, the largest U.S.F. military installation in the city of Gateway. This massive military installation was Mars’ primary bastion of defense, the complex was a multi-role military platform, staging area, shipyard, and command center. Heavily reinforced, and bristling with reinforced weapon emplacements, defenses, and round-the-clock watches, Laslow Airbase was widely regarded as an impenetrable fortress, and the UN’s symbol of power on Mars. Sprawling across an entire sector of Gateway, this installation was capable of projecting military power across the western hemisphere of Mars within hours with its massive fleet of gunships and vehicles.

The airfield hangars were a buzz of commotion as engineers rushed to service a flight of combat gunships that had just finished a sortie, engineers and equipment bearing machines pouring towards the vehicles as several squads of USF soldiers and pilots exited their machines. The hangars were always a hub of action as engineers made fine tune adjustments and repairs to vehicles and planes that they wouldn't trust machines with. The sounds of welders, sparks, computers, and dropping machinery could be heard as the small army of engineers went about their daily duties taking care of the USF’s sleek Naginata fighters and Sparrowhawk gunships with trained efficiency.

The only thing out of the ordinary was a small confrontation going on at the gates of the hangar, a pair of engineers were protesting the appearance of a group of Aux Troopers and mechs in their hangar. Aux Troops, or Auxilary Hunter Troops, were a unit of USF regulars that supplemented Hunters and their actions- putting them a cut above the standard USF trooper, with more advanced training and efficiency than the regular troopers, as well as typically the first pick on low availability equipment, a fact that many Aux Troops often gloated about, occasionally putting them at odds with the rest of the USF regulars.

“Y-You’re not supposed to be in here!” The engineers protested as a massive A-1 Tactical Enforcer pushed past them, flanked by a trio of Aux Troopers and two X-3 mechs- each one of them fully armed and bristling with weapons.

‘Stand aside.’ The A-1 merely commanded, its deep voice shaking the ground almost as much as its footsteps did. The armed contingent walked across the hangar- causing silence wherever the stepped, and parting the sea of scrambling engineers with ease. Stopping at the side of one of the recently landed Sparrowhawks, the group faced off with the gunship’s dismounting soldiers- who eyed eachother uneasily, and its pilot.

//TARGET ACQUIRED
CASSANDRA WELLS_
CITIZEN ID: 4561-2407-9485
AGE: 27_
GENDER: FEMALE_
STATUS: ANOMALY_
THREAT LEVEL: LOW_
COURSE OF ACTION: CAPTURE_

‘Citizen 4561-2407-9485, Cassandra Wells.’ The A-1 boomed, its voice causing a few passing engineers to jump in fright. ‘You are under arrest. Do not resist.’

The massive A-1 leveled its weapon at the woman’s chest. Several of the USF soldiers that had been in her gunship reached for their weapons instinctively, but quickly stopped as the rest of the A-1’s group leveled their weapons at them. The immediate surrounding area fell silent, soldiers, pilots, and engineers alike watched the commotion. One or two of the other pilots appeared to want to step in and interrupt, but were ultimately held back or discouraged by their fellows and crewmen.

It had been a routine op in the Harrier gunship. Patrol over to New London and around the Spire as the vessel remained low and slow, it wasn't the most glamerous work for a pilot but it was work and it kept her in the air. A lot of other pilots in the regiment were in the same boat, previously injured and then reassigned after recovery. Either that or they were fresh faced newbies who didn't have the chops to cut it out in space so decided to stick to a planetary body. Space wasn't for everyone after all, some men had been known to go crazy in the vastness of deep space.

She brought the vessel back into the hangar, throttling down as it slowly touched down on the surface. As soon as the engines were turned off the ground crew ran over and began refuelling and running their checks. It was a well oiled machine, that's what she loved about the military. There was a burst of static in her headset making her cringe before a strange male voice came through the speakers. "Cassie, be ready to run."

She turned to her co-pilot. "Adams, you hear that?"

"Hear what?" He cast a look up at her, his seat being lower than hers.

"Nothing." Strange, her comm was on the same channel as Adams. Anything that came through her headset should have also come through his. Unclipping her flightvest out of her seat she moved back through the craft, through a small cargo hold that had seats lining either side and out the back, patting her gun ners on the backs. They were green, but had managed to resist leveling a civilian district so that had to count for something. That's when something that shouldn't be there, was there.

An A-1 unit with X-3s flanking it, not that she wasn't used to seeing mechs the hangar was loaded with C-19 heavy loaders and 'Grunt' mechs. Tehy never had any military hardware, and they never aimed at pilots. Her crew instinctively went for the pistols attatched to their hips, but she raised her hand slightly as if to tell them not too.

Her headset burst through static again. Run Cassie, run.

Shaking her head through it she turned to the A-1.

"Under arrest for what? Exactly."

The bar was filled with ideal chatter, it was filling up by the hour and soon the chatter would get much more noticeable. A waitress darted between tables, carefully balancing a tray of beer bottles with her dominant hand. She then set down that tray and removed each of the bottles from it, placing them on a table full of occupants who didn't give her so much as a smile, they were too preoccupied in their chatter.

Ray Villarreal couldn't hear their words over the sounds of bar even from his spot only several feet from the group. Music blared throughout the establishment, some classic rock radio which played only ancient songs from long dead rockstars. Ray had been watching the waitress and her work for no reason other than boredom, but it was the good kind of a boredom, the kind one was almost delighted to be dwelling in. He sat silent in a booth, a lit cigar resting on an ashtray near his muscular form. A half filled glass of whiskey next to it.

He had drawn a few glares from the patrons when he lit the ancient bundle of tobacco leaf, but no one tried to persuade him from it. Even if they did try then he would have ignored them, he was the only one inhaling the toxic fumes, he wasn't blowing it in anyone's faces or lighting the drapes on fire. He rose the Cuban creation to his lips and inhaled it, the end flames lighting as he did so, almost in sync the next song on the radio station came on. One of the patrons loudly requested that the barkeep 'turn that shit up'.

It's a god-awful small affair
To the girl with the mousy hair

Ray's eyes drifted back to the waitress, one of the men she had just served had planted a hand on her backside which drew a glare from the girl. The customer smirked at her with a drunken smile, he removed his hand from her and brought it to the bottle she had placed down for him. With that she moved back towards the bar, the bartender already reading more orders, a light brown stain on his otherwise clean apron. Ray pulled the cigar from his mouth and dabbed it over the ashtray as he did so the bar's doors came open. A single man entered the building, a dark blue monkey suit on him, sunglasses covering his eyes, a black briefcase in his right hand. This was Ray's contact.

Sailors fighting in the dance hall
Oh man!
Look at those cavemen go

The man approached Ray's booth, he regarded Ray with a simply nod which was returned. No smile, no laugh, not even a handshake. The stranger loudly glanced downwards at the opposite side of the booth where Ray's size 12 boots currently occupied the seat. With a long blink he put his feet down, the man wiped off the seat before he sat in it, waving away the smoke from the cigar as he took a seat. An electric guitar blared over the radio as words were spoken.

"He heard what you did. He was very pleased to see that it went off with a hitch." Ray's contact said quietly, just loud enough for Ray to hear. He was speaking of a Ray's previous work of wiping a pathetic drug dealer off the red planet. The man began to move the briefcase onto the table but was stopped by a boot striking him in the shin.

"Never hand a briefcase over in public like that, place it under the table and leave it." Ray replied, his words stern, his gesture surprising the man. But he did as was requested, it would have been an idiotic move to openly hand over the payment in front of many wandering eyes. He always assumed at least one person in any of these establishments was a narc.

"Now, tell him if he needs me again then he knows how to contact me. My price only increases with more work, but I'm sure he'd understand." Ray added as he grasped the cigar once more, his eyes drifting back towards the waitress, a smirk on his own face as he put his foot around the briefcase. The man who had dropped it off left without another noise. The song hit its climax as he stepped back out of the door.

Is there life on Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaars?

"Stop me if you've heard this one, a seven foot tall engineer from Mars joins the army." A chuckle.
"I ain't heard shit like that there." Yoshihiro smiled wide, wrenching hard on the suspension of the rover.
"It's not done yet, so the engineer gets attacked during a protest, breaks his neck, concussed, goes into a coma. Wakes up a few months later with superpowers." The engineer laughed, a hooting hollering thing.
"What's the punchline?" Yoshihiro chuckled for a moment, before realizing with dread, that he did not have one. Stammering and breathing through his lips, he continued messing with the rover.
"Uhh... The Aristocrats or whatever." The engineer laughed harder than Yoshihiro imagined he would even with a punchline.
"Good'un, you got the muffler?" Yoshihiro rolled out from under the rover.
"Mmmhm, should be good now." The engineer climbed down off of the rover, coming up to Yoshihiro's upper arm.
"Sweet, hopefully the dusties don't wreck us before we reach Hope." Hope, a rebel base in the middle of nowhere, you had to take a rover trip across the dusty Martian desert to reach it. Yoshihiro grabbed his dust-cape from the ground, throwing it over his right shoulder, taking a deep breath of filtered air.

"Oh..." The engineer fumbled through his suit.
"I'm getting a call, wait up a minute." Yoshihiro was unable to refuse. Sighing, he climbed up onto the hood of the rover, taking a heavy seat on top of it. He looked down at his hand, lifting it in front of his face. Black glove, orange on the back. A small black lump began moving up and down around his palm, under the skin. It must have looked disgusting to anyone else, but Yoshihiro found it fun, his new powers still took some getting used to.
"No, he's tall, like ten feet tall. That's not even, like, an exagg'ration... Uh huh... Hope is in my sights..." Yoshihiro heard whispering after that. His face twisted into a scowl of confusion, climbing down from his rover, Yoshihiro shuffled over to the valley where the engineer had gone.

"Aye? Kill'm? Nah!... An order? Aw gawsh-dammit, I was startin' to like him too." Yoshihiro slid on his stomach over, leaving a snakelike trail in the orange dirt. The bastard was talking about him! He noticed the engineer drawing a pistol from his suit, looking it over with the call still ongoing.
"He'll die, superpowers or not." Yoshihiro leapt to his feet, throwing himself back towards the rover when the engineer turned off the call and began to climb back up the hill.
"Ey! Mate! I gotta ask ya something!" Yoshihiro hid himself behind the rover.
"Where'd ya' go?" Yoshihiro grimaced as the engineer got closer and closer. Finally, he felt his head pushed to the left, through his visor, he saw the reflection of a pistol.
"I ain't gonna apologize, or say it was nothing personal, because it was, ya' traitor." A bang, and then silence, except for the beeping of his punctured suit.

A few minutes later, the engineer started up the rover and left, and Yoshihiro finally stood, gasping as the air began to leave his helmet, and groaning at the pain in the side of his head. As blood dripped down his face, Yoshihiro grabbed at his belt, finally drawing some duct tape, and wrapping it about the breached helmet. The beeping continued, but hopefully that would be enough to prevent his fluids from boiling.

Walking for hours took a toll, chafing wracked Yoshihiro's body, and there seemed to be no end in sight to the orange sands. Finally, he heard a ringing. Falling to his knees and answering the call, Yoshihiro must have looked a right mess.
"Hello?"
"Uhh, you the guy with the Jap name?" Yoshihiro's lips puckered into a frown.
"Sure, and yes I'm late, being shot in the face does that." He heard a gasp.
"How the hell are you alive?"
"Well, my skull's cracked in four places, I've got a hole in my head, but hey, my brain's all good."
"You lucky bastard." In a sense he was right, Yoshihiro was lucky to get such an ability, but surviving the bullet was not luck, just good timing and a space helmet to slow the thing.
"In a sense, I'm one of those "abnormals" the news is talking about, manipulation of my skeletal structure is my deal, I was able to increase the density of my skull enough to prevent catastrophic failure of my brain, the helmet helped quite a bit too, lucky he shot me in one of the hard bits and not the visor, still hurts like hell, and my skull still got shattered like glass, in other words, how was your day?" A few seconds passed in utter silence, before the man again spoke up.
"Y-you like a e-vac?"
"It's an e-vac, but yes anyways." The man scoffed, but still, Yoshihiro could sense disbelief in his voice.

A few hours later, he'd arrived back in New London, and everyone at the resistance base was incredibly confused with many of the details of his survival. The small warehouse of people gathered around him, all of them dressed in red, the color of their organization, and quite a few of them holding guns.
"Why were you wearing helmets?"
"Dust storms were going on, we were worried about it, so we put on the helmets, standard procedure really." Everyone had a question.
"You're one of those 'Abnormals' the telly keeps talking about?"
"Yep, manipulation of my skeletal structure, as you do." Eventually, they were forced to clear out by the men with guns, who approached him. One of them stood imposingly over him, well, as imposingly as standing over a giant could be.
"Abnormal, eh?" Yoshihiro's lips puckered.
"Yes, I am." The one to the left hefted his gun over his shoulder, the sun reflecting off of his impeccable red armor.
"We like that." He said, in an accent that sounded alien, odd pauses and pronunciation, probably from the moon colony. Yoshihiro smirked, as he stood, the others looked up to see his face as his imposing frame stretched out.
"I'd have hoped so." The moonman soldier laughed at this, the other one simply kept hold of his weapon.

"We'd like you to join active service." Active service? Yoshihiro was not a fan of that, considering the last time... he'd rather not think of, he remembered the smell of blood, the pain that he felt as the last shot rang out, and the word, the one word. The word, the word that rang in his ears, he didn't even remember it, but he could still recall the voice that had said it. His body began to shake, and he was forced back into a sit. His limbs twitched every which way, and it took all in his power to not leap up and lash out at them. The soldier who had remained holding his gun pulled one foot back, pushing it up to eye level, a stance that allowed him to be ready no matter the situation. Yoshihiro recognized it, it was one of the first things he had been taught back when he first joined the army. Yoshihiro faught himself every step of the way, finally grasping his head tightly and shaking where he sat.

"I... I refuse." The soldiers frowned.
"Sorry to hear that, well, hopefully you have a good day, goodbye." And they left faster than Yoshihiro could react. He sat for a long while, his breaths oddly fluctuating, before finally gaining the composure to stand up and leave.

Ardelia stood tiredly in front of the mirror in her pajamas, yawning. "It's way too early to be awake," she muttered under her breath, blearily rubbing her eyes. Sighing, Ardelia picked up the brush on the bathroom counter and began the process of untangling her hair, which was chocolate-brown with streaks of honey-gold running through it. After brushing her hair, she parted it on the side before putting it into an artfully messy braid, letting the braid hang down the side of her face. Ardelia looped a tan-colored elastic band around the end of her braid and gave it a small pat before moving padding back into her small but comfortable bedroom.

Opening her closet door, Ardelia eyed the organized chaos for a moment, pondering on what look she should go for. Am I feeling soft and lacy or bright and bold? she asked herself, staring at her clothing choices. Hmmm....

Ardelia reached for a vintage floral-print skirt. It was navy blue with light orange flowers splayed across the fabric and cool green leaves scattered amongst the flowers. The skirt featured a high waist and only came down mid-thigh. It was obviously meant to be worn with tights of some sort. Which tights, though? Ardelia thought. Her gaze landed on a nondescript pair of black tights. She impulsively grabbed them and found a black blouse to match. She quickly changed and examined her reflection. That should do it. Now-shoes.

Ardelia's extensive collection of footwear was on a rack in her closet. Her hands went to a pair of black leather boots, paused, then flitted over to a pair of black high heels with bows that were supposed to be fastened around the ankles. Perfect. Ardelia pulled on the high heels and stepped away from the closet.



Back inside the bathroom, Ardelia undid her braid, deciding that it didn't go very well with her outfit of the day. She straightened her hair and pulled it back into a high ponytail before curling the ends of it slightly to give the ponytail some volume and just a tiny bit of curl. Ardelia looped a big black bow around the base of the ponytail to complete the vintage vibe.

For her lipstick, Ardelia went with her signature shade of bright burgundy. She traced the color over the edges of her lips with a matte lipstick pencil before filling it in, making sure that the edges looked clean and crisp. After applying the necessary foundations and blushes, Ardelia carefully applied eyeliner and mascara, topping it all off with a slight touch of navy blue eye shadow. To complete the look, Ardelia added a thin gold necklace with an orange pendant and amber stud earrings.

When Ardelia checked the time, she almost had a heart attack. "Shit, shit, shit, I'm gonna be late for work," she muttered under her breath as she shoved her belongings into a simple black purse with a thin golden strap and slung it over her shoulder. She sprinted out the door, hardly pausing to lock it. Too impatient to take the elevator, Ardelia bounded down the stairs, her ponytail swinging every which way as she took the stairs two at a time. Outside, on the streets, Ardelia threaded her way through the crowds, not bothering to apologize every time her hair smacked someone in the face. "Miranda is going to kill me," she hissed under her breath, referring to her boss. Ardelia frantically wove through the throngs of people, surprisingly surefooted in her four-inch heels.

Ardelia sprinted into the monorail station, her heels clacking furiously against the floor. She skidded to a halt inside one of the monorail trains and grabbed one of the metal poles as the monorail began to move. Ardelia caught her breath as she watched the city flash by her through the windows of the monorail car. She patted her hair, making sure that it had not become disheveled during her run to the monorail station, and impatiently waited for the monorail to arrive at her stop.

As soon as the vehicle had pulled into the station, Ardelia was out the doors and running like her life depended on it-which it actually kind of did. She checked the time. Can I get into the office in three minutes? she asked herself wildly, rudely pushing past a group of people. "Sorry!" she called out over her shoulder, not bothering to process their reactions, which were most undoubtedly startled and or indignant.

Ardelia sped into the sleek, modern building where she worked, giving the receptionist-a dark-skinned woman with hair dyed a bright blue-a quick wave as she clattered up three flights of stairs, in too much of a rush to wait for the elevator. Ardelia clocked in two minutes and twenty-six seconds after eight o'clock. Not bad. Not bad at all. Man, after all this exercise, I could sure go for a doughnut or something equally unhealthy. Unfortunately, Ardelia was not to have a doughnut. But she could certainly get coffee.

After downing a cup of the caffeinated beverage with at least three packets of sugar dumped into it, Ardelia slowly sank down into the seat in her cubicle, praying that Miranda was busy with some meeting or the other and had not noticed Ardelia arriving two minutes and twenty-six seconds late. Her boss was a stickler for being on time, something that Ardelia still hated, even after three or four years. She gently mopped up the beads of sweat that had formed on her brow, careful not to ruin her make-up, and got to work.

The design firm Ardelia worked at was one of the more prestigious ones; they'd have to be, in order to be in the Lorne Corporation's good graces. That meant that the competition was cutthroat, at least amongst the new recruits. It was generally accepted that if you managed to survive a year without being fired, you had enough skill as a designer to remain. Ardelia grinned to herself, remembering her first year working on Mars. It was tough, but rewarding, she reflected. I don't miss it though. Man, it was some tough shit.

Ardelia went about her usual routine of checking emails and the more mundane tasks before cracking her neck and beginning to work in earnest. The Lorne Corporation had requested more variations of her original floral print, and Ardelia was more than happy to oblige. She absolutely adored anything and everything having to do with flowers. It's a shame that there aren't very many of them in New London, she mused as she worked, sketching design ideas out with a stylus and a holotablet. Ardelia tilted her head to the side and frowned, critically studying her current design. The skirt flares out too much. It's got too much of a poodle skirt feel to it, she thought, deleting the "sketch" with a deft flick of her fingers.

Ardelia spent another hour fiddling around with the skirt using the holotablet before she gave up. Time to do this the old-fashioned way. Ardelia opened up one of her desk drawers and procured a pencil with a chewed-up eraser and a standard 8.5"x11" piece of paper. She let her mind wander, aimlessly sketching out whatever she could think of. By the time noon rolled around, Ardelia was feeling pretty confident. She had a concrete idea down on paper. All that was left to do was to refine it.

Ardelia set down her pencil and closed her eyes, concentrating. She imagined herself groping around a dark room, feeling for a light switch. At first, there was nothing to indicate that a light switch even existed-she was sliding her hands across a flat wall, so to speak. Suddenly, her fingers hit metaphorical plastic, and after that it was not very difficult at all to find the actual switch and turn it on. Ardelia opened her eyes, and like magic, there was a translucent haze of color around the edges of her hands. Neon green and hot pink swirled lazily around her, which Ardelia recognized as the colors produced by creative energies. She grinned and stood up, walking out of her cubicle and to the elevator.

By the time that Ardelia arrived at the cafe on the first floor for lunch, most of her co-workers were already settled in and eating. Ardelia chose the rice with curry and spicy tofu, smiling cheerfully and thanking the worker who handed her the food. His aura was a bored grey color. Ardelia then let her gaze flit across the room, colors undulating and surging and swirling all around her. She made her way to Anya and the others, greeting any familiar faces with a wide grin.

"Miranda noticed that you were late, by the way," a bespectacled man with sleek black hair drawled as Ardelia took a seat. His aura was a cheeky light orange.

Ardelia groaned out loud. "Great. I was only two minutes late, though!" she protested.

Anya gave her a wry smile. Her aura was ocean-blue and relaxed. "You know how Miranda is," she said teasingly, flickers of yellow orange amusement forming in her aura as she spoke.

Ardelia huffed and rolled her eyes playfully. "Yeah, yeah. I'm dead, I know," she responded, taking a bite of her lunch and using the slight lull to check out what the others were wearing.

Silas-the black-haired man with glasses-wore a trim suit and waistcoat, as always. His appearance was always suave and slick, though Ardelia knew that he was a huge dork on the inside. Anya, on the other hand, was a bright and bold type of person. There were bracelets in all different shapes and sizes up to her elbows, and she wore huge gold hoop earrings. Her hair was dyed scarlet and sunset-orange, and her lipstick was electric pink. Ardelia always loved Anya's outfits. She found the other woman's vibrant, vivid colors a breath of fresh air.

Besides Silas and Anya, drab-looking Teresa seemed to pale in comparison with her pencil skirts and mousy hair, but Ardelia knew better than to judge her by her appearance. Teresa was widely considered to be one of the best designers employed. When Ardelia had asked her why she dressed the way she did, Teresa had simply shrugged. "I know what looks good and what doesn't," she had replied. "I just don't choose to dress like I do." Ardelia remembered thinking that Teresa's philosophy seemed slightly hypocritical, but she supposed it didn't matter. Anyway, she enjoyed Teresa's company. Her aura was always a dry dusty blue, and she was always ready with a sarcastic quip to lighten the mood.

Ardelia chatted amiably with her friends while she ate and returned to her cubicle when she was finished, working steadily until four-thirty in the afternoon. Then, she put away her sketches and gathered her belongings, meeting up with Silas as they took the elevator back down to the first floor. It had been a productive day at work.

14 March 2200.
Luther's ears were met with the soft whirr of the maglev monorail as it glided over the tracks. A distant-sounding, routine voice announced the ETA to the next station before fading into the sounds of news on the monorail radio: another protest in the neighboring district, a steady Martian wind, and incoming supplies from Earth. That day in March was as regular as all the others even if on some days the situation only seemed to grow worse. Luther's fingers scrolled through social media on his holotablet, and his eyes squinted past the morning sun's glare on the glass. Luther had contemplated driving his motorcycle to school instead, but he figured that he didn't require that level of privacy. He was just going to school anyway, and such an ordinary trip didn't warrant use of his bike.

'Would've been really badass though.'

And the air was full
Of various storms and saints
Parading in the streets
As the banks began to break...

The day dragged ever slowly on at school. Luther got through each class by stealing glances at boys in his classes, barely managing to stay awake, and idly doodling on his holotablet notes with a stylus pen. His eyes peeled the equations from the board at the front of the classroom, and in his eyes Luther saw the numbers resolved. The variables danced in his head, the equation balanced on his shoulders, and the graph drew itself. Luther observed the illusion as the product of his thoughts, swimming around his brain like a weird soup. His intellect had been like this for a little over a month now; Luther learned everything at a much quicker pace than he used to. If his teachers knew, the fact of it would really explain the sudden boost in performance. Luckily the boy didn't hog the airwaves with his voice, else they would have taken a shock and sent him to the genius school, or something stupid like that.

Mr. Salter, Luther's calculus teacher who was a short-haired blond in his 40s with crow's feet and a few wrinkles in his forehead, called on Luther just as the student was drifting to sleep. "Luther, can you solve this integral?"

Luther jolted awake suddenly and blinked to the typical chuckle of the class. He would've laughed too, if he wasn't the one who had fallen asleep. 'Shit.' He squinted at the problem scribbled on the screen: the definite integral of x squared times the natural logarithm of x from 0 to 1. Like lightspeed, Luther walked through the steps himself as if it were a cakewalk, and he arrived at the answer much faster than he would have before. When he had it figured, every eye in the classroom fixed itself on Luther and pointed at him like the sight of a rifle. "Uh... negative one-ninth."

Mr. Salter stared back at the calculator on his holotablet and tapped a few keys on the screen. "Mhm. That's right," the teacher confirmed by writing the answer on the board before flipping to the next slide.

Luther nearly breathed a sigh of relief.

The rest of the day went without a hitch. At lunch, Luther scanned over his friend Jacob from afar with a little blush; in physics, Luther breezed through the test over the law of conservation of momentum; and in English, he skimmed through the reading and the essay over it. The hours passed listlessly by as he made his way through the day, up to the moment he stepped on the monorail. The ride back home mirrored the ride to school, with the same idle activity on the monorail to the tune of its low hum, and he took his seat next to a friend of his, whom he chatted casually with. His friend left him too, and she hopped off the monorail car at the station just before his with a wave and a goodbye. It wasn't long before he also had to get off and walk home, and damn did he have a long walk ahead of him. It was maybe a block or so down the road from the station before Luther came upon a protest in front of a bank across the street.

"Satsuna Yoshihiro." The man placed a hand upon Yoshihiro's chest, forcing him to a stop uncomfortably.
"You live, how surprising." The man's head spun to the left, looking him over in an odd way. Yoshihiro took a step back, utterly confused.
"Who?-"
"I'll be asking the questions, Yoshihiro-kun." The man spoke with a flick of his tongue, a voice of acid, and an aura of uncanniness about him. Yoshihiro was put off by the man's flawless switch from an English accent to a Japanese one, and the honorific suggested friendliness or family, serving only to force Yoshihiro to feel in danger. Yoshihiro did not speak Japanese, but was quite familiar with the culture, and knew one or two words.

The man began to speak Japanese fluently, without even pausing to think, unfortunately, Yoshihiro could only make out one or two words of it. The man finished, gesturing to Yoshihiro to respond, he sputtered and sweated, knowing now from the man's growing grin that this wouldn't end well.
"I, uh, don't speak Japan-"
"I know." The man's head was over Yoshihiro's shoulder before he could even move, the hustling steps and whistles of the city seemed to grow silent. Yoshihiro's mouth grew dry, his tongue a mess of needle-like pain, he didn't even feel himself hit the ground.

---

"It's too dark... rocks... hit one... prisoner?" Yoshihiro heard a mumbled voice from somewhere he couldn't see, in fact, he couldn't see anything, it was very dark, all he could feel was a cold steel on his wrists. Okay, well, this sucks, but, maybe... Yoshihiro struggled against his restraints. He felt his bent legs touch something hard behind them, pushing himself to a stand was not possible, as his cuffs were wrapped around what he assumed to be a pole behind him, only one way to find out for sure. Yoshihiro hardened his skull, throwing it forwards and back violently.

*CLUNK* Yoshihiro's head smashed into the bar, bending it back slightly and giving him one hell of a bump, but he didn't worry about that, instead he fell still, his eyes widening as the near-hollow clunking echoed through the room, if it was a room.

Yoshihiro sat deathly still, waiting for the sound of an opening door and the grasp of a firm hand upon his head. Another minute passed, and then another, with nothing. Yoshihiro sighed thankfully, his brain finally getting to work. He was in some kind of cell, he hated being in cells, the last time was during training, when they had been instructed on what to do in this situation, ironically, Yoshihiro had managed to forget this important tidbit. Well, he knew now that he had been a victim of some kind of tranquilizer, presumably from that weird guy, judging from his situation, he assumed that it was probably the UN forces that had taken him prisoner, though where in the city he was he did not know.

"Prisoner's fine, we need not... trailer's secure... reach rebel base in few hours... should be an easy breach and clear, from what the sleeper tells us, there's very few with working weapons." That very British gentleman had given Yoshihiro all he needed to know. There was nothing he could do for his comrades, all he could hope for was to leave alive and maybe rile up some dissidents. But first...

Yoshihiro groaned as his right hand twisted, the bone sliding out of place to a loud clack. Manipulating it's shape, Yoshihiro pushed it out of his hand painfully, warm blood beginning to stain his palm from the large hole forced out of the way by his newly knifinated carpal bone. Gripping the sharp bone to the point where it began to cut into what remained of his hand, Yoshihiro got to work on the weak point of the bar, caused by his head. Sawing away, afraid of every noise, Yoshihiro felt like his arm was just doing it's own thing, the rest of his body felt, while the working bit went numb, and all he could do was saw, the noise of bloody bone scraping against slowly manipulated metal became all he knew for the many hours it took to saw through the surprisingly thick bar. As he sawed, his eyes began to adjust to the darkness, and he saw, across the room from him, was another bench much like the one he currently sat upon, the white room a lavender shade in the dark.

Yoshihiro's arm ached brutally, and the bone went dull. Groaning at a whisper, he swiftly pushed his regenerated carpal bone out of the hole in his hand, it slid out of his hand, popping out of the wet wound, and cluttering to the floor. Son of a bitch. This might take a while...

---

Another few hours of cutting and dropping knives, and there was a gap big enough to slide his cuffs through, he was incredibly tired, and he thought he may have spent a day or two doing nothing but saw at the pole. Finally standing, Yoshihiro felt his tired eyes burning in the dark, his legs cramping horribly. His arm was sticky with blood, though he'd managed to forge a makeshift bandage out of his sleeve. His handcuffs continued to dig into his wrists. Looking at the walls, he managed to notice a crease, meaning that the door was there, it would open outwards, meaning that as soon as he heard it unlocking, he would have to act fast, push it open, and... bite someone's throat out or something, he could force his jaw inwards to increase the length of his teeth, though that would hurt like hell. Sitting down, Yoshihiro groaned as the bones in his arms began to increase in length, tearing at the skin painfully. Hopping slightly, he moved his hands under his center of mass, lifting his legs to allow them to his front. At least now he could use the knives as worthwhile weapons. His bones returned to natural size, but the tears at his skin remained, it didn't matter, they weren't bleeding that much, he'd be okay.

Kneeling down to grab the sharpest discarded knife, he heard a metallic crackling coming from the creased wall. Shit. Yoshihiro trucked to the opening door, throwing himself through nearly horizontal. He had to kill, the realization forced him to sweat and shake, but more than that, he was filled with a great urge to push his teeth through each other. The light forced his eyes to tears, but he felt his body collide with something as he rolled across the Mars dust. Rolling through to his feet, he noticed a man in armor laying where he had just rolled, his pistol laying at his side. Looking at the downed man was another with an assault rifle. His cuffed hands went horizontally to his head, then curved inwards, sending the blade spinning through the air, the armored man didn't have time to shoot his now-level gun as the bone knife squelched through his eye, his mouth opened wide as he fell bloodily to the ground.

A horribly stinging pain went through his chest, a bang ringing through the air. Looking in the direction that it had come from, he noticed that the soldier had managed to grab his gun, how unfortunate. Yoshihiro fell to the ground, colliding limply with the Martian dirt, his eyes closed.

Well, what a death that would have been, judging by his ability to still breathe, and the low amount of blood leaving his body, the bullet had missed his lungs, his mouth tasted relatively iron-free, so his trachea was fine as well, he'd been hurt, but it was a million-dollar wound, like Teddy Roosevelt, or Jason Gerrick. He'd just play possum for now. He heard the man climb to his feet and stomp heavily over.
"Spade Five to command, prisoner neutralized." Yoshihiro noted that the man sounded like a teenager, but when he saw him earlier, he looked more like a middle aged man, glasses, good-ish shape, lines forming on the face.
"What the hell happened?" He heard a distorted voice from the same spot, from a radio he assumed.
"Spade Four is down too, Spade Three and One are still in the rover, Spade Two still AWOL."
"Did the prisoner escape?"
"Somehow."
"Son of a bitch, okay, see if Four is revivable, then return to course."
"Roger that." The man thumped over to his fallen colleague, allowing Yoshihiro to finally open his eyes.

Quietly, Yoshihiro rolled into a prone position. The man was kneeling over his colleague, black kevlar resting over a blue jumpsuit. Crouching, Yoshihiro sneaked behind the man, begging to some god he didn't believe in that he wouldn't be heard. His arm twisted, and a blade of bone exited his left palm bloodily, hanging unheld from the palm, sighing mournfully, Yoshihiro shouted and slashed the blade across the back of the man's neck, forcing the man's head back, gripping under the man's chin, Yoshihiro pushed the blade deep into the man's throat, exiting from the other side brutally.

When Yoshihiro next opened his eyes he was alone in the Martian desert, and the men's corpses were nowhere to be seen.

‘Citizen 4561-2407-9485, Cassandra Wells.’ The A-1 repeated, its voice calm and monotone, despite the increasing aggressiveness of the stance of the soldiers flanking it. ‘You are under arrest. Do not resist.’

“Hey, you’ve got the wrong person.” One of Cassie’s gunners called out indignantly, taking a step in front of her. It was Campo- the newest member of Cassie’s crew. The crewman was tall and broad shouldered, but green as grass- having only been a part of the crew for the last month, and had taken a liking to his pilot.

//TARGET OBSTRUCTED
WILLIAM CAMPO_
CITIZEN ID: 4561-1212-3662
AGE: 24_
GENDER: MALE_
STATUS: USF PEACEKEEPER CORPS_
THREAT LEVEL: NOMINAL_
COURSE OF ACTION: SUBDUE_

‘Stand aside.’ The A-1 boomed, to which the crew gunner resisted defiantly.

“No, I’m telling you you’ve got the wrong-” The gunner never had the chance to finish his sentence, as the A-1 grabbed the gunner, its claw-like manipulator lifting the tall man off the ground by the front of his fatigues, and throwing him to the side over a dozen meters across the hangar.

‘Cassandra Wells. You are under arrest. Surrender immediately, you will not be asked again.’

”Run Cassie, Run.”

After the display she just witnessed, she didn’t need to be told twice. With one last glimmer of hope she turned to the A-1 droid. “Invoking my rights as a member of the USF Peacekeeper corps and a citizen of the UN I demand to know the charges for my arrest under Article 56B Subsection G. I have not broken any terms of my contract to the U.S.F nor any of the laws outlined by the U.N.”

She heard an alarm at the end of the hangar and knew what that meant. It was about three hundred metres away, she would have about two minutes. That was an easy run, at least. It was now a days, she still didn’t quite understand what was going on but this voice in her headset seemed to understand what was going on. At the very least it seemed to know that she was different than what she knew about. Maybe somehow this unit knew what was going on… That wasn’t arrestable was it?

‘Cassandra Wells, you have been declared a threat to public safety by the UN. You will come with me.’

With that, Artie stepped forward, and reached out its arm. Lifting its wrist, there was the rapid whining sound of an electrical motor, and a cord erupted from the A-1’s wrist.

The cord erupted, but as it did Cassie took off, on foot. In a blur of an eye she ran around A-1, everything moved in slow motion for her. She wasn’t quite sure at this point if she sped up or if everything else slowed down for her. Moved around the A-1 she took off in the direction of the opening hangar...

Ray departed his apartment having locked the door tightly behind him as he did so. The all important briefcase which contained his payment had been tucked away inside it. His home wasn’t anything fancy, it was cheap and police of any kind never came anywhere near it. He had hid himself in the sleazier part of the city, it was a strategic maneuver more than anything. Very few people ever tried to mess with him, those that did didn’t make the same mistake twice.

He walked down a flight of stairs, as he popped off the final step he weaved himself around a bickering couple arguing about money problems. Ray didn’t speak to his neighbors and they didn’t to him, it was something he was fine with, he valued his own privacy and respected other’s. He stepped out of the front door and turned left as he walked towards the parking garage where he had left his vehicle. On one of his fingers he twirled the key around, unsure of where he was going next, perhaps to a different bar or the gentleman’s club.

As Ray approached his vehicle, he noticed more people than usual populating the small parking garage. A few in particular lingered around his motorcycle. These men wore plain clothes: a leather jacket, a blazer, jeans, sneakers, sunglasses, one had a cigarette. Despite their casual appearance- it was clear that they were cops. Upon noticing Ray, two of the men lingering around the bike started casually approaching him, and he could sense another two slowly walking behind him, cutting off any clear escape.

The one with the cigarette was the first to speak, his hands never leaving his pockets. “Villarreal?” He asked plainly. His stance was casual, and his face was obscured by a large pair of round sunglasses, but his demeanor appeared confident, and his right hand, while still in his pocket, hovered near what was likely a concealed handgun holster.

Ray internally cursed at the sight of the group, it was a very unusual sight as the garage was often barren. This was something different, they weren’t gangsters, more than likely undercover cops, he had seen those before and they stuck out like sore thumbs when they chose to dress like they did. Out of the corner of his ear, he could hear the squeal of tires and brakes as vehicles stopped outside the parking structure. He had slowed in his walk and come to a complete stop as the man spoke to him.

“Yeah, that’s my name. What’s it to you?” He asked as he locked eyes with the fellow through his sunglasses. Ray had his own handgun tucked inside his jacket, it was loaded and ready though he didn’t want to use it. He was surrounded and would be mince-meat if this guy’s companions were armed. He didn’t like it at all.

“It doesn’t mean anything to me, honestly.” The peacekeeper replied with a lazy shrug. “But we were told to bring you in by any means necessary. So why don’t you do us all a favor and do this the easy way, huh?”

“Go fuck yourself. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve done nothing wrong and will be on my way, step aside and let me leave or you’ll regret it.” Ray stated, anger starting to boil inside of him. His powers gave him a possible way to get out of the situation, but from the noises he had heard outside it seemed he was pretty surrounded.

“Suit yourself. You’d be amazed how far medical technology has advanced.” The cop with the cigarette said with a smirk, as he spat out his cigarette and ground it on the floor. His hand went for his pistol. At the same time, the other man in front of Ray drew an electron mace. The two behind him also drew an assortment of firearms and electrically-based clubbing gear. The one in front of Ray with the club began quickening his pace as he approached, his club held down and out to the side.

It was a fight and Ray was completely fine with that. They had no warrant for his arrest and nothing to prove they were officers of the law, he’d have to teach them some manners. He stretched his fingers as he watched the cocky man level a gun at him, as the other moved towards him with a stun club. Others had drawn guns, predictable. With a smirk Ray used his powers and disappeared from his spot, he appeared behind the one that moved to approach him.

Ray threw a swift kick to back of the man’s knee, then another. He had both hands on the cop as he knocked the weapon away from him, kicking it in a different direction. With his left arm he locked it around the fool’s neck, then with his right hand drew his own handgun. He spoke from behind his now human shield.

“Drop the guns and leave.” Ray spat out, pressing his own gun into the man’s back as he maneuvered in a way to face the others, keeping them in front of him.

The man in Ray’s grip struggled roughly to get out of his grip, while the others leveled pistols at Ray, trying to surround him before he could get his back against a wall. “Give it up Villarreal, you’re not walking a free man today.” A second man with holstered his pistol and drew a club, and rushed at Ray as well, as the other two trained their pistols on him.

“Fuck off.” Ray replied as he kneed his hostage in the back as if to tell him to stop struggling. There was not much risk of the man escaping his grasp, he was strong and had done this type of situation before. He backpacked, his eyes on the others. He aimed his pistol towards one of them that had drawn their weapon, the casing bouncing to the floor as the bullet impacted into the man’s leg. Then he fired a shot towards the other club wielding, hitting him in the hip.

“Oh fuck this.” Growled the cop as he fell to the a knee. He clutched his leg with one hand as he fired his sidearm, concrete dust showering Ray as the bullet smashed into the wall beside his head him. A second round smashed into the concrete again, much closer this time. At the same time, the cocky cop sunglasses began circling around to the side, looking for an opening for him to fire as well. The one who was shot in the hip cursed as he fell to the ground, going for his sidearm as well.

Ray heard the bullets impact near him, they weren’t screwing around even if he had one of their own in a headlock. He had to act quickly and precisely, he really didn’t want to get shot, it was never a fun experience. With a grunt he struck his human shield in the side of the head with the butt of his handgun, hard enough to knock the man out cold. Right as he did that he used his powers to teleport once more, appearing behind the still standing gun wielding cop.

Ray tackled the man from behind, throwing himself on top as he pistol whipped him. He didn’t want to risk killing any of them, if they were actually police then such an offense carried a harsh penalty. The authorities could and would hunt him down for killing a cop. As he was going down with the cop in his hands he teleported near the one he had shot in the leg.

He slammed the fool in his hands on top of the other, using one to crush the other. He was back on his feet and quickly started running then used his powers to teleport himself right in front of the cocky cop. His momentum allowed him to throw a harder punch into the man’s face. A smile was on his face as he watched the cop go down, he took pleasure in taking that one down a notch.

“Now all of you stay down, I’m sure you have families to go home to. A few broken bones and concussions are enough for them to worry about.” Ray muttered as he sprinted towards his motorcycle, climbing on top of it and sticking the keys into the ignition as quickly as his fingers could do so. As his ride came on he slammed his foot on the pedal and zoomed towards the exit. A smirk was on his face as he got away from the one’s that jumped him inside the garage.

His motorcycle roared as he cleared out of the building, then the grin on his face disappeared as he noticed the armed group waiting for him, who had much heavier ornament than the ones inside. He hadn’t expected that, at most a police car or two, instead, he found himself face to face with a trio of armored vans, with some dozen heavily armed peacekeepers staring him down through the barrels of their rifles. This was a problem. Ray couldn’t get away from this as easily. He hit the brakes, the tires skidding as he came to a stop. He’d hear these guys out a bit more than the others.

“Damn it.”

“On the ground!” Demanded one of the officers, his finger hovering over the trigger of his rifle. The peacekeepers wore full kit- security grade body armor, ballistic helmets, breathing masks, the works; and were armed with a fairly even spread of shotguns and carbines. Alongside the dozen officers were another 6 X-2 Security Mechs, dispersed between the officers, these human-like mechs were almost indistinguishable from the officers, many equipped with the same kit and weapons that the other peacekeepers were, the only dead giveaways were the metal arms showing underneath the rolled up sleeves of their fatigues.

“This is such bullshit.” Ray mumbled as he stepped off his motorcycle, his hands raised to show he wasn’t going to try anything. There were too many of them that were too well armed, the best decision was to surrender to them. His eyes lingered on the shotgun one of the men were carrying, and then shifted to another. He could always escape from custody later on. He still had no idea why they sent such a force after him. The only thing he’d done recently was kill that dealer scumbag and that wouldn’t have been enough for them to send a damn army after him. It had to have something to do with his powers.

“I still haven’t done anything wrong. Your buddies inside the parking garage jumped me, gave me no proof they were police and had no warrant. Just looked like a bunch of thugs to me,” Ray exclaimed as he got down on his knees, his hands still raised. He spoke once more, though he doubted they would care what he said. “I had every right to defend myself from them.”

“Save it for someone who cares.” Was the last thing Ray heard as one of the peacekeepers approached him and fired his shotgun. There was a thump and Ray was knocked back by a mass of coagulating, sticky substances that promptly shocked him into a state of unconsciousness.

When Ray came too, he found himself in a dark cell. His legs and arms were bound by stun cuffs, and it was pitch dark, save for a single, bright, almost blinding light that shone in his face. He could hear the sound of footsteps against hard tile, and could tell that they were somewhere in front of him.

“Ray Villarreal.” The voice spoke, his voice smooth, and of moderately low pitch

Ray woke up in the cell as he slowly opened his eyes only to almost shut them right away to the annoying light being shined right into his face. The current situation he was in had angered him more than anything else, if he broke free from his confines then the first thing he was going to do was track the scum that shot him into unconsciousness and shove his gun down the man’s throat. But he was bounded pretty badly, his powers were useless for now.

His powers also had to be the reason he was imprisoned like this. Only reason he could think, normal criminals didn’t get treated like this, he had spent night in jail cells before. This was something special, but not the good kind of specia. He lifted his head up and looked into where he could hear the footsteps coming from, then spoke.

“Who are you? What is all of this?”

“I am an individual in a rather special position. You see, against the better judgement of my affiliates, I’ve decided that you are more useful to us as a tool rather than a test subject.”

There was a tapping sound, as though the man was checking a holopad. “Citizen 4129-6776-0208, Raymond Villarreal, Earth born, former marine, currently a… what would you call it? A military freelance? - and also a man in possession of a peculiar set of talents, most notably, teleportation. Does all of that sound right to you?”

“The U.N. is currently in the process of capturing all you… ‘Supers’ for security and testing purposes.” The man continued, the footsteps resuming as he walked back and forth. “Now, if my peers had it their way, you’d likely spend the rest of your life in this cell, subject to whatever tests they wish to put you through. However, I think you can be more useful to us than as a test subject.”

“After reading your file, I believe a man of your… nature… would be a great boon to us. As such, I’m going to make you a simple offer- you work for me, you hunt down the rest of these ‘Supers’, and you bring them in for testing.”

Ray listened to the voice, processing every word, some of it he liked and other parts he did not. He took great exception to being referred as a tool, a tool couldn’t fight back, if he really wanted to he could kill many inside this facility on his own. He wasn’t one hundred percent for fighting for people that had kidnapped him, but if they promised him his freedom and a payment then he’d seriously give thought to it.

“Freelancer is the most correct term, I work for whoever pays me the most, and I’m damn good at my work,” Ray replied, confidence in his words as he spoke them. He wasn’t a modest man. “I don’t work for free, a group like yours has a near limitless amount of funding. If I were promised an appropriate amount of payment for this partnership then I would strongly consider agreeing.”

“Freedom as well, I enjoy that greatly. If I agree to this then I want that promised. In fact I want that in ink. Whoever has to sign off on it, get them to. Once our partnership is over, I get total freedom from whatever the hell you’re planning to do with the other freaks I help you nail down.” Ray added, he was making sure to cover all the bases. He wasn’t particularly in the position to negotiate, but his history spoke for itself if they truly had it all on file.

“I know it may seem ridiculous for someone in my position to make demands,” Ray glanced at his restraints. “But, the work I do will be worth every single penny.”

“You are correct, in that you are in no position to make demands,” The voice agreed, “However, I would not be so arrogant to assume that you’d do our bidding for nothing more than being able to see the light of day.”

“Rest assured, you’ll be rewarded handsomely for your services, and we shall also provide you with all the tools necessary for your success. My colleagues may see you as a freak of nature, and perhaps they are right, but what’s the harm in letting one go, if we can get the rest of them in return?”

A light popped on in the distance. In the light, Ray could make out a face- but nothing more. It was a older man, his hair pepper black and gray, with piercing ice blue eyes.

“My name is Jason McKnight, and I represent the Lorne Corporation in cooperation with the USF. As such, I have effectively infinite access to USF resources, which will be available to you in your task.”

“Nice to meet you Mr. McKnight and I’m delighted that we see eye to eye. I’m eager to get right to work. Now could you please remove my bindings? I’m not huge into the whole restraint thing.” Ray said, as he locked eyes with the man once his aged face appeared. Jason’s words sounded truthful and hoped for both their sakes that they were indeed true.

“Of course. However, for my own safety- as it would be unwise for either of us to be so trusting this early in our relationship, I will not be personally releasing you,” Jason said, as the light around his face shut off. There were the sounds of more footsteps, and the sound of a door opening and shutting soon after. A moment later, his voice crackled over an intercom.

“You will fall asleep shortly. In a few hours, you’ll wake up in your apartment with an advance on your payment- I believe 10,000 credits should be sufficient, as well as a RFID watch, to prevent USF Peacekeepers from interfering with you during your mission. You’ll also be provided with target information and dossiers, as well contact information for a few off the books USF units to provide you with any resources you feel you may need- arms, armor, robots.”

“We’ll be keeping in touch, Mr. Villarreal, I hope to hear of your success soon.” The voice system crackled off, and the soft hiss of gas soon filled the room.

You know the enemy is preparing for war, when they begin recruiting soldiers. The Watcher observed as the U.S.F worked on recruiting a member of the powered populace. A teleported no less, by his workings there would be only a handful of people with abilities that interacted with the fourth dimension. Luckily he knew where one was that would be more than willing to contribute to their cause, especially with the fact that the Lorne Corporation was currently working with A.I thanks to a handy loophole in the legislation. Something that was probably put there in design, after all who in the U.N would care if there was a killing spree on Mars? Earth was what they cared about. The real question was, if he released her how far would she go. How far would she be willing to go. A new race was emerging on Mars, true Martians. They needed someone they could rally behind.

Edith had done it before, for another cause. With all hope her loyalties would lie with her people. Looking back at his screens they changed to outside a prison cell deep within the Martian Crust. Thankfully they hadn't moved Edith yet and she still remained in her own cell rather than the new institution, that even he couldn't find with all his power. Several modifications later, and the locks on the door opened with a massive clunk unlocking the cell. He couldn't talk to her yet, not without alerting the guards. Though hopefully she'd know what to do.

---

Cassie ran. Into the humid, dust filled air. Of course people from Mars never knew any better, unless they served. All U.S.F facilities used the same systems to scrub and generate oxygen as spacefaring vessels, it was crisp, cool and fresh. Outside on Mars it was warm and dusty. There was always something about the air that seemed a little... off. It wasn't quite the same as the air on Earth or spacecraft but nobody could quite trace the difference, though the scientists liked to argue that there was no difference. They chalked it down to a psychological thing, obviously people were just imagining it. That was always their answer for something they couldn't prove.

In a burst of speed she brushed past several people, the wake causing a gust of wind to fly by them. Disrupting, hair, clothing, paper and any form of rubbish lying on the side of the ground. She needed to get off the street, that was the main thing. The longer the cameras could see her the greater the chance that she was going to be found again.. So without further thought she ran into the wilds. Her headset had long gone quiet, both with orders to surrender and the strange voice that had filled her headset urging her to run. Who was he? How did he know what she could do? More importantly how did the U.S.F know what she could do? She was alone and made sure she wasn't monitored whenever she chose to test out her powers. Something just wasn't sitting right, it wasn't adding up. Though that shouldn't have come as a surprise.

Mars was a whole new world.

Forty seven years is quite a long time to spend largely locked in a single cell. She'd mellowed out and even started to show signs of losing touch with reality. Old age made Edith a sweet old woman, even if no one wanted to be around her. A lifetime of solitary confinement was her sentencing. Probably the only reason she wasn't executed was because she was caught on Mars. Someone must have wanted to keep her around, maybe to use as a bargaining chip with Earth in the future.

One day looked like another by now. With people's lifespans increased she was probably looking at another thirty years trapped in a box. Someone would come by to check on her, then wander off. Not like anything interesting ever happened. At least not until her powers struck. It wasn't a spectacular occurrence in and of itself. One night Edith went to bed feeling unusually dizzy. Her dreams were all jumbled up, like she was reliving the past. Her biological clock slowed, stopped, and then began to move rapidly in reverse. In a matter of hours she went from an 87 year old woman, to a young 17 year old girl. And she may have continued regressing in age had not she been woken by the alarms sounding.

A guard had come by on his rounds and found the girl in Edith's cell. Hitting the alarm he opened the cell as other guards hurried to assist. Woken from her slumber and dazed by being snatched up the guards took her to be interrogated. As far as anyone there was concerned, Edith had somehow escaped and had put this girl in her cell. Of course Edith was just as confused and initially answered their questions out of confusion. "Who are you?" they would ask over and over. "I'm Edith Rendel you idiot!" No one believed her, hell she barely believed it, but getting asked a hundred times was frustrating. However prints, retinal scan, and a blood test soon confirmed her identity.

To say that everyone in the prison facility was surprised would be an understatement. At first there was a lot of discussion about what to do with her. Tests clearly were in the wings and Edith did not look forward to that at all. But something must have developed because after the first couple weeks everything went quiet. She was placed in her cell and on one came to check on her save for some of the VIs that passed by periodically. Edith's best guess was that she was in quarantine. The quiet did give her the opportunity to discover more of her power though. As best she could tell she could speed up and slow down time. Some experimentation revealed that it was only within a small area. Trying her limits resulted in passing out on more than one occasion.

Being a teen again Edith was quickly reminded of how much more energy one would have. Before the change being in the cell was no big deal anymore. Now it just made her antsy. Exercise and reading became common time wasters just to keep herself occupied. And just when she was beginning to think that these walls would be all her life would be the lock on the door clanked as the rods retracted.

For several minutes she sat on her bunk waiting for someone to enter. She learned a long time ago that when the door unlocked you step back and take a seat. Far too many times she didn't doo that and regretted it. But no one came. It was very odd and finally curiosity got the better of her. Cautiously she opened the door and glanced inside. Nothing was around, not even the sound of a VI stomping around. What the hell was going on? Stepping out she began to explore. She knew a decent amount of the facility and remembered the main places to avoid. Thing was that if this was some kind of rescue then they'd left her on her own. Making her was to a console she tried to find a way to open some vents to get out. She could see them on the map but they were all shut too much for her to slip through.

---

0200, Gateway, Northeast Landing Strip, Control Tower

Lena sat on top of a small access building not so far from the hangar, but with a great view on the events happening inside. The cold night breeze rustled as it swept away some dust from the roof. Lena covered his face and then took a long sip from soda she was holding in his hand, before going back to watching the action. Her job was mostly done here anyways. She pressed the rusty binocluars hanging on her neck to her eyes, and tunred up teh volume on the radio sapper. The AI was trying to arrest the pilot girl but one of the crew members stood in it's way. Then the large robot knocked it away. Lena giggled at the sight of this stupid guy. She couldn't quite make out what they were talking about, and the speakers behind her fizzled with interference. Trying to be a hero is never advised against a robot taller and stronger than you, especially if you have no weapons or armor on you. The robot was getting closer to the pilot. Lena leaned forward to get a better feel of the actions going down below.

She only blinked once, but in that time, so much shit went down. The radio went crazy, and tons of signals from the hangar started to burst to life. Adn that pilot girl, she started running. And hell, she ran fast. Lena followed the runner with her head, still drinking from the can of soda, ready to jump any second. She threw the empty can away on the roof, and grabbed the hoverboard buzzing next to her silently. She removed the sapper from the radio antenna, and the speakers went silent, just as the alarms started ringing all over the base. With a quick follow up she made a running jump to a cable leading down to the fence around the base, doing a slow and steady grind on it with her hoverboard. This was the worst part of this job. The height. Then again it paid well. She silently flipped a black case in her hand before putting it back into her backpack. Instead of grieving about height, she looked at the city so far away, almost untouchable, but still so close. A lit paradise in the middle of the Martian night. The air glew slightly bluish around the city, cause by teh particles in the atmosphere and the lights emitted from the many buildings in New London. She had learned that in school whilst still on the space station.

It didn't take long to reach the end of the cable, but staring at the city, it felt like eternity. Only the slight bump of the board warned Lena that she hit the ground, and that it's not a good idea to stay here any longer. Military patrols were already dispatched and went out searching for the pilot girl, and teh base was on full alert. Any more time she spends here will only increase her chances of getting shot or caught. The fence was only a few metres away, but unluckely there was a guard patrolling the area. He had no lights, but he was equipped with a standard peacekeeper helmet, probably with a night visor, so Lena couldn't make any mistakes. She hopped off the board and silently ran towards the guard avoiding it's vision. By the time the guard noticed him Lena, she already set herself in motion. With a well placed punch on the stomach, he fell backwards, his back to the fence, swearing in some language unknown to Lena. She couldn't let him get back on his feet, so she used her hoverboard to jump on the guards head, knocking him out cold on the floor, and gaining a momentum enough to get over the fence. With a majestic swipe Lena flew above the fence, her eyes half peeled. After landing she looked back at the guard on grunted "Looks like he didn't have night visors after all. Good night big boy." She hopped back on set forth New London, leaving the alarmed base behind.

---

7 hours later, New London, Kanbian Street 56, Lena's apartement

Lena threw the hoverboard in one corner of the room, and slammed the door behind herslef with a loud bang. It was a really long trip from gateway to her apartement, not to mention having to actually stand on the hoverboard the whole time. It was a fast machine, but it wasn't meant for roadtrips. With a silent sigh she threw her backpack on the table, and sat down on one of the chairs next to it exhausted. For a few seconds she started searching in the bag until her fingers found a small black box which she pulled out anxiously. Lena swept the bag off the table along with a few papers and plastic bottles making a huge mess. Her gaze almost pierced the black box as she sat there for minutes silently, observing the small container with an astonishing concentration. She has been waiing for this moment since she got her powers. Maybe even before. This wasn't the first time she broke into a military installation, nor was it the first time breaking into a lower security area of teh Gateway. But it was the very first time that she stole something so expensive and precious. She could hear her own heartbeat, and feel it in her stomach. Lena inhaled excitedly and opened a box.

Inside was a small white object which resembled two cubes mashed into each other, in a way that it formed a very complex shape with many corners and sides. But it was clearly aimed to be two cubes if one inspected it closer. Lena's hands shook as she grabbed the object and held it up in her hand. Finally, the Policube. An object that was made to be used by telepaths to create differently shaped objects, to train their power in different areas. It was a new device, hidden from the public. Supers were hidden from the public too after all. It would seem logical that such an object would be a mere mistery to the commom people. But Lena was not common at all. She pushed one corner of the object and it began shimmering with a faint blue glow, and slowly ascended into the air, hovering an inch above Lena's hand. Lena burst out laughing and threw herself on her bed. She was exhausted, but it was all worth it. This thing could change the way she uses her powers. Sure she wasn't a teleptahic person, but as long as this thing was in a space with enough gas pressure inside, there was little to no difference.

Her attention wandered off into the distance as she tought of all the possibilities. She almost fell asleep, but a beep on his phone reminded him to listen to the voicemail. An old but amazing invention. With a swift swipe of her hands in the air, Lena's eyes let out a faint blue glow as the Policube gently floated to her palm. She put it away in the black box, and put it in her drawer, just below the phone. Which had contained no useful info whatsoever. Just her parents saying hi, and telling how the new work was going on for her father. She was happy that finally everything went well. And even if it wasn't any big news, it was still worth checking the voicemail every day, if only to hear her parents voice. Then, without any further a do she closed her eyes and let her mind be filled with thoughts about her parents, the omnicube, and her powers. She fell asleep in minutes.

---

Several doors sealed closed as Edith left her cell, while another opened. Obviously trying to guide her towards a certain location. However before she could move through the open door a mech walked through, an older M-1 labour model. Upon seeing her it raised its hand in the best imitation it could do of someone raising their hand as an indication to stop. However, the voice that came through the unit wasn't that of a typical M-1... it was deeper and more human with a hint of age about it. Though it was definitely masculine.

"Edith, there isn't much time. Down this corridor and to the right there is a security station, it is currently unoccupied. Though sooner or later the forces in the prison will begin to question what I am doing and return to their stations. However I have reset the security protocols which should give you full access to the system for ten minutes. After that the system will update and you will be locked out." The mech stood to the side of the doorway to let her past. "Go now, quickly. I'll contact you again when you're out."

---

Dust was kicked up in Cassies wake, until she slowed skidding along the loose dirt of Mars. She coughed and spluttered slightly, it had been a while since she had been out this far without being in a ship. Doubling over she tried to force the dust from her lungs, before she just collapsed to her knees. How did the U.S.F find out about her abilities? More importantly who was the voice in her ear that told her to run? Yes sure, it was maybe a good idea due to the fact that the mech was dead set on taking her in. She was still trying to wrap her head around the idea that a mech was in charge of a squad, the only time she could think of a mech being in charge included A.I. Though that was illegal, right?

She shook her head, that wasn't important right now. She had to plan her next move, whatever that voice wanted her to do... it wasn't feeling too keen on sharing. She sat down on the ground, in the middle of nowhere. Tears begun to form in her eyes. She had never been so alone, she had lost family yes. Though she had never been alone. She had always had her father, and after joining the military she had never truly had a moment where she was by herself. She had always had a direction, orders. She didn't always agree with, or like, the orders. Though they were always there, get up, do this, go there. Now what? She was a fugitive for the sole reason taht she could run really fast. What options did that leave her with?

She could turn herself in, hope that they didn't dissect her or lock her away and 'lose' the keys. Or she could wait and hope that whoever this voice in her ear was, would speak to her again. Let her know what was going on and why it was happening to her. Out of all the people, why her? It just made no sense, had she not been through enough already? Or was fate truly just that cruel?

---

"Ladies and Gentlemen." The aging face of Roland Quee appeared on every screen, every device, on Mars. The local Governor was making a public address. "I know my friends, that there have been speculation on what has been going on this past month since our very planet shook. Many of you have noticed the quarantine zones, felt the increased military presence. Heard of disappearances, though today I tell you the truth." He rubbed his eyes, as if tired, or full of sorrow. The video changed to the video of a woman in the middle of a hangar taking off at incredible speeds, on foot. Then off a man disappearing in one location and re-appearing in another, and the most disturbing was a man whose very bone appeared to shift, Roland spoke over the video before it returned back to video of his own, tired, face.

"I can now confirm, that the shake was done by a group of individuals who appear to have gained super-human abilities. These enhanced individuals have acted against the Government, attacking supply convoys meant for our fair planet making living conditions harsh. Not only that, but they have been acting against you, the populace! Kidnapping those who they feel they can convert to their cause of destruction and death." The video changed to a burned up room, the centre appeared free of any burns however several body bags could be seen throughout the room. People had died.

"I will not share the exact details for reasons of security, however these individuals are dangerous and willing to kill. Now, the UN is working around the clock with key companies such as the Lorne Corporation to find a way to stop these individuals and find the source of their power. However if you see anyone exhibiting super-human abilities, contact the authorities at once. Please do not try to talk them down yourself, I could not bear for anyone else to be hurt. Now I speak to those of you working against our government. Please, give up. This is not the way to get what you want, stop your attacks and come speak to us like civilized people. You will not be harmed, you have my word."

Walking hurt, his thighs felt like salted hams, his arms hung limply at his side. He had followed the tire-tracks of what he assumed to be the rover he had been carried in for at least two days now. Yoshihiro had learned one or two things, one being that a femur does not make a good shovel. Two being that the Martian soil is not very good with open wounds, he was in near-constant agony when he had dug a cave to sleep for the night, and avoiding death by dust storm was always fun.

Most of all, he had learned his powers sucked.

The hole in his hand had scabbed over, now it itched like nothing else, and if he did itch it, it would re-open into a pool of blood on the Matian desert, adding to the already considerable trail he was leaving.

His clothes made for good bandages at least, and there was little in the soil to give him an infection, though he would need at least some antibiotics upon returning to the city, judging by his attempted arrest, he would be turned over if he tried to buy any, meaning he'd have to steal, and hope he didn't kill himself by taking too much.

Finally reaching the summit of a hill, Yoshihiro saw the compound he had been meant to arrive at.

Oh boy.

Judging from the few structures there were, one was a large building with metal walls, one was a tall one with many windows, and there was a gatehouse meeting with the fence that was about twenty feet from the metal platform upon which the compound rested.

In other words, a prison.

He was supposed to end up here, and judging by it's small size and remote location, it wasn't just a simple prison.

Yoshihiro was hungry though.

Scampering down the hill, Yoshihiro put all the effort he had as a man into propelling himself forwards in an attempt to land on the other side of the fence, praying to whatever god would listen to allow him to clear the razor wire.

He didn't, his lower pant-leg getting caught around his knee and ripping the entire pant-leg right off, sending him straight onto his head painfully.

A poff of sand erupted right next to him, a flash coming from a black mess that one would struggle to call a guard tower. Yoshihiro screamed silently, but his body froze as if his joints were wrapped in lead chain. A man was shooting at him, something that seemed all too famili- OH GOD NO!

The world went red, Yoshihiro shook like a madman, alternatively laughing and crying. Please gods stop this. He cried in his mind, his body out of control and his thoughts worse. Why had this not happened when the bespectacled man had shot him? The blood! God the blood!

Then something snapped, and he blacked out.

It had only been for about a minute or so, but when his senses returned, he was at the center of the guard tower's ladder, climbing without even knowing. He pulled himself over the top, seeing the guard desperately reloading. Yoshihiro coldly grabbed around the man's neck and threw him out of the tower with little effort. This was wrong, he was a soldier again, murdering without regret, a seven foot tall monster, an Asian lion with golden hair. Thinking of nicknames for himself when he should be fighting.

Speaking of fighting, he wasn't doing very much of that. The gunshot may have alerted others to his presence, so he'd have to find food, a rover, probably some water, anything else if he could find it, before he got shot to pieces.

He'd entered the building quickly, the iron doors squeaking on their hinges, and he'd come face to face with a riot trooper. The man looked like something out of a horror movie, his armor making him look stout. His hands appearing to be made like human skeleton, phalanges and metacarpals, his arms an odd twisted black metal surrounding a core that was barely visible.

On second thought, this looked more like an X2 in riot gear.

These were tough if he remembered correctly, even if this prison contained some form of supernatural being, a group of ten combat ready X2s could probably deal with it, what with their near invulnerability to blunt force trauma, the gear would stop bullets, and if he judged correctly, knives. The only weak points would be at their join-

A nightstick cut off Yoshihiro's thoughts, throwing him against a table and near snapping his spine against the damn thing. He was forced to roll over his head in order to get to his feet, the monstrosity sliding up towards him with inhuman speed. Seeing no other option, Yoshihiro hardened his skull, throwing his head towards the droid.

On second thought, he had quite a few other options.

His head crashed into the X2's face, cracking through what Yoshihiro assumed to be glass. It hurt badly, but there was no time to stop. Pushing his feet forwards into the table, Yoshihiro twisted his body, hardening his carpals, wrist, and metacarpals, slamming the now near-concrete hard fist into the metal of the droid's face, pulling across and ripping away the outer covering. He quickly moved to the optical systems, or at least what remained, pulling them from the droid's cranium with a little aid from the bot itself as it threw him against the next table over. Mess halls were not good places to fight, he decided.

The now blinded metal riot unit threw itself wildly in every-which direction, much to Yoshihiro's continued satisfaction. He threw the sparking optical unit away, ducking into a corridor and continuing on his way.

He blacked out again, a pressure building in his skull as he walked.

He came back to his senses, having sliced open a guard's lower body, spilling intestines and blood over the floor. He vomited as the woman died, wiping clean his face, before ducking into the kitchen, stealing some cookies and a pizza, taking all the cartons of chocolate milk, loading them into the rover a few rooms over, and blowing the Popsicle stand.

If it could have been that easy.

He wandered the halls with all the food and drink he had taken, meeting with the still disorganized guards and killing them.

---

It was Lloyd's first mission, he hadn't expected this.

He had heard from the radio that his commander needed to marshal the riot troops immediately, the prison had been breached.

How the hell had that happened?

This place was the highest sec on the planet, no-one ever got in or out!

Well, someone had.

Good lord someone had.

The guard towers were all cleared out, the first three guards had been murdered in brutal ways, strangled with their own intestines, decapitated, limbs mutilated to the point of death by blood loss. The last one had simply been cleared by a drop, odd considering the brutality of all the others.

Entering the building, a faceless X2 was in the cafeteria, slamming worthlessly into walls.

The hallways were caked in red, bodies sprawled every which way, the smell sickening.

What kind of monster could have done this?

"Jorge, take point." Jorge nodded, moving to the corner, counting to three, and peeking around the corner.

A hand met his neck and blood left his throat.

Jorge fell to the ground limply, a few bullets being shot at his position to warn whatever had killed him. The squad ran around the corner, screaming for whatever was there to put its hands up. The commander had a tendril run through his head, gargling a squished noise of his own blood. The thing ran past him, wrapping the white tendril around another's neck and throwing him against a wall fatally.

Finally Lloyd was face to face with the demon... or... man... a normal man? He was a giant, but he looked no less normal than the others. He glared at Lloyd, tilting his head and growling.

Lloyd gasped, before screaming and firing.

The last thing he felt was a sword of bone pulling itself up his abdomen, dying when it reached his throat.

14 March 2200.
Held high above the protesters alongside raised fists, signs hung on the air like the silence of the tellers in the bank as they observed the newest spilling of tension onto the streets of New London.

OUR HARD WORK IS FOR LORNE.

END THE OPPRESSION!

WE ARE PEOPLE, NOT SLAVES.

Their shouts blended into a dissonant roar; the crowd had no distinct leader, only the push and shove of the enraged majority. The greed of the banks drew the mob's ire, another product of the anti-Lorne pressure cooker. Luther looked upon the protest with a distant gaze as he processed the highly polarized expression of opinion. With empathy he ruled the cause right and just. In a day and age when Lorne Corporation held most of Mars' economic power and dominated Earth but less so, the ubiquity of the Lorne brand was deeply abhorred. News of alleged disappearances and subsequent media cover-ups spread so quickly through the furthest reaches of social networks and online communications, and they bespoke LC's surreptitious touch. Although Luther found himself in staunch agreement with the protest's overall goals, he could not help an inkling of dissatisfaction with the ignorance of fact. A handful of political action funds, each with a mark of Lorne money, continuously dumped money into United Nations elections in order to sway control of governing bodies, and the insidious work of PAFs and the pervasive influence of Lorne Corporation did little to dissuade Luther from following the money trail to the beast itself. Nothing could shake Luther from that hard truth.

Click. The snapshot of the protests across the street from Luther was saved to his holotablet, and he held it down at his side to then allow the Martian breeze to caress his face. He lived vicariously in that moment, but how he longed to toss himself into the chaos and emerge the champion of order. What held him back? Was it the pull of fate? Was it the hesitance of youth? Luther crossed his arms as he stood by...

---

Ardelia had stepped off of the monorail and gone back outside when she came upon the protest. The pure, unfiltered emotion emanating from the crowd made Ardelia's world spin dizzingly before righting itself as Ardelia took a few breaths to steady herself. Colors surged and pushed against invisible barriers, threatening to spill out and fill the city with their intensity. Ardelia could only make out specific hues in the auras of the people closer to her. Further into the crowd, the auras became a great big blob of dingy grey-brown, like the color that you get when you mix too many colors together when painting with watercolors.

The protesters were agitated, waving signs and creating a wall of noise. Ardelia didn't know what to make of it; she certainly didn't want to overthrow the Lorne Corporation-after all, she was indirectly employed by them-but she did agree that it was very controlling. Ardelia had always just gone with the flow. She was a fashion designer, not a politician, and most of the regulations implemented by the Lorne Corporation had seemed fairly reasonable.

But what about the disappearances? A thought came, unbidden. They haven't exactly been very forthcoming about that. Ardelia didn't know very much about the recent disappearances, and she honestly hadn't given them much thought at first. Crime was a reality of life that everybody grew up with.

Ardelia glanced at the person standing a little to her left. He looked young, like a teenager. He had brown hair and a peachy complexion, and his aura was an intrigued pale gold and a troubled crimson. "Do you know what's going on?" Ardelia asked plainly.

---

Luther noted the approach of a young-looking woman with tan skin, chocolate eyes, and a wavy ponytail of caramel brown hair. Black dominated her outfit, a tucked-in, Peter Pan-collared shirt with rolled sleeves and a flowery, pleated skirt. She wore ebony tights and heels underneath. Oha, unglaublich modisch! The student looked her up and down and recognized something more unusual about the woman, and it took Luther a moment to remember that she had asked him a question.

"These folks are protesting the WFGS Bank. Something about worker's rights, government corruption, general UN hegemony, and Lorne's excessive control, I think," Luther answered her. WFGS stood for Wells Fargo-Goldman Sachs, formed from the merger between the banks Wells Fargo and Goldman Sachs in 2093. Both were two of several banks in the late 2080s whose machinations screwed over a large number of Mars and Earth's people by encouraging loaning to people who were not guaranteed to pay back their mortgages and loans. The shortfall caused both banks to collapse and millions to lose their homes to foreclosures and declare bankruptcy. The UN Assembly bailed Wells Fargo, Goldman Sachs, and the other banks out, and the merger enraged the struggling working class because WFGS soon built itself back into a banking giant in order to turn more profit off the lower classes' economic hardships. That anger extended into rage over corporate lobbying and Lorne Corporation's influence on Mars, and the tension in New London has only escalated in the years following 2093.

Luther took a glance at the sky and down the street as if he expected law enforcement to come immediately within the next few moments. It was just a matter of time. "How do you suppose we get past this little obstacle?"

---

Ardelia listened intently as the brown-haired boy told her that the crowd was protesting the WFGS Bank. Ah. So it's the banks they're mad at this time, she mused contemplatively to herself. Though people are always mad at big corporations. I can't say that I haven't felt my fair share of frustration with the Lorne Corporation, Ardelia thought. Granted, she was only ever frustrated with the Lorne Corporation when they picked something utterly ridiculous to be mass produced (Ardelia was convinced that the representative who had decided to try to popularize jean skirts again should be shot-some things are best left in the past), but it was the actual frustration that counted, right?

Ardelia was too busy considering the implications of the protest that she almost didn't notice a small flicker of curious yellow-orange (that particular shade reminded her of a pineapple-orange smoothie, and it also reminded her that she hadn't eaten since lunch time) that began to dot his aura like sprinkles on a cake. Whoever is baking this cake is really liberal with those sprinkles, Ardelia thought wryly to herself as the specks of yellow-orange continued to pop up. It was slightly unusual for the average passerby to be that curious about a stranger. Perhaps he had noticed something out of place in Ardelia. Is there something on my teeth? she wondered, before shrugging it off. There were more important things to be worried about at the moment.

The pair watched the crowd for a few seconds before the boy spoke up again, asking if she had any ideas as to how to get past the "little obstacle". Ardelia laughed lightly. "A 'little' obstacle is a bit of an understatement," she replied dryly, giving him a small half-smile. "In all seriousness though, I have no idea. Maybe we could find a detour or something, but the street that the crowd is blocking is the fastest way to where I'm headed. That's a shame. I'm really craving a smoothie right now. Something citrusy would be nice," she continued, completely aware of the fact that the boy probably did not give a damn about her spontaneous cravings, yet adding in the useless tidbit anyway. "Do you have any suggestions?"

---

Luther chuckled a little at her response. "If it's a smoothie you're after, I know a place around that corner. From there, we can take a detour around that rabble," he said, pointing with his hand at some innocuous area down the street. He was content with grabbing a smoothie right then. He had not the slightest idea of her identity, but the eclectic broad piqued his interest with her peculiar vibe which pervaded the air. Perhaps he was being overly optimistic about her being a truly unique person; his youthful mind was full of deceptions after all. And yet, he saw no reason to cease pursuit. If Luther found something odd about her, why not chase it on whim? He had time to spare and money to spend.

---

Ardelia laughed brightly when the teenager suggested a smoothie place around the corner. She decided right then and there that anyone who was willing to grab a smoothie with some random stranger was someone that Ardelia wanted to get to know. "Well, what are we waiting for?" she asked, noting how the curious yellow-orange surged in his aura. "Let's get going! Although, are you sure that a young man like you won't be embarrassed by being seen in public with an old lady like me?" Ardelia said in a playful, teasing tone, turning around and beginning to walk in the direction of the area the young man had pointed out, her ponytail swishing from side to side as she walked. Ardelia wasn't sure what the brown-haired young man saw in her, but there was a keen intelligence in his eyes and expression that told Ardelia that it wasn't something as small as a piece of spinach stuck in her teeth. Whatever it was, Ardelia saw no harm in spending some time with him. After all, she did genuinely want a smoothie.

---

Luther procured the bottled water from his bag and took a quick sip. He was getting thirsty. "Uh, yeah, as long as you keep it cool, old lady," Luther teased with fake pretense, running a hand through his brown-sugar hair for comedic effect. He laughed heartily, a cheeky grin on his face. "Here, let's get going. It's th-" He could barely form the next word. A loud alert tone interrupted the conversations and protests on the street. Luther set his water bottle down to wait for the announcement. New London fell so deafeningly quiet that one could hear even the distant echoes of the voice who broke the silence.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," said Roland Quee hoarsely over the transmission. "I know my friends, that there have been speculation on what has been going on this past month since our very planet shook. Many of you have noticed the quarantine zones, felt the increased military presence. Heard of disappearances, though today I tell you the truth." Quee rubbed his eyes, but the gesture seemed so laced with deceit that Luther found it hard to take what Quee was saying as truthful. A series of images flashed on the screen. The people depicted in the footage performed amazing feats, on the scale of Luther's own... quirk. But the words which followed the videos underscored the purpose of the announcement. This was not just a message to placate the masses. This was a call to action, and it doomed Luther and anybody like him. The perfidy and the distortion oozed from every screen on Mars, and the sheep-like crowds ate the lie as a glutton would eat fudge. Luther could feel his blood as it began to boil, and his knuckles turned white.

In the corner of his eye, the bottle of water froze so quickly that it expanded and exploded at his feet into a mess of ice and ripped plastic.

And the truth hurts.

---

The sound of Roland Quee's voice froze Ardelia in her tracks. She turned back around to watch the transmission, listening intently to what was being said. At first, the announcement had only piqued half of Ardelia's interest-she was more focused on getting that smoothie-but when he mentioned disappearances and "the truth", Ardelia's head snapped up abruptly as she directed all of her attention to the screen. Video clips of people with what could only be described as superhuman powers appeared, and Quee went on to say that they were the one responsible for the disappearances. For the first time that she could remember, Ardelia found herself questioning the validity of the government's announcement. What? This makes no sense, she thought, puzzled. I'm one of them, I guess, if seeing colors everywhere counts as a power, and I haven't done anything. Calling me dangerous is like calling a smoothie gross. Granted, an angry person in six-inch heels is pretty dangerous, but still... One thing was for sure, though; Ardelia now had a reason to keep her ability a complete secret. She certainly did not want to get tangled up in the entire mess. I suppose I'm fine. I don't do anything against the law.

All through the announcement, Ardelia cast surreptitious glances at the young man, noting the violet suspicion working its way through his aura. As the announcement progressed, the violet was quickly replaced by anger-bright scarlet anger that seemed to burn when Ardelia looked at it. That took Ardelia by surprise, but what surprised her more was when his water bottle exploded.

Ardelia took a step backward, her eyes widening slightly. She took a look at his aura again, and noticed a flicker of something that she hadn't seen before. Ardelia looked around wildly, hoping desperately that nobody had noticed the water bottle explode. She grabbed his arm. "Let's get out of here," she said in a low voice, not a hint of her earlier playfulness left in her voice. She pleaded for him to trust her with her eyes, giving the ruined water bottle a meaningful glance.

As the doors closed around her, Edith spun around to the one that was open. The distinct sound of a mech walking echoed through the hall. Soon she saw an old M-1 unit step through. Being quite familiar with this model it was actually surprising to see one in the facility. Someone was controlling it though, the same one that helped her out of her cell apparently. While she had no way of knowing why she was being helped she wouldn't reject it.

Passing the M-1 she made her way to the security station. Talking to a faceless human was not high on her list of things to do. On the way she passed a couple sealed doors where some confused guards could be heard conversing and trying to open the door. Time was not on her side it seemed. Ten minutes was not a great sum to get what she wanted and escape. Reaching a console she placed her hand on the scanner and as the mysterious man had said she had access to the system. Grabbing a data drive she cleared it and began copying as much data as she could on herself and any other data she could reguarding "powered" individuals. A prison wasn't the greatest repository for such, but given her pressence there was bound to be something.

Forced to wait Edith glanced at the security monitors and saw an aftermath of carnage. What the hell happened there, her "savior" perhaps? No telling really. What could be said is that whatever interference had been set up for her had kept the entire facility from going alight with alarms and soldiers. Getting out now was more important than ever because if she didn't she could get caught and blamed for it. Sadly it looked like she would have to go that way to escape. Wishing the data transfer would finish already she watched the progress monitor speed up and complete in seconds. This ability was going to mess with her head until she got the better of it.

Yoshihiro came back to his senses again, just as he ran a sword of bone up through a young soldier's throat, near bifurcating the poor soul. He groaned, pulling the weapon away from the young man. He vomited again, before grabbing up all the supplies he had stolen from the cafeteria and jogging through the now bloodied halls.

"Security... no garage... damnit." He threw an empty milk carton at the useless sign continuing down the hall with whatever foods he had grabbed. He had no clue what he would do if he didn't find a rover, wander through the desert hoping to not die of heatstroke? Bleed to death due to the many wounds he had sustained due to his own abilities? He sighed, still bleeding painfully.

He skidded around corners and slid on sticky blood. He had never been a religious sort, but he had prayed multiple times in the last few hours, and he did again as he slipped and near fell into the closing door of a recently opened cell. God seemed to have been on his side, as he banged his head off of the door and fell back into the hallway. Moaning, he slid up to his feet, leaning against the wall to support his now entirely red body.

He wiped at his eyes, managing to clean a window enough for him to see. Rounding one more corner, he walked in front of the security office, still holding a pile of bloody pile of foodstuffs.

In the security room Edith had just grabbed the drive and turned just as the bloodied man stepped into the doorway. Freezing at the sight the girl studied him quickly. Could it be called man? He was mutilated and covered in blood. He could either be the one that killed the people on the monitor or a victim of the aforementioned. Either way she wasn't about to take undue risk and reached for a cabinet that had weapons. The lethal stuff was locked up but there were less stopping options. Pointing a tazer gun at the man the distinct whine of it charging reached both their ears. "Get out of my way. Whoever or whatever you are I'm on a timetable. The place will be crawling with security any minute."

Yoshihiro took one look at the tazer and scoffed, dropping the supplies to the ground and crossing his arms. "Thick clothing can stop those bloody things, good luck with such a worthless weapon." He knelt down, picking the supplies back up and turning to leave.
"Don't follow me, please." He decided that being polite in a way would get him more success than just murdering a prisoner for no reason would. Hopefully she would listen, though with the security of this prison, he doubted she would just leave without having something to say.

A slight sigh of relief left Edith's lips as the man seemed to have little interest in ripping her apart. Still she held the gun while he walked away. He wasn't a guard or prisoner. the garb seemed to convey that much. What was with the food though? It didn't seem like a good reason to break into a prison. Grumbling to herself she stepped out of the room and went the same direction, passing him. "Suit yourself, I'm leaving." Having seen the map she knew where to go to get transportation. Hoofing it was a sure way to get recaptured.

Realizing that he had no clue where he was going, he sighed, realizing he'd have to ask this white haired... oddity where he'd have to go. He swallowed something he didn't feel, before opening his mouth a second longer than neccessary to speak. "Uh, do you know where the Garage is? With rovers? If there's an infirmary too, I may need some pills." Then his mind went back to her first words to him, and he decided to add one more thing onto that.
"I am human by the way, I think."

Going the same way then? Well, almost. The infirmary was not something that she made note of given the urgency. Pointing backbehind the man she waved to gesture it was in that direction. "Infirmary that way somewhere. Finding it is your problem. Probably only have five minutes though. I'm heading to the garage." Feeling that she wasted enough time she took off running. Still within view she placed a hand against a security panel and the door opened like she owned the place.

Five minutes? Bah, to hell with antibiotics, he'd be fine. After following Edith's unnecessary run to the door, he followed in much the same way, combat rolling through the still opening door. He stood, wiped himself down, and motioned for Edith to lead the way.

She was going whether the man was following or not. Though at this point there wasn't much reason to help him specifically. Going through another door they entered the garage and she opened a security cabinet that held the keys to the vehicles there. Grabbing one to one of the rovers she went to the heavy metal door to the outside and opened that. "Take your pick. Unless you think you have a good place to go."

Yoshihiro looked over the rovers, his hand upon his chin, he was looking for one that would hold all the supplies without being slow. As he did, there was noise outside the door to the garage. "Son of a bitch... you have a weapon? Anything?" He turned to Edith and held out his free hand in a questioning motion. The door was thrown open then, and from Yoshihiro's palm fell a sharpened bone. He just managed to grab it in his fingers before it fell, holding it intimidatingly.

The door opening and two guards were revealed behind it. Her eyes widened as she was only a few yards from them. As they whirled around they both reached for their holstered weapons.

Immediately Yoshihiro moved to start the engagement, pointing at the leftmost soldier, sending a finger bone with enough force to lightly tap the man on the head. He looked down at the bloody bone, before scoffing and pointing the gun at him. Yoshihiro cringed. "I honestly thought that would do more."

Grabbing Yoshihiro, Edith pulled him back as best she could, dragging them both to the ground. The guards had already aimed at the two and were pretty much ready to shoot at least one of them for attacking. Before they had the chance though Edith threw a hand out and the two guards practically froze in place. With closer inspection they were still moving, but extremely slowly. "Alright, let's go." Leading him away from their line of fire it looked like it would take a while before they would even be able to take aim again. "I don't know how long they'll be like that but we better make the most of it."

Yoshihiro struggled to continue to keep his eyes on the now frozen guards, when he was finally dragged away, he placed his hands upon his head and bugged out his eyes.
"What the hell was that?" He asked with a little fear in his voice. This... power, was definitely above anything he could do, and it terrified him, he hadn't understood how others felt when they saw his abilities, well, maybe he did at first, but after a few days of use, they didn't frighten him anymore, this however... was scary.

Edith knew why he was freaking out. Her ability was somewhat hard to wrap the mind around and was extremely powerful when weilded properly. Not that she entirely knew how to use it yet, as was demonstrated by the data transfer earlier. Having a gun pointed at her made for good motivation to try. "Wish I could tell you. Just woke up and things were different." A massive understatement there. While she had the body of a teen she still had the thought process of an old woman. "Worry about that later please. Pick a rover and let's go."

Yoshihiro sighed deeply, but he moved to choose one of the rovers. After a few moments deliberation, he climbed into one and checked it's functioning capabilities.
"Engine light? Son of a bitch, alright, we're taking this one." Jumping out of the rover, he climbed into the nearest other one, finding it to be up to spec. Just as he was about to signal for Edith to get in, he frowned and glared at her.
"Why are you so quick to trust me? I mean it's nice, but I'm kinda still in military mode, never really goes away. But hey, you're the only living thing in this place that hasn't tried to kill... okay, first to not go through with their attempt." He queried through the open door of the rover. He knew that the guards could come at any moment, but he was already in vehicle, and this one was quick to start.

Shaking her head a bit Edith climbed in. "I've been in here a while. You probably know your way around Mars better than I do right now. Besides you know that I can take care of myself now." She didn't need to point out the guards. The reaction she got was sufficient to assume that Yoshihiro wouldn't try anything stupid. "Plus someone helped me out the same time you got here. I wouldn't call that coincidence. Why do you think the alarms didn''t go off while you were mauling people?"

Yoshihiro couldn't help but think she was right, he had taken down a droid, probably a few assault squads, and only god knows what he had done while blacked out. That probably would have tripped an alarm somewhere, though he had a few thoughts to who had aided him, if the resistance even knew where he was. Still, he decided he might as well let Edith know of his colleagues. "I have a thought." He coughed.
"It's possible that there may have been a resistance member aiding me, I am a member, though if they got sec cam access then I don't think I'm remainig a member, either that or the resistance has a thing for psychotic former soldiers." He chuckled, before sighing.
"We should probably go." He smirked in her direction, before driving the rover out the door into the Martian desert, the hangar doors opening easily before him.

Old abandoned facilities littered the martian wastelands, from test sites that nobody wanted to claim for questionable reasons to old substations that were meant to one day give Mars a breathable atmosphere but with considerable money being put into projects that in the end failed, most of the companies soon fell out of contention. So now, Cassie was hiding in one of old facilities with her helmet between her legs wondering what was going on. She had devoted everything to the U.S.F. She had lost family, friends, eyes. She had lost so much, and then they just turned around and wanted to arrest her for something that was beyond her control. She didn't even know how she got these abilities, she didn't want these abilities. What else could the military be sending a Mech after her for?

Though more importantly, who was the voice that spoke through her radio? That was a closed system, and it just got weirder that nobody else had seemed to hear it. How did someone speak through her helmet alone when it was a squad radio? It made no sense at all. She threw her helmet against the wall of the small room she sat in, it must have hit a couple of buttons as the lights of the facility flickered on. She would have cried if she was capable with her synthetic vision, why did she listen to the voice? She could have stayed, maybe they would have fixed her. At the very least she wouldn't be a wanted criminal right now if she had stayed. There was the sound of a gunship flying over and she smiled a faint smile, no matter what the military kept up it's routines. Now if they kept with routine they wouldn't even bother scanning this facility with infrared, after all it wasn't that far away from a prison facility so no-one would be dumb enough to stay here for any length of time, at least anyone who didn't know U.S.F routines, protocols and patrols.

She knew them, and that's why she sat here. There was an alarm and she walked over to the console as the shutters automatically closed. For a moment she panicked, thinking that the gunship was coming down. Though then she noticed the warning, sand storm. Violent and unpredictable, one of the only downsides to the city no longer being in a dome, they could be quite deadly to anyone outside of the city, or just anyone outside period without some form of breathing apparatus.

Turns out her hiding space was going to host her for slightly longer than she had originally planned.

It had been almost two weeks since discovering her condition. Lynda hesitated in calling it a power or ability because that implied control, which thus far she had yet to manage. At the moment she had her own hand under an electron microscope to get a better idea of what the nanites had done to her. For as much as she was cooperating it took them long enough to get her this piece of equipment. She was having to look at her hand directly because when she attempted to prick her finger for a blood sample nothing came out. Visibly her skin had become an unhealthy grey color with a few markings that looked like circuits. The markings didn't seem to have any detectable function so they may only be visible signs of what was happening to her. Looking through the device she saw the most confusing thing.

The particular nanites that she'd been exposed to were designed for the medical field. They were one of Lorne's more humanitarian achievements and well above Lynda's pay grade. They were great for targeting some of the more stubborn cancerous cells, accelerating the rebuilding of tissue, and generally cutting back on the number of invasive surgeries. The thing was that they only functioned for a few hours and dissolved shortly after to prevent future harm to the patient. More would need to be introduced to continue treatment. But here in the microscope she was witnessing what looked like a completely new form of life. The nanites weren't just assisting her bodily functions, they were performing them. Mind you they were not the same as before. They'd changed shape and function, gained the ability to replicate, and were by all signs Lynda's new cells.

Glancing up there were a couple security guards standing outside the door. Unlike the military they were not as serious and seemed to be having a conversation. Even so they were not going to let her out. The door was locked, but it was electronic so that wasn't really a hindrance. Sighing the woman removed her hand from the microscope and leaned back into her chair. A fine mess she's gotten herself into. Thus far she'd been treated well so there wan't much to complain about, but her days were likely numbered. She was a phenomenon that could mean the next breakthrough in medical research, military application, human evolution, hell even knows maybe the "grey goo" apocalypse scenario. Replicating machines were nothing new but these were part of a larger whole. They acted biological but weren't. Nor were they acting parasitic by consuming Lynda. No, by all indications she'd been converted into a techno-organic being, as much machine as she was human.

Lynda knew that Lorne had to have realized what she was by now. It was just hard to predict what they would do. As far as she knew they weren't cruel, but they did make weapons of war. Surely they wouldn't pick apart a living being, if she could be considered living anymore. The argument could be made that she was Lorne property and after she was gone no one would know. Lynda Nguyen would just have disappeared one day and eventually be forgotten. These kinds of thoughts went back and forth in her mind. They presented a problem because she wasn't really sure what to do. If she stayed she could maybe and figure something out. If she ran then there was little chance of having access to this kind of equipment again and ever finding out exactly what was happening to her.

Hearing chatter in her head was a sign that the V.I. she'd assimilated had become active again. Lynda still didn't know what having such a thing in her head meant. It was her pet project before this debacle, a contract job given to Lorne by the USF. They wanted a new line of V.I.s for their robotics division. Most of the basics were done so it was a fully functional V.I. However the way it was designed presented a problem for USF's protocols, which is what Lynda was trying to resolve last she worked on it. But if the nanites were any indication it too could have undergone changes beyond its original function.