The penthouse apartment was huge compared to what either of them were used to back home. One of the perks with being the booty call for nobility, was that you never went hurting for cash ever again. Johan didn't spend much time in it however, like everything else, it reminded him of his King. His sister, did spend a lot of time in it, looking after her brother and cooking his food. Johan sat at the table, a bottle of scotch half empty next to his full glass.

"You should stop drinking Johan." Louisa's voice didn't hold any venom, but it held a stern, angry edge to it. They had this conversation almost daily at this point.

"You should mind your own buisness, Louisa." His retort was meanspirited, cutting.

"I am your Sister." She pleaded. He heard her voice crack. A part of his heart did to. But it was forgotten in a irrational fit of rage bubbling to the surface. Pent up emotion, clawing and dragging itself to the surface. She should understand she couldn't tell him what to do. She could not guilt him. Not over this. Not like this.

"My YOUNGER sister. You don't get to boss me around!" His tone did hold venom unlike hers. More then he ever wanted to aim at her. But the shakes were coming, the rage was not logical. Its target was the blonde woman currently pleading with him, playing at his emotions. They all did, they all just kept manipulating him. But his words cut like a knife, and his sisters tears welled up as she stared at him. He felt his heart drop like a stone, his rage ebbed away. Hers however, came pouring out like a tsunami.

"Oh? We are bringing up age?! Mr 'I will leave my sister to go shag A GODDAMN ELF KING' for 10 years without a fucking word TO MY ONLY FOCKIN KIN." Her accent slipped, her broad, northern swedish accent that he cherished so much. He winced, looked away.

"...." He couldn't speak. He could not argue. She was right. Of course she was. He was an asshole. He knew that. He hated that. He buried his face in his hands, trying to calm his nerves. Her hand was immedietly at his shoulder, squeezing it.

"Look. Just, try not to drink so much... It is killing you..." Her voice was so frail, all the venom, all the anger gone. He wanted to cry, he wanted to tell her he would be better. He wanted so much. But inside his body, magic resides. His skin bore its marks. His faith was not to be a man of peace and control.

"I'll... I'll try." Was all he could say. He hated himself.
------

NEW YORK; Down in the Subway tunnels.

"Ok. You know the rules. You're a expat of the Northern Throne. Even if you live here, you can't just do as you please. You're only allowed to reside here by your King's good will."[/color] He stared at the massive boulder of a creature. The troll stared back at the man who was puny in comparison. The spear glowing red and blue in his hands was more then enough to even the odds. The trolls stare did make the human nervous though. Trolls were magic resistent. He ONLY had his spear to rely on.

"Oh c'mon. It's not like I've eaten another kid." The troll began. He was rocktroll, rather young. How he had managed to make it all the way to the states was curius to say the least. His kind were native to Scandinavia, and didn't exacly move quickly. For it to get here, meant it had help. And he had a pretty good idea who was behind the transfer. Someone who no doubt knew putting a human devouring troll right under someone who wanted a war between humans and Fey. Somone, who even now had his little minions watch him, looking for a opportunity to try and assassinate him.

"Another?" A raised eyebrow was all he needed to make the troll backpeddle. He knew of course, that troll hadn't eaten anyone in New York or he'd not be having this discussion.

"You know my past man. I am a troll. I eat humans. BUT NOT ANYMORE I SWEAR. I FOLLOW THE KINGS CREED!"

"So, you did NOT eat Mr Sanders dog?" Johan shot back as he mentally prepared himself for what was to come. This would either go splendedly well or it would go straight into a brawl. With the additional eyes on him, he didn't want to throw down with a magic resistant creatures three times his size.

"...The rules say nothing about dogs!" The troll protested. He looked upset, but not angry. He wasn't going to throw down with the King's Champion. Rune sighed inwardly with relief. That was one headache less.

"It says not to draw attention in a negative way towards yourself." He raised a hand to silence the trolls objection,"and in association, to your King. To do so is to threaten the balance."

"I... It was just a couple of dogs... four at most." The troll grumbled.

"You were seen. For dogs to go missing in a short period of time from the same exact area? That means the police looks into it. I'm sorry but you are to return to Faerie, or I will have to dispose of you." He said the last part with a voice that betrayed no emotion. "I rather we avoid a tussle."

"...Yes Champion. I know..." The Troll spoke dejectedly. He got off his hunches, dragging his rocky, mosscovered body next to Rune.

"Good. I would not have relished the throwdown..." He said as he put down the runes for creating a pathway between the Mortal realm and the Eternal Faerie. "Off you go." He said, prodding the Troll with the tip of his spear. It lumbered off, growling softly about the injustice of it all. As soon as he was gone he turned to the shadows.

"You can come out now you little shits." There was no answer. Instead there was cackle and a snickering sound. A chill ran down his spine. "I said... Come out." He steadied himself, spear firmly in both hands. "LJUS!" He yelled as a flash of light emitted with all of him at its center. For a second he burned away the shadows to reveal twisted, small eyed, shriveled creatures. Draugr. His blood rang cold as those were not the Fey but undead. That meant Hildebrand was nearby, and who knew how many dead hobos she had picked up on the way. He hated necromancers.

"Odin help me." He said as the first of the Draugr snarled at him. As they began to advance, he looked down the dark, damp tunnel to his left. He thought in that moment; Fuck it.

He started running like a madman, away from his undead opponents. The Draugr weren't shambling corpses, but they were not quite as fast as they once had been in life. But they were formidable enemies as far as Johan was concerned. He was not going to fight them where more could appear.

Chris nervously paced in the Sherman Center, periodically glancing over towards a large computer monitor that showed a computer model of the factory, along with dots representing his teammates. Once everyone was in position, Chris gave the signal for team one to move forwards.

“Alright, Team One, you are clear to go in. Team Two, wait for my mark to advance.”

After he spoke, Chris saw several of the dots suddenly approach what appeared to have been an abandoned factory, although they all knew that Doctor Diplodoc and his associates were definitely residents there. They surely were going to run into someone soon. Weren’t they?

Eerily enough, for the few couple minutes, Team One traversed the facility without running into any resistance. Although there was in his head a sliver of hope that they would march their way uncontested to Doctor Diplodoc himself, Chris knew that this was not going be that easy. However, a quick blip on the screen that signaled that a hostile was nearby proved that this was not going to be a cakewalk.

“Guys,” Chris talked into the com systems, “Head up. There might be some resistance nearby.”

---

After Chris had warned Team One, which included War-Pulse, Thunderbolt, White Witch, Radiance, Lyger, and Bast, that someone might be close, someone began to materialize before them, or rather she was removing her own invisibility. A woman, clad in a silver dress, appeared before the heroes.

“I’m surprised it took you all this long to discover our little hideaway. But I guess that what happens when you try to jam several different cogs and gears into a clock and expect it to work.” The woman taunted the heroes. However, before she continued, the Silver Sorceress mumbled a few words under her breath, causing her hands to begin glowing white. As she raised her arms above her head, the sorceress’ magic began to reveal her previously hidden allies. They stood all around the six heroes, surround them.

Once Effigy appeared, he immediately shifted his appearance. The process of his transformation, although painless, would have made any onlooker feel sick to his stomach. Bones cracked, muscles ripped, and skin rearranged itself in order to take on his new form. “Alright,” he finally said in War-Pulse’s voice, “it’s time for round two with that wannabe of mine”.

“Why don’t you do your thing, sis.” The Silver Sorceress mentioned to a figure that stood next to her. This young girl, whom the heroes had not known about from their debriefing session at the Sherman Center, wore a dark green cloak that had a hood that concealed her face. However, when she pulled the hood down, the young girl revealed that her skin had a green tint, as if her skin was filled with chlorophyll, and her hair appeared to be made out of foliage.

Silver Sorceress’ sister pressed her hand against the ground. Her fingers buried their way through the linoleum floor as if they were like tree roots. Then, several small Venus flytraps grew around the six heroes, creating a perimeter around them. While in their current state, they were not a threat to the heroes, but once the Silver Sorceress placed an enchantment upon them in order to make them grow to gigantic proportions, the carnivorous plants began snapping their mouths at their ‘prey’ as slime dripped down from their mouths.

If that was not enough, a web line attached itself to Bast’s back. Something, or rather someone, on the ceiled yanked the young metahuman up off the floor and suspended her in the air. The Black Widow had ensnared the catgirl in her web.

“I’m wishing I was on Team Two right about now” Sammy thought as she struggled to free herself from her assailant.

---

Now that Team One had located and engaged Doctor Diplodoc’s minions, Team Two received the signal from Chris to proceed. Everything was going smoothly at first: there was no resistance, the path was almost exactly as Kelly had remembered when she had stayed her for a short time. It almost felt too easy.

Their first obstacle appeared to have been a locked door. However, with a cast including three metahumans with superhuman strength, breaking a locked door would have been a piece of cake. But once they ripped the door off its hinges, the heroes discovered that the doorway had been sealed with a thick layer of concrete. Even this would not have been too much of a problem, but two metal doors slammed down from the ceiling, blocking both the cement-sealed doorway and the entrance that they had used to enter into this room.

But the situation began to be dire. Both of the walls that had the doors attached to them slowly inched towards one another. At the same time, the ceiling also started to descend towards the floor. Unless the heroes acted quick on their feet, the room would crush any of them who could not resist the pressure of the collapsing room and leave those who remained to watch their compatriots suffer.

“I kind of now wish I was on Team One.” Kelly mumbled under her breath.

Lost Haven, Slums

"But my purpose is clear, no matter what..."

Kicking the pebbles beneath his feet, Milo's eyes traveled to the now golden sky, painted such by the breathtaking sunset dancing across the distance. It was his favorit time of day, almost as if seeing the very sun itself lulled to sleep in the massive sky where it watched over the world beneath. Milo had deliberately left his iPod back home, the silence required to manage the thoughts he wanted to delve into. What were the answers he was looking for going to look like? He was unsure if he'd like them at all but there was little he could do to change that. Many years had already cast an illusion he attempted to live by, but with an eternity stretching out before him, it was only a matter of time before the illusion would shatter. "James always says that you should take everyday as it comes, one day at a time..." The distance revealed faint sounds of people communing, some of them louder than others. It wasn't an act of aggression but rather one of joy. Only moments passed before Milo noticed the basketball court further away. He had left the serenity of his own neighborhood and had now entered civilisation.

"Pass the ball over here!" A girl shouted as she excitedly jumped up and down, waiting for the basketball to bounce towards her. People of every ethnicity played the game together, different skin colors donning each participant to paint a rainbow of colors. The sight was comforting in a way, different people able to not only accept each other but also appreciate the differences. With a faint smile crossing Milo's lips, it quickly disappeared at the thought of himself. He wasn't even fully human. Ethnicity and skin color didn't apply to him when humanity was barely a part of who he actually was. "No..." The boy shook his head, making a turn to move behind a large apartment building and leaned against the wall. "I am human, aren't I...?" Indeed, everything but the way of creation painted the boy human though it was a rather large part straying from what was considered natural, wasn't it?

"Is it reasonable to let this bother me...?" It was difficult to narrow down where he should have stood on the matter. Now that he had what one could consider a somewhat stable life, thoughts came pouring in from every side and he could fight them for only so long. Bringing a hand up to his forehead, he slid his fingers across his bangs with a sigh. Perhaps going at this alone wasn't the best way of tackling the situation, but no one else could give him the answers he was seeking. Only he could find them within himself. As would however be a common disturbance, Milo's thoughts were cut short by the black car pulling up just around the corner. He wouldn't have given it a second look if it fit into the surroundings even a little but this car belonged in the richest parts of New York, not here in the slums. Hearing how the car door opened, Milo quickly hid himself from sight but allowed himself a peek at the scene unfolding before him.

"We've got the package." A man spoke, his elegant black suit matching the car more so than the neighborhood. "He's quite the nuisance." The man continued, a frustrated sigh leaving him as he paced back and forth with the phone pressed against his ear. "Very well, Sir." He finished, seeing how another person approached the car. It was a woman who had just left one of the apartment buildings. Just like him, she was dressed in a black suit. Were they FBI? No, that couldn't be the case. Due to the car windows preventing seeing through the glass, Milo couldn't establish what the package was but 'He's a nuisance' seemed to hint at something. Could the package be a person?

"Might not be back as early as I had hoped, James..." Narrowing his eyes at the darkly clad individuals, Milo saw how they stepped into the car without a single word to each other. "Looks like my curiosity will get the better of me again..." Throwing the bagged blade over his shoulder, Milo tied it to his back and leaped onto a drainage pipe. Displaying his inhuman level of agility, the boy ascended the building with ease. As the pipe reached the edge of the roof, Milo placed his foot against the wall and pushed himself back as he jumped up, allowing for some space as he grabbed onto the rooftop and pulled himself to the top. Indeed, from here he could see the black Volvo driving through the streets. Accelerating his pace, Milo ran across the roof and vaulted onto the neighboring building. Given the short distance between each, traversing across the rooftops was a common practice for Milo. It allowed for an eagle view while keeping him hidden from whoever he was chasing.

A short while passed before Milo noticed how the car pulled in behind an Italian restaurant. Though the distance was quite large, Milo saw how two figures stepped out of the car and pulled out a smaller shape from the backseat. It was a person indeed, and from the looks of it, this person had yet to reach adulthood. A soft frown crept onto Milo's visage as the boy saw them step into the restaurant with the captive struggling against them. "That settles it, then..." Descending the building in a similar fashion to how he moved up the massive walls, Milo would find himself upon solid ground before long. Without wasting a second, the young swordsman dashed in the direction of the restaurant. Indeed, not only one car had parked here but four. Were they having a meeting? Was this the Italian mafia? Come to think of it, the man speaking on the phone did have faint traces of an accent in his words but Milo wasn't very good with languages. It was difficult to tell exactly where the man had originated from.

Tightening the fingerless gloves donning Milo's hands, he was sure that a battle was going to greet him once he entered the building. If things went according to plan however, he wouldn't need to step into a bloodbath. It was safe to say that things rarely ever went according to plan, though.

Crouching down, Milo moved towards the restaurant and attempted to listen in on the conversation undoubtedly taking place inside. Closing the distance with the window did however not bear any fruit. Giving the window a slight peak would reveal that no one was even there. "They're probably in the kitchen..." Reaching for the clip in his pocket, Milo made his way towards the back and picked the lock with little effort. Restaurants didn't put that much effort into their security. As he opened the door and stepped inside, Milo could immediately hear voices reaching his ears. Indeed, they were in the kitchen. Silently moving through the locker room he had found himself in, Milo carefully peeked out from behind the wall and saw how four men and two women stood in front of a chair harboring the captive previously seen. It was indeed a boy like Milo had thought.

"I don't know anything!" He shouted in desperation, seeing how one of the men had started boiling some water in a pot.

"Come now, Giovanni. I am sure you've picked up on what your father is doing, haven't you?" A woman spoke, her arms crossed as her words were mocking to say the least.

"He doesn't tell me anything! Please, I don't know what he's doing!" Dressed in an expensive shirt along with dress pants, this boy was undoubtedly wealthy. He couldn't be older than sixteen, fear incredibly obvious upon his visage. "Dad's always been secretive! Why are you doing this to me!?"

"My dear Giovanni..." A male spoke, stepping closer to their captive. "We live in a vicious world. Your papa should have taught you that."

"B-but...what do you want from me? I don't know anything!" The boy attempted, but to no avail.

"If you don't know anything, you'll do as a message to Antonio. No one fucks with us." A man who had stood silent up until this point finally spoke, motioning towards one of his goons to bring forth a knife.

"Internal affairs within the mob...shit, I can't just leave this kid to be tortured..." This boy could very well be part of the mob as well, though torturing him wasn't something Milo could allow to pass. Releasing his blade from the cloth bag, Milo charged out of his hiding place and gracefully jumped onto a counter. He pulled the blade from the scabbard which he held by his waist and in a skillful maneuver, severed the goon's hand from place before in a fluid motion kicked him into the pot of boiling water. The shock was high in might but the man's screams broke through.

"What the fuck!?" It was hard to tell who had spoken, but the six people standing before him had yet to collect themselves from the bloody event which had taken place. "It's Edge!"

"Heh, people know me now...?

"He killed my friends!" Another shouted, reaching for her gun.

"About to kill a few more..." Dashing forth, Milo swung his blade in what could only be described as an exotic dance of moves, each more deadly than the other. This walk of clarity had yielded something, indeed.

Sherman Center, Lost Haven

The final stage of planning was complete. All that was left was for the team to actually get to West Virginia and take this Doctor Diplodoc guy down. It seemed simple enough a task. Yet, nothing was ever as easy as it seemed. Thunderbolt quickly made his way out of Sherman Center. Finding his sister, Boom, wasn't difficult. They were both intimately connected via the power of the Lightning Effect, the source of their speed. Harvey could track her down rather easily; and vice versa. He found Laura seated on the edge of Sherman center's roof, her feet dangling precariously off. Thunderbolt plopped down beside her, wondering how in the seven layers of hell he was going to convince Laura that they needed her help. Harvey recalled a fond memory of trying (unsuccessfully) to get a pissed off Laura out of the treehouse when they were kids. Dad had ordered her to stop snooping on their elderly neighbors, the Frankfurts. Laura insisted that they were both really aliens disguised as humans and was hellbent on proving it. Barred from her investigation, the Smith girl had decided to hide in her treehouse in protest. A whole day and a half had passed before dad got so fed up that he climbed up the tree and dragged his daughter inside.

"I-" Thunderbolt began, his voice tentative and unsure.

"Yes, I understand that I have a responsible to help. And yes, I believe you when you say that we'll take War-Pulse in the moment Pax is dealt with. It just pisses me off that all of Lost Haven's so called heroes set aside their morals at the first sign of trouble. Whatever happened to integrity?! Shit, you'd think Icon, of all people, would at the very least condemn him for his actions. But no! He's just like the rest. I'm starting to think he's no better than the rest of them. Of us." Boom poured out her thoughts to her brother in the span of a hundredth of a second. She'd obviously thought long and hard about this while the team busied itself strategizing. Harvey stared at her, momentarily stunned as he processed everything she'd said. He understood Laura's position. He even agreed with her to an extent. But something told Thunderbolt that they needed War-Pulse. That this deal with the devil was absolutely necessary to defeat a greater evil.

"How did you know what I was going to say?" He asked, breaking the silence.

Laura gave him a meager smile. "You're predictable."

"Does...this mean you'll help us?" Harvey questioned once more. Boom merely nodded. Thunderbolt jumped to his feet, hands on his hips. "Great!" He gave an enthusiastic shout. "Let's get going. We gotta beat the traffic, after all." Boom stood as well; however, she didn't appear quite as ecstatic about the present situation. "I have some..business..to attend to first. I'll meet you guys in West Virginia." That deflated Harv's joy in a flash. "Oh. Uhhh...Alright. See you there, I guess. Stay safe." With that, the two speedsters departed.

Pax Metahumana Facility, West Virginia

The 'trip' to West Virginia hadn't taken Thunderbolt more than thirty seconds. He had to spend an unbearable amount of time just waiting for the slowest members of the rag tag team to arrive via air. Of course, he hadn't just stood around in the airport. Ugh, no. He'd never waste time just standing. Harvey had patrolled a handful of cities, taking down petty criminals attempting to take advantage of the widespread chaos and panic. There was no shortage of conflicts to resolve either. Tensions were high and it looked as if everyone was searching for a reason to break something. Thunderbolt stopped to repair broken shop windows and clean up homes effected by the looting. He had gone so far as to assist the police in organizing the citizens into watch groups, who's sole goal was to report suspicious activity and keep their neighborhoods calm and orderly.

Once everyone had arrived, the heroes made their way to the facility itself. Chris (who had chosen to stay in Lost Haven to coordinate the two teams) gave Team One the go ahead to enter the 'secret' base; which was little more than an abandoned factory of some kind. The place was huge. Absurdly so. Thunderbolt acted as an advanced scout for the team. He would move ahead of them, checking for danger, mostly in the form of traps and dilapidated walls, floors and roofs. Chris warned the team that the enemy was nearby, so the speedster chose to move back to the group to keep a tight formation. He was greeted by the arrival of the Silver Sorceress. Her appearance betrayed the sort of power War-Pulse had warned them of. “I’m surprised it took you all this long to discover our little hideaway. But I guess that what happens when you try to jam several different cogs and gears into a clock and expect it to work.” The woman taunted. "Pfft. What, you think you can take us on your own? You and what army?!"

With a wave of her hands, the rest of the villains appeared out of thin air. "Me and my big mouth." Harvey muttered. His eyes danced around as he took in his opponents at super speed. The match ups became obvious. Effigy took on War-Pulses powers; those two wanted a rematch to be sure. White Witch would likely take on the magicians, being the only one who had any knowledge of the dark arts. The Black Widow grabbed Sam, whom Lyger was likely to want to save. That only left the Shark for Thunderbolt. He didn't know what Radiance was planning to do, but if he was in her position, he'd help out Witch with the dynamic duo. "Lyger, save your girlfriend! Shark-face is mine."

The speedster twins had plenty of experience dealing with bricks. Concrete and El Toro, two of their more regular rogues, both fit that particular description. Concrete in a more literal fashion. Thunderbolt started with his patented speed blitz. He shot forward, reaching about half speed in three quick steps. He transferred almost all of his momentum into his hips and right fist and slugged Jaws right in the schnoz with all the force of a great typhoon. The shark man felt himself lifted off his feet and tossed backwards at hypersonic speeds. His huge body smashed through a a conveyor belt and various other industrial equipment. Harvey was on the Great White in a moment, not allowing him a second to get his barring. The speedster ran around Jaws, unleashing a hail of quick jabs to vital parts of the body. Thunderbolt's instincts, combined with his martial training and super powers, allowed him to find the perfect spots to strike for maximum effectiveness.

The bout looked to be one-sided until Jaws swung his powerful arm in a wide arc, catching Thunderbolt in the back. The quick little hero was knocked into the air, rocketing toward the ceiling. The blue blur was thrown straight through a metal walkway and collided with the unstable roof with a thud. Harv crashed back to earth, his body cracking the concrete floor when he landed. "Holy crap." Thunderbolt groaned. Every muscle in his body was overcome with a sharp, stabbing pain. His bones ached and he was pretty sure those were his broken ribs stabbing into his side. Harvey pushed the protruding bones back into place, cringing at the disgusting sound of his healing factor repairing the internal damage. Before Thunderbolt could fully recover, Jaws flew across the room, his body covered in a strange blue aura, and struck Thunderbolt on the jaw. He skidded across the ground and violently slammed into a nearby wall. Blood poured freely from his mouth and nose. Harvey adjusted his broken nose, allowing it to snap back into position.

Jaws hit hard; harder than either Toro or Concrete, that was for sure. He might have been faster too. Thunderbolt's healing factor hadn't permanently fixed his injuries, but the major ones had been patched over until it could finish the job later. Harvey prayed a silent thank you to whoever or whatever had designed his powers so well. The hero pushed himself to his feet and dashed to the side just in time to avoid another charge from the Shark Man. "Have you ever watched Sharknado?" Thunderbolt suddenly asked between breaths. The monster didn't seem to be in the mood for conversation and attempted to hit Thunderbolt once more. Harvey stepped to the side. He led Jaws away from the wall and into the center of the room. Once he was sure he had enough room to maneuver, Thunderbolt began running circles around the brick. Wind began whipping about the enclosed space as the speedster picked up the pace. It wasn't long before a full on tornado began to form around the shark. The winds strength increased to the point where Jaws' feet left the ground and he started to float. The giant was thrown violently around the cyclone, being deprived of precious oxygen every second he spent stuck there. "Got ya now, asshole!"

As quickly as it had appeared, the tornado dissipated. Magical energy tore the speed-induced phenomenon apart, and the Silver Sorceress used her powers to launch the Shark at the speedster yet again. "Ahhh!" Thunderbolt screamed. He tried to run, but found his feet held to the ground by vines. Without any time to free himself, he threw up his arms to protect his face from the oncoming flying shark.

There was a crackling of energy. A silver and blue silhouette sped between the various conflicts and smashed into the side of the shark, knocking him away. Thunderbolt recognized his sister instantly. "Back off!" She shouted. Her voice was as demanding and stubborn as usual; an attitude he'd grown to appreciate at times like this. Thunderbolt freed himself and he joined Boom in attacking Jaws. "Where have you been?" Harvey didn't bother to hide his wry grin. "I was getting help. Speaking of which..."

A hole was blown through the factory ceiling. Three figures descended to the floor. Skyquake charged full-sail toward the two battling War-Pulses, ready to pound Effigy into the dirt with her super strength. Skull-Thrasher detached himself from his grappling hook and started taking pot shots at Black Widow with his pistols. Meanwhile, Supercell conjured up a tiny storm to launch lightning across the battlefield. "Vanguard, engage!" Skyquake yelled out triumphantly. "Engage?" Skull-Thrasher mocked his Irish leader. "Is that the best you've got?" May ignored her armored compatriot and turned her full attention toward the War-Pulses. "Oy. Name the two speed twins n' where you met them!" She impatiently questioned, floating alongside the two. While the inquiry might seem utterly random at first, her intentions were clear enough after a seconds thought: only the actual War-Pulse would know that bit of information.

As Brooker sat in the back of the cab, an idea struck him. They had been driving to all the known hotspots for supernatural activity, and he had seen a pattern. There was unproductive chaos about and he meant to reign it in. HE needed to turn this entire mess into something profitable. He would not find Icon, he appeared to be away on some big hero business. This annoyed the Broker a little but he shrugged it off as soon as another scheme materialized inside his infernal engine of a mind.

“Stop here.” He said as they passed a large Hospital. A idea had struck inside his infernal mind. “Ah yes. Let’s make some deals” He said to himself as he walked up to the closest ambulance that was unattended by actual ambulance personel. A security guard approached him.

“Sir. We don’t need no damn ambulance chasers hanging about” The guard barked, no doubt thinking Broker was another lawyer looking for clients interested in suing for damages. But the Demon just stared into the eyes of the guard and spoke something a language that had been in at least a millennia. The words wrapped around the poor man mans brain like a vice, stopping him dead.

“Tell me. Did you receive any critical cases the last... say 20 minutes. Preferably the victim of violence.” Brokers asked as he asked the guard who stared at him bugeyed. The spell was a simple one used by even the lowest of demons. A lowely demonspawn would have a hard time draw anything specific out of people but Broker was anything but ordinary. His will was gargantuan and his skill with magic unparelled in all of the nine rings of hell.

The man, frozen in terror, stood as paralyzed as he answered against his will. The words forcing themself out of his mouth. “T-two women, one of them badly beaten by her husband, the other was in a robbery gone wrong” Broker grinned a fanged a smile at the information and nodded at the man.

"Excellent. You may die now" He said as he passed the human who's eyes rolled back into his eyes and slumped onto his knees. Whistling the demon weaved a simple glamour around himself so that he looked completely human while he walked the corridors looking for the two women.

He found the assault victim first. A young, 20-something year old white girl with pretty green eyes and hair like fire. He smiled reassuringly at her. "Miss Myers?" His voice was smooth as velvet, with underlying authoritative to put her mind at ease.

"My name is Abraham Bosworth. Of Bosworth and Bethlehem" He provided her with card. Her eyes were down cast, timid. He smiled at her patiently, until she looked up into his eyes. "I represent people who do not wish your husband to out of this scott free."

"S-scott Free? But the cops said they had him for sure.."

"Your husband has powerful friends. He won't see jail time."

"O..Oh no." Her eyes left his and she fidgetted with her hands. He tilted his head, like a cat regarding wounded prey. He resisted the urge to toy with her emotions. This one needed a clear, clean cut.

[color=#F62217][/color]"Miss Myers. What I told you I could provide you with the means to freedom from that cruel man." He knelt by the bed, taking her hands in his. His smile was false, evil incarnate behind the glamour.

"W-what do you mean." Her voice was hopeful but hesitant. "N-nothing illegal.. I don't have much money.

"Oh do not worry Miss Myers. I do not want your money. And it would only be a matter of placing power back in your hands. The power to take for yourself what is yours. The house, his car, everything." Myers eyes grew wider and wider as the poison of his words crept into her mind.

"I'm... listening." She said softly. He proceeded her with a pen.

"This is a legal document, where all your debts go my firm. IN turn, we handle all your legal matters, make sure you get back onto your feet." She looked at the contract. His words had corrupted and undermined her mind in so many tiny ways from the moment he had began to speak. She signed. And inside her, something else took root. Evil.

"But he is violent man.. He will come for me" She said, still hesistant. "What will I do."

"Oh. Don't you worry dear." He revealed his non-demonic form to her and her mouth hung open in awe at his beuty. He simply smiled, cold and humorless. "I have come from beyond to bestow you a gift. Never again will a man hurt you, never again will you be denied. Are you willing to take it?" He asked, knowing full well the answer. She nodded, breathless. He produced a ring and slipped it onto her finger. It would bestow her with the ability to channel some of his infernal might. "Remember Miss Myers. The ring is a gift from me. With it, you can lay low any man. Just remember who you work for now."

"But of course. All your debt. Oh,. Didn't I say? I meant Karmic debt to. Do not worry. Be loyal and you'll soon be rich and independent." He left as she stared at him in confusion. But even as she was horrified and chocked, the magic of the ring only rooted itself deeper inside of her. Soon, she would find herself in possession of money she never been able to touch before. And after that, she would want more. She would feel as if the world owed it to her. And with her new power, she would be able to take it.

--

The other woman was a far different affair. He didn't bother with the glamour. As he walked inside. the police stationed inside her oom drew his gun. A flick of Brokers wrist and a word of power later and that guard was a charred corpse. Eiko, the woman on the bed, looked at once terrified and excited. Excited the guard who she fought was an asshole, was dead. But understandably terrified of the powerful demon in the room with her.

"Eiko Minura?" He spoke, putting on a show as brimstone smoke poured out of his mouth. "I am The Broker. I am here with a offer." She stared in awe. "Would you like to leave the small time behind?" He motioned at the guard. The woman nodded eagerly. She was badly injured, but she clearly knew a way out when she saw it. "Fuck yes Sir."

He walked up to her. "Give me your hand." As she showed her palm to him, he plunged something sharp into it. She screamed as the dagger drew blood and cut deep. Before she could react further her hand up then took it in his hand with a firm handshake. Power suddenly rushed up her veins, and all the evil in her flared up at once.

"Welcome to the gang Eiko. I have given you a portion of my power. It is insignificant amount compared to the real deal. But it should serve you well. I leave your escape up to you. Seek me out once you are all settled and good. I will have work for you" With that he left for more important endeavors.

Jacob was growing tired of his current life. He sat in his office silently listening to his old professor droning on about his abilities and how he could apply them in the field of science. He tuned in as the professor was throwing out what he could do now.

“Imagine it Jacob, you can do so many experiments with substances we would never touch or even try to test. You are unkillable, something that us mortal men constantly worry about. I would give anything to be in your position. Alas I am an old fart now I’m can only watch in awe at what you’ll accomplish in the future.” As the professor reminisced about what he could do with Jacob's abilities Jacob looked at the coffee his professor had made him.

”Listen Anthony, I appreciate all you’ve done for me but this.” Jacob held up the coffee. I can’t drink this, I don’t need to sleep, I never get hungry and can’t eat anything. I can’t even take a shit for christ sake and the chance of me having children has gone up in flames.”

Anthony nodded silently. “I understand your pain fri-”

Jacob slammed his hand down on his desk making the contents of his pen pot spill onto the table and the coffee to topple over. NO! You don’t understand anything. Anthony I need to leave the university. There’s just. There’s just too many bad memories here.”

Anthony was taken aback at Jacob’s outburst. Jacob had always been calm and collected but ever since his accident he had changed not just in body but in mind too. “Alright. I can get your transfer sorted. In fact I was going to ask you this anyway.” Anthony reached down and pulled some papers out of his briefcase placing them on the desk away from the pool of coffee.

Jacob looked at the papers, they detailed his transfer from the university in New york to the university in Lost Haven. Jacob had heard things about Lost Haven about the sudden outbreak of meta humans orchestrated by some mad scientist. Jacob cleared the spilled coffee away from the desk by absorbing the liquid with his hand and rifled through the papers looking at them more thoroughly. Anthony looked at him sheepishly as he went through the papers.

“What do you think then Jacob? I hope it’s not to much of a change?”

Jacob pulled a pen off his desk and signed his name handing the papers back with a grin on his face. ”Dude thanks. This is just what i needed. I would pack my things but I don’t really need much to survive. Except maybe money.” Anthony took the papers back and stashed them back in his briefcase. Shaking Jacob’s hand for the last time

Two Weeks Later

Jacob had been preparing for moving university and as a result he hadn’t had any time to do anything related to his hero alter ego Hydro. Jacob felt that he was letting the people down in New York but there was other heroes that would take up the hole he would leave in the city. As he packed his bag he realised that he didn’t own or really need anything he was packing. Clothes were useless on his body any kind of sudden movement would cause his body to ripple and make his clothes wet. Thankfully he could change the colour of his body so he could at least live a normal life.

Closing the bag he took a last look around his apartment, it wasn’t anything special but it had been home to him for so long. Turning to the door he left his apartment and hailed a taxi to the airport. Lost Haven here he comes! Normally he wouldn’t have been able to take an airplane however Anthony’s research had born fruit. While he had only made one of them Anthony was confident that the pill he had created would allow Jacob to keep his form while he traveled on the airplane. There were some side effects to the pill but Anthony said they probably wouldn’t cause Jacob any lasting effects. However he was never one for patience. Popping the pill in his mouth he got in the taxi and was on the airplane to Lost Haven.

He arrived at Lost Haven just as the sun was setting and man did he feel terrible. The pills side effects were hitting him hard. Headaches, vomiting water and his body drooping at the worst possible time. As he exited the airport he got in the cab that would take him to his new apartment in the middle class area of Lost Haven. After all Jacob wasn’t the richest person. The taxi arrived at his apartment, the light of the sun was slowly disappearing beyond the cities skyline making the streets glow ominously.

Jacob was uneasy this city didn’t feel right. Shaking the feeling from his mind he entered the door through the lobby he climbed the stairs to his room. He would take the elevator but puking up more of his body wasn’t on his agenda for today. Letting himself into his apartment he surveyed his new living quarters. It wasn’t much but it was his new home and he was sure that after a while it would grow on him. He would start his first day at the university tomorrow, his old professor said he would be in touch and that he might meet some interesting people at the university in Lost Haven.

The trip via plane was quiet, naught was said between the Heroes and although the air was thick they all knew what had to be done. Yet. Eva still had doubts, not if they would succeed of course but that what if Doctor Diplodoc was somehow right in all of this. Up until recently Eva was powerless a background actor on a stage for Gods and Monsters and she paid the price for being weak. A world where everyone has power, where they all have a chance to save themselves didn’t sound too bad; in all of that she knew that what Doctor Diplodoc was doing was morally wrong forcing these transformations upon people even if it meant they indeed could save themselves.

Dickens being the ever lovable bastard he was roamed about the plane licking, chewing and gnawing at things as Eva called out to get him to stop more than once. Thankfully he was still small as a parrot so he wasn’t causing any major damage not currently that is. He seemed interested in the other Superheroes climbing about what heroes would allow him to get near like a pesky annoying little bird investigating anything and everything of interest before Eva decided to sweep him back up.

Eva held her blade across her lap and held her hand over Dickens’ head to keep him from roaming anymore until they descended and moved on the location where the Doctor was hiding. Once Team One had distracted the assumed Majority of his forces, Team Two moved to assault the facility ripping off the back door which led to a sealed hallway and a trap. The Heroes found themselves between two thick steel walls closing in designed to crush them. ”Bollocks. I need some room, I need to draw Excalibur, and I’d rather not be crushed.” With a quick motion the sword was pulled from its sheathe with a slight glow surrounding the sword and making the best of the confined space Eva held the sword near the tip of the blade leaving only the length of her forearms’ worth of the blade to cut through the steel at their back. Quickly cutting a crude oval shape. ”One down. At least we won’t be crushed yeah I think. Icon, you can focus on stopping the other wall without worrying about us dying.”

Lost Haven, Slums

"So much family drama..."

The warm splatter of blood gushed from a wound forced onto the finely clad frame of a mobster. The bright red streak stretching from one end of his stomach to the other would spare no one the sight of guts pushing themselves through the opened path. Due to the boy's close distance, guns were quite difficult to use. Pinpointing his location as his incredibly quick and agile movements darted him from one location to the other forced the mobsters to shoot wildly in hopes of hitting their target. "Just kill him!" Another shouted, firing a shot which connected with the floor. Such loud and crude weaponry guns were. Each shot was a deafening symphony better left unheard, and the unpredictable outcome each time the trigger was pulled back made them less than reliable in some situations. A blade would never betray its user, no complicated machination behind the procedure of swinging a sword.

Spinning his body around, the young swordsman delivered a circular slash towards his enemies who had yet to manage a chance in regrouping from having the boy amidst their lines. It didn't take long for the loud booms to finally die out, along with a floor filled with the cadavers of what used to be highly feared members of the Italian mafia. Not a single bullet had managed to hit its mark, the mobsters afraid of hitting their allies while at the same time unable to get an accurate shot on the enemy connecting steel with their flesh. The battle was over in seconds as battles so often were, the boy now breathing heavily as he approached the captive. "You okay...?"

"Y-you're Edge? You're just a kid!" It was safe to say that the mafia's kin was trembling more now than he had before the kitchen was repainted with the sanguine wine flowing through a person's veins. "Shit, you killed everyone. There's so much blood..."

"Don't think talking to them would have worked..." Milo returned, walking behind the chair to give the ropes tieing the captive down a good slash to sever their hold.

Jumping up from the chair, the young man nearly stumbled to the blood soaked floor before he turned around and looked at Milo with terror in his eyes. "Y-you're not gonna' kill me, too?"

"No..."

"Yeah, well, excuse me when I say that I don't exactly believe you. You kill mobsters, right? Well dad's-"

"You're not your dad..." Milo cut him off, cleaning the edge of his sword on a tissue before returning the blade to its scabbard.

"Look, I'm grateful you saved me, I am. Though..." Giovanni continued, turning his eyes to the mess piling up on the floor. "This won't exactly be swept under the rug. Those guys weren't just grunts, you know." Turning his eyes back to Milo, Giovanni gulped and tried to remain as calm as one could expect him to. "I'd hate to ask you to do more for me but can you please help me get home? After all of this, I don't really want to be by myself."

Tilting his head slightly at the question, Milo finally sighed and offered the other boy a soft nod. "Sure..." It was true that he couldn't just leave Giovanni to head out by himself after this went down. Others could be coming for him, after all.

"Thanks, uhm...can I just ask one question?" Giovanni continued, hugging himself slightly in an attempt to stop the trembling. "Everyone says heroes don't kill..."

"Not calling myself a hero..." In other words, Milo believed in more permanent solutions to issues like this. Indeed, every life was worth something but in the midst of battle, he couldn't consider that. Every battle Milo had ended up in was one to the death. Unless he killed his enemy, they would put him down. Even though he couldn't die, they would surely restrain him and keep him prisoner. The best case scenario would be him escaping, the worst case would be them selling him off to some researcher who'd cut him open on a daily basis. The alternative to killing a murderous criminal wasn't worth it, it never was.

"Alright, well...let's go." Giovanni finished, stumbling closer to the door before he finally keeled over and vomited onto the tile floor. It was finally getting to him. The sight, the smell, the sound of blood dripping from a corpse, it was a lot to take in. Seeing it didn't exactly leave Milo unaffected. A sight like this would surely turn the stomach of anyone and despite his tolerance for death, one could never truly eradicate the feelings of disturbance in a situation such as this. Once Giovanni had collected himself, the young man tried to straighten up and continued through the backdoor and leaned against the wall to catch his breath. "This day has been so fucked up!"

"Hope it ends here..." Milo, or Edge as it was, offered. It was a name which was growing in infame among the criminally inclined. In truth, Milo would never go as far as to use deadly force against someone who didn't return the favor. A thief was one thing, but a murderer was another. Milo didn't waste his time with small fry crooks who made a living by stealing from others. Material possessions didn't much matter to the boy either way and thus he didn't much care for such petty crimes. No, his targets were people who turned murder into a business. People who traded in lives, they were on his hit list.

"Shit, we're gonna' need a car key to get out of here." Giovanni retorted, turning his eyes back to the restaurant with a shudder passing through his body.

"You can drive...?"

"Yeah."

"Alright..." Sparing Giovanni the sight of death a second time, Milo reentered the restaurant to salvage a pair of car keys. It wasn't difficult, but he was starting to understand that this was going to take a lot longer than expected. He'd never get into a car with someone he didn't know but Giovanni wasn't exactly going to back out on the only protection he had right now. "Here..." Flicking the keys to the only one who knew how to operate a vehicle, Milo watched as Giovanni tried to unlock one car after the other until they finally found one compatible with the key Milo had acquired.

"Alright come on." Giovanni breathed out a sigh of relief as he stepped into the car. Joining him in the front, Milo rested his blade against the car seat. "Thanks for coming with me."

"Sure..."

Pulling away from the restaurant, Giovanni drove onto the road started on their path to his home. It was a journey which took nearly fifteen minutes by car and Milo couldn't help but think about how he'd get home later. That wasn't going to be a huge issue, though. He was in the gig to help people, wasn't he? Leaving Giovanni now could have been a death sentence. Though the teenager calmed down in the car, he tried to turn the conversation elsewhere in a desperate attempt not to panic. For him, things hadn't quite calmed down yet. "Wait a minute..." He sniffed the air. "Is that strawberry?"

"Yeah..." Milo crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at the driver. Problem...?"

"I guess I just didn't expect a ninja swordsman to smell like a strawberry." Giovanni chuckled, the worries gone for just a brief moment.

"They were out of 'Bloody and Sweaty'..." Milo shot back, leaning back in his seat.

"Heh, that's funny." Giovanni finished.

Once their conversation ended, a large building, a mansion if described correctly, appeared in the distance, it's white walls painting a beautiful picture of extravagance and wealth. Pillars stood welcoming anyone who would walk through the large entrance and a garden fit for kings stretched around the mansion's foundation. "Where are the guards...?" At the sight of this beautiful scene, worry would return to wash over each of Giovanni's senses as the two stepped out of the car. "Something's wrong." Without uttering a response, Milo followed the young man to the front door and saw him open the path to his home. A warm greeting from within was not what welcomed them, however.

"Giovanni!" A female voice echoed through the blood soaked hall, guards laying scattered upon the floor with bullet wounds covering their bodies. Atop a set of impressive marble stairs stood a woman along with two of her goons. A third man accompanied them, a middle aged male taking the role of hostage with a gun pointed to his head.

"Dad!" Giovanni shot back before seeing how several goons poured in from the other rooms with their guns pointed at Milo and the panicking teenager.

"Come here, sweetheart. We just want to convince your papa to help us out." The woman continued. "And who is your little friend, Giovanni?"

"Let dad go!" Ignoring her question, the teenager tried to futilely convince her of releasing his father, though he was met with little more than laughter and approaching goons.

"Well this is a pickle..." Milo clenched his teeth, his fingers around the bagged blade tightening.

Marie clutched her stomach as the plane touched down. She was use to flight, having rode her broom over Lost Haven for the past year, but never had she flown so high or experienced true turbulence. The next time I need to get somewhere quick, I’ll just use one of Puck’s doors. She thought, taking a few deep breaths to calm her insides. She wanted a few more moments to let her mind catch up with her, but there was no time to waste. As soon as she and her group had arrived, they were ushered off to their destination by Iron Knight’s voice.

Before them lie a dilapidated building, a nondescript factory whose interior was laden with rusted machinery, moss, cobwebs; it looked like something from a bad horror film. Marie didn’t let the eeriness worry her. Afterall, she was a witch. She worked with shadows, drank of poison, and commanded spirits. If anything, the building should have been afraid of her. She and her group traversed the factory’s remains, keeping a watchful eye out for Diplodoc’s subordinates.

Iron Knight’s voice entered her ear through the communicator. ”Guys, heads up,” he warned, ”There might be some resistance nearby.”

Marie remained vigilant, but no sooner had the communicator hushed, a transcendental shimmer of light revealed a slender, silver figure. Bathed in the ethereal glow of magic, the Silver Sorceress descended upon them. Marie flinched as the woman waltzed up to the group. She could tell that this fight would be challenging. Am I prepared for this?

“I’m surprised it took you all this long to discover our little hideaway,” she taunted, casting a seductive glare at Thunder, who fired back with a classic retort. Moments later, the sorceress lifted her hands above her head, incanting in what Marie believed to be Latin or Greek voces magicae. She was by no means a linguist, but her base knowledge of mystical dialects might prove useful in the coming battle.

Another shimmer and the rest of the villains were accounted for, appearing one after another and forming a circle around Marie’s group. The air changed, grew more tense, and everyone readied themselves for a fight. Marie held her broom for comfort. It wouldn’t be of much use to her in such a close setting, but perhaps it would still prove useful.

Effigy stepped forward, shifting his appearance to that of War-Pulse, the transformation sickening to witness. Next to the Silver Sorceress stood a small girl wrapped in an emerald cloak, her skin a deep green and her hair a mass of leaves, vines, and flowers. Marie couldn’t tell if she was a mutant or some faerie creature, but it hardly mattered. Her fingers traced the stone floor, then burrowed deep into the concrete like roots. From the ground sprung small fly-traps, whose size was increased by another of the sorceress’s spells.

Everything was kicking off. Thunder quickly tackled the shark-man, Effigy came running at War-Pulse, Bast was grappled by an unseen assailant, and the carnivorous plants were wiggling and smashing into the ground all the while. Marie wasn’t sure how to react, but she knew that she would be the most useful in combating the Silver Sorceress and reversing her spells when possible. The sorceress tapped into the Arcane Stream, a force entirely foreign to Marie. But even though their magic was different, it could still interact, it still operated via similar principles, meaning Marie could, hopefully, counteract it.

Marie tried her hand, waving an arm at the sorceress. What was meant to send her flying back only made her stumble, turning her attention fully to Marie. She assumed that wouldn’t work, but she had to give it a go. A silver streak shot from the sorceress’s hand. Marie, unable to dodge, but her arms up in defense. She felt the warmth of her opponent’s attack, but not the actual hit. Marie opened her eyes to see the amulet around her neck fiercely glowing and vibrating. I forgot I was wearing this! Marie thought triumphantly. Joseph had gifted the charm to her for protection against all forms of harm. Such a direct magical attack from the Silver Sorceress would be useless . . . for now. Such charms are powerful, but they aren’t indestructible. Marie had to act while she could.

The sorceress grimaced. “Your counter-magic will only do you so much good, witch!” she shouted, waving her silver hand and sending forth a torrent of debris from the surrounding area. Marie held up her free hand in retaliation, stopping a few of the larger pieces from striking her, but smaller chunks of shrapnel whipped past and cut her exposed arms. She winced, but didn’t lose her composure. Their magic was different alright, and pitting one against the other would yield interesting results. While Marie struggled to fend off what objects she could, the sorceress began a low chant, her free hand shining brilliantly, the silver swirl of arcane forces turning swiftly into orange sparks. A ball of flame engulfed her hand, and soon it was sent hurdling toward Marie. She stood her ground, hoping that her amulet would combat the onslaught of fire.

Sure enough, the flames subsided as soon as they neared Marie, but not before they set alight some of the surrounding area. Marie used this to her advantage. With some effort, she managed to send the largest pieces of debris back at the sorceress, who was taken by surprise. In the time it took her to move out of the way, Marie used her own skills in conjuring fire to mobilize the flames that surrounded her, sending them across the floor toward the sorceress. The Silver Sorceress reacted immediately, as Marie hoped she would, calming the flames with her magic. While she was distracted, Marie quickly removed her book of tricks from her cloak, flipping through its pages to find the appropriate spell; there seemed to be none. While the sorceress combated Marie’s mystical flames, one of the flytraps leaned down and swiped at Marie, who glided out of the way with more finesse than she thought possible at the moment. Dammit! Is there nothing in this book? she raged internally, furiously flicking through its pages while trying to stay out of the heat of battle.

Her peace was short lived. The Silver Sorceress returned her attention to Marie, who had no choice but to sheath her book and think on her feet.

Turning to the girl in the cloak, the sorceress called out, “Sister, bring her to me!” The girl responded by displaying her arms, which turned into long, vine-like tendrils that came speeding toward Marie. She took a moment to assess the situation, finally coming to the realization that such an attack would be rendered useless by her amulet. Marie stood her ground. The girl’s limbs, when they neared Marie, began to smoke and recoil. She hissed in pain. Marie whipped her free arm across her body, sending the girl flying back into one of her plant creatures, momentarily stunned. The Silver Sorceress glared at Marie, reading herself, but a cyclone created by Thunder stopped her. She used her magic to disrupt the whirlwind and send her shark-headed companion flying toward Thunder.

Marie took the opportunity to think of a way to destroy the plant monsters. She recalled a spell from an old grimoire that was once used by witches to sicken crops and livestock. While a giant, raging, venus flytrap didn’t quite fit either description, and seeing as how she couldn’t conjure enough flames to burn them all, it was all she had. Traditionally, the spell called for a concoction made from powdered animal parts, poisonous extracts, and far more than what she could possibly whip up on a moment’s notice, so the best she could do was the incantation.

Marie began chanting in an old Welsh dialect, her words echoing throughout the battlefield and carrying with them an eerie chill. She focused on one plant creature in particular, hoping to see some signs of success. She repeated her chant as many times as needed, the Silver Sorceress becoming less distracted as time progressed. Marie began to worry, but she continued her incantation, letting her hate build in a forlorn stare. Suddenly, a loud shriek pierced everyone’s ears as a few of the plant monsters began to shrivel and wither to nothing. Others remained, but enough had fallen prey to Marie’s spell that they would be less of a threat.

The Silver Sorceress let out a loud groan. “You bitch!” she yelled, gliding swiftly over the ground in Marie’s direction. Her path was obstructed by falling pieces of ceiling, which threatened to crush her if she didn’t move back. From above came Boom and company to aid in the fight. There was now a direct path outside.

“Hey!” she called to the sorceress, who had fallen just behind some rubble. She picked herself up and once again charged at Marie, who lifted her broom into the air and began to levitate out of the opening in the roof. Now seated, Marie zoomed upward, the sorceress trailing fast behind her. If I can get her away from the rest of the group, they’ll be safe from her magic. The two now floated above the factory, readying themselves for the others’ attack.

The trip from Lost Haven to West Virginia had been mostly uneventful, meaning that this hastily thrown together “team” hadn’t completely imploded by the time they touched down at their destination. Aside from completely ignoring the “googley eyes” that Sammy, otherwise known as Bast kept throwing at him, Lyger found that the trip to West Virginia had gone rather smoothly.

However, once they had arrived at their destination they found that the facility that Arthur had directed them to was completely empty. Lyger silently cursed to himself as the team met up with Thunderbolt, who unsurprisingly was already there waiting on them, and did a bit of scouting around the area in advance of the rest of the group. When they entered the massive factory, they found that it was empty. There were no signs of life within the walls of the building, and Lyger was about to say something to that effect when he realized that something was wrong.

Although they couldn’t see anyone, there was someone else in the room. His enhanced olfactory system warned him that there was someone else in the room with them. Then, the sudden appearance of the one that Arthur had identified as The Silver Sorceress proved his fears to be correct.

“I’m surprised it took you all this long to discover our little hideaway. But I guess that’s what happens when you try to jam several different cogs and gears into a clock and expect it to work.” The woman taunted the heroes.

Something was wrong. Although the sudden appearance of the Silver Sorceress might explain why he could sense another presence in the factory, he knew that she wasn’t alone. As she postured and boasted before the ragtag group of heroes, Lyger could hear a very distinct sound…

Heartbeats.

She’s stalling, they’re surrounding us.” Lyger thought to himself. But before he could offer a warning to the rest of the group, the silver clad woman lifted whatever enchantment that was cloaking the rest of her allies.

Lyger recognized the first of the assailants that appeared to be the being known as Effigy, and before the team was able to react, the copycat villain had already begun to transform. The transformation was painful to watch, the loud cracking sounds as bones snapped and skin stretched, all while muscles and organs repositioned themselves until Effigy had taken on the guise of War-Pulse, and immediately faced off against the real War-Pulse.

While that was happening, Bast was snared in the web of a second spider woman and dragged toward the ceiling where she was stuck in the massive web that the woman had created. Once Bast had been secured in the web, the spider woman immediately bounded toward her.

"Lyger, save your girlfriend! Shark-face is mine." One of the speedster twins, Thunderbolt cried out as he began duking it out with a massive man shark.

Lyger let the comment slide, as there were more pressing matters at hand, and immediately fired a grapnel line from his wrist gauntlet and flung himself up toward the webbed ceiling. The spider woman, Black Widow, was on top of Bast, who struggled to keep the spider woman from sinking her mandibles into her soft flesh, however was being overpowered by the Black Widow.

“Get away from her!” Lyger shouted as he drove a fist into the spider woman’s jaw, and with his other hand, slashed at the webs that held Bast in place, freeing her from the grip of the spider’s trap. However, now free from the spider’s web, Bast began to fall back toward the floor, and the open maw of one of the massive mutant Venus fly traps that had emerged from beneath the ground.

Lyger immediately swung down toward her, catching her by the wrist. He hung there for a moment holding Bast just feet above the snapping maw of one of the massive Venus fly trap. “Hold on, I’ve got you.” Lyger told Bast, even as Black Widow had recovered from the attack and made his way toward them. Lyger found himself unable to do anything. If he let go of Bast, she’d be devoured by the mutant plant below. If he disengaged the grapnel line which kept them both hanging in midair, they’d both be devoured. Black Widow continued to crawl toward them, and as she did, Lyger came up with a plan. It wasn’t a good plan, however, if he executed it just right, they might just walk away from this.

However, he never had to implement it.

The Venus fly trap suddenly swayed as a massive bolt of electricity impacted it, and then coursed through its body. Within moments, the mutant plant which had just been snapping at Bast’s heels, withered and died. Then, the source of the sudden influx of electrical energy, Radiance, turned her attention to the remaining plants that had not been destroyed by the White Witch’s spell. Some of the other plants began to wither and die, even as others exploded. And with the plant directly below them no longer a threat, Lyger disengaged the grapnel line from is wrist gauntlet, dropping both Bast and himself to the floor, away from Black Widow’s grip.

Just as they touched the ground, Boom came racing into the factory, and she was not alone. Introducing themselves by bursting through the roof, a trio of heroes that Lyger was not familiar with made their way into the factory, one of which immediately began opening fire on a retreating Black Widow.

“Are you alright?” Lyger asked Bast as he offered her his assistance in getting back to her feet, even as he looked around to identify other potential opponents.





The flight from Lost Haven to West Virginia only took minutes, though Icon was slowed down a bit by being forced to carry Vigilante on his back, because the stubborn hero refused to get on Arthur’s jet. Finding Dr. Diplodoc’s headquarters was easier than expected, as it was exactly where Arthur had said it would be. In fact, not only was finding the factory easy, but Diplodoc’s followers were nowhere to be found.

This is too easy. Icon thought to himself as the team came to a locked door at the back, an obstacle which was easily removed. However, no sooner did they remove the door, that another pair of doors fell into place blocking their way. Then they noticed that the walls were closing in.

Literally.

The walls began to move towards them like a trash compactor. It wouldn’t be long before the walls came together, crushing the members of the team, at least the ones not gifted with invulnerability, between them.

”Bollocks. I need some room, I need to draw Excalibur, and I’d rather not be crushed.” The young British girl who had been introduced as Pendragon said, then with a quick motion she pulled her sword from its sheathe with a slight glow surrounding the sword and making the best of the confined space Pendragon held the sword near the tip of the blade leaving only the length of her forearms’ worth of the blade to cut through the steel at their back. Quickly cutting a crude oval shape. ”One down. At least we won’t be crushed yeah I think. Icon, you can focus on stopping the other wall without worrying about us dying.”

Without saying a word Icon stepped between one of the encroaching walls and the rest of the team. Bracing himself against the wall, he leaned into it, hoping to stop it from advancing further. The wall resisted his attempts, however, only momentarily.

“Go!” Icon told the rest of the team as the advancing wall began to screech, before finally grinding to a halt. With the immediate threat dealt with, Icon looked to his teammates. “I think it’s time to put an end to this.” Icon said as he and the others made their way through the oval shaped hole that Eva had cut in the wall.

Crap crap crap.


Johan ran, he stumbled and he fell. But each time he got up. He had to keep moving.or he'd be overcome in the darkness and small space of the tunnels. Draugr were not your average shambling corpses, they retained martial skills and a basic sense for survival. This made them extremely dangerous to face down alone. As he turned, he saw the three shapes steadily follow him. He grit his teeth and rounded the corner into a more well lit portion of the subway. A service station of some kind. Big enough and well lit for his purposes.He grasped his spear firmly in both hands and took a fighting position. He knew there were more around, but he needed to guage the necromancers response time. The closer the Necromancer was to her pets, the smarter they would act. He waited for the first of them to enter the room.

The second the thing stepped inside, he darted forward, meeting them with a warriors roar. The spear ran right though the eyesocket of one of them and he his momentum to drag the undead abomination to the ground, crushing its head under his foot. That was one. He swept the spear up towards the second but it blocked him clumsily and took a stop back.


The last stayed back, watching. They had racted instantly and pulled out his weapons reach. That meant HIldebrand was close. Very close. The doorway was a defensible position for now, it kept him from being blindsided by any necrotic spells aimed at his person and narrowed down the amount of opponents that could come at him at once. But it was a struggle. There were more joining the frey now. He pushed them back and would destroy a draugr every so often, but more came to replace each killed.

Lost Haven, Slums

"Giovanni, run!" Though moral values were quite lacking in the more criminally inclined individuals of Lost Haven, it was safe to assume love for their families. Seeing how the old mobster headbutted his captor, Milo watched the scene unfold with wide eyes. Tumbling down the stairs, the captor accidentally unleashed a bullet from the muzzle of his gun. The world must have stopped spinning for Giovanni when lead pierced his father's heart. Truly an accurate shot for such an accidental event. Moments passed before the woman instigating this riot recorded what had come to pass. The very man she had tried so hard to persuade now laid dead atop the stairs. Once the scene truly reached her eyes, an expression of rage replaced the smug grin once crossing her lips. All of her plans had been shattered, a bullet piercing through the deceit.

"Dad!" Though the word left Giovanni's lips in a desperate attempt to call out, it fell on deaf ears. His father was gone, perhaps an attempt to cut the leverage held against Giovanni to allow the boy an escape.

"Kill them!" Out of options and with her plans ruined, it would seem like the only choice remaining on the table revolved around cleaning up her mess. Killing Giovanni would destroy what remained of his family and would thus allow for a new regime. Then again, it didn't need to have to be something quite as grand. Intrigue and backstabbing within the criminal world was a given, after all. In truth, Milo didn't feel for them but Giovanni was a teenager going onto adult stuck in the middle. It was never his choice to be born into this life, neither was it his desire to continue family traditions. Though, as several firearms were aimed at him and the smaller boy besides him, one could draw the obvious conclusion that any opened door to a future within the mob had been shut. Grabbing hold of Giovanni's hand, Milo pulled him away from the entrance mere moments before gunshots echoed through the great hall. A blade wouldn't do very well in this situation, leaving escape as the remaining option.

"We need to get into the car..." Remaining calm in the face of death, Milo knew that if he showed the slightest sign of losing his nerves in front of Giovanni, it would break the young man. He had just seen his father killed.

"Y-yeah...!" Trying to compose himself, Giovanni understood that the immediate threat lurking beyond the entrance would spare no effort in killing him. He was the last piece of the puzzle. Picking up their pace, Milo and Giovanni charged towards the car they had used and jumped inside with bullets flying wild behind them. Luckily, no bullet hit its mark but the holes in the car would eventually hinder the boys' escape. Turning the keys with panicked speed, Giovanni didn't bother looking behind him at the amassing number of mobsters attempting to mow him down with shots but rather stepped on the ignition to force the vehicle out of the garden. He could however not breathe easy just yet. The rear view mirror revealed quite a disheartening picture with several cars chasing the boys with a zealot's intent. "Where are we going!?"

"Just try to lose them..." Gripping hold of his blade, it was a measure of feeling safe rather than an effective weapon given the circumstances. As it was, Milo and Giovanni didn't have a destination but rather aimed to avoid eating lead. For someone so young and inexperienced, Giovanni displayed ample driving skills with adrenaline taking center stage in his actions. Would Milo's hearing have been focused on his comrade, he would have been able to hear the beating against Giovanni's ribs like a jackhammer. It was safe to assume the pain probably echoing through the teenager's chest. "Turn left here..."

Spinning the wheel around, Giovanni drove the car into an apartment neighborhood, making it more difficult for the mobsters to get a beat on them. Indeed, the chase had lasted for a notable while at this point with the mansion far behind both Giovanni and their chasers. Shooting their target from their cars made the action quite risky for the pursuers now that Milo and Giovanni had taken the chase to a more populated area. Accidentally hurting a gang member, or worse, a Triad member would start a war. It was nothing the Italian mafia wanted to deal with.

While lady luck had been blessing their path so far, the boys would soon meet with an end to their streak. Reminded that life wasn't glamorous, Milo raised his hand in reaction to the impending impact, an attempt to cover his face. Swirling across the road, Giovanni seemed unable to steer the car any further with their pursuers closing in on them, every second counting down to an inevitable end. Connecting with a massive stone wall, the car's windows shattered furiously upon impact. A hero didn't always manage to save the victim, the world wasn't quite that colorful.

Trying to regain his composure, Milo brought a bloodied hand to his forehead. "Shit..." Though the various wounds tearing into the boy's skin were closing at a rapid pace, Giovanni wasn't quite as lucky. "No...! Damn it..." Torn to shreds under the weight of the crash, Giovanni's last breath had long since left his lungs.

This mission was a grand failure. Milo had miserably mistaken in the attempt and now remained chased by cars he could hear in the distance. Kicking up the door barely hanging on by its hinges, Milo crawled out of the ruined car and scrambled through the massive amount of shattered glass. "They'll be coming for me. Gotta' hide..."

_{banner credit to Hellis}

---

Odette Favre stood between two house representatives of Fey families, they had chosen to meet outside the Louvre, surrounded by masses of tourists streamlined with cameras and brochures in their hands. For the meeting to take place she had erected an illusionary spell bubble while the Fey families had decided to bring their respective human thralls.

It was a typical meeting between feuding families that was a result of drawing territory lines when Odette had first opened the permanent portal from Fey realms to Paris. She acted as a mediator to ensure the talks didn’t crumble into a fight. Though despite her presence the reps became heated with every sentence.

“You have trespassed past our borders to extend your own!” Oren signing angrily, the mute Faun had his thrall speaking for him, “This aggressive extension will not be tolerated!”

“How do you respond, Avery?” Odette turned to the other rep a Air Elf, they brought a large thrall in part to seem more intimidating, again it was typical. Odette had sit on these meetings on the regular. “Oren has made a genuine accusation against your trespassing and provided witnesses whom I have spoken to-to confirm.”

Avery about to respond was interrupted by a very insistent and poppy ringtone coming directly from Odette’s purse. Odette was given a cold stare which she returned in kind to Avery. “One moment, sirs. Please continue with your response while I take this phone call. This ringtone is reserved for a select few.” She nodded at both Oren and Avery then gestured to Bach to take her place. He looked as if he was ready to fall asleep with the expression of complete apathy he wore.

Plucking the phone from her purse she stepped a few feet away at the edge of the illusion bubble on her smartphone the caller id was unknown but she knew exactly who it was. After the whispers she had been hearing she had a feeling she would be getting a call.

“Odette, so glad you picked up.” Came the smooth, velvety voice humming through the device. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Bonjour, not at all. Business as usual.” She replied not missing a beat, transitioning to English naturally. The Cowl calling her directly was rare but hardly new, she made the wrap it up sign to Bach. He gave her a shrug.

“To what do I owe this pleasure of a phone call?”

“As much as I wish it was another tour through Paris with a lovely Fae, I am calling for another matter.” He began, displaying his disappointment with a sigh mixed in with his speech. “I need to call in a favor from you, if you are up for it.”

A moment of pause stretched a grin across her doll like features, something about the word favour always put her in a good mood. “A favour you say? Must be something much more than a typical smuggling job or moving of men…” She said allowing a little excitement seep into her words, “I am currently between seasons.”

“Well, it’s in the same vein, but it’s a bit more...paramount than our previous engagements.”

“I can be in Lost Haven today if need be.” She offered trying and possibly failing to not sound overeager.

“You haven’t even heard the job, yet.” The Cowl chuckled, “You should at least ask the terms I am asking you of. Though knowing who I’m speaking to, you might already have a general idea.”

She grinned at Bach who gave her a curious look, “My sprites have been rather chatty as of late. They whisper of all news related to Lost Haven. It sounds as if the city is in a right bit of chaos. Perfect for my Fey to revel in.” She walked back to Bach then gave a short wave to Oren and Avery who both seemed rather sour but separated without a word neither hoping to overstep their boundaries in the presence of The Ambassador.

“I’m an opportunist at heart, Monsieur Cowl. Whatever job you have for me is bound to be rewarding.”

“Very well, then I’ll be waiting for you as soon as you arrive, where I can explain the details of what you are going to undertake.” The Cowl mused, “I will urge you that time is of the essence, Mademoiselle, but it will be well worth your time.”

“Then I will depart shortly. We shall talk again very soon.” She said smoothly pulling the phone away tapping to end the call.

Bach titled his head having heard Cowl, he spoke in French, “The Cowl is calling in a favour? Does that mean we get to meet with him and his nervous shadow?” Bach said with amusement. “Ghost… or whatshisname?”

“Specter, Bach please try and remember who it is you like to loom over.” She chastised.

“I do remember, though I’ll never understand why you lifted the veil on their sight. Half the fun in looming over humans is in their confusion. Fear giving way to losing their nerve. The mystery is gone when they are aware, My Lady. You also gave away your edge.” Bach complained. “I can no longer snoop as I please.”

Rolling her eyes having heard this argument before, “It was a show of trust and you know why we had to do it. We do not have time to argue, Bach. So let’s go.” She snapped.

When they returned back to her apartment they made quick work of getting ready. Odette’s main concern was giving her Fey allies enough heads up to be able to help, sending off short messages on the backs of brownie’s. Within minutes she was out the door again soaring on her broomstick toward the edge of the city.

They arrived to a seemingly average copse of Yew trees, this was where she set her permanent portal to Paris. Humans caught wandering through the copse would often forget why they were there or simply lose all track of time getting lost. Illusion spells masked the area. She greeted the Sentry who stood in front of the large wooden door embedded into the bark of a large Yew. The Sentry himself was a guardian spirit indebted to Odette, his armour was polished copper, his helmet masking his eyes while armed with a silver glaive. As soon as the Sentry saw Odette he stepped aside greeting her in Common Fey, “Lady Ambassador, always a pleasure to serve you.”

She nodded curtly sweeping past him. Opening the door the Arcane Stream’s magic flooded the area. The grass became a little greener, the wind a little stronger. It was like a breath of life. With her destination clearly pictured in her mind she stepped into the stream the pull was familiar and much like being swept away into a strong current.

Lost Haven was clearly pictured in her mind’s eye and it’s connecting Leyline directed her. Travelling the leylines was tricky, the first few times she did she had travelled the Earth twice over looping in different directions. Now well practiced she knew when to open a rift.

Feeling her destination approaching Odette concentrated invoking Words of Power to open a new rift and a doorway to Lost Haven. The rift split in light and her hand caught the door handle that formed seconds later. Coming to a gentle stop she opened the door. She stepped out inside a darkened lobby without a soul in sight. Closing the door behind her the source of light disappeared with it. Tidying her hair a bit and reapplying some lipstick she smiled in the mirror of her compact. Moments later sprites flooded in around her fluttering around her ears whispering all they knew.

The lobby in question was one of The Cowl’s other safehouses, one that was a brief car ride from his location back at the diner to an abandoned old mansion that was sitting on the coast, looking out towards the isle Lost Haven was on. The crafty crime lord always tried to make his safe houses as inconspicuous as possible, places that would be considered uninhabitable or simply inconspicuous to most passersby, even if the area was discovered at all.

Odette’s smile was unmistakable while the sprites fluttered about her the glow casting minimal amounts of light. She opened her purse then pulled out a flashlight shining it around her taking stock of her whereabouts. Bach resumed by her side.

“Quiet and dark.” He spoke in English sliding his hands into crisp clean green jacket surveying the mansion himself.

“Naturally.” She replied the light reaching the old set of stairs, the mansion was rundown, needing of TLC. A house of this age often meant spirits of the dead roamed it’s hallways. By the lobby alone Odette knew it was meant to keep appearances.

“The Cowl picks his safehouses wisely.”

The stairs leading down to the dilapidated building’s basement were creaky and old, some steps were actually rotted through to keep up appearances. It was very clear to anyone that The Cowl went to great lengths to keep things looking abandoned, so even entering the safe house would still not yield any suspicion.

However, this was a special occasion, and as a special occasion, there was already someone waiting in the basement of the Mansion for the incoming Fair Folk. As the pair made their way into the musty basement, Specter was waiting for them.

Bach immediately grinned with mischievous glee at the sight of Specter. He stepped up behind Specter entering his bubble with no reservations.

“Monsieur Specter. Always a pleasure to see you.” Odette greeted the blue spectacled shadow, ignoring Bach’s behaviour.

The lieutenant was not so joyus in his response, his expression marred behind his glasses and tattered scarf about his face, the bowler hat turned low as to not reveal any brow movement, completely concealed behind cloth and glasses. He was professional and cordial in his reaction, not backing away at Bach’s sudden invasion of his space.

“A pleasure, Madame.” Specter replied flatly, his body remaining stiff and poised as he made his way to the basement’s wall. “He’s been waiting for you inside.”

He stepped back, ignoring Bach’s invasion of his personal space to make his way to one of the walls in the musty basement of this lower floor. In a swift, smooth motion, he ran his hand along the old concrete. His fingers scraped along the crafted stone, finding the one patch of concrete that was slightly newer than it’s surroundings, though one would not be able to locate such a patch without knowing it was there originally. The silent gangster pushed in on the patch, the sounds of grinding stone echoed throughout in the small room as the button triggered the nearby door, the stone being overridden by the sounds of metal, the hidden doorway sliding open at Odette’s feet.

“Come, we don’t have time to waste.” Specter said, hastening his descent down the stairway, expecting Odette simply to follow him.

The walk was short, but it revealed much about what was below this musty old mansion. Indeed the Cowl had taken the time to fashion out a true, organized safe house within the underwork. It was not much, but it was enough to keep up appearances. At least five rooms existed down a long hallway, dug internally and filled out with a few rooms armed to the teeth with weapons and supplies, enough to keep this place going for at least a few months, the Cowl’s office being kept behind a large metal door with two guards positioned at the doorway. With a nod from Specter, the man on the right of the door moved to allow the lieutenant to unlock the door, activated by a state of the art keypad that caused the doors to hiss and click as they came open, revealing the man of the hour inside. Of course, the Cowl was more than casual, his office being rather fancily furnished for being an underground safehouse hidden in acres of forest. He had a liquor cabinet behind him, sitting in what could almost be called a satin throne, modernized to sit behind a rich mahogany desk.

“Ah, there you are. Come inside, we have much to discuss.” The Cowl said, beckoning them in with a gesture, his eyes immediately locking on to The Ambassador. “I trust my lieutenant was at least friendly with his greeting?”

It impressed Odette how The Cowl went to such great lengths to conceal himself. Rundown mansions turned to high security bases. Her eyes trained on the Specter closely while they had walked together, hands clasped behind her back. Specter was seemingly stiff backed and uncomfortable, especially after Bach’s insistence on gauging for a reaction. Bach took great enjoyment in making humans uncomfortable especially when they were aware of him. Animals seemed to be the only ones to appreciate Bach’s presence whereas most felt a chill in the air when he moved into a room.

Upon entering the well furnished office Odette showed a well practiced smile then inclined her head to the Cowl, “He does well to tolerate us.” Hints of her accent emphasising her words. She handed Bach her purse and jacket adjusting to the comfortable room temperature. She said, “It has been awhile since we have last met in person. You are not one to take my services lightly, I can only imagine how important this job must be for you to call upon me. May I have a seat?”

“But of course.” The Cowl said, motioning to Specter to take another luxurious chair sitting in the corner of the room. Almost immediately, the silent gangster obeyed and moved the chair to behind Odette, allowing her to simply sit back and land on the silken pillow of another fine seat in the safehouse.

Her hands traced the soft fabric appreciatively while gracefully tucking her feet underneath her ankles smoothing out the wrinkles of her dress, “Merci, thank you. So, tell me about this job.” Her eyes settling on the Cowl’s masked face, studying him.

The masked man’s hazel pools were the only indication of emotion on his featureless mask, though his typically intense gaze seemed noticeably softer, though no less aware by the fact he kept glancing over to Bach. “I’ll be frank, Madame; this is a very important job for me, as it is going to decide my relationship with a very profitable contact, and may give me the edge I need to keep my hold on the streets of Lost Haven.” He began, not bothering to dance around the importance of the issue. “She has asked me to retrieve something of incredible value to her, promising a cut of the rewards if I am to return it.”

He paused, leaning back in his chair as his eyes met Odette once more, resting comfortably in his chair. “Of course, since I called you, you can obviously peice together that the object of her desire is a person. Most notably she is a person of particularly volatile and potentially market-shifting power.”

As he spoke, he drew a paper dossier from a dresser behind him, tossing it to the desk for Odette to see, a visual of the woman in question. “Her name is Racheli, a person with a potentially profitable and intriguing viral agent inhabiting her system.”

Leaning forward she delicately picked up the photo observing the features of Racheli, a sickly pale young woman with deep underlying bags under a pair of hardened green eyes. “She looks ill.” She said pointedly.”When you say power, am I to assume she is a metahuman because of this virus?” Odette asked listening while she observed the photo, Racheli was in a patient gown for the photo meaning she must of been admitted to a hospital or medical facility.

Also noting he choose not to name his contact. Intrigued that he decided to withhold it but not enough to warrant a question. His business outside of the work he provided Odette rarely registered a blip on her radar. She had her own share of business to worry about than to go poking her nose in The Cowl’s.

“Who isn’t, these days?” The Cowl lamented, giving a weary chuckle to indicate his feeling on the increasing metahuman population. “Metahuman is the way of the future, Mademoiselle Odette. It is as I said to you when we met, we either learn to adapt to a new environment, or we crumble. I’ve chosen to adapt once more, so metahuman activities are something I’m going to take the effort to learn and control. To do that, however, I need an edge, and I believe this woman, and subsequently the one who wants it, will bring me that control. Unfortunately she is currently in the hands of CDC in the Lost Haven branch and beyond my reach. Which is why I need you and your representatives to do what you do best and bring her to me. Alive.”

“Thanks largely in part to this Pax debacle. Adapting seems the only way to survive.” She agreed with a nod placing the picture back onto the desk, “You will have Racheli delivered alive and well. I am curious though will I meet any resistance to taking Racheli? Friends, family, other metahumans invested in protecting whatever secrets she holds?”” Straightening her back and shoulders automatically with years of discipline trained as a dancer.

“Very minimal, I have a man on the inside of the CDC who is going to be able to get her to a more private location. His name is irrelevant, but he would be able to respond to the name Silence. He should be the driver of the truck that is supposed to extract Racheli from Lost Haven tomorrow, and he will make himself known to you. With his help, you should be only reduced to a few scattered guards at best. However, I would be concerned if Racheli begins to fight back. I have no idea what kind of power she wields, so you very well may have a fight on your hands should she begin to resist.”

“Excellent.” Genuinely pleased her smile brightening, reconnaissance already taken care of made it very simple. “Thank you for the warning. The guards will be easy enough to dispatch.

With a slight condescending chuckle she commented, “Despite her appearance it seems she is not one to underestimate yes? Plucky little survivor.”

With that comment her smile dimmed a bit taking to a serious tone. “We’ll also have to discuss payment for such services. Considering how important Racheli is the rate will reflect that along with…additional costs not easily paid by typical means.”

She said, rising gracefully tracing her hand along the back of the chair blue eyes never leaving the Cowl’s, “Although, reasonably the matter of payment can be processed after I’ve completed the job. I have no doubt I can kidnap Racheli, metahuman or not. Humans fall for the same tricks and traps I set regardless of their predisposition.” She said smoothly oozing confidence. “Just point me in the right direction.”

“Actually, I’d rather discuss payment now, if you wouldn’t mind.” The Cowl said, gesturing for her to sit back down. “If there is anything to know about dealing, it is that the price should always be agreed on beforehand. That way nobody gets leverage with their goods later on.”

Taking her seat again without another word. “I don’t mind at all. A fifteen percent increase to my usual rate.” She stated watching him closely now, “As useful as money is to me personally. It holds little value to the Fey.”

Snapping her fingers to Bach holding up her hand expectantly he obliged by reaching into her purse to pull out a small red wooden chest. Placing it in her hand she held it up for The Cowl to see. “What I need is rather unorthodox even by Fey standards. Typically in this kind of bargain would a big favour be in exchange for a big favour that could be called upon without notice. I however have something unique in mind.”

The Cowl’s eyes narrowed, his gaze fixated on the chest with a furrowed brow. He leaned forward, scrutinizing the chest. “And what exactly is this little trinket?” He asked.

“Le Souvenir Coffre, Memory Trunk.”

“You’ll have to elaborate a bit more than that, I’d like to know what it does if I’m going to agree to it.”

“These trinkets as you put it have acted as keepers of Earth Eleven histories and knowledge for centuries. Keeping such memories safely locked for only it's owner to hear and see.” Odette explained placing the trunk on the table for him to see. “I explain such secrets only to assure you. What I want is a piece of your memory, a story to keep.”

She sat back in her chair folding her hands on her lap. Blue eyes becoming shrewd hinting at an unnatural need or want of such information.

The Cowl took a few awkwardly quiet seconds processing the payment that had been asked of him, his eyes remaining glued to the chest the entire time.

“Very well, I’ll submit to your demands,” He said, his eyes shifting to Bach. “Odette will get her bonus for this job, and I will submit a memory to the chest.” However, his eyes narrowed at the entity, making his next words very clear as his tone became very grave. “On two conditions. I choose what memory I put in this chest, and on pain of your death, it will not be shared by anyone. Under no circumstances is the memory given to be used against me in any way, shape, or form.” He snatched the chest from the table, placing it on the liquor cabinet behind him. “Are we clear?”

Bach’s grin was predatory, unflinching while The Cowl spoke to him. While Odette’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, she had expected more resistance than conditions. “Crystal. You’ll have your choice of memory. Whatever you decide to share will be for my eyes and my eyes only, even in death the trunk will remain to my name.”

“Good,” The Cowl remarked, his tone dropping back to his usual smooth and charming demeanor. “Then we have an accord, the dossier on the table will explain where ‘Silence’ will be dropping the truck, where you and he will work together to take Racheli in. The meeting place when the job is done is also detailed out, where I’ll be waiting with both the chest and your payment.”

The Cowl rose from his seat, offering his hand out to Odette to seal the deal. “I’m glad we came to an agreement, but we really must part ways. You have your task, and I have other things I must attend to. Hopefully our next meeting will be more...recreational, yes?”

She stood as well reaching out to shake his hand squeezing lightly a well lit smile returning. “Absolutely. It is always a treat to meet with you in person, I have no doubts I can complete this job if not only for the incentive of the reward but for the change in pace.” She sighed theatrically, “It is so easy to get stuck in routine.” Then gave him a mischievous grin and wink grabbing the dossier.

Turning on her heel her hand out waiting for Bach. He slipped on her jacket over her shoulders handing the purse over as well. A quick wave and she breezed by Specter exiting the office without another word. Odette was rather excited and confident, metahuman or not whatever challenges Racheli presented could do little to slow down a force of nature like The Ambassador.

Gabriel watched the process of getting Miss Desdemona prepped for transport with some wariness. Not for himself, obviously- he was a reasonably safe distance away, observing through his AEGIS. He'd felt bad about bugging the CDC, but he needed to extend his reach as far as possible. And considering metagenesis was often mistaken for illness in the early stages, this seemed like a safe bet for observation. Still, back to the issue at hand. While she was sedated for now, it was likely that Racheli's condition- depending greatly on how far it had progressed- would allow her to remain so for long. Best to keep a close eye on her, just in case.

and perhaps, to inform certain other interested parties on the status of our mutual friend?

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at Daedalus' interjection. Are we sure that's necessary? I've updated her rather recently.

true, but she is being moved to a different facility rather soon. suppose, illogical as it might be, she tried to come visit, or, as is more likely, inquired as to her status here, only to find she'd already left. she would not be pleased with us, i fear. i dare say she would try and bisect us with that sword of hers. again.

Gabriel winced. Point taken. Link to her cell signal and leave this message: "Racheli is being moved to another CDC location, more remote, more secure. I will keep you posted on the details as I know them. Sincerely... Icarus.

acknowledged. would it not be more prudent to use your real name, however?

Icarus is the name she knows us best by, but... you do what seems more effective. I trust your judgement. Also, link up to Jacob's number. We need to finish our discussion from earlier.

acknowledged.

Jacob... whatever his last name had happened to be. Strange that he should miss it, given the professor's... unique condition. He'd definitely have to give that subject more examination consideration after he made sure Rach made it to her destination. The call rang twice before picking up.

"Hello, Jacob. It's Dr. Cole. I'd like to continue our discussion from earlier in the week. Could you meet me at the Lost Haven Center for Disease Control and Prevention?"

The mercenary had tagged along with the raiding party as the rearguard for the team’s formation, seemingly recovered from his damaging confession during the meetings, returning to his signature snarky demeanor. Though this time he did not have Warden on his comm link, as the information broker had politely recused himself from the operation citing that he had ‘other matters to take care of’, which left War-Pulse with nobody to talk to but his teammates, a luxury that he fully abused.

“Hey, did we ever decide what we’re calling this task force?” War-Pulse quietly asked the otherwise somber crowd who were keeping their distance from the dangerous mercenary they were now shoehorned into partnering with. “I mean, let’s not kid ourselves, this whole team up situation is becoming super common with a new superpower rising their head every other week. You guys are going to have to entertain the idea you may be a unified force for more than one instance. You might as well get a cool squad name out of it, am I right? You don’t want the opposition coming up with a name, because they’ll just call you something like ‘those bunch of assholes’. I mean, what would you folks want to go by? Justice Force? Power Squad? Icon and the Superpals?”

Of course, before anyone got to shut the silver-clad warrior up, they were interrupted by the words of the Silver Sorceress.

“Eh, y’know what? We’ll talk about it after we wipe the floor with these goons.” War-Pulse murmured, his stance changing to engage the de-cloaking hostiles as they came. They had walked straight into an ambush, the Silver Sorceress already messing with their heads as the familiar adversaries came into view. The spider was absent from view, but the Shark, Effigy, Silver Sorceress, and a green skinned young woman were in full view. They had the team surrounded, and to add to that the green woman had planted something in the ground, causing massive Venus flytraps to box them in.

“Are you kidding me? You think we’re going to be taken out by the Beastie Boys and foliage?” The mercenary blurted out. “You Pax Metamorons couldn’t take me down for good the first time, and a few plants ain’t going to change that!”

Of course, War-Pulse’s trash talk was immediately followed up by a web-line dragging Bast out of formation, causing Lyger to chase after her. Thunderbolt made his way for the Shark, while Radience seemed to target the flytraps and the green woman and White Witch faced off with her magical similarly colored counterpart.

Which of course left War-Pulse with his doppelganger, who was making a direct b-line for the mercenary, allowing the kinetic powers to launch towards War-Pulse with a fist cocked back to deliver a solid punch towards War-Pulse. The merc was more than ready for his copycat, however, as he shifted his weight to avoid the heavy blow, getting to Effigy’s back and getting a hold of his collar.

“Again? Of all the people here, you copy me again?!” Said an annoyed War-Pulse as he turned his hips into a throw, utilizing Effigy’s momentum to send him flying through the air, the copycat impacting into an old, leftover set of large factory machinery causing the room to momentarily erupt in sparks and a small explosion to reveal the wires in the building were still functional. “I know you must be a big fan of those ‘who wore it better’ articles in the magazines in your local grocery store, but I’m telling you, it doesn’t work the same with powers. I’m the only real War-Pulse here!”

The answer came in the form of a large metal storage chamber out of the smoke, colliding into the mercenary with thunderous impact and driving him backwards into another set of abandoned electrical equipment, cratering into the concrete flooring upon his landing.

“I beg to differ.” The clone replied, rocketing out from his crash point to tackle War-Pulse as he got to his feet, the impact once more shaking the very building as the two bodies were sent hurtling through the lab, slamming through a series of pipes and walkways before finally dropping into an old processing machine, the metal shredding as if it were made of tin foil as the two combatants tore straight through it into the ground with a horrendous crash, once more shaking the very building as the ground cratered inward upon impact. The Force of Nature now found himself pinned underneath his double, who was very quickly smashing his fists down upon him, forcing the mercenary to bring his arms up to avoid taking blows directly to the face. “If anything, I’m the new, improved version, a step up from the wannabe that came before me!” The copy shouted, punctuating his comments with strikes. “Plus, I don’t have that brutish attitude of the original! Nor the baggage, apparently, after what the Sorceress did to you showed everyone what a nutcase you really are.”

War-Pulse had to think fast, he was running out of options and he was pinned to the floor, his defense would only last so long before his copy would land some solid shots to the face. Keeping a tight guard with one hand, he let a free hand reach out to find something he could get an edge with. It took a second, but eventually his hands wrapped around a large and heavy lead pipe, just in the nick of time as another heavy fist came crashing down. With a mighty swing, the mercenary slammed the pipe into his doppelganger's side, the audible ringing echoing through the laboratory as the metal wrapped around Effigy from the sheer force that came from the strike. Of course, it wasn’t enough to move War-Pulse’s attacker, but it was more than enough to create an opening. Without wasting a beat, the Force of Nature placed both hands on his opponent’s chest, both hands lighting up with kinetic power.

“Buddy, you got my powers, but you don’t know a goddamn thing about being me.” War-Pulse quipped, the explosive burst of energy flinging Effigy backwards, bouncing off of a few metal walkways before coming to a thunderous landing on the ground, rock and debris kicking up as he came to a halt along the ground. Both men now had some breathing room, both taking a moment to groggily stand to their feet. Of course, the original was more than happy to motion with his hands to bring the fight back to him. “Bring it you cheap copy! Lemme show you what it is to be War-Pulse!”

Effigy was more than happy to oblige, a burst of energy firing off from his hands as he charged, forcing War-Pulse to fire energy back to cancel it out. The two kinetic blasts met in the air and exploded, the air distorting around the two as they exploded, ripping through the ground below them as the two men clashed. Of course, this was where the two men’s actual skill differed, as inheriting Pulse’s power clearly didn’t inherit his fighting skills. Try as Effigy might, he was outmatched in a direct hand-to-hand conflict, every punch blocked or sidestepped, met with thunderous shots to his body and face by the veteran fighter. Sure, Effigy got a few good shots in, but not without brutal punishments by the brawler. Kicks to the legs and ribs, forearms to the temple, punches to the gut and face, each hit sending a shockwave through the air from the diabolical impacts. It did not take long for Effigy to realize that he was not going to keep up a hand-to-hand confrontation with the kinetic brawler.

Of course, that did not mean the fight was over. Hopping back to gain some distance, Effigy quickly unleashed another blast of energy, this time at a close enough range where the mercenary did not have the time to react with anything else but another guard. The kinetic pulse ripped through the air, pulverizing the ground below it as it impacted with the mercenary, slamming into him hard and sending him careening into more factory equipment, a large old steel reservoir collapsing onto the landing point, causing dust and debris to kick up as the metal crashing rang out through the building.

As the dust began to settle, an audible groan came from the silver-clad warrior as he shoved the metal piping and rebar off of his body, trying to get to his feet very slowly. Of course, Effigy was on him before he even got that far, a vice-like grip snapping to his collar and ripping him from his landing spot. He felt himself hoisted to his feet, turning to face his attacker, who had a fistful of kinetic energy crackling in his other hand, cocked back to deliver a devastating kinetic punch to War-Pulse’s face.

“Look like you ain’t so hot after all, wannabe.” Effigy mocked, reveling in the upper hand he currently had. “After I’m done with you, your friends are going to be a walk in the park. Any last words?”

“Yeah...you really shouldn’t shit-talk someone who knows your weaknesses.” War-Pulse said, bringing a forearm down on Effigy’s elbow joint, pulling him in to deliver a vicious kinetic headbutt to the bridge of his nose, energy rocketing out of the back of his head. Of course, the doppelganger was stunned, but not out, as he tried to throw the kinetic haymaker anyway. His blow only found air, however, as the mercenary had dropped underneath the strike, retaliating with a kinetic right hook of his own, causing a small distorted explosion when impacting with Effigy’s weakness.

“You see, the reality of the situation is that you're right, my powers make us ridiculously powerful and handsome, to the point you’d need a damned super-army to take us down. This puts both of us at a point where physical damage isn't going to put us down for longer than a few minutes at best.” The merc explained, delivering a solid front thrust kick to Effigy’s shin, forcing him to drop down to one knee momentarily, with War-Pulse still maintaining a grip on Effigy’s arm as he pivoted around his opponent. With a twist of the arm, War-Pulse managed to drive Effigy forward, setting him up for a stunning snap kick to the chest, followed by a firearm to Effigy’s elbow joint to keep him pinned down. “However, you should know that ain't a natural occurrence, that we feed on kinetic energy around us to survive. Kinetic energy is what keeps our heart pumping and our cells supercharged to distract from the fact that we have muscular dystrophy.”

As he spoke, the hands wrapped around Effigy began to glow with blue light along with Effigy’s body. War-Pulse cleverly was keeping Effigy stunned with taunts, jeers, and attacks while he was sapping the copycat dry of his kinetic energy. His opponent buckled, his eyes wide as his power was siphoned off by the brute, every attempt to break free or absorb his energy back becoming increasingly weaker as the mercenary drove an elbow into his collarbone to keep him off balance.

“Which means without energy flowing through your skin and muscles, you’re just a fragile cripple with a glass jaw, something that an energy vampire like myself can take advantage off. And before you think ‘Hey, I can just switch forms to get out of this’, think about how long it would take you to assume a different form and then think about how long it would take me to rip you into pieces like tissue paper.”

Effigy couldn't respond, he was already having a tough time standing and breathing as another heavy shot dropped him back down to his knees. As the shapeshifter groggily tried to rise, he found War-Pulse’s hand on his head, yanking him back to and upstanding position, long enough for the mercenary to hiss into his ear.

“Like I said before; you might have my powers, but that sure is a hell of a lot different from being me.”

As he spoke, an explosion rocked the ceiling above the two. Apparently Thunderbolt had called for backup, as a whole new trio of heroes appeared and were already approaching to assist his fight against Effigy.

“The speedsters? Well the hot little firecracker was Boom and the clean-cut brother was Thunderbolt.” He shouted back to Skull-Thrasher, lifting the heavy body of Effigy in front of him. “And this is a cheap knockoff of an otherwise perfect first edition War-Pulse. Why don’t the group of you show him what the law does to counterfeits?!”

Lost Haven, Slums

"Where did he come from...?"

Shaking the dizziness from sight, Milo attempted to regain his composure as well as his equilibrium once the boy freed himself from the broken and wrecked confines of the vehicle. Wallowing in the failure of his mission, Milo prayed for his emotions to subside long enough for the impending threat to diminish. The young swordsman would come to recall the numerous times where odds were stacked against him, but he ultimately prevailed. Despite the outcome of this mission, Milo had not yet faltered and if luck held him in high regard still, he had yet to avert his gaze. It was critical to evaluate and establish his surroundings before making another move, given the boy's disadvantage. Firstly, a deep breath. Centering himself, Milo stilled the rapid beating of his heart to a slowed, harmonic pace as his training had stated on a myriad of occasions. Second, the boy allowed his eyes to sweep the area and assessed that the car had crashed through the brittle stone wall of a long since abandoned apartment complex. Such was the life in the ghetto where life and forsaken walls stood back to back. Across the street the humming of humanity still buzzed while a mere few feet away life had been snuffed from the roots. This however was also a gift from the lady of luck. A populated building would draw the impending battle quite troublesome indeed.

Placing one foot in front of the other, Milo hurried from the point of impact and made his way through the corridor. Cars were closing in on his destination and it didn't take long for the Italian mobsters leave their vehicles upon arrival and inspected the wreckage. "Giovanni is dead, but the other kid escaped. Find him, we can't leave any witnesses." As expected, Giovanni was no longer the only target. Judging from the lack of disturbance, one could draw the conclusion that between gangs, the Triad and the mafia, people had learned to stay out of the way. Police would not interfere and civilians had long since hidden from the scene.

Lowering himself to a crouch, Milo had only his hearing to rely on as the mobsters started to split up, their guns held at an aimed position to fire at the very first sight of their enemy. Falling back to the assassination skills which were close to mastered, Milo dexterously made his way into a dust ridden room which had once taken the role of kitchen. Throwing his blade over his shoulder, the boy released the sword from its scabbard and waited for his enemy to set one foot past the threshold of the doorway. Revealing himself, Milo swung his blade in a fluid motion to first sever the mobster's arm from place, effectively removing his weapon, before a quick slice to the throat caused the man to drown in his own blood. There was no time to scream, the cut deep enough to sever words from his lips.

One had greeted death with his sanguine blood coloring the floor. If he was correct, Milo could count seven mobsters having followed them. Surely two boys did not require more pursuers? With soundless steps, Milo hurried down the hall and moved through the ruined apartment before he could make his way into the delipidated corridor outside. Though worn to the point of mold and dust particles, the sun still shown through the cracks and ruined windows spread across the corridor. With a shadow visible in the distance, a warning cast by the sun's warm embrace, Milo could establish his enemy's location just around the corner. Accelerating his silent walk to a full sprint, Milo evened the distance within seconds and made short work of the mobster lurking beyond the wall.

The dance would continue, Milo relying on silence and stealth to surpass his enemies' superior numbers. Six people would meet their end within the ruined complex, but one remained. Though he searched for the remnant, Milo had no luck in finding such a person. He knew however that he had seen seven people chasing them. Was he incorrect with the analysis of his enemy? No, making his way towards the entry hall revealed that Milo's assessment had indeed been true. One mobster remained but this man stuck out more so than the others. He did not possess a gun but rather a blade, something drawing him quite a curiosity. One did not expect to see a mobster in the possession of such a weapon but this was after all Lost Haven, a place where nothing was what it appeared to be. "Are you done?" The man spoke, an air of unnatural calm surrounding him. There was a sense of intimidation emanating from this man as he puffed the cigar between his lips, a sheathed blade resting against the floor with the flat of his hand finding home atop the pommel.

"Who are you...?" Taking a careful step down the stairs, Milo made sure not to avert his gaze, convinced that a split second of error could be the end.

"My name is Raverio Gatchi." With a bow, this man would continue to thicken the mysterious mist clouding him. One could easily pinpoint this man as one who did not fit into the rest. "I am the Sword of the Family, as it was. I know who you are, I knew the moment I saw you at the mansion. Of course, I knew the others did not stand a chance against you but such is the way of life, no? The strong root out the weak." A soft chuckle would leave his lips as he flicked the cigarr to the ground before stepping on it. "Edge." He continued. "Your appearance does not fool me."

"You talk a lot..."

"Yes, they tend to say so." Raverio responded with a hearty laugh, his thick Italien accent shining through. Given any other situation, this man would appear rather pleasant. However, as it stood, Milo knew that a battle would soon come to pass. "I confess my folly, Mr. Edge. A battle with you has been eagerly awaited, enough so for me to join this wild chase and allow you to end my comrades, that we may battle without interruption." Slowly lowering his hand to the blade still resting soundly within its sheath, an eager smile crossed the man's lips before he continued to speak. "I treasure honor, my dear Mr. Edge. I treasure it greatly, thus our battle shall rage on without interference." Wrapping his fingers around the hilt, he narrowed his sights at the boy, the battle now ready to commence. "Draw!"

_{banner credit to Hellis}


@MelonHead & @DearTrickster

The Night Before the Kidnapping

Lekh had sent the relevant information through the normal channels, assured that it would reach the Cowl within a couple of hours. As far as he was concerned, that would probably be it for him and this job, unless the boss' interest in the woman had progressed to more insidious levels. In which case, Lekh could probably expect a note from on high that he had to get his hands dirty. He wasn't exactly looking forward to it, to say the least.

Still, work was work, and for another day it was over. Lekh got out of the taxi a couple blocks down from his rented apartment building just outside the French Quarter. He had taken off his guard uniform and was wearing ordinary clothes, though his jacket had been chosen specially and to the trained eye it was a little conspicuous, as it wasn't a cold evening. Despite that small blip in his otherwise carefully constructed vale of plainness, Lekh wasn't much to catch the eye. The way he dressed, the fact that he never took a taxi to his doorstep, one might almost consider him paranoid. True, he was involved with criminal elements but to his knowledge he hadn't actually made any enemies in the three months or so he'd been in town. The fact was, Lekh was always careful. Probably why he'd lived so long.

His apartment was on the second floor, in his mind offering the perfect balance between prior warning of activity and ease of escape. Not that he ever wanted to let things get that far, if the authorities came knocking at his door anytime soon he'd have messed up something fierce. Lekh was hardly what you would call a prideful man, but his family took their work very seriously, and he was no exception. Musings aside, he stepped inside and checked over the rooms. Not that there was much to check, obvious hiding places were hard to come by in the small but neat apartment he rented. Satisfied with a still overly long search, he allowed his pent up stress to escape with a tiny sigh and shrugged off his jacket, revealing a pistol holstered over his white shirt. His blinds were closed, the door was locked, for a moment the Polish criminal lay on his bed and closed his eyes, though he doubted sleep would come. There was many a price to pay for a life of crime, not just the punishment of the law.

Odette stepped out of the manison varying amounts of pleased while riding a good mood. The pay off for this kidnapping was promising while already planning to take advantage of a few loopholes within the bargain she made with The Cowl. Not meant to slight nor harm her relationship with him but rather following an instinct. Her eyes scanned for an address for the man she'd be working with, Silence. She scoffed at the presumptuious name but withheld judgement until she met him.

Bach was close behind reading over her shoulder hungry for more information. He seemed rather focused on Racheli pulling out her photo again from the file to examine it. Odette caught his apparent interest and questioned, "Do you know something I don't?"

Bach held up the photo with a grin, "She's cute."

Scrunching her nose in distaste she grabbed the photo back and snapped, "Stop messing around"

He snickered at her reaction but the gleeful grin disappeared as soon as her back was turned. A darkness passed through his features hinting at something below the surface that would give even Odette pause.

"Looks like we're heading over to the French Quarter of Lost Haven. We'll meet with Silence and set this kidnapping in motion." She said memorizing the address and tucking the dossier away back into her purse.

Whispering a illusion charm on herself she pulled out her broomstick next swinging her legs over it to fly. Bach shrunk down in a cloud of autumn leaves taking to her shoulder at a mere 6 inches. A strong kick off and she was soaring directly back into town having masked her approach from human eyes.

Within minutes she passed over the city, the streets were uncharateristically quiet having been cleared due to the Pax threat. Shortly thereafter having arrived to her destination she had spotted a man exiting a taxi from above where she hovered before slowly descending down to streetlevel. Wondering briefly if that was Silence. Stowing away her broom she walked up to the door letting herself in.

She ascended the stairs quickly to the second floor the building itself was generally musty and on the old side. Dust lined the railings in the stairwell and she noticed mouse traps tucked discreatly into it's corners. Pulling a face she carried on through the door walking at a brisk pace down the hallway bright blue eyes flicking right and left counting the door numbers.

Finally stopping on apartment 19 at the end of the hallway her knuckles rapted against the wooden door her hands clasped behind her back.

A loud knock shook Lekh from his meditation and for a moment adrenaline surged through his body. Perhaps a by-product of his general cautiousness he had a tendency to coil up like a spring, hence why he sprung from his bed silently and drew his pistol upon hearing an unscheduled noise. Unheard, his phone buzzed on his sofa-side table as he focused in on the doorway, crossing through his living room/kitchen area to the door quietly, his footsteps muffled by a thick beige carpet. Now he had a choice, he could look through the peep-hole and gauge the potential threat of whoever was outside, but they might be waiting for just that to unload on the door. Or he could tear open the door and take the person by surprise. Problem was, if it was just an accident and whoever was outside meant him no harm, he'd have to explain why he'd confronted them with a gun. He took a breath. Then, quietly exhaling, he put his eye to the glass. The sight that met him eased his caution somewhat, but not entirely. It seemed his visitor was a woman with incredibly vibrant hair, with no visible weapons, checking some sort of papers in her hand. She looked like a saleswoman, but that seemed unlikely, the apartment was sealed from casual bystanders. Perhaps she was some sort of building official?

Lekh pondered things for a moment. Someone as experienced as he knew not to judge a threat based entirely upon appearances, women did not commonly enter the more violent professions, but the ones who did were terrifying. Finally, he placed his weapon down on a table just out of view from outside the apartment, leaving his holster as a warning that he could be armed, as taking it off would be an unnecessary hassle. He mutely reprimanded himself for forgetting to remove it when he came in. Mask set, slightly furrowed and disapproving brow of a hard-working security guard home from work who wasn't in the kind of mood to be bothered. Everything was ticked off, and finally, after an awkward length of time he opened the door. He looked at the full figure of his visitor for the first time, his frown masking a calculated stare. No words left his mouth, she instigated the conversation, so she could start it.

Bach immediately jumped off her shoulder then ran past the man's legs entering the home still small and inivisible to the naked eye. Odette barely flicked an eye at Bach's quick entrance but decided to say hello first before inviting herself in past the unremarkable man The Cowl directed her to.

"Good evening, sir. I'm here on behest of a mutual friend, may I come in? The hallway is nowhere to talk business." She said briskly observing the man, she thought maybe she had the incorrect building. Though a man undercover would hardly look the part of a criminal in his off hours.

Bach pointed and began making gun fingers at her, she knew then the man was armed and probably not made aware of their mutual job.

Lekh, for his part, was caught in another awkward position. He hadn't been with the Syndicate long enough to know the majority of the local operatives. He had rightly assumed that the mutual 'friend' she spoke of was either the Cowl, or the Syndicate in general. Point was, he had no way of confirming her claims, but what he did believe was that if she had been sent by the Syndicate in regards to his intel, they had moved quickly. Almost too quickly. He would also have expected prior warning, though he hadn't checked his phone, damn, he'd just have to wing it for the time being. Which was arguably his least favourite thing in the world.

"I see." He said simply, buying himself a moment so as to not let the pause grow too lengthy. "I reckon you should come in then, Miss." His accent was nondescript American, not betraying his origins. His visitor's speech however had a fair more perceptible French inflection, though she spoke surprisingly good English. She could have potentially been French-Canadian, but the twang was different, and Lekh was pretty familiar with the original accent as a European himself who had travelled the continent for, ahem, work.

Lekh had, obviously, no reason to suspect an invisible imp had crept into his apartment. With careful subterfuge he beckoned his visitor in with an expansive wave of his right arm so that as he turned to the side and she passed, he could slip his firearm into the back of his trousers. If she was worried by the obvious holster she hadn't shown any signs, her confidence spoke of one of two things, either she was who she said she was or she was incredibly competent at whatever it was she did instead. He shut the door and turned to face her, hoping she would walk further into the apartment so he could check his phone that lay on his side table, next to the solitary couch in his meagre living room.

Muttering a quick word of thanks as she passed him. Casting a wary eye around the apartment she made her way into the living room straight for the window taking a quick peak outside. Bach returned shortly to her shoulder giving her the thumbs up that the rest of the apartment was clear, the only weapon being the one on Silence. Leaning against the couch she introduced herself with a short bow of her head, "You may refer to me as The Ambassador. Our mutual friend of course being The Cowl. He sent me work with you on the transport of Miss Desdemona." Whispering a levitation spell the gun floated out of the back of Silence's pants then placed on the floor between them well out of reach from them both, "Judging by having your weapon at the ready you were not expecting my visit."

Confronted with the unknown, Lekh took the wise course and decided to wait and see how things played out, as his gun floated away from him, seemingly suspended by the woman's, The Ambassador's, whim. Thoughts raced through his mind as he took in this voluntarily offered information, not to mention further questions. She spoke the Cowl's name, hardly proof of her purpose, but more importantly how did she know where his weapon was and how was she currently manipulating it from afar? Evidently, she was a metahuman of some kind, but what exactly could she do?

"Interesting trick. No, I was not."

Opening her palms up to Silence as a show of peace, "According to the dossier The Cowl gave me, the CDC will be moving Miss Desdemona very soon."

Bach whispered in her ear, "He seems a wee bit jumpy."

"Oh?"

"We'll be relying on my 'tricks' to kidnap and deliver Racheli safely into the Syndicate's hands. I am here to coordinate with you on the..." She pulled out the folder from her small clutch purse pursing her lips while she read, "You will be responsible for diverting the transport truck while I take Racheli. If you do not believe me or you are still scratching your head at the floating gun then I will move on with the plan without you."

"One moment, if you would be as kind as to pass that phone there to me then perhaps I could confirm who you are?" He nodded calmly at the mobile on the side table, unconsiously reverting to his normal accent as he dropped his persona.

She nodded placing the folder on the couch then saw the phone on the end table she plucked it off the table then gave a liberal toss across the room, Go ahead, you may make the call. Confirm to your heart's content." Making a sweeping motion with her hand. She was speeding things along not wishing to waste time. Having to explain herself and magic was something she had little patience for anymore. Humans had one or two good reactions in them for seeing the strange.

Lekh caught the phone easily and flicked it open to turn it on. He glanced down briefly and then back up at the woman, noting he had an unread message from his contact in the Syndicate. He opened it in his peripheral vision, still distrustful despite the show of strength and trust on The Ambassador's part. Though she may not have been there to harm him, she was still not necessarily who she said she was. He read the blocky text.

Blue hair, trustworthy, listen to her, direct from C.

"Ah." Lekh closed the phone and slipped it into his pocket, he should have probably carried out a more thorough check but further caution would have probably been insulting. "It seems you are indeed who you say you are, in which case I owe you an apology, we got off on the wrong foot so to speak. You may call me Lekh, Ms Ambassador. Would you allow me to read this dossier of yours?" He walked over to her slowly, without any violent intent.

Watching him her back straight she picked the folder back up holding it out for him to take. "Apology accepted, Lekh. It mainly details the plan you have set in motion and your reconnaissance from within Lost Haven's CDC. You did a lot of the heavy lifting." Allowing a smile of admiration for his work.

He nodded his head in acknowledgement of the compliment as he scanned over the offered dossier, looking for inconsistencies in what he knew and what had been recorded. It checked out. Except for one small factor that had been playing on his mind, namely the video recordings of Racheli's arrival at the CDC. Though it could have been nothing, he deemed it worth mentioning.

"So I am to infiltrate the transport and drive it to a pre-determined location?" He asked rhetorically. "You will be waiting at this spot I presume? It may be of little consequence, but I believe this woman may have allies of a sort out there, people who may perhaps interfere with the kidnapping." He paused for a moment. "My point being, you may wish to ready yourself for such interference, just in case." It wasn't much of a warning, but Lekh was one to cover all the bases.

Her eyes narrowed at Lekh's warning. "I will be waiting and prepared. What gives you reason to believe there will be intereference?"

"Two things, unrelated incidents perhaps but enough to raise my suspicion. I reviewed the CCTV of Racheli's arrival to the CDC and found she was escorted in by individuals who seemed to know her. On top of this, I witnessed an extraordinary event regarding her person where I believe a phone was... transported to her. I have no way of explaining what I saw, for I am unfamiliar with the meta-humans." He said truthfully, glad to be relaying his concerns even if he was unsure if they were well founded. They had not made it into his brief report, which concerned itself with objective truths.

Cocking her head listening waiting for any inflection of a lie or listening for a falter in resolve. Odette nodded then asked, "Extraordinary? Please describe it, you did not report any of these findings but... these observations are clues to what we will be dealing with."

"To be frank, I cannot confirm that either of these incidents are important. Isolated, they are inconclusive at best, and the extraordinary event I referred to I am still unsure of. What I believe to have occurred is thus, some object, perhaps a phone, was transported to Racheli as she lay in sealed containment. There is no other explanation for the object's appearance, at least none within my realm of experience."

Chewing the inside of her cheek in thought she shrugged, "I am capable of handling multiple enemies. Although...can I count on you to stay and help if such interference were to overwhlem the kidnapping?"

Lekh, for just a moment, looked pensive at the sudden request. He had only just found out he was directly participating in a kidnapping, which strayed out of his preferred areas of criminality on a day to day basis. Now he was being asked to potentially engage in direct violence, of a type he was completely unfamiliar with if Racheli and The Ambassador's strange abilities were concerned.

"While we are on the Syndicate's payroll for this job I have basic expectations not to be abandoned. If the job's success is not enough incentive perhaps I can sweeten the deal to ensure your..." Her hands gestured vaguely trying to find the appropriate translation. "Fidélité. Loyalty."

Another man perhaps might have been insulted that his loyalty and courage was being called into question. In Lekh's case though, the questions were perfectly pertinent. He looked at her awkwardly as he considered his options, his face revealing little of the internal conflict but his silence making suggestions on its own. Ironic, considering his chosen name.

"I see. As you may be aware, I did not seek employment in the Syndicate to work as an enforcer, I have not been told that I would be expected to take unnecessary risk in conflict." He looked at her for a moment, wondering if he should fear her, he decided he did a little.

"What I mean to say, is that I would like to hear what you would offer me in return for this service. For it is a service, regardless of appearances or what capabilities I may or may not have, I am not a fighter."

Her pink lips curled with interest, "Allow me to show you."

Breezing past him into the kitchen she rumaged through the drawers looking for a knife. Her eyes flicked up to the counter to see a knifeblock she pulled out the largest one she could find. Returning to the living room she laid the knife down by the endtable then went searching in her purse the array of strange noises emitted from her purse was enough to give anyone pause for what else could a clutch of that size possibly hold beyond a small wallet and a tube of lipstick?

Pulling out a small clear container no bigger than an inch in diameter, holding what appeared to be sparkling transparent salve. Whispering another spell she placed the container to the side her hands glowing a faint blue.

"You seem to be a man interested in self preservation, much like any criminal smart enough not to cross powers that be." Her smile was mysterious picking up the knife again locking eyes with him. Dragging the edge of the knife across her palm without flinching blood bubbled dripping down the blade and sizzling on contact with the floor.

Flicking the blade clean of blood sizzling into the carpet with a hiss. Her hand bled on with little show to slow down. Unscrewing the cap on the clear container she took a penny sized dollop of the salve with a single swipe wiped it over the open wound. It closed in real time leaving not even a scar.

"The salve will be yours if we succeed. You will not only gain a little trinket but my friendship. Both being incredibly useful." She said oozing her confidence with every word.

The Pole's eyes widened as the lady showed off more of her magic, her response was far from what he was expecting to say the least. He was used to money or favours being offered for services rendered, not magical artifacts. That being said, what mortal man would shrug at an elixir that could literally work magic? It was in essence the perfect incentive for a man who seemed afraid to step into harm’s way.

"You make a convincing sales pitch." Lekh smiled finally, tearing his eyes away from the healed wound. "I will do my utmost to ensure our success then, even if it should involve a degree of violence. Though I have no intention of revealing my secrets, and would not ask you to do the same, I will offer this warning. If we are threatened in the act of conducting our business, maintain distance from my person, it is in your best interest." For a moment the mask slipped, and the subtle menace beneath the man's outside demeanour surfaced.

She smiled brightly to reply, "Excellent. We shall give each other plenty of room to work in the case of a fight. Assuming if it does come to that."

"So, to business. I will be driving the vehicle, unless you have a more appropriate exchange point I believe that the north bridge heading out of town would be suitable. The road is called Tyburn Avenue, I will stop the transport under the underpass where we should find cover from prying eyes. Though with this Pax hoax keeping everyone indoors at the moment we should have little to fear from chance bystanders. I believe anyone who does appear will be there with intent, so be highly suspect of any tail I may pick up enroute. It will not be obvious that the transport has left its pre-determined route until I am half a mile from the drop off point, which is in our favour."

Pulling up her phone and the map app she tapped away the location looking at the digital map observing the general area. "Suitable. I can prepare the area prior to your arrival to deter any human or metahuman." She glanced up at Lekh then back down to the map, "You did well to warn me of possible interference so I will warn you not to underestimate Racheli. I do not know what she is capable of but she strikes me as a survivor. It is a feeling I had when I first saw her photo." Gesturing vaguley to her own face, "You can read a lot of character from one single look."

"I understand. I agree with you. You can expect my arrival perhaps three quarters of an hour after the transport's departure, provided nothing is amiss. The personnel in the back of the vehicle will have to be incapacitated upon arrival. Is there anything else you wish to clarify about our mission now?"

She nodded taking a few notes on her phone for reference, "I can take care of who will be in the back. Everything seems to be clear can I get your phone number?"

"Of course, though I am only contactable through text, unfortunately." He relayed the number to her, having already memorised it prior.

She tapped away into her contacts labling it Silence. "Merci. I look forward to working with you, Lekh. I will see to it we are successful."

"Indeed, I am more confident in our success now that I am aware you will be present."Lekh figured buttering up the strange magic lady was in his best interests, at that point. "Will that be all, then?"

Giving him a reserved giggle in response, "Flattery is a good place to start. Text me when you are leaving, I will be at the drop point hours before preparing the area and resting."

"I will do just that." Lekh promised, part relieved that the conversation was coming to a close and he could soon get some rest, part pensive at what had transpired. He turned around and walked to his front door, amicably holding it open for his 'guest.' "Until tomorrow then, I bid you adieu."

Present Day

Natural Selection - Transport Interrupted

It was late in the day and most of the personnel had gone home, finished with another gruelling day of research at the Lost Haven CDC. Not that the evening offered any respite for the security, and John Smith was no exception. With deep bags under his eyes and a weary smile on his face the American temp-staff member had offered to accompany his friend, Bobby, in the transport job planned that evening. They were sitting in the cab of the transport vehicle, a special form of ambulance, chatting about the Pax event, or hoax, depending on one’s opinion.

“Dunno why you’d wanna stick around for this shit Johnny boy, can’t say I’m lookin’ forward to goin’ out tonight with those domes en’all.”

“Hah, I reckon it’ll work itself out Bobby, no point worryin’ about what you can’t do nuttin about.”

“That’s the truth, least the roads’ll be quiet.”

“Silver linings bud.”

“Silver linings.”

Meanwhile, within the CDC, Racheli was succumbing slowly to the effect of the sedatives injected into her bloodstream. It should have taken no more than ten seconds for someone of her weight to drop, but she was resisting. Still, succumb she did, and the staff wheeled her out to the loading bay in the rear of the complex through cordoned off tubing. The two guards heard the back doors open and muffled voices, followed by the clanking of metal and finally the slam of the doors shutting again. Shortly after, there was a sharp knock at the driver side window, and Bobby reeled down the glass.

“You’re all set to head-off, the patient is loaded and our personnel are strapped in, so to speak.” The doctor at the door told them, nodding sharply so that the glasses on the bridge of his nose threatened to fly into the cab. Bobby’s face crooked into a grin at the man’s enthusiasm, not really understanding its source.

“Righty-oh, Doc, we’ll be off then.” Bobby said, reeling the window back up. He turned to grin at John, who was texting someone on his phone.

“Guess they’re glad to be rid of her.”

“Guess they are.”

The ambulance pulled out of the bay and cleared the CDC perimeter. The roads were clear, as they expected, despite it being around the tail-end of rush hour, about ten past six to be exact. It was a little eerie seeing streets that usually bustled with activity deserted by the residents of Lost Haven. But the city was on its last legs by all accounts, the things that it had endured in just two months bordered on the insane, something had to give. People rushed inside, they stayed there, those unlucky few who had to work through potential terrorism at any rate. It was still a little unclear what was going on, apparently some of the so-called Superheroes were dealing with the threat of the evil Doctor, and it was all very theatrical. But people’s lives were at stake, and there was very real fear.

“You don’t look so good there, Bobby.” John observed worriedly, looking over at his pale friend. The man was tanned usually, but his pallor had taken an unhealthy colour.

“Where’d you say you got those…” Bobby paused as his stomach gurgled. “Burritos.”

“I went to that place you told me about, Joes or sommat?”

“Argh, my stomach is killing me.”

“Look man, I’ll drive if you want, you can just tell me where to go and that.”

“Alright, alright, goddamn.” Bobby pulled over and jumped out the cab, hands on his knees. “My head is killin’ me man.”

“Sounds like you’re coming down with sommat.” John told him, having shuffled into the driver seat. “Gettin then.”

They kept going, every so often John asked for directions from his ailing co-pilot, but for the most part they drove in silence. He tapped the wheel as he looked around, watching the roads go by, recalling the map he’d been looking at intensely as of late. He wasn’t that familiar with Lost Haven, really, but the road system in America was fairly simple and intuitive. That being said, the roads did tend to blur into one, so he did need the input from Bobby, who was having trouble concentrating on the road and had somehow grown ever paler. John looked at him with worry.

“You really look ill man.”

“You don’t say.” He grunted in pain. “Keep straight up here.”

“Got it.” John turned left at the intersection, and Bobby shook himself.

“I said keep straight John.”

“I am sorry.”

The sharp pain in Bobby’s neck almost shook him from the strange oppressive feeling pressing down on his mind. Not quite though, by the time he realised what was happening it was already too late, the syringe in his neck was pressed down and his vision dimmed, he slumped against the window and the ambulance trundled on. With his co-pilot out for the count, Silence had effectively taken control of the transport and instigated the kidnapping of Racheli Desdemona.

Lekh had already sent a message ahead to his ally, The Ambassador, as he had left the CDC. He hoped she was ready for him, as he checked his wing-mirrors with his usual amount of caution. Unfortunately, for obvious reasons, his vehicle did not have a rear-view mirror, so it was not easy to check for tails, though if he had picked one up and they were less than experienced at avoiding detection, Lekh was certain to make them on the deserted roads. Unbeknownst to the people in the back, the ambulance sped off course to the predetermined drop off point where the exchange would be made. The perfect way to ensure someone disappears without a trace, especially someone like the woman in back. Lekh spared her a moment of pity as he drove, he did not know what lay in store for her in the future, but he suspected from what he knew of the Syndicate it would be less than savoury.

The ambulance arrived on Tyburn Avenue in perfect time, moving neither too fast nor too slow until it ground to a halt beneath the North Bridge underpass. It was shady and quiet, with no passer-by in sight and the likelihood of drawing a casual eye unlikely in the extreme. Silence slid out of his seat and opened the door in one movement, his boots hitting asphalt with a crunch as he walked around the front of the vehicle to where he expected to find his companion.

“Ms Ambassador? We have arrived.”

Above the factory that acted as Doctor Diplodoc’s base of operations, the Silver Sorceress and the White Witch stared down one another, just as if they were in some sort of Western movie where they waiting to unsheathe their guns and let the bullets fly. However, being anyone did anything, the genius behind this whole operation contacted the Silver Sorceress via earpiece.

“Victoria, do I need to remind you about the embarrassing defeat that those creations of mine handed to you when one of them had some sort of anti-magic protection on their side? I would suggest something a little more, well, indirect.”

“Multiplicatio!” The Silver Sorceress shouted out load. A cloud of smoke suddenly appeared and hide her from the White Witch. And when the smoke dissipated, six copies of herself remained instead of just one and none of them was hovering where the Silver Sorceress had been. Three of these ‘copies’ headed back down towards where the fight was still raging, while the remaining three stayed up in the sky with the White Witch.

“The decision is yours, witch.” One of the ‘copies’ taunted the White Witch. “You can go after those three in the hopes that one of us are not the real me. Or you could stay up here, where you can finish me.”

Meanwhile, back on the ground, the unexpected arrival of four more ‘heroes’ made things interesting for Diplodoc’s allies, although not impossible to achieve victory. One of them, Skull-Thrasher, began unloading his pistols at the spideresque Black Widow. However, her reflexes allowed her to dodge the bullets without any harm done to her. As she moved to dodge these bullets, someone could describe her movements as almost dance-like in its elegance. Then, she thrust her arms forwards, sending two web blasts that covered up the Skull-Thrasher’s firearms.

At the same, Lyger did his best to save Bast from the Black Widow. And with the timely intervention of both his allies and the newcomers, the two metahumans did not have to find out what is was like to be plant food.

“Are you alright?” Lyger asked Bast as he offered a hand to her.

“Of course. Any girl would be with you covering her back.” Bast answered back as she was helped up from the ground, trying to make sure she did not sound too infatuated with him and therefore distracted from the battle at hand.

Then, the Black Widow descended to the ground from a dragline spun from the spinnerets on her spider abdomen. “Want to switch dance partners?” She asked Jaws with a smile. The giant sharkman just gave a toothy grin and a nod to show his agreement in her plan. Black Widow then began barraging Thunderbolt and Boom with web bullets, while Jaws charged at Lyger and Bast, throwing a fury of fists at them.

The three Silver Sorceresses finally arrived back where the others were, although two of them remained above the hole that the four newcomers had made in the ceiling. The third floated down to the floor and just in the nick of time. Effigy obviously had gotten in over his head when he had engaged with War-Pulse. However, when he saw that the Silver Sorceress had returned, Effigy could not help himself but mutter a taunt to the man who held him.

“I don’t know.” He barely could speak, “I think I have a date with a superman, or at least a power girl.”

Then, a blue aura began to surround the Silver Sorceress’ hands, which also did the same with Effigy’s entire body. In one quick motion, the Silver Sorceress yanked back her arms back towards her own body, as if she was pulling Effigy back towards herself. In response to the sorceress’ hand gesture, Effigy was flung towards her out of War-Pulse’s grip and past Skyquake. While in midair, Effigy began to change his appearance again, this time to what seemed like a homeless man. However, as soon as his transformation was completed, a bright light shrouded him. And when the light had dimed, he was gone.

---

After the second team had escaped from their first obstacle, the six heroes came upon a crossroads. Two hallways heading both to the left and right, while a third one continued forward. Kelly closed her eyes and focused so that she could remember which way they should go. After a few seconds, the wasp-girl pointed toward the right passage. “It’s this way.”

However, before they could proceed, the six heroes heard a loud pop, which was followed by a bright burst of light. Effigy, in this appearance that the heroes had not seen yet, landed on Arachne’s spider abdomen. As soon as he had landed on her, Arachne immediately began to try to knock him off herself. However, due to her drider anatomy, it proved difficult for her to reach him.

“In this case, knowing my allies’ weaknesses has proved quite fruitful.” Effigy taunted the young girl while she continued to struggle against the limitations of her own anatomy.

“Why don’t face me like a man so that we can see how useful those weakness really are.” Arachne, realizing that her natural reach was not going to get this newcomer off her, used her webs to extend her reach. Once she had a hold of him, Arachne flung him off herself and into a nearby wall. However, before she did this, Effigy was able to slip in one short taunt.

“How about like a woman?” Even before the shape shifter had hit the wall, he was already changing into a different form. Once the transformation was complete, before the six heroes lay an exact duplicate of Arachne, costume and all.

“Beyond your ridiculous ‘counter-weights’, this form is pretty much identical to Black Widow’s” Effigy spoke, even though it sounded like Arachne’s voice was saying those words, “Far easier to train with than that stupid mercenary’s form.”

“Icon,” Kelly whispered to the blue marvel while Effigy boasted about his training with Black Widow’s form would translate into Arachne’s, “Although you’re our biggest piece here, it might be wise to keep your distance from him.” Kelly then paused for a moment when she realized that she might not have used the proper pronoun for Effigy. “Wait, what pronoun are we supposed to be using? ‘She’?”

“How about ‘it’?” Raptor interjected. However, this momentarily distracted ‘their’ Arachne, turning back towards the others as if they had also called her an ‘it’. “Don’t worry. It’s blatantly obvious that you’re a ‘she’.” Although he could not see Arachne’s expression under her mask, Raptor knew that she was giving him a death glare at the moment.

While she was distracted, Effigy took this opportunity to lunge forward at Arachne, tackling her to the ground. After a short scuffle on the floor, one of the Arachnes pushed the other off of herself.

“Um, guys.” Raptor scratched his head, “Did anyone keep track of which Arachne was ours?”

“I’m the real one!” Both of the Arachnes claimed in unison, “She’s the imposter!”

@EnterTheHero

Jacob had only been at the university for a few weeks and already he was turning heads. His theories on radiation and its effects on the human body. With the current crisis at hand they were taking all the information they could get pertaining to metahumans. I had been a busy week and he had been unable to properly sit down and rest. Popping a bear open he put the drink to his lips then realised that the drink was pointless. Pressing the cool beer to his forehead he felt the perspiring bottles coldness cooling him down.

”Ah that's it. A cool beer after a hard days work.” Jacob sighed at his comment. ”If only I could drink it.”

Putting the beer down he heard his phone ringing. Rummaging through the papers he found his phone and hit the answer button raising it to his ear.

”Hello Dr Parkmen here.”

"Hello, Jacob. It's Dr. Cole. I'd like to continue our discussion from earlier in the week. Could you meet me at the Lost Haven Center for Disease Control and Prevention?"

” Sure can. Dr. Just want to say that my area of expertise is in nuclear physics not biology or chemisty but i suppose my unique accident may shed some light on the problems here in Lost Haven. Be nice to lock horns again with another well educated person.”

Turning his phone off he chucked it back on his desk. He went to the bathroom that was a short walk from his office. Stepping into the cubicle he closed the door behind him lightly latching it so that someone who wanted to use it after him could pull the door open.

Stepping into the toilet bowl he was reminded of a scene from harry potter. ”Well off to the ministry of ma- I mean the CDC.”

Pulling the toilet handle the water the toilet flushed taking Jacob with it. He was swept away by the flowing water down the pipes and into the sewage system underneath Lost Haven. Traveling along the pipes he found the location of the CDCs toilet system. Jacob was glad he had memorised the pipes or he would have been easily lost in the maze of sewage.

Arriving at the staff toilets he began to reform in the toilet bowling pushing the closed lid of the toilet open. Once he was fully reformed he stepped out of the bowl and opened the door. He look around the empty room and hurried out of the room. It didn’t take him long to track down the Doctor. Jacob was recognised as the professor helping Dr Cole and was quickly pointed in the direction of him.

”Hey Doctor. Got here as quick as I could. What did you need?”

Lost Haven, Slums

"I'm sure we'll get along, kid!"

Nearly inhuman movements would instantly categorize Raverio as something more, something incredibly deadly. His swift footwork acted much like a dance, the mesmerizing fluidity of a true sword master. Despite wearing an expensive suit which would otherwise restrict a man's movements, Raverio surpassed such confines with windlike grace. Darting from one point to the other, the swordsman had accomplished a feat quite impressive indeed, he was able to keep up with Milo's bionic speed and skill. Though an amazing display, this was not what would go on to widen the boy's eyes, but rather a blade unlike any other. Raverio was not alone in this fight, no what he wielded was not steel. Noticing his own sword, sturdy and reliable, chip away with each clash sent the boy's heart into a hole in his stomach. What was it that he was going up against? The soft blue hue emanating from Raverio's weapon painted it a relic of supernatural origin no doubt, the edge sharp enough to sever the very bounds of steel. This dance of blades would further reveal how the man's sword remained in flawless condition throughout the battle, not a single sign of tear forcing its way onto the reflective surface.

Simple yet elegant to perfection, Raverio's sword was undoubtedly the result of exquisite craftsmanship unlike what a smith could hope to achieve. The blue glow coating the surface of this deadly weapon would instill fear in whomever found themselves on the sharp end as Milo would soon learn, a bleeding wound tearing its way through his side. Though his mutation healed the cut with near instant results, never had he felt so helpless beneath the weight of a sword. As if cutting through air, his skin and bone gave way for the intrusion without a fraction of resistance.

Bringing both hands to the hilt of his own, mundane weapon, Milo charged forth and clashed steel with his enemy. Though agile to the point of outmaneuvering countless combatants, Milo would constantly find himself deflected by a skillful parry or steadfast block. "Amazing swordsmanship, young man! Truly, the stories ring true!" Holding his scabbard with his left hand and the blade with his right, Raverio would continue to stun his smaller opponent once the sheath vanished from sight. In a blue swirl of energy, the scabbard disappeared and allowed for Raverio to mimic Milo's decision, bringing both hands to the hilt for more powerful strikes.

"That's insane..." Though insecurity shone like a beacon behind Milo's clenched teeth, he could not afford to lower his guard for but a second. Raverio would not allow such an error to pass him by unpunished, thus he dashed forth and initiated the continuation of their deadly duel. Feeling the force of the Italian's strikes against his sword, Milo was quite easily pushed back and put at the defensive. Finding an opening in Raverio's onslaught of strikes appeared to be an impossibility. Attempts were nevertheless made. Edge lived up to his name without fault as was proven time and time again through every fluid strike executed by his immense skill in swordsmanship. Though Raverio appeared to have the upper hand, Milo did not make it easy for the man. In fact, there were times where the Italian would find himself overwhelmed by the boy's agility and swordsmanship.

Avoiding an incoming strike, Edge fainted his opponent and gracefully darted to the left. Either through pure skill or a dash of luck, an opening had been spotted and Milo rushed towards it with a swing to Raverio's hip. At this point however, one could perhaps expect the Italian's response. Reacting to the counter strike, Raverio twisted his body and blocked the attack before a kick sent Milo back. "Well done, but not well enough!"

"Who taught you to fight like this...?" Breathing heavily from the ordeal, Milo analysed his opponent while slowly moving one foot after the other. He would need to wait for Raverio to strike before retaliating as an offensive assault had been proven useless against this opponent.

"Masters from all across the world have blessed me with their knowledge. Were things different, I would have gladly taken you under my wing, esteemed Mr. Edge!"

"Don't worry..." Milo returned. "You've taught me a lot..." Masters always said that no one could teach you more than an opponent in battle, and they tended to be correct. Though Raverio appeared to be the more skilled combatant at the start of this fight, Milo had made sure to analyse every strike, every movement, every single breath the Italian hade made. His attacks revolved around speed, accuracy and fluidity much like Milo's, but where Raverio possessed more strength, Milo was superior in terms of finesse. Indeed, an assault could be easily deflected and overpowered by Raverio's superior level of physical strength, however their continued clash had revealed that he was still prisoner to his frame's agile limitations. One would have to trade in one strength for another, as it was.

Initiating the final act, Milo waited for his opponent to strike. Instead of blocking Raverio's attacks, the boy danced between them like a graceful wind and retaliated with a series of lightning fast cuts which forced Raverio to catch them against the edge of his sword. This was however where their differences shone brightly as the Italian was unable to block every strike. Jumping back from his smaller opponent, Raverio knew that since Milo had found a strategy to tilt this battle in his favor, he would need to end it fast.

With the scabbard reappearing in the man's left hand, he returned the sword to its confines before he lowered the weapon to his waist. With a lightning fast draw, Raverio released his blade from the scabbard in a horizontal slash as he lunged forward. The force of the strike was powerful enough to sever Milo's sword in half as the boy was forced to raise the weapon in defense against the incredibly fast attack. Feeling edge of Raverio's sword traveling across his chest like nothing stole Milo's breath and nearly ended the fight. Of course, was the Italian fighting anyone else without the capabilities of regeneration, he would have won with that strike. However, given Milo's advantage, the boy was able to lunge forth and stabbed his broken blade through Raverio's stomach. "Well...done..." Meeting the ground with his knees, the bloodied smile on Raverio's lips revealed the joy he had felt throughout this dance. Meeting someone who was able to combat him was indeed a liberation he had longed for, a splendid farewell to the Italian now ending his journey.

Joining the lifeless body besides him, Milo dropped down to the dusty floor with heavy breaths forcing their way through his lungs. His blade was broken and what remained of the weapon was a sad remnant of what used to be. The last reminder of his past had been cleaved in half. Though distraught over the outcome of his beloved weapon's demise, the boy's eyes would soon find home upon the supernatural weapon which had achieved the feat. Carefully reaching his hand out to the black handle of the late Raverio's sword, Milo felt a presence unlike any other whispering incomprehensible words into his mind. One could argue that any sensible person would have retracted their hand as the whispers appeared to subside when such an action reached the light of day, however Milo was drawn to the weapon like a hunger he had yet to truly understand. Though a mere inch from the leather bound handle, the boy would find his hand pulled down by an invisible force, his fingers involuntarily wrapping around the blade's hilt.

Gasping for air, the pain shooting through his appendage traveled to his chest and forked itself to the rest of his body as if the flames of inferno were singing him from within. Nearly screaming out in horror, Milo clenched his teeth as his eyes met their reflection on the perfect edge staring back at him. What was this blade? What kind of supernatural force was it that had invaded his very essence? "Well, well..." The whispers continued, though now audible and understandable. "A brat managed to kill Raverio? How amusing." A male voice, dark and cold yet slightly high pitched and incredibly mocking. "Do you think you can wield me?"

"Who the hell are you...?" Milo tried through painful gasps, his left hand grabbing hold of his right wrist as if to subside the pain.

"You do not know!? I am Masamune, the Spirit Blade. Masamune, the one who can slay anything!" Speaking to a sword was something Milo never thought possible, however as the blade responded, he found himself growing angrier at the pain. "Does it hurt, boy? Let go, child. You will never wield me."

"Shut up...! Whatever you are, I will not let a fucking sword overpower me...!" Placing his free hand on the hilt, the pain escalated as it shot through the boy's frame. Forcing an anguished scream from his lungs, Milo only tightened his grip around the weapon. Every second felt like an eternity but with a goal clearly in sight, Milo refused to let go of the sword so eagerly mocking him.

"The one who beat Raverio, you show spirit which by far surpasses your appearance! Very well, kid! I'll entertain the notion of being yours to command! Make this an interesting journey for us both!" The pain started to subside mere moments before the blade dissipated along with its scabbard. "Linking myself with your soul is a very painful procedure, one that you survived. Congrats little kid, looks like we'll be spending a lot of time together."

Even more exhausted than before, Milo stood but immediately stumbled towards the wall where he leaned not to fall back down. He had yet to believe that a possessed sword had linked itself to him, not to mention the belief in spirit swords to begin with. "You're in my head...?" Milo breathed, relieved that the pain had vanished. The pain was however replaced by a feeling of discomfort, knowing that he shared a consciousness with a weapon.

"In a sense!" Masamune chuckled. "But worry not, you'll get used to it! Summon me whenever you need a weapon at your side, otherwise I will act as your trusted friend and adviser!" The sword's personality seemed to have shifted completely now that the link between him and Milo was complete. The dark, cold presence which Milo had felt was gone and instead replaced with a sense of security, as if something was now watching over him.

"Friends with a sword...? This day's been really fucking messed up..."

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

(Character sheet update: Masamune.)