The conversation was going well, better then what Scorn had expected on her first arrival. She figured she would play the mute girl card for the most part but having a few new acquaintances in a span in a few minutes changed that plan. It seemed that she got her chance at more when another person joined in the conversation. Of course the most obvious question was asked about her to which Scorn was happily enough to reply to his inquiry.

"Perhaps but who ever thinks the innocent skull girl could do such cruel things," Scorn said in an innocent like voice before giving a slight laugh ",But if you are really curious, I'm a manipulator of shadows. I use them to teleport around or for some more, nefarious little games I enjoy. How many convicts you think can do that? I know of none." She enjoyed flaunting that little fact about. There could of been others but until she heard about them she considered herself quite unique in her gifts and took pride of them. If there was another like her well she did enjoy a good competition.

"Perhaps they did ask others before they ended on little me, but I'm the only one willing enough to actually give the goody girl facade a try and perhaps one of the few without any ties to go back to on the outside. No reason to run off during some important mission," She added leaning back in her chair. Another member of this group had then stood up and given a speech giving her a glance during it all.

"Rousing speech," Scorn replied sarcastically as he finished.

"Fascinating..." The heavily accented voice of the renowned mercenary Aleksander Kurchatov mused to himself as he looked over of one of the few files that was stacked upon the tray that sat beside him. The emerald hue fellow nursed a cup of steaming coffee that his massive hand wholly engulfed as he set aside the first file only to pick up another. The living mountain of a man was currently sat in the back of a staggeringly large SUV that was making its way through the streets of the fabled city of love, Paris. Normally Aleksander wouldn't travel in such a manor while on a mission, his personal take of his profession was far less... subtle. "A Former Sentinel... interesting." He chimed to himself, his deep voice barely being able to be heard over the sounds of Beethoven's 5th sympathy.

"Monsieur Kurchatov we will be arriving at your destination in a few minutes." The driver said as he briefly looked back to the giant that he was currently hauling around the city. "Thank you my good man." Alekander answered with a curt nod and slight smile forming upon his green lips. He had been riding in this car for a good hour now, it having picked him up immediately from the airport. His flight was pleasant seeing as he had taken his own private jet, but none the less Alekander had always enjoyed flying. But this little reminiscing was cut short when the car came to a halt and the driver had announced their arrival.

It was a rather short and entirely professionally farewell that Alekander bid his driver before turning his attention to the building where he would meet his soon to be team. "So this is the base of operations of the infamous Sentinels. How... underwhelming." The mercenary thought aloud as he recalled his less than positive feelings towards the Sentinel organization. But putting aside his distain Alekander made his way inside only to be greeted by blonde young lady.

"Hello..." The young lady started only to be taken aback by Alekander's towering stature. "You must be Alekander Kurchatov, our resident-" She stopped for a moment as if to find the right words. "Entente expert. I'm Hollie Hills, I am the team's mission coordinator." She finally finished before trying her best to regain her cheery smile.

Alekander couldn't help but smirk, he always found it amusing to see that no matter how much time passed former Entente agents such as himself always caught some form of suspicion, even if they weren't walking war machines such as himself. "It is a pleasure Miss Hills." He said, resigning his smirk to a small smile and offering the girl a polite bow of his head. "If you would please follow me" She would say before leading Alekander to an elevator and informing him a good number of his fellow Sentinels had already arrived.

The green behemoth wasted no time entering the elevator and started making his way up. He paid little attention to the view outside, as breath taking as it was, do to his mind being set upon the mission before him. It seemed like no time that the elevator doors opened before him and he was met with quite the gathering of a whole assortment of characters. He scanned over their faces for a few moments, recognizing many of them from the many of them from the dossiers that he had been reading over not even an hour ago, before stepping into the room. "Greetings." He would start with, offering a slight bow of his head, before continuing. "I am Alekander Kurchatov."

"Nicce to meet'cha both, Sscorn and Jay," Belinda said with quite the emphasis of the s' sound "My name'ss Belinda. I have a lasst name, but I don't really like to use it anymore. I have another name I do go by, though I apparently have quiiiite the bounty on my head for that reputation, and I mean like telephone numberss big. Long sstory. Anyway, why are you two joining the Ssentinelss? You wouldn't exactly be the firsst thing to come to my mind when I think of "hero"."

Looks like Scorn will reply first to that statement.

"Pleasure to meet both of you," Scorn said once names were exchanged ",As for how I came to be wrapped into this well my choices were rather simple. Either I get to rot in my small enclosed cell or I can get a chance of redemption by helping in this program. As you can see I choose the later. So no more playing bad girl for me it seems even if I could wiggle my way out I have nothing to return to so I'm stuck but better here then a cell. But the past is the past, better to focus on the now. God it's so good to stretch again. Years cramped in that miserable cell and you forget the little things in life."

Ah so Scorn was a criminal. Good to know. At least it seems like she's changing her ways, which is always jolly and good. Now it was time for Jeanne's turn.

"Well," the pirate begins speaking, "As for me, it was more or less of a private invitation. You see I~"

Unfortunately for her however, she would get interrupted again by someone else, that person being that black guy she saw earlier. A silent sigh of annoyance brittled her mind as she keeps herself quiet.

"Sorry to interrupt, I'm Zeke, reporter for Action News. I couldn't help but overhear your conversation and become curious. Scorn, is it? What makes you so special as a convict, that you were specifically chosen. I mean, there has to be worse inmates then you?"

Oh so he's appearantly a reporter? Oi yoi, this is gonna take awhile.

"Perhaps but who ever thinks the innocent skull girl could do such cruel things? But if you are really curious, I'm a manipulator of shadows. I use them to teleport around or for some more, nefarious little games I enjoy. How many convicts you think can do that? I know of none. Perhaps they did ask others before they ended on little me, but I'm the only one willing enough to actually give the goody girl facade a try and perhaps one of the few without any ties to go back to on the outside. No reason to run off during some important mission..."

Then Zues happened to give off a speech of his very own.

"Rousing speech." Scorn replied sarcastically as he finished.

Oh was it time for Jeanne to finally speak? About bloody time too. As she coughs to herself a bit, she decides to tell her new friends about her story.

"As I was going to say, before I got interrupted," Jeanne says politely as possible as she ebgins her story, "I happened to get in here through a private invitation by the Paladins. You see, back during the War aaaages ago, my crew happened to encounter one of those large bloody Entente patrol ships out in the Mediterranean. I think it was Russian, I don't remember. And well, my crew, my father was actually the captain at the time. So appearantly we were all in some no-boat zone and we were forced to leave. Now, knowing us lot, we tried to act innocent and explain what we were doing, buuuut of course, they didn't want to listen to us those hardneck hooligans. So there was a fight. Long story short, my father got shot, one in the gut and one in the noggin, but we were still able to seize and plunder the ship. Got me a nice carbon sword from them too. And it was that point where I became captain. After the war, we found out that they had some sort of superweapon that was being tested, which thankfully was destroyed before it could target any major targets. So, to top off the ending, I was then captain, lived off being a mercenary, mostly for the Paladins, and the next thing you know, I get invited here. So yeah, just pullin' up my socks again for a new day now. Can't say I'm not excited!"

Yup. That was a story coming from Jeanne the Pirate Queen herself. And oh, does she have plenty more stories she'd love to tell as well.

---

As Zues spoke his speech, Creatrix watched and listened closely.

"I don't want to seem obnoxious... We have quite a lovely bunch of misfits here. And i'd be a liar if I said it didn't strike memories of my first time stepping into one of these HQ's. Even if i was more dragged in....." Upon finishing his remark, Theo's focus or mask's direction aimed at Scorn.

The robot, despite being more in the middle, could tell whom he was looking at. Was he somehow dragged in by who appeared to be some ex-criminal? Regardless, that's a question he'd ask later, latting his old-time friend continue.

"But, despite the memories, lets get this show on the road. As sad as it may be for the Sentinels, or the impression it gives. I need proving this is worth coming out of retirement... Retirement is garbage. But it's better than hell, which exactly what my last term, or better yet war, with the Sentinels was. We may have won, but I still lost, like many others, during those battles. Things which can never be won back..."

Creatrix can feel the pain that Zues felt. That amongst all the other losses. It was a real pain to loose someone you held close, especially during battle. However, one must stand strong, not to let that get in the way of serving one's duty. His brother would most likely have been proud of him rejoining the Sentinels indeed. But before he could talk to him again, it appeared someone else had entered the stage. In fact, it was so prominant, a massive shadow could be seen over the table. Creatrix couldn't help but to look behind him and see a massive person infront of him.

"Greetings." He would start with, offering a slight bow of his head, before continuing. "I am Alekander Kurchatov."

It was then when Creatrix's mind clicked. Was he who he thought he was? Was he part of the Entente's Golliath experiments? The one they call... "Megaton"? He only remembers reading about the experiments in a private file after the war. Taking newborn infants, the Entente commited experiments unspeakable to even mention aloud. Various assortments of chemical, mechanical, and psychological augmentations were applied to the subjects in the hopes of yeaning the perfect solider, which took dozens upon dozens of failures in the form of the subjects becoming completely mad and insatiable killing machines. It appears as if Mr. Kurchatov was one of the few "successes", or perhaps the only success, whom with his eye, Creatrix seemed to have identified heaps of gamma radiation that had been pumped into his body. He must have an incredible assortment of strength to punch through almost anything, or worse. He hasn't seen pictures or heard audio files of Megaton before, not even when coming to his real name, but he only heard of the code name. And if indeed he is that same person, one must indeed be wary of his wrath...

Regardless, he didn't want or even dare to ask, speak, or think anything regarding those past events. Instead, he also nods his head as he steps far to the right to let him though.

"Ah, Добро пожаловать , г-н Курчатов," Creatrix greets in Russian, literally meaning, "Welcome, Mr Kurchatov. Please, take a seat."

”Listen, mon amie. As far as I’m concerned, this person is a felon just the same as any other. No matter what men call him or what feats of his they whisper about, handcuffs still work, batons still hurt, and bullets still kill. I am not afraid. Pssh! You Americans and your horror stories.”

Julian Rowland, deputy of the Paris police force, punctuated his disdain with a dismissive wave of his hand as he continued forward. The American soldier walking to his right said nothing, though he anticipated Deputy Rowland’s claims falling flat in short order. Behind the two strode the warden of Sartre Penitentiary, her hands held officiously behind her back. Down the cell-lined corridor they strode, moving with practiced speed and efficiency to the maximum-security holding cells of this facility. The inmates to either side made no noise, their silence due to the knowledge that any rowdiness would be ignored if not punished, or perhaps to the oppressively bland gray color scheme that dominated the whole area. In no time at all Rowland and the American reached the door at the end of the dreary hall, and after the deputy underwent a retinal scan to confirm his identity he stepped through the aperture to the place many criminals referred to in hushed tones as the Abyss—a place of yawning dark, the realm of the madmen unfit for reintroduction to the real world, ever.

A brief saunter through the black-painted hall brought the two to the main chamber. The circular room was bare except for two things: a ring of guards against the room’s walls, and a dias in the center upon which kneeled the person of interest. Rowland’s eyes narrowed. “This is the class-six prisoner brought in yesterday evening? It’s not a person at all. It’s a robot. What’s a robot done to warrant all this?”

The machine perked up at the word, slowly bringing itself upright, where before its face had been pressed against the floor. It could not move at any rate but sluggishly thanks to the enormous chains that restrained it, connecting the robot to floor, wall, and ceiling. Evidently, it could be contained in such a barbaric and extravagant manner because it required no food, drink, or sleep. ” I dare do all that may become a man; who dares do more is none. Good morning, officer Rowland. Whither do we wander?”

Scowling, Rowland gave a nod to the warden, who called the guards to attention. Several broke out of formation, producing keys from their pockets, and one after another the great chains fell. Before the first hit the ground every available guard was looking down the iron sights of a shotgun at the machine. One moved forward, cautious and vigilant, and undid the harness on the prisoner itself. Immediately the robot floated into the air, silent and ominous as a specter, and it clasped its hand together. “Très bien, les hommes,” the deputy called, and guards fell into formation around the prisoner. None of them failed to notice the straightjacket-esque device on its back. According to rumor, the machine had tentacles on its back, each with a fanged maw, and only this restraint prevented their bloody rampage. “Let’s move.”

Thirty minutes later the armored van squealed to a stop in front of a special building. Two SUVs pulled up alongside. This trio of vehicles came not far behind another, more heavily-armed convoy, which departed only moments before. No doubt in preparation for the coming and going of such important vehicles, the street in front of the Sentinel HQ had been shut down to ordinary civilians. The guards disembarked first, and with four of them in position Rowland opened the van’s back door. Out into the glare of daylight the unnerving prisoner hovered. After a moment the guards began to move forward, but the machine did not follow. The police deputy narrowed his eyes. He barked, “What is the problem? Move or we make you move.”

Even in the morning sun the four yellow eyes of the robot burned. ”I never took you for an indian giver. As sentimental as I’ve grown over these prison rags, my good sir, I crave the return of my belongings.” Sporting a nasty frown, Rowland looked at one of his subordinate officers and inclined his head toward the prisoner. The officer in question picked up a box and approached the robot slowly. It unclasped its hands and smoothly flipped open the lid, pulling out one garment after another and putting them on. Lastly came a huge hat, its brim wider than a tire, and affectionately the machine set it atop its head. The procession then advanced toward the building.

Through the glass door, the receptionist watched their approach, and while the guards stopped at the door as planned, the robot continued. Pushing through, it floating toward the desk. When she spoke, her voice held little of its usual cheer. "Hello! My name is Hollie Hills, and I'm the mission coordinator around here. You must be the high-security prisoner…Faust."

The two eyes on the right side of Faust’s face dimmed for a second in an eerie approximation of a wink. ”You know me all too well. Shall we?” he reverberated. She indicated the elevator with an upturned palm, and calmly the new arrival floated toward it. Once inside, he murmured, ”Why the long face? Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind.” Then the door closed, and Faust was on his way.

The ding of the elevator was, by now, a familiar noise for the occupants of the top floor. It heralded the arrival of a new individual, one interesting regardless of their appeal. This time, though, it came like a church bell signaling some tragedy. Where before there almost always came the new arrival along with Hollie, side by side, the door slid open to reveal only one. Lethargically Faust floated forward, unnaturally still, and with arms held by his side. His eyes beheld man, woman, machine, and monster; light skin, dark skin, green skin, and metal shells. The scene oozed ego and self-interest, but even more striking was the diversity. How many different mortal fears were there in this one room? How much traumatic past, how many breaking points? He longed to know, but all would be made clear in time. He did not make a single utterance to the whole group, instead turning off to the left to hover toward a window through which to look out at the city. Rather than peering at the scenery, though, he spun around, clasped his hands, and descended until he rested on the floor with his back against the glass. None of these people could possibly know a thing about him; those few possessed by curiosity would come to him. One-on-one, he could better get to know each and every mind, and sample firsthand their tenderness or intriguing gristle, but for now Faust merely listened.

---

Archer straightened his tie as he rode the elevator up, Hollie standing next to him, sorting out the the mission files. She was obviously nervous but he was decidedly calm. He'd orchestrated this new team and he'd be damned if he was going to be nervous about meeting all of them. Hell, he'd fought with nearly half of them. He nodded at his daughter as the elevator reached the top floor, before strolling out and into the meeting room.

"Hello, and welcome everyone," he said, his deep voice carrying over all the noise in the room. People couldn't help but look at him when he spoke, and these newly anointed Sentinels were no different. A hush fell over the room as he took his place in front of all of them. "Some of you I already know. To those of you who I've fought with, it's an honor to be on your side again. To those of you who may not know me, my name is Archer O'Connor, codename, Archangel. I'm the reason you all are here. Now, as much as niceties are important for getting a high functioning team together, you all will have time for them later. Please, everyone take a seat."

Once everyone was seated, Archer being the only one standing, Hollie came around and passed out the mission files, one for each member of the team. Once she had finished he began speaking again. "As you all know, terrorist groups have been on the rise since the end of the war. Three of these groups are meeting in one hour, to consolidate their forces. A mole we have on the inside leaked us this info. If their forces are consolidated, we could be looking at a very big issue. Your mission, is to keep that from happening. The groups have bought out the La Tremoille hotel. In promptly one hour, their leaders will begin negotiating. I don't want any of them to leave that room alive. This is the first time in years where we have such a good opportunity, and it will most likely be the last. You are to get in, take out the leaders and as many of their cronies as you can, and get out. You will find what we have on the leaders in your files. Unfortunately it isn't much, but it's all we've got. Any questions?"

Theo studied the files carefully, soon as they were placed into grasp. Multitasking, the man listened to Archangel and read the information given. Little time passed before the file in grasp was closed. Not far after Archangel stopped speaking. Something about this sounded to good, to easy. Where was the catch, was the thought which clouded Theo's mind.

"Long time no see Arch. My only question, which you are probably no doubt anticipating...." A faint or weak chuckle expelled from Theo.

"How credible is this source? Honestly it sounds like a 'to good to be true' scenario. Possibly even a setup." A shake of the head happened upon finishing his sentence.

He reopened the file and continued reading, trying to see all he could of the information given. Theo was seated the whole time speaking. As far fetched as Theo believed this scenario to be. If this scenario turns out true to the word, the more time wasted risks failure. Deep down, Theo was quickly realizing, decision time was now, if he was going to commit. An hour didn't give a long amount of time. Longer he takes, more dim their scenario is.

---

After introducing herself, Leila only heard one reply to her words. She smiled at the… robot? Why was there a machine in the room? It couldn't possibly be a part of the Sentinels program, could it? Has technology advanced that far? It seems as though the dark skinned girl was very behind in the current state of the world. Lebanon was lagging behind other countries technology wise, but she didn't know it was this far behind. Since no one else seemed to acknowledge her presence, Leila sat down in a provided seat near the entrance. It was a habit she developed back when her skills were bought. She didn't dare talk to anyone else. She didn't want to make those not talking uncomfortable, and she didn't want to intrude on other's conversations. So she listened, picking up on any conversation that might bring her information about those around her. It seemed as though many people had connections with the Sentinels program from before it shut down.

However, one piece of information startled the Arabic girl. There was a criminal among them. Instantly, Leila disapproved of the criminal’s presence, but then realized that she had no right to judge. After all, theoretically if she had been caught, she would have been considered a criminal as well. This person with the skull painted on was perhaps trying to change such as herself, but after more listening, she reached the conclusion that this girl did not regret her actions like Leila did. What is this program doing, hiring known criminals for their supposedly noble cause? It's not good for publicity, it's dangerous, it's reckless, and quite frankly, ridiculous. These annoyed emotions bubbled deep in her mind, but her face never gave a hint of what she was thinking.

Finally, after more people arrived (and she thought SHE was late), the person who seemed to be the leader walked in with Hollie. His presence demanded attention he spoke with authority. He clearly knew what he was doing. Archer O'Connor was someone Leila knew she wouldn't mind working with. As he explained their situation, Hollie came by with a surprisingly thin cream folder. The assassin made sure to say, ”Thank you,” quietly to the mission manager. She didn't want to interrupt Archangel’s speech, but wanted to stay mindful of her manners as her parents had taught her. The mission itself seemed to be right up Leila's alley. An ambush and assassination. However, why send this many people for a job that didn't suit many of them. It was obvious that some people were not made for this kind of work. Plus this many people would be a hindrance to the group as a whole in terms of completing the objective quickly and efficiently.

Leila wanted to express these concerns, but someone else spoke first. Was this plan 'too perfect'? Hardly. Clearly there wasn't much information about the individuals they needed to kill, which is very important when the situation gets sticky. That way it's easier to predict what the target will do and find a way to make them hesitate with your words. Not to mention, this meeting was way too soon for it to be convenient. Usually one would scout the area days ahead of time. This situation was not perfect or even desirable. Though the question about the validity of this information was something she'd like to know as well. As much as Leila would have liked to address his concerns, she decided to let the leader handle it. That way he can prove to everyone that he is capable of leading. Not to mention, she didn't really want to take the spotlight.

After Archer answered the metal man's answer (she couldn't tell if he was a robot, or someone in a robot suit), the previously quiet girl spoke up. She was a bit nervous about talking in front of so many others with their attention all on her, but this issue needed to be addressed. ”Excuse me, Mr. O’Conner, but are all of us going on this mission? This many people seems excessive, not to mention some people are not suited to this task. Also as you mentioned before, it's difficult to work with others in a high risk mission without knowing each other personally as well as everyone's skills. The more unknown people, the more room for error.” Leila tried to make it quick, but ended up talking more than she should have. Also, she shouldn't have said the last part, the leaders had no control over that. But the words had slipped out of her mouth when the idea formed in her brain. Damn.

Belinda made herself as comfy as possible on her chair as she was about to listen to Jeanne's story, but then someone else came by to interrupt.

"Sorry to interrupt, I'm Zeke, reporter for Action News. I couldn't help but overhear your conversation and become curious. Scorn, is it? What makes you so special as a convict, that you were specifically chosen. I mean, there has to be worse inmates then you?" he chortled, gazing at the three, his face deadpan but his eyes had a particular playful light about them.

Belinda looked over to the new guy and Scorn, raising an eyebrow and smirked as she became amused. The whole "News Reporter" act was a rather new experience for her, and she found it highly entertaining. She also learned some new things about Scorn. The whole "manipulator of shadows" part was of particular interest to Belinda, catching her interest as a dabbler of science. Belinda was curious as to what that actually meant and how it worked.

Soon after this revelation, though, the original topic went back on track as Jeanne was finally able to tell her story.

"As I was going to say, before I got interrupted," Jeanne says politely as possible as she begins her story, "I happened to get in here through a private invitation by the Paladins. You see, back during the War aaaages ago, my crew happened to encounter one of those large bloody Entente patrol ships out in the Mediterranean. I think it was Russian, I don't remember. And well, my crew, my father was actually the captain at the time. So apparantly we were all in some no-boat zone and we were forced to leave. Now, knowing us lot, we tried to act innocent and explain what we were doing, buuuut of course, they didn't want to listen to us those hardneck hooligans. So there was a fight. Long story short, my father got shot, one in the gut and one in the noggin, but we were still able to seize and plunder the ship. Got me a nice carbon sword from them too. And it was that point where I became captain. After the war, we found out that they had some sort of superweapon that was being tested, which thankfully was destroyed before it could target any major targets. So, to top off the ending, I was then captain, lived off being a mercenary, mostly for the Paladins, and the next thing you know, I get invited here. So yeah, just pullin' up my socks again for a new day now. Can't say I'm not excited!"

"A life like that ssoundss really exxciting. I almosst wish I had a life like that. Oh well," Belinda remarked. "Anyway, I ssuppose it'ss only fair that I tell you the sstory of my life, too." Belinda had prepared a story filled with half-truths for a scenario like this and was about to deliver it when she got interrupted by a man with quite the voice.

"Hello, and welcome everyone,"

Belinda's eyes widened slightly in surprise as she turned to face the source, her eyes resting on the sight of a man who appeared to be at least in his 40's, who introduced himself as Archer O'Conner.

Archangel then began to assign their first mission as Hollie handed out files for everyone to look over. As soon as Belinda got hers, she wasted no time flipping it open and scanning the available intel quickly and carefully. What she got out of it was... not really enough to make much of a judgement. Belinda had killed groups of bodyguards before, and she doubted these guys would be much different. Considering the number of Sentinels that were being assigned to this mission, though... well, it didn't take a genius to figure out that something was amiss. Belinda was going to say something about it, but it seemed like others were already beating her to the punch. "Sso, other than the fact that our targetss are quite the high priority, what makess them so sspecial that they need all of uss to deal with them?" Belinda had to ask. "It ssounds like about three or four of uss here would be enough for thiss. Maybe five or sixx if we really wanted to kill all of them."

---

Christopher had waited quite a long time for the main reason why everyone had gathered here, and at last, it had arrived. Christopher turned to face someone he hadn't seen in a long time: Archer O'Conner, or Archangel. After receiving the folder from Hollie, Christopher opened it and began studying the intel. Unfortunately, Archer was right about the fact that they didn't have much information about them. The lack of intel concerned Christopher, and he would have gladly gone himself to get more, but judging from the urgency of the mission, that was clearly not going to be an option. Instead, Christopher closed the folder and asked, "What is the size of their forces, and what weapons are they carrying?"

---

Archer nodded as the group shot him questions. Each of them held merit, which was good. He hadn't picked any idiots to join his team. He turned to one of his old comrades first, Theodore Aldrich, and answered his question. "We have reason to believe our sources credibility is unquestionable. For security reasons, their identity may not be disclosed, but I have faith in the info he's given us."

"As for your concerns on the size of our team, I assure you, this many will be perfect. It will give you all a chance to learn each other's strengths and weaknesses. Not to mention, that we'll be dealing with a small army of terrorists. They have most of the hotel rented out, and I can only assume that all of them are armed with standard issue pulse rifles. Now, I can't tell you all how to go about this, but if I was going, I'd start by taking out any security they might have set up. Remote cameras, traps, everything. After that you can get in, and complete the mission. While their leaders are our top priority, your team's size will allow some of you to break off and try to find any information. But, like I said, I'm not going on this mission.

---

Ella couldn’t believe her eyes as the robot, Creatrix, not only chuckled at her dance moves, but went on to actually do the robot himself. She grinned. It had barely been a few minutes since she had arrived, but already, she felt excited to be on the team. Perhaps it was because she felt more connected to her father, but it just felt right. “Oh! My name’s Ella! It’s a pleasure to meet you, Creatrix! I look forward to future dance battles!” While the robot mentioned he was an ex-Sentinel, Ella didn’t know much about him. Her father had chosen not to talk too much about the former group; he had wanted the little time they shared together to only be about them.

Scanning the room, Ella noticed some of the heroes already beginning to group together while others sat alone. If this group wanted to be a team, they all needed to work together, and that meant they had to get to know each other. She smiled wickedly. It was time for her marvelous jokes! Mwahaha! The closest person beside her was a rather attractive brunette, who was in for quite the time.

“Hello, mate! Since we’re all waiting around, shall I tell you a joke?” Without waiting for him to say no, Ella continued speaking. “This one gets people every time. Okay, why can’t bicycles stand up on their own?” She paused for a few moments. “They’re two tired!” Ella broke out in high pitched laughter, just as Archer O'Connor finally walked into the room. Quickly shutting her lips, Ella sat down beside the boy, who she hadn’t even asked for a name. There would be time for exchanging names and much more of her jokes, later. Archer had at last, arrived.

As he began introducing himself and explaining the team’s very first mission, Ella found herself a little surprised. She knew nothing of her teammate’s abilities and skills, and sending them out on a mission so quickly sounded risky. Of course, her trust in Archer was enough to put up with anything. She eyed Hollie questionably but spoke nothing about the matter. Perhaps this would be a good lesson for them all. Several heroes began questioning Archer, but she knew his decision would remain the same. She couldn’t help but wish the man was tagging along though, if only to make her feel safer. Ella gave the man a large grin and a salute while waiting for further instruction.

Silence was what Faust offered to the residents of the room, none of whom seemingly had anything to say to the portentous phantom now in their midst, and it was silence he maintained when Archer entered the room. Though he could not say that he wished for yet another human in this place, the new man's arrival put an end to the vile shrieklike laugh uttered by one of the fools nearby. Archer's greeting felt to the machine like gruel without meat; only after he uttered a few meaningless niceties did he proceed to admonition for doing so and then, at last, the preparation phase for something that might concern Faust. Others seated themselves in chairs, but the behatted robot saw no reason to plant himself anywhere else. To his credit, ‘Archangel’ didn’t take long to deliver his initial briefing, but he took long enough to give Faust time to examine him. The man didn’t seem to be any sort of bureaucrat or bean counter, as evidenced by his bearing and manner as much as his codename, and judging by the content of his little speech he would be acting as team leader in terms of strategy, organization, and perhaps combat as well. Faust thought it a lot of responsibility to heap on one man, whose well-veiled nervousness hinted that he hadn’t seen action for some time. Maybe the man even fit the bill as an old hero, acclaimed during the previous life of the Sentinels and only just now called back to the front lines. The incorporation of part of his real name into his codename suggested a lack of imagination, or perhaps some kind of ego. At the very least, Archangel was a man whose presence commanded respect, but in the vein of the war veteran, not the drill sergeant. Faust imagined himself smiling. Men liked to think themselves more complex than machines—that humanity held something more special than programming, yet with practice a keen observer could read them as easily as he read code.

This little diversion retreated into Faust’s databanks as Archangel mentioned the true objective of the group. How interesting, he thought, that the first goal of the new generation of heroes was slaughter. He didn’t blame Archangel. Some heroes were needed to look good on posters, and some were needed to get their hands dirty. Doubtlessly a few of the people here would have qualms about killing, even if those involved were supposedly guilty. The situation seemed an excellent opportunity to prove his usefulness right off the bat. With yellow eyes he scanned the pages of the file laid before him.

The first voice to rise in reply to Archangel’s question belonged to a very hi-tech individual that Faust could tell was a man in armor and not a robot. He seemed dubious. Why would one of the goodies start getting suspicious right away, Faust wondered. Personally, he cared not whether the mission proved to be real or falsified. Killing his way out of troublesome situations never failed to satisfy. After Zeus spoke a black-haired woman, her voice almost quivering in trepidation, which irritated Faust. Why speak at all if one could not do it without wallowing in embarrassment? To thine own self be true. yet she made a good point. He murmured to Archangel, ” Such as we are made of, such we be. I am suited to this task; send me.” Some others took turns speaking afterwards, but they did not contribute anything of value in Faust’s four eyes.

Archangel answered without delay. As it turned out, everyone would be going after all. I hope this doesn’t become too easy. I shall have to work hard…to shine like a dark star. They must know my name. The machine did not say anything, instead listening to Archangel speak. Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice. That man revealed that he would not be leading this mission personally, leaving the suggestion to hang in the air that he might do so with other jobs at a later date. Fervently, Faust hoped that he would not be forced to wait in this overstuffed room for much longer. He desired stimulation.

"A life like that ssoundss really exxciting. I almosst wish I had a life like that. Oh well," Belinda remarked to Jeanne's story "Anyway, I ssuppose it'ss only fair that I tell you the sstory of my life, too."

But before she could say anything, the group happened to be interrupted AGAIN by another person, Ella to be precise. Ok, this was really taking the piss for the Pirate Queen. And boy, what a time will she have indeed with Ella

“Hello, mate! Since we’re all waiting around, shall I tell you a joke?” Jeanne was preparing to respond to her, but regardless she didn't have the chance as Ella continued speaking. “This one gets people every time. Okay, why can’t bicycles stand up on their own?” She paused for a few moments, leaving the group figure out the answer.

"Oi yoi," Jeanne sighs quickly, "What's the answer, Flah?"

“They’re two tired!”

As Ella broke out in high pitched laughter, all the Pirate Queen did was sigh annoyingly and covers her face. Of all the jokes, why must it be the most cringiest of them all?

"Oi," she thinks to herself, "Why ya have to take the piss with such a joke? Ya might be a fine thing, but damn ya must also be hammered for all I know... Gone in the head I tell ye!"

Thankfully the voice of another important person saved her and the others from more cringeworthy jokes...

---

“Oh! My name’s Ella! It’s a pleasure to meet you, Creatrix! I look forward to future dance battles!”

"Indeed." the Ex-Sentinel responds with a robotic 'wink' as he then scanned around the area.

While also sitting Aleksander down, Creatrix also happens to see Fraust come into the room. Yet another robot huh? This one looked like an ex-criminal as well, like Scorn and perhaps Fortress, but regardless he also says nothing as something else happens to grab his attention. The deep voice announces the presence of yet another old friend, but not just any friend. This was the old Ex-Sentinel leader, Archer O'Conner, otherwise known as Archangel. As soon as he spoke, Creatrix gave him his full undivided attention, for he must have some important information.

And indeed he did.

It appears as if they were going on an important mission. Local spies had identified three major terrorist groups that were going to a meeting at the La Tremoille hotel in one hour. Of course, the objective was rather simple. Basically it was to keep them from negotiating and so on. But one thing that seemed to struck out from the rest, was basically to kill them, 'to leave no one alive.' While Creatrix was no stranger to killing bad guys for self-defense in war, something about this seemed different. He wasn't sure what, but regardless it could be for his long retirement and perhaps he simply needs to get used to it again.

As Archangel finishes the mission, others had questions about it. 'How credible is this source?' 'are all of us going on this mission?' 'what makes them so special that they need all of us to deal with them?' 'What is the size of their forces, and what weapons are they carrying?' and so on.

Creatrix would've probably asked one of the same questions so he simply kept quiet about it. He also looks at the files that regard to each criminal record and terrorist group. Some of these members looked incredibly monstrous, like the one codenamed "Kronos". To him, he looked a bit familiar. But of course, what did he know exactly?

After the questions were thrown out, Archangel simply answered them all, while also adding that he wouldn't participate in it. Creatrix missed the days when his old team went out on these missions with him. Those were indeed some good times. But regardless, it was time for he and the other Ex-Sentinels to be in charge at most, considering they had the most experience with this work. Even of course it was about 13 years since they've done their last one. The robot then suggests something to Archangel.

"I suggest this," he states to Archangel, "Since you won't be partaking on the mission, perhaps us Ex-Sentinel's can lead them. After all, we've worked under you back in the day.

At that time he points to all the old ex-members of the group; Zeus, Sergeant, and the like.

"Also, considering the fact that we're dealing with three individual terrorist groups, with all heading to the exact location, perhaps we split into three groups, lead by one of us previous members, and take them out separately. That way we can all partake in the mission, but be spread out to not gain too much attention and have leaders to lead the new recruits out."

Just when the conversation was beginning to get interesting, the big head came in to deliver the rules."Duty calls. Guess we'll have to share stories later," Scorn sighed getting herself in position with the table as the very so cheerful Hollie had begun passing out the files on their targets. She couldn't help but feel slightly jealous. Sure here gang had gotten some notoriety for certain jobs and being a nation wide but a terrorist? If she was still in the game of gang wars and criminal activity it would of been a dream come true. She had to remind herself though that she was batting for the other side now, no matter how loose her head was screwed on. Still one could reminisce.

Before she could state her question someone else beat her to the punch. Why exactly would all three groups suddenly be together? It sounded somewhat to good to be true. Being able to take out three targets in one go seemed like this would be like hitting the jackpot or something on this side of the board. Being sent in all at the same time seemed odd but also chaotic and she did enjoy chaos and mayhem so she couldn't complain on the idea. One of the robots suggested the idea of teams which brought her excitement down a bit, where was the fun of that?

---

---

Gudlaug remained silent through the meeting. He was no brains or tactical guy, hell to him burning the building to the ground with the lot inside sounded like a good plan though he knew it would foolish and probably would never work. He simply wanted to know where they would want him to point the end of his barrel and send the enemy screaming. He gave the file only the briefest of look through before tossing it on the table and continued to listen.

Questions were tossed around, most logical questions that probably if he was younger he would of asked, though with maybe a bit more colorful language thrown in. It nearly sounded like the old days though old Archangel wasn't tagging in. Gudlaug didn't understand why but who was he to question him now that he was the head of this rearrangement of the program.

"What are the teams for this mission than Sir? Also if I may say so Creatix does have a logical answer to a problem with previous members leading the teams are a ideal choice." Honoka stated her opinion there was also a lot of things she was unsure on her life was mainly artificial learning while preserving her previous memories. This made things somewhat hard to grasp fully on some parts. "Also I am unsure on some of the information while the source seems credible it just seems to easy and straight forward but I well bow to your judgment sir." She added the information sounded fishy but he also seemed sure on how credible the source was so she would bow to his judgment on this since after all he was a senior member and as such probably knew more than her very limited experience she had gained so far.

Listening to all words exchanged and spoken, Theo waits for a time to speak. While taking in the files information and listening to the others, Theo decids something. Theo will not waltz off and allow these sentinels go without him. Thankfully Archer 'trusted' the mole. Yet, examining several of the new recruits, Theo would conclude they are about the same age as Theo was joining the Sentinels before the war. Many others rejoined, why would he stop himself from doing so too?

"I strongly suggest Archangel, the one who probably knows most about our profiles, divvy up our forces if we choose to. That will give us the chance to learn each others skills, without overly risking ourselves due to lack of knowledge. Archangel may not be accompanying the mission, but he could give us one last bit of help before we go. Also If you truly wish me to lead a smaller unit, I will not fail you all."

Theo never assumed leadership before, maybe because his brother was always there for him to do so. Or someone 'more qualified' would always step in. Yet if push came to shove, Theo wasn't going to get knocked down or flee. He would fight back.

"Another thing, what's the likelihood of seeing 'old comrades' on their side of the fence? I know several shady individuals tempted me with mercenary jobs after I left the war...."

Several past 'employers' of Theo during his 'fighting career' seeked out Theo after the war. Countless failed due to his constant traveling. Yet some reached him, offering riches or other things for jobs involving violence or simply being a bodyguard. All roads Theo long left, never wishing to walk again. Also adding more reason behind rejoining of the sentinels.

"Besides that, I think we should get this show on the road, for time is not on our side."

Too many people. There were way too many people gathered here. The air was stagnant and suffocating to Bryce, who had been sitting at the back of the meeting room in a comfortable chair. He'd needed some time to get his bearings, but the constant introduction of new and unique individuals only served to increase his anxiety. When he himself had met Hollie, he had entered the room with the intention of not drawing attention to himself. Thankfully there were far more interesting people here than him, so he'd managed to slip through relatively unnoticed. Those that had saw him enter probably just pinned him as a standoffish kid and left it at that. So here he'd sat, curled up with the hood of his jumper drawn over his head to keep him as inconspicuous as possible. Yet despite not having to socialise, Bryce still felt trapped. He had been recommended to the Sentinels by Baxter Yates, an ex-Sentinel, with the promise that he would be a useful addition. Though glimpsing at the faces of all the others assembled here, Bryce couldn't help but feel intimidated. Everyone seemed to confident and collected, some even looking downright terrifying. What could Bryce possibly offer this group?

To make matters worse, a lady had moved to the back and sat near him. Though it seemed she was more interested in listening to the group leader Archangel than talking to him. Though having her so close was still unsettling, since Bryce couldn't help but watch her. She had very nice eyes. Bryce's gaze snapped forward just as a cream folder was placed in front of him. Blushing, Bryce turned his head just as Hollie began moving to the next person. Had she seen him staring at Leila? What if she got the wrong impression? Bryce played with the folder a bit, nervously sliding the mission information papers out and skimming through them. Bryce was concerned about their orders to kill everyone, since the idea of taking a life was not something he liked dwelling on. Thankfully he wouldn't have to. His attention was drawn to the girl sitting near him who spoke up after Archer finished speaking.

"Excuse me, Mr. O’Conner, but are all of us going on this mission? This many people seems excessive, not to mention some people are not suited to this task. Also as you mentioned before, it's difficult to work with others in a high risk mission without knowing each other personally as well as everyone's skills. The more unknown people, the more room for error. " Her concerns were valid, and Archer reassured her quite promptly that the numbers would not be an issue. As the others continued to speak, Bryce shifted over slightly before whispering to Leila.

"Hey, uh. H-have you ever, like, done anything like this before? I- You know. Missions like this." There was a slight hope that Bryce wasn't the only one feeling incredibly nervous about this whole situation. He knew that being a member of the Sentinels would entail, but that did little to prepare him. So he moved past his anxiety and reached out to Leila. As much as he didn't want to come off as scared or anxious, his quivering lip and stuttering was a dead giveaway to just how uncomfortable he was.