That was it, Eva thought. Doctor Diplodoc was taken away and all had gone well enough strangely. No epic Boss battle, no more fate of the world hanging in the balance. Just a mad Doctor and his Meta formula. Eva could now go back to her search into who burned the NYC Museum of History, before that though her whole purpose for joining this little strike force of sorts was to establish some connections. Thunderbolt and Boom as helpful as they were could never answer the questions she needed. Her and Arthur had made a new potentially dangerous ally. Merlin, or who claimed to be Merlin albeit from another world.

Eva knew nothing of magic, nor who she could trust in the matter. There was a hero who called herself the White Witch, and although they haven’t spoken at all would have to do. She was after all the only magic user Eva knew of and did lend her aid to the team even if she likely did have her own reasons for doing so. While Team B returned topside and the heroes regrouped to convene before going their separate ways Eva walked over towards the Witch and pulled her aside. “Hey, I have a few questions I could use answered. If you could spare the time?”

Marie was caught off guard by Eva’s hooded frame. Despite her bout of confidence, and after a full day of potentially life-threatening situations, she was still underprepared for social interaction. She quickly dusted off the bottom of her dress, pulling her cloak over the tattered pieces of fabric. Her entire outfit was a mess save the half-mask she had replaced just before returning to West Virginia.

“Um . . .” she began to stutter. What could this girl possibly want from her? “S-sure, what do you need? Also, I don’t remember your name. I’m the White Witch.” She awkwardly extended her arm in a friendly gesture.

Eva wasn’t sure if the White Witch could even answer any of her questions or even if she could if they’d be of any help. But she prepared herself to ask nonetheless as she took her extended hand.”Pendragon, I. I’m kinda new to all this. You’re the real deal though, Magic and everything. I have questions of the magical kind. And I might even be involved with someone troublesome.”

Taking a moment to check her surroundings in case Merlin might be watching, which she felt uneasy regardless like eyes were boring into her soul. She continued on trying to keep her composure. ”How much do you know about Merlin and other worlds? And more importantly if I say were involved with someone dangerous magically what could I do if their intentions are unclear.”

“Merlin?” Marie chuckled. “Like, THE Merlin from Arthurian legend?” It seemed an amusing inquiry, but the serious look on Eva’s face made Marie blush. “S-sorry,” she coughed. She should have guessed that someone like Merlin existed, or was at least based on something factual. Afterall, she was working with Puck from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, so it wasn’t the most outrageous question.

“I-I’m afraid I don’t know anything about Merlin other than what’s written in English folklore. Other worlds though?” Marie took a moment to think. She was of course familiar with the Otherworld, a catch-all for the different mystical realms and planes of existence, but she wasn’t sure if that’s what Eva was asking about. Marie was acquainted with ideas such as the multiverse theory and alternate dimensions, and surely they had their own magical laws, but that wasn’t her cup of tea.

“Well,” she continued after a brief pause, “my powers stem from a connection to a place known as the Otherworld, an umbrella term for different realms that house all kinds of spirits, demons, faeries, the like, and I’m intimately familiar with the different layers of the Otherworld, but less so with entirely alternate worlds and dimensions. I suppose if you want to know about the Otherworld specifically, I could enlighten you.”

”Yeah, THE Merlin, or who claims to be Merlin. Merlin was never a she though and that’s my problem. Someone with power claims to be the Merlin of legend. Even Arthur admits she’s powerful; I suppose I should cover that first. So trailing off topic for a sec Arthur Pendragon, King Arthur. He’s kinda a Ghost. And I’m well, bloody hell how do I explain it. His successor? I suppose that’ll do. Things is though she seems the dangerous type.”

Marie was taken aback by Eva’s comments. “So Merlin and King Arthur? I don’t suppose you’ve got Excalibur floating about somewhere?” she replied almost jokingly.

Eva held out her hand, and from it appeared a sword mysteriously.”I think it’s Excalibur. I mean I don’t know anything about magical swords but it can cut through steel like butter, and it does this teleporty thing. If you can authenticate it or something go ahead I guess.”

Marie eyed the sword for a good minute after Eva stopped talking, placing an awkward silence between the two of them. “Y-Y’know I was just kidding, but if that is Excalibur, well . . . this is all pretty amazing.” She laughed slightly, a little overwhelmed. “Um, I can’t verify it, no, but I might know someone who can, and, about this she-Merlin . . .” How could Marie expertly explain a concept that she had no real understanding of herself?

”Right, jokes. It’s not that I don’t trust Arthur, I’m mostly sure he’s the real King Arthur anyways. To be honest there’s not a lot I’m sure about everything that’s gone on in my life lately but I at least think he’s who he says he is. But knowing for sure would put me at ease ya know.” The Witch continued, giving an oversimplified explanation of the other world theory. Not the Eva would know regardless.

“You see,” she began, “there is a theory that states that there exists an infinite number of worlds that exist in altered states of reality based upon certain variables. It’s all far too complex and mathematical for any normal person to understand, but basically there is a world or dimension for pretty much every outcome imaginable.” Was that an acceptable explanation? Marie thought. If not, it would have to do.

“So,” Marie continued, “it’s entirely possible that a female version of Merlin could exist, and, being a sufficiently powerful sorceress, could bridge the gap between worlds. As to her intentions, the only real way of knowing would be to have more information about the world she comes from. It’s possible that in her world, she’s merely a female representation of the Merlin we know and you have nothing to fear, or perhaps she’s Camelot’s villain in her world.”

”So totally possible, a female Merlin could exist. That’s kinda scary. I mean what if I exist in other worlds, you think Bioshock Infinite would be a somewhat true thing then? In that we all exist in different worlds then. So I gotta get back home soon, but if I need help or advice of the magical nature, anyway I could get ahold of you?”

Marie nodded, “Yes, there is actually.” She held out her hand and said a word in some chthonic tongue that tore through the air with an eerie grace. From shadows formed a business card for The Red Devil which displayed Puck’s seal, an imp’s head encircled by three legs and a wreath of thorns, and instructions on how to open his door. It was a useless spell designed by Puck and this was the first time Marie made use of it, but she quite liked the idea of calling forth an infernal business card.

She handed the card to Eva. “These are the instructions to opening the door to The Red Devil, a sort of sanctuary for all sorts of magical folk in and around Lost Haven. I work there for the owner, Robin Goodfellow. Just inscribe this symbol on a wall and knock three times. A door to the tavern will open and you’ll have access to whatever the denizens of the pub know.”

“OH!” Marie exclaimed, “if you want to authenticate Arthur’s spirit and Excalibur, I think I know of a way. In the legends of Camelot, it was connected to a place known as Avalon, which is another term used to refer to the Otherworld. It was described as a place of spirits and the dead. Any of Camelot’s dead, including Arthur, will have passed into Avalon after their death. My boss, Robin Goodfellow, comes from the Otherworld and has been around since the Middle Ages, so he could probably verify Arthur’s story.”

”Avalon, yeah. My Arthurian is kinda non existent just cause I’m a Brit doesn’t mean I’m aware of all those stuff, but it’s like Heaven or something right?”

“In a sense. The Otherworld is sort of where all those places are located. Heaven, Hell, the Faerie Realms, Purgatory, all parts of the Otherworld. They aren’t exactly as they’re described in religious and folkloric texts, mainly because no one’s actually been there to document them, but you have the right idea.”

”Cause Ghosts, Magical Swords and Magic wasn’t enough. Bollocks, well at least I know where I can turn to for advice. Since getting any answers from Arthur is a mixed bag. Really though, thanks. Any info is Aces right now.”





Once the lockdown at Poseidon Energies was lifted following the news that Icon and his team had successfully assaulted the Terrorist base, Briley Patton being the CEO had her duties to attend to, however she had been fearful of the goings on outside more so that she couldn’t contact Evangeline. Teenagers are always a handful but Evangeline was far more rebellious than most being her sister’s child and born into wealth and high societal culture and the rules she was expected to follow. Many would consider Briley’s methods of keeping track of her own Niece unnecessary, few would go as far to implant tracking chips in their cell phones; Eva was important however, that’s how Briley justified that line of thinking.

From her personal Computer Briley had begun to track her movements, hopping erratically from her New York home and then to Lost Haven and then West Virginia. An impossible feat for anyone, yet one building stood out. Sherman Center. If her memory serves, Chris Arthur had a little pet project there, all she really knew of him was he was S.T.R.I.K.E’s Civilian Contractor and likely built many of their advanced technologies.

Briley tried Eva’s phone again to no avail, not knowing what had happened Briley hopped aboard one of her company’s jets bound for the Lost Haven airport. The trip was a quick one and during which ground transportation had been arrainged nothing flashy, just your typical rent a car. While traffic was getting back to normal there were tons of cars on the roads, some from those who were attempting to leave the state others from those returning all of whom made her trip to Sherman Center more arduous than it needed to be. The only good thing about this traffic was that it allowed her the time to look up the public number of Sherman Center, and with a few key presses the dial tone echoed from her phone.

“This is Sherman Center correct? Briley Patton of Poseidon Energy. There’s a matter I wish to discuss with Christopher Arthur. I’m enroute to Sherman Center now.”

“Let me put you through to him. One moment please.” While her call was being transferred to Chris’s phone, elevator music played in the background. After a few moments, the music ceased and someone else picked up the line.”

“Hello. Christopher Arthur here. Please hold.” Chris said into his phone, almost as if he was doing this on purpose. Briley had to wait another minute or two before Chris picked the phone back. “How may I help you?”

“As I said..” Briley spoke with some degree of frustration with being placed on hold for a second time. “I have a matter to discuss, I’m just about to pull up to Sherman Center now, I would like a meeting.”

“So, let me get this straight.” Chris responded to the woman on the other side of the line, “You want to meet me here in person to discuss something, even though you already have me on the phone. Is that correct?”

“Correct, it would be too impersonal to do so otherwise. The car is just outside, I would like a moment of your time please.”

“Well, since it seems like everyone is trying to get a moment of my time, I’m sure I can fit it into my busy schedule. My butler, George will escort you up to my office once you arrive.”

The door of the blue unassuming car opened and out stepped Briley Patton in her typical business attire, wearing a knee length skirt and grey jacket she walked to the entrance to be greeted by Chris’s Butler. The man led her towards the elevator wherein lights and scans analyzed everything in or on her person. The doors swooshed open not long after arriving at what could be the top floor as Mrs. Patton stepped out.

“Oh, you’re here already.” Chris scrambled from behind his desk to greet Mrs. Patton. “So, what’s so important that you had to come all the way up to Lost Haven, Mrs., umm…”

“Patton, Briley Patton.” She said in annoyance. “Would you tell me why a phone belonging to my Niece was pinged at this location? Or how it even got here? And yes I do have data putting it at these coordinates. My Niece is a young seventeen year old, colorful hair if that rings any bells.”

“Um...she walked through the door and up the elevator, just like you did now. How she got to Lost Haven is beyond me.”

Briley’s eyes narrowed and she spoke again. “That’s bloody cute. That answer could get you into a lot of legal troubles if it were misinterpreted. Unless you typically let underaged girls into your private office. I’ll let you think this carefully, why would someone like you let her walk in as she did?”

“Um...because she wanted to be some sort of superhero and wouldn’t take ‘no’ as an answer. I mean, I organized a group of heroes to handle that whole domes crisis. And again, it was more like she waltzed into here. I’m not some sort of perv who tricks kids into a van with candy and puppies.”

“And if we’re talking about ‘legal troubles’, what type of guardian would allow her underaged kid to wander God knows how many miles from New York City to Lost Haven?”

“She shouldn’t have been able to, she has no license, and a minimal allowance. I’m trying to answer how she came to Lost Haven within minutes of her last known ping. Superpowers and Attention are the last things she’d seek, I’d expect tatoos long before those. It seems she’ll have questions to answer as well once she gets home. You should phrase your answers more carefully, but I do thank you for your time.”

“You might also want to ask her about her magical sword and the tentacle monster straight out of some weird Japanese fantasy that she has.”

With an audible sigh she responded. “Just what I need, she picked a hobby and a pet. And my questions are mounting. That would be all then, Mr. Arthur, good day. Good grief.”

Kyle sat on the edge of his bed for the first time in what seemed like weeks. With the threat that the Pax Metahuman terrorists neutralized, he looked forward to some much needed rest. He lay back on the bed, so sore and exhausted that he didn’t even bother to get out of the rest of his uniform. He just closed his eyes, and before he knew it he began to drift off to sleep. However, the vision that the Silver Sorceress had imposed on him during the conflict haunted him. No matter how hard he tried, he was unable to get it out of his mind. Even now as sleep began to take hold, the vision that the evil witch had forced on him echoed in his mind.

”Sam, please don’t leave me too.”

Suddenly, he shot up straight and sat in his bed, his heart pounded in his chest as he looked around, relief washed over him as he recognized his surroundings. As relieved as he was, he knew that no matter how hard he tried, or how much he needed it, sleep would not come tonight. So instead of laying back down, he looked to his night stand and saw his phone. He had neglected to bring it with him when he met the others at Sherman Center, and now realized that with everything that had been going on not just in Lost Haven, but all across the country, that was probably a mistake.

47 messages.

Though some of them were from his father, and a few were from Dmitri and Hannah, the vast majority were from Sam. The realization of what he had done, what he had put her through over the last twenty four plus hours hit him square in the gut. While he was off with the likes of Icon and Thunderbolt and Boom, she was sitting alone, growing more and more frantic because she hadn’t been able to get a hold of him. He listened to the messages that she had left on his voicemail, each on becoming more concerned than the last, until finally she had a level of desperation in her voice.

“Kyle, where are you? Call me.”

As he listened to the messages that Sam had left, as well as the ones that Dmitri and Hannah had left on her behalf, guilt washed over him. Even though he had gone off to save her, to save the world, he had left Sam behind without so much as a word, and he could see the damage that had done to her. He was going to fix this, and he was going to do it now. Without thinking, he grabbed his cowl and put it on, and without hesitating, he took off out the window and headed off in the direction of Sam’s dormitory.

As he approached Sam’s dorm, Kyle questioned why he had chosen to go to her in his uniform. He could have just called her, told her that he was alright and that he was coming over to see her. He knew that this was not the best way to do this, that he could compromise everything if someone had seen him. The only things that he had going for him was that the campus was largely empty due to the terrorist threat. Plus, there was the fact that while Sam and Kerri had been roommates, Kerri had recently started unofficially commuting from home, which had essentially left Sam in the dorm room alone.

He found himself standing outside of Sam’s dormitory looking up into her window. Sam’s room was on the second floor, a mere twenty feet from the ground. Unlike his own dorm room, Kyle could easily get to her window by way of a simple jump and a bit of parkour, something that had become more than second nature during his time as Lyger.

Before he knew it, he was counting his blessings that recent events hadn’t caused her to keep her windows locked at night as he pushed the window all the way open and pulled himself into the room. The window gave a slight squeal as he closed it, and though it wasn’t much, it was more than enough to stir a young woman who was known to be a light sleeper.

Suddenly, the lights came on.

“What the…?!” Sam’s frightened voice sounded as she caught a glimpse of the intruder.

At first, Sam had thought that someone was breaking into her room. She didn’t know if it was a thief, or worse. Or perhaps, it was just someone else from the dorm trying to pull some sort of prank. However, seeing someone that she had just seen on TV trying to take down the Pax Metahumana terrorist cell standing before her in her dorm room was a bit more of a shock.

“Wha….what are you doing here?” She managed, fear and surprise stunting her ability to speak.

“Sam…” Lyger said softly as he took a step toward her. As he did so she jumped back a bit in her bed. “It’s okay.” Lyger assured her as he reached up and began to slowly remove his mask.

“It’s me.” Kyle told her, not sure what was going to happen next.

“Kyle?” Sam said unbelievingly as she got up out of her bed and slowly started toward him “You…you’re….”

“Yeah, I’m Lyger.” He said as she wrapped her arms around him, a sense of relief washing over the both of them as their lips met, and the horrors of the last few days finally fell away.

The old man sat in a worn fraying chair as the television blared the 24-hour news coverage, mainly discussing the same few facts and theories regarding the domes that crossed America and the terrorist group behind their formation.

“Ngggggg! Fifty-three!” yelled Dennis, before collapsing and just laying prostrate on the carpeted floor of the training room.

“I don’t get it.” He puffed. “The Golden Rod can lift, what, 7 or 8 tons? Why the hell have you got me doing all these push-ups?”

The original Aquilifer turned his head away from the television, “Ten tons,” he corrected. “At least back when I used it. And why?” He turned away, trying his best to not butcher an Ancient Greek quote.

“Πᾷ βῶ, καὶ χαριστίωνι τὰν γᾶν κινήσω πᾶσαν”

“’Kay.” Dennis replied, somewhat slackjawed.

“It’s about Archimedes. ‘Give me a lever and a place to stand and I will move the earth’… to paraphrase. Kineso or kinaso… it’s been a while since I last used the Ancient Greek.”

“You say ‘kineso’, I say ‘kinaso’…” Dennis sang in jest.

“REGARDLESS…” the old man continued firmly, “The Golden Rod is a hell of a lever. But ultimately, YOU’RE the fulcrum. The place to stand. And you’ll be able to do more with it, the more you look after yourself.”

“Fair enough.”

“And you’re not fooling anyone with that ‘fifty three’ nonsense. You’re on thirty four.” He returned to the television. Dennis groaned loudly. The old man smiled.

Rolling over to go back to his push-ups. He’d been lifting car husks with the Rod earlier, and working on aim for blasts and other versatile uses, but the old man always insisted on starting and ending training sessions focusing on his own general physical fitness.

“Speaking about doing more with it… What exactly are we working out for right now? What’s next on the agenda? Helping those heroes bring down the domes? This Pax Metahumana-rama thing that’s going on right now?”

“Hmm. I don’t think so.” Alan started. “Lot of people working on that as is. But you know what’s been getting almost completely ignored..?”

The old man hit a button on the remote, which played some recorded footage. The television flicked over to something that Dennis had seen plastered all over the news. Something that terrified him on the day that it happened.

It was amateur footage of an in-house college football game at LHU. A game that would never be concluded and one of the darkest moments of school history.

Dennis had faced Demons with the Golden Rod before… but could he be prepared for THIS level of monster?

“Your brother was an alumni. Still had a lot of friends there. Particularly since ground zero hit the football team.”

Dennis was an alum as well. But, as always, an afterthought. These weren’t ‘his people’. But the message still resonated.

“This is exactly the kind of thing Sean would deal with. If he were still with us. And who’s there to defend them?”

Darkness literally devoured masses of people on the television.

“This Nightmare has gone on too long. You’ve been looking for a message, a coming out party?”

He paused the tv as the footage showed the beasts at the centre of the disaster.

“It’s time to wake people up. End this Nightmare garbage.”

Location: Lost Haven, Maine, Outside The Cowl’s Ironworks
Time: Natural Selection, Present

---

The mystical vapors of Odette’s counter-spell crept up the wall to Holt’s location. He could feel the unsettling warmth of her magic rising to cut off his supernatural winds. However, a thin wisp of power caught him unaware, bidding him to end the chilling torrent. Holt’s raven form became unstable, Odette’s power forcing him into the shadows. His position was compromised, but Joseph’s plan had worked. Some guards stationed outside the ironworks quickly filed into the center of the building, leaving an opening for the team.

With enough of the guards distracted and Odette on edge, Holt returned to the group.

“Are you alright,” Joseph was quick to assess the damage done to Holt’s physical form, having felt Odette’s attack via a weak shared consciousness.

“I’ll be fine,” Holt replied, “but more importantly, everything is going according to your plan, or so far it is.”

Joseph sighed, getting in was the easy part. Now, the group would have to deal with a small army of trained men and all the power of the Fae. He decided then to leave the fighting to everyone else. He would be most useful to the group in combatting Odette and keeping her occupied, so he would do just that.

“Now’s our chance,” he said aloud to the group, running rather recklessly toward the main door. Around his person was a duffle bag filled with items from The Red Devil. Inside were magical trinkets, ritual items, and anything else Joseph might need for both simple and complex acts of witchcraft. This time, he was prepared.

“Cover me,” he called to Holt, launching himself through the guards outside the door. They immediately began firing their weapons, but Holt was quick to intercept their bullets and back them away from Joseph when they neared. He could have taken a few of them down, but he needed to focus all of his efforts on Odette.

Once inside, Joseph sped to the center, weaving behind machinery so as to maintain some tiny element of surprise, Holt bringing up the rear and shielding him from immediate danger. The guards inside were still disoriented from Holt’s surprise attack, giving Joseph plenty of time to act. Given Racheli’s current predicament, he wouldn’t have to keep her in mind, allowing him the freedom to perform larger acts of magic without cause for concern. Immediately, he brought out a sleek wand, a hawthorne blasting rod used in acts of baneful magic. He lifted it with his right hand, tilting it ever so slightly, and focused. The power of the rod on its own was to cause misfortune, to release the evil eye, and so it did. Overhead pipes began to shake, some bursting and releasing gouts of hot steam. Glass on certain machines shattered, the shards creating a shining wall of sharp debris.

“Holt,” Joseph directed his familiar to the steam. Holt nodded and flew over to the heavy streams of hot air, which now filled the room with a thick haze. As soon as his ethereal form touched the mist, it burst into flames, creating a dome of fire that was quickly contracting. Joseph expected quick retaliation from Odette, but he knew several of the guardsmen would be heavily burned by the flames and that she might be caught even more off guard, enough so that the team could launch a full assault and make off with Racheli’s containment unit.

It did not take long for the ensuing commotion to catch the attention of the criminal kingpin, who had stayed outside for a bit after his chat with GeneCo’s CEO. The Cowl sighed in disappointment, his men now hunched over in anxiety, clutching their guns tighter to their chests as the ghostly sounds and chill temperatures swept through the rooms. These were tough men, some ex-military and others were long-time multiple felons, men who had killed and fought for money, power, and sick pleasure. Seeing them now reduced to sniviling cowards at the temperature dropping could only discourage the Cowl, and he hoped it would not affect their performance too harshly, as he needed them at their best if all was to go smoothly.

“W-w-w-wwhat’s happening?” One of the men asked, cold sweat beginning to formulate on his brow.

“We’re being attacked, of course.” The Cowl responded, his tone unwavering as he walked towards the containment unit, his eyes fixated on Racheli as he spoke. “Which is to be expected. It seems our dear Racheli either has very powerful friends or others have caught the scent of such a hot commodity among our collection, though I am much more willing to go with the former.”

“What? W-w-well what do we do, boss!?!” The man asked, the volume in his voice increasing as the panic begin to really take hold. “We can’t fight against magic and superpowers!”

“Not toe-to-toe we can’t, I’ll give you that. We are severely outgunned from the what I’ve seen about the intruders, we do not have the tools to face them head-on.” The Cowl said, turning on his heel to face the other men in the room. He unbuttoned his suit jacket as he spoke, freeing up the access to the plethora of tricks he kept on him. “However, we have the homefield advantage, knowing every nook and cranny of this establishment we should be aware that this is no ordinary Ironworks. We keep the terrain to our advantage, utilizing hit-and-run tactics until Gene Co’s men can come to assist, utilizing the many defenses I had installed here to keep the enemy on their toes and force them to come in stupid.”

The Cowl gestured to one of the men. “You, I want you to radio the other men to pull them back in the building, use the ground to make them come to us.” He turned his attention to another man. “Activate the hidden turrets in the hallways, they may be small and for personnel only, but we can use them as proximity alarms to keep an adequate location on our opposition.”

The men scattered to the Cowl's beck and call, following his orders as they had a hundred times before. As Odette began to chase after one of the witches, The Cowl was quick to stop Specter before he followed suit. “It’s time for you to use your full potential, these enemies cannot be underestimated, but you are always one of my aces in the hole. Do what you do best.”

Specter stared at his leader, letting the order process for a moment before nodding in response. As soon as the Cowl let go of his right hand man, the being disappeared into thin air in the blink of an eye. The sound of footsteps only echoed for but a moment before the boss’s ghost had made his way into the hallways, most likely armed and extremely dangerous. Very few men had seen Specter’s powers, and when the right hand man disappeared, a few of the goons even jumped in surprise, as Specter had been sort of an urban myth before he joined the Shroud many years ago. Undetectable by infrared, sonar, radar, or any other form of visual confirmation, the Shroud Syndicate lieutenant had been one of the Cowl’s most profitable investments, and one of his prized assassins. Perhaps even magical detection could even be trumped by Specter’s invisibility.

Nevertheless, the Cowl had more to plan, now that he could hear more commotion in the hallways. The sounds of shattering glass and gunfire erupting through the Ironworks. Snapping his fingers to grab the attention of a few men, he motioned to the cage as he spoke. “Get that over one of the molten kilns, I do not want her getting out and if heat is her weakness, then we keep her sweating, understand?”

The men nodded, hurriedly holstering their guns to obey the crime boss’ orders. The Cowl himself, however, ducked away as soon as he ordered the move, swiftly beginning to pass into hallways in an attempt to make himself hard to track. Of course, he knew this Ironworks like the back of his hand, it was a terrific front for the drug trade he was conducting in the basement, and as such it was almost second nature to maneuver around the building. Reaching into his coat pocket, he began pulling one of his favorite small tricks to impede the progress of these interlopers.

Small military-grade remote mines. He had them custom made to add to the multitude of armaments he kept on his person, using them typically as throwing projectiles. However, for now, they would serve well as door guards, posted on numerous portals throughout the factory.

But he could not stop there, already the enemy was entering his home and he had much to do. He began to follow the sounds of fighting, moving swiftly between the dim lights, the grace and agility utilized was much more professional than one would suspect of someone who was considered a simple criminal. While he had no doubt the original assault was causing hell for his men, he suspected the true meat of the assault was yet to come, and that would be when all his traps and tricks would come into play.

Besides, Specter was already upon the magical intruder. Silent and stealthy, the metahuman phantom drew a dastardly blade from his coat pocket, keeping his firearm holstered for when it would be needed, as the sound would give away his attack. The lieutenant had headed straight for the sounds of fighting, knowing full well the Cowl had entrusted the task of preventing the first wave to him. He caught sight not too long after the pipes began to burst, seeing the conflict from a nearby scaffolding. A single man had entered wielding a duffel bag and a wooden stick had charged straight in, causing numerous problems for the men in the front with a stream of violent and aggressive curses, with pipes bursting in his wake and flames shooting up around him. Screaming, burning bodies began to collapse in this man’s wake, cutting a small pathway for others to presumably follow.

A path that would only end in ruin. Specter was already stalking him like a walking carcass, gliding through hallways with his blade drawn, he knew exactly where to head this mage off. There was no sense approaching him from behind, clearly from the look of the bullets deflecting off of thin air, Specter had to guess that something was already protecting him.

But his front seemed relatively undefended, and that was where the Specter would strike. Another long corridor awaited the oncoming mage, ending in the chamber where Racheli was now suspended over a large, molten kiln, the red glow highlighting the chains now hooked around the cage to keep her teetering back and forth over its glowing mouth. At the end of this corridor Specter would wait, keeping his back to the wall and the blade in his hand, the sound of the witch getting ever closer.

Specter could hear it now, twenty feet. Fifteen. Ten. Five. The man was sprinting to his very doom.

As the mage came bursting through the door, he would be met by his invisible foe, intercepting him with a tackle to take him squarely off his feet, as the blade driving squarely toward his ribs.

If all went well with the ambush, the blade would pierce his very heart.

Name: Evergreen
Location: Lost Haven, Iron Works

Jaden stood with the others as the attack began. Honestly, if he still had organs, he would likely be swallowing a lump in his throat. A glance around him showed that everyone was primed and ready to go, and for a moment he asked himself what he was even doing here amongst heroes who actually knew what they were doing. He shook his head and buried that voice for the moment. This is no time to second guess yourself, Jaden! He berated himself, You came this far and now's your chance to prove you're useful! Now do something!

Gathering himself, his cloak split down the middle as his hood blew back revealing the plant-like humanoid within who then proceeded to leap up high and swing his arm out, tossing what looked like seeds in all directions. The seeds landed and burst open, releasing massive vines that spiraled upwards and grew into plants bearing...watermelons of all things. Before the goon squads could even comprehend this unusual method of attack...the melons started to shake and shudder, swelling up like balloons to a size that would make even the largest watermelons ever seen look like grapes in comparison.

The melons finally dropped and rolled up to where Evergreen had landed. Suddenly, seams opened up on them and they started unfolding, parts shuffling as they took on an appearance of what looked to be turrets with legs and small domes for heads. All of it very organic-looking. There were enough drones here to form a formidable fighting force. They each glanced down at their creator, waiting for orders.

Jaden motioned with his head to the area ahead of them, "Alright, you guys. Our job is simple. We gotta cover the perimeter around this place and provide back-up. Any reinforcements that try to show up we need to hold them off as long as we can until we rescue this lady named Racheli who's trapped inside. Understood?" The drones each nodded in understanding. "Good to hear."

He turned to face the iron works as he took a deep breath, "...Alright then...on my signal...let's make some noise..." The drone army returned to their sphere form and rolled off in all directions, some of them even moving to shadow the other members of the attack team. They spread out across the grounds as Jaden readied to give the order. He didn't like the idea of using nature as a weapon...but right now, he had a job to do, so it was time to suck it up and do his part, "...Let them have it."

The drones proceeded to open fire with their Seed Machine Guns on the enemy stronghold.

Going to meet up with Justine was a simple enough detour. Once there, he explained more in depth what was going to happen- who he was working with, where they were meeting up, and what the basic plan was for extracting Racheli. After that, they'd gone their separate ways, to meet up at the Ironworks in a short while. Naturally, given Justine's power set, she arrived first. Goddamn teleporter powers. Luckily he'd arrived soon enough after that. Enough to get the basic gist of what was going to happen. He sighed again as he contemplated the fact that magic was apparently a thing. It was hypocritical, in a way, considering what he himself was. But at least his powers were based in some sort of science- albeit science so advanced that it would make most rational individuals' heads explode. But magic? Too many variables. Too many ways it could fuck with you, too much he didn't- or couldn't- understand about it. Well, he'd just have to spend some time understanding it, then. Find better ways to defend himself from such... interruptions.

Gabriel looked up as things started happening. Specifically, a lot of fire and pain inside the Ironworks. And then what looked like... watermelons? Watermelon turrets? Gabriel blinked in confusion, before shrugging it off. Magic or meta, powers are weird. Regardless, this was exactly the kind of chaos he was looking for. An opening to attack. He stood up, nodding over to Hydro and Justine, before taking off, situating himself above the unfolding carnage below.

It was about to get a lot worse.

vocal amplification, sir?

That would be lovely, Daedalus, thank you. He cleared his throat as the amplification took place, and began.

"Hello, and good evening, idiot criminals. Earlier today, I came across a number of your friends kidnapping a very dear friend of mine. In my graciousness, I made them an offer- return Racheli Desdemona to me, and I would let you all go about your business. Refuse, and things would get nasty. Well, guess what, kids? Your friends refused."

ARTEFACT Mode-02: LEGION. Engage.

A flurry of sparks rippled out from Gabriel's body, coalescing into shapes as they flowed outward. Very familiar humanoid shapes. In an instant, the air above the Ironworks was filled with literally dozens of robotic copies of Gabriel's armored form, all of them pointing their hands downward, palms and forearms glowing emerald green. All of the machines' eyes flashed in unison.

"This is the part where I hurt everyone," said Gabriel, his voice projected from every member of his LEGION.

Daedalus? Mood music. Your choice.

There was silence for the space of a moment. And then a very familiar song began:



As the tempo took an upswing, the LEGION drones began to open fire- each impact like a bomb blast, destroying vehicles, sending mooks flying, and generally just adding an enormous amount of panic to the situation. Gabriel and around a half-dozen drones took their chance, charging the doors of the Ironworks, particle beams blazing.

Hold on, Rach. I'm on my way.

_{banner credit to Hellis}

---

Location: Inside Ironworks
Time: Present

Odette forced Holt into a retreat and with him the vortex dissipated. Assumingly Specter and The Cowl were on the move now to work against their intruders. The sound of gunfire reached her and knew the witch had entered the facility. Flipping to a few new pages she drew the sigil of Captain Esen, the air sprite. Captain Esen lead Odette’s small legion of spies.

The sorceress needed eyes and information. While she hesitated to call upon fey allies into such a dangerous facility, she was in need of help. They would only be acting as spies as they usually did.

Drawing long spiraling circles in her sigil with a piece of chalk against the concrete wall. She chanted Esen’s name calling out to her ally. The sigil glowed light grays pulsing gently each time she repeated his name. On little smoky wisps of air coiled and formed the apparition of Esen, eyes glowing white against the gray while his youthful appearance betrayed his real age.

Like whispers Esen spoke, “Yes, my Lady Ambassador.”

“Esen, send whatever spies you have in Lost Haven to me. Ironworks, specifically.” Odette ordered.

Esen’s figured rippled with fear, “At once My Lady, I humbly hope they do not get poisoned while under your care.”

“Of course. Please hurry, Esen.” Odette said and the air sprite’s figure disappeared.

“Should we make a lure and start crafting traps, My Lady? It seems the witch is directing his attention to us and hoping to distract.”

Odette shook her head, “Not this time. I want to deal with him directly. Rip out his filthy little heart myself.” She seethed.

“You have quite the focus on organs today, My Lady.” Bach mused.

Meanwhile Esen’s voice carried on the wind to all the local air sprites in Lost Haven. They responded regardless of whom they would be answering to only that a Captain was calling for their assistance. A dozen came to the call flying as fast as the wind could carry them and arrived to Ironworks within five minutes. Their resolve flinching at the sight. The facility rank with poison and again came Esen’s voice to compel them with bravery. They zipped past the arriving figures of metahumans while noting a Champion of Gaia among them. The drones from Icarus deployed to cause a ruckus with the heavily armed men retreating into Ironworks.

The sprites acted in pairs one would follow and stay connected to the one running to make reports. More sprites flew through the facility gaining stock of both enemy and ally alike. They saw The Cowl making haste at readying his own share of traps and tricks. While no sprite could find the whereabouts of Specter. They came across Joseph sprinting towards Racheli invoking evil eye magic.

Odette sprinted back the way she came casting an illusion spell to disguise herself as one of the armed men looking rather indistinguishable. Allowing the sprites to guide her and following the subsequent chaos Odette caught up seeing Joseph’s figure disappear down the hallway toward the kilns. Eyes narrowed as she raced on.

It had been a long few days.

In those days, a terrorist organization calling themselves Pax Metahumana threatened to usher in the end of humanity by way of activating a number of “meta bombs” which would turn the entire population of the United States, and then, eventually the world, into meta humans. The threat, which was broadcast over national television, had set off a massive nationwide search for the devices, which had yielded few results.

Along with a number of other heroes, Icon had been recruited by Christopher Arthur, The Iron Knight, to try and stop the terrorists before their plans could be carried out. He had gone out in search of the devices, and searched in vain for them. However, he had confronted a woman who by some strange coincidence was creating a device of some sort, all her own. What her motivations, he didn’t know at the time. However, during their confrontation, she had implanted memories into his mind, her own memories of the destruction of her people, and he came to understand that she had intended to bring what remained of her people here, and they had little intention of sharing the world. However, he was able to smash the device, though, her mind meld had knocked him senseless momentarily. When he came to, she was gone…though he noticed tire tracks in the rubble, as well as blood spattered on the ground. He didn’t know who had taken her, but he had an idea, and he made a mental note to ask Arthur about it in the very near future.
In his search for the domes, he came across a hero from the past who had taken to the streets in search of the devices as well. They had returned to Sherman Center, where Arthur had set up a command center, and after they had put together a game plan, the woman, Lady Liberty had vanished. Now, according to local news stations, the body of Lady Liberty had been found in a dumpster, where it had been unceremoniously dumped after having been stabbed multiple times, and having her head nearly ripped off. According to the coroner, she had been dead for days, which on the surface made no sense. However, her strange disappearance, as well as the fact that Dr. Diplodoc’s forces seemed to know where they would be and when, was beginning to make more sense.

The terrorists’ plans were nearly successful, so-called “Meta Domes” had popped up in several cities, however, he was able to disable the domes and a major crisis was averted. The entire ordeal had gotten Icon to thinking about the future, and he thought that maybe Arthur had been on to something, that sometimes a threat would arise that would be too much for any one hero, and that maybe, just maybe, they should organize in order to turn back such a threat.

Scott sat on his couch watching the Lost Haven Lobstermen host the Pacific Point Cougars in some spring training baseball from their spring home in Ft. Lauderdale. As usual, the Lobstermen trailed by four runs early, continuing the trend that had been prevalent for the last few seasons. Even though it was early, even by spring training standards, Scott held very little hope for the Lobstermen this season. Although the game was getting out of hand, it was still a nice escape from the crazy events of the last few days, and he knew that he had to take the distractions when he could find them, as he never knew when the next crisis would arise.

Just as the Lobstermen’s ace pitcher had given up another home run, Scott’s cell phone began vibrating on the coffee table. He debated not answering the call, but Eric had mentioned that he would be calling later to discuss some club business with him. He was surprised to see that it wasn’t Eric’s name on the caller ID, but his own sister’s.

“Hey, Jenny.” Scott said cheerily. He hadn’t spoken to his sister very much over the last couple of years, and was always glad when she took the initiative to call him. They had always been very close, however, after the death of their father the entire family had seemed to go off in different directions. “How’s Manhattan?”

They spent a few minutes engaging in small talk, talking about the weather, and how cold the previous winter had been, avoiding some of the heavier topics and recent events, which had become a bit of a ritual for them over the last couple of years. Finally, Jenny touched on the reason for her call.

“So, Scotty…” she trailed off slightly before coming back to the conversation. “Do you remember when you said that if I ever wanted to come to town, I could crash with you for a few days?”

“Yeah, of course. Anytime.” Scott confirmed.

“Good.” She said before the call was dropped.

“Jenny?” Scott said. “Hello?”

He looked at the phone to confirm that the call had ended. He was just about to call her back when there was a sudden knock on the door. He gazed back down at the phone, and upon seeing Jenny’s contact info, he contemplated hitting the “call” button, but knew that it was pointless. He sighed and got up from the couch and made his way to the door. When he opened the door, his suspicions were confirmed. Standing in front of him was his kid sister with a suitcase and a sheepish grin.

“Surprise.” She said as he stepped aside to let her in.

Location: Ironworks
Present: Present

While the battle within the Ironworks had been going for some time, Gene Corporation rolled out. From somewhere near the docks, four large and unmarked trucks barreled their way toward Cowl’s coordinates. Their wheels moving at steady speeds while they navigated the winding roads and highway systems through Maine. Never once did they stop off before reaching their destination as time was a critical factor.

Hidden within three of the trucks was about a hundred men, each stood upright and waiting for deployment. They all looked identical with no identifying mark to connect them with Gene Co. Their figures were all dressed in black, head to toe, with only minimal differences in apparel. The chest, arm and legs were covered with pliable armor made to withstand projectiles. Their facial features and heads were covered in a thick helmets with a reflective visor for vision protection. All of them were armed with plastic guns and several rounds of anti-meta rounds, each a tranquilizer filled with serum that was able to neutralize the natural occurring meta genes within individuals.

The trucks rolled into a short distance from the Ironworks when a loud explosion erupted. Metal and concrete rumbled from the conflict occurring within as sounds of guns and explosions fired off randomly in the background. Each truck immediately grinded to a stop in its tracks. A loud clicking happened when the back end fell down with a thump and several men filed out. A few individuals held back, their arms reaching in for several bags and turret like devices. They tossed them down as flash grenades tumbled out then abruptly snatched up by passing men.

As the men scrambled to aid Cowl’s hired muscle, Tristan Abel propped open the door and jerked out from the driver side of one of the trucks. His boot hit the ground with a gravelly thump. Straightening upright, the blonde haired man smirked at the commotion starting while he reached up then flicked off the cherry red tip of his cigarette.

“Sounds like someone is tossing a hell of a party.” Tristan remarked, his tone filled with confidence and a cocky nature. His accent sounded British in origins, his figure pulling around the vehicle’s front. He was dressed in a polo shirt, ironed slacks and covered by a tan colored duster.

The man’s shaded eyes turned upon hearing someone else exiting the truck. Tristan's lips widened in a crooked smile upon spotting Dr. Black moving out of the passenger side and gradually coming to stand behind him.

“Doc,” he began using a common nick established by the experimental volunteers, his arms raised in a harmless gesture, “get back in the vehicle. It's too dangerous out here and can't do my job with that on my mind.”

“Oh, Tristan. I didn't know better, I would say I had grown on you…”

“Nay, it's not that. Who's going to fix me when I break and that's why I value your life.” Tristan corrected.

Dr. Black simply smiled then turned on heel back to the truck, leaving the would be on-loaned Merc to his own task. Tristan inhaled, his pinky shifted a lone bang from his face then hopped to business.





The concrete bindings immediately crumbled when she was placed within. For several seconds, Racheli just laid there and waited. Her tongue finished mending as she grunted in pain, her arms aiding her rise to her feet. She was weak and wobbly like a new fawn. Twice she nearly collapsed back to start, her weight leaned upon the smooth wall while she struggled to remain upright. A cough rattled through her system making a fresh wave of pain overwhelm the old ach.

“Fucking bitch. When I get out here...Argh!” Rach’s hand smacked into the metal plated interior causing more hurt when it impacted. Hissing in frustration, she cradled her injury then examined her surroundings.

Pure metal or so it appeared to, her mind trying to recall the information during her captor’s little speech. Her silence didn't last long. There only a low rumble of warning before her cage suddenly lift and swayed causing her to crash into the floor, her figure curled into a defensive ball. She slide to the nearest, her hands pressed down to magnetically stick to any purchase she could find.

Without warning, sound pulsed through her little prison. Her hands lifted and covered her ears, eyes squeezed tightly and trying to block out the source of her torture.

She screamed.



Tristan edged in the perimeter, his hand reached out to gently skim the outer fencing. The steel glowed red hot then melted into liquid, crumbling enough to leave a gap for a makeshift door. He smiled then stepped right through. Several Gene Co, unregistered, employees quickly followed in his way while he dealt with the overgrowth that was menacing the Ironworks perimeter. He blinked at the local ‘defense’ system set up the opposition. Tristan was surprised at the oddity and lacking data, unsure where or who set them up. There was one thing he did know: these didn’t originate from the virus. Sighing when the plants’ attention turned upon him, the man turned up the heat. His arms raised at his sides while flames erupted along their length. They sprouted from nearest his hands and wrists, gliding down to his shoulders until both of his limbs were engulfed. Crackling and hissing in his ears, his expression became rather delightfully wicked at the impending chaos he was about to create. “Time to clear out the weeds, chaps.”

Tristan tossed out his arm and tossed a horizontal wave of fire in one direction. The watermelons had been about to pellet him with seeds when fire caught upon their leaves, their lush green become curled and blackened by the heat in moments. Focusing his attention on the next row, he fired another shot of pure liquid like fire upon the next turret creating another blackened husk. His arms pushed flame wave after flame way, clearing the way for his fellow allies to make their way toward the building. A small particle beam impacted on his shoulder causing the man to jerk back. His shaded eyes glared at the source’s direction while his flesh sizzled then regenerated back into a solid mass, the material underneath wasn’t bone and muscle but pure molten rock. When his blood hit the ground, it hissed then burned through a few inches into the ground.

Three of Icarus’ LEGION drones were hovering there. Their guns aimed and charging for another round, their laser lights set while the man merely stood there unafraid.

“Nice hit. Now it’s my turn...” Tristan commented.

His hand came up and shot a viscous liquid upon the nearest LEGION drone, the metal man’s shell unable to withstand the intense heat. It started to crumple into molten metal and pool on the ground before drying into rock hard granite. He jerked out of the way of the second one’s shot as he then melted into his liquid form when the third followed the second’s lead, cleverly waiting until he had moved. Tristan snarled in frustration when the third beam clipped his head. For a few seconds he was blind when his figure broke down into his other form. It glided across the dirt and grass, leaving scorch marks and worse in his wake when he shifted behind the drone. The thing turned to fire and swing only to have Tristan’s hand rise up and catch it. Heat shimmered and wafted off his skin, the palm hard as rock, and absorbing the strength behind the drone’s strike easily. In a few moments the drone’s hand was melted off as he reached up and ripped the particle beam off its stand at the drone’s shoulder. It made a loud, metal screech when it gave to his superior strength.

He then flipped it upward at the other drone, readying its laser, catching it on the shoulder. The particle beam fired just moments before forcing him to shove his current victim in front him for a shield. The metal was enough to deflect the damage as he tossed the now charred remains aside. Straightening his coat, he started to make his way toward the building with the rest of the Gene Co men.

The crowd began to gather just before dusk. A group of citizens who had found common ground over the actions of meta humans in their city, as well as around the country, and the government’s inaction on the matter. The group organized over social media and had planned to shut down Central Avenue, the main intersection leading out of Little Ulster to block traffic during rush hour, when many of Lost Haven’s citizens were getting ready to leave work for the evening. When the protest initially began, only a couple of dozen protesters had taken to the streets. However, as the evening wore on, more and more protesters had joined them, as well as a large contingent of counter protestors to oppose them. However, the protestors, and police were not the only ones to turn out, as several members of the local media had shown up to cover the protest. Now several hours old, the protest had snared traffic in and out of Little Ulster, creating absolute gridlock.

Freaks go home, we can take care of our own!

The chant echoed through the streets as the protestors marched against down the avenue against the tide of resistance provided by the counter protestors. The two groups hurled insults at one another. As each moment passed, violence threatened to erupt as the protestors and counter protestors clashed. The volatile nature of the protest saw members of Lost Haven’s finest call in support, realizing that they were quickly losing control of the situation. Within minutes, officers in full riot gear were on the scene looking to regain order.

Their presence only seemed to agitate the protestors further.

Soon, the protestors turned their ire at the police. First, they began hurling insults at the officers, blaming their ineptitude for the need of meta humans in the first place. Then, they began hurling bottles and rocks, and anything else that they could get their hands on. One officer was even injured when a protestor hit him with ball bearings which had been removed from the wheels of a nearby car. The sudden outburst of violence had managed to turn what was supposed to be a peaceful protest into a full blown riot.

Soon, more police in riot gear stormed into the area. They began grabbing protestors and counter protestors alike, handcuffing them and throwing them into police transport vehicles. Some of the protestors resisted, fighting off the police as best they could. They continued throwing bottles and rocks, fists and elbows at the police, who answered in kind with batons and stun guns. The entire scene was completely out of control. Some of the protestors began smashing storefront windows and overturning parked cars…

Until everything suddenly stopped.

The sound of laughter could be heard. At first it sounded as if it were coming from afar, however it grew louder and louder, until it was coming from everywhere all at once. It was not your typical laughter, in fact, there was nothing typical about it. It was an otherworldly laughter, a laughter that was felt just as it was heard, a laughter that caused everyone to stop in their tracks.

Then there was darkness. A black mist seemingly came out of nowhere, engulfing the crowd. There were cries of panic as the people in the crowd could no longer see in front of them, yet they seemingly all knew exactly what was happening. They seemed to know just who it was who had made his presence known.

Then suddenly, the black mist dissipated.

“You fight amongst yourselves. You allow your fear to control you.” A disembodied voice spoke, the words vibrating off of the walls all around the crowd of people. “Your futile acts of violence only feed me, make me stronger. You are all my children, and I’ve come to bring you home.”

No sooner did the voice stop speaking than three figures made their way into the crowd. One of the figures was easily recognizable due to his skeletal features. The monster known as Cannibal King forced his way into the crowd, immediately setting out to slaughter as many people as he could reach with a large scythe. As he brought the blade down on panicked protesters, he cut right through them, the impact of which made a sound like a blade cutting through a ripe melon.

With the Cannibal King were two women. One of which seemed far younger than the other. The younger woman held a small metallic ball which she tossed into the air. The ball hovered for an instant and then began to change. The ball grew eight legs and a pair of wings, as well as a pair of razor sharp claws. When the object began flying toward the crowd, it looked like a combination of a hornet, wolf spider, and a crab. The metallic monster buzzed through the crowd, removing limbs and in some cases, heads, while the young woman smiled, finally having the means to get revenge on a society that has utterly abused her for her entire life.

The other woman who was known to few as Soulfire stood her ground, summoning demonic energy from her body, engulfing fleeing victims in its power, and then seemingly blinking them out of existence.

As the crowd scattered in a panic a fourth being seemingly emerged from out of nowhere. At first, only the vague outline of a man could be seen. Then, within moments the figure showed itself. The monster known as Nightmare had finally showed its true face. To those who saw him, his visage matched his name. He truly was a living nightmare. His grotesque face was something that any survivors of the massacre would take to their graves. His pale skin misshapen face was something out of a horror movie. His dead, white eyes and rotting flesh reminiscent of something that might appear on The Walking Dead, rather than in the middle of Little Ulster. The cadaverous creature looked at the carnage that had already been wrought in his name, and he grinned.

“Finish them. Finish them all.” He gleefully said to his followers as they set out slaughtering the remaining protesters.

“Master Christopher and Mistress Veronica, I suggest we get going.” George insisted as he stood beside the central elevator. “There’s a riot in process and it might become an impediment for getting to the airport.”

“Relax, George.” Chris had his sports coat slung over his shoulder as he replied to his butler, “What’s the point of a private jet if it launches without you?”

“It’s so sad to admit it, but I almost would take school over this crazy town.” Veronica said from the couch, still in her serpentine form, even though they were preparing to head out for Richmond.

“This city just can’t catch a break. Demon invasions, mass riots, and crazy women who think that I’m screwing her under-aged niece. Heck, I’m surprised that Lost Haven was spared from those domes that Doctor Diplodoc had unleashed on America.”

“Hmm, raise your hand if you have experienced a crazy guardian that had tracked his sister.” Veronica immediately raised her hand as soon as she spoke.

“Oh, come on! That was totally different. For instance, I knew that you were kidnapped. I actually found you. Plus, I don’t have any delusions that you’re a perfect angel and couldn't have ran away.”

“Hey! I’m not that bad.” Veronica rolled her eyes at her half-brother as they bantered with each other.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I suggest turning the tube on.” George interrupted the conversation when he received some harrowing news. On the television screen, they saw hordes of police officers and protesters become the victims of Nightmare and his insidious allies. Ever since their attack on the Lost Haven spring training event, Chris knew that they would rear their ugly faces again. It was just a matter of time.

“George, take Veronica to the airport. Steer clear of this carnage and make sure she uses her power-nullifier.” Chris rushed over to the elevator. As he turned around in the elevator, the sliding doors closed together before his half-sister could even tell him to be careful. As the carriage rushed to the roof, Chris removed his nice dress clothes and replaced them with the under-suit that he was accustomed to wear while operating his Daedalos Mk. 5 armor.

Once the elevator door flew open, Chris exited the carriage. A few seconds later, from a separate express elevator, his armor also appeared on the roof. He immediately climbed into it and initiated the power-suit’s systems. When everything was at least ready, Chris launched into the sky, heading in the direction of Little Ulster. While he was in-route, he signaled to the nearest STRIKE base to send any and all reinforcements that they could spare for this incidence.

When his armor’s scanners began to pick up Nightmare and his allies, Chris picked a nearby rooftop for his landing site. Once he had landed, which would have been obvious to the murderous villains, Chris made his ultimatum to them, even though he knew that it would not be as easy as telling them to leave.

“Good evening. As the unofficially designated representative of this city of Lost Haven, I order you to cease all superhuman activities and crawl back into whatever hellhole that spawned you or anyone that is most convenient for you.”

Chris raised up his arm above his head, activating his energy pilum in the process. The red sparks crackled from his hand as the energy-based projectile formed. Chris just hoped that he could last long enough for his reinforcements to arrive. And even then, would they be enough?

“Don’t worry, missy. This shall not hurt one bit.” Mr. Giuseppe reassured me while he strapped some sort of band around my forehead. “Before I conceived this little contraption, I would have had to pry information from my clientele about their personal preferences. But now, we can just rip an image from your imagination. As people say, a picture is worth a thousand words.”

After he had placed the device around my head, the old tailor stepped down from the foot stool, descending one foot at a time. He then lumbered over to his heavy, wooden desk, where he acquired a small piece of cloth. Giuseppe turned back towards me and Minerva, leaning against his desk while cleaning his spectacles with the cloth that he had retrieved from his desk.

“While we wait for the data, you two don’t mind me showcasing some of my latest products?” Mr. Giuseppe held up his glasses towards the lights above to ensure there were no longer any smudges on the lens. Once he was satisfied, the Italian tailor returned his spectacles to their proper place on his face. “Purchase isn’t compulsory, of course.”

“I don’t have any objections.” Minerva replied. Of course she would say that, since she’s the freakin’ Greek Goddess of Wisdom disguised as an assistant for Christopher Arthur. God knows what else she has been influencing. Plus, she’s been nothing but trouble for me ever since the first day I met her. And I bet that in her twisted sense of reason she thinks that she’s doing a favor for me by getting me this new costume. Sure, I’m appreciative of this ‘favor’, but humble is one thing Athena isn’t.

“Was it very wise coming here in my civilian identity? Isn’t it a little risky expanding the number of people who know who I am?” I whispered to Minerva. However, before the disguised goddess could respond, Mr. Giuseppe, who had returned with a small can that looked like what paint or wood stain would normally be stored in, gave his two cents.

“This establishment has a strictly enforced tailor-client privilege policy and a damn good lawyer to back it up. And if you’re worried about me croaking, I never inquire into my client’s personal information. My records only have nicknames.” Mr. Giuseppe then pulled out a small, pocket book that had a leather cover from his dress shirt’s pocket and opened it up to the last page with any details. “I would give you some examples, but that would mean I would be breaching my client privacy policy. I guess I’ll put Aranea down for you.”

“That’s the Latin equivalent for ‘spider’, if you didn’t know that already.” Minerva showboated in front of me. I returned her boasting with a glare before I turned my attention back to Mr. Giuseppe.

“Anyways,” Mr. Giuseppe spoke, clearing his voice first, in order to change the subject, “My presentation.”

The old man picked up a second piece of fabric from his desk. This article of clothing, however, seemed to have a pocket sewn onto it. In his other hand, Mr. Giuseppe held a smart phone. The old tailor, after displaying both objects, slide the cellular phone into the pocket. “Normally, regular pants, like jeans or sweatpants, can afford to have pockets take up this much room. However, due to their, well, tight nature, the average superhero uniform does not have the same luxury unless they were still living in the 90’s. Or at least until now.”

Mr. Giuseppe then pulled out the cell phone and turned the pocket inside-out so that the lining of the pocket was showing. Then, the tailor popped up the can of what I assumed he was trying to sell us and dipped a medium-sized brush into the liquid contained inside. He applied the liquid onto the pocket lining and allowed it to dry first before he pulled the pocket back into its original form. After he took the cell phone back into his hand, Mr. Giuseppe began to slide the phone back into the pocket. However, this time, as the phone entered the pocket, there was no indication that anything was in the pocket, as if the phone somehow magically vanished.

“And there you have it. Instant pocket.” The old man announced.

“So, why isn’t this common knowledge?”

“Oh, it’s only at the prototype phase of research and not quite cost effective for consumer consumption.”

“So what you’re trying to say is that instead you pawn this stuff off to people who fight crime on their spare time.”

“Well, from my experience with these ‘hobbyists’, they have quite the particular tastes for attire and equipment. Who else would buy these knickknacks besides people who run around in tights at night?”

Before I could say anything in response, the device that had been strapped around my head began to beep, signaling that it had finished compiling a design for my new superhero costume. Mr. Giuseppe hurried over to what appeared to be a regular mirror. After he had pulled it back to where Minerva and I were standing, the elderly tailor picked up a small tablet and started to tap on the screen.

“Alright, how does this look?” He asked me when he gestured towards the mirror. However, to my surprise, instead of seeing my own reflection in the mirror, I saw myself dressed in a scarlet and gray costume. Just to make sure that I was not going insane, I peered down at my arms. Since I was not actually wearing the costume that I saw in the mirror, I could rest assured that it was some sort of illusion.

“There’s a little issue. When my powers are active, I’m more spider-like, so this design might not work.”

“Don’t worry. I can make some minor changes from here.” After a few taps on his tablet, the image changed, showing four additional arms attached to my sides.

“Um…it’s more like eight legs.” I told the old man as I tried to point out his mistake.

Mr. Giuseppe scratched his head as he was puzzled at how anyone could add six additional legs to my body in its current state. Once he had given up trying to figure this seemingly impossible problem, the tailor spoke up again. “We might want to run the scanner again while you’re in your more arachnid appearance.”

“Before that, I have a quick question.” Minerva said, “What effect does this liquid have on the human body?”

“Assuming that you don’t mean applying it directly onto human skin, preliminary studies have shown that there’s nothing serious to worry about. But again, it’s only a proto-type. Also, the space-saving paste only increases the possible storage capacity. It won’t create a bottomless inventory like those that you might see in some video games or cartoons.”

“Well, she has a healing factor, so she should be fine.” Minerva nonchalantly replied to what the tailor said, making seem like my healing factor could handle anything. “And speaking of cartoons, our fine heroine here has been blessed with the physique that would be normal in a comic book world.”

Jesus Christ! Can’t I go one day without this being brought up…

“Unfortunately, we live in a world where the laws of physics are real. Therefore, in order to make sure that she’s not impeded in fighting situations, we’ll be making purchase one can of this liquid for applying on some of her clothes.”

I don’t know who’s more embarrassed at the moment. Me or that poor old man. After he regained his composure after hearing this quite bizarre request, Mr. Giuseppe finally spoke.

“I guess that could work. This never came up in any of the focus groups, but you never know what you superhero types want with your peculiar tastes.” The tailor walked back over to his desk and pulled out a second, unused can from one of the drawers attached to that piece of furniture. He then returned and handed it over to Minerva, who in turn tossed it into a bag that she was carrying. After this, Minerva turned to me before speaking.

“Oh, since you’ve been complaining about not having clothes for your more spideresque half, I took some time to whip something up. After determining that jeans would be too restrictive and sweat pants just wouldn’t hold up to the task, I finally found something that was the perfect fit for this situation.”

From within that same bag, Minerva pulled out what looked like a discarded spider exoskeleton that was made out of some sort of fabric. It did not take me long to realize what she had used to make this pair of pants that was designed for a drider-like body frame like mine. However, between this and the whole ordeal that was the whole Pax Metahumana threat, I was just too tired to make an outburst about Athena using one of my best pairs of yoga pants to make this pair of ‘pants’. Instead, I just snatched both the bag and what use to be a pair of yoga pants from Minerva’s hands and marched over to one of the changing room facilities that Mr. Giuseppe had on the premises. The sooner I get this over with, the sooner I get to go home.

Kyle and Sam had spent the remainder of the night, and all of the following day in bed. It had seemed like weeks since they’d had any time together at all, and with the threat posed by the terrorist organization known as Pax Metahumana thwarted, now seemed like just as good a time as any to spend some quality time together. For the first time in months, everything felt like it was going to be alright. For the first time in a long time, Kyle felt like himself again.

They had spent the entire night laying in bed together, holding one another. Talking, kissing, embracing…and there they remained the following day, except for about twenty minutes when they went out to get food. As Kyle lay in bed next to Sam, her soft skin pressing against his, as he felt the warmth of her breath tickle his skin each time she exhaled, he was reminded of exactly what it was that he was fighting for. It was moments just like this that made everything worth it.

After just laying there for awhile in total silence, Sam had asked Kyle to turn on the television. Two and a Half Men was on syndication, and after everything that had been going on as of late, she thought that they both could use a laugh. Unfortunately, they were not greeted by the highly suggestive humor that was a staple of the program. Instead, they watched in a tense silence as the words BREAKING NEWS were splashed across the screen, and images from a protest that turned violent played out.

Sadly, that was not the worst of it. Kyle and Sam looked on in horror as four figures emerged from a darkness that had overtaken the riot. Those four figures then went to work, slaughtering rioters and police alike.

“I have to go.” Kyle said, his tone suddenly dark.

“No, let the others handle this. These guys…they’re monsters.” Sam said, the thought of Kyle rushing off to confront the beings that had been responsible for countless murders across the city for months. She had also heard the rumors that Nightmare had seriously injured Icon at one point, and if this monster could do that to him, Kyle didn’t stand a chance.

“I can’t do that.” Kyle said as he got out of bed and immediately began putting his costume on. “I face monsters every day. Some are scarier than others, but I can’t let that stop me. If I start picking and choosing who I save, who I stop…what’s the point.”

Sam sat up in bed, covering herself with the bed sheets as she considered her next words. She wanted to tell him to come back to bed. She wanted to beg him to stay with her, where they would both be safe. But she said nothing. Instead she got out of the bed and walked over to him. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him deeply on the lips.

“Just come back to me.” She said, forcing a smile despite the gut wrenching fear she felt for him.

“Sam, I lo…” Kyle started to say, but was cut off.
“No. Don’t say that.” Sam said, not allowing him to finish. “Tell me when you get back.” She said. Kyle just looked at her. He didn’t want to leave her. He wanted nothing more than to stay with her and ride the entire ordeal out here in her room. But he knew that he couldn’t. Every second that he remained, Nightmare and his merry band of monsters killed more and more people.

Kyle gave Sam one last kiss before he put his mask on and walked over to the window. He turned back to Sam and just nodded, and then he was gone.





In order to celebrate Jenny’s sudden arrival in Lost Haven, he had taken her to Carmen’s, one of the best Italian restaurants in the city. However, they were not alone. Scott had also invited Eric to come along, and he in turn had invited Clara and Keira to join them.

They had long since finished their meals and had decided to take a walk down by the waterfront. It was a beautifully clear night, and unseasonably warm. As they walked near the docks that had long been a tourist destination, the smell of seafood and the sounds of people laughing and enjoying themselves filled the air. Scott had always been amazed by how resilient the people of Lost Haven had proven to be. Just over twenty four hours ago, not only the city, but the entire nation had been under threat from a terrorist organization bent on turning every man, woman, and child into a meta human. Now, the very people who had been threatened were out having the time of their lives.

Scott began to wonder if by living in Lost Haven, the citizens had grown accustomed to living in constant peril.

As they walked past The End Zone, a small sports bar that was located just across the way from Lost Haven Pier, they saw a small crowd gathered outside the large picture window which held several flat screen TVs which were normally showing any number of national games. However, instead of a number of different basketball games, each screen showed the same horrific scene. A riot had recently broken out in Little Ulster, and once again, the serial killer Nightmare had reemerged to slaughter everyone in sight.

Scott felt a knot begin to form in his stomach and he clenched his fists as he saw the needless carnage that was being carried out.

Not even one night of peace. Scott thought to himself.

“Hey guys…I uh, gotta…” Scott started.
“Get to The Hub, we were expecting that special delivery tonight.” Eric chimed in.

“Oh right, I totally forgot you had mentioned that.” Jenny added as she motioned for him to leave.

“Yeah, I’m so sorry guys. We’ll have to finish this another time.” Scott said as he started off down the street. Then, when he was out of view, he ducked down a side street and then into an alley, where he stripped out of his civilian clothes and into the familiar garb of Icon, and within milliseconds, he was airborne, making a straight line to Little Ulster.

It only took less than a minute for all the young man’s work to be undone. His creations reduced to charred ashes by a being who was in some ways similar to himself...but at the same time, completely different. He looked outwards at the destruction and carnage, seeing the perpetrator walking in their direction, flanked by dozens of men in suits, loaded with artillery. He knew right away that he was at a massive disadvantage, that there was no chance of victory...what was he suppose to do now? Run and hide? Beg for mercy?

For his answer, he looked behind him and spotted his fellow heroes, doing all they could to save the poor girl trapped within the complex. All of them were different and unique in their own way...and yet they were all here, united by a single cause. The odds were against them and yet still they fought on, for the sake of what they believed in. How could he not do the same?

Even if there was no chance of winning...he needed to try. He needed to do all he could...cause wasn’t that what real heroes did? They forged onwards even when it seemed impossible?

“Jaden…” Gaia’s presence was in his mind, “...I know what you’re planning...and although I don’t think it’s smart...know that I am with you all the way…”

He nodded in thanks before looking outwards at the approaching militia and let out a sigh of resignation. He glanced over at the others, “Go get Racheli...I’ll join you as soon as I can.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned to the enemy’s forces and bent down, leaping several stories into the air as a bunch of seeds appeared in his hand and he tossed them out. The seeds scattered all across the field, transforming into lemons that took on the shape of turrets like the melons.

Only difference? These opened up and started spraying steady streams of what looked like lemon juice in all directions. Only problem? This juice was made to be...extremely sticky, and would harden on contact with anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in the range of them. Evergreen also morphed his limbs into cannons and started firing exploding grapes into the mobs at the same time.

Gabriel winced as he felt three of his LEGION drones get horrifically melted and dismiss themselves in a flurry of sparks. He blinked, shaking his head to clear the disorientation caused by having part of mind rapidly snap back into his head. Not to mention the memory of the event- it was unpleasant. He focused in on another trio of LEGION drones near where the other three were dismantled, looking toward where his clones met their end.

The culprit was rather obvious- a meta with heat powers, by the looks of things, and incredibly powerful at that. Even watered down Phylactery-alloy could take a beating. Nothing like himself, of course, but still. The fact that Mr. Fahrenheit here could trash his drones with little more than a contemptuous gesture was troubling, but hey, just don’t get hit.

He called over an additional three LEGIONnaires, then flew down to surround the fire meta and his cronies.

”Okay, maybe the other three drones didn’t make it clear--” the lead drone began, before having to narrowly avoid another globule of superheated goo. Gabriel directed the drone to point his weaponry at the burning man, flying off to what he hoped was out of range of the thermite or whatever superheated flammable substance it was.

Tristan frowned at missing the drone. His hand red hot after firing from his hand at the speaker, hoping to catch him off guard and lower the collecting number. Behind him several Black Project Branch members had raised and opened fire upon the lemon turrets, exploding one while sticky, yellow fluid exploded over some of them. The men found themselves stuck fast in place and ripped away knives to attempt to cut themselves free.

Small, fast firing grapes came spraying from the plant like meta’s morphed arms. When a splash of lemon made contact with Tristan, his surface hissed and the liquid evaporated. His eyes narrowed in distaste at his coat being scorched by the chemical reaction and adjusted his vision toward Evergreen. Before he could react, his ears caught the drone he had missed speak again.

”...All right, sunspot. Game on.” Without another word, the sextet of drones opened fire, plasma and particle beams streaking toward the assemblage of criminals.

Tristan immediately crumbled into a viscous material. His skin become orange with a reddish glow and his form fell to the ground into a puddle, then slid over the terrain easily to avoid the flying grapes, particle beam and plasma aimed at him. Sadly, some of the men weren’t so lucky. Several soldiers suddenly went up into ashes when the fire made contact with their shielding, providing no protection from the advanced weaponry. Their screams died upon their lips midway when their bodies vanished. Tristan cursed under his breath in irritation at the slight decrease individuals to help obtain the virus’ host.

When he reformed, his voice roared over the chaos. “Men focus on the plant meta, I’ve got the drones.”

With those last words, Tristan rushed toward the nearest drone. His speed was incredibly fast that he was almost a blur when he jumped up high then whipped back his fist to smack into the drone’s face. It shattered the upper forehead while his feet pulled in and planted on the drone’s shoulder. He kicked off to sent himself launching toward the second one. Naturally, Icarus’ drones weren’t merely metal fodder. They could think and this one open fired from a plasma gun at its middle forcing Tristan to push out his arms, lava seeping from his skin quickly. In moments it formed a rock hard barrier to shield himself. It wasn’t strong enough though as the plasma cut through it easily and clipped his shoulders.

Tristan cried out in fury, his figure curling up to slam whatever remained of the makeshift shield into the drone’s upper bust. He then fell to the ground, landing on his feet and hand. His durable bones and muscles absorbed the impact preventing damage while his free hand cradled his wound. Hot, orange magma seeped onto the grass.

Meanwhile, Gene Co soldiers opened fire upon Evergreen. There was no bullets flying from their nuzzles, but small dart like devices filled with a blackish liquid. The moment it hit one of the plants, it withered up and turned back into a seed. Some darts came flying into his direction as well.

Evergreen observed the carnage unfolding before him, it seemed so far the plan was working, and the militia was, at the very least kept busy for the moment. Still, he couldn’t help but be somewhat disgusted at what he was seeing on both sides. The fire-based meta seemed to show little regard for the people under his command, his molten form just dissolving everything it touched, and Gabriel was just gunning down the militia left and right with what looked to be no signs of remorse whatsoever.

He realized they had a mission to fulfill but there were some lines you just did not cross and for a moment he pondered what the difference between Heroes and Villains was again, especially when both sides were willing to go to such extreme lengths to attain their goals. However, he was brought out of his thoughts by the sight of his plant allies withering up back into seeds as a result of strange darts filled with black liquid.

Cursing to himself, he called up a shield to block the darts flying at him...only to watch as said shield started to wither away like his constructs. He tore off the shield and tossed it aside before deciding it was time for a bit of hand-to-hand action. He turned and rose his arm in an upward motion, causing the passage way to be quickly flooded by trees with thick bark and incredibly dense bush. It wouldn’t stop their march but at least it would slow them down even more so.

He then turned and glared at the militia, some of them actually appearing to freeze for a second, as if out of being intimidated, before raising their guns again. Jaden wasted no time though, as next thing the two guys in front knew they were sent flying by two sharp, powerful jabs to their ribs before whirling on the spot and delivering a split kick to the side of another guy’s head. Not enough to kill him but enough to ensure he’d be waking up with one heck of a headache.

His reason for going into their midst was simple. Those dart guns were dangerous, and he was betting that these guys weren’t dumb enough to try firing them and risking hitting their own men. Of course, he had briefly forgotten they might have other weapons too...as next thing he knew he found a knife sticking through the front of his chest.

He turned to the guy who had stabbed him and tilted his head as if to say “Really?” before kicking him in the chest hard enough to send him crashing through several of his fellow soldiers, the wound in his chest already gradually healing. Two more goons came at him swinging large combat knives of their own. Jaden was still a bit new to this so he was forced to keep backpedaling and side-stepping their swings, even as parts of plant matter were nicked off him by some lucky slashes.

Scowling, he grabbed both of them by the heads and slammed them together, dazing them long enough to deal several rapid-fast jabs that left them on the ground out of breath and holding their stomachs in pain and agony. He shot out his arm like Batman’s Grappling Hook, grabbed a guy and hauled him over at high speeds before pulling off a clothesline move on him and flooring him to the ground.

“Hey you!” He turned to see one guy lifting an obvious non-issued weapon, a magnum of all things, to his head, grinning,”Dodge this!” He then pulled the trigger, firing a live bullet, causing the warrior to fall to the ground in the midst of the goons who watched him lying there, a large hole in his head, “Heh...nobody can shrug off a bullet to the brain…” The remaining goons looked ready to leave….until…

“Ughh….you know...I’m getting kinda sick of people doing that…” The milita soldiers stopped, all of them freezing like statues...as they turned and saw the plant meta slowly get up off the ground, as if he were a zombie, staggering to his feet, the bullet wound in his head still there, yet somehow it wasn’t stopping him! He reached up a hand to his head...and yanked the bullet out!

“Oh crap...oh crap…” The guy with the magnum looked ready to wet himself, dropping his weapon and backing away, as did the rest. They realized in that moment the truth…

Evergreen hadn’t been taking them seriously...at all. “You know...I think I’m done being nice…” With that, he rose his hands, shifting the density in them to temporarily boost his strength, and then brought them together in a powerful Shockwave Clap that could be heard for miles, the resulting blast of air sending all the soldiers around him flying in all directions.

Several men collapsed, all of them stunned, they crumpled into motionless heaps upon the battlefield. Most of their comrades too busy trying to follow orders while they left their fallen upon the field, their guns raised to fire upon Evergreen again. Another man pulled out a flash bang then pulled the pin, sending it sailing over to Evergreen. The thing impacted upon the ground and went off in hopes to blind him for a moment for one of the darts to hit.

Evergreen looked around, seeing more of the troops approaching him from all directions. He turned in time to see a grenade roll next to his feet. Recognizing it as a flash bang, he lifted an arm to shield his face but was a second too late. The flash was both bright and loud, causing him to stumble backwards while pawing at his eyes, trying to focus. He was defenseless, and he knew it...or was he?

“Have you already forgotten that trick I taught you?” Gaia quipped as he got the impression she was rolling her eyes.

Mentally berating himself for being an idiot, he reached out to his remaining constructs, using them as a type of sonar to track the movements of his enemies as they paraded near the lemon turrets. He rose an arm and fired it out like a whip, it stretched outwards and started lashing about, the cries of soldiers being swept off their feet and sent flying in all directions echoed outwards. Reaching out with his flowers, he shot out another whip which grabbed one guy and swung him, knocking down a bunch of other soldiers.

His vision returning enough to make out some blurry images, his white hair petals stood up on end as he rose his arms, gathering together the remnants of his fallen constructs, them all swirling above his head before he unleashed a massive blizzard of disorientation in the form of petals at the attacking mobs. The earth ripped open as more vines flew out in the hopes of ensnaring any soldiers they grabbed in cocoons.

“Why are they so persistent?” He asked himself mentally, “...Don’t they realize by now that they could all die at any moment?”

“That is just how humans are, Jaden..” Gaia’s voice sighed in dismay, “In pursuit of a cause they will disregard everything else...their morals and even their own sense of self-preservation…”

Gabriel winced repeatedly as more of his drones were dismissed, getting shattered into splinters. This thermite meta was powerful- his very punches tore through LEGIONnaires like tissue paper. Gabriel grit his teeth- this was going to be expensive, depending on how much of the material was actually salvageable. He anticipated at least two or three complete losses. And that was… frustrating.

All righty, then. It’s time to step up my game.

A dozen drones assembled in a large circle above the battlefield over the GeneCo reinforcements, plating on their chests opening up to reveal glowing cores, which now started to exude green electrical sparks. Gabriel (figuratively) took a deep breath throughout all of his drones. This was going to hurt- him and the bad guys- but it was better than letting the usual carnage ensue.

Tristan rose, feeling smug despite his injuries, about the destruction he had wrought. His hand dusted off the dirt collected on his shoulder before he realized he and several of his fellow fighters were surrounded by twelve nearly identical drones. Among their ranks were a few of the men that Evergreen had sent flying were still down and unable to help defend themselves. His eyes spied a few smaller groups making their way toward the building only to encounter a few lemons and drones allow the way, barely taking them down without their numbers being thin to a measly one or two. Tristan’s teeth gashed in frustration at the situation as he hated difficult challenges.
That’s when Icarus made his orders, and things got much worse.

Daedalus. Core vent on Units 036-047. Slow burn, non-lethal. Direct it down, I don’t want to hurt anyone on our side.

acknowledged. do try and brace yourself, sir, this may sting.

Acknowledged. Deploy.

The twelve drones glowed with lightning, directing it downward on top of the GeneCo soldiers in a haze, dropping them where they stood like the world’s worst taser. After a few seconds, the rain of green electricity ended. The drones sagged in the air before dismissing themselves in a flurry of pixels. The other drones froze for a split-second before resuming their activities. As it happened, the drone engaged on Mr. Fahrenheit noted his momentary weakness, looping around the side of his shield, charging a particle beam in his palm, taking aim and firing.

Tristan was quick, but not that quick. He was taken off guard when one of the drones rushed him, his hand pressed out to protect his vital organs and hopefully contain the attack. It was a dirty tactic by a hero, attacking a wounded enemy, the man thought while he implicated his counter. His fingers closed in around the muzzle of the particle cannon then jerked back. The palm was hardened by oozing magma solidifying into granite and shield most of his limb below the target area. His foot glowed reddish orange with heat and after he had jerked the cannon downward behind him, his leg kicked up to plant the attack into the drone’s side. His leg cut through it like a hot knife through butter.

The cost was only his hand. It was instantly vaporized. Pain, severe and nearly crippling, caused him to curse out loud announcing that Icarus’ attack had found its mark. The drone crumbled into a semi melted heap as he focused on his gone hand. It wasn’t the first time he had lost his limbs but each still hurt like a mother fucker when it happened. Magma dripped from his stump then slowly oozed out, reforming into another hand and then hardening back into a new limb.

“That was rude and I thought all heroes weren’t killers.” Tristan noted as he took a moment to test his hand. It was fortunate enough that the drone that clashed with him had knocked him out of range of the attack’s focus.

Hydro appeared on the scene watching the battle unfold before his eyes. ”Sorry I’m late guys. Been working on some interesting new abilities I developed from that masked man that kicked my ass. Check it.” Hydro’s arm became encased in ice sharpening to a deadly point. It then morphed into a dead mace which he swung around in front of him

”Pretty neat hey?” Hydro was about to show off some more when he was interrupted by some soldiers. Gathering the moisture around him his body enlarged towering over the men. Pivoting on the spot he swiped the men from in front of him. They were tossed aside. He surveyed his work.

”Alright then bring me up to date Icarus. What we dealing with here?”

Gabriel directed another trio of drones in the magma meta’s direction, gritting his teeth in consternation- between his core vent stunt and Mr. Fahrenheit destroying his selves, he was down nearly a full third of his forces. How bothersome… this is going to be costly to recover from. All three of them began charging weapons, pursuing and keeping the fiery meta engaged and away from the building. Hearing his rhetorical musings to himself, Gabriel decided to answer.

”I try and keep casualties to a minimum, true. But in this circumstance, I’ve had to take a couple of things into account. One, you’re powerful enough to take it. Two, I can’t afford to let you and your men succeed here. Too many lives are riding on me stopping you. If that means I have to shed some blood, then so be it. As for now, I can’t let you go any farther. My apologies.” Feeling anything other than apologetic, all three drones focused a barrage of attacks onto Magma Man’s head at once.

“Noted, but seriously all this for a small little trollop?” Tristan asked, a little annoyed by the drone’s slightly cryptic answer. It was clear why the ‘hero’ was doing this but to the experiment felt it was a little too much risk for little gain and frowned when the three drones charged their weapons. His figure immediately rolled on his back, clearing himself of the attack when the three fired, as his body melted into a thick, fiery substance. It blacken the very earth he touched while he shifted around behind the first drone.

His form jerked into the air then slammed a heated punch through the center of the drone’s torso. His hand coming out the middle only to be blasted off seconds later. Tristan cursed again then retracted his arm stump and glared at the responsible drone that fired upon him. He spat, “You dirty little cheat.”

Without wasting too much time, he bolted to the next one. The drones fired, forcing him into a zigzag pattern as he drew near. When just a foot away, he jumped and kicked its side. It plowed with surprising force it dented then collided with the other where the two drones exploded. Tristan was breathing hard on the landing. His internal temperature was rising with the activity causing a dangerously wicked grin to crack across his lips. His figure slowly rose from his crouched position upon landing.

Just then, thankfully, came a welcome distraction. One of the LEGIONnaires was addressed by Dr. Parkmen, who seemed to have recovered enough from earlier to contribute. He directed another drone toward him.

”Well, as you can see, the enemy has reinforcements,” mentioned the drone closest to Jacob. ”Right now, my prime self is inside, trying to locate Racheli and extract her, but… it’s not going as well as I’d like. There one meta in particular inside giving me hassle. Magicians…” he growled.

”What we need to do now is to keep the enemy from getting into the building,” mentioned the other drone. ”If they get inside, things become that much more complicated.”

”What we need now is chaos- disrupt the enemy lines, keep them from getting into the facility. Think you can do that, Doctor?”

Hydro listened to the robot intently nodding. ”I could physically block the door if you want? Like freeze my body and stop them getting in? Or do you want a hand with this pyromaniac?” Hydro absorbed more moisture from the air become even larger than he was originally.

”I mean you chuck water over a fire to put it out. Right?”

”As logical as that sounds, no. He seems to literally be composed of some sort of thermite substance- water would only exacerbate the issue, and most likely kill you, as well. I need you to stay mobile- these troops have weapons with unusual properties. The plant kid’s creations wither whenever they get hit by them. If all else fails, then yes, block the entrance entirely. Maybe your new ice abilities can resist whatever effects their weapons have on you. For now, just make ‘em suffer. Knock their weapons out of their hands, trip them up, whatever you can do to confuse them further than they already are.”

Evergreen looked up at hearing new voices and one look over revealed that Hydro had joined the fray, causing him to breath a small sigh of relief. “Thank goodness for small miracles…” He turned towards the army of soldiers as more and more seemed to pour in and march on his position, “You lot should really pack up now and go home…” In response, one of the soldiers fired their dart gun, causing him to rise up a wall of vines to block it, only to watch as they withered away.

“...Not gonna listen, eh?” Jaden looked down for a moment as he pitied these poor folk for seemingly throwing their lives away for nothing. “...Not a single one of you plan to listen…alright then. If that is your wish…” He looked up, his eyes now a brighter shade of green than before. “...Let’s go...Gaia!”

From his chest emerged the green light from before and for a moment, if one looked closely they might see a small pixie-like creature within the light whom opened her eyes and caused the remaining plants in the area to start flying towards their position. The pixie-like creature vanished back into Evergreen as their entire body began bursting with green energy. Their form seeming to stretch out and warp and twist, as if something else was taking over, when it settled...well..

The figure was humanoid in many ways with smooth arms and legs with some sort of white and green gown covering their entire form. They wore some sort of top that looked more akin to armor on their top half and the sleeves coming to cover the top parts of their hands. Their attire looked to be a mix of plants of all breeds as did their hair which flowed down their back with flowers blooming on the sides of their head. Finally, eyes opened on its face which seemed somewhat feminine in design as a green eye mask covered their face, the edges sharpening like horns.

The entity looked down at their hands for a moment...as the goons surrounding them fired off all their darts at the same time...only for the figure to morph into a cloud of leaves and vanish. Before they knew what was happening, a bunch of vines shot from the ground and ensnared them all. Even larger roots ripped from the earth and started flipping over trucks though avoiding hurting anybody. The ground tore itself open as oversized flowers rose up and their petals began rotating at high speeds, blowing powerful winds to knock the other soldiers off their feet.

The figure reformed on top of one of their plants and the voice that spoke now was...oddly feminine, “You know, I was starting to wonder if you would ever let me join the fun, my dear champion..”

Their eyes suddenly narrowed as they looked off somewhere else and a male voice was heard, “Gaia, this isn’t the time. Can we please focus on stopping this madness before a certain IDIOT decides to start shooting up the place again?” The figure then leaped off and went to work.

Another soldier jerked a flash bang from his vest then pulled the pin, his arm tossed back then let it fly. Several more applied suppressive fire upon the dress wearing hero whose looks had taken on a more feminine appeal. Light bursted out of their muzzles then began to pellet several plants and the target with darts, several of the support which Gaia had created crumbled back into their original shape while they turned their focus on Evergreen. Behind them, loud roars of gun fire deafen several as Icarus’ drones zipped around to create mayhem. One of the trucks that had been driven closer went up in flames suddenly with a huge bang. The remains were nothing but twisted metal and fire, no one within thankfully.

”Kill me? Been sometime since i’ve ever been worried about dying. These powers are as much of a curse as they are, can have their perks. Well I’ll try my best at least. One inconvenience coming up!”

Saluting the drone Hydro’s body melted into the ground. The large puddle moved slowly towards the entrance of the building become larger and larger until it covered most of the courtyard. The soldier paid little attention the large volume of water at their feeting splashing through it to carry out their orders. Once Hydro was sure he had enough of the area covered to cause the maximum amount of nuisance he spoke. His voice echoing from the ground.

”Remember my name evil doers.”

The large puddle of water hardened turning the courtyard into an ice rink. Several of the soldier lost their footing due to the sudden change in the ground, sliding gracelessly across the slippery surface. The soldier quickly adapted to the change in the ground. Hydro smiled instantly his voice once again echoing from the ice.

”It’s Hydro!” The courtyard was filled suddenly with spikes of varying sizes that erupted from the ground. Some of the less fortunate soldiers feet were skewered, though Hydro was careful not to kill any of them. The menacing spikes shifted when the soldiers tried to destroy them, repairing themselves and herding them off the ice. Hydro surveyed his work through a particularly large spike. The entire courtyard in front of the building was now a spiked minefield slowing the advance of the soldiers and in some places even cutting them off.

”Do you think that’s enough? Should slow them down right?”

Helping each other, the soldiers quickly cleared the field. It wasn’t easy as several were badly wounded and bleeding out, through many of the wounds looked nonlethal. Oddly enough the being controlling the water turned ice had allowed the injured men to make it back through the makeshift mine field as long as they didn’t go forward toward the building entrance. Being patched up, one of the men took a grenade and pulled pin. His arm wound back then fling it as far into the spiked field as possible. It sailed over a few spikes before being stopped in mid-air by one and came tumbling down into the ground.

In seconds it exploded sending ripples through the ice.

Hydro was amused at the men as they tried to breach the spiked field he had laid before them. He was not heartless monster and coerced those who were injured and allowed them free passage to safely. However the grenade had caught him by surprise. The high pitched noise the grenade made disturbed Hydro greatly. He cried in surprise as he felt his body rippling . The ice field became chaos spikes appearing at random, some even shattering. Hydro detached himself from the field and staggered away.

The field instantly stopped deforming but Hydro couldn’t risk another lucky hit. Shouting towards the drone he said. ”That’s the best I can do I’m afraid. Can’t risk having my body splattered again. Should slow them down in the meantime though.”

Gabriel’s attention diverted from the magma man meta when he registered the unique keening of a sonic weapon of some sort, sending ripples across the battlefield, and especially affecting his liquid ally, rendering him unable to continue the fight for now. Gabriel’s mouth twisted in displeasure, but he had to let Jacob go- it was too much of a risk for him to stay here.

”Don’t worry about it, Ja-- er, Hydro!” shouted the drone nearest to the good doctor. ”Fall back, try and clear our escape as much as possible- my prime is almost at the objective!”

He began directing his drones to surround the Ironworks, covering entrances and key defensive weaknesses that someone might try and take advantage of. He aimed them all outward, taking potshots at anyone who grew too close. He directed a drone to each of his allies, broadcasting his voice and intentions to them.

”Hold on for just a little longer, then we can retreat with my friend. Don’t take any unnecessary risks, and keep our escape routes clear. I leave it to you- just buy me a little more time!”

Huh...he keeps this up and MAYBE I won't reprimand him once this whole mess is over with… Evergreen mentioned to his/herself, in relation to Hydro’s efforts, as he called up a wall of trees with one hand to block the onslaught of flash bangs and darts. His construct started to collapse...only for them to raise their hands and clap loudly, sending a massive blast of air that turned the falling wall into a rain of projectiles that knocked the soldiers off their feet.

He spotted the drone coming up to them and relaying the message. The entity nodded its head, “Understood, we’ll buy you as much time as we can, but please try to hurry.”

They turned and shifted the density of their body as they stomped the ground, releasing an even more powerful shockwave that hit all the soldiers on the other side of them and sent them flying like bean bags. With a mere thought, the earth ripped itself open as dozens, if not hundreds, of flowers suddenly emerged from the bowels, only the size of footballs with long stringy legs and eyes in their faces.

The swarm quickly scurried across the field towards the militia who tried to use flash bangs and shoot them with darts and although they managed to get several, a good number of them were quickly overwhelmed as the living flowers leaped into the air and latched onto them, some began spewing out a gaseous substance that would eventually lull them to sleep.

Sensing something behind him/her, they stood their with their back turned, "...I was beginning to wonder when you would take notice of me..." They looked over their shoulder at the approaching Tristan to address him, "...I don't suppose you can be convinced to just call it a night and go home, Mr...?"

“Tristan and it’s rather to hard to ignore someone in my way. Especially a guy in a dress.” Tristan stated, his hand fully recovered and getting his second wind. His figure seemed to resonate heat from a few inches off his person and burn the very air around him, his eyes glowing a strong orange thanks to the light casted off his figure. One could only imagine what touching his flesh might’ve been like. His hands raised to his side as he let flames collect and condense into a small ball about the size of a major league baseball. His lips smirked with enjoyment nearing manic.

“Let’s dance.” He tossed a flaming ball at Evergreen/Gaia as he jerked to the side, his steps leaving blacken steps where his legs carried him.

Evergreen could feel their eye twitching at the mention of being referred to as “a guy in a dress”. Seeing the fireball incoming, they called up one of the trees which used itself as shield before he suddenly began backpedaling away, hands transforming into flower cannons as its hair strands also rose up to fire off bullet seeds at the menace before them.

Their senses reached out, hoping to bring to the surface any sorts of trees that were resistant to flames. However, it would take time for this to work, so they knew they would have to tough it out for the time being. They aimed their flower cannons and began shooting more of those explosive grapes, only this time aiming towards using their sticky sap in order to impede Tristan’s progress. Evergreen would do all they could to buy Gabriel the time he needed to save Racheli.

Tristan held out his hands. Flames came forward and incarnated the seed as he felt a slight pain on his shoulder, his head turned to briefly acknowledge the cut across his coat. It went deep causing blood to be drawn and seep into the ground. He frowned and turned up the heat another notch, inhaling deeply. His head looked up in time to see several purple colored bullets coming at him forcing him to erect a defense as he side stepped, a hardened magma shield placed between him and the exploding grapes. Their juices dripped and fell to the ground creating a sticky situation that clung to his shoes, tangling him up. After a few moments of the heat being applied, the sticky threads fell away and burned to a crisp.

His figure rushed forward with shot to the gut while he tossed out his second fireball, the blaze rushing to catch any organic bullets fired at him.

Evergreen narrowed their eyes at seeing how this juggernaut just was not going to stop. Of course, maybe he should’ve expected this. After all, the dude was made of frekkin lava! The number of things that can even scratch an individual like that could quite
Likely be counted on one’s hands. He was at a major disadvantage and knew it...but this was not the time for doubts, even as they felt their air around them heating up.

They knew they couldn’t be on the defensive forever...so they decided to try a different tactic. The earth ripped itself open as multiple trees shot up like makeshift shields to hopefully slow down the entity. With a nod, the giant flowers that doubled as wind turbines turned and began blowing wind at high speeds in Tristan’s direction.

With but another thought, Evergreen’s entire density and composition changed, giving them incredibly strong and flame-resistant bark. Their fists changing shape into massive clubs, as did their hair, they reared back...and stomped the earth, sending out a massive shockwave before rushing towards them, enduring the heat even as part of their makeshift armour got scorched, and proceeded to lay into their opponent with a barrage of rapid-fire jabs and crushing blows.

Tristan immediately darted to the side, narrowly missing the first tree that sprouted upright. His shoulder still stung while he pushed past and tried to blow him back with high winds. The man’s figure hunched down and gripped the ground, burning in to find purchase. His teeth gritted and his heat fed, but his figure getting no closer. Suddenly one of the Gene Co soldiers tossed a grenade into the nearest propeller. The rotating petals impacted with the explosive and quickly died, taking off the head of the first target and several others nearby.

They crumbled into topless stalks as the wind died. However their roots raised and created a shockwave, sending him hitting the ground hard. In the background an EMP was set off. It waved into the air and all around, disabling the drones almost instantly. They fell from the air and rained down as nothing more than shells.

“I'm no millionaire
But I'm not the type to care
'Cause I've got a pocketful of dreams”

“It's my universe
Even with an empty purse
'Cause I've got a pocketful of dreams”

The Cowl sung softly to himself as he drifted through the hallways, swinging around his goons as they sprinted off to defend the front, reaching in his coat to pull out a handheld detonator. The remote charges were set all around the building, key passages now booby trapped for the unwelcome visitors as well as many spots within the large processing room covering Racheli’s position. The Cowl had memory on where most of the mines were and carefully organized detonators on his perso. Of course, he did not leave her without assurance either, the chains supporting her also sporting explosives in case he needed to rid the evidence before he made his way up to the second story of the Ironworks.

But explosives were not the only trick the Cowl had laid around the building. This was far more than one’s average Ironworks building. Guns were hidden under every workbench and conveyor belt, lockers in the changing rooms stowed with explosives, even vents specially designed to fill rooms with poisons or chemicals. Tricks and traps littered this Ironworks, after years upon years of using this place as a safehouse and armory, with every little nuance memorized in the back of the Cowl’s head to utilize with deadly efficiency.

And all he had to do was get to the control room, it overlooked the room he had put Racheli in, and if he could maneuver it right, he could utilize the tools placed in the room to further impede the intruders.

“I wouldn't take the wealth of Wall Street
For a road where nature trods
And I calculate that I'm worth my weight
In goldenrods.”

“Lucky, lucky me
I can live in luxury
'Cause I've got a pocketful of dreams”

At the top of the stairs, the Cowl swerved a corner, making a roundabout path that overlooks the front grounds before circling back to the control room. Along this pathway, he snagged a fire extinguisher from its holster pulling another explosive from his pocket in one smooth motion. It was a smaller explosive, one more akin to blowing out a handle on a door rather than blowing a hole in a tank, but from what the Cowl seemed to intend, he didn’t need much of a detonator. He laid the small explosive upon the extinguisher, keeping the device close by his person as he made his way to the windows.

Of course, that is not all he planned on his trip down to the control room, as there was a janitorial closet with a much bigger surprise waiting for the heroes fighting outside. Ducking quickly into the oversized closet, the kingpin took a few seconds looking over the mundane equipment before pulling on a rather dirty looking broom, causing an audible click to echo through the small chamber, causing the back wall to vibrate and shudder, dust falling off of it as the wood paneling was swept aside, revealing the armory laid behind it. A plethora of high-tech guns on display, all accented by a lovely white backlight as the weapons came into view. Incendiary grenades, hand-held EMPs, even a nicely polished Desert Eagle and a pair of Colt 1911s with a m4a1 assault rifle to back it up.

But none of those tools compared to the The Accuracy International AW50 anti-tank rifle hanging above them. One of The Cowl’s personal acquisitions while running guns through the city, he made sure to save a couple for himself, after all, it was situations like this that made weapons like that come in handy.

“Oh, I'm no millionaire
But I'm not the type to care
'Cause I've got a pocketful of dreams”

“It's my universe
Even with an empty purse
'Cause I've got a pocketful of dreams”

The Cowl could hear his goons being torn apart below, he’d have to pick up the pace. Making his way past window, he took the brief moment to make out what was occurring outside. A fierce battle had erupted, broken drones, bleeding men, and a sea of overgrown trees now decorated the battlefield that was once the factory grounds. Old warehouse equipment and container were shattered and lain across the cracked Earth, accented by broken bits of metal. It was clear from what he could see that the metallic foe Odette had engaged earlier had made his presence known, and due to the fact The Cowl could not currently see him, he could only make the conclusion that the technologically advanced hero had actually made his way into the building. Normally this would not be an issue with GeneCo on the scene, but they were currently being held off by what looked like a wall of overgrown trees, headed by some earthen monstrosity now engaged in heavy combat with what looked to be a man made of fire.

The smart man Cowl was, he could deduce that Jacqueline had sent him as metahuman backup to try and cut a hole to get to Racheli, she had fortunately listened to him when he said that there would be an intense conflict. Unfortunately, it did not seem to be enough, the overgrowth was keeping them out, leaving him to deal with the metallic intruder.

“I wouldn't take the wealth of Wall Street
For a road where nature trods
And I calculate that I'm worth my weight
In goldenrods”

It did not take him long to get to the control room from the janitor’s console, luckily the Cowl could see that the main processing room had not been busted through, Racheli still being positioned far in the back over the aerial kiln, the few men he placed still in position. However, there was not much more time left, the metallic man was well on the way and the Cowl had mere moments to prepare.

With no time to waste, the Cowl got straight to work, accessing the control console that overlooked the large production facility Racheli was dangling over after putting the fire extinguisher down right at the back end of the room, where someone could come up from the ground floor. He quickly took note of the second floor room, seeing the exits, reminding himself of the molotov cocktails safely tucked away in a nearby cabinet in case they needed to burn the place down for insurance money, as well as the loose wiring in a nearby circuit breaker with a water pipe not too far off, ways to protect himself and maneuver others into bad situations. Flipping several switches, the Ironworks came to life, humming, whirring, and buzzing into production. His fingers gliding over the control panels with the muscle memory only a kingpin would have, a blur of movement and planning to continue trapping the room. The aerial kilns began to groan and creak as they were moved, setting Racheli in a minefield between several other kilns, with some clever maneuvering skills, he may be able to drop one of the kilns on an unsuspecting metal man’s head. A few more keys pressed, machinery groaned and hummed as they were moved into position, several pipes on the ground floor began to actually move and shudder. In a few seconds, they burst, The Cowl intentionally causing a bit of damage to cover the ground floor with just a bit of water. He was making the area as hazardous as he could without intentionally blowing the building sky high.

There was not much time left, the metallic man was already just around the corner judging by the light show that was being emitted from the farthest exit. The Cowl took his anti-tank rifle off of his shoulder, getting low so as not to give himself away when the man entered the room. While he had placed explosives on the entrances, he knew he wouldn’t have the timing to hit this one if the man came in at full force, so it may better be used as a sealant. Opening one of the windows overlooking the room, he pushed the large rifle’s barrel just barely out of the windowsill, enough to get a clear shot of the two entrances to the room, but not enough to give away his position.

The anti-tank rifle was his best shot, all he needed was the right opportunity to use it.

“Lucky, lucky me
I can live in luxury”

It has felt like it has been forever since I could just relax and not worry about some weirdo trying to achieve his twisted plans. Today, I can just lay in my bed and sleep in. Sure, classes will be starting back up on Monday, but I don’t have that much homework to finish before my first class. When you have been thrown into the hectic world of superhumans, you learn to appreciate the mundane things in your life. You might not regularly think about it, but it is surprisingly soothing to hear your roommates stammering around your apartment since you know that it could be far worse, like a supervillain. Or a certain Goddess of Wisdom.

“I see that you’re actually liking the garments that I made for you, despite your clear chagrin at their creation that you expressed yesterday.”

Why did I have to jinx myself? Why could I not have thought anyone else, like Icon or Lyger? Heck, I would almost take that playboy millionaire or that psycho who attacked me in his attempt to determine whether I was the shapeshifter. Almost.

She was obviously referring to what use to be one of my best pairs of yoga pants that now could easily fit my arachnid lower body frame. Even though you sometimes see centaurs and such not always wearing clothing over their equine half, it still feels wrong in reality. Since they’re the only thing besides my new superhero costume that I could wear on my lower half, my decision to wear them are more out of necessity. And they still feel like yoga pants, so at least they have that going for them.

Athena stood beside my bed, holding in her arms about two or three more pairs of pants, if you could call them pants, that were similar to the ones I was wearing at the moment. However, it seems like Athena had learned from her first mistake when she made the first pair by using new pairs of pants rather than ones that I already have. She then walked over to my dresser and set them on top of it.

“So, where are you dragging me this time?”

“Nowhere for today. Every heroes needs her day of rest.” Well that’s a first. I’m actually quite surprised by Athena’s response, although I’m definitely not complaining.

“Well, if that’s the case, maybe you could take me somewhere where I want to go. You have dragged me into a demon invasion…”

“They were not daemons. Those were interdimensional beings that originated from a realm that resembles what modern-day Christians would describe as Hell. Early Christians were the ones who corrupted that original term designated for gods.”

“And into that whole situation with that fake Greek god.” I continued, ignoring Athena’s brief discursion on the origin of the word ‘demon’. “I also wouldn’t be surprised if you had been pulling some of the strings to get me involved with the whole Pax Metahumana crisis, too.”

“What do you have in mind.” Athena furrowed her brow, not wanting to giving a blank check to me quite yet.

“Well, I have promised a guy that I would go on a date with him and since he lives out-of-state, your assistance would make things a little bit more convenient.”

“Wait, is this the same guy whom that alternate reality version of yourself set you up on a Skype conversation? Where did the interest all the sudden come from?”

I just shrugged my shoulders as my response to her question. Soon, I realized that that was not the type of answer she was looking for. The next thing I knew, Athena was standing right next to my bed again. She first placed the back of her hand against my forehead, as if she was checking if I was running a temperature. Then, she grabbed my jaw with her hand and jerked my head from side to side as if she was looking for something in my face. After she was done with that, she stepped back and finally spoke.

“I’ll be back.” She then disappeared right before my eyes. I have to say, this is the weirdest I have ever seen Athena act. And this is coming from a woman who has been dragged around like a pawn by this Greek Goddess. After waiting a minute or two, I was about ready to climb out of bed when Athena suddenly returned.

“Fine.” Athena said with a furrow brow. It was obvious that she was not liking any of this for whatsoever reason. Why? How am I supposed to know? I’m still trying to figure out why she has picked me out of all the people in the world.

“Well, since he lives out west, I still have a couple hours to get ready. So will you be ready in a few hours?” I began to pull off the covers from myself. From my past experience, useless I basically cocoon myself in my sheets and comforter, if I happen to rollover in my sleep, my spider legs would take the sheets with them, leaving me sleeping on top of my covers. And during the winter, that kind of sucks.

“Fine.” Athena replied in the same tone as her first response had been.

“So, what should I wear? Decisions. Decisions.”



Aphrodite soaked unblemished skin in a pool beside her abode on Olympus as he son, Eros, sat at the water’s edge. They both were focusing their attention at a cloud that was showing the Goddess of Love what was currently happening in Lost Haven, particularly her hand-picked avatar was doing. Christopher Arthur was facing three renegade gods who somehow disguised themselves as metahuman villains and recruited a mortal to their cause. Aphrodite pondered whether she should ask her lame husband to help turn the tides in their avatar’s favor or if she herself should become involved. However, when it became apparent that some of the other heroes of Lost Haven were also aware of the carnage that these rebels were causing and would soon be able to assist the Iron Knight. The laws of the Athanatoi is rather clear on those who step out of line. The punishment is eternal suffering or, if possible, death.

Suddenly, a thunderbolt struck down upon the ground. Where the bolt scorched the earth, Athena appeared. Her face hinted at a bottled up anger and the tone of her voice as she addressed the Goddess of Love confirmed it.

“Whore of the Gods and Stain of Great Zeus’ linage! It is clear to me why Hesiod claimed that you were born from the castration of Ouranos! I demand that you reverse what you have done to my pupil! I can clearly see the symptoms of your handiwork and it disgusts me!”

“That’s about how I expected a Daddy’s Girl to act, thinking that everything should go her way.” Aphrodite told her half-sister as she examined the tips of her fingers as if she was expecting them to have become prune, despite her immortal body’s natural resistance against such phenomena.

“The Genetrix of Rome and mother of Aeneas calling someone a Daddy’s Girl? What irony. I bet Hera herself would scoff at the very thought.”

“Anyways, it’s not like you could do anything about what I did. It has been centuries since the last time I could mess with the mortals. Since Zeus has given us some leeway due to the coming storm, I just couldn’t help myself.”

Athena glared at her half-sister, the Goddess of Love. She then shoved her hand with her index finger extended in front of Aphrodite’s face as she spoke. “If you ever again mess with my pupil, I will by the River Stix screw over your chosen hero.”

“And I would just screw yours in response. And like always, it just becomes a vicious cycle. Do you really want that to happen?” Aphrodite replied as she pushed Athena’s hand away from her face.

Athena was obviously not satisfied with her half-sister and her actions. However, she knew that she could not do anything to the Goddess of Love. Even though Athena was Zeus’ favorite, the Father of Gods and Men would not allow his children fight amongst themselves, or at least in direct hostility. No one wanted another Trojan War on their hands. And the unity of the Athanatoi was even more vital because of the harrowing predictions of the annals of fate.

“This isn’t over.” Athena barked before teleporting back to Aubrey’s apartment in Columbus.

“Of course.” Aphrodite muttered, knowing that Athena would not be able to hear her. She then turned to her son.

“Go find Apollo and bring him to me. I have use of him.”

Dennis looked away from his grizzled grandfather. He had this way of making him feel smaller and lesser than anybody else on this earth.

Especially when he referenced his brother, Sean.

He looked back and once again was trapped in the old man’s gaze. “OK! But turn that damn thing off. It’s scaring the hell out of me!”

Dennis looked at his shoes. “You sent me out to fight demons and THAT thing scares me. Good God… Can’t just let me take on a bunch of nutcase terrorists. Have to find the biggest, darkest monster in the yard and say ‘Hey! Dennis! You’re still learning the ropes! Why don’t you go piss in this big terrifying monster’s cereal? That’s a wonderful idea! I’m sure you can take him. Or at least maybe he won’t chew up the Golden Rod too bad that I can’t give it to somebody else!’”

Then a warm thought crossed his mind. “Hey, who knows. Maybe we won’t even be able to find the god foresaken thing anyway…”

Dennis raised his head. “Ugh. I thought I told you to turn it off.” He winced as he saw the beast slam a half dozen innocent people into a building where they lay in a pulpy, crumpled heap.

“I did. Does that look like the Fieldhouse to you?”

Dennis’ face took on a dreadful pallor. “Oh God! That’s the—“

“Macys. The one 5 blocks from here.” The old man lobbed Dennis the Golden Rod. “You’re up.”

Dennis caught the amazing device and donned his leather jacket and flight goggles whilst still in a state of shock.

“Don’t let it kill you. Don’t let it kill anybody else. And take it down. In that order.” His grampa commanded as Dennis ran out the door.

As if that was a simple request. ‘Dennis, go down the corner store and picks up some milk, eggs and a newspaper.’ ‘Dennis, go fight the monster that obliterated Lost Haven Central PD and nobody else has been able to stop, don’t die, don’t let anyone else die, oh… and beat it.’

‘This is why Old Folks Homes exist.’ Dennis thought to himself as he took to the sky. As if anybody could ever get the ornery old bastard into one.



Fortunately the short flight from his Lost Haven home to the scene of the massacre-in-progress didn’t give him much time for panic. There was no mistaking the scene. Bloody, battered bodies strewn across the pavement, 4 beasts of varying degrees of humanity and ghoul and fortunately the authorities were starting to move on in.

Not the police either. Not for something like this. They wouldn’t be nearly enough. The distinctive uniforms of a government peace-keeping force called STRIKE that his grandfather had told him about.

And floating down onto the scene was a familiar figure that Dennis had seen before on the television. The prodigious Iron Knight, making his own ostentatious entry. He was much like Dennis in his own way as well. Not a metahuman. Just the wielder of a magnificent weapon.

Sure, Iron Knight was the inventor of his own weapon; a billionaire genius who knew his tool perfectly… but who wants to split hairs?

“Good evening. As the unofficially designated representative of this city of Lost Haven, I order you to cease all superhuman activities and crawl back into whatever hellhole that spawned you or anyone that is most convenient for you.”

“Ah good. Someone who actually knows what he’s doing. I’ll let him take point and just help out in the background where I can.” Dennis thought to himself as he drifted down to a soft landing on the roof of a parked car.

Then the roof of the sedan buckled under his own weight.

Ka-Thump

The monster he would later know to be called the Cannibal King turned to the obnoxious sound of the unwelcome intruder and roared. Drawing the attention of some of the others.

“Ah. Crap.”

Mortis looked up at the vast mansion that contained his phylactery. He sent several of his ghouls to survey the perimeter as well as several smarter zombies to steal the blueprints to the house.

”The stench of old magic is strong here. Possibly a holy paladin or maybe a filthy mage lives here.” These words were like mud in his mouth illustrating his distaste he spat on the ground.

Raising his hands he began a to probe the building with his magic. His body now ethereal and smoke like seeped into the cracks of a window. The smoke spread through the corridors of the mansion checking every room for signs of life and strong magics. Finally he found it. His eyes opened and his body reformed in front of the door to the master study. Running his fingers along the frame of the door. A simple trap had been laid that would alert the master of the house to his presence should he cross the threshold. Dispelling the simple spell he pushed the door open which swung inward soundlessly.

Gliding into the room he looked around it, his eyes easily penetrated the darkness. There were many trophy around the room he could take, a simple sweep with his hand and learn the entire history of an object.. A holy paladin's sword said to have slain a dragon the blade was drenched in its blood imbuing it with a never dulling blade and a cut that sets foes ablaze. Mortis was not a sword person and as it was a holy relic he could not touch it. He moved towards the bookcase he could feel the pull now, though it was dampened by some sort of barrier. The call of his soul to his body was still there and no amount of magic could hide it’s location from him. He was through being silent. Skeletal hands came from the ground grabbing the bookcase and tearing it from the wall. In its place was a hidden door which he promptly ripped from it hinges using the same skeletal hands which disappeared in a puff of black smoke. Gliding forward he entered the doorway and descended into the belly of the mansion.

The passageway led to the master more forbidden trophies. He glanced at them as he moved through the room. The arm of a dead witch still imbued with her hatred and power,the crown of thorns worn by Jesus himself, a horn of a long banished demon the whispers of the demons emanating from it with a menace and hatred he had never known and finally as he reached the edge of the room his phylactery. The book was nothing special and out of all the items here it was out of place. He reached towards it pedestal and plucked it from the book stand. He had found it at last. Stashing it safely away inside his robe he turned to depart the room however, he found himself unable to move. An armoured man appeared from the door to the study.

”Ah, one of the churchs silent knight I suppose?” The knight was silent as all of his order were, there tongues ripped from them at a young age to ensure obedience. Though the knight was silent he drew his sword settling into a dueling stance his sword pointing at Mortis.

Mortis chuckled softly. He watched the knight with curiosity his aura of coldness causing the knights breath to come out in puffs of smoke.

”Your bindings wont hold me knight." To illustrate his point he flexed his magical might the restraints shattering like broken glass. He raised his hands into the air calling his ghouls to him. He had inscribed runes on the ghouls skin that would allow them to bypass the mansions magical defensive. The sound of shattering glass filled the corridor behind the night who still stood facing Mortis. The ghouls he had made crashed into the knight who swiftly turned to face them slicing the first ghoul in two then the second and the third. However they quickly overpowered him with numbers pulling him to the ground and clawing at his armour, desperate to get at the flesh inside. Mortis laughed maliciously as the silent knight was bombarded by his ghouls. Floating through the door he left through the shattered windows and back to his lab. The loss of the ghouls had been a blow to his army but one that could be easily replace with time….

_{banner credit to Hellis}

---

Location: Inside Ironworks
Time: Present

Joseph raced down the corridor hoping to find a secluded area to begin working on larger feats of magic. He had gotten by with minor curses and basic enchantments, but given enough time and preparation, he could bring the whole building down on everyone except he and his commrades. Holt twirled in the air behind him, continuing to deflect the onslaught of gunfire.

After tedious weaving and dodging around beams, scaffolding, and machinery, the pair were fast approaching an empty space. Joseph peered through a shattered window from afar into a dimly lit room, likely an office or storage unit. He and Holt were at the door in an instant, barging through to escape their mundane assailants . . . but something was amiss.

No sooner had Joseph opened the door that he felt a sharp pain in his chest, followed by a quick rush that sent him spiraling to the floor. A heavy weight lay upon him as he struggled to break free, the pain intensifying, thick streams of blood now gushing from the open wound.

"AHH!" Joseph shrieked in pain, unable to move from his spot on the concrete floor. Something was on top of him, something or someone invisible to both he and Holt was slowly killing him, and he was helpless to stop it.

"Holt!" Joseph called out in desparation, the apparition appearing at his side as soon as he dropped to the ground. Holt tried for a moment to see beyond whatever illusion hid this spectral attacker, but to no avail. Judging from how it was stationed atop Joseph and how it seemed to resist his struggles, Holt assumed it to be humanoid, something tangible yet invisible.

The familiar flew just above Joseph's body and with an outstretched arm, beginning to claw at invisible assailant with great force. Though he could see nothing, he hoped that his swings would both wound the attacker and release Joseph from its grasp.

One of Holt's swings hit their mark, a grunt of pain echoed through the halls before the attacker managed to leap back. The invisible assassin has struck, but he had not stayed to reap the reprocussions. Although the familiar could feel the warmth of blood across his claws, the faint sounds of the assailant's footwork suggested this wound was superficial at best.

Odette ran hoping to catch Joseph. Glass littered through the hallways, burst pipes plummed steam hazing out her visability. Her air sprites zipped back and forth with constant updates. Gene Co had arrived attacking the intruders without hesitation engaging the Champion of Gaia and the Icarus drones. Unfortunately they were not in time to slow down Icarus from entering Ironworks.

"He certainly has my attention." Odette grumbled ducking past exposed wires. "Any updates on Specter's whereabouts?" She tossed the question out to the couple of sprites that had returned.

"None. He has disappeared." Small and wispy and nearly transluscent the air sprite responded. "The Cowl however is on the move. He seems to be preparing the exits."

"Keep an eye on him. How close is the metal man?" Odette replied rounding another corner.

Another sprite confirmed, "He is heading toward Racheli."

"I will have to deal with Joseph quickly then support the men with the Syndicate." The ballerina said quietly. Slowing to a jog she began to cast a locator spell then was hit with a wave of exhaustion that interrupted her spell. It caught her off guard. She shook her head to focus again, reaching into her purse she pulled out an apple taking a generous bite.

"I was beginning to suspect how long you were going to last. You have been extending yourself all day." Bach noted hints of concern in his tone, "Granted you have been careful. Should I expect you will need my assistance today?"

"I will handle the witch on my own. When his iron is taken care of then perhaps but not until then." Odette warned after swallowing.

"My Lady!" A hurried sprite flew nearly into the sorceress's nose. "Something has attacked the witch! He is suffering from a stab wound."

Odette took another bite of her apple not breaking pace. "What luck!"

Specter drew his fingers across the scratch left behind by his opponent, it had gone straight through his clothes and the bulletproof vest he wore underneath, but it only penetrated the skin enough to make a flesh wound. He put his hand over the wound, feeling the wet blood now staining his clothes. Hardly the worst wound he's ever received on a job, but nevetheless a severe warning that this 'witch' was not alone. Like him, there was an unseen ally he could not perceive. However, judging by the wound he had received, the invisible attacker could not get a visual on him either. This led to an interesting predicatment, this 'Holt' would be aware that he was attacking, but since neither foe could see one another, it was a matter of mind games to try and take another strike at the attacking witch.

And mind games were something Specter specialized in.

The metahuman hitman rounded a corridor, knowing the warehouse better than his opposition in an attempt to out-manuver them. He was to strike again from behind, biding his time while his opponent scanned the room for where he could be. Of course, Specter was now dealing with his invisible ally as well, who he could not accurately predict. Instead, he grabbed a stray peice of rebar from a nearby table as he passed around, getting back in view of the target. He thumbed the rebar in his hand, getting a feel for the weight and aerodynamics of the course metal as he eyed his enemy, who was now frantically searching for him. As soon as the opportunity struck, Specter let the stick fly with a flick of his wrist, sending the iron bar end over end through the air, crashing into a nearby production table and ringing off of the cement.

Nothing more than a distraction, but it would be hopefully enough. As soon as the rebar hit cement, Specter charged again, trying to drive his weapon deep into Joseph's ribs from behind, hoping the sound was enough to ignore the charging assassin.

Finally reaching the warehouse Odette slowly pushed the door ajar seeing the broken glass by the office and blood splattered across the ground. Footsteps and the noise caught her ears deeper into the warehouse. Past the machinery leading away from the Kilns the warehouse transitioned into tall shelves filled with various wooden pallets and wrapped with solid whites and clear plastic wrap surrounded her. Air sprites raced off ahead of her searching the area.

Flipping through the grimoire to a unique trap from what she used earlier. Searching into the office she found a rubberband ball squeezing it the yew symbol glowed over the ball. Words of Power drawled out of Odette as she anchored the spell willing it to activate when it came in contact with whoever it hit. When activated it would conjure a silvery web but it would be nearly impossible to cut. On contact it would start to eat away at any surface it gripped.

Odette assumed Specter must be responsible for attacking Joseph. She had always wondered what his ability was. The sudden noise of metal made her jump before rushing off to invesitgate she bent down to her shoes whispering a muffling spell on her feet. Then jogged on to invesitage the noise. Jogging down the length of the shelves with the air sprites investigating her eyes were peered.

Arriving to the end of the row she stood in front of a large open area with several workbenches with various amounts of metal strew across it. Catching the sight of Joseph she quickly ducked behind some desks peeking out to watch him struggle with his wounds. Earlier she had forced Holt to retreat from his physical form now just a strange hazy shade hung over Joseph like a strange shadow. Odette squinted Holt's shadow was fading in and out.

Joseph struggled to move. His chest was bleeding profusely, scarlet streams staining his clothes and leaving a trail on the floor. He grunted, unable to move much further.

"Th . . . the e-elixir . . ." Joseph called out weakly. Holt quickly shot down from his overhead position, fumbled through the duffle bag, and pulled out a tiny vial filled with a viscous, black liquid. This was a potent elixir made from demonic ichor. Joseph had foreseen such an injury and wanted to be prepared. The elixir would ease all pain and stop the bleeding, but it wouldn't fully heal the stab wound.

Joseph took the vial from Holt's claws and unscrewed the top, reavealing a tiny pipette. He let a drop or two of the black liquid fall into his wound, gasping sharply as it touched the exposed tissue and burned its way into Joseph's system. Soon, the pain had subsided and the blood had stopped, but Joseph was still vulnerable. Neither he nor Holt could see this invisible assassin making direct assaults useless.

Holt listened to the assailants footsteps as they sped down the hallway and turned sharply in the opposite direction at the sound of falling debris, but the familiar was not so easily fooled. Holt could tell this was deception, but even so, he couldn't read the Specter's motions.

"He wants to play tricks," Holt hissed, "so perhaps we should invoke a master of deception."

Joseph stood, caught offguard by both the cacophany of sounds and Holt's sugguestion.

"Are you sure?" Joseph knew the dangers of conjuring spirits as powerful and ancient as the one to which Holt was alluding. "I'm not sure I can keep him under control."

"What choice do we have?" Holt replied swiftly, circling Joseph and keeping alert.

Joseph nodded and quickly pulled from his bag a curious object, a large, oval stone inscribed with the first seal of Saturn. He took some of his blood from the ground and rubbed it over the seal, beginning the invocation:



As Joseph finished his chant, the oval stone began to shake violently in his hands until a large crack appeared on its side. From the cracks spilled forth an ethereal black tar. Out it came until a large, amorphous shape stood before the pair. At first, it was nothing, but soon the black pitch took the form of a giant snake, almost the size of ten men. It coiled around the two of them with elegance, its massive head turned in their general direction.

"How may I be of assistance?" the serpent spoke in a gutteral chthonic tongue, unreckognizeable to all but Holt, who imparted this knowledge upon Joseph.

"Deceive my enemies' eyes," he commanded Ouroboros with authority, not wanting to seem weak in front of the ancient spirit. The first seal of Saturn kept the serpent under his control, but only for as long as Joseph could maintain the spell that held it to this world. Things would have to speed up, else Ouroboros would become agitated.

The serpent nodded and began to hiss in the same arcane script, the strange sounds echoing throughout the ironworks, making a few of the guards cower just at the sound of it. Then, shadows began to move and dance, becoming nightmarish ghouls that would torment all whose will was weaker than the serpent's.

Odette saw the Ouroboros summoned squinting irritably at the spirit the dark illusions crept out in all directions. Bach whispered in French, "We may be able to interrupt the spell."

"A good idea but I have no real chance at controlling it. As I am, I'm not strong enough. There's still that iron to deal with first." Odette replied retreating away from the spell whispering a charm to keep her eyes clear.

The assassin made his approach right when the illusion struck, finding himself striking only at air. He had planned it all out, the distraction, the split-second timing, the point of impact, yet he found no mark at his destination, the dagger passing through only air. The witch was right in from of him, wasn't he? He looked again, it was as if the lights had flickered, the target was standing maybe a few feet to the right of where he was, now. Specter swung again with the knife, but to no avail, only passing through darkness.

Something was wrong, Specter could feel the cold chill as sounds echoed through the dusty warehouse, it was he who was now seeing things. Glimpses of spirits, specters roaming the cement structure, working as if the chaos had not erupted.

It was not real. Block it out, Specter thought, he had to block it out. He made his way back behind a desk, his brow furrowed in anxiety as the grip on his dagger turned his knuckles white. He was seeing things, it was a trick, it had to be, he couldn't see straight, as if he was in a fever dream, knocking a loose wrench to the floor as he ducked behind the desk, a sloppy maneuver that would give away his position. He didn't notice his error, too busy in his own mind to even acknowledge it. What was going on with him?

Odette's vision grew blurry and hazed the charm was battling against ancient magic even an masterful illusionist as herself stood little chance against the Ouroboros. Voices were encroaching, the wrench hitting the floor was clear as a bell, realizing that Specter must of been hit full force with the illusion. Blinking hard, throwing caution to the wind she stood from her hiding place. Not wasting any time she took careful aim with her rubberband ball trap then threw it directly at the serpent spirit.

Joseph jumped as Odette sprang from her hiding place among the desks and debris of the cluttered office. He could feel the power emenating from the mundane object, a trap of sorts. Ouroboros was an ancient thing, a being of immense power that would likely be unphased by any normal mystical traps, but Joseph couldn't take that chance. Ouroboros was his insurance, his one ounce of leverage. Without the serpent, Joseph and Holt were out manned.

With intense focus, Joseph stood and aimed the blasting rod at the trap, willing it to fall, miss, or fail. He channeled all the malice he had in him to combat Odette's magic, and surprisingly, it was a success. The magic held within the rubber ball became unstable, setting off the trap in mid air, silky webs clinging to the floor, ceiling, and adjacent furnishings, but Ouroboros, Joseph, and Holt remained free from the web's grasp.

This added layer of protection gave Joseph enough time to deal with the impending threat of the Specter. While he was battling unseen shadows and demons, Joseph would ensure that he couldn't get anywhere near them.

"Holt," Joseph commanded quickly, the familiar appearing before him in an instant. "The scratch you gave that assassin earlier, did you draw blood?"

Holt gave Joseph an ethereal smile, looking down at his smokey claws at the warm blood that still remained. "You're going to use it as a taglock, aren't you?"

"That's the plan," Joseph removed a few items from his bag: a small offering bowl, some Saint John's Wart, and a small match. Holt became tangible, allowing a few drops of the Specter's blood to fall into the bowl. Atop this, Joseph placed the dried herbs and lit the match. "Ignis per voluntatem disperdes inimicos meos." After he spoke these words, he dropped the match into the bowl and was met with a quick flash of light.

The spell would use the Specter's blood as a taglock, something to tie the spell to him. His being invisible made it difficult to work certain smaller magics upon him, but with a direct connection like blood, the spell was sure to succeed. Soon enough, sparks began to dance in the hallway near the Specter, a few of them igniting into raging fires. None yet touched the Specter, but the flames seemed to follow his movements, with larger fires building.

The assassin had little time to rest behind cover before the pipes nearby burst, letting harmful steam gush towards him. It took all the bearing he had to keep clear of the dangerous smoke, tumbling back into the main area of the room before having to leap away from a sparking control panel nearby. He was dextrous, but the sparks still singed his coat. The mage got him good, unable to esacpe, the poor assassin now found himself ducking and diving from every peice of loose metal as it nearly gored him, flames sporuting from nearby forges nearly igniting his suit. Between the illusions and the curse, there was little the assassin could do other than try to stay alive at this point.

A frown pulled at Odette's pink lips with a glare to match at her throw failing. His blasting rod challenged her luck boon directly. Annoyingly so. The illusion persisted on her mind, deciding to protect herself further in order to continue fighting. Opening her grimoire flipping through warding spells none of her favoured spells seemed to be strong enough to comabt the suffocating strength of the Ouroboros. The words across the page were beginning to change and darken while the charm barely held against the onslaught. The voices grew louder, invasive laughter that reminded her of starch Fey nobles.

Bach was concentrating through the same illusions although they had a different effect, the fear of the dark not present. "Focus, My Lady! You need to erect a ward if you have any hope of combating the Ouroboros."

"I am aware!" She replied squeezing her eyes shut trying to block away the noise.

_{Cry baby, frail and emotional.}

She stared wide eyed at the pages of her grimoire, attention held by those whispered words. Bach's beckoning faded to the background.

Little girl, weeping your big heart dry.

It was louder now a lump formed deep in her gut and her face grew hot. Reddening whenever she felt second hand embarrassment from her past. "No." She said quietly fighting against the illusion willing it away. "Not anymore..."

Words of Power tumbled out of her mouth, gibberish at first. Minutes passed as she desperately tried to gain traction. The words grew clearer as she repeated the spell scawled across the page. It was a ward against evil spirits, originally written to protect her against hostile Fey. Fell out of use when she had a powerful ward tattooed to her back. She drew on power from the arcane stream praying for its assistance. Blue light outlining her hands the voices quieting as the ward began to form as a bubble around the caster.

_{Fall apart cry baby. Poor little cry baby.}

The voices continued to recede while the haze around her vision cleared. The bubble of the ward wrapped in several layers around her person visible to the likes of Joseph and the Ouroboros.

Expending her reserves of energy the sorceress pushed on with a clear head calmly turning pages to her next plan of attack. "You have showed your hand and revealed your bag of trinkets, Witch."

Her eyes spied the seal at Joseph's feet glowing red with his blood recognizing it she figured it must of been what he used to summon the spirit. She licked her thumb turning another page. A risky plan, to release the Ouroboros could mean more trouble for her but if it turned on its master she would be in luck.

Speaking in Common Fey to the air sprites, "My spies, I need you to get ahold of the seal." Each of the sprites came fluttering around her in fear the illusion of the Ouroboros affecting them as well. In her hand a blue pool of syrupy magic formed on the back of another warding spell this time made especially to protect and boost Fey magic. "Use this to protect yourselves. A dob on your forehead and in your mouth to eat. I need that seal, wait until the witch is distracted."

They nodded taking the mixture gratefully, steeling themselves for the challenge. Air sprites were smart and easy to communitcate with but they lacked severely in boldness. Bach hopped into her hand copying the sprites in a similar manner taking the last of it.

Rising to her toes she began chanting words of power as she danced on the spot. Rings of light appeared similiarly to when she fought the White Witch and Joseph earlier that day. Large cracks in the cement floor shuddered the ground omniously, the cracks sped toward the Ouroboros. The floor opened up beneath the large spirit the deconstruction of the floor making the ground uneven. Pushing large chunks up behind the spirit while several feet of the ground in front of it fell away. Odette hoped to bring it crashing down right into her trap.

The serpent shifted uncomfortably as the floor began to rumble and shake. Ouroboros looked furiosly at Odette, hissing at her in his chthonic tongue.

"Insolent witch!" he yelled, lashing out in her direction with supernatural speed, bearing sharp fangs dripping with demonic venom.

Without a second thought her heels clicked activating the jump enchantments in her feet she sprung from her spot landing gracefully within a few feet of her trap ready for another lunge from the giant snake. The sprites flew bearing down on Joseph nearly a dozen of them flew around his head while a few others went for the seal.

Joseph swatted at the bothersome sprites as did Holt. His iron ring came into contact with a few, the others falling back for fear of being poisoned. However, Joseph hadn't noticed the sprites crowding around the seal that held Ouroboros to this world, and when the bulk of them had fallen back, they took with them the magical seal.

Ouroboros continued his assault on Odette, hissing again to stir up the shadows and shades.

She dodged the fangs the best she could bouncing around, physically the sheer size of the spirit was terrifying enough. The illusions however were insidious, the voices came back in full force upon her in spite of her ward. With her last dodge she passed through the webs of her trap effortlessly arriving on the other side holding her hand out where the sprites successful in nabbing the seal dropped the stone. Her hand burned brightly with blue light as she tore into the magics of the stone. Tearing the seal apart with every word of power she uttered.

As soon as she did so, the Ouroboros came to a halt. Joseph and Holt hadn't noticed that the seal had been broken and were, of course, quite surprised to see the ancient spirit acting of its own volition.

"Ouroboros!" Joseph commanded the great serpent, but to no avail. There he stood, a great, untamed beast. It took both parties a moment to realize what had just happened. Shortly thereafter, Joseph looked down at his feet to find that the seal that held the spirit under his control was no longer there. In fact, it was in pieces at Odette's feet.

"No . . .," Joseph looked at Odette with true terror, enough to make everyone else in the room shudder. "NO!" He cried again, directing Holt at the same time. The familiar quickly took Joseph in his arms and, with a great force, tossed him at Odette. Joseph figured she was off guard enough that he could make a final assault with his iron ring. In a second, he was upon her, right arm gripping at her exposed skin, but in that same second, he realized that he had made a grievous error.

The force and weight of Joseph knocked her off her feet but his hand wearing the iron ring gripped her wrist. Watching his expression fall a thousand miles at his realization of the iron having no affect had her smiling wickedly. "I was so hoping you would make that mistake."

Using the end of her elbow she swung it up under his chin knocking him off her. Regaining her stance she began chanting Words of Power once again allowing pure energy surround her hands. Stepping forward she slammed her foot against his chest, the hit sent him reeling straight into the Ouroboros.

The serpent elegantly caught the witch with one end of his tail, setting him down gently and coiling around him so that none, not even Holt, could see.

"My, my," spoke the serpent in his Otherworldly tongue, "how the mighty have fallen. You, Joseph Mather, son of Increase, among the oldest of your kind, and here you are, a failure."

Joseph looked away, eyes welling up with tears. He feared what was to come, but he prayed that perhaps he might be spared.

Ouroboros continued, "You knew the danger in bringing me here in such a way. Bound by that profane symbol, so uncivilized. My kind much prefer offerings and sacrifice, proper greetings and introductions, but instead you lowered yourself to this, the practices of those disgusting medieval sorcerers. You must feel so ashamed . . ." The Ouroboros patronized Joseph endlessly, staring into his very being, his venemous breath inching closer to the witch as he spoke.

"P-please . . ." Joseph let out a tired whimper, unable to maintain composure. This was his last chance to make an impression, to become all that he could not in his past, if he were to go out, it should be with dignity, but in this moment, there was none.

"How long have you lived?" questioned the serpent, "three-hundred and fifty years? And in all that time what have you done? You shadowed a lesser demon, doing his bidding without question, and you would have done so for eternity because you are a follower, a weeping servant, a common slave. You dare to call my name, dare to assume control over me, you who has nothing, and no one, no true power. You are no witch, Joseph Mathers. A witch is wise. You are a fool, and now, you have earned a fool's death."

The Ouroboros coiled tightly around Joseph's body, leaving him helpless, defensless. Holt tried to aid him, feeling the serpent's grip tightening around Joseph's body, but his presence was nothing compared to Ouroboros. The serpent lifting its head, exposing the deadly fangs dripping with demonic poison. In a flash, the serpent bit down on Joseph's abdomen, piercing his body, leaving him a bloody mess, crimson blood mixing with black venom. He released Joseph, fading away as the life poured out of Joseph's body.

Holt was quickly at his side, attempting to offer aid but knowing that there was nothing he could do.

"I . . . I am sorry," he said, turning away from his master of several hundred years.

"G . . . g-go . . . g-g-go to h-her . . ." Joseph could barely speak, his lungs pooling with blood, his veins thick with the serpent's venom. "I-I . . . I release you i-into her c . . . care." With these final words, Joseph was no more. Holt would have tried to mourn his loss or gain vengence, but it was not his to gain. Shadows swelled around the familiar's body, forcing him to flee, to be elsewhere. Joseph's body lie cold and alone.

Odette watched Joseph's life slip away with a sickeningly large amount of satisfaction. While Holt's presense disappeared along with the Ouroboros, Odette assumed the familiar returned back into the realms it came from, not being close enough to hear what Joseph whispered. Allowing the power to recede from her hands Odette bent over the body of the witch turning his cheek in her hand it was still a little warm. Whispering with amusement, "Ding dong the wicked witch is dead."

"Bach, did you understand a word the spirit was saying?" She asked curiously then brought up his hand that had the iron ring on it. Bach physically recoiled at the sight of it gripping the hem of her jacket fearfully.

"Ignis." Odette spoke the spell, the iron burning brightly melting in the palm of her hand the magic incased within being released upon it's destruction.

"No, My Lady. I do know an array of dead languages but the Ouroboros was speaking something very old even by my understanding of time." Bach confirmed relaxing once the iron dribbled uselessly to the floor.

Her icy blue eyes scanned over the bloody mess that was Joseph and commented, "Witches are fools. Their power is an illusion much like what the Ouroboros was projecting. He thought he could somehow control an ancient spirit with a little blood and a rock. Ingénu. Naive."

The fire in her hand shot to the duffel bag that Joseph was toting, destroying it and its contents.

Snapping her fingers the remaining air sprites flocked to the Ambassador once again, "There will be time to mourn the dead later. For now we have one final thing to secure before the day is done."

"Racheli."