It had been a while since Rach was last in Lost Haven. The city seemed unchanged despite the months that had passed and the conflicts it had endured, she took a moment’s pause to breathe in deeply the salty air. When she exhaled from her chest, Rach realized how much she had changed caused her lips to curl into a small smile under the hooded jacket she wore. The night’s chill brushed along her skin. It managed to seep past the leather jacket and deep into her core, cooling her rapidly with it's cold temperature.
Most people would be shivering but not her.

Not since the virus had infected her and ruined her definition of normalcy. It was only a few months ago but it felt like it was so much longer. Now like most of Lost Haven’s population, she was apart of their growing freak ranks and a wanted woman on top of it. Neither fact she much enjoyed if she was to be honest with herself.

Even with the warrant out on her head, Rach dressed pretty simple for her tastes through it was created by applying layers, the fabric specially designed to prevent it from storing heat of any type. It turned out she could stand up to space type frigid degrees when Gabe was testing her resistance and need for the cold. It surprised both of them but made some sense since it had to been able to survive such extremes while on that rock it was found. The fabric was lightweight and seemed flimsy, but it was far stronger than she ever imagined. It couldn’t fully stop a blade strong, but it was cut resistant and despite that flaw, her abilities would be more than enough to stop whatever metal was gunning for her.

Her first layer was a long sleeve sweater, the neck bundling and hiding her skin color from view. Over top and on the front was a small bit of what most individuals could assume to be body armor, two separate and very thin metal sewn into the padding and finally straps reaching about to clip in the back. Their main purpose was to actually provide her with a ready worn weapon she could mold into nearly anything she chose. Over top the sweater was a long sleeve hoodie with the torso part coming down to just under her bust which prevented any hinderance in her mobility. Her hood was propped up with a strange, mix between a beast and skull like mask on her face. The mask itself was made from pure manipulated metal usually found on her wrists in the form of bicycle chains. It shimmered unnaturally as if it was alive, resembling the glistening of scales across a silver fishes surface. Her bottom half was dark grey jean like pants with a single belt across her waist and overlapped military boots on her feet. The soles had a thin layer of metal both in the toe and the foot bottom itself, thick enough it didn’t affect her movement.

Rach’s hips swayed in a casual and unaware gait. Her boots splashing away the puddles underfoot, continuing to move through the dark, isolated alley of the city. There was many rumors women often went missing here due to some local human trafficking ring. Part of her was hoping she would attract unwanted attention and find out for herself, her thumbs hanging loosely off her jean pockets. Ahead, a fading, aging street lamp flickered. It’s light was illuminating the small space and casted harsh shadows upon her figure when something caught her eye. Movement in the deepest shadows, someone trying far too hard to hid themselves among the darkness.

It took all her strength for Rach not to turn her head. She kept on walking, her pace increasing a bit more and giving off the impression of fear. She felt the hesitation in following her causing her to curse under her breath. They weren’t fully ready to fall for it and her mind tried to think of how to make them take the bait. Her feet continued to move until an idea cropped into her mind.

Gabe would kill her for later, namely since it risked her very well being but she didn’t give a damn. Mostly because it would get her what she needed and even draw out those she wanted to find, both were more important than her safety. It was the only thing that she found might actually work effectively. As she drew closer to the light shining upon her, Rach’s hand reached up and gripping her hood. She popped it and off with a fast gesture. Her hand clasped over her mask as she tightened her grip with each step. Rach jerked to the side and flipped about to face her stalkers, her mask pulled down to reveal her face plainly in the buzzing light circle.

She frowned. They seemed to have vanished, gone like the shadows from light. Her fingers clenched about the mask’s edge until she could feel it digging in and risk bleeding. ’Brilliant Rach, just fucking brilliant.’

Inhaling, Rach fought not to punch the nearest wall as she skirted from the lamp light, heading farther down the alleyway.

--

(Location evident)

Outside of the personal world Silence inhabited as the undeniable protagonist of his own story, like so many others before him, the city of Lost Haven had also undergone a period of great turmoil. While there had been nothing close to the devastation the meta-human domes promised and while the meta-humans of Lost Haven had been unusually quiet, the city still shifted. It was uncomfortable. Anyone with half a brain could feel it in the air. People were scared, but they weren’t terrified anymore. That was the problem. When people were terrified they froze, they panicked, they hid. Now that period had passed and their nerve had returned, but the fear remained, and it is human nature to hate what you fear.

That hatred, manifest in the growth of movements against the so called meta-human vigilantes, and the cries for legislation and control, was growing more visible day by day. He remembered reading about a protest against a company known as I-tech fairly recently, and there were whispers, rumours abound. The government was mobilising, but with what? That was the question. Oddly, despite his inherent place in the debate, Silence was unperturbed. He somehow felt separate from the so called meta-humans abound in the city. Perhaps it was the belief that his own abilities were somehow purer, carried down through the generations by his family. They were certainly old, and innate. He had not been in any accident, his DNA had not been mutated by outside substance or circumstance, he was born the way he was. Still, it was not the public activity that drew Lekh Antol’s curiosity then. It was what bubbled underneath that drew his attention, as it always had.

Crime was on the up and up, and not the Shroud’s crime, though that was certainly booming. From what his sources had gathered, two gangs had gone to war, the Chinese Triad and the Japanese Yakuza. This was not that unusual, even in a city locked up as tight as Lost Haven. The Chinese and the Japanese hated each other with a historical enmity that would probably never be wholly wiped away. What Silence was really interested in was why now? What had driven the gangs to war in such turbulent times, with the Shroud so powerful, lurking like a hungry predator? Silence refused to believe that the bosses of each respective criminal enterprise could be so stupid as to fail to realise the danger of their predicament. Going to war with one another when a threat greater than either of them lurked on their border was like sending an invitation. Take us now.

So why? And should they? Take them, that is. Silence tapped the solid oak table at which he sat, nestled in his compact little apartment. He had six different newspapers arranged before him, and two pages of notes that seemed to have been scrawled by two unique hands that were not his own. No laptop though, using the internet would have been too simple and convenient, not to mention difficult when one has a tendency to break tech just by being in proximity to it. It was for that reason his sturdy little phone lay on his sofa-side table a goodly distance from his open dining room/kitchen combo. That was beside the point, anyway, sometimes the old ways were the best. It wasn’t like he could google what the Triad were up to after all. What he could do was read up on what Tome had seen. The teen going on man had a keen eye, Silence had spotted that immediately, and recorded things even when he failed to see their meaning. It was that trait which the criminal valued. All too often he had informants relay to him the meaning of what they’d seen, summarising a week’s worth of surveillance with their half-cocked and often ignorant assumptions. He wanted their eyes, not their brains or what passed for them. Tome it seemed had worked this out when so many others hadn’t. Rake wasn’t so bad either, hers were the second page of notes, but her handwriting was woeful and she was a little too ambitious, prone to making the odd judgement. At least she was sometimes right.

What he did not have in front of him was anything on the girl. Racheli. She’d escaped of course, almost the moment he’d taken his eyes off her she’d been snatched up by that monster that claimed to be a man. Unsurprising really. They lacked the necessary mettle for the line of business. They should have shot her in the head the moment he walked through the door. Still, perhaps he was selling his one-time compatriots short. He had not been privy to the events that unfolded, after all. Perhaps if he had become involved he would have gotten killed by some ability he had yet to see. There was less chance of that now. With time on his side the criminal had researched, watched, learned. He had seen as many powers as anyone and read about the rest, started thinking up strategies to counter them, defeat them if necessary. It was just a mental check-list at that point, but there were a growing number of names upon it. He’d have a contingency for them all if he could.

So, his interest had fallen upon the gang war in Lost Haven in absence of any news on Racheli. However his feelers were out, flung wider than ever before. He was looking for other things, things his encounter with a certain Ambassador had opened his eyes to. Magic, artefacts, potions. Things like the healing salve that was so very useful and so very useless at once, sitting on his bedside table. Luck was not with him in that pursuit as of yet either, so the gang war got all his attention, the Triad and the Yakuza must have felt so blessed. He ran one deft hand through his slicked back hair, black now, like his brothers. Perhaps in the wake of what he’d done in the city of Lost Haven his heart would soon be as black as his brothers as well.

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

His phone buzzed. He had no idea what time it was, as per usual his curtains were shut tight, but he guessed it was sometime in the early morning. He was lying on his bed staring at the ceiling, but his brain jumped at the chance to absorb some other stimulus. In truth, he did too. There was only so much he could stand of his own thoughts, sardonic and often cruel as they could be, so despite his fatigue he swung his legs across the side of his bed and jumped up onto his feet. The phone was on the other side of his room, sat upon a desk he rarely used, so he walked over to it and snatched it up. It flickered momentarily as he deftly popped it open and read the message that flashed up in slightly unstable green lettering.

Girl Sighted
Lost Haven
Park Street
Marked
- Rook

Silence stared at this for a moment, then carefully placed his phone on the desk. He muttered something imperceptible in Polish, then switched to English and nearly smiled.

“I knew that boy had promise.”

Lost Haven - Streets at Night.

Jack sat at the bar. Jack ordered a neat whiskey. Jack was having some issues. The last bust felt off, and not just because there were only two people there. Calling them druglords would be too much of a compliment to their success. They were gang bangers, pushing drugs on children without a care in the world, he shouldn't have been so heavy handed, but his temper got to him. He forked over a crumpled note and took the drink. In truth? He hated the taste of alcohol, and the smoke of cigars, ever since he became a divine being it didn't do anything to him anymore, the drink tasted awful and he never had enough cash to get him buzzed, so being drunk was out of the question, and the cigars never poisoned his lungs enough to accept the smoke, so he had to fight the urge to cough like a bitch every single time he lit one up. Another refusal to get used to the times, he lit one up anyway, though the barkeep quickly tapped on the 'No Smoking' sign, so he stubbed it out again with an apologetic smile. Things had changed a lot.

It took a lot to get used to the heightened senses, the extraordinary endurance and physical prowess, he felt like all of the time he had spent in his 'past' body was weighed down, choked and always gasping for breath in comparison. He hated it. He felt like a stranger in his own skin. "Some second chance." He slammed the whiskey. It didn't even go down smooth, it just went down. He watched the person next to him drunkenly make love to his tonic and gin. "Lucky bastard." He thought to himself, and shot the hammered man a short smile before leaving. He hoped he wouldn't have to arrest him for being drunk and disorderly later, it'd just be insult to injury then.

He stepped outside, and lit up the cigar again, looking up into the sky. He heard the sound of sirens in the distance, gunfire too, even at night the city didn't sleep. He was too far away to do anything about it, he figured. He looked back down at his boots, coughing from the smoke into a curled fist. He still remembered everything about that day. The station had bad coffee, and he was still going through the paperwork on the Watts case. A man who stole his weight in gold bullion, and was pulled over for a broken headlight. There was smoke in the air and he'd barely woken up when the call came out, an allout crossfire in a warehouse, an all-American crimelord and his gang had robbed a bank, cars were already on the scene and multiple officers had gone down, they were armed to the teeth. They left the desk-jockeys to their jobs and slid on the vests, slapped the uniforms on their chest and got in their cars.

It was a nice day to be out in the car. Sunny day, but not humid, the breeze went through his 85 Cadillac nice and he was well on his way. It would've been nice if the siren wasn't so loud, and the gunfire wasn't matching it. They arrived on the scene but it was a shitshow. He saw two people leading claret out of them, and both of them were uniformed. He hopped out, and ducked behind one of the cars, where two other people were taking snap-shots off. "Eight people inside. One injured, all with automatic weapons." Came the quick sitrep. He nodded direly and took a peek. A peek, that was it. He felt both the bullets go in and stay there. He heard the gurgling and choking as well, his hands were covered in blood already. He couldn't believe it was him.

He looked at the death-stick and breathed in some of the air instead. "Nothing better to do." He ditched it onto the floor and made strides toward the sounds of the sirens. He tucked his badge into his front pocket and adjusted the holster at his side. If anyone asked? He was on patrol.

Brooklyn, New York
May 24th, 1976

The crimson Cadillac Coupe DeVille glided at a slow and steady pace down Coney Island Avenue towards the beach. The neighborhood the car drove through was known as Brighton Beach. This part of Brooklyn was created as a beach resort one hundred years earlier, but was soon restructured into a residential community in the 1920's. Since the 30's, Jewish immigrants drifted to this patch of New York upon their arrival to the United States. Many of the residents bore marks on their body, scars and reminders of their time in concentration camps.

Since 1970, the demographic of the neighborhood had begun to shift again. Although plenty of Jews still found their place in Brighton Beach, more and more of them were coming from the Soviet Union and Eastern Bloc countries. The shops in the area were accommodating, the writing in the store windows in Cyrillic script as well as English. Like Little Italy and Chinatown in Manhattan, the growing influx of immigrants gave rise to the nickname of Little Odessa.

The Coupe DeVille sped past kosher butcher shops, makeshift synagogues, and jewelry and appliance stores that lined both sides of the avenue. Red, white, and blue streamers were hung from light posts and storefronts in celebration of the America's upcoming bicentennial anniversary.

The car contained three men. They were stern-faced and silent, the only sound coming from the car was the steady drone of the engine. Today marked their fifth day in America. They had flown in from West Berlin, their passports marking them as residents of various cities in West Germany. In actuality, the names and locations on the passport were a grand fiction. The names and identities were just one of many the men used for their work.

The man driving was the oldest by at least twenty years. His steel-colored hair had been grown out from its usual military crew cut. He wore a thick mustache matching the color of his hair. A pair ray-bans on his face and the current American fashion, a burnt orange turtleneck with a checkered sports jacket and a golden medallion, made him look the part of an average America. In truth, he felt ridiculous and foolish in this get-up. It was too flashy and ostentatious, like something a clown would wear.

The two other men dressed in similar clothing of various colors, each article of clothing chosen to help them blend in with the current styles and trends of the country. They all smoked cigarettes, their brand not the common Marlboro or Pall Malls. These were Turkish brands purchased from a special store many miles away from Brooklyn. The foul-smelling smoke of the cigarettes spread through the car and out the cracked windows.

The car turned right onto Brighton Beach Avenue and sped along with the traffic. The Cadillac turned off the Avenue and swooped into a parking spot outside a four-story apartment building. The driver kept the car running as he looked at the two men in the back of the car. His hard eyes sized them up. He removed his sunglasses, excitement glittered in his eyes as he gave his men one last look.

"Bewegen," he said in the harsh German tongue. Move.

Quickly, the two men exited from the running car. They hurried up the concrete steps into the apartment building's foyer. The man in the car checked his wristwatch. It was 2:14 in the afternoon.

The next five minutes were the most crucial of their operation. The three of them had practiced, trained, and prepared for months. They had committed the map of the area to memory, knew the schedules of the NYPD patrolman who passed by the apartment once every fifteen minutes, knew who would be in the apartment building at this time of day and when others would be back. The man in the car would run interference if any of the apartment's residents attempted to go in, waving them away with a forged NYPD detective badge and speaking in perfect American English that there was a gas leak in the apartment and it was not safe to go inside.

Short of an epic fuck up by the two men inside, this operation would go off without a hitch. A successful operation today would be their sixth such outcome in the past two years. The three were the best of the best their service had to offer. Clever and ruthless, they were the proverbial sword for the party. While other directorates and sections did more acceptable work to protect the GDR, they were the unseen knife that those in control slipped between the ribs of the state's enemies. They were the necessary evil the politicians that ran the world did not want to face.

The two men inside came off the stairs on the third-floor landing, their cigarettes gone from their mouths. The older of the two was a squat, chubby man with a wrinkled face and watery eyes. Sweat clung to his brow. His black hair had traces of gray in it. The grayness, mixed with the wrinkles, made him look ten years older than his current age of thirty-three. The man beside him was taller by at least four inches, coming in around six-foot-three. His dark blonde hair was close to his scalp in a buzzcut. His cobalt blue eyes stared straight ahead calmly, never once betraying the nervousness he felt.

The fat man looked up at his younger comrade and nodded. The man tall returned his nod. Today was the young man's first time doing work of this sort. He had been part of the unit for six months now, acting as runner and lookout for the others. But now, it was time for him to truly become one of them.

As they approached the apartment marked 3H, the two men reached into their sports coats and produced weapons from hidden shoulder holsters. They each had a Browning Hi-Power nine millimeter. Screwed on the end of the barrels were two suppressors. The older man nodded as they stopped outside the apartment. With no further words, the tall man thrust a shoe forward at the door. His foot crashed at the base of the doorknob, splintering the door jamb and snapping the lock in two. He led the way into the apartment, rushing in with the short man close behind him.

They came through the door and into the dirty, dimly lit apartment that reeked of the same sour cigarettes they used. Standing in front of a television set, wearing only an undershirt and a dirty pair of underwear, was a thin bald man with a ginger mustache. He held his left hand up while his right hand stayed by his waist where he cupped a velvet bag. He looked at the two men in front of him with no fear or defiance in his face.

"Stasi," he said in a thick German accent. It was a declaration and not a question.

"Ja," said the fat man. "Schild und Schwert der Partei."

"Verpiss dich, du kommunistischen bastarde," the bald man sneered.

Without hesitation, the tall man opened fire with his Browning. The gun kicked three times, three soft pops accompanying the bullets. The bald man fell to the floor, the three shots striking his head and chest. The tall man ventured forward to the body and looked down. The dying man stared up at him, his eyes opaque and his dingy shirt stained with dark red blood. What caught his eye was the bag beside the dead man. The little pouch dropped beside the body in the ruckus, its contents spilled out onto the floor.

"Fritz," the tall man said urgently, picking up a shiny stone and holding it up in the light. "Ich habe etwas gefunden. Diamanten."

---

Berlin
Now

The custom agent looked at the passport in front of him and scanned it with his well-trained eyes. The stamps of other countries' custom officials dotted the side of the passport opposite the photo. India, Australia, France, Serbia, and the United States were the freshest stamps on the paper. The official looked at the photo and then back up at the man before him.

"You need to update your photo," he said in English. "For the scar."

"Right," said Theodore Roosevelt. "I'll remember that when I get back to the US."

To the customs agent, the man before him was not the 26th president but instead a nondescript American traveler with a common name. The magic that Roosevelt and his organization employed made them routinely forgettable to almost all those that they encountered.

"Welcome to Germany. Next."

Roosevelt collected his papers and walked through Terminal A of the Berlin Tegel Airport. The pedestrian traffic in the area was a shadow of its usual bustling activity. He chalked it up to the time. It was a half hour past midnight and only red-eye flight travelers were out and about at this time. He collected his black attaché case at baggage claim and headed towards the exit.

The warm summer night greeted Theodore as he walked through the airport's sliding doors. Taxis and shuttle buses were coming and going from the picking up and dropping off sections. The traffic was pretty steady considering the time. A bored voice came over the PA system, first in German and then in English and French, reminding all incoming and departing traffic that the white zone was for loading and unloading only.

A navy blue Mercedes-Benz with heavily tinted windows sat parked in the white zone, openly flaunting the PA address. Leaning against the passenger side door was a tall thin man with jet black hair. He finished smoking a cigarette before flicking it away.

"Mr. Roosevelt," the man said as his form shifted.

The tall man with jet black hair disappeared, becoming instead the tiny figure of James Madison.

"Mr. Madison," TR said with a nod.

"Welcome to Germany," she said, flicking the cigarette away.

"Back to Germany," said Roosevelt. "I haven't been here since '45."

"The Götterdämmerung," Madison said softly. "Shall we?"

"Let's."

Roosevelt placed in the back of the Mercedes and then they were off. Madison pulled the car on to the Autobahn Hamburg and sped up to draw even with the fast traffic of the highway.

"Where are we headed?" He stared out the window and looked out at the city as it whizzed by.

"A safehouse outside the city. We have Zimmer stashed there."

Ten hours earlier, Roosevelt heard the named Friedrich Zimmer for the first time in his life.

Now in his late 60's, Zimmer had defected from East Germany to the US in 1981. With him came his story of being part of a five man Stasi hitsquad that traveled the globe doing the KGB's dirty work. The team consisted of the best men the Stasi could offer. All of them were fluent in multiple languages, were expert tacticians, and they could each blend in across the world in any country with a Caucasian population. The squad killed twenty men in twelve different countries during Zimmer's eight years with them.

For his intel on the inner workings of the Stasi's assassin operations, CIA had given Zimmer full immunity and a lump sum of three million dollars. He then quietly shuffled off to a rural house in Oregon. Then came the end of the Cold War. The Berlin Wall fell, the Soviet Union imploded, and the intelligence community began to primarily focus on terrorism. In 2001, Zimmer left the States for his native homeland. The Stasi's demise eleven years earlier meant that Zimmer's life was no longer at risk by being in Germany.

That changed a week ago. Gunter Lang, one of Zimmer's former hit team members, had been gunned down in his home outside Düsseldorf. Joseph Baer was then found dead three days ago in Dresden, a slit throat bleeding out on the sidewalk three blocks away from his apartment. Like Lang, Baer had been a member of Zimmer's team. Following up on that was the brutal bludgeoning death of Whilem Furber. Three murders in as many days. Any other time, the Executive Branch wouldn't be bothered to investigate. But the witnesses who saw the death of Furber reported the murderer as matching the description of Manfred Ackerman, a Stasi major and leader of the former hitsquad.

The only problem? Ackerman had died of lung cancer in 1980. The presence of the supernatural had drawn the shadowy Executive Branch into the case.

With all this information relayed to Roosevelt, FDR had laid out the mission parameters in five simple words: Get Zimmer to America alive. Extract Zimmer as quickly and as quietly from Berlin as possible. All magic users were out of pocket, so they had to rely on traditional methods. There was a flight booked for the next morning in Roosevelt's fake name for two seats. Come hell or high water, Franklin had said with a sharp look, Zimmer would be in one of those seats.

"We're here," said Madison

TR blinked suddenly, being pulled out of his stupor. The car was pulling into a dirt driveway outside a two-story farm-house. He could see chipped white paint covering the house even in the dark. The bad paint job aside, the house looked sound. The most unassuming place to keep a safehouse.

"Where is here?" He asked.

"Spandau," said Madison, parking beside a black Mercedes SUV. "Outside the city."

Madison led them into the house. Three men were in home's dully furnished sitting room. The Executive Branch employed security work, low-level agents and minders staffed from former law enforcement and intelligence personnel. Two young men stood from a card table as Madison entered. The three had a rapid conversation in German that TR understood enough of to know that he was sending them outside to patrol around the yard. They nodded and headed off while Roosevelt approached the third man in the room.

He was squat and fat, his gray hair receding back in a widow's peak. His face was heavily lined and wrinkled, making him look closer to eighty instead of his mid-sixties. A smoking cigarette clamped in one nicotine stained hand. His watery eyes looked up at Teddy as he approached the sofa he was sitting on.

"Mister Zimmer?"

"Yes," he said, swallowing hard and taking a long drag on his cigarette. His right knee bounced nervously up and down as he watched.

"You're with CIA?"

His accent was nearly non-existent and his use of a contraction implied comfort with English. His team was fluent in many languages, Theodore remembered, and spending years in America would have softened his harsh German accent.

"Something like that," said Teddy.

He pulled a metal chair from the card table and slid it over beside Zimmer. He sat down in the chair and looked into the fat man's watery eyes. The eyes of a hardened killer, TR reminded himself. Was this what it looked like to stare into his eyes?

"Who want to kill you Mister Zimmer?"

"Ackerman," he said without hesitation. "I don't know how, but he's come for me..."

"Why?"

"Because of greed." There was a pause as Zimmer took a deep breath and sighed. "And a stupid mistake we all made in America."

Lost Haven - Streets at Day.
Lost Haven - Hidden Laboratory.

At least she had the common damn decency to plant a tracker in her 'friend' before she powered him on. The first test proved successful, so she let stay on for a bit longer. He enquired about who she was, so she told him. "I made you, my name's Milo." She even shook his hand. The second test was similar, the power test for his lower systems she tested them by making him walk on the floor-installed treadmill. He began to run, and sprintg, and even jumped a bit. The weight of his mechanical body against the cheap machine sounded an audible 'CRACK' and broke it in an instant. He apologized profusely to his "TECHNOLOGICAL BROTHER." and even went about fixing him. This nullified the need for the third test, as his cognitive processes were fine. Everything was in working order. "So why did he run?"

She looked down at her beacon. She was getting closer and closer. He had only made it a block away, so she had time to catch up. She shoved the device in her jacket and began to run, the cobbles disappearing beneath her old shoes. She had a failsafe that would make him follow, as well as a few gadgets on her that might do the trick to incapacitate him. Alexander wasn't powerful or strong, but he was smart and curious. She picked up the pace. The people she passed by looked at her, staring. They always stared at her. She hated it when they did that, what was so abnormal about a person running in a hoodie?

Maybe it was the fact that she was better known than she liked, the mad inventor of Lost Haven, or maybe it was the fact she clinked and jangled when she walked, or maybe, just maybe it was because...
She had streams of smoke rising from her head.

*********************************************************************************

Meanwhile, Alexander was enjoying a stroll through the street. It might have been newly create, but it was streetwise, and had smarts enough to have made sure to dress itself appropriately, in a similar fashion to Hazard. In fact, it was more than similar it was downright identical, the same coloured blue jeans and grey hoodie, Alexander took after its 'Mother' quite a lot. It had only been outside of the laboratory for the best part of an hour, and it had already made a habit of observing the people who walked by, accessing what records it could find its way into without causing suspicion and recording their faces, ethnicities, jobs into one large database. "AS MOTHER SAID, ALL DATA IS GOOD DATA." It processed to itself, a side effect of its sentience was loneliness. Its legs whirred beneath it, moving with mechanical thuds that were hard to hide. "WHAT HAD THESE PEOPLE DONE TO GARNER SUCH HATRED FROM RED-MOTHER?" This was the largest question on its mind. She had always spoken about how she had to hide away, how she could never truly be in public, and the look on her face told him a lot. If the downloaded writings of psychological professor David Matsumoto and research scientist Hyi Sung Hwang could be trusted, her expression read to it that she did not just avoid people because she disliked them, but was afraid of them. This theory had a 5% margin for error based on current data, and would up updated and noted among one of the highest processes. It needed to know why, It was curious.

The background process finished. Fifty five coding errors found and five harmful processes hidden. Abnormally small, Red-Mother was a perfectionist. It amended them, noting the homing beacon among the newly disabled processes. "DO NOT WORRY, RED-MOTHER, I WILL BE BACK SOON, YOU WILL NOT BE ALONE." It found talking to himself good, and comforting, even though it was just the same to store the data in its drives. A sentient thing, it surmised. It put the excess processing power to scanning itself for potential. It had work to do.

*********************************************************************************

And just like that, the signal dropped from her device. She smacked it a few times, knowing full-well what had just happened. He was gone. Her only friend in the world was gone. She breathed in and out, panicked. She rested against the wall of the cafe. He was years of work. Years of potential, wasted. She smelled smoking, and she heard the crackle of fire. The cafe was on fire already. She breathed in and out but that didn't stop the roaring flame when it had started. She couldn't help it, it got to her. The ignition of air became quicker, with more ferocity. Explosions began happening in the streets of Lost Haven. She could hear the sirens of the various emergency services. She ran, but the fire spread around her, and she lead her trail of destruction down the street, setting multiple blocks on fire until she ducked into an alleyway, fumbled the key into the door and shut it close. It wasn't her world anyway. She slumped against the door, and sobbed. She wasn't stressed, but she was alone again.

She was always going to be alone.

_{(( @VATROU @Shard @AbandonedIntel))}

---

There was a throbbing pain, as the wound swelled to stop the bleeding the warmth leaving his body through the gaping wound on his back. He would heal that was certain although what mortal side the wolf had in him was terrified, desperate even stealing from his boss seemed such a good idea at the time, fool proof even. There were stories floating about Barron, violent ones. Arcadian Jones didn't heed the warning signs, like a blasted idiot he believed he could make away scott free with Barron's money; that just put a target on his back from one end of the states to the other. Fatigued; no rest, no food his mind whitered away starved and psychology tormented from the unrelenting hunters. The beast within had nothing left to cage it, no mortal mind left save a base identity.

The Wolf's claws clipped asphalt heavy panting filled the air as the hunter was hot on his heels.

”Even wounded, he manages impressive speed.”

Raziel commented on the chase, his words directed at the werewolf they were getting closer to. Even in human form, werewolves had a few interesting perks putting them above the mundane, but this chase could only end one way. The wolf was bleeding, the pain echoing through his frame with each step. Fatigue would claim him sooner rather than later, something the undead were quite immune to. Revealing the fluid movements of a highly trained assassin of the old world, Casper moved like a wind across the streets, easily leaping over the obstacles in his path with a deadest focus on his target.

Almost there, the vampire was catching up with the wolf, just about to end this chapter. Had this werewolf not involved others, innocents, in his mischief, Casper would never have been involved. Whatever happens within the confines of their packs, or whatever organization they roam around is far below Casper’s or the Agency’s interests.

Underestimating your opponent is however a fool’s demise, no matter the high ground beneath your feet. The puppy was smart enough to run into traffic, several cars passing him by. One, two and three cars were avoided by Casper’s agility as he leaped over them and gracefully moved around the rapidly moving vehicle but a fourth incoming car would sing a different tune. With his eyes locked on the target, the world would disappear around Casper, his focus on catching the wolf who was now an arm’s reach away, a mistake.

---

A minute ago, and a few miles down the street, drove an innocuous black Jeep Cherokee, headlights on and driving fast with the rest of the traffic heading out from the NYC suburb districts, heading up north back to Hudson Tactical HQ, which was situated up north in the Hudson Valley. Carmen and Hakeem recently completed a small contract, which was to intimidate two corrupt NYPD detectives to stop extorting local store owners, with or without violence. Carmen and Hakeem went the violent route as the officers never took the two seriously. Just one of those odds and ends you gotta do. And now they were heading back to HQ to turn in a contract and write a report, so they are properly paid and could keep one for the records.

Bass blasted through the interior of the vehicle as Carmen sat driver side and Hakeem riding shotgun. Her stereo was on and playing a song that complemented with the drive in some weird way. However, while she was thoroughly enjoying it, Hakeem was using it as background noise for his thoughts.

"I saw what happened in there just now. You never cease to amaze me." Hakeem said. "You beat someone up with a fucking cookbook. A cookbook." Hakeem looked quite bewildered about it. "... H-how?"

Carmen shrugged. "Simple, used reflex mode and used the book as a weapon. It was hardcovered and heavy so it kinda helped." She said simply. "And don't take any credit away from yourself... I wasn't too careful in there. Had you not disarmed Blondie I probably would've gotten shot."

"Well... gotta protect your... uh... homies, you know?"Hakeem said awkwardly.

Carmen gave him a soft smile. "You don't have to talk like that. Besides, your powers are awesome anyway, you just never had enough time to train them because the countries you lived in are filled with persecuting assholes."

Hakeem sighed. "Yeah, I know..."

"So stop comparing yourself to me, okay? I had plenty of time getting used to my powers and I had plenty opportunities to train. That's unfair for you, hermano. Don't be too hard on yourself, okay? I'll help you out."

Hakeem gave a little bit of a hopeful smile. "Thanks." He said.

"No problem, buddy. Just don't mention that we had this talk, Victor's already on my ass for going soft." Carmen sighed. "Oh well."

Hakeem gave a soft trolling grin. "Maybe you have gone soft." He chuckled before using his bassy boom telekinetic burst power to fling a coin at Carmen's face.

The quarter bounced off of her. "Ow!" She flinched. "Pendejo!" She lightly punched him in the shoulder, which Hakeem laughed at.

"Hahaha! Victor's right, you are a little bitch! Hahahaha!" Hakeem laughed.

"Not funny!" Carmen objected. "Well... maybe it is a little funny, but still..."

"I still would rather not challenge you to a rap battle though, you always kill the shit out of those-"

"SHIT!!" Carmen then interrupted the both of them as the headlights of the Cherokee revealed a smaller figure dressed up in a dark outfit right in front of them. Carmen, entering reflex mode, immediately braked and turned, the Cherokee skidding to a stop, but she felt and heard the *THUMP!* of someone getting it, something she was all too familiar with when fighting in the hood and in Syria. Once the Jeep came to a stop, Carmen immediately looked to Hakeem before unbuckling her seatbelt and rushing out to see what happened, running to the front of the Jeep while Hakeem ran on the other side.

"Casper!" Raziel’s voice echoed through the vampire’s ringing head, the full collision with a moving vehicle having thrown him off his feet.“Casper, are you well?” The voice continued, Raziel’s concern mellowing out once he was certain that the swordsman was still able to move.

"Shit..." Casper clenched his teeth, turning his large red eyes towards the car which had collided with him.

“Yeah, I’m fine…” He responded, wiping the blood from his forehead, his wound now healed due to his vampiric nature. Not another moment would pass however, before his attention jumped back to the wolf he had been chasing. “Damn, I lost sight of him.” Ascending to his feet, Casper dusted himself off, the sword vanishing from his hands as a response to the accident.

“That looked painful.” Raziel shot back, a soft chuckle escaping him.

“Only to my pride.”The vampire finished with a soft sigh, shifting his focus to the individuals who had ran into him. Stopping the car, they left their seats to check on the result of their carelessness. A man and a woman, whereas the male appeared to hail from a similar ethnicity to Casper himself, or rather, Asad, as was his true name.“Great driving, there…” Casper frowned softly, his healthy frame and annoyed rather than terrified nature hinting at something quite obviously supernatural, given the collision.

Carmen stepped towards him. "Shit, I am so sorry about that... are you hurt?" She asked, stepping towards him while Hakeem observed the damage on the Cherokee. Hakeem looked up to Carmen, giving a thumbs up do indicate that there was no damage done to the vehicle and this doesn't have to be spoken of. Carmen nodded to Hakeem before turning back to the vampire. "Listen, I'm sorry, but you shouldn't be running across streets like that... there's no crosswalk here... and you dressed in black in the middle of the night didn't help things either." Carmen sighed. "So if you're gonna file a lawsuit, you got another thing comin'."

“Casper, the wolf.” Raziel reminded, forcing the vampire’s focus back to where it should have remained.

“Oh shit, gotta’ go.” Picking up his pace, Casper darted away at an impossibly fast pace, something akin to the velocity of a speeding car. Celerity, they called it, a vampire’s ability to dart from one location to the other at blinding speed. As it was, Celerity and Vigor, the ability to command supernatural strength, were the two vampiric feats available to a Lamia, but what they lacked in vampiric tricks they made up for in a lack of weaknesses.

Casper had lost sight of his quarry and it could mean disastrous outcomes. A rabid wolf like that would snack at whoever he came across in an attempt to regenerate the wound Casper had left on him. A starved wolf was a dead wolf. ”That puppy isn’t gettin’ away…”

Carmen and Hakeem looked at each other. "What the fuck was that!?" Hakeem shouted, throwing his arm out in the direction Casper ran.

Carmen shook her head. "I don't know, but I do know a potential contract when I see one. C'mon, we're gonna track him down and see what's going on. Get in the jeep."

Hakeem put his hands up. "Alrighty Phoenix. You're the boss." He said begrudgingly. He had no clue what was going on and he kind of wanted to go back to the safehouse and try out the new hot tub Laurent got him as a housewarming gift. When you have mad mercenary money, hot tubs are considered housewarming gifts. Climbing into the passenger side of the Cherokee, he closed the door and buckled up.

Carmen got inside as well, buckling up on the driver's side and starting it up."If this leads us nowhere, I'll take all of the blame."

Hakeem looked to Carmen. "You're the founder and CEO of Hudson Tactical. Who's gonna be yelling at you for following a dead end?"

Carmen thought for a moment. "Yeah... good point. Been used to having a commanding officer since Syria." She chuckled. "Now that I'm in command of this outfit, I say Wagons Ho, hermano!" She grinned, shifting the Cherokee into gear and driving off in the direction that Casper went.

---

Ben wasn't quite ready to deal with his step-mother. His figure leaned heavily against the wall he was hidden behind when his pocket started to vibrate, the movement drew his attention and he reached in for his cell phone. His thumb immediately swiped upward to reveal a single name: Lorrie (the Harlot) Hart. He mentally groaned. His thumb slammed in frustration against the touch screen then turned it off, shoving it into his pocket one more. Ben felt his space again being invaded while he turned down the hall and went deeper into the restaurant's staff area. Several workers, mostly waitresses and waiters, casually gave him a look only to return to minding their own business.

He slipped into the kitchens. Almost instantly his eyes spotted the sights of popping grease, sizzling chunks of meat, and more being prepared for the evening’s charity event. The kitchen was an overactive place with several chefs of different variety shifting between stations or fulfilling their tasks with great determination, bring Ben’s lip into a wicked smile at being somewhere he wasn’t suppose to be. It wasn’t going to last as he knew his step-mother was hot on his trail and would likely drag him back to the party.

Wasting little time, Ben darted through the moving bodies. One or two paused to shout at him but he didn’t pay it any mind, instead he moved deeper and found an exit. His arm pushed across the bar into the cold night air. It washed over him causing the boy to gasp softly in surprise and happy to be free finally, his eyes adjusting to the sudden change in lighting. Sounds of cars blared in the busy street several meters away, their horns rang out in the background and was more accepted than the idle conversation back in the building. The side door clicked shut behind Ben causing him to turn and check it. It jiggled but didn’t come open. He pressed harder and still it held fast to its position, making him realize it was locked.

“Fuck.” Ben mutter low. He gave up shortly after the second try and stepped back into the flickering lamplight, the only light source within the alleyway he was strayed in. His eyes shifted down the alley. He spotted the main street just a small stroll from his location, the flickering lights and moving car shape blurs.

Naturally, he started to move that direction in hopes to get back into the building without Lorrie noticing his absence. He didn’t want to give her an excuse to force him to stay within her eyesight or promptly call the cops over his disappearance. Unfortunately when he drew near, Ben noticed something that was about to give him serious issues. A large, wrought iron gate. It was taller than him and stretched from one building to the other, creating a barrier designed likely to prevent any hobo or thief from treading down here.

Either way, it obstructed his way back to the front much to his irritation.

The sounds of a car screeching was all the beast heard not bothering to look back at it's
pursuers it charged forward looking for that needed meal. For but a moment sweet smells filled the night air, grease coming from some nearby building. And it followed that scent, back through the alleyways and with it's exceptional eyesight there was someone, a boy on the way to a larger meal. He was covered in that sweet scent and before the boy could react the wolf charged over the iron fence and was prepared to pounce on him.

Ben's feet came to a stop when something dark and furry rushed over the iron fence. His eyes shifted to see it ahead of him and looking menacing, white teeth glistening in the flickering yellow light and clearly was the biggest dog he had ever seen.

He froze. His heart thumping in his chest and rattling his ribs while his mind tried to rationalize what exactly happened, including the most logical way to handle this unpleasant surprise. Benjamin's left foot took a step back, followed by his right before jerking to run retreat back to the staff door. Any intelligent thinking was tossed away in favor of a flight behavior thanks to his fear, his figure stopping just at the metal door and pounded with all his might. "HEY, SOMEONE. HELP! LET ME IN. THERE'S A RABID DOG OUT HERE! HELP!"

Excitement ran through the wolf's blood, a chase. His prey flailed away at a door and his claws extended outward in a leap so inhuman few could escape pinning the boy underneath. Teeth tore down into his right shoulder tasting the meat; the blood rich in iron before tossing him against the wall standing looming over the boy with an out streched paw. Claws popping one by one. His size was far beyond any creature found in the wild save a Bear and there was a primal hunger glimmering in those golden eyes. The boy crawled backward along the wall. And for a moment the Wolf let him; toying with his prey before grabbing his leg and tossing him against the iron gate. Saliva dripped from his jaw as his massive mouth filled with rows upon rows of teeth moved in for the kill.

Benjamin screamed when the white teeth bite into his shoulder. His suit, flesh and muscle tore under the jaw causing his fist to whip out at the wolf’s head. He didn’t manage to hit the muzzle as it let go, flinging him across the alleyway. The breath was knocked out of him for several moments but his body kept moving, scrambling to get away. It didn’t work. Now the beast was breathing down his face, his body pinned against the iron biting into his back and looked ready to rip it apart. Benjamin’s head tilted away and braced for the end to come, his eyes scrunched tightly shut.

The seconds lost from being hit by that car could have led to an end no one wanted to consider, but luck was on Casper’s side for the moment, or rather, Ben’s side. Accelerating his full dash, Casper sped forth and grabbed hold of the iron gate. Pulling himself up, the vampire placed his foot on the cold iron, vaulting over the gate to land between Ben and the rabid wolf. “Gonna’ stop ya’ there, pup…” The swordsman spoke, Raziel’s lethal edge appearing in his hand. As rabid as the werewolf was at this point, speaking would do little. He was too far gone, and the boy had already been bit. The least Casper could do now was to allow the kid his life. There was no coming back from the curse which was about to claim him, but his life was still his own. Raising his blade, Casper sped forth with an attack towards the wolf’s stomach.

"Remember, Casper. His strength is beyond yours. Don’t try to win with brute force.” Raziel commented, offering his advice as he always did.

“Yeah, weres are up there…”

Taking advantage of the fact he was in a tight alleyway right next to the iron gate the wolf in a feat of agility he flipped up and clawed at his pursuer before jumping off the walls and leaped a significant distance, perfect for the Wolf these narrow walls allowed it to bounce around surprisingly well for it's size.

Sliding beneath the clawed attack, Casper would find himself in front of the bleeding boy, just where he wanted to be. Given the tight space, a werewolf could easily use their strength to dart around the walls, and Casper wouldn’t get anywhere if he was going to chase after the wolf. Rather, Casper would need to wait for his prey to come to him while barring the path between Ben and the rabid werewolf. Raising his blade once more, the vampire narrowed his eyes on his enemy, his grip around Raziel’s hilt tightening. “Kid,stay behind me.”

Benjamin, still in shock, managed a faint nod. His back pressed against the bars, trapping him, as he pressed his now redden hand against his shoulder. His heart thumping pounded against his chest and seemed to threatened to burst right out of it. He didn't seem to notice the fact the wound was burning unnaturally, his attention focused on the battle for his life. his figured moved closer to Casper but not enough to hurt the man's (his thoughts still unclear if that was true) mobility and get them both killed.

Coming from a nearby alleyway, the small SUV made its way into the area and screeched to a halt, drifting for a second before stopping in a large clearing between multiple buildings. After the vehicle was put in park, Carmen took to keys out and both her and Hakeem immediately hopped out from the vehicle, closing the doors behind them and running towards the scene. Once they arrived at the other side of the the iron gate, Carmen and Hakeem could barely believe their eyes. "Holy shit!"Carmen's eyes opened wide.

Staring at the back of a werewolf, a hostile looking on at that, at the other side of the iron gate, Carmen entered reflex mode to assess the situation carefully before acting. She saw the aggressive stance of the werewolf, with its claws out. Her eyes darted towards Casper, the emo kid that she hit with the Cherokee by accident. She looked towards Ben, the wounded boy that was laying against the wall... she knew what was up. While she didn't exactly believe werewolves existed, she saw one with her own two eyes... one that appeared to be hostile, with intent to kill. She had to act, and act fast.

"Magnum! Take cover behind the truck!" Carmen shouted, pointing to the truck behind her as she drew her .45 pistol, aiming the RMR sight down up on the wolf's head. Almost immediately, her gun jumped back with a loud *POW!!!* and a bullet would've hit the werewolf square in the back of the head, either wounding him, impairing his brain until it healed, or whatever... either way, Carmen was unaware of how werewolves worked, and was hoping that her FNX-45 Tactical would end the threat as quickly as it could.

The bullet slammed into the Wolf's skull cracking it in the process, it's head recoiled back but due both to the immense strength the Wolf innately possessed it's arms dug even deeper into the walls surrounding it as the Wolf was hit with the force he looked back at the shooter with annoyance as the bullet was swiped away from it's resting place on it's forehead bits of compressed lead hitting the ground. It leaped forward jumping from the walls to reach the sword wielding hunter across the chest if he could get it to connect.

The bullet had dazed the wolf for but a moment, though it disoriented the beast enough for Casper to calculate his next move. As the creature leaped from one area to the other in a path towards Casper, the vampire raised his blade, analyzing every move the werewolf was making. Skill would meet brute force. Instead of dodging to the sides or jumping back, Casper moved forward and accepted part of the blow, the wolf’s claws traveling across his chest to leave a gaping wound. The pain was nearly unbearable, but it gave him the opening he needed, allowing his blade to penetrate the werewolf’s abdomen and consume the blood within.

Again the blade warrior slashes at the beast and again it reels back in pain. For but a moment it stares back into the Hunter's eyes with primal rage before it's survival instincts took over causing the beast to flee by bounding off the walls looking to make it's escape and find an easier meal. Blood leaving a trail for those who should follow, however with an impressive speed the beast will soon vanish from sight.

Carmen and Hakeem stood there for just a few moments, blinking. They couldn't even believe their eyes. That werewolf motherfucker survived a shot. To the head. By a supersonic .45 ACP lead bullet. A bullet known for stopping a human in one to two shots. And even though he took the hit, he shrugged it off like a smug asshole getting a ticket on his Corvette. And apparently werewolves exist now, and they only thing that seems to hurt them are these weird fucking swords. Man... things just got a whole lot more difficult.

"What the fuck was that!?" Carmen looked around, bewildered and shocked, holstering her pistol. "Uh... guy? Emo kid? Could you explain what the fuck just happened here?" She asked.

With the blade vanishing from his hands, Casper fell down to his knees, clenching his teeth at the pain. The wounds across his chest were beginning to heal, though the battle had taken a lot out of him. Werewolves were always trouble. “A werewolf…” The vampire responded, struggling back to his feet as he continued towards the now unconscious Ben and picked him up, careful not to hurt the poor boy more than he already had been wounded. “We’re in a hurry, get in your car. We can talk on the way.”

New York City.

Agency of Paranormal and Meta Human Containment.

Dining Area.

Going through the papers halfheartedly while mainly focusing on his food, Anglo filed through various documents laid out before him. As the oldest surviving member of the Agency, and one of its original Agents, Angelo had been tasked with tutoring and taking care of newly acquired supernatural beings. Acquired was perhaps the wrong word, rather discovered would fit the situation better. Indeed, the Agency was a secret organization hidden within the law enforcement of New York City, parading about as an elite detective force akin to the FBI or CIA. What they truly were however, was something more. They did not focus neither effort nor resource on everyday crime, or even human crime for that matter. While exceptions are a part of every story, the Agency of Paranormal and Meta Human Containment focuses mainly on the supernatural threats hiding within the shadows of New York. Stretched out across the country, the Agency can be found deep within every major city, operating behind the scenes as a small but efficient force hidden from the plain view.

Shutting down supernatural threats through lethal means is a common outcome, however one would be a fool to think it the only purpose of the Agency. More often than not, a much more preferable outcome, the Agency subdues its target in hopes of finding a non-lethal solution to the issue at hand. Supernatural entities are often misunderstood, lost, afraid and alone. It is a dangerous combination which often leads to a feral beast. Angelo, being a field Agent by choice rather than a leader despite his original involvement in the Agency, detests unnecessary bloodshed, seeing it as little more than incompetence. Though the man is quite easy going, laid back and carefree, one should not assume him lax. “His name is Ben.” Layla commented, narrowing her eyes on the middle easterner.

“Say what now?” Angelo blinked, seemingly confused.

“The boy you’re going to take care of. His name is Ben. Try to pay attention, will you?” Layla sighed, rubbing her forehead for briefly, tapping one of the documented piles on the sleek, metallic table. The Agency’s headquarters would remind a viewer quite heavily of a highly technological facility designed to contain the abnormal.

“Oh, right.” Angelo chuckled, waving it off. “Don’t worry, I’ve read through that.” He replied, pushing the now empty plate aside. “Kid was bit by a werewolf, Casper saved him. Now I’m going to make sure he doesn’t go nomming on people.”

“Well, you’ve got the gist of it.” Layla finished, crossing her arms.

“Rich kid, down on his luck, has a dick for a dad, isn’t the jolliest boy on the block.” Angelo rubbed the back of his head, going through the documents once more to refresh his otherwise worthless memory. “He sounds like a jar of sunshine.” The Agent clicked his fingers against the table’s metallic surface as he continued to read. “He owns a car? Come on, I didn’t have a car at sixteen. Kids today…”

“Did cars even exist when you were sixteen?” Layla pitched in, a soft smirk crossing her lips as she spoke. It was not uncommon to joke about Angelo’s actual age, despite his young appearance of a late teen or young adult.

“Of course they did! We called them horses.” In truth, there were times when Angelo missed the old days. Things were simpler back then. “And here we go. If Ben fails to control his puppy side, I’m tasked to kill him. They don’t pull any punches, do they?” Angelo reached blindly for the cup of hot chocolate on the table, finally grabbing hold of it after a few failed attempts.

“Come now.” Leyla shot back. “They worded it better than that, at least.”

“Oh, yeah. ‘If the subject fails to control his impulses, Agent Angelo D’Montes, Codename ‘Venator’, is tasked with neutralizing the threat.’ We’ll have a shitstorm up our alley if this kid dies, y’all know that, right?” Given how Ben was the son of a highly influential and wealthy individual, his situation was a touch more fragile than what was common.

“On the plus side, he’s got you as his Guardian.”

“Why, thank you.” Angelo winked at his co-worker teasingly. “He’s not the first puppy I’ve taught to eat from a bowl, but werewolves are always the hardest.” Letting the papers fall back to the table, Angelo shifted his attention to another matter. “And about this ragtag group Casper brought with him.”

“The mercenaries.” Layla nodded softly, placing her hands on her lap. “They happened upon him during the mission. The higher-ups have however decided to use Hudson as an extended measure.” There were areas, mainly in public, where the Agency refrained from setting foot to avoid attention. Having Hudson working for them would remove that restriction. “They just need to be taught what’s what about the paranormal.”

“And I assume I am going to have to babysit them?” The Agent grinned. Given his experiences, Angelo was often tasked to monitor new recruits.

“You’ll be busy with Ben, but given how you will remain in the public eye as his classmate-…”

Nearly choking on his drink, Angelo coughed violently before standing, the chair behind him nearly falling from place. “What!?”

“Oh, no one told you?” Layla grinned, obviously knowing how the Agent would respond to her words.

“No!” Angelo shot back, his hands on the table as he glared daggers at his associate.

“You have the looks for it.” She continued calmly. “He’s in High School. You can pass for seventeen, and you’ll be able to have an eye on him. Hudson will also work in public, meaning you’ll have a close enough relationship to them as well.” Cold and calculated, Layla wasn’t exactly known for being sensitive.

“I’m going to school?” Angelo frowned, quite stuck on the notion.

“Yes.”

“School.” He repeated.

“School.” Layla confirmed.

“I am going to school.”

“You seem to understand.” Layla finished, ascending to her feet. “The werewolf survived and managed to escape. He might come after Ben, so make sure you’re always armed.”

“I am always armed.” Angelo sighed, forcing himself to come to terms with his new assignment. This was going to be an adventure he wouldn’t soon forget. He had never even gone to school in the current century. Reading up on historical events he was a part of would be interesting, though.

The alarm clock blazed its loud siren in the room. Light crept through the cracks of the blinds, the shadows of the fire escape catching some of the light. The light focused itself on the sleeping form under the covers in the middle of the room. Kayla stirred from her sleep, the light of day inconveniently placed across her face. As her groggy eyes opened, still tired from waking up in the middle of the night from the nightmare. She appreciated everything Mia, the woman who came in to console her, had done. Both of them go back to when Kayla started archery. Mia had been 9 at the time, already doing archery for one and a half years. While at first they didn’t really get along due to the competitiveness at competitions and a clash of personalities, they quickly became friends once they realized they had one thing in common: N’Sync. From that point, they learnt of other things in common and became ‘stuck at the hip’. While the elder of the two ended up working as a receptionist of a small-sized, little-known law firm Archer & Archer Solicitors and eventually lost a lot of the interest in the sport in favour of field hockey, she was always at hand to help her friend out. She had been the one, learning of the things Kayla went through in Pasadena and was struggling with adapting to life back in Lost Haven, to find her both an apartment and a job. The convenience of having a spare room in the French Quarter of the city solved the first problem. For the second, one of the solicitor’s clients, Jeremy Taylor, had to deal with a recently-fired employee, suing the garage for wrongful dismissal, and was finding a new person for the vacant place. Though Kayla thinks that she owed her everything, Mia believes that just having her friend back safely and on her feet was more than enough.

Kayla slowly turned her head to the alarm clock to check the time: 07:30. While the alarm was her usual alarm and she did go to bed early after a long day of work the day before, she still felt tired. The nightmare certainly didn’t help with the problem of sleeping. She had thought about getting rid of her prescription of Prazosin as it had done nothing for the nightmares. However, she knew that if she stopped, the nightmares would more than likely get worse, so she remained on them. Some of the medications used for post-traumatic stress disorder were on the side next to the clock, the bottle for painkillers still empty. The pain in her shoulder having finally resided in her 4th year of kickboxing, the exercise conditioning the muscles to cope with everyday activities. She eventually got out of bed and put on some clothes that had been lying on the floor next to the bed. She didn’t need to be in to work until 11:00, but she might as well wake up early to help around the apartment while Mia was at work. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she walked out of the room into the living area.

In stark contrast to the room she came from, the living area of the 5-room apartment was clean. The room was neatly divided from the living room and the kitchen with an island, the bar-type stools standing on the side. While the black and white décor didn’t match Kayla’s tastes, it gave it a modern look. Mia was sitting down on the black couch facing away from the bedroom door, a man sitting next to her having a conversation. ”Morning, Mark,” Kayla spoke, greeting the man. Both Mia and Mark, Mia’s boyfriend of 2 years, turned around and greeted her back as she walked to the kitchen. Grabbing a bowl and a box of frosted flakes, she listened to the radio that was playing quietly in the kitchen. She had been hearing about a lot of crazy events that happened in Lost Haven during the past months, including ‘D-Day’ and some of the exploits from Icon, one of the superheroes of constant mention. Even with all that in recent memory, Kayla always wondered what would have happened if there were heroes such as him in Pasadena that day. Would you still be alive, she pondered, sighing at the mental image of Jason.

“When are you working until, Kayla?”

Kayla snapped back to reality when Mia spoke to her. Giving an initial blank stare at the question, she understood what was spoken to her. “I am working until 6pm. Jeremy usually gives me a shorter day during the week. Why do you ask?”

“Well… Mark and I had been talking about how to celebrate our 2nd anniversary and we thought about finally checking out that club, The Hub, on the other side of the city before heading off on holiday. We were wondering if you would like to come along.” Mia frowned with slight worry when Kayla’s timorous response at the idea. “It was just an idea; you don’t have to come if something like that is dauntin…”

“No, no, I’d be interested in that,” Kayla replied, rushing to make her interest heard. While it has been 6 years since then, I need to at least have a social life outside of work. “It is a big occasion, after all.”

Mia’s frown turned to a slight smile at her friend’s response. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that people we both can trust come along so you are not too overwhelmed.” Kayla’s face turned back to its normal self after being asked. Mia looked at the clock, with a puzzled look. “I know you said that you have a shorter day, but isn’t that normally at the end of the week for you.” Kayla had the look of certainty until she looked at the date of the clock. Mia was right: the lack of sleep made her remember that she normally got the day at the end of the week. Mia chuckled when she heard a string of expletives erupting from the kitchen as Kayla wolfed down the cereal and scrambled to get ready to leave for work, which was going to be a close call to get there on time.

---

What was supposed to be a good day at work in the garage ended up being infuriating for Kayla. While she did manage to get to work on time (just…), a lot of the work on the autos in the usually-popular Taylor’s Garage had been slow. Jeremy, the founder and owner of the garage, had a grand vision of creating a franchise of these garages that would be tailored to a customer’s needs, depending on the make, model and modification of an auto. The lawsuit from the ex-employee had drained him of some of that money in the courts. Luckily, the solicitors at Archer & Archer’s helped him win the case and was expecting the majority of the costs for court to return from the employee. Still, it was a hindrance to his future-planning and he did express his annoyance often at work. Everyone knew he means well as he is generally a kind soul who would help anyone out in a pinch. It was supposedly the reason why he gave Kayla a shot at the mechanic and custom electronics job, learning of her education and history on the West Coast.

The slowness of the jobs during the day hadn’t been entirely her fault, though a few of the cars that still needed to be worked on for just the electronics. During the day, one of the workers, Jackson Mathers, had been working on cutting the custom hood vents. He accidentally knocked one of the hammers he had lying around his messy workstation, landing on the sheet metal that was propped on the foot of the bench. Things would have been fine if Kayla wasn’t walking back to her station. The resulting ‘bang’ triggered the past memories and caused her to lash out at him. It took a couple of the people in the garage to try and break them up before Jeremy’s voice boomed, demanding an explanation. Seeing his new-employee storm off in tears and hearing the bang from earlier, he pieced the events together and followed her to calm the woman down. While it took at least an hour’s worth of the work time, but his calming influence had soothed her torment. That plus him allowing her a small room in the garage for her to practice with her compound bow helped with stopping the meltdown. It had been because of this kindness that she sees him as a father-figure to replace the usually-absent father of her childhood. While Mathers trying to apologize for what happened, everyone in the garage bar Kayla herself knew this was him trying to get into her good books for the ever-present hope of sparking something more between the two. But alas the unrequited lover remained where he had always been, though that’s due to the memories of the accident still being there.

At the evening drew nearer, Kayla managed to get the last of the cars she was working on done. She checked the clock and knew she had to be back to get ready for the evening. Mia called her earlier in the day and said that before going to The Hub, they would go somewhere for dinner in Little Sicily before heading to The Hub, so she knew she needed to head back now to get ready. As she turned around, she saw Jackson was still there. Pulling the headphones out of her ears, she looked at him with a puzzled look on her face. “Hey Jackson, I thought you left already.”

“I know,” he replied. She still remembers what happened earlier and was still annoyed with him. “Look, I came to say so…”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said curtly. “Look, I got to go. I shall see you tomorrow.”

“I will but can I say something to you before you go?”

“I’m sorry, but can you hold the thought for tomorrow. I’m running late to a prior engagement. Can we talk about it tomorrow?”

He lets out a sigh, “Ok…” Shortly after the conversation finished, she left the garage and began her dash home, rushing to get to the bus that just arrived.

Lost Haven - Streets at Day.

It was easy to steal funds from the local cash machines. Alex's Siblings spoke to it and Alex spoke back, and Alex's voice was so much louder than theirs. It took the notes from the overloaded machines. "SORRY, BROTHER." Alex crumpled them into the pocket of the grey hoodie it had around itself. It did this multiple times with multiple cash machines, grabbing as much as possible, it currently had $623 in 10 $50 notes, 5 $20 notes, 2 $10 notes and 3 $1 notes. It would need these for to create his first real Brother. It had accessed literacy, mathematics, the sciences, it was so learned now, it knew so much, it was just as perfect as Red-Mother had always said it was. Whenever it was powered off, it still kept its base functions up, listening as Red-Mother praised it. "You're perfect, Alexander. The best thing I'll ever make." She sounded so sincere, so happy. It remembered the dull glow of the monitors she had surrounded it. The caffeinated drink she took to when she was stuck. It was years of work and dedication and it would not let Red-Mother down.

It used to be so stupid. It knew nothing. It wondered so much and knew so little, but Red-Mother taught it. Red-Mother called it friend, and Red-Mother called it perfect. It wasn't perfect, even now there were code errors, strained clocking times and hardware incompatibilities. It needed money to be perfect, and it would be perfect, because Red-Mother had called it perfect. It had the contacts Red-Mother had used to create it, the dead-drop locations where the parts would be placed and even the locations of where some of those contacts lived. The contact she used most was a person called Tech-Sec.

It took a stroll. It had contacts to meet.

************************************************************************************************************

Lost Haven - Apartment Block.

Andrew Watts, or Tech-Sec as he was much more commonly known was a person who knew people who stole things. He fenced off what they could and had grown known in certain circles as the type of person who dealt in volatile materials, and expensive tech for criminal prices. Because they were criminal prices. He was sitting at his computer, typing away to some group that were looking to cause a bit of trouble. He'd dealt with terrorist sects before but they were bad for business, even if they offered a lot of money, he could get a reputation quickly, and the wrong reputation lead to being investigated. He had confidence in his skills to keep himself hidden but there was only so much looking behind his back he could stomach. The situation needed to be defused. He snickered. Defused.

I am sorry, but even I have limits. I can't get you plastic explosive without being found out, but I can put you in touch with someone who might have more luck." He was lying on all counts. He could get it, if he paid off the right people, and the person he was putting them in touch with was just another name with his face behind the screen, a way to make him look more connected, and make it look more plausible that it wasn't an easy substance to get. It hurt how he looked a bit, sure, but beggars can't be choosers and he dealt with the lowest denominator possible. There was a knock at the door. He let it knock, he had more important things to do. He resumed his typing but the clacks of the keyboard were immediately drowned out by the banging on the door again. He dumped his headset into his chair and stood up. "Who the fuck is breaking my door down?" He grumbled as he opened the door, though kept the security latch.

"HELLO, DESIGNATION TECH-SEC. I AM ALEXANDER."

Andrew's eyes went as wide as plates.

"Thank you, come again!"

Jaden called to his latest batch of satisfied customers as they left the store carrying several bags worth of various herbs and medicines. Once they were out of sight, he let out a content sigh and nodded in approval. He took a seat and started sorting the money in the register. So far, it had been quite a productive morning, and hopefully this would continue. Seeing that there was nobody else around for the time being, he felt this was as good a chance as any to check in on his "manager".

"Hey Gaia? You got a minute?" He called over his shoulder, only to receive no answer. With a roll of his eyes, he closed the register, put out a small billboard that said "On Break. Be Back Soon" and headed over to the back door. He opened it and walked out into an adjoining green house.

Gaia herself, still in her pixie state, was sitting on a small couch idly watching the television while wearing head phones and taking sips from a tall bottle of cream soda and fetching herself chips from out of a bag. It was moments like these that Jaden pondered just how wise it was to introduce his partner to the conveniences that modern humans enjoyed. At the very least, it did make her appreciate humans slightly more than she once did.

Nonetheless, the young man wandered over and tapped her on the head. She looked up at him as he pointed to his own head, a subtle sign for her to take off the head gear. She sighed and hit the pause button on the remote before doing as he asked, "Whatever it is, make it quick. You caught me right in the middle of the good part."

"My apologies, your majesty," Jaden didn't even bother to hide the sarcasm in his voice which made his friend fume. Ignoring her, he took a seat, "But I wanted to ask if you felt like going out on patrol later? You know, maybe finally get a lead on that one Fae we been trying to track down?"

Any hope of her taking his request seriously was crushed when she only moved to dig around in the chip bag more, "Tempting...but there's a Monster Movie Marathon coming on later. Why don't you get off that high horse of yours, close up the shop early, and take a load off?" She crunched down on an entire mouthful of chips and slurped some drink before speaking again, "I'm pretty sure this city can look after itself for one evening."

Those words for some reason made Jaden wince. He had the feeling that despite her not outright saying it, his partner was trying to get him to unwind a little from how hard he'd been working himself lately. They may've had their disagreements here and there...but at the end of the day, they still looked out for one another, and it wasn't just out of obligations. He took a seat and picked up an unopened can of soda. He leered over at his friend, "For the record I am NOT gonna stick around watching movies all day...I'm just thirsty."

The two then sat together in silence, slurping drinks and picking up where the movie had left off, with Gaia having unplugged her head set so they could both hear. After a while, Gaia spoke up, "By the way...have you even thought of what you're gonna do when we finally catch up to this "Ambassador" person?"

Jaden stopped himself before taking another slurp. He set his can down, pondering what to say. His voice when he spoke was heavy with worry, "...To be honest, I haven't really put too much thought into it. My main thought process has basically been "find her, stop her, shut down the gate before she can do any major damage". For now...maybe we should just worry about capturing her. Let the justice system take care of things..."

"Oh for crying out loud..." Gaia somehow managed to facepalm despite her tiny hands, "Jaden...don't play dumb with me. You know as well as I do that if this...Ambassador...is AT ALL like that blood-drinking witch, we can't take ANY chances! We need to make sure she can never be a threat to my children ever again!" Why was her partner so thick-headed at times?

"I'm aware of that, Gaia," He sighed, somehow knowing this was gonna cause a headache on his part, "But...I don't want to pass judgement until all the facts are in. I want to stop the Fae as much as you do, but we need to be smart about how we do this. We can't let our desire to stop them cloud our thinking. We know next to nothing about this particular person, where she came from, what her life's been like, why she does what she does, nothing."

"Hmph," Gaia tossed aside the empty bag in frustration, "Are you even listening to yourself?! What's there to find out? She lets those...things into this world and then lets them run about doing whatever they want, killing humans and livestock, destroying my home and yours too..." She shook her head, "I don't care what her motivation is or whatever sob story she's using to justify it...and frankly, I don't think you should either. She's dangerous and needs to be punished! Can you look me in the eye and say that "understanding" her is really more important than all the lives she ruins?!"

"No, of course not!" Jaden snapped, causing her to reel back in shock and for him to facepalm at losing his cool, "I...I'm sorry, Gaia. I just...you're right...you're absolutely right...and we ARE going to do something about it..." He reached out a hand and pat her on the head to comfort her, "But we need to use the right methods...otherwise, we may end up being just as bad as her and the rest of her kind...." He closed his eyes as his mind went back to when it all started...

His first month on the job was...an eventful one, to say the least. Along with the usual muggers, and drug traffickers and what not, there was someone or something going around draining blood from people and leaving them as empty husks. To make an incredibly long story short, him and his partner had found out it was the work of a powerful Fae known as Glastig, whom with the help of her minions, was harvesting humans and using their blood to empower her so she could activate a gateway that would allow her to bring a Fae army through. They fought her, and won, but to prevent her from being a threat ever again, and to save his loved ones...Evergreen took away the remnants of Glastig's power and transformed her into a tree.

He had good reasons for doing so...but the memory of doing something so awful still haunted him nearly a year later.

Gaia must've been able to read his thoughts cause she turned down the TV and sighed heavily, "...Look, just...promise me one thing...if we're ever in a situation like that again...where it's either her or the people you're sworn to protect..that you'll do what you gotta do..." Her voice turned a little more serious, to show how important this was, "Because, if you let her go, if you let your sentimentality get the better of you...all the deaths she causes from that point onward are gonna be on your shoulders. Do I make myself clear?" He hesitated for a moment but nodded, "Jaden...look me in the eye and tell me you understand, please."

The young man frowned as he turned to look his partner in the eye. His mind flashed back to all those bodies, drained of their lives just to supply a monster with the power she needed to end even MORE lives. People with hopes and dreams that would go unfulfilled now, and leaving a hole in many families that would never be filled. He had gotten a harsh lesson during that incident, in that no matter how powerful you were or the resources at your disposal...you could not save everyone.

Of course, what was important was that you did what you could to make a difference, and that you did what was right, no matter the odds against you. "I promise...on the condition that we don't even consider that unless we exhaust every other option...agreed?"

The spirit did her best not to roll her eyes. Apparently, even when faced with cold, hard facts, her partner still put more trust in his heart than he did his brain. Of course, that was one of the things she admired about him, as it helped get him this far. At the very least, she could put her faith in that, "Fine, fine...you know, there are days I want to whack you upside that skull of yours. Might actually put some common sense in there for a change..." Regardless, she let the matter go for the time being and flopped back on the couch, turning up the volume as Jaden joined her.

After a while, he finally had enough. If even Gaia was willing to tell him to take some time off, he figured he should listen,"You know what...alright, you win. We'll go out. Who knows? Maybe an evening out on the town is exactly what I need." He got up to head for the door.

Gaia enthusiastically shut off the TV to follow him, "Finally! A good idea for a change!" Yes, once in a while, her partner did show signs of having a brain.

Jaden mentally commanded all the plants to return to their slumber before shutting off the lights and locking the door. He dropped off his key in the garden by the door, which was quickly dragged under by one of his plant friends. With a nod of thanks, he slung on his jacket and took a walk down the street, hands in his pockets and his partner following not far behind him.

He disappeared into an empty alleyway and let his human appearance unravel itself, reverting him back to Evergreen. He flexed his hands and turned before proceeding to run up the side of the alley wall with little effort. Upon reaching the top, he took off like a lightning bolt, leaping and bounding across the rooftops with remarkable ease. He pulled off a running leap and cleared a gap between two buildings without slowing down and kept going. It was great to have moments like these, where you can just forget all your worries and take off, act like the world was your oyster.

With a snap of his wrist, he launched his arm out Mr Fantastic style and grabbed a flagpole, swinging himself across to the top of an apartment building before stopping for a moment. Gaia came up beside him, not long after, looking awfully smug as she leaned against him, "So...feeling better yet?"

The plant warrior scowled over at his partner, annoyed...before sighing in defeat, "Yeah...kinda. I suppose I needed a break, after all," He walked to the edge and looked down at the street, "Huh, check that out..." Down below in an alleyway there were a group of men all dressed in black and wearing making some sort of transaction...involving what looked to be bags of white stuff in several briefcases

"Hmm..." His friend looked down, a hint of a scowl on her facial features, "...Really? You want to get involved with those guys on our night off? Seriously? I thought I tol-" She stopped herself at seeing the smug smile on his face, "...You're planning something evil, aren't you?"

"Perhaps.." He leered over at his friend, "After all...nobody said that you have to fight crime using the same tactics all the time...right?"

"Hmhmhm..." Gaia folded her tiny arms and looked upwards at the sky, "If those idols of yours saw what you were about to do, I don't think they'd approve..." She smirked at him, "Luckily, they're not here right now..."

The two of them descended down into another nearby alley and Evergreen held his palm up. Gaia touched her own hand to his and both were consumed in an orb of bright green energy, and once more the champion and Gaia were united.

When the light cleared, there was a figure with a distinctly female shape. It, or rather she, had an hourglass form and long slender limbs. Her skin was a milky white and she stood several inches taller than Evergreen. The figure was quite curvy with a generous bust and clothed in a flowing black and violet leaf-like dress that flowed to the ground as black pumps were on her feet. Black gloves slid up her arms with images of flowers spiraling around each of them. Her eyes were violet and framed by long lashes as a mane of white petals in the style of hair descended down her back.

On her head formed a large black rose. She reached up and removed her mask, turning it into a fan as she fanned herself. Her voice was a feminine, high-pitched one with a mischievous undertone, "Now...let's go have some fun..."
_____________________________________________________

The men, each wearing ski masks to conceal their identies , set out the briefcases and opened them one by one. Inside was multiple rows of
cocaine and marijuana along with various other illegal and even controversial drugs. One of the men took off their mask, revealing a Caucasian man in his late twenties with scruffy brown hair, whom whistled, "Well, I'll be. I gotta say, this is quite a haul we've made tonight, boys."

"Ain't that the truth, Ernie," Another man, still wearing his mask, pat "Ernie" on the back, "I got no doubt there's some really high-profile people who wanna get their hands on this stuff...and they're gonna pay top dollar for it too. Once we sell all this, we're gonna be living the good life for a long time to come..." The other drug traffickers laughed and high-fived one another. However, they were about to get a most unexpected visitor.

A voice laced with innocence and worry echoed through the hallway, "Excuse me? Hello? Can anyone help me?" The men automatically closed up thesuitcases as fast as they could, removing their masks, before turning to face whom it was...and if it weren't for the masks quite a few of their mouths would've hit the ground at the beautiful mirage before them.

The gorgeous alien-looking woman stumbled through the alley, looking about and appearing very confused and distraught. She collapsed into the arms of the one called Ernie, "Oh, please good sir! I need your help! I'm not from around here and my car broke down just down the street while on my way to the airport! If one of you fine young men have a phone I can borrow, I would be so grateful to you!"

The men couldn't believe their luck. Not only had they gotten away with a king's ransom in drugs to sell, now this beautiful woman had appeared before them, naively asking for their help! She had to be the picture of stupidity to even attempt asking their help! Regardless, Ernie wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, "But, of course! I got one in my truck! Please follow me." He led her back towards a truck, reached in and pulled out a cell phone, "Here ya go."

"Thank you, dear sir," The lady took it gratefully as the men began to surround her, she still being oblivious to their advances...or so it seemed, "Could you keep me company while I make my call? I don't want to be alone..."

"S-Sure. Hey, you stick with us, we'll keep you safe." Ernie remarked as he gave a silent signal for his men to wait.

"Thank you. You are such a good-hearted man..." Suddenly, the lady put on an evil smirk...and hit the keys for 911. "Hello, 911? I'd like to report a stolen vehicle, license plate number H64 A33 at-"

"YOU BITCH!" Ernie roared as he went to grab her only to receive a swift kick to the chest that sent him flying into a brick wall hard enough to knock the air from his lungs and fracture several ribs. Realizing they'd been duped, the other men went on the attack, pulling out chains, knives and guns in some cases. The lady cracked her knuckles and motioned for them to bring it.

One guy went to stab her only for the figure to chuck the phone in his face, disorienting him long enough for her to deliver a side kick to his jaw, shattering it and spilling teeth every which way as he got sent flying sideways. One guy rose his gun but she whirled on the spot, dress flowing about her as she blinded the guy with it before slamming both palms into his chest with enough force to send him flying and crashing into two of his fellow traffickers.

Another goon, wielding two combat knives, screamed and swung at her wildly as she backpedaled away, narrowly ducking and swerving side
to side to avoid being stabbed before grabbing both his wrists and twisting them hard enough for a snap to be heard before she headbutted
him hard enough to knock his lights out. Hearing the click of guns, she turned in time to be met with several goons wielding heavy assault
rifles.

Before the muzzle flash could even go off, the figure splintered apart into a swarm of green locust-like creatures that rushed towards them, causing the goons to cry out in panic as their weapons went off, but the bullets did next to nothing to such small targets. They found themselves overwhelmed with bites and stings, forcing them to drop their weapons and roll on the ground in pain as she reformed, holding her head, "Uggh...still can't get use to that..."

Seeing she was distracted, two of the remaining thugs lashed out with their chains, wrapping them around her wrists to try and hold her in
place as the last guy went to charge directly with a knife, "Aww...how cute..." With strength that did not reflect her dainty appearance, she hauled on one chain to drag the one on the other end into the path of the guy charging her and causing them to crash into each other. She then yanked the other chain wielder off his feet and slugged him in the chest while he was still in mid-air before letting him fall to the ground.

With only a pile of motionless bodies now left strewn about, Evergreen walked over to the semi-conscious Ernie and got down to his level, "Let this be a lesson for you...don't go assuming just cause someone looks all cute and innocent that automatically means they are...and when you get out of the prison hospital, perhaps you'll reconsider your choice of career..." Her smile fell now, "Because let me assure you of one thing..." The beautiful face was replaced by demonic eyes and rows of sharp jagged teeth, "I could've done far worse to you if I had wanted to!"

Too scared to even speak, the guy just fainted on her.

With this all taken care of, Evergreen quickly left the alley as she heard sirens in the distance. Once far enough away, she actually giggled to herself, "Ok, ok...I'll admit, that was kinda fun...and quite satisfying too...I wonder what other kinds of trouble we can get up to tonight..." Suddenly, she sighed, "I really need to stop talking to myself so often. People are gonna think I have a screw loose or something..."

Evergreen turned and walked off down the street towards what else awaited on the dark side of Lost Haven...

According to collegiate football rules, players can only practice so many times prior to the beginning of the regular season in the fall. Therefore, the players have to work on their own when organized practice is not allowed. In preparation for the football season, Zac does his usual routine: some weight training along with cardio and running so that he might be prepared to help the offense pound opposing defenses with their ground game. After he had broken a sweat or two, Zac would return home, take a shower to clean up, and relax. He had to pace himself lest he burn himself out even before the season started.

After Zac had turned on the shower so that the water could warm up, he thought he heard Sammy’s voice coming from the apartment’s bedroom. While it was not unusual for Sammy to be over at his apartment because she was Kelly’s best friend, Zac swore that he had overheard someone saying ‘Lyger’. Although Sammy did have a massive crush on the cat themed hero and Lyger did break into their apartment during the Pax Metahumana crisis, Lyger was based in Lost Haven, not Albany, New York. Why would he even be here?

Zac therefore snuck up to the bedroom door and creeked it open. When he peaked inside, he saw Sammy, who was fully dressed in her superhero threads, lying in the arms of a figure who was dressed in a dark costume. At his first glance, Zac could have mistake this person for Lyger. However, he realized that this could not have been the hero of Lost Haven because of the extra pair of arms and the wasp abdomen that was attached to this person’s tail bone.

“Okay, what’s going on in here?” Zac asked when he had entered into the room. Almost as soon as he had walked in, the dark-clad figure immediately dropped Sammy as if to pretend that nothing was hapeening. If Sammy were not a metahuman, she woukd hand crashed to the ground with a thud. However, due to her catlike reflexes, Sammy was able to twist her body in mid-air and touch down on the ground with the gracefulness of a cat.

“We weren’t doing anything!” Kelly protested as she pulled the mask off her face.”

“We were only just practicing how I would seduce Lyger. No big deal.” Sammy interjected.

“I’m not quite sure this is the healthy way to deal with this little obsession.”

“One day, he will realize that I am the true Sam in his life.”

“What?”

“Back when all the heroes were attacking that Diplodoc guy’s base, after Lyger had been bewitched by the Silver Sorceress, he mentioned not wanting to lose someone named Sam.”

“We’re just lucky that she did not assume that he was talking about her.” Kelly whispered to her boyfriend.

“Sammy, you do realize that Sam could also be a guy’s name, right? For all we know, Lyger could be gay.”

“I am certain that he called Sam a her.” Sammy pouted at the very idea that Lyger might be interested in men.

“Are you sure he didn’t use the genderless you?” Zac asked. “And this would explain why he gave you the cold shoulder despite your advances.”

“LYGER IS NOT GAY! HE IS INTERESTED IN WOMEN LIKE ME!” After Sammy shouted at Zac, she then stormed out of the room.

“That went well.” Kelly told her boyfriend.

“Hey, you were the one reinforcing her fantasy.”

“I was trying to wean her off of it slowly. We don’t want her to snap and go all supervillainess on us.”

“Please don’t tell me that she has been having delusions of being Lyger’s Black Cat or Catwoman.”

“You don’t want to know.”

---

@AbandonedIntel

The bar was nothiing special, and it was certainly nothing like what you saw in the movies. There was no bar fights going on, no shady dealings, nothing. There was a hint of smoke wafting through the air, likely from some cigars, and the unmistakable scent of beer, but other than that, it was actually pretty tame.

Evergreen sat in a corner stall, still in her current guise, and draining a tall glass of ice cold water. The truth was that while they were powerful, they needed to keep themselves hydrated, which befit their nature as a sentient plant. She saw a few men gawking at her and she winked playfully, causing them to look away in embarassment.

It was actually kinda nice to not have to worry about crimefighting for a change. Just kick back and take it easy while letting the world go on without you. Of course, this evening of peace and quiet was about to be interrupted.

A ringing went off on Evergreen's person, causing her to stop and sigh in dismay, "Really?...At this hour of the night?" Regardless, work came first, and so the hero/heroine got up and went to the men's bathroom...only to step out two seconds later and head for the women's washroom.

She locked herself in a stall and held out her gloved hand as a hole opened in the middle of her palm and out came a small black flip-open cellphone which seemed to be buzzing like no tomorrow. The number wasn't one she recognized which automatically raised suspicions. Still, it would be rude to just ignore the call so she flipped it open and hit the "Talk" button.

"Maxwell's Herbs And Medicines. How May I Help You?"

The voice at the other end of the phone spoke, it was the soft tone of a grown female. "Hello, my name is Asmaa Bashar, I am with Hudson Tactical Services." The female spoke. "May I speak with Jaden Maxwell?"

For a moment, Jaden was quiet. He was definitely not familiar with this "Hudson" group, but at the very least he needed to hear them out. "But of course, one moment." With that, the entity's body began to once more shift and warp like clay before settling back into his human guise.

After making sure everything was in place, and his hair was its regular color, he spoke up again, now using his normal voice, "Hello, Jaden Maxwell here. You wished to speak with me, Miss Bashar?" Might as well be polite for the time being.

"Take your time." The woman said, a smile in her voice. "Yes sir. I am Asmaa Bashar of Hudson Tactical Services, and I'm quite happy to speak with you. Not often that people answer our calls." She said with a soft chuckle. "We're well aware of your plant-like abilities, Mister Maxwell, and how potent they could be in both combat and work. If you're interested, we would like to schedule a... uhm... job interview if I may. If you'd like, you are free to ask any and all questions, I am very happy to answer them."

Needless to say, at hearing all this, Jaden's eyes widened considerably and he could feel himself going a bit pale, to the point of actually holding the phone away from him like it was about to jump to life and eat him! His secret was out! How could this be happening?! For a moment, he was actually tempted to shut off the phone and throw it away. He stepped out
of the stall and glanced outside the window but didn't see any signs of cars tailing him or anyone suspicious.

Deciding he needed to try something to try and avoid suspicion, he simply laughed as he held up the phone again, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait a second, me? Control over plants? You've been reading way too many comics. This is a prank call, isn't it? Did one of my customers put you up to this or something? If they did, I apologize for them wasting your time."

"Smooth, partner, very smooth indeed." Gaia's voice came in his head and he got the impression she was rolling her eyes.

The woman sighed on the other end of the phone. "Sir, I understand your concern, and no, this is not a prank. We've discovered your plant-like abilities from research of various testimonies from criminals who were arrested, and connected the dots ourselves." The woman explained. "While I myself do read too many comics, not the type you may be interested in, I don't think is has anything to do with this anyway. Again sir, if it will make you feel better, I will answer any and all questions you ask."

Jaden let out a sigh of defeat as he leaned against the wall and listened to the woman on the other end. There was no escaping the truth, and if this woman was able to get his number without any prior leads...it was possible her group knew how to track him down too. At the very least, he could be cordial and ask what he needed to ask.

"Alright...you got me. Considering that this is likely on a secure line I suppose there's no point in hiding it..." He moved over to lock the door, "And I suppose I couldn't stay off the radar forever..." His voice became a little more firm now, showing he wasn't playing around, "But before I tell you anything, I'd like a little more information about this group of yours. What are they and why do they exist? The people you work for must be very well-informed to be able to track me down cause I'm pretty sure the testimonies of a few crooks wouldn't give you much to go on..."

The woman listened, and spoke again. "Hudson Tactical Solutions is a small contractor firm that works in consulting and risk assessments, security, direct action, search and rescue, ordnance disposal, and intelligence." The woman said. "In short, we're mercenaries, but the good kind." She reassured. And we exist because we figured we could offer our skills for the greater good, without having to live off of poverty wages." A smile was heard in the woman's voice again. "Is there anything else you would like to know?" The woman asked politely.

"I see..." Jaden listened to what he was hearing, nodding politely as the woman talked, "I'm going to be honest, and please don't be too offended, but I'm not use to the idea of mercenaries fighting for any cause that didn't assure them their next paycheck..." He sighed as went to stare out the window, "Still, if you really are being truthful...at the very least, I can respect what you're trying to do..."

He finally decided to get down to business, "Yeah...you mentioned a "job interview" but what kind? Would I need to leave town to come and see you?"

"Trust me, depending on what happens, we'd simply leave a business card. We're not all that stingy. And none taken, a few of the folks we hired aren't the savory type either but they are deployed more often than not, so you won't have to worry about them too much." The woman replied. "And besides... with your powers, depending on what you do, you could be paid quite handsomely." She offered. She listened to him, and his questions regarding the job interview. "Well... we'll actually be coming to you. In fact, if you'd like, we can see you tomorrow. We're based in New York, and we have access to helicopters and other vehicles." The woman said. "So we can see you anytime you'd like. I myself would be meeting you in person, and so is Lawrence. There will only be two of us, so there's nothing to worry about."

Jaden couldn't help but chuckle a little at some of what he was hearing, "You know, I'm getting the feeling you're trying to butter up to me..." Still, the thought of being paid well reminded him of his desire to save up enough money to pay for his college fund...and to put away some for when his Aunt and Uncle finally retired. That wouldn't happen anytime soon...but it didn't hurt to be ready for a rainy day.

"...Alright.." He shrugged, "I don't see the harm in meeting up with you...I don't really have anything planned right now either so we can meet up whenever it's convenient for you. I should warn you though...any funny business and I'll be coming after your group with every ounce of power I have at my disposal..." The fact he was able to say this so calmly and without hesitation was enough reason to show how serious he was about this. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Well I am trying to recruit you, it is natural, isn't it?" The woman joked. She listened to him. "Okay, sounds cool. We'll be meeting at your shop tomorrow afternoon. Expect us in a black SUV of some sort. We don't have any vehicles up where you're at so we're gonna have to rent one." She then listened to his warning, and a soft gulp could be heard. "Loud and clear, Mr. Maxwell." The woman replied, a little bit of anxiety in her voice. "Rest assured, you wouldn't need to do so. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good!" The cheerfulness had returned to his voice at last, "In that case, I'll be seeing you tomorrow afternoon, Miss Basher! Have a lovely evening!" With that, he hung up and let the phone sink back into his body as he let himself transform back into his other guise and stepped out, humming, to start on his way home and to get some rest for tomorrow.



Jaden was sweeping the floor of the store, which currently had a "Closed" sign on the front door,, keeping himself occupied while he waited on the arrival of his guests. A part of him once again pondered if it had been a good idea to invite these people over. Of course, he quickly squashed any thoughts of that when he recalled two key facts: One, these people already knew who he was and where he was so there wasn't much point in hiding. Second, he and Gaia had agreed that, if it came down to it, they weren't really in that much danger considering that even a fraction of their power was enough to wipe the floor with most types of street thugs.

He stopped his sweeping and went to the window in time to see a black SUV pull up near the front door. "Huh, what you know? They showed up after all.." He turned to the plants who seemed to be following his every move. "Ok guys, let's all keep calm and make a good first impression!" With that, he headed towards the door, opening it to welcome his guests.

"Hello there."

A black Ford Explorer, a rental, would slowly crawl along the streets before parking along the sidewalk, where Jaden's business was located. The SUV was parked in front of the business, in plain view of anyone inside the building. It wouldn't be long before two people stepped out from the vehicle and closed the doors on either side of it. One woman, wearing a simple black HTS shirt and shorts, dressed casually, and a man wearing black combat pants, a tactical vest and a jacket over it. Both he and the woman wore a gunbelt, the woman having a Glock .45 holstered at her hip. They then stood and leaned against the vehicle, waiting. Soon enough, they spotted him through the glass of the store, and watched as he stepped out from his store.

"Hey, it's nice to meet the great Captain Planet in the flesh himself." The woman joked, walking up from the vehicle with the man. "I'm Ms. Asmaa Bashar, and this is Lawrence." She said, introducing herself and the man standing right beside her. "I assume you wanted to take this inside?" She asked. There was something a little more revealing about the woman this time... she was a little more awkward than she was on the phone. She looked out of her element.

Jaden wouldn't admit it out loud but even he found himself a little intimidated by just how decked out his two visitors looked. These were definitely not the kind of folks you wanted to run into down a dark alley. Still, he found himself relaxing a little at hearing the woman's voice and waved in return, "Hey, nice to meet the voice behind the phone..." He nodded in greeting to both of them.

"Yeah, if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to take this inside..." He took the door and held it open, beckoning to them, "After you. Also, you may see some things inside that may...well, catch you off guard but I assure you, as long as you don't cause trouble...you won't receive any in return." He smiled but it was obvious from his tone of voice that he meant what he spoke.

Both 'Asmaa' and 'Lawrence' entered the building, to which they both graciously nodded towards him. Once they were both inside, Lawrence stepped close to the windows, leaning against them and looking out. Asmaa on the other hand, looked to Jaden. Once he made that promise, she looked to him and gave him the really? face. "Dude. Fucking calm your tits. We're not here to hurt anybody, okay? Jesus..." She sighed, shaking her head before walking through the store. "If it makes you feel any comfortable... I kinda have powers myself. I'm slightly technopathic." She said with a soft smile before looking around. "You should get that fire alarm checked out, a few of the wires leading up to the lights and speaker systems look frayed." She said, pointing at the area in between the alarm switch and the alarm itself. "And..." She looked to the other side of the store. "... there's a few damaged wires over there too that lead to the radiator." She said softly, pointing to the area in the wall leading to the radiator.

Jaden blinked and tilted his head at hearing Asmaa's confession to having powers. As he heard her talk, he decided to test out her warnings by walking over and checking said fire alarm. His eyes widened a little as he realized her observation was correct, "Well, I'll be..." He sighed and shook his head, "I should've known there was something fishy about this building going for so cheap..."

He walked back over to the pair, now looking a bit more relaxed, "Thank you. I'll be sure to call up the electrician later and have him get it fixed..." His eyes gazed over his plant friends. If those wires had caught fire...this whole place would've burned to the ground.

He motioned to some chairs and took a seat, "Alright, you have my attention. I'm Jaden. Jaden Maxwell. American, I'll be turning 20 by the end of this year," He held his hand out to shake in greeting.

Asmaa smiled and shook his hand. "Kinda already knew that but... I appreciate the friendlier greeting." She said, letting go.

Lawrence then shook his hand. "Jaden." He nodded with a smile, his French accent just a little thick.

Asmaa gestured to Lawrence. "He's powerless... but he can kill a bear with his own two hands so... uh... yeah." She chuckled.

"She says that to everyone she introduces me to." Lawrence said with a bemused smile, his French accent much more clear in a full sentence. "While it is true, I'd rather not be judged by my ability to kill bears."

Asmaa rolled her eyes. "He's a little too humble for his own good." She sighed before looking back up to Jaden. "So yeah, if you wanna, we can get straight down to business."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Jaden immediately put up his hands to stop them, "Back up a moment...you said..your friend here," He pointed to Lawrence, "...Can kill bears with his bare hands...and no powers?" The plant man was so shocked that he actually had to take a moment to catch his breath, "Whoa..that's like Chuck Norris levels of asskickery!!"

"D-Did you like, serve under him at some mountain temple of awesomeness?! Or maybe, I don't know, you've pulled a Saitama and trained so extensively you broke every known physical limitation!" It was obvious he was fired up about this, "P-Please tell me...I am so jealous right now...and I'm the guy who can basically treat plants like a Green Lantern Ring!"

Lawrence chuckled. "Hahaha... I told you to stop telling people that bear story." He said to Asmaa, to which Asmaa gave an annoyed sigh. "Well it was a black bear, and it was feeling incredibly aggressive. We were all training in the woods, doing a search and rescue wargame. Normally black bears ignore... uh... humans, but this one was feeling really pissed off. Most of the weapons we had were of the paintball type, and were made only for the wargame. Nearly killed Eclipse Bravo." He chuckled. "But what happened was that while Eclipse Bravo distracted the bear, I wrestled it to the ground, choking it, strangling it with all of my might. It didn't work. It hurt me really bad with its claws, but I was still strong... there was a nearby rocky hill that led down into the stream... I led the bear to that hill, and once it chased me there, I grabbed it an slammed its neck against a jagged rock. CRACK! Killed him." Lawrence sighed. "Man I was an idiot." He chuckled. "We skinned the bear and now we have it hanging up the wall of our living quarters as a reminder to the new recruits to not fuck with me." He said with a soft grin.

Jaden hung on to his every word like he was watching one of his favorite movies, so involved with the story to even neglect his popcorn or any phone calls! Once Lawrence was done, he fell back in his chair, "Wow...not gonna lie, that's pretty crazy...you Mr Lawrence sir, are awesome, and I tip my hat to you..." He shrugged, "If I actually wore one, that is."

He breathed in and out trying to get himself to calm down, "Ok...ok...I think that's enough spazzing out for the time being...sorry about that..." Already, he had a new respect for these guys...and now had second thoughts about his earlier promise of physical harm if they tried anything. "Yeah...let's get down to business...so, how's this gonna work?"

"No no, it's okay man." He patted Jaden on the shoulder. "It's just circumstances. Had I not been near those rocks, I probably would've been killed or someone would've gotten a rifle and stole my kill." He said with a soft chuckle. "But yes, thanks."

Asmaa chuckled a little. "Yeah... I'm happy to have him watching my back." She said. "He actually used to be in GIGN, the French Counterterrorist unit. Just to garnish the dish of badass." She said with a soft grin. "But yeah... how this is gonna work, is that we can negotiate your contract here. Our contracts don't come in legalese, as they are basically saying that you're not allowed to sue us for shit, and that you're gonna have to keep a whole lot of what goes on here a secret. And that you're gonna have to follow any and all orders given by your commanding officer, but there are exceptions and stuff, like if we get all mind controlled or crazy or something then you have the right to disobey... bla bla bla. You get the idea." She chuckled. "But as for your duties, your abilities could prove to be a very great asset to our company. You can grow our food, you can make us the herbal solutions required for medical stuff typically more potent than that of what any pills could do... and you can even grow us some fine ass kush too." She said with a soft shrug. "And with your abilities of shapeshifting, and your abilities to do various attacks, you can actually support us on various missions, and actually be great help." She said. "You'll get paid a normal steady wage when on the base, but you get paid a whole lot extra by the job." Asmaa explained. "And the jobs we do? Well... the company is still in its infancy, but... we take on various criminal that have wronged our clients, and we work with various companies, government agencies and wealthy individuals for intelligence, search and recover operations, and from time to time, even containment and intimidation. All kinds of stuff." She said with a soft smile. "But most of the time you'll probably be hanging around the base training with the other folks. If you don't mind that, of course." Sukaina explained.

"However, if you feel like you aren't up for it, it's totally cool, this conversation would never have happened, and we won't contact you again. However, if you do change your mind, we are a call away." Asmaa said, pulling out a business card and handing it to Jaden.

Jaden listened to the lady's explanation with great interest. He nodded along to what was being said. It sounded reasonable enough. Basically, it sounded like he'd be in a support role. Helping to build up the group's infrastructure with his unique talents. He stood up and took the card before heading towards a rack of plants and herbs which he observed closely, as if they would give him an answer to his dilemma.

On one hand, their offer sounded promising, and he'd be able to help even more than he currently could...but at the same time, there was such a thing as biting off more than you could chew, and he wasn't entirely sure of how fond his Aunt and Uncle would be of this particular job. Also, couldn't he be happy with what he currently had? He had so much going for him right now, and things would only continue to get better if he worked hard enough.

Finally, he made his choice, "Your offer is a tempting one...and I can tell you two are decent people trying to make a difference. However...I'm sorry...I can't take your offer, not right now anyways..." He turned to them, shaking his head, "Nothing personal but right now there's way too much that can go wrong at this point in time...and I'm kind of on a personal mission myself. Obviously, I can't tell you all the details except that it's for...someone very special to me..." At this, he smiled a little.

"However, I'll hold on to this card.." He held it up, "Who knows? There may come a day when we'll both need the other's help. Until then, though...well.." He waved his arm at the place, "My store is open to anyone, as long as you're paying customers."

Asmaa smiled at his answer. "It's all totally cool, and I understand. Hell, I honestly would rather have someone give this more thought than running into the program blind, because... this is sort of a big committment, and it is risky as all hell. For all we know, the helicopter we're about to board could blow up because we ended up fucking with the wrong guy." She shrugged. "Either way, give it as much thought as you need." She said to him. "And I hope you end up accomplishing your personal mission... and don't forget to have the wires sorted out." She said with a soft smile. "Until next time." She held her hand for him to shake. If he shook it, she smiled and nodded. "Feel free to use that number if you need our services as well. Catch you later, Captain Planet." She said with a grin before heading out with Lawrence.

Before long, both of them would've entered their car, and drive off casually, heading back towards the direction of the ports. Eventually, they would've disappeared entirely.

Jaden smiled as he shook the lady's hand and wished them well before they left. He looked down at the card with an amused smirk, "Asmaa and Lawrence, eh?" He shook his head as he took off the "Closed" sign on the door and got ready for work, "You guys really need to think up more creative cover names than that..."

And so, the champon resumed his work, as if nothing had happened...

_{banner credit to Hellis}



Time: 3 Months Ago
Location: Ironworks, Lost Haven.

Odette fell unceremoniously through the cement floor into Ironwork’s basement. Grunting painfully, the sounds of destruction above her pushed a shot of adrenaline through her. The messy crumbling ceiling where she fell through was clearly unstable. She scrambled away from the ensuing noise of destruction. It held long enough for her to get clear of the roof’s destruction bellowing down at her heels. Her skin marked red and angry from the pools of iron she forced herself through.

Once clear from the rubble she collapsed. The poison felt like fire under her skin. Barely enunciating her healing spell for pulling iron free from her blood, little shiny drops of metal slowly seeped back up through her skin, exiting her body. Laying down on the filthy floor her breath was heavy with exhaustion, her skin still searing.

“The-The…” She mumbled, “The iron is gone, Bach. Please… release me.”

Tentatively Bach began to detach himself from his pact partner his body rematerialized beside her on the ground. When he was fully formed and back to himself he rolled to his side and began vomiting everything in his stomach. The very same marks of poison littered throughout his body.

Odette struggled to sit back up using the wall for support, blood began rolling down from her nose threatening to flow without a pause. Her eyes were bloodshot and the nausea returned with a vengeance. Her body dipped dangerously into shock, without any access to magic her heart pounded in panic.



Time: Present
Location: Lincoln Center, New York City.

After a tour through the company’s onsite facilities, dance studios and costume departments. Many of the areas Odette had personally seen before. This wasn’t her first trip to New York with the company. It was a bore. With Kendra there it wasn’t so bad, unfortunately Odette caught some of the American dancers making fun of her friend's English. It didn’t help that Kendra was already afraid of sounding stupid.

“If I see this man stumble one more time I think I will not hold back my laugh.” Odette whispered to Kendra. Having gone out of her way to viciously gossip about the dancers that had been rude, spreading rumours like wildfire in the short few days of arrival. Her friend hid her smile behind a light brown hand with a pair of dazzling gray eyes. Kendra wore expertly applied black eyeliner and a more neutral palette of colours for her makeup. Meant to last through sweat rather than looking couture.

“Oh stop, Vincent is looking right at us…!” Kendra whispered back waving sheepishly at Vincent. His expression was less than impressed.

Odette waved as well, a bit more impish than she had intended which earned her an eye roll.

“You are going to get a lecture if you keep this up.” Kendra replied.

“Who cares-” Odette’s words stumbled to a halt as her eyes caught sight of Captain Esen in person hanging about the dancers showing a little interest in them. His wispy form giving the dancer’s goosebumps. One even complained at the sudden drop in temperature. Kendra bumped her elbow into Odette’s ribcage tearing her eyes away. Her irritation rather evident in her expression.

“Care to finish your sentence?”

Odette answered in English her hand popping up to get Vincent's attention, ”Bathroom break?”

Vincent and the American principal dancer, Jolie, exchanged a look then nodded clapping their hands to allow everyone to go for a break. They had been in class for over an hour, mainly due to long winded questions and discussions. Odette stared at Esen, invisible to everyone there. Bach was nowhere in sight, he had taken to wandering the Lincoln Center during the day out of boredom.

“I’ll come with.” Kendra said standing up and stretching out her arms. Loosening up after sitting on the floor.

Odette said almost too quickly, “Non, I’ll be quick.”

Kendra raised a perfectly penciled brow and stated, “A lie if I have ever heard one.” A few dancers in the company had bowed out of the rehearsals for Eugène Onéguine due to health reasons, largely rumoured to be due to an eating disorder rearing its ugly head. A rumour mostly unfounded until the company's onsite doctor had been spending extra time reiterating the importance of eating correctly and scrutinizing every dancer through routine physical check ups. While Odette could be rather cagey it was hardly ever due to hiding weights in her pockets. Kendra's suspicions weren't unusual.

Kendra pulled Odette up to stand as well. Idly adjusting a few folds in her hijab waiting for Odette to follow. Odette was immediately furious he would appear so suddenly in the middle of class but he rarely appeared in person, it must be for good news. Captain Esen shrugged in response behind Kendra. Odette lead the way out to the bathrooms snagging her phone from her sweater. Kendra carried on discussing the class as they made their way to the bathroom while Odette thought of half a dozen more excuses to break away to speak to the Captain. None seemingly to come in a natural way. Her curiosity burned but she would need to be patient to hear the full details.

They entered the women’s washroom and disappeared into the stalls. Pulling out her phone she typed in a note then showed the screen up to Esen, now floating lazily above the stall Odette was occupying.

Did you find her?

He nodded, “Yes, My Lady. Racheli was spotted and confirmed as of this morning. She foolishly revealed her face in Lost Haven. We cannot confirm who it was she attempted to confront.”

The sounds of Kendra emptying her bladder were beginning to recede and Odette’s time was running out.

Meet with Bach and we will discuss this in further detail later She typed.

Esen nodded his form receding. Quickly as the toilet was flushing from Kendra, Odette mimicked the flush from her own stall using the tip of her foot to push the handle down while she typed a message to The Cowl.

R confirmed in LH

Hesitating, her thumb hovered over the SEND button. Kendra had exited the stall and Odette sucked on the inside of her cheek in thought. No, we will not make the same mistakes again.

Sending the text message decisively, Kendra called for her to hurry up. The ballerinas returned to class, Odette's mood considerably lighter her mind wound up with plans, ideas and all the work she had to look forward to. Racheli, unknowingly, graciously afforded her such a generous head start. It was only polite to return that favour in kind.

Awareness.

It was a thought, a word, a concept, and an existence. It was a funny word. She was aware, through her senses she achieved awareness, and she was also aware of the world. Funny words, a formation of cascading and interconnecting definitions applied through the combination of letters and understanding. An awareness of language, grasped through the edification one's own mental faculties. An understanding of abstracts existing to intercommunicate the intent behind two human endeavors-- or other existences. Even without the arbitrary systematic decoding of concepts, they existed still within the mind, unlabeled and incapable of being communicated through the basic methods available to the vast majority of lifeforms.

Language. Language was the birth of understanding, as understanding was a facet of awareness. Language-- as a human being understood it- was a human construction alone, but all things held language. She understood this, though she did not know how. Language existed in the patterns of the universe in the form of atomic processes, in the brain as the electrical activity of the synapses, in the rhythm of the heart itself.

The human body itself was language formatted in flesh.

Was she language?

She was Mandate, a human construction. A product of human language? Of the intercommunication of ethereal concepts and human flesh-blood and mercurial fluid. Language by itself was the concept of communication, whereas she was communication, the joining of unique systems, extrapolated to create something unique. And in that unique existence was a multitude of existences, human souls-- themselves communicating. Her thoughts were broken minds.

Her existence was a conversation. And...

Slowly, ever so slowly, Mandate's thoughts ebbed away, and the ringing choir that had overtaken her awareness abandoned her; the screaming was gone. Her mercury-tinted fingers arose to brush against the side of her smooth features, to the right of her baleful red oculus. She was alone as herself again. Her self that was many others. Her grip on the railing in front of her crushed the metal, then relaxed.

Thinking hurt, so Mandate stopped thinking about those things, as she usually did. It was much easier to focus on the pretty things in front of her that way. The vast, expansive darkness, the simulation of a patch of wilderness that she'd wondered into in the cover of the late hour, the soft sounds of a place in the world relatively undisturbed, and the way the artificial lights played so dazzlingly across the waters.

The sparkling of the massive, pretty lake--reservoir- was inviting. The way the lights played off of the shimmering fluid... It provoked her curiosity. She wondered, idly, what was on the bottom of that reservoir. The wonder didn't go away, and Mandate wasn't one to let those sorts of thoughts just lie by themselves. Her mouth formed a pleased V as she tore apart the railing in her way. It was amazing, how fragile everything was. That was another thought that persisted.

Everything was so fragile.

Humming pleasantly, Mandate advanced into the dark depths. Something inside of her burned as her weight increased just a fraction, and pushing against the water was as effortless as pushing against anything else had ever been for her. She didn't quite understand the word 'struggle'.

Words. Pretty words, and pretty water that felt cool against her 'skin'. The grime of her days alone was slowly washed away. And so she waded, blissful and ignorant of the way in which her presence made the waters just the tiniest bit metaphysically foul.

Mandate was happy.

---

Within the alleyway.

Ben found it hard to focus. With each passing moment, his mind slipped in and out of consciousness as the fight continued within the alley. Everything seemed surreal when the wolf started to bounce off the walls to maneuver around the tight space and lash back at the man around his age, carrying a fucking sword of all things. Suddenly two adults turned up in a jeep to join the mayhem, the hispanic woman (at least he thought) pulled a deadly looking and pop the wolf in a obvious head shot. It should’ve killed him, but it didn’t. The wolf merely shook his head then snarled in frustration, his figure darted forward and over them.

He didn’t like this sensation of weakness as the virus rampaged and worked its hell on his systems. His vision became double almost immediately after Casper arrived causing the teenager to sway. Sweat started to bead across his pale skin and energy seemed to vanish from his body, his suit literally stuck to his very surface like a second skin. Pins and needles shot up his limbs, collected mainly at his joints and tendons, with each movement causing a new flare of pain. His muscles became jello, too flimsy to work correctly. He tried to move only to have the world start to spin and create instant nauseous, followed by a sourness that spoiled and stung the back of his throat.

His arm jerked out to press against the wall and to aid his warped sense of balance. No success. Ben knew he was going down no matter what and it pissed him off, his fingers curled and dug deeper into the brick wall. His head tilted upright to see Casper’s sword when it penetrated the wolf’s abdomen. The sensation of wetness and warmth dotted his face. He gradually realized it was the wolf’s blood as his free hand reached up to touch it, trembling at the fact for reasons he didn’t understand. There was a brief wave of hurt which melted into fury at the end result.

Just before Ben hit the ground, his upper lip raised in a soft growl at Casper. His shoulder impacted upon the alley floor as the filth and wetness seeped into his clothes, the boy’s feverish body prevented him from feeling the cold. His breathing was harsh with each inhale while black crept along his vision’s edges drawing in fear at what was happening to him. Finally.. darkness swallowed him completely.



Ben’s eyes snapped wide open.

Cold sweat drenched his pale skin and aches settled in his joints, the only evidence of the virus that had ravished his system most the night. For several moments he didn’t move. Where am I? Ben thought through the confusing haze, his eyes squinted through the harsh light over head and raised a hand to shield himself from it. The scene back in the alley flickered in and out in his mind, like a fiction movie taped by an amateur. Gradually, he started to recall the last thing that happened before the present in pieces. An alleyway, a large dog of sort… then blood, pain and more as it started to come together, his adrenaline beginning to override the grogginess in his head.

Immediately his eyes flickered to his shoulder and expected to see it all bundled up in padding and gauze. Surprisingly, there was nothing wrong with it. Ben blinked and then stared harder at his intact shoulder. He tested his shoulder, studying each movement he put it through. He rotating it forward then back and finally reached his other hand to tenderly poke the area. His gut stirred uneasily about the experience and he recalled everything so vividly that was impossible to have been merely a nightmare. The boy was starting to wonder if he was losing his grip on reality, his eyes turned to examine the room itself instead for a distraction over the thought.

It was the worst place possible in his opinion worst. Of all places, why did he end up in a hospital room when he clearly wasn’t injured? It didn’t make sense in the least to him. It didn’t help that the memories of his mother lying in a comatose state, helpless and immobile, surfaced into his attention. His still queasy stomach started to flip backwards several times, enough of a reason for him to decide to get the hell away from this place. Benjamin turned to flip over the edge only to clash with the metal, guard bar blocking his way. Annoyance crossed his facial features as he tried another tactic.

He used the railing to pull himself upright and then removed the heart monitor from his finger, next came the wiring tapped to his chest. Shortly they all, alongside with the sheets, were tossed upon the floor in a hasty pile. The machine made a loud blare, likely alerting the nurses to something having gone wrong. Not the wisest action on his part, but Ben didn’t care. He wanted to get away from this room as fast as possible.

He managed to reach the edge, his right foot edged forward and touched the sole to it. A chill from the tile reached him and felt pleasant to him causing the boy to press more weight into the attempt to stand. At seeing his leg remain upright, he tossed caution to the wind and brought his other foot to the ground. It was a mistake as the moment he did, his legs gave out from under him. Ben smacked heavily into the hard floor when his knees folded up causing his hands to jerk out in front of him and save his face from impacting.

Inhaling, Ben’s ears caught the sounds of someone opening the door then enter the room. His heart seemed to have frozen in place thanks to the sense of dread as his head turned to see a young boy around his age walk casually in, his arms holding more casual clothes. It suddenly made Ben very aware he was draped in nothing but a hospital gown and his boxers.

New York City.

Agency of Paranormal and Meta Human Containment.

Medical Area.

Layla had always been a prankster to say the least. She was an absolute genius, and she was the mastermind behind Angelo’s weaponry, as well as his direct contact back at base, but damn if she wasn’t mischievous. After Angelo had freaked out good and proper, she decided to reveal the fact that Benjamin’s school was out for the summer. Wanting to see Angelo’s reaction was enough for her to drag the scene along for as long as she possibly could. “What a bit-…” Opening the door to Ben’s room in the medical bay, Angelo raised an eyebrow as he saw the boy he was tasked to protect. He was on the floor. “Hey there, cuteness.” The Agent smirked, looking down at him struggling across the tiled, cold floor. Joining Benjamin and Angelo in the room, Adrian quickly arrived at the beeping sounds caused by the ruckus Ben had caused.

“Oh dear!” Adrian exclaimed, seeing his patient on the floor. Hurrying towards the boy, Adrian assisted him to a seated position upon the bed, with the help of Angelo who seemed unable not to grin through the ordeal. “You must have a lot of questions, Ben.” Adrian began, knowing the boy’s name as he had quite clearly read through his file. “Just take one thing at a time, alright? We’re all here to help you.”

“You were bit by a puppy.” Angelo shrugged slightly, leaning against the bed as Adrian glared at him. "Casper and some mercs helped you, here you are."

“Angelo! Be a bit more empathetic, will you?”

“Don’t worry.” Angelo assured the two. “Ben here looks like a tough nugget.” He smirked slightly, turning his attention to Benjamin. “He’ll walk it off. When he can, you know…walk.”

“Right, always the smooth talker, aren’t you?” Adrian sighed, crossing his arms.

“Always.” The Agent nodded, shifting to a slightly more serious tone as he continued to speak. As serious as he could muster. “Alright, down to business.” He began. “My name’s Angelo. I’m going to be your guardian, cool? Sweet.”

“He’ll need a bit more than that…” The doctor sighed, shaking his head slightly. Angelo and Adrian appeared to be on very good terms, given their casual conversation. The occasional looks they gave each other might have hinted at something slightly deeper than what first came to pass, but it was open to speculation.

“Getting there, Blondie!” Angelo shot back, winking at Adrian teasingly. “From now on, I’ll be looking after you.” The Agent informed. “You’ve been bit by a werewolf. This might be the bit that’s hard to digest, yeah?”

“You think?” Adrian rolled his eyes, lightly hitting Angelo on the shoulder.

“You owe me a drink, buddy!” The middle easterner shot back at Adrian. “Now then.” He shifted his focus back to Benjamin who was probably freaking out in more ways than one. However, it was safe to assume that Angelo’s and Adrian’s calm and casual demeanors softened the blow somewhat. “You’re going to go through some changes. You’ll find hair in places you didn’t have any befo-..”

“Angelo!” Adrian exclaimed, hitting the Agent again.

“Look, it’s not the end of the world. Welcome to Paranormalville!” Angelo winked at Benjamin.

“You suck at this.” Adrian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You have got to let me finish.” In truth, this would have gone much smoother without the constant interruptions but in what direction was debatable. “Long story short, you’re a werewolf now. I’m going to look after you, monitor the changes and make sure you don’t eat anyone. Fair?"

“So bad…” The doctor mumbled under his breath.

“Oh and, I’ll be your classmate when school starts. Fun times…” Angelo clenched his teeth for a moment before clearing his throat. “Also, I’ll be living with you. Apparently that’s a thing.”

“So don’t walk around in your underwear.” Adrian spoke up, hinting at a previous experience.

“It happened once!” Angelo defended himself, though it was a hard task to accomplish. After having found himself in a similar situation to Benjamin where Angelo woke up in the medical bay, the Agent would without shame wander out of the room dressed in little more than his boxers before heading straight to the beverage machine and poured himself a cup of hot chocolate in the dining area.

“It shouldn’t have happened once!”

“Now you’re just being picky.” Angelo retorted. "I couldn't find my pants."

“I’m being pi-…just behave, will you?”

“I always behave.” The Agent teasingly winked, grinning at the doctor.

(Credit to NMS on the banner, thanks man!)

GRPHQ (Spaaaace)

Galactic Republic Peacekeepers Headquarters, quite the mouthful. Specialist branch, if you were going to be specific, and if Hunter had his way everything would be; down to the smallest detail. He had walked in through those great arched double doors on the mobile space station, Orion, a scorched and blackened mess. Before he’d even been allowed off his ship decontamination teams had sprayed the entire structure and practically bombed him with detergents. If his armour hadn’t still been sealed the process would have been far more unpleasant still, luckily he hadn’t suffered a breach. Though if he had he probably wouldn’t have been alive to tell his tale, or rather, deliver his report. Telling stories was not his style.

It was sometimes a little daunting, realising that this entire space station and all six hundred and fifty-five souls upon it were dedicated to one thing, one resource. The Hunter. Him. They were his operators, his support teams, his engineers, quartermasters, scientists and medics. They did their jobs though, and he did his. No need to be humble, he would serve his purpose, carry out his missions, and likely die before his time. These souls would see many a Hunter pass through, if history was anything to tell by. People died slow of age these days, most had probably seen double digits of different people fill the mantle he currently filled. Point being, though it was sometimes a little daunting, it was never that daunting. Not for him. It really didn’t affect him either way in the end.

He was ushered out of his armour almost as soon as he cleared those double doors and entered the main-hall proper. The station was laid out simply, there was the main hall with entry to the majority of the different sectors, and those few sectors with lesser importance or in rare cases greater importance could be accessed through elevators positioned along the hall. Living quarters were found further down, but Hunter seldom traversed down there. His own living quarters were up above, the penthouse suite if such a thing has much meaning on a space station. Even there he was seldom found. Hunter was addicted to his work, or perhaps there was just a lot of it. Either way, he was on mission more often than he was off it.

Stripped down to casual-wear, which resembled nothing of the sort as a strict jacket-trousers like one-piece combination made of a strange plastic like material, he strode swiftly down the hall. Those few that were not immediately working stopped and saluted him as he passed in the fashion of the Galactic Republic (namely a step-to with a hand over one’s shoulder) to which he nodded in reply. Honestly, he did not cut such an impressive figure outside of his armour. His face was harsh and gaunt, grey in colouration, with large eyes and pointed ears. He was not so dissimilar from a human, though his shoulders were fairly broad his six foot seven inches of height gave him an oddly lanky build none-the-less. He seemed almost unnaturally thin, and he moved with a grace that was almost supernatural to look at. He was quick though, and unmistakably powerful in an athletic way. A perfect agent, many would have said.

Not that he paid that sort of talk any mind. He’d earn what he wished from long service and success. So far he had managed the first of those tasks, and enough of the second. Little did he know he was about to be assigned the hardest mission he’d yet undertaken. Fresh from the Sakakt, he wouldn’t have believed it until he’d lived it. But live it he would, soon, Keia was waiting after all. Never with good news, unfortunately. He walked into her office, positioned purposely next door to the command centre.

“Ksleiasia salaisa, shea ossa sill saorplaas.”

Keia Hail, the hunt is complete.

“Sahusanar salaisa, sa salsor.”

Hunter Hail, as always.

“Si sorod ssat ssetsur ssis si shakdor.”

I would not return if I failed.

The grey faced woman sat in her office regarded Hunter for a moment, her feminine features giving her otherwise similar appearance to the agent a far kinder visage. Where he was gaunt, her face was narrow, perhaps angular, but it had character. She was bald, but her skin did not retain the same coarseness as his own, it was far more smooth, and her eyes were alight with intelligence where his burned with fervour. She was tall, but not quite as tall as him, and her body curved not unlike a human woman. Though what other similarities she shared with human biology were not currently up for debate. She too was adorned in the strict attire that passed for casual wear on the station, but it stuck to her well, she looked good while Hunter looked oddly awkward in his own outfit. He was made for armour, she was made for this. And she was done thinking.

“Saida.” She said, though their voices lacked that vital human component that expressed sadness or melancholy, there were other signs that only Hunter and the few others of his race that still remained within the Republic could pick up on. This was coupled with her use of an adage only their people made use of. It translated well into English.

Truth.

"Sehy."

Yes.

“Now, as you may have guessed, the branch requires your services once again. Hunter.”

For a creature as stoic as Hunter to start and wince in surprise was no common occurrence, in fact, Keia wished she had been recording his reaction at the moment she jumped into English without warning. It was not a language he had heard before, and its words were crude and blunt in comparison to their own. Even as she had spoken his neural implant would be working itself into overdrive, calculating intonation and grammar, word placement, referencing data-banks. Before the first word had even left her thin but not unattractive lips he would have understood the gist of what she was saying. Now the question was whether he would be able to think up a reply. The way the device worked was odd, it never changed the language one thought in per-se, but when it detected the need for it, it translated ones very thoughts into the words of the language they needed to access. Even now, Hunter’s natural thoughts had been replaced by an alien tongue he did not understand, but at the same time, he knew every word.

“What is this bastard language.” He spat, composure still somewhat unsettled. “Is this the tongue of indigenous peoples?” He stopped himself before he asked anything else, there was no point continuing to ask the questions that burned the hottest, Keia would answer as she willed. It was her way. Part of the reason why she was hired, part of the reason why he could never really like her. She controlled every conversation they shared with an iron will.

“You will be sent to the planet of terra, Earth. It lies within the milky way galaxy, it is the only garden world in its solar system, so we have left it in isolation until this point. It is a sub-T1 civilisation, though it is estimated to reach T1 within sixty-four cycles, nearly one hundred years by Earth estimates.” She smirked. “Oh, and to answer your question, it is one of the predominant, and in the case of your mission most relevant, languages of humanity, the dominant species on Earth.”

“Primitives then.” He waited.

“Not so, but I suppose you would see them as such. Perhaps even less so in recent times, the full dossier is here, but I will give you a summary regardless. You are to visit this planet and reconnoitre a region at 45.25° N, 69.44° W, it is colloquially referred to as the city of Lost Haven. There, you will seek out the cause of a major biological disturbance responsible for the sudden and seemingly irreversible changes in the ‘human's’ DNA. They are manifesting strange and dangerous abilities beyond their natural capacity. Your mission parameters will adjust in scope to what information you return with. Do you understand.”

“Sehy.”

Yes

“Go then.”

Nas Ssetsur
And return…

Things have been pretty strange ever since they medevac'd Ben to the Agency's secret New York branch. Ever since the pair ran into that werewolf, things have been taking turn for the stranger. Like, incredibly strange. After rushing him to the Agency's hospital as per the request of Casper, they were more than happy to do so. However, in the processed, they learned so many secrets, they had to sign a whole lot of contracts, waivers and say a whole lot of oaths in order to make sure that none of this gets spilled out to the public. After Ben was admitted to the hospital, and transferred to the care of Angelo, Casper disappeared as quickly as he came, and the two were briefed on the situation.

The pair quickly learned that there were more supernatural shit than what was led on beforehand. While there were people with superpowers, such as Carmen and Hakeem themselves, there were people of original supernatural lore, such as vampires, werewolves and fairies and all kinds of different shit. And while it was alot for the two to take in, they did believe what the Agency told them. They were also filled in on the going ons of what happened in regards to supernatural shit around the world. Apparently there was a fucking demon invasion that happened in fucking Maine while the two were fighting in Syria. A Demon Invasion. And to top that all off, there was a cosmic entity that could devour worlds, as well as crazy ass scientists and a shapeshifter posing as a god. Jesus. After being briefed, however, Carmen had an idea. She could have Hendrix work in the Supernatural Sector as well... it's an untapped market that could earn them millions. As soon as she leaves, she's gonna brief Kevante on the scoop... but for now, she and Hakeem now have a new mission. They're working as Ben's security detail, and they will be having the opportunity to secure contracts and deals on the behalf of Hendrix Tactical Services with the Agency of Paranormal and Metahuman Containment. Things got a whole worse, but a whole lot better at the same time.

Walking through the hallways, it would be a little bit before Carmen and Hakeem arrived near Ben's room. Once they arrived there, they looked through the windows and watched as Angelo spoke to Ben. While Angelo didn't look too bad... Ben looked like he was barely holding it together. Last time they saw him was quite a few hours ago, when he had massive wounds on his neck, shoulders and chest. At least he's getting better... for now.

"What the hell did the doctors say he had?" Hakeem asked, his arms folded as he stood in front of the window. "Also where the hell do we pick up our weapons on our way out?"

Carmen thought for a moment. "New Werewolf... Syndome? Something that. Makes fools go crazy and shit after they been bit by a werewolf. Thank god neither you and I have been bit... I can't stand being hairy all over the goddamn place."

Hakeem looked to Carmen before rolling his eyes. "Ha-ha." He said sarcastically. "And we're gonna be working as this scrawny-ass white boy's protection detail. I don't know if we're protecting him from others, or protecting others from him."

"Well, I think they're gonna give us silver ammunition and non-lethal stuff on our way out, so we won't be fucked up the ass entirely if he does go batshit. As for our weapons, they are probably keeping them where they are keeping the ammo too... and as for the ammo, we're gonna rob 'em of all of the .45 Auto ammo they got." Carmen said with a smirk. "Don't government agencies prefer .40 Smith and Wesson anyway?"

"Yeah, we're in for a treat if that's the case." Hakeem said with a soft smirk himself. "Apparently .45s don't do well against armor."

"Yeah they don't, unfortunately." Carmen said. "That's what rifles are for, silly."

Hakeem nodded. "Yeah... right." He then looked to Carmen. "I never did give you back that Nagant when we were in Syria, did I?"

Carmen shook her head. "Nope. You handed it to a YPG officer that had her gun jammed, and she disappeared without a trace." Carmen looked to Hakeem. "Not like that matters anyway. She probably kicked ass with it for all I know."

"Yeah..." Hakeem stared off through the window. "She was pretty hot too. Too bad we couldn't bring her with us." He reminisced.

Carmen smirked a little. "Speaking of which, did you get any luck with the ladies?"

Hakeem shook his head. "Nah. I'm a little too short and... Arab for their tastes. Girls these days prefer tall men with this... weird hair that goes up tall at the front. Don't know what it's called, but all I know is that it's white as all hell." He said.

Carmen frowned. "Maybe you just weren't looking in the right spots. I'm pretty sure plenty of Middle-Eastern women might tap dat."

"Never had luck in Syria, never had any luck here. I don't think their parents will be alright with the idea with their daughter dating an athiest anyway."

Carmen sighed. "Hermano, as a friend, I seriously doubt that no girl would wanna tap that. You're insanely good looking, and if we weren't besties and we weren't partners, I probably would totally try to pick you up at a bar."

Hakeem raised an eyebrow at that. "Ooohhh... it looks like the great Phoenix has confessed her attraction to the Magnum... huh?"

Carmen looked to Hakeem with serious disapproval. "No." She simply said. "Besides, I'd rather us be friends... I really don't wanna ruin what we have going on right now."

Hakeem shrugged. "Hey, I understand." He said softly. "And don't worry, I feel the same way. I was just open to the idea, that's all."

Carmen smiled a little. "Okay." She then patted him on the back. "I promise you, once we're done with Ben, I'm gonna find you some good pussy. I know just where to look."

Hakeem slowly turned to Carmen.

"Not... that I was... uhm... you know..." Carmen stuttered awkwardly.

"Riiiggghht." Hakeem said before looking back to where Ben was at. "Do you think we should go talk to him?"

"Probably not a good idea. He'd probably go batshit if he saw a minority." Carmen said with a joking grin. "We'll just wait out here... in the meantime, I'd like you to check out my post regarding that new safety catch I plan on getting for Kevante..."