Lost Haven - Streets at Day.

Milo was having a good day, no, a great day. She'd slept on things, and while it wasn't comfortable to sleep on a tear-soaked pillow, she had cried out all the bad feelings and woke up refreshed. Years of her life might have decided to just go walk about, but that wasn't an excuse to just sit about doing nothing, no no no she had work to do. She still had the plans, some parts and enough money to pile a few things together. She could start selling gadgets again, toy soldiers to the kids, that sort of thing to work up the rest she needed before she built another. This time, with a few adjustments. She'd do this all after a walk, and some fresh air. She put on a grey hoodie over her shirt and took a stroll outside. She'd go visit Tech-Sec, he was nice enough, and he knew a lot about her project, part of his requirement to sell half of the things he did to her, he'd at least talk to her, she still had friends among the "fleshbags", even if they did think she was a bit eccentric. She bought coffee from a stand with a crumpled note and held it between her hands. She took a sip of the too-hot-to-drink drink and smiled to herself. "Things could always be worse."

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

Lost Haven - Apartment Block.

Things could not be worse. Andrew was staring down a six foot metallic monster that had just asked to come in. He'd let it, of course, but quickly looked about the hallway for the redheaded maniac who made the damn thing. She was nowhere to be seen, so he slowly shut the door with the care and caution of a bomb-disposal person and as a diligent host would, offered it a seat. He sat down adjacent and with a slack-jawed, awestruck face, just soaked in the robot that was currently damaging his favourite chair. Alexander spoke first. "RED-MOTHER ALWAYS SPOKE WELL OF YOU, DESIGNATION TECH-SEC. SHE ALWAYS SAID YOU WERE RELIABLE, AND THAT IS WHAT I AM GOING TO PAY FOR. RELIABILITY." The robot leaned in, and forked over all of the crumpled notes in his hoodie over to the hardware-dealer. Andrew quickly gathered up and counted the bills, it wasn't enough for much, but he wasn't about to tell it that, if this robot asked him to jump, he'd hit the ceiling. "So, uh, what were you looking for?" He spoke up, voice quivering. "I AM LOOKING FOR THE PARTS THAT MADE ME, I KNOW YOU KEEP RECORDS, DESIGNATION TECH-SEC. I NEED ALL OF THOSE PARTS AND I NEED THEM NOW." The robot's voice carried emotion, and this was most definitely threatening. Alexander offered a map, which Andrew quickly accepted, opening it up as he looked over the circled locations; dead-drops. "PUT THE PARTS IN THOSE LOCATIONS AND DO NOT CONTACT RED-MOTHER. I WILL BE WATCHING YOU, TECH-SEC." And with that, Alexander stomped out of the room, his legs whirring and almost definitely causing yet another noise complaint from his neighbours downstairs about slamming his door. "Back into the red." He sighed, as he sat back at his computer and clacked the keys. This was an all-nighter.

Broker stood and observed the white witch witch. She was truly as talented as he had been told. He could have made this circle himself, but his essence would have tainted it. No it needed to be made by human hands. It was also huge. Usually a soul circle is no bigger than say a meter in diameter. But in this case the damn thing was big enough to contain a school bus. They had been at it for hours, she scribbling and drawing the patterns at his instructions. Each detail a artwork in itself. Numerous of intricate circles overlapped in a hypnotic and strange patterns within the larger circle. Runes of power, symbols of lost faiths, Mesopotamian summoning signs and od angular shapes meshed and melded into a madman's masterpiece.

“You are as talented as I was led to believe White Witch” He didn’t praise her. It was merely a statement of facts. Broker didn’t believe in praising hired help. Their praise was their cost or payments after all.

“We are about ready to start the ritual” He tossed her a pendant of old Sumerian design. A hollowed out ruby filled with a strange blue liquid. Angels tears to be exact. The jewel coiled in silver. “A insurance policy. It should keep you out of the Spells way.”

Marie fumbled with the pendant, almost dropping it on the grotto's stone floor. She looked at neckalce for a few moments trying to place it, but was altogether unfamiliar with magical trinkets and symbolism outside of Western Europe. In fact, this entire ritual, and the magic it involved, was entirely foreign to her. This was ancient magic, outside the realm of normal witchcraft. Marie at least knew that it relied upon either personal power or that of some infernal realm or else she wouldn't have been able to perform it, whatever it was.

She wasn't particularly thrilled when Puck told her about his meeting with Broker some months back. He never mentioned her by name, Puck knew better than that, but he had planted a seed, made a contract on her behalf. Of course, she could have declined, gone about her business at The Red Devil as if nothing had ever happened, but Puck knew that Marie would want to take Broker's offer. She knew that, after finding out about Gwyneth and having no way to regain her memories, she would want to go to a being who knew the minds and hearts of mortals better than any other. And after three months of getting nowhere, what did she have to lose?

Marie slipped on the pendant, allowing it to rest atop her glamour charm. She decided to present herself as the White Witch for appearance's sake, with Holt resting on her shoulder in the form of a raven.

"Have you any idea what you're getting yourself into?" Holt's voice entered Marie's mind as she put on the pendant. Having a psychic connection to him was both a blessing and a curse; his nagging was more frequent than his assistance. "Broker is a highly powerful demonic force, who knows what he has planned with this spell. You would blindly follow his instruction with little to no regard for your own safety?

"He's a demon, Marie replied telepathically, "meaning that he only cares about his deal. I'm here to perform a service in exchange for his help in returning some part of Gwyneth's memories to me. He won't harm me because I'm not a threat to him or his plans. Besides, what choice do I have? Everything I've tried thus far has failed, maybe this is exactly what needed to happen.

Holt let out a single caw of disapproval before flawing off to a far corner of the grotto. He no longer carried a tolerance for demons or ancient beings after Joseph's death. Marie knew this, but she was confidant both in her ability to protect herself, and in the fact that Broker meant her no ill will.

"I-I'm ready," Marie replied hesitantly.

"I sincerely doubt it." The Broker mused as he took his place opposite of her on the other end of the massive circle. "Now. Focus your emotions and your spirit on the center. And say the words I say. You are the channel of this spell. Not me." And then broker began. His voice somehow all over the grotto in an instant. And even as he spoke a language dead for millennia, white witch would understand it. Such was Brokers talent.

"Souls of those that came before, but those that didn't leave. Souls of those most ancient, and those new and without patience. Souls of those that have been broken, and souls of those will never be whole. A pit, a hole, a lost soul. I give to you a exit, a gate and a passage. I give to you solace, I give to you passion. I beseech thee from the gates of Babylon, from the pits of Arazee to the pekas of Me'thuzan. I bring the from thy mortal coil, rip you from rotten flesh. I take what has not been given, And i chain what wishes to be free"

As his voice rose, an awful noise began to fill the grotto. Swirling lights came from the walls into the center and a myriad, no, a legion of voices screamed unseen. They were everywhere at once, screaming, begging and cursing.

"Come to us ALL OF YOU LONG LOST AND FORGOTTEN!"

The swirling light began to focus on the middle, a vortex of agonized souls pouring into the single flawless diamond that was set in the middle.

"It's here girl. Stay strong. Do not let the voices pull you in." He yelled over the voices to the White Witch. He knew of course, this maelstrom would likely tug at her other presence. The sheer magnitude of this magic might awaken something within her. It would be interesting to see.

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


All across New York, the undead took notice. Vampires and other more independant and corpereal would feel the tug but were otherwise not affected. But the incorporeal spirits to weak to resist, like poltergeists and haunting spirits were drawn into the ever expanding maelstrom of necrotic energies. Those versed in the arts withdrew into their warded homes. Those not aware of ghosts would suddenly feel a emptiness in their homes as the spirits there were ripped from its place. All over the city, the supernatural would notice a sudden and terrible event taking place. But nobody would understand the sheer power of it, the sheer terrible magnitude. A soul circle big enough draw in all the necrotic energy in new york.

In the sewers a Necromancer of some worth, Hildebrand, fell to the floor screaming. She had been in a ritual to create more Draugr when the mealtstrom grabbed all the myriad of necrotic bonds between her and her servants, and sucked them dry. Part of her very soul was torn from her body. She lay on the floor Twitching as the ritual completed. Eyes blank, stare far away and blodshot.

-------



And amidst a horde of undead Rune and Otto looked up as said undead collapsed once more dead to the world. The two had been coming down here for months, never getting closer to their target. Hildebrand had avoided capture each and everytime. ANd she had no shortage of bodies to reanimate. But suddenly all the dead was actually dead again. They looked about them in bewilderment. They had felt it faintly. Something really, really bad had went down.

"That." Rune spoke, mouth agape. "That.. thing. Killed all of them."

"That can't be" Otto concured.

--------



Marie could feel the power of all the lost souls of New York filing into their circle, her magic calling to them, touching their very essence, drawing them into an unknown abyss. She was in awe of what the two of them had accomplished. This was, by far, her grandest feat of magic, something beyond belief, beyond imagining. Holt too was amazed by this grand spectacle of sorcery, his eyes widened as the ethereal light shot out in all directions, laying a pathway for the spirits and shades, and Otherworldly highway of sorts.

It was then that Marie felt something deep inside. A pain in her lower stomach that traveled up to her chest and ended in a splitting headache. She braced herself, falling to one knee and placing a hand on her forehead.

[color=FFE4B5]"What's happening?"[color] she screamed to no one. Her vision began to fade, her mind became cluttered with voices beyond those of lost souls. There was something stirring within her mind, something trying to force its way out from behind a wall of obscurity.

Holt tried to enter Marie's mind to calm her, to ask if she was alright, but he found that he could not. Instead, a bolt of force shot from Marie to Holt, forcing him into his ethereal state.

"Marie!" Holt said aloud, floating closer to the circle to see what was happening.

Marie was moments away from fully collapsing, dealing with the pain of something clawing its way out. An image flashed into Marie's mind followed by a voice that mirrored her own, though it carried with it a strange distance and a foreign accent.

”Find my most prized possession and all shall be revealed.” The voice commanded, a vision of a large, leather bound tome appeared in her mind’s eye. It looked familiar to Marie, like she had been in its presence not too long ago.

The voice faded, her mind cleared, and Marie was able to stand once more.

”What was that?” she directed her question at Broker, baffled by the whole experience.

Broker raised his voice. "A millennia ago. I was in Britannia. Before Great Britain. Before colonial wars and Empires. When Picts fought celts, and Saxons and Normans fought one another. Among Kings and Druids I walked. Back then, I met a powerful and talented sorceress. Gwyneth. Welsh I believe, with no love lost for her fellow mundane man. To think, she would be hiding inside you White Witch.” He smiled, not unkindly, at her.

“The magic here is ancient.“ He said as he walked towards the center of the now dead magic circle. He picked up the stone that was now pulsing with power. “And one thing ghosts are, are reflections of the past. Put enough necrotic energy and lost souls in one place, and time warps in wierd ways. I would assume that Gwyneth, the thing inside you, has awoken as a result of this.” He pocketed the stone. “The Pendant likely saved you from being torn piece to piece by her emerging mind..”

“Excellent work. The Soulstone is flawless” He said with a grin.

“You can keep the pendant by the way.” He created a Portal. “I suggest getting out of here before the surviving undead come to tear you apart.”

Marie nodded, calling Holt over to the portal.

”Thank you . . . I don’t know what your plans are, but thank you for giving to me what I couldn’t give myself. Marie’s gratitude was sincere. Broker had unleashed pieces of Gwyneth’s memory with his Soul Circle, and now Marie had a clue as to how she could contact Gwyneth’s remaining memories. She and Holt passed through the portal which took them back to the streets of Lost Haven just outside of one of the entrances to The Red Devil.

Broker watched her go. Once she had left, he spoke to the grotto. “You will not thank me when you find out what kind of creature Gwyneth was girl.” Then he was off into another portal, back to hell with his prize. “You won’t thank me at.. All”

There was a crackling noise and the sound of violins as the portal closed. And then there was just a large grotto with a lot of residual magic left.

Crown Ridge, ME
Lost Haven’s Ugly Little Sister

Located just over 10 miles from Lost Haven, Crown Ridge, Maine was once a nice city. The people who resided within the city were people with big dreams who worked hard to accomplish those dreams. However, after a generation of political corruption and economic decline, Crown Ridge had fallen on hard times. Over the years, the once prosperous city saw its best and brightest leave and resettle in its sister city, Lost Haven. And as they left, so did many of the jobs which had kept the city afloat.

Then the criminals moved in. They came in waves, each wave more organized and ruthless than the last. Eventually, Crown Ridge was entirely overrun with crime, and unlike Lost Haven, the people of the city id not have heroes in capes and masks fighting for them. Though the police did what they could to stem the tide of crime in the city, they were outmanned and in many cases, outgunned.

However, over the course of the last several months, rumors have begun circulating amongst the criminal underworld; as well as the police, of a new player in town. This individual in a black, cat-like outfit had been seen all over the city, taking down thugs and criminals, and then disappearing into the night. The few who got a good look at the vigilante reported a remarkable resemblance to Lyger, the cat-like hero of Lost Haven, who had had several high profile outings, most notable were his roles in both the Pax Metahumana crisis as well as the defeat of the demon, Nightmare. However, due to the fact that he had established himself in Lost Haven, skepticism that it was Lyger was high.

The rumors of a new vigilante in town did not bother Danny O’Shea or his partner, Charles “Charlie” McGrath. The two men had been career criminals, starting out when they were both 16 as runners for the Winter Park Gang, one of the most notorious Irish Mafia cartels in Crown Ridge. After proving themselves, Charlie and Danny moved on to shakedowns of local businesses for “protection money,” and then they moved into enforcement. The two thugs were feared among the locals who lived under the Winter Park Gang’s rule, and had been suspected of carrying out a number of executions for the criminal enterprise; however, no one had ever been able to prove their involvement.
While they were ruthless and efficient at what they did, they were a small time gang who were happy with the profits that they were making. However, over the last few years, that had changed. They were no longer happy roughing up local business owners and selling drugs and weapons to the local underworld. They had stepped up their game, getting involved in games with much larger stakes, and they saw much larger profits because of it. Rumors began to circulate within the Winter Park Gang about what it was, exactly, that had been going on. The word was, that the gang had been absorbed by a larger, wholly more terrifying criminal entity, and was now a part of something much bigger than anyone within the gang had ever imagined. Mick Sheeran, the head of the Winter Park Gang never talked about who was really running things now, however, the truth came out eventually, when Mick’s son Jack let it slip during a meeting of the top bosses, a meeting that Charlie and Danny were at, serving as glorified security guards. Neither man could believe what they were hearing as their bosses discussed the new business arrangement, some of whom were less than please with the new status quo. Even though the bosses spoke in hushed tones, seemingly afraid that their new employers would hear them speaking, as if their new employers were right in the room with them…as if they were everywhere, Danny heard Mick mention something about “The Shroud.” Although they didn’t know what The Shroud was at the time, they would come to know exactly what being a part of The Shroud Syndicate, whether directly, or by being an affiliate, such as they were. They knew that the organization, nor its boss suffered fools or failures, and as a result, they have been much more efficient as an organization.

Most of the time.

“Hey Charlie! Charlie! Are you gonna get off your ass and help me with these crates, or are you gonna sit there feedin' yer face all night long?" Danny said to his partner from behind the heavy crate that he is trying to load into the van.

"Hold yer horses, will ya? I'll be dere in a minute." Charlie replied as he shoved almost the entire half of his sausage grinder down his gullet.

Danny shrugged and continued trying to maneuver the crates. Danny felt a strange uneasiness as of late. Everything that they did seemed to have purpose, there was an urgency with everything within the Winter Park Gang. When Danny expressed his concerns to Charlie, the larger man told him not to worry about it, that things were fine. But Danny just couldn’t seem to put his fears at ease. He was told, in no uncertain terms that this operation is big, that whatever it is that is in those crates are very important, and should he and Charlie somehow screw this simple job up, there would be “severe consequences.”

Danny shuttered at the thought of what those "severe consequences" might be.

"Come on Charlie, get off your fat ass and help me with this stuff!"

But there is no response.

"Charlie!"

Still nothing.

"Charlie?!"

Panic suddenly overwhelmed Danny. Charlie always said something, even if it was just to tell him to get lost. There was a time when nobody would mess with Ol' Charlie, he was a big man who could do more than just hold his own in a fight. Danny had seen him take down three guys with lead pipes with nothing but his bare fists. But Charlie had lost something over the years, his love of pizza and grinders had slowed him down, much of the muscle the he was once so proud of replaced by an ever expanding haunch of flab. But still, Charlie was no slouch. Something was definitely wrong.

"Charlie, you alright pal?"

Then Danny saw it, Charlie laid out around the driver's side of the van. Not moving, out like a light. He spun around quickly, hoping to avoid whoever, or for that matter, whatever it was that took down Ol' Charlie. But before he could take a single step he saw it. It was the size of a man, covered from head to toe in black. As Danny watched whatever it was moving through the shadows like some kind of ghost, he noticed that it didn’t appear human, the small, pointy, cat-like ears on the top of its head testified to that.

“Shit.” Danny said as he pulled out his revolver and began firing in the direction that he had last seen the cat-man.

“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” He said as he fired off rounds into the darkness

“Shit…” He said again as the gun just clicked as it ran out of ammunition to fire.

click…click…click…

Danny stopped pulling the trigger. He stood there for a moment as he looked around the scene; the only sound that could be heard was the pounding of his own heart. Otherwise, everything along the docks was perfectly still. Then, almost out of nowhere, Danny felt a chill run up and down his spine as he realized that there was someone standing behind him. Reluctantly, Danny slowly turned to face whoever it was behind him. When he did, he saw the form of a dark, cat-like being standing there, facing him.

“Boo.” It said, its voice was not natural, almost as if there was some sort of electronic device was distorting it.

Danny stepped back as if he were about to run, however, a hard roundhouse right connected with his chin, and upon impact, his entire world went black.

Several minutes later the Crown Ridge Police arrived on the scene, responding to an anonymous tip, that there was some sort of disturbance at Warehouse 32 in the commercial sector at this very moment. From a nearby rooftop, Lyger watched as the police loaded the two henchmen into squad cars, while other officers secured the three dozen crates that they had been moving. Lyger did not know what was in the shipment of crates, and he really didn’t care. All he knew was that it was important to The Shroud Syndicate, and was satisfied that whatever it was, The Cowl and his organization would not be getting their hands on it.


Three Months Ago

Kyle pulled his mask off as he sad down on the steep folding chair that was set up next to the computer array that Harry sat in front of as he poured over a seemingly endless stream of data. Kyle was tired and worn, having not taken a moments’ rest on the heels of his victories during the Pax Metahumana ordeal, or over the supernatural serial killer Nightmare.

He couldn’t allow himself to rest.

After returning to The Garage after his part in the defeat of Nightmare and his cult, Harry had to break more terrible news. Adeline Strayer, his ex girlfriend who was also a superhero in her own right, was found dead just a few blocks from the Lost Haven University Campus. Her mutilated body was nearly unrecognizable, having been practically torn apart by someone, or something. Since that night, he had been going out in search of the culprit, only to find nothing.

Kyle sat back against the folding chair’s back rest and let out a sigh. He was visibly frustrated with his lack of leads, and was almost to the point of accepting Harry’s theory that perhaps Addy had simply run afoul of Nightmare and his cult. It did make sense, as Adeline did specialize in the supernatural, yet, at the same time, there was something different about the way she had been killed. While Nightmare’s victims had suffered massive trauma, there was something more vicious, more…feral about the attack that had taken Addy’s life.

“I have something for you.” Harry said without looking away from the computer screen. “I had some of my contacts look into the men who were buying up the local businesses after the riots. They found something.” Harry finished, his voice wavered slightly.

“What is it?” Kyle asked.

“Nothing good. The company is a fake, which we suspected all along. But it’s tied to some very, very, bad people.”

“Harry…” Kyle began. Whatever Harry had was the first solid lead into finding the men responsible for Ronnie’s murder.

“Kyle, they belong to a vast criminal organization that has its hand in just about everything. They are called the Shroud Syndicate, and to a lot of people, they don’t exist.” Harry began. “They are a bit of a myth, the Boogie Man of the criminal underworld, so to speak.”

“How do we stop them?” Kyle asked, a mask of determination on his face.

“I don’t know, as I said, they are everywhere. But if you wanted to take them down, a good place to start would be the head.”
“And how would I do that?”

“That’s the million dollar question. Nobody knows who he is. He’s never seen out in public, in fact, there are those in the intelligence community that don’t think he’s real. But I was able to get a name, of sorts.” Harry told him.

“He goes by 'The Cowl.'”

NEW YORK. SEWERS.

They stared in silent awe at the amount of really bad news that stared back at them. Where they had expected a room full of hungry undead, they found dried up corpses. All along the damn the subway it had been the same. And now they found their enemy, the young Necromancer on the floor, convulsing. A dreadful thought formed in the back of Johan's mind. His regent, the King of Elves had sent him a urgent message a week earlier. That someone terrible was going to go down, something that was bigger then a draugur infestation. Being a man of petty anger and grudges, Johan had told him he could fix it himself for once as he had almost been killed in one of his many excursions down into the Subway, looking for the necromancer. But none the less, he and Otto had went down and fought the damn things once more. He thought the King meant that the Necromancer was cooking up a grand scheme of sorts. Turns out that is not the case at all. Turns out someone else did.

"Oh shit." He said. Mouth agape. Next to him stood Otto. A massive man who was currently half wolf, half human. A hexen-wolf. His entire body was on edge, his fur bristling. Those canine eyes scanned the room as they walked inside. Bones turned into ash as they stepped past. It seemed thet Hildebrand was still breathing. But her aura was weak. They both recoiled when they realized part of her soul had been ripped out of her forcefully.

"Oh shit is right." Otto said, kneeling over the convulsing woman. There was nothing they could do for her. She was a necromancer. Her connection with the dead had likely meant she was caught up in what ever went down. Otto sighed and picked her up. Johan raised a eyebrow.

"I will not leave her here like this. She is harmless now. I doubt she ever regain power enough to be a threat." Otto said as he slung the girl onto his shoulder with ease. She hung limply.

"I hate when you are right Otto." Johan emphazied as he closed the womans eyes and checked her pulse. She was weak and even though she was an enemy they could not just leave her to die like this. Besides, she might know something. That's when they noticed the way the ground below them was cracked and shimmering.

The two magicians stared at the desecrated ground. "Holy shit." Was all that escaped them when they saw the silver slivers that ran criss cross by their feet. They only knew of one thing that created this much disturbance in the leyline. A soul stone. A forbidden art that forced the souls of the dead or alive into a single flawless gem. Ideally a Diamond.

"That is..." Otto began as Johan interrupted him.

"Soulstone" The swedish runemage said, his voice barely a whisper. They both knew it had to be. But this was a soulstone of absurd strength. Any ol' mage can create one with enough effort. A soul circle was a fairly common thing in necromancy. But it was dangerous, and risky and you took weak souls from dying men or willing sacrifices. This. This was industrial strength. Countless souls, not yet done with this world, ripped from their anchor in the leylines.

"Yepp. Fucking Soulstone alright." Otto confirmed. Eyes wide. He like Johan had never heard of someone so foolish, so powerful as to pull of such a thing. Did the person who did this have any idea what they had done. Somewhere, someone was holding a magical nuke.

"And it is powerful." Johan added. A face of calm panic, the kind of face a man who decided to chickenrace a train and intended to win would have.

"Oh I'd say so." Otto agreed. Even in wolven form, he looked shaken.

"Like. We are talking snatching a few cities worth of dead peoples souls." Johan continued. The icy calm of a person who is pretty sure he was going to die either way. He fished out his pipe and stuffed it. He lit it and took a puff. It was mixed with normal tobacco and some weeds the elves grew. It settled his nerves for now.

"Never felt something like it." Otto agreed, coming to his senses as well. He motioned for Johan to follow him as they began to walk out of the room and towards the sewers.

"But who?" Johan asked as the panic receded and was replaced with utter confusion as to who would do such a thing.

"...I know where we can begin asking." Otto suggested. And Johan had to sigh.

"Puck?" The Swede asked, staring at the embers of his pipe.

"Yes." Otto said with solemn nod.

"Shit." Johan muttered.

"Shit indeed." Otto Concured. They stared at the wall. Trying to will reality into not being shit. They failed. Reality was shit. It was full of it. And they were neck deep in it.

The dinner that night certainly had been entertaining, despite Kayla being late by 5 minutes. Mia and Mark decided on a mid-end Italian restaurant, Asagio’s, that was close to Sherman Square. While the events of D-Day were still on some people’s minds, events of Nightmare, Umbraxis and Pax Metahumana were a fresher in mind. While the mechanic still had those events in her thoughts, which had made her nervous to this day, she didn’t raise them and kept a stoic appearance to the guests of the anniversary. The entrees had been delicious, everyone finishing their dishes with the help of multiple bottles of wine and beer. Not wanting to have a bad reaction to the mixture of the medications and excessive alcohol, Kayla stuck with shandies for the duration of the night. By the time the happy couple decided to move on to The Hub, a couple of the members to the party had to say their farewells and went back home. This certainly eased some of the tension that Kayla had been feeling, relaxing a little bit. She accompanied them to the nightclub, though just to see what the venue was like and, perhaps, finally get back to being her old self.

The bus journey from Little Sicily to the closest stop – a few blocks from the area that the night club was located – had been uneventful. Kayla watched as the world went by through the window as she listened to the conversation that Mark and Mia had behind her. They mostly discussed about what they were going to do on their upcoming holiday to the UK and a couple of countries in Europe. It certainly was a nice getaway from the hectic few months that had occurred in this city. Perhaps I need a holiday somewhere, Kayla thought, eyes focusing on the various oranges and yellows of the streetlights. It certainly has been a while since I was last on one. It would probably help with resetting my own mind.

“… What do you think, Kayla?” She didn’t register immediately that the couple behind her was being asked a question as she turned around with a puzzled look on her face. “Well, do you think that it’d be better to see Phantom of the Opera or Les Misérables in the West End?”

Kayla thought about it for a moment. Les Mis is probably good, though that had been out on film within the past couple of years. I haven’t seen Phantom of the Opera, but I have heard it is good as well. This was a difficult decision, but had ended up with one show in mind. ”If I had to choose between the two, I have heard good things about Phantom of the Opera.” The gleeful look on Mark’s face suggested that he won the debate. The playful slap along with the disappointed face from Mia certainly proved the point, the gesture making Kayla smile.

A few minutes later, the bus halted at the stop they were getting off. The small group all got off. “Ok, so we should be a few minutes’ walk from here.,” Mark spoke to the group, looking around for the street name. As he was doing that, he was patting his coat pocket to check for something. Moments later, he had a slight worried look on his face. “It looks like my phone slipped out of my coat pocket.” He looked as the bus started to pull away from the stop, collecting the last of the passengers waiting at the stop. “I’ll be back in just a moment.” He started sprinting after it, hoping to catch the bus at the next stop. Kayla looked after him with a puzzled look. Why would he go after the bus if it was just his phone? That could be easily re… It then dawned on her.

“That Pasadena bitch has been located.”

He thought immediately broke off as she heard a man walking past the group, appearing to be on a phone. While it could just be a random conversation about someone else, Kayla thought it was way too specific, especially as she noted that the hooded guy had pulled the phone out as she got off the bus. Walking to chase after him, she spoke out loud to the guy. ”Excuse me. What did you ju…”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence as the roar and force of an explosion ripped her off her feet, flying forward to the floor. The soundwave had deafened her, leaving a ringing in her ears. She felt disoriented as she tried to compose herself and figure out what had just happened. She looked to see the man looking at her. The distinctive half-skull tattoo on his face showed disappointment, his hand holding the handle of a knife in his hoodie pocket. However, with such a commotion that had just occurred, the man replaced the knife back in the pocket, making a cutthroat gesture to her as he turned and ran down an alleyway. Her hearing started to clear as she heard the numerous screams of agony filling the night sky. One name had brought her back to reality, the voice familiar to her. “MARK!”

Kayla turned around and saw the result of the explosion. The bus they had been on was now a flaming carcass of what it once was. Anyone who had been on there certainly would have been incinerated by the blast. Tens of feet from the wreckage, Mia was knelt down next to a limp body of her boyfriend, shaking it while in tears. Kayla’s expression dropped from confusion to horror. The elation of the sight in front of her had dulled the ache on the side of her head as the cut oozed her blood. Not again, she thought, getting to her feet as she ran to where the couple were. While anyone who was immediately close to the blast certainly were dead… Please don’t let this happen again. Especially to her. Her footsteps felt numb as she focused in on Mark. She slid right next to Mia, the ruined skirt of her dress ripping on a piece of shrapnel that remained on the ground. ”Mia, are you alright?” Her question fell on deaf ears as her childhood friend focused on Mark. Kayla reached her hand for the hand that Mia was holding and pressed two fingers against the wrist. Focusing in, pure adrenaline driving her now, she waited a moment. The woman next to her started sobbing, expecting the worst. ”Mia, he’s alive!

It was then that her friend snapped out of the shock and looked at the mechanic. “W… what did you say?”

“He’s alive. But the pulse is weak.” While Kayla didn’t have any medical training, especially in Emergency First Aid, she remembered everything her biological father’s books had that related to the job in the military. She didn’t know why the pulse was weak at first until she saw it: a piece of metal was embedded in Mark’s gut, blood soaking the shirt that he was wearing to a dark crimson hue in the light. While it was fortunate that the metal looked like it didn’t hit any fatal like the lungs or heart, the wound looked like it was aimed at the intestines. She reached down to her dress and ripped a large strip from the bottom of it. Wrapping it around the area of the wound, she pressed down on the side. With the sirens heard over the roars of the fire, she hoped that she would stem the flow until help arrived. Her downward spiraling mind and oncoming breakdown would have to wait out until then.

_{banner credit to Hellis}



Time: Present - Evening
Location: The Ritz-Carlton Hotel, New York City.

Broker liked the Ritz-Carlton. Mainly because one of his unknowing acolytes owned a stake in it. Although, he preferred the Grump Tower. The demon was in full demon form, no need to hide his nature when dealing with Odette. The Ambassador would not be put off dealing with a person who looked like the literal devil.

"I take it you felt it?" He said, referring to the earlier soul circle. "Do you wish to see it?" He said, a gleam in his eyes. Blueberry rolled her eyes in a teen like fashion. And added to the conversation in her own way.

"Ew, Gross." She exclaimed and left the room. Actually causing Broker to pause. He wasn't exactly new to the concept of revulsion and its many causes, he was a demon after all. But like fathers everywhere, teenage girls provided a unique and often confusing spice to life.

"...Too much internet."

Indeed, The Ambassador had felt the sudden and great disturbance across the leyline in New York. The Leylines crisscrossing Earth were a great source of life and magic, souls flocked to it after death and made their home. While magically inclined humans could tap into it as the Arcane Stream. Odette travelled the Arcane Stream and as she was very familiar with it's ebbs and flows. Souls being forcefully ripped from the stream had sent involuntary chills down her spine.

What was a surprise was when a Prince of Hell had shown up outside her hotel room calling her not only by name but by alias. He towered above her at over 7 feet tall wearing a bathrobe of all things. She gave him credit asking politely for her to allow him inside, behind him was a gluttony demon as well blue as a blueberry. The Legions of Hell rarely clashed with the Fair Folk and it would hardly seem prudent to just leave him outside.

When he had shown her the Soul Stone it was absolutely beautiful. Radiating power of thousands of souls and it was her first time seeing one of this caliber up close. Hardly acknowledging Blueberry's comment, her attention squarely on the diamond.

Whispering her awe in French then she switched knowingly back to English "It is absolutely magnificent." Bach had his eyes on it as well matching her awe in his expression. He was naturally wary of The Broker, knowing him as Greed Incarnate.

Broker held it delicately between two fingers, the shine from it casting strange and warped shadows about them. "Yes. It is." He said, a grin so wide it might as well belong to a cheshire cat. "But, dear Odette. It is only the beginning. The Centerpiece of a plan years in the making." He tightened his fist around it. "There is to much unruly competition between us... Morally flexible creatures." He walked over the to the window overlooking the city. "Barron in Las Vegas and his Ancient Vampires." He said, pointing in the way of visionaries everywhere. "There is a Lich, There is me. There is you. There are many more." He turned back to face her.

"We get in each other's way unknowingly or very knowingly and help the annoying pests known as heroes to ruin our plans. To that, I say no more." His eyes had that gleam again as he leaned over a table. Rolling out a paper. "I always felt that Arthur's Roundtable was unfair. We need our own." He eyed her. "It is time... For Evil to go... Incorporate."

Her blue eyes followed him as he spoke, she had taken a seat in one of the lush hotel room chairs her teeth gently gnawing at the inside of her cheek. "A gathering of like minded individuals to... accomplish what? That Soul Stone alone can accomplish great deeds as it were. In your hands Hell has the advantage here. Why would you need help from myself? I thought the Fair Folk gave you a cold." She said amicably, foremost very curious. The idea of them gathering their minds and powers was rather appealing but with the likes of Barron, there could be... some conflicts of interest.

"Because I have that power, I know someone is going to react adversely and help cost me a lot of energy and effort. What the so called good guys got, is communication. Synergy. They work like a CEO's wet dream when it comes to saving the day." He said as he sat down himself.

Odette pulled a face in response to that. Begrudgingly true in respect to the recent string of victory afforded to metahuman superhero groups.

"Besides. I told you this was just a centerpiece..." He smiled and pointed to the paper. There was alot of old languages on there. But in the middle was a artifact of some sort. And the text saying; Solomons Cube.

"Solomons Cube. A amplifying cage for necrotic and soul infused magic." He said, eyeing the ancient blueprint. "Sadly, the parts of it cannot be made anymore. It needed some unique components." He looked to Odette. "But...They can be found. You cannot destroy it entirely. Just disassemble it. Someone did that several thousand years ago and I happen to need some help acquiring them."

Bach spoke up next having read the paper over Odette's shoulder. "Such plans have been lost to the ages. Solomon's Cube... My Lady can you imagine how we could utilize such a device?" Ambition sent Bach into excitement.

"Certainly, I can imagine just about anything." She replied schooling her expression to remain neutral picking up the paper for a closer look. "A legendary item such as the Solomon's Cube does promise great power to whomever holds it. Broker, what exactly do you need me to do? My services are hardly cheap. While the reward of glory could appeal to some however it does not appeal to me."

"Allow me to pour some wine and we shall talk business." Odette said pushing up from her seat and stepping up to the mini bar. Pulling up some french Pinot Noir, using a corkscrew to open the bottle. Pouring the wine into a decanter. "What you are proposing will grab the attention of many."

"Naturally." He said, unperturbed. "Even as we speak, some good natured person with a modicum of magic talent realizes shit hit the fan at terminal velocity-" He allowed her to give him a glass. He took a sip and let out a rumbling, pleased noise. "Excellent year." He said over the glass. "You and everyone else will have... A stake in the cube. Just like a corporation, see? Get in now, get a majority share."

Odette pulled another face at his vulgar language before sipping lightly on the wine choosing wisely not to scold him. "Who exactly is aware of it as of right now? I do not have much sway or hold in New York."

"I do not know for sure who will come after us at start. It is a race against time. What I need you for is not here. Back in Britain rests one piece. I cannot get to it due to Titania and her Fey Courts..."

Odette's mouth curled into a smile, "Titania? Is that all? Transform a man to a donkey and you'll have her melting in your hands. If it is in Britain then my guess it would be under Stonehenge."

"I'll leave the fineprint to you. We know it's general location; Just as we know the other three pieces are spread wide. There is two in the states. One somewhere in Nevada, likely buried with some chieftain. The other is down by the border. It was only just dug up when searching for oil. I'll be handling that one personally. Texas is a place where money talks."

"I can certainly see to retrieving the piece from Titania or at least it's location. If it is under Stonehenge it will take me some time to breach the area. It is a heavily anchored leyline, while I am rather talented with manipulating the arcane stream, I think I may need some help."

"See. This is why we need to go incorporate." Broker mused. "Let's put in a word to the other potential associates."

"Not so fast. I am not working for you for free." Odette said firmly. "There is no guarantee your plan will succeed and I am not wasting my time for failure."

"I own...a substantial amount of artifact and magical capital. Name your prize."

"That is not necessarily the Fey's way. I want a favour."

"Tsk. Always favours with your lot."

"A Big Favour I can call upon without condition, please and thank you." Odette said.

Broker felt a pang of admiration and annoyance. "Alright. Deal."

Her smile was gracious, "I will help you assemble Solomon's Cube in exchange for a Big Favour from you." Offering her hand out looking straight into the red eyes of the greediest demon in Hell. "We have ourselves an accord."

"We do indeed. I pity those that get in our way." He said, staring holes in those blue, calculating eyes.

---

Ben frowned at Angelo’s comment, namely the name cuteness, as he slipped back down on his ass. Seeing he wasn’t going to get any help from the new arrival, Ben ignored Angelo and reached his arms up to the bed edge. He tried to pull himself upright and ignored the pain that crept into his very bones, his muscles still feeling like jello despite the lacking damage. When Adrian exclaimed, Ben’s head jerked in time to see a blond haired young man approach him and followed by the dark haired snot. Both tried to assist him back into bed. At first, Ben impulsively jerked away when they touched him. Then when he realize he had no strength to get upright at all, he allowed them to help grudgingly. They seemed to had ignored or shrugged it off as they tried again, once more hoisting him up to sit down on the bed.

He was still sore causing him to flinch. Seeing the grin on Angelo’s face didn’t help and merely put salt in Ben’s wounded pride, something that he loathed completely the longer the boy did it. Unable to come up with a snappy comeback, Adrian’s voice interrupted him drawing the boy’s attention with a shorter version of his name.

Benjamin immediately blinked in confusion, but held his tongue wisely for once. He was cockier when he had the edge in a situation and here, he pretty much held nothing in advantage which bothered him greatly. Instead of waste his breath with the conversation, Benjamin merely remained silent while the two went at each other like gay lovers. Personally he wouldn’t have been surprised if they had a crush on each other as he tuned them out for a moment, letting their voice melt into the background for the time. It wasn’t until the mention of werewolf happened that Ben’s eyes stopped glossing over and snapped into awareness abruptly.

The two’s conversation quickly wrapped, the teenager immediately chuckled in a sarcastic way. “I don’t know who you are, or how you know my name, but seriously… I think this prank has went on long enough.”

He snatched the clothes lying nearby. Being careful not to fall off his seat, Ben raised one leg at a time and pushed it through his pants until he had them nearly to his waist. He snapped the button in place then gently eased himself onto the floor to stand upright. His balance was still wobbly as he tilted against the bed, wrapping up by placing on the shirt before tossing the hospital gown on upon the messy bed. Pushing away any assistance from the two, he started to make his way to the door and seemed intent on leaving this sick prank. “I’m not even wounded, and you’ll trying to convince me I was bitten. And by a werewolf of all things, something pure fiction, so who ever put you two clowns up to this brilliant ploy was likely just as retarded.”

It was a bright, sunny day in Pacific Point. After my boyfriend and I had finished moving myself into the apartment that Viera was providing for me, we decided that it was perfect weather for a trip to the beach. Will was the only one who had come down to help me get settled in. My old roommates were going to fly in later this month before they have to actually find a job. My parents were still trying to find a way to come to terms with what seemed like my decision (which I definitely did not make). I know that they still love me, since they were still supportive of me at my graduation. However, parents love to brag about their kids and saying that their daughter took off her clothes for a magazine is not quite the statement that they thought they would be telling their friends at this stage of my life.

Sometimes, I feel that it would be easier on me if I had told my parents about my metahuman status. It would have saved me from having to lie to them all the time. I could not say that someone impersonated me and signed me up for this job. Instead, I had to utter some bull about how this would be a good opportunity for me, even though I probably will be the oldest, shortest, least thin (and this is sad because I’m thinner than the average person), and least experienced model there. And when I had my little ‘extreme makeover’, instead of saying that my healing factor would make any breast reduction be pointless and a waste of money, I had to convince my parents that I was fine with how I was. And I doubt that these will be the last times.

But at the same time, how am I going to tell my parents that I’m a superhero? The argument that keeping your loved ones in the dark about your activities in order to keep them safe is not stopping me. In fact, I don’t really buy that because your family and friends will always be in danger while you go around playing superhero, whether they know it or not. The true obstruction is that I’m not like the other heroes. I’m not like Icon or Lyger or even those kids from Albany. Icon and Lyger can just pull off their costumes and look like everyone else. I, on the other hand, have to hide what I truly am. While the Albany kids probably also have to conceal their powers, at least they are all still bipedal. How am I supposed to tell my parents that I’m a octopedal metahuman (is that even a word)? How do I tell my mom and dad that I practically have a giant spider where my lower body would be?

However, this conversation is for another time. Right now, all I need to worry about is soaking in some sun. I cannot believe I am saying this, but I’m pleasantly surprised that my healing factor doesn’t instantly remove my tan. While I’m not expert, I’m guessing that my powers are only healing the actual damage caused by the sun while leaving the melanin behind. Which is great for me. God knows how much skin damage I had accumulated up til I got my powers. Now I can get all the Vitamin D and tan to my heart can desire without worrying about dying from skin cancer.

It is just such a soothing experience when you’re lying down on a beach towel, basking in the sun while you listen to the ocean’s waves billow onto the shore. With a book at your side, before you know it, an hour or two have already flown by. After I had finished the chapter that I was on in my book, I sat up and turned my attention towards my boyfriend. While I had been enjoying the warm rays of the sun, Will had been reclining in a beach chair under an umbrella, reading through a book that was probably for school. He really needed that shade, or else the sun would have burn his pale skin to a crisp. Unfortunately, WIll does not have the same luxury as I do with my healing factor.

“Want to go for a walk?” I asked as I peered over my sunglasses.

Will saved his spot in his book with his bookmark and stored it away in a drawstring backpack under his chair. Then, he rubbed on some sunscreen on his skin that was not already covered by his t-shirt and baseball cap. After he had wiped off any excess sunscreen from his hands, Will stood up from his seat and walked over to where I was lying down on the ground, offering a hand to help me up to my feet.

“I thought the plan was that whenever we stand together, my overall paleness would make you look ever tanner?” Will joked as we walked towards the water. I just rolled my eyes as we got closer to the water’s edge.

The Pacific Ocean’s cold water felt refreshing on my feet as we walked in. We stayed at the edge so that we would not have to walk on the hot sand. Hand-in-hand, we strolled down the shore. Besides the seagulls making a racket, everything seemed peaceful. On our way back, however, I felt something slimy grazed my leg.

“Will, I think something touched my leg.” However, when we looked down, there was nothing there, although there was some sort of residue on my foot.

Freaked out by this, we both immediately started to head out of the water. Nevertheless, whatever had first touched me finally burst out of the water again, wrapping what seemed like a tentacle around my leg, digging its suction cups into my calf. It then yanked back, pulling me down to the ground and into the ocean’s waves. I tried resisting, but my fingers just slide through the moist sand. As I was dragged further and further into the darkness of the ocean, I discovered that whenever I tried to keep my head above the water, I would almost always get a face full of an incoming wave.

Then, all of the sudden, whatever had grabbed a hold of me released me. As I treaded water, I could feel my calf burning as the salt water came into contact with the wounds left by the suction cups. My heart almost skipped a heartbeat when I realized that I could barely see the shore from where I was. Below me, the ocean’s dark waters shrouded the seafloor far below. I tried swimming back to shore, although I knew that my chances for reaching land were slim. Even if I turned off my power nullifier, my spider-like anatomy would not help at all.

Almost as soon as I began moving, whatever had first attacked me momentarily dragged me under the water. I struggled to keep my head above the surface, but all of my efforts were in vain. As I was pulled deeper and deeper into the depths of the ocean, I finally came face to face with what had taken me to what seemed like my watery grave. The irony that the girl with the healing factor was going to drown.

I saw the silhouette of a woman as I descended into the dark ocean waters. Her hair was billowing about in the water. Below her waist, it appeared as if there were several snapping dog heads attached to the woman. And below those, eight octopus legs were where a human’s lower body would have been. One of these appendages had wrapped around my leg, while several others began to rush towards me, holding me down under the water. This woman, if I could even call her that, when she had pulled me closer towards her where I could actually discern her face, placed a finger over her mouth, as if she was trying to tell me that I shouldn’t screw lest I want the seawater to rush into my lungs. Then, she proceeded to to constrict her tentacles around my body, choking the life out of me. I tried to reach down to deactivate my power-nullifier, but my arms were both pinned to my sides.

Suddenly, a bright, blinding light pierced through the dark waters, descending down from above the surface of the ocean. The burst of light caused this monstrous woman to shrink back further into the depths of the sea. However, instead of dragging me down with her, her tentacles loosened her grip on me. As soon as I was free, I began swimming back up to the surface, hoping that whatever was up there was better than the woman down here.

Once I reached the surface, I desperately gasped for air. I’m not quite sure how much longer I could have held my breath under there, if whoever or whatever had not intervened. But I still had one big problem. How was I going to get back to the shore before becoming exhausted and drowning? And what would stop that monster from attacking me again?

“Give me some cover, ‘Siris.” A robotic sounding voice commanded from above. God, if that’s that Christopher Arthur jerk, I would rather deal with Ms. Tentacles down there instead. However, when the figure had finally descended down into the water next to me, I saw that it was not Arthur. Instead, it was another robotic looking hero. However, this one had a sleek look to his armor, almost as if it was molded to fit his body. Once in the water, he picked me up in his arms and took off into the air again.

“So, what’s such a voluptuous woman doing all the way out here?” He told me as we ascended above the water. I was going to give him a piece of my mind, but my pursuer had returned, sending for her octopus-like appendages forth towards the two of us.

“I’ll take care of this, Talus.” I heard a second voice say. But what was weird about this voice was that I did not hear it through my ears, but directly in my head. Then, when I turned my head, I saw a second figure floating above the water. This man was wearing a white, flowing robe with golden ancient Egyptian-styled armor on top of it. In his hands, he held a long staff with an ankh attached at the end. However, the most bizarre feature of this man was that he had what seemed like either an eagle or falcon’s head instead of a human’s.

This man then pointed his staff down towards where the tentacles were arising from the water. A beam of light, similar to the one that had freed me from my watery grave, fired from the ankh that was attached to the staff. Once the light slammed into the water, the tentacles began to retreat once again. At that moment, my rescuers took the opportunity to retreat from the open sea, where this woman had the upper hand, and returned back to the shore.

When we had finally reached solid land, the superhuman, who was supposedly code-named Talus, set me down safely on the sandy beach. At that same moment, Will rushed over to me, checking to make sure I was alright. While I did not sustain any injuries that my natural healing factor could not heal, the only real problem was that I could not just deactivate my power-nullifier and allow everyone to see that I have the lower body of a spider. The only thing that was really bothering me, besides a near-death experience, was the burning pain from where the tentacles’ suction cups had left behind circular bruises.

Then, the man with the eagle’s head placed his hand on top of my head. Although his mouth (or rather beak, because of the avian head) was not moving, I could still hear his voice mumbling in my head. And as I heard his voice, I saw the circular bruises that had covered my body slowly began to shrink until there were no traces of them left on my skin. The pain, too, had also disappeared.

“We have alerted the Coast Guard about this incident and we will be remaining in the area for a little while just in case anything else might happen. But please, remain calm and don’t panic.” The bird-headed man said, or rather communicated via telepathy. I don’t know about you, but I think telling people not to freak out via talking in their minds might not be the most efficient way to do that. After he ‘spoke’, the bird-headed man raised his staff up towards the sky. The ankh on the staff began to glow. Then, he pushed off from the ground and jumped into the air. However, instead of landing back on the ground, he continued floating in the air, as if he were flying.

“I’ll rescue you any day, Vol.” Talus joked as he pointed his fingers at me as if they were two pistols and he pressed down his thumbs as if they were part of a flintlock mechanism. Then, he ascending into the sky, flying after his avian-headed ally.

“I hate iron men.” I said as my two rescuers departed.

“Spider-Men are way better, anyways.” Will tried to complement me. However, I rammed my elbow into his stomach, giving him a clue that he should not be casually making references that I’m a spider-themed superheroine. Then, after I had calmed down, we packed our stuff up and headed back to my new apartment. I had enough excitement for a single day.

Locations, NYC and the Red Devil.

Time. Late Morning

Three Months, yeah, jolly good time that. Despite being utterly grounded for life which I somehow got out of, my Aunt has been less than thrilled I took up Vigilantism; doesn’t mean she bloody disapproves of it just she’s in a middle ground area. Even I had troubles adjusting to Ghosts and Magic, and she has me. A nearly eighteen year old, well in five months time, October 29 to be exact. Seeing Aunt Briley reel back from the news that I was a descendant of King Arthur, and had a magical blade of legends just laying in my closet the whole time; after nearly dying at the Museum that is. Was all it took for her to enter Overlord status. Dickens on the other hand has made himself comfortably at home, Aunt Briley actually likes the little bugger; why I’ll never understand.

And forget the fact he eats a ton of food, thankfully he eats pretty much anything biodegradable, food waste, banana peels, rotten fish. You name it he’ll eat it, though he has a preference to moving prey. Doesn’t much mind anything else, seems to enjoy eating whatever comes his way. He’ll do his little tail wagging dance when he thinks it’s dinner time which both of us find cute. I’m starting to think the only reason Aunt Briley lets him stay is because she thinks he helps me cope.

Me. Well it’s breakfast time again. Yup, future King of Britain sitting down with eggs, bacon and big fluffy pancakes. After this, I don’t know. Aunt Briley is still reluctant on this Hero thing, me going out to ‘patrol’ as it were. Merlin is off doing her own thing and at some point I need to go to that Red Devil place; just what I need more magic.

“Eva?” Briley’s voice called out. “You keep staring off into space and Dickens will suck down your food again. And you.” Briley turned to Dickens. “Off the table. But keep Eva safe out there will you?” With an odd honk squeal noise which I’ll probably never be able to pin down he somehow conveyed to my Aunt that he would. At least I think he did. Dickens walked off towards his own food bowl as I sat here finishing my breakfast.

Once done, I set my plate in the sink after scraping off what I could. "I’ll be off Aunt Briley.” She stared me down for a second, then reluctantly spoke. “Fine. But I want you home by eight tonight.”

With a hoodie and a super mask, not much more than a simple cloth piece covering my face I headed out. Looking for a plain brick wall where no one would bother me, so that I could scribe these directions in peace. Plus I doubt it would leave a good impression if I entered a magical den in the middle of a busy street.

The doorway of sorts appeared, and as Eva passed through it she was momentarily blinded as her eyes readjusted.

Beyond the mystic door lie The Red Devil, a genuine medieval tavern boasting an assortment fantastical creatures and otherworldly denizens. The air was a malodorous mix of pungent spirits, the most potent of which having been behind the bar for at least five centuries, burning herbs and incense, bubbling cauldrons, and less than hygienic patrons. Yet the tavern’s chaotic aura was enough to mask its strange smells, for on every wall and in every corner, there was something out of a dream . . . or a nightmare.

Faeries waltzed across the floor, their ethereal glow radiating from their many shapes and forms, with pixies and sprites leaving streaks of light and mischievous laughter in the air, and tall, elven folk exchanging eloquent looks and speaking in beautiful foreign tongues whose sound was so novel that it couldn’t be compared to any human language; Shades, wights, and other apparitions took form as shadowy masses that dotted the tavern’s exterior tables, some resembling humans in both their appearance and shape, others manifesting as little more than a black haze; Spirits and demons from the farthest reaches of this world and the next mingled with the tavern’s staff of witches, their Otherworldly presence felt chiefly in their beautiful and dreadful visages, with some sporting human-like faces or bodies complimented by animal features, and others appearing with jagged teeth, claws, tentacles, and all manner of hellish facades.

The tavern itself was not well arranged, and yet the internal calamity didn’t seem to bother the patrons. Tables, all seemingly handcrafted from dark woods and trimmed with gold or something similar, were scattered haphazardly across the floor, some missing chairs, some miles away from the rest; walls were decorated sparsely in some places with the occasional painting or wall sconce, whereas adjacent ones were loaded down with shelving and various occult decor. A prominent feature of the tavern was a large stage in the back corner where magical folk of all descriptions played strange instruments whose music was eerie yet strangely inviting. Behind this mystical cacophony sat a giant crystalline mirror, which held no reflection, only a thick fog beyond its surface.

As only a few Patrons stopped to stare before they were quickly engrossed with what they were previously doing, Eva walked through the bar unsure of everything she’s ever learned; Dickens poked his head out, and while he saw some of the things inside he lacked the ability to see everything like Eva could, for the moment he was content to continue his nap. Stepping towards the Bar she walked up to the Bartender.“Um. Excuse me, I got this card from the White Witch. She said she could help me, authenticate something.”

The bartender, a scrawny imp with leathery black wings, green skin, and dark antlers, looked up at Eva with a devilish grin.

“Just a moment,” he replied in a cool voice that was accompanied by something sinister. His body became ethereal, shrouded in a dark shadow that crept up the wall along the stairs and onto the second floor. The shadow entered the workroom where Marie sat on the hardwood floor, several volumes of grimoires and historical texts poured around her, all open to miscellaneous pages. Holt hovered about the room in the form of a wispy black cat.

”What could you possibly be hoping to find?” goaded the familiar. ”You know well that the tales of your former self are long dead, known only to the shades of the Otherworld and ones such as myself.

”And yet it seems that neither you nor the Otherworld can offer anything of import.” Marie spat venomously at Holt. Of course she didn’t mean anything by it, he knew that, there was just a lot going through her mind.

After Joseph’s death and Marie’s acquisition of Holt, she fell into a depression that was made worse by a secret that Puck hadn’t seen fit to share until in the wake of tragedy. As it happened, Marie was the descendant of a powerful Welsh witch named Gwyneth Owens. Well, not quite her descendant, but her current incarnation. Gwyneth was powerful enough to cross the veil and be reborn, and Marie was the product of that rebirth. She always believed that her powers came from signing the Man in Black’s book, but instead her magic was something innate. For the past three months, she had been plagued with memories of her former self, bits and pieces of Gwyneth’s past seeping into her mind, Gwyneth’s voice and image, Marie’s own image, appearing in her mind’s eye, speaking to her in cryptic messages.

Marie had spent her time trying to piece everything together, to learn more about Gwyneth in an attempt to learn about her full potential, to keep herself busy and her mind off Joseph. However, the Otherworld only carried so much information about Gwyneth, and this world’s only tie to her was Marie and Gwyneth’s possessions, which were scattered all across Europe and the Americas, unable to be tracked by magical or mundane means, hidden by the remnants of Gwyneth’s power.

”We only know of Gwyneth what she wants us to know, and only she would possess the means to locate her lost possessions, meaning that only you possess the means to locate them. No mortal history nor magical text will help you. Holt spoke gently, his eerie voice like a gentle caress. He shifted into the form of a raven and sat on Marie’s shoulder, who welcomed his presence.

Marie sighed. She knew Holt was right, but no spell, divination, or ritual had been enough to uncover Gwyneth’s memories. She was at a loss.

“Ehhmm,” a voice interrupted the pair. The bartender’s shadow took form. “The White Witch has a visitor. A young lady, says you promised to authenticate something for her. I wonder what she’d be willing to give up in exchange for such information . . .” the imp’s mind wandered off, but Marie brought him back.

”A visitor? I thought I told Puck to cancel all of my contracts for the month.”

The imp merely shrugged, disappearing once again and returning to his post downstairs. Marie stood up, Holt falling from her shoulder to the floor, now in the form of a black hare. She hadn’t the slightest idea who this visitor could be, but she figured that, given her current situation, a little work might be a good thing.

Marie descended down the winding stairs to the ground floor, Holt hopping along in tow. She wasn’t dressed as The White Witch. Instead, she wore a long, sleek, black mesh sweater that fit her like a dress, light grey leggings, and black pumps fitted with silver buckles. A few months ago, she wouldn’t dare wear something so mundane to The Red Devil, but since adopting a glamour charm in place of a mask to conceal her identity, The White Witch could make appearances in more casual attire.

Marie sauntered over to the bar, spotting the hooded stranger whom she assumed to be her customer. Holt jumped onto the bar and looked at the strange girl, but didn’t recognize her.

You called for me? Marie approached the stranger with a confidence that she lacked a few months prior. Her time as The White Witch and as an employee at The Red Devil had tremendously improved her speaking skills.

“Oh, hey. I kinda have a mask this time, but it’s me, Pendragon.” Eva said to the woman who approached the counter. “You look more,civilian yeah. We spoke about getting Ex you know what appraised.”

”That’s right,” it took Marie a moment, but she did remember a girl by the name of Pendragon asking her about certain magical topics a few months back during the Pax Metahumana crisis. ”You came to me outside of Diplodoc’s base and I gave you Puck’s card. You wanted to know more about Excal . . .” Marie stopped herself. Excalibur was a weapon forged from the power of Avalon, or so the legends went, and given that the entirety of The Red Devil was filled with beings and creatures from the Otherworld, a less ancient name for Avalon, it was likely not within her best interest to divulge its current whereabouts. There were no doubt individuals from the Otherworld in search of the mythical weapon.

”Follow me,” Marie spoke in a hushed voiced, bidding Eva to follow her up the winding staircase to the second floor.

Eva walked behind the White Witch taking in more of the sights, a few Patrons did take notice of their conversation probably because of how important the White Witch was if anything. And as she reached the second floor..

The workroom, like much of the tavern, was a beautifully chaotic mess. On every wall, in every crack and crevice, there was some strange, magical device, occult fetish or artifact, sigil, seal, potion, anything the heart could want. Marie’s books were scattered on the floor, along with small bowls filled with burning herbs, rune stones, tarot cards, three different sized hand mirrors, two of which were cracked, the other completely blacked out, and a mid-sized cauldron filled with a frothing black liquid.

”Sorry about the mess, I’ve been . . . busy.” Marie didn’t know Eva well enough to divulge any personal information, nor did she want to burden the girl with the problems of having a five-hundred year old witch’s memories lodged somewhere in the depths of her mind. Though somehow she believed that Eva might halfway relate, given her current situation. Marie made a swift motion at Holt that, to anyone else, would have appeared as nothing, but in truth, it was an order from master to familiar.

Holt, still under the guise of a hare, gave a slight nod. In an instant, the room was enveloped in a black haze, dashing and dancing to all corners, lining the walls, the floors, washing over the pair as they stood. When at last the smoke cleared, the room was spotless, everything returned to its rightful place.

”There, much better.”

“You know.” Eva said as she stood in utter disbelief.
“I’m beginning to hate magic, chores would be so bloody easy.” Eva’s eyes focused back on Marie as Excalibur materialized between her hands.

“So. How are we doing this, spells? Either way I know this isn’t an ordinary sword, be nice to know if this is the real deal though.”

”That’s all you want to know, then? If this is the real Excalibur?

“I've been dealing with Ghosts, Magicians, or Witches whichever they prefer. And giant monsters. So real proof now and then would be Grand, I mean that or I’m just going crazy.”

”If there’s one thing I’ve learned: When dealing with magic, madness is sanity. Marie smiled. It was refreshing to see someone struggling with the realms of folklore and magic and be able to help. ”I have a few things we can try.

As Eva walked forward holding the sheathed Excalibur, “Let’s go Mad then, hit me with what you got in mind.” Unsure of what to expect Eva tried to brace herself for what wackiness was about to ensue.

Marie tried to recall the legends she’d read regarding Excalibur.

”If memory serves, one of the methods by which King Arthur recieved Excalibur was through the Lady of the Lake. Both she and the sword had the power to appear in any source of water, so I think we’ll first try to recall the sword’s memories using water as an empathic medium.”

It was a simple task, water scrying. Marie had done it plenty of times before and had been granted both vague messages and highly concrete visions. She had no reason to believe that this time would be any different. With a swift hand motion, a large, cast-iron cauldron scudded across the floor and placed itself between the two of them. Marie gave a slight nod to Holt, who nodded. He assumed the form of a raven, flew onto the side of the cauldron and pecked at its interior three times. The inside began to the brim with water, swirling up from seemingly nowhere. Holt then flew down from the cauldron and onto an adjacent table.

”Unsheath the sword and wave it over the cauldron,” Marie directed Eva.

Eva removed the sheath like she had done so many times before setting it upright along the wall and in a quick motion had Excalibur ready as she slowly dragged it over the pot even less sure of what she would expect.

A dark fog appeared on the water’s surface, blotting out all of the light coming in, turning the liquid black as night. This black haze hung over the cauldron for some time, making Marie wonder if there was anything to see. However, a few moments more and the fog turned into rolling clouds, heavy with rain and thunder. She and Eva could see the crash of lightning, though they could hear nothing. The image of rain fell upon a vast expanse of green, a rolling hill that lead to a crystalline lakefront. The shoreline was dotted with mangroves, water lilies, and all manner of aquatic vegetation, and at the lake’s center was a large stone, jutting out from the water’s surface.

The image vanished behind another of lightning, this time producing a feint crash in a distant land, the dull roar of rain hitting a hard surface following suit. The clouds shifted to reveal a new scene, one of cobblestone streets and castle walls, all empty. The only sign of life was at the top of a lonely spire on the castle fort, where a hazy figure stood surveying the land, a shining beacon attached to their waist.

Another crash of lightning shifted the scene back to the first, this time accompanied by an audible clap of thunder, rain streaming heavily onto the lake’s surface. At its center stood the same lonely stone, but this time a woman with no discernible features sat atop it, wearing dark, flowing garments garments, bathed in an ethereal glow. She held a long, glistening object in her hand.

A final crash of lightning and the scene disappeared behind a thick black mist which turned the cauldron’s waters back to their normal transparency. Marie looked to Eva, hoping that she had seen something within the cauldron that could give her the answers she had been searching for.

“So, this thing gets the Discovery channel yeah. Jokes aside, that was a lot of something Did you make any of that out? All I could make heads of was a Lady and a Sword, my Arthurian isn’t good but that’s the Lady of the Lake right?”

”All visions not delivered through the second sight have a tendency to be vague, but I think we saw a shortened version of the story of Excalibur. The first vision showed the Lady’s domain, the lake, and the final resting place of Excalibur. The stone that sat at its center was a reference to Excalibur’s home within the stone. The storm, along with the empty streets of the city were likely meant to show Camelot’s downfall and the clash with the witch, Morgana. The figure atop the castle was likely Arthur, whose hazy visage foretold of his death. After which, the sword, Excalibur, was stolen and trapped within the stone upon the lake.”

Marie’s explanation sounded like a literary analysis, but the symbolism present within visions and prophecies was essentially the same as a vague synopsis of a written story. Marie had spent years scrying and divining both past and future information, so she was highly attuned to the symbols and scenes of prophetic visions.

”I know it still sounds vague, but I doubt any other magical sword would reveal this much information pertaining to the stories of Excalibur. I’m sure that literature and folklore missed the mark when it comes to details about the actual sword, but I would still take this as a sign of Excalibur’s authenticity.”

“Bloody Hell, so this is the real deal yeah, this is really Excalibur. You know, this whole thing doesn’t really make me feel any better, I mean yeah. It’s hella cool that I wield a sword of Legend, but that also means my destiny isn’t my own. And that scares me.”

Hold Excalibur Eva paused before lifting the sheathe and slipping the blade inside. “Thanks though, I do mean that. I just have more to process now. Magic and Heroing, and I thought my Family was complicated. I’m going to head home, think things over a bit, next time I see you though I’ll treat you to something as thanks.” Eva said as she turned to head downstairs.

”Wait,” Marie called after Eva, following her to the stairwell. ”I know that this is all overwhelming, but never forget that magic is power. You may think yourself cursed or unfairly chosen to carry this burden, but if anything you've been given direct control of your own fate, a gift that few possess. Turn your unsurety into curiosity, your doubts and worries into amazement and wonder. Place yourself at the helm of this ship and you will steer it. Trust me on this.”

There was a pause as Eva listened to Marie, she did her best to explain her thoughts but Eva wasn’t so convinced. She spent all her youth trying to live her own life, and now this. Well for now as Eva reflected back, she had some information a bit of closure on what she got herself into. The Continuation of a Legend.

Lost Haven outskirts
Present

Pain.

It ruled GE-04’s life. Pain from the humans drove her to hate them, pain from their minds, like blinding motes of light, drove her to the darkness. Pain from her cuffs halted the range of motion in her arms, her shoulders aching with a pain that was constant, bone-deep.

She was fully nocturnal, now, though most nights she sat on the bedframe, staring blankly at the floor, until the pain in her stomach forced her to venture out for food. Tonight was no different, except when she stood to leave the shed, the barrel of a shotgun greeted her between the eyes.

“Didn’t think you’d be dumb enough to stay in one place,” the shotgun drawled. “So which freak’re you in with? Blue boy? One a’ them tin men?” GE-04 could make out the gleam of crazed eyes beyond the gun. “Answer me!”

She glared at him, silent, until realization dawned on her face. She took a step back and sat on the bed, the gun never leaving her face. “...There’s others?” Her mind buzzed with the man’s fear and anger, but with only him, it was an ignored discomfort.

The man huffed. “Don’t play games with me, bitch.” The static of his brain worsened. “Get up! I wanna see you drop when I--” The gun shoved to the side before he could even meet the ground below him. GE-04 grabbed the front of his jacket, pinning him to the floor. He gripped the gun in a vice, quickly darting it back towards her head.

“There’s others!” She declared. The discomfort grew, her face twisting accordingly. “Where?”

The man squirmed, sweat pooling on his face. “The city. Congregatin’ and fightin’ like a den of rats, killin’ anyone who gets in their crossfire.” His lip curled, and he spat right in her face. She recoiled back, dragging the man with her, before snarling and smashing him down, crushing his ribcage like a cardboard box. Blood sprayed into her eyes, coating her world in red.

_{white hands cold hands pulling cutting}

The man gurgled once, fired off a shot, then died. The bullet crumpled against her face, making her flinch back and curl up on the floor. She scrubbed desperately at her eyes through sobs, trying to rid herself of the awful color.

The shed, her one safe place, was ruined forever. She stumbled to her feet, blindly crashing through the wall to the forest beyond. She ran like a panicked animal through the darkness, wood splintering as she broke through underbrush without slowing. Static screamed just beneath her temples, coalescing like a sickness in her stomach. It wasn’t in her head anymore, it was everywhere, howling with spiteful laughter.

She awoke halfway in a stream, the sun rising. Water flowed over her exposed legs and stomach, soothing her with lazy, cooling touches. She forced her eyes to open fully and took in her surroundings. The river sat on a hill between a large industrial building and the forest. GE--04's rampage last night was apparent by the human-sized hole of snapped branches and uprooted trees.

She lay back down, chewing on her lip. There was no blood in sight, which was good, but she didn't know where she was, which was...fairly normal in her case. Clouds rolled along the orange sky, beckoning for her to join them, drifting, warm--it wasn't as beautiful as the night sky, so endlessly black and unfeeling, but it seemed the farthest thing from the humans. Desperation sank into her heart. If she could just live in the clouds, away from the fear, the blood...the clouds twisted just a little closer, tempting her hands to touch, until she sat upright and realized she was floating.

She gasped and curled her legs in tight, covering her face. She could feel herself tilt above the stream several feet below, drifting like gravity had been shut off. Bravely, she took a peek, then leaned and wiggled until she was right-side-up again. Looking up at the clouds, she willed herself to approach, slowly ascending, struggling to keep course. The forest fell away, and she saw the city in full view, set aflame by the sun behind it.

Her head was already throbbing. But she couldn’t go back to the shed, and maybe the forest itself. She didn’t belong there. If there was a chance she could find...something, anything other than dullness and pain, she had to search for it herself. If there were others like her, maybe they knew how she felt, and would help her. Resolute, she tipped towards the skyline, steeled herself to fly, saw a flash of red, and--

--fell. The stream greeted her descent, as well as the silt and mud about two feet beneath it. She dislodged herself with a wet pop, and spent the next few minutes on the bank, holding herself. Slowly, she labored to stand, and soon was running.

Royal Park
Present

“You’ve seriously never been to a skate park before, Thomas?” Liam, Thomas’ best friend, elbowed him roughly, starting up a brief shove match between the two boys.

“No! I don’t even think I’d be allowed in.” Thomas smirked and jumped back from Liam’s hands. “Quit it, dumbass.” Thomas’ language had been significantly expanded since joining the 6th grade, a fact he liked to flaunt to his peers.

“Look dude, to get in with the 8th graders we gotta act like them. My sister said she’d drop me and Luke off on Saturday, you wanna come or not?”

“I don’t even know how to skate, that’s you guys.”

“Yeah, but you got that bike for your birthday, you can just get really good at that, X Games style.”

Thomas’ face scrunched up with worry. “My mom’ll get mad if she found out I went to Little Ulster.”

“Seriously? Your mom doesn’t need to know. Just tell her you’re going for a ride to my house, we’ll pick you up at the corner.”

Thomas picked at a loose thread on the strap of his backpack. “...Alright. But if I get in trouble you owe me a dozen donuts.” Liam's family was well-known for their doughnut shops around the city, something Liam's friends loved to capitalize on.

“Fine, whatever. Seeya at lunch.”

Thomas watched Liam disappear into the crowd of the hallway, his mouth a thin line of worry. Another steady headache was throbbing behind his eyes, giving him an excuse to miss a portion of his next class to get his medication from the nurse’s office.

To the more corporeal and 'grounded' undead, the tugging sensation that raced through their soul might have been momentary thing, and presented little to worry about; they were safe from the threat to their continued existence as a lone entity, perhaps as a product of their independent form.

This was not the case for Mandate- Or rather, not entirely.

The noise that came from her as she doubled over beneath the reservoir's surface was akin to a keening screech. It wasn't a very human sound, but Mandate did not have the human words to describe the sensation inside of her. Racing fire inside of... Veins? She had no veins. Magma in her core. Howling inside bones that she did not possess. The entirety of her existence lurched as magic played tug-o-war with the enchantment that comprised her being.

Her fist slammed down into the floor of the reservoir. A sizable crater formed beneath her fury, and the water's surface trembled as her mindless lashing passed through.

"What is this? What is this?"

Pain, her body and souls answered, This is pain.

A revelation bubbled up from the magic that held her together, and the rogue juggernaut understood.

Mandate's existence was something between corporeal and incorporeal. It was true that she possessed her body formed of mercury and blood, but the truth of her existence dwelt within the spirits bound to that form; magic was not encoded into her flesh, but rather in the very minds and souls that were so grotesquely combined to make her ethereal 'core' spirit. This was partially the cause of her (relative) vulnerability to the ethereal things in the world; her soul was far stronger than the average human's, but far more open to things that struck the spirit itself.

This new and unimaginable sensation that was racing through her was pain, her first taste of it since her 'birth'. It was the quaking of her soul.

And then it was gone.

But why was it here?

Shaky despite her utter lack of internal bodily functions, Mandate arose out of her crouch at the bottom of the reservoir. The crater she had left was barely given a glance as she began to slink back the way she had came, trailing the foulness of her metaphysical existence in her wake. It was still funny to her, how fragile everything was; stone cracked if she increased her weight to even a fraction of the mass she could feel lurking elsewhere, and the water offered as much resistance to her stride as air did to a human being.

Only, it wasn't so funny anymore, because now she was certain that she was fragile as well. Not in the same way, but... Mandate's smile inverted as she pressed a clawed hand to the smooth surface of her stomach, the water of the reservoir running off of her unusually fast as she broke the surface. The echoes of pain were still fading away.

I could feel it, when it pulled me. It was trying to pull me... Sideways? Mandate tilted her head left and right as she strode through the railing in the way of her emergence, the sound of screeching metal idly registered and ignored. It didn't look like there was anything unusual on the path, or in the trees. She could hear people nearby, but she could always hear that in this strange place, this city.

Or maybe it was downwards. Should I go down? Her head tilted left, then right. How would I go down? She wanted to know what had given her that awful feeling, but the means escaped her for the moment. She didn't know the area, nor how she could hope to find the source of the sensation. Digging was an option, she decided, but...

Crouching down, the curious golem swept her hand through the grass, sending a chunk of dirt crashing into a nearby tree as she considered the earth below. She could dig with her strength, but by now the sense of where was just a vague impression. She didn't think she would find anything. She hummed curiously as she dropped onto her backside in the earth, contemplating the small hole she had made and ignoring the silly human beings that scurried around inside the park. She had startled some of them with her digging, but that didn't really bother her. She had far more pressing concerns.

The grass and fresh earth was pretty.

---

After watching Ben, Angelo and some other guy for a while, Carmen and Hakeem started leaning back and forth in boredom, having waited a while for something to happen. The two were still donning their standard jackets, and while they didn't have their weapons or communication equipment on them as of now, they plan on getting all of that back once they walk out of the door. They were recently briefed on the existence of the Supernatural and Metahumans, as well as the communities and threats and what to do and yada yada yada. Now they are contracted to work as Ben's security detail, and are waiting for him outside of his hospital room.

"Jesus... this Ben asshole's taking forever to wake up." Hakeem chuckled a little, looking to Ben as he was still asleep at the moment. "Do you think we should go in there and see what's up? Talk to these two guys?"

Carmen shook her head. "Nah, I feel like I might be disturbing a prayer or something." She said. "You could always browse some memes on Facebook or something..."

"They siezed our phones." Hakeem looked to Carmen, annoyed.

Carmen sighed. "Oh yeah... right." She groaned. "Forgot about that..."

Hakeem stretched a little. "Uuahh... ng... yeah, I just hope that whatever the hell happens, this is just easy money for us... but something tells me that things are only gonna get a whole lot more difficult from here."

"What makes you say that?" Carmen asked.

Hakeem looks around, gesturing to their surroundings and environment. "Look at this shit... I mean, this is like... top secret shit. Like... I don't even think that the fucking POTUS could see any of this shit." He chuckled. "If he's in there and we're working his security detail, that means there's something else going on as well."

Carmen shook her head. "Amigo, I understand your concern, but I honestly don't think that they'd hire us to do any work for them if anything's that serious. Just chill out, we can get a joint or two on the job." She said, relaxed.

Hakeem shrugged. "Fine, if you say so..." He looked back into the glass. "Oh, hey, looks like he's up..."

Once Ben started to storm off from Angelo and the other guy towards the door, declaring that this was all just a prank, Carmen and Hakeem would both sigh in unison. "Boy is he in for a surprise..." Carmen said. "He was definitely bitten, and there were definitely werewolves when we arrived in that alley... Popped a cap in the werewolve's dumbass skull... man that was the scariest shit..."

”Joking?” Angelo chuckled softly, shaking his head as his gaze remained upon the teenager. It wasn’t hard to see how reason compelled him to deny their words, as outlandish as they seemed. Turning to a more serious note however, quite out of character for Angelo, the young man took an assertive step onward to stand between Ben and the door. As he leaned against the frame, the Agent offered a soft sigh, his eyes lingering upon the shaken and visibly annoyed young teen, his life in for a rumbling change. “It’s no joke.” Angelo spoke, his tone darker than before.

"Tch," Ben scoffed off the statement. He was ignoring the serious of the tone and having seen several methodist actors in his time, his expression darkened in moodiness. It didn't help that Angelo was, strangely, in better shape than him and moved much quicker. His instinct tingled in unease over the bizzare fact but pushed it aside. " "Werewolves are pure fiction. Things in books made by people who don't like reality fucking works and want to expression their vision of how it should work. Now, move before I press charges."

“It’s true, Ben.” Adrian pitched in, remaining behind Benjamin as to not overwhelm him. “I healed you.” One supernatural explanation on top of another was perhaps not the best course of action, but there was little else they could do. The truth did after all ring with a supernatural bell. “My ability is to heal wounds with a touch, like Angelo is able to replicate what he touches. A friend of ours is in fact a Vampire and another we know is indeed a Fairy. I understand how unreasonable and outlandish all of this sounds, believe me.” Adrian continued, speaking with a low and pleasant tone, his voice quite melodic to tired and sensitive ears. “It is our duty to care for you now, Benjamin.”

"No, I'm fine. This is crazy and honestly has gone on long enough." Ben's mood was turning more sour than it had been since he woke up, something caused by the fact he was feeling trapped. He didn't like this, especially as it was purely something out of fiction and could never happen. Being made a fool was the least pleasant things on his list of wants, his eyes flipping between what he viewed to be two hired actors trying to trick him. His knuckles whiten upon his current support known as the railing on his bed. "FUCKING KNOCK IT OFF ALREADY!"

Ben's voice practically yelled at the two, his other hand coming around to steady his already wobbly balance.

“You don’t want it to be true, we get it.” Angelo shrugged. “Shit happens, and we deal with it as it does. The truth is, you got bit by a werewolf.” Reaching into his pocket, Angelo produced an iPhone which he’d proceed to hold in front of Benjamin. Moments later, the Agent twirled the phone between his fingers and three replicas of the device appeared in a fluid motion, one after the other, in a rapid series after the original. “It’s no joke.” Angelo finished, turning his attention to Adrian. “Show him.”

Ben looked about to explode again when he spotted Angelo replicate an iphone. For several moments he thought he was still under the effects of whatever they had given him and merely did something explanational. His mind was racing for some plausible and logical reason he would be seeing what the boy wanted him to. However, what he had were thin at best. His eyes turned ot Adrian when Angelo mentioned about 'Show him' causing a concernn to flicker briefly over his expression.

“Alright.” Opening a cupboard within the medical room, Adrian produced a scalpel which he carefully wrapped his fingers around, feeling its cold steel against his skin. “Do not be alarmed, Benjamin. This is merely to prove that I have in fact healed your wounds.” The doctor spoke, tracing the razor sharp edge against his palm to open a bleeding wound, a wound which would heal and vanish without a trace as fast as it arrived.

Without thinking about the weakness in his body, Ben jerked forward to stop Adrian from slicing himself. "Don't..."

His hand let go just as his sentence cut off, his eyes widen by the sudden display of Adrian's healing abilty. It made Ben's mind pause then stall. He wasn't able to explain how that was possible while the blood leaked out but the skin mended back to its original form, his legs unable to hold himself upright for long. They crumbled underneath him. His arm reached up to touch where the bite had happened, the realization that his little bite might happened after all.

"Woah, shit... they do have powers too." Carmen gasped, a little amazed at this display. "Damn, I might have this Angelo guy... uh... replicate a shit ton of weapons and diamonds. Damn, he could make us a lot of money!" Carmen nearly squeed, excited before looking at Adrian's healing ability. "Wow, not bad..." She smiled a little before turning to Hakeem. "Looks like we're actually among friends, huh?"

"Yeah..." Hakeem nodded with a smile, a little mesmerized. "I hope they don't think our powers are boring is all I'm worried about." He said with a soft smirk.

"Eh, don't worry about it. I'm pretty sure we'll get along." She looked to Angelo, gesturing towards him. "Eclipse on the other hand would probably have a field day with this motherfucka." She smirked.

Seeing how the boy was about to meet the floor once more, Angelo sped forth and made sure to catch him before such came to pass, helping him once more unto the bed. “Ben.” Angelo spoke, placing his hands upon the young man’s hips, peering down at Ben. “It’s a lot to take in. Don’t rush it.”

Ben was shaking but not by choice. He barely felt Angelo's arms wrap about his torso then haul his ass upon the bed, his skeleton feeling like the only thing propping him upright and sank to cradling his head with his hands. His stomach turned and tossed in his middle, bring sickness to spread across his system. However he couldn't throw up to get it out. "This isn't happening. It's not real, no."

“Sorry for scaring you.” Adrian spoke apologetically, offering Benjamin a soft smile as he approached the side of the bed. “Angelo is blunt and lacks much empathy, but having lived for over two hundred years does that to you.”

“Why thank you.” The middle easterner grinned at Adrian with a wink. “Anyways…” He continued. “Eventually, you’ll need to accept reality for how messed up it actually is. Vampires are real, werewolves are real, magic is real, powers are real. Zombies are real.” The agent finished the sentence with a slight frown at the last few words. “Met them, not fun. Either way, you’re in it. You can live as normal a life as a werewolf can have, but the first few months, maybe years, we’re going to have to look after you.”

"You're expecting me to accept things that are suppose to exist in books. I'm not even sure that I'm not on something that's causing me to see what you just did. I don't want to believe it. This is worst than telling someone they have cancer, which I honestly rather have at this point." Ben said, not realizing his words were hinting to him beyond fully accepting his human ignorance over the subject.

“Few people can handle the guilt of what they do when turned into their beast form. They lose their mind, and they prey on the innocent. When knowledge of this reaches them, it’s too much to handle. Many wolves take their own lives because of it.” Adrian informed without censoring the facts. “That’s why we’re here, Benjamin. Please, do not push us away. We are here to help you.”

"Help? I don't need help. I need to be normal." Ben snapped, his eyes narrowed on Adrian as if blaming him for his role in this and the cause of his condition.

Carmen and Hakeem watched from the window and listened in on the conversation as it happened. They looked to each other periodically as things heated up, debating on whether or not to go inside and step in on things.

"Should we go inside? Things are looking-" Hakeem was interrupted as he heard his partner walk right through the door. "Wait, Phoenix!"

Carmen stepped into the room and pointed straight at Ben. "Listen here, Cracker Jack, I don't like this shit any more than you do, okay? Just an hour ago I had all of this given to me too, and laid up all upon me, and just a little bit longer ago, I fucking shot the asshole who bit you, and he didn't even go down!" She shouted at Ben. "So before you start acting like a fucking generic white boy from every fucking superhero movie I ever did fucking see, I think you should be thanking us for taking you here, because otherwise you would've been one of those hairy motherfuckers and you would've died a whole lot sooner and a virgin as well!" Carmen sighed. "Jesus fucking..." She facepalmed. "Listen, if you keep acting like a fucking bitch, I'm gonna fucking beat you and your shit until you get your head screwed on right." She looked to Ben angrily, stepping close to him. "Do I make myself clear?"

Ben found a growl immediately escape his throat when Carmen ripped into him. It was stranger than a human's as it sounded more feral and canine than he expected it to. If he didn't know better, he would've thought it came from a dog nearby instead of him. For a brief moment his eyes flickered blue then faded. "You don't know shit about me and I don't give a damn if you feel that makes you entitled to think you can judge how I chose to act."

While Carmen made her speech, Hakeem stepped in as well and sighed, knowing that he was too late to stop her. He looked up and apologetically at Ben.

"Well right now you're acting like a little bitch and it's just making it difficult for all of us who are trying to help your scrawny little ass." Carmen said, pointing at him briefly. "But if you wanna die a hairy ass virgin, be my fucking guest." She said, raising her hands and leaving the room. "Fucking pendejo, I swear to god..."

Ben ignored Hakeem, his eyes focused on Carmen. Feeling the anger fill him with strength, his figure edged off the bed and faced the loud mouth whore standing before him. He could only see red, a fact he brushed off, then started to move past Carmen. "Leave me the hell alone."

“Fucking hell…” Angelo sighed, scratching the back of his head. “Would you all chill?”

“There is no need to get riled up.” Adrian tried, looking at the group now gathering in the room.

“Adrian.” Angelo continued, turning his attention to the doctor. “Why did we hire these guys?” The agent motioned to the mercs besides him.

“They are hired muscle, Angelo.” Adrian responded.

“Ah.” The agent nodded, rubbing his chin. “Yeah, it shows. That’s where the brains end.” Shrugging his shoulder with another sigh, Angelo crossed his arms and looked at the group with a clear sign of annoyance on his face. “Okay, seriously. As much as I sport a ‘no bullshit’ personality, we know how to treat these situations and it’s not like that.” Angelo’s eyes fixed themselves on Carmen. “I get it. You’re army, right? Hardened, been through a lot, whatever. Honey, you’re about as experienced as a schoolgirl in my line of work so take a step back and chill, will you? The kid’s gotten his world turned upside down. He probably woke up this morning thinking that he’d lay in bed, playing Playstation right about now. Give the kid a break, yeah?”

“Aggression will get us nowhere…” Adrian pitched in silently, remaining next to Ben as he placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

Carmen looked to Angelo once he spoke, her enhanced hearing picking up Angelo's comment on where their brains end. "Hey, I heard that!" Once he spoke to both her and Hakeem, she listened for a few seconds.

Hakeem piped in. "I'm sorry, I tried to let you guys handle this, but she-"

"Shut the fuck up." Carmen interrupted. She then looked back to Angelo, and she raised her finger to retort, but she then lowered it as he spoke. She actually considered his words, and she nodded softly. "Copy that." She said softly. She still wore a scowl, but she was cooling down. With a slight gesture with her head, both she and Hakeem left the room, vanishing almost as quickly as they came.

"Don't. It's not going to make it go away, and I can do this myself. I've been doing things myself for years and I don't need anyone. I just don't.. I don't." Ben pushed away Adrian's hand, his tone starting off angry and pissed then gradually slipped into a calm state. It was like his mood had swing from angry to calm, sad to furious, and so many ways that he had begun to doubt he could actually control this. He wanted to be stubborn and try on his own. Something deeper inside seemed to whimper in warning against it causing him to stop in his tracks.

“I am going to say the same to you, kid.” Angelo turned his attention back to Ben after Carmen and Hakeem left the room. “You’re about as experienced as babe when it comes to this. You have no idea what’s happening to you, you don’t know anything about the virus in your system and you have no clue what’s going to happen with your emotional outbursts.” The agent continued, once again leaning against the windowed wall with a casual demeanor. “Acting tough and trying to convince us that you can brave through this will get you nowhere. Just like Rambo over there, I know you’re capapble.” Angelo motioned to the door for a moment. “You’re a strong kid, won’t take that away from you. So are they. It’s why we hired them. Though, neither you nor them can handle this on your own.”

“We’ll give you your space, of course. Though we can’t let you out of our sight for long, Benjamin.” Adrian spoke softly, placing his hands together as he finally approached Angelo’s side.

“If we give in to your assumption that a bad past will have hardened you enough to deal with this, people will die. You can either warm up to us in time, or you can hate the lot of us but the truth is, we’re not going to let you deal with this on your own.” The agent narrowed his eyes as they lingered upon Ben. “A lot of lives are at stake, including yours. As capable as I know you are Ben, I’ve read your files, you can’t combat a virus with will force, stubbornness or experience. It’s beyond your control.” He finished, taking a step forward before dropping down on a chair he pulled out, now sitting face to face with Ben. “It would be beyond mine as well, and Adrian’s. We would all need help with this. There are no exceptions. You're strong. No one will take that away from you, but you’re walking into dangers you have no knowledge or control over. That's why you need us.”

Ben's face scowled at Angelo as he inhaled, feeling the anger pulsing under the surface. He was usually more controlled than this. That's how he moved through life, but something was happening and it scared him. "Why do you want to bother? You don't gain anything from I can see and I don't even know what the fuck is going to happen. I only have the faintest idea and that's from other's imagination! What sort of guideline is that?"

”What we gain…” Angelo began. ”Is your safety, as well as others’. This is our job, Ben. We take care of good guys, and we neutralize bad guys, all within the supernatural and inhuman spectrum.” The agent finished, leaning back on his chair. “Luckily for you, we know what’s going to happen. Firstly, we’ll help you through the changes the virus is putting you through. After that, we’ll teach you how to control your werewolf powers. After that? Well, after we know that you’re stable and able to handle yourself, you can do whatever you want. We’ll keep in contact with you to check in from time to time and see how you’re doing, and you’ll have a direct link to us in case you need help.” Angelo finished, nodding his head slightly. "You feel lost and unable to control your emotions right about now, which is normal, all things considered. Just take a breath, and rest up. We'll be here for any questions you might have."

"Fine." Ben said grudgely, his emotional state feeling exhausted from the rollercoaster he was currently on. He just wanted off but it seemed unlikely to ever happen. He crawled back into the bed, then plopped over while looking at Angelo. "Though just call me Benjamin and mind telling me what to expect at least?"

Carmen and Hakeem stepped out into the hallway, to which Carmen sighed heavily. Hakeem looked to Carmen. "See... this is kind of why we don't try to step in on things like this. We just let it happen, and help when we can, okay?" Hakeem said, leaning against the window.

"I know, it's just that I wanted his ass to fall in line. Obviously I only made things worse." Carmen shrugged. "Oh well. Maybe if we had our phones we would've been none the wiser." She said with a soft chuckle.

Hakeem rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Right." He said. "I guess we wait until they get their shit together..."

"Yeah, that ain't gonna be in forever since Cracker Jack wants to be a stubborn jackass." Carmen said. "I guess we can see what else we can do."

The journey to America was quite a lengthy one for the Supreme Commander. The trip from Bogota to New York took quite a few hours, and a few stops along the way as well. While he was doing his thing in Colombia, he had to travel to America in order to make sure that they won't screw with anything he had planned, and to possibly gain some more... "counter-terrorism support" if anything. He knew how America operated, they supported many countries of his kind, Saudi Arabia being a good example. He knew just what to do to keep the Americans off of his back, and if possible, give him free stuff to fight a threat he's already been fighting.

After landing at the undisclosed airfield, his plane had stopped, and was met by a few black SUVs of the Tahoe and Escalade variety. After the SUVs stopped, men wearing suits climbed out from them, stepping towards the vehicle. As they did, the door, that also acted as the stairs to the plane, opened up, revealing the interior of the vehicle. Stepping out were two bodyguards, both of them wearing formal green clothes and red berets, the bodyguards being both male and female. Once two of them stepped out, a high-ranking military officer stepped out with them, and then followed the Supreme Commander Himself, wearing his full military outfit. Behind him were a few more red berets, walking out with Tavors slung on their backs. Soon enough, the Americans in suits and Colombians in uniforms converged in between the plane and the vehicles.

An older man in a suit, some big shot in the US Government, would approach the Supreme Commander and shake his hand. "Supreme Commander Zepeta, it's a great pleasure, and an honor, to see you step foot here in the United States."

The Supreme Commander shook his hand as well, but once the man spoke, he glared at him. "Do you take me a fool?" The Supreme Commander looked to the man across from him, speaking in a somewhat heavy accent. "Both you and I know that you and your imperialist nation only sees me as a tool, so I would much rather cut the pleasantries and get straight to business."

The man nervously chuckled. "Supreme Commander, I was only trying to-"

"Straight. To. Business." The Supreme Commander interrupted.

The man nervously nodded. "Right. Straight to business." He then walked down the tarmac, to which the Supreme Commander followed him. "The purpose of this meeting was to affirm that, while the nation and the President may make criticisms and remarks at your nation to save face, Langley will still provide you with the means necessary to fight FARC and cartels friendly to them." The man explained. "Whether they be small arms, trade deals, vehicles, personnel, money... whatever you may need."

The Supreme Commander walked forward, with both of his hands behind his back, walking in a confident posture. "Your weapons have nearly failed me when I fought FARC in the jungles of my homeland, Secretary..." Zepeta looked off into the distance as he walked. "The Galils and Tavors have served my soldiers well, and so have the Kfirs for my Air Force. I need all of the Israeli weapons and vehicles you can send my way. Anti-IED equipment would be beneficial as well."

"But Supreme Commander, our weapons and vehicles have improved much since then-"

"Did I stutter?" The Supreme Commander glared at the suit next to him. "Do you want FARC and other terrorists in my nation destroyed, or do you want my soldiers lying dead in the jungles?"

The man nodded as well. "Israeli weapons... right." He looked to the Supreme Commander. "Public opinion of you all around the world has been quite... critical, so to say. What do you plan to do about it?"

The Supreme Commander smirked. "Ah, right. The world will soon realize the favor I have done for it once FARC has been eliminated. In fact, should I be successful in eliminating FARC, I would be more than happy to hunt down and destroy any terrorist threat around the world." The Supreme Commander smiled before looking to the man beside him. "In other words, you give me the gun and tell me where to aim, and I'll shoot. Just make sure to give me the guns and bullets necessary to take them down."

"Of course, Supreme Commander." The man nodded. "Are there any other requests you would like me to consider?"

"Hm... I know well enough about your dealings with the Mexican Cartels, my friend." He said with a smile. "I would like a little bit of that money myself, and a little bit of the supply routes as well. Business opportunities, if you will."

The man scoffed. "Haha... Supreme Commander, you must be joking... we've been against these cartels-"

Almost immediately, the Supreme Commander looked deep into the eyes of the man right beside him. With the will of his mind, he put a subtle aura of fear into the man's heart, and spoke with the voice of the Tyrant. "Do. Not. Lie. To me." The Supreme Commander said, almost furious. "You will get me these connections, and you will get me the routes. I have final say on all of this. Is that understood, G-Man?"

The man trembled, nodding quite nervously. "Y-yes S-s-supreme C-Com-mmander." He gulped and nodded. "Whatever you need."

The Supreme Commander nodded, and smiled just a little. "Good. Good. Muy bien." He nodded before looking away. "However, the second any of this unspoken deal is broken... you will know true pain... true suffering, and true terror." He turned back to the man beside him. "Now, is there anything else you would like to discuss?"

The man turned back towards where the plane and the SUVs at. The moment he did, he was startled at the sight. Four of the Colombian Regime Guards were holding the other suited men at gunpoint, to which the suited men were all sat down with their hands ziptied behind their backs and their mouths gagged with their own socks. All of their guns were on the ground next to the vehicles, and the high-ranking Regime generals were watching as the men and women in the red berets kept their Tavors trained on their backs. The man turned back to the Supreme Commander, who had a big smirk on his face.

"I'm not one to be fooled around with." The Supreme Commander said. "I expect all of my demands to be met within the next few months. No more than Six for the Kfirs and no more than three for the Israeli weapons and Cartel connections. And by then, I promise you, FARC will soon only be a page on Wikipedia." The Supreme Commander said with a grin before walking back to his private jet. "I shall take my leave now. Adiós, mi amigo."

---

Meanwhile, in Bogota, many regime guards stood in front of the gates of the Presidential Palace, with patrols all throughout the property. What was once a building that represented the democracy of the nation was now just an extravagant home for the Supreme Commander, and the elite that ruled with him. The entire palace was well guarded, and had a whole lot of defense systems, not to mention the roundabout security. The Presidential Palace was also quite large and extravagant on the inside, and it made a nice home for those who cozied up to the Supreme Commander.

One of the elite that ruled with the Supreme Commander was none other than Executive General Aquila Macario, who ruled as the Supreme Commander's second-in-command. While both the Supreme Commander and Executive General ranks did not exist in the Colombian Military beforehand, they existed now to let everyone else know who was in charge of everything. While there were various ministers, including ministers of defense, propaganda and various other things, only Macario and Zepeta had final say in things. And while Zepeta was gone on diplomatic missions, Macario took the helm in the country, even if it was just for days at a time. While many would see Zepeta as the worst one, some would beg to differ, those that have survived encounters with Marcario that is. But that is another story for another time.

Marcario stood in front of the window, overlooking the nation that he temporarily had control of. Feeling a vibration in his pocket, he produced his cell phone and answered it. "Macario."

"Se hace. Los estadounidenses prometieron las armas, los vehículos y las conexiones de Cartel para mí, sin nada a cambio. (It is done. The Americans promised the weapons, vehicles and Cartel connections to me, without anything in return.)" The Supreme Commander said over the phone. "Estoy en mi camino de regreso al palacio. Espero que mantienen el lugar agradable para mi regreso, hehe. (I am on my way back to the palace. I hope you kept the place nice for my return.)"

"Excelente. Quedo a la espera de su llegada, Zepeta. Ten un viaje seguro a casa. (Excellent. I await your arrival, Zepeta. Have a safe trip home.)"

"Y disfrute de su estancia en el palacio, mi amigo. Ninguna de las partes hasta que yo vuelva, de acuerdo? (And you enjoy yourself at the palace, my friend. No parties until I come back, okay?)"

Macario chuckled. "Sin promesas. (No promises.)" He said before folding his cellphone shut, hanging up. Looking out the window once again, he gave a soft sigh. "Fuera de la mazmorra que vaya. (Off to the dungeon I go.)" He said with a soft grin, walking out of the corridor, and down the stairs. He was gonna have a little more fun before his friend arrived home.

Chris readjusted the button on his dress shirt’s cuff as he waited for the elevator to finally reach his destination. Considering how S.T.R.I.K.E. desires that its secrets remain, well, a secret, Chris was surprised that he was not blindfolded or something on his trip down to this hidden retention facility. He still thought this, despite the fact that Chris worked closely with this, until recently, secret organization. Apparently, they were not that worried that Chris would let the cat out of the bag on this one.

After the elevator bell rung, the doors slid open, revealing a narrow corridor that branched out to the left and to the right. In front of the elevator, a S.T.R.I.K.E. agent had been standing, waiting for Chris’ arrival.

“This way, Mr. Arthur.” The agent told him, waving down the right side passage. As the two individuals walked down this corridor, Chris saw dozens of containment cells, lined with near-invincible, one-way glass. Although many of them were empty, a few of them were occupied by some of the allies of Doctor Diplodoc. He saw the lion-man, Leo, who looked bizarre without his fierce feline appearance. The Silver Sorceress’ sister, Sumac, was also there, having just been transferred out of the medical bay after sustaining serious injuries from War-Pulse. The sorceress herself was there, too, although she had been loaded up with medical drugs in order to keep her unconscious so that she would not bring down the entire place down to the ground.

However, Chris was here for the ring-leader, Doctor Diplodoc. He, too, just like Leo, looked far less intimidating while his powers were suppressed. His unpowered appearance paled in comparison to the giant of a man he was with his powers. Over the last few months since the Pax Metahumana crisis had been resolved, Chris had been returning to this facility to try to pry answers out of the mad doctor, although these attempts have been for the most part done in vain.

“How can I help you today, Christopher.” The doctor asked even before Chris spoke. He, too, was already use to this routine.

“Why ask questions when you already know the answers?”

“I could tell you the same exact thing.” Doctor Diplodoc quipped back. “I assume you have seen last month’s issue of Viera, since you have been quite intimate with some of their models, if you catch my drift.”

“Read it, no. Heard about it, now that would be a yes. I was half surprised by it, to be honest. She rocks the look, but I would have lost a lot of money if I had bet on whether she would ever do something like that.”

“And I wonder who could have possibly pushed her in that direction.”

“So, I’m guessing that’s a confession that you orchestrated that with Effigy. But to what end?”

“It is quite elementary, if you think about it. I’m surprised someone of your intellect cannot see it.” Doctor Diplodoc taunted Chris. “Most heroes can keep a low profile by working jobs that don’t put themselves in the public spotlight. However, if they were to be pushed into the forefront, it becomes just a little bit more difficult to juggle identities and manage responsibilities.”

“I’m not here to learn how you conned that Spider-Girl into being a glorified Playboy model. I’m here to find out where are the rest of your allies.”

“You will soon see.” Doctor Diplodoc mentioned. Chris turned to head back the same way he came, knowing that he had gotten all that he could get out of the S.T.R.I.K.E. captive. However, when the doctor began talking again, Chris stopped and turned his head over his shoulder to listen to what the man had to say.

“You should be thanking me. If I had not handed over some juicy intel to S.T.R.I.K.E. about the Good Doctor, you heroes would have had yet another crisis on your hands.”

“Who?” Chris asked since he had never heard of that name before.

“Exactly. Although he might have called himself the Good Doctor, I will always be the best one.”

The underlevels of the Presidential Palace in Bogota were something of a marvel. They were quite old, and they were a secret ever since the place was built nearly a century ago. The underground levels were built of stone and brick, and were lit only by sodium-vapor lamps, the orange ones that made the underground levels look like a dungeon from a castle. The underground level was guarded by a few more Red Berets armed with shortened Tavors. As Macario walked down the stairs and through the dank hallways, the Red Berets saluted him as he passed. Walking through, making turn after turn, going through hallway after corridor, he finally arrived at his destination, a large steel door guarded by a Red Beret.

"General." The Red Beret saluted him before entering in the keycode to unlock the door. Once the door was unlocked, the guard opened up the door and allowed Macario entrance.

"Descanso. (At ease.)" Macario nodded to the Red Beret as he entered the room. After he entered, the Red Beret followed him inside, closing the door behind him.

The room itself was a large dungeon of sorts, with chains, torture devices, a small haystack that acted as a bed, and a cold stone floor... the only sources of light were the ancient torches that were continuously lit high up on the walls. Chained to the wall was a woman, sitting with her hands chained behind her back. she was wearing a military uniform, a torn up one with a few blood stains. She looked up to Macario as he entered, and dread filled her eyes.

"Sabía usted alimenta a su bienestar? (Did you feed her well?)" Macario asked, turning to the guard.

"Sí, ella se ha alimentado bien. (Yes, she has been well fed.)" The guard replied.

"Ah." Macario nodded, turning to the woman. "Así, Aurkena, que ha traicionado al comandante supremo en el favor de las FARC, no? (So, Aurkena, you have betrayed the Supreme Commander in the favor of FARC, no?)" Macario asked the woman in front of him.

"Chupar una polla, pedazo de mierda! (Suck a dick, you piece of shit!)" The woman, Aurkena, defiantly shouted before spitting at him. "Crees que eres mejor? El envío de sus escuadrones de la muerte, poniendo a las personas en campos de trabajo... (Do you think you're any better? Sending out your death squads, putting people in work camps...)"

"Silencio!" Macario shouted, interrupting Aurkena. "De hecho, me lo hubiera perdonado, y te hubiera dado una sentencia más leve y un mejor tratamiento si estabas con los leales. (I actually would have forgiven you, and would have given you a lighter sentence and better treatment if you were with the Loyalists.)" Macario said softly, walking up to the woman. "Y mientras yo quiero los leales a dejar de luchar y unirse a nosotros, ellos tienen una razón legítima para los rebeldes, ya que nos ven como personas robándoles sus libertades. Ellos simplemente no se dan cuenta de que esta es la única manera de derrotar a los enemigos reales en nuestro país, y en todo el mundo. (And while I want the Loyalists to stop fighting and join us, they do have a legitimate reason to rebel, as they see us as people robbing them of their freedoms. They just don't realize that this is the only way to defeat the real enemies in our nation, and around the world.)" Macario explained. "Sin embargo, usted elige a lado con los terroristas, los asesinos, los vendedores de drogas y los secuestradores! (However, you choose to side with the terrorists, the murderers, the drug peddlers and the kidnappers!)" He shouted angrily before punching the woman in the face, hard enough to make her spit out blood. "Así que usted es la persona que es un pedazo de mierda pollas! (So you are the one who's a cocksucking piece of shit!)" He shouted, spitting back at her.

Aurkena coughed. "Eso es todo lo que tienes? (Is that all you got?)" She asked with a soft bloody smile.

"No, sólo estoy calentando. (No, I'm just warming up.)" Macario grinned. As soon as he finished speaking, he placed a hand on the woman's forehead, and within seconds, she was asleep. Macario simply smirked, and pulled up a nearby chair, sitting in front of her. "Bienvenidos a mi ensueño. (Welcome to my Dreamscape.)"

---

Everything surrounding Aurkena was black. Nothing but black. She was standing on something, but she didn't know what it was, she couldn't exactly make out what type of ground it was. Looking around, she felt like she was standing in this weird void. She could see herself just fine, as if there was a light in there. She walked around.

"Hola? Alguien aquí? Dónde diablos estoy? (Hello? Anyone here? Where the hell am I?)" The woman called out, hearing her voice echo. "Hola? Hola!!" Dread was growing in her heart. She had no idea if she was dead, or just dreaming...

"Estoy aquí. (I'm here.)" A voice said from behind Aurkena, to which she immediately twisted around to find Macario standing right there... standing on a black pool of water that reflected what appeared to be invisible stage lights. "Usted está en mi ensueño ahora. (You are in my dreamscape now.)" He explained to Aurkena as he continued to walk on water. "Aquí, yo controlo todo. Usted es impotente frente a cualquier cosa y todo lo que le sucede a usted aquí. (Here, I control everything. You are powerless against anything and everything that happens to you here.)" He said, circling around her.

Aurkena tried to move, but she couldn't. She found herself stuck, like she was in a nightmare, being chased by something. Her heart raced. "No... no no no no no... no no! Esto no puede estar bien, esto no puede ser posible! (This can't be right, this can't be possible!)"

Macario laughed. "Es posible, y está sucediendo en este momento. (It is possible, and it is happening right now.)" He chuckled. "Aunque me gustaría hacer esto una y otra vez, por desgracia, esto va a ser el último que recuerda antes de ir a la otra vida. Así que ... prefiero disfrutar de este si fuera tú. (While I would love to do this again and again, unfortunately this is going to be the last thing you remember before you go to the afterlife. So... I'd rather enjoy this if I were you.)" Macario said with a soft smirk before walking away.

"Espera, no, por favor! Podemos resolver esto! (Wait, no, please! We can work this out!)"

"Adiós, Aurkena. Pronto va a unirse a los miles de sus compañeros que han caído en el nombre de una causa que mató a muchos inocentes y plagado nuestra nación! (Goodbye, Aurkena. Soon you will join the thousands of your comrades that have fallen in the name of a cause that murdered many innocents and plagued our nation!)" And with that, Macario vanished. Aurkena was all alone.

Aurkena remained on top of the water before immediately, the water was no longer solid and she fell through. The water was infinitely deep, with light shining through making a large blue aura surrounded by darkness. She tried to hold her breath, but the instant she accidentally breathed in water, she found that it didn't hurt, and that she could indeed breathe water. Opening her eyes, she had luck with that too. Looking around, her heart raced, surrounded by this underwater void of sorts. At that point, she was still scared, she had no idea what was lurking in the shadows.

Until it appeared. Almost immediately, out from the infinite void of darkness, the massive monster rose from the depths and came immediately after Aurkena, to which Aurkena screamed, but her screams fell silent. Her heart raced incredibly, the razor-sharp teeth closing in on her. The sounds it made were incredibly loud, and appeared that the literal jaws of death were closing on her. Aurkena curled up and braced herself, before the razor-sharp teeth painfully tore her to shreds, and the rest of her was ground up by the rest of the monster... she was done for.

---

For the longest amount of time, Macario sat down on the chair with his eyes closed and his hands on his lap. Aurkena was still asleep, but after a while, she shook, foamed at the mouth briefly and fell flat against the floor, dead. Once she passed, Macario opened his eyes and smiled briefly. "Los dioses le juzgar por sus acciones en el más allá, pero aquí, tienes lo que te mereces. Por traicionarme, el Comandante Supremo y esta gloriosa nación. (The gods will judge you for your actions in the afterlife, but here, you got what you deserved. For betraying me, the Supreme Commander and this glorious nation.)" Macario said before standing up and taking the chair with him. Looking to the guard at the door, he gestured to the dead woman on the ground. "Llevarla a tumbas del traidor, y coloque la siguiente prisionero. (Take her to the traitor's graves, and put in the next prisoner.)"

"Sí, mi general!" The guard saluted him before opening the door, allowing Macario to exit the cell and walk back to the upper levels of the Presidential Palace. Just a normal day for the Sandman.

Burma, several years ago.

"This is not a run of the mill mission!" Kaya yelled over the gunfire. She and Bruno were taking cover behind a sturdy piece of stone wall that was getting increasingly less sturdy as former junta loyalists fired off a regiment worth of ammo at them.

"This is bullshit! Where the fuck is Hernandez!" Bruno, a caucasian man who possessed the porn stache to end all porn staches. He was clutching the the M16 like it was the only sure thing in the world.

"He is coming. We just gotta.. Hold.. Oh shit is that whistling?"

"Fuck. MORTAR!" The ran, firing back when they could to keep their attackers from chewing them up in retreat. Throwing themselves in a ditch they watched their former cover become so much dust and gravel. "Awfully precise for a bunch of ill trained flunkies with a mortar" Bruno said as he managed to put down to Junta members that tried to make it cover flanking them. Even under fire, his aim was impeccable. But both knew that unless backup arrived, they'd be overrun. That is when they heard the howling noise of diesel engine. The car smashed through the house on the left of their enemies. Sending men screaming in confusion as on top of the the truck stood a brick house of a man. Hernandez was as wide as he was tall, and hefted the salvaged russian PK Machine gun under one arm, the feeding belt looped over his other arm. He drove past them spraying death in every way a enemy was moving. He jumped off before the truck could total itself against a tree, rolled into cover and lay down suppressive fire without breaking a sweat. They called him the Colombian Terminator for a reason.

"What are you waiting for Kaya!" The man howled. Kaya simply nodded and ran to a better firing position. Careful not to get in the Hernandez line of fire while putting down the terrified Junta member fleeing her way. Hernandez had that effect. It was like watching a god of war descend on a battlefield.

She and Bruno fought their way over to Hernandez and huddled. The battlefield lay silent for now.

"Casualties?" Hernandez asked.

"Hong caught a bullet right in the dome." Kaya gritted her teeth. Hong had been their crackshot. Bruno was good, but Hong made a name for herself nailing impossible shot after impossible shot. It hadn't stopped the Burmese Junta from blowing her head to pieces when the ambush started.

"Shit. Amilo, Omar? Our VIP" Hernandez inquired, visibly upset by the loss of Hong. The two had been very close.

[color=#6660CC]"Both hurt but alive. VIP is safe. Extraction?"

"On its way. Looks like the three of us got to make a stand here."

"Numbers?"

"If my intel is correct, maybe twenty, thirty as tops. We can hold this place."

"We'll have to Hernandez. For Hongs sake. I knew her family back home." Bruno shot them a glance. They were running low on pretty much everything.

"Yeah. For Hong."

"For Hong."

----
LOST HAVEN, PRESENT DAY.

Kaya stared holes in the picture on her wall. Amilo with his crooked smile and black baret. Big Bruno and his M16 casually over his knee. Hong grinning while leaning on Hernandez. Hernandez matching her grin, tall and massive as always. Kaya in the middle, next to Omar who was playing with his Kukri. Her reverie was broken by her phone going of.

"Alex. What's up." She said as he heard the sound of keys being tapped at a frenetic pace. "Got more Triads for me to beat up"

"Yo. Kaya. Do you know anyone going by the name Hernandez? Big fella."

Her eyes widened. "Y-yeah." Her heart beat faster. "What happened. Is he in the states" She said as she threw on a hoodie and got out the door to her cab. She was it and on the road before the young man could answer.

"Apperently, he's been shacked up in Colombia, helping Metas across the border and aiding loyalists."

"...How do you know this. That sounds like army hush hush."

"I might have had some help from the new equipment. I was running a simple scan over people who might be after you. When I picked up some chatter from some of the Mexicans doing business with the Triads. Apparently, this Hernandez dude have helped the loyalists disrupt cartel operations in the area. Mainly to keep them from preying on the displaced civilians." He continued to frantically tap the keys of his computer. She could hear him slurp down something.

"You better save me some of Lazy’ O Noodles. You know I love that shit” She said as she parked inside the garage of their current hidey hole. She stepped inside the rather spaceus old gym turned command central for the triad hunting duo.

“Show me.” She said hurriedly as she leaned over his shoulder. Sloppily devouring a lukewarm bowl of Lazy’O’Noodles. Alex brought up the message on screen. There were some clips he had scurried of the web to. Even with badly shaking hand cameras and cellphones, hernandez were unmistakable. The man was shown leading rebels into a army convoy and putting the scare of god into unprepared soldiers.

“Shit.” Kaya growled, mouth still full of noodles.

“You know him then.” Alex states as he wiped some of the noodle debris off his shoulder.

“Know him? He saved my life back in Burma. He was there when i got my powers to.” She said, staring at the screen. “How long ago was this?”

“Five days, give or take. Oh and you wanna take a look at this. Apparently the local Dictator has some nasty ties.” More pictures flashed up on the screen. These were of a Colombian dignitary seen talking to a asian man.

“No…” Kaya breathed.

“Yep. That is one of their ‘bolo spiders’. You know, what they call their top assassins and hitmen. And the mexican in the white sun hat is Rafael Matoza, known as..” Alex confirmed.

“The Sunshine Killer…” Kaya finished for him. “I know of him. Fucker been around the world as hired muscle. We ran afoul of him during a covert ops in Bolivia. The guy is meta. He absorbs sunlight and flare it out in intense and blinding bursts. The Zeta love hiring him. You telling me both the Mexicans and the Triads are getting involved?”

“Seems they decided they like the current regime. From what I can piece together, they are helping in the cornering of Loyalist forces and metas. Why waste military in vain and risk the ire of the people. Just let criminals plow through the civilians and blame them afterwards.”

“Alex” Kaya breathed, eyes not leaving the screen.

“Yes Kaya.” Alex said, seeing how focused she was. Her eyes were not leaving the screen as she spoke

“I need you to call up a woman named Aida for me. She can get me to Colombia in a few hours..” She had not seen Aida in years. Guilt was a bitch like that. But if anyone could get her there with no problem, it was Aida.

“...What? What about the triads!?” Alex protested.

“The Triads want something in that jungle. Or they would not be there. And Hernandez is my friend.I am killing two birds with one bullet.” Kaya cut him off, laying a heavy hand on his shoulder. He flinched but shot back with a trademark quip.

“Stone. Kaya. It is two birds with one stone.”

“Don’t be silly. Nobody is that good at throwing stones. A gun however..” Kaya said as she rose to grab her shoulder holster. “I won’t be able to bring my full arsenal, it’s to big to carry. Get me my mossberg and the 1911.” She said as she walked up the gun cabin she had mounted to the wall.

“Never seen that gun before..” Alex said as he handed her the handgun and the tactical shotgun. The gun he referred to was heavily modified rifle of some sort.

“Yeah.. It’s not mine. I brought it back for my friend.” She said, running her hand over the liefield. Under her breath she said “For Hong”

“You ok Kaya, you got the faraway stare again.”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m alright. She said as she snapped back to reality. Grabbing the shotgun from Alex she headed out to the cab. “Tell her I am on my way. Tell her it is about Hernandez.” She said to the Alex who was still rather confused about the whole ordeal.

As she sat down in the cab and hit the pedal to the metal, she mumbled to herself.


I ain’t losing you to Hernandez. Stay alive.

Two weeks ago. Midnight.

When the night sky was clear, and the lake below was perfectly still, it was hard not to lose oneself in the spectacle of stars that was reflected on the surface. It reminded him of the pictures he had seen of space growing up. He was going to miss it.

"I don't want you to go." Said Iván, the only fellow Celeste he actually liked, the sullen look on his eleven-year-old face confirming his words. He stood before the kneeling Condor, helping the former villain put on his mask despite everything. Condor could not help but give his baby brother a small, sad smile, and pat the back of his hand as he finished with the mask.

"Think of it as a vacation." He said softly, and a leaping blue trout many feet into the water was the only other sound in that place. The night was cool, the air sending shivers down his spine as it touched his face, but there was no wind. Not a single one of his cloak's feathers was moving. "Vacations are short, and people come back from them with nice memories and tons of pictures of landscapes."

"Why do you have to leave?" His brother insisted.

Condor sighed, and his smile faltered. For a long moment, he did not speak. When he did, his whispering was filled with uncommon but strong emotions.

"Remember when we talked about the last military junta? Of all the horrible things they did?"

Iván nodded.

"There's a man out there. A monster in uniform." He said, tightening his gloves. "Puma can't get to him, and the Americans won't touch him. But if we let him, he's going to do the same despicable things to his own people, and others will follow his example."

There was silence for a time, and then there was chuckling.

"Listen to me, all moralistic and stuff." Said Condor, tying his hair back and putting his headphones on. "If I ever get really boring, please hit me with my guitar."

Iván's sad expression faded at once, and he hugged his older brother with all his strength. "Can I play it? Your guitar?"

"Yes." He answered, grinning at the boy and hugging him back. "And if you haven't broken at least one string by the time I'm back, I will be disappointed."

The two parted, and Condor began to walk away, towards the water. He shrugged and shuddered, trying to clear his senses and concentrate on his powers. Iván's voice interrupted him.

"I think... I have powers." He uttered so reluctantly that Condor almost missed it. The older male turned his head slightly.

"This wouldn't have something to do with that ugly ceramic vase of mom's that suddenly disappeared, would it?"

"It turned to sand when I touched it."

"Oh, granulation." Condor said, and turned his head a bit further. His grin widened. "Neat."

With a flick of his hand, a strong wind suddenly burst through the black sand beach and into the lake. Condor ran after it for a few feet, jumped on with his winds spread, and with one long flap he was soaring into the night sky.

The young former villain let out a small chuckle as he flew higher and higher. The cool air that surrounded him completely, and separated him from the earth and water below, filled his whole being with exhilaration. So many years had passed since his first flight, and yet he still felt liberated every time he did this, like nothing in existence could bind him.

He picked up speed and pirouetted, just because he could, and soon he was thousands of feet high above, laughing out loud. He passed by the snowy mountains, high above the lakes and forests and fields, and only the occasional birds kept him company.

As he flew beside the indomitable Andes, only the sounds of the wind and the music from his headphones filled his ears, and his fears disappeared into the air for a time. In their place reigned enthusiasm, and it drove him to go faster and faster, until the cold winds stung just a bit, and his wings became difficult to move. It became an almost animalistic impulse, to just push himself harder, higher and faster, as if slowing down or gliding down would be the death of him, yet he embraced it wholeheartedly.

Thus Condor left Patagonia, his home, and set out to do something profoundly stupid.

Far, far away, on the other side of the vast American continent, New York awaited.

---

Present Day. Morning.

Puma, like the lovable idiot he was, had sneaked into Colombia four months ago with the intent of fighting Zepeta's regime head-on. In the same spirit of lovable idiocy, he had contacted Condor to tell him about the Israeli weapons that Zepeta's forces were using against dissidents. And not too long after that, he had began to organize a meta-human resistance group, despite knowing for a fact what Zepeta did to rebellious meta-humans.

In short, Puma had been begging to disappear in suspicious circumstances. And disappeared he had, leaving behind just enough evidence of the American government's involvement in Zepeta's atrocities for Condor to make it his life's purpose to rain hellfire upon the tyrant's enablers. Since he could not literally rain hellfire upon anyone, he had decided he would make do with his wind, his guns, and his boleadoras.

Condor was not some sort of brilliant strategist, but he understood that Zepeta could not be defeated as long as he had American support. If South America's meta-humans wanted a fair fight, they needed to cut off his supply lines. And that meant doing the one thing most South American heroes were uncomfortable doing: inconveniencing the American government.

Flying to the other side of the continent and into the United States had been reckless and he knew it. It left no paper trail, however, which meant that it would be a lot harder for the government to connect the dots between Condor's arrival and an Argentine tourist called Ludovico Celeste entering the United States. Even if he failed, his family would probably be safe.

Once in New York, he had searched for people who had information about the Israeli arms, and occasionally gone after masked vigilantes and police officers with a penchant for excessive use of force. In his spare time, he had gone to see Hamilton and visited the Stonewall Inn.

All in all, they had been two very entertaining and productive weeks, and his antics had bore fruit. Namely, they had led him to an apartment near the top of a luxurious skyscraper, and to the CIA agent who lived within it.

From the other side of the apartment's large windows, the young man had looked rather intimidating, tall and muscular. And he carried a gun at all times. Attacking him from the sky in broad daylight, bursting through the windows in his Condor costume, seemed like a potentially stupid idea.

Fortunately, an alternative had almost miraculously appeared, courtesy of the Stonewall Inn. As it turned out, the agent, called Colin, was a discreet but frequent patron, and had a somewhat offensive fetish for Latino men. He also liked to play Queen at full volume while trying to woo his hook-ups. The Universe was nice like that sometimes.

A bit of temporary black hair dye and a pair of cheap glasses were all the disguise he needed to enter the agent's apartment. And with a bit of bad dancing and horribly racist innuendo, he had Colin right where he wanted him: half-naked in the spacious and blandly decorated living room, with the blinds down and loud music in the background.

There truly was no situation that Freddie Mercury's heavenly voice could not improve.

"I'd like for you and I to go romancing.
Say the word your wish is my command..."

Right at that moment, Ludo blew him through the room and into an annoyingly empty bookcase. He landed on the floor with a bewildered grunt, followed by a bestial growl as he reached for his gun.

Ludo was way ahead of him. He moved swiftly, delivered a sideways kick to Colin's head, and threw in an elbow strike on the nape of his neck for good measure.

Colin recovered faster than Ludo would have liked, however, and hit back with inhuman speed and precision. He evaded far too many blows, and delivered one breathtaking punch to his stomach. The young Argentinian staggered and fell to his knees, but before the other could bash his head in with an ugly lamp, he quickly caused another burst of air, which knocked Colin down.

The song kept playing as Ludo pounced on the other and got kicked back. He answered with a flurry of bad capoeria he had learned from Puma, all feet and low blows. It gave him enough time to focus on the air around him for just enough time to do something he felt he was going to regret.

"Hey boy where did you go
I learned my passion
In the good old fashioned school of lover boys..."

The swirl of wind within the living room pulled Colin in and swept him off his feet, and kept him in the air for a few seconds while Ludo pondered what to do next.

A minute later, Colin landed back on the hard floor with a groan of pain, and Ludo took the opportunity to jump on him and pin him down. He was careful not to break any bones as he twisted the other's limbs into place, because he was not a cruel asshole, but he did punch him in the face twice for that previous punch to the gut.

"Why the fuck...? Who...?" Asked Colin in between gasps and groans. The last punch had broken his nose, which Condor felt a bit guilty about. Broken noses sucked, and Colin's in particular had complemented his features.

"Okay, I know this looks bad, but I wouldn't be attacking people in their own homes if it wasn't necessary." Answered Condor without pause, his accent quite noticeable.

"I'm here because of Zepeta, and I have it on good authority that you are one of the people who help him get his Israeli toys."

The man's expression changed suddenly. It was full of sincere anger now. "Are you stupid? You actually want to get involved in that shit?"

"Yes and yes." Condor answered. "Now, please, talk."

"No."

"Look..."

"No. You'll get yourself killed." Colin interrupted this time, and the anger had a tinge of concern. Weird. It reminded Ludo of all the times he had fought with Puma.

"If you don't tell me, I'll go after the Colombian consulate." He said, and the mischief in his voice was worse than a threat. "Then you'll have a diplomatic incident in your hands... and with Zepeta, no less."

That changed Colin's tune substantially. He spoke without any need for encouragement, and Ludo was happy enough to thank him with a kiss.

"What sort of vigilante are you?" Asked Colin as they parted.

"Just a hippie in rehab who hates authority." Joked Ludo, before standing up and walking casually to the kitchen. He returned with a bit of ice wrapped in a towel, and handed it over to Colin as the agent tried to sit upright.

"By the way..." He said as he dusted himself off and picked up his jacket from the couch. "Just to clarify, I'm not here legally and my name is not Paco."

Other meta-humans with his abilities would have flown away after that, but Ludo was a bit tired and wanted to walk the bruises off. So instead he walked out through the front door like a normal human being, all the while happily humming "Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy".

Making progress in his non-villainous schemes felt good. Strange, but good. By the time he reached his temporary new home, a small apartment that probably had an obscene amount of lead in its walls, he had a grin on his face, a mind filled with ideas, and enthusiasm aplenty.

Condor had definitely arrived in the United States of America, and he was bringing winds of change with him.

_{banner credit to Hellis}






Time: 3 Months Ago
Location: Ironworks, Lost Haven

Struggling her way back through Ironworks The Ambassador all but cursed, even as she was beaten, broken, and severely exhausted she couldn't utter a single word. Using the remaining ginger in her purse to help Bach recover past the iron he pulled her up to walk. It was a long process, the minutes dragged half as bad as her feet.

“My Lady Ambassador! You are alive!” An air sprite flitted before her at a dizzying rate.

She gave them a withering look. “Of course I am. Worse for wear but I am alive. Give me a report, where is the metal man?”

“Gone, My Lady. He had this to say before he left.”

”If you’re still alive down there, little fairy girl… if you can still hear me, wherever you are… then consider this a warning. Stay away from me, and my kind. If there is a next time, I will be far less lenient.”

-@EnterTheHero

"He has enough sense not to assume I am dead. Not enough sense to actually check however." She huffed with resignation. A quiet resolve burned at the pit of her stomach. She made a promise to herself that the metal man and Racheli would most certainly pay for the trouble they've caused. They are, however, unaware of how high that price will be.

The air sprite looked uncomfortable with the next part of the report. "There is something else you should be aware of, My Lady."

Bach stopped walking as did the sorceress, "Well, what is it?"

"Puck is here."

Bach and Odette shared a look, her expression pulled tightly into a grimace.

---

The Ironworks stood in shambles. Police lights flickered against the metal ruins, the red glare highlighting the remnant blood stains. Bodies lie in burning piles amidst the rubble, scorched by the combined might of science and magic. The Cowl's surviving men, those lucky enough to escape with their lives but not with their freedom, were escorted from the premises, loaded onto riot vans, filed into police cars. As dawn approached, a new calm seemed to settle over the battlefield, a new quiet embraced the surroundings . . . but something sinister halted the return to peace.

At the height of the Ironworks, atop a maze of scaffolding and a floor of death, there lay Joseph Mathers, all alone, his final resting place as mundane as they come. From behind his broken corpse came an eerie light, one that manifested as a thick, red haze that soon took the form of a large, ornate door with golden trim. It opened, realeasing the sounds and smells of the demon tavern, The Red Devil. Through the portal stepped Robin Goodfellow, Puck to his friends, the mischevious imp and proprietor of the demonic establishment. He was dressed in a fine black suit, skin dark and clear, shining with an ominous, etheric glow, hair falling neatly around a pair of black antlers.

Puck stepped forward, looking down at Joseph. He sighed.

"I told you no good would come from trying to play the hero. You weren't meant for fame, my dear . . . but neither were you meant for this." Puck grieved in his own way. He'd loved mortals before, befriended them, sheltered them, gave them the world, but their lives were much shorter compared to his, and humans, he found, came to swifter, more grizzly ends than he.

He waved his hand, a black shadow enveloping Joseph's cold form and escorting it to a safe place. Puck simply waited, knowing that his presence had been felt.

Hobbling into the warehouse once again, unwisely considering what little time she had to escape herself. The Air sprites had given Odette plenty of warning and updates in regards to the authorities. As she was, she would be in no condition to fight nor defend herself against the likes of Puck. Though she should have known, should have guessed the connection. Joseph Mathers wasn't simply an old nosey witch.

Bach held up his pact partner the best he could. He was feeling perhaps worse, struggling against the effects of his iron poisioning. Walking past the towering shelves in the warehouse once again they arrived to the area where they faced the Ouroboros and their unwilling master.

Odette leaned heavily against one of the desks still inact catching her breath, staring down the patient figure that was Puck. Joseph's body was gone. She had never met The Red Devil's proprietor but knew of his realm of influence. Knew of him and his network.

Not looking presentable in the least, her clothing was in a rotten mess. Her hair mussed with dust and blood. Her skin red and angry from iron burns. But her manners however found the energy to be extended to the likes of Puck. "Good morning, Mister Goodfellow. What brings you here?"

"I heard that congratulations were in order; I wanted to deliver them myself. It isn't often that a witch under my care is slain by anyone of your kind or otherwise. They are usually far more cautious than to allow themselves to fall prey to someone of lesser talents . . . so that must mean that your talents were superior."

"Oh, you mean Joseph? I understand desperation but to so naively summon the likes of the Ouroboros with no contingency plans to protect oneself from powerful spirits. It is a rather poor choice that resulted in my exploitation." Odette shrugged sorely. "He had no buisness here otherwise."

She tucked some frizzy hair behind her ear, "There is no love loss between witches and the Fey. You must realize that, Mister Goodfellow."

Puck nodded, "Of course not, your kind have been guiding witches for centuries. Once upon a time, I counted myself among your numbers, danced in your courts, entertained your kings and nobles. No, the Fey will always be an important asset to the likes of witches and ones such as myself." Puck was just as calm and cool as Odette. He felt rage, he felt grief, but lashing out at Odette was far too obvious, and Puck held no stock in being obvious.

"You are also right in saying that Joseph's actions were foolhardy. I don't mind telling you that he had been searching for fame for some time now. His entire reason for becoming a witch was to make a point to his father, to lash out and make a name for himself outside the shadow of his family. But, as luck would have it, he was forgotten by them, a name lost to time. Even in his death, very few shall remember him, and even fewer will care to. All of this," Puck motioned to the ruined Ironworks, "this was his chance at fame. But alas, poor Joseph was bested by one who shall one day be infinitely more famous."

He brought his hands together and began to clap briefly.

"Bravo!" Puck feigned enthusiasm.

Odette felt a pang of irritation at the imp's sarcasm, it was masking something else. Again, she was in no position to do anything about it other than rely on her words. Something else was giving way to a growing unease. Her alias was well known as she worked several years in and out of the Faerie Realsm building her reputation. Alliances afforded great resources, favours garnered and debts incured were the Fey's bread and butter. What fame was Puck referring to?

She hesitated to ask directly but time was running down the clock, it would only be a matter of time when rescue and clean up crews would pick their way into the warehouse.

"Are you hoping to incite a sense of empathy for the likes of Joseph, Mister Goodfellow? You will be sorely disappointed, I will not apologize for being the cause of his death. He brought it upon himself by initially intruding on my operations and poisioning the Archon of the Old Earth. He deserved no less." Odette said evenly, her anger from earlier that day had been quelled when she saw the life bleed from Joseph's eyes. "You have retrieved Joseph's body so what is it that keeps you here? Obviously not to make small talk."

"As I said, I came to extend my congratulations and offer you a gift for your triumph. I am in the business of rendering services to others, especially those that best me and my employees."

Odette tore her eyes away and looked to her partner instead. She knew better than to accept gifts from anyone. Bach looked as uneasy as she did.

"My Lady, it doesn't need to be said. I don't trust whatever it is he has to give."

She chewed on the inside of her cheek whispering to him, "He probably won't let us leave until he gives us his 'gift'. We may have no choice."

Bach gently squeezed her shoulder he turned to Puck, "What are the conditions to such a gift, what is that you intend to give?"

"I wish only to give you a bit of my own foresight, a look at what will but has not yet come to pass. It is within your best interest to accept my offer now while it carries no price, else you shall live with the pain of not knowing what lurks beyond the horizon. But if you are content to live with in your state of willfull ignorance, your vision will remain limited and I shall take my leave . . . the choice is yours."

Odette thought on that for a few moments. The future did little to scare her, it may prove to be a humbling experience or give her some time to prepare for hardening against tragedy. Regardless, information was power in whatever form it took. Although she did not trust Puck in anyway his words or visions would be entirely subjective. As were most oracles.

What would the likes of The Ambassador truly have to worry for?

Pushing off from the desk she walked forward with a slight hunch approaching Puck, "A gift is a gift. I accept."

Puck gave the pair a devilish grin.

"Very well . . . You, my dear, are as the Earth, a powerful force, one of beauty, strength, and resolve. You are forever changing, forever overcoming obstacles, forever evolving. And when the elements, the very forces of nature over whom you have unbridled authority, conspire against you, you adapt in amazing ways. When your womb is scorched and dried, you do not become infertile; when your wells run dry, you release the gates of heaven and bring down her floods; when your limbs are scattered by the winds, they grow anew and become mountains tall. You will always adapt, always overcome your creation . . . but when a mother hurts her child, she may never regain their trust. And you, even as the Earth, can be hurt by her children in the most creative ways."

"But do not be fooled, your children are not the only ones who reside in your domain. Their stands upon your plains a being ancient, much like yourself, who comes in the guise of a friend. She is a fire that burns brighter than your own hearth, one that can level forests and leave nothing in their wake, and she is angry. Her spirit burns even now, but once she reaches her potential, once she devours the flame of humanity, she will be unstoppable. And the question isn't whether you will be burned, but if you shall reemerge from the ashes."

Puck didn't wait for Odette's response, nor did he stay to see her expression. He already knew of her pain, he had seen it. With that, he receeded into the crimson door that lead back to The Red Devil, the two of them fading until there was nothing but a stone wall in their place.

Odette's heart was racing well after Puck took his leave. Bach was without a word as well. When her mind snapped back she dug through her purse for her phone. She quickly spoke back everything she heard in near perfect citation. Bach corrected her on a couple of words but once the recording was done she stared at her smartphone. Surprised by how affected she was and shaken with unease. Perhaps the exhaustion was to blame for how sensitive she felt.

The air sprites urged her to move on. Using their limited magic to mask her escape from Ironworks. On the back of her broomstick she snuck away into flight, allowing her mind to wonder on her flight back to Lost Haven. The Ambassador would rest and by the next day she would be back to her full power and confidence. Her phone however now felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, the weight of the future.

---

Time: Present
Location: The Ritz-Carlton, New York City.

An empty bottle of wine sat on the solid red oak table between two lush chairs. Where moments ago Odette had been planning and speaking with The Broker, a Prince of Hell. In her slight alcoholic haze did her memories cast back to Ironworks once again. She itched to return to Paris where she could truly begin her plans against Racheli. She grabbed her phone then tapped into a well buried folder. Opening a recording and listening intently to it.



She replayed that section several times focusing on the words and hearing her own voice crack near the end of the sentence.

Bach gently removed the phone tapping the red button to stop the playback, "My Lady? Why are you listening to that again? We discussed it to death, we agreed it was just a ploy to unsettle and disturb you. Puck lost one of his own and decided to punish you with his strange prophecies."

"I don't know." She said with a sigh. "It still sits at the back of my mind, like a nag. Something tells me denying it would simply... ruin me."

3.43 A.M – North Maine Woods

Far from prying eyes, farther still from sharp ears. That was a motto of sorts for transport of personnel to a mid-tier planet. It did no one any good if a strange object falling from space was spotted slamming into the earth with the brief glow of thrusters lighting up the night sky. The landing was always a little harsh, not as bad as you’d have expected though considering the speeds involved. The Drop Pod that contained the Earth’s new and most violent alien visitor was equipped with high intensity short jets to rapidly slow its descent and prevent its occupant being rendered into red (or in his case, blue-ish red) paste. The occupant, Hunter, adorned for the mission at hand. Fastened securely to the back of the pod he remained at ease throughout, even when his balance organ alerted him to the extreme change in speed upon entering the atmosphere, screaming at him that something very serious was wrong. Even when that speed was suddenly arrested, only for the metallic structure to shake and bellow and everything to very briefly grow dark as he touched down.

His armour protected him from an impact that would have killed even him ordinarily. It took him barely a second to gain his bearings as his HUD lit up and the front of the pod opened with the sound of escaping air-pressure, but only starlight greeted him. The Hunter switched casually over to a night vision function, the interior of the pod having no interior lights for obvious reasons. When he was out and up onto solid ground he realised the pod had buried itself almost three feet into the soft earth of the forest, having narrowly avoided setting fire to a nearby tree. That wouldn’t matter though, in a moment it would be buried further still. He took stock of his position, his seven feet of height in the smooth dark-blue armour he wore allowing him to easily peer over the top of the pod and around the surrounding area. He flicked through vision filters like a couch-potato skipping through TV channels, spotting numerous forms of small organic life through thermal sensors, but nothing that seemed to be capable of detecting him. Eventually satisfied, he turned to the pod, and activated something using the computerised function of his suit.

Slowly, the object sank into the earth. At the bottom of the pod there was some form of mechanism that ate away at the ground beneath it, somehow carrying that same dirt up and over to fill the hole it had left behind. There was still a noticeable dip when its work was finished, but in a forest, such a mark would not be seen. Certainly not before Hunter was finished with his mission here and the recovery crews had removed all signs of his presence. There was a reason he chose a forest, in a state of the U.S known for being covered mostly in trees. No one had the time, nor the energy, to go looking for alien technology in a forest that big, and they couldn’t see jack shit from up above, the canopy was good for that at least.

Hunter, for his part, had gone in light. He was only equipped with his basics, his pistol, baton, and a couple standard gadgets. If the need arose, he’d requisition more equipment, to either be dropped from space in degradable containers or if the situation was exceedingly dire, fabricated by a materializer in some quiet spot. There was no need to assume the worst already though. For now he was just looking around, until a smooth voice came through his headset.

“Hunter, report.”

“Keia salaisa, ornassa saorplaas, sinarsoora.”

Keia Hail, transport complete, undetected.

“Speak English, Hunter, you might need it sooner than you think.”

Hunter was nothing if not patient, but Keia tried his patience like no one he had ever met. The silence that followed that remark persisted for some time, but as usual, he lost.

“Understood. Proceeding towards co-ordinates now. E.T.A is 4.56 A.M, local time.”

“Good. Familiarise yourself with this world’s measurement systems, they are competent enough and will better serve you on the surface.”

"Understood.” He sprinted away into the forest, leaving little trace behind him.

4.57 A.M

“Co-ordinates reached, I have secured a vantage point from which I can survey the settlement.”

“Understood, you are a minute off schedule, any problems?”

“Just a run in with an indigenous creature, I am informed it is referred to as a black bear.”

“Not like you to be waylaid by wildlife, Hunter.” She almost sounded amused, if Hunter had been anyone else he’d have felt sheepish. “No matter, your mission parameters remain unchanged, infiltrate the city. We have initiated Infil-01*, so you should be safe from recording devices.”

“Understood, I will move into the settlement and await the report of sweep teams, acting at my own discretion.” He paused a moment. “The animal was stuck in a trap of sorts, the creature was too young to be a threat to these humans, I rectified the situation.”

“Oh.”

Infil-01 is a prelim step before an operative goes surface side on a planet of sufficient technological sophistication, such as Earth, to record or otherwise capture images of Hunter or alien technology and share it across a virtual space. All devices in a region around Hunter are infected with a subtle, yet exceedingly advanced, computer virus which wipes their memory and hard-drives during any period where Hunter is within range of their recording software. The only data wiped pertains to recordings within this radius, nothing else is affected. The virus is nearly undetectable, only an individual with extensive technological expertise would be likely to detect it, and even then, discovering its origins or its purpose would be a step too far for most. The virus is one that originates from a collection of societies many, many times more advanced than Earth. Norton isn’t going to cut it.

He was standing in line, waiting to order. His hands were in his coat pockets, and his pale digits were fiddling about with the assorted change he had. The line was packed, but he was focused on the television. An American convoy was hit by an IED in Afghanistan, five dead, more injured. If he was asked, he'd say that he didn't have enough to get out there on his own, and while it wasn't a lie (he was as broke as the dirt he slept on), he wasn't exactly thrilled to get into another war, because despite what he said, he always hoped that the last war would be the last war, but that wasn't how things were in the present. It wasn't ever how things were. He rubbed his eyes, and tried to think back. The haze was thicker than it was usually, he couldn't remember her face anymore. He remembered every death with a morbid clarity, but he couldn't see her face. He remembered her voice and the nursery rhymes, and the stories she told him about his father, and the choked up goodbye she gave him when he left for war. She had brown hair, he thought, trying to find any shred of a memory that would help him clear the fog.

"That'll be $5.50." He was brought back to earth, looking to the person in front of him. He couldn't have been older than 16, he was rifling through his pockets trying to find enough money to pay. It wasn't an exaggeration to say he was panicking. Táph took a fistful of coins and dumped them onto the counter, giving the poor boy an out. He shot an unsure smile to the teenager before quickly retrieving a french franc from the assorted change he'd put down and pocketed it again.

Turning his attention to the large man behind him, Skyler lowered his head somewhat as he gazed upon the male’s frame. This had developed into an embarrassing scene, one which Skyler had been saved from. “Th-thanks…” Skyler spoke, his quiet, raspy voice quite light pitched given his age, albeit silent and much like a whisper. Once his beverage had been served, a cup of lemon tea, Skyler carefully reached his hands out as if afraid that a quick movement would yield disastrous results. He wrapped a set of thin, slender fingers around the heated cup and lifted the porcelain from the counter and brought it along to a seat next to the window. It was quite clear that Skyler was a fatigued young boy. He had neither a spring in his step nor energy in his eyes. In truth, it would appear that he forced every step on his path to the seat which seemed all too comforting once the boy lowered himself to the soft foundation.

How long had it been since he was cast out? The days were starting to meld together, much like his thoughts as a whole. It couldn’t have been more than a week, could it? Bringing his hands up to his forehead, his fingers ran through his thick, black hair as a sigh managed to leave his lips. In the past, tea always managed to calm his nerves and he hoped that this would be no exception.

"Was there anything else you wanted, sir?" Táph was caught staring at the boy, looking back to the barista and shaking his head sheepishly. He quickly left the line to accompany the teenager, gesturing to the chair. "Mind if I take the other seat?"

Startled by the sudden voice, Skyler raised his eyes to see the same man from before. Though he looked gruff, obviously a man who has seen better days, Skyler was no one to judge. He was well aware that he himself sported the appearance of a wight at this point. “N-no…” The boy shook his head in response, raising himself up from the slouched position he had found himself in.

He took the chair graciously and extended a hand, he wasn't entirely well-kept, but he figured that treating this person like an adult was a good way to get into the good books. "I'm Táph." Another one out on the streets, he figured. The kid looked shy, and out of place, and as creepy as it might seem he wanted to look out for him, give a pointer here and there before he headed off to try and make back the money he'd just spent.

”Skyler…” The boy responded, eyeing the surface of his cup. His reflection was a weak thing indeed, staring back at him from the unmoving liquid within the porcelain. It was perhaps an odd addition of courage filling the boy, given his shy yet serene calm around someone like Táph. The man was anything but ordinary with both a visage and an aura hinting at something odd, something out of the ordinary. However, Skyler was somewhat intrigued by the man. He was unsure as to why, but given his lost and frankly desperate situation, Skyler wasn’t too willing to scoff at an act of kindness. “Th-thanks for the drink…” He continued with his quiet, whispering voice. Looking up once more, he could tell that Táph stole the occasional glance towards the television, something which had gone unnoticed for quite some time. Skyler had found himself unable to focus on the majority of his surroundings for the past week. It was quite normal, all things considered.“I…I can’t repay you…” Skyler stated, breaking himself free of thought.

"Pleasure to meet you." He said, with another weak smile, his french accent bleeding into his speech a bit. He shifted his jacket over himself a bit more. He folded his arms in his lap, his finger tapping his elbow in a bit of a tick. He nodded at what Skyler said. "No problem." Came the short reply, as he snuck another glance at the television, only brought back after the unsure teenager spoke again. He nodded, taking it in stride with an expression that didn't change, he obviously didn't expect anything back. He was quiet after that, the news ended and he looked back to Skyler. Is everything alright?"" He asked, unsure if that was too personal a question, or maybe a bit too strange for a stranger to say.

”Y-yeah, I’m alright…” Skyler lied through his teeth and he had never been very good at masking his emotions. Neither was he adept at lying, so the outcome of words he spoke would likely not yield the result he had hoped for. At the very least, this cup of tea wasn’t going to sit and weigh him down with a debt. Breathing out, the boy took a sip of the lemon tasting beverage. It was quite soothing, more so than anything else he had been through this past week. In truth, all he wanted right about now was a warm bath. He hadn’t been graced by such in quite a while and being homeless was soemthing he had yet to grow used to. “Just uhm…” He continued, lowering the cup back to the table. “Getting used to…new things…” Skyler considered his words carefully, not wanting to spill everything to a total stranger.

He frowned at the lie. He wasn't amazing at reading features, but he didn't need to be for this one. He let it slide, if he didn't want to talk about it, he wasn't going to pry. He looked out the window to the darkening scene. It was going to rain. He looked back to Skyler as he spoke, minding his Ps and Qs. "Are you new here? I figured you for a local, with your accent." He rested back a bit into the chair, but never enough to slouch.

A soft nod came in response to the man’s question, Skyler’s eyes raising once more to meet Táph’s unnaturally colored visage. “Yeah…” The boy managed, lowering his gaze once more as his attention shifted to the darkening skies above, their reflections peering back at the two from the window’s surface. “I…” Skyler attempted, his lips shutting once more as he tried to consider what he was saying. “I was kinda’…disowned…” He finally spoke. The question of why lingered within his mind, but it was quite clear as to why Skyler had decided upon honesty, even if it was to a complete stranger. It was a weight off his chest, and that’s all it was. Letting someone know, letting anyone know, it was more tolerable than roaming the endless streets on his very own, knowing that no one knew or cared for him story, or his fate.

He met the teenager's gaze, though he understood his own condition better than anyone, and would look away after a moment so that his oddly coloured pupils didn't draw too much attention. He listened intently however, making sure to show due attention to Skyler. His face took a grim expression. "Sorry that happened." He seemed hesitant to say more, taking a moment of tapping before he found some courage, or figured out the right way to say it. "Stop me if I'm getting too personal, but do you have a plan?"

A plan? In truth, Skyler had been laboring towards a plan since the day he was disowned by his parents, with little luck. Lowering his head somewhat in what could only be defeat, Skyler shook his heads softly in response. No plan…”“ He spoke, a certain feeling of defeat in his voice. On the topic of a plan, nighttime was rapidly approaching. Skyler hated the dark, and it was no stretch to say that he was somewhat afraid of it. For little over a week, the boy had found somewhat safe places to call home during the nights, but nothing reliable in the grand scheme of things. “I take every day as it comes…” Skyler finished, taking another sip of his lemon tea. It was true that he attempted to keep his mind, and his focus on one day at a time to prevent insanity from creeping into his mind, but it did little in making him feel less lost and confused.

He folded his arms. The pale figure was calm, though that didn't make him look any friendlier. He took a moment to word what he said, he wasn't speaking in his mother tongue, after all. "I know we have just met, but if you don't have a place to sleep tonight, I would be remiss if I didn't at least offer you company, I would understand if you think I am dangerous, I'd not be insulted if you said no." He said, offering another weak smile, those discoloured pupils meeting his. It was hard to speak plainly and seem genuine, but he would never feel right just letting a kid walk out onto the streets at night, to sleep out there on their own.

Dangerous? Skyler couldn’t help but lower his gaze at the sound of the word. He was not very inclined to deny his personal chaos, the very string of events which brought him to where he was today. This man did not scare Skyler as much as the boy scared himself. To Skyler, he himself was the most dangerous person in his vicinity. A stray sneeze, a single thought of stress or an accelerated heartbeat could very well conjure an inferno which would level the café as well as everyone within. It was how his sister had met her untimely end, finding her fate in a pile of ashes. Skyler himself could not be touched by fire, his very being immune to the embrace of flames and heat. He could not extend this immunity to others however, drawing him a danger to everyone in his surroundings.

“I…” Skyler began, raising his eyes to meet the man for a moment before they dropped once more. He was unsure of how to state the truth, how to tell a large man that the boy himself was a greater danger to him than the other way around. “I don’t know…” Skyler breathed out, his grip around the cup tightening for a moment. Did this man even have a home? One look at him stated otherwise.

“If you know a good place, sure…” Fatigue and a sense of helplessness would ultimately gain the upper hand as Skyler had grown weary of being lost, of having no goal in mind. He didn’t even know what he was, because it was plainly obvious that he was not human. Perhaps he should allow this man some company, for a time. A week had passed without a single step in the right direction. Skyler had gotten nowhere, and this was the only varied event which had taken place so far.

He cracked a small attempt at a reassuring smile. "It's a few gearshifts down from good, but it's safe. It's about a mile walk from here, a condemned building, it's, uh..." He took a few moments with the word, as if trying to think of the english equivalent. He then realized that the kid was a lot younger than he was and swearing in front of him wouldn't be the greatest offence, but wouldn't really be setting a good example. "Anyway, tell me when you want to get going." Táph took out a notebook and started to scribble some things down, though it looked oddly like a way to not participate in conversation, waiting for Skyler to finish his drink, completely oblivious to the powers the person adjacent to him had, and the similarities they might share in that way.

”Okay…” Skyler returned, swirling the contents of his cup somewhat as he spoke, shifting his attention back and forth from the man across the table. Whatever he had to offer was better than the cobblestones Skyler had called home for the past week, anything was better than having to look over his shoulder at a constant basis. Finishing his drink, Skyler returned the empty porcelain cup to the table with a soft breath and ascended to his tired feet. “I’m done…” He spoke with a silent tune, sliding his hands into his pockets as his gaze dropped to Táph.

He stood up from the chair, walking out of the café, it wasn't too far to walk, he just hoped they didn't run into any trouble along the way, and that Skyler wouldn't noticed his odd sleeping habit, odd in the way that he didn't. He walked at a disciplined pace, hoping that this good intention didn't end up turning sour.