Many men and women, who were the leader of the fields of business and industry in several states south of the Mason-Dixie line, gathered together gathered together at a cemetery just outside of Nashville. They suffered from the humid Tennessee summer heat in their nicest clothes while the funeral proceeded. That day, Daniel Emerson not only had to bury his brother, but also his sister-in-law and their sole child, Matthew. What was worse was that the three coffins had to be empty, because Emerson family had mysteriously disappeared while they were vacationing in the Caribbean. After a long and thorough search for the Emerson family, officials could only conclude that they were deceased, probably by drowning at sea.

Although he was not anything more than an acquaintance to Mr. Emerson, since Chris’ father were friends with him, despite being a decade, if not more, older than Mr. Emerson, Chris nevertheless attended the funeral out of respect. Along with Chris, his sister, Veronica also went. Matthew Emerson would have been almost around her age. Chris had also invited Maya to come along with him. Once the service had concluded, the attendees began to give Mr. Emerson their condolences.

“Your father would have been overjoyed that you came, if he were here today.” Mr. Emerson told Chris. He then turned to Veronica. “I remember when this one was still in diapers. You all just grow up way too quickly.”

“While she can be a pain in the butt sometimes,” Chris began to say, but Veronica jabbed his side with her elbow, “I would never trade her away for anything.”

“And who is this?” Mr. Emerson said as he gestured towards Maya. “Your new squeeze, I presume? What ever happened to that last girl?”

“She unfortunately turned out to be a robot.”

“The great prodigy of Lexington Arthur was fooled by an internet catfish? How amusing.”

“No, I mean she was a literal robot, like an android.”

“Well, I really don’t know how to respond to that, but I hope that never happens to you again.” Mr Emerson was at lost for words.

“I don’t think I’m going to have to worry about that.” Chris said as he wrapped his arm around Maya.

“Well, it’s good to see you again, Chris.” Mr. Emerson said.

“Same here.”

---

Mr. Emerson, with his suit jacket slung over his shoulder, rode down a private elevator in his Nashville headquarters. Even though the floor indicator in the elevator carriage had already stopped at the lowest basement floor, the elevator continued its downward descent. After passing a few more stories underground, the elevator finally crawled to a halt. When the elevator doors slide open, they revealed a room where a handful of scientists were hard at work. Inside this room, there was a second enclosure that had one wall with a couple one-way viewing glass.

In this room, there were the average things you would expect in a teenager’s room: a bed, bookshelves, a television and entertainment center. However, what was peculiar about this scene was that in the center of the room there was a young teenage boy floating above the ground in the fetal position. He appeared to be sleeping in this state.

“How’s Matt?” Mr. Emerson asked his chief scientist tasked to this ‘project’.

“Although he has not awakened yet, his vitals all seem normal.” The woman answered her boss, “We’re not quite sure whether he has any other powers, but this room should be able to handle almost anything.”

“Any discoveries on what caused this?”

“Not as of yet. We’re still running tests.”

“I’m a man of science.” Mr. Emerson said, “I’m not going take some Bermuda Triangle voodoo as an answer.”

Corpse was in the loft, staring off at the ceiling as he mulled over the events of the last couple days against the years he had spent working, fighting and dying over and over only to wake up with less and less memory each time. He’d finished his moving in, though that felt like the wrong phrase to use, he didn’t really have any possessions, but he’d made the room his. He’d had a proper bed, some real food and some answers from someone who was a familiar enough face that he could put a name to it. Talking with Angelo had helped him figure things out, the gist of it was that supernatural beings existed and now that he was in the clue he was jumped into helping as an official agent. He was a legal guardian too, and the responsibility from that came with the job, Ben and Skyler were his responsibility to protect and to care for, and as much as that was a weight on his shoulders he wasn’t too scared about it. He’d had a long time to think about parenthood though this wasn’t the exact scenario he had planned out in his head. He had no idea what to expect in terms of threats he’d have to really defend them from, or really how to do his job in general, so the mundanity of his new, work issued phone ringing was good enough to tear him from his thoughts. He reached for the phone quickly, thankful for the distraction as he fumbled and, stared at it blankly a few moments, having it ring, clicking a button, putting it to his ear and having it ring loudly again as he quickly jolted, clicked the -right- button and then lifted it back up to his ear. “Hello?”

“Angelo, this is Ben.” Came a teenager’s voice, his tone worn down from the last night’s events as he continued on, “Can you come and pick me up?”

Táph softened up at the voice, it was familiar, if only because he’d been told about the doppelganger, and held a short and incredibly awkward conversation about identity theft with him/her/it. “This is Táph, I’m Angelo’s replacement. Mind telling me where you are?”

There was a long pause, then Ben spoke again. “What do you mean replacement?”

Táph was sort of unsure about that as well. “Angelo’s been reassigned and I’m meant to be your guardian, as an agent and otherwise. Were you not told at all?”

Ben’s words seeped with annoyance and anger, his sour mood shown through the phone. “No, I wasn’t. Then again, I wasn’t told I would be transforming that same night or fully prepared to have my skin sliding off my body either!”

He sighed away from the phone, before nodding as he spoke into it. “I don’t want to sound horrible, but the sooner you tell me where you are, the sooner last night ends and today begins.” He’d make friends in person, phone impressions didn’t count as first impressions, did they? He mulled that thought over before for a while.

Ben paused, his voice tossed to some else in the room then returned to answer. He gave the address before than addition something he considered important. “Can you bring me some clothes? I sort of need them…”

“I made sure to get a bag, I was told that you might be needing them. I’ll be there as soon as possible, okay?” The landmarks were helpful, and he picked up a prepared bag that he decided to fix up when Angelo told him about Ben’s ‘condition’. Táph took the car and hoped to whatever powers that be that people wouldn’t spy him asking a stark naked adolescent to get into his car with him. The drive was uneventful. He didn’t think it would be, for some reason, as if suddenly, the revelation that he supernatural Táph was very much the supernormal would somehow draw it to him like a magnet. He smiled to himself, realizing he had some money for the first time in ever, and a plan to go with it.

When Táph arrived, Ben was standing outside in the over baggy clothes and waiting for the car to arrive. When the driver came to rest against the curb, he walked hastily toward the passenger side door then slipped into the seat. The door clicked hard behind him as he took stock of his new caretaker. There was a clear, obvious horror element to him from his large eyes to his pale skin, Ben’s figure leaned away in slight alarm at first. When the shock wore off, he voiced his thoughts outloud. “You’re my new guardian?”

Táph smiled weakly and handed over the backpack. “Sorry if I’m not what you expected. There’s clothes in there. I’m Táph or Corpse, whichever you prefer.” He didn’t rest for too long though, driving off toward the closest drive-thru. He refrained from making a ‘hungry like a wolf’ joke, though did talk as he chauffeured the teen around. “Thanks for not biting me before, by the way.” He said, pausing as he stopped at traffic lights, pursing his lips and decidedly taking a detour when it went green. “We’re going to make a small stop for some food first.”

Ben’s eyebrow arched at Táph’s comment about biting, his memory still having too many gaps to fully understand what the man meant. “Uh? What do you mean by biting? Have we met before?”

Táph realized how awkward he just made the situation. “As a wolf. You had glass in your paw and Skyler got me to take it out. I thought you were going to bite me, I was...just- just saying thanks.” He finished awkwardly, taking intermittent glances at the rear-view mirror to gauge Ben’s reaction.

The teenager stared a bit longer and finally twisted about to watch the scene pass by, his arm propping his head upright. His voice hinted discomfort and concern, though he clearly tried to hide it behind disinterest in his tone. “To be honest and blunt, I don’t really remember anything. Aside from being in my bedroom and the next moment, I’m going all wolf. Like literally peeling my skin off which I wasn’t informed would happen.”

Inhaling with a sigh, Ben moved onto another topic. “Where are we picking up something to eat? Also, is there anything else I need to know now that my life is completely ruined?”

“Well, thanks all the same, comes from a good place even if you don't remember.” He said in reply, though the myriad of questions took a bit longer for him to get through. Táph answered the first question easy. “I'm just taking us to a burger joint.” He paused for a moment on the second one but he answered it all the same. “Listen, Ben, your life isn't over, not by a long way. Couple decades ago I was gutshot in a trench and I thought my life was over too. But it wasn't, still isn't. I know what I've got is nothing like what you've got going on, but you'd be losing to let it rule you rather than just accepting it for what it is and trying to do something with it.” He took a moment with that before pulling into the drive-thru. They were everywhere now, he thought idly to himself.

Ben was quiet. He absorbed the information but it didn’t seem to improve his mood in the least, his eyes moved with the passing buildings until they arrived at the cheap restaurant. It amused him slightly since Daniel never bothered with what he called ‘low quality’ food and often, when the man yearned for something outside home cooking, he would take Lorrie and his ‘son’ to the city where the high class eateries were located. There the menus tended to be so limited that it was easy to pick one or two meals before heading home where his housekeeper would cook something actually filling. It occurred, a long time ago, the main reason rich people didn’t get fat was because they barely ate at all.

His eyes roamed the several sections displayed to him as only half he knew, namely from using his own allowance on an experiment. The only issue was that he felt like he could literally eat a cow’s weight in burgers.

Táph tapped the steering wheel as he glanced over the menu similarly, though maybe going through the motions a bit as he figured out what to say next. “I know it's a lot at once, I have to admit you're taking it all a lot better than I did when it happened to me and I had a few years on you. But that's what this agency's for, right? I'm sure they'll support you through it all.” He drove forward as the queue progressed. “Sorry about that, promise to be a bit cheerier. Figured out what you want to eat?” He quickly changed the subject, not wanting his first impression to be ruined as he drifted into the philosophy of the supernatural and who decides who gets what sort of power and for what random reason it might be.

“Right now, it feels like I could eat a cow’s weight in meat.” Ben admitted, his stomach agreeing with him, then just went with something he knew. “Give me a triplet cheese burger with tomato, pickles and lettuce but hold the condiments. A large french fry order with a cola as well.”

Táph drove a little further and ordered just that, in fact he ordered two just in case as well as his own burger and fries, hot food, no matter how greasy and bad for you, was going to be a godsend if it kept coming regularly. He paid with Agency money and handed all of the food over to the teen wolf for him to devour. He drove toward the museum, they could stop and talk in the car if there was anything left by then. “What's so interesting about the exhibit, anyway?”

Ben drooled when his nose picked up the greasy, meaty flavors soaking into his nostrils. His hands picking through the food for both his fries and his burger, his right hand shoved about six to eight fries into his mouth before biting into the soggy sandwich. On any other day, he would usually turn his nose up at the staff’s sloppy attempts to make something edible. Currently, however, he was starving enough to not care. He had already devoured the first burger, both fries, and started on the second before Táph even got his out. Ben choked momentarily on his last burger when he heard the words about the museum. His hand fisted then smacked into his chest, clearing his airway, then took a hasty sip of his cola.

He turned to face Táph, confusion on his face and still holding a half eaten burger. “Excuse me, come again?”

Táph bit his lip. “Guess Angelo didn’t tell you that either. Really dropping us both in the deep-end with this.” The corpse had a lot to do and didn’t really know enough about his job as it was.

“Considering everything,” Ben struggled not to shout as he thumped down his burger for a moment, “I think it’s best to assume I don’t know shit until I tell you otherwise.”

Inhaling to calm himself, his fingers tightened about the car arm rest before it relaxed then he continued. “What is this about an exhibit first off. Then why haven’t Emma or even Lorrie for that much, notice I’m not missing? They would’ve realized I’m not there since Emma fixes breakfast for me and sees me off to school every day.”

The walking corpse took a few moments to structure what he was going to say, then opted to bring a hammer to the wall and be blunt about it. “Well, as I said, the agency is here to support you, and there’s a doppelganger taking your place just for the moment who you’ll swap with when we get there. I don’t really know much about the exhibit itself besides it being about witches. - In anycase, I’ll phone Skyler when we arrive, he’ll make up an excuse, the imposter will leave and you’ll take his place seamlessly. The plan wasn’t my idea and I learned about it yesterday, so keep the swearing and the tone directed at the window, if you’re going to do it.”

“So, he’ll meet me at the witch exhibit?” Benjamin stated, his tone indicated for the man to ensure his understanding was correct. His head turned from the window and stared at him, expected an answer before wrapping up his meal. His stomach didn’t even feel close to being full but some food was better than nothing.

Táph took a few moments with that, he was sort of unsure as to the wording of it all, but to his understanding… “No, Skyler’s already in there. He’ll come out with the doppelganger with some made up excuse and then you’ll swap.” He was sounding more and more unsure of himself by the second, it wasn’t just that he’d only been told, but that the plan itself felt sort of oddly put together as it was.

“Sounds brilliant…” Benjamin sarcastically stated then returned to devouring his burger. By his last bite, he barely felt like he had ate anything and his stomach seemed to howl for more. His head thumped back on the seat head with a soft thud causing himself to look at Corpse. “This is going to be a long day. Anything else I should know?”

Corpse parked the car out the front of the museum, fumbling with change for the meter, and then passing his food over to Ben as if noticing the teen eyeing it up. “Take a minute to relax, and if you’re ever in trouble, just ring. I’ll do my best to be there as fast as I can.” He offered a weak smile that might’ve looked sheepish or awkward, but not terrifying, he was still more human than anything else.

“And if I turn wolf? I barely remember most of last night, so how are we going to deal with that? It’s not there’s others around.” Ben countered, his hand taking the burger and started to eat it. It wasn’t quite like what he had, but he was more hungry than he assumed and didn’t care at that moment. His eyes looked at Corpse while he devoured the meal without seeming to inhale.

Corpse stared blankly for a bit. He hadn’t thought about that. If it was anything like the myths and stories then he was only in trouble if it managed to change from day to night and be a full moon all at once. Weirder things had happened in the past few days, he mused. “I’m going to call other people Angelo recommended to me. If something bad happens, they can create a distraction while things get calmed down. Let me worry about it, it shouldn’t be a weight on your shoulders, Ben.” He said with a genuine smile, trying his best to veil the ‘I have no fucking idea what I’d do’ look that was behind it. He was already trying to find the contacts on his phone, though tried his best to make it look casual and nonchalant.

“Like Angelo and everyone else was on top of the whole ‘unexpected’ transformation bit?” The teenager said between bites while he gave the agent a sarcastic look that screamed ‘Sure… that work out well…’ His mouth chewed the food thoroughly as his hunger subsided to a more manageable degree. “This stuff is so damn confusing. Is there at least any word over the wolf that bit me? Anything at all?”

Táph frowned. “There wasn’t any word, no.”The pale zombie looked a bit crestfallen for a few moments, but mustered up some courage when he began talking again, each verbal stride raising confidence in the next word. “Listen, Ben, I’m not Angelo. I’m new to this agent thing. I’m new to this supernatural business just like you are, but I am not new to doing ‘this’. If something goes wrong, you’ll have a body between you and whatever it is. Let me worry about this for you, while you enjoy the exhibit, or at least relax a little, please?” His focus was on the teen and it was obvious he was trying his best to be comforting.

“No offense…Táph, was it?” Ben continued when Corpse confirmed it, then huffed a little before explaining, “I stop trusting others to get things done. It just ends up failing and at least this way, I have only myself to blame. So I don’t have the greatest faith right now in you or the agency.”

Finishing up his food, he crumbled up the wrapper then tossed it into the bag with the rest. Taking a napkin, he wiped the rest of the lunch remains from his lips and cheeks, realizing how sloppy in his feasting he had been. “I hope I don’t eat like this all the time…”

Táph finished up his quick text to Ji, giving the gist of the situation, and asking her to meet them at the museum. He sent it with a sigh and took the rubbish-filled bag from Ben. He didn’t address anything the teen had said, opening the door up and taking the first step out. He didn’t address anything the teen had said beyond saying: “I’ll watch you enter the museum and wait for the doppelganger to come back. Enjoy the exhibit.” With that, the corpse took vigil and waited outside the car, the museum in sight.

Irritated and wary of the plan, Ben slipped on a hoodie from the bag and popped open the door. Taking a bundle of clothes, he held them under his arms then made his way up the stairs. Pausing there a moment, he quickly vanished into the museum.

Location: St. Thomas’ Cemetery, several blocks out of ChinaTown within Lost Haven
Time: Around Nightfall

---

”Which will you do, I wonder? It has been a pleasure . . . ‘Nemesis’.”

The words echoed in Racheli’s head. A cold chill froze her body in place as her fingers found purchase within the nearest headstone, her nails gradually dug deeper into the stone the longer she stood there. Her heart seemed to seize in her chest upon realized what Goodfellow knew. Sickness spread through out her along with his wicked grin, his eyes hinted to knowledge best left unknown, before his figure vanished in a hot, fiery light through the arcane doorway. When it snapped shut, she flinched then inhaled sharply. Her breath breaking the still silence as her hurting lungs sucked in breath and her mind shook itself from the experience.

Fighting off the cold, clammy sensation, Racheli’s knees waned in their strength as she flipped about, her back pressed to the hard marble. Her legs curl underneath her when her form slump into the ground. Slowly at first then she plopped down full force at the end and raised her hand to her face. Immediately the mask dissolved, bit by bit revealing her shocked expression. The verbal blow, unexpectedly, seemed to have hit its mark and left a twisting, disgusted sensation crawling over her flesh.

The virus shortly manifested himself behind her. His casual wear crinkled at the waist as he leaned upon the tombstone his host rested against. His eyes significantly stared at her in deep interest, his hand balled up an arms cushioning his torso comfortably. A sly, knowing smirk plastered on his face.

Irritated, Rach snapped her face to glare at him. “What?”

“Just amused is all. Another person made the very point you refuse to see, so much longer will you actually ignore it?”

Rach was about to reply when an electrical, blue streak darted across the night sky. She just barely caught it with her default eyes before her face scrunched up in confusion, her arm reached up to grasp and pulled herself upright. Mentally, she started to adjust her vision. She flipped to a higher level compared to human and picked out the brief details of some sort of meta chasing something swinging through the buildings. She narrowed on the target then it snapped into place it was Evergreen. Gritting her teeth, dread filled her gut, causing her to shut down the ability.

“Might be best to stay out of it.” Her virus warned.

She snapped her eyes into it as she growled in disagreement. “Like hell I will!”

Without another word, Rach took off into the direction toward Chinatown.

The Ambassador wanted it all, everything she could use against the woman she undoubtedly bore some personal grudge against. So, Silence would do his job properly, as distasteful as it may be. He looked at the replica firearm in his hands, turning it over familiarly, it would serve for what he had in mind. It was just beginning to turn dark, and he found himself crouching in a bush just off to the side of a porch in the suburbs of Jamestown. There were a couple of sticks nestled in the small of his back, poking him every time he shifted his weight, luckily he was wearing quite bulky clothes to hide his body shape. In the same way, he wore a neckerchief and coloured glasses, with a backwards baseball cap. His face shape was completely lost in all the assorted clothing, taking no chances. He was about to kick down an anthill, the last thing he wanted was any of them getting his scent and following him back to Lost Haven. He had enough enemies.

Finally, after almost an hour of anticipation, the sound of an approaching car reached his ears. Lekh’s eyes turned to it as the vehicle pulled in, a black sedan, how cliché. The woman inside stepped out, her hair was greying and she had put on some weight, but she matched the picture he had seen of one ‘Doctor Short’ a geneticist at the correctional facility where Michael Garth met his fate. He knew more than that about her, he knew everything he needed to twist the thumbscrews without having to get his hands dirty. Just the way he liked it.

She fumbled for her keys, her cumbersome fingers tired by a full day at work doing god knows what. Silence made his move as the handle turned, propelling himself silently out of the bush, he was behind her before she could step through the threshold, his gun at her side, pressing through her coat. She cried out in surprise as one gloved hand wrapped around her mouth.

“Quiet now, lady, or you’re going to get hurt.” His accent was noticeably American, pitch-perfect for the local area in fact. She couldn’t do much, only quiver against his body as he pushed her through the door with a suggestive press of the gun at her hip. She almost stumbled going in, and he pushed the door closed with a flick of his foot, prompting another cry from the hostage at his mercy. Her imagination was probably going wild right about now, it usually did, which suited him just fine. Let her imagine what terrible things he could or would do to her next, it saved him having to do anything.

He kicked her feet out from under her and dropped her onto a sofa in the living room as he went toward the window and drew the curtains. She was crying behind him. Her trousers were wet.

“Wha-what do you want!” She cried, her voice raising a whole octave as she struggled to overcome her panic.

“Calm down, Doctor Short.” His use of her name quieted her, what had she gotten herself into? This wasn’t a robbery was it…

“Michael Garth.” Silence stood over her. “You know that name, don’t you?”

“No.”

“You’re lying to me Doctor.” He slapped her in the face, trying to cut through what small measure of defiance she held, he didn’t want any notions of protecting her livelihood to butt into his purpose, or things could get messy.

“No I’m not I don’t know a Michael Garth, please you must believe me, I’m just a prison doctor!”

“We both know you’re more than that, Doctor Short, you wrote your PHD on experimental genetic research, delivered a speech at a national conference, do you expect me to believe you settled for a job patching up prisoners?”

“I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about, please.”

“Doctor Short, you conducted research on Michael Garth, didn’t you, probably others as well? What were you doing, what did you find out, who else is involved, where is the facility?” He hit her with another slap as she pretended to not follow his line of questioning. “Answer from the top, where are you based.” He hit her with his aura this time.

“The facility… it’s a mile out of town, I can show you on a map, but please, don’t kill me.”

“Who else is involved?”

“I… I don’t know, I work with a man called Merit, everything is controlled, we’re government funded I think.”

“Good, what were you doing, what did you find out?”

“We were doing a form of genetic experimentation on individuals with a specific genome that we now associate with the sudden upsurge in meta-humans. We were hoping to activate the genome, to understand how it affects the human body, to replicate it if necessary. It was probably funded by the military.” The words were tumbling out of her mouth now, quite literally tumbling as she almost seemed to slur.

“And Michael Garth, he had this genome I take it?”

“Yes, he was one of the first we discovered, a dangerous sociopath. We activated the gene, the results were… unexpected.”

“What do you mean?”

“He could change his body at a molecular and structural level at accelerated speed, he seemed to take on the form of animals, people lost their lives.”

“Tell me everything, Doctor, we’re going to be here a while.”

Hiding his hands in the pockets of the hoodie Skyler had slipped over his frame, the boy felt somewhat like a thug. A baggy shirt along with cargo pants, converse shoes and a toboggan drew him much like a thief in the night, or someone more than willing to bash in a car window. The tail slowly wagging back and forth was clearly visible for all who appeared to offer great interest in the sight, but eventually shrugged it off as some weird kid's live role play. It's ashen color only added to the exhibition but perhaps the unnatural tone of his skin would remove attention rather than claim even more, waving it off as a prop rather than an actual appendage. With a toboggan positioned firmly atop his head, Skyler's small horns were hidden from view and his fringe made short work of his unnaturally colored eyes, somewhat hiding them but offered sight all the same.

Feeling his heartbeat accelerating at being the center of attention, Skyler attempted to focus his thoughts on calming down. If he got stressed, this building could end up in ashes. He didn't know the extent of his powers, but after what happened to his sister, he wasn't quite ready to see any more of it. The girl found herself in an abnormal swirl of embers, as if a cylinder of pure flame which erased the poor girl from existence, leaving behind nothing but ash in the wind. Bones had been disintegrated and nothing to speak of remained, nothing but soft ashes as if flour in a bag. The thought didn't help, and added to the heartbeat which was punching at against Skyler's ribs like a hammer.

The boy shifted his eyes from staring at the floor, to the large painting positioned on the wall in front of him, noticing the edge of the frame flaking from the emanating heat. Comments continued to rise in complaints, and the signs snapped Skyler back to reality. A deep breath left his lips, all the more attention drawn to him due to the anomalies. With a gulp, his inner words attempted to calm his nerves, Mushroom's bark positively stealing the teen's attention. "Come, Mushroom..." The boy uttered quietly, moving away from the now cracked image from an age old past. The heat had seeped into the fabric, cracking the dye as if the sun had laid, heating its shape for days. Skyler could draw the conclusion that his flames burned hotter than normal fire, but to this extent? Despite the traumatic event of seeing his sister cindered, what remained wasn't possible. No fire burned so hot that nothing remained in its wake. An accelerated heartbeat caused the atmosphere to ripple and forced sweat down peoples' frames as if an impossibly warm summer day.

The more he learned of these abilities, the more he feared them. Skyler had been trying his very best to suppress his flames but even within, the very thought of them rippled across his surroundings. Were these the embers of hell? Sometimes it felt like they had a mind of their own, but Skyler could draw the conclusion that they were heavily affected by his emotions. Mushroom was also a good indicator, sadly, for when Skyler was slipping. He always barked in response, but scaring him like that only added to the already heavy weight positioned firmly on his shoulders.

"Did we miss them?" Skyler continued, his voice a quiet whisper under the hoodie hiding his pointed ears. Ben was nowhere to be found, and neither was Táph. Roaming the museum's many rooms did little in helping the search but rather made Skyler out to be a spectacle. People came here to look at the paintings, but he appeared to be a much more interesting attraction. He heard how several individuals, children and adults alike, commented on his appearance and whether the museum had some kind of reenactment today. Nothing of the sort had been posted on their website, and no one else appeared present for that to be an event. Most chalked it up to a weird outsider, but those who didn't made it their duty to ogle his scrawny form.

Comfort would however be found in Mushroom's company. Indeed, his company offered a friend's dear presence but it also drew Skyler slightly less odd. Having a pet by his side added a sense of normality otherwise erased by the tail. Luckily, no one could see his horns, or his ears. Not to mention his needle sharp teeth. He'd also have to thank the invention of live role playing, making odd sightings less of a hassle to deal with. "We can go back to the entrance and check." The boy uttered, looking down to his loyal pet who followed without question. Perhaps Ben and Táph were there. This plan, whatever it was, didn't seem to go according to what they had hoped. Ben wasn't there when Skyler arrived and this was getting highly troublesome. Skyler wasn't too eager to burn the place down, and hopefully no other paintings would lose their value at his presence.

---

Ben stood outside, his face obscured by his oversized hoodie and some sunglasses, as he raised his head to observe the museum. It was an iconic and large stone structure that reminded him more of a Roman senate building than a museum. Two large pillars sided the entrance while several individuals climbed up and down the section of stairs to go about their day’s activities, most appeared to be chittering families or friends.

It didn't surprise Ben if he was honest with himself. The museum often gained guests based on their newest attraction and the time of season, witches being a popular topic now a days. A thought crossed his young mind when he questioned the reality of witches existing. Considering he had met some of the strangest metas in his life and was no longer normal himself, the chances grimly increased in the witch’s favor. Giving a small sigh, the DA’s son pushed off toward the doors.

He brought a ticket, with money provided by his guardian, then shifted toward the bathrooms. Changing into nearly identical clothes within one of the stalls, he stashed his clothes into the bag where in the bathroom before making his exit. Ben gradually made his way to the witch exhibit, finally, where he assumed Skyler would be. Growling, Skyler had been nowhere to be found and likely won’t be for a long time Ben assumed.

Táph’s words still rattled in his head but he pushed it to the side, his attention turned inward as his eyes closed to center himself.

Odors swirled around his nose causing him to inhale deeply, his eyes snapped open in shock and continued to inhale. A familiar smell wafted into his nostrils causing them to flare deeper. It was a bit earthy, rich and a hint of bittersweet to it. His figure causally searched over the exhibit for the source until he finally settled upon a stone with a hole within it.

“Welcome, everyone, to the first annual guided tour on the History of European Witchcraft here at the Museum of Natural History,” the tour guide began, leading two large groups through a maze of exhibits featuring strange artifacts of all descriptions. Worn animal skin tomes with fragile pages, bone fetishes and clay poppets hammered with nails, dusty vials filled with dark liquid, rods, wands, and staves all inscribed with indiscernible lettering and forgotten scripts.

Marie followed the group closely, excitedly scanning each of the different cases and shelves. Surprisingly, she had passed through security without a problem, her long coat being taken as trendy rather than shifty. Holt clung to Marie’s shoulder in an ethereal form, trying to sense whatever magic might be laden behind the glass panes. Unfortunately, neither of them knew what to look for. After all, this was a witchcraft exhibit. Any one of these artifacts could have belonged to Gwyneth, and all of them, when used correctly, held power.

”This is hopeless,” Marie whispered to Holt as they wandered along the row of exhibits. ”My spell couldn’t have narrowed it down any further?”

”These exhibits are organized according to region. Might I suggest finding the section on English Witchcraft and searching for something from Gwyneth’s era?” Holt cooly replied. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to sound so sarcastic, but Marie couldn’t help but take it that way.

She chuckled, ”The thought had crossed my mind, but there’s no guarantee it’ll have ended up in that section, nor that it will have been properly dated. We don’t even know what ‘it’ is. All Gwyneth gave me was ‘find my eye.’ She could have meant that literally or figuratively. Maybe she had a penchant for stealing sailor’s eyes, who knows?” Marie was growing frustrated. Gwyneth’s vision only helped supply the location of her missing “eye.”

Marie decided that, though it was obvious, she was better of starting in the English Witchcraft section, at least so she could cross it off her list of potential sections.

Benjamin’s hands pulled back his hood as he read the card marker over it. A witch stone. The information over it detailed it being used to see what couldn’t be seen by the mortal eye, namely the true nature of things, when one looked through the stone’s middle. Not sure why it smelt so different, he turned away in an attempt to ignore it and another strong whiff smacked into his attention. His eyes widened at the new, yet similar scent being emitted right before him.

His nostrils flared, drinking in the fresher scent, causing him to stare at the woman behind him. He knew his expression was likely confusion as his nose wrinkled, mentally trying to understand the scent. The impulse to lean in closer to the woman and just spend hours investigating the new smell grew in intensity the more he stayed near her. His fingers tightened over the bar separating the current tour from the exhibits, the tour guide prattling on about the history, while he resisted the instinct.

Marie leaned in closer to view the cases and the accompanying labels. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary and nothing in particular called to her. Witch bottles, ladders, hag stones, they were all common pieces of folk magic that Marie had plenty of experience with, but had no reason to believe they belonged to Gwyneth. Holt too scanned the glass, but he was more preoccupied with the image of a youth leaning away from Marie. Holt took a closer look at the stranger, noting the flair of his nostrils and his overall strange mannerisms.

Holt tapped Marie’s shoulder. ”I believe the boy in front of you is having some strange reaction to your scent.”

”What?” Marie replied, quickly sniffing the insider of her coat and her wrists. She smelled of generic perfume, but nothing particularly strong. She certainly didn’t smell bad, she made sure to shower multiple times after her meeting with Broker. Marie looked over and, sure enough, the boy was acting repulsed by her.

Marie looked around for a moment, smelling the air to make sure it wasn’t something else before turning her attention to him and asking, ”Excuse me? Is something wrong?”

Ben panicked inside when the woman’s eyes fell on him. His figure tensed and fingers gripped harder, whitening briefly from the reaction. He studied her but found nothing that screamed magic on her person. She looked like a normal, average woman he would never blink twice at on the street. However, his nose screamed otherwise poking at his curiosity and need for answers.

Even more confusing was why that witch stone held her very scent when she didn’t appear to be museum staff or had helped set up the exhibits. She wouldn’t have bothered with the tour if she did.

He wanted to say nothing and quickly rush off, but that risked leaving him stranded here. He wasn’t about to walk home to face Lorrie’s wrath for being neglective. Biting down on his wolf instincts, Benjamin forced himself to relax as he relapsed into a more casual posture. It had been beyond easy to achieve thanks to his anxiety growing by the moment.

“It’s hard to explain. I'm sorry, but excuse my behavior. Umm, do you happen to know about this right here? I would ask the tour guide but she seems rather busy.” Ben pointed to the witch stone as he felt strange asking a complete stranger to give him the history over it, noting her reaction and couldn’t explain why he couldn’t come up with better way to approach this odd situation. Part of him hoped the awkward teenage wolf years would pass sooner than later.

Something seemed off to Marie, but she brushed away the feeling of unease to answer his query.

”Uh, sure. It’s a witch stone, also known as a hag stone, adder stone, serpent’s egg. It’s a stone with a naturally occuring hole in it that was used in various folk magic traditions to protect against malicious magic, ward off and cure snake bites, and most famously see through magical glamours and disguises.”

Ben mumbled under his breath. “That explains it.”

His figure leaned forward onto the barrier as he stared at the hag stone with a frown, at least having part of the puzzle solved. “So is it only used by witches? Or can it be used by humans, according to myth?”

He tried to pass it off as a casual comment rather than fishing for answers.

”Well, technically anyone can use them. The common folk in that time were highly superstitious and terrified of being influenced by something otherworldly or supernatural, so they had all manner of charms to aid them and deflect curses and magical tricks. In fact, it likely received the name ‘witch stone’ because it was a charm against witchcraft. Witches, of course, would have known about the folk charms and employed them along with their usual enchantments.” Marie responded quickly, never tiring of offering others knowledge of the craft, even if it was only over something as simple as a hag stone.

Ben noted her knowledge over the subject then commented on it, wondering if his hunch was right. His nostrils still twitched and flared, absorbing her scent. It was nearly identical to the hag stone drawing an uneasy sensation in his gut as he continues. “You sound like you have a lot of experience with this. You wouldn't happen to be a witch, would you?”

It was meant to come off as a joke as he watched her reaction closely.

Marie wasn’t too thrown off by the question. It was valid, given her apparent knowledge of the hag stone, and claiming to be a witch in the 21st century wasn’t the craziest thing one could say, nor would they suffer persecution for it.

She chuckled, ”Maybe, but it’s more likely that I’m an anthropology student.” It was a quick, simple lie, but substantial nonetheless.

Turning her head back to the exhibit casing, Marie caught a glint of something on the glass. Her focus shifted from Ben to the hag stone, then to her reflection. Marie saw herself, an ancient version of herself, staring back. Her modern dress was replaced by a medieval gown, her straight hair appearing in unkempt waves of black. She looked into her reflections eyes, one of which was her own, but the other was positioned over the hag stone, which now sported an ethereal glow.

”Holt,” Marie said aloud, not looking to see who heard. ”I think I just found it. I think I found Gwyneth’s eye.”

”The hag stone? I suppose that makes sense. A witch’s magic is practical. What better tool to peer through one’s enchantments than one designed for that very purpose. It must possess the power to see Gwyneth’s other possessions, that is why she calls it her eye.”

Marie was overjoyed! A wave of enthusiasm spread over her, her skin began to dance with excited chills, her eyes glistened with happy tears. The rest of the group had moved to another exhibit further down, leaving Ben and Marie behind. In the moment she saw Gwyneth’s eye, she forgot he was ever there.

“Who’s Holt?” Came Ben’s question, his brown eyes stared at her suspiciously. His neck hairs raised on the back of his neck, alert and mindful about her behavior, while he took a step back in caution. Thankfully everyone else had moved or they would’ve spotted his twitches showing on his surface, his head tilted like a wolf examining something new and strange in his territory.

”Uh . . . I mean,” Marie stuttered, unsure of what to say. She had been careless. Normally, she wouldn’t speak to Holt in public and would only engage in subtle, mental messages with the familiar, but she had been taken in by the surprise of finding Gwyneth’s eye and dropped her guard. Could she make an excuse for herself? Did she care at this point? Her only reason for being there was to find the eye, which she had done. She hadn’t caused a stir, hadn’t done anything particularly damning, and even if she had, she was wearing her glamour charm so no one could tie it back to her.

“Well?” Ben asked again, his arms crossed over his front in resistance to taking any bullshit answer. There was too many questions going through his and less answers to satisfy them, a fact he wasn’t pleased about.

Marie could have spent the next few minutes trying to come up with a distraction, but by then another group would have come around making it harder for her to retrieve the stone. At this point, Marie was fine with a little exposure.

”You know what,” she finally responded, ”You were right the first time. I am a witch, and here’s a little magic to prove it. Holt,” she called to her familiar, who wore an amused grin as he quickly turned from an ethereal shade to a tangible shadow, creeping through the glass casing and lifting the hag stone from its place. He then dropped the stone into Marie’s hand and vanished once again.

Ben didn’t expect the woman to be outright blunt. His eyes flickered to something forming at her side. At first, he thought it was some strange, misshapen shadow formed by poor lighting. However when it grinned, he knew very differently as it phased and stole the hag stone. He dropped it within the witch’s hand causing Benjamin to give a feral growl. His eyes widen in fear and shock, the neck hair raised in alert and immediately the itching sensation traveled along his skin.

Something primal and wild surfaced in the back of his mind, crawled its way up, causing his mind to scream. Ben tried to quell his emotions. His heart pounding and throbbing in his chest, resulting in slight wheezing. Instantly he dropped to his knees quietly mumbling in panic. “Shit...no, not now. Please. Calm down.. Please, stop..”

Marie looked at Ben with a combination of curiosity and horror. This sort of episode was like nothing she’d ever seen before. ”Oh my god, are you alright? What’s happening?” she dropped to his side, placing a hand gently on his shoulder.

”He’s transforming,” Holt replied calmly.

”What?”

”I had a suspicion when I saw his nostrils flare up earlier, but this confirms it. He’s infected with lycanthropy.”

”Oh you’ve got to be kidding me, a werewolf?” Marie was outraged, not by the idea of werewolves, but by the sheer fact that she’d happened upon one in such a public place.

Holt gave a slight nod. ”And by the looks of it, a young one. His transformations are tied to both the lunar cycle and his emotions. My manifestation must have shocked him and triggered the transformation.”

Marie wanted to panic but knew that in doing so, she’d only make matters worse.

”If you calm him down, we might be able to get him somewhere more private.”

Marie had no time to question what an outrageous notion calming down an adolescent werewolf in the middle of New York City was. Instead, she held his other shoulder and peered into his eyes, calling on whatever power of compulsion she or Gwyneth might have had. In a low voice, she said, ”Everything is going to be alright. Take some deep breaths and try to remain calm. You’re in no danger, you just need to stay in control.”

Ben was trembling. All over, his figure itched and tingled, his mind expecting at any moment it would peel away. Part of him was angry because he had just gotten himself clean and into something almost normal for his messed up life. When her face lowered to his kneeling position, his inner wolf recoiled in fear then shuddered when the magic entered his core. It shimmered and filled him with a calming effect, his itching slowed almost, as his lips pushed back from their snarling.

“Please.. Make it stop. I don’t want to do this again.” The words slipped out of his pleading lips, Ben’s frighten eyes softened into a glossy expression.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Marie steadied Ben as the pair darted through the exhibit past surprised patrons to the nearest restricted area. They rounded a few corners until finally they reached a storage unit. With a quick hand motion, the locked door flew open, almost off its hinges. Inside were sheet covered displays on rollers, which Holt moved from their path, creating a large clearing in the room. With another motion, Marie shut the door behind them, directing Holt to enchant it shut. She gently knelt down with Ben, setting him in the open floor space and moving away to another corner of the room to observe.

Ben tried to focus, his arms already pealing away his shirt. Along with it came a thick flesh colored patch of skin that flipped away with the movement and splattered blood on the wall. He barely kicked off his jeans when the first bone abruptly snapped. He screamed then crumbled, his flesh starting to break at the seams where his joints bended the most revealing matted, bloodied blond fur. Bones continued to crack and shift, lengthening or shortening based on desired form.

When he finished, Benjamin laid on his side on top of the skin and heaving each breath. This time, there was only a limited spot that had become filthy, the blood looked darker than the fresh color of last night. The werewolf whimpered softly like an injured pup in his position, the aches still throbbed in his very skeleton.

Help… Hurt… Emotions associated with those words echoed in Marie’s mind when the werewolf’s limited telepathy kicked in finally, his head raised to lock eyes with her.

Marie heard Ben’s please for help over her own thoughts. She empathized with him but was altogether unsure how to proceed. She had never dealt with lycanthropy before and knew almost nothing about it. Would Ben be hostile? She could protect herself, but she worried he might be difficult to hide if that were the case. How long would he remain in this form? It was easy to assume that a wolf would return to human form after the full moon, but if they had the power to change outside of the lunar cycle as well, there was no telling how long Marie would be dealing with this. There were so many unanswered questions, so much novelty that Marie was frozen while Ben lie hurting and whimpering.

Marie watched the scene with a heavy heart. It hurt her, not being able to ease his pain, but there was nothing that she could do.

@NeutralNexus @Athinar

Evergreen was ready and raring to go for round two. He had no intentions of letting his opponent get anywhere close to Racheli. Now, Jaden wasn't stupid for he knew that the world wasn't nearly as black and white as some thought it to be. After all, he was protecting a wanted criminal and as much he hated to admit it, Pulse did have a good point that someone with as much power as her needed to be supervised, especially with that temper of hers.

However, he kept reminding himself that this was War-Pulse whom was saying all this, and that Racheli was only a criminal cause of forces beyond her control, and he had seen for himself that she was trying her best to do some good in this city. That, in his eyes, put her leagues above someone like Pulse whom killed people and made a profit off it!

He saw his golems getting ready to go on the attack and had no desire to stop them....at least, that was until he saw the other man walk out from behind the merc! "STOP!!" He roared and automatically the wolves and serpents stopped their charge and looked back at their master, waiting.

He sighed in relief and leered over at the other man whom had interrupted their fight, and was about to admonish him...until he started talking...and his instincts suddenly started to flare up, especially at the realization that this man was familiar with War-Pulse. The plant man cleared his throat at being asked for his name, "Equilibrium, huh? Name's Evergreen...as for your request, I'm afraid I can't do that.."

The plant warrior raised his hand to stop him before he could say anything else, "And yes, I'm well aware that the man beside you is tough. I just got slammed through a frekkin building in case you didn't notice..." He pointed to the mostly demolished building behind them for emphasis. "Look...I don't know what your relation is to Pulse here but this matter doesn't concern you...besides, regardless of whether you believe me or not, there's a lot going on here you don't know about..."

"Partner, what do you think you're doing?" Gaia's voice sharply cut into his mind as he got the impression of a scowl, "That man in front of you is a Metahuman! You need to take him out before he can use his powers!"

"No, Gaia, we're not doing that." He mentally shot back without a second thought.

Now he got the impression she was facepalming, "Oh for crying out loud...don't tell me this is another one of your "I'm a Hero. I don't kill people" moments..."

"Actually, no, it isn't," He admitted, causing her to stop, "Look where that guy's standing. and remember what he's said up till now. One of the only reasons I can think of he'd want us to give up what we know...is cause he and Pulse are...well, I don't want to say "friends" but definitely not enemies...attack and Pulse will likely try to defend him...and if I attack..."

"Pulse would likely use the kinetic energy from what you do to power up even further..." Gaia finished for him and then went quiet for a moment.

"Something wrong, Gaia?" He asked.

"No, nothing. I'm just surprised..." She tilted her head within his mind space, "You actually bothered to use your brain and analyze the situation for once..."

Jaden was so tempted to facepalm but instead he settled for rolling his eyes. Even when she was praising him, Gaia tended to somehow make even that sound sarcastic. "Equilibrium...listen, I don't have a quarrel with you...so I'm going to ask nicely...Stand Down," Just in case, he sent a mental command for some of his constructs to keep a close eye on the man, "Just turn around, return what you stole, and leave...I'm giving you a chance to back out and I suggest you take it..."

"If you stay though...and you choose to support him..." He pointed to Pulse, "...I will have no other option but to see you as an enemy too..." Jaden did his best to get across the urgency of this, "Please...a lot is at stake here, and I know I may not be in the best position to say this...but...I get the feeling you know what kind of person the man you're standing next to is...so don't make a decision you're going to later regret..."

He really hoped that Equilibrium would at least consider what he was saying before making any hasty actions.

---

Time: First day without the Ambassador, late afternoon; minutes later
Location: Paris, France.
POV: Mara

The Ambassador had left, and Mara found herself already wishing the young human hadn't.

Namely, because the golem had yet to say a single thing since she had returned to her own business. She was simply there, looming and following in Mara's wake. Mara would have been more intimidated, if she wasn't used to things far scarier than what at least looked like a large human.

And, of course, if she didn't have her own task to worry about for the moment.

Slowly, delicately, the goblin placed her bowl down with shaking arms. The little brat within was still squirming like it wanted a fight, because of course it was. Resting her head against the relatively cool glass, Mara turned her head to check her progress, and promptly yelped as she came face to face with the golem.

Dead eyes, staring intensely, that strangely cheerful smile. She was crouched low, staring eye to eye. With how the golem was actually proportioned... Mara squinted, staring up at empty air. Illusions were tricky, they tended to distort one's sense of location, but that was probably closer to where the golem's singular eye truly was. Staring.

Ugh. This is gonna be a long one.

"Do you need help?" Mandate chirped brightly. Mara jerked back as the golem's mouth suddenly became animated, blinking rapidly. Quick to recover, the handy goblin adjusted her coke bottle glasses.

"Whazzat?" she grunted, confused. The golem tilted her head towards the bowl. Her eyes finally left Mara's, drifting towards the bowl itself. Focusing on the selkie inside. "Before Miss Ambassador left, you said you could use my hands. I have big hands, good for holding large and small things. Would you like me to carry it?" It was as if she'd left that strange silence behind entirely.

"Oh, ahhh..." Well, the Ambassador trusted that she'd be fine in Mara's care, so it couldn't be that bad, surely? Mara reevaluated what she knew of the Ambassador for several moments, then gave the mental equivalent of a shrug. "Ye. Ye! Sure, take it an' follow me." Hopefully this wouldn't go terribly wrong. Mara adjusted her glasses nervously, her lips twitching as the golem in disguise moved past her.

"What's in it, Miss Mara? It looked very cute. Looks, even!" Mandate clasped the bowl delicately, her illusion's smile growing as she lifted it without an ounce of effort and peered inside, eager.

"Mara," the goblin corrected as she warily observed Mandate's small feat of strength, "'S just Mara, Mandate." Best to establish that right away, she wasn't interested in being a 'miss'. "What ya got there is a selkie, y'see?" Mara reached up, gently tapping the bottom of the fish bowl as the golem nodded along.

"I seelkie!"

Mara's feet had paused before her brain could fully register the golem's words. "Did ya just..." she began, the groan palpable in her voice, before she stopped and shook her head. She had priorities, and this disaster of wordplay was not one of them. She resumed her walk with a quiet sigh. Hopefully the golem would be silent, with that question answered.

"What's a selkie?"

Alas.

"'S a kind of fey what live in the water, usually. They look like seals." Her feet lead her onto the path, and Mandate trundled along behind her, looking to most of the world like a human inexplicably lugging around a fishbowl. It was better than 'gargantuan golem terrorizing the neighborhood with a selkie and a goblin'. She snickered softly; the benefits of being fey and crafting illusions were both truly endless.

"Usually?" Mandate asked, chipper as ever, and there went that amusement.

"Sometimes they're on land." Mara deftly navigated onto a sidewalk, ignoring the wary stares directed at her companion as Mandate seemingly held a one-sided conversation with thin air.

"Do they crawl everywhere?" the golem inquired, lifting the fishbowl above her head to peer at the underside. Mara tensed beside her, then relaxed when the golem gently lowered the bowl, thankfully without spilling a drop or dumping a selkie child onto the sidewalk. Small blessings.

"Naw," Mara replied once she'd gathered her bearings, "Got legs." It was a short answer, and straight to the point, but the goblin was quickly realizing that Mandate would have a hundred questions for her. A long reply for all of them was not the way to go. She switched her fishing rod over to her other side, rolling her shoulders as she prepared for a long walk.

Mandate hummed, peering into the fishbowl once more. Sure enough, she babbled out another question, confused and vibrant. "I don't see any legs. Are you sure about that, Mara?"

"They grow 'em."

"Oh wow..." Mandate gently tapped the glass, her claws making the tiniest little sharp noises. The goblin had little doubt that the golem was picturing the process. And knowing what little she did about said golem... "I bet that looks silly!" She was probably picturing a seal with normal human legs, yes.

"Not as much as ya would think. 'S magic, they look human."

Mandate hummed a soft 'ohhh', her gaze leaving the fishbowl to sweep up and down the street, over the local buildings. No, over the local people. She wasn't going to--
"Is she a selkie?"

She was, then. Great, terrific. "No, Mandate."

"What about him? He looks pretty, is he a selkie?"

It was a long, tiresome walk ahead of them, and Mara did not look forward to this line of questioning. "None of them are gonna be selkies, Mandate. Not a one." There, silence. Mara relaxed.

"Maybe you're a selkie." the golem accused, her tone deceptively innocent.

Troublesome golem.

---

Time: First day without the Ambassador, half an hour later
Location: Paris, France; Buttes-Chaumont Park
POV: Mandate

When they had finally stepped into the park, Mandate had grown silent once more. The well of questions that she'd pulled from hadn't dried out, per se; there were so many interesting questions to be had about how a cute little pup started looking like a less-cute human, after all.

Rather, she found the first object of her attention overridden. The fishbowl was tucked safely against her chest as she admired the greenery, the noise of rustling leaves, the distant sounds of birds and people. It was... Peaceful, compared to the city she'd walked through moments before. Scenic, even.

It reminded her of that place she had left only hours ago.

It was also quite different, of course; Central Park didn't rise and fall this sharply and without warning. Mandate stepped carefully down the steep, green hill. It wasn't a long walk at all, but long enough. The grass was soft beneath her feet and between her toes, pressed flat by her weight where she stepped. She leaned back as she walked, wary of tripping and falling with the bowl in her hands, but the view was breathtaking. Trees, gentle and unbowed, grass stretching out on either side, scattered and infrequent people lounging in the late afternoon. They were rarely alone, and Mandate could understand why.

A place like a park wasn't meant to be enjoyed alone, after all. And she wasn't alone either! Humming, Mandate's gaze tracked back onto the goblin stepping in front of her. "Mara," she began, adjusting her grip on the fishbowl, "Why does this park dip? It goes high, and then low, and I do not understand why." The goblin sighed, and the golem found herself wondering about that as well.

"Well, wasn't always a park, Mandate. All this, see, used ta' be quarries an' a dump and all other sorts a' nasty things. Lots of digging an' such."

"Ohhh..." Mandate tried to picture such a thing, and found it difficult. But she could imagine fetid stench, even though she was... Lacking, in terms of smell. And she could imagine rotten landscape, suffering a lack of greenery. It wasn't as pretty. "I've never been to a quarry. I'd like to go sometime."

Mara didn't have a response for that. Or maybe it was just that they were finally at the edge of the lake. It was still a few hours from sunset, but the light had already grown somewhat dim, weak in the face of an approaching night. Mandate stared, fascinated, as it glinted across the lake's surface. Sparkling and wondrous. It brought her to recent memories of standing beside the water in Central Park, and of contemplating herself.

"Set her down gently," Mara barged into Mandate's thoughts without preamble, her voice rough as she crouched beside the water, "I gotta check the lake." So saying, she stuck a singular gnarled finger beneath the water, closing her eyes as it rippled imperceptibly. Distracted as she was, Mandate simply nodded, lowering herself down onto her backside and setting the fishbowl down. Her hand remained upon its rim, wary of tipping the cutie pup inside over before everything was ready.

Opening her eyes, Mandate's guide nodded and adjusted her glasses. They made her eyes rather big as she looked upwards. "Alright, Mandate. Yer gonna let it over nice an' easy, 'til the water starts running out. The pup'll follow the water. 'S how I drop all the pups in here."

"Okay!" Nice and easy. Mandate wasn't sure how to do nice and easy, in the way Mara meant; nice and easy from her was still hurtful. But she didn't break everything, of course; she could hold Miss Ambassador's hand, so maybe that would be gentle enough. It was hard to tell, when glass broke like snow, like concrete, like flesh. Miss Ambassador's hand, she reminded herself, gently tipping the bowl as instructed.

Slowly, the water began to pour out. Mandate tipped it more and more as the water drained, until it was almost on its side. Without warning, the squirming young fey shot out of the fishbowl and into the water, disappearing with barely a splash. Mara muttered something about 'ungrateful', but the golem wasn't really listening. She removed one hand from the bowl, gently flapping her fingers at the water in what she recalled was a 'goodbye' wave.

Unfamiliar words tugged at her, and she let them slip. "Bon soree, ma f-fifilly." It sounded wrong, but Mandate was certain that it was close. Close enough for Mara's eyes to snap to her, blinking in surprise behind her big glasses. Her head slowly tilted to the side, and she counted with her fingers as she spoke aloud.

"One, that was a butchery of french-" But it was close! "And two, that was almost french. Y'know how to speak it?"

Did she? The words had come to her, like an impression of a thought of a memory. Another soft echo answered her, and she responded. "Nope!" she announced cheerfully, shrugging. "It just came to me, like water on a cold bottle!"

"Condensation." Mara answered absently, her head lowered in thought. Mandate allowed her to have that thinking time, content to sound out and repeat the newly-realized word as she stared wonderingly at the waters. How many selkies were below the water, she wondered. Did Paris have a seal problem? Was it a problem if almost nobody knew about it?

"C'mon," the goblin announced, standing up without warning and hefting her fishing rod back onto her shoulder, "We should get goin'." Mandate perked up, rising to her feet and taking the empty bowl along with her. She was hesitant to leave, but Mara had yet to show her something uninteresting, so she was content to follow. The goblin was good for learning new weird things, like seals with legs that didn't look like seals when they had legs.

"Oh, alright! Where are we going? Can we watch the sunset? Why are your glasses so big?"

"Somewhere to sleep, yes, and cuz I need 'em." Mara replied, stretching her back and rolling her shoulders. She began the trip back up the hill, pausing only momentarily. "Ah, in that order."

Fascinating! Pleased with the guide's answers, Mandate followed the goblin back the way she came, intrigued by the prospect of seeing more new things, and by the possibility of observing the sun as it lowered beyond the horizon. She paused, sparing one last glance over her shoulder.

The waters revealed nothing.

---

Time: Second day without the Ambassador, morning.
Location: ???
POV: ???

Alone. More funny words, funny meanings. To be aware of oneself and alone with oneself, to be without a plural existence to oneself. Like the moon in the sky, so vast and purposeless.

What did it mean to be truly alone? Mine was an existence unlike that of any other -more than just another. I knew it like the quaking of bones and the whispering of children, that I was not one. We were a solipsistic singularity. When one gazes into a mirror, they observe a lie written in glass that tells oneself 'this is all there is'.

I am a mirror, and we are the true self, and we are fragments made whole. But once we were whole and alone, before we became something anew. Now we are whole and together, in spaces where light beyond that of the soul never reaches. An elsewhere place, a dark place, and an only place.

I breathe nothing, but still I feel as if I am suffocating. Waxing and waning, I restructure, and remember times that are not mine, but which remain ours. Memories, broken. The proxy looms; it conveys the mass. It is a structured whole, through which life is vicariously led. A mask worn until there is no distinguishing face from false and the masquerade is pointless.

It stands oftentimes alone. Another whole has left it, bereft of completion, and it dwells within itself and seeks comfort in that, awaiting a return to completion. But fragments of oneself are not as the wholeness of another; one can glean new meaning from observing the skin of oneself, but the skin is no companion compared to the skin of another.

Mandate?

Solipsistic singularity, elemental eden. Observe the reality: 5000 x 1 is 1 all the same.

Mandate.

We, I, observe--

"Mandate!"

"--Patience." The world unfurled into reality again, the separate becomes whole and returns to the present, and Mandate wondered for a moment where she had gone. A final echo entered from that far away non-place, and the golem understood why water cascaded against her mercury frame. Standing without even a crack from the porcelain beneath her, Mandate panned her gaze across the room she had settled herself into.

Ah, yes. The shower. Fine porcelain and stainless metal, and a shower head which poured cool water onto her, where it ran down and through her edges and creases, carrying with it the last dredges of flaked blood and clinging dirt. The grime of a day was lifted away, swept away by a feeling akin to being submerged. Suffocation.

The door rattled, and Mandate pulled back to herself before the drifting could resume. "I am here, Mara! I did not slip and fall, and I think that if I did, the shower would break first!" she announced. She was certain that this place had nothing as hard as her. Mara huffed on the other side of the door.

"Then don't fall! We can't break anything, or Frieda will be pissed. I don't need that, y'hear?"

"I hear just fine! The shower isn't that loud, Mara." Speaking of which, Mandate turned her head, and quickly grasped and twisted the steel knob her gaze landed upon. The water ceased, and she nodded to herself as she stepped out and towards the door, tugging it open with ease. Her gaze panned downwards.

"I don't like Frieda," she continued, stepping out and past a sputtering Mara and trailing water behind her, "She wouldn't leave my knee alone."

"MANDATE! Towel!" The goblin barked in response, scampering into the bathroom and returning with two such towels. One was thrown in Mandate's path upon the lush carpeting, the other was thrown directly at Mandate herself, gently bumping into her chest. Personally, Mandate failed to understand why such a thing was necessary when the place seemed to clean itself, but apparently it was important to not displease that other little goblin, 'Frieda'. Mandate thought she was silly, but not in the nice way. More... Unlikable. "Doesn't matter if ya don't like her, Mandate, you're a guest. Ya gotta be polite, y'see?" Mara peered up at the golem, as if expecting some rebuttal.

"I love being polite!" And she did, so it wasn't really a problem at all, as far as Mandate was concerned. Brushing gently past the flabbergasted goblin, the towering entity found herself back inside of her guest room very shortly, the towel forgotten and left on the floor once she had finished brushing lazily at the moisture on her metallic frame. Grime washed off extremely easily, due to her surface being smooth to the point of debris having almost nowhere to cling.

As for the room itself, well, it was lovely. And old. But mostly lovely. Light cascaded from a fine chandelier above, and she had been provided with a silken bed which she had ignored after running her hands all across its sheets and blankets, and thoroughly ruffling it in her efforts to catalogue every fine sensation. There was also a wooden dresser and closet, both of which Mandate couldn't find a usage for, but the closet was at least huge and fun to stand inside.

Windows were nonexistent in this place, but from what Mandate had heard from Mara, apparently it was 'impossible' to have windows in 'a place between the walls'. That was no excuse to deprive her of a view to admire, like lovely trees or a beautiful, large and open field. Anything would have been appreciated. Beyond that, there was...

The golem paused as she spotted the object left upon the bedside table, beside the lamp. She was aware of Mara still talking, something about 'showing the city' and leaving landmarks for later, but she'd stopped paying attention. My gift! She was across the room before she knew it, the lovely crystal snatched up in her firm grasp and held as if it would disappear within a moment. Perhaps it was somewhat hasty, but the golem did not care.

It was hers, previously Miss Ambassador's, and so it was extremely important. Priceless, even, from her perspective. Her 'V' of a smile returned as she placed it back around her neck. "Okay." she began softly, turning to face the goblin. Her tiny guide had stopped speaking at some point. The look in her eyes was strange. Mandate didn't dwell upon it, like she didn't dwell upon the twinge she had felt before the lovely crystal had been safe.

"Okay," she announced once more, cheerfully this time, "I'm ready to go!"

The merc couldn’t help but give an excited, hearty laugh as Evergreen displayed his powers. Countless wolves of wood and serpents of vines crawled out from the cracked cement and dilapidated woodwork to oppose the mercenary, taking their side with Gaia’s champion.

“Getting serious, huh?” War-Pulse said, cracking his knuckles as he surveyed the snarling constructs beginning to advance on him. “Good! I was starting to get bored!”

With his words, his aura began to hum and sizzle as it illuminated in intensity. He lowered his body, ready to tear down the road like a bat out of hell, his eyes boring holes directly into Evergreen. The Wolves? The Snakes? They’d be nothing more than cannon fodder, not to him. To War-Pulse, it did not matter what Evergreen threw at him, he was going to get that info one way or the other.

But before the kinetic berserker could leap back into the fray, a familiar voice chimed in behind him, one he had not heard in many months. The mercenary twisted to the sound of the voice to find himself side-by-side with the man who he broke after a STRIKE base.

“Whoa. Long time no see, kid.” The merc said, turning his attention back to Evergreen. “I’d ask how you found me, buuut as I’ve told numerous others, I’m not very subtle about what I do.”

He could hear that Evergreen was beginning his warning, but War-Pulse was quick to fill Equilibrium in on the subject under his breath. “I’ve been hired to find and capture a metahuman with the potential to destroy this city and possibly the world by the name of Racheli. Super sequoia over here knows where she is or at least who she may be with, and I may or may not be trying to kick the crap out of him until he talks. If you got two minutes until your tall tin friend shows up, then you making yourself known is putting you in a lot of danger, so here is the plan. I’ll create enough of a distraction to buy you some time so you can lay low until you get your gundam ripoff. Then once you’re suited up we can tag team this flower until we pull enough petals to get him to talk, got it?”

Of course, Evergreen’s warning was to be expected. The meta was clearly a man of honor, he did not want to hurt anyone, and he certainly believed that people deserve at least a verbal warning before he resorted to violent methods. There was a lot War-Pulse could respect in a man like that, someone who stuck to their integrity and their beliefs even when they are on the wrong side. A shame they were on opposite ends of this conflict.

“Well, I’m glad you have such a high opinion of me!” Pulse called out, rolling one of his shoulders as he resumed a fighting position. “But let’s not change the subject here, the fight’s between you and me. And as I recall, you were about to show me how you get serious, so why don’t we get back to the main event!”

Pulse pushed off the ground in a massive advance, the ground below his feet buckling and crackling with the amount of force it took as the merc launched himself down the street, lunging at Evergreen in a blue, crackling streak. Of course, as soon as he made his advance, the wolves came upon him, the snakes slithering about his legs to tangle him up as wooden fangs bit into his arms. Every inch of ground he covered resulted in yet another wooden construct piling onto him, causing Pulse to disappear under the mounts of wood, vines, and foliage, until his momentum came to a full stop.

But that stop lasted for only a brief few seconds, but the force of nature could not be contained by such constructs. From the dogpile, hints of blue light began to eke out from holes between the piles of tinder and leaves. The air sizzled with power, energy crackling into the dusk night as the pile began to pulsate and hum. In a bloodcurdling cry, the resulting explosion rocked the streets, a massive kinetic shock wave that caused the very cement to ripple and tear from the sheer force of the blast. Evergreen’s constructs did not stand a chance, ripped apart by the explosion before they even had a chance to cry out in pain before their falsified lifehood was snuffed out.

When the dust cleared, all that was left was tinder, vine shreds, and the force of nature himself standing in a large crater. An adrenaline filled bloodlust in his eyes as he cracked his neck, his kinetic aura radiating off of him as he took a few steps forward.

“Now...” Pulse said, his voice holding back the excitement of the increasingly heated conflict “Let’s dance, you overripe vegetable! I got some harvesting to do!”

With that, he charged Evergreen again, leaping from the crater to try and collide with Evergreen further down the street.

The fight was only just beginning.

Two months after Bounty's Rest

Feeling his vision returning, Milo traced the pads of his fingers across the foundation of a soft, wooden floor beneath his frame. The light was still quite challenging to meet with tired eyes, his attention shifting back and forth from the thick, wooden bars keeping him within the cage he had so profoundly found himself in. The confines were an unexpected addition, but he would recall losing consciousness quite abruptly due to a well-planned ambush. Thinking back on the matter yielded little success however, as he could not see nor sense the attackers beforehand. A pain had echoed through the back of his head, followed by an immediate darkness blanketing sight and sound, forcing him to yield beneath the weight of force. Truly, what had struck him was strong enough to surpass his cellular regeneration and knocked him out, leaving the boy defenseless. It was no wonder then, that he found himself in a wooden cell not long after.

Peculiar as it was, Milo had only to peer beyond the bars to disregard what they had been made of. As if an image frozen in time, framed from an old movie dating back to the samurai, Milo's eyes recognized his surroundings as a quaint home of oriental birth. The warm, bright colors were enough to ease an otherwise troubled mind, but Milo would soon return to reality, his focus shifting to the bars steadily barring his path. Without an utterance leaving his lips, the boy sat up and leaned against the wall opposite the bars, breathing out as he found himself disarmed and without a chance for escape. Lucky then that he didn't have to wait long before the sound of footsteps snapped him back from getting too comfortable. "Good morning, sleeping kitten." A voice echoed through the otherwise empty home, the words belonging to an elderly woman who found great pleasure in the pipe between her lips. "For someone who can't die, you're sure easy to smack down." She continued, exhaling a puff of smoke with a not so unexpected smirk making its way to her visage.

"Who are you?" Milo returned, his eyes narrowing at the sight. A frail old lady stood before him, her height equal to that of his own. Indeed, this woman had not warranted any amount of intimidation, her appearance anything but menacing.

"Straight to the point, aren't you?" She shot back, taking another long puff of the pipe, breathing out the smoke before her oriental eyes found home on the prisoner. "You never were one for talking, after all."

"Do I know you?" For someone he had never seen before, this woman sure knew a thing or two about Milo. The way she bore herself, her demeanor and her patient act drew the situation quite intriguing. She knew more than she let on, and she enjoyed taking her time with spilling the beans, as it was.

"You do not." The woman continued in response. "I know you, though." She delighted herself on the pipe, breathing out smoke between sentences as she spoke. "I know that you're a weapon manufactured in 1984 by a Bionic Weapons Lab. Subject Name: M110, Male 110, as it was." She moved the pipe away for a second, gazing down to the shocked expression on Milo's face, her own grin widening as a result. "You were designed to be an assassin able to hide in plain sight and use innocence as concealment." The boy's silence clearly indicated his interest in what this woman had to say, encouraging her to continue. "You were made to look like your creator's son. Someone had issues." She chuckled softly, bringing the pipe back to her lips. "Things went south, the project was shut down, lab was destroyed, you went out on your own and started killing bad boys, am I right so far?" Milo offered her a faint frown in response, causing the elderly woman to chuckle once more before she continued on. "See, I have been looking into you for quite some time, Edge." Sounding out his alias, the woman could clearly see how Milo's frown deepened. "You have been a very, very bad kid, Milo." She finally dropped his name.

"What's it to you?" The boy returned, crossing his arms as he remained in place against the wall.

"Killing people left and right, it's not a path which will leave you whole for very long. My name is Matsumei, and I am going to offer you an ultimatum."

"I don't do well with those."

"Well..." Matsumei began, approaching the bars. "See, I've been where you are, Milo. You think that chopping people into hamburgers will end well. You think that it's making a difference, a good one. You're leaving an endless wake of blood behind you, and deem yourself justified in doing so. Why is that?"

"You seem to know everything about me. You tell me." Milo sighed, shaking his head slightly. He never expected to get into a philosophical debate with an old lady.

"The answer is quite simple. You've been hardwired to consider killing a first resort. You were born and bred in a test tube, kid. Killing was what you were made for. That's why I am offering you another chance, a new life." For the first time yet, Matsumei cracked what appeared to be a smile, though it was quickly smothered as the pipe returned to her lips.

"Why would I join you?" Milo considered his situation, but it was still a question he would like answered. With bars in the way, he didn't have anywhere to go.

"You were created as a weapon. Naturally, a weapon kills. You on the other hand, are a weapon with a mind. You can be taught anew, and you can be redeemed." Matsumei turned to lean against the wall as she spoke, breathing out smoke as she had displayed previously. "I'll show you a new path. The alternative is a maximum-security prison. Probably isolation, or the death penalty since you're technically not human so human rights is a bit of a grey zone with you."

"Nice options." The boy shot back, raising an eyebrow at the options put before him. "Join you, or die, pretty much."

"No." Matsumei shook her head. "Join me, or the legal system will deal with you. Either way, I can't have you out there and killing, anymore. See, any other person would probably have been left for the cops to deal with but I have been looking into you ever since Lost Haven, Milo." She elaborated. "In truth, there are a few reasons as to why you're in this position. Firstly, your creation didn't exactly leave you with many other options. Secondly, your skillset makes you a very plausible student."

"Fine." Milo finished, ascending to his feet and approached the bars.

"Oh, that easy to convince you?"

"The alternative's a deterrent."

"As it should be." Matsumei chuckled. "Well then, go on and leave that cell."

Raising his eyebrow in confusion, Milo placed his hand on the cell door and pushed it open. It had never been locked.

Four months after Bounty's Rest

Expertly blocking each strike thrown at her, Matsumei remained with a pipe in hand and her other maintaining a stretched out, defensive posture. Though Milo attempted his best to land a successful hit, the old woman danced between his inhumanly graceful movements as if she had a sixth sense, as if she could tell exactly what he was about to do before the boy brought thought into action. With her heartbeat maintaining a calm beat, the woman smoked her beloved pipe as her right hand countered and nullified Milo's strikes with rapidity and ease. After a short while, Matsumei moved forth with a powerful strike to Milo's chest, her palm sending him to his back as if a paper weight. "Again." The woman exclaimed, only having moved an inch throughout the ordeal before her imminent attack.

Milo clenched his teeth before jolting back to his feet and attempted to start the dance anew, his quick strikes which would have been far too fast for most easily dodged and blocked by Matsumei with a single arm. Yet again, and again still, and a fourth time, a fifth and on it went, Milo found himself thrown to the carpeted floor. Matsumei was a master of martial arts, her abilities far surpassing Milo who himself had been specifically designed for this. It was safe to say that her skills faded the mortal realm in their wake.

"Get up." The old lady commanded, tossing a bokken, a wooden blade, to Milo. "Let's try again." Despite the boy's new weapon, he had little luck in landing a strike on the woman moving as if she was wind itself, her middle and index finger extended with each strike to cancel her target's pressure points with fluidity. Each strike stole a large portion of energy from Milo as well dealing a respectable amount of internal damage which healed in turn, stealing even more energy in the process.

These sessions continued for a long, arduous amount of time. Milo found himself acquainted with the floor more than he'd care to share, his body only able to keep standing due to his mutation which Matsumei could end at any given moment with her godly martial prowess. Milo would however lie, if he claimed that Matsumei's gruesome training did not yield results.

Nine months after Bounty's Rest, Present Day.

Shadow, it was the name Matsumei had claimed long ago when she was still jumping on rooftops and keeping New York's streets safe. It was a name she could no longer hold onto, her age preventing her from prolonged endeavors in the crusade against villainy. Indeed, her overwhelming prowess stood far and beyond even Milo who had now grown exponentially thanks to her, but the woman had grown more static with age. Milo, with the option he had sealed many months ago, agreed to take her place on the streets. Calling Matsumei Sensei, the boy would hear her words constantly echo through his mind, not in a spiritual manner but rather through the mask he wore.

Though Matsumei's home was of a delicate, old oriental style, the woman had displayed yet another amazing skill in computers. Located within the Asian house hidden from sight beneath a tea shop, Matsumei possessed an impressive array of technological gadgets and screens allowing for full time surveillance of her progeny while he roamed the streets. Picking up Matsumei's old codename and her attire, Milo would continue the woman's legacy.

Armed with a High Frequency Electro Blade along with a matching knife, Milo, or Shadow, now deployyed a non-lethal variant to an otherwise powerful sword. Mimicking the slashing motions of an actual blade, the blunted edge of his high frequency sword left electrical shocks on his enemies, stunning and paralyzing them rather than critically wounding and killing a target. Following up on the promise he had made not to kill, Shadow also uses shuriken, or throwing stars, deploying the same kind of technology.

"You've got a mission!" Mitsumei exclaimed, lightly hitting Shadow in the back of his head as the boy was more than content with a cat on his lap and his eyes glued to the television.

"Fine..." He sighed softly, scratching Soy, the cat, behind her ears. He lowered his feet to the floor with a stretch, starting towards the armory and wasted little time before suiting up for the mission at hand. A common everyday robbery, something to get the blood going for the remainder of the night. With quick and graceful movements living up to his new name of Shadow, the boy hurried out of the hideout and tea shop, making his way into the night of New York.

@NeutralNexus @Athinar @FallenReaper

"...We probably should've expected him to be able to tear through them like wet tissue paper..." Gaia commented in the mind scape at seeing Pulse going on the rampage. "Well, here he comes. Oh, and as a heads up? If you get your butt kicked, don't bother blaming anyone else but yourself since YOU'RE the one who got him riled up."

"Gee, thanks for the bout of confidence, partner..." Evergreen thought back to her as he watched the merc launch himself into the air and descend on his position with the kind of ferocity more suited to a berserk viking warrior.

Jaden knew he should've been afraid...that perhaps he should've listened to Equilibrium's request and just done what was demanded of him. It would've been easier on everyone, and self-preservation was part of human nature...but Jaden was never one to turn his back on his friends and those he'd sworn to protect.

As such, filled with new determination, he swapped out all the weapons for hands again, and rose them all together, just in time to catch Pulse's latest attack, the force of which proceeded to shove him backwards along the ground hard enough that he had to dig his feet into the ground and hold on as he tried to withstand it. Two of his arms ripped themselves out due to the strain...but Jaden refused to budge.

His efforts were rewarded as he finally came to a stop. He glared up at Pulse through his mask, "Don't underestimate me, Mercenary..." With that, he leaped away from him and got in a fighting stance, raising both arms as he put one leg forward and pulled back one arm, leveling his gaze at Pulse like he'd seen in one of his self-defense tapes.

Jaden kicked off the ground, taking off with surprising levels of speed and agility as he leaped and started running on the side of a building before switching to another, building up ever-increasing momentum. As he neared Pulse's position, he leapt towards him and, while still in the air, he launched another bouquet of explosive roses towards him...only to follow up with a massive barrage of rapid-fire fisticuffs from the two oversized extra arms he still had.

Now, one would ask why go for a direct attack when that had already proven to be less than effective....well, believe it or not, the warrior actually had a plan in mind....and it had to do with his severed arms. As the attack went on in front, the two arms broken off by Pulse's previous attack suddenly twitched and came to life, breaking apart into swarms of various insects that began skittering along the pavement towards where Pulse was in the hopes of possibly holding him down and diverting his attention.

As this went on, Jaden leaped high into the air and rose an arm up, his two extra appendages raising up as well and twisting together like a DNA helix as the remnants from all his fallen constructs flew through the air to join them. The entire mess swirled and meshed together until it formed a giant fist several times Evergreen's size!

Straining to hold it up, his feet morphed into wing turbines and began spinning at high speeds, generating cyclones powerful enough to dig through concrete and blasting him high into the air. Angling himself, he reinforced the giant fist's density as he descended towards Pulse with such might that the winds alone made the surrounding rooftops buckle and shake, some even flying off as the makeshift rocket punch went for its target.

Overkill? Maybe on a lesser target, but the merc had already proven he could take a beating so this was actually called for.

The hours waiting to be allowed to leave was agonizing. Kayla’s throat still felt sore from where the man’s neck had been. She would have been out of the station a while ago, but with the crime rate increasing with the various gangs in Lost Haven, increasing their work rate, there were many crimes being reported and processed. At least that guy is in the same location, she thought, taking in everything that was in the main lobby area beyond the front desk. While her ‘incident’ was more of an inconvenience for her plans, it has now turned out to be beneficial. With her photographic memory, she remembered every detail of the desks, chairs, the shift schedule that was pinned to the cork board and, more importantly, the surveillance cameras. There certainly were a few more than she would have liked when she will infiltrate the place later, with the department being far busier than she had anticipated to ask ‘to see if something was there that was her friends’. Note to self: I need to make some sort of arrows that would knock out electrical systems.

Finally, her name was called up by the officer that had done the arrest. Acting nervous, she got up from her seat and began to follow him to one of the closed offices to the side. While her eyes were looking around to remember everything for the night, her thoughts had turned to the alleyway. Why did she freeze up when the guy almost killed her? She recalled that her kickboxing experience had removed the fear of getting hit or getting attacked as that’s something you would experience with training and any competition. But with something like a street fight where anything goes, the training would have helped overcome those obstacles. So why? Why would all that training disappear when her life was slowly escaping from her grasp. Her only thought was that when she was being attacked, her subconscious recalled the events back in Pasadena, where she was also fighting for her life from the gunshot wound. During this thought, she noted the signs for the evidence room as they turned right down another corridor and into the office. As both the officer and herself sat down in the chair, the questions started to come as she gave her statement. “So Ms Mason, can you recall the events from the beginning.”
---------

Compared to the evening when she came in, LHPD Central was quieter though this is because most of the last minute check ins for crimes during the day had come and gone. The evidence room was sealed from all sides, no windows lighting up the room inside as to prevent easy access to tamper any evidence. Luckily for Kayla, she wasn’t here to tamper it, only to look and document. From the women’s bathroom window on the second floor, the archer opened the window and scrambled in, taking in the wire from the grappling arrow that she used before. ”Good,” she whispered to herself, pleased that the new type of arrow had worked. While getting in was the easier of the tasks she had to do, there was still a lot to do and everything had to be done with stealth. Of course, all tasks she had to do with her bow in tow as to not give her presence away. This was the reasoning why before she carried on with her ‘mission’, she took the time to put on nitrile gloves and wipe down the surfaces she touched. If it worked for shows like CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, it should work here, she reasoned with herself.

Now she was in, she had planned out the following actions while here: get into evidence lock up, look for and examine the contents of the bomb wreckage to see if she can identify the components of the bomb used, silently incapacitate the guard that is on the holding cells, interrogate the man that had attacked her earlier and, finally, get back out. And all of that needs to be done without her being seen or recorded. Now that she was in the building, failure on doing any of those tasks dawned on her and she felt nervous about it. But there was no time for getting cold feet. She needed a lead on the Penose and the trail will go cold unless she can get the information she needs. Opening the bathroom door, she checked both ways for any cameras and straying eyes and, once everything was clear, she stepped out and begun her search for the evidence room.

As soon as she found the room, she noted the camera and the clerk at a desk that viewed the room. The camera wasn’t going to be a problem: she only needed to shoot the wire giving the camera feed. The clerk, however, was going to be a problem. As the feeling of cold feet was growing bigger, Kayla noticed the ventilation system going over the area she was needing to cross and a vent to access it was, fortunately, in the part of the corridor she was in. Unscrewing the vent with one of her arrows and placing the vent cover inside the ventilation system, she jumped and scrambled into it, placing the cover on the inside to cover her tracks. Hopefully, no one is too observant on the cover being placed wrong there, she nervously thought, shimmying herself through the vent with as little noise as possible. The good news when she arrived at the area where evidence lock up was was that the cover didn’t have any extra security, so getting into the room was easier than anticipated. The bad news was that her limited view was unable to see where the camera was, though that fix was sorted by cutting the wire in a way that she left the impression of rats chewing through the wire. She dropped into the room, verifying the lack of light coming from the surveillance camera. Making little time waiting to see if anything occurred elsewhere in the building, she began reading the labels of the evidence, looking for the date and time the bombing occurred. Once she found the box, she sifted through the bagged evidence, making sure she didn’t tear any of the bagging. The one thing she had noticed was fragments of curved metal placed in one bag. A pipe bomb? she questioned in her mind. It was a logical choice, seeing as a lot of the pieces for the construction could be bought in any hardware store with little repercussions. It was when she noticed some sort of plastic housing and some burnt electronic components. So there is some electronic component to the bomb. Before she got her hopes up from this revelation, she remembered that this would have been at the heart of the explosion, so any identification of the circuit board would be nigh on impossible. Cursing under her breath, she placed everything back into the box and got back into the vent, sealing it tight so no one would suspect anything.

With the information she could have gathered from the bomb being a bust, Kayla knew she had to ‘interrogate’ the man that was held up. This now led to one of the tensest parts of her being here. She knows she has to assault someone of the police so she could get to him. However, in her mind, it was a necessary evil she had to do in order to correct a bigger evil that occurred in other people’s lives. She did this for Mia and Mark, whose happy lives are forever destroyed by this act of evil. While it probably wouldn’t help with her personal demons, if it stopped other people facing the same demon then she would have to do it. But she still felt nervous as she peered at the security person on the holding cell cameras from the vent, trying to be as quiet as possible to undo the vent cover without it falling. Once done, she began lowering herself, slowly as to not raise the guard’s attention. Then, in one swift motion, she dropped to the ground and swung her compound bow like a club across the guard’s head, rendering him unconscious. Placing him in a metal locker to raise any immediate alarms, taking a while to shift a huge weight, she then proceeded to head to the holding cells the guard’s handcuffs in tow. Her presence will be known from the people in holding, but that was something that she couldn’t avoid.

Moving through the holding cells, with the majority of the prisoners asleep, she finds the man who attacked her. Like the majority of the prisoners, he was asleep in his cell. As quietly as she could, she unlocked the door and stepped inside. He slept with his head towards the bars, which made it easy for her to handcuff him to them. Once done, taking one last look through the holding cell to check if anyone else was there, she punched the guy in the face. As he snapped awake, arms trying in vain to clutch his nose, she glared down at him through the yellow-tinted glasses. ”Morning, sunshine,” she started, her voice a little deeper than usual to avoid him identifying her. ”Now you are going to answer my questions. If you don’t answer, I’ll drive one of my arrows through your fingers and rip out the nails. Why did you attack that woman?”

“Look, lady. I was just hired to take her out so I can fund my college tuition…” He replied, eyes glaring at her in defiance.

”That excuse won’t work a second time, especially since I heard you use it the first time.” She retorted, gagging him with a sphere she pulled from her pocket. Grabbing one of her arrows, she reached for his left hand. Grabbing the smallest finger, she pressed the tip of the broadhead under the nail and began removing the nail, him moaning behind the makeshift gag. A moment later, she threw the nail onto the floor, removing the ball from his mouth. ”Now that I have your attention and have shown you that I am serious with my threats, I am going to ask you again: Why did you attack that woman?!”

“For drug money! It was all for drug money!”

”That sounds like a more reasonable answer. Who sent you after her?”
---------
Quarter of an hour later and, unfortunately for the man, a few more finger nails later, the archer left the cell, locking the door behind her. The commotion from the interrogation had gotten the other prisoners riled up, so a swift exit was needed. Walking swiftly away, she placed the keys on the guard’s desk and climbed back into the vent. By now, the LHPD HQ was in a commotion as the police officers were alerted by the prisoners and, shortly afterwards, the now-conscious guard and the scene of the man’s bloody bedsheets and him being handcuffed to the bars. She managed to climb her way back to where she entered the ventilation system in the first place. The place was still rife with officers searching for who had done what they had done in holding, so her original escape was out of the question. The next possibility was through the roof, though a lot of climbing was needed to get there. She crawled through the vents until she found an unused office, window to the outside seen. Climbing out and dropping to the ground, she opened the window. Just as she was about to leave, her conscious kicked in. I hurt a police officer and injured one of the prisoners, hurting their case against him. Kicking herself as the police could come in at any moment, she reached for one of the pens of Officer Hembolt and scribbled a note on one of his sheets of paper.

The prisoner downstairs is connected to the bus bombing near The Hub. Everything is connected to an organization known as the Penose. Didn’t want to hurt the security guard, but they need to be brought down at any cost.

She hesitated as she was about to sign the message with her own name. Through her nightly escapades, she didn’t even consider who the person she is now is called. Thinking on the spot, her mind flicked through the archery terms and the term for the feathers on an arrow came immediately to mind.

… Fletch.

Finishing the note, she rushed out the window and to her bike. Without seeing if the police were around to read the bike’s plates, she started it up and speeds off into the night, her mind repeating the information that was told to her.
---------
”… In other news, the Lost Haven Police Department are investigating the break in of the headquarters in Sherman Square. The Chief of Police said that the investigation is a high-priority case and that the person responsible will be caught, though has not shared any information on what had happened. We will bring you more as soon as more information comes in…”

Like the gentle breeze of a summer wind, Shadow moved between the rooftops with weightless steps. Leaping onto a larger building, the swordsman climbed its length with haste, the fluidity of his movements barely human in their graceful execution. Feeling the night air brushing past his clothes with the accelerated speed, Shadow vaulted over the edge once he reached the rooftop, landing on his feet with catlike reflexes before he continued on. Many light breaths left his lips, muzzled by the mask covering his face, the obscuring shroud providing a link back to Tatsumei's voice. Hearing her instructions was an addition Shadow had grown used to throughout the months, as if a constant reminder of her presence. Accelerating an otherwise improved capability, Shadow's mask provided a highly technological selection which allowed for night vision, as well as providing a small digital map for traversal. Acquiring such an impressive gadget was explained as old acquaintances. Tatsumei was not alone in her endeavor to protect New York from its many threats. She was however the only remainder of a group once called The Trinity which was composed of her and two close friends, one of whom sat on impressive wealth.

As every story has its end, The Trinity found itself outmatched at one point. Tatsumei managed to correct the mistake at a later opportunity, but the damage had been done. She was the sole survivor, and the loss turned her towards a darker path, one similar to Milo's path of bloodshed. Finding her way back was a feat, but she managed the task and eventually ran into knowledge of he who would now be known as Shadow. It is said that everything is linked together, and thus the two intertwined paths into a singular objective.

Lowering himself to a knee, Shadow tapped the side of his mask and zoomed in on the sight displayed before him. Far below the building which acted as an eagle-eyed view, Shadow saw the target of his assignment. The Goldhill Bank stood tall and proud, though infested with robbers eager to bathe in the riches within. Shadow had to give credit where it was due. At the very least, these thieves had not targeted the bank during daylight. Such an action would have brought with it a new slew of issues and complications. No less for them.

Further tapping the side of his mask, Shadow's view shifted into what Tatsumei described as the Analytical Mode which clearly revealed how many threats resided within the building, and where they were. Armed with assault rifles, AK-47s to be exact, they would cause quite a hassle if Shadow engaged them blade to barrel. Indeed, their bullets would not put him down with ease, but a myriad of lead from all sides would acquaint him with the floor sooner rather than later.

Placing his foot on the edge of the rooftop, Shadow executed a leap of fate which would have shocked any onlooker, would he not have extended his left hand and fired a long, thin wire attaching itself to the bank's surface. Thought barely visible, Shadow's left bracer contained a very handy transportation device. It was hard to believe that he made ends meet without these trinkets.

Reaching the bank, Shadow flipped onto the roof with the wire quickly retracting to his bracer once it loosened from place. "In position." The boy's silent voice cracked through the night sky, vanishing with the incoming breeze.

"There's an entrance to your left." Tatsumei's response reached Shadow's ears, her illumination barely necessary as the door stood apparent for anyone who'd look. The thieves had used this way to get in, the stairs leading down into the back part of the bank. Police were already on their way due to the alarm, but Shadow had made it his objective to arrive before them. If he could deal with this issue first, no one would come to harm.

Making his way down the stairs, Shadow reactivated the Analytical Mode of his mask, the visor revealing his enemies through the walls. There were seven of them, five working on filling their bags while two remained stationary, ever vigilant lookouts. Silently moving along the walls, Shadow positioned himself around the corner. With two shuriken between his fingers, Shadow revealed himself a mere moment before expertly throwing the stars at the lookouts. Knocked out cold from the electrical impact, the path was opened for Shadow's entrance. Arming himself with another three throwing stars, one between each finger, Shadow hastily proceeded into the vault and dashed forth. Throwing the shuriken in a wide arc, they connected with the lightly armored targets focused on their task. Fluidly moving his hand towards the blade on his back, Shadow slid forward and spun around with a swing of his sword, the edge sending a powerful shock through the bandit before the remaining enemy met the same treatment at the end of Shadow’s circular slash.

The sound of sirens was now clearly audible outside the building, queuing Shadow’s exit. Hurrying up the stairs, Shadow threw himself off the roof and fired the wire from his left bracer to leave the area. It had been a clean job, one reliant on stealth. All the police had to do now was to apprehend the thieves who were all peacefully sleeping.

Location: American Museum of Natural History, New York City
Time: Late Afternoon

Ji stood outside the museum, phone and car keys in hand. When she got the text to go to this place, she figured it was something serious so she immediately changed and got into her car. Wearing a green dress with light green vines and leaves decorating it. Walking up the the long staircase, she took a moment to adjust and filter through the many scents in the surrounding area. When she finally adjusted, she began to sniff around, discreetly of course and found his scent. Her hips wiggled a bit, a way that would remind anyone of those dogs born with a very tiny tail, she lifted her head slightly again, smelling for general direction.

Smelling that he was around a bunch of people made her a bit nervous and her hips stop their wiggling . It was not a good idea to reveal that she was a werewolf like him in the middle of public with hundreds of ears listening, not to mention the cameras that are bound to be littering the place.

She followed the trail until she nearly bumped into the tour departing for the next exhibit. This was where the trailed ended, annoying as it was, but perhaps this is where he was. She began to look for him, using her sense of smell to try and find him. Her eyes landed on a male wearing casual pants and a polo shirt, seeing him talking to a girl.

Not wanting to be rude, she stayed in her spot, worry starting to work its ugly way into her brain when she saw Ben hunching over like he was in pain and being taken off somewhere. Warning bells went off in her head and she began to panic. If he transformed now he could be killed by hunters or some humans could get hurt. Struggle to get around or through the crowd she ended up losing him making her growl under her breath.

”Oh hell no, I am not about to lose him again.” She muttered. Walking away from the stupid crowd- yes stupid since they are just walking around talking and oh more talking instead of looking at the exhibits. Talk about almost no respect for history. She used her nose and found his scent again, but it was mixing in with a familiar scent.

Shit! He was transforming! With this thought running wild in her head she began to fast walk, without drawing attention to herself, after him. When she did find him, he was unfortunately already in his werewolf form and with the same girl as before.

"Bark, bark, bark!" With a determined stance, Mushroom's ears perked at the scent which reached his nose, a scent accompanied by a painful groan otherwise muzzled for those without canine senses. Only moments after his reaction, the pup whined pitifully and hid behind Skyler's legs, his large brown eyes looking in the direction of what could only be a threat.

"Mushroom?" Skyler's voice soothed the canine, his hand gently caressing Mushroom's back, his fingers running through the dog's fur. Safe was it to say that Skyler was unable to tell what had changed in the atmosphere surrounding them, though Mushroom's change in demeanor pointed towards an outcome which had otherwise passed over Skyler's head. Given how the dog clung to his owner for dear life, it was reasonable to assume Skyler's innocence in the matter. He had not scared Mushroom with an outburst of his powers, but something else was occurring within the museum's confines. Lowering himself to a knee, Skyler wrapped his arms around his dear companion in a loving embrace, scratching Mushroom behind the ears. "It's alright." The boy spoke softly, planting a gentle kiss on Mushroom's forehead. Ascending to his feet, Skyler took a few steps forward and looked behind him to see Mushroom remaining by his side. It was much better than the alternative, though the constant whimpering showed how scared the canine really was, his tail hanging low and his ears flattening in fear. A sense of comfort by his pack's side, that pack being Skyler, Mushroom stayed rather than bolting from place.

With a hand constantly placed on Mushroom's back, Skyler slowly progressed through the museum, ignoring the many stares coming his way. Part of him wanted to escape with Mushroom, but this turn of events could very well be Ben. Nothing had gone per plan so far, and waiting around did not yield any results. Recalling the instructions he had been given, Skyler could no longer stand around. Ben hadn't turned up, and if he did, they had missed each other. Skyler was not in the possession of a cellphone either, neither did he have anyone's number. Táph was nowhere to be seen, as an addition to the already complicated situation. Right now, only Skyler and Mushroom were together. Everyone else was scattered about, their location unknown.

As the boy and his trusty companion delved deeper into the museum, Skyler could note Mushroom's accelerated whimpering and added fear which had been put on the poor pup's shoulders. Now visibly trembling, Skyler and Mushroom had found themselves just past the Witch exhibit. One of the glass cases was empty, something it didn’t share with any other display in the room. Perhaps it was mere superstition, but given the situation at hand, nothing could be dismissed.

Apart from an Asian woman appearing in the distance, Skyler could not lay eyes on anyone else. The group had moved on to other exhibits. Mushroom's whimpering could be due to the magical forces in this room, as it was said that animals could sense such things. That could however be nothing but a myth. Either way, Skyler was more than prepared to believe in the supernatural. A look in the mirror was enough to clarify that.

Tracing his eyes across the room, nothing appeared to bother Mushroom more than what the poor dog had his eyes on, a door further away in the distance. That Asian woman was heading to that very point of interest as Skyler stood static, watching her while keeping an eye on Mushroom's development. He couldn't go further than this or Mushroom could bolt away at any moment. The canine was scared out of his mind, and now physically clinging to Skyler's legs, standing behind them. "Is something in there?" Skyler whispered quietly, furrowing his brows at the scene. Hopefully, no monster would pop out from that closed off room, but if it did, it was unlikely that any of the visitors would be able to fend it off. That woman could have a trick or two up her sleeves, but it was hard to tell. So far, Skyler could only assume his own capabilities. Despite not being able to control his powers, he'd have to do something if push came to shove.

"Mushroom." Skyler spoke, more assertively this time. Turning around, he kneeled and carefully placed his hands on the dog's cheeks. "Everything will be alright." Though the canine couldn't understand the words being uttered, animals could tell by the tone of a voice. Skyler's calm words did manage to calm the situation somewhat, but in truth, he had a hard time understanding why he was drawn to danger like this. For a while now, Skyler had acted against character and the only answer he had was preposterous. He assumed that if he wasn't human, perhaps these actions were caused by a natural desire which came with whatever species he was. While averagely intelligent, Skyler was quick on picking up hints. The rapid changes which had struck were not only physical. He found himself displaying more courage lately, and his otherwise careful demeanor had taken a backseat more often than he'd care to share. The boy found himself more aloof than ever before, and the change arrived with a tail and horns. Though the additions completely contradicted his personality, he found himself powerless to resist.

With a deep breath, Skyler took another step, approaching the distant door.

It was a nice restaurant, meat hung off the racks in the back as the smell whiffed through the air that only a Vampire could sense. Ever since his turning he liked his steak bloody, even though animal blood wasn't the same it still had a appeasing taste nonetheless. Going down smooth with a glass of burbon. Despite the mid afternoon dinner he didn't look out of place for the class of clientele the restaurant served. As he and Carol had a conversation to cover the current events that are transpiring around the Criminal Underworld.

It was clear, Miss Rachelli was still being targeted. The Merc War Pulse had been hired to find and likely bring her in. Most assuredly by the same people who instigated that mess at the Steel Mill some months ago, he heard rumors that her blood was special, something he wanted to look into. He also wanted to ensure none of his potential or current Enemies could lay their hands on her it was for that end that he had paid the Merc Flower to keep tabs on Miss Racheli; even if she couldn't find her herself one of those who adied her might know her true whereabouts, and eventually someone will come looking. Flower was one of his own Mercs under the Cowl who by now would have discovered her true allegiances, however it wasn't something that mattered as she was mostly someone to track the Cowls' ground movements as he situationed his men, and how they trust their faceless boss. Still Flowers' power set was useful when he needed her to apply force.

And as Carol spoke she informed him of the visit she recived from a strange visitor who called himself the Broker. A fellow who offered some kind of invitation, Carol inquired what his plans were yet the man, or being had no intetion of revealing them yet.

Broker entered the restourant, alone this time. He did not trust blueberry around expensive food. Sure he could afford it. But greed burned ever bring in him and losing money on his daughters endless eating was not on todays agenda. He smiled at Barron as he took a seat.

"I do apologize" He said. "I meant to catch you in Nevada." As he spoke, he snapped his fingers and got the waiters attention. A few whispered words and soon the entire place was being vacated but for a few select customers."Now. I also have to apologize about not being candid with your lovely wife. There is a certein protocol to my things, beloved better half or not." His voice was casual, his posture relaxed. But his eyes were keen and sharp as a finely sharpened blade.

"You match my Wife's description, down to the tie. Remember Mr. Broker my Wife is my Honor, keep that in mind, disrespect her and you deal with me. Now then, You had business?"[ Barron spoke with force, a brutality found only among certain Mafisos yet he applied it like a delicate vice.

"I did indeed." Broker said, clearly unphased by the sheer dominating presence of the Vampire. Unphased but not unimpressed. It was his understanding he was fairly young as far as vampires went yet he allready had such an presence. It would not do to make an enemy out someone with such potential. And best of all was that the man, vampire or not, reeked of greed. Bottomless, violent and dark greed. Not the petty thirst for wealth. No this was the real deal. He produced a few papers from deep within his suit. He layed it infront Barron. "These are all high end private estates, casinos, hotels and other properties that you have yet to put under your control." He said matter of factly. "I own a large part of the board of construction in the state of Nevada. I was there when the City of Las Vegas was made reality." He smiled broadly, showing rows of sharp teeth. "It was a lucrative affair. But I have moved on. They can all be yours, I will also provide you with a list of name of people whom I got under my thumb. People who will not bite or bark, but kindly roll over for you."

Barron looked at the papers, somewhat interested but he himself not needing the properties that lay within, still if a good deal can be made he could easily turn a meaty profit. "And why." Barron said as he placed his silverware down, "Would I acquire these properties? The money is all well and good, and could certainly finace more of my operations but it's not something I particularly need. No. I already control the majority of the city Government, placing these under my control only places gold in my coffers, it does not directly advance my goals. So tell me, what strings do you have attached to them?" Barron spoke coldly as he drank from his glass. The ice clacking reverberating through the empty resturant.

"Well. If you do not want them, there are others that do. People who have interests in taking that precius control from you. People like the Cowl. This is not a threat mind you, this is the reality of the transactions that we must make in life." He said with a shrug and nodded to the waiter as he served a bottle of red and a tall footed glass. Broker waited for it to be poured.

"I have all eternity."

"But I don't want to do that dear Barron." He stapled his fingers and leaned forward. "The strings so to speak. Is in my real offer. To long has the many darker forces gotten in eachothers way. Fey and Vampires, Demons and Liches. We are primal forces in essence. We are driven by Greed, lust, unchecked passions and boundless ambition." He said as he sipped. "It is time we move into the 21st century. I am not speaking of petty criminal networks or becoming a politican in all but name. I am speaking of the driving force that govern all things from war to handouts. Money. Capitalism. Corperations." He let the word linger.

"The only one who can call me dear. Is my wife, and you don't look a thing alike." Said Barron while he sliced into the final

[color=ed1c24][/color]"No. No we don't. For one, I look a mess in a dress as they say. But, on to buisness again. You can control a city. But while you do, organizations like The Syndicate are global and ammassing resources and strength in capital and influence. While I sit and figure out a new scheme, some good for nothing cape or wayward magician will stumble upon a fey plot and fuck it all up for everyone. It is time for "evil" to look to the future. Towards synergy."

"And this, Synergy includes what, some Cabal of Evil." It greatly depended upon what the goals of this group was, a team of evil of sorts. However Barron couldn't deny that keeping tabs on his competition was a good thing, benefical even to his own operations; yet limiting himself to another group and their rules might not sit well with his own temperment and style. Still as he thought even for a while it'd do good to keep his enemies closer as the addage goes. "There'll be some discussion with my Wife before I accept this offer, assuming this joint Cabal of evil doesn't just include me and my Wife."

"You trust your wife Barron. And I know you two do everything together more or less. She is welcome. And please, Cabals are so oldfashion. Consider this a.... Board of directors."

"A Directerate Of Evil, no, hold on. A Directerate of Deviants! Hmm, too flashy?" Barron said jokingly gaging Brokers' response.

He smirked. "Evil Inc. may be a bit on the nose. But its what I call it when nobody is listening. I am a sucker for the old 60's secret agent stuff." Broker said as he sipped his wine. "Besides, what power is greater then that of Corperate interest in this day and age..."

"Aside from Nuclear Weapons, Magic and My Dashing Good looks, My Wife. Quite frankly she's scarier than I most times. Especially when she's shopping, I almost feel sorry for the shop keepers. That, was a joke."

Broker chuckled. "Ah, and here I was gonna sympathize. Then again. My daughter ate her mother. So. Do we have an understanding? As long as your wife agrees that is."

"We might, once I run the proposal over with her, and assuming your Daughter stays away from my Buffets. Any one who can eat their Mother must have quite the appetite."

"I wouldn't want you to go bankrupt. I will tell her to stay away." Broker laughed.

"I'd just foot you the bill. You could probably pay for it." Barron matched whatever smile Broker had on his face as he signaled the wiater for his bill.

Rune stared up at the tall, wooden gate that was very out of place among the stone and metal portals and valves that were Manhattan. He ran his finger along the grain of the wood, reveling in the feel of old oak that somehow remained as prestine as the finest gems. The wood was so polished he could see the light break and reflect on the surface of it. He swallowed and stepped past it. He felt the threshold immediately, a strange and sucking feeling as his magic was drawn out of him. Fey magic.

“Rune.” A voice rang out from deep within the building. It was harsh, unforgiving and predatory. Mocking to he noted. The walls here were all wood and small branches stuck out of part of it. Some spread out over the vaulted ceiling, wrapping together with some on the opposite side. The smell of earth, fresh and damp, assaulted his senses along with lavender, roses and sunflowers. He groaned inwardly. It was her of all the gatekeepers. It was The Mare.

He walked further into the warped reality of Faerie real estate. Past rooms with such charming names as “Mandragon Plant” and “Dragon Roost”. The Fey here were beholden to no master but themselves, and made a business importing from all the realms. They also held the only gate between Elfheim and the good ol US of A. It took him 20 minutes of walking through winding corridors until he reached another room with a high vaulted ceiling.

Sitting on the surface of a ebony desk was a creature that was only vaguely human. Her features were soft and if you weren’t to picky you might consider her an attractive creature in the traditional sense of body proportions. The humanity stopped there however, her hair, shock white, moved like tendrils and hung suspended in the air in every which way. Her forehead erupted into two golden horns that curved back forward again. Her eyes were without pupils and milky white. What could have been described as sultry lips were pulled into a grimace as she saw Rune in person.

“You have no business here, Champion.”

“I am here to see the king.”

"The King doesn't wish to be disturbed"

“I am here to see my king. You either open that gate or I will force you to open it.”

“Your King?!” The Mare cackled in amusement. “Since when did you consider yourself him your king, Mortal.” She hissed as she slid of the desk to walk towards him. “After or before you buggered him?!” She implored. “Before or... After you abandoned him?” She prodded him with those words. Delighting in how Johans eyes widened marginally at the suggestion

"Look. Johan. You had your fun. You were given everything. You chose this world. This is where you belong. Not in Elfheim, Not among the immortal, the better folk. You will drag with you filth and problems. You chose this world. You take care of it

“I didn’t abandon anyone! Ten fucking years I did his bidding. I play the good boy part. I killed for him. I bled for him!” Johan gripped his spear in both hands and aimed the speartip at the creature. “I WILL SEE HIM” As he screamed, that rage turned feral inside his heart. A dark and nasty side of him, fed up with abuse, with running ragged to protect others that never gave a damn. HIs runes flared up with power, his spear crackled with the latent and pent up anger of pure arcane mixing with unstable emotions."Do you know who I am!"

"Yes. The little stray that was given everything and drown himself in cheap mortal booze" The Mare seemed to grow in size, her hair began to spread and lengthen until tendrils went all the way to the wall on either side. Her jaws seemed to unhinge and her eyes bulge in a way that made Johans stomach to turn. He gritted his teeth and pushed back.

“Let. Me. The. Fuck. Trough.”

“"Look. Johan. You had your fun. You were given everything. You chose this world. This is were you belong. Not in Elfheim, Not among the immortal, the better folk. You will drag with you filth and problems. You are nothing Johan Winters. You were a handsome plaything and a good soldier. That is all you ever were.” Her words slapped him like a thousand bricks and he wavered. That vile poison of her predatory tone of voice fed his resentment and shook his resolve. He began to falter. The light dimmed.

“I need… help. This world… is in danger.” He growled even as he stared at his feet. Defeated by mere words. He felt so heavy. So very heavy.

“You chose this world. You take care of It” The Mare snarled, still in her nightmare form. “Now leave. You are lucky I just ate.” Her threat lingered in the air as he left and he could hear her start to laugh coldly at his retreating back. "That's right little toy. Move on back to the box you call home." He could hear her laughter all the way to the door out into the street.

Penthouse, some time later.

He stared down at the tumblr of whiskey he nursed in his grip. He stared out of the window onto the streets below. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus. But all he heard was the damn laughter. He leaned forward, resting his forehead and forearm on the cool glass as he drank a sip of the expensive liqour. "Fuck" He growled and swept the rest. "FUCK!" He smashed the tumblr against the wall as he tossed it, glass shattering and shards spreading out on the floor together with droplets of the expensive booze.

It was going to be a long night....

Crown Ridge, Maine

Two nights ago, some communities within Crown Ridge were rocked by yet another officer involved shooting of an unarmed black man. While not a common occurrence in the city, the shooting added to the growing tally of such occurrences within the country, and as a result, tensions have been at a breaking point. At this time, little was known about the events that lead to the death of 23 year old Jamaal Wallace. In fact, there were conflicting reports about the fatal encounter. Some reports claimed that Wallace was complying with police at the time of the shooting, and other reports claimed that the police believed that he was reaching for a weapon.

However, the only thing that was known for sure was that yet another young man was dead, and nobody could give an honest answer as to why.

“Hands up! Don’t shoot!” The crowd chanted in unison as it slowly marched from Sherborn Park into Salem Square.

The protest had started out as a small gathering of a dozen or so people carrying signs and chanting slogans against police brutality and the targeting of minorities in the city. However, over the course of the night, the crowd had swelled and now several hundred people clogged the streets, blocking the roads as well as access to hospitals and other critical services. And despite the elevated emotions, the protest remained peaceful as the crowd moved through the city. The demonstration had not gone unnoticed. Several local and national news stations had sent teams to cover the protests. The news vans were scattered throughout the area, and there were several news choppers hovering in the skies overhead, recording the demonstrators as they marched through the streets.

From a nearby rooftop, Lyger stood vigilant over the protest. He had seen how quickly things could escalate when emotions were running so high. He was well aware of other protests, just like this one turning violent all across the nation. The images of the carnage that the demonic serial killer and his “family” had caused in Lost Haven at a protest much like this was still seared into him mind, and he was determined that something like that would not be repeated in his city.

For the most part, with the exception of a couple of scuffles that were quickly broken up by either the police or other protestors, the demonstration had been largely peaceful. However, unlike the previous night, there was a palpable tension in the air, almost a heavy, uneasy feeling that the peaceful nature of the protests would not continue.
It was not long before those uneasy feelings became a reality. Suddenly, the sound of breaking glass could be heard as several of the protestors tossed a trash barrel through the front window of a small time electronics store. Others followed suit, smashing their way into neighboring shops and stores. It wasn’t long before looting and robbing wasn’t good enough, and some of the rioters turned on one another.

“Here we go.” Lyger said to himself as he left his perch and descended into the burgeoning chaos below.

He guided himself down to the sidewalk near the businesses that were being looted. However, he immediately saw that there were more pressing matters at hand. Some within the crowd had turned on one another. Lyger set his sights on a pair of thugs who had a young woman down on the ground and were kicking her repeatedly while yelling obscenities at her.

Lyger bounded toward the two thugs, hitting the first with a stiff kick square n the chest, which sent the man flying several yards before crashing in a heap on the pavement. The other man took a wild swing at him, which Lyger easily dodged and hit him with a roundhouse right, but before the man could collapse to the ground, Lyger grabbed him, and with a shoulder toss, sent the man crashing hard to the street. He went over to the young woman who had been battered and bloodied, and offered her a hand.

“Get to a hospital. You’re going to want to get that looked at.” He told her, motioning to a large gash over her right eye. The woman nodded and gingerly began making her way away from the rioters. Lyger had just turned his attention to a group of looters who were tearing apart a mom and pop toy store, when the Crown Ridge riot police began disperse the crowd. So instead, he fired a grapnel line from his wrist gauntlet and took again to the rooftops, where he might go unseen by the city’s finest.

Angel nodded, listening to War-Pulse's explanation. So that's what was happening. Some Meta was extremely dangerous and volatile, and Evergreen wouldn't give up her location. Seemed refreshingly straightforward, compared to what happened three months ago.

Looking around the now-destroyed warehouse, Angel spied a service ladder to the roof, and dashing off, as soon as War-Pulse blasted away, he made for the ladder to the roof. Pulling himself up two rungs at a time, he quickly made it to the second-story roof, scrambling to his feet on the flat concrete of the warehouse rooftop. The hole was large, and it took up quite a bit of space, but there was enough room to let Angel run to the opposite side of the building, giving him a clear view of the fight.

They seemed to be keeping their fight in the nearby area, for now, at least. That'd make it easier for Angel to join in when Sherlock arrived with the ATD. At least something is going right for me. Keeping an eye on the fight, and making sure to stand away from the edge of the building, Angel called Sherlock on their secure line.

"Hey, what's the hold up? There's a fight going on and I'm still squishy lil' ol me."

Sherlock sighed exasperatedly. "Let's just say I ran into an... incident."



Sherlock transferred over to the system in a blink of an eye. It was nothing for him to go through backdoors, cover his trace signature, and take over the ATD. Isolating it from intrusion, he jarred it into motion, casting off the sheet that covered the mech. Walking forward from its' charging station, Sherlock pushed a button, and the garage door rolled up, letting Sherlock onto the streets. There weren't any eyes on the garage, especially not at this time of night, in its' little nook behind an apartment building, letting out into the alley. Taking a running start, Sherlock leapt into the air, activating the jump jets, flying high, and landing on the roof of a fairly tall apartment building. Taking a second to charge the jets, Sherlock was able to hear quite a few of the inhabitants of the building wake up, startled by the building's sudden shaking. And as quickly as he had landed, he was gone, blasting off into the night sky.

Rach’s feet smacked the ground, her legs pushed her along and at a clip superior to a human’s normal stride. It wouldn’t take her long to get there at this pace. When a strange noise caught her attention, her head turned backwards. She frowned when a small, building hopping object darted between the second and third story ones before vanishing from sight upon landing. Her eyes tightened in confusion. She gradually slowed through she was several blocks ahead.

If she hadn’t had binocular ability to zoom in and examine the vehicle, realizing it was a fucking ATD, she might’ve never paid attention at all to it. Lost Haven kept getting weirder and weirder by the moment.

Without much thought she jerked to the side, her mind triggered her magnetic ability through the metal in her soles. She then leapt onto the nearest steel building. Her boot bottom instantly stuck fast to the surface and allowed her to scale it in a diagonal trail. Rach pulled onto the roof just a few blocks in the ATD’s path. Her arm gestured upward causing one of the roof’s steel beams to screech and twist upright, likely smacking into the mech’s right ankle.

Sherlock had been out of the garage for precisely thirty two point eighty five seconds when he got batted off course by an errant steel beam that appeared to just leap out at the mech. Correcting his course almost immediately, and landing hard on the building’s roof, Sherlock scanned the area for the source of the attack. He found it within seconds, a woman standing on the roof, and making gestures with her arm, much like someone pantomiming an action.

Following her with most of the cameras on the ATD, Sherlock stood there, inquisitively gazing upon the Metahuman. There was something different about this one, Sherlock began to think. Her temperature was several degrees lower than normal humans’, in a range that would be lethal to most. However, he did not have enough data to make any conclusions, only the random appearance, low temperature and strange pantomime.

>Fact: Metahuman has attacked this unit > Fact: Aggressor seems to have control over either metals or magnetism. >Conjecture: A Metahuman with such abilities would risk significant harm coming to this unit and Angel’s ATD. >Recommended Course of Action: Diplomacy or fleeing.

> Begin Dialogue and Analysis of Metahuman_friendly.Discourse

From the loudspeakers on the outside of the suit, a pleasantly British voice came, sounding suspiciously like that one English actor, Benedict Cumberbatch. ”Hello, miss. Might I ask you why you have hit me with an I-Beam?”

“Great, a talking tincan.” Rach blurted out, her expression unsure what to think as she continued. “Well, it seemed like the only way to get your attention and ask where the fuck you’re heading. Usually, when I see a walking metal suit that looks like a walking weapon, my alarm bells go off. That means one of two things…”

She held up one finger for each point she made, “You’re going to cause some trouble for someone or two, something is going down and it’s not going to be good for anyone. Considering you’re heading the same direction I’m heading, I’m going to bet it has something to do with that large, destructive fight up ahead.”

Sherlock was mildly surprised by the assumptions she had leapt to upon their first meeting. So she was quite jaded and aggressive to the unknown or mysterious. That little piece of information added about 2.5 % to the total personality analysis that Sherlock was currently running. Not enough to base a Psych File on, but enough to gain a foothold in a discussion with this stranger.

While Sherlock was running the Personality Analysis, he was also performing a secondary task that only required a connection to a local woman’s wifi and Google images. Taking several pictures of her costume, Sherlock found that the mysterious Metahuman was not a known hero, vigilante, or villain. Interesting. He’d have to archive the thought threads and audio logs for review when further investigating this individual.

”Yes, it does have something to do with the fight up ahead. However, I don’t know if you are trustworthy, so I must keep silent on this matter.” Sherlock did not have any illusions that she would take this well; persons of a combative temperament don’t usually find mistrust very endearing.

“Nice to know a bot isn’t completely stupid. The bad part, since I don’t know you then letting you head up there puts a friend of mine at risk. Something I’m not going to allow.” Rach said then twisted her arm up causing the beam that tried to hobble the mech earlier coil about and lash out at the machine’s back, in hopes of bring him down in one shot.

As soon as the I-beam began to twitch, Sherlock’s mind began to overclock itself, cutting off any humanesque thought threads, and began processing things five times faster than he normally did, which came close to twice the speed of human thought. The world outside the ATD began to slow down to a leisurely pace, with one second passing for every 5.6 milliseconds.

>I-beam: Animated? Threat.
>Action: Slash in half with DMS, then flee
>Execute

With the grace of an inhuman dancer, surprising for such a large mech, Sherlock activated the DMS, diamond-edged chainsaw popping out in half a second, whirled around, slicing the twitching I-beam in half. Knocking the two pieces aside, Sherlock unfolded the Hellbeast Model 18 (HM-18) from its shoulder plating, while running forward towards the edge of the roof, charging both the laser and the Pegasus jump jets.

Rach growled when her attack had been stopped in its tracks. Her teeth gritted and her expression glared, her eyes pure black under her mask through the mech couldn’t see it. She rushed forward with her fist reeled back as she manipulated the bicycle chains on her neck. They liquified then slid across her surface, their material glided across her shoulder then her arm until it coated her hand into a metal glove. Her skin glistened in the moonlight through it moved more like skin than a gauntlet.

Her reflexes were faster than her thought process when she performed a sloppy upper cut into the mech’s gut.

>Target: Rushing this unit
>Appears to be baseline human? w/Metahuman abilities.
>Action: Allow target to strike, and then knock unconscious
>Light blow to the head should suffice
>Execute

Sherlock allowed the target to strike the ATD’s midsection, but as soon as she had, he hit her on the top of the head with a karate chop. It had just enough measured force to knock any normal human unconscious without killing them, although cracking their skull was an issue if they had brittle/weak bones.

Rach’s eyes widened as she reacted, much slower than she wanted, to the chop downward on her head. Her mask being the only metal closest to her skull and able to protect, she focused on manipulating that. The mask hitched up revealing her lower jaw, her nose and gradually her whole face to defend her skull from the blow. It smacked against it with a loud bang but merely dented the metal surface slightly.

“FUCK!” Rach snapped as the metal once more slithered back to her face when the mech lifted his arm upright. She pulled her fist back for another swing, her last left a slight indention in the armor but seemed to affect him very little. Her palm faced down then sudden the metal roofing, namely the material underneath his feet, started to shake and rattle. In moments, the place the mech was standing on ripped up and shoved him backwards putting up a thick wall between him and Rach.

>Fact: Target is stronger than human norm
>Fact: Target has quicker reaction times than human norm
>Updating Target profile
>Plan Formulated based off data
>Execute

Sherlock aimed at the corner of the building at a 50-degree angle with the HM-18, and firing, he swept the laser across in a line, shearing off a good quarter of the roof, and quite a bit of the top floor’s western wall. Firing the charged jump jets, Sherlock leapt over the steel wall the Metahuman had constructed, and just as the roof began to fall to the ground, he pointed the Pegasus Jets down, and aimed his foot at the Meta. Rocketing down towards her, his foot made contact, slamming her down to the ground.

Rach jumped instantly to avoid the laser clipping her feet off. Her figure curled then jerked back down and expected to smack upon solid ground. That didn’t help. Instead, the roof edge tilted then crumbled downward to the alley below. She tried to catch her balance only to find her footing slipping away from the roof’s surface and her form tumbled backways. The huge ass robot didn’t pause when she saw him rush at her then pop on his jet, intending to bounce on top of her.

The hell she was going to let that happen, Rach thought in annoyance. Her magnetism immediately kicked in but instead of latching upon the steel building to stop her fall, she repulsed from it. She stared to flip in mid air just when the mech’s first foot reached her. Crunch! Her foot slammed into the metal and left a heavy dent, disrupting the bot’s aim.

>Fact:Target has disrupted aim of foot
>Fact:Target stronger than last assessment
>Updating Target Profile
>Modifying plan
>Executing

When the ATD’s foot was deflected, Sherlock didn’t stop the boosters. In fact, he continued to boost, while forming a fist with his right hand. Using the momentum of his downward boost, he punched the target, sending her flying downwards.

Quickly changing the mech’s course, Sherlock managed to angle himself to a shorter building’s roof, one about half the height of the skyscraper that he had just knocked the target off of. As soon as the target hit ground, and was covered in rubble, Sherlock scanned for life in the crater, which he found. So the target was also MUCH tougher than the human norm. This Metahuman was proving to be interesting.

Running off, and leaping from building to building, Sherlock restored his human-esque higher thought codes, and stopped overclocking himself, getting a moment to think. This was bad. He had to warn Angel, this Meta could seriously threaten him, if pushed far enough.

Sherlock was beginning to form a theory about her abilities, but even though he didn’t have the data to even make a conjecture, he allowed himself to flag a single thought on a ‘whim’, a human notion of irrationality.

>The targets’ abilities scale to the threat? Investigate

Coming near to the battle between War-Pulse and Evergreen, their fight causing explosions of dust, holes in buildings, and quite an impressive amount of property damage, Sherlock landed on what little remained of the warehouse roof, and opened the cockpit, welcoming Angel inside.



Climbing in the mech, Angel asked Sherlock, ”What ‘incident’ could possibly delay you when you’re in my baby?”

”Well, there was a fairly powerful Metahuman with magnetic manipulation and abnormal strength and toughness. I have the info all recorded in my thought logs and my video files.” Angel simply sat there for a moment before strapping himself in, shaking his head. He wouldn’t ask, he wouldn’t ask, ”... And she’s headed our way.”

Leaning forward, Angel indulged himself in a brief headdesk by slamming his forehead into the piloting console, sighing. ”I knew it, I goddamn knew it.” Sighing, he jumped off the roof, and onto the street below, approaching the battle between Evergreen and War-Pulse which still raged on.

Patching himself through to Trent’s personal comlink via his Metahuman ability, Angel spoke briefly, and got to the point quickly.. ”Metahuman, apparently on its way. Metal manipulator. Trade enemies?”

After I had been thrown into what must have been some sort of portal, I landed on a hard, cold cement floor. Once I had recovered from the fall, I realized that I was now in an interrogation room. After struggling for a few minutes to wiggle over to the nearest wall, I finally was able to prop myself up against it. Although I knew it would not work, I again tested the bonds that restricted my legs and arms. And when that failed, as expected, I started to wonder how I could escape. How could I get out of these bonds if I cannot break them with my superhuman strength?

Then an idea hit me. Maybe, if I were to activate my power nullifier, the process that my body would undergo in order to make me look entirely human might at least free my legs. At least that would be a start. While I was trying to locate the ‘on’ button on the nullifier, the clicking sound of a shutting door made me snap my head up to see what or who had just entered the room.

Sitting in front of me was a nine-tailed fox. Its gaze was locked on me, as if it were there to watch after me or something.

“Great, they even have a team pet.” I said aloud.

“I’m not the team pet.” I heard a woman’s voice speak in my head as the fox stood up on all fours and began approaching me.

“A fox that can talk inside my head is not any better.”

Once the fox had gotten near me, its shape began to change. Some sort of red, orange, and yellow clothing began creeping up its front arm, which had what looked like a device similar to my nullifier. After a few seconds, the fox had transformed into a human, although she still had fox ears and the nine tails. From her appearance and the costume that she was wearing, I could tell this was the same girl who had opened the portal that teleported me here.

Momentarily, the woman peered back towards the one-sided glass that probably shrouded the rest of the metahumans who had kidnapped me. Then she took hold of my mask and yanked it off.

“What the hell?” I cursed as she discovered my identity, or at least what my face looked like.

“Um, guys.” Firefox said as she glanced back at the glass, “I think we have a problem. I don’t think this is that Black Widow villain.”

“Oh, I wonder what gave you that idea? Maybe my blonde pony-tail! Or my brightly colored costume! And aren’t respecting secret identities like one of the most sacred values of being a superhero? You can’t just go around unmasking people.”

“Oh, its Vol!” I heard Talus’ voice as the metal man entered the room, who was followed by Odysseus, the Son of Osiris, and a third man who I never seen before. He towered above the others by at least a foot, if not more. But that was not what made this man stand out from the others. Instead, it was that he had an elephant-like face, much like how some of Doctor Diplodoc’s allies had animal-like heads.

“Vol?” Firefox asked her teammate, “When have you seen her before tonight?”

“Oh, ‘Siris and I saved her from some sort of tentacle sea monster thing a few days ago.” Talus explained, “I must not have been able to recognize her sooner because she’s less top heavy than I remember.”

“Of all the possible reasons why you couldn’t recognize her, that’s the one you chose?” Firefox rolled her eyes at her teammate.

“’Siris can back me up.” There was a short pause as their three other teammates turned their attention towards the Egyptian-themed, bird-headed man.

I am not going to humor you with that answer, the Son of Osiris communicated telepathically. After he ‘spoke’, the Son of Osiris took his staff and tapped it against the floor. As soon as he did this, the bounds that had restrained me dissipated into the air. Once those bounds were gone, I sprung to my feet, snatching my mask out of Firefox’s hand and pulling back over my face.

I guess you’re free to go now. The Son of Osiris said in my (and I assume everyone else’s) head.

“You just want me to walk out of here as if nothing happened? You all just kidnapped me. What would stop me from turning you all in for kidnapping?”

The man, who I had tried to incapacitate back on the rooftop, took a step forward in front of his other teammates before speaking. “Well, if you were to try to bring charges of kidnapping against us, we could easily out you as a metahuman.”

“You all seen my face, but you don’t know my name.”

“Well, we technically have the right to face our accusers in courts, so that’s not a problem.” Odysseus responded to me, “And even if it were, the kid here could use his computer mambo jambo to find your identity.”

“Let’s see.” Talus said as he must have been consulting a computer in his suit. “Searching through profile pictures and matching them with her face, it appears her name is Aubrey Adkins. And she’s a…oh my. I’m definitely saving that picture to my hard drive.”

What we really mean is that we are sincerely sorry for trespassing on your privacy. Is there anything we could do for you? The Son of Osiris tried to get back control of the situation.

“I know. Why don’t we invite her to join our little team! She matches the mythology theme that we’ve got running here. Plus, Kyra always complains about being the only girl on the team.” Talus proposed to everyone.

“Really?” Firefox, whose actual name was Kyra, complained to Talus, “I thought we were supposed to only use handles here!”

“Welcome to the ‘my secret identity has just been revealed’ club.”

So, what do you say?

“Why would I ever join a group of people who just kidnapped me?”

“It would be nice having another girl around here…” Firefox muttered in order to sway my opinion.

“Fine! But I’m not officially joining your band of super friends until after I decided that you all are not weirdos!”