"Ngh... nghhh... what in the name of... where am I? How long has it been..." Katarina came to, bound as she was by hand and foot inside some black abyss, a void that seemed to stretch all about her. Well... not all about her. She could tell she was standing on something hard, something warm and wooden on the flesh of her bare feet, with the odd splinter digging into her heels. She was bound in a sarcophagus, that was it. She remembered dimly the events that brought her into this sarcophagus - the battle with the thrice-damned Grail Knight, the flames that engulfed her body as she screamed her defiance in the face of certain defeat, her broken form carried secretly by Franz into the darkest chambers of the Tower of Spires, even as it crumbled to dust and splinters around them. And then... she slumbered. It must have been centuries, she thought, as she looked around aimlessly in her little wooden box. Closing her eyes and forcing her vision to twist and change to that of the vampire, she opened her eyes to see the life signs of what seemed to be a crowd of smallfolk standing about her, on all sides. Frowning, Katarina reached out and touched the lid of her sarcophagus - it was sealed tightly shut, by something that wasn't about to move in a hurry. Trying to calm the rising tide of panic, Katarina began to murmur under her breath to herself. "Okay, Katarina, don't panic, whatever you do. Think... there must be some reason as to why you're surrounded by people in a little wooden box. Maybe they're worshippers? Maybe they need me to tell them to open this damn thing up so I can finally return to the world? Hm... let's try that." Shuffling slightly as she moved as best she could inside the coffin, Katarina rapped her knuckles of her left hand on the interior of the sturdy oaken lid. She waited about half a minute, and then did so again. There was no response. Looking down at her bindings, her undead heart skipped a beat - of course, when the Grail Knight had thrown whatever it was that had, well, to all intents and purposes, just about burned her to mist, it of course burned everything. Even if they were worshippers, they'd probably all die of heart attacks or something... not to mention the bindings weren't the easiest to tear apart. She struggled and struggled, but her blood-starved muscles were simply too weak to do anything. How embarrassing, the old terror of Eastern Europe, the ruler of what was the finest Blood Court in the lands, now reduced to struggling to get out of an oak box... Her rage built and built, and with it the deadened adrenaline began to course through her torpid veins, until... Snap.
Her binding about her hands had broken. Blood was a secondary fuel, adrenaline could get her by. She wrenched her legs apart, snapping the bindings about her ankles, and then she finally stood properly, instead of simply being tied in place. It had been an awful long time... placing her hands against the lid of the coffin, she tested the strength of whatever lock was barring her exit. Around her, the crowd of smallfolk seemed to not notice her struggles - either that or they were too busy admiring the coffin to notice, neither of which would surprise her, given the average attention span of smallfolk such as them. The peasants weren't a bright lot, but they were resolute; they claimed she was the best ruler they'd had - at least to her face - and Neuhausen had prospered under the Red Reign: something that made the pill of defeat even more the bitter to swallow. Grunting with the effort required, Katarina shoved with all her undead might against the lid of the coffin, which flew away... smashing the pane of glass that comprised part of the container in which her coffin sat. The smallfolk about her began to scream and recoil in horror as Katarina stepped out of the coffin, enraged at her new-found understanding of her circumstances. "A fucking museum?! Is this where I am?! What am I, some old exhibit to gawk at for your entertainment?! God damn you all, can't you leave a woman to her rest?!" Several of the smallfolk seemed to faint at the sight of her rage - and so they damned well should, Katarina thought - but most of them simply gawped as though they could scarcely believe their eyes. They had come to Lost Haven Museum to see the coffin that was rumoured to be the last resting place of a European vampire according to legend - it was on loan from Warsaw - and now, here was the vampire, in what little of her glory remained on her! The rumours were true! Several of them began to make signs of the cross to ward her away, shouting things in a language which she could only just about remember the meaning of... was it English? Was she in the lands of the hated Sir Henry? She scoffed at their pitiful attempts to sate her wrath, and grabbed one of the nearest by the scruff of their neck, heedless of the shrill alarms that had now begun to blare from the smashing of the glass. The smallfolk she had taken hold of was a young man, possibly in his teens or twenties, his skin white as a sheet and his eyes dilated from fear. "You will tell me where I am and what year it is. Now!" Her English was fairly rubbish, all things considered, but it would suffice.
"N-N-New Y-York City... In... uh... A-America! It's 2016!" Wham. Four hundred years?! And America?! Kat dropped the man on the ground and shook her head in disbelief. What was she doing in America- a shout came from behind her. "Freeze!" She turned to see two men aiming what looked to be advanced guns at her, with the word SECURITY emblazoned on... whatever vest they were wearing. She cocked her head to one side and smirked, shaking her head. "Two men with guns? Is that all? I'm almost insulted." Despite her blood-starved state, Katarina knew she was more than a match for two men with handguns... she turned to face them fully and grinned a fanged smile, before rushing forward at blinding speed at one of the men, at the same time drawing back her hand and then stabbing forward, her long, sharp nails piercing first the guard's vest, and then carrying forward through the guard's chest, and out of his back in a single thrust. The guard could only groan as his life-force was drained from him, and Katarina bit deeply into his exposed neck, drinking of his vitae and feeling newfound power course through her body. She threw the now-corpse at the second guard, knocking him to the ground under the bloodied body of his comrade, and then took in her surroundings. Large, neo-classical building, with plenty of exhibits... and there, next to her coffin, was Thirst. Her trusted and beloved rapier, which had only once seen its wielder defeated in battle. Walking over shattered glass and surrounded by the terrified onlookers, Katarina reached down and took hold of her blade, its hilt spearing a spike through her palm as it did so, causing Katarina to gasp involuntarily. "Yes... You are thirsty, aren't you..." she murmured to the sword as she felt it grow in power and began to glow with a soft red hint, and a low humming noise. She looked about at the crowd.

"Run along now, I'm sure you have people to call upon for your defence. I'm feeling particularly generous... you can even have a head-start." She smiled to herself and began to walk in the same direction that the screaming crowds turned and ran, almost as if she were herding them like the chattel they were. Mortals, eh? So predictable!

Several days had passed since Harry had directed Lyger to find Dr. Jason Miles, who had recently pulled off a bloody escape from Acadia State Hospital, an escape that left several employees dead. Dr Miles was a sleep researcher who had been looking into a cure for insomnia, a plight that after some research of his own, Lyger learned that Miles had suffered from himself. He believed that he had gotten close to finding the cure, and even went so far as developing a serum that he believed would prove to end insomnia. Unfortunately, he took the supposed cure himself before it was ready for human testing, and to say that the serum proved to not be the cure was an understatement. In fact, the cure proved to exacerbate the problem. It rendered Dr. Miles unable to sleep at all. Over the course of weeks, and then months, Dr. Miles slowly lost his grip on reality. Over that time, he began to develop a sort of god complex, in which the only things that were real were the things that he declared were so.

With each passing day, Dr. Miles became more irrational and violent. He was prone to violent outbursts, and within the first month had maimed a nurse, disfiguring her face with a fork. After that incident, the hospital staff were under strict instructions not to interact with him alone, as they were to use the “buddy system” whenever they were to enter his cell. It was a violation of that rule that allowed Dr. Miles escape, leaving the orderly who broke protocol as well as a nurse, and several security officers dead.

Dr. Jason Miles, who now calls himself Insomnia had vanished without a trace, and despite his best efforts, Lyger was unable to come up with so much as a lead as to his whereabouts. It was almost as if he had completely vanished. The though disturbed Lyger, but not as much as the realization that Jason Miles, the man now known as Insomnia would not be found until he was ready to be found.



Detective Jason Hart hated working nights. In most cities the night working nights was just another shift, but in Crown Ridge, there was something different about the nights. It was as if the entire goddamned city lost its mind and acted like savages. At least, that’s how it seemed sometimes. Detective Hart had seen the absolute worst that humanity had to offer. Over the course of his fifteen year career with the CRPD, he had grown cynical as he watched the people of his city seemingly invent new ways to cause pain and despair to their fellow man. He had seen men, women, and children tortured and executed in some of the most brutal ways imaginable. At first, it haunted him. He took the things he saw home with him, it had cost him his wife and their children. His wife Liz had learned to hate the man that he had become, or at the very least, not want him around to influence their kids. So after a night of drinking away the images that were burned in his mind, she upped and left, taking their kids with them to Seattle, almost as far away from him as she could geographically take them.

But this…this was something completely different.

“What’ve we got?” asked his partner, Gwen Brady.

For the past four years, Gwen had been the best partner any cop could ask for. She always had his back, and at one point during an arrest, took a bullet for him. She was also the best detective that he knew, and in the time that they had been working together became more than just partners…they became best friends.

“The victim’s name is Courtney Hill, 23 years old. She's a local, works at Nick's Gym as a personal trainer...and what you see is what you get.” Jared Cook, one of the CRPD’s best crime scene investigators told them.

The two detectives stood in front of the body, which had been hung by the neck and suspended against the exterior wall of Calvin’s Automotive, which had gone out of business three months prior. She had been beaten badly and stripped of nearly all of her clothes, wearing only a pair of sneakers and her jogging shorts. However, as Cook explained, neither the hanging nor the beating had been the cause of death. There was a single gunshot wound to her left temple which had been the killing blow. However, there was something odd about the body, three bloody letters had been carved into her chest, the letters H-O-H.

“What do you think that means?” Hart asked his partner.

“I’m not sure, but we’re sure as hell going to find out.”

Location: Safe House Appartment, Lost Haven-Maine → Midas Industries, Lost Haven Maine
Time: Morning (Around 7 am) → Afternoon (Around 1 pm)

---

When Ms. Sparks left, Rach set down the bottle. It made a loud clunk but didn’t shatter on impact causing her eyes to narrow in surprise before she moved from the kitchen. Determination and curious crossed her face as she began to shift from room to room. During her exploration, she managed to discover the bathroom after she opened the second door.

It was a simple and elegant set up. The wall extended out a bit and around the corner was the bath and shower, her head peered at it for a moment. She noted the nozzles for a built in jacuzzi feature in the main bath and if it wasn’t for the fact she was trapped here, she might’ve actually appreciated it. However, right now it was nothing more than an elegant cage filled with distracting toys to keep her content and obedient. Racheli sighed then turned about to spy the black marble counter with a built in sink and mirror.

Immediately Rach twisted her head about and pushed her hair away. There was a notable bump on her skull side, the place she concluded the detonation device was located. She gently prodded it then braced for the pain. Nothing. With a little bit of focus, she studied and imagined her fingers changing shape. They twitched then gradually the flesh changed color and melted away. They extended with slight bone cracking, her lips tighten in discomfort through she couldn’t feel anything, as she watched the forefinger become a distinct scalpel like blade. It glistened a moment with an admirable lethalness and a spark of excitement curled into her gut.

Continuing to hold up her short hair out of the way, she inhaled sharply. Then she began to press the tip into her skin and watched the black blood oozed from the wound. As it continued, her finger started to shake slightly while she traced along the lump’s edge. There was a brief crackle then suddenly electricity surged from the device.

Rach didn’t even have a chance to scream.

The hot, pulsing energy surged through her head and rippled in her body. Her muscles tighten in place causing her knees to give out from under her, her side smacked the ground hard. Mentally she screamed in a mix of pain and shock. Her finger fastened to her skull thanks to the spasms racing through her veins and even her heart seemed to have stopped, her breath seized up in her throat where it settled.

Slowly, the electrical energy ceased and her figure laid there trembling slightly. A bit of her blood bleed upon the tile floor, becoming a small stain and then a puddle. Racheli’s arm weakly reached to the counter edge then tried to pull herself upright. Her legs refused to listen and merely curled underneath her. Everything went black.



Richard Midas looked through the tinted windows of his stretched limo as the luxury car pulled up to the sidewalk. Normally, Midas would wait for the driver to come around the side of the car to open the door for him, but today he felt that there was no time for such trivial things. Instead, he swung the door open and stepped out of the car before walking purposefully toward the last place that anyone would look for one of his most important assets, the luxurious Halcyon Towers highrise apartment complex.

Though he had allowed Ms Sparks to handle Racheli initially, he had decided that he was going to personally deal with her, at least for the time being. He had grand plans for the temperamental young woman, and wouldn’t leave the implementation of those plans to chance. So Midas made his way through ornate front doors of the building and directly to the elevators which would take him up to the top floor, where Ms Desdemona had taken residence in the penthouse apartment. Though she was probably unaware, the apartment itself was not only an elegant living space, but it was one of the safest dwellings in the entire safety. The entire apartment was reinforced with superhard carbon steel and bulletproof glass. In essence, the apartment was a luxury safe room. The accommodations may have been a bit over the top, but considering the circumstances under which Racheli came to be under his employ, he thought that it was appropriate.

Midas stood in the elevator, tapping his toe against the floor impatiently as he listened to the sadly outdated Muzak that was pumped through the speakers, until the elevator finally stopped, and the doors chimed as they slid open on the top floor. Midas stepped out into the hallway and strode confidently down the hallway until he came to the final apartment at the end of the hall. Midas stopped in front of the door and waited for a moment, then, after several beats he knocked on the door and waited for it to open.

Racheli had lost track of time as she stirred. Her hand raised to her head throbbing and awareness building back to normal levels. Carefully, her palms pressed to the cool tile and her arms straightened up to help her upright. Her legs curled under while she reached for the sink to raise her higher and onto her feet. Racheli felt wobbly as a newborn foal, her knees wiggling like jello, while she edged out the door into the combination kitchen and living room.

The door knocked again causing her to speak, “I’m coming! Keep your fucking pants on!”

Her tone echoed through the room and reached through the door, through Midas likely didn’t care or hear her. She inhaled through her nose during her attempt to collect her strength and fully straighten upright. Casually her hand reached for the knob then gave it very light twist. Part of her expected it to have came off as if she had wrenched it, taking not just the door knob but the platform, screws and more with her action. Rubbing her head, where the device was, gently she stepped back to allow Midas inside.

“Well, what do you want?”

Midas stepped in past Racheli and took a quick gander around the apartment before resting his gaze on the young woman before him. Unsurprisingly, Racheli looked annoyed by his presence. He watched as she shifted her weight from one side to the other. He ignored her indignation as he paced in front of her as he observed the girl, noting her body language, memorizing every movement and facial expression. Then he stopped before her and flashed a toothy grin.

“I’m here to pick you up for your first day of school Racheli. I think it’s time you learned to control your powers.”

Racheli raised her eyebrow as her head turned, her figure twisted a bit, to see him pace in front of her. She was still in her ‘night’ clothes and dark blood had crusted behind her ear and streaked along her neck. The hand used to rub her head then tried to wipe the evidence away in a casual brush on the way down. Likely missing a lot of it, mentally cursing her stupidity for not washing up before she answered the door. She didn’t like the toothy grin on his stupid face or the mention of ‘school’ as her irritation swell in her chest over it.

Starting to figure out that her obvious signs of dislike were getting her nowhere, she exhaled through her nose then tried to calm in her approach, “You really think that’s a good idea? I’ve already leveled a bit out of Little China Town, I don’t think Lost Haven can stand another place to remodel even if it’s for a ’good’ cause.”

Her hips remained cocked as she folded her arms across her chest in waiting for his reply.

“A little bit? My dear, they’ll be rebuilding for months. And that’s exactly why it is essential that you learn to control your powers. I don’t think the good people of Lost Haven want to have to rebuild their city everytime you get a case of road rage.” Midas told her as he noted the crusted blood in her hair. “You know, you really shouldn’t pick at that...It’s trigger is almost as temperamental as you are.”

“So I noticed,” Racheli grumbled, her tone low and trying to remain calm. She didn’t want to admit the shock to her system had literally disabled her, shutting her down for what seemed to be hours until she could reboot and resume. It actually a bit frightening to her, but her pride refused to acknowledge it. She turned her eyes away, avoiding eye contact, while she shifted around him and headed toward the kitchen sink.

She paused long enough to add the other thoughts going through her head, “That still doesn’t sound like a solution because I highly doubt I can go to any local gym and not create more destruction.”

Her hand very, very lightly gripped the sink hand as if she was trying to keep from being infected, then turned it. She flinched while it seemed she turned it a bit too hard. The handle came to an unnatural angle and seemed to stick there causing her to groan, the water pouring out full throttle. She leaned over the sink edge as she mumbled, “I fucking miss the forge so bad. At least anything I broke fixed itself…”

“Oh, that isn’t something you have to worry about. I have a facility under Midas industries that will be more than adequate for your training. You won’t have to worry about blowing anything up or otherwise causing any sort of mass destruction there, it was designed to withstand a 200 megaton nuclear explosion. I highly doubt that you have anything to worry about.” He bragged before turning to meet her gaze eye to eye. “Racheli, I want you to know that there really is no need to fight me. I’m not your enemy, I just hope that you come to see that truth sooner than later.”

“Either way, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Racheli asked accusingly, her figure rose up and began to search the drawers for a dish rag to wash away the blood. When she finally found one, she shoved it under the rushing water and let it sit there. Her eyes stared straight ahead but her words continued to poke holes into Midas’ attempts to be friendly and tempt her with a place that wouldn’t fall to her unpredictable abilities, “How do you know for sure that will be enough? I’ve never figured out my own limits which seems to flex and adjust fast than I fucking can it seems.”

“You’re right. I can see that niceties won’t work with you, so I am going to cut all the bullshit and be straight with you.” Midas said, his voice hardening slightly. “You have no choice in the matter. You are going to train with me at my facility where the rest of this city doesn’t have to worry about being blown to shit by you, and you will train there until I am sufficiently satisfied that you have your shit together enough not to blow the whole place to hell. Then and only then, will you have the opportunity to leave. My dear, what I said is true, I am not your enemy. But I’m not your friend. Eventually, I could be either...Friend, enemy. The choice is ultimately up to you.”

Racheli noted the tone change as her figure flipped around, her hips pressed against the sink. Her head tilted up and down subtly to survey him, her right hand still held the dampened dish rag, seeming to determine how far she could test her boundaries. She was a difficult individual when she didn’t want to be rope into things, nothing about becoming infested with a virus had changed that. Rach also wasn’t suicidal.

Her mind recalled the explosive attached to her head vividly and caused her to rein in her attitude, a bit, “Can I at least get cleaned up before we take off? I’m covered in… I won’t call it blood, but it’s still gross. Anything else you would like me to do before we leave?”

If nothing else, Midas was a quick study of people. He was able to tell a lot about a person just by watching their body language. Racheli was no different. As she moved around the apartment, Midas saw a young woman who held similar traits to a caged animal. She was tense, she was pacing, almost as if she were looking for her chance to pounce, yet like a pitbull whose master had employed an invisible fence, she stopped short of crossing that line. And that knowledge was powerful. Midas knew that he had Racheli right where he wanted her, resistant yet compliant. It was at this point that she would prove to be most pliable.

“Of course. Take your time, take a shower and get freshened up.” Midas replied to her query. “And Racheli, you may want to change your clothes before we leave.”

“I will see if I can find anything...suitable,” Rach stopped short of spitting the word from her teeth, her hand reached to turn off the water only to stop, “You know what, never mind. I think you might want to get someone up here to fix that.”

With those last words, she twisted about and walked to get clean, dressed and mentally prepare herself for whatever Midas’ little shop of horrors had to offer her.

[center]~Few Hours Later~[/color]

---

After showering, her figure walked out in a simple pair of ripped jeans and a white tee with the printed etched words: No One Cares, on the front. Her hand finished off toweling her short hair as it barely dripped from the water. She began to lace up a pair of boots while she replied, “Do I need to bring anything metallic or is there going to be stuff there? Right now, that’s the only ability I feel… alright doing.”

“No need. We have everything you’ll need within the Power Plant.” Midas said as Rach prepared herself for the trip. As he spoke, he watched the young woman. He had a gift when it came to body language, and that gift allowed him to gage what a person was thinking. Over the years, this talent has proven invaluable while negotiating deals and he proudly touted this ability as a major reason for his success. When he looked at Racheli, he saw a woman who was ill at ease. She had a silent intensity about her, and to him, she seemed like a caged animal, and despite all of the safeguards he had put in place, that very fact made her dangerous.

“Allow me to lead the way.” Midas said motioning toward the door.

“Alright,” Racheli said, then shrugged as she approached. Her eyes looked to Midas who carefully opened the door and allow her to walk through. She tossed the towel aside as she moved out the door and a few feet. She twisted about to face him, watching him before she gestured for him to lead the way and followed.

“Right.” Midas said with an air of smugness as he lead the way down the hall to the elevator. As Midas led her through the building, he did so with an air of confidence, and purpose. Finally, he had a meta human under his employ that had true potential to be the weapon that he needed. However, he needed for her to learn how to harness her great power, to control it. Truth be told, if she were unable to do so, she would be useless to him. She would be just another loose end that would need to be cleaned up. However, such thoughts were premature. He had every expectation that she would be able to overcome her issues and eventually learn her place. The sun shone brightly as they emerged from Halcyon Towers, and Midas led her to the limo that was parked at the curb in front of the building.

Once they reached the vehicle, Midas opened the door and met Racheli’s gaze with a smile as he motioned for her to get in, which she did, albeit almost reluctantly. When the limo pulled away from the curb, it did not immediately go to their destination as one might expect. Instead, the car drove all around the city for nearly an hour and a half. Though he was anxious to get started, he was in no real rush. The round about way of going to the facility also was a strategic maneuver as he did not want Racheli, or anyone who might have an interest in removing her from his custody, to really know exactly where they were going.

After the limo took a slow pass by Chinatown, allowing the young woman to get a good look at all the damage she had caused, the ruined buildings and crushed dreams that the destruction that her battle with War-Pulse had wreaked upon the neighborhood, it finally made its way back to Midas Industries.

Racheli had been staring out the window, taking the sights in and silent the whole time. Her chin rested on her palm as she tried not to think too hard about what was to come. When they rolled pass Chinatown’s outskirts, her figure tensed. In the daylight the damage was much worse. Pavement was torn to pieces, reminds of fire showed, powerlines down, and other collateral damage gave the impression a natural disaster had struck as the police redirected traffic.

Her head turned away, unable to look at it, “Had to make a fucking make a point, didn’t you? Fucking bastard.”

“Yes.” Midas said coldly. “I need you to understand why we are doing what we are doing. You have an incredible power within you. You can do so much good, or you can…”Midas’ voice trailed off as he motioned to the destruction in Chinatown. “You need to understand why we are doing this, you have to understand what is at stake.”

Racheli twisted about in her seat, facing him as she leaned close enough that he couldn’t misunderstand her. Her eyes were heated with fury and heat as she spoke each words, “Good intentions doesn’t make you a hero. It’s your actions and motives that determine it. All I want, is to live and without a leash choking me about the neck like a noose.”

“You will have that opportunity, eventually. The simple fact is that right now you are unstable. You don’t have the control over your powers that you need to have in order to ensure the safety of the people around you, much less the rest of this city. Though my hope is that when this is all said and done, you choose to remain in my employ...it isn’t required. You’ll be free to make that choice for yourself, once you’ve demonstrated that you can control yourself.” Midas told her, his tone much sterner than he had spoken to her up to this point.

“We’ll see, but I’m sorry if I have a hard time believing that. So far, all I’ve seen is a pretty cage,” Racheli pulled back into her seat, noting they had arrived at their destination, “Let’s go see this ‘power plant’ of yours.”

As the war of the Triads and The Yakuza began to heat up, Cabbie found herself escalating her own war on both groups. With the two more or less tied up with one another, it became harder to get at the top dogs as they surrounded themselves with muscle. Meaning Cabbie had to bring more firepower. However, her resources were running dry. Her stock was only so extensive and buying large amount of ammunition was something that was easily traced and going through black market channels opened her up to Yakuza and Triads. Meaning she had to go talk to the one person she knew would not rat her out, and still sell her stuff at a reasonable price. She had to go see the one person who got under her skin more than anyone else.

Robby “The Fingers” Hewlet. Grade A bastard, gunrunner for mercs all over the states and beyond, wanted by the feds, tolerated by the more gunhappy and violent of vigilantes because he sells at a fair price and only to “the right” side. Working strictly with hardware, he does not peddle drugs, he does not deal in people and he doesn’t deal information. He only provides guns and nothing but.

Robby was a tricky son of a bitch however, with the moral flexibility of a kleptomaniac spider. Kaya only ever bought from him when she had no other choice, because he insisted of trying to get her into the merc game. Especially after he found out she was a meta. But she had little choice for the moment, so she drove down the abandoned trainstation just outside city limits.

The place was a ruin, and the long long staircase down to the discontinued subway station of what was meant to have become Last Havens shiny new mercantile district lay silent around her as she stepped into the darkness. She found the little panel that allowed her to scan her fingerprint. All Robbys customers had their fingerprints scanned. In case of people being imposters. The small maintenance hatch opened with a hiss and she slid down into a well lit tunnel. She passed two armed guards halfway down the passage, both women, both armored like they were expecting a riot.

They simply nodded at her as she stripped her gun of its magazine and showed that the chamber was empty. Going past a blue steel door and she stepped out into what was one of Robbies many business locales. Only Robbie knew were the actual stockpiles where. But he had a few choice pieces on display, like any good merchant of death.

“Kaya. Baby. Nice to see you.” He said, arms wide open. Robbie wasn’t fat, he wasn’t muscled either. He was just Robbie. He looked like a retired car salesman who decided to take vacation in country undergoing a civil war. His bright smile missed all kind of sincerity and the greed practically shone in his eyes.

“What brings you here.” Robbie said in that aggravating New Jersey dialect of his. It was put on, Robbie was from LA, but he liked watching Jersey Shore a bit too much.

“Ammunition” Kaya said, pulling up her gun.

“I remember you buying some not that long ago... “ Robbie said as he rubbed his chin.

“I’ve been busy.” Kaya said as she lay her piece on the counter. “I am going to need a lot. Prolonged conflict numbers. For the HnK aswell as the 45.”

“..Are you starting a war.” Ronnie said as he looked over the list Kaya handed over. It contained everything from plastic explosives to armor piercing ammunition. Kaya was not taking any risks should she run into supernaturally armored foes.

“It has already started. I aim to end it.” Kaya muttered.

“Kaya. You know I have a soft spot for you, one vet to another. So I am saying this out of care and respect. Don’t fuck with the Jades on this one.”

“I can’t sit on the sidelines Robbie. The war is gonna get uglier and uglier. Jade or Yakuza, they all need to be put in a shallow grave.”

Robbie sighed. “Yeah. Allright. But if you go at this alone, you aint gonna live to see the end of it. You need help.“

“You know any reliable, lowkey heroes?”

“Better yet. A proffesional. Tie and all.”

“I dont know.” Kaya began.

“November. ”

There was a pause.

“I heard he was out.”

“Seems he was dealt a hand he has to play out. You both seem to have the same target.” Robbie said with shrug as he began to key in the ammunition order on his satellite phone.

“He is here as It turns out. I had a feeling you two could benefit from a talk.”

--- Earlier, November’s POV --

It was dark. Expected, for nighttime, but this was an abandoned part of the city, damaged in whatever skirmish between Metas had taken place here. The street was in disrepair, the streetlamps were broken, and the buildings, rubble.

Driving through the ruined streets, Nick looked for the train station that marked Robby’s business. He had brought the man in, once, for gunrunning, but Robby somehow managed to get a good lawyer, and got off easy. Once he got out of prison, however, Nick started buying from him. He was a bounty hunter, after all. Couldn’t rely on self-defense weapons alone, especially in this city of freaks.

Finding his way through the ruined district, Nick drives to the train station, and parks outside, pulling up to a parking spot around the side. Next to him, in the passenger seat, his daughter, Abigail, lies sleeping, face pressed against the glass of the window.

Nudging her shoulder, Nick opens his car door. ”Abbie. C’mon, sweetie, we’re here.”

Yawning, she rubs the sleep out of her eyes, and gets out of the car, closing the door behind her. Locking the car behind him, Nick enters the train station, and descends into blackness.

Passing through the scanner, and helping Abbie down the maintenance hatch, Nick sighs as he reaches the two guards. Pulling off his duffel, he opens it, and kicks it to the guards, for them to check. Removing the magazine of his pistols, and putting them in his pocket, he reholsters the guns. Moving the SPAS-12 around, so they could check the empty chamber, Nick waited, cool look on his face. This was necessary, if annoying.

Finished with their examination, they tossed him his duffel, nodding. Walking past the two, Nick enters the display room, nodding to the man within.

”Robbie. How’s the wife?”

“Novembeeeer” Robbies’ eyes lit up. “Wendy? Same as usual, sour and loving. Like spoiled, sweetened milk. How the hell are you? What brings you to my humble shop?” The man spoke, grabbing the other man’s hand in a iron grip. The kind of handshake only a retired navy seal could possess.

Returning the tight grip, Nick gives him a firm handshake, and then lets go. ”I’ve got to collect on some of the gear and ammo I sent out an order for. You know, the cache I asked you to sit on.”

“You’re really back? I thought I was seeing things when you sent me the message.” The arms dealer said. “I thought you were gone for good.”

Sighing, Nick motions to Abbie, who is looking at a nearby gun case. ”I thought I was too. That was, until two of Tao Yu’s street racers broke in, and tried to take my daughter. You know about her… condition.”

Leaning against the wall, Nick glowers, voice a dangerous growl. ”So, I’m going to make sure they never come after her again.”

“I would never argue with an angry father. But the Jade Spiders are no small feat. You’re going to need a lot more firepower.” There was an electronic chime. Indicating another customer was arriving.

”My stuff in the back? I’d rather get to work as soon as possible. Time is money, after all,” Nick says, motioning towards the room behind Robbie, a storage room behind the display/sale room.

“Yeah. Time is money.” Robbie said with a hum. “If you hang back a bit. There might be someone I’d like you to meet.” Robbie said with a look of deep pondering. A look foreign to that face, judging from his frown.

“November! There is someone you ‘ought to meet!” Came Robbie’s voice from the other room.

Looking up from the gun he was cleaning, a UMP-45, Nick warily looks through the doorway, hand on the pistol at his waist. Robbie wouldn’t sell him out, he knew better, but he could be put up to something, or there was someone that could get inside without him hearing.

Looking out into the display room, Nick saw Robbie standing with a tough-looking, rather beaten up woman. Exiting the storeroom, and motioning for Abbie to stay put, Nick sizes up the woman, looking her up and down.

”Hello. I’m November. Robbie, why do you want me to meet her?”

“Kaya. This is november. November, This is Kaya.”

Kaya stared November down. The man dressed the part, she had to admit. She looked like she had been through a brawl. Which was accurate to be fair. The thai woman raised a eyebrow. Robbie cleared his throat.

“Kaya has been fighting the Triads for a while now.” Robbie said but Kaya cut him off. She stepped up and offered her hand for a shake. “You can call me Cabbie. I thought in Burma and Mayanar, black ops stuff mainly.” She pointed to the tattoo on her shoulder. “Came back home to find Triads crawling all over my old neighbourhood. So I began to clean them out but now I got the Yakuza to deal with to.” She took a long look at him then continued. “I got plenty of friends still in field, word was that you were out of the game. If you are hunting Triads like I am, that makes my life a whole lot easier.”

Contemplating her statement, Nick thought about her implied offer. November worked alone nowadays; always had ever since he left the LHPD. However, he would not deny that having another gun with him would be helpful, especially another ex-spec ops soldier.

Nodding slowly, Nick took her hand, and shook it. “Alright. I accept your offer. ‘Nother gun never hurts, especially ex-military. Since we’re telling each other our stories, I’m ex-SEAL, mostly served in the Desert. Came home, joined the LHPD, settled down. Been bounty hunting for the last few years. Now, Triads are coming after my girl here.”

Patting Abbie on the back, he placed a hand on her shoulder and looked at Kaya questioningly. “Since you’ve been fighting them for a while, got any locations we can hit? I could find out, make a plan, but you’re the one with experience dealing with them.”

“As a matter of fact. Yes. I got blindsided by a meta a few months back down at the docks. I was looking into the real cargo behind some very skilfully faked digital shipping manifests. Whatever is down at the docks, it is big for either side.” She said, stroking her chin. “We are gonna need c4…”

She drummed her a fingers. “A shitload of C4”

”Been here one day, feels like it’s been months.” Arthur ran his fingers through his hair and scratched the back of his head, fluffing his hair out a bit before lowering his hand to the desktop in front of him. Stress had really warped his perception of time, though he hadn’t forgotten to prepare himself. He’d printed out a map of Maine including Lost Haven and marked down every police office in the vicinity. Not only that, he’d written down and marked a list of locations where crime was disproportionately high.

That’d be worthy of looking into, though the last time he’d done that proper he’d been put into a particularly. . .Menacing situation, and therefore was leaving that for potential bounties as well as potential underground connections in case of emergencies. He’d heard of a few fellas in Maine that had a reputation even down in Manhattan, so the connection wouldn’t be to hard for him to impress upon them. Maybe drop a name or two and see if it connects a few wires and jumpstarts a memory or two.

Whoever he could get his hands on would be a blessing, with only the barest police connections and a license to be a Private Investigator. Any potential connections he could build would prove tantamount to his future success, even him saving that radiation guy’s life hadn’t even made local news. What with the coverage of the mass scale mutations that were intentionally triggered, and the chaos that ensued. He was just one of many people dealing with the problem, and was drowned out by the bigger names.

This was obviously disheartening, and he had many new scars along his arm as his only proof that he’d done anything.

After a few minutes of looking through the map and gathering his important belongings; ID, license, phone, keys, wallet of course, and his most important piece of equipment. His police issue sidearm, the last vestige of his old life. The gun was a deadly efficient piece of equipment, and had saved his life more than a few times. He slid it into the strapped holster and turned towards his coat.

He took his trench coat from the chair and pulled his chest holster across his chest. He wrapped the coat around his body and buttoned up to his neck, topping his head in a wide brimmed flat cap he went to the door with map in hand.

It was a few hours before he reached Lost Haven PD, where the first hurdle of what would be a remarkable quest would be leaped.



At the door of the precinct he removed his coat once more and withdrew his gun from his holster, surrendering them at the front desk. The woman behind the counter was surprised at him drawing his firearm and prepared to sound for assistance when she was silenced by the surrender. “Oh, uh. Y-yes?” She cleared her throat before speaking again. “How may I help you today, sir?”

Arthur placed one elbow on the counter and leaned forward, moving his supernaturally bright eyes towards hers. “My name is Arthur Nolan, I’m a privately operating detective from Manhattan and my license to operate is here.” He slid forth the small rectangle of paper, layered in plastic. It listed all of his pre-requisite information, and he followed with his identification papers as well as State ID and social security card. All of the information that would be required for proof of identification, but the inevitable grinding halt came.

She looked at the ID, then to him, most closely upon the date of birth and age. “Sir, this card says that you’re fifty four years old, as of last month.” The confusion was incredibly evident upon her face, every piece of paperwork looked legitimate but was telling that he was nearly twice her senior.

Nodding slowly he circled his face and tapped on the ID’s expiration date. “Remember that green dome incident a few months back? Well, I had to get a new ID. My age regressed quite a few years, so I’m quite young now. Miss.” She had this queer look on her face, her lips pursed and she looked from the ID to Arthur and back again. For a moment this continued and eventually she stood from her seat and turned towards the near door.

“I’ll go run the numbers and see what I can get, I’ll see if I can get ahold of the DMV. You said you were from Manhattan?” Arthur nodded and sat down in a chair in the lobby, folding one leg over the other and leaning back in his seat. It was almost an hour before she had returned with his paperwork in hand and a tag on a lanyard. “Make sure to wear this on your neck when you’re here, sir.”

Taking the papers and wrapping the strap around his neck he smiled and spoke. “I appreciate it, thank you very much ma’am.” He moved towards the door and let himself in, before doing so, he turned and spoke. “Which way to the on-file cold cases? As well as missing persons, uh. . . As well as non-immediately pressing issues?”

She was somewhat confused by his informal reference to the cases but didn’t think too terribly much of it. “Well we keep the cold case files on disk to keep space free on our system, that’s all the way in the back on the far right.” She gestured directionally, instinctively of course, as she could not actually see all the way down the hallway. “And our computer system has accessible terminals in the back room two doors over from there, you might find some untouched cases that nobody’s on right now.”

“I appreciate it ma’am.” He said with a grin and moved down the hallway. Today was going to be a long day.

“Are you sure this is a wise idea, Jaden?” Gaia’s voice echoed in his mind as he glanced over at her spirit self floating next to him as they crossed the rooftops towards their destination, “I mean, we’re basically letting two complete strangers know where we live...one of whom tried to kill you not even a couple of hours ago, in case you forgot?”

“Well, when you put it like that, I sound like a brain-dead moron,” Evergreen retorted through their shared connection, causing Gaia to narrow her eyes at him and to which he sighed, “Look...believe it or not, I understand how you feel...and under normal circumstances I probably wouldn’t even consider this...but as things stand right now, neither of us are in a position to be picky about whom we ask for help. Whomever took Nemesis is obviously gonna be well-armed and dangerous...so we need all the help we can get.”

“I’ll give you that one, I suppose…” Still, Gaia rolled her eyes, obviously not liking the idea but going along with it anyways since she knew how much Nemesis meant to her partner, “...And on the off chance either of them decide to backstab us?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” He said back with certainty, “For now, let me just bring up a famous quote I once heard...the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

Of course, even their eternal conversation would be drowned out by the brash outbursts of the mercenary, running alongside them as opposed to flying above them, a calculated move to avoid any more unwanted attention by the authorities. “I’m not going to lie, I would’ve pegged you for a woodsy type, hiding out in some hollowed oak in the middle of some thick forest, spending your time using spores or something to keep an eye on the city, yet that’s not where we are headed...your base is in the city, isn’t it?”

Turning away from his current conversation, Evergreen glanced over at the mercenary. He didn’t trust the guy as far as he could throw him...but if he really was the same “War Pulse” whom had taken part in those other superhuman incidents then he felt he could at least give him the benefit of the doubt...for the time being anyways, “You’re sharp, I’ll give you that much, mercenary…”

“I ain’t just a handsome mug, Greenpeace.” The merc responded, offering a cheeky sneer from behind his torn up face mask. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

While the two metas were running to where they were going to hunker down while making the next set of plans, Fletch had finally reached the place where she had parked her motorbike. Fortunately for her, the bike was undamaged from the explosion that tore down the block. It is a good thing I parked you here than closer to where everything happened, she thought, jumping onto the saddle of the bike and fired the bike up. Wasting little time while the metas were approaching where they were meeting, she rocketed out of the alleyway, tires screeching before gaining traction. From there, it didn’t take long before she caught up with the mercenary and plant-man.

He motioned for his posse to follow him down an alleyway, “Outside the city’s what you’d expect, right? Hide out somewhere that I can constantly be at my full strength? But the thing is...if someone were trying to track me down, the forests would probably be the first place they’d think to look, don’t you agree?”


“I met you like 20 minutes ago why the hell would I know--”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and headed off down another path, “They would likely try to burn and poison the forests just to force me out into the open...and let me tell you, my friend and “employer” would not take that well...at all…” He let those words hang in the air for a second before continuing, “So, I figured that if I set up shop within the heart of town, I would be right under everyone’s noses...and it would be the last place anyone would think to look for me,” Despite how proud he sounded, he scratched the back of his neck, “I kinda used that principle of how when you look for something, it’s usually in the last place you think to look for it…anyways, we’re almost there.”

”It makes sense to think like that,” Fletch commented, pushing the bike as she trailed behind. ”And I would assume that if the people tracking you were to use fire in the woods, you would not only think about keeping the hideout secret, but make sure that anyone caught up in the conflict is safe. Having your hideout here eliminates one area of focus.”

“The commute totally has to be a major bonus as well.” The merc chimed in, his signature swagger as present as ever. “Wouldn’t want Lost Haven’s favorite leafy green to spend an hour trying to ride seaweed crossing the bay while the town’s suffering the latest metahuman causing a scene in the cit-”

It hit the mercenary mid comment that the scenario he was describing was the exact scenario he had just caused with his own bravado and violent antics. A momentary blank stare emanated from War-Pulse as he tried to think up a non-sequitur so as not to bring up their recent situation. “Right, how about that secret base?” He came up with, completely failing at the idea of subtlety. “We should talk about that now and nothing else.”

He finally came out behind the buildings to what looked like a fence closing off a large space and stretching on all around the area. The plant man stopped and turned to face the others, “Before I show you what lies beyond here, I need your solemn word that you will not breathe a word of what you see here to anyone, agreed?”

Fletch observed the area as she pushed the bike close to the fence. As Evergreen asked for a vow to not reveal what he was about to show, she looked at the area around her. Definitely one of the last places to look, she thought before turning her gaze to the plant-man. ”And for me to risk my non-meta life with the pinnacle of the stone age as my only protection, you won’t have to worry about me. I’ll keep this quiet.” The ‘weapon of the stone age’ comment was a slight jab at the mercenary, letting him know that she hasn’t forgotten that comment. At least she still has an inventory of possible arrows to design for future use, though she needs to figure out what to do with the quantity of the types of arrows.

“Oooooo, someone’s got a bit of a chip on her shoulder.” War-Pulse jeered, offering a cheeky grin towards Fletch with taunting gesture of a finger gun aimed in her direction. His brash sneer wore off quickly when he turned his attention back to Evergreen, reaching out with a free hand in an attempt to grab the hero’s shoulder and turn him around to force eye contact.

“But we can get to Robina Hood and her bow and arrow later. In regards to your question...Greenpeace, Veggieman, Flowerboy, buddy, let me level with you. I’m tired, I’m wearing about one fifth of the clothes I started with today because most of them got blown off by a missile, and I reek with a mixture of daffodils and brimstone due to numerous conflicts, and I have no information because my contact has been offline since I grabbed a live wire to recharge myself. If you can offer me a bath and a change of clothes, your little base is safe with me. So long as that change of clothes fit me and aren’t made of hemp or something, so help me if I have to wear leaves!”

Evergreen actually had to take a moment to digest all the merc was ranting about. By now, he got the sinking suspicion that War Pulse was not all there in the head...then again, he did mention grabbing a live wire to recharge himself so that wasn’t helping his case. Finally, he sighed and gently removed his hand, “Ok, I’ll believe you...follow me…and try not to be too overwhelmed by what you see...” He turned and waved a hand to the wooden fence, causing it to seemingly liquify and reshape itself into a gate-like structure.

He gestured to his guests to follow him through as...well, to put it bluntly, it was like walking into a whole other dimension. They left behind the hustle and bustle of the city and arrived in what looked like a chunk of the Garden Of Eden cut off and put in its own self-enclosed space. A massive glass roof was above them letting sunlight shine down on large fields of greenery and rows of flowers, a number of which were so colorful and large that it was likely they didn’t exist in any books.

The trees were massive and majestic, some of which looked big enough to stick an entire house in its branches. The chirping of birds could be heard along with the squeaks of squirrels as they rustled through the trees. A bunch of other rather strange-looking plants lied strewn about the area, and seemed to be...quietly breathing somehow. There were even shadows within the trees, as if silently observing the newcomers.

“Holy crap…” The mercenary exclaimed under his breath, slowly spinning in a circle as he walked in behind the plant-based hero, getting a full panoramic view of the incredible landscape hidden away within the confines of Lost Haven. “I feel like we just walked into that forest in Lord of the Rings where all those walking trees came from...only if that forest were in someone’s basement.”

War-Pulse’s tone belied his sarcasm, it was rare to see the mercenary legitimately in awe at something, but this organic grandeur displayed before the mercenary certainly was impressed by sight. “You sure know how to grow a garden, Greenpeace. What do you use? Miracle Gro?" He joked placing his hands on his hips as he glanced at a particularly large tree, nearly looming over him. “Where the hell do you even get the fertilizer for this many plants?”

Evergreen paid no mind as he walked towards an apple tree, “Welcome to my home. Please, make yourselves comfortable…” He arrived at the tree and waved to it, “Hey Sam. What’s up? Looking great today as always…” For a moment, there was silence, before he snickered for no reason, “I know, I know, I missed you too, bud. Listen, you mind helping me take care of our guests?” Another moment of silence, “Great! Thanks, man,”

“Is he...is he uhh….talking to the plants?” The mercenary mused aloud, mostly to himself but loud enough for the archer to hear as he gestured towards Evergreen. “I mean I’ve seen my share of tree-huggers in my time, but that...that’s a new one.”

He jumped up to the branches and removed a couple of red apples, jumping down with them. They were twice as big as normal apples and gave off an inviting aroma, similar to apple pie, “Dig in, guys! Don’t worry about me, I don’t really need to eat all that much…”

Fletch ignored the mercenary’s jeer, sneering at him in return. Once everyone agreed to not reveal everything, the plant man waved his hand at the fence. Her eyes looked on in disbelief as it morphed into a gate, her expression perhaps betraying a little bit of her reaction. As she followed the group through the newly-erect gate, she looked around in awe at what was on the other side. Obviously, there was one person who was overwhelmed by what was here. This reached a head when the plant man spoke to one of the trees, her eyes having the ‘what the hell’ look through the yellow-tinted glass.

I must be dreaming, she concluded, holding back to literally pinching herself. This spellbound dream was broken when an apple was offered to her. Not wanting to be rude, she took the apple and thanked him for it. However, she refrained from eating it as her cowl was still on. Even now, she was not 100% sure if one of these guys were working for the Penose so she had to be careful.

Before Evergreen even finished his sentence, War-Pulse had already snatched up an apple in each hand and viciously was tearing into one from behind his torn up face mask. Up until that point, War-Pulse had not realized how hungry he had been until his instincts took over. He had been fighting non-stop and while he tended to utilize raw energy as a sustenance, his body was still capable of transforming food into energy as well, to which these oversized fruits would hopefully satisfy his sudden, rabid hunger.

“Right, now,” The mercenary began in between another sloppy bite of the apple, tearing another chunk before even finishing his first bite. “We’ve satisfied one need, but I have two others...bathing and clothes…which I need both of.” He gestured to his form, still covered in what remained of his battle attire. “I’m not usually one for flaunting what I got, so I could really use a pair of clothes or something. I know I said no leaves on the surface, but I’m really starting to feel underdressed and would totally settle for hemp...and a bath. Seriously, I’m surprised the two of you can stand being within smelling distance of me, because I can smell me. And it is...pungent.”

The plant-based superhero had to do his best not to roll his eyes at the merc’s rudeness, deciding to focus on more important matters. “I might be able to at least provide you with that much…” He turned and gave a loud whistle, causing the fluttering of wings to be heard within the trees...as what looked like several big butterfly-like creatures, each easily the size of blood hounds and made up of moss and various chunks of plant material with wings made of plant matter, fluttered down before them and tilted their heads.

He bent down to pat each of them on the head, “Hey guys. Mind helping my friend here? He kinda needs a change of clothes and…” He stopped to sniff the air around him, “..A bath, and fast.” The creatures all did swooping bows to their creator before flying off.

Evergreen turned back to address his guests, “Do not worry. As long as you do not intend any harm to me or this safe haven, you will not be harmed in turn….now then…” He waved his hand again which caused two cozy-looking wooden chairs to form from a pair of nearby smaller trees, “Have a seat.” Another tree formed itself into a table and waltzed over to its master as he tossed out a bunch of seeds which quickly grew into various fruit.

“You probably picked up on the fact that this place is far more than just a secret lair by now…” He went to the table and started messing with the fruits through several hand gestures, causing them to splinter apart and spiral together, “Creatures that have no place to call their home are allowed here. We don’t turn away anybody in need of help...and as you’ve seen, I experiment here a fair bit…” To prove his point, various other plant-based creatures began to awaken all around the area and step out of their hiding places to observe the newcomers.

The ingredients poured into a wooden bowl as he stirred them together, “As to how all this is possible...well, the short version is that you would be surprised just how much plant life gets buried beneath tons of steel and cement when humans build their cities. If you have any other questions though, feel free to ask.”

“Yeah, I’m beginning to see that.” The merceanry added in, plopping down roughly into the wooden makeshift chair before wincing realizing he just slammed himself into hard wood. “You’re a regular Lorax, kid. Though to be honest, I bet if you really wanted to you could uproot this town from its foundations with this plant arsenal...Not that you would, but hey, if you ever went rogue? Would make for one hell of a ransom, wouldn’t it?”

This had been overwhelming for Fletch. While the plant-man and the mercenary had been doing what they have been doing for a while now, she had only been a vigilante for less than a week and still had to learn every crazy thing that is going on in the city. Still holding the apple in her hand, she watched as other creatures that lived in the hideout emerged and tended to whatever they needed, their host giving an explanation about making their home here.

She would have lost her mind with everything that was going on until the plant-man mentioned that he experimented in the hideout. Now talking more her language, seeing that she was also experimenting with new arrow types, she turned to him,”You said that you conduct some of your experiments here. Apart from the… creatures here, what other experiments that you do here?” If there was the possibility of improving her arsenal to further her agenda, she would certainly seize the opportunity.

“I hate to be the one to say this, but maybe we should save all the questions for later, we have much, much bigger fish to fry.” The mercenary said, ripping another chunk of apple off with his teeth. “You said that you knew where that truck was going, and knowing what kind of power is in that van you spoke of, we don’t have a lot of time before someone turns that little lady into some kind of superweapon.” He leered at the two vigilantes, leaning back in his chair as he spoke. “Which means I need to tell you what I know, and you need to tell me what you know, otherwise we’re all going to spend way too much time in a super-powered pow-wow while this place gets threatened by the superweapon of the week.”

He crossed a leg over another, tossing one of the apples absent-mindedly in his hand while continuing to fix his gaze on the two heroes. “So, who’s going to start talking first?”

Taylor basked in the summer’s warm rays of the sun. Due to the nice weather, she and her friend decided to head out to Washington Park and set up a little picnic together. They also knew that there would also be other food options there, since some vendors were offering a fish fry and other summer meals. The two girls had found a nice spot in the middle of the green where other like-minded individuals gathered to enjoy the weather and the food. They gossiped about all sorts of things, ranging from college to boys to even politics.

While she was taking another bite out of her fish sandwich, Taylor felt a sudden burst of heat surround her. She turned to her friend, who was snacking on some food that she had brought with them, and asked her whether it was just her or that the temperature went up dramatically in a span of a few seconds. Her friend shook her head. Although it was hot outside on that summer day, the temperature seemed the same as it had been when they got there.

Then, Taylor discovered that her body was beginning to profusely sweat. Her arms were coated with a layer of water, while her clothes began to be soaked. She tried to wipe off the sweat from her arm, but the liquid accumulated faster than she could remove it. While she was occupied with this bizarre situation, Taylor felt something fall on her shoulder. To her horror, she saw an ear, or what looked like an ear, since it appeared to have been melting, lying on her shoulder. She was even more terrified when she could not feel her left ear and, when she examined her hand, it was covered with a goo that had a hue similar to her own skin.

Her friend watched in dismay while her friend appeared to melt away. Just like an ancient marble statue, anything that was suspended from the core of her body slowly dissolved away. Her nose slide down her face and landed down into her lap. Whatever bust she had, since she didn’t have much of one to boast about, disappeared, making her flatter than most men. Even her arms began to descend down the sides of her body.

However, Taylor was not the only person suffering. All around Taylor and her friend, dozens of people were undergoing transformations similar to those that some had endured during the Pax Metahumana crisis back in February. Panic began to set in, both in the people who were undergoing a metamorphosis and those who could only stand helplessly and watch their friends, family, and strangers suffer. Inevitably, the panic caused the people in the park to scramble out of there in a hurry.

---

The epicenter of this incident was cordoned off with police barricades and tape. However, this did not stop Zac, Kelly, and Sammy from taking a peak at the scene of the crime. Since the transformations that happened there seemed like the calling card of Doctor Diplodoc, who had bestowed Zac and Kelly, along with hundreds of other individuals across the United States, with metahuman powers, the three young metahumans had to investigate.

Since it was already dusk, the three of them only had to sneak past a small skeleton crew that was keeping a watch on the area. Garbed in their superhero wardrobes, the they made their way towards the park. So that they could get in and out in a timely fashion, the three metahumans made sure to move at a brisk pace. Although a light drizzle impeded their ability to hurry through the park, it also made sure that no one else wanted to be out about at that time, either. When they finally reached the epicenter, Zac briefly split off from Kelly and Sammy when he noticed a marking on a nearby tree.

Meanwhile, Kelly and Sammy approached one of the abandoned picnic sheets that was lying on the ground. However, when they got closer, Sammy heard a strange squish noise under her foot. When she looked down, what she had first thought was just some waterlogged grass was actually soaked with some sort of semi-transparent goo. When she saw that there was a trail of this same substance leading to a pile of abandoned clothes, Sammy placed her hands over her mouth.

“Did I just step in someone’s gooey remains?” Sammy asked her best friend as she began to run her foot back and forth through the grass in order to get it off. “Because if so, I’m going to be sick”

“I wonder what happened?” Kelly pondered aloud, “No one, even the worst of people, deserves this kind of end.”

While the two girls were investigating what had happened to that person, Zac was checking out the markings on the tree. He discovered that someone had carved a pentagram on the side of the tree. Then he noticed another mark on a different tree. This time, it was an upside down cross. Other trees bore similar crude carvings: snakes, bull heads, etc. However, Zac noticed that each of these symbols had an ‘H’ incorporated into the design. While one possible guess at what it meant was ‘hell’, due to the satanic icons, but Zac could not be entirely sure.

Once he had finished taking a look at these carved images, Zac walked back to where the girls were.

“We better be heading out now. We don’t want to still be here when the enxt patrol comes through here.” Zac suggested to the other two metahumans. “Also, Sammy, you need to be a little more careful next time. We can’t be contaminating the crime scene.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Sammy defended herself, although the voice of her voice made it obvious that she was still embarrassed that it had happened in the first place.

“Don’t worry, Sammy. We’re all pretty green at this gig. Live and learn.” Kelly then turned to Zac. “I can airlift Sammy out of here. You’re okay getting out of here by yourself?”

Zac nodded before dashing off away from the park back towards their apartment. Then, Kelly began to beat her wasp wings, which allowed her to float above the ground. After she secured Sammy in her arms, Kelly began to fly up above the park so that they could bypass any sort of patrols that were on foot. However, as they departed, none of them realized that something began to follow them. The goo that Sammy stepped in started to slowly inch away in the same direction in which the three metahumans had departed.

As Eva looked at her phone the time flew by night fell over the city, she needed to be awake for Pacific Point’s clean up in the morning. And this jaunt with Van Helsing was exhausting, still she made a new contact even if he was a dick. Who abandons the girl to fend off wave after wave of attackers. But people had begun to gather to deal with this new threat and it helped put her mind at ease. Before leaving she peered into her old room, left as it was covered in sheets to preserve what was inside she felt her bed and turned to flick off the lights before disappearing through a portal.

-- Afternoon of the Next Day --

Eva’s hands felt grimey, as it was a city wide cleanup she dictched her costume or hoodie and let herself blend into the crowd as she helped out, she was overwhelmingly tired and had received some sort of energy drink from Merlin, which made her peppy. She mentioned some side effects but neglected to share what they were only that they wouldn’t affect her. Rinsing her hands off Merlin sat on her shoulders diminutive and as condescending as ever.

”There’s something I’d like you to check out, an odd anomaly over at the museum of history.”

Eva rolled her shoulder to indicate that Merlin was still quite heavy despite her size.”Again. I heard there was kerffulf-- a thing the other day.”

Merlin chuckled at Eva’s attempt to use a large word. ”Well yes, they might be related. Excalibur always had sway over magic and supernatural beings, it might be attracting more attention from the mystical side of things.”

”Great.” Eva said as she ran her wet fingers through her hair, ”Can I rinse my hair first?” Merlin leaped off her shoulder and vanished leaving Eva standing over a hose. After twenty minutes Eva had left onto search for a door that she could quietly warp to the museum with and finding one without scores of people mulling about was difficult, the people took pride in their city and it’s clean up but she did find one and slipped away into the women's restroom of New York's famous Museum of Natural History. As the door opened she could hear faint screaming in the background and as she ran towards the source she noticed a girl exposed buck naked and all standing over broken glass as she examined the exhibits trailing a bit of blood from a nearby guard.

Eva stopped, modesty was either lost on the girl or that she somehow caused all this.”I. Um.” With her hood pulled over her head and finger raised Eva struggled to bring words to this situation. ”Is um, being nude your thing. Not that I’m judging, but here we call that jailbait.”

Katarina whirled around, her sword pointed in the direction of the newcomer. The stench of the Grail was about her, permeating her every movement, oozing from every pore. And at the girl’s side was the most disgusting thing of all: the sword of King Arthur, Excalibur. Katarina seethed as she regarded the newcomer with hate-filled eyes, only softening when she saw the relative youth of the woman in question. ”Well now, it seems I have attracted the attention of the Grail Knights already… Don’t mock me with your feigned lack of knowledge, girl! Your order is to blame for my current state! Your scion, Henry of the House Plantagenet, sought my destruction on the fields of Neuhausen, and he almost succeeded, his hateful fires burning away at my very soul! So don’t come to me asking why I stand here as I am, for you should already know the answer!” Katarina turned and walked a couple of paces towards the girl, the broken glass crunching underfoot and Thirst ready to strike at a moment’s notice. [color=921111]”And what brings your kind crawling from out of the shadows? Did you have advance notice of my awakening? Did your order seek to have me awakened prematurely so you could finish me off once and for all? I will not relent! I will never yield to you or your masters, do you hear me?! [b][i]NEVER![/b][/i]” The final scream shook the foundation of the building itself, almost seeming to tear at the boundaries between the mortal and the immortal. It sent shockwaves blasting out in all directions… just as her final anguished scream had knocked Henry away from her in the Fall of Neuhausen, as he had King’s Guard held over her heart, ready to strike and finish what remained of her miserable existence. Part of her wished she had simply allowed Henry to strike home… perhaps it would have been a fitting end to the Red Countess, instead of lingering on…

Eva’s face squinted and stretched as the young girl ranted. ”Order, Newhousen. I. Wait what. Could you use, umm. Smaller words. I caught Grail, Knight and Henry.” As the girl angrily went on ignoring her comment whilst in the middle of her hate filled rantings went on to throw Eva off her feet and careening into a nearby wall. As she picked herself up she began to pull Excalibur, ”Okay, clearly not being friendly. Well at least you're a naked girl and not a old dude, I don’t think I’d be able to close my eyes without night terrors waking me up. Now I’ve got two requests, one please clothe yourself, and two give up quietly, I’m sure we can find a nice juvenile rehabilitation center.”

Katarina was incredulous, and yet interested at the same time. She claimed she knew nothing of the Grail Knights, and yet at the same time she held the blade of King Arthur in her hand - which she noticed was now drawn, by the way - and she had an aura of the Grail about her very being? What was this, some sort of freakish test? Was this some sort of trick? ”So. You claim you know nothing of the Grail Knights? And what makes you think I’ll believe that when you have, there in your hand the most powerful blade of their order, sitting right there drawn and ready to strike? How naive do you think I am, Knight? Just because I have the body of a teenage girl does not mean I have none of the aptitude that befits a woman of my age - you Grail Knights of all should know that. But then… how could you not know who I am if you aren’t a Grail Knight…” Katarina shook her head, her head aching slightly from the backlash of her scream. She looked back at the girl with a snarl, one hand on her hip without a single thought as to her modesty. ”Your presence here confuses me. Who are you, and what do you want?! Speak quickly, before I lose my patience with you.” Katarina decided that she would at least try and work out who this intruder was… maybe see if there was truth to the girl’s claims. And if not… well, Thirst would drink deeply tonight.

With her footing squarely centered Eva tilted her head in confusion.”Are you alright? Got all yer marbles yeah. Last I checked the Grail was only in one person's hands Indiana Jones and I’m not taking that one seriously as he’s an actor. Though that begs the question how you know of this sword. You’re like what, fourteen. Why come and destroy things in a museum just cause you’re some history buff. Look, I’m Pendragon, I’d say it’s nice to meet you but, I’m awfully confused here, maybe we can put our swords away and meet those really nice people in blue, I’m sure they have snacks.”

As Eva attempted to calm the Old World Vampire thinking she was merely a confused troubled girl no older than her younger sister she had no way of knowing just who it was she was speaking too nor how condescending she sounded considering the difference in age that was until Merlin appeared behind her in a puff of rather colorful smoke. ”I was going to watch and be amused by your antics, but this was getting painful to watch. If I’m not mistaken, you are Katarina Ilse Maria Gräfin von Rysech correct? I hoped so. I met you once, or a different you. I am Merlin the Boar's Sin of Greed, from a world where technology ceased to advance. And Dear,” Merlin turned to Eva. ”She isn’t a child. As for this one Katarina. She’s an imbecile regarding legends and beings of power. And while she is most certainly King Arthur's Heir, the apple fell a few hundred yards away from said tree.”

”Standing right here! Could you not in front of the girl who may or may not be a bad guy.”

”Ahahaha yes… so the mystery begins to unfold. It all makes so much sense now, thank you!” Katarina nodded to herself and then lowered her blade. The girl was telling the truth after all, though Katarina was still slightly irked by her manner of address earlier. Yes, she was still but a teenager, but did everyone have to treat her as though she were a child? She once ruled a vampiric empire that rivalled that of Vlad Tepes at his height, and people still insisted on talking down to her… However, the appearance of the spirit and her use of her full name brought a smile to her face. She nodded again, and then looked back at the young woman. ”You’re the scion of Arthur Pendragon, are you? Explains the sword, for one thing, and your little spirit helper there seems to be the brains behind this operation. Tell me, Merlin, did you arrange for this little visit to happen? Your sorcerous energies working their little cogs to twist the skein of fate? Or did you simply just teleport her here once you learned of my awakening? Whichever way, it matters not, you’re here now. It’s fine.”

Merlin smiled.”You may actually owe you’re awakening to Excalibur. I know only scant details of what happened in this world but it is quite ironic that Excalibur’s magic to awaken sleeping magical energies is what could have revived you yourself.”

Eve bent up her wrist looking at Excalibur.”Stop waking things up. I don’t need anymore magic bullshit. Why are you even here, you helping or making things worse so we fight?’

”Who knows, maybe I was curious, perhaps I wanted to speak to the Red Countess at least once.” Merlin smirked.

”Red Countess, sure. Something tells me it isn’t cause you like red flowers. Look, however grand you were before, you can’t go around killing people unless you want to be a bad guy. Or a certain newscopter destroying mech pilot. Short version, don’t kill please.”

Katarina bristled as she watched the girl once again try and lecture her on how to behave… Yes. She killed a guard. Perhaps not the *best* way to open her new Reign, but in her defence, they did aim guns at her. They could have opened fire on her, for all she knew. Her muscles in her arm tensed as she was about to raise Thirst against the girl once again, but she held off on that for the moment. She shook her head and spoke up. ”In my defence, this… mortal… was about to fire upon me. He had a comrade, similarly armed and similarly garbed, and I attacked before either of them could attempt to harm me. I say attempt… largely because I have been shot before, and it didn’t have much impact aside from leaving a large… what do you call it in English, a bruise? Yes, a bruise.” Katarina snickered and walked a couple of paces closer to the girl and her spirit companion, barely six or seven feet away by now, her sword now hanging loosely from her arm at her side. Blood stained the underside of her feet as she walked through the broken glass and pools of red that littered the beautiful marble flooring of the museum. Almost a shame really, to stain such beauty with the animalistic fury of the Blood Kiss. ”You intrigue me, Pendragon. You intrigue me greatly. As to the benefit for us both, I’m yet to work that out, but… you most definitely have piqued my interest in you. And as for you, Merlin...” Katarina looked over at the spirit, ”You disappoint me in your material form. I expected you to be taller.” She giggled.

Merlin held out her hand as a force went up around Eva, a repulsion field of sorts. ”Terribly sorry but I cannot allow you to step closer. I have need of this one. However perhaps we can, come to an agreement. You seem to be without resources, clothes to garb yourself in and unaware of the laws this modern world requires it’s honest citizens to uphold. A favor for a favor and we might be able to help each other out.”

”Wait? Help her, she still killed someone, am I not supposed to bring her in for that? We just let her go and give her stuffs.”

”Your first duty is to the magical denizens of this world, helping them cope with modern life and protecting them and humans from endangering each other. Tell me. What human Jail can hold a powerful necromantic Vampire without bloodshed?”

”I. Well. We have Villain jails.”

”We can end this without further conflict, and hopefully set a misplaced Old World Vampire on a new path.”

”I. Don’t know about this.”

”You’re not the only one, Pendragon. Don’t try and take me for a fool, Merlin. I know you need this girl for something, and I know I won’t much like it. If Excalibur did arouse me from my slumber, then it makes me suspicious of you already… perhaps there’s a plot of yours that you’re engineering. And perhaps… well, I have little chance of receiving assistance in any other manner.” Katarina looked back at Pendragon, a pensive demeanour about her. ”We’ll have to swallow our prides, daughter of Arthur. My apologies if I give you nightmares for the next few days from the… unique manner of my appearance. Lead on, Merlin… and I will warn you now. I remember much from the Liber Necronomica. And I know how to use it.”

”How quaint. I remember that book it’s spells were; childish.”

”Fitting for a child to use, I suppose?”

_{banner credit to Hellis}

---

Time: Evening of the Heist
Location: Shroud Syndicate Safe House - Las Vegas, Nevada

The safe house Silence had taken them to was quiet. Lonesome, save for one man painstakingly caring for its secrecy. The only real option for any Shroud Syndicate members still in the city, those who hadn’t been chased out by the Barron’s gang.

The Ambassador hardly managed a word to Levi, the caretaker an unassuming man in his forties, while Silence had arranged for his departure. She trudged to the bathroom in one of the guest bedrooms, disappearing for an hour to presumably clean up. Leaving Bach with vague orders to set up some warding protection spells. To her benefit Levi asked her no questions. Claiming he had seen stranger.

Odette showered, cleaned her wounds, changed into some spare clothing she had. Discovering some bruising around her ribs from the golem’s grip. The gash along her wrist from the vampire was ugly as ever, she wrapped some bandages around it securing it with a little tape. Exhaustion showed it’s signs throughout her body from bags under her eyes, the slump in her shoulders and perpetual frown. Gently towelling her hair she walked out of the bathroom barefoot to find Mandate sitting at the foot of the queen sized bed.

Mandate’s great bulk managed a fairly impressive curl, her legs pulled inwards and her back hunched forward as she focused inwards. In truth, she had been distant since their departure from the warehouse, her visage unreadable in its simple ‘frown’ and her emotions only broadcasted in the slump of her shoulders.

The safehouse was a distant awareness, less real than the buzzing in her not-flesh, her pure form. Was it a memory, or an incessant sensation? The only nerve her body knew was the ephemeral flesh of the once-living, tucked away deeply and separate from the material world, from her mercurial form. And yet…

And yet. And yet it still buzzed. Raising a silvery hand to her chest, Mandate clenched her gift from Miss Ambassador all the tighter, the necklace which had veiled her true form on the streets of Paris. And suddenly, noise. Lifting her head, the golem focused upon the approaching form of her… Sponsor? Her dear friend.

She didn’t look very okay. Shifting the ache-that-was-not away as a secondary concern, Mandate stood. ”Hello, Miss Ambassador. Are you okay?” Her tone was soft and inquisitive. Some of the chipper flutters had returned with the arrival of Miss Ambassador. She sincerely doubted that the human was feeling very okay, though. It didn’t seem likely, with her fragile flesh having been damaged in altercations that the golem had not been present for. The failure to protect stung.

Odette stared up at Mandate, the concern clear for her. Odette’s own worries had been proven correct. Mandate had been attacked by the golemancer, he had managed to get past her armour performing who knows what kind of magic to actually hurt her. The noise she had made was chilling, a sound she’d never heard Mandate make before. Odette wanted to know what was going on past the mercury, wanted to understand.

The moment stretched before she answered, “I need to rest, we had…” Odette pursed her lips, “A unique evening, you and I. Please sit, my dear.”

Odette trudged to the bed pulling the neatly made bed open, scooping up the comforter and a few pillows in her arms. There was precious few things she could not ask of Mandate, but prying into a freshly painful experience would be too much. The golem did not need to say a word to show how the evening had affected her. Genuinely all she wanted to do was to rest, if she could not provide comfort for herself then perhaps for at least Mandate.

Sit? Mandate supposed she could do that. It was a simple request to follow for Miss Ambassador. Slowly, the golem lowered herself back into her seated position, but did not hunch inwards as she had earlier. Her cyclopean gaze was focused upon the soft, freshly-cleaned human in the room with her. She could feel her ‘lips’ shifting as she observed her companion, her characteristic ‘smile’ returning to its rightful place somewhat hesitantly.

Impossible, to express that junction between weariness and delight she rested within. It was a limitation of her form that she did not care for; human beings, fragile though they were, had such mobile faces. ”I did not expect the man to be… Painful.” The golem left it at that, for the moment, and focused elsewhere. ”Yes, it was very unique. Humans need rest after things like that, Miss Ambassador.”

Odette flopped the couple of pillows onto Mandate’s lap then opened up the blanket laying it over the pillows. Without a word she stepped into the somewhat softened area, with a little adjustment for her back and her legs. Odette rested her forehead against the cool surface of Mandate, leaning against her. A soft exhale she said, “I wish I had known what kind of mage he was. I would not have let him near you otherwise. For that, I am sorry Mandate. We may have been successful in what we set out to do today but… I feel-” She paused squeezing the bridge of her nose, the migraine muddling her english translation. “Responsible for you.”

“Please I hope you can forgive me of my mistake.”

Mandate would have stiffened, if she could do such a thing, as her companion made contact once more. The pleasant sensation was offset by the topic of conversation, and the golem found herself uncertain of the moment.

Forgiveness? The soft sliding noise of Mandate’s mane was the clearest sign of her anxious thoughts, her ‘smile’ wavering once more. The imprint of a foreign presence was like a scolding hand pressed into her heart, her existence.

And it was not Miss Ambassador’s hand, was it?

”Miss Ambassador…” The harmonic noise of Mandate’s voice hesitated as her mind picked at her words. ”I think that I am glad for this. Not for the pain, but the…” A pause. ”The lesson? I know I can hurt. I didn’t think I ever would again. But I have, and I will.”

Once bitten, twice shy? An apt echo of memory. With exposure came experience, and she would not soon forget the ache. It was a humbling lesson in her own paradoxical vulnerability.

Mandate curled forward somewhat. Slowly, her arms curled, but did not converge around the human entirely. ”I’ll be more ready for it next time, Miss Ambassador, and I won’t make you think you have to apologize again. You didn’t fail me. I think I failed you.”

Odette tipped her head up, gazing at the singular crimson orb of Mandate’s ‘eye’. She was on the edge of disappearing into herself, Odette had seen it before whenever she asked about her origins. She shifted a little adjusting to Mandate. “Next time, we will both do better. Tonight, you and I will be okay. I will be here with you.”

I will be here with you. Mandate’s mane settled, and her mind shifted in its place. It was a lovely thought. When the golem smiled once more, it felt realer within her myriad thoughts. ”Thank you, Miss Ambassador.”

---

Time: The Next Day - Morning
Location: Las Vegas City Centre, Nevada

The morning sun blazed through the smog cover of the city, at this time of morning the Las Vegas strip was filled with traffic. Locals, to be sure, trying to get to work. Over the span of a singular night one would have had trouble comparing an exhausted Odette to the revitalized Ambassador. A smile poised, her straw hat shading her from the harsh summer sun, a completely different person. A solid night sleep and full texan breakfast was a simple recipe to getting The Ambassador to bounce back in full force.

Thoughts of the previous day were pushed away with a new task to focus on, finding Gwyneth’s Sight somewhere here in the city. The Ambassador thought herself to be rather skilled at location spells, very little could elude her for long. Finding a magically imbued object (regardless of knowing what it looked like) wouldn’t be difficult. She had asked around to some of the local Fey to help, having to introduce herself several times over.

The local Fey were largely ignorant of ruling powers in Europe. Kelpies hanging about in coin fountains, lost bogle’s far away from their fields, some goblins, and oddly a large population of changelings roamed the streets. Many mentioned the strong presence of witches in Las Vegas, grew cagey when pressed for more information about them. The Ambassador found it odd, perhaps the local Fey and witch covens had an understanding against outsiders. Regardless of their stature. Unfortunately none of them knew of Gwyneth nor her lost items.

The Ambassador led the way to a quiet spot off the main drag, along the alley beside a casino Bach and Mandate coming up behind her. “You were right about the witch presence, Bach. Your instincts are a little sharper on that front than mine.”

“Naturally, My Lady. I still feel as though it’s not just a coven but a singular entity that I am noticing. I could very well be wrong.” Bach shrugged, his hands slipping into his pants pockets. “Rarely are my instincts incorrect though.”

Odette nodded, “Let’s start.” Removing a clear fluorite crystal pendulum to focus her magic. When the spell began it glowed a soft blue, it swung westward while in her mind’s eye gave her a clear picture, the address suddenly known.

So she did. The first location spell whisked them away into the west side of town to Sun City. By taxi, a large mini van able to accommodate Mandate’s size and weight. They stopped short and waved the taxi away before approaching it. Along a suburban street the spell pinpointed them to a mailbox at the end of large home, manicured lawn looking a little brown. Odette pried it open to find a local grocery store coupon flyer that was expired. “This can’t be right.” She muttered stuffing it back into the box and patting along the ground not feeling any sort of magical resonance.

Bach patted down the ground where Odette was. “Try again. There might of some interference…?” He suggested.

Mandate, clad in her disguising necklace and thus not appearing as her usual towering self, poked and prodded curiously at the mailbox. She had no magical expertise to offer herself, but perhaps there was some visual clue? Peering curiously at the home to which the mailbox belonged, Mandate found herself wondering if ‘turn it on and off again’ was an adequate solution for magical scrying errors.

That thought track lead to different ideas, though. Tilting her head, Mandate’s illusory eyes focused on Miss Ambassador. ”Can witches interfere with magical spying and stuff, Miss Ambassador? Maybe someone doesn’t want you finding anything.” The golem shrugged, as if to convey her lack of true understanding of magic. It made sense to her, though; if there was something of value to be found that belonged to someone, then that someone would probably want to protect it.

Odette conceded, rather reluctantly “Gwyneth is an old and apparently powerful witch according to the Oracle we spoke to in Ville d’Ys. A stronger location spell will be prudent.”

She led them away to a secluded area, behind a children’s park plastic slide. Their footsteps making audible crunching noises across the pebbly gravel. Light glowed behind even the thick plastic of the slide, this time the location spell was stronger making the pendulum crystal glow a deeper blue. A new location and new address in mind Odette piled them into another taxi sending them to the Shark Reef Aquarium on the south end of the city. The trio arrived in the parking lot, paying for admission to enter the building. Discreetly following the pull of the pendulum.

Walking through the tunnelled aquariums, where they were surrounded on both sides by the exhibits. The shark tank alive with it’s main attractions. Odette hardly paid a moment of attention to her surroundings focusing on the location spell, the visual of the spot firmly in her mind.

Mandate, by contrast, found herself almost utterly invested in the surrounding sights. With half of her eye on Miss Ambassador, metaphorically speaking, she pressed herself up against the glass of the shark tank, a gentle noise of wonder leaving her. The creatures inside -sharks- reminded her somewhat of some of what she had spotted within Ville d’Ys. Strange aquatic beings with dark eyes that seemed as unblinking as her own.

It was a beautiful, majestic sight. They moved elegantly through their tank, the water proving no barrier to the creatures born within it. So many possibilities and questions! She stifled a certain pressing urge.

”I want to tear you open.” she whispered against the glass, before pulling back with a giggle when she was given no response. ”I hope everywhere we go is as beautiful as this!” she called to the Ambassador.

Odette paused at an intersection noticing Mandate lagging behind, keenly pressing her face up against the glass watching the marine life. Her focus split on the pendulum, letting a warm smile grow genuinely. Bach folded his arms watching her walk back to the golem, his expression unreadable. Her eyes swept up, her hand splaying across the glass standing next to Mandate. Even in her human disguise, the mercury golem towered above her. “I hope for that too, Mandate. Places like this remind me of the Arcane Stream. I wish you could feel it as I do. Rempli de vie. It fills me with life.”

A curious hum escaped the golem as she turned her attention fully towards the Ambassador once more. Listening to her speak of the ‘Arcane Stream’, it did sound rather… Magical. Giggling softly at her own internal joke, the golem spoke once more. ”I wish I could feel it too, Miss Ambassador. It sounds wonderful.” Her voice was soft, the strangely harmonious tones suppressed by the disguise into something more human.

Life. Was she filled with life already, perhaps? What did the Ambassador mean? What did being herself feel like, she wondered. Reaching up to scratch at her chest once more, the golem dismissed her thoughts for when she was alone. ”Please, don’t let me distract you, Miss Ambassador. I’ll keep up!” She paused, then continued. “I just… Wonder what they’re like inside.” And what it felt like to be them, to a certain degree, but that was an unanswerable question and so she ignored it, usually.

Odette nodded, curbing Mandate’s curiosity wasn’t really her intention but they did have somewhere to be. Her expression fell back to neutral once again, instinctively. Bringing up the pendulum, she led them once more through the aquarium. The pendulum and location spell led them outside along the pathway to the glass pyramid. The pendulum pulled up pointing directly to the tip top of the pyramid. Tourists filed around them as they stood off to the side of the pathway leading away from the aquarium towards the massive structure.

“It’s pointing up there. You two wait here while I investigate. Should only take a moment.” She made short work of an illusion spell for herself, to an onlooker she appeared as a seagull about to take flight. Odette pulled her broomstick from her purse, taking off to fly. Ascending the pyramid in minutes the light of the sun reflecting off the surface, intensifying the heat from the already scorching day, the brush of air was welcome. Landing deftly on the small maintenance platform at the top. She searched each corner finally finding what the location spell was locked onto.

From below, if Bach and Mandate had squinted enough or perhaps had a good pair of sunglasses they could see the small figure that was Odette at the top, then see a suspiciously small speck of a something launched off to only tumble down the side of the pyramid. Bach guessed correctly it wasn’t what they had been searching for. He brought himself and Mandate to where he guessed the offending object had landed to find an abandoned bird’s nest, a rather large one to have survived, mostly intact, down the pyramid. Shortly thereafter Odette joined them.

“Next.” She hissed.

Mandate stared down at the bird’s nest for a few long moments, contemplating the hiss in Miss Ambassador’s voice. Reaching out with a gentle hum, the golem gave her companion a small pat on the shoulder, which included her rather large hand essentially engulfing the human’s shoulder in the process. The consolation was silent, and accompanied by a bright smile that was ruined by the dead eyes of her illusory human form.

It was a shame that the Ambassador was having such a difficult time of things; certainly, the golem found it frustrating by proxy, but the adventure itself was full of intriguing sights that she had to restrain herself from breaking, such as the pyramid itself. Perhaps one day, she’d be allowed to topple it?

… ”Miss Ambassador, are birds magical?” She felt it was a fair question.

Odette took a deep breath in through her nose, held it for a few seconds then exhaled. “Not today. Let’s try again.”

This time, this time had to be the one location spell that led them to the item. If it didn’t well, there was no telling how The Ambassador would react.

Short travel time later that brought them back into the heart of the city, back where they had originally started their day. The sun was setting casting the city in a lovely orange and pink glow, a sunset Odette would usually take time to appreciate. However, their search took them to an alleyway parallel to a stripclub. The thrumming beat of the music audible. They passed a few homeless men and women going about their day to day, casting a strange looks as the trio strode past them. Invisible to them were brownie fairies among them along with the odd goblin. Tourists often had largely ignored them.

The location spell finally took them behind the club, where employee parking lot was filled with cars. Her eyes cast up to where the pendulum was finally pointing, pulling straight. A broken plastic bachelorette crown sat on top of a dumpster. A stray cat was batting it around, the pendulum followed it.

”Ooh, pretty.”

Odette’s fist clenched around the pendulum, frustration colouring her cheeks. Bach stifled a laugh behind his hand refusing to look at his partner.

“Mandate.” Odette managed, sweetly. “Could you do a favour for me?”

Perking up at the call of her name, Mandate nodded happily in Miss Ambassador’s direction. ”Absolutely!”

Odette pointed to the dumpster, “Crumple the dumpster. I want it flat as a crêpe.”

Blinking, the golem turned to look at the dumpster once more. Slowly, a bright smile overtook her illusory self’s face. For lack of a better word, she seemed to vibrate in place. ”Absolutely, Miss Ambassador!” At least she was having a nice day.

Lifting the dumpster was easy. Somewhat foul looking from up close, but remarkably easy. Finding the proper place to slam, crush, and flatten it was somewhat harder.

Necessity, it is often said, is the mother of invention. Mandate wasn’t certain this was entirely necessary, but it was necessary to her and Miss Ambassador. That was really the only necessity that mattered, right?

After a quick moment of vibrating in place and throwing her head about in search of something, the golem all but pranced her way into the employee parking lot- or she would have, were it not for her awkward gait compensating for the dumpster’s shape. So in a way, it was more of a stumbling dance.

There! A target was sighted, and Mandate zeroed in on her victim. Standing before the hood of a decent-looking little car, the golem paused to turn her head towards Miss Ambassador, ever so slightly tilted. ”It’s going to be loud!” she stage-whispered.

The Ambassador considered the vehicle for a second, Bach shrugged at Odette. He grinned like the mischievous imp he was. “I’m sure they have insurance. Do it, Mandate.” The sorceress watched eagerly.

With her gleeful ‘smile’ plastered firmly on her face, Mandate locked in on the car once more. Her feet shifted, her heels pushing down and slightly through the hard ground as she shifted the dumpster’s weight fully over herself. With a gleeful cry, it was brought crashing down upon the car.

The spray of debris as Mandate’s strength and the dumpster’s weight crumpled the front of the car was matched only by the spray of garbage, thankfully not in the golem’s direction, and the loud crashing of metal rending metal. The ground cracked even further beneath the golem’s feet as she compensated for the slam, and then once more when her fists raised up and cemented the destruction with a final slam. It was more through the sheer force of her strength and blind luck than anything else that she was not overly dirtied.

The car, on the other hand, was unrecognizable.

Gleefully giggling and humming, Mandate scampered back towards the alley, her fists making sharp ‘gongs’ against her own skin as she slapped away dust and debris. ”How was that, Miss Ambassador?” Her voice, in contrast to her pleasantly large smile, was eager and expectant.

When the dust cleared Odette’s smile grew wide at the destruction. Bach laughed along with Mandate, giggling in between ‘I can’t believe she actually did it’ and ‘what a mess!’ She let out a long sigh of relief seeing the mess, her mood improved significantly. “Perfect, Mandate. I feel much better now.”

“We should leave before someone catches us.” Odette beckoned away to exit the alleyway to the street over.

”I can just flatten them too!” Mandate helpfully suggested as she followed after her companions. It was mostly a token suggestion; she was far too pleased with herself and her ability to flatten in that moment

“I’m sure you can, my dear. I’m sure you can.” Odette agreed, pleasantly bobbing her head.

Unknowingly, above them in the sky dark smokey forms followed the trio. By the time the pair of witches were upon them only Bach was the one to notice, not nearly enough time to warn. Nothing would have prepared The Ambassador nor her companions a meeting with the Goddess, the patron of witchcraft, Hekate.

The gentle breeze rolling off the river was refreshing. Mandate, Odette and Bach had spent the past couple of hours taking in the view. After another fruitless goose chase, they decidedly took a break at the popular tourist spot. Odette sat on the edge of the concrete wall legs dangling. In her lap she had her grimoire open, idly flipping through it trying to think of another strategy. Bach was beside her while Mandate stood behind them.

Rubbing the heel of her hand against her forehead she grumbled, “I am open to some suggestions.”

Bach had been throwing the odd seed into the water, willing it to grow to sprout before it hit the surface. “We can try searching for more local Fey, we might have more luck than following another location spell.”

“That would take another day.” She replied, closing her spellbook storing it away. Bach nodded his leafy head, browning at the edges from so much direct sunlight of the day.

He felt a sudden pressure above them, he snapped his eyes up in time to see a magical cloud of smoke descend upon them.

A pillar of black smog swirled violently overhead, crashing against the wall below. A heavy wind turned about their bodies, Odette and Bach caught up in the midnight torrent that threatened to rip them apart. But no harm came to them. Instead, they were carried through the air to the bridge overlooking the dam, gently placed on the cold stone and freed from the clutches of their ethereal assailant.

The smoke and shadows spun about a few feet away, a shapeless mass that slowly began to recede. As the smoke faded, two women appeared, one dressed in black garments with dark curls to match, the other in vibrant green with scarlet braids, both shining brilliantly in the moonlight.

”So this is the meddlesome ‘Ambassador’,” the darker figure spoke in a sultry tone.

”She’s a pretty one, and how lithe and delicate she looks.” The emerald woman responded, voice much lighter but carrying the same air of mystery.

”Don’t be fooled by mere appearances, my love. She has proven herself to be quite the troublemaker indeed.”

Disorientated at first at the sudden sweep of magic, unexpected with no time to brace nor ward against. Their eyes were filled with darkness while their feet found ground atop the bridge on the other side of the dam. Odette could see Mandate’s form, she imagined the golem would be panicking by now, her being spirited away by unknown assailants. Bach was reassuringly at her side, regaining his composure in record time, brushing his sleeves fixing the women with a level gaze. Studying them. The moon was on the rise behind them, a tiny bell in her mind ringing. Recognition but no name.

Magic seemed to surround them, unique but in a way only a certain few creatures or spirits could exude. The two women spoke of her as if she didn’t have ears. Regardless her first instincts kicked into action. They weren’t attacking so there was time for introductions, even if she was being forced to make them.

Lifting the hem of her skirt a little, she curtsied. “Good evening, I am The Ambassador of the Fair Folk. It is a pleasure to meet you, unexpected but a pleasure.”

Bach bowed his head to them as well, remaining silent. The gears in his extensive memory working away. He was right about the witch presence but much like Odette felt the answer to the sudden strangers were right on the tip of his tongue. The way the pair of them dressed was telling of just how old they were. He kept his eyes on them even as he bowed.

The darkly clad woman gave a look of surprise. ”My my, how polite of you to offer such formal gestures. You are truly a diplomat, Ms. Ambassador, a testament to your name. As for mine, well . . . I go by many names.”

She drew nearer to Odette and Bach, the air around her shifting all the while, filled with an ominous aura that grew stronger with each passing moment. It was as if a shroud was slowly falling from around this woman, revealing her true identity.

”To the Romans,” she continued, ”I was known as Trivia. To others, I am Cthonia, Beldam, Night Mother, the list goes on. My associates know me as Lydia Valis, a little creation of mine, a form I assume in my waking hours. But by far my most favored name is the one given to me by the Greeks, Hekate. And the radiant picture who accompanies me is the great Medea. She is like a daughter to me, my greatest love.”

Medea looked at Hekate with awe, moved closer to her side, and took her arm.

Odette drew up straight as a board, her posture stiffening, drawn into Hekate’s gaze. Bach drew up in a similar way. The surprise in their expressions were unmistakable. As strange as their lives were it was a rare occasion to come to the attention of such legendary figures. Immensely powerful even before they knew their identities. Hekate had referred to her initially as meddlesome, they couldn’t be connected to the Barron… could they? The heist wasn’t quiet by any means.

Zut.

Odette finally broke the eye contact, her stomach clenched. The words coming to her as second nature, but the sudden shift in power was like standing in quicksand. “Truly- an unexpected turn of the evening. I was not aware legendary figures, such as yourselves, had made your home here in Las Vegas. It’s an honour to be in your presence.”

“May I ask as to why?”

Hekate took a moment to survey Odette and Bach. She could see their sense of wonder and amazement, but also their fear and respect. It was rather refreshing, she thought, to be once again seen as a goddess in all her facets rather than a thing to be gawked by the witches of Las Vegas or a minion to be ordered about by Barron and his men.

”You flatter me, Ms. Ambassador. As for my presence here, it would seem that you have upset a recent associate of mine. You are certainly familiar with the wealthy socialite, Barron Vanderbilt, and all of his wondrous treasures, yes? Much to your detriment, he and I have a contract of sorts, the details of which you needn’t concern yourself. But I could not in good faith allow my dear friend’s belongings be whisked away by a band of thieves, especially not magically gifted ones such as yourself.”

Medea moved closer to Odette, circling she and Bach once before returning to Hekate’s side.

”She’s a mortal, and quite a young one by the looks. How come you to know such powerful magic at such a young . . . ah, I see! Look there, my lady, a faery familiar, no doubt entangled in some mystical contract. You don’t see many sorcerers bothering themselves with the affairs of the Fey these days.”

Hekate nodded, remaining silent and giving Odette time to respond. She was intrigued by the Ambassador. Hekate could tell that she was smart, cunning; her time with the Fey would have assured that. She waited to see how Odette might try to dissuade Hekate or dissolve the tension.

Odette steeled herself, slowly peeling back her fear. Her eyes shifted to Medea as she spoke, again as if she wasn’t there. That irritated Odette to some degree, nor did she like being analyzed. With some thought, Medea was only able to glean the obvious. Bach’s connection to her was clear as day to those who could see. Hekate confirmed she knew of the heist, quite plainly making it clear she was connected to Barron. No point in lying, she could take the blame while protecting Silence from Hekate’s attention.

Her arms relaxed, holding her hands at her waist. “Wondrous treasures that now have a new home. The Fey don’t see lifting items from the undead as ‘stealing’ per se but simply…” She pursed her lips allowing the pause to think, “Finding a new purpose for them. What purpose comes to a vampire stockpiling herbs and ingredients? Beyond selling them, of course.” She replied turning her eyes on Medea next. “You are quite right, Bach is my dear friend and partner. Those very same sorcerers dismiss the Fey because they ultimately lack the patience and ambition. While they had their noses deep in a tome I staked my claim on Paris.”

She spread her hands open, a slight shrug. “Unfortunately we no longer have anything to return. What I can offer is my apologies, one must make friends and allies where one can. I can say quite honestly that I understand that sentiment more than you can imagine. Unfortunate is your contract with Mr. Vanderbilt marring this first meeting indirectly.” Odette bowed her head.

Hekate and Medea each offered a soft laugh.

”Very good, Ms. Ambassador, but you needn’t lecture me on the topic of grey morality. A witch uses the left and the right hand, the right gives, the left takes away. Your apology is appreciated . . . but irrelevant.”

”You obviously hold sway over the Fey in Paris to be dubbed their Ambassador. You are an enemy to Mr. Vanderbilt, and by extension, so are your associates whom you would gladly gather in arms against Barron should you ever feel so inclined. The truth of the matter is, Barron has a hand in all that occurs in this city, including the affairs of witches.”

”That’s right,” Hekate took over. ”And as should be obvious, the affairs of witches are of the utmost importance to me. Wherever I find myself, I try to elevate them and their positions in society, grant them greater power that they may be free of any and all oppression, that they may have power over any foe. I have entered into a contract with Barron that insures my loyalty in exchange for the services he provides my witches, and surely the first thing he is to do when those pitiful louts he calls mages fail at protecting his estate from magical harm is to call upon the powers of my witches. Neither myself nor the Fey courts of your country could afford an assault on one another, and I cannot be certain that you will not perform a similar crime, or worse, with the aid of your Fey allies.”

The Ambassador listened intently, she shared a look with Bach before replying. He nodded, encouraging her. Hekate’s intent was now clear, graciously giving Odette headway. The Goddess was drawing boundaries, a line in the sand warning Odette not to cross it. At least not without accepting certain consequences. It would be a matter of assuring Hekate and Medea Odette had no intentions against the witches, just inciting rivalry against the undead.

Odette nodded, understanding warming her expression considerably. The tension in her body language melting away. “I would never dream of moving against the witches here. There is no love loss between the Fey and witches.” She echoed words she had once used with Puck. How sincere would her words ring to the likes of Hekate, she wondered. She continued, “That much has been made very clear when I have interacted with the local Fey populace. There is a great respect, a symbiosis within the magical community here. To upset a balance like that would indeed be a crime in of itself. I agree, neither of us have need nor want of a fight like that. My stint against Mr. Vanderbilt was sincerely a one time affair, that I can give my word on.”

“Is there anyway I can assure you both that my intentions are not hostile?”

Hekate remained silent for several moments. She could tell that Odette was sincere, but did she care about sincerity?

Medea pulled her aside for a moment, speaking in a hushed tone.

”My lady, she speaks in circles.”

”Perhaps, my love, but I wonder if she could be useful to us.”

Medea looked puzzled. ”My lady?”

Hekate gave Medea a knowing look before turning her attention back to Odette. She looked her up and down, silent all the while. Something stood out to her, the touch of something familiar. Hekate labored to understand this feeling, eventually coming to an interesting conclusion.

A wide grin appeared across her face, seductive and sinister.

”Perhaps it is against my better judgement, but I believe you, Ms. Ambassador. You have studied this city well, know the delicate balance between all the hidden folk within, and I believe that you mean this no harm. It is for this reason that I have decided to drop the matter entirely.”

Medea looked shocked despite being aware of her lady’s ulterior motives.

”And to show that there is no bad blood between us, I’d like to give you a gift. What say you to that?”

Odette’s nerves ramped up during Hekate and Medea’s private chat. The Ambassador knew she was grasping at straws, quite literally toeing a dangerous line of irritating a powerful goddess. She could pull nothing meaningful from her silence upon their return to the conversation. Odette knew if had she been prepared she wouldn’t have struggled half as bad. At least, she liked to think so. Her luck held, Hekate let her off the hook but not quite so easily.

“Merci beaucoup, Mademoiselle. Would it be out of place for me to ask what you intend to give? I’m sure you understand my wariness of gifts.” Odette ventured masking her fear with curiosity.

Hekate smiled. Odette was smart for not wanting to blindly accept a gift from magical beings, but it was something she’d likely have learned in her line of work.

”Well, I suppose it’s equal part favor and gift, but I can show you nonetheless.”

Hekate turned to Medea.

”That box I asked you to hold for me, could you bring it out?”

Medea nodded, ”Of course, my lady.”

Medea held out her hand, an ornately designed box materializing in a quick flash of light and red mist. She handed it to Hekate, who presented it to Odette.

”I’ll be quite honest, I haven’t the slightest idea what’s inside. I never managed to pry it open so its contents and purpose are both unknown to me. However, I believe it may be of use to you. If you would but hold on to this for me and discover its mysteries, I would be forever grateful, and I believe you would be all the better for it. What say you now?”

That is neither helpful nor comforting that I will know as much about the ‘gift’ as her, Odette thought begrudgingly squinting at the mysterious box.

Reluctantly Odette held up her hand, it glowed a light misty blue as she whispered a small ward about her hand. Experience also told her not to ever touch magical objects directly without knowing their true nature. “It reminds me of the little trunks Earth Fey store their memories in. How could I refuse a Goddess a gift or her favour? I accept.”

Hekate smiled, dropping the box into Odette’s palm.

It certainly felt magical, though gave no indication of being cursed. The outside was a worn by time, the intricate wooden details and knotwork faded slightly, the brass lock at the front rusted and greyed. The box itself was a little larger than a small music or jewelry box, offering little space inside for anything that wasn’t incredibly malleable or flat. On the underside was an ashen symbol that had withstood the test of time, highly ornate, resembling many warding sigils that had been used throughout history, but with small alterations here and there to make it personalized to whomever had inscribed it.

”Whatever it is, may it bring you great insight and direction on your current path.” She turned after she gave Odette her blessing, letting the words sit for a moment.

She felt a little bolder now, her warded fingers thrumming across the wood. “It is no coincidence you should give me something that will guide me after the day I have spent without it. I do not pretend to understand the mysteries that drive magic but coincidences do not exist here... So, thank you.”

Hekate turned from Odette for a moment, taking Medea’s arm in hers and preparing for their departure. A slight breeze pierced the still air atop the bridge as the two witches met. Hekate turned briefly to face Odette once more, a wide grin her lasting expression.

”I can tell that you are the adventurous sort, Ms. Ambassador. Creative, cunning, and curious, virtues I seek and foster in those whom I teach the ways. But be careful of how close you let your hand wander to the hearthfire, my dear. A burn like that is likely to stay with you. Farewell, Ms. Ambassador.”

The breeze became a raging torrent, calling forth shadows and ethereal clouds of black mist that enveloped Hekate and Medea, ushering them away from Odette, away from the dam, and into the night.

A few moments after the wind finally settled Odette let out a long exhale, relieved that conversation was finally over. She patted her chest, her heart thrumming hard, a little rush of adrenaline. “At least it wasn’t a prophecy.”

Bach looked about as relieved but brightened at the box, “That’s got to be Gwyneth's ‘Sight’. Insight? Direction? Look at the symbols.” Bach chatted excitedly about the little gift as they made their way back to Mandate’s side. To soothe the anxious golem and examine the box. Odette felt a tiny pin prick of foreboding, similar to how she felt after speaking to Puck. Hekate may not have revealed vague glimpses of the future but such gifts were never to be taken at face value nor lightly. She knew better than that, now more than ever.

Location: Safe House Appartment, Lost Haven-Maine → Midas Industries, Lost Haven Maine
Time: Morning (Around 7 am) → Afternoon (Around 1 pm)

---

Midas led Racheli into the front entrance of Midas Industries. As he stepped through the front doors, the atmosphere within the company changed. People seemed more focused on the task at hand. As he stepped into earshot of any of his workers, he was greeted with a “Good afternoon, Mr. Midas.” to which he would nod back in acknowledgement. He made a straight line from the front door to a large set of heavy black doors which led to a hallway which only those with the highest clearance within Midas Industries had access to. The hallway itself was brightly lit and had an almost hospital-like quality to it.

Racheli quietly walked behind him, her senses tuned off but she could still smell the sterilizing agents used. Everything looked overly clean that made her feel like her presence here was a pure insult and threatened to stain its very existence. It added to her growing anxiety from memories rushing to her awareness, ones from the CDC, causing her to instinctively keep her eyes dead ahead and ignore it. Everything seemed to go on endlessly that it seemed they would never reach the place Midas seemed to believe would help her. Silently she continued down the hallway, noting nothing different from a hospital’s.

However, the one thing that would stand out to anyone who happened down the corridor would be that there were no doors. The long hallway seemingly only led to a single elevator door. As they reached the elevator, Midas placed the palm of his right hand into the biometric palm reader. The console flashed a green light and seconds later, the elevator door opened and Midas stepped in. Racheli paused and looked at him, seeming somewhat hesitant, but after a moment joined him in the elevator when he motioned for her to follow. Once they were both inside, they could see that the elevator was seemingly no different than any other elevator, other than the fact that there were no buttons. Instead, when the doors closed, the elevator began its long descent into the bowels of Midas Industries.

After several long moments, the elevator came to a stop. Then it was another moment before the doors opened. When they did open, Midas stepped out and beckoned Racheli to follow suit. When they stepped out into the cavernous room, which looked to be constructed from a shiny obsidian metal. At the back of the room, there was another small room which was made entirely of glass. Inside that room, which was only large enough for about three or four people, was a set of controls.

“Welcome to the Power Plant Racheli, this is where you will take your first steps into a larger world.” Midas told her as she stepped into the room for the first time.

Racheli’s brow arched as she examined the room. The place looked like some military secret base one might find in an underground bunker, making her question what Midas had been truly up to under his offices and began to walk deeper in. Her steps echoed off the walls as she looked upward in slight awe, through she would never admit it.

“Alright, so we’ve got a glorified bunker. What now?” Rach said as she turned to face him, trying not to sound impressed.

“Oh, I assure you it is far more than that. This room is a state of the art...actually, to be perfectly honest, it’s beyond state of art, nonetheless, it is the single most advanced training facility in the Western Hemisphere. This room has the ability to simulate any situation you could conceivably find yourself in. I think that you’ll find it most helpful in teaching you to control your powers.” Midas told her simply.

“Or something else for me to break,” Racheli mumbled, as she placed her hands on her head back and looked at Midas, “Sssoooo, still didn’t answer my question about ‘what now’. How is this suppose to go?”

“Oh, I doubt that you have to worry about breaking anything. This room was originally built for Icon to test his powers, sadly, he and I never could come to terms and work together, so it has more or less sat idle waiting for someone to utilize it.” Midas said matter of factly. “The glass room over there is the control center. That is where we make all the magic happen.” he said with a grin.

“I wonder why,” Rach mumbled again referring to her head’s explosive surprise. She sighed then waved her hand for him to lead the way, replying in a normal volume this time, “Alright, so what do I do? You haven’t really gone into details over what I want to know or even explained in clear words how this is going to go. I don’t know if I’m suppose to stand here and wait or you going to give me a tour before we start or what?”

“You don’t have to do anything, to be perfectly honest. I’m just going to go into the control room and start a program, and then we’ll have a little fun.” Midas told her with a hint of glee in his voice as he started to walk away from her and toward the glass encased room.

Once inside the control room, he looked down at the control panel as he contemplated where to begin. “Let’s start it out nice and easy.” He said to himself as he activated the Power Plant’s training module at its lowest setting. Once the training module was activated, the lights within the room dimmed. Then there was a low buzzing sound as the room’s training system kicked on. Within moments, Midas watched as something began to form out of the side of the wall. It was what looked like a massive walking tank. Matte black and heavily armoured, the slow moving behemoth silently advanced toward Racheli. While the menacing tank, which had a strange, boxy structure with a rounded top looked like a twisted marriage of technology and heavy weaponry come to life, it was in essence a hologram. However, it was not your typical holographic light show, it was what Midas called a “Hard Light Construct,” or HLC, and it was more than capable of injuring, or even killing a test subject. Midas watched in awe of his own technological prowess before activating the intercom which allowed him to communicate with the training room.

“Now Racheli, let’s just see what you’ve got.”

Racheli stared for a long and hard moment. The damn thing looked like it had four spider like legs , through about ten times thicker, and a tank for a body and covered in black armor like some twisted nightmare an engineer had during his sleep. She noticed she could see through it which made it difficult for her to grasp how exactly she was suppose to hit it. Even how it was suppose to hurt her.

Not trusting Midas in the least, she carefully walked to the right of it. Her head tilted and studied it deeply as she drew nearer. Immediately the tank’s cannon muzzle lowered and shifted in her direction. Shit, Racheli thought, as she was staring down it and watched the back of it heat up, rotate and fired.

Everything happened too fast for Rach to turn her heightened senses on so instead she moved. Her right foot jerked forward and rushed to the right just when she heard the ball of light explode from the chamber. Adrenaline rushed through her system as she ran to the side, unaware of any pain etched across her body until she came to a grinding stop.

In that dreadful moment, she realized she couldn’t move her arm. Her eyes shifted to the side and all color drained from her expression. She wasn’t fast enough and forgot to watch all her limbs.

Where her arm had once been was only a black, bloody stump. It can clipped her left arm off at just the elbow and dangled like some useless thing. Her face twisted to spot the ragged thing charred, dead and useless. Shock immediately swarmed her awareness over her heavy wound causing her to fall to one knee. Her breath increased heavily and heart raced in her chest, her adrenaline pouring through her system in rapid pace.

Fuck...FUCK! She screamed in her head unsure how she was still alive or thinking.

“Get up.” Midas said under his breath as the walking tank construct advanced on Racheli. He hadn’t believed that the first level of the training program would be able to cause the young woman so much trouble, but as he looked over to the charred remains of her lower arm on the floor of the proving grounds, he realized that either she had underestimated the program, or he had overestimated her. Either way, that miscalculation would soon be rectified as he upped the training module to the next level.

“Racheli, you need to move. Do something, it will not relent until you stop it, or you’re dead.” Midas said into the intercom.

Still huffing from the shock trying to overwhelm her systems, her eyes snapped up. She sharply held a venomous sarcasm in her tone over the fact she just lost her arm while she spoke, “Gee, thanks. I didn’t notice when I lost my arm! If this is your training for most metas, I get why Icon thought twice…”

Her ears caught the humming sounds of something coming in from her right and left. The moment her eyes noticed the flicker of steel, her undamaged hand raised and jerked down. One drone hissed then spiral down and crashed a foot from her. Mumbling curses, likely about Midas and his mother’s sexual reputation, Rach darted for the drowned drone. Her hand flattened her palm at the surface as it quivered and in a few seconds, became liquid.

The metal raced up her body and traveled to the other shoulder. It glided down the upper part of her stump to form a arm at her elbow just when the machine from hell decided to fire again. This time she was ready. Rach’s arm extended and the arm vanished, creating a half shield which the shell exploded on instead of her.

Her feet dug in, the impact and force sending her to skid back a few meters before grinding to a stop.

It scorched the metal a bit as she retracted it back into an arm. Her ears caught the other drone zipping back around to attempt to hit her and her right arm tore that one down in the same fashion when it came into range. Unfortunately, it landed a meter or more from her location. Sighing, Rach began to move toward the large machine while it was ‘recharging’. Her arm shifted into a large, over side blade then took a swipe at what she guessed was the machine’s joint. It crumpled to one side with an almost metal squeak as she continued to run, not looking back at the damage.

It would be very clear shortly that she lacked any training in combat when the tank turned about and fired again. Barely missing. The explosion smacked the ground and the kinetic energy sent her crashing into the far wall with a dull smack. Rach felt something break on impact but unable to determine what, she slid to the ground and landed on her knees for the moment.

“You are going to get us killed,”Michael said as he stepped into view for everyone to see. For Midas, it would appear as if someone had managed to bypass his security and entered the power plant. Only after they did indications for life signs, or analyze her brain waves did they realize it was actually from Racheli.

“Shut up,” Rach spat blood through her lips. Her figure worked itself up against the wall and wobbled a bit until they steadied after a few moments.

“Try to not just bash your way through them and think about how to cripple them…”

“Tch.” Rach said as she began to turn on her heightened senses, every color, sound, and more sudden flooded into her attention. She squinted a moment, giving the tank machine time to lock on her.

“Might want to move… Now.”

Midas looked on in disbelief as a second individual, this one a slightly older male seemingly materialized within the testing ground of the Power Plant near Racheli. Then her remembered what Ms Sparks had told him about her experiences with the young woman and the almost spectre like man who revealed himself to her. Using the sensors in the training room, Midas gauged Racheli’s vitals, and found something interesting...while he was looking at two people inside the room, the readings within the room only identified one life form within the vicinity.

Interesting. Midas thought to himself as he pondered what this could mean.

While he didn’t know the relationship between Racheli and this man, from what he witnessed, and what he could put together from what Ms Sparks had told him, their relationship was a contentious one. It was also unclear where the man had come from, but he could only surmise that he was a projection of sorts, perhaps some sort of artificial intelligence that manifested from the alien virus that had infected her, but it seemed to show up whenever Racheli was in any kind of distress. He wondered if this was some sort of defense mechanism, however what kind of advantage his presence provided was unclear to Midas, as this “man” seemingly only served to aggravate and distract Racheli.

“What the hell are you?” Midas whispered under his breath as he watched the construct of the tank continue its assault on the young woman.

The construct fired at Rach again but instead of finding flesh and blood, it found the outside barrier of the room. Scorched and dented in slightly, the construct turned to the movement that stopped just in its peripheral vision. Rach, still focusing on her arm’s shape, breathed heavily then gashed her teeth in frustration. Her eyes briefly turned to the newly formed arm with a sickened expression before she turned back to the machine of light.

“You took my arm, it’s only fair I take something of yours.” Rach snarled then let her eyes go completely black once more. Her hand touched the nearest post. In moments it began to liquify and swirl along her arm. It curved before it rested on her torso, like armor. The surface seemed to resemble more flesh than actual metal. Each breathe caused it to swell then fall with her lungs.

She whipped her arm about from left to right. Suddenly several quill like metal projectiles shot from her arm’s side. They zipped toward the machine and embedded into the surface, easily, until she focused on them again. Her nostrils flared while she extended her arm. She jerked her fisted hand open and made a claw gesture. No time to brace, the embedded quills oozed into the created wounds and immediately extended. The cracks were made bigger then shifted as new holes were made on different angles and surfaces. With each new whip of her arm, the liquid metal moved then erupted elsewhere.

Without another thought of self preservation, the construct rose its cannon then fired again. Rach darted to the right and narrowly missed it. However, she didn’t count on the second shot that followed it up. It aimed just a few meters ahead of her and popped off almost instantly after the first. She barely had time to brace as she twisted her torso and all metal from it rushed out into a metal shield.

It took the force but the impact abruptly tossed her from her feet. She collided with the dirt and rolled a few feet away, her skin torn by the rough surface. Her mind trying to orient herself, Rach feebly pulled herself upright into a wobbly stance. The metal within the construct ceased its inward attack the moment she was knocked from her course. She raised a hand to wipe away the black blood, letting it smear over her lip, as she glared at it.

“You fucking piece of shit!” Rach cursed.

The virus, naturally not being in any true danger, didn’t move from his original position. His illusion unfazed by any of the explosions, he casually walked through the light construct and toward his host. Each step resembled the predator whose form he took on.

“She’d be truly impressive if she actually knew how to fight. I’m amazed that War-Pulse didn’t mop Chinatown with her.” Midas quipped to himself as he watched Racheli battle the construct. “Fortunately, that’s something that can be remedied, still...she has a lot of raw talent.” he finished.

Midas watched as Racheli tried to dodge and attack the construct, and from the way she seemed to drag herself around, he knew that he had seen enough, at least for now. He figured that she needed some time to recover, as he wondered if the fight with War-Pulse had taken more out of her than he had anticipated. So just as the construct brought its weapons to bare on her, he pressed the switch that would end the program. The battle tank flickered twice, and was gone.

“Well, that was...educational.” Midas said as he stepped out of the control booth toward Racheli, who was gasping for air, trying to catch her breath.

“Personally, I could’ve lived never going through that,” Rach snapped as she turned to her missing arm. The metal remained and continued to retain the given shape, but she knew it would take a day or more to recover completely. Her mind, the part that remained human, doubted it would ever grow back.

“How many times must you be told? You’re not human. It will grow back,” The virus explained with a slight irritation in his tone, his path walked around to her left and there was where he stood comfortably.

Midas looked from Racheli to the “man” standing beside her as he gently berated her. He was unsure what exactly this apparition was or how it worked, but his curiosity had been piqued. He just stood there for a moment and watched the two interact with one another, and noted that there was something odd about their relationship, but he was unable to pinpoint exactly what that was.

“We’ll give it another go once you’re recovered.” Midas said to Racheli. “Considering everything that you’ve been through over the last few days, you did remarkably well.” Midas then turned to the mysterious figure standing beside Racheli. “And as for you, I’m very curious as to exactly what you are, and what connection you have with our dear Ms Desemona.”

“A thorn in my ass,” Rach mumbled, ignoring Midas’ comment for a moment, then flopped down into a cross legged position.

“If you run a background check, you’ll learn quickly who I’m projecting,” the virus began, then turned to focus on Midas’ figure, “As for what I am… Let’s just say I came with the package when she became infected and it’s in my best interest she continues to live.”

“Hmmph.” Midas nodded as he listened to the projection. “Well my friend, it would seem that our interests align. I have no desire to see any harm befall Racheli, much less see her killed. Quite the contrary, actually. I have very high hopes for our girl.” Midas told the projection, ignoring the apparition’s first comments.

“Really?” Came the virus’ answer, his lips narrowed into a frown. His right foot took a stepped toward Midas, his eyes hardened and predatory, as he closed the distance casually and his tone sharp, “I fail to see how tossing her into a fight against a large, unknow structure is helping her at all. Especially since she’s already lost a limb. I assume you’ve seen her ability already and know she’s got no fighting experience or you would’ve never targeted her at all.”

“Perhaps.” Midas acknowledged. “Or perhaps I see something inside of her that even you fail to see. I can provide her with training. I can teach her to control her gifts...maybe even to control you. My methods may not be kind, but I assure you, I have nothing but her best interests in mind.”

The virus’ lips curled into a wicked smile. His chest bubbled with amusement and into a hearty chuckle, it slowly faded as he sought the right words to reply, “I doubt that, highly. As for her best interests, it won’t matter in the end.”

“Just look around you.” Midas told the virus. “You seem at least self aware, I’m sure that it hasn’t escaped you that this world is changing. Men flying through the air, portals to demonic realms opening in the very heart of the city. How long before our so called protectors turn against us? Or worse, they attract something truly malevolent to us, something that is determined to wipes us from existence? You see, I believe that young Racheli may be the only thing capable of preventing that. She might be this world’s last hope when the shit really hits the fan. So yes, I have NOTHING but her best interests at heart.” Midas finished, his tone harsher than before.

“And what happens when she is the very thing attracting more trouble than she’s worth?” He asked, his eyes glinted with a hint of anger and assumption. The answer was clear to him to the end result and unfazed by the aggression.

“That is a bridge that we will cross when we get there. But I have no intentions of harming her.”

“You’re human, your intentions are nothing but harmful. Even when they are pure,” Michael said in a venomous tone, his mind recalling the days he was ripped to pieces and experimented on as proof to his words. The whole human race would one day pay for their ‘intentions’, a promise he intended to use Racheli to carry out and wipe them off the face of the earth.

Rach’s voice, laced with sarcasm, interrupted the pair’s conversation, “If ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ are done talking, can I fucking leave so you can continue to pretend I’m not even here?”

Her metal arm had already shorted into a sort of silver cap to prevent bleeding out all over the training area as she waited for their answer.

“Of course Racheli. Two levels up is our medical wing. Why don’t you go there, we have hyperbaric chambers to encourage a speedy recovery. In fact, I’ll take you there personally.” Midas said with a half hearted smile, ignoring the apparition’s comments completely.

“Unless they can accelerate nanites into quicker speed and supply materials, it’s unlikely to help,” The projection stated, popping the bubble, then glanced about the area. His eyes landed on a few of the metal poles untouched in the chaos then pointed at them, “Smear your blood on those posts and break them down. That should provide enough raw material for you to mend but it will still take time.”

Rach gave him a look and it was clear she wasn’t about to listen to a damn thing he was going to suggest, “Very well, do it your way and don’t say I didn’t give another method. Eventually, we’re going to have to learn to work together even if you despise the idea.”

With those last words, Michael faded from sight.

“Right…” Midas said as the apparition vanished before him. “Let’s get you upstairs. The chambers are quite comfortable, and even if they don’t help accelerate your healing, they will give you some peace and quiet, and I think that right now, you could use that.”

The night had gone about as well as Scott had expected. They all ate in a relative, awkward silence as Janice tried to make conversation, which Jonathan masterfully avoided. Whenever Jonathan did participate in the conversation, it only served to point out how woefully inadequate he found Scott to be not only in just about every facet of life, but especially as a partner for his baby girl. In fact, it had been so brutally unbearable that Alexa almost abruptly ended the dinner with her parents on several occasions. However, as much as she wanted end the whole affair and spare Scott any more torment from the unrelenting passive aggressive assault of her father, she didn’t. Instead she tried to make the evening as smooth as possible by changing the topic whenever her father’s attitude warranted it.

Mercifully, after just over two excruciating hours, dinner was over. Scott had hoped that once the bill was paid, he and Alexa would be free to take their leave of her parents and salvage the rest of the night together. He had hoped for a nice quiet night at home, either her apartment or his, which one wasn’t relevant, relaxing on the couch watching some Netflix or anything for that matter, just as long as they were together. However, fate had other plans. Instead of finally going their separate ways after dinner, Janice proved to be a true sadist and suggested a night cap at Alexa’s apartment. What was worse, they had decided to walk the three blocks from AnGio to her place, which left Scott with no chance to avoid further conversation.

The night went from bad to worse when Jonathan suggested that the ladies walk ahead so that he and Scott could “bond.” As the two ladies moved further ahead of them, a tight knot developed in his chest as he had an unsettling feeling about what was surely to come. Thus far in his relationship with Alexa, any and all interactions with her parents, particularly her father, were about as pleasant as a colonoscopy, and here he was, walking side by side with the man who had been the bane of his existence since they had been introduced.

“You know Scott, I really do think that you’ve got me all wrong.” Jonathan said almost out of the blue.

Here we go… Scott thought to himself as he looked into the windows of an upscale women’s clothing store as they walked past it.

“I know you think I don’t like you, and while I don’t approve of you dating my daughter, I don’t dislike you.” He said in an almost friendly manner.

“You certainly seem to go out of your way to show me otherwise.” Scott countered.

“The thing is, for me to dislike you would mean that you matter. And I want to be crystal clear, you don’t.” Jonathan told him.

Scott was about to respond, but was completely taken aback by the older man’s statement that the words just wouldn’t come. A thousand things came to mind that he wanted to say, but for Alexa’s sake, he didn’t. Instead, he walked along silently wishing that Umbraxis would suddenly show up and attack the city again.

“Look Scott, you seem like a nice kid. You seem to have your head on your shoulders. You’ve got that little club of yours, and it allows you to…do whatever else it is you do in your spare time.” Jonathan said with a sideways glance and a smirk. “But you just aren’t what she needs. You can’t support Alexa, and you can’t protect her.”

“To be perfectly honest Jonathan, Alexa doesn’t need to be taken care of. And she sure as hell doesn’t need anybody’s protection.” Scott started. “I may not make the kind of money that your family does, but I would never, ever let anything happen to Alexa, and if she needed it, I would give her every penny I had.”

“That’s nice to hear. It’s inconsequential, but still nice. The fact of the matter is, I don’t trust you. You aren’t good enough for my little girl, but for some strange reason she chose you. Scott, you make my daughter happy, and to me that’s the most important thing. So let me be crystal on this…if you hurt her, if anything happens to her while you two are together…I will make your life a living hell. Your club, your apartment, hell…your mother’s home…everything that has ever meant anything to you, will be mine. I will erase you with the snap of my fingers and I’ll sleep like a baby while doing it. Because that little girl is my whole world, and I will destroy anybody that causes her any pain.” Jonathan said, his tone indicating to Scott that it wasn’t just an idle threat, but that the older man meant every word.

“You don’t have anything to worry about. I’d never do anything to hurt her.” Scott told him.

“I know that you believe that, but I’ve been around, Kid, and I just don’t see this lasting.” This was the last thing that Jonathan or Scott said for the remainder of the short walk back to Alexa’s apartment. With each step, Scott wished that he could just take off and get away from this miserable human being, but again for Alexa’s sake, he stuck his chin out and endured for the rest of the night.

Los Angeles, California 7:01PM Western Time

Club Morte had long been a popular attraction among the Gothic lifestylers and those looking for a bit of excitement by stepping outside of their comfort zone. Located just a few blocks off of Sunset Boulevard, the club had been a haven for those looking for something a little bit different. Unknown to the majority of the club’s patrons, much less the tourists who on occasion passed through the front doors, Club Morte was not just your average alternative lifestyle club. While the club itself had a cheap, right off the rack of Hot Topic type of feel to it, something much more sinister was at work within the walls of the club.

For years, the local police department looked the other way whenever the occasional junky disappeared soon after leaving the club, or even vanish from within the club itself. Some within the department were aware of the true nature of the club, and because of that they allowed things to run their course without police intervention. The fact was, Club Morte was run by mobsters or gangs, but something much, much worse. Vampires had first moved into the area at the height of Prohibition in the 1920’s, and taking advantage of the state’s glamour seekers offered the best spirits that money could buy. And buy they did. People showed up to the original location, which was simply known as Stardust in droves. Stardust was an elegant establishment, a perfect reflection of that era’s Hollywood. Over the years, the club had evolved into whatever it needed to be in order to serve its purpose, and while entertainment was always important, the club’s main focus was to provide its owners with a steady source of food.

On this night, the club was at capacity. The club pulsed with the electric beats that the deejay was producing from his rig. The heat level within the club was rising as bodies swayed and grinded against one another with the beats of the music; the strobe lights gave the place an entirely otherworldly feel. The vampiric element within the club surveyed the dance floor, looking prime candidates to be their next meal. Suddenly, the front doors burst open and about a half dozen men in black tactical suits rushed into the club, seemingly opening fire indiscriminately. The staff of the club, which was made up almost exclusively of vampires rushed toward the intruders, only to be met with a hail of gunfire. However, as soon as the first vampire was struck, it was clear that these intruders were not using just any ammunition, evidenced by the fact that once the bullet pierced his heart, the vampire began to writhe in pain as she began to combust from the inside. Within a matter of seconds, all that remained of the vampire was a pile of dust that marked where she had taken her last breath. The scene repeated itself over and over as the vampires within the club fell one after another in short order.

However, the slaughter did not end when the last vampire had fallen. Soon, the attackers turned their sights on the club patrons and opened fire. The majority of the victims simply fell to the ground when they were shot, though several others combusted from the inside and left nothing but a pile of ash where their bodies should have been. The attackers hit the club with a tactical precision that one would expect to see out of a military special ops unit. The assault was fast and hard, and was over almost as suddenly as it began. When the gunfire stopped, the attackers left a pile of corpses and ash strewn about the club, and the only clue left about who they were, or what they wanted were three solitary letters spray painted in black across the top of the bar.
H-O-H

Little Ulster, Lost Haven Maine 10:01PM Eastern Time

For the woman known only as Styx, it has been a long year. After first arriving in Lost Haven and opening a portal to a demonic dimension and unleashing that realm’s inhabitants upon the city, an event that the locals have taken to calling D-Day, she has found it in her best interest to remain out of the public eye. She hadn’t thought that anyone had seen what she had done, but several months after the incident she had begun receiving threatening letters. So she had gone into hiding completely off the grid. She had been forced, quite literally underground. She had spent her days toiling in the sewers beneath the city. She had memorized every nook and cranny of the world below the city that most of the residents of Lost Haven were completely unaware even existed below their feet. It had been a miserable existence for the demon, who had survived by feeding on rats and insects, as well as the occasional scraps of rotting food that she had been able to liberate from dumpsters on the rare occasions that she had risked going above ground.

Living below the streets sucked, there was no way around that. But she was still breathing, and as unpleasant as that could be while living in the sewers, she was still alive. Or at least that’s what she told herself on a daily basis. That was her life, at least until recently when she began to get the sinking feeling that she was no longer alone in the subterranean hell that she had made for herself. It was true that from time to time she would cross paths with someone from above ground. She would see the occasional homeless person who found that the warmth that the underground provided was better than freezing to death up above. She would even see the occasional criminal who was using the tunnels beneath the city streets to move about undetected. Though it didn’t happen very often, she was accustomed to that. But this was different. She could feel that somebody was down there with her, watching her. Even though she tried to convince herself that she was being paranoid, it made her uneasy.

Up until this moment, she had almost been able to convince herself that she had in fact been paranoid. However, that debate was quickly and undeniably settled when she saw three men in black body armor coming toward her with guns drawn. She had been in a secluded section of the sewer which was secluded and cozy, with just a small corridor that led to a ladder and a manhole cover. The three men seemed to know exactly where she would be, and when. It was that moment that she knew that she had been right all along, someone had been watching her. She darted down the back corridor and nimbly jumped to the ladder, where she raced to the top and expertly forced the manhole cover open and pushed her way through it, up and out into the brisk night air.

“Sorry, so sorry…but no, no, no, no. You…you aren’t going to get me that eas--!” she was cut off mid sentence as a section of barbed wire was placed across her throat and yanked hard backward. The pain of the barbs piercing the soft flesh of her neck was unlike anything she had ever felt before and she almost blacked out from the shock, but somehow, she managed to stay awake.

In her rush to escape the threat below, she failed to notice the threat that awaited her above the surface. Several more of the black clad men were laying in wait just out of view in the alley in which she had emerged. Once the first man had secured her with the barbed wire noose, the men dragged her out of the alley to their waiting trucks. However, the men did not throw her into one of the vehicles. Instead, they bound her arms and legs with more barbed wire. Once she was secured in the wire, they each tied one end of the wire to the bumper of their trucks. Once she was tightly secured, they each began to drive away in different directions, pulling her completely apart in the process. However, the men did not travel far. In fact, they only pulled forward a dozen or so feet in any direction. Once Styx had been eliminated, the removed the barbed wire tethers from their bumpers and left what remained of her in a neat pile on the sidewalk where anyone who happened by would find her remains. However, they didn’t leave until one of the men carved the letters “H-O-H” into her forehead.

Las Vegas, Nevada 7:01PM Western Time

Pixy Stix was a relatively new hot spot in Las Vegas. Located just off of the main Strip, the patrons who frequented and tourists alike were always guaranteed a good time. Unlike other establishments of its ilk, the Fae that ran Pixy Stix were neither shy nor did they conceal who, or more importantly, what they were. In fact, they included it in their marketing. Most people thought that it was nothing more than a clever gimmick to stand out in a city of clever gimmicks. But the fact remained, that within the walls of Pixy Stix, nothing was off limits, and nothing was too taboo. In fact, if you were one of the lucky VIP’s, or even if one of the girls, or guys for that matter took a fancy to you, you could end up in the back room, which had been nicknamed “Eden,” which was more or less a thinly veiled brothel where you could live out your wildest fantasies with some of the most desirable creatures from all of mythology…as long as your credit card cleared, that is.

To the patrons who visited Pixy Stix, a night there was much akin to spending an evening with the fabled Lotus Eaters, time just seemed to pass by ever so slowly, and with each passing moment, you were less and less inclined to leave. However, unlike the Lotus Eaters, the Fae who resided at Pixy Stix did not need to keep you under a mystical thrall to keep you there; you wanted to stay all on your own accord. Once inside Pixy Stix, you were surrounded by beautiful people wearing very little, and in some cases, nothing at all and an abundance of the very best booze from all around the world, as well as several “secret brews” that unbeknownst to anyone but the Fae, were not of this world at all.

To the Fae, as well as those in the know, Pixy Stix was more than a raucous nightclub. It was a sanctuary. It was a place that Fae, humans, meta humans, and all variety of supernatural creatures alike could go without worrying about being judged. This was a place where no body had to worry about petty rivalries and violence. Pixy Stix was a place of fun and peace. It was a place where the promise of entertainment and sex were more important than the need for conflict. From the moment you walked through the front doors, you were among friends. These were friends who didn’t care about the things that you may have done in the past, or might do in the future. Everyone was welcome at Pixy Stix, and everyone got along.

That was until a dozen men in black body armor kicked in the door and began opening fire. The men stormed the club, not just with guns, but hunting knives and what looked like machetes. However, they were not just any blades, these were forged from wrought iron. The men went about Pixy Stix, slaughtering everyone in their path, not just Fae and other supernatural beings, but humans as well. There was no rhyme or reason to the attack, there was just unrelenting, indiscriminate killing. When they had finished, there was not a single being, human, meta human, or Fae left alive inside the walls of Pixy Stix. They had even found the secret entrance into Eden, and slaughtered anyone there as well. Once the assault was over, and the attackers were satisfied that everyone was dead, the leader of the raid pulled out a small spherical device about the size of a ping pong ball from his utility belt and pressed a button on the top of it, which caused the device to glow red. After ordering his men out of the club, he threw the device among the carnage just before he took his leave of the club himself. Moments later, Pixy Stix exploded in a torrent on flame and wind that eradicated everything inside.

The men did not leave until they had left a message scorched into the street in front of what had until tonight, been Pixy Stix. They had poured gasoline into the street, and when they lit a match and tossed it into the gas, the letters H-O-H could be seen from the heavens.

STRIKE Headquarters, Washington DC, 10:01PM Eastern Time

Alexander Anderson stood around the vast computer arrays that were housed in the Situation Room of STRIKE Headquarters. He and his top advisors were focused on one screen in particular. Neither Anderson nor his advisors knew what to make of the anomaly that had been tracking, and neither did the few within the scientific community that they had brought in to analyze it. They only thing they knew was that they knew absolutely nothing.

“Director, it seems that the anomaly is-” the man was interrupted by one of the men monitoring one of the other many computer screens.

“Sir! We have multiple att-” the technician never finished his sentence as the console in front of him, as well as the rest of arrays exploded at once, sending glass, bodies and other debris flying in every direction.
The explosion had been so big, that it punched a hole in the titanium reinforced outer wall of the complex, killing untold dozens of men and women within the headquarters of STRIKE. The only fortunate thing about the explosion was that it occurred late at night when the vast majority of agents and general employees were at home with their families. However, as the rescue crews made their way down to the epicenter of the blast, it was clear that nobody could have possibly survived such an explosion. Agent Marcus Ryder, had been outside when the explosion rocked the nation’s capital, the blast’s concussion had been so powerful that it threw him a dozen or so yards from where he had been standing.

“My God…” was all that he could muster when he looked up and saw the utter devastation that had befallen STRIKE Headquarters. Agent Ryder, who had served in the same military unit with Director Anderson in their younger years, and who had maintained a close relationship with him, rushed toward the inferno that had been his base of operations.

He ran into the building and made his way down to the Situation Room, where he knew Anderson had been holding a briefing with some of his advisors. As he raced through the halls, he was amazed by how quickly the response teams had sprung into action. As he got closer to the Situation Room, he was nearly overcome by the noxious fumes of the black smoke that billowed through the halls. As he reached the room, visibility was very limited, but from what he could see, he knew that the situation was bad. The heavy steel doors that led into the Situation Room had been blown clean off of the hinges. Ryder rushed blindly into the room, hoping against hope for a miracle.

“Alex! Alex!” he cried out to his friend. However, he was greeted with silence. It was in this moment, that he knew nothing would ever be the same again.



All across the country people settled in for the night. Some chose to watch the evening news, or old Friends reruns. Some people chose to spend the night binge watching their favorite shows on Netflix or Hulu. However, none were expecting what they were about to view. Instead of their program of choice, they found themselves gazing at a figure surrounded in shadow, much like what you might expect to see when a show like 60 Minutes is interviewing a mob witness. As the man spoke, it was through a voice modulator that made the message all the more sinister.

“People of America, we find ourselves at the precipice. For far too long, our elected leaders and those who have been put into place to protect us from the threats that we face have failed to act. Instead, they have sat idly by and watched as freaks in capes, mages and monsters have taken the security of this world into their own hands. For the most part, the people have accepted the rule of gods amongst us, at the detriment of humankind.” The man in shadows said before pausing to allow his words to find their mark.

“But let me ask you, how long? How long before these so call saviors decide that playing hero is not enough? How long before they turn their powers against us?” The man asked, again pausing for effect.

“We cannot sit by and wait for these beings to decide that it is time that rushing to our aid and solving our problems is no longer prudent. We cannot wait for them to decide that it is us, the human race, that is the problem. And we can no longer wait for institutions that have been put into place to protect us from such a cataclysm to follow their charter and do what must be done. So we have taken it upon ourselves to take the necessary steps to protect all of humanity from the threat of the meta humans and all of their ilk. Tonight, we have completed multiple, simultaneous operations against known threats. We have also eliminated the organization known as STRIKE, for their failure to act against hostile forces. We will no longer tolerate the meta human threat to our world, nor those who support them. We will continue to act, until all meta humans, as well as those who provide material aid or support for their kind, are wiped from the face of the Earth.” The man paused as he leaned toward the camera, however, even as he moved closer to the camera, his face remained obscured in shadow.

“Inaction is no longer acceptable. We are the last line of defense against these monsters, and we will not rest until every last one of them is eradicated. We are here, we are everywhere. We are the…”

Ben sat upright in the back seat of the moving car, fully human now. His naked figure was mostly cleaned of any bloody remains and modesty provided by what he assumed was a purloined blanket from the truck. It tormented him with itchy flesh much to his already irritated mood causing him to scratch every few minutes at something on this shoulders or legs before he readjusted, mainly to stop any extended touch for brief relief. He continued to stare at both Otto and Rune, their names introduced to him upon transforming back, while he was careful to use the blanket to shield himself from any moonlight.

According to Rune, if he did then he would transform back. He didn’t really want to become a bloody mess again since he still felt filthy. For the most part… he looked like something they picked up directly off the street.

Drinking the herbs provided in the water, his mind was finally clear to ask the two most important questions that lingered on his mind, “Who in the world, are you two? And what insane force drove you to believing kidnapping me was a good idea?”

Naturally he thought they were purely crazy for believing kidnapping a newborn werewolf like himself would result in anything good.

Otto and Rune had been driving for a while now, just away from the Vampire in general and only just now turned the car towards the Stateline. They had ways to make it to Nevada faster than by driving cross country, but the closest shortcut was outside city limits.

“We already gave you our names Kid. I’m Rune. This is Otto.” Rune said as he looked back from where he was driving. “As for why. We need to borrow that nose of yours. Me and Otto are magicians. Not the rabbit out of a hat kind, the real kind.” He said with a grin that was strained to say the least.

Ben’s eyebrow raised at the word magicians. A bit of irony considering he could turn into a looming tall werewolf as his arms crossed over his bare chest, his eyes sizing both of them up. It didn’t help his head was on fire despite being human again and a fogginess hurt his focus.

“Something terrible is about to go down, and we need to stop it.” Otto said, ever the calm and collected one. “Turns out a major league demon got a hold of something very powerful. “

“Yeah. Thanks to some snotnosed Witch who cannot see pass her payday” Rune muttered, not aware that Marie and Ben knew each other. “Not that we can do anything about her now, I promised Puck we weren’t gonna hurt her.”

“I doubt kidnapping a minor will really help you save the ‘day’,” Ben said in a sarcastic tone, “Besides there’s a huge over sight with your little idea: I can’t control my shifts. What happens if I’m in the middle of a room full of people and I begin to shift forms? I can’t exactly stop in the middle and go back to human. Another issue is that I can barely recall anything when I go wolf, save for recently and those are hazier than a guy on acid. I won’t remember what you want me to do, let alone not become distracted.”

Rune and Otto looked at each other, then at the teen werewolf then back at one another. Then they began cackling. The cackle turned into full manic laughter, so violent they had to pull the car over. Once they got control over themselves they coughed.

“Ok. So you clearly are new to this.” Otto said trough wheezing, coughing gasps.

“I literally got bitten almost yesterday, so you think?” Ben snapped with an irritation created at being laughed at, his teeth subtly gashed under his pressed lips.

“What he means kid, is that We been doing this for somewhere around 30 years, give or take five.” Rune smirked. “We won’t bring a teen werewolf into a room full of people who aren’t clued in. And Otto here,” He motioned to his friend. “Know a few things about wolfing out. Show the lad your stuff Otto.”

Otto nodded, as he had remained in human form. Stepping out of the car, he clasped an amulet he wore around his neck and closed his eyes. Then he started to change, hair growing thick and black, spreading down his back. His arms swelling with muscle, his teeth elongating. In less than a minute, his hexenwulf form stared at Ben amused.

Instinctively, Ben turned to face outside the window. At the sight of the change, his lips curled back and his teeth bared as he let out a feral growl that surprised even him. It took a moment or two for him to realize it was actually him doing it before he inhaled then took another sip of the water in hopes to brush off the experience. Inside it worried him deeply but he wasn’t about to show that on the outside.

“He ain’t no American Werewolf like you. He is a Hexenwolf, a sort of shaman that imitates or mimics lycanthropy. His amulet was made by a European Gristlehair Werewolf, if that helps. But he is tight with the werewolf community. And he is no threat to you. Neither am I.”

“You’re still expecting me to be able to identify whatever you’re looking for, which means I need to learn to how to do whatever wolves do to track,” The teenager pointed out as he shifted his attention between the two.

“You can smell magic, correct? Your werewolf form was all but drunk of my arcane energies.” Rune said, now with a much easier smile on his lips. “That gives us somewhere to start. All natural werewolves can track, its in their blood. You can to.”

“I don’t… recall that? I mean, I do remember, vaguely, the emotion and it seems to have stuck around because it is why I haven’t literally bolted yet. However… I can’t figure out how to tell one magical source from another, merely if it’s magic. That’s it,” Ben commented, trying to consider what to do as his arms uncrossed. His eyes caught the ring on his finger for a moment and recalled what Marie had said. Without drawing too much attention to it, he ‘made’ a nervous gesture out of it as his fingers rotated it once, twice, then thrice with a deep thought over how to say what he was about to. Alright, it seems two ‘magicians’ have saved me from a vampire and taking me to Nevada… They need my help or so they say, I don’t fully trust them.

“You said you turned and wolf out yesterday, right. You shouldn’t shift on a dime like that.” Otto said, his voice a whole lot more hoarse and rough in his wolf form. His form was seemingly relaxed, he showed no outer signs of hostility whatsoever.

“I’ve literally wolfed out about at least three times already, counting the full moon. None by choice, believe me,” Benjamin explained, honestly. His fingers removed from the ring as he settled into the seat, but his eyes was mindful of both of them.

“Unless…” Rune mumbled. “What if the Soul Stones creation messed him up. That would explain the Pax-Luna stuff.”

“Wait… Pax-Luna what?”

“...Aw shit. It means Peace of the Moon. As in, werewolves shouldn’t turn when the moon isn’t full unless they really want to.” Otto rubbed the bridge of his snout. “Yeah. That would do it. A great mystical nuke being created would mess with a newly formed werewolfs senses.” Otto began to turning back to human again. “Ok, Ben was it? I think we can help you get some more control over it. At least for a while. Turns out, the reason we are on this entire trip, might be the same reason your shifting is out of control.”

“Benjamin,” Ben corrected, not liking anyone besides his dead mother using the shorten version of his name. Even Daniel got the same dirty look he was now showing Otto whenever the mistake was made after his mother died and the man tried to create the illusion of a perfect father, “No one calls me Ben. And if you need someone to smell it out, why can’t you just use yourself? Or another werewolf.”

Otto was about to answer but Rune had picked up on the pained edge of Ben’s voice and spoke instead. “Benjamin it is kid, don’t worry about it.” He said then settled against the hood of the car. “Because I never heard of a werewolf able to track magic before. You are exceedingly rare and just what we need right now.” He said as he went to the trunk of the car and picked up a small plastic jug and some bowls.

“So I’m a freak even among freaks?” He asked, through it wasn’t really a question.

“ Freak? Boy, I am the lover of a Elven King. I am so gay, even the faeries look at me weirdly. Not to mention humans.” Rune chuckled. “You aren’t even registering on the freak scale.”

“Well you’re not cheerful that’s for sure,” He shot back in a smartass fashion, referring to the other meaning of ‘gay’.

Ben’s words made Otto chuckle and Rune rolled his eyes. “Yeah. No. I am an cynic at heart. I just love beautiful pointy eared men too much. Now, Kid. You wanna know what real magic feels like?” He shot him a grin that nobody had ever trusted, but all had caved to in time. The grin of a man who really seen it all. He shook the jug as Otto eyed him wearily.

At seeing the grin, Ben let his blanket slip a bit from his shoulder and prepared to lean back. He didn’t trust it and the fact he was prepared to turn wolf made that very clear.

“We really going to do this?” Otto asked. “Kid’s strung up tighter than a circus rope.”

“It is the fastest way the help the Kid.” Rune shot back. “A little Peyote never hurt anyone.”

“Or give him another reason to never trust us again. And it has. Bad trips are no fun.”

“Its russian roulette for the magical!” Rune exclaimed. “Look. Why don’t we ask Benjamin.” He turned to Ben and said, suddenly serious. “You want to control your beast kid?”

“Yes, but not enough to fully trust two individuals that literally kidnapped me,” Benjamin stated bluntly as he pressed closer to the door. His arm reached out to the handle, mentally bracing himself for the pain when he hit the pavement with his back and make a break for it.

Rune flicked his finger and there was a click from the door. “You shouldn’t trust anybody but your pack kid, the supernatural world is cut throat and full of killers, crooks and worse.” He opened the door closest to him instead.

“But what you can trust, is our need to stop someone very evil from setting off the magical equivalent of a nuke. And the fact that we wish to help so you can help us. We scratch your back, you refrain from calling the CPS about a kidnapping.”

“One, I don’t know you so anything you said could be a lie. A fact you, yourself pointed out was that in the magic world was not to trust anyone. Two, I’ve already been dropped by enough people that I learned not to rely on anyone but myself. It’s pointless to pretend that fact isn’t true for everyone and more of a child’s illusion to pretend people care at all about each other,” Benjamin said as he spoke from experience, his voice held a hardness unfitting a youth his age, “Three, you want to take me to a place I don’t even know, without giving me proof you can even help me.”

“Oh. Look Rune. He is not even half your age and as cynical as you are.” Otto said, not moved in the slightest by the teens existential angst. Truth to be told, they had both seen more than most and Ben's fate, his story and his suffering was dwarfed by some of the stuff they knew others had suffered.

“Well. It will either kill him or save him.” Rune said with a small nod as he began to pour the diluted substance into the three bowls. He looked to Ben. “You do well to remember one thing though Benjamin. You don’t know shit. You are young, and you haven’t experienced half the stuff some people have. Life can always get worse, but it can get better. You think you know people, but you don’t. You paint a broad picture, but your brush is tarnished. Yes. I told you not to trust anyone in this world. I stick to that. Because magic works just as much trough favors, deals and contracts.”

“But you will find or make a pack of your own one day, as Werewolves tend to do. And in it you will see people care for one another. You have that, as a werewolf. You might see yourself a freak right now, but one day, you will merely see yourself as individual like any other.”

It was Ben’s turn to chuckle, “I doubt that.”

Rune smirked. “You’ll see.” He said as he sat cross legged in front of his bowl now. “Come. Sit. IF nothing else, you can consider me a bad influence that you can blame all your teen anger and shortcomings on later.”

Still wary, Ben edged over to the empty seat left by Rune as he adjusted his blanket over him until it wrapped about his waist. The car roof protected him from any shining moonlight while he got as close to the door as he could, “If this doesn’t help, I’m out of here. Keep that in mind.”

“Duly Noted. City is still in sight, on all four you can make it back in no time,” Rune said, his face split in a grin.

“Rune…” Otto sighed as he sat down.

“It worked for Red Mane.”

“Red Mane is a Huicoli Shaman. His people have been using peyote for hundred of years.” Otto shot back.

“Hush. Ok. So we know you trigger outside the moon. And I’m going out on a limb here and say that the magical vortex and the whole millions of souls crying out as they were extinguished somehow upset whatever triggers your shifting.” Rune continued. “So we are going on a little astral trip, to find your beast and talk to it. If nothing else, your next shift should at least retain some memories and possibly some control.”

Ben listened to the conversation between the two carry out then focused on Rune’s last statement. His mind debated on if the two were immature or plain crazy, subtly wondering what he got himself into by not bolting already before he crossed his legs underneath himself. He considered what to say for a moment then spoke, “What happens if I try to get out of the car? How are you going to stop that as I’ve already pretty much keep escaping everyone’s measures to keep me contained?”

“I imagine I need to buy a new car.” Rune said with a shrug. He shrugged of his cloak, showing arms tattooed on every inch of skin, runes glowing faintly with magic. “We told you we won’t stop you if this doesn’t work out.” Rune said as he hunched forward and placed a few rune inscribed rocks into the middle between the three. “Eld,” He spoke as the stones went from inert to glowing with intense heat in a second. Throwing some dry leaves and small sticks on it they soon had a fire going. “Allright.” He mumbled as he grabbed the bowl.

“Drink as much as you can stomach, then stare into the fire before you close your eyes. Think of your wolf, and try not to be scared of what you first see.” He fished out a old native american looking talisman. “And let’s hope this works.”

Early evening, Los Angeles, CA

The "apartment" Zoé occupied was mostly empty space, really. A huge open area two stories tall, in a converted warehouse. Partition walls divided the whole building into quarters, each several hundred square feet, but as far as she was aware, she was the only person living there, and she owned two of the four spaces. One, the one she wasn't usually in, held most of her equipment, including her carbon fibre suits, welding area, scrap metal, isolated crime computer, and others. That quarter of the building was heavily reinforced, guarded by expertly built security systems that she had paid almost excruciatingly well for. Cameras, laser tripwires, alarms, explosive charges, blast doors, and more made sure that no one was about to 'accidentally' stumble across her villain identity and live to tell the tale. It also contains what she affectionately called her gym, another open area with fireproofed walls and simulated security systems, most of it covered in scorch marks and bits of formerly molten metal.

In contrast, her actual living space consisted of well worn couches, armchairs, and a coffee table, surrounding a 56" plasma television and a bunch of games and consoles. Spaced around that in various areas were her writing desk, three easels with paintings in various stages of completion, a rack of painting and other art supplies, her cello resting on a stand, and in the corner, a small area with plumbing where her kitchen and bathroom were. Next to those was another little spot, divided off by old surgical curtains, that held her bed and a few other personal effects. Hanging from most of the wallspace were completed paintings awaiting buyers. While she liked the finer things in life, she was well aware that she had to maintain an image of almost-but-not-quite poverty in order to keep suspicion off of her.

The building was situated just south of the Lower Westside, in the shadier docks areas where less questions tended to be asked, which suited the Frenchwoman's attitude just fine. 'Evgeniya Dunayevsky' liked her privacy, and less nosy neighbours, the better. And with several drug rings operating inside her 'safety' perimeter now under her thumb for a sort of Robin Hood protection racket, she had enough to pay her bills without working, which allowed her to do only the jobs that amused her or paid extremely well. The outside was just a tad rusty, with peeling paint in patches, and looked almost too stereo-typically run down. All in all, she thought it would be obvious to the right people it was a supervillain lair, almost a challenge to whatever geniuses might be working with the authorities. So far no one had taken her up on it.

Waking up from her afternoon alcohol-induced nap, Zoé sat up out of her bed to the ringing of a cell phone, lifting her brown waves of too-long hair out of her face and squinting at her 'night stand', which was a milk crate. Four phones sat on the crate, set up in a specific order. The first was for Evgeniya, and had contacts for restaurants, galleries, concert venues, her agent, and all the other myriad phone numbers one built up living a normal life. The second was her mercenary number. Not a whole lot of people had a direct knowledge of the number itself, but several brokers knew it, and it also had an attached email address. This was for getting her real work. It had been disappointingly quiet the past few weeks. The third phone was very specifically not listed, and had a vast array of extra security measures programmed into and attached to it, and was the only way to contact Wraith. Two people in the world knew that number, and they only called it in emergencies. The fourth was listed under her real name, and was linked by false GPS traces and telephone providers to Genoa. It only existed in case her sister needed something, as she was the only family member Zoé gave a shit about and was still alive.

It was the second phone which was ringing. She grumbled under her breath, swung her bare legs out of the bed, and picked it up, asuming a near flawless Russian accent as she did so. "Da? Who is calling?"

"Forge, it's Sophia. Need your help right now!" Zoé knew that name. It belonged to a vampire, which was a concept that no longer surprised her like it had earlier in her life. After all, she threw fire. Listening closely, she could hear gunfire and screams in the background.

"Emergencies and hazard pay are expensive, Sophie. Can you afford?"

"Damn it, you can name your price later, but the club is under attack, and-"

"And?"

"Just get over here!" The call ended. Zoé stared at the screen as it flashed for a minute before displaying the clock, which read at 19:02. Merde, she thought, things must be terrible if the club is being shot up. However, she was not inclined to rush on anyone's account but her own, so she took the time to stretch before she actually got out of bed. Wearing nothing but a loose T-shirt and some underwear, she crossed through the surgical curtains and over to her kitchen, grumbling the whole way in French.

"Shit-tastic way to start the day. They can be under emergency all they want, I am not going anywhere until after I have had breakfas-" She stared at her cupboard. Nothing but a few stale crackers and an empty box of cereal. In the corner she spotted a pair of dusty tea packets. The fridge yielded a single apple suitable for eating. "Damn, Zoé," she muttered, "You have got to go shopping later." Sighing wistfully at the thought of waffles, she tossed the apple on the counter and stepp back three paces. Eyeing the distance between herself and her belongings carefully, she stripped out of her clothes and tossed them as far as she could. Satisfied nothing would be damaging except the concrete floor, she flipped her mental 'switch' and let her power start flowing. A second later and the air around her skin shimmered from heat. Three more and it glowed, searing and vaporizing any dirt that might have built up on her skin and hair. She held it for a full minute before letting everything cool off again, then walked over to the counter, bit into the apple enough to hold it in her mouth, and wandered off to get dressed in her 'work clothes'.

7:36 pm local, Club Morte

Zoé stared around as she slipped through the wall at the back of the club, having avoided the emergency crew working the scene. Even with the weird vision being invisible gave her, she could see the marks of ash piles where Sophia and the other undead might have been. Bullet holes riddled everything, and there were almost literal piles of bodies being sorted though. Blood splashed the walls, floors, and every conceivable surface. Obviously, it had been a busy night.

For her part, the villainess wasn't particularly sad or angry about the killing. Even to her warped morals, vampires were not exactly people one could rely on. The club patrons were probably a bunch of drugged up sycophants and hedonists, and while she was herself all for enjoying herself, mindless dancing and drinking weren't exactly her forte. No, it was the loss of revenue, or at least potential jobs, that frustrated her. Sophia had sent several lucrative opportunities to her in the past, and she had been very generous in bonuses for well-done work. She hadn't been a friend, but as a business contact, she had been valuable. The loss was going to effect Zoé's lifestyle, and that was unforgivable.

Turning away from the crime scene and walking back through the wall and alleyways that had gotten her there, she moved several blocks and found a hidden nook to shift back into the physical world, then sat back with her head against the rough brick and pulled out her phone. Once the signal came back, it immediately buzzed, notifying her that she had a new message. It was from her contact with the Syndicate, someone she had never met and didn't even know their name. But again, jobs had been given from this number, and they hadn't fucked her over yet. She entered her passcode and looked through the message, containing a link to a video on a private server, along with the message: You need to see this. Call after. Zoé snorted in derision. Call after, indeed. Still, curiosity had its way, and she pressed her thumb to the screen to follow the link.

Several minutes later, she still sat against the wall, staring at the now idle device. What the fuck, she thought. Who the blazes thinks this was a good idea? But then she thought of the club. Surely that had been one of these so-called Hounds' 'known threats'. How many other job sources had been hit? Did they know to look through the computers of these targets? She was mildly offended she hadn't been targeted, but consoled herself with the thought that even if they knew about Wraith or Forge, her security was too tight to allow them to find her or her operations.

She got herself up, ghosted into invisibility, and made her way back to her car, still several blocks away. Driving back to her home, however, a thought struck her. Not only had these bâtards hit her sources of income, but they were a direct threat to her, as a metahuman. And even worse, they posed a threat to Émile, and that, above all else, meant that they must die. Grimacing, she gunned the accelerator, racing down the highway back to the docks so she could plan for a way to find and hurt the fuckers.

-redacted-

Agent Banks strolled down the prison corridor, examining the cells on each side of the hallway. Although S.T.R.I.K.E. had numerous containment facilities for dangerous individuals, whether metahuman, supernatural, or otherwise, around the United States, this one was considered the hole where no one ever saw the light of day again. Some of the most notable and notorious inmates at this facility were some of the culprits of the Pax Metahumana who had been captured after that coalition of heroes successfully put a stop to Doctor Diplodoc’s plans.

Banks was the faculty’s head medical advisor. It was his responsibility to ensure that any of the inmates with powers had their abilities negated. If this was not possible, then he would have to turn to other methods to pacify the prisoners. The Silver Sorceress posed a real conundrum for Banks. Unlike the other collaborators of the Pax Metahumana crisis, her powers did not have their origin in Doctor Diplodoc’s serum. While S.T.R.I.K.E. did develop a proto-type device that acted like a lightning rod to magical energies, Banks was not comfortable relying on a proto-type that could fail at any moment. Therefore, he turned to more conventional methods. If she was drugged with enough sedatives that would put an elephant out, the Silver Sorceress would not pose a problem.

At the end of his rounds, Banks would always check up on the Silver Sorceress to ensure that the facility staff made sure that they were keeping her on the meds that he had prescribed. When he examined the sign-in sheet next to Silver Sorceress’ cell, the complexion of Banks’ face changed to a ghostly white. Either the last shift was careless enough to forget to document their arrival and departure or they failed to show up in the first place.

“Code Red!” Agent Banks shouted into his two-way radio. “Repeat, Code Red! The Witch is off her meds! I repeat, the Witch is…”

However, Agent Banks did not have an opportunity to complete his distress call, since the glass that contained the Silver Sorceress within her cell suddenly was shattered by a blast of magical energy. This wave of mystical energy, along with the shards of glass, slammed into Banks, knocking him unconscious against the wall, along with inflicting countless lacerations from the glass.

The Silver Sorceress stepped out from her cell. The ground began to shake, while the air within the prison started to swirl around, which tossed the Silver Sorceress’ hair about. A silver aura eradiated from her body, with her eyes glowing like two silver suns.

A dozen or so S.T.R.I.K.E. agents decked out in tactical assault gear hurried to the scene where the Silver Sorceress had broken free from her cell. They unleashed hell upon her when they let thousands of bullets rain out of their semi-automatic assault rifles. However, with one wave of her hand, the Silver Sorceress turned these bullets into dust.

Then, it was her turn to retaliate. The gear and weapons that the S.T.R.I.K.E. agents had suddenly transformed into venomous snakes and giant insects. Some men were quick enough to toss these creatures off themselves and flee in terror. Others, who were not so lucky, squirmed on the floor as they were overrun with these animals. The Silver Sorceress casually strolled past the leftover men, since any other onlooker would have seen men rolling on the floor with helmets, protective vests, and firearms scattered on the floor, revealing that the snakes and insects that the S.T.R.I.K.E. agents saw were just illusions.

Once the initial response force had been dealt with, the Silver Sorceress used her magical abilities to shatter the glass containing the rest of those who were involved with the Pax Metahumana crisis. Leo and the Silver Sorceress’ sister, Sumac, were the first to depart from their cells. With a flick of her wrist, the Silver Sorceress disintegrated the wristbands on Leo and Sumac that were suppressing their powers.

Her sister rushed over to the Silver Sorceress, embracing her with a hug. This caused the Silver Sorceress to suppress the rage that caused the silver aura to appear around her. The last time the Silver Sorceress saw her sister, she had been severely burned by one of War-Pulse’s attacks during the heroes’ invasion of their base in West Virginia. After several months in the infirmary, Sumac had finally made a full recovery. However, even though her sister was well now, the Silver Sorceress still swore that she was going take vengeance on the heroes. Her rage would not only be focused at those who had hurt her sister, but against all the heroes.

The Silver Sorceress, still in an embrace with her sister, then turned her head toward the cell which had housed Doctor Diplodoc. Despite the chaos that had been happening in that prison corridor, the doctor still sat in his cell, sipping on a cup of tea.

“It’s time to go.” The Silver Sorceress barked at him. She was not so amused that he was taking his jolly old time.

“You worry too much, Victoria.” Doctor Diplodoc told his associate, “Everything is going according to plan. Effigy was able to infiltrate the staff at this faculty so that you might coincidentally miss a regiment of the sedatives that S.T.R.I.K.E. was using to keep you down. And I have the same faith that Jaws and Black Widow are gathering up more followers as we speak.”

After he took one last gulp of his tea, Doctor Diplodoc stood up from his cot and walked out of his cell. When he had joined his three associates, the security monitor that was located nearby suddenly turned on. For the next few minutes, they watched the Hounds of Humanity introduce themselves and announce their crusade against all non-human entities; metahumans, supernatural beings, and anything else unnatural were all fair game. When the figure on the screen mentioned that they had taken out S.T.R.I.K.E., it suddenly made sense why they faced so little resistance. It is hard for the body to act when the head is severed.

“Interesting.” Doctor Diplodoc muttered before the four of them made their escape out of the S.T.R.I.K.E. faculty.

New York, New York
Later that night…

“She went that way!” one of the men who had been chasing her cried out.

Bobbi Jay had been minding hanging out with her friends near Bow Bridge in Central Park when the men arrived. At first, she thought it was the police stopping to give them a hard time like they always did at this time of night. Officer Bates had been an especially insufferable prick as of late, and it was just like him to rush up on them with the four wheeler on which he had recently been using to patrol the park. However, she soon realized that it wasn’t just one four wheeler that was approaching, but several. When the vehicles came to a stop before them, Bobbi counted four of the four wheelers. However, these were odd vehicles, slightly elongated with enough room to carry at least two men each.

As the men disembarked the vehicles, she noticed that they were not in fact, police. The men were adorned in head to toe black body armor, and the man who seemingly took the lead was holding some sort of device that looked somewhat like an EMF detector, the meter that electricians use to find electromagnetic fields. The men wasted no time, they rushed toward Bobbi and her group of friends with guns drawn.
She ran before she heard the first gunshot.

As she ran, her body began to change. Her bones and muscles twisted and reformed, her body was soon covered in a thick red fur, and she began to take on a decidedly more canine appearance. When she had first turned, the metamorphosis was excruciating. However, after over a decade of changes, it has become like second nature to her. Although it still was a painful experience, it no longer slowed her down.
She bounded across the park and made her way out into the city at 74th Street. With her keen senses, she knew that the men were close behind her. As she raced down an alleyway away from the street, she thought that she had escaped, but suddenly she felt a sharp pain in her hind quarters. From that point, she found it difficult to continue running. Her legs became heavy and her breath labored. Finally, she came to a stop in the middle of the dirty alley. Much to her surprise, when she looked down at her very human leg, she found a large needle of some sort sticking out of her thigh.

Some kind of tranquilizer… she thought to herself, whatever the concoction was made it impossible for her to maintain her wolf form, and she found herself laying naked in the grimy alley unable to move, waiting for her pursuers to finally catch up to her.
She did not have long to wait. Moments after she came to rest in the middle of the alley, the sounds of heavy boots striking the pavement rang in her ears, and she became well aware that they had surrounded her.

“Well, isn’t this a shame?” One of the men said as he stood over her. He then raised his pistol for her to see and leveled it at her. “These here,” he said indicating the bullets that were loaded into the gun’s chamber, “were made especially for your kind.” He finished before firing two shots straight into her skull.



Derby Street, Salem, MA

Christian May was a bit of a local celebrity. He owned several businesses in the Salem area, among them a “magic shop” called Casters, which was full of novelties like crystal wands and herbs, “spells” for everything from love and wealth to protection. His good friend Lorna set up shop in the corner of the store and read tarot cards for the tourists who flooded the downtown area each October. During the housing crisis, he and Lorna went around with local news crews “blessing” houses which had been foreclosed upon in order to prevent negative forces from afflicting the new homeowners once they had taken over the properties. On Halloween, May led a Wicca prayer circle. The spectacle involved a number of local witches leading tourists in a prayer ritual all while trying to be loud enough to drown out the evangelical idiots who walked around the circle with bullhorns and signs condemning the entire lot to the eternal torment of hellfire and brimstone.
His antics and perpetual self aggrandizing eventually paid off, as he was named “The Official Warlock of Salem” The recognition that came with that distinction was a boon for business. Casters saw traffic to the store more than quadruple within six months. In fact, he was so successful that he was able to buy his biggest rival’s store, Raven Feathers right out from under her. However, more importantly he was able to realize his dream and open a bar called The Black Mirror, which catered to real witches and warlocks, and others who were involved in the dark arts.

On any given night, you could find Christian behind the bar serving the best libations in the city to a number of his faithful regulars, along with any tourist who thought that they had merely entered an establishment that was keeping with a theme that had proven profitable. While it was true that Christian was motivated by money more than anything else, it was also true that The Black Mirror and her regulars gave him a sense of purpose that he had never felt before in his entire life.

“Away from the harvest the seasons have turned, the nights have grown colder and fires we’ve burned…” Christian sang the old Wicca hymn, which he always enjoyed because of the fact that it shared its tune with the Christmas carol Away in a Manger, which always seemed to rile up the crazy Christians who overheard his joyful renditions of the song. As he sang, the doors of The Black Mirror blew open and several armed men in black body armor rushed into the bar, immediately firing on the bar’s patrons. Then, the gunfire stopped as suddenly as it started.

Christian sat cradling himself on the floor behind the bar, unable to breathe, unable to think. He had never been more afraid of anything in his life. After a few moments of quiet, Christian slowly brought himself to his feet, and immediately wished that he hadn’t. As he looked around the bar, he saw that nobody had survived the onslaught. Not even Peter, his best regular, and husband had been spared. Then he looked over to the culprits. About a dozen men all in black body armor with their weapons trained on him, yet they didn’t open fire. Instead they stood around a thirteenth man, who in stark contrast wore white armor and a mask in the fashion of the Death’s Head.
The man in white raised his hand palm forward, and all Christian could see was a blinding white light as he was sent crashing into the rows of liquor behind him. Before he could react, a powerful pair of hands grabbed him and pulled him up onto the bar top. No sooner had he come crashing down on the surface, sending what glasses and mugs remained scattering all over the floor, than the man in white pierced his portly stomach with a nine inch blade.

“Who…who are you?” Christian weakly cried as he gazed into his attacker’s masked eyes.

“I’m the Revelator. And this is your end.” He said as he pulled out a small device, the very same type of device that had been used to burn Pixy Stix just hours prior. Then he turned away from the bar and motioned for his men to take their leave. As The Revelator left The Black Mirror, her could hear Christian May’s screams as his body was engulfed in flame.

---

”What do you wish of me?” Holt inquired, bowing his ethereal body as a formal sign of respect to Puck, who looked amused by the gesture.

”Come now old friend, there’s no need for such formalities. For as long as I had known Joseph, I have known you. I would have thought that, after all this time, you had grown fond of me.”

Holt gave no indication one way or the other. He seemed to think on it for a moment, but kept his stoic expression (what little of an expression he could form) and rigid posture.

”No matter,” Puck waved away his last comment. ”I haven’t kept you here to discuss the complexities of our relationship. No no, we have more important matters to discuss.”

Puck sauntered over to a liquor cabinet hidden in the corner of his office, shelves lined with all manner of strange spirits, some aged well over a century, some not of this world. He collected a bottle of whiskey bought from a store in Lost Haven. It was cheap and tasted like acid, which Puck found most pleasurable at times.

Moving back to his desk, Puck set down the alcohol and a single glass, a little larger than a shot. He poured himself a drink, taking more time than Holt felt was necessary. After a few sips, he moved to the edge of his desk and leaned against the corner, his full attention on Holt.

”I know of a coven operating in the Hudson Valley. German witches the lot of them, followers of Frau Holda. I want you and Marie to give them a visit as part of your Alpha investigation. They have a great knowledge of old world wolves and will be able to provide you with information enough to ensure your safety.”

Holt seemed puzzled.

”Could not you provide Marie with the same information more quickly? Why send her to a foreign coven when you have access to those same secrets?”

Holt was much more understanding of the cryptic nature of spirits and otherworldly beings, he sharing many of their virtues. But so too was he practical, as were the witches he served. It seemed odd to him that Marie should have to gain the trust of strange witches in order to receive information that could be more easily obtained from Puck.

”Indeed I could, but I have a theory that needs testing. Frau Holda is an ancient and beloved patron of witches, one of their blessed dead, a powerful ancestral spirit who leads their nightly processions, who sings and dances with them in their hidden groves and glaives, who governs and teaches their secret arts. By virtue of my birth, I have knowledge of many things and access to powers and secrets most attractive to witches, but I am not all knowing.

“Frau Holda’s vision stretches farther than mine, and it is my sincerest hope that in meeting with Marie, she might stir her latent memories and bring forth an image of Gwyneth, or reveal a hidden truth when two familiars meet.”

”If you suspected that Frau Holda could conjure memories of Gwyneth, why not tell Marie?”

”Because,” Puck sighed. ”With this comes a warning, one which I know she will not hear. There lies a danger in her path. Not mere obstacles, she will have no trouble navigating. The danger I see comes with the completion of her quest. If she is successful in restoring Gwyneth’s mind, and I believe she will be, a new threat may surface.”

Puck’s tone was dark and serious, ominous and foreboding. It troubled him to no end that he couldn’t see the exact ending to this story. Just knowing of a hidden danger wasn’t enough, yet it had to be. There were few in his life whom he would warn, but it was obvious that whatever he saw just beyond the horizon brought both fascination and fear to the meddlesome imp.

”Of course, you know as well as I that Marie is hell bent on completing this quest and would never heed my warnings. If I stood in her way now, she wouldn’t likely return or seek my aid in the future. She sees me more as more of a resource than a friend. But you, Holt, she sees as a companion, a trusted friend. You hold sway over her because she has an emotional investment in you, and despite your appearance of apathy, I know you feel the same. If you were to offer her guidance in my stead, she would have no choice but to listen.”

”I see,” Holt nodded. ”What is it you wish of me?” Holt repeated his initial question, now more informed.

”All I wish is for you to keep a close eye on Marie. When you sense that she isn’t quite herself, when you feel she has gone too far, guide her in another direction, lest my fears come to pass . . .” Puck looked away for a moment at a large, ornate grandfather clock adjacent to a collection of scrolls and other occult antiques on the outer edge of his office.

”Relay only what you must; do not arouse any suspicion that you know more than you say. And of course, be vigilant. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have important business elsewhere.” Puck gave Holt his orders then crept into the shadows of his office, fading into obscurity and off to attend to secret matters.

Holt drifted slowly from his place in Puck’s office to the hall outside before shifting into a raven and flying down to the workroom on the floor below.

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

Marie rifled through a large wardrobe filled with cloaks, coats, and all manner of dresses and gowns from late antiquity. It seemed to her that Puck was more of a hoarder than anything else. Still, she was told that her costume had been placed in the workroom. After what seemed like hours, she managed to pull the separate pieces from behind a jester’s costume, likely worn by some of the attending imps to amuse Puck in his spare time.

Marie marveled at the design for a few moments before adorning the improved garments. Originally her costume was more black than white and looked rather dated. However, thanks to the efforts of a Fey seamstress, her new costume had been modernized with hints of Elizabethan and medieval inspiration.



Marie looked at herself in one of several ornate mirrors that lined the walls of the workroom, twirling a few times for effect, allowing her cloak to fall around her dramatically and letting the silver buckles on her waist catch the flickering candlelight. She felt more like the White Witch now than ever before, and she certainly looked the part.

She hurried over to the wardrobe to grab her broom, which had also been redesigned. What was once a simple birch rob with hawthorn bristles was now a work of art, the mantle now curled into an attractive crook with a silver lantern hanging from it, which was equal parts aesthetic and practical. Not only did it provide light, it was also a spirit vessel for Holt. Instead of using the transvection ointments and oils she had used previously to grant herself flight, she could use Holt by giving him a space to reside on their journies.

Shortly thereafter, Holt arrived from his meeting with Puck. He quickly took his place upon Marie’s shoulder, who welcomed his presence.

”What was that about?” Marie questioned her familiar about his time with Puck while fidgeting with her skirts and adjusting the brim of her hat.

”Puck was providing me with more information about our ‘case’ as it were. He didn’t want to bother you with details.”

”Huh, really?” Marie chuckled. ”Since when does Puck care about not wasting my time?” It seemed an unfair question to Holt at first, but he soon realized that Marie was just making a joke at Puck’s expense. Despite what Puck thought he knew about Marie, she had feelings for him. Those feelings were just . . . complicated.

”What did the bossman say?” Marie continued, her voice carrying signs of subtle affection.

”He believes that a coven in the Hudson Valley may be able to prepare us for our encounter with the Alpha. They are witches of a German tradition that follows Frau Holda. Puck said they would know more on the subject of werewolves than he.”

Holt couldn’t tell if this were a lie or a stretching of the truth. EIther way, it didn’t feel right to leave out details that could negatively impact Marie, but if Puck had a reason for keeping things hidden, Holt was confident that those reasons were justified.

Marie didn’t seem phased by Holt’s message nor did she pick up on any of Holt’s uncertainty.

”Sounds good. The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can get back to Gwyneth. Let’s go.” Marie said enthusiastically, regaining a bit of her energy from seeing herself as the White Witch again. She couldn’t explain it, but there was something enticing about the idea of heroism. The costume reminded her of her involvement with Doctor Diplodoc’s arrest and how satisfying it felt to be part of a team who needed her abilities. She had missed that feeling.

But she didn’t dwell on this for long. After a brief nostalgic episode, she and Holt made their way to the ground floor. From there, they set off to Puck’s door and on to New York once more.

---

Location: Hudson Valley Wyrd – Hudson Valley, New York
Time: 9 p.m.

---

It was rare to find locations specifically dedicated to Puck and entrances to The Red Devil, but there in the Hudson Valley, just at the river’s edge and the foot of a sprawling forest, dotted by patches of green clearing touched only by moonlight, a grand stone wall, probably dating back to the original settlers of the area, was adorned with ornate drawings and inscribed with words and symbols of power that protected the wyrd and their land. And at its center, the framework for a door had been masterfully carved, Puck’s impish symbol fixed at the center.

The stonework began to glow with scarlet light, the stone slowly transmuting into a deep red wood, the fiendish imp’s symbol changing from carved marks to golden embroidery. The door crept open, revealing Marie, The White Witch, allowing her safe passage into the witches most sacred space. Through the portal she stepped, leaving behind the familiar sights and smells of The Red Devil and trading them for those of the forest and the river.

Before Marie lie an impressive settlement completely hidden from the eyes of mundane citizens. The rich green of the canopy was illuminated by a dozen structures all housing members of one of the largest covens Marie had come across, and every one of those cottages had a unique touch, but all bearing an antique colonial and medieval inspiration. Tall smokestacks rose from the cottages, intertwining with the rich vapors of giant bonfires lit in dedication to Frau Holda. Stone pathways twisted all about the forest, inviting any lucky enough to see the fantastic spectacle to enter and explore the witches domain.

At the center of the settlement was a stone woman, presumably Frau Holda, and at her feet were many gifts and offerings. The statue itself was clad in a simple robe that left her shoulders exposed, her hair was neat and ethereally flowing, and she held a distaff in one hand and a sickle in the other.

Marie approached the statue slowly, mouth agape, eyes wide with awe at both the beauty of the statue and how, even in stone, her features seemed so real, as well as the size of such a coven and in such a populated area. It was a wonder that they had managed to escape early persecution and keep themselves separated from the toils of the mundane world. Yet it wasn’t so surprising to her given that these witches had been following a tradition that stretches back centuries and under the guidance of the witch, Frau Holda.

She also couldn’t help but marvel at the diversity of the witches she saw going about the settlement. Among them were men and women of various ages and races, and attired in strange mixtures of modern and colonial dress. Marie could also hear little bits of German here and there among the witches, but most spoke in English, she even heard the odd bit of Latin.

“Welcome,” an older woman draped in a dark cloak approached Marie from a nearby cottage, a thick tome held in one harm by her waist. Her hair was silvery white and her face was aged, but there was a beauty there still, a softness in the skin that was uncommon among women her age and a youthfulness in her step and voice. “We have been expecting you, White Witch of Lost Haven.”

Marie was stunned to be recognized as her alias by witches so far from modern conveniences, but perhaps she gave them too little credit. Though the string of cottages appeared completely antique, there were touches of the modern throughout. Tapped sewage mains and power lines delivering comfortable amenities to the wyrd, running water drawn in from the river and purified with a mixture of modern filtration and magical finesse, this wyrd had much more than Marie could have originally imagined.

”I-It’s my pleasure,” Marie stuttered, old insecurities arising once again with the unexpected wave of recognition. She cleared her throat before speaking again.

”How did you know of my and my arrival?” Marie asked with a clear voice.

“Many of our members frequently visit The Red Devil to gain supplies and information. Those among us who travel from the wyrd had heard of your exploits in Maine and the work you had been doing there and in The Red Devil under Puck’s employment. He’s taken on so many witches in his time, but I don’t believe that any of them were half as famous as you.”

The old witch’s words were so kind, genuine, and unexpected that Marie could feel herself becoming slightly emotional, her cheeks flush red. It was most unusual for her to hear any amount of praise. She rarely saw her customers at The Red Devil more than once and Puck wasn’t exactly known for handing out kind words. It was nice, Marie thought, but she also had no idea how to handle it, she’d never been good at taking compliments.

”T-thank you,” she replied sheepishly before changing the subject. ”You said you had been expecting me, do you know the reason Puck sent me to you?”

The old witch nodded, motioning for Marie to follow her further into the wyrd. She spoke as they walked.

“There are witches among us who have eyes and wits almost as sharp as Goodfellow’s. We have known for some time that a stranger would find themselves among us in need of aid, though it was only recently when we found out who that stranger was.”

She pointed at the charm around Marie’s neck.

“That little trinket right there has been causing us some grief in discerning who it was that would find us. At first we were worried, but once we caught wind of a witch working so publicly up north, we assumed it must be that same White Witch who would pay us a visit. And here you are.”

Marie smiled awkwardly, sorry that her glamour had given these witches trouble, but also slightly impressed at the strength of her charm.

Their brief walk ended in front of a large stone tower, the crenelated roof just shy of touching the tallest branches of the canopy.

“This is our library. A collection of all the knowledge we have received or been gifted over the past four centuries. Inside, there is a desk with notes pulled from various books of lore regarding werewolves, the subject of your inquiry. Please, take these notes for your investigation.”

Marie was again stunned by this witch’s knowledge. How could she have known that Marie was there to look into the Alpha attacks? She had NEVER met another witch with as much insight, even Puck was selective about how he dispensed future knowledge. Then she recalled the distaff held in Frau Holda’s hand. Marie knew little of the witch, but she knew that in legend she was often a protectress of the wild and patron of women’s crafts, spinning and weaving chief among them. Marie assumed that her association with weaving could very well tie her to divinatory practices given the symbolism of threads and tapestries with fate and the future. But even knowing this, it was till something else to experience such powerful divination first hand.

Marie nodded to the old witch before eagerly stepping into the tower, and for the third or fourth time, she marveled at the craftsmanship of the German witches. The tower itself wasn’t too large, perhaps three stories or so, and yet the inside appeared to be a labyrinth of shelves all completely filled with dusty tomes, massive manuscripts, and sealed scrolls. It was amazing what four centuries of witchcraft looked like in print.

Just as the old witch had described, a small wooden desk, one of many dotting the tower’s interior, was nestled in between rows of shelves, notes and alchemical diagrams detailing the physiology of lycanthropes scattered all around. Marie scanned the notes, information pouring into her mind.

There were details about the feeding habits and changing patterns of wolves throughout Europe, Africa, and the British Isles, as well as differences in breeds, the powers certain wolves held, the stages of lycanthropy in different parts of the world, the differences between fledgling and adult wolves, and a plethora of other information. Beneath the open tomes and foreign field guides was a concise list of general facts common to most, if not all, breeds.

Marie wondered for a moment why these witches would have such a vast wealth of information stored on werewolves, but then she was reminded of the roles that witches played in the old world during those early days. They were feared, yes, but their knowledge of the natural world was almost unparalleled. They held many charms and trinkets that would drive away most supernatural threats and werewolves were likely much more of a threat back when missing persons went more unnoticed.

Filing every loose scrap of paper into her cloak, Marie prepared herself for her investigation. As much as she wanted to stay and view the rest of the archives, Marie knew that time was of the essence. If the Alpha were left to roam for much longer, it would leave more bodies in its wake. Reluctantly, Marie turned to leave the tower, thank the witches for their hospitality, and begin her search for the Alpha.

But something stopped her . . .

When Marie turned from her place inside the tower, she did not see the exit, nor the spiraling stacks of books and scrolls, nor even the bare stone walls. Instead, she was greeted by a path of winding trees, gnarled branches curving overhead to form an archway. At the other end of the path, a figure slowly came into view, ushered in by an ethereal light and a thick haze.

This all felt strangely familiar to Marie. She recalled her last vision of Gwyneth; this was the place where they met. And yet the approaching figure looked nothing like Gwyneth. This woman, Marie could tell, was much taller with fairer features than her own. This wasn’t Gwyneth, but another spirit of equal or greater power, an ancient force, a patron and protectress. This was Frau Holda.

Welcome, White Witch. Her melodic voice echoed through the ancient grove.

Marie was in absolute awe. Never before had she been privy to such a being. Not even Bucca held such an aura of splendor, he commanded a more ominous presence than an awesome one.

My lady, Marie bowed her head, unsure of how to speak to such a one as the illustrious Frau Holda, patron of the Hudson Wyrd.

Holda smiled.

There is no need for such formalities. We are kindred spirits, you and I. We share a connection stronger than the pacts formed by my followers. That same cunning flame burns within us. You call yourself the White Witch, but I know your true name, the one you left behind all those years ago. I know you, Gwyneth Owens.

Marie was paralyzed by feelings of joy and shock. It should have come as no surprise that such a talented seer as Frau Holda would be able to peer through the threads of fate and see what was, even if it were hidden to all others. Marie couldn’t contain herself, she had to know more.

H-how do you know that name? What do you know of me? Can you tell me of my past, of the events which led to my death? What of the artefacts I scattered, could you find them? It all came spurting out at once, a series of questions Marie had longed to ask.

Frau Holda smiled again, placing a hand on Marie’s shoulder.

Whatever I may know of your mortal life, it is not my place to say. However, it is not by your mortal deeds that I know you, Gwyneth, but by the threads of spirit which connect you to All. I appeared to you not as an informant nor an oracle, but as a friend who longs to see you at the end of your journey. Go with the knowledge that the witch-fire will bless you at the end of your path.

The fog upon the ground began to thicken, beckoning Holda back to her place. She turned to face a likeness of herself, a lifelike statue bearing all her same features. Holda began her retreat, her final words to Marie were thus.

I cannot say more, but you will know the truth soon enough.

Before Marie could speak, Holda was gone and the vast walls of books and tomes had returned. Marie rushed out of the tower to the center of the wyrd, catching a few odd glances along the way. When she reached the statue of Frau Holda, she wanted to continue her questions, bow at the feet of the witch and beg for answers, but she knew how difficult it was to elicit specific information from spirits, especially ones as ancient and powerful as Frau Holda.

Holt came flying after Marie, caught off guard by her sudden sprint from the library. He had not witnessed the same spectacle as she.

”What happened to you just then?” Holt asked with concern, perching himself upon her shoulder.

”I-I’m not sure. I’d like to think that it was a clue, something to lead me closer to Gwyneth’s memories, but I can’t tell.” Truly, Marie was at a loss. Was Holda’s message a riddle to be deciphered, a portent of doom, a prophecy she needed to fulfill? She shook off the thought, for now.

”We’ve spent enough time here. Let’s go find the Alpha, it’s likely to have done some more damage by now.” Marie looked up at the moon who was slowly reaching its peak, a beautiful and eerie reminder of her mission.

Astride her broom, the pair sped off into the night, away from the Hudson Wyrd and on to the city where they were met with a grim sight.

Location: Lost Haven Park
Time: 12:22

Shoot, that guy already called the cops they’re probably already on their way. But they won’t be here for a few minutes. “Listen, bird lady, er, Barry? You can use those wings right? Because you need to get out of here, like now or you’re going to get in a lot of trouble.” David spoke as he glanced around the park, it was already pretty empty before, and the few people that were there were quickly clearing out.

“Rrraak! No, need bin. Bin for home! Ah-mee says all homes need bin!” Bernice shouted in between her squawking.

“What, er, no, just go home, uh; they don’t sell bins today, come back in a week.”

“Trust friends more than you, egg-thief! Rrraaak! To Wally World, find bin!”

David made a sideways tugging motion on the collar of his shirt, as if his shirt’s collar was suddenly getting too tight. Talk about being bird brained, sheesh, and what the hell is with this “egg-thief” stuff anyways. “A-alright, fine, we’ll go to Wally World. But! I’ll find the bin, and you can’t say anything, at all.” David emphasized as he motioned for Bernice to follow behind him as he began jogging towards the nearest street, he looked behind him to see his new feathered companion already gone, after quickly glancing around he could see her in the air slightly ahead of him.

“Hey! Stay on the ground, if you do that we’ll get way more attention than we need!”

Giving the man a hard glare as she landed less-than-gracefully, Berenice took several seconds to readjust her body to walking, and then hop-skipped, almost exactly like a crow would, after the man as they exited the area, muttering unintelligible words under her breath with the occasional gurgling croak.

After a minute of watching Bernice hop behind him to keep pace David finally found a taxi and hailed him over. David took care to make sure Berenice didn’t get any feathers caught on the taxi and climbed in after her. The taxi driver gave them an odd look, at Bernice, then at David as if asking for an explanation. “She’s uh, going to a costume party. Yeah,uh, it’s animal themed and she’s going as a bird.” David blurted out, the driver took one last look, raised an eyebrow, and then turned around.

“Where to?”

“WWrraa-”

“Wwraally World! Ahem, Wally World, got some last minute shopping to do!” David interrupted quickly by putting his hand up to Berenice’s mouth, not quite touching her, and quickly brought out an awkward smile for the driver. The driver looked at his mirror to see Berenice and eyed both her and David suspiciously again before looking back at the road and pressing on the gas. The sounds of sirens could be heard approaching the other end of the park as they drove off, the sirens grew quieter as they got further away. David looked through the side of his window as the taxi turned a corner hoping not see a police cruiser behind them. I hope Carmine has my back with those cops, I don’t need them to show up while I’m buying a dumb box. Now that David had a chance to stop and think he quickly took notice of an incredibly powerful smell, he didn’t have to sniff to know where it was coming from, and accidentally let his disgust show slightly before trying to stifle it.

Berenice’s talons flexed idly and she perched, more than sat, on the seat of the taxi. This whole method of transportation was not at all to her liking. Every stop made her flex her wings out to keep her balance, only to have them met with resistance from the seat behind her. There was no room in this metal box. And the new man in the front area seemed hostile, putting her further on edge.

The driver, at another stop light, took the brief respite from his attention focused on the road to roll down all the windows and reach into the glove box, retrieving a handful of air fresheners. The smell of unwashed bird abated somewhat as the drive continued. With the wind rolling past her, Berenice felt somewhat more at ease, though the confining nature of the vehicle did nothing to help. Her golden eyes strayed occasionally to stare at her companion, who looked, if anything, less comfortable than she did. Not that she minded him being uncomfortable, since he had made her be silent. Apparently Amy trusted this giant version of the kids, and she trusted Amy, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

Deciding she needed to test the limits of what silence actually meant, and also answer some of her internal confusion, she looked herself up and down a couple of times, and said in her normal, slightly too loud voice, “Dah-veed, what is costume? I know word, but not means.”

Although he wasn’t looking directly at them anymore, David could still see the driver’s odd looks from the rear-view mirror. “Ah! Ah, you’re roleplaying again, gotta get in character. I understand, you’re really dedicated you know.” David blurted, he hoped he was quick enough to cover up Berenice’s suspicious words, but he hoped more that he was believable. In a whisper David addressed Berenice. “Keep it down alright? For me at least, I don’t know if I can handle the heat if the police come for me; er, us. As for costumes, they are like a disguise, it’s also what you’re supposed to be wearing.” David answered, putting heavy emphasis on the latter half of his sentence.

The taxi finally arrived at the Wally-Mart, it drove by the front and the driver looked to the backseat at David, gesturing at his drive counter with his thumb. As David brought out his credit card to pay Berenice had found the way out by fumbling with the door controls, she happily hopped out and was treated with weird stares and hushed murmuring. David finally got out as well and gestured her over with his hand. “Oohh wow your costume really has everyone fooled!” David began speaking loud enough for everyone staring to hear. David scratched at his head while looking at Berenice, trying to find a way to hide her, but outside of a blanket or trenchcoat he wasn’t sure there was a way. Maybe she could hide her talons with her wings? That wouldn’t be enough, that would also slow us down way too much, there’s also her smell. I thought birds at least bathed. David thought to himself before turning around and heading inside, he slowed himself down to help Berenice keep up, having her hop around was also a big no.

The store was big, as expected of large retailing corporation, the sounds of people shopping, passive conversation, and the smell of produce added to the air, before David and Berenice walked by at least. Her smell turned nearby heads, and her odd looks kept those stares directed at her and David longer. The same hushed whispering and judgemental looks from outside followed them in as more people got to take a look. As Berenice followed behind David she noticed something peculiar, more strange than anything so far, it looked to her like a fusion of the vehicle they were in earlier, and a man like David.

“Dah-vid, what is that?” Berenice asked, completely ignoring David’s plea to stay quiet and pointed at what she was seeing. David gave her a glare before looking around to where she was pointing, trying to find out what she saw. He noticed a flashy movie poster on a rack of blu-ray dvds with a picture of a man in a silver and blue outfit. Wow people really like that Icon guy huh? David noted to himself before answering.

“You mean that picture? That’s to tell people about a movie.”

“No, not that, that!” Berenice gestured again, and this time David smiled slightly.

“Huh? Oh, that uh, we don’t talk about that out loud.” David replied in a lower voice, Berenice had been pointing to a man in a mobility scooter. He noticed them staring and David quickly took himself and his partner down a different path after awkwardly smiling back.

---

Across town, the police had conducted interviews, and the kids and parents had been sent home from the park. Now, Detective Owens walked across the short grass to the fencing, studying the splintering on the rough wooden four by fours that kept children from tumbling down the hill towards the culvert that led out to the beach and the sea. He stared up at the sky, beginning it’s turn into the crimson of evening, and sighed to himself. His partner Alicia, short and dark in skin and hair, leaned up on the pole next to him. “So, whadda ya thinkin, George?”

He chuckled a little to himself and pulled out his phone from his pants pocket, opening it to the video that forensics had forwarded to him. Despite the shakiness of the video itself, two snap shots had also accompanied it, and one of them had popped on the missing persons database to his active case. Of course, the girl he was looking for was not half bird, but the face was clearly her. In the middle of conferring with the Special Unit about what the hell happened, they had gotten the call of a creature suspiciously like the one they were examining evidence of out in the park. Of course, after interviewing the kids and parents and finding out that it had left in the company of some man no one seemed to know, and a very worried looking professor of the nearby college who seemed to know even less, the only thing they had learned was that what appeared to be a dangerous creature was loose, had access to the city, and was interacting with children. This had not been a good day.

“I dunno, Leash,” he said, shaking his head. “I want to think the Pax event, but the timeline doesn’t add up at all. And SU has no idea either, so it’s new to everyone.”

Alicia frowned. “Maybe someone else got a bug up their butt to do experimentation?”

“Maybe, though again, SU’s the ones for that. All I know is that is either our Miss Addams had a very unfortunate encounter, or she’s been turned into a monster by some other means.”

“Yeah, George, but those kids seemed to think she was friendly.”

“With them, and that may be good, but you’ve seen the report on that guy that Carver PD brought in. That is not the work of a friendly creature.”
---