Location: Local Walmart
Time:13:26

David walked around from aisle to aisle looking at the signs hanging from the ceiling, until he finally saw what he was looking for, “Storage & Organization”. David led the way into the aisle, multiple plastic bins of various shapes and sizes for different uses adored the shelves. There were a couple other shoppers looking at some of the plastic containers for their own purposes, but as soon as they saw Berenice they decided to move out of the aisle quickly with some worried mumbling on their part. David did his best to keep his face down; he really didn’t want to be identified with Berenice right now, it might lead to trouble in the future after all. Taking a quick glance David picked up a decently sized, clear, plastic box, he wondered for a moment why his current partner would need a bin in the first place. I remember she said something about homes needing bins, but why? Forget it, this should be fine. It can be a thank you gift for not hurting those kids. David picked up the plastic box and turned around to leave, only to find Berenice nodding her head.

“No. Wrong bin.”

“Wrong bin? Are you sure you knew what a bin looked like before today?”

Nodding again Berenice replied. “Ah-mee show me. Need big bin for home. Like bin under tree.”

“Under tree? Do you mean like back at the park? A garbage bin?” Berenice nodded yes again and David gave her a look of disbelief. “What do you need with a garbage bin?”

“For trash, Ah-mee said for trash.”

“For trash? But you’re a, a-“

He was about to say bird woman, but before now he’d never met anyone like her, and therefore had no real standard to compare her too. Accepting the situation David gave a sigh of defeat. “Alright, alright, they say bigger is better anyways.” After picking out the correct “bin” they both turned to leave but as they got closer to the front David ushered Berenice behind him and back into another aisle. The police had arrived and they had already begun questioning the greeter near the entrance, he could see him pointing down to where they had been earlier. Shoot, I can’t be caught near this bird lady when the cops come by.

“Uh, Barry was it?”

“Berenice, I am Berenice.”

“Alright sure, listen, wait here, don’t move, and hold this. I ,uh, have to use the bathroom.” David placed the plastic container down before bolting into a sprint towards the back of the store. Berenice watched him go for just a moment, idly wondering what a bathroom was.

David dove into the restroom, after giving it a quick once over he saw the feet of a man currently using a stall, deciding that he wouldn’t be a problem David decided to leave him alone. The smell alone indicated that he was busy regardless. David didn’t want to be caught doing this in front of an audience like the police, so the dirty, but relatively empty, public bathroom would have to do. Focusing himself David mentally he called to the Earth to bring his powered form into being. In a split second a burst of brilliant white light emerged from the floor, completely engulfing him, red and orange waves of energy began to pulsate from his chest until they covered him like fire. The energy settled and continued to flow off him in small embers that disappeared after a second, after giving himself a quick once over David quickly dove back outside to help Berenice. As he left he could hear a curse of confusion coming from the stall back in the restroom. Now in his powered body he decided to take advantage of it and flew high into the ceiling, over the lights and rafters, dodging each ceiling obstacle with ease.

---

Berenice was inclined to wait for David, though her easily distracted nature was getting the best of her. She didn’t yet understand everything, and so far he had been willing to help, at least to a point. She had waited for almost a minute, fighting the instinct to go and investigate all the brightly coloured objects that were everywhere, until she heard a sound that caught her attention; somewhere nearby a child was playing. Following the sound, she found a boy like Owen, but younger, who was marching up and down an aisle with a small object in his hand.

“Hello nestling, what is that you have?” Berenice asked as she craned her head around in curiosity.

The boy was holding a red robotic bird toy, he was currently tapping a button on the back to activate the lights and sounds feature. “It’s the Brobot Falcon from Big Team 5.” The young boy responded, he was young enough that he didn’t quite notice that Berenice wasn’t completely human; apparently the human-like head was enough for him. Suddenly another voice called out from behind an aisle.

“Thomas! Thomas where are you!”

“Here uncle Frank!”

“Oh there you are, thank go-“The man behind the voice emerged from the aisle right behind Thomas and froze, his eyes fixed on Berenice.

Berenice’s features switched to wariness and she took a stance. “Away egg-thief!”

“Thomas we’re going!” The man shouted as he lifted Thomas from under his arms and started running, the boy dropped his toy but didn’t seem to notice yet if at all.

“Bye.” Thomas waved to Berenice as he was quickly lifted up off his feet, he didn’t understand what was happening but he trusted his uncle.

But Berenice picked up the toy and began to imitate it by spreading her own wings out above the aisles, completely unaware and uncaring of the stares she was getting. Unfortunately, those same stares were leading the investigating officers towards her, herding civilians away as they moved in. Two took position at the entrance of the aisle she was playing in and peeked around the corner. They stared, wide-eyed, as Berenice dropped the first toy and began wrestling with another figurine, trying to get it out of the box by way of her teeth.

Each officer glanced at the other for a moment, before the older and more seasoned man grabbed his radio and whispered, “Visual on target, aisle thirteen. Does not appear armed.” Two more officers immediately veered off to close the other end of the aisle, and once in position, the older officer whispered again.

“Dispatch, this is badge 435, we have a visual on the special suspect. Awaiting order to engage.”

Berenice had abandoned the struggle with the boxed toy and hopped along the aisle a bit, and now she had found a music box. Opening it, and hearing the little chiming tune, she grinned ear to ear. This was a good find. After a single repetition of the song recorded on the thing, she had began singing along to it, although wordlessly, and the effect on the officers was immediate. Their eyes glazed over, and they stood up out of cover and began relaxing. Nervous patrons in the aisles not already cleared also relaxed, and several of them began moving to get nearer to her. Badge 345’s radio crackled, dispatch trying to get more information, but he just turned it down and sat on the floor near the siren.
---

David soared high above the floor, the customers who hadn’t become aware of Berenice had failed to notice him as well as he dodged various ceiling fixtures. Spotting where he left the bin he swooped down to pick it up, noticing the lack of Berenice in the aisle he continued to fly around, trying to track her down. “Just couldn’t sit still.” David muttered as he continued, he almost missed it due to how soft it was but he thought he heard singing. David pondered as he flew closer and into the aisle, spotting both police and hapless customers standing and sitting around in a daze. The people scattered around Berenice where in a hapless daze, a simple smile painted all their faces as they gazed in Berenice’s direction, drool began to slip down the corner of some of their mouths. David waved his hand in front of one of the officers, his face stayed in the same listless, drooling, state it was in previously. David took a moment to check his pulse. He seems alright, I hope this isn’t permanent, doesn’t seem like it.

David placed his hand around the officer’s wrist and wiped his mouth for him and spoke to him in a hushed tone. “We’re real sorry about this.” David turned around to Berenice, the box still in his hands. “Barry, cut the siren act we’re leaving.” David said out loud as he turned to face her.

Berenice had been concentrating on the music, almost to the exclusion of all other things, but the odd voice using her name caused her to look up. Seeing a giant man made of flame, however, caused her to panic. Her wings flared wide, arms out and talons flexed along the tiles of the store, and she puffed out her chest ever so slightly underneath the tank-top she was wearing for just a moment. Her mouth opened wide and she squinted her eyes shut and cut loose with a scream to drive the offending fire man away.

As the sound waves pushed out, magic coursed through the air at the same time, wind rushing along with it as the simple force of power threw everything around in front of the oncoming attack. Small toys filled the air in slow motion as it hit the shelves, much like a tidal wave does with buildings, and the shelves themselves shifted into the next aisle, screws in the base shearing under the pressure.

Passing the flame man, the waves continued, and the two officers just a step behind him did not have the advantage of powers to protect them. They were flung back as the sound hit them with physical ‘oomph’, into the trio of civilians behind them, and all five collapsed to the ground, making pitiful noises they couldn’t even hear from pain. The simple presence of the police and the fire man in front of them saved the civilians’ lives, the brute force of the wave somewhat diminished from having passed through those bodies first. The officers, however, would not be getting back up, having been less than twenty feet from Berenice as she screamed.

---
As Berenice turned around David felt himself tense up after sensing her panicked state, he was struck by indecision as pondered on his next act, by the time he decided it was far too late to stop her from acting. “Uh oh.” David muttered as the sound waves pounded him, reverberating throughout his body, a pain in his head erupted just seconds before he was forced to stagger backwards. David struggled to keep standing as the force of the sound waves slid him back slightly even as his feet planted themselves.“Berenice cut it off!” David shouted as he covered his “ears”, but his shouting went unheard, drowned out by the intensity and volume of the screaming.

---

She held it for almost thirty seconds, before abruptly cutting it off. She hop-skipped forward towards the stunned man, snatched the box from near him in a quick, darting grab, and took off into the air. Lifting with some difficulty due to the added weight, she made for the nearby doors, standing shattered from her attack. Sensing the difficulty she would have maneuvering, she abandoned her prize and darted through as quickly as she could, shooting up and into the afternoon sky amidst customers looking around for the source of the noise they had just heard. Somehow, none seemed to notice her leave, those near the door still trying to extricate themselves from broken shards of glass.

---

By the time David had recovered Berenice was already gone, and the aisle around him lay in ruins. Various products either lay scattered or shattered around him, the floor tiles had also been torn up from both the sound waves and his own efforts to stay in place, the bystanders that had been in the aisle with him were now left unconscious on the floor. After checking the bodies he was relieved the civilians were alive, but he was disheartened after discovering the officers were not so lucky. “Stupid move, of course she wasn’t going to recognize you like this.” David chastised himself outloud. But his head flew upwards when a voice suddenly called out to him.

“Yeah this was a stupid move, who the hell trashes a Wally Mart?”

“Uh oh.” David muttered for the second time today as a figure stood floating in front of him. The man floating before him wore a welding mask, an open grey hoodie with the sleeves rolled up, a red t-shirt, worn down jeans, and brown work shoes; the kind construction workers would wear.

“‘Uh oh’ is right.” The figure replied mockingly.

---

Little Tokyo, 19:42

Nicole watched as the fist raised up again, for what felt like the eightieth time. This time, though, the big guy held it weird, and she noticed that one of the knuckles was sunk back into his hand. He was screaming something in Chinese. Again. Honestly, she was kind of bored.

The little one she had hit a couple of times was holding her in some sort of crazy lock against the ground, bending one of her arms behind her and pressing his knees into her lower back. He was gripping her other arm at the elbow, and it felt like he was trying to bend it backwards by pressing it awkwardly into the asphalt, though it wasn't doing what he wanted it to. She supposed he was trying to break it. The larger guy had bent down, grabbed her hair in one hand, and was doing his damnedest to beat her face into a pulp, though it looked like his hand had given up before her nose had. Considering she suspected the guy was a meta, she was kind of impressed with herself. Every time he had hit her, she had slid across the ground a couple of feet, and the little guy had had to grip her fairly tight to maintain his balance.

She knew she hadn't had to eat, or sleep, and when she had fallen down a hill the first time into a rocky ravine she had been sure it was all over. But like when her apartment had collapsed, she was completely unhurt. No pain, no broken bones, no cuts, scrapes, or even bruising. Afterwards, she had poked at her skin. It gave the same as always, but when she had tried to bend her finger back and break it, it had done nothing. And now she was beginning to realise that nothing seemed capable of breaking her. She felt the point of the knife pressing into her face as the larger of her attackers tried a different tactic, but he quickly gave up.

“What the fuck are you, little girl?” he hissed, holding one hand and staring into her eyes. Her only response was to spit at him, though from this angle she couldn't even land it on his shoe. The little guy on her back laughed. “She's got some fire in her belly, eh? Maybe we should take her back, break her in a different way.”

The big guy shook his head. “I ain't going to do anything to her. She's too fuckin' creepy. I can't even cut her.”

Nicole took this opportunity to try and wrench her arm free, bucking and twisting as she did. The bastard on her back simply shifted his grip and pressed her face into the asphalt and half-heartedly punched her in the kidney, emitting a short gasp of pain when he made contact. “It's like punching a sand bag! Fuck it, we need to leave before the police show up.”

<Why'd the bomb go off early, anyway? I thought you were good at this stuff.>

<I don't know. Johnny and Chen are dead, too. I set everything the way I usually do.>
The little one leaned into her, so he could talk directly into her ear. The closeness and the heat of his breath made her shudder. “Listen, bitch. We're gonna get going. You try and follow us and I promise you our boss will find a way to hurt you.”

<Hey,> the big guy muttered. <Got an idea. Get off of her.>

The one on her back let go and fairly launched himself off of her, but she had no time to scramble to her feet. The bigger one had gripped her by her hair and lifted her up. I guess that's an added benefit, she thought as she tried to spot anyway out of this. I wonder if I can still get hair cuts? He was holding her up high enough to keep her feet off the ground, and the little one had grabbed her ankles so she couldn't kick. She could hear sirens, but she doubted they'd get here in time to save her from whatever was about to happen.

They marched her over to a bike rack across the street, where the laid her down in front of it. Swiftly, the larger gangster twisted the metal of the rack so that it held her to the ground, taking extra care to make sure that she couldn't slide out by wriggling forwards or backwards. Within the span of a minute she had bars holding her neck, ribs, arms, stomach, knees, and ankles to the pavement. Glowering at them from under her prison, she hissed, “I'm going to find you assholes and I'm going to kill you for this.”

“Oh yeah,” sniggered the thin one, adjusting his beaten suit carefully. “Because we're so very scared of a little girl.” He leaned down near her face and sneered. She took careful note of his pock-marked face, every detail she could remember. “It don't matter how invincible you may be, bitch. We'll still kick your ass every time.” Turning back to his partner,he laughed and said something in their language again, and they both took off into the darkness.

From her new vantage point, she could see the damage to the building. The front wall of the place had blown into the street, along with the front area of the roof where she had been hiding. The rest of what was probably a dining area had collapsed after the supporting walls were blown away, but the back half of the building seemed moderately untouched from where she was. The street was also okay, aside from the rubble and glass, although there was one spot where her head had been slammed into the asphalt hard enough to crack it. A streetlight was also torn off near the ground where she'd been thrown through it. She hadn't been paying attention to how hard she was being hit, really. 's'not like it mattered. All powerful invincibility and I get taken out by a couple of thugs. Waaay to go, Nicole.

She wasn't even certain why she had attacked the guy. Not like it was her building or anything. He had just seemed like he needed to get punished for being...what? Chinese Triad, wasn't that what they were called? Criminals, anyway. But unlike at her apartment building back home, no one innocent seemed to have been hurt in the blast. She just wanted to hurt them for being assholes.

She briefly struggled against her restraints as the sirens approached, but it was fairly obvious she wasn't about to et out of this one on her own. Spend three months avoiding the cops, dump my Ids, get the hell across the damn country without once being taken in as a runaway. And now here I am, trussed up like some sort of fuckin' hunting trophy. She groaned as the first fire engine came around the corner, lights playing across the buildings in front of her. Should be fine as long as I can avoid telling them anything. Just like back home, really.

_{banner credit to Hellis}



---

Time: The Next Day - Evening - 7:00 PM
Location: Las Vegas, Nevada

The Ambassador, Mandate, and Bach had retired to a quiet hotel for the day. Relaxing mostly but gathering their resources. They debated heavily upon returning to Paris, Bach wanted to retreat to the safety of home to study the curious little box Hekate gifted to The Ambassador. While Odette made a point of reminding Bach that the White Witch was on the hunt for Gwyneth’s Sight, the item they presumed to be hidden in the box. It was another matter to unlocking the wards around it.

Bach had sketched the box and it’s markings into Odette’s grimoire, while she wrote copious amounts of notes. Raising questions, debating on its origins, referring back to what the Oracle had said. Mandate filling lulls of debate with notes of her strange logic as well, adding to the conversation. Her perspective was strange, but it helped launch the pair into new avenues of thought. The TV was on in the background mostly for Mandate’s benefit, interrupted static and a slew of voices pulled the scheduled programming off to air it’s own message.

_{“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.”}

Sirens began to wail outside, several emergency response vehicles racing down the strip. The noise of that finally pulled Odette’s attention from her notes, she looked at the TV. Mandate watched it intently. Odette’s smartphone vibrated, the same broadcast playing on it.

“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.”

“Pourquoi?” She muttered leaning her chin against her hand while she watched. “STRIKE? Isn’t that America’s government run agency for metahuman affairs?”

Bach nodded, eyes glued to the tv.

The Hounds of Humanity banner flashed red across the screen ending the broadcast in ominous static for several minutes. Odette stared at the screen, silence stretched between the three of them. Not sure how to react, a chorus of panicked taps against the hotel window broke the silence. Bach allowed the hurried sprites of every element enter the room, some surrounded Bach while others swooped in around Odette, all panicking in their native tongues.

One of the air sprites had enough sense to use Common Fey, “My Lady! It’s terrible! We’ve been attacked!”

Holding open her hand for the sprites to stand on speaking in Common Fey, “Please, what has happened?”

“The club! Pixy Stix! It was a neutral ground for Faerie here in the city. It was destroyed by these abhorrent Hounds of Humanity. They set it ablaze and killed everyone inside. It was neutral ground, My Lady. Pixy Stix welcomed everyone through its doors, it-”

Odette’s expression snapped with shock, she looked to Bach who in turn went from shock to anger hearing the same from the sprites with him. Bach and Odette without another word began to move, ready to leave in record time. Her heart rammed against her chest, she created a portal from within the hotel, not caring much for the conspicuous light. Transporting them by the guidance of the sprites, they arrived opposite to the building of Pixy Stix upon the rooftop. The destruction was absolute. Lights of emergency vehicles washed over the three of them as they observed from above. Her phone blew up with notifications, messages, phone calls going straight to voicemail. Pixy Stix and STRIKE weren’t the only victims of these attacks.

The shambles of the building were hollowed out by the fire, invisible to the emergency crews working around them - were the Fey. Some were helping to put out the fires, a great many were in tears, others too scared to draw close. The sprites whispered on, iron was used against the Fey in Pixy Stix had not quite been confirmed. Odette’s fists clenched, her shoulders pulled rigidly. She sent the sprites down to the Fey gathering with instructions to bring them to her, away from the humans trying to do their best to control the fire. She wanted to speak with them, words forming in her mind on the heels of torrenting emotion roiling inside of her. The Fey’s emotion fueled her own.

They met away from the horrifying scene, prying eyes, and possible danger. Welcoming them into her warded dome, Mandate stood beside her while Bach was to her right. Before the small crowd many were whispering curiously, others consoling. Motley of colour, spirit and Fey.

“My name is The Ambassador of the Fair Folk, we hail from Paris. Tonight I stand before you as a friend, this horror will be felt by us all.” Her voice pulled the attention of most, she spoke raising her voice but the severity of her tone climbed.

Odette’s eyes swept through the crowd, briefly catching eye contact with some. “These, Hounds of Humanity,” She pulled her lip up in disgust, “have made a point of targeting metahumans and the magical community. I say they are utter fools for earning the attention of Faerie. I look out upon you tonight and I see tears, bewilderment… Fear.” She said noting the arrival of more Fey, entering through the ward. Her expression softened a little. There was a murmur of agreement, nodding heads. “Grieve my friends, honour the spirits that have been taken away from us. We will not allow such an attack to go unmarked. For tomorrow…”

She paused taking a deep breath in through her nose, “We will be angry! We will show the filth what it means to poison us, what it means to burn us. This is our opportunity to show them, remind them of an important lesson generations of humans have forgotten.” Allowing Arcane Stream magic to surround her, billowing from her body on waves of rage. “We never disappeared! We will not be cowed so easily by this violence!”

The crowd’s emotion joined in hers, swaying them from their grief into a singular feeling.

She had their complete attention.

“My friends! Hounds of Humanity will not escape our attention!”

Roars of agreement came from everyone present. They marched out of the gathering area, renewed with untold amounts of energy. Many casting sigils, connecting with friends and family. The Ambassador lead the procession back onto the street. With a singular click of her heels she lept up to the pocked building beside Pixy Stix, staring down the scorched letters of HOH in the street. An illusion spell was cast over all the humans present, her appearance being blurred by smoke.

Summoning the arcane stream again to her, Words of Power stirred the wind around her blowing the smoke in an updraft. Blue mist mixed generously seeping into the flames of the letters, removing one letter at a time, the flames seemed now to be in control of The Ambassador. Her brow furrowed with concentration, chanting the spell her hands lifting. The fire disappeared, smothered by the blue mist. The mist bloomed against the backdrop of black smoke, taking the distinct shape of a yew tree.

Lowering her hands she stared up at her mark. A hatchet in the post. Her declaration.

The city of New York. Manhattan Island.

The day of the bombs. To humankind, the building had been just another downtown financial building. Another gate to the rich on wall street. Inside it held one of the gates to Alfheim. Hidden by the strongest of glamours, the entire building was just a shell for a great tree that twisted 30 stories tall. A place of rare power and a rare connection between two very different worlds. Agent Treaties had kept it hidden. The Agency had made sure that it remained such. Earth and Alfheim were two worlds that had co-existed for thousands of years. Mainly because humanity was more a passing curiosity to many of the Elves. A race that meddled more with each other then any other realm.

Untill today.

The explosion rippled outwards at first. A bellow inferno blossoming from one small sun of blistering heat to a red giant of death. The flames tore out the doors, flinging melting glass on bystanders.But the real damage was inside. The entire building, which was made out of glass and wood on the inside as fey abhorred iron. lit aflame. The white hot, napalm like fire travelled up the the gates structure at the speed of a raging wildfire. And within the hidden crevices in the tree, faeries screamed in death throes. Trolls melted, their skin sloughing of their faces and boiled. Human guests were quick to die, having no resistences or protection. Far worse were it for the hardier species, whos agony would taint the ground for years to come.

Sitting in the midst of the fire was one specific creature that refused to die untill its duty was done. The Gatekeeper, a nightmare from the darkest North. She was grasping a burning human. The bomb carrier. Prolonging his death as he himself died. The creature fed on pain and fear, and a burning house like this meant it could prolong both their lives for a good twenty minutes. “You will tell me everything” IT hissed, his golden horns nad ebony skinn crackling in the heat, falling off in ashen flakes. “You will tell me all you know. And then, My king will destroy you all.”

-----------

He sat upon his throne of gold, glass and wood. His face was a stormcloud as he heard the news. A gate had been struck, destroyed and with the old peace was broken. The long golden and white hair fell in cascades over a face to beutyfull to belong to any human. Lips turned to a grim smile. They did not know he was a Warrior King. He stepped up slowly from his throne, and the look on his face was one of weary contempt.

“Call forth my advisors. Let my Champions know.” Dismssied the ones waiting at his side with a wave of his arm. As he walkes, his robe slid off him, white skin like porcelein soon starting to light up with runes. Runes far more complex then anything his lover, Johan wore. Runes carved millimeter by millimeter over hundreds of years. His eyes turned from a dim gold to brilliant halos against black fields of hatred. He walked out to the balcony of his castle. They already stood there, staring up at him. Last of the Surviving Joten, giants among even the biggest of creatures. Next to them hovered Bloodmares, their red plumage blackened withe sot of burned corpses. Cohorts after cohorts of Mörkalfar, Ljusalfar and his own Isalfar stood staring grimly up at him.

“Today marks a dark day in our history.” He spoke. “The Day Midgard made a grave mistake. We left them alone to their steel, to their pollution, to their folly. We even took one of them into our ranks. I loved that man. And I trusted him to police our kind in thieir world. Now I find my gates assaulted by petty mortals?!” He shouted the last with disdain dripping from ever world.

“We lost our brothers and sisters. But they do not KNOW us.” He lifted the sword Ishjärta, its cold blue blade glimmering in the light. “BUT THEY WILL FEAR US.” There was shouts. Raised weapons of all kinds, spears, swords and more modern ones. “We will carve from their world a prize they never will forget. We will bring war to them like they brought fire to our trees. We will take the hatchet to their young, like they cut down your forests. We shall see their leaders cowed, their heroes broken. We shall bring the might of the Fey once more to the forefront of history. NEVER AGAIN WILL WE LET THEM FORGET WHO WE ARE. WHAT WE CAN DO.” And while the madness of war began to boil in their blood. Dark, hooded figures tittered and giggled in the shadows. Their leering red eyes watching.

“So it begins. The fall of the Elven courts.” One said.

“Soon, Madness shall reign.” said another.

-------

As soon as he left the Balcony, the King called upon one of the few remaining advisors in the palace.

“Ready my envoys. I will speak to the one they call… Ambassador”

----

Emily and I finally gained entrance to the Roy Walley Convention Hall where the fundraiser event was being held after we were stopped out front by the paparazzi. No doubt they wanted to get snap shots of all the celebrities and millionaires who were attending this event. Once inside, we saw an expansive reception hall that was filled with a sea of people. In every direction, there were arches that lead to smaller rooms could move around and view some art exhibits that were rented for the fundraiser. While the two of us headed toward one of the several open bars in the reception hall, we pasted a small orchestral band that was providing some instrumental music as background noise.

While we were waiting for our drink orders to be filled, we briefly took a look at the nearby displays. The fundraiser organizers had made little memorials for the men and women whom the world prematurely lost. Each one had a bowl where people could leave donations to help out the families of these men and women. The contents Inside these glass containers ranged from dollar bills to personal checks. When we finally got to Helen’s display, I decided to throw a few bucks into the jar. Whether I did it because it was the right thing to do or that I felt guilty replacing her, I wasn’t quite sure. Maybe a little of both.

After I had tossed the money into the jar, the bartender called out our drink orders, which we promptly picked up. Since my superhuman physiology breaks down alcohol at a faster rate than a normal person, I would have to hit the bottle extremely hard in order to get drunk. The unfortunate side effect of this is that I’m now limited to fruity or good tasting liquor. It turns out that a third or fourth beer doesn’t taste quite as good while sober.

Anyways, once we had our first round of drinks, Emily and I began to wander around the convention center. Part of the time, we were just people-watching, which can be quite amusing when you’re bored (and sober). The rest of the time, Emily dragged me around while looking out for any famous celebs.

“I almost have the signatures of all the Avengers.” Emily mentioned as we weaved through the crowd at the charity event. “I just need Robert Downey Jr. and I’ll have a complete set, or at least until they introduce more Avengers in the movies.”

While Emily was scouring the place for ‘Iron Man’, I felt my phone vibrate, alerting me that someone had sent me a text message. One of my old roommates from college, Felecia had sent me a text with a link to an article.

You might want to take a look at this. Her text message read. Once I clicked the link, which pulled up my phone’s web browser, it brought up an article about this terrorist organization called the Hounds of Humanity who claimed responsibility for several bombing attacks that were reported that night. These terrorists had declared a war against anyone who wasn’t normal, anyone who was not purely human. But what was the most shocking thing that they claimed was that they took out S.T.I.R.K.E.”

After I thanked Felecia for the heads up, I immediately texted Kyra. The irony, especially since we thought that this was going to be a slow night.

I’m calling the others Kyra texted me back. We can handle this situation for now. You don’t need to run out of the charity. Might cause some suspicion.”

While my eyes were glued to my phone’s screen, I suddenly felt someone yank on me. Since I was taken by surprise by this sudden motion, I almost splashed someone in the face with my drink. That would have been awkward Thankfully I was able to keep all the liquid in my glass. Emily had grabbed my arm and started pulling me.

“What now?” I asked, still a little embarrassed by almost throwing my drink in another person’s face. “Did you finally find RDJ?”

“Oh no.” Emily shock her head, “But I found the next best thing!”

Oh joy.

The radio flickered on as the Legion caught sight of several suspected locations and suspicious activity. But it was the pair of Hammer and Irons that caught the purple streak headed towards the burning building. Something was off though, they were not the only pursuants after their target, at least that's how it seemed.

Radio static sounded in the helicopter through the headsets of each of the soldiers. "We've got movement heading to a burning building, looks like our E-T thinks itself a hero." Hammer chuckled through the radio, Irons joined in on the laughter.

"Tighten up, goons. We've got scarce few moments, this thing isn't just strong. This thing is faster than we are, so we need to get it while it's cornered itself." Legate grunted through the mic in his helmet, the latch closing shortly afterwards as he sealed himself inside of his suit. The suit filled with an atmosphere of three times oxygen, his tactical visor activated and his vision honed to a razor's edge.

Each of the teams mobilized, Hammer and Irons confiscated a civilian vehicle. Team two moved out in this minivan, with much embarrassment on the behalf of the pair. Team three set up a rappel line and mobilized on foot from their civilian building, they were within a few minutes walk from the burning building. They'd reposition into the parking lot, only Spitfire was equipped with a filter mask for surviving in the heat and smoke of fire. She would breach once Legate had entered the building.

From the skies came Team One, following the trail being blazed by Team Four. On the motorcycles they were the closest on the trail of the ET and the unknown pursuants. The helicopter itself moved past the chase and towards the burning building, hovering over top the inferno.

Inside the chopper they used hand signals to direct the Sniper and Spotter to where they should keep their weapon's trained. Once they'd finished their directing, the radio channel came on. "All teams converge on position fifteen, the building has caught fire and the ET is being pursued by unknowns. Weapons free, bringing the ET back alive is optional, but don't intentionally shoot it."

The response was uniform. "Yes, sir." Came from all teams, each team began converging on the building. From the helicopter, the Legate made the final preparations to his suit. Inserting two doses of cocktail into the slots on his helmet. Prepped for activation at a moment's notice, he'd have ten hours of juice if the ET fought back.

The trap was set. Once the ET entered, he'd descend and catch her halfway. When she reached the halfway point, he'd have already entered and his team would be closing in from the bottom and securing any exits. The snipers would ensure she couldn't simply leap out of the building without being spotted.

The pursuants, however, would be trapped as well. The question is, who exactly are they?

Time had passed since the large burst of Cherenkov radiation emanated from the vicinity of the Esper Estate. The Wanderer had been doing what his name suggests, wandering around the new landscape, taking in the new sights that the past held for him. The sight of the trees and the pristine buildings were a grand contrast to the stark ruins and barren wastelands he was used to back in his time. Since his arrival, as he realized it, he had lost the functionality of his psionic eye. His right eye had been blank, which he pegged down to him going back in time, so his eyes just need to get adjusted to everything after the travel through time. Maybe once the eye comes back will I begin my investigation as to what happened to the Espers, he thought, everything in monovision as he gazed in wonder at the buildings around him.

During his sightseeing experience, he came across store fronts adorned with TVs of better technologies that he was used to in his time. Back then, cathode monitors came back to use as the LED TVs got burnt out with the damages that caused the blackout. As he walked past, he noticed crowds of people watching televisions. As he came into view of one of these televisions, it just so happened that a silhouette of a man was on the television. Whilst there was no sound amongst the hustle and bustle of the city, the subtitles were more than enough to get the message across.

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. 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 Hounds of Humanity.”

While everyone started to shrug off the news as nothing, seeing as Pacific Point hadn’t been affected by what this group had done, the news had struck a chord with the mutant. Even in a time such as this, there is still infighting amongst us, he thought, his hands curling into fists, trembling with the anger that was welling up. Don’t they even care that things like this could be the beginning of the end of their world as they know it? Don’t they even try to get along, no matter what their background?! Venting out his anger, his right fist snapped out wide, shards of brick and cement flying off into the alleyway. Passers by jumped in the sudden outburst and slowed down to notice the unusual man who seemed to punch through a wall as if it was nothing. Noticing the unwanted attention, The Wanderer flicked up his greatcoat and wandered away.

An hour passed of wandering, The Wanderer heard some commotion in the street up ahead. A man was struggling with a woman, throwing her to the ground as he snatched her handbag in the process. The thief began running away, the opposite direction that the mutant was coming from. With the anger from what was on the television still present in his mind, The Wanderer ran up to the woman to check and see if she was alright. Then, without missing a beat, he raised his right arm, the familiar purple flames licking off of his forearm. Normally he would set the oncoming beam to kill as that was the rule of the land in his time, he set the coming strike to throw the retreating man off balance. At least he owed this time that much to not kill anyone.

However, before he was even able to send off the beam, a sudden surge of psionic energy of unknown origin pulsed through his body. At that moment, multiple things occurred at the same time. Firstly, his psionic eye regained its use and had been blinded by the sight of the psionic energy naturally flowing in this time. That was before the surge he felt came into view, rushing over his sight in a purple tsunami. Secondly, his entire body felt stronger through the increased psionics, his nervous system oozing with renewed psionic energy that was much stronger in feeling than what he was used to in his time line. Finally, as a result of his body reacting to the increased psionics available, the psionic beam launched from his hand at a much larger force for what he was intending. Whilst the purpose of the beam remained in place and would serve to cause the thief to stumble, the strength behind the force hit the thief with a force of a freight train on his right shoulder, sending him spiraling forward 50ft to the ground. The force certainly knocked him out cold and with broken bones in his right shoulder and arm.

Once the beam was fired, The Wanderer flinched with what he was seeing with his psionic eye, covering the eye from the bright energy. As the burning sensation resided, he opened the eye, giving it time to adjust to his surroundings. The psionics of his birth planet were, indeed, much stronger than what he was used to. “Maybe the abundance of life on this planet has strengthened my psionics,” he muttered under his breath, finally adjusting to the brightness that the eye was seeing. It was when everything in his system settled to his new surroundings that he felt it. Normally he could sense how far and the location of a low-key psionic user, he felt a huge psionic presence that didn’t give away the distance that the user was. Only the direction, which he immediately looked for as his eyes darted straight for the sky. ”What the hell is that?!” he gasped, his jaw dropped as he stared at one spot in the sky. That presence… It’s massive and I can’t even see who or what it is. It’s bigger than anything I have ever felt in the future. It was shortly afterwards that he felt the tremors from the ground, almost knocking him off his feet.

--------



Location: Halfway between Earth and the Moon.

At the moment the mutant in Pacific Point raised his hand, The Psionic Nexus arrived at a point in space that was in the centre of the Moon from the view of the planet. As the cosmic entity slowed down to a stop at that point, the mass of psionic energy that it was pushing as it sped throughout the universe carried on travelling at super-luminal speeds, shockwaves of the energy slamming across the planet. The psychic forces of the shockwave inflicted a convincing illusion that a 6.0 earthquake rocked the entire world, though the entire buildings somehow remained intact during it. For those that use energy-based superpowers or are supernatural, the shockwave could be felt through them, but not as a slamming presence but as a smothering force. For the psionics or psychics, the shockwave is felt full force through every pore of their psychic being, surging like electricity and enhancing whatever ability they were using tenfold.

For a few moments, the psionic entity remained still, eyes gazing at every other place but the planet it had travelled to. Finally, the black eyes focused on the planet, the darkness behind it glazing over the blue orb. So, this is the planet that I have felt such a strong presence, it mused to itself, taking in the psionic energy the planet was emanating. This planet was a lot closer than I do recall. Then again, I have travelled a lot faster than I had anticipated. During the time it took to travel from the galaxy it had been at to here, he had gathered all of the information that had happened to this curious ball of rock in this part of the universe. There had been numerous beings, some with the names of Icon, War-Pulse, Nightmare amongst others, had achieved feats that the primitive planet that it had been on. They had stopped beings of another dimension from overrunning the planet, the survivors of that calling it D-Day. Some had stopped a mad man from forcing extraordinary abilities onto others. Some of them even stopped another being, the aforementioned being Nightmare, from killing thousands of beings. Now, there were more of these ‘heroes’ on the planet, whether they are naturally good-natured or it was in their destiny to be heroes and had to do horrible things before they realized it.

The Psionic Nexus then moved, walking towards the planet itself. The dark eyes focusing on a region on the planet that felt close to where the time-travelling being had arrived. There… The place that the inhabitants called Pacific Point… That is where the presence I had felt arrived at. That is someone who has the potential to have my gifts. There are also other potential candidates there as well. There were others that had the potential that lived in the city named Lost Haven, but the cosmic entity was drawn to the time-traveler.

The Psionic Nexus then noticed something occurring in a place near Lost Haven, in a place called New York City. The location seemed to be the gateway to another realm where a being known as The King resided. It seemed that the human group known as the Hounds of Humanity had drawn first blood and had strained the relations between those who are supernatural and those who are mere mortals. Looks like there’s another conflict on this planet that needs to be mediated, seeing as how it is the few that caused this and many will suffer the consequences, the entity thought, pondering on the thought. While something like this would be damaging to the flow of psionic energy that flows throughout the planet, the damage would be minimal. That would be something that it would ignore for now unless something more damning occurs because of that explosion. Then it may or may not flex one or two fibres in its psionic essence to set this so-called King in place. But, for now… Now then… let’s see who this being is that has drawn my attention. And with that, The Psionic Nexus teleported, masking the enormity of its psionic energy at the same time as to not draw attention from those who are adept at detecting the energy.

---

As Marie sped from the Hudson Valley Wyrd, the moon, in all her splendor, was slowly reaching zenith, silver light cascading over the tops of trees and falling into luscious pools of light reflected in the surface of the Hudson River. Where the lush greenery of the valley met the dense city, however, the moon’s light struggled for dominance, her radiance kept at bay by the blinding aura of the city.

From atop the labyrinth of structures, the White Witch scoured the streets and back alleys, searching for clues as the the whereabouts of the Alpha who had been terrorizing New York on nights like tonight. It wasn’t long before she stumbled upon a frightening scene, blood spattered across the street collecting into a messy trail of crimson that led into a tight crevice between adjacent storefronts. Police tape had yet to be laid down, but the flashing red and blue told Marie that a full investigation was soon to come.

With cunning and grace, she skillfully evaded the notice of attending officers and landed near a white sheet stained with fresh blood. A few feet away, another smaller sheet covered what Marie assumed was a severed limb, making her believe that she had found one of the Alpha’s recent kills, or that of a pack member.

Holt flew from Marie’s shoulder and with an outstretched talon, pulled the sheet from body so that Marie could examine it further and look for signs that might lead her to the Alpha.

”Oh my god . . .” Marie exclaimed as she turned her head from the gruesome sight for a moment, allowing herself to come to terms with the uncensored image of death and violence that lay before her.

The victim’s body was mangled beyond recognition, face and neck torn to ribbons, left arm painfully severed, pieces of viscera and broken bone strewn haphazardly about the body. The long hair and slender frame led Marie to believe it was a woman, probably in her mid to late twenties.

Marie turned back. This was no time to be squeamish. She had dealt with literal demons and otherworldly abominations, a dead body should be nothing. She resolved to move closer, kneeling down while having Holt examine the alley’s entrance in case the police forensic team was on their way.

”This was definitely a wolf,” Marie made the rather simple observation, noting the lacerations and claw marks along the chest and lower stomach as well as the shredded tissue on the face and neck where the victim had been bitten. The placement of the claw marks led Marie to believe that the victim had been taken unaware. She hadn’t been running away unless she was flanked, but if there was any sort of a struggle, Marie believed that the body wouldn’t be positioned so neatly on her back.

Marie then remembered the trail of blood leading from the street suggesting that the initial attack had happened there, but it didn’t make sense. She couldn’t fathom why a wolf would have been wandering along a busy New York street in its second state so brazenly. Wolves were quick, but one running around the city wouldn’t have gone unnoticed, even in the area where this particular attack had occurred.

Marie pulled the bundle of notes from her cloak and thumbed through them until she reached a small section on Alphas. There wasn’t much written as it seemed the only defining characteristics of most Alphas, no matter the breed, was their enhanced strength and ability to influence other wolves. However, the notes suggested that Alphas could change much more quickly than fledgling wolves. If that was the case, Marie reasoned, it could explain why the attack took place on the street. The Alpha could have shifted into their wolf form before the victim had time to react.

But what if Marie were wrong? It was certainly convenient for her if this attack was truly that of an Alpha and her logic had been sound, but it was also possible that a less experienced wolf had killed this woman, perhaps changing out of fear or surprise and attacking aggressively due to the strange environment. Marie reasoned that any fledgling wolves in the city would either be documented by the Agency, whom she had come to realize had a strong foothold in New York, or was a pack member of the Alpha, who wouldn’t have been far behind. Marie’s eyes went wide as she came to this realization, letting out a deep sigh as she thought on it more.

She had met with not one, but three young wolves earlier that evening, one of whom was completely new to lycanthropy and prone to changing form while under stress.

”Ben . . .” Marie said softly, Holt turning his head at the mention of the young wolf’s name.

”The wolf from the museum? Do you believe he had something to do with this?” Holt inquired, shifting his attention from the entrance, to Marie, back to the entrance.

”I’m not sure,” Marie shrugged, ”but I can’t rule it out. We saw how he reacted to seeing you at the museum. Who knows what could have happened between now and then. If something spooked him enough to trigger another transformation, he could have very well done something like this without knowing what he was doing. And if not him, maybe one of the other two wolves that was with him earlier.”

”You know that if they are truly responsible, they must be dealt with.” Holt stated with a cold conviction.

Marie sighed once more with a heavy heart.

”I know, but I hope it doesn't come to that. Our best bet at finding all three of them is to look for Ben. The twins seemed to know him so it’s safe to assume that they would be together, especially if one of them were responsible for this.”

”How do you suggest we find him?” Holt questioned Marie, taking his place on her shoulder once she had showed intent to leave.

Marie thought for a moment.

”He introduced himself as Benjamin Reeves, didn’t he? I remember seeing the name Reeves somewhere else on our way to the museum.”

”Indeed,” Holt chimed in, ”A flyer for Daniel Reeves was left outside the museum. A campaign advertisement for the position of District Attorney of New York.”

Marie chuckled.

”Should have guessed he came from money. He had that rebellious, neglected teen look when I first saw him. That’s the only lead we’ve got right now, can’t be too hard to find the newly elected DA’s house.”

Marie turned to leave the scene until a thought crossed her mind. To leave the body in the state it was could lead to exposure and unnecessary questions from the police and investigators. It wasn’t likely that they would pick up on a pack of werewolves running rampant in the city, but if there was even a hint of doubt as to the nature of this crime, a more magical task force might investigate and stir trouble with New York’s supernatural community.

With an outstretched arm, Marie issued a silent command to Holt, who felt her intent. He flew around the crime scene three times, enchanting the body with each pass. Slowly, the jagged claw marks were mended, appearing more like stab wounds. The lacerations across the face began to fade, the vague image of a woman returning to the victim’s face, the cuts on her neck forming into something slightly less irregular. The cuts along the arm began to appear more surgical and precise, making it look like the work of a serial killer rather than a rabid animal.

Once Holt had brought to life Marie’s vision, he covered the body with the sheet, took his place upon the mantle of her broom, and off they went into the night to locate the Reeves Manor.

---

Time: Evening - 7:00 PM
Location: Las Vegas, Nevada

Although the sudden disappearance of the Ambassador (and Bach, she supposed) had almost given Mandate a heart attack in her nonexistent vascular system, she was relatively easy to calm once the two of them had returned unharmed and in possession of new treasures. Her inability to stay with the Ambassador at all times was... Beyond frustrating, but nothing bad had come of it. She would just have to try harder next time, somehow.

On the other hand, the box was a fun little curiosity on its own. The golem had no expertise with magic, nor any great skill with puzzles, but she nevertheless offered her eager input on the subject. She was more full of anecdotes than anything really useful, probably, but it was the thought that counted!

Suddenly, noise from the TV grabbed at Mandate's attention. Tilting her head, the golem focused upon the screen, shifting about in her seated position as the program she had been not-quite-watching became some strange man and his equally strange declarations.

-freaks in capes, mages and monsters-

Metahumans? Mages, monsters... Some sort of person who thought those things were bad, she was certain. She personally had no problem with monsters, and mages were quite nice as long as they were Miss Ambassador, but everyone was welcome to a silly opinion!

-For the most part, the people have accepted the rule of gods amongst us, at the detriment of humankind-

As they should, Mandate was certain. Wasn't that how things seemed to function? It was the idea of the monopoly of force, and the greatest force clearly held the greatest authority. Mandate considered herself as belonging only to Miss Ambassador, because no country held the power to rule her from afar, and the Ambassador was her friend. That was simply how it was. If plain humans submitted to the godly force around them, that just expedited the natural end of things, didn't it?

Perhaps, Mandate mused, she just didn't understand the needs of fleshy people. What did they matter to her, though?

The broadcast only became more amusing as it continued. She didn't know what STRIKE was, beyond what mister Bach shared of them, but it sounded as if they had sabotaged themselves in some way, if that group was meant to act against the same 'threats' (proper powers) that they did. Wasn't it a common saying, that the enemy of your enemy is your friend? Perhaps the enemy of your enemy was another enemy.

"I didn't know genocide was still popular." she murmured curiously as she hefted herself off of the ground, her smile never leaving her face. It was all so silly, this deliberate commotion; it was clear that the Hounds of Humanity longed for a spectacle. They created a grand display of themselves, striking against anyone and everyone, and then they plastered their faces boldly on every screen. Perhaps it was a ploy, or maybe it was simple arrogance, but that they even gave such a warning spoke for itself.

She sincerely doubted that they had the power to enforce their declaration of 'intolerance'. Their actions spoke of great power and connections, from the broadcast to their supposed simultaneous strikes, but it was meaningless. All the manpower in the world wouldn't do much to some forces, such as herself.

Mandate didn't understand much of metahumans and mages, but she understood that both could come from either birth or random events in the lives of soft, fleshy humans that used to be ordinary people. Magic was not just some genetic trait that could be wiped away, it was a persistent force. Similarly, metahumans were not even a singular species, as far as the golem knew. They came from a thousand -a million- different walks of lives and unpredictable events.

There would always be metahumans in the human population, unless the human population was inherently changed.

Mandate paused, her thoughts swirling in her head. Concerned whispers, and a glance of her singular eye towards the Ambassador as she consulted with some sprites that had entered the room. "Could they do such a thing?" she wondered idly, her hand rising to brush at where a jaw would be in a human being.

Certain methods had apparently proven themselves capable of creating metahumans, but the golem wasn't sure it would be able to do the same thing in reverse. Perhaps their goal was to lure metahumans into an ambush with such technology? To present a great and glowing target, and then crush their opposition with something unexpected, seemingly impossible? Powerless and death.

It didn't seem very likely, but Mandate placed it on her mental list of possible events nevertheless. "Or maybe... They're liars." Perhaps it was a ploy to lure in all the magnificently weird things in the world and learn from them? The level of coordination that the Hounds had shown was uncanny, and their ability to co-opt technology was seemingly impossible.

Maybe it was the work of some determined metahumans, performing... Her mind supplied the words- 'false flag' operations. This was clearly a series of events that would rile up the populace, but what side the common fleshy being fell upon was up in the air; Mandate had no particular care for the opinions of the masses, and so she had never bothered to learn them. Still, did you aid the metahumans who attempt to help you in your tiny lives, or the men who attacked your masters and made you more vulnerable?

If they acted any more extremely, perhaps the populace would side with metahumans on the matter. That did not, however, explain the involvement of mages and other magical beings. How did they intend to isolate the fey from the world? And what of the spirits of the dead of the past, and the likes of stupid vampires and werewolves? None of it made any sense to her, but that quickly became irrelevant.

Similarly, the events became less and less amusing and intriguing to the golem. Her smile had become a sad reversal as she studied the Ambassador's reaction to the sight of the Stix. With the smoke filling the air and the flames flickering pitifully and hypnotically, it formed an interesting portrait of her human companion's features. She was such a controlled human, it was very admirable, but her emotions were clear.

Mandate's fists clenched.

The hypothetical considerations were all well and good, and the golem would continue to ponder them as the night progressed, but what truly mattered to her was that the Ambassador was upset. The events had shocked the human, and clearly provoked a certain need for vengeance, and that was enough for the golem's anger to solidify by proxy. Whatever their motivations and their intentions, Mandate would hurt them for upsetting Miss Ambassador. No, She'd kill them.

She stood beside the Ambassador as her declaration was made to the world.

At least Miss Ambassador will be more popular after this.

Ramos had to admit, the GeneCo building wasn’t nearly as much of an eyesore as he’d been anticipating. It had a certain elegance to it, all smooth, flowing lines and sinuous curves, seemingly carved out of crystal glass. All in all, it looked more like an artistic statement than a place of business. Ramos sighed as he pulled the remains of his cigarette from his lips, and stamped it out underfoot. He glanced to the left and right, at his associates.

Charlotte, obviously, stood to his left, smartly dressed, as he was. To his right was Cherenkov, looking slightly worse for wear, as usual. He was short, one might say petite, and sickly-looking, wearing bulky clothes that hung slightly off his slim frame. His hair was dirty blonde, pulled back into an untidy ponytail. He coughed quietly, then turned to Ramos, almost questioningly.

”Are we going to admire it all day,” he said, in a raspy, deep voice that didn’t really fit his form, ”or are we going in?”

“I don’t know, it’s got a sense of artistic elegance to it. Likely to make sure the little worker drones buzz away happily and aren’t able to think about the moral ramifications over their efforts,” Charlotte replied in her usual sharp, proper manner of speech. Her hands calmly adjusted her clothes out of habit rather than need since they were pretty much a second skin on her. Not a fact that was far from the truth. She inhaled a moment then added, “However I do agree with our impatient comrade about getting things done sooner than later. Ramos, I believe she’s already met you and it would easier if you lead us in?”

Charlotte made a hand gesture to encourage Ramos to lead them in through the doors.

Ramos nodded, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

”Yes, Charlotte, that was the idea. Noah did say Ms. Freeman would know his… ‘agents,’ by my presence. Obviously, I was to take the lead on this assignment.” He turned and raised an eyebrow to his stuffy associate. ”Or weren’t you listening in the limousine.”

”Are we going to bicker like children, now?” said Cherenkov gruffly, shoving forward, ”Or are we going to do what we came for? Come, you two, let us not waste away any longer out here amongst your…” Here, he coughed for emphasis, glaring at Ramos, ”...exhaust.”

“It’s not my idea of a pleasant mission working with you either, Cherenkov. I was merely agreeing with you,” Charlotte coolly replied.

Ramos did roll his eyes here, following Cherenkov in. ”...It’s not as though any of us here are really bothered by my smoking habits, anyway.”

”That does not mean I want to smell it,” muttered Cherenkov. Regardless, he didn’t say anything more as they all walked into the building, which was just as aesthetically pleasing on the inside. Ramos walked up to the front desk, clearing his throat politely to catch the receptionist’s attention.

“Can I help you?” he said.

”Inform Ms. Freeman, please, that Anthony Ramos is here to see her. She’ll be anticipating my arrival, I’m sure.”

The man nodded then pressed a button for the intercomm directly for Ms. Freeman’s office. Her voice, professional and crisp, came over the speaker back to him.

“Yes, Hoffman?”

“Your expected appointment, I believe, has arrived. Should I send them in now?” Hoffman asked as he eyed the individuals up and down, likely trying to determine what made them important enough to have a walk in schedule for the CEO. He casually waited until her tone came back over the speakers to confirm they were to be let in moments later.

“Yes, let them in and postpone any additional appointments until otherwise notified.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” The man stated then retracted his finger before rising upright from his chair. He paused at his desk then indicate they follow him while he lead them to Ms. Freeman’s officer, pausing at the door and then opened it to allow them in before quickly departing. A blond secretary raised upright from her bent position to point out something and took notice of the three individuals. Jacqueline waved her hand, “Thank you Mrs. Gibbs, that will be all for the day.”

Mrs. Gibbs paused for a split moment as she observed Ms. Freeman, “Yes ma’am. If you need anything else, let me know and it will only take a short time to do.”

She reached to take the papers she was handed and casually made her way past the trio. Charlotte’s dark eyes watched the woman quickly retreat with only mild interest then returned it back to the current proceedings. Jacqueline folded her arms upon her desk surface, her eyes studied the three individuals, until the click of the door made it clear it was safe to discuss business again. She cleared her throat before she began, “As you can see, I’m cooperating fully.”

Ramos nodded. ”Quite. As promised, we are here to assist in your endeavor of tracking and reclaiming Ms. Desdemona.” He motioned to the associates at his side. ”Allow me to introduce myself and my compatriots formally. You know me, Anthony Ramos. This is Charlotte Danvers on the left, and Andrei Cherenkov. We are the Director’s most immediate subordinates.”

“I recall that being mentioned. Here,” Jacqueline stated then picked up a disturbing small file folder and passed it toward the trio, “Is everything we managed to collect since her disappearance.”

Naturally, Charlotte was the first to reach out and seize it. Her figure retreated back to the trio as she flipped through the information. It consisted of Racheli’s early life, limited by resources, and data over early findings of the virus to what little they knew now. Charlotte frowned while she gave Ramos a look in his direction, her hand passed the folder back with clear disappointment.

Ramos took the file, and began thumbing through it. He had to agree with Charlotte’s disdainful look, there really wasn’t much here. A cursory glance at the woman’s life from childhood to now, information on the transportation and loss of their “package,” and the like. Much of their information was already known to Polaris, so it was practically useless. To a point- the quality of the data spoke of a deeper understanding of the Phylactery than most, even if they were still calling it a “virus.” With this information, there was much they would be capable of. Not all of it good. In fact, very little of it good.

Their understanding of the Phylactery is somewhat more in-depth than we thought. We will have to identify just how deeply this knowledge goes and… trim some branches, as it were, he relayed to his associates. He scanned the document further, before stopping. He noticed something, something familiar from the CDC reports. A name. He looked up at Ms. Freeman.

Charlotte frowned at the notion of more work and fact these low intelligent beings managed to collect enough in depth information to worry Ramos, “I don’t think we’ll find them here, that’s for sure.”

Agreed, transmitted Cherenkov. If they do have such knowledge, it will not be in such an open place, where any prying eyes might rove over it. It will be someplace more secure. We should keep our eyes open. Be ever vigilant.

”This man, this… Dr. Gabriel Cole. What information do you have on him?”

“The usual you can over anyone that catches our attention and insists on blocking us. The CDC called him in since the virus had biomechanical properties they felt he might be able to decode and understand better. He took over the handling of Ms. Desdemona rather quickly. He’s been preventing samples from being delivered since she was dropped off making things… difficult,” Jacqueline stated with a hint of subtle venom in her tone over the struggle she felt was unnecessary. Her eyes carefully studied them as they each read the files she had collected and waited for their reaction, “We’re still not fully sure why the virus didn’t kill her like many other subjects. We’ve not her in our custody long enough to figure that out.”

Ramos nodded. It made some amount of sense- without the proper authorization, it was logical that the organization would refuse to release Ms. Desdemona’s records. What didn’t make sense was Dr. Cole, as a consultant, spearheading the efforts against the records being released, rather than the CDC itself. He seemed adamant that no one see anything about the subject, outside of the CDC, possibly even more narrow. That could mean one of a few things. Perhaps he knew Ms. Desdemona personally. Perhaps he knew something of the Phylacteries. Perhaps he was greedy for his own discovery, regarding this “virus.” More than likely, it would be more than one of those possibilities.

”The devices are generally only capable of bonding to one host at a time, Ms. Freeman. Though, your description of the, ah… rejection process amongst your other subjects is rather more virulent than we’re used to. Perhaps it was damaged on reentry… I can only suppose, at the moment, until we reacquire the subject.” Ramos flipped through a few more pages, seeing nothing that really caught his interest. ”Have you reached out to this Dr. Cole? Tried to incentivize his release of the information? Surely you have the resources necessary to provide some sort of compensation…”

“We tried, but every attempt has failed. Nothing has been heard from him since Ms. Desdemona vanished a week ago,” Jacqueline mentioned promptly.

Charlotte raised her eyebrow at Ramos, wondering if he was thinking the samething she was. More specifically how odd it was that both Dr. Cole and Ms. Desdemona had both vanished shortly after the kidnapping.

”Hmm,” said Ramos, turning back toward Jacqueline. ”Well, then… that might give us some sort of lead.”

Cherenkov nodded. ”It’s possible, Ms. Freeman, that this Dr. Cole is involved in your subject’s disappearance. Possibly, he could even be one of the… ‘heroes’ who facilitated her escape.”

“I tend not to jump to conclusions without proper evidence. However, I did see it was odd both him and Ms. Desdemona vanished around the same time. Currently whoever took her knew well what they were doing, had little resistance, and seemed that they are no longer in Lost Haven,” Ms. Freeman stated as she settled back in her chair, her arms fell under her desk and rested on the armrests, “However, I wouldn’t ignore the possibility at all. Is there anything else you require?”

Ramos looked between his associates. ”Not at the moment, Ms. Freeman. We will keep you appraised of any developments in our situation. For now, good day.” And with that, he turned on his heel, flanked by the other two members of his entourage. Outwardly impassive they may have been, however, they were quickly calculating within.

This situation is somewhat more dangerous than we initially considered. Especially Ms. Freeman’s capabilities, regarding this technology. We may have to move up our schedule.

But first, we must find the ‘subject,’ in question. We must find this Dr. Cole, as well. I have a feeling he knows more than he lets on about Symbiotes.

Well, let’s not waste any more time here. Time to see if we can find him, Charlotte stated as she continued to follow them, her mind already calculating the possible places Dr. Cole could’ve went, Sadly, that woman is limited to only Lost Haven, but we’re not.

We shouldn't discount the city, however. If this Dr. Cole has knowledge of Phylacteries, or even is a Symbiote himself- however unlikely- that gives him myriad resources, even within the city limits. We should center our net here, though cast it somewhat wider than usual.

Then we’d best get started now, finished Cherenkov as they left the building. We have a… “subject,” to reacquire.

Los Angeles, Lower Westside
22:15 Local Time
Night of the Hounds of Humanity announcement

Zoë slammed down the rolling garage door behind her as she entered her home, consumed with thoughts of preemptive strikes against these “Chiens d'humanité”. Their sheer arrogance in deciding that they were responsible for 'cleansing' metahumans from the world got under her skin in a way she could not describe, until she remembered a story her grandfather had told her once. Only once, and she had stopped him shortly after he began, as the memories obviously pained him. But she could see the parallels between these dogs and the monsters in the grey uniforms. And while they didn't seem to be state-sanctioned, she certainly was not of a mind to give them a chance to become so. No, they had to die before it got that far.

Walking across the open space of her living quarters, she pulled out her 'work' phone and fired off a quick email to the select group of brokers and service providers, explaining that she was only accepting jobs having to do with taking out the HoH, all other potential employers would have to either wait or find another person. Having seen the confirmation that it had gone through, she tossed it onto her bed as she approached it, sat down and pulled a notebook out from the small box that served as her desk. She flipped it open and began scribbling furiously, jotting down a list of everything she might need for a long campaign of guerrilla campaign. She didn't typically need guns, so that was out, but several other pieces of gear came to mind, including ballistic armour and explosives. Food, clothing, and other necessities might also come in handy.

Her phone buzzed twice, and she glanced at it to read several confirmation emails. That reminded her to send out a text from the Wraith phone ordering everyone to lay low and handle business but not make any new moves until they heard otherwise. She didn't expect responses from those three numbers, really, they knew she wouldn't respond to questions. A stray glance brought her special phone to her attention. She'd have to keep it on, even during this, but it's possible leak of her location, even with all of the additional security, gave her slight pause. If someone were to look up her running away from home, and trace her to her gang, and find one of the survivors who had seen her first activate her powers, and then traced this phone and somehow cracked her security, it could end badly for everyone.

Zoë ran a slim-fingered hand through her tousle of brown curls and leaned back into the wall, staring out across the empty area between her and the back of her television. Thoughts of her estranged family ran across her mind in a rare display. Her father had long been a figure of antagonism to her now, and her mother's disapproving attitude to every choice she had made was not a pleasant memory at all. But Grandfather and Émile were innocent in all of that, and they would not deserve the hell that might come down if her association with them became known to the wrong people.

She suddenly stood. Non, they would not be in any danger, she thought, if I act fast enough. She knew what her first stop would be after groceries and a real breakfast. She grimaced, not caring that her clenched fist was wreathed in flame. It was going to be a long night.

-----------

Edwards AFB, outside of Los Angeles
01:13 local time

Well fed now, with a bottle of good wine to help her nerves, Zoë drove the "borrowed" Jeep towards the gate, trusting the vehicle looked close enough to a soldier's vehicle that it wouldn't arouse any additional problems. Her false ID would be depending on her powers of suggestion, since it was only a driver's license. The headlights washed over the on duty guard as he stepped out in front of her car, forcing her to come to a stop. Utterly professional, he stepped up to the window as she rolled it down.

"What are you doing out so late, ma'am?" His voice was a little thick. He must've been here for a while already. Her power let her know that he thought she had officer's insignia, though not necessarily what rank.

"Coming back late from my sister's house. Bit of an emergency with the nephew, and it's a long drive back." She smiled charmingly at him, handing over the license to his waiting hand. He glanced at it swiftly, flashlight illuminating the laminated card. One glance to her face, and back to the ID, and then he handed it back.

"Hope it's not too bad?"

"Oh, no, just her first child, and he's a bit hard to get to sleep. Colic, I think. But he's fine now."

"Good to hear, ma'am." The young man waved at his compatriot in the booth, and the gate opened to allow her to pass. She waved as she was pulling forward and made her way into the base, letting out a small exhalation in relief. She hadn't been sure how well her powers would work when the card was out of her hand, but apparently it had gone smoothly enough. Getting out would be much trickier, considering what she planned on removing.

Driving through the residential area of the base, Zoë kept an eye out for the sort of busybody that always showed up during these sorts of jobs. Snooping around, keeping an eye out for trouble, and generally being an emmerde. None seemed up at this hour, for which she was thankful. She didn't know when shift change might be, but it should be soon, and she wanted to be leaving about the time that happened.

A second gate and subsequent questioning got her through to the munitions depot. It was occasions like this that lead her to wonder at her more subtle powers. She didn't need to do anything except want to get into a place, and it seemed to take care of the rest. She only had vague ideas about what the other person might see, which made it a sort of guessing game and a chess match between her and her own power. Twice now, it had gotten her into far more trouble than she would have liked, when she had guessed incorrectly and broken whatever effect it was. But it was an exhilarating challenge to her, and she wouldn't give it up for the world.

The 'papers' she presented allowed her to snag a couple of on duty grunts for loading pretty much whatever she demanded from the warehouse, apparently, which was useful, as she didn't know exactly what the protocols might otherwise be. Having remembered that she might have to make some hires, she decided to load up some conventional weapons, so going into the truck she appropriated were two M2 .50 calibre machine guns, four GAU-17 miniguns, several dozen M4 carbines, crates of ammunition for all of them, and several light bombs for aircraft. Just as they were strapping everything down and she was climbing into the cab, she caught a glimpse in the side view mirror of one of the men talking agitatedly into his radio. One glance at the truck from him let her know the jig was up, and she cranked the ignition on and slammed the truck into gear, squealing out of the hangar building and out onto the tarmac, headed south for the gates.

Within seconds several cars had emerged at various points across the base, with only one of them close enough for her to see anything but the lights. She narrowed her focus on that one's driver as they pulled alongside her. They had clearly been warned that there were explosives in the vehicle, as they were not firing at her yet. A sudden jolt let her know he had rammed her truck, so she upped the temperature of the steering wheel well past bearable temperatures, and while she couldn't hear the yelp, she was rewarded by his car suddenly swerving off of the pursuit and into the sand surrounding the road. She grinned. So far this was easy.

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

California Desert
01:40 Local time

Merde. Ce désert est ennuyeux, she thought as she took the pass up across the mountains and back towards the city. She knew that from the drive up, but the anticipation of the job at hand had kept it from being too dull. But now, with adrenaline long gone from her system and the lateness keeping her mind a bit fuzzy, she was finding it hard to stay focused. She had managed to drive of the rest of the pursuit cars through heat, and the two attack helicopters had fared no better. She was fairly certain she had wrecked one.

Zoë was brought suddenly alert by the sound of something landing on the roof of the cab, and a moment later the truck was incapable of moving forward. It took her a moment to realise the wheels were no longer on the ground. “Fuck! Fucking heroes!?” She opened the truck door and dove for the ground, an additional two feet below where it should have been. Rolling with the impact, she ducked to one side and took a quick second to measure her opponents.

There were three of them, two men and a woman. One guy was obviously a civilian, wearing some ridiculous one-piece in bright colours, and of all things a cape. The other two were wearing digital camouflage BDUs, which she was not expecting. If the military had metahumans, she might be in more trouble than she thought. The woman seemed to be using some sort of telekinesis to keep the truck from the ground, although she was lowering it and turning her attention to Zoë now. The caped guy was hovering just off the ground in the most irritating of poses, fists on his hips and trying to stare authoritatively. His muscles under the spandex were rather large, and she suspected he might have enhanced strength along with flight. The uniformed man, she noted, looked like he had frost over his fists. She grinned again. This would be fun.

“Criminal,” the cape said, trying to make his voice boom but failing in the acoustically challenged desert. “We know you have fire powers. Give up now and come with us. We do not wish to injure you.”

She heard the woman mutter, “Speak for yourself, dork.” Zoë sniggered appreciatively.

Assuming her Russian accent, she looked up at him and laughed. “Da, sure. I will go with you, and leave all of my nice new toys with your friends, eh?” Mentally getting ready, she continued. “Better idea: I kill all three of you, get away free, and you lay here dead in road.” And then she phased out, becoming invisible.

Moving towards the woman, who was going into some sort of combat pose and talking rapidly with her partner while the cape rose into the air, Zoë considered how best to do this. It would be easy enough to rematerialise with her hand in the woman's chest, but she wasn't sure what that would do. She settled for coming up behind the girl, waiting until the other two weren't looking, and then appearing again and immediately flash-heating the poor girl's clothes. She went up like a torch and began screaming wildly. Zoë was caught unawares by a blast of telekinetic energy as the woman desperately tried to put herself out, and had to phase again to avoid being put into the truck, which rocked heavily as she passed through it, caught in the same blast. She hoped nothing got dislodged. The boys at the warehouse had done such a good job loading it.

The caped guy seemed to know what she had done, at least, and came around the truck flying at her full force. She had just come out of phase to catch her balance, and had no time to do anything except re-phase. She caught a glimpse of his face going very angry as he passed by, fist held out uselessly. She strolled back through the truck to see how the girl was doing. Apparently she was down and out, covered in a thin layer of frost from her partner putting out the fire, but she definitely had not gotten away without severe burns. One down.

She re-phased again, this time in full view of the Air Force hero, and smiled at him as she was blasted by frost. His face fell as he realised it had had no effect. “<Weakling>,” she said, and then raised her hands and cut loose with her own jet of flames. He dived out of the way, but apparently was not expecting her to move only one hand, nor as quickly as she did, and he was caught between to gushes of burning air. She was tempted to hold it for a moment as he screamed, but decided it was best not to with the other closing in. As he came at her, she twisted, ducking to the side and slamming her foot up with her own enhanced body. She was slower than she anticipated, catching him in the lower abdomen, but still he went sprawling into the burning man.

She knew this type of fighter, having had to deal with several of them already. An idealist of justice, he firmly believed he could beat her without killing her, and bring her in to custody. They needed breaking more than killing. So as he was getting up, she sent bolts of incredibly hot flames from her hands at the head of either of his friends. He moved swiftly to cover the man he was next to, bravely taking the flames for the injured man. They splashed across his chest and he fell backwards, rolling to try and smother them as the other man writhed and continued to bellow in pain. The girl had woken up and was beginning to make the odd sounds she could as her head was engulfed. From past experience Zoë knew she'd never survive. A pity, but she couldn't afford the military kids getting back to their superiours with any descriptions of her. The civilian wasn't trained enough, and she wanted at least one of them to survive and carry the word that a Russian had attacked them.

The man was raising himself up and staring in abject horror at the two burning bodies. He ripped his cape off and began trying to put out the worst of the flames on the man, whose struggles were beginning to weaken, strength sapped by the terrible damage she had wrought on his flesh. The caped man was certainly a genuinely good person. He was ignoring the angry red burn on his chest, and she knew the melted spandex clinging to his skin couldn't be any less painful.

“You win,” he said, defeat in his voice as he struggled to put out some of the fire. “Just go. But know I will get you for this.”

Zoë smiled at him. “You can try all you like, <boy>.” She snapped her fingers, and the sand around both the people on the ground glassed, the cape leaping back and screaming as his hands instantly blistered. The man and woman's screams didn't last long, and the flesh itself began to burn. She watched the tears drip down the man's face as he yelled at her.

“Why!? You had us beaten!”

“Kinder, this way. Is quicker. Cleaner.” She shrugged, glancing up and along the road where she could see more pursuit vehicles starting out from the little town the base was attached to. “Must be going. Do not come after me. You won't survive.” Climbing into the truck, she started it up and drove off into the night, leaving an angry, broken man with charred fingers screaming into the sky by the light of the bonfires who used to be his friends.

-The Pocket Dimension.

Katarina reclined wearily on one of the leather sofas that dotted the room in which she had made herself comfortable in. Say what you would about Merlin, at least she knew how to make a guest feel at home. Thirst lay on the floor beside her as she looked up at the ceiling, rambling away to herself. Soliloquies were an odd habit of hers, yet they often helped her make sense of the situation at hand. Besides, half the time Katarina was actually talking to her sword, not to simply herself. "So much to attend to, so much to catch up on. Four hundred years of human history to read up on, so much to understand. I suppose I should attend that poor man's funeral to thank him for imparting his knowledge of modern society to me. I was hoping that I would wake up because of a group of attendants, not as a naked museum exhibit, and then to have some people level guns at me, not the wake-up call I was wanting. Speaking of which... I should probably clothe myself in something. Eva got an eyeful, the poor girl." Katarina conjured some shadows in front of her and then began to spin them into the form of a loose-fitting gown that would simply afford her a degree of modesty. Katarina wasn't used to the sensation of shadowthread on her skin - it was strangely stimulating, almost akin to a silken dressing gown crackling with energy. Katarina could see the tendrils of shadow slowly snaking their way into the local environment and then dissipating into nothing, and she smiled with satisfaction. "I still have it. Four hundred years, and I can still maintain some of my magic. But there's so much I don't know... or can't remember. My masterpiece, my pride and joy, my life's work - the Liber Necronomica. I haven't heard anything of it - it was probably lost in the Fall of Neuhausen, burned along with the Black Library. So many things that I've lost, so much to recover."

Katarina relaxed, lying back on the couch and reaching down to pick up Thirst from its place on the floor, when a loud, harsh and grating voice boomed from the screen in front of her. Her knowledge gleaned from the guard's blood told her that this was a television, a device used by modern humans for both entertainment and educational purposes, and its usual programming had been interrupted by some announcement from an organisation. Allegedly, they saw themselves as the guardians of humanity against those that would threaten it, against the supernatural. They had supposedly eliminated the premier counter-supernatural agency responsible for public security in the process, no doubt deeming it superfluous to their requirements. Kat snickered at the short-sightedness of the group's actions; counter-intuitive in the long term, though potentially a source of new recruits disillusioned with their previous commanders' actions, they had also taken the offensive, attacking several areas - high profile targets, they had called them - and no doubt declaring their intentions to the supernatural community. Kat shook her head. It was akin to her actions in the invasion of Pomerania in 1594 - by declaring her intentions to spread her rule into the lands of the Griffon and with her initial salvoes of disease spreading like wildfire, she had instead laid herself vulnerable to attack by those who would seek to bring about the Fall - and ultimately succeed. It was interesting to note their rhetoric - they sounded similar to another individual that she knew of... the hated Plantagenet.

However, he was no terrorist, unlike these men and women, the Hounds of Humanity. By striking at the government, it was likely that they had drawn the ire of the American leadership - perhaps even the President himself. President. That was a new concept to Kat. The rule of the majority, the tyranny of the common man made manifest in the United States of America. She didn't trust it as far as she could throw it, as far as she was concerned. Rule of the people by the people for the people was doomed - they were too selfish, venal and corrupt to be trusted with power... far better to allow the enlightened to rule over the masses. Though monarchy, too, was riven with problems, it made more sense to her - much of the monarchies' problems were succession-based, and there will be no succession crisis if the King is a vampire, after all! It was why Neuhausen, for all its faults, worked for so long... she was the ruler, her word was law, and she would never require a successor. She would have reigned forever more... were it not for those bloody Polish. Maybe Neuhausen was doomed to fail? She had forgotten that she didn't exist in a power vacuum. Maybe she hadn't counted on the tenacity and resourcefulness of humans.

Maybe it was time for a change. She frowned and hummed to herself, whilst her shadowthread gown flickered and danced about on her body. She remembered dimly a large collection of people a couple of days... maybe even as little as a day before her full awakening. She remembered one of them was different from the others. They were all human, except for this one. A werewolf, someone who could help her regain her lost power, perhaps even her artefacts? Perhaps she could track him down using his life signs. Werewolves were very noticeable compared to regular humans, after all, though quite how she'd go about it she had no idea. She remembered seeing a flyer on the floor; the District Attorney of New York City - some kind of mayoral position or something similar, she reckoned - was a man named Reeves. This man was likely a powerful person, and may have information relating to the werewolf. Perhaps the werewolf was a member of his family? Perhaps *he* was the werewolf?

There was nothing for it. Katarina took up Thirst in her hand once more and made her way towards a portal out of the pocket dimension. She looked at the magical conduits linking the portal to the material realm, and nodded. She stepped through it, and she was ejected into the material realm... It still looked like New York City, but a different part.

Zac, Kelly, and Sammy gathered up their dinner plates while they listened to the evening news. They each took a different task so that they could get everything put away in a quick and orderly manner. Kelly took care of pots that they had used to cook dinner and set aside any leftovers for a future meal. Meanwhile, Zac first began to wash their dinner plates and then the pots when Kelly was through with them, while Sammy got the easy job of drying the tableware off. Working like a well-oiled machine, the three young metahumans were whipping through the dishes.

“The Albany Police Department is still trying to get to the bottom of the attack that happened yesterday at Washington Park. Local doctors have tried to administer the antidote that was used three months ago during the Pax Metahumana crisis, to the few effected individuals brave enough to search publicly for treatment. However, the antidote was not effective and doctors and patients alike are still scrambling for a cure, if one exists.” The news anchor reported. “The Hounds of Humanity has leaked information that claimed that supremacist metahumans and witches were responsible for yesterday’s incident and that it were events like these that have forced their hands to orchestrate numerous terrorist strikes this evening. The APD has stated that they will not confirm or deny this theory until they have conducted a thorough investigation.”

“I feel so sorry for those victims.” Kelly told the other two while she put away some pots in the kitchen cabinets. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to experience that transformation alone. Maybe we should do something, like a support group? “

Before either Zac or Sammy could give their opinions on Kelly’s idea for helping out the people who had been affected by the incident in Washington Park, the three of them heard the doorbell ring. Neither Zac nor Kelly were expecting a package, so it could not possibly be the mailman or a delivery service. Who could be knocking at their door at this hour of the night? Most people by now would probably be home, finishing their dinner, if they had not already done so.

“I’ll get it!” Sammy volunteered herself, tossing onto the kitchen counter the towel that she had been using to dry off the plates that the three of them used for dinner.

While Sammy hurried over to the front door of their apartment so that whoever was there would not be waiting forever, Zac finally gave his opinion on Kelly’s idea.

“While I don’t think that your idea is bad, I am a little worried about it potentially ousting me as a metahuman.” Zac admitted his concern to Kelly. He was hesitant at first to even bring this issue up, fearing that it might make him seem selfish. Nevertheless, Kelly’s response showed that she didn’t see it that way.

“Well, you can always be the supportive, unbigoted boyfriend who loves his girlfriend despite her insectoid appearance.” Kelly suggested while trying to convince her boyfriend into supporting her idea. “Or you could dress up in your superhero costume and we would have to come up with a story on how we met so that it’s not obvious that we’re a couple.”

“Either of those would work. We can pick one whenever we decide to actually set one of these meetings up.”

This moment, however, was spoiled by a terror-filled scream and the heavy thud of a door slamming. Everything seemed to Zac and Kelly to have happened so fast that, before they knew it, Sammy was sprinting away from the door and back over where they were standing in the kitchen. Her face was pale, almost as if she had seen a ghost.

“What’s wrong?” Kelly asked her best friend.

“It’s after me!” Sammy told Zac and Kelly while she cowered behind them.

“What thing?” Zac inquired.

“The goo that I step in the park!” Sammy then turned her attention back toward the door. "It was just an accident! I didn't mean to step on you!"

“What?”

“It probably was just a prank in the front of our apartment. There’s nothing to be worried about.”

“Really?” Sammy questioned Zac and Kelly’s good-intentioned attempts to calm her down. “If it was just a figment of my imagination, then what’s THAT!”

Sammy then pointed towards an apricot colored blob clumsily sliding across their apartment floor. When it bumped into the coffee table that was in front of the couch, the gooey mass climbed up the leg and side of the furniture. When it reached the surface of the table, it knocked over a half-full glass of water that one of the three young metahumans had left there and had forgotten to take it over to the sink. The water spilled over the table, although the blob absorbed most of it, which seemed to have increased its size.

“Zac, do something!”

“Like what?”

^{_{“Need water”}} The three young metahumans suddenly heard a faint voice plead. A cold chill ran through the spines of each of their backs when they heard that voice.

Lost Haven Police Department:

That evening, within LHPD Central, Arthur Nolan discovered a few interesting cases that were sort of untouched. Looking at them, one might even assume they’re being avoided. A couple blips on the Shroud syndicate, a few murders and several missing persons. One stood above the rest in Arthur’s interest as he printed them out and put them into a folder in his bag. The one that made the most sense to be avoided.

It was a missing person’s report made by the CDC, which is of particular interest. The girl was evidently afflicted with some kind of disease, or virus. Said to be not contagious, but a lot of crazy stuff happens these days. A non-contagion could simply evolve or magically transmit and there’d be nothing that a normal fella could do about it. The woman was named Racheli, a peculiar

Arthur nodded to himself as he read through the page, he did a little skim before putting it into the same folder and packing up. He pulled his coat up over his shoulders and topped himself with his cap.

Headed towards the door he nodded to the woman and checked his gun at the door, replacing it in the holster. “Have a nice evenin’, I’ll prob’ly come back soon.” He made some degree of effort to make his exit particularly impressive. Throwing back the extra fabric on his coat as he pushed through the door. Why? Well, it should be a well known fact that Arthur’s a bit of a dork and no matter what situation he’s in he’s always wanted to look cool.

Outside the building he pulled out his pocket map and looked through the locations that he’d marked down as pertinent. The CDC wouldn’t have been marked down if it weren’t an emergency service, Arthur’d even written down the location of the LH Volunteer Fire Department. He’d noticed his proximity pretty quickly, he’s close enough for a good sprint through the alleyways. Arthur frowned when he realized they might not be open at this hour, it was nearly eight at night. Though he was sure he’d be able to get in somehow if they weren’t open.

“It’d be quicker to take a bus, but I can’t spare the expense right now.” He grumbled and scratched at his chin, noticing that he’d a bit of stubble with a bit of surprise. “Great, I have to shave now too. Which I also don’t have time for.” He figured that if he couldn’t afford it, he’d just need to fudge a few rules. There wasn’t exactly a law against it, he was sure of that. Except there totally was a law, and Arthur was full of shit.

The eastbound bus to City Hall was passing the station and would be making its way with only five stops between. It’d be clumsy, but if Arthur could get on top of the bus without alerting anyone he’d be golden. Through the traffic he’d be able to get a bit of sound coverage, so jumping on top soundlessly would be easy enough.

Arthur folded the map back up and slid it into his coat pocket, fastening the button and holding his hat in place on his head. The light turned green and the bus started rolling, the traffic began to move and the chance was now.

He broke into a sprint and dashed through the moving cars, the honks of horns and screeching of tires covered his leap to the top of the bus. He thumped bodily on top of the flat metal surface of the vehicle and laid himself flat on top of it. The breathing was kept steady but he instinctively fell into a pant. Despite not being exhausted, he was still mentally old and running would have winded him.

“Why do I do this?” He asked the ether as the bus continued towards the City Hall, he’d be to the CDC within the hour.

Midafternoon, the same day as the Walmart adventure
-----

The old man stood on a hill overlooking the city of Lost Haven, Maine. He had teleported himself here from Augusta, and it had taken a bit out of him, even with the help of the gnarled staff in which he stored most of his gathered energy. Thankfully, this area seemed to run rife with the stuff, and the staff, a heavy, two metre length of ash wood, fairly dripped with responding magic. The sword at his side, currently covered by a simple illusion as a fanny pack, vibrated. Something is either terribly wrong or terribly right here, the old man thought to himself as he stroked a long, salt and pepper beard.

Piercing, steel-coloured eyes swept over the city, picking out points where concentrations of magic seemed to clot like scabs over wounds, still throbbing with natural energy as the place recovered from a significant incursion of some sort. The same thing, though more concentrated and far more raw and fresh, had been in New York when he passed through there. New York had been impossible to examine in detail, though, due to the obvious presences of werewolf territory and vampiric influence. Nothing here was nearly as established, though the city also stank with the presence of metahumans and corruption.

The man painted an odd picture as he stood. Wind whipped around the area as a sea breeze hit the hill, but it barely rippled the heavy leather coat he wore. This was due to both the many enchantments layered into the leather, and the steel plates sewn in to armour the thing, also enchanted to make them lighter. His clothes all looked hand-stitched, because they were, and he was not the best tailor. He obviously thought of practicality before any sort of style. Even though he looked homeless, his presence carried echoes of well-established authority and a taste of agelessness. Unfortunately, his straight-backed and rigid posture was more from determination and willpower more than through strength of body. Anyone looking closely at him could see that age was taking its toll rather heavily on him.

Sighing heavily, he turned his gaze out to the west side, near the coast, where a much fresher scar seemed to be radiating. The same flavour of energy that he was looking for, though very violent in nature. Finally found you, boy, he thought to himself as his face settled into an expression somewhere between a frown and a grimace. And you are in much more trouble than you think, if that is what it looks like. Nodding to himself as if in affirmation to a question no one asked, he strode off along the edges of the suburbs, angling around the city towards the scar.

---

that night
------

Green eyes snapped open as the earthquake shot through the stone around him. His coming to consciousness was with alarm. A familiar presence was somewhere close, one which boded ill for him. And now his mind fogged with the arrival of something else, large and powerful and not magical in nature. But he had no time to ponder before his entire being was wracked with pain. His left side felt as if it was dipped in molten metal. He looked down slowly, gritting his teeth, and saw that magic, metal, and flesh had been fused together to create a whole thing where he had destroyed himself.

The memories came back slowly. He had created something, knew he had been successful, but he couldn't recall what it had been. Looking at the damage it had wrought upon him, it must not have been happy, but this was unacceptable. He would have to show his creation who its master was, and possibly destroy it for its gall at attacking him. A voice from the darkness woke him from his anger.

“Master is awake!” The voice was weedy, like something sneaking through the grass.

“Ah,” he said, and paused. His voice echoed oddly, and his face felt stiff. How much damage had the thing done? “Abaristus, you yet live.”

“Yes, Master! I have been very busy, very busy indeed, rebuilding you.” His familiar slunk out of the shadows and into the firelight he was bathed in. Abaristus was his first creation, more a golem that the familiar inhabited. It resembled a hairless, oversized weasel, nearly three feet long, with a monkey's tail, bat wings, and larger than normal forelimbs complete with opposable thumbs. It bowed and scraped towards him, though the treacherous thing still had an evil glint in its eyes. He couldn't fathom why it had saved him, really. His death would have ended the contract binding it to him and released it back to its native plane.

“Have you, now.” He attempted to sit up, but the pain was far too unbearable and he fell back with a hiss. “What all has been done? And how long has it been?”

“Master, much had to be done. Over the past moon, I have painstakingly, hmm, rebuilt your left arm and leg, to the trunk. Several organs have been replaced, and much of the ribs.” It paused, hemming and hawing in hesitation. “And my face,” the man prompted.

“Yes, master. The skull, the eye, the jaw, the throat. All had to be reworked. I, hmm. Hmmm. I did what I could.”

“No matter. How long until I am fit to move myself again?”

The familiar glanced over its shoulder, almost as if they were in hiding. “Ahhh, at least, hmm, another moon. The nerves, you see. Hmmm. They require some work yet.”

He glared at the thing with a sidelong glance. It was wringing its hand, fearful. And he knew why. “What,” the mage growled, “has happened to the lab? Why am I in this stinking hole?”

There was much hemming again. Abaristus was trying to avoid agitating him. “Tell me. There is not much I can do now.”

“Ahhhh. The, ah, accident, hmmm. It destroyed your lab. And much of the cliff. Hmmmm. I managed to drag you from the waves, yes. No books, no potions. I have had to feed off of the lines, hmmm, to aoid any suspicion. The work is, hmmm. Slow, yes. Very slow.”

“And you aven't taken many pains to avoid mine. To be expected. You are a nasty and base thing. Stay this useful, however, and mayhaps we will see about an upgrade once I recover.” Abaristus bowed and scraped and thanked him. He closed his eyes, exhausted from even this simple conversation. Thankfully, the creature was, while clever, incredibly greedy, and thus easy to manipulate into less treacherous mindsets.

This situation was delicate. Aside from the not-zero chance that his familiar simply 'failed' to save his life, he knew there was probably little time before the old Salamander came to find him, and both his familiar and whatever it was he had created were so much a violation of his terms of apprenticeship that he had no doubt the old man would kill him, given a chance. Well, we'll just have to make sure he doesn't get one. With that smug thought, he drifted back into unconsciousness, despite the pain of Abaristus's tugging at something on his scalp.

Ben bit his inner cheek a moment, realizing how crazy he was for trying this with a bunch of strangers, as he sniffed the water a moment on impulse. It held a herbal scent though it was diluted by the water and hard to get a good scent. He snorted then took a cautious sip. The taste was bitter as he fought not to spit it back out causing him to shudder, his stomach clenched and tightened in reaction. An amused grin crossed his lips before he inhaled then promptly downed as much as he could in one movement.

The bowl was nearly a third of the way done before the nauseous sensation to throw up was on him. He stopped then sought to retain his stomach contents as he hunched over, his insides wiggling in unpleasantness, while he tried to stare into the fire. Flames crackled for what felt like hours before his vision started to blur and sweat began to roll off his skin. Gradually, he closed his eyes and let his eyesight fall into darkness.

Imagining his wolf was more difficult than he could’ve believed as he had never seen himself before. All the changes were painful and distracting, leaving no ability to focus on any reflective surfaces. Truthfully, he had been curious enough to want to know. It was just a disruption in his once normal life which explained why he wanted it gone and killed any desire to picture it. Ben let himself sit uncomfortably for what felt like several minutes before he couldn’t stand it anymore. His legs moved and he pulled out from under his seat, crawling out of the car with the blanket held up to shade him.

Everything felt off.

The wind blew across his nose causing him to shift his attention as everything felt uncomfortable. Ben’s figure leaned back against the car and still protected from the full moon’s effect. For the first time in two days, he actually looked content and peaceful. Another shiver of discomfort caused Benjamin’s stomach to flip within his middle as he turned to Rune across the fire.

“Alright,” Irritation obvious in his voice as the teenager tried to puzzle together what was about to happen to him,” “What now?”

His wolf appeared to be nowhere in sight for him.

“Patience young wolf,” Otto spoke softly and comforting as Rune began to chant something in what was clearly one of the many dialects of the First Nations, of the Native Americans who truly owned the land they sat upon. His mumbling grew to a fevered chanting as sweat ran down his forehead and his brow furrowed. And then it hit them, like a celestial truck, the magic smashed into them, dislodging their astral selves from their bodies.

“Don’t panic.” Rune said as they were now standing, according to their senses at least, upright. Yet at their feet, their bodies were clearly slumping forward, staring at the fire.

Even as Rune spoke, the fire seemed to discolor and lose its luster. The colors of the world bled out into a fog, that warped and shaped and swirled by laws none of the three could understand. Rocks and Trees took on hues of purple and their edges seemed undefined. And then there was a sudden, shuddering jolt running up their transparent, ghostly spines. The world wasn’t merely warping, it seemed as if another one was superimposing themselves over their perception. Shadows of trees that once stood where the deserts now stretched. Ancient shades of great walking beasts now bones beneath the ground. A place where death had been suspended, and time moved in all directions at once. The Spirit Realm.

“Easier said than done,” Ben tried not to snarl.

His eyes widened and blinked twice, trying to clear his eyesight of the illusions he thought he was seeing. They didn’t disappear. In face, they only got sharper to his attention causing him to tense and try not to bolt. If he hadn’t been turned into a werewolf, shifted several times in the last two days, and had come face to face with individuals gifted in magic, then he highly doubted he could’ve mustered up enough tolerance to remain in place right now.

Still soaked in fear and adrenaline rising, Ben turned toward Rune and Otto, “Alright, you still haven’t answered my question… I don’t see my wolf, so what now?”

“Are all kids this impatient Otto? Is it the videogames fault?”

“You did give the kid peyote.”

“Yeah. True” Rune shrugged. “Just hold on. I feel something. Something strong… It isn’t to happy though…” The rune priest mumbled as he swept the landscape with his eyes. Things were changing, the ghost grass seemed to grow, and he felt as if he was being watched. He knew this feeling, the presence of an Apex Predator.

With predatory grace and absolute quietness, a large, blond wolf edged into sight. It looked nearly identical to what Ben had when he was being hauled about by Barron in his fully shifted form, from the slight off figure upon all fours to the bright blue eyes, as it drew closer to the three that had trespassed upon his territory. His head shifted from one to the next, observing each individual then rested on Rune as the cause of bring them here.

What do you want and why do you tread upon my territory? The words were that of a confidence, mature wolf compared to the image of a pup he showed. He stood there patiently waiting for an answer.

“To bring together two sides of the same being. And reach better cadence between wolf and the man. According to the peace of the moon, and the nature of you both. You are one and the same, yet you are currently at odds with one another. I hope to help you both. It is obvious your transformation was premature, that even now. It strains you. I wish to help.”

The wolf turned to Ben, causing the boy flinch as he tried to stand his ground against the wolf’s stare. After a moment or two, the wolf turned back to Rune, I can’t be become whole with someone that rejects who they are and fears it. He wouldn’t accept the animal instinct, the responsibility, or the savagery that comes with my kind if he doesn’t accept himself. The premature transformation had little to do with the divide created.

Another pause was created while the wolf waited for Rune to comment on his words.

“It is never easy to wake up to an altered reality, to the nature of one self.. Some men spend their lives running from it. Others naturally accept it. “ He turned to Ben. “Running away will not make your life easier. Trust me.”

“I didn’t want to become a werewolf so you can’t blame me for not wanting it,” Benjamin said, trying to understand the wolf’s confusing words. Naturally in his attempt to translate the deeper meaning, he hadn’t fully understood them at all. This was enough to cause the wolf’s head to snap toward him and peered hard at him, absorbing that fact then turned to Rune as if to point out the obvious.

“No… That is not it.. You are special. Tell me wolf. How come you can track magic? What else runs in Benjamin's veins.”

Only three have ever been able to smell the energy you call magic and that is because they have had it within themselves from the start, The wolf said calmly as he cocked his head, No breed is built to sniff out what they can’t understand unless it lies in their veins. He suppresses it because it upsetted the one he loved the most and the only one that loved him back.

Johan felt a pang of sympathy at that. Tilting his head back he let out a sigh. It would not be easy. And he could not force the boy to simply reconcile with his past on the spot. “Benjamin” He said, his voice calm and steady. “Do you hate it? The magic I mean?”

“I haven’t any idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never encountered anything magical or supernatural or anything before I was bitten. Personally, I’m still hoping this is some whacked out dream and that I’ll wake up as things were,” Benjamin spoke, his words believed to be true causing the wolf to snort in disagreement. Anger filled the boy’s attention at being told he was something he wasn’t as he looked to the wolf, his voice reached out in a pissed off tone at it, “You don’t know me at all.”

For the first time, the wolf acknowledged the boy as an individual separated from himself as his eyes narrowed upon Benjamin and its back legs raised underneath it. Inch by inch, its hind legs pushed the blond wolf to stand fully on two legs as it towered over six foot (6’2”) and loomed over the boy then stepped forward. The voice was a snarl, the lips curled back to reveal several white canines, when it rippled through all their skulls, a warning, I know you better than you know yourself. You run from what you don’t want to face which means you’ll run from me as well. We can’t be whole that way.

After a few moments, the wolf’s figure then stepped back and once more resumed his earlier posture. However the hatred in the confrontation was still lingering in the spiritual energy about them.

Rune had not expected this. In hindsight, he should have. Teenagers were the spawn of every hell conceivable, and the crucible of angst and hormones made for the terrible creature known as young adults. And here he stood, watching the primal incarnation of Ben’s supernatural side try and talk sense to the one creature so immune to logic and rational thinking: The fabled and feared: Teenage boy.

“Ok Ben. I hate to say this. But it is time to put on the big boy pants. This wolf Is you. Of course he knows you.” He said exasperated. “You share the same memories, the same impulses. You are one and the same, separated only by the fact that you do not accept what and who you are.” Otto nodded as Rune spoke adding his own words to the conversation only after careful consideration.

“The Supernatural run in my family to. This form you see before is passed on through magic for generations. I did not have any more a choice then you did. But if we deny what we are, we will eventually burn from within. Nobody suppresses the beast forever.”

“I don’t… I don’t remember. You’re asking to accept something that makes no sense,” Ben said firmly his stubbornness shining through as his words showed earnest in his belief. At the mention of the wolf sharing the memories and impulses, his stomach turned at the truth. Something terrible was about to happen as his eyes seemed to plead for Rune to stop this and not pry further despite Ben himself being unaware that his eyes reflected this.

The wolf’s figure shifted uncomfortably, a show of pity perhaps, as he edged back to the boy, It was suppressed because it was painful to face the true or would hurt her memory. Admirable as the compassion is, despite how we try to hide it, it has caused a fracture. If it is difficult to remember, showing might be better.

With that, the wolf began to trot off into the landscape with an air of expecting them to follow. His fours legs moved in predatory grace across the rugged and shifting territory he called home. Never missing a step or lost pacing, they gradually came to a small, calm pool shrouded by mist. A feminine voice called out loudly, a slight worry mixed with the motherly tone.

“Ben, Ben where are you? I know you’re here, come out. Ben…”

Ben immediately grinded to a stop as the wolf turned, not at all surprised, then shifted his head to Rune and Otto. This will be difficult… we must see to believe. Often we can’t run from the truth when it’s facing us and a small, outside nudge helps in great measures.

“Magic is build on truths and deceits. A truth is always powerful. That is why we protect them with deceit. Even if it means fooling ourselves. “ Rune felt a pang of pity for a boy, and something else entirely. Selfloathing. Here he was, speaking of truths and deceits, but he had no idea where his own road led. Steeling himself he spoke softly. “We are here to bear witness, we shall take this secret with us to the grave, shall you demand it of us Ben. We will not abandon you.”

Ben didn’t reply. Instead, he watched his mother drift into their backyard and toward the pool, her eyes darted for him. Her cries made him cringe inwardly with each word that it could be seen and felt by touch. He was fixed in place, helpless, and unable to stop it from peeling back the haze of that day. A six year old boy materialized in the pool’s reflection as he chattered with someone.

“Ben, who are you talking to?” There was fear lacing his mother’s question. He was too young to understand why, his eyes unable to remove themselves from her figure and noted the gut sensation of guilt squirming into his chest. Casually she moved toward his younger self and immediately picked him up, her eyes widened in recognition toward the figure as she clenched him tightly to her.

“What do you want? Leave my son alone,” She spoke harshly to the figure, a wispy shape taking a woman’s form. Rune and Otto would immediately realize the creature his mother was talking to was a Banshee. Through Ben could see her, she disguised her word to where only Mrs. Reeves could hear. It sounded like the rattle of the reeds, eerie and grim, with each breath. However the words seemed to draw more fear and panic from the woman as she shook her head, “No. He’s staying here, grandmother. I won’t let you take him.”

Another eerie whisper occurred.

“Please, no. I’ll do anything. Just don’t take him.”

Through the scene wasn’t over, its running was a mish mash product, darkness filled the pool and eventually once more became a dark surface untouched by anything. Ben just stood there watching in silence. The wolf turned to Rune and Otto, his eyes studied them a moment before he spoke, This was as much as could be unsurfaced from the mind and we need time. Even if the fracture was healed, learning to co-exist would take months or longer as is normal with an American Werewolf. We are done here…

“Yes.” Rune bit back the dark bile that rose in his throat. “Yes. We are.” Otto looked stunned. He looked to Ben, but Rune stopped him.

“If you need time, you have it Ben. This turned out heavier than I expected it to. It may not feel like it. But in time, you will thank me for this.” He closed his eyes and began to sing the hymn of return. Reality began to warp and separate again, the superimposed hyper reality fading until they were simply at the roadside, a small tray of coals where the fire between once had been.

“Ugh… my goddamn head..” Rune mumbled.

Ben’s eyes fluttered open as his figure leaned over the car edge, his arms pressed to his squirming middle. Without warning his lips opened and spewed the mostly digested contents of his dinner across the ground nearest the car. Unable to remain seated, his figure dropped to all fours upon the ground and felt another sickening wave rush over him before he finished purging whatever remained in his system once more. Ben then weakly sat up, his back pressed against the car’s frame, and somehow managed to keep the blanket mostly covering his skin.

“I can see why Otto wasn’t keen on doing this… fuck. Was that real?” Ben said, though he knew the answer, “What was she speaking to? I don’t...”

His right leg lifted and bent as his forehead rested on it, not caring anymore if he went wolf or not, while trying to cope with what had just happened. A sick, twisted blade of guilt dug into his middle causing him to want to just disappear altogether. His mother had gotten in a car accident and died in the hospital, or he thought. Daniel never allowed him to say his final goodbye before the bastard made the call to pull his mother’s life support when he was away at school. With the thoughts running through his head, he didn’t notice he was trembling along his surface.

An expensive sports car pulled up in front of the red carpet that acted like a crimson road to the Roy Walley Convention Hall. From the driver’s side door, Christopher Arthur stepped out. Dozens of camera flashes sparkled in his direction, just like fireflies blinking in the night. Even though it was long past dusk, Chris had sunglasses on and the reason for the shades was obvious to anyone who observed the camera shutters clicking away.

“You do realize that you went around the block three times, right?” The valet told Chris as he approached towards the car in order to open up the passenger’s side door.

“Well, I had to give this bad boy a spin.” Chris pulled off his sunglasses and slip them into a pocket in his sport’s jacket. He then tossed the car keys over to the valet “But don’t get any bright ideas.”

Chris circled around the car to help Maya out of the vehicle. Although Chris almost seemed to enjoy the limelight that came with being both a celebrity and a genuine superhero, Maya was entirely unaccustomed to the attention. As they walked down the velvet carpet, she clung to Chris’ torso, as if she were shrinking away from the attention. It did not help that it took the two almost an hour to get inside the convention building due to the paparazzi’s excessive desire of information and exclusives.

Even Minerva was even there, waiting to bug him with ‘official’ business. Ever since the Hounds of Humanity severed the head of S.T.R.I.K.E., their core leadership, the spy organization was thrown into chaos and its secrets became instantly vulnerable.

“A word, Mr. Arthur.” Minerva commanded him with her usual cold tone.

“Oh, come on! This night has once already been interrupted by supervillainy, twice if you count the whole Hounds of Humanity thing!”

“Are you not the least concerned?”

“Nah. They’re big boys. They can handle it. And I’ve put into place some safety features just in case things take a turn for the worst.”

Chris was referring to the database of metahumans and other persons of interest that S.T.R.I.K.E. had been compiling for the last several months, if not longer. Chris knew that this sort of information would be dangerous in the wrong hands. Therefore, he embedded deep in the system’s code a kill switch that would wipe the system clean if anyone ever tried to access it remotely or if S.T.R.I.K.E. Before Chris had left for this event, he double checked to make sure that his kill switch had worked as planned. The only copy of this information that remained was in Chris’ possession.

“But go ahead and alert some of those nice agents that I might be hiring soon.”

Chris and Maya finally walked into the convention hall, where they were first greeted by Daniel Emerson. This fundraiser was organized to commemorate those who had recently died and to help support their loved ones in this dark time. Although he had plenty of resources to cover the expenses for his diseased relatives, unlike many of the other families, Mr. Emerson made sure that his brother, sister-in-law, and nephew were recognized, just for commemoration.

“Chris, I’m so glad you were able to make it.” Mr. Emerson offered his hand to Chris, which he immediately shook. “It really means a lot to me. And I’m sure it means just as much to them, too.”

Mr. Emerson then turned towards the display that had been set up for his deceased relatives. There was not a jar set up in front of it, since Mr. Emerson did not require the financial support, as I have already mentioned.

“Oh, it was nothing. You were there when my parents died, so it just seems fair to repay the favor.”

“Well, we can talk some more later. I still need to do some more rounds about this place and I don’t want to keep you social butterflies from the party.”

After Mr. Emerson strolled away to greet some of the other guests, Chris and Maya began to weave through the crowded reception hall. Unbeknown to them, two women, one dragging the other behind her, were fighting against the mass of guests to get to Chris. The first women, a brunette, who was in the lead, had a nature beauty that was perfect for a model from the 40’s and 50’s. The girl who she was dragging behind her, a blonde, was more focused on not spilling the drink in her hand.

“Excuse me. Mr. Arthur?” Chris turned around to find the brunette woman standing there. When he saw the second girl, he immediately recognized her. In fact, he had forgotten that she was living out on the West Coast.

“Yes?” The brunette held a small book in her hands, holding it out in front of herself.

“Could you sign this for me?” The woman asked him. Chris agreed and received the book from the woman. When he flipped it open to find an empty page to sign, Chris noticed that there were several signatures from the various members of the Avenger’s movie cast.

“You do realize that I’m not Iron Man, right?”

“Of course, I know that!” The brunette rolled her eyes, “I think people can easily distinguish you from Robert Downey Jr.”

“You would be surprised.” Chris then pulled a pen from his jacket pocket and scribbled his signature inside the small book that belonged to the brunette women. “So, do you want me to write anything else?”

“Oh, just put down ‘To Emily’, or something.” Emily replied.

“Do you want me to also include Aubrey over there or just you?”

“You know Aubrey?” Emily gestured to the blonde girl standing behind her.

“Well, I have dated some Viera models in the past.”

“In your dreams.” Aubrey took a gulp from the drink that she had been holding onto for this entire time.

“You can just put my name down.” Emily tried to quickly switch the subject because the tense situation that was developing because of Aubrey’s obvious dislike of Chris. She then turned towards Maya, who had been standing beside Chris the entire time. “But who’s your date? That’s a beautiful dress.”

“Thanks.” Maya blushed as she replied to Emily.

“This is Maya Hoffman.” Chris quickly interjected, since he assumed that she was being a little overwhelmed by the atmosphere of the entire event.

“So, what happened to the armored chick? Just the flavor of the month?” Aubrey chimed in on the conversation. While she was waiting for Chris’ answer, she took a sip from her drink again.

“Um…” Chris pondered on how he should respond to that answer. Aubrey had made her question vague enough for everyone else not to guess that she is actually the metahuman known as Arachne, but since Chris knew this information, he understood that she was referring to Archangel. “She kind of turned out to be a killer robot.”

Aubrey had to cover her mouth with her hand to make sure she did not accidentally spit up her drink. She almost laughed at the absurdity of that idea that Archangel was a robot. However, when she noticed everyone else was not taking it as a joke, she made sure to repress any urges to laugh at the irony.

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“In the world that we live in, how is that surprising?”

"But still, you got cat-fished by a computer? And I thought you were supposed to be smart or something."

“Well, thanks for the signature!” Emily finally told Chris. After seeing the hostility building up between Chris and Aubrey, she knew that she had to cut the conversation short lest the tense moment escalates any more than it already had. “I hope you enjoy your stay in Pacific Point.”

“We’ve been meaning to watch the local baseball team play, but things have been so hectic around here that we’ve have not had a chance to do so. But at least it is not like Lost Haven, where it seems like a world-ending crisis is just the average Thursday.”

“Oh, the Pacific Point Pythons are quite fun to watch. Aubrey and I went to a game a few weeks ago. For some strange reason. baseball is so much more enjoyable in person than on television.” Emily noted.

“Speaking of baseball, I’ve heard that Aubrey here has quite the swing.”

Sitting in his chair looking out the hotel’s window while his torn jacket lay over the bed Barron enjoyed his bourbon as he watched the sun rise over New York last night had been a busy one. With Ben being abducted by from what his intel could gather Rune, a Champion for some Elven Twink albeit a King of great power. It was none of his business why he would abduct the boy so long as Barron could find him alive but that was not presently his concern. Two things of importance happened late last night, a raid on his warehouse wherein multiple members of his organization were murdered. From the reports Lynch filled there were two supposed humans and a Golem, one was presumed female and the other male. No additional information other than the Silverish skin and smooth features of the Golem was able to be collected though there were blood splatter and hair fibers found inside. It marked a troublesome development and again someone had stolen from him showing a sign of weakness. Whoever it was clearly was more than a match for his own men, indicating someone stronger than the average metahuman; in hours he’d know if any of them had a criminal record via contacts with the Vegas Police.

There was also the other matter which he had already begun arrangements for. A phone buzzed on a pile of clothing underneath thin lace nightwear, with a splash a hand reached under them displacing the haphazardly tossed underwear as a sleek black phone was pulled out and a thumb pressed speaker mode. “You’re Jet is fueled up, we. Have a lot to catch up on tonight. The Ambassador made a public speech, fae, humans anyone who was standing at the scene. Brought a lot of attention, attention the supernatural do not need at this time.”

”The Hounds made a lot of mistakes. Pissing off the Fae is a big one. Even I know how bad they can be when angered and I only skimmed their history. I’m already packed and ready to go, just need to head out.” As Barron spoke ice cracked against themselves as the last drop of bourbon swished around as a ball of blood formed above a body in the center of the room. ”Also. I found a Hound today as well dear, there was this quaint tea shop that served witches not far from my hotel. Found a guy hanging around outside, we chatted. It was most therapeutic.” Barron stood up as a knock came from the door ”I have to go, the cleaner has arrived.”, he stepped quickly and saw a tall thin man enter.

Taking off his cap he spoke.”Sir. I heard you needed a carpet cleaned.”

”Yes, and would you mind taking out the garbage as well?”

As Carol sat back in her bath grabbing her sponge she mused some thoughts. Is it possible to use the Hounds act of terrorism to bridge the gap between them and the Fae, their animosity towards the Vanderbilts seemed only due to their undead nature, if by chance this could allow them an opportunity to prove themselves before them they could finally reap benefits of a friendship. And expand their business. It was a pleasant thought one Carol entertained as she burned down a cigarette another elsewhere burned the midnight oil.

Pacific Point -- 11:51 PM

Boots stomped and charged to cover as they prepared to take down their target with scopes aiming down at a man in leather eating a hotdog, as a sign flashed behind him in the distance in bright red neon bolted on a brick building. As mustard dripped off the tip Hound Dog wiped the edge of his mouth with a napkin as he walked on; snacks were hard to come by so late at night but Pop’s Malt Shop was open pretty late even more so for their favorite customer. While Hound Dog ate he felt eyes on his back, and knew something was going down. With a final gulp the last piece went down and he immediately turned and put up a deflective field using iron shavings, stopping a bullet from grazing him. “Hey hey. Are you trying to get me frosted, cause I’m frosted.”

As six men closed in on him one spoke to another.”He can do that?”

“Not for long he won’t.” With a wrench he ran towards a hydrant and cracked the end open as another man came behind him with a cone.

“Hey nosebleed, you dumb cause this isn't gonna go the..” A gush of water interrupted Hound Dog as the men fired their guns only to find iron shavings still blocking their target and a mostly dry Meta. “Look you seem confused let me explain things. I ain’t no comic book baddie. And water doesn’t short me out. But hey no big, after all youse folks are gonna take a nice hard nap cause while water doesn’t affect me, I’m sure you can’t say the same.”

With a quick flash of lightning the men dropped to their knees. As one managed to say conscious.”We are Humanities watchdogs. Freak..” Hound Dog blasted him and called the police.

After a few minutes when he hung up his call, he stepped around the knocked out goons. “Hardcore weapons for Human Supremacists, these guys must have some pretty good funding.” Rubbing his stiff shoulder he felt something wet between his fingertips. “Yeah. That’s not good.”

“Speaking of baseball, I’ve heard that Aubrey here has quite the swing.”

Was he trying to blow my cover? Sure, I might have opened myself up to his snark, but at least what I said was somewhat public knowledge. Unless he was referring to something other than our little incident during D-Day, although I’m not sure how he would know anything else without doing some internet stalking (or using any dirt that STRIKE might have dug up on me before those Hounds of Humanity terrorists blew them to kingdom come), he was putting my secret identity if anyone were able to put two and two together. If this were not a formal event staged for remember the deceased, I would totally show him how my swing looks.

“You played softball, Aubrey?” Emily asked me, which at least showed that she was not privy to the fact that I was Arachne.

“Well…” I was lucky that Chris prefaced his “swing” remark with some comments about baseball so that it would prompt questions about that sport rather than my status as a metahuman. “I was on my high school’s varsity team.”

“You should SO sign up for the annual Celebrity Charity Softball Game!” Emily told me.

“I would not be surprised that game would have its best TV ratings ever. I’m sure the sight of you scrabbling around the outfield would get a particular demographic glued to their televisions.”

“I played catcher in high school.” I glared at Chris as I responded to his comment. “Anyways, I think I need another stop at the open bar. Need something, Emily?”

“Sure. Just get me the same thing that I just had.” Emily handed over her glass to me before I began to weave my way back to the bar across the room. Although it seemed like Emily was trying to end our conversation because of the hostility between me and Chris, she was more than happy to keep chatting with him when I stepped away. I have no idea what’s up with her.

Once the bartender had finished Emily’s and my drink orders, I took a sip from my glass before I turned to head back to where Emily was, hoping that she might have moved on from Chris by then. However, when I turned around, I found Maya standing a foot or two behind me. Since I was not expecting her to be so far away from Chris, I almost spilled some of the alcohol in my hands.

“What’s your beef with Chris?” Maya demanded. She had her arms crossed and a stern expression on her face.

“Can’t a girl just hate someone’s guts for no reason?”

“No.” Maya answered. God, am I going to hate this girl as much as that Archangel bitch? Archangel had such unwavering and naive dedication to Chris that she believed that I was the one in the wrong for decking Chris, while he was in his armor, instead of Chris, who had previously kidnapped me along with those two Albany kids on the behalves of S.T.R.I.K.E. Sure, you shouldn’t be going around punching people and two wrong don’t make a right, but I am pretty sure that kidnapping is a more severe crime than punching someone. I have this feeling that Maya might have this same mindset. Great.

But the real problem is how am I going to explain my grievances with Chris without exposing my identity as Arachne? All my problems with the guy stem from our interactions in our superhero alter identities. Besides the whole kidnapping thing, which is probably my biggest gripe, there is also that one time when Archangel trapped me under some sort of electrified net for decking Chris. Athena had to bail me out by nullifying the device that was holding me down! Plus, he sent War-Pulse to recruit me for the Pax Metahumana crisis. War-Pulse of all people! And don’t get me started with that elevator in Sherman Center. Searching for silicon-based lifeforms. What a load of bull crap.

However, before I could even begin making some sorry excuse so that I would not have to reveal myself as being Arachne, I heard some screams come from the general direction where Chris and Emily were standing. When I got a glance at what was happening, I saw a man, who was dressed up like the servers who were catering this event, was standing close to Chris. He worn a mask over his face to conceal his identity and he held a gun up to Chris’ side. I didn’t need to hear what he was saying to know he was agitated, since his body language jerky and skittish.

Then, I felt myself being yanked back away from the commotion. Behind me stood Athena, the Greek Goddess of Wisdom. However, after seeing her, I suddenly realized that I was no longer holding onto the drinks that I had ordered for myself and Emily. Why didn’t I hear some sort of crash from the broken glass? I then discovered a few feet away from me why I didn’t have the drinks anymore. Where I had been standing, beside Maya, I saw a woman who looked identical to me.

“Athena.” Alright, I know I should not be that freaked out by this, since those Pax Metahumana villains had a shapeshifter, but I cannot lie. This feels extremely uncanny. “If I’m here, then who’s that!”

“That is a nephic apparition.” Athena cleared things up in a matter of fact way. And when I say ’cleared things up’, I mean that it did not help at all.

“English please?”

“I was speaking in English.”

“You know what I mean!”

“Oh, you mean dumb people speak.” Athena cracked a smile at my own expense, “It is a cloud that has been transformed into a duplicate of yourself. I use them all the time to run Chris’ company, since the pathetic role of a glorified secretary is beneath me. But that’s enough about the apparition. You need to change.”

“Wait, why haven’t we used these things more often?”

“Because there has not been a need until this moment.”

“I beg to differ…”

“So, you would rather have a petty argument with a goddess while Chris is in a position where he might get shot?”

“Now that you say it in that way…”

Athena glared at me, knowing that I was inferring that I would actually continue what she called a petty argument and let Chris get shot. However, since I assume that she probably would put me through the ringer if I allowed that to happen, I guess I probably should help. But while I distracted by this, Athena reached over and deactivated my power nullifier, causing my drider appearance to reemerge and my Arachne costume to replace my dress.

“What the hell?!?” I yelled at Athena as I glanced around, looking to make sure no one saw my transformation. “We’re in public! I might as well go around and introduce myself as Arachne!”

“My powers have shrouded us from human sight. No one can see us.”

“How convenient.” However, when I began to take a step towards Chris and whoever was threatening him, I heard some more remarks from the peanut gallery.

“You can’t just jump into the fray.”

“And why not.” I said, turning towards Athena and place my knuckles on my hips.

“You would seem as if you had appeared out of thin air. Instead, you need to make an entrance, such as from that balcony over there.” Athena pointed at a balcony behind me that led outside.

Why me? Just why?

The smell of bacon and coffee wafted through Alexa’s apartment summoning Scott out of a deep sleep. The previous night spent with Alexa’s parents had been unpleasant to the point that had Scott been capable of getting drunk, he would have drank himself into oblivion. With that not being an option, he just waited it out, enduring more of Jonathan’s passive aggressive attacks until, mercifully, the hour grew late and the elder Winstones departed for their hotel. In all honesty, Scott never thought that he would be so happy to see someone, anyone go away. But the level of relief that he felt when Jonathan and his wife left Alexa’s place was almost indescribable. Scott laid there for several more moments until the smells from the kitchen were more than he could bare, and he finally got out of bed and made his way to the kitchen.

He approached Alexa, who was standing in front of the stove in nothing but one of his tee shirts, which came down just above her knees. He snuck up behind her, not because he was especially stealthy, but because she was focused on the task at hand, and slipped his arms around her waist as he rested his chin on the nape of her neck, giving it a small kiss before pulling her close to him.

“That smells amazing.” He told her as he lightly squeezed her before letting her go and making his way to the kitchen table.

“After last night, I figured you could use a little TLC.” Alexa told him. “Sorry that my dad’s a dick.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. He’s just looking out for you…I think.” Scott said as he reached for the TV remote across the table.

“Yeah, but…” Her words were cut off by the words of the news anchor as she recounted the atrocities from the night before. Alexa joined Scott at the table as they listened to the newswoman, Michaela Pearl speak of the numerous fatalities that had occurred all across the country the night before. The attacks on the meta human and supernatural community were shocking, as was the news that STRIKE had been similarly attacked. They continued to watch in silence as the network played the video message that had been broadcast by the ones who had claimed responsibility.

Once the message had ended, and the news report began replaying the same information that they had just delivered again, Scott reached for the remote again and turned off the TV. His face was sullen, and Alexa immediately knew what he was thinking.

“This isn’t your fault. There’s no way you could have known.” Alexa told him with a slight edge of pleading in her tone.

“No, I didn’t know. But I do now, and I’m going to make these monsters pay.” Scott said with an air of anger in his voice.

“No.” Alexa said sternly, her tone causing Scott to look into her eyes questioningly. “We’re going to make them pay.”

***

Brooksdale, Lost Haven

Kyle sat unmasked in the Garage across from Harry, who was sitting in his usual spot in front of the computer array that he had set up against the far wall. The two men had been going over the details of the events of the night before, trying to find anything that they could about the terrorist group now known as the Hounds of Humanity. Harry had been reaching out his contacts within the intelligence community with little luck. It seemed that no one knew who these people were, or what hole they had crawled out of. The only thing that was known was that these so called Hounds had stirred up the proverbial hornets’ nest, and hand half of the meta human population terrified for their lives, and the other half ready to take up arms against anyone that they considered to be a threat.

While details on the group were hard to come by, even for Harry and his extensive network of informants, a few details were available. The Hounds of Humanity were heavily armed and funded. There also seemed to be numerous cells that operated in various locations around the country, which was evidenced by the numerous simultaneous attacks from coast to coast. Their weaponry was also a cause for concern, as some of the more advanced tech that they had been seen using were eerily similar to developmental tech that STRIKE was said to have been working on. This could only mean that the Hounds had in fact infiltrated the organization before it set off the attack which crippled it.

Kyle watched Harry as the older man went over everything that he had been able to find out about the terrorist group, and one thing in particular struck him. Harry looked tired and worn. He hadn’t seen Harry like this since Ronnie had died, and it worried him. However, he knew that the old man would do what he always did, get through it.

“There were reports in Crown Ridge of smaller, individual attacks by the Hounds, or at the very least people sympathetic to their cause. Several meta humans have been reported missing or have turned up dead. We should start there.” Harry sighed as he spoke.

“Yeah, I’ll get on it.” Kyle told his elder as he slipped his mask on and stepped toward Kaiju.

“And Kyle.” Harry said, causing the younger man to pause.

“Yeah?” Kyle said as he turned to face his mentor.

“Be careful. I have a bad feeling that this is just the beginning.”





Pacific Point, California

Izzy sat on the couch with a bowl of cereal in front of her and her eyes glued to the television. She had been watching the coverage of the terrorist attacks perpetrated by a group calling themselves the Hounds of Humanity which left scores dead. With each detail, the situation seemed to be getting worse and worst. She listened as a panel of commentators debated the issue, and while none came right out and endorsed the actions of the Hounds, some came perilously close to sympathizing with their mission. Others argued about what the attacks on the meta human and supernatural population would mean, and what sort of response from these groups would result. To be honest, the thought of an entire population of supernatural beings seemed silly to Izzy, or at least it would have, if a horde of demons hadn’t overrun an entire US city months back. As Izzy watched the news reports, she heard Amanda in the other room, and called out to her. As her friend made her way into the living room, Izzy tried to tell her what was going on, but couldn’t quite get the words out.

“Oh man…this is bad, very, very bad.” She said instead.

“What? Did they announce a new Drake album?” Amanda asked glibly.

“No, look.” Izzy said pointing to the TV as she turned up the volume with the remote, allowing the news anchors to fill Amanda in on the events of the night before, as well as the promise of more attacks to come.

“My god.” Amanda said as she lowered herself to the couch with her eyes transfixed on the television screen. After a moment, she got back to her feet and started toward the door.

“Be careful. These guys aren’t messing around.” Izzy said.

“Neither am I.” Amanda said as she zipped away in a flash.