Still clutching his right shoulder, the bleeding slowing to an ooze, The Wanderer walked sluggishly through the streets. The adrenaline had worn off not too long ago and the ache from the injury was starting to grate on him a bit. His coat was caked in his own blood all the way down to the ground, leaving a small trail of congealed blood in his wake. He had dealt with bullet wounds before, but with the limited supply and type in the future, the mutant wasn’t familiar with the hollow-point that managed to stop in his shoulder, embedding itself in his collar bone when he got a barrier up to stop it from causing more damage that it had done already. I’ll need to have a look at this when there is natural daylight, he thought. While it would be better for him to go to the hospital to get it treated, he couldn’t as he was still getting around in this period. He also needed more information on what is the social norm as being both an outcast of his people and this time has left a gap in his knowledge.

Finding a residential street, The Wanderer scanned the area for a place to hunker down for the night. However, the sound of marching boots in the area got him on his guard, even drawing his revolver from its holster. He was not surprised that there were more Hounds of Humanity on him, though their response to his appearance did surprise him a little. What also surprised him was the size of the group, 25 pairs of black boots with military weapons in hand. One of them spoke up to the injured man, “While you had to jump on our comrades, you will not get away from your fate, meta-scum!”
---------------
While the injured man had walked away from the previous fight scene that resulted in an innocent life being saved, the cosmic being followed. So this is the time traveler? it thought, the musings only audible in its conscience. It had sensed the man’s presence from a great distance away and while it didn’t compare to the vast strength of its own, the wolf had seen the man showing a great deal of aptitude in using such a force. While it still needed to see more of what he was capable of, there was a strong interest. This man.. The Wanderer… shows a lot of great potential, moreso than many of the avatars I have created. However, the cosmic being noticed a difference in The Wanderer’s psionics that even it questioned. His abilities… they seem to be overwhelmed by the abundance of energy produced on this world. The cosmic being definitely noticed something that the mutant wasn’t aware of. The world he came from seemed to be dying and lacked the energy that this current timeline had. It was this bottlenecking in the mutant’s power that the wolf had refrained from personally contacting him personally. It will, however, keep a watchful eye on him for the future for the moment when his full potential is unlocked. Could he be the one?

Its musings were stopped when the men in the black uniforms arrived. “While you had to jump on our comrades, you will not get away from your fate, meta-scum!” It was then that the men started firing on The Wanderer. The mutant raised a huge barrier around him that stopped the bullets from reaching him, the rounds flattened like a pancake as they bounced to the floor. Would he now resort to the violence he refrained himself from using before? it thought, watching on from the sidewalk. The question came shortly afterwards when The Wanderer phased through the energy to the nearest man, slicing the man’s side open with the psionic-blade projection before shooting another with his revolver. However, the Hounds of Humanity were better prepared for such a thing as they quickly aimed their weapons to continue firing. While the mutant had raised his barriers from getting hit by the full barrage of bullets, a few managed to get through and hit him. He sank down onto his left knee as the left thigh had been hit by two rounds and another hit his torso, though the torso shot was absorbed by the armour that protected him.

It was when the men started to approach him to go for a melee kill that both psionic users felt it. The wolf instantly changed its gaze towards the center of the city, where the presence was felt. Now that is an interesting presence, it thought, its musings now more aloud than they had been before that anyone with psionics could hear them. It felt the huge ripples through the psionic aether, causing anyone who could see the energy to see distortions in it. The ripples could not be felt by anyone that was inclined to such a seismic event and, therefore, were unable to identify the location of it. However, for the cosmic being that was made with the energy, it was easy for it to identify the location. Who caused such an event where a previous psionic user could possess another? It didn’t take it long before it reached into the mind of someone still alive and gathered information from what seemed to be a Hound driven to pure fear. Ah, so the one called Voyager was the root of this. They will be another being that will…

“What the hell is that thing?1”
-------------
The Wanderer had been hurting bad. The bullets ripped through his left thigh and left him hobbled to one knee. While the barrier had kept him alive for this long through the relentless assault from the Hounds, the blood loss that he was sustaining from his injuries was concerning him. While the injuries made his psionics stronger, that will be for nothing if he lost consciousness. He saw the men drawing closer, looking ready to go for the kill by hand. Much like before, the barrier would keep them at bay but for how long? Suddenly, he felt something through his psionic eye that left him distracted, looking the event’s general direction. A thought came into his mind, Now that is an interesting presence. A new voice alarmed him. With his full concentration on keeping himself alive with his barriers, he was vulnerable to a telepathic attack from this unknown voice, even if it seemed like a general comment about what just happened. While the bullets were still pounding on the barrier, the other being’s voice had been talking about something that he didn’t understand. However, something did catch his attention. Ah, so the one called Voyager was the root of this. They will be another being that will…
“What the hell is that thing?!”

Through the mentioning of Voyager and a random Hound’s outburst, The Wanderer began looking around to see what they were talking about. The flaming blue wolf certainly grabbed his attention. While the sight of it was certainly surprising, he had been surprised by the sheer amount of psionics that emanated from it. The close proximity of it was almost blinding and he thought that even then, this unknown being was holding back its power. It was then it dawned on the mutant that this might be the same presence that was felt hours ago and thought he recognized what it was. However, that didn’t matter as several of the Hounds also noticed it and began firing on it. The bullets seemed to have hit the wolf, but it remained unphased as they passed through and peppered the wall behind it. The only thing that the men had done with their sudden attack to have done was piss it off.

FOOLISH MORTALS! HOW DARE YOU ATTACK ME!

The wolf’s eyes shone purple flames from it, the sudden spike in power visible in the torrent of turbulent ripples in The Wanderer’s psionic eye. Another shining light shone from the air above it that was large. In his regular eye, a large flaming portal of purple appeared in space above the wolf. Moments later, a gigantic tentacle appeared through it, thick as a school bus that tapered to a point. With the snarl of the wolf, the arm began its tremendous swing, ripping up the tarmac that was swinging through. Realizing he was in the arms path, The Wanderer let down his barrier and looked to an area out of the impeding attack’s path. He phased out of the way in time.

When he looked back, he dropped to his knees in the sheer terror at the result of the attack. The tentacle had ripped up the road, completely covering the area that the Hounds had been in. Those closest to the swing had turned into streaks of blood and bone. Those closest to the other side of the swing had also been road rashed but their bodies had been completely annihilated by the compaction between the tentacle and the buildings, huge splashes of blood streaking the side of the building that came from the mangled bodies that were almost unidentifiable. The buildings somehow remained standing but the structural damage done was great, the walls crumbled by the impact and the glass completely shattered on the first floor. The mutant certainly thought that even with his barriers, such an impact would have completely shattered it and he would have ended up as one of those bodies. Yet, he dared to thing that even with this display of force that this was just a small fraction of the wolf’s power. Relax, you would have been able to have survive that attack with your barriers, He looked back at the wolf, he remained on his knees as it walked towards him. You did not attack me so you were not the target, Wanderer.

The mutant had been stunned by the wolf’s speech. First of all, the attack had not been intended to harm him in his barriers? Secondly, how did such a being know who he was without revealing it? Him being stunned by not only this, but it cemented his thoughts on what it was. ”Not for me?” he stammered, still processing everything that he had just witnessed. ”You must have been the being that I sensed when you arrived. You are the one that makes psionics possible. You are The Psionic Nexus, no?”

The wolf remained calm as he spoke. You are an observant one at that, psionic user. As for who I am, you can call me whatever you wish. I have been called by many names on multiple worlds. The Psionic Nexus gazed directly into the mutants eyes, the expanse within its own showing its deep thought. While you may have many questions for me, your current destiny is not to meet me and converse about everything that I hold domain. For now, you need to find the one that had shown great psionic power in this city, the one you felt too. The name you seek is called Voyager. Before The Wanderer could even ask about the cryptic task that the wolf had said, it vanished to all of his senses. His psionic eye had seen the presence disappear into thin air, leaving him in the death and destruction that was left behind.

Darya pulled a loose strand of brown hair away from her eyes and tucked it back behind her ear, staring across the street and up over the buildings of the University of New Mexico, into the sky and the building thunderheads coming down from the north. Finally, she thought. Monsoons are late this year. She adjusted her head scarf, thankfully made of very light weight, loose-woven cloth, and turned to walk into the brick paved alley that led to Uncle Yousef's coffee bar.

The Bricklight District had seen better days, back when the country was not so full of paranoia. She had no idea what had originally been built here, but now it was the college student shopping district, and while its official borders were barely two blocks long, students from across Central scattered nearly two miles in either direction to the various restaurants, shops, and bars to converse, do homework, and buy unnecessary trinkets. And because of the wonderfully diverse philosophies that came with a college population, Yousef's coffee bar, The Oasis, was one of the more popular spots in the area. This, more than anything else, was what kept Darya in spending money, and prevented her from finding a 'real' job further into the city.

Following the death of her parents, the young Iranian-American (or, as her grandmother preferred, Persian-American) was suddenly made aware of how intolerant people in the country could really be. She knew, from history classes, that most non-white groups had suffered, at least for a time, the prejudices of the majority population, and now was simply the Middle Eastern descendant's turn. She was not prepared for how much it stung. As one of the older of the third generation in the country, she knew that her uncles and aunts took a sort of enthusiastic pride in their heritage, which was the only reason she knew what 'the old country' even looked like. They suffered even worse than she did, and occasionally at dinner she could feel the subtle anger as the news echoed off yet another attack somewhere in the world.

The family wasn't particularly religious, except for Grandmother Fatemeh, who followed the old Zoroastrian ways (which no one else did, and it was a favourite topic of the more educated of the third generation as to how the hell she had even learned them, rare as they were these days). But most of them, growing up in a Muslim country, at least obliquely followed the Twelver Shi'a faith. Thankfully, here everything was much less strict, and with the partial shield of Uncle Hossein being a cleric at the local mosque and also quite liberal, no one complained if she 'forgot' her rousari every once in a while to feel rebellious. But she never did it to feel rebellious, she did it so that she could feel safe. Even in a city as laid back as Albuquerque, she knew she wasn't imagining some of the stares she got. Even on campus, there was a vague, ephemeral fog of suspicion. It weighed heavily on her, so she took the opportunity every once in a great while to dress 'normally' and feel free. Unfortunately, it also had the side effect of depressing her, since it was obviously her nominal faith that inspired the feeling.

She came around the corner and into view of the front of The Oasis, a one story building decked out in false old Persian decoration, replete with arches of plywood painted with the dizzying geometric patterns in blue and white that she found so oddly comforting. The outer patio, fenced off with an ornate wrought iron fence two feet high, held five circular table large enough for four people to sit comfortably. Two of those were occupied by college students, drinking coffee, chatting, and both groups had apparently ordered hookahs. That was a popular enough activity that the alleyway generally smelled of the various delicious flavours they had, and always the warm scent of burning charcoal. Darya waved to one of the students she recognised from a class as she moved through the patio and went inside, the tiny real silver bells ringing to announce her entry.

The inside held a multitude of booths, all able to be closed off with hanging drapes for privacy. Each booth held a low rectangular table for six, and chairs. Each had a subtle colour difference, and were referred to by colour instead of number. Currently, only the Green and Red had customers in them. Darya grinned at her cousin Ahmad manning the register. “<Is your beastly slave driver of a father around?>” she asked as she walked up. Ahmad looked at her darkly.

“<Of course he is, oh wise scholar. He is in his cave, where he has been cursing the sky dark for the past hour.>”

“Oh no. It's rent week, isn't it?” Darya shook her head. “Business hasn't been that bad lately, has it?”

“No,” Ahmad said, smiling. “But you know him. A single penny more than he wants leaving his hand is worth a dime to him. We are doing fine.”

A shout from the office made them both jump “<Darya! Come back here!>”

Ahmad shrugged and went back to reading his magazine. “Best do as he says. You know what he's like when he is spending money.”

Darya shook her head at her cousin as she slipped around the counter and behind him. Even at a year older than her, he had not inherited his father's bulk, and was a skinny lad with barely any facial hair. She knew he suffered many admonishments and unwanted advisements from his father and their uncles about how to be more manly, and that he didn't give a hoot for any of them. Lives like his in the clan made Darya more than thankful she had been born a girl.

Walking down the narrow hallway past the walk-in cooler and the kitchen, she poked her head around the corner of the office door, rousari pulled at an awkward angle by the motion and falling over one eye as she said sweetly, “<Yes, Uncle Yousef?>”

Yousef looked up at her while in the midst a messy wave of paperwork, something she thought he secretly enjoyed more than running the actual business end of the bar, which he generally left to Ahmad and his other son Thomas. Yousef's impressive beard, curled and oiled in the 'ancient' way to make a sort of cone down from his chin, quivered slightly, and he narrowed his eyes at her while she readjusted her rousari.

“<Are we pretending to be Johnny Depp today, Darya?>”

She rolled her eyes. “<No, Uncle. What did you need?>”

He leaned back in his chair, showing his torso more clearly. Darya noted that the diet Aunt Reyhan had begun enforcing, while making Yousef more irritable, had begun its work of cutting down on the pudgy expanse. Another fifty pounds and I will have to stop teasing him, she thought to herself slyly.

“<Hossein is calling a family meeting tonight. It is about you again.>” He held his hands behind his head, and frowned slightly. Yousef had been one of her relatives who, while worried for her, had demanded she be free to use her abilities for the good of all, and took a sort of fierce pride in her powers, more so than the rest of the clan. It was why she was allowed to practise at his house out in Bernalillo, where her privacy was far more assured than anywhere in Albuquerque itself.

“<I believe he means to call for a cease to your practises,>” he said with a sigh. “<And honestly, given the current situation, I cannot find fault in it.>”

“<What!?>” Darya exclaimed explosively. She heard Ahmad jump out front. “<What do you mean, you cannot find fault in it!? You were one of the family I thought I could count on for support in this the most!>”

Yousef's face grew dark with anger. “<Do not blame me for this, daughter of my most beloved brother! Blame those disgusting fools who hunt you! While they exist, it is not only you who are in danger!>” He angrily tossed a newspaper at her, which she caught and snapped open, meaning to throw it back at him. But the front article caught her attention, and she began reading in dawning horror.

The article began with the startling headline, “WAR BREAKS OUT IN URBAN CENTERS!!!” The picture was of a young man being dragged out into the street to a waiting execution squad of HoH, obviously shot candidly from cover. Below, the article's main body described the events relating to the terrorist group, listing names and dates of fights, and which cities had been most affected. Scanning the list, she noted that nothing came any closer to her own town than Houston, but the effects were rapidly spreading. And even worse, they had made good on their speech. Innocent bystanders who protested were shot as well as metahumans, and entire families had been 'purged'. Yousef nodded as her expression hardened.

“<You see, it is not just you and those friends of yours who are in danger. The whole family will be targeted if they identify you. Thus, the family must make a final decision now.>”

Darya glanced up at him, wiping tears from her eyes. “<What do you mean by 'final decision', Uncle?”

“<You will see tonight. Come, there is work to do here.>”

---

Fatemeh's house was one that felt like home to all who visited it. Enticing smells often floated along the first floor whenever Darya or her grandmother (most likely both) were working. The place was full of well worn and well cared for furniture, and every inch of tile and hardwood floor was covered in hand-woven rugs, with the exception of the front hall where they gave way to bare tiles so that people's filthy shoes would not muss them. Aside from Fatemeh, Darya, and her siblings, Uncles Zurvan and Sajad lived here in the guest house with their two children, and Uncle Bashir lived here while working odd jobs with temp companies. Tonight, however, every single member of the family had gathered, as this was the heart of the family itself.

Hossein held up his hands placatingly as Darya stalked up to him, the soles of her trainers smacking hard on the tile floor as she crossed the entryway to the front door where he had just come in.

“<Beloved niece, I know that you are frustrated, and I assure->” He stopped short as Darya wrapped her arms around him in a fierce hug, and he chuckled as he patted her shoulder. “<Ah, forgiveness. You looked so angry.>”

Darya lifted her head, staring up a few inches into his kindly, bearded face. Her own brown eyes still had tears at the corners of them, which she hadn't been able to stop for a few hours now. “I am, Uncle Hossein, but not at you. It is at them.”

Hossein nodded. He did not have to ask as to whom she referred. The whole clan held the same feeling at various levels, but none as much as his niece, who held to distinct responsibility of her powers, which allowed her to, theoretically, do something about them.

“<Allah grant you the strength of the Prophet, Darya. We will see what the family decides.>”

Twenty minutes later, most of the clan had gathered into the main living room, with the sunroom given over to those who had not come of age yet and thus did not have a say. The exceptions to this rule where Darya's siblings, who had more vested interest in her affairs than the others, and Aunts Anouseh and Reyhan held sway over the teens. The whole of the assembly was crowded, with people piling on each others laps and otherwise standing, although Leila was left a seat to herself owing to her pregnancy. Fatemeh stood near the center, with Darya and Hossein. Hossein held up a copy of the paper she had read earlier, and it was immediately clear to her that she was pretty much the last one to have read it.

“<They are clearly insane!>” called out Basir, to a chorus of agreements.

“<Yes,>” said Hossein, looking around. “<And clearly they are evil. But they are also powerful enough that they are very dangerous. They do not speak with hollow threats.>”

“This we know,” said Zurvan. “Did you call us here to explain all of this again?”

Zurvan and his brother Hossein did not often agree on much of anything. Their eyes met across the room, however, and Darya got the distinct impression that they had planned this exchange beforehand.

“<No. As this demonstrates,>” he held the paper aloft once more before tossing it onto the coffee table, “<Darya is under constant threat from the infidel dogs. However, it also shows that our entire family is in danger from them, should they discover her identity. So, as we have done before, when she first told us about her powers, we must now decide if we should restrict her to a normal life.>”

Darya felt light as a feather and could not hide a smile as a chorus of boos greeted this announcement. It was evident that not a single person thought that she should do so.

“<Good.>” Fatemeh's voice, always quiet but easily heard, cut through the noise and they entire group fell silent. “<In that case, we have to orders of business before dinner.>” She motioned behind her, and Anouseh appeared, along with two of the youngest of Darya's cousins. Anouseh held a paper bag.

“We couldn't really figure out how to make it really work without your measurements, and we wanted it to be a surprise so we couldn't take them without alerting you,” her aunt muttered as she held the container out. Inside, Darya could see cloth in blue, green, and black.

“You made the costume?” Darya asked incredulously.

“Well, it's not complete yet. Should be in another week or so. Mother said we should rush it, but I said no. It must be good. I eventually got her to agree.”

Fatemeh brushed them both aside and spoke to the crowd again. “<Secondly, we must plan for if they come for us. To that end, Darya has already given us a weapon of sorts.>”

Darya turned to her entire clan. “<I know I have maybe caused some problems with this, but I also cannot be everywhere, and there are a lot of us.>” Several people chuckled, Hossein included. “<So I asked if it was okay, and I was told it was fine. Grandmother will make sure everyone gets the number, but you will all have the ability to call for assistance. And not the police. We have seen on the news that they are in the police, as well.>”

Darya inhaled, hoping this next bit would go over well. “<You know I some times work with the others like me in the area. You may not have actually seen them before, but they have consented to come help as quickly as possible should you call the number. It will connect you directly with the man known as Thunderbird.>” Several people stared at her for a second, but it was Yousef who first voiced what she feared.

“And how will they know it is us, eh? How will they know that we are who we say we are and not a trap of some sort?”

Darya cringed as she answered, trying not to look anyone in the face. “<Because he knows my name.>”

The crowd burst into a fierce argument as several people shouted at her, or at Hossein, or at each other. It took the cleric and the matriarch several minutes to restore order, during which Darya felt smaller than she ever had before. Fatemeh's voice finally cut through and got everyone quiet again.

“<You all should be ashamed!>” the elderly woman decried, neatly tied bun of white streaked black hair loosing a few strands. “<She is doing what she can to make sure that we are all safe! She knows what this means, and she and I discussed it for many hours today before the decision was made. And as insurance, both she and I know his name to, so no one has an advantage over us.>”

The assembled family all looked so sheepish it wiped away Darya's own self-imposed shame. She felt herself stand taller as she spoke. “<Look, I know, it feels very vulnerable. But I cannot be everywhere at once. This insures that, should I be busy, or trapped, or Allah forbid I am killed, someone else can look after you until all of this is over.>”

Hossein and her grandmother both looked at her sharply, and the rest of the family seemed to all have dropped their jaws. Maryam, standing just in front of Darya, looked as if she might cry, and she took the two steps over to her little sister and held her close while she continued.

“<Look, I know it is an awful thought. You think I want to consider it? But this line of work is very dangerous, even with those scumbags out there hunting people like me. You want to support me, you have to accept that it may happen some day.>”

“<Beard of the Prophet, Darya,>” Hossein said. “<You speak truth. We cannot back away from what Allah gives to us to do. But,>” he held his hands up, “<We cannot stand around right now! We have come to a decision?>”

Almost as one, the entire clan cheered. Darya knew that it was one of the sounds that would stay with her forever, like her father's laugh or her mother's singing.

“<Very well, then,>” her uncle continued. “<In that case, I believe my blessed mother and our hero have made a fine feast for us and it stands waiting while we chatter at each other.>”

And this time it was definitely as one, as the clan surged forward. Everyone knew that Fatemeh was the best cook in the family, but it was also common knowledge that she had been teaching Darya and Maryam everything she knew. Clan dinners were one of the most favoured activities they had.

---

Darya sat in her room, a small, comfy place. Most of the floor space was taken up by the bed, which was honestly too large for it, but she had gotten Leila's old bed when they moved into their grandmother's place, and it had been bought after her sister had gotten married. The whole of the thing was covered in handwoven blankets and plush, squashy pillows. Off in one corner sat her desk, barely more than sticks with some plywood between them, upon which sat an old computer, the hub of her school life and most of her social life as well. The screen was flicking through pictures of the family, throwing odd shades of colour along the tapestries that covered the entirety of the ceiling and most of the walls. A faint waft of incense still clung to everything, and probably always would, as long as she could find the same scent her mother had lit every afternoon just before the children got home.

Darya leaned back, across the bed, and stretched out as far as she could, grabbing futilely at her doumbek, but her stature was not one that lent itself well to such things. While she was in this awkward position, a tap at her door announced a visitor, and she sat up startled and stammered out a “Yes?”

The door opened, and Hossein stood framed in the doorway, his robes fluttering in the slight breeze of the air conditioning, he walked in without bothering to ask, and sat next to his niece, looking at her and then the floor.

“<Darya,>” he began. She could immediately tell something was bothering him. His voice, usually full of vigor and confidence, was hesitant. “<You have thought long on this course, haven't you?>”

She sighed and patted his shoulder. “<Since the day I got these abilities, Uncle. It is the right thing to do, even if it does endanger me.>”

“<And the rest of us?>”

She shook her head. “<I had not thought that people like this would be here, in America, but yes. You and the rest can take care of each other. You taught me how to take care of myself. 'The peaceful warrior', you said.>”

He nodded. “<It is true. We all, the older ones, grew up in a place where it was unthinkable to not know the ways of war. I have told you before how I fear for the souls still there. And you are correct, this is the path laid out before you by Allah, and your soul is pure and innocent. And that is why I worry so.>”

Darya's brows knitted in confusion. “<What do you mean, Uncle?>”

“<The people you face, these dogs, they are a symptom. Humanity is far from all good. I worry that you will be worn down by the evil you face. You are a kind soul, Darya, given to idealism and hope much like my brother was. It hurt him so much to see what people can do to each other, and I would save you that pain, if I could. But you path takes you straight into the heart of evil.>”

“<Let me show you something, Uncle.” She stood up, and walked to her closet, pulling out the costume she had kept overnight to test the measurements. Which, she had found, were spot on, if a little generous in places.

The whole of it was a jumpsuit, with a wetsuit-like interior and lightweight cloth outside. The lines of colour ran down the limbs in curling sweeps and lines, forming the swirls of a river or the tide in blue, green, and black. Running along the black parts, which were by far the most expansive of the surface, was a multi-headed dragon, picked out in silver and gold thread, running the length from her left ankle to her right shoulder. A hood and face mask, with airtight goggles, hung back from the neck, ensuring that her head would be suitably covered and her identity also hidden.

“<You see that dragon? You know Tiamat from Grandmother's stories, I am sure. But she will keep me founded in home, in family, in creation, and ward me from evil.>” She held the suit up for a second, and then hung it back up. “<Allah and Ahura Mazda, Tiamat and the Ameshaspand will keep me from succumbing to the evil which I face.>”

She walked back to her bed, kissed her uncle on his bearded cheek, and pushed him off her bed and out into the hall. “<However,>” she said as she did, “<None of them can keep me from a worrywart like yourself, Uncle, so you must go away so I can be rested to fight evil tomorrow!>”

She fell asleep later, with her uncle's laughter and her mother's incense filling her senses as she drifted off.

Mentions: @Dedonus(Kyra Muller)

---

“The FUCK was that? Did anyone else see a light? Because I just saw a light.” Several aisles down from where the many-tailed Kyra hid a balaclava wrapped head stuck out from behind a large shelf. The man’s eyes narrowed, his fingers curling around the body of his AN94 as glanced behind him.

There, in the main bedroom display section, eight men sliced open mattresses and pulled the soft memory foam guts out onto the floor. They were dressed down in dark suits with balaclavas on their faces and military gear strapped to their backs. The octad of criminals moved quickly. Pulling shrink wrapped stacks of bills and thick translucent bags of fine red crystalline powder out of the mattresses and stuffing them into awaiting duffel bags.

“Hermit.” A name, likely a code name, was uttered by the tall french accented man in charge. “We are in a Bed, Bath, and Beyond. Lights are the only thing here besides mattresses and sink fixtures. If you need new bulbs for your perfumed little toiletry room, you can grab them on the way out.”

“Yeah, but Devil this didn’t look like a normal light. Should I check it out?” Hermit thumbed the safety on his rifle and Devil frowned, resting a hand on his own revolver as the others continued to work. Only interrupted by the faint shifting of the tied up employees on the floor behind him.

“Not alone, no. If you really did see something I want you to pair up with someone else. Don’t separate from one another and keep away from the front windows. The law doesn’t seem aware of our presence, but any ruckus will likely bring them down on us in short order.”

Devil glanced down the central aisle towards the storefront at the mention of the police. His eyes looking through the large pane windows and out into the near pitch black parking lot for any signs of movement.

His focus was broken as the floor shook and a shadow cast over him.

“I’ll go with him. We don’t know if it’s one of those costumed super-freaks. They always seem to show up when they’re not invited.”

Devil turned his head to the hulking man behind him. 6 feet, 11 inches tall and holding what was essentially a cut down aircraft weapon. A customized XM556 Microgun. Six barrels, rotating assembly, and belt fed from a large drum strapped to his back.

“Alright, Tower. Go with Hermit and make sure it’s clear. But keep things quiet. I don’t care if you bought that toy along you’re not to use it unless it's necessary. Is that understood? We still have another mattress to pack and we’re not leaving without every ounce of drugs and cash in this place.”

“Who the fuck uses a Bed Bath and Beyond to hide drugs and money?” One of the members muttered as they moved from mattress to mattress, stuffing their duffel bag to the point of bursting.

“Have you ever been into one of these places until now?” Another asked.

“No…”

“Exactl. If you want to stash something then put it in the dullest, most mind numbing place imaginable. Like a bed bath and beyond, or any theater showing a Michael Bay movie.”

"Hey Micheal Bay isn't-"

“Less talk more drugs!” Devil snapped, drawing and cocking the hammer of his S&W 500 for added emphasis.

As the rest of the Tarot Card crew got back to work Tower flipped the safety off on his glorified cannon and cradled it into his arms.

“And you said bringing along this revolving cannon was a bad idea.”

“You’re right, it’s not a bad idea it’s an insipid idea. Machine-guns exist for a reason. Firepower like that is completely impractical.” Devil glared at Tower, briefly wishing he hadn't stopped smoking if only to enjoy blowing smoke in the giant's face.

“Fuck practicality! No one in this world did anything remotely meaningful or interesting by being practical and realistic! We live in a world where people can fly and can just start sprouting animal parts. Maybe it’s time you wake up to just what ‘reality’ means?”

Devil grit his teeth as Tower flashed a grin, stomping forward with Hermit shakily following close behind. The two slowly began to move towards row of mattresses where Kyra’s hiding spot sat. Hermit shook, grasping his rifle like a safety blanket as Tower held his Microgun with both hands, glancing around with eagers eyes hungry for an excuse to fire.

“Hey are those tails?” The two neared her position when-

“Stop right there criminal scum! You’ve violated the law.”

A voice cried out and the two criminals turned, aiming their guns at the figure who had jumped out seemingly from nowhere.

Gum had crept carefully through the smashed front windows of the store and made his way to the front desk. As soon as he saw the two walking around he couldn't resist and leapt onto the front desk, hands on his hips and head held high. He opened his mouth and shouted a warning thinking the robbers were armed with pistols.

As soon as his eyes saw the large, multi-barreled gun pointed right at him the confident smile beneath his bandit-mask dropped away. His maroon eyes going wide with disbelief.

“Oh shit! Is that a gatling gu-”

VRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRN



As soon as the Tower's thumb depressed the rear trigger the front desk was gone.

The barrels of the Microgun spun, becoming a blur as fire spewed from it's breaches. 5.56mm rounds were sent spawling forward in a deafening roar. Wood splintering and tiles shattering beneath the impact of the bullets were nearly ground out by the sound of the gun firing as it shook in Tower's grip like an untamed beast.

Pulling his thumb off the trigger the noise stopped. The barrel wound down, heat rising off it after just a measly 3 second burst.

Tower grinned, nearly on the verge of delightful laughter as Hermit stood shaking beside him. His ear's pounding from the sound of the gun going off.

The two looked forward, watching as the haze of dust and wood shaft blew away to reveal the broken remnants of the desk and a few scraps of black cloth from Gum's outfit.

“What the fuck are you two doing!?” Devil screamed, absolutely livid as he stepped into the center aisle with his revolver cocked.

"It was one of those furry freak heroes!" Tower exclaimed, gesturing his Microgun to the mutilated front desk. "He came into the store all cocky and now there's nothing left of him but-

CRASH

The shattering of glass filled the air, knocking the words from Tower's mouth as a lamp globe exploded against the side of his head. Razor fragments of translucent material sliced into the skin of his face, only barely missing his eyes as the shards cleaved holes in the fabric of his balaclava.

"AHHHHHHHHHH!"

Tower screamed, nearly dropping his gatling-gun as he clutched his face with one hand.

"Yeah! Bullseye! I'd have felt pretty bad missing a target that big!"

Across the aisle from Tower and Hermit, Gum stood alive and well holding a glass lampshade identical to the one he had just thrown. He stood playfully before the criminals, but his breath was heavy and unsteady.

When the gatling gun had fired Gum had dove to the side. Moving faster then he ever realized he could. Bullets cut past him, tearing off shreds from his loose costume as he bolted behind the cover of a large store shelf. In the brief three second firing that had destroyed the desk Gum had managed to make it to cover without really being seen.

His heart pounded in his chest and his second set of ears stung sharply from the sheer noise of the gunfire. At that moment Gum wanted to run. He wasn't sure what he had expected but this seemed to be too much. Yet the realization he had more or less dodged bullets filled him with a blinding excitement that overrode his fear. Hearing one of the robbers getting ready to say they had killed him prompted the young man to slip out and attack.

"I know you're all crazy criminals, but why rob a Bed, Bath, and Beyond? This place sucks! Couldn't you have robbed a gun shop, or a bank, or even a graveyard? Why couldn't you have picked a cool place to rob?"

As Gum talked Tower pulled his hand away from his face, smearing the blood across his torn up balaclava like war paint.

"You little FUCK, I'll neuter you!"

"But you still didn't answer my-"

VRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRN

Tower buried his finger into the trigger of his Microgun as Hermit shouldered and fired his AN-94 in full auto. Gum's reflexes spiked and he bolted sideways as a wall of bullets rended the spot where he was standing a mere second prior. Light fixtures were blasted into a find dust as holes were punched clean through shelves all the way through the walls on that side of the building.

Gum's arms swung like pendulums as he sprinted through the bathroom section of the store.

"Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck!"

The masked eat-eared boy swore as a torrent of gunfire followed him ripping apart showers, sinks, and bathroom accessories that he passed. Tower and Hermit swiveled their guns, their fingers never leaving the triggers. Despite leading their shots Gum always stayed ahead of their shots, leaving their spray of bullets trailing behind him.

Devil grit his teeth in disgust at the stupidity of his comrades. He raised his revolver, but instead of aiming at Gum he aimed at a large sink ahead of him. A tug of the trigger released a concussive bang and the sink's supportive neck exploded. The remains of the sink crashed down in front of Gum, catching his foot as he ran and flooring him.

"Ooof!" He grunted, sliding across the well polished floor before coming at a stop behind a large steel tub. Before he could even think of standing a deafening pounding split his eardrums as metal collided with metal.

Tower and Hermit continued firing at Gum, their rounds striking and deflecting off the heavy tub. Despite not having line of sight with the boy they knew where he was and as long as they fired he couldn't move, and if he did he was as good as dead.

"Nowhere left to run kitty kat! Just stick your head out and die like a good little kiddo!" Tower shouted above his gunfire, laughing as Gum covered his ears and curled up behind the rapidly degrading cover of the tub.

In the excitement of Gum's arrival however the two had totally forgotten about the tails they had seen. Tower and Hermit stood with their backs to Kyra's hiding spot...

Location: Las Vegas
Time: Afternoon-2pm

Yeong’s fingered tapped against the car door for what felt like the thousandth time today. So far all the two had seen was nothing but traffic as far as the eyes could see, making the minutes feel like they were ticking by much more slower. Slower than normal. Honestly right now things felt really awkward between the twins. Even more so since the two just passed the welcome to Las Vegas sign.

” Well this is fun. I know our parents said that we needed to spend time with each other but this is just...ridiculous. How about we pull over, look for a nice bar, and shoot some pool? Maybe place some bets and cheat a bit?” She asked while looking at her sister. Who seemed to be wearing a very disapproving look. The werewolf shrugged her shoulder with her hands up in the air.

” What? I'm just saying with our unique skills we could make a lot of money. Look I know you disapprove but at the moment what choice do we have? I mean unless we have a rich Aunt somewhere who’s will to folk out cash to some baboeuls (google translation for fools).” Yeong knew Ji understood what she said considering that they didn't use both languages often. The oldest sister was always better at speaking Chinese. The other was more fluent in Korean and yet they were both able to understand each other perfectly. As if their minds were connected by hat invisible sixth sense.

A rattling from the engine caught both of their attention as well as the smoke. Thankfully the oldest was able to pull over, only to find out that the engine had overheated massively. ”Welcome to the story of our lives.”

“We’re going to have to smoke these furries out,” one of the Hounds of Humanity who were besieging Jefferson Hall shouted to his compatriots. Since they knew that the Albany police and their S.W.A.T. team would be responding to their assault on the local college campus, the Hounds made sure to bring along their own vehicles to give them cover against the imminent counterattack by the authorities. They had several black SUVs that were equipped with bullet-proof glass and reinforced frames.

“We’re not furries!” One of the girls on the roof shouted down to the Hounds. The man who had spoken first raised his rifle and fired a warning shot into the air above the roof. Although he did not hit anyone, it did cause the girl to let out a scream.

“That’s what I thou—” The man began to gloat until he felt a sharp pain originate from his ankles, as if something had bitten him. He brushed at his legs until he discovered that an ant was the culprit. After he had flicked the insect off himself, he crushed it under his boot. Almost as soon as he terminated that insect, a swarm of ants appeared out of nowhere, darting towards the man. Even though he got a few rounds off at this army of ants, the mass of insects engulfed him in a matter of seconds.

“HOLY SHIT!” Another of the Hounds of Humanity yelled while watching in horror as his comrade screaming from the pain of hundreds of insect bites. He hesitated from shooting at the army of ants, since one of his allies were hidden under that mass. This gave the ants an opportunity to turn their attention from the first man to the second, engulfing him, too.

Once these two men had been taken out by the army of ants, the swarm began to collate together until they created a humanoid frame, made entirely out of live ants. This figure’s only discernible feature was its glowing red eyes. Otherwise, its entire body looked like a general human, as long as you ignored the fact that it was composed of thousands of living ants. The other Hounds had by now realized that they were being flanked by what they assumed was a metahuman. They began to unload their weapons at the unknown combatant. However, even though their slugs would blast off some ants from this individual, there were plenty of replacements standing by to take the dead insect’s place.

Unlike what most people would do in this situation, the ant-composed metahuman rushed forward the soldiers who were shooting return fire at her. The bullets did not slow her down, although she did appear to wince with the death of each ant. Then, she dove towards the ground, as if there were a deep swimming pool in front of her. However, instead of faceplanting into the dirt, her body separated out into the individual ants that she was composed of. This swarm of ants darted forward, intent on taking out these men just like the first two.

“We need the flamethrower!” One of the Hounds shouted while/ being engulfed by the swarm of ants. One of his comrades dashed over to a nearby SUV and scrambled to pull out a flamethrower, if they had one in it. However, the man paused when the he heard a heavy thump land beside the SUV. He peered past the side of the truck, where he saw a giant of a man with the musculature of a weightlifter. His muscular body was covered by a black, insect exoskeleton. If this was not bizarre enough, the giant man also had a second pair of arms, which were just as muscular as his first pair, halfway between his shoulders and hips. Although his human head was covered by a mask that matched the black hue of his exoskeleton, three horns protruded from his head, arranged like those of an Atlas beetle. Two of them jutted out of the man’s temples, like giant devil horns, while the third crested his nose.

The giant of a man lifted the SUV over his head and tossed it aside as if it were a little toy car. The Hound goon did not have enough time to grab the flamethrower and therefore was empty handed. The giant of a man stomped forward, each footstep causing a small rumble. The Hound goon tried to back away from the new hostile, but the giant snatched him up by his legs and tossed him at the other Hounds, knocking them down like pins at a bowling alley.

While the Hounds were distracted by these two new challengers, a third figure rushed towards Jefferson Hall and scaled up its side. This woman had a drider-like physique, while she wore a skin-tight costume that matched her black-hued spider half. Her black hair was styled in a short pixie cut and her skin was a pale white color.

“You know what they say. The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Black Widow told the six metahumans who were trapped on the roof.

“Quite the coincidence that Diplodoc’s goons would show up when the Hounds attack, which begs a question. Which of us is your enemy and which is your so-called friend?” Zac gestured between the Raptor Pack standing behind him and the Hounds below when he asked his question.

“Don’t be silly,” Black Widow answered. “We have as much to lose as you do if those human extremists succeed. Maybe even more since you heroes could probably rely on public support. Villains can’t.”

“Wait, when did that spider-girl turn evil?” Jeanette whispered to Kelly while Black Widow and Zac were holding a conversation.

“And I thought she was recently sighted in California in the last two or so months?” Darren butted into Kelly and Jeanette’s conversation. Black Widow, on the other hand, was trying her best to restrain herself from lashing out at the people she was trying to save because they were confusing her with Arachne. Although they both did have a driderlike physique and her heroic lookalike did acquire her powers from falling into a pool of Doctor Diplodoc’s serum at the same time as Black Widow did, she expected that their costumes’ color schemes and hairstyles would at least make the two of them discernable.

“Don’t confuse me with that blonde bimbo,” Black Widow cursed.

“As the resident blonde,” Taylor suddenly spoke from the trashcan that Sammy had sat down on the rooftop after Jeanette had flown them over from Adams Hall. Her voice almost sounded like she was talking in a liquid medium. “I take offense to that comment.”

“‘Scarlett Johansson’ called you a blonde bimbo,” Kelly read aloud the text that she was sending to Arachne via her cell phone, which she had just pulled out of her jeans’ back pocket.

“When did you get her number?”

“She finally accepted my friend request on Facebook,” Kelly replied. When her phone buzzed, signaling that Arachne had sent a response to Kelly message, Kelly peered down at her phone again. “She said ‘that female dog.’ I’m obviously paraphrasing that, of course.”

“Why do I even try?” Black Widow mused, facepalming as the metahumans whom she was trying to rescue from the terrorists who were trying to kill them continued cracking jokes.

“You know what? I think she had one thing on Arachne. I think her spider abdomen is a little bigger than hers. I think that’s a sign in spiders when they’re pregnant. Could you google that for us, Kelly?” Sammy chimed in, ignoring the death glare that Black Widow was giving her due to her comment.

“Let’s see, do spider’s abdomen expand when they’re pregnant.” Kelly pulled out her phone to research Sammy’s question. However, before she typed anything into her internet browser, Kelly paused. “On second thought, maybe those aren’t the safest search terms.”

Meanwhile, a fourth insect-themed metahuman climbed up the side of Jefferson Hall. She was wearing a green-colored costume with a mask of the same color that covered her entire face. Her body had a second pair of arms attached to her hips, just like Kelly, while the woman’s top pair of arms had scythelike appendages instead of hands.

“Time to go,” the green-clad woman told Black Widow once she reached the roof. “The police are beginning to show up, now that we’ve neutralized the Hound threat.”

“I’m done with these ungratefuls, Mantess,” Black Widow grumbled, throwing up a middle finger at the six metahumans who had been trapped on the roof before turning to scale down the side of Jefferson Hall, with Mantess following shortly behind.

“Thank you!” Kelly yelled back to Black Widow and Mantess so that they could hear her.

Time: Afternoon - Present Day
Location: Berenice’s Nest - Carver (Outside Lost Haven)

Carefully The Alchemyst listened to Salamander, with the end of her staff she hooked the strings against the crystal lifting it up for inspection. Her staff hummed in the palms of her hands against his little creation. Charlie decided Carrie would be able to help her figure out what it really is.

“Thanks I guess.” She said squinting at the odd little contraption. “I actually don’t rely on technology to detect magic, I uh- usually play it by ear. If something feels weird then I trust my instincts.”

Charlie was convinced he really could do nothing to change Berenice back but she wholly believed trying to would only make things worse, she said as much. “I understand that there is little on Earth that can’t be broken down to it’s basics, but I think trying to do that with Berry would just mess her up more.”

Her right thumb glided across some smoothed copper knot in her staff, “I believe you when you say you want to get this ex apprentice of yours off the streets, then why did you destroy his book? With more time I could have figured out what other tricks he had up his sleeve, like being able to survive the magical equivalent to a bomb.” Charlie paced over to a tree to lean against, “Shit’s not adding up with what you say and do, Sally-Man.”

While challenging Salamander in any way seemed to send prickles across her skin, that brief glimpse of something when he spoke of Sebastian was setting off red flags.

“Studying that book would only have set it’s dark little seeds into your mind, girl. I have seen more over my natural lifespan than you will forget over yours. Do not presume that just because you don’t understand a thing, that makes it a lie.” His beard, already a thicket of iron grey and silver, began to bristle out in consternation as he jutted his chin out in irritation. His eyes flashed again, and this time, they stayed long enough to clearly be those of a blackbird, before he closed them and sighed. The trees around them rustled their leaves slightly with the motion.

“I understand your concerns, youngling. But studying Sebastian the way you mention will only lead to catastrophe for you and yours. Best to excise him from the world, quickly, cleanly, if necessarily with extreme prejudice, than to try and understand what he has become. His illusions may very well be better than mind, and he knows the human psyche well.”

His eyes went pitch, the whites vanishing in a flash of irritation. Not exactly a naturally human reaction. She glared at youngling and girl. Speaking down to her, not using her name. It was rubbing her raw. Before her temper flared she latched onto Sebastian, Salamander’s note of illusion magic. That would be really tricky but if he was good at messing with the mind, what was watching her a few minutes ago?

He studied her face for a moment, noting the slight fearful tension, but well masked by bravado. His face lightened considerably. “It is tiring, I must admit, to be suspect all the time, but I admire your resilience. So let’s play a game!” He folded his arms, grinning. “It is a very simple game, one I have played many, many times, all over the world. All you have to do to win is to guess my name.”

Charlie scoffed. She replied a tad sarcastically, “Must be tiring to be stuck dealing with this goddamn youth, all this unadulterated energy and rebellion.” She took a short breath in through her nose, curiosity winning.

“Alright I’m game. Do I get any hints?”

“Hmmm. Hints would make it a bit easy, but I suppose your brass has earned you...two.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully, then held up one finger on his right hand.

“One, I am not originally human.” Another finger went up. “And two, I have friends and relatives on every continent excepting Antarctica. Any more than that and it would be no challenge at all, I’m afraid.” He winked at her, appearing for an instant much more youthful, with high cheekbones and deeply tanned skin. The visage was so quickly gone it could have just been a wash of dirt over his face.

She watched him and saw the flashes of change.

Knew it.

She rubbed at some grit on her chin, then crouched down to the ground. Working through the riddle off of the two clues. His nickname was given and not chosen, wasn’t originally human to Charlie it must of meant he was some sort of animal or spirit? Carrie rambled about deities, demigods, and great spirits before. Charlie suddenly regretted not listening to those stories more closely. She studied his clothing more closely, noting feathers were worked well into his tools. The staff he had, the magic detector dreamcatcher...

His eyes seemed pitch twice before, reminding her of a pigeon but closer to a bird of prey than a fat shitter. She wondered idly how much he’d appreciate being likened to a pigeon, possibly about as much as she liked being called youngling. The common theme she remembered from Carrie’s stories was that these spirits were old, older than a lot of cultures. She stood back up, running her fingers through the dreamcatcher again. Then tapped the heel of her hand against her forehead.

He looked Native American briefly, she wished she had seen him like that longer to properly observe. Antarctica was only discovered in… She squeezed her eyes shut trying to remember basic history dates. 1840? 1820? Somewhere around there, she decided and there haven’t been any true discoveries of human inhabitation of it. Charlie still had no indication of a name, he had clues of being a bird but it really gave no concrete conclusions.

She was silent as the minutes passed while she thought, “Brainteaser, all I figure is you must be some sort of… spirit? You’re old, really old. Humans haven’t inhabited Antarctica, while there is evidence of humans everywhere else. Salamander was given as a name, not chosen.”

She huffed, a strand of hair flying up. “You’re probably connected to some Native American culture but hell if I know that is here in North America or someplace else. You’re obviously connected to some bird, all I can remember was the Coyote...” She felt she was grasping at straws staring at the dreamcatcher. “The Coyote was a- a Trickster? Or was it the spirit that created life?”

“Yeah I give up.”

“Hahaha! Very good, this is all good information. You may even yet make it! Don’t give up, that ruins the fun.” He turned his head to glance up at the hill, where Berenice could be spotted through the trees, probably tying something to one of her treasure lines. “Tell you what, you have until I leave town to guess. If you get it right, I will grant you a favour. You also get three questions from me that I will answer. In return for these rules in your favour, though,” his head turned back to Charlie, and his smile as he did so seemed almost childlike, but also eerily malicious. “You only get one guess.”

His right hand gestured in the air idly as he spoke. “I will guess that I will be here at most two weeks, though that may change, given how difficult it might be to kill Sebastian or teach the siren. So think hard, eh?”

Finally that little bit of praise got a smile out of Charlie, she glanced away mumbling, “Thanks, I’ll- uh, I’ll start thinking of some good questions.”

Pretending to fiddle with the dreamcatcher again, she asked. “So, I was going to ask before the brainteaser. You said Sebastian is into illusions and obviously necromancy.” She rolled her hand in the direction of the cottage. “Would have he have left behind an invisible watcher to keep an eye on Berry while he was away? Or was that yours?”

She stalked past him drawing a line in the ground between the edge of the forest and the field. “Soon as I crossed into the woods the feeling of being watched was gone. I hope it was yours, ‘cause whatever it was must’ve overheard my conversation with my family. I want to keep Sebastian as far away from them as possible. Especially if he’s stalking around Lost Haven.”

She peered over her shoulder at him, “I’ll be straight with ya’ Salamander. I want to stick around and help Berry. Helping you get rid of Sebastian will be hitting two birds with one stone. I know Lost Haven like the back of my hand, all the abandoned areas and spots where someone would disappear off the grid.”

The old man’s face hardened immediately, all traces of humour gone in an instant. “I do not use watchers, nor would I need one this close to where I am,” he said, voice full of concern. “As long as you mentioned no locations, it should be fine, but I would operate under the assumption you are being followed. It was probably Sebastian’s work, scouting his old laboratory.” His face creased into a frown, and it was several moments before he spoke again.

“Likely, if it has ceased watching you, it has gone back to report to him about the happenings here. He would likely suspect I would track him down eventually, but if it did not see me, which we can only hope to be so fortunate, he won’t have become nearly as defensive as he might otherwise. If it has spotted me, my task will have become that much more difficult.” He glanced at Charlie. “As is yours. You don’t happen to have any way of tracking down whatever it was, do you? Knowing my apprentice, it will be something physical, even if you can’t see it with your own eyes.”

She pursed her lips, “’Friad you’d say that. I mentioned to my family I was going to talk to a sorcerer who knew Sebastian, didn’t use your name. If he’s not an idiot he’ll prepare for anyone.” Charlie admitted. “I don’t really have the means to track magic objects, I mean I noticed it was watching me…”

She tapped her chin in thought, “If it’s a physical object, I can find it rooting around the cottage using this thing you gave me. You stay here while I go looking for it. The less the bastard knows the better.” She stood up suddenly grasping the dreamcatcher in her hand unhooking it from her staff. “I’ll have Berry leave while I look so she doesn’t set this thing off.”

“If all this thing can do is watch then it’ll have to watch while I ruin it’s day.” She grinned winking. She shuffled her mask up over her nose, set her hood up, adjusted the goggles over her eyes. Pulled on her gloves. “Nothin’ stays hidden forever.”

Fiddling with the radio on her hip she turned it up really loud, she found she worked best with some background noise, she spoke over it. “By the by, Salamander. The name isn’t Girl or Youngling. It’s Charlie. Now off I go to do arguably the most normal thing I’m probably going to do all day.”

The old man snickered. “If following invisible things around the coast of Maine trying to track down a necromancer to help protect magically created sirens is your idea of anything even close to normal, Miss Charles, then I may want to leave this town sooner than I thought. You know where to find me if you should need me. And if you come up with a good question.” With that, he sat back down and settled into the nook of tree roots he had been disturbed from and closed his eyes, for all the world looking like just an old man taking a nap in the woods. Excepting the sword, of course.

Kyra thought she had been spotted when she heard one of the robbers wondering about whether he was seeing fox tails. However, she lucked out since the two men who were approaching her position had the attention span of a gerbil. Someone else, another costumed crusader from the individual’s word choice, had drawn the two men’s attention. Kyra was concerned for the individual when the men began unleashing a barrage of bullets, especially since the person either sounded like a girl or a young boy. Kyra knew she had to intervene to help out the individual who had been pinned by gunfire behind a heavy bathtub.

“Talus, how far out are you?” Kyra whispered into her communicator, trying to keep her presence hidden from the robbers.

“Well, Ninetails, I should be there shortly,” Talus told Kyra. “Gajana might take a few minutes to get there, though.”

“What? You’re going to leave him behind?” Kyra protested. “Also, stop calling me that. I’m not a Pokémon.”

“I can’t carry him. Even if I could, he would just slow me down,” Talus tried to defend his decision. “And a mirror would argue with your last statement. And how do you know whether I’m spelling it t-a-i-l instead of t-a-l-e?”

Kyra only rolled her eyes at Talus’ attempt to justify his nickname for her before turning off the communicator. She had more important matters on his mind, such as how she was going to disarm these thugs who were burglarizing a Bed, Bath, and Beyond, especially without getting shot herself.

While the two robbers were distracted by the newcomer, Kyra concentrated on generating a small portal that would allow her to cross the distance between herself and the two robbers without alerting them to her presence. Once she produced a sufficient portal for herself, Kyra took a few steps back and then dashed forward towards the portal, jumping into it once she approached. In a matter of seconds, she was teleported right beside the robbers. Kyra landed a kick in the face of the smaller burglar, causing him to tumble to the ground.

The second man was going to be a challenge. He was a giant of a man, almost seven feet tall. Kyra, on the other hand, was only 5’ 8” tall, setting her at a disadvantage to the man dubbed the “Tower.” However, Kyra had one advantage over Tower. Unless he was hiding his abilities, Kyra’s metahuman status would give her a weapon that Tower did not possess. She did not have to try to fight him pound for pound. Instead, she could fight muscle with fire. Kyra took ahold of Tower’s clothing and ignited it.

The man called “Hermit,” who Kyra had knocked down with a mid-air kick, started to pull himself off the ground. Although he was still sprawled on the ground, Hermit aimed his assault rifle towards Kyra. However, she had enough time to reach before he pulled the trigger. She formed a baseball-sized fireball in her hand and tossed it at Hermit, aiming at his hands so that he would drop the firearm.

Meanwhile, Tower had an opportunity to grab and yank back on Kyra’s nine fox tails when she had her back to him. When he pulled on Kyra’s tails, he realized that they were actually attached to her, instead of being a weird gimmick that was part of her costume. Kyra, on the other hand, when she felt that Tower had started to yank her back by her tails, used her fire-based power to increase the surface temperature of her tails until they scorched the man’s hands, causing Tower to let go of her. Tower stumbled backwards after being burnt by Kyra’s tail. The kitsune heroine followed this up with a kick to his gut, causing him to trip over his “makeshift” gun.

Kyra then turned her attention back to Hermit, who was trying to take hold of his assault rifle and fire a round at her. However, Kyra was swift enough to close the distance between herself and Hermit so that she could plant her foot on Hermit’s hand at the same time as he placed his hand on his weapon.

“Don’t try it.” Kyra threatened.

Richard Midas sat behind his desk with a perplexed expression on his face. He had been going over the readings from Racheli’s first session inside the Power Plant, and he was nothing if not impressed. The young woman had demonstrated considerable aptitude while confronted with a significant threat, and although her vitals indicated that she had experienced an elevated sense of urgency during the battle, particularly after losing an arm, she was never in any real danger. Her vitals had remained strong. What he was unaware of, however, was if she knew just how little danger she had actually faced.

It was while he had been pondering this very question that a mysterious person shrouded in shadow presented himself on Midas’ computer screen. He had introduced himself as a member of a new anti non-human group called the Hounds of Humanity. The group had claimed responsibility for multiple, simultaneous attacks on the metahuman community across the country.  After the man in shadows had finished his statement with a vow to eliminate all non-humans and those who support them, Midas leaned back in his chair and wondered just how big of a threat these so called Hounds of Humanity actually posed not only to the metahuman population, but to his interests as well. If the group’s claims to have eliminated STRIKE were in fact true, they have already hurt his interests as the government organization had been one of his best customers when it came to cutting edge tech. Suddenly, Midas was disturbed by the sound of his office door slamming open, and his assistant Nigel rushing in followed closely by his manservant, Livingston.

Midas glared at the men, but before he could raise an objection, Nigel was already apologizing for the intrusion while offering an explanation.

“Sir, there was a disturbance in sector fifty three.” Nigel said breathlessly.

“Sector fifty three?” Midas asked as if he hadn’t heard correctly.

“Yes Sir, just a few blocks from the Power Plant.” Nigel confirmed needlessly, as Midas knew exactly where sector fifty three was.

The timing was too convenient to be a coincidence. It had to be these Hounds of Humanity moving against him and his facility. For a moment, he wondered how they could possibly know about what Midas and his people were doing, but then he realized that if they were able to take out STRIKE, there was little that would be out of their reach.

“Alright. Get Mr. Jordan and his team down to the site of the disturbance. I want to know what is going on down there, and exactly who is pressing into our territory. If it is these Hounds, I want them dealt with.”

Twenty minutes later

Peter Jordan made his way through the twisting caverns of the “sewers” near Midas Industries. The part of the undercity that Jordan and his men found themselves in was more of an underground city than an actual sewer system. In the mid 1800’s, the underground city in Lost Haven had been a part of the underground railroad, and before that, pirates had used to expansive undercity to hide loot and some of their more grisly exploits. The tunnels had been used even into the 1920’s during Prohibition. But now they lie below the city mostly forgotten by the residents of the city, many of whom have no idea that there is an expansive city below their feet. However, the subterranean tunnels did intertwine with the city’s sewer system at numerous cross-sections. It was at one of these cross-sections that Jordan led his men into the proper sewers.

“The sensors went off about five clicks from here.” Jordan told his men as they silently trekked through the maze of human waste.

They continued through the seemingly ever narrowing sewers toward the source of the disturbance. Though Jordan believed it was most likely nothing, perhaps some homeless people trying to stay out of the elements. However, the timing was odd. The Hounds of Humanity have their big coming out party at the same time as there is a proximity alarm sounded just a couple of blocks away from his boss’ metahuman training ground. Jordan didn’t believe in coincidences, and was expecting a fight when he and his men crossed paths with whoever it was that was down there.

“What in the hell…?” Jordan asked aloud as they rounded a corner and his eyes fell on the one responsible for tripping the proximity alarm. It was a woman, but not like any he had ever seen. She had almost pitch black skin, and her long hair was in complete contrast a brilliant white. And while she was sitting against the sewer wall with her head in her hands, there was something about her. Jordan could see that she was powerfully built and tall, looking to be at least six and a half feet tall, and she seemed to be wearing very little. To say the very least, Jordan could tell that she wasn’t exactly from around here. “Well, that’s not something you see everyday...not even here.” he said as he slowly approached the woman.

Raeviir jumped to her feet at the approach of the armed guards, her scimitar and whip in her hands and already drawn. Suffering’s venom dripped from the blade, scorching and hissing as it hit the concrete on the floor, whilst Torment’s blades glistened in the dim lighting of the sewer tunnel. She was poised and ready for action - though she didn’t recognise anything about them, save from that they looked humanoid. Two arms, two legs, a head and a torso. They were probably human from the looks of it - shorter than her, too - and they were dressed in very strange body armour that she had never seen before. She could see their infrared signatures though, blindingly obvious against the cold stone that surrounded them, and she could see some sort of weapons in their hands, weapons that although she had no idea what they were, she could tell they meant business. Perhaps some kind of weaponised spell projectors? Nevertheless, she was ready for a fight if the locals were hostile. The lead human spoke, and to Raeviir’s amazement she could actually understand what he was talking about. If they could communicate, then that would make getting them to either go away or understand what had happened much much easier… “Stay back! I don’t know who you are, or what you want with me! I’ll warn you now, I know how to cut you down, no matter what in the hells that is you’re wearing!” She didn’t, of course. Though Suffering was powerful enough to cut through anything that Raeviir had encountered, even the finest steel plating of the Burgundian smiths of Nevers, she had no idea whether these humans were using some futuristic technology or whether they had completely different materials to those on Theranys. Better to at least warn them she meant business, no matter who they were. If they raised their weapons, Raeviir could blind them and go in for the kill. Unless they could see in supernatural darkness…

Upon seeing the strange woman’s reaction, Jordan immediately motioned for his men to lower their weapons. He saw that she was nervous, but at the same time ready to fight, and as he looked on her athletic frame, he had no doubt that she would be able to take them all out without so much as breaking a sweat. No, confrontation was not the way to handle this situation, Jordan just hoped that he could talk some sense into the woman.

“Lower your weapons!” Jordan ordered his men. “Now!” he said when he saw that they were hesitant. However, after several beats the men did as they were told. With their guns no longer drawn on the woman, Jordan stepped forward, making a show of him lowering his own firearm.

“It’s okay. It’s fine, we’re friends.” Jordan said as he took another step toward her. “I take it you’re not from around here. If you’re willing, I can take to someplace safe, somewhere that we can help you.”

They were armed. Dangerous. They had lowered their weapons, but they were humans, and humans could never be trusted. Raeviir lowered her whip, but kept her sword at hand, eyeing the humans warily and looking around for any points of entry… or egress. This had the potential to go very wrong, very quickly. They’d blocked her escape through them - she doubted she’d have enough time to cut through all of them even with her stepmother’s enchantments before they used whatever it was that was in their hands… guns of some description? She’d be taking a huge risk… Stall for time, damn it… “Who are you? What do you want with me, and how did you get here so quickly? What do you humans want with me? And give me one reason I should trust you surfacers! I know you like to play games with your prey, lure them into a false sense of security…” Raeviir kept her stance and scimitar poised to strike at the lead human, unwilling to lower her defences until these… men… gave a really damn good reason for her to do so.

“Put them down.” Jordan told his men as he placed his gun on the floor of the cavernous sewer. “NOW!” he barked when his men did not immediately follow suit. Once his men had also disarmed, Jordan took several steps toward the white haired woman.

“My name is Peter Jordan, and I work for a man named Richard Midas and his company, Midas Industries. We are here because you tripped a proximity alarm to one of our facilities, and due to the recent terrorist attacks, we came down to investigate, to be sure that it wasn’t the Hounds of Humanity.” Jordan told the woman. “These Hounds are bad news, they’ve been attacking...people like you, and anyone who supports them, which we do.” As Jordan spoke the woman just listened, yet gave no indication whether she believed a word he said.

“Listen, Miss...if you come with us we’ll protect you. We can give you food and shelter, and if you don’t like what you see, you are more than welcome to leave. Though personally, I wouldn’t recommend it, at least until the Hounds are taken care of.”

Raeviir narrowed her eyes, squinting at the humans with a mixture of disbelief and confusion. So, this planet she’d landed on was just like her own. Theranys in a different dimension perhaps? Or simply a different world altogether? The humans were still there though, and from the looks of things, the dominant species in this place. The name of the organisation told her that much - the Hounds of Humanity they called themselves? And they were hunting people like her? Pah! Let them come, it had been too long since her blades had tasted human blood en-masse! Still… if there were rifts and fractions between the various factions in this human world, Raeviir would do well to take advantage. She reckoned that if humans (and particularly Europeian-dominant humans, from the sounds of the names and the architecture) were dominant in this world, they would have formed countries, governments and the like. Perhaps, given the size and scale of the underground sewers she had found herself in, she was in a large urban agglomeration at this very moment, and would have easy access to reading up on the world that she found herself in. She gave a curt nod and sheathed her scimitar, before re-attaching her whip to the side of her rather insufficient dress. Though it was still rather warm in these tunnels, it was chillier than in the Subterranean - what weather systems existed in those cavernous underground structures were very warm and wet indeed. Enough to make one’s respiratory tract curl up and die with fungal infections. Speaking of which… Raeviir felt a distinct and familiar tickle in the back of her throat. Wonderful… now is when it flares up of all times. “Excuse me gentlemen, you may wish to stay back slightly.” Raeviir’s voice had grown hoarse, and the coughing began. At first it was simply a matter of course, but then came the pain. Goddesses, the pain. Her lungs burned as she coughed, and she spat out a globule of thick red blood and saliva into the rainwater gutter in the middle of the tunnel. “Fuck’s sake…” The coughing subsided a brief moment afterwards, but the damage was no doubt already done. Raeviir’s lungs ached, as though acid slowly, relentlessly ate away at them - Qilaste’s parting gift was dealing more and more damage as Raeviir lived. Turning back to the humans, Raeviir cracked her neck and stretched slightly, before shaking herself down and sighing heavily. “Eugh… fucking lungs. Well.” Raeviir shrugged. “Looks like I haven’t got much choice than to go with you. This Richard Midas should be funny to meet, at the very least...”

Jordan breathed a sigh of relief. Though he was more than comfortable dealing with “difficult” situations, there was something different about this coal skinned woman. Something that told him that should he engage this woman, even if he and his men managed to put her down, she would have taken some of them with her.

“Right, Ma’am. Right this way.” Jordan said as he motioned for her to follow.



Jordan and his men led the strange woman through the subterranean tunnels back toward the facility. Aside from the obvious physical differences, something seemed off about this woman. Jordan felt ill at ease in her presence. In fact, it wasn’t just a feeling that he had about her, the longer he was with her, the stranger he felt. At first it was a slight dizziness that seemed to get worse over time, then he began to feel slightly nauseous. Not to the point that he thought that he was going to be sick, however, it was less than pleasant and he wanted nothing more than to deliver the woman to his boss and let him and the lab rats deal with her.

As the group of armed men and the mysterious woman made their final approach to the sublevels of the facility, Jordan reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, pressing the first number on his auto dial.

“Mr Midas, we’re back outside the facility. You may want to come down here and meet us, we’ve got something here with us...let’s just say...it’s something you’ve got to see to believe.”

This had been a crazy week for Zac. First there was the incident in Washington Park that left dozens of individuals transformed into metahumans. Then the Hounds of Humanity announced their intent on ridding the world of anyone who was not a regular human. They even went as far as tracking down the meeting place that he and Kelly had set up to run a support group for the people who just gained metahuman powers. After some of Doctor Diplodoc’s minions had defeated the Hounds who staged the attack on campus, Zac and the other metahumans who were attending the meeting made a run for it, just in case the Hounds had any other tricks up their sleeves. Kelly exchanged numbers with the Jeanette and Darren so that they could contact her and Zac if anything happened in the next 24 hours.

Zac barely slept that night. While his identity was still a secret except to a few select heroes, Kelly’s status as a metahuman was public knowledge. For most of the night, he worried whether the Hounds would break into their apartment while they were unprepared. He was not sure whether that was on Kelly’s mind, but he did not mention it to her. Making her worry was the last thing Zac wanted to cause. Even when the sun began to peak through their bedroom windows, Zac still felt restless.

He then rolled over onto his side, wrapping his arm around Kelly, who was still sound asleep beside him. But he immediately noticed something was amiss: her skin was no longer the pale-yellow color that it normally had because of her wasp-based powers. This should have been impossible, since Kelly’s power nullifier was ruined when they tested it on Taylor. Zac inched closer to his girlfriend to see if he could figure out what was going on. He did not see a power-nullifying band wrapped around her wrist. Her other wasplike characteristics were also absent: no wings, no wasp abdomen, no antennae.

“Morning,” Kelly said with a yawn, definitely aroused from her sleep by Zac moving closer to her in their bed. She turned to face Zac and threw her arms over his shoulders. However, she noticed that something was bothering him.

“What wrong? It doesn’t have to do with last night, does it?”

“No, no,” Zac half-lied. He was worried about the Hounds. However, what seemed to be Kelly strangely losing her powers was far more pertinent to him than any potential attack by the Hounds. “What happened to your powers?”

“What do you mean?”

“How are you suppressing your wasplike appearance without one of these suppressors?” Zac held up his wrist, pointing to the wristband on his arm.

“I haven’t had those powers since Doctor Diplodoc kidnapped us and took us to West Virginia over three months ago.” Kelly reach out for an empty glass on the nightstand on her side of the bed and waved her hand over the rim. Then suddenly water spontaneously filled up the glass. Kelly snatched up the glass and took a sip.

“Wait. How did you do that?”

“I swapped powers with Victoria back in West Virginia when we both fell into a batch of Diplodoc’s serum. You were there.”

“What? That was Aubrey and Black Widow.”

“Are you feeling alright?” Kelly pressed the back of her hand against her boyfriend’s forehead. But she did not feel a fever.

“Ask Sammy. She’ll clear things up.”

“Yes, by proving me right.” Kelly gave her boyfriend a wink before jumping out of bed and grabbing her phone. She dialed Sammy’s cell phone multiple times, but she kept getting voice mail.

“You don’t think the Hounds have…”

““Of course not.” However, the tone in Kelly’s voice revealed that she was not certain about whether the Hound might have attacked their friend.

Kelly waved her hands down her body. As her hands descended, her pajamas transformed into a dress that was almost identical to the one that the Silver Sorceress wore, except that Kelly’s was scarlet while Victoria’s was silver. She then offered her hand towards her boyfriend.

“Let’s check just in case. Suit up.”

Zac pinched himself just to make sure he was not dreaming or imagining things. How did Kelly now have abilities like the Silver Sorceress? Was he going crazy? He then decided that question had to wait. They first needed to check if Sammy was alright. Once they make sure Sammy was safe, they can sort this out. After he deactivated his power nullifier and switched into his superhero threads, Zac took his girlfriend’s friend. The two metahumans then were teleported out of their apartment by Kelly’s powers, leaving their home empty.

Hassan whirred across warm concrete, his bike's tires rolled and roared in the wind accompanied by the rattling of the vehicle's cheap chain. With a backpack's straps hugging his thin shoulders, Hassan raced to meet the 7:55 deadline for students' arrival for homeroom. In the distance, he could hear the bell ring; he wasn't too far away! It was only when he looked at his wristwatch he was privy to the bitter reality--it was 8:30. Good thing his mother left for work at 6:00 a.m. and his sister caught the 7:00 a.m. bus. He pulled up to the front of the school and threw his bike atop pavement; hustling, he knew he wouldn't be able to enter the school at the front, and so he was relegated to more unsavory methods.

As Hassan saw it, there were two options: he either broke into the school or he suffered the wrath of his mother. It was all so simple, but he made it all so complex,

"Brace yourself." Huh? That voice sounded too familiar. Hassan had no time to wade his confusion, he felt a subtle pressure build up in his stomach and his limbs froze. Under a sway not his own, Hassan suddenly found himself inside of the men's bathroom--before he could make sense of what had just happened, he was bent over the sink and freeing himself of yesterday's lasagna.

"It will pass. You are late."
"Who are you?" Hassan demanded.
"Family."

Hassan was definitely high. He had to be, right? There was no logical explanation for any of this; he felt as weird as he did when he had the visions in his sleep, but those were dreams--those were supposed to be incredible. Madness and sanity opposed, but Hassan didn't know which one he felt at this moment. He wiped leftover lasagna from his mouth with his forearm and ran the same appendage beneath some cold water before he dried off. The bell for second period rang, time to get to science.

His science teacher, a balding man in his middle thirties, spoke warm to his amassing group of students; most of whom displayed little interest in the class. The teacher's name was German, something Hassan never bothered to pronounce; Kleinschmidt? Perhaps. A laze, Hassan hated school, and the sense in him told him each and every one of his peers did as well. The teacher blathered about sodium and carbon and thermodynamics. It all went through one ear and out of the other. A rapping beat against Hassan's head; Pantheon spoke to him again.

"Pay attention. You need this for your test." Oh, so this thing inside his head was his parent now, too? Hassan would show him/it/her otherwise!

"Shut up!"
"Mr. Amim?" Kleinschmidt posited.
"No." Pantheon retorted.
"YES!" Hassan shouted back with visceral charge.
"No more interruptions, Mr. Amim--thank you." Kleinschmidt warned. All of his classmates gawked, some with glee and others with genuine intrigue. Then there was the girl, Akila. Her puffy, jet black curls rested high atop her head. Her skin dark and deep as coal and wine-smooth. All Hassan felt now was embarassment. There was that twinkle of puppy love (which was entirely unreciprocated) which beat against his veins; they all stared in unison, but even in the crowd the only set of eyes he noticed were hers. Quick! He had to do something!

Lasagna still looked better going down than coming back up. Disparaged exclamations ricocheted throughout the room; "ew", "gross", "idiot!" All deserved--harsh, but deserved. Again, Pantheon's voice rang in Hassan's head,

"You are welcome. Leave while you can, we have much to discuss." Hassan scurried up and hurried out of the room. Once in the hallway, he had no clue where to go or how in creation he was going to salvage his reputation and ask Akila to prom--let alone deal with this talking man in his skull.

Mentions: @Dedonus(Kyra Muller)

---

“I could say the same to you, young lady.”

Behind Kyra several aisles down Devil cocked the hammer of his revolver and pulled the trigger. A deafening crack split the air as a .500 S&W magnum match round was spit from the breech of the revolver. Instead of hurling towards Kyra however the round was aimed upwards towards the ceiling. The match head round sparked against one of the overhead sprinklers before punching through the insulation and clean through the roof.

In an instant water began to fall across the store like a thick, heavy rain as the sprinkler system spread across the store kicked on. Devil, Hermit, Tower, the other robbers, and Gum quickly had their clothes completely soaked by the torrent of water. The tiled floors of the BB&B became slick and reflective as water pooled.

Following the start of the sprinkler system three other robbers (Five of Cups, One of Cups, and 8 of Swords) swung out into the central aisle and trained their sights on Kyra. The laser sights of their AN-94s showing like little red ladybug’s against the fabric of the fox girl’s costume, clearing marking the sensitive vitals they intended to shoot…

“Modern firearms and ammunition have long since been conditioned to withstand water.” Devil said calmly as he adjusted the neck of his tie. “Being totally submerged in water may cause issues, but a little rain is nothing. I can’t say the same for fireballs and extreme heat.”

Behind Devil in the main mattress display section the three remaining robbers finished packing up the drugs and money. They took their guns and sprinted over to the restrained hostages, tied up late night employees, and firmly grabbed ahold of them...

“You’ve shown you can burn us, rather badly,-”

Not too far from where Kyra stood Tower got to his feet, smoke rolling off his clothes as the water extinguished the flames that had been set by the fox girl earlier. The palms of the giant’s hands were darkened by first degree burns.

“But with this much water you won’t be able to outright kill or incapacitate all us that easily. Especially not before we shoot you, and certainly not before we kill the hostages.” Devil snapped his wet, gloved fingers together and the three hostages were quickly dragged out into view of Kyra.

“Anymore attempts at saturday morning cartoon heroics will result in the death of three innocent people, and possibly the death of yourself. So release my idiotic underling and we’ll be on our way. Unless of course you’re dead set on turning this into a bloodbath.”

Hermit whimpered pitifully beneath Kyra’s bootheel, grabbing his own wrist and gritting his teeth at the pressure his hand was put under. All the while Devil stared at Kyra with calculating eyes, finger on the trigger of his revolver as the other three robbers stood ready to fire at any sudden movements.

Off to the side Gum blinked, uncovering his ears and breathing deeply as cold sprinkler water soaked him down to his bone. The end of the deafening roar of military grade ammunition and the shock administered by the cold water snapped the boy back to his senses. Peeking his head over the edge of the tub he quickly surveyed the scene before him.

One fox women and nine armed robbers. Three aiming their guns at the fox women, and three more aiming their guns at hostages.

"Part of me is really happy this is happening, the other part of me is...still pretty excited by this." Gum's mind raced as his eyes flicked about.

The fox girl was obviously a hero, one who had jumped in and saved him from a deafening suppression of gunfire. As he thought about it Gum glanced around and realized that everyone had seemed to have forgotten him. In the excitement all eyes were trained on Kyra. Even the gatling gun wielding giant who moments before had been intent on murdering him, now stood staring at the fox girl with eyes burning with as much hatred as his clothes had fire.

"Now's my chance to run out there and finally get to kick some butt instead of running! But...if I do that then the hostages will get hurt."

Gum's maroon eyes stared through the shelves partially blocking his vision, seeing the squirming figures of the hostages held at gunpoint on the central aisle.

"It's a classic bad-guy trick! Holding innocent people out of arms reach prevents the heroes from simply turning their buttholes inside out. However that only works if the hostages are in danger. The moment a hero rescues them then the bad guys are screwed and it becomes a free for all."

A Cheshire smile flashed across Gum's face as he ducked back down out of sight and crawled across the slick floor. His blue tail flicked behind him as he slipped behind a row of shelves and left the bathtub section, sliding across the water trenched tiles and gradually making his way backwards towards the hostages. The robbers were too preoccupied to notice his movements, but Gum assumed and hoped, the fox-girl would see him moving around to save the hostages.

While the nightlife and the bar scene never dies down in downtown Pacific Point, the rest of the city falls into a slumber during the twilight hours. The streets were almost completely devoid of local traffic. The citizens of Pacific Point knew well not to be wandering about the city after midnight, since the crazies and the criminals came out like nocturnal animals once the moon peaks in the sky.

Arachne used the cover of the night to hide her movement across the rooftops as she journeyed home. Since the business hours for the majority of the businesses in the area had long ago elapsed, only the street lamps lit up the roads. Therefore, the buildings themselves were still shrouded in darkness. Even if someone were to notice a drider hopping from rooftop to rooftop, the bystander would believe his eyes were playing tricks on himself because of the nighttime darkness.

Once she landed on the next rooftop, Arachne stopped in her tracks to pull her cell phone out, which she had fastened to her arm with several strands of spider silk. She pulled the glove off of her hand so that she could use her smartphone.

I really hope I’m heading in the right direction. Arachne thought to herself as she brought up Apple Maps on her iPhone. After examining the map, she confirmed that she was traveling towards her apartment. She then reattached her phone to her arm with a fresh batch of webs and prepared herself to make another jump to the next roof.

However, before she could begin her running start for her next jump, Arachne noticed a dim flash blink past her. She could also sense a slight change in air pressure because of whatever had just sped past her. Arachne peered back at her phone and checked the time. She still had at least two hours before the charity event would end, let alone her double arriving back at her apartment.

I know I’m going to regret this, but I might as well check this out. I’ve got some time to kill. Arachne thought as she turned herself around to follow whatever she had just saw.

---

For Slipstream, the images that Izzy had shown her raced through her mind. So much death and destruction brought about by the so called Hounds of Humanity, and for what? As she zipped through the city, she found it difficult to think of anything else. The burnt and mutilated bodies that seemed to litter the scenes of the attacks. The individuals who had been brutally murdered, stripped of their dignity and strung up as a warning in cities all across the country, and her own encounter with the group, or at the very least, people who were working either with or for the Hounds, who were holding a truckload of kidnapping victims right here in Pacific Point. That first encounter hadn’t gone well for her, if it hadn’t been for the Iron Knight showing up, she may not have walked away from that in one piece, or at all for that matter.

Although she and Iron Knight were able to take down the guys behind the kidnappings, they didn’t figure out where they were taking those people, or why. Though, if they really were working for the Hounds, she had a pretty good idea of the fates that awaited the victims...and it was enough to send shivers down her spine. It was perhaps this uneasy feeling that she had about the entire situation that drew her back to the location of the first encounter.

She came to a sudden stop right where the van that was used to transport the victims had been parked. She didn’t know why she was drawn back to this place, or what she hoped to find now that she was here, but there was just something that seemed off about the entire situation. She had barely begun looking around the area when the streets began to rumble as the sound of several large, black paramilitary trucks rolled onto the scene. Slipstream braced herself for an attack, however, there was none. Instead a lone man climbed out of the passenger side of the first truck and slowly approached her with his arms outstretched.

“Well, well. It seems that we are at a bit of an impasse.” the man said as he stepped toward her. He was a tall man, athletically built and a bit wiry, with a receding hairline and a neat mustache that met the five o’clock shadow just below his lips. It was clear that he was a confident man, that confidence flirting with cockiness, and he had a certain air about him when he spoke, like that of a sleazy used car salesman. Yet, every time that he spoke, Slipstream could feel the malice behind his words. “You’ve been a naughty girl, and I think it’s time that you paid for your transgressions.”

As he finished his last statement, the doors to the trucks opened and men in black body armor filed out of the vehicles, blocking her escape route.

“Alright boys, take her down.” The man said as he pointed towards Slipstream.

However, before the men in black body armor could lunge forward, a webline darted out of the twilight of the night, attaching onto the back of one of Slipstream’s soon-to-be assailants. This man was then yanked back by whatever was holding onto the other end of the spider silk. The man struggled in vain to hold onto the ground, but whatever was pulling on the strand of silk was stronger than the man.

“I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t head straight home,” a feminine voice announced from where the webline originated. Slipstream and the men who surrounded her could only see a silhouette of a giant spider that had the body of a woman from the waist up attached where the spider’s head would normally be. With one hand, she picked up the man she had dragged away from the rest of the group and pressed him up against a nearby street light which needed its bulb changed. With the other, she wrapped the spider silk, which she used to capture the man, around him so that he was tied to the pole.

Once she had neutralized that black-armored man, her arachnid agility allowed the drideresque heroine to cover the ground between herself and the men who surrounded Slipstream in no time. She then jumped onto the roof of one of the nearby paramilitary trucks. When she had landed on the roof, she then raised her front two pairs of spider legs into the air, in a similar manner as a tarantula would if it were trying to warn an animal of its lethality while making itself look more intimidating.

“How about you make this easy for all of us by telling your men to file their butts back into your shady, probably illegal trucks so we can all catch some z’s. How about it?”

However, instead of surrendering, the cocky leader of the men who surrounded Slipstream burst into laughter. Despite now facing two superhumans, the man was not at all sweating. He was just as calm and collected as he had been when he first stepped out of the first paramilitary truck to confront Slipstream.

“You think we’re shaking in our boots?” The man finally boasted while he pulled out his side firearm and cocked it. “On the contrary, you should be the ones running for the hills. We are the scourge of you metahuman scum. We will not rest until this world is purified of your filth.”

“Why don’t we start with you?” The man then pointed his pistol at the drideresque heroine who was standing on the roof of one of his paramilitary trucks. “No matter whatever curves you have to deceive unsuspecting men, they can’t make up for the abomination and monstrosity that is the rest of your body. We can’t let that enter the human gene pool.”

Without saying another world, the man pulled the trigger, unloading the lead in his pistol at the drideresque heroine. However, the spider woman performed a backflip off the truck, narrowly dodging the bullet that would have otherwise been right on the mark. She landed on the side of the truck opposite of where all the men, including their leader, were standing, using the vehicle as cover against them.

The group of Hounds turned their attention to the new arrival and immediately opened fire. However, the spider woman effortlessly dodged the gunfire, which frustrated the attackers. Not to be outdone, Slipstream rushed at the Hounds of Humanity thugs. As she zipped toward the men, the entire world seemed to slow down around her. From her perspective, everything but her was moving in slow motion.

She raced up to the first Hound and hit him, then hit him again. And again, and again. She had punched him up and down his upper body, from his face to his solar plexus several dozen times in the time that it took to blink, the final blow knocked the man off of his feet, leaving him sprawled out in a heap on the ground. However, the leader of this particular group of Hounds, the man who had initially approached her, was ready. Before Slipstream had even made a move on the Hounds, he had tossed a small silver cylindrical object in her direction. By the time she had finished with the first Hound in her path, the object delivered its payload, flash freezing the surface of the road and alley in which they were engaged. Slipstream was unable to get traction on the street’s new icy sheen, and instead of making her way to the next Hound, she found herself sliding out of control, where she slammed hard into the side of one of the Hound’s paramilitary trucks, nearly knocking it over onto its side.

Slipstream was in a bad spot now. The frozen street made it impossible for her to use her powers without becoming a human-sized pinball. Furthermore, the Hounds had their firearms locked onto the speedster. All seemed hopeless for Slipstream, until she noticed that a webline had been shot at and attached to her ankle. Right before the Hounds unleashed their weapons, Slipstream was yanked out of the way across the ice until she slid underneath another of the Hounds paramilitary vehicles.

“This might not be the time for this, but I’ve haven’t seen you before. I’m Arachne, if you were wondering.”

“I’m Slipstream.” She said, lacking a better response. Between the sudden winter wonderland that had made its presence known, and the giant half woman, have spider that had snared her in her web, she didn’t have much to say about anything. However, she suddenly realized that she did in fact recognize the spider woman. As a resident of Pacific Point before she got her powers, Amanda had seen reports of her exploits, as well as her role in bringing down the meta domes which were responsible for her gaining her powers. Suddenly, Slipstream wished that she had paid more attention to the comings and goings of superheroes prior to her becoming one, because as loathe as she was to admit it, she couldn’t remember the spider woman’s actual name. Before she gained her speed, Amanda rarely paid heed to the different heroes that appeared around the country. While she obviously was aware of the big names like Icon and Iron Knight, some of the others...not so much. And while the spider woman was becoming a big deal around Pacific Point, Amanda had always just called her “Spider Babe,” which given the circumstances seemed wholly inappropriate at this point in time.

“Thanks for the assist.” Slipstream said as she saw the Hounds advancing on them.

“We need a plan to take out these creeps.

Kyra watched as the robbers aimed their guns in her direction. Little red dots appeared on her costume, revealing where the laser sights were targeting. Then, one of the robbers began to give a little minacious monologue about water and Saturday morning heroics. She concluded that this man was probably the leader of this motley crew, since he was the one doing all the talking.

“Killing those innocent people or me will do nothing but exasperate the situation,” Kyra declared while she still planted her foot on Hermit’s hand. Although she felt butterflies fluttering in her stomach because of all the firearms locked onto her, she knew that the robber’s demands were slightly ridiculous. It would be like street criminals making demands of the Avengers or the Justice League. “If you turn this into a bloodbath, all y’all would have accomplished would be a one-way ticket for a needle.”

“Even if I let you guys go, you’re not getting out of this building without cuffs on your wrists. My teammates know I’m here. The authorities probably are already on their way here. I wouldn’t be surprised that y’all be receiving a call sooner than later.”

“Also, you need to crack open a chemistry book sometime. While water can smoother certain fires, others are not as obliging. When you heat up water enough, it changes into a gaseous state.”

Suddenly, in an area of a few feet around Kyra, the water that was poured down by the fire sprinklers boiled into steam, creating a think mist around the kitsune heroine. Since the mist obscured the robbers’ view of the girl, they blasted their bullets in her direction. Once the mist faded away, they discovered that the fox girl was no longer standing there. Only Tower and Hermit were there. Unbeknownst to the robbers, Kyra used the momentary cover provided by the mist to create a portal to teleport herself to the far-right side of the store.

---

Gajana panted as he tried to catch his breath. Since Talus had left him behind to find Firefox, he had to run the entire way to the Bed, Bath, and Beyond store where Firefox ported to. The Tri-PD had already created a perimeter around the store, while the SWAT was preparing to storm the building, if it turned out to be necessary. Talus, too, was already present. He was conversing with the commanding office of the operation.

“Thanks for the ride,” Gajana sarcastically told his teammate.

“A little exercise here and there is good for you, G-man!” Talus retorted. “You can’t stay angry at me, especially after I bought this giant bag of peanuts.”

“Really? Isn’t that a little cliché, even for you?”

“You know you want them,” Talus teased his teammate with the bag of peanuts. Gajana begrudgingly snatched them out of Talus’ hand, tore open the package, and started to munch on the snack.

“So, what’s the situation?” Gajana asked while he took another mouthful of peanuts.

“Before this guy showed up, no much,” one of the nearby officers stated. “Tinman here somehow hacked into the store’s security cameras to get some intel.”

“Although I’m sure you guys have this handled, we’ll be here, just in case.” Talus offered the policeman.

“Hopefully it does not come down to that.” The officer replied. He then dialed the store’s phone so that he could contact the store intruders to see if they could resolve this situation peacefully.

After a good half an hour of explaining nearly everything new in the room, Ben had managed to finally lay his things upon the bed in an orderly fashion. He glanced at his watched. He had realized a while ago he wouldn’t have time to complete his set task before leaving, but it was still worth trying. As he discarded some plastic wrapping from a health bar, he turned to Katarina and examined her a moment. His thoughts trailed back to when they originally came.

She reminded him of a little kid. So excited and filled with wonder, it irritated him to waste the time going over what he already knew. However, he didn’t make it known on the outside. One thing was pretty clear: he couldn’t simply leave her within the hotel room or the whole thing might go up in flames in his absence.

Ben sighed. His hand zipped up the bag and turned to the newly risen vampire, “Alright, are you ready to head down to the lounge? I want to see if anyone arrived before we go shopping.”

Katarina gaped at the room. So much technology, so much progress, so much stuff! A television, a separate room called a bathroom, with something called a shower? She’d have to test that out later. Kat looked out from the window at the city of Las Vegas. The very view of the city astonished her - the idea that a metropolis of this magnitude, this sophistication, could be constructed seemingly out of nothing in the vast deserts of… No Water? Nevada? Katarina giggled at the joke she had just thought of. Small wonder the locals called it Nevada... there was no water here. “Nevada… Las Vegas… it’s all so much to take in. Amerika in general is so huge, it’s nothing like even the largest cities in the Holy Roman Empire when I visited them. The idea of a place like this… larger than Koln, or Lubeck, but built in a desert? I don’t know what to say.”

Kat walked back over to her beau and kissed him on the cheek, giving a sly smile. ”You’ll have to take me around it sometime. At night… I heard on the plane from several people that Vegas really… ah, what did they say, they said it ‘comes alive at night’. Sort of like me, ja? But for now...” Katarina sighed and played with a strand of her silver hair, pulling slightly at the neck of a leather jacket Ben had lent to her. Sadly, it was a couple sizes too small - as were most of Ben’s clothes - but it would serve the purpose for now; Katarina could do without the added risks of using supernatural powers in such a heavily-built up and highly-populated environment. Which was also all the more reason she was thankful Ben was close at hand… just in case she grew thirsty.

”Sorry. Back to the task at hand. I’m ready. Unlike you… I don’t have lots of luggage to carry around with me.”

“It also means you don’t have anything to wear aside from my clothes. We’ll have to go clothes shopping as well, or I’ll run out of them at this rate. I’ve already got an issue with keeping them intact,” Ben commented. He had struggled not to react to her kiss as the sensation still tingled on his skin and created goosebumps across the surface. A brief memory of Kat’s teeth reaching for his neck pulsed through his mind causing him to brace. Immediately as it came, it was gone.

Ignoring his sudden fear, Ben moved toward the door then gestured for Kat to follow him out into the lobby.

Marie sat legs crossed on a burgundy sofa in a small section of the lobby, nearest the breakfast bar and across from the main elevator. It was a comfortable enough position that kept her from tapping her feet on the carpet in anticipation. She stared down at her mobile phone, the fluorescent light from the dining area glinting off the dark screen giving the illusion of a notification or incoming message. She’d been waiting for ten minutes or so, taking in the drab lobby decor which held the familiar hotel charm she’d become accustomed to over years of family vacations.

Holt too seemed impatient, pacing around the sofa as a spectral feline, impishly pawing at the table cloths and throws that were neatly tucked onto the backs of the dinettes surrounding the breakfast bar. Passersby looked curiously at the sight, seeing fabric move as if influenced by a draft, but feeling no such sensation.

It would seem that our host is running late, Holt mentally groaned, jumping onto the sofa that sat Marie and curling up behind her neck. Or perhaps he was as exhausted as you from the excitement of his transformation a few days ago.

Marie sighed, eyes glue to her phone.

If he is asleep, he won’t be for long once he catches a whiff of my magic. Marie responded promptly, her mental tone conveying her anxiety. She knew not whether Rune and Otto would make their appearance tonight, nor if they were to begin the magicians’ quest, nor if they would have the time to begin the hunt for the next of Gwyneth’s artifacts.

The ding of the elevator caught Marie’s attention. She turned with a hopeful smile and, sure enough, out stepped Ben with a rather strange and bewildered woman.

Ben’s attention spread between navigating their path and eyeing Kat. He didn't want her wandering off or touching anything that wasn't suppose to be touched. Currently she was behaving, but he didn't trust that to last very long. His hands found his pockets as he was the first one off the elevator.

The magical scent hit him like a freight train. His steps immediately grinder to an abrupt stop and his head scanned the lobby in alert, his nose the only thing guiding him. The stronger the scent become, the more difficult it was to fight the urge to just coat himself in it. His teeth grinded against his cheek while he approached a petite woman in a white sundress and hat, his hand gestured to Kat to follow him.

“That's not at all what I expected you to look like.”

”Verdammt, that’s strong…” The magical aura stopped Katarina in her tracks as she followed Ben. Immediately, her eyes changed from their usual black colour to slits of red, as her blood tracking took over from her normal self. She hissed softly, scanning around for the source of the witchcraft; she was all to used to that powerful aura - Revinskas had taught her much of the ways of the witch, though Katarina did not use them, opting instead for necromancy as the source of her strength - but was unable to pinpoint its exact location.

Another thing that stopped her was the main lobby’s appearance itself. Katarina was momentarily stunned as she beheld its appearance, a far cry from the halls of her ancestors, from the environs of Castle Neuhausen. Pillars of stone, veritable sheets of glass covering whole walls, polished stone tiles, staircases that spiralled away from the ground floor, wide enough for potentially two men to ride on horses side-by-side… it amazed her to see such opulence and such architectural splendour outside of perhaps the richest Gothic English cathedrals of her time… and she was sure that the amount of colour was far superior in this massive room than in even Canterbury or York Minster. Katarina shook her head in disbelief as she raised her head to look at the ceilings, high above them all. And then… she felt the heat. The heat of the bright lights, the discomfort she felt as their rays touched her pale and deathless skin… Miniature suns, they seemed to be, of all different colours. Red, blue, pink, purple… all the colours of the rainbow, and then some. She shifted uneasily, and fingered a crucifix about her neck that she had bought at the… what did they call it, an airport?

“Vertraue auf den Herrn, und er wird dich beschützen… My mother’s own words.” she breathed to herself as she felt the light’s effects slowly die away, a transparent layer of shadow thread coating her skin protecting her from the worst of their harsh glare. It was an old tactic she had learned from Vytautas when he had been forced to operate during the day. Vytautas claimed that he was no more vulnerable to the sun than any other man with it… but Katarina had also stabbed him in the chest, and he had said he was the most powerful man in Poland shortly before. She had learned to take his words with a pinch of salt. Bringing herself back to her senses, Katarina saw Ben over with a woman in white… a surge of jealousy and anger came to the fore, but Katarina quickly suppressed it. Instead, she, too, walked over, just in time to catch Ben talking to the woman.

”It would appear you two already know each other. Intriguing…” Katarina gave a small smile, careful not to expose her teeth. For all she knew, this woman might be a hunter, or a vampire slayer.

Marie nodded to Ben and his strange companion, taking note of her dismayed approach.

”Nice to see you too, Ben.” Marie unfolded her legs and sat up slightly, a hint of sarcasm in her voice for the unorthodox greeting she’d received. Not that she expected open arms. ”I know I look a little more civilian than our last meeting, although I doubt anyone would bat an eye if I wore the costume . . . who’s your friend there?” Marie nodded to Katarina. ”Found someone else to join the cause?”

Holt sized up the newcomer, death noticeably pouring off her skin.

She’s a vampire, Holt sent Marie a mental warning. Marie looked at her again for a brief moment but decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Ben flinched at being called Benjamin but upon noting Kat’s reaction, his attention turned to address her first. He ignored the sarcasm in the woman’s voice from his greeting as he replied, “I met her, and others over the last two days, in usual circumstances. It's been a bit hellish to be honest and seems I'm a supernatural magnetic.”

His hand rubbed through his short hair as he considered what to say next, “Katarina, this is Marie. Marie, Katarina. As for joining the case, that's up to her. She arrived at my doorstep after you dropped me off, saved my ass from jerk metas, and is the primary reason I was able to get here at all without becoming a reported runaway.”

”Pleasure to meet you, Katarina. It’s nice that someone else is looking out for Ben, although I think he’s probably got a few too many of us at the moment.”

Marie turned her head to the side, ”See, it’s fine.” she said in a hushed voice to no one.

”What can you say, you have such a… magnetic personality, Benjamin...” Katarina giggled slightly at her joke, and carelessly, unknowingly, flashed a fang in the woman’s direction. Turning her attention back to the woman before her, Katarina curtsied slightly, dropping her head in a respectful bow. ”Well then, well met, fraulein Marie. As Benjamin has already said, my name is Katarina, of the family von Rysech.” Be on your guard, Katarina, she thought to herself, for this one is most definitely one to be trifled with. Katarina looked down and scanned Marie with her eyes, trying to take in every detail, every nook and cranny of the woman’s visage. Yet, as she did so, she could feel her mental image slipping from her even as she looked. Perhaps some sorcery to turn her sight? Some hex that surrounded her as she walked, ensuring her anonymity in the crowds of the American commonfolk? But how? She was the only woman dressed as she was, at least as far as Katarina could see. A woman in white. A witch in white, to be more precise. Perhaps she called herself the weiße Hexe. It would make sense after all. The Red Countess meeting the White Witch… in the city of colour.

Katarina’s suspicions were heightened as she heard Marie talking to someone… something, behind her. Katarina’s steely, reddened gaze switched to the area behind Marie, where slowly, almost reluctantly, a shape began to coalesce from a mist… something was behind Marie, and seemed to be looking straight back at Katarina. Or was that a trick of the mind? No… there was something there, alright.

“I can smell your friend, which is putting me on edge because I can't see him,” Ben commented and added, “And my name is Benjamin, don't call me Ben again. So… we’re heading off to get some food and clothes shop for Katarina. Do you want to come with us?”

Marie felt tense. This was exactly why she didn’t want to join this rag tag team of teens in the first place. But she was determined to make the most of it, even if she felt little remorse for her part in Broker’s scheme.

”Sorry,” Marie responded dejectedly, ”Won’t happen again. And maybe this will be easier for you to handle.”

Marie turned her head again to Holt. After a moment, a small, pitch black hare hopped down from behind her head and planted itself in her lap, fur black as night and eyes milky white.

”Now you can see him, and I promise he won’t surprise you like he did the last time.”

“Thank you,” came Ben’s words, his tone a bit less irritated, but I explanation came forward for his sour mood. The hare still looked creepy as fuck with its undead eyes and twitching nose. A slight shiver trailed down his spine but he ignored it.

“So, Kat, where you want to stop first at? Smith’s or clothes shopping?” his eyes drifted to Kat’s direction for an answer.

Katarina stared as the mists coalesced into the hare that now sat upon the witch’s lap. So… a familiar, eh? Interesting, but not wholly unusual - women of Marie’s type and ability always had need of familiars, for guidance, sometimes protection, other times to do things that the witch themselves simply could not do. It made sense… though Katarina eyed it suspiciously. It had already seemed to be… hostile to Katarina’s approach, and showed no signs of growing any warmer. Still, if this witch had helped Ben, as she claimed to have done, she wasn’t wholly untrustworthy. Yet. Kat’s attention snapped back to Ben as he spoke up. She looked over at him, an unconscious lust in her eyes which was present all the time she was with him. Was it lust? Was it love? Was it anything? Or was it just a… thingy?

”Food is of little concern to me at this point, though I can appreciate you must be hungry after such a long journey, so I would argue that is our primary concern. Let us locate food first, and then you and I can discuss what we do next. And, if she so wishes,” Katarina turned her eyes back over to Marie, ”She may come with us in our little excursion… an expedition into the City of Many Colours.”

There was something in the way Katarina spoke that Marie found odd, almost out of place. It reminded her of the way in which many old world Fey spoke in English, with archaic words and affectations. She didn’t dwell on it, however.

”I could go for something sweet right about now. If you’re going out for dinner I could tag along and grab a dessert.” Marie chimed in merily, moving to the edge of the sofa as if to stand, holding Holt closer to her so he wouldn’t fall.

Marie also thought it odd how no explanation was needed for any of what had just happened. Odd . . . but refreshing. She was accustomed to seeing many strange sights at The Red Devil that it almost didn’t occur to her that such things weren’t commonplace for most.

“Well, it will be on the go. I found out I eat rather much like an animal. It’s a fact that makes me uncomfortable and I’m sure no one wants to draw attention while we’re here. That alright with you two?” Ben asked mainly to be polite. If either of them denied his request, it wasn’t likely to matter much and he was going to order his food on the run.

“Now my only worry is finding somewhere that doesn’t serve fully cooked meat.”

”Ever the picky eater. I’m sure we can find some establishment or public house that will serve its meat bleu or saignant for you. If not… then we can always acquire some from a market or butchery for your delectation.” Katarina grinned and shook her head, snickering. ”And I think you and I can get along just fine. Coffee and chocolate are my only mortal vices. And tobacco.” She had let it slip! Katarina cursed herself inwardly. The stupid fool, what if she *was* a hunter? She might have been waiting for an opportunity to strike, feigning friendliness with Ben! Katarina’s hand strayed to her side, expecting her rapier hilt… only to remember that it was in the room.

Fuck.

Marie glanced over to Katarina as she stood up fully.

”Are you alright?” she asked with slight concern. ”There’s no reason to be worried. Holt told me what you were the moment you walked over.” She looked down at the jet black hare in her arms.

Holt look up at Katarina and made a nodding gesture.

”You weren’t exactly subtle about hiding it, either. You might want to work on that. In my line of work, I’ve spoken with plenty of vampires, I have no quarrel with your kind, but there are plenty of aspiring hunters in this city who would likely be less forthcoming; It’s good to stay alert.” Marie offered a bright smile before turning back to Ben.

”And if it’s rare you want, I could have Holt snag a choice cut from a butcher or deli while we’re out.”

Again, Holt looked up, this time at Ben, and offered a small nod.

”I’ve had too many experiences with those who would rather see me impaled upon a wooden spike, little more than a rotting corpse, crumbling to dust. Forgive me, but I do not trust easily, though I appreciate your candour. I suppose I can breathe easier now.” Katarina visibly relaxed, a warmer and contented smile on her features. ”And your familiar… Holt. I sensed his presence… but I could not see him until I approached... Your aura is powerful, fraulein witch. You may want to… ‘work on that’.” Kat winked and turned to Ben.

”I think… we are ready to depart.”

“I hate to break both of your bubbles, but no one’s killing anyone in front of me. Not unless you want me to wolf out. With that settled and we’re all in agreement that no one’s getting into a fight, I agree it’s time to go,” Ben gestured toward the lobby exit and led the two women out, his hand raised for a taxi. After delivering directions to a local fast food joint, he plopped his back upon the seat as it pulled away.

---

Panic

The whole of Lost Haven’s underground seemed taken by it. Metas began their panicked flight from the city the moment they turned on the evening news; sorcerers, witches, and other occultists and practitioners clung to the darkest regions of the state, warding themselves and their loved ones with their many mysteries and magicks; inhuman and other immortal creatures descended back into their netherworlds, not necessarily out of fear, but in anger and disgust of the human race; and all who remained, who hadn’t the means to leave or perhaps who would rather fight this battle than retreat, did so wearily. Lost Haven was damned long before the arrival of the Hounds of Humanity, but now, even with the knowledge of ones such as Icon guarding the city, no one felt safe.

But that wouldn’t stop everyone.

Wonderfully brassy and deterministic, Madalena Hawthorne stepped through the front door of her store, Shadow of the Moon, just before opening. She’d stayed late the night before to make sure her displays were in order, wanting plenty of time to rest after the previous night’s events. The idea of a hostile takeover by domestic terrorists like the Hounds scared her to be sure, but this wasn’t the first time Lost Haven, or the country for that matter, had felt that same terror, and somehow it always managed to work itself out. Besides, she was more likely to die walking down the stairs of her apartment than at the hands of a crazed terrorist . . . right?

Waving away her innumerable doubts, Madalena began obsessively fidgeting with her merchandise, realigning hanging charms, arranging altar tools into slightly more aesthetic positions, anything and everything to keep herself from opening the store for the day.

Oh, get over yourself, girl! Madalena gave herself a mental kick, setting down a half shuffled deck of oracle cards and making her way to the front of the stoor. Just turn the damn sign and get this show on the road.

Madalena flipped over a rustic, “We’re Open!”, sign on the front door and switched on the neon open sign displayed on the right window. Immediately, she felt a sense of relief. There was no thunder and lightning, no rumbling or scratching, nothing to indicate any sign of impending doom. Satisified, she walked back to the counter and sat down on a low stool, pulling a small book from below the register. Magic Circles in the Grimoire Tradition, the second edition published by Three Hands Press.

Madalena had taken a particular interest in the medieval grimoire tradition of sorcery and its roots in modern traditions of witchcraft, as of late. This scholarly side felt completely new to her, though not all that surprising. She’d taken a plethora of research classes at her community college in West Virginia before moving to Maine, acing all but her psychology course. And given her slow but apparent departure from New Age craft, which she owed almost in full to her companionship with Marie, Madalena wanted to become more adept in her historical understanding of witching traditions in case she ever wanted to get into the practice again.

After only a few pages in, a soft breeze poured over the counter, nipping at her exposed arms and gingerly lifting the edges of flyers for old events that were strewn about the countertop. Madalena looked up, but to door remained shut and the AC vents were only in the office and the front of the store.

Another breeze stirred inside the store, rattling prayer beads and windchimes, creating a cacophony of ethereal music that was far more chilling than any wind. Madalena stood from her stool, moving to the front of the counter to see if the AC was set too high by she or a customer the previous evening. Finding no signs of tampering, she walked under the vent, which was so light it could barely lift a strand of hair.

Not a moment after the second breeze came the flickering of lights, first signaled by a crackling in the neon sign, then the office, then the whole store, constantly shuffling in and out of darkness. Madalena rushed back behind the counter, ducking down and peeking through the glass jewelry display.

Shit! she swore internally, her heart pounding in her chest, eyes watering from fear of the unknown. I shoulda just stayed home, I shoulda knew this shit would happen. Goddammit, why did I get out of bed!

Her thoughts were scared and frantic. She assumed that, any moment now, a pack of Hounds in black body gear would come bursting through her door, condemning her to a painful death. And the real kicker, in her mind, was that she wasn’t even a witch, or not in the magical sense anyway. Sure she dabbled when she was younger and made a living off the lore and the spiritual practice of it, but she was nothing like the White Witch or any of the others witches she’d read about.

Just as Madalena feared, in the midst of her worry, the door swung open with full force, a loud crashing noise following closely behind. But what she saw wasn’t a a pack of men, only one, and though he was dressed all in black, it was a suit.

C-Could he be a customer? Madalena wondered, repositioning herself behind the counter to see the whole the man’s entire body rather than just his lower half.

No, this was certainly no patron.

From beyond the door stepped a tall, slender man dressed all in black, handsome, pale features, except his hands, which were like ashen claws, and atop his head were similarly dark antlers, complementing his black hair and soulless eyes. What was he, and what did he want?

Madalena placed her back against the counter, sitting deathly still and holding her hand over her mouth so as not to let out a loud breath or cry. The sound of footsteps nearing the counter, however, made her audibly sob.

”Ms. Hawthorne?” his voice echoed through the store, touching Madalena and shaking her core with its ethereal reverberation. She shuddered at the mention of her name.

The footsteps stopped right as he neared the counter. Overhead, Madalena could hear the ding of the bell she’d left next to the register for customers to get her attention if she was in the back. Madalena didn’t move, remaining deathly still.

”I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time. My name is Robin Goodfellow,” the man introduced himself, his voice still eerie and jarring, but carrying an air of whimsy that Madalena seemed to recognize, along with the name.

”Things around Lost Haven have been a little hectic lately, as I’m sure you’re aware. You must trust that I mean you no harm. In fact . . .” his voice trailed off.

Madalena turned to look out of the glass case to find the store empty. She took in a deep breath, turning around to find the stranger kneeling right in front of her, their faces so close she could feel the same chilling wind from earlier emanating from his skin.

”I have a proposition for you.”

---

Roman Adessi waltzed through the entrance of Erodiade, the original restaurant in the chain that had spread all across Nevada, with plans to expand into the west coast. Erodiade was a hit the moment the foundation was laid, catering to a wide audience of folk from all walks of life. By day, this location served authentic, quality Italian fare from Roman’s family cookbook, even sourcing out a few of its imported ingredients to artisanal chefs for a modest price. But by night, this Erodiade was home to one of the largest covens in the western United States, a member of The Five Families of Las Vegas, witches of the Adessi line, loyal followers of Aradia one and all.

As the last few patrons passed by, Roman was sure to shake as many hands as he could, modestly accepting the many compliments given by satisfied customers. The restaurant was usually open until nine, but tonight was special, and Roman needed time to prepare. Once the last person had left, the store was closed up for the night, the day staff graciously sent home for the evening with compensation for their lost hours. With the final click of the employee exit came an ethereal wind, sweeping over every inch of Erodiade, carrying subtle sighs and giggles from unseen visitors.

Roman smiled as the daemons danced about the restaurant, acting as the night staff, taking dirty dishes and silverware to be washed, sweeping and mopping the tables and floors just by placing an elegant foot or hand on their surfaces. A tall, darkly clad woman stepped out from the kitchen, a large platter in hand. On it were a variety of sweet and savoury treats, freshly baked for the attending spirits. As soon as the dish was placed, the household spirits greedily whisked away the luscious breads, pastries, and goblets of wine. They danced with merriment, bidding Roman to retreat to the temple housed below the store to begin the night’s devotions, and so he did.

Opposite the kitchen and the main dining hall was a small office where Roman often sat and performed administrative work. Inside were all of the usual decorations, a couch, a desk with chairs on both sides, table lights and other shelf top clutter. But behind the desk sat a large, ornate painting of a woman holding a star. Roman walked over to the painting, bowed his head, and uttered the soft prayer.

”Saluti, Erodiade. Il tuo fedele servitore, Roman Adessi, cerca rifugio nel tuo tempio.”

A low rumble sounded through the office, followed by a loud creak. Roman looked up, the painting of Aradia sliding over the wall to reveal a hidden door, a passageway that led into a cavernous, marble temple below with witching tools strewn all about and a large, rectangular altar at the center which held a magnificent statue of Aradia.

Walking freely around the temple were witches dressed in ritual garb, some moving sunwise about the altar with censures in hand, fumigating the area for ritual work, others tracing the markings on the floor around the altar with swords and staves, invoking the elements and the attending spirits. It wasn’t often that old world witches performed such elaborate workings, but Roman needed the ceremony for such an occasion.

“I trust that everything is ready?” He questioned a young man, no older than sixteen, who stood near a supporting marble pillar.

The boy turned and nodded.

“Y-yes, Mr. Adessi,” he stuttered, nerves shot both by being in the presence of his coven’s leader and by the responsibility that had been placed on him. “The last of the wards are being placed as we speak, and the initiates are being dressed after their ritual baths.”

“Excellent,” Roman responded, placing a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder, “I’m proud of you, Dustin. This ceremony is perhaps our most important, I knew I’d left the preparations in capable hands.”

Dustin smiled brightly before turning to review a list of his duties. His part in this ritual was a test, one that he had passed with flying colors.

Just as their conversation ended, a string of men and women were led into the altar room, all dressed in white and blindfolded. There were twenty in total, each being placed in a specific space before the altar. Roman walked over to the group, standing on a raised platform that sat opposite the statue of Aradia. He motioned for each of their blindfolds to be removed, then proceeded with the ceremony.

“Greetings, initiates.” He greeted them in a booming voice that echoed through the temple. “All who stand before me have been issued a number of harrowing trials to be where they are now. You are the best of the best, the most promising, most devoted individuals from a long list of hopeful recruits. You will make fine witches. And tonight, witches you shall become, witches of the Adessi line, witches in service of the great mother, Aradia!”

“Erodiade!” the surrounding witches cried out in response.

“Now is the moment of your awakening,” Roman continued, motioning for a chalice to be offered to the initiates from the altar. “Drink of this elixir and receive Aradia’s blessing, become one with the Adessi line.”

As soon as the first initiate took up the chalice, a loud scream sounded from upstairs, closely followed by the cries of dozens of ethereal voices.

Roman turned to see a host of spirits flocking to the temple, fleeing from some unknown assailant.

“What is the meaning of this?” He demanded.

Before the spirits could answer, a thunderous explosion tore through the temple, shattering the wall between the upstairs restaurant and temple below. Droves of men in black body suits came rushing down into the temple. Gunfire followed their arrival.

The witches retaliated the best the could, those closest to the intruders vaulting behind pillars and statues, bidding the flames from surrounding torches to leap from their sconces and block the assailants’ path. The witches seeing to the initiation joined hands and began a low chant, the air around the altar faintly shimmering. Witches ran into the arms of the ward, some with minor scrapes, some bleeding profusely from deep wounds. Meanwhile, the gunmen continued their attack, bullets bouncing off the barrier around the altar.

Roman moved to the front of the barrier and forcefully raised both arms, the front group of assailants being thrown upwards in response. He then turned to the statue of Aradia and incanted:

”Erodiade, essere con me!”

The statue of Aradia responded, marble limbs and features moving with grace and fluidity. Her body turned in the direction of the masked gunmen, outstretching her arms in an elegant pose. The assailants who had been knocked to the ground began to writhe in pain and thick boils and pustules erupted onto their skin. A few others seemed stricken by the curse, but still they marched toward the barrier.

A tall man in heavier armor stepped forward from the crowd, pulling out a large rifle. He fired a single shot into the barrier and watched as it passed right through, piercing Roman’s left shoulder and sending him sprawling onto the floor.

“They work!” he yelled to his team, who all seemed to pull out a separate magazine for their weapons. By this time, none of the remaining gunmen were affected by Roman’s curse, protected by some unseen force. They fired into the barrier once more, this time each bullet passing through, taking down lines of witches with ease.

Roman cried in pain, slowly moving behind the altar trying to seek refuge in another part of the temple. Unfortunately, the gunmen’s bullets managed to damage the circle around the altar, weakening the warding spell enough to allow them access. They began beating down the defenseless witches, many they killed instantly, some they injured and knocked out. Roman look up at the larger gunman, the last thing he saw was the underside of the man’s boot before he fell unconscious.

When he came to, Roman was tied to a large stake hastily built atop the restaurant. He and the initiates were crowded around the large wooden beam, bits of wood and straw piled up at their feet. He and the others had been gagged as well, and all far too injured to concentrate on some act of witchery.

“I hear you were some sort of celebrity,” the tall gunman stepped forward, holding Roman’s chin and forcing their eyes to meet. “Guess that’s how we found you so easily. It’s a shame too. Your food was pretty damn good.”

The man dropped Roman’s head which fell instantly. He was too weak to look up, too weak to make even a whimper.

A crowd of men poured accelerant over Roman and the initiates, then over the splinters at their feet. They stepped back as their leader pulled out a lighter.

“Burn, witch.” He said dryly, tossing the lighter into the fray.

Immediately their bodies caught fire, as did the ground beneath them. The restaurant was soon to follow, men filing down from the roof and throughout the building, throwing burning lighters and makeshift torches into the gasoline lined walls and floors.

On the street outside the restaurant the men left their mark, a name scorched into the pavement, the only fiends capable of such heartless murder and destruction:

The Hounds of Humanity.

Courtney had been held up late at work because she had to close up the store for the night. Her mother always complained to her that it was not safe for her to walk home from work at that hour of night, but Courtney was unyielding that there was no danger. She only had a couple minute walk home from the fashion store where she was employed. Even after rumors of a birdman roaming the rooftops started to spread like wildfire, Courtney was unfazed.

Courtney knew of a shortcut through an alleyway near her work that allowed her to get home in no time. This, of course, was no comfort to her mother, who had constant nightmares that someone would jump her daughter one day. Since she had walked this path for years, Courtney took no heed of her mother’s warning. And that night seemed no different from the countless others Courtney had experienced.

However, when she was half way home, Courtney swore she heard something rustle on the rooftop above. She scanned the skies, but she could not find what had caused the noise due to the twilight of the night. Although she tried to calm herself down by convincing herself that it was only her fear playing with her senses, Courtney hastened her pace. She always made sure to pack a spare pair of running shoes so that she would not be walking home in heels or any footwear that would hinder running.

Suddenly, someone leapt from the above rooftop and pounced onto Courtney’s back, driving her to the pavement. She could feel the warmth of the man’s heavy breath on her neck. Even though it was clear that her assailant was a man, he acted more like a wild animal. He hovered over Courtney, eyeing her down like a beast would its prey.

“Carrion. Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” Carrion turned to see where that voice came from. Up on the rooftop, there stood man dressed in a black, cat-themed costume. He then leaped off the roof. While still in the air, he shot his grappling gun at the neighboring roof and swung down to the ground. In the process of swinging down, he planted his feet into Carrion’s side and kicked him into the alleyway wall. He landed in front of where Courtney had been forced onto the ground.

A second figure slithered down the size of the same building from which the first costumed crusader had leapt. Her snaky body weaved back and forth along mortar gaps between the bricks of the walls as she descended to the alleyway floor. She crawled up to Courtney and helped her sit up.

“I’ll take her to safety, Lyger.” The woman told Lyger. A snake tail that was a couple meters long was attached to where the woman’s legs ought to have been. The rest of her body was entirely human, besides her pale green skin. She also wore a dark green superheroine costume.

Meanwhile, Carrion pulled himself off the ground and lurched forward. He leapt into the air towards the two superheroes and Courtney. However, Lyger caught him in midair and tossed the grimy man into the other alleyway wall with a crash. The impact with the wall dazed the beast of a man. Lyger then positioned himself between Carrion and the two girls, preparing for anything that Carrion might try next.

“That’s what you get for messing up our date night!” The snake-woman chided Carrion.

“Anaconda…” Lyger mumbled, signaling that this was not the time for quips of that nature.

Suddenly, the two superheroes heard police sirens blaring in the nighttime twilight. Since the authorities were approaching, they knew that they had to leave soon. Therefore, Lyger took into his hand a small pellet-shaped object and hurled it at Carrion. When it hit the birdman, the pellet exploded, covering him with some sort of adhesive substance. No matter how much Carrion struggled, he could not escape from the restraints that Lyger put on him. Meanwhile, Anaconda was comforting Courtney.

“Now, don’t worry,” Anaconda told the terrified woman, rightfully so. “The police will be here soon. We will be up above to make sure nothing happens to you until then.”

Lyger then walked over to where the two girls were. He used the same grappling gun to provide an escape route to the rooftops. Anaconda gave one last pat on Courtney’s shoulder before heading over to Lyger, wrapping part of her serpentine body around Lyger, while she placed her arms over his shoulders. Before the police arrived on the scene, the two superheroes rose up to the rooftops via Lyger’s grappling hook.

“The Albany police seem mellow compared to those in Crown Ridge. They would probably be more trigger happy against us than Carrion down there,” Lyger admitted to Anaconda while they watched the Albany police arrest Carrion and help Courtney out.

“Maybe you should move here if the police up there are too anti-vigilante,” Anaconda proposed to Lyger. “Especially since we’re getting married within the year.”

“I can’t just abandon Crown Ridge. Who else is there to defend its citizens?”

“Or I could chase after you. I’m sure my credits would transfer over to Lost Haven University.”

Lyger would have tried to talk Anaconda out of this, since he knew that Crown Ridge was a dangerous place, even for a superhuman like his fiancée. However, he also knew that she was as hard headed as a mule and, once she had set her mind, nothing could change it.

“Let’s put this decision on the backburner. Why don’t we head back to my apartment and celebrate our engagement with a little game of Twister?” Anaconda teased Lyger while having a smile on her face.

Location: Las Vegas

2:00PM

The van, or as Ben liked to call it 'The Dov', was unusually large for a vehicle of it's type. It had to be, to comfortably take Ben and Freya's massive frames. Taking full advantage of this necessity, the Dover Twins had made it luxurious to travel in. The passenger front seat swiveled around to completely view the back or easily reach the mini fridge right behind it. There was a four seater leather couch on one side of the van, across from the sliding door, and a rack for weapons (currently holding two assault rifles and a sniper rifle) right above that. It was comfortable to travel in, armored in the best vehicle armor money could buy, and got decent gas mileage to boot. Not that that mattered with the snail's pace traffic was going at.

Ben looked lazily over at his sister as they drove their van through the city, turning away from reading Moby Dick. "Remind me again, why we're going to Las Vegas of all places for help?" Freya sighed as they idly moved along. "Because, for the fiftieth time, Cain said we could take as long as we needed to go get Lust and Wrath. Admittedly, he thought we were those thugs he sent to kill us, but the point stands. We can't take on those two, let alone Cain, without getting allies. And Las Vegas is a good place to start getting some of the more mercenary supers to join us. Whether it be for another favor or cold hard cash." Ben raised an eyebrow, carefully putting Moby Dick aside. "Why don't we, I dunno, go to an actual mercenary company to buy some supers? You know, people whose reputations and livelihoods are dependent upon them sticking with us and not just running off with the money."

Freya rolled her eyes. "Because Cain is watching our bank account. If we draw out money for a mercenary, he's going to find it highly suspicious that his crew needs a super after so easily dispatching us. We barely got away with getting my suit repaired and a couple rifles and ammo for them and the ones we picked off the dead bodies. We have to do this discretely, so as to-" Suddenly her eyes lit up and she started pulling over, using the Dov's size to force other cars to move or be hit. Ben looked at his sister in alarm and confusion. "What are you doing?" "Getting our first allies! A pair of werewolves with some elemental abilities."

"What the fu-"

"Language!"

"What the heck are we gonna do with a couple of werewolves?"

"Kill Wrath and Envy and steal their powers of course."

The Dov finally pulled behind the overheated van, with Freya sticking her head out the window and waving cheerfully. "Hey! You look like you could use a ride! Want a lift in the city?" Ben sighed and picked up Moby Dick once more, a hand on the pistol holstered on his hip.

Time: Afternoon - Present Day
Location: Berenice’s Nest - Carver (Outside Lost Haven)

Charlie strode through the field with purpose, heading back to the cottage, she did not feel eyes on her again like she expected as she crossed away from the forested treeline. Salamander probably had something to do with the protection. She was convinced nobody would be capable of calling her by her name anymore. Car-lee and Miss Charles, now. The real indication of Berry and Salamander being related by incredibly weird circumstances. Their bird-like behaviour was the other.

When she arrived back to the cottage she talked Berry into backing off into the sky, letting her know why. Her creator left behind a watcher and Charlie was going to find it, then chase it off.

“If I was a creepy necromancer’s watcher where would I be hiding?” Charlie said to herself, her eyes scanning the cottage anew looking for clues. The shinier objects Berry found caught the light of the sun, little light spots dotting Charlie. Once again she felt eyes on her that made her pause, still the dreamcatcher magic detector Salamander gave her was reacting to Berry. Charlie made a shooing gesture for the siren to continue flying further away the feathers reorientated glowing instead of blue tipped with red, now a deep purple.

I hope this isn’t a fancy mood ring.

She stared at the dreamcatcher, while she heard the faintest of skittering behind her. Charlie’s body tensed like a spring. The familiar pounced from the broken framework of the cottage a flurry of stink, scales and teeth flashed past her eyes snatching the dreamcatcher right from her hand.

“Hey!” Charlie shouted, a little hairless scaled imp of a monkey held the dreamcatcher in its dirty black clawed hands.

Black beady eyes stared wide eyed at the dreamcatcher then flicked up at the alchemist, barring rows of unnaturally pointy teeth in a guttural hiss, “Wench!” Black leather bat wings folded to it's body, three feet in length she guessed from head to tail. A bastard creation of multiple animals. It screeched when the beads heated up in its hands at Charlie’s towering approach. Using the butt of her staff she slammed it down on the end of the monkey’s scaley tail, even past her mask she could smell the rancid stench coming off it. Rotten eggs, weeks old garbage and boiled cabbage. Had Charlie a weaker constitution she would have hurled her lunch.

Quick as a whip the familiar attacked Charlie’s ankles claws seeking flesh, sharp teeth latching on. Charlie roared releasing its tail to swat at it with her staff, it scrambled out from under her climbing up her body it’s broken tail poised at a strange angle for her face. She snarled, “Get off!” This time finding success to swat it off her back. When it hit the ground with a thud she threw herself on top of it. The wiry monkey hissing, scratching at her in a flurry of small limbs.

The dreamcatcher forgotten.

For several minutes they wrestled rolling across the dirty floor, shouting various incredibly foul curses. Charlie finally found purchase to pin the monkey. She suffered from long gashes up her arms its claws slashing through her clothing, a few shallow cuts across her cheek and chin evident by the mask blooming with bloody spots. The pain from its bites stung at her ankles, she didn’t want to imagine the various bacteria making it’s way through her cuts.

The monkey was snarling and thrashing about in her pin, the tail now broken in several places being pinned by her knee.

“You piece of shit! I’ve got you pinned!” Charlie snapped maintaining all her weight on the familiar.

“Undesirable alchemist! You think you can hold me! Ugly miserable cow!” It snapped back in a strange nasally accent. “Wait until my master gets his hands on you! You’ll barely last a week under his observations! He’d-!”

Charlie drove her elbow down on its head ramming the imp’s jaw into the floor. “Shut up!” Slowly transferring weight from both hands, to pinning the monkey by one hand over it’s neck. She reached into her back pockets looking for some rope finding none, she improvised tearing off her bloodied mask with a huff. She balled it up in her hands remembering the composition for cotton off the top of her head, pulling iron from the blood. In her hand the mask change shape unfolding into a length of iron strengthened rope. It wasn’t very long considering the materials but it was enough to wrap around the monkey twice. She bound it’s arms together tightly along with its tail. Using the end of her boot on it’s chest she stood up.

Charlie carefully grabbed her staff, exhaled then used her staff instead of her foot to pin it. She stared down at the filthy creature. “I have no problem tossing you up to Berenice, I think a disgusting creature like yourself would only give her heartburn.” The monkey seemed to sigh relief, “Although I know a thing or two about birds of prey is that they take an exhilarating amount of fun in the hunt. The impact alone from her diving at you would be painful. You could make a run for it but we both know you’d be seriously fucked, crippled right where you lay.”

The monkey audibly gulped then its teeth chattered with fear, “My master named me Abaristus, not that an alchemist would know-” Charlie pushed her staff into it’s neck cutting it off, “I! Gck! Fuck!”

She eased off slightly, letting her staff pin it’s chest again. “What did you tell Sebastian you saw!”

It coughed, “Everything!” It paused looking up at Charlie, with some consideration. Gleams of hope through it’s eyes. “He can spare your family.”

Charlie was about to snap back then considered herself, it was talking now. “Go on.”

Abaristus grew with a little confidence, surprised at Charlie’s encouragement. “You can’t believe everything that ole Salamander has got to say, hmm? He did wrong by my master, yes.”

Charlie didn’t reply, letting the familiar fill the silence.

It grew bolder, “Who do you think taught my master necromancy? Gave him the tools to achieve his goals? Ole Salamander, he did. Now he’s here looking to kill my master.”

“Charlie.” It hissed out. It sent shivers across her arms.

It grinned a toothy sneer at her. “My master is powerful, the siren is his greatest creation. He’d be grateful if you brought it - er, her back him. You’re a scientist, think like one. My master is making strides, charting unmarked territory. You understand, hmm?” The familiar tried to sit up, “You’re more like my master than Salamander.”

“Hmm...He’d probably make you his acolyte, if you asked. I see a real spark of magic potential, now that I see you.”

“You think so?”

“Let me go, and I’ll go put in a good word or two. Then we can do some negotiation about bringing the siren back to my master where she belongs. She trusts her Car-lee.” It’s grin was full, “C’mon, Charlie.”

She had been staring hard down at the familiar fighting the bile building in the back of her throat from his stench and words. Then she peeked up at the sky seeing Berry, her wingspan was incredible. Graceful in flight, her existence such a rare instance. Charlie wondered briefly what being able to fly really felt like. When her attention turned back to the pinned imp, she was grinning herself.

“And that’s real fuckin’ rich when you slap scientist over murderer. Who are you trying to convince I’m anything like that poor excuse for a human? You weren’t listening very well when you said you were.” Charlie said venomously increasing the pressure, causing Abaristus to cough violently. “If your master wants Berry so badly, he’ll have to come slithering out of whatever hole he’s in. I’d love beat him black and blue myself.”

Abaristus snapped and hissed at her, it’s reasonable tone gone. “Wench! You are nothing! My master will tear you apart and keep you alive for days! Just watch!”

She lifted her staff up in both hands above her head, her boot on Abaristus’ chest again, the monkey was staring up watching the copper in the staff form around a spike. It was aimed directly at it.

“Tell him everything, Abaristus.” Was all she said, then in one swift move she plunged the spiked staff through the familiar's head. It’s screech of pain pierced her ears, it’s form dissipated in a small cloud of black fog around the spike darting off in every direction. She waited then sighed, relaxing. She knew she’d see it again, helpers and familiars to witches or magic users were glued to their masters. She could almost hear Carrie calling it magic basics.

Rolling up her sleeve, peeling back from the bloody scratches. She took a look at her ankles, the bite marks were deep, oozing blood as well. She patted her chin with the back of her hand, the bleeding had stopped on her face at least. She motioned for Berry to come back down, bending at the waist to scoop up the dreamcatcher. It collapsed back into a small ball once again, she smiled a little at it.

When Berry rejoined her she said, “Bought some time, we should get Salamander to set up some protections around the place so that imp can’t come back to spy on you.”

“If you need me I’ll be cleaning myself up outside.”

“You really should be used to this by now,” Kelly told Zac as she watched her boyfriend standing on his hands and knees while trying to catch his breath after Kelly had teleported them into Sammy’s apartment. He would have challenged her statement by saying that this would have been Zac’s second time being teleported (the first time was back when they were visiting the Wayward Center, where one of the visitors warped Kelly and him back to Albany), but he thought it would not have been wise. Something was up with her and the last thing Zac wanted to do was to complicate the matter.

“We’re here to check on Sammy. Let’s keep our eye on the ball,” Zac responded once he picked himself back up onto his feet. The two metahumans peered around the apartment. Nothing seemed out of the place. There was no broken glass, no overturned furniture, and no scattered sheets of paper. If it was not for Sammy not answering Kelly’s call, nothing would have suggested that anyone, even the Hounds, had broken into her apartment.

“Sammy?” Kelly called out, checking to make sure her best friend was alright. After determining that the apartment was so far secure, they headed towards Sammy’s bedroom. When Kelly creaked open the bedroom door, they found that Sammy was sound asleep in her bed, despite her phone sitting on her night stand.

“Oh my God, Sammy! What happened to you!” Kelly exclaimed when she saw her best friend, even though she knew that Sammy was sleeping. Instead of having her usual catgirl appearance, Sammy somehow had a giant snake tail where he feet should have been, just like Chris’ sister, Veronica. Her skin, too, was a pale green color. Right when Kelly cried out loud once she saw her friend’s new form, Sammy was jolted awake. Sammy sat straight up in her bed, pressing her bed sheet against her torso, but then let out a sigh of relief when she realized it was only her friends.

“Don’t scare a girl like that!” Sammy complained. “I thought you guys might have been…wait, when did you start wearing that get up?”

“Who did this you?” Kelly asked, ignoring Sammy’s question about her wearing a red version of the Silver Sorceress' dress.

“What do you mean?” Sammy replied, “I’ve looked like this ever since Doctor Diplodoc kidnapped us and took us to West Virginia.”

“No, you got your powers from a Romani family who kidnapped a kid you were babysitting.”

“I think I would remember that.” Sammy countered, “But when did you get rid of your whole wasp motif?”

“You too? Like I told Zac, I swapped powers with Victoria back in West Virginia.”

“Are you feeling alright?” Sammy asked. Her snake tail rose up and rested against Kelly’s forehead, just like a mother would press the back of her hand against her sick child to take his temperature. However, Kelly swatted her best friend’s tail away.

“Zac, tell Sammy that she’s wrong.”

“Okay. Sammy, you should be a catgirl.”

“See!” Kelly gloated to her friend as if she was right.

“And you should be a wasp girl, so…” Right when those words left his mouth, Kelly gave her boyfriend the evil eye.

“Alright, get up.” Kelly ordered her best friend. “We’ll solve this out in the living room.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Sammy said while her face began to blush.

“We don’t care if you’re wearing pajamas.”

“Um…I’m not wearing any.”

“Wait, you’re not…why?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Why would a woman not be wearing her pajamas in bed on the following morning?”

“But you’re not dating anyone and you did not have enough time to pick a guy up after we escaped from the Hound’s attack on campus.”

“No boyfriend? I’m going to be Mrs. Samantha Porter in a few months.”

“Porter?”

“I believe that’s Lyger’s last name.”

“WHAT?”

"Where do you think I got this little rock from?" Sammy then held out her hand, revealing a decorative ring on Sammy's left hand.

"Yes, Lyger gave you that ring. But that was to help you hide your powers, not a marriage proposal."

"This ring just a regular ring. I use the same power-nullifiers as you do."

"What?" Kelly exclaimed again, unsure what was going on. Sammy then revealed the band that was around her her and activated the power-nullifier, causing her skin to return to its normal hue, while her snake tail morphed back into a regular human's lower body.

"See?"

"What?"

“We also didn’t use any protection, since we’re getting married and all, so we should easily confirm my story.”

“On that note, I’m going to exit stage left before Sammy starts divulging any details.”