A second shot echoed around the yard. Steve Jacobs was tense. The commander had told them to hold off sending anyone else in until they could figure out what was happening inside. Listening to it, standing behind the cover of one of the three armoured vans they had parked outside, had not been pleasant. And from what he could hear, no one was answering their radios inside.

“Damn it!” came crackling over the channel. Jacobs recognised the sound of Frank's voice, the man with the sniper rifle in the next building. “This stupid little monster won't go down!”

A third shot rang out. A fourth. Jacobs, only a volunteer with an ex-military background, glanced up at the body of the policeman they had shot entering the place. That guy alone had wounded two and put up a hell of a fight to stop them. Protecting monsters and freaks wasn't your job, man. But something about this doesn't feel right. A sudden burst of automatic fire, punctuated by another sniper rifle shot and a scream. The commander yelled for a status report. Frank didn't respond. A minute or more of tense waiting. Jacobs wiped away some of the sweat from his cheek.

Out of the ruined front door, through the haze of smoke, they saw a teenaged girl walk out, tossing an assault rifle onto the ground as she did. Everyone raised up their weapons, including Ozzy, who had the crossbow with a bolt tied to the winch on one of the vans. Steve heard the man next to him mutter, “I don't recognise that one.”

They had a had a field report before this mission, a briefing on what to expect inside and what loadouts each team would need to handle the various things that were inside. But his colleague was right, this girl hadn't been on any of them. Her black hair was streaming in the breeze, and she looked-

“Jesus! It's her! Look at her shirt!”

Steve's eyes narrowed. The girls shirt couldn't really still be considered clothing, more a system of bullet holes held together by tattered fabric. But she was moving as though she was completely unharmed. His gaze travelled up her skinny body until he saw her face, and suddenly Steve Jacobs, combat veteran and devoted follower of the Hounds of Humanity's stated goals, felt his bladder let go.

He had seen anger before. Rage, unconstrained violence. But this was not something he could recognize. Her lips were pulled back in a snarl so hard she resembled a dog or a wolf, though she didn't look like she was a shifter. As her hair swept free of the top half of her face, he had seen her eyes, though. Pain and vehement, titanic hatred lived there, and nothing else. Her nostrils flared, jaw clenched so hard she should have broken her teeth. The cords of muscles and tendons in her jaw and neck clearly stood out, even across the thirty metres between them. And then the crossbow bolt hit her square in the chest and knocked her back two steps and bowled her over. Steve almost let go of a sigh of relief, but he knew from those holes she wouldn't-

She stood back up. Easily. She had the deformed crossbow bolt in her hand, staring down the length of cable tied to it, then her glare flickered back to the line of men behind the vans. Someone fired a round and made her stumble back another step. She switched her grip on the bolt and ran forward, into what swiftly became a hail of gunfire. Jacobs emptied his magazine, and, like he had been trained, calmly swapped the empty box for the full one on his belt, snapping it into his weapon without taking his eyes off the girl. Why won't she die!

The ground around her was exploding in gouts of turf and rock, and the force of the bullets hitting her was driving her backwards. But she had begun reeling herself along the cable, fighting the forces tied against her. Jacobs heard someone shout a warning, and three grenades bounced down close to her. She didn't even blink, instead lashing out with her foot and kicking one back, through the open side door of a van. All three went off as Steve ducked down below the line. The van rocked with the shock wave and an impact, and two successive blasts afterwards let him know that the targeted van was destroyed. Several of their men were down behind him. Cautiously, checking his rifle, he and the man next to him peeked over the hood they were hunkered down against.

He heard it before he saw her. She was growling but more high pitched, like a scream that went on for too long. And then her hand slapped onto the hood in front of him. The man next to him reacted quickly, stabbing down with a combat knife on the vulnerable limb, before Jacobs could stop him. If bullets do nothing, then...

The man's wrist was impaled by the bolt, and then that delivering hand snatched up his knife as her terrifying visage rose up into Jacobs view like a wrathful avatar of some long forgotten god. The wounded man cursed, pulling his pistol and firing wildly into her face, but the second he stopped, her head snapped back and she leapt at him, driving the knife through his goggles. She was still doing the keening, wailing growl, and as Jacobs hands lost their grip on his rifle, she turned to look at him. He spun on his heels and made to run, until he felt the knife plunge into his calf, and then three seconds later, Steve Jacobs was dead.

---

Several minutes later, Nicole stood in the middle of the street, staring around her. Bodies were every where. Two vans were smoking ruins, and the third had no usable tires left. Several men were groaning. One even was attempting to crawl to the safety of the surviving van, leaving a bloody trail from the stump where she had blown off his leg at the knee with a shotgun. She threw the empty pistol in her hand at him contemptuously as she stalked forward. He had some sort of insignia on his back, unlike the rest, so he might be important. Reaching him, she gripped him by one shoulder and hauled him over onto his back. The whites of his eyes were clearly visible in terror. She screamed into his face.

“WHY!?”

“Oh God please no.”

“Don't you fucking talk to me about God, you fucking murderer! Tell me why!”

Sirens were echoing up the street, apparently Patricia had called for back up. She need to have a target and be gone by the time they showed up, or she'd never be able to get these bastards. She picked the man up by his shoulders and slammed his head back against the asphalt several times.

“Because you're not human.”

Nicky stopped, looking up, at a man standing not ten feet away, holding what appeared to be a taser and pointing it at her. He was dressed in a full body suit, and was obviously not one of these basic soldiers. Nicky dropped her victim and stood up. He fired the taser into her chest, but it just bounced off and fizzled. Though it did let her know that she would need a new shirt. The man's eyes narrowed.

“Even if you've got some sort of freakish armour, that should have stuck!”

“Yeah, well, guess you're not perfect either.”

“What the hell are you, bitch?”

Nicky smiled, striding forward. The man drew a sword, and she thought, Really, a fuckin' sword? It bounced off of her skull uselessly. He backed up and thrust it into her eyes, which was a really weird perspective for her. Her head got knocked back, but she was getting used to the idea that it really didn't matter what they had. So she kept moving.

“This is a mono-edge blade! What the fuck?”

He stepped sharply to the left, but Nicky was ready, and leapt forward, catching him around the waist and tackling him into the ground. She caught his blade as he swung wildly at her, then wrenched it from his grasp. Not bothering to shift her grip, she plunged it through his rib cage four or five times, then stood up, getting back to her feet and holding the bloody blade just as the headlights of the police cars swung around the corner and illuminated her.

“Damn,” she muttered, and tossed the sword down. And as her brain caught up with her, she covered her chest with her arms. The fact that she still was naked and coated in blood in the middle of what equated to a war zone was probably not going to make this go any smoother.

Three months prior, a mysterious armored ‘hero’ appeared out of nowhere, self-proclaimed as Archangel, offering her help to S.T.R.I.K.E. and Iron Knight to take down Nightmare and his fiendish associates. During the Pax Metahumana crisis, she used orbital weapons to surgically strike the devices that were producing the metadomes, along with countless decoys deployed to distract the heroes. However, while the Pax Merahumana crisis was still in full swing, Archangel went AWOL without leaving a trace. Once Doctor Diplodoc’s schemes were foiled by the makeshift coalition of heroes, S.T.R.I.K.E. investigated her disappearance and discovered that she was an android the entire time.

S.T.R.I.K.E. then turned its attention to the orbital weapons that Archangel had possession over during the Pax Metahumana crisis. While they dismantled the majority of these devices, since they posed a serious threat to humanity in general, S.T.R.I.K.E. left a few of them operational as a secret trump card that they could pull out of their diversified bag of tricks in a dire situation. For three months, these remaining satellites remained had stayed in a state of standby. They were silent in the dark recesses of space.

Until now. One of these satellites that had entered orbit above the United States began to activate. The device began to gather the GPS data of its target. The object glowed while it built up energy for its projectile weapon. Once warmed up, the orbital weapon unleashed a beam of energy towards the surface of the earth, appearing like a giant laser pointer. Whatever had been targeted by this weapon was not going to have a good day.

---

While Chris was being distracted by the missiles that were hot on his tail, the Judicator turned towards the front door of Chris’ mansion. Since his minions had already rigged the door with explosives, all the Judicator needed to do was detonate them to gain access to the building. A blast of fire blew a hole into the entrance of the mansion and the Judicator helped himself inside.

Now inside, the Judicator scanned the mansion to discover where Chris was hiding all of his technological goodies. When he found that Chris’ personal research center was located on a basement level in the mansion, the Judicator used an energy beam to carve a path through the floor and the bedrock to the basement. Once he had completed this task, the Judicator hovered down the newly created pathway until he reached the bottom.

Next, his sensors scavenged the basement for some data he was after. During their killing blow on S.T.R.I.K.E., the Hounds of Humanity failed to gain possession of the database that stored all the information that the secret spy organization had gathered on the various people of interest who had appeared over the past months. It was all because of Chris’ own precautions that prevented the Hounds from getting this information, since he designed the database to automatically erase itself when there is an unauthorized access of the files.

However, Chris had not implemented the same precautions to his personal backup of the information, since it was the last copy of the S.T.R.I.K.E. files. While Chris had enough foresight to delete all the secret identities of every individual in the database, there remained one set of information that would prove deadly if it fell into the wrong hands. S.T.R.I.K.E. had performed hundreds of war game simulations to strategize how to defeat any individual in the database.

While the Judicator was downloading the files, Chris made his entrance through the passage that the Judicator had cut through his house.

“When I told you to get off my lawn, that did not mean breaking into my home. I’ve always wanted to physically kick someone out of my house.”

“Like I said before,” the Judicator told Chris while focusing his attention on download completion percentage on his wrist. “Don’t make threats that you cannot execute.”

“I’ve helped take down some of the most dangerous villains this world has encountered. How will this be any different.”

“I’ve got back-up.”

Suddenly, a red light began to shine through the make-shift passage to the ground floor. Guessing that he probably did not want to be standing underneath it, Chris dove out of the wave before the red energy beam slammed into the mansion. The structure of the building crumbled in on itself. The basement level where Chris and the Judicator collapsed in on itself, burying the two armored men alive.

---

The fire department and the emergency units had rushed over to Chris’ mansion once the entire city of Richmond watched as a red laser beam descend from space and destroy the playboy millionaire’s residence. The fire fighters and the emergency responders scavenged through the rubble, looking for survivors. Fortunately, Chris had installed a secure and heavily reinforced panic room where everyone who had been inside the mansion during the Judicator’s attack had hid.

While the survivors were being attended to beside the ambulances, an energy beam created another passageway through the wreckage. Everyone paused, waiting to see who would emerge. An aura of fear verberated throughout the crowd of victims and rescue responders when they saw the Judicator hover out of the wreckage.

The Judicator peered down at his wrist to check the status of the download. Any percentage would do for the Judicator, since even a fraction of the data stored in those files could prove useful against certain individuals of interest. Plus, the database does not only have the information of capes stored in it, but also of regular people who had powers but decided that a life of superheroics (or villainy) was not for them. His mission here was more or less complete.

“No one can escape the sentence of the Judicator.”

After giving his warning, the Judicator soared away.

_{banner credit to Hellis}

---

Time: Early Evening - Present Day
Location: Odette’s Hotel Room - Las Vegas, Nevada

The hotel room silence grew in a dreary tension, like a bubble had formed waiting to burst. Shortly after Puck had left Odette made a hasty retreat to the bedroom behind doors, presumably doing what she said she’d be doing. It was a successful bargaining, securing the protective contract with Gwyneth Owens. The new or rather revised prophecy from Puck snatched the finish line frustratingly away. While being more prepared for it helped The Ambassador to keep her composure during Puck’s visit while in private she soaked in the details, not having the energy to act any other way.

If the creak of the floor did not signal Mandate’s arrival at the bedroom door, the polite but heavy thump of her hand certainly did. It was admittedly more hesitant than the manner in which she usually approached a closed door, with a gentleness that went with her current thoughtful mood. The matters of both Gwyneth and Puck had given her much to roll around in her mind, and while she was hesitant to disturb the Ambassador, she longed for the opportunity to bounce her thoughts off of the human. ”Miss Ambassador, are you there?”

“Mm. Come in, Mandate.” She replied with her back to the door, her tablet beside her phone. In her hands a notepad with scribbled word associations, though there was little to decipher from the well known biblical stories of Eve and the Garden of Eden. “What do you need?”

To the point, lost in thought.

Mandate, although hesitant, was anything but meek. She quickly made her way into the room, ducking slightly to do so; Doorways were something of an enemy of hers. She paused for a moment to take in the sight of the Ambassador, before closing the door behind herself. ”Do you feel like talking, Miss Ambassador? I have some questions about Ms. Gwyneth, and Mr. Puck.” She stayed standing in front of the door, her tone curious and hopeful as her fingers idly tapped together in front of herself.

She paused in her note realizing now she had written the same thing twice in a row. Giving up she closed the notepad on top of the tablet. Turning fully to Mandate, she nodded. “A break to brainstorm will help. What would you like to know?”

The golem gave a contemplate hum as she stood there, sorting through her thoughts. Where did she want to begin? In the end, she selected the topic that had been nagging at her since her human companion had awoken. ”I think I’d like to talk about Ms. Gwyneth first. She sounds very interesting, but dangerous too.” Stepping further into the room, Mandate settled herself down near the Ambassador. ”If that’s okay?” she added hopefully. Her smile was fully in place, perhaps failing to convey her subdued but warm mood.

“Yes that is alright. There is still much to discuss in regards to Madame Owens. Very powerful, showed me her life through illusionary scenes. The very world she inhabited was built by herself…” Odette sighed wistfully, “A firm reminder I still have much to learn myself.”

The golem tilted her head as she studied the ambassador. Earlier conversations came to mind; a discussion of the mortal lifespan, and its limited offering. ”I believe in you, Miss Ambassador.” Mandate offered. The words came without thought, with an earnest tone more at home in the voice of a child.

The grey mood around The Ambassador lifted at Mandate’s sentiment, her earnest support helped to pop the dreary bubble. Slowly she smiled. “Merci beaucoup, Mandate.” She reached to pat the back of Mandate’s hand. Cool to the touch, as usual.

“Madame Owens could only hope to know such support after so many centuries in isolation. How she was able to preserve her life and presumed sanity. What does she plan once regaining power?” Odette thought out loud, “I would feel bolder to ask her those questions next time, now that we are protected under the contract.”

As pleased with herself as Mandate was, she quickly found herself swept along in the ambassador’s external thoughts. In truth, her words touched upon some of the golem’s own curious musings. Her hand turned over without much thought, gently curling around the smaller hand of her human companion in a further extension of solidarity.

”You’re welcome, Miss Ambassador. I was wondering about that too, actually!” The crimson center of her eye shifted its attention from the human to the ceiling, studying it as she expressed some of her thoughts. ”She wanted to be invulnerable so she could be safe, right? Maybe once she has that, if she holds grudges, she’ll go on a little rampage or something. Well, a big rampage.” The golem’s eye darted downwards, her thoughtful tone lowering to a curious murmur. ”A fiery rampage?”

“If anyone who had done me wrong in a past life still lived I would kill them as well, rampage centuries worth of emotion.” Odette agreed, her toes flexing joints popping with the stretch. “By fire refers to Witch-Fire, from what I have researched it is an ability that burns the spirit as it would burn the skin. From my own personal experience, it is not so easily treated. An ability inherited. I believe White Witch knows little more about it than I.”

“I would very much like to see it affect someone else. See what else it can do.” She reached for the trunk containing the Sight, “I’m not so sure just how invulnerable she is. With all the pieces collected she could come back as powerful as she once had been, but how would she dwindle if any of the pieces were destroyed.” She held up one of the coins examining the runes, she never had the knack for divination nor scrying.

“Had these talks gone any other way, it would be a simple matter of shadowing the White Witch to each item to destroy them one by one. Would that unravel her sanity, her world?” Turning it over, coldly noting. “Take away the keystone, the bridge collapses.”

It was an intriguing thought. What would happen if parts were stripped away, piece by piece? What would be left. It was a destructive sort of discovery. Not that she’d be able to explore the hypothetical, the golem reminded herself; not unless Gwyneth gave them some form of reason. Perhaps not even then? Mandate did not have a good head for magic.

The golem hummed, then shrugged. ”I don’t know much about mystical things, Miss Ambassador, but if you shred someone of so many of their little parts, is the thing that’s left them anymore?” She paused for a moment, another thought occurring. Her gaze refocused upon her human companion, briefly flicking down as the ballerina popped her joints; it was a sensation that the golem would never experience. ”What would you do if you had the power she’d been trying to get, Miss Ambassador? Invulnerability.”

Odette did not need to think of her reply, attractive as it was to be harder to kill, Gwyneth was not truly invulnerable. “Given the same opportunity to what Madame Owens has, I would refuse. It is not complete, as she said she only completed one part of the spell. I would certainly not split my soul as she has, I would preserve both my mind and my body as a whole. If I were successful. I imagine you’d agree with that sentiment Mandate, having parts of you tugged away is a very different kind of pain.” Odette focused on the red eye of the golem, “I would refuse even if I was forced between splitting myself and survival.”

Memories. Mandate looked away first, her head slowly bobbing its acknowledgement. Her hand closed ever so slightly tighter around the human’s, gently squeezing in thought. It seemed a much less appealing topic when the subject was herself. ”Yeah. I like being whole.” Still, the other matter tugged at her; The matter of ‘after’. ”If you were successful though, and you kept yourself intact, what would you do with it, Miss Ambassador? I’d do whatever I want, but I already do that. I’m a lot less fragile than human meat.” Blunt honesty served her well.

Odette laughed at human meat, certainly not the worst thing she’s ever heard humans being referred to as. “That is like asking what I would do if I won the lottery.” She used her free hand to pat Mandate’s hand again squeezing back. “I am wealthy, I live in a lap of luxury. While immortality... ” She sighed wistfully once again, a slight sparkle in her eye. “I would become a force of nature, with the entirety of the Fey at my back. I would have time, I would have everything I needed to do what it is I need to do.” She smiled, toothy and genuinely excited by the sheer idea. “You would see it all first hand, at my side.”

Yes, that was right, wasn’t it? Mandate couldn’t deny that the idea was thrilling. She hadn’t known Miss Ambassador long, but the human was dearly important to her. Giving her fragile but important companion the same longevity that she would likely have was a good thought, a warm thought. And yet, perhaps it wasn’t the idle thought that the ambassador might be imagining, if the vague recollections that ‘lottery’ brought about were any indication. ”I think you becoming immortal is probably more likely than you winning the lottery, Miss Ambassador!” the golem cheerfully announced, as she too was quite thrilled by the prospect.

”I mean, you have magic, and lots of weird connections, right? And you’re really young for a human, so you have plenty of time.” Perhaps she was rambling a bit in her excitement, but she was fairly taken by the thought. An immortal Miss Ambassador, no longer as fragile as human meat? It was a solid long term goal, she thought. More solid and significantly more motivating than her idle dreams of exploration and deconstruction. ”I think you should definitely consider it, as long as it’s not some strange fairy trick.” Dependence was unacceptable with something as important as your mortality- or lack thereof.

“There are many things to consider, something as important as your immortal soul shouldn’t be left in the hands of one single faerie.” She said. “Preferably something that preserves my contact with Bach and our autonomy. That connection is… more complex. I have a piece of him and he has a piece of me, it is what allows our fusion to happen and allows me to dip into his own magical reserves. Mandate I trust you will not repeat this to anyone, it is a secret.” Odette warned, firmly. Wanting that note of secrecy to be very clear so there would be no mistaking it. “We entered into this agreement many years ago but he has been my companion for much longer. Since I was a little girl. If immortality meant severing that connection it would break my heart.”

She patted her chest, it felt just as long since she had acknowledged Bach in such a way, with how they had been butting heads as of late. She felt resolve to take the time to get back to the same wavelength as him.

Mandate’s smile seemed to waver for a moment, turning downwards at the reminder of a certain fae individual. It was too simple of a thing to convey complex emotions, though, and the golem hid the true reason with as solemn of a nod as she could give, her tone uncharacteristically serious. ”I promise, Miss Ambassador. Your secrets are always safe with me.” It wasn’t the time to bring up certain things, and her words were absolutely sincere anyway.

But there’d be a time. Mandate’s smile returned, ambiguous in its origins but conveying the same cheer as her next words. ”You really are very smart though, Miss Ambassador. I’m sure you could find a way to take immortality for yourself with your own two hands, when you have the time to set your mind to it. Something that doesn’t need any fairies or fiery witches, too.” Without severing the bond was left unsaid, partially because the thought of doing just that was now a guilty pleasure.

Said guilt was more from the thought of such heartbreak for the ambassador than for any concern for Bach, of course. The golem shifted, pushing the thought back.

“With all this talk of immortality, what do you know of the stories of the Garden of Eden? The renewed prophecy took a particular turn onto biblical references, which is… quite the concern. I am unsure to what level of severity Puck applies to such stories. His words are not to be taken lightly, regardless. It is another puzzle to solve as I did with the previous one.” She said pursing her lips. “It is chilling, nonetheless. The feeling equivalent to someone walking over your grave.” Suddenly the chill in Mandate’s hand seeped into her skin, she slowly removed her hand from the golem’s palm. She reached for her tablet, on it she downloaded a .pdf version of the bible. “I have been rereading the stories looking for more clues, more meaning to Puck’s words.”

“It has not brought any new ideas.” She said, “I would like to hear your thoughts on the matter.”

Mandate tilted her head as memories of her brief time in Mister Puck’s presence drifted to the forefront of her thoughts. A serpent sneaks into your Eden and wraps itself round the Tree of Life. Puzzles. Puzzles and wordplay. Mandate wasn’t always very good with the cryptic, but her thoughts were often spontaneous. Maybe she could be helpful here?

As ever, the golem’s memory of such things was vague contorted, but context allowed her to draw conclusions. ”Well,” she began, tentatively and thoughtfully, ”I’m not sure I’ll be very helpful, Miss Ambassador, but I’d like to try.” Her eye, thoughtfully turned downwards, focused back upon the ambassador’s face. ”Could I see that?” she asked, reaching out with one massive hand to match the request.

Odette hesitated having seen the strength in Mandate’s hand alone. “It is very fragile to you. Please be careful.” Like most everything was fragile to Mandate.

She placed it into the golem’s hand.

Mandate’s smile didn’t waver. ”Don’t worry, Miss Ambassador. You know I can be soft with soft things. I’ll hold it like it was you!” she promised, delicately taking the device. She was well aware of the fragility of most things when compared to her hands, and this was property of Miss Ambassador’s; being anything less than very careful was unthinkable.

Nonetheless, her hands made the thing almost look tiny, as large as they were to fit her generally massive frame. Gently cradling the device, she examined it with a keen eye, focused on the task at hand.

She laughed behind her hand. “I will take your word on that, my dear. I know you are not entirely knowledgeable on magic related things but you provide a unique perspective.”

”I’ll do my best, Miss Ambassador.” the golem promised warmly, pleased with the laugh from her human companion. She was somewhat distracted by the unwieldy size of her hands beside the device, but she had spent enough time unabashedly staring at the ambassador to gain some small sense of how to operate it.

It involved a lot of hand motions, she recalled, and some of the fresher parts of her mind seemed to agree with this. A testing poke with her finger against the surface of the device yielded some results, and so she repeated, humming as she did so. Yes, she could recall this, and she learned quickly anyway.

Pleased with herself, the golem set about refreshing her muddied memories, sinking into her focus. It was not true fragmentation, like she’d experienced before, or anything like simultaneous thoughts. It was simply… Allowing herself to focus upon and absorb the information at hand. She was sure that it was much more human than the times in which she forgot herself and the world.

In her mind’s eye, the story unfolded, old and new all at once. The details were lost to her memory, but it was a familiar thing all the same. Creation, divisions, the birth of man- and that was a topic that would come back to her, she knew. But what was more important in that moment was the prophecy, and the allusions therein.

The temptation of the serpent- and yet, the one Puck spoke of was different, wasn’t it? The hunger of a serpent, creeping upon Miss Ambassador, but the basic idea still laid there. It was a malign force that invited itself in with a slow subtlety, and then constricted. Constricted the tree? Miss Ambassador’s power? Or something else?

Mandate shook her head, her fingers ever so gently tapping against the device she cradled. When she spoke, it was something of a rambling daze. ”In the biblical story, the snake gets close, and it isn’t rejected. It’s… Crafty, right? Cunning. And your acquaintance said that it would work its way into your Eden, your paradise. Or… Your safe space? If it’s supposed to be like the biblical serpent, it might be something you won’t see coming, or that you’ll invite in yourself. Something you’ll let get close.” Mandate tilted her head, considering the device once more. ”It’s something old, and it has your ear… Maybe that part was literal? Something you’ve spoken to before, Miss Ambassador?” The golem shrugged, turning her eye back towards Miss Ambassador. ”And if it is literal, it might be targeting that tree of yours, or connected to it.”

Slowly, the golem collected herself fully. Her thoughts aligned, and she straightened in her seated position. ”I think it’ll be something or someone you know or will know, and it’ll get close to you and try to take from you without you realizing it. I don’t know what it will take, but… Something to do with the tree? Or yourself? It ‘thirsts for new life’. Maybe it wants to eat you.” It was a disturbing thought to Mandate, and an infuriating one. I won’t allow it.

But… What else? It was frustrating, in the way that Mandate imagined prophecies must often be; It provided the recipient with just enough information to see their doom coming, but not enough to know the form it took, or when it would strike. Why can’t it be straightforward? ”I’m sorry it’s not much, Miss Ambassador.” she added, genuinely annoyed by the idea of the truth -the answer- dangling out of reach, unable to be provided to Miss Ambassador.

Odette watched Mandate intently as she listened. She drummed her fingers across her lap, turning her words over. Odette’s source of power being threatened could very well be referring to her permanent portal anchored to the Yew tree. To her, there were connections to it in all aspects of her life. It was why she had it tattooed on her back. It was a long shot, it was somehow more difficult to narrow down who would be interested in knocking her from her seat of power. Tampering with the portal would be the first.

Solidifying alliances with Fey often came in two distinct routes of security. By gratitude or by blackmail. Grateful to the Ambassador for the help and power she provides in an alliance, or resentful for strong arming the Fey with dirt or tricky favours. While some she could very well imagine they plotted to remove her or take hold of her resources once she was gone, some may be getting impatient. That thought sent a paranoid bolt through Odette’s mind. For a long time she had been wise to keep Fey allies at arm's length, never embedded directly in her affairs but the future may very well change that. As it could with anything, really.

“Perhaps this means we must be on our guard more than usual. I fully expect some of my allies would revel upon news of my death. I know some are waiting for the day my short life ends, no one truly knows of my affairs outside my inner circle. If I am to distrust of everyone I would surely drive myself crazy with paranoia.” She said.

She tapped the screen over Mandate’s large shoulder pulling herself up and over to reach balancing on her belly. She highlighted the passage Mandate was using for reference. “We’ll need to do some research, a little spying, gather more information. Fill in the holes, so to speak. This is a good start.”

She lifted herself up bracing against Mandate’s back, gently pulling the tablet back to her. “As fascinating as this topic is. I believe we do have more important things to worry for right now. I feel the presence of another one of Gwyneth’s items arriving to the city. We must meet with her reincarnation, White Witch. Not that she really has a choice in the matter now, Gwyneth and Puck assured that. Really just… a courtesy call.” She smiled widely at that, then hid a small laugh behind her hand.

Mandate, giddy with the Ambassador’s close contact, offered her human companion a giggle as she was braced against, and gave the tablet back without complaint. Had her small thoughts been sufficient, then? That was good. The golem could honestly say that she was pleased with herself; it was the feeling of discovery.

”I’ll be right there with you, Miss Ambassador. Courtesy is important.” she cheerfully assured the human, her V of a smile as unyielding as ever as she peered upwards.

Feeling lighter and calmer, Odette smiled at her, “I also have an idea for White Witch’s first trial. One phone call will be all it takes.”

The golem hummed as she stared up at the ambassador, her gaze focused upon the human’s smile. It was strange to see it from an upward angle rather than a downwards one, but not unpleasant; the ambassador’s smiles were never unpleasant. Then, the ambassador’s words registered, and curiosity nagged at Mandate once more. ”Really? Who are we calling, Miss Ambassador?”

“They are certainly not friends, but… tools.”

Abandoned S.T.R.I.K.E. Facility, Location Unknown

Travis Murdock sat behind an array of computer screens monitoring the various operations that his men were carrying out across the globe. The glow from the screens gave him an almost bluish hue, which when combined with the constant cloud of smoke that hung about from his ever burning cigarettes gave him an almost supernatural mystique. However, there was nothing supernatural about him, except perhaps for his ability to hate.

His hatred was not based on anything as simple as skin color or place of origin. His ire was directed at the meta humans that had seemingly come out of the woodwork in recent years. When he first started as an agent for S.T.R.I.K.E, he thought of the assignment as a punishment. He found himself running around the desert chasing down UFO eyewitnesses and talking to drunken backwoods hicks who claimed to have seen a Bigfoot. His friends jokingly called him Mulder, and would make wisecracks about the truth being out there.

Then a man in a cape caught a space station out of the sky.

The entire world changed that day. He went from chasing down demon dogs in the Appalachians to chasing down actual demons. It was soon after D-Day that Murdock learned that everything that people had convinced themselves were just legends were anything but.

Vampires.

Demons.

Werewolves.

Superheroes.

Supervillains.

They were all real. It was during this time that Murdock learned that there were indeed things that went bump in the night. It was also at this point that he decided that he would be the one to bump back. His methods were brutal, but he soon found that he was one of the few within the government organization that was willing to take the necessary steps to protect humanity. His views had cost him everything, his family, his home, and his job.

However, as the meta humans and other subspecies waged their seemingly endless war among themselves, as well as the rightful masters of the world, the human race, more and more of his former allies and even some enemies came to see that he was right. It was his vision that saw the downfall of S.T.R.I.K.E, the death of its director and the full assault on the meta human and supernatural populations. From this command center, he had overseen the attacks in Albany, Los Angeles, and Las Vegas. He watched as his troops renewed the assault on witches in Salem, as well as those who had gathered at the Temple of Aradia.

Through the various screens, he monitored current operations being carried out by his men. Paris, New York, London, Pacific Point, Crown Ridge, and Santa Fe were all points of interest for his operatives, and for the most part everything was going to plan. However, the most important mission was being conducted in Virginia, at the home of S.T.R.I.K.E.’s former armored lapdog, Christopher Arthur. One of his best agents, The Judicator had taken the fight to the Iron Knight, and had gained access to everything that he would need to finish this war. Not only had he gained access to files on known meta humans around the globe, some of which contained very sensitive information, they had gained control of S.T.R.I.K.E.’s dirty little secret. They were now in control of an orbital weapons system that had been put into play by an android named Archangel during the Pax Metahuman crisis. It was one of the most advanced weapons systems on Earth, or more accurately, above it, and had the capability to eliminate a single target with more accuracy than the latest drone technology employed by the US military, or it could vaporize an entire city.

Soon, the Hounds of Humanity would use the weapons system to strike a decisive blow in this war, and much like when the Allies dropped the bomb on Hiroshima, it would such a blow the likes had never been seen on this planet before.

---

”I have a proposition for you.” The words rang ominously through the shop.

Puck stood over Madalena, who was as backed into the counter as possible, hands covering her mouth to hold in the ear shattering scream that followed Puck’s sudden appearance. He kneeled down, pulling a handkerchief from his suit jacket and softly wiping away the tears streaming down Madalena’s face.

She wasn’t sure how to respond. This creature, whatever he was, seemed amicable enough, but Madalena wasn’t an idiot. She’d read plenty of old folktales on the subject of strange spirits offering aid to humans, and the name Goodfellow stuck out to her, but she couldn’t place it.

”W-w-what d-do you want-t?” Madalena stuttered between quiet sobs. This wasn’t like her. She was normally far more boisterous and hardened, but she wasn’t normally confronted with strange men with horns barging into her store and demanding her aid . . . well, not since last Samhain, and those men were at the very least human.

Puck continued wiping away stray tears, placing his other hand on her shoulder to calm her. Perhaps it was the fear of the unknown that caused her to sit still and not object or pull away from Puck, but Madalena slowly but surely ceased her sobbing.

”There now,” Puck uttered softly, putting away the kerchief and helping Madalena to her feet. ”Forgive me, love. I did not mean to frighten you. I forget sometimes that your kind are not accustomed to my entrances, and with all that has transpired as of late, I can only imagine what horrors you expected to befall you, but fear not.”

Puck took a step back, giving Madalena plenty of room to move. He gave a formal bow, showing his regret and respect.

”It’s a-alright,” Madalena sniffled. ”Who . . . who did you say you were again?” Madalena asked more as a courtesy than anything. She remembered the name he had given her but hoped that hearing him speak it again might jog her memory of it.

”Robin Goodfellow,” Puck was quick to reply, ”but perhaps you know me by my more informal alias, Puck.”

That did it. Immediately, Madalena recalled the stories she’d read of Puck under the name Goodfellow. He was regarded an elder spirit among medieval witches, a witching god from the ancient world. His reputation has a trickster and a faery were well known to those witches, but these stories weren’t made popular until Shakespeare wrote him into A Midsummer Night’s Dream. He looked different to the wood carvings and New Age illustrations Madalena had seen of him, but perhaps this was the modern guise he wore.

Madalena, recognizing Puck as a powerful and important entity, clumsily bowed in return.

”It’s an honor, Mr. Goodfellow. B-but, I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer.” Madalena looked at him in confusion, gesturing to the contents of her store. ”I’m sure this isn’t anything you haven’t seen before, and I’m not really any sort of witch so I’m no. . .”

”That’s precisely why I’ve come, Madalena,” Puck interrupted, ”to ignite that cunning flame and invite you into the true witching world.”

Madalena was stunned. Years ago she dreamt of such a fate, but the idea hadn’t crossed her mind in almost ten years. Back then, when she first took an interest in the craft, she dreamed of doing the impossible, of wielding powers held by the witches and sorcerers of legend. She even favored the witches of old Disney films just because they had the power to do what they want. But as she grew older, she met many new age spirituals and Wiccan authors who turned her mind away from such flights of fancy. She gave up on being a practicing witch, opting instead for the more attainable goal of daily enlightenment and invoked positivity. She saw the old craft as her peers did, an antiquated and often violent means of shaping the world. Until recently, she wanted nothing to do with it, but everything changed once she met Marie . . .

Madalena let that thought be taken over by another one: Why me? To her knowledge, she had done nothing of note in the past few months, no acts of magic, no strange dreams, no dragon slaying. So why had she, of all people, been chosen by Puck to receive such a gift?

”Well, that’s very kind of you, Mr. Goodfellow,” Madalena replied hesitantly, speaking slowly in case her words made Puck angry. ”But can I ask, why? And not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but in exchange for what . . . sir.” she threw on the last bit of her reply to show her respect.

Puck grinned, sending a chill down Madalena’s spine.

”Ah, I love it when the mortals are self aware. Makes things more interesting.” he said, moving around to the other side of the counter across from Madalena and placing his elbows on top, leaning forward slightly.

”The truth, my dear, and it is a harsh truth, is that you were not my first choice.”

Madalena tried not to be hurt. She hadn’t expected something like this to happen to her at any point in her life, why should it bother her if she were only second or third in line for some grand mystery?

”However,” Puck continued, ”you came highly recommended by a mutual friend and an employee of mine, the person I would have chosen for this task in your stead had she not been busy. A certain Marie Hartford.”

It all made sense.

Madalena had known for months now that Marie was the White Witch. A failed robbery on Shadow of the Moon some time ago revealed Marie’s secret. She used her magic on the intruders, confirming Madalena’s suspicions. The two proceeded to have a conversation about Marie’s time as the White Witch, leading to her eventual hiatus from Shadow of the Moon. Madalena wouldn’t fire Marie for being absent, nor would she let Marie flat out quit. Madalena stubbornly and with as much sass as she could said to Marie on her final night “you’ll be back.”

The two rarely spoke after that, and now it made sense why. If Marie had been doing god knows what for Puck this whole time, and under the mantle of the White Witch no doubt, she wouldn’t have the time to work for or speak with Madalena. She felt as though she should be grateful to Marie for mentioning her to Puck.

”So if Marie told you about me, and you’re only just now showing up, I’m guessing it has to do with the Hounds of Humanity, right? Only other reason I can think of that you’d be desperate enough to recruit someone like me.”

Madalena was feeling a little more brazen now that the connection to Marie had been established. She didn’t imagine that Puck would her if Marie were involved.

Puck’s grin grew wider.

”Indeed, that’s quite the detective work there,” Puck responded sarcastically. ”But don’t sell yourself too short, my dear. Even without my gifts, you would be involved. As we speak, the Hounds are planning an attack on your little store on the morrow. But this should come as no surprise. Given your reaction to my appearance, I’d say you were expecting them.”

Madalena could feel herself becoming emotional again. What could she do about the Hounds?

”Why would they want to attack me?” she exclaimed, crashing her fists into the countertop. ”I haven’t done them any harm, I can’t even do magic! I don’t understand . . .”

Madalena turned her head down, but Puck caught her chin and gently held her eyes level with his.

”It does not matter what you have or haven’t done, my dear. It’s what they think you could do that frightens them. The Hounds are terrorists, and terrorists, no matter their origin or creed, are thieves and cowards. They take what they believe they are owed, they claim superiority, they destroy their opposition not to send a message, but because they are afraid of what will come if their enemies are allowed to live. I have lived in the world of man long enough to read their fragile minds, I recognize their goals and ambitions, I see them for what they are.”

Puck leaned in closer, his face almost touching Madalena’s.

”And that, my dear, is why I need you. Because for all my intuition and all my powers of foresight, something about them eludes me. I can see the destruction they will leave in their wake, but I cannot see what causes it, nor if there is a way to end it. So I need someone to be my eyes and ears, someone to who can move freely among them, someone who they won’t see coming. I need you, Madalena, because you pose them no threat, only their image.”

Madalena move back slightly, a puzzled look crossing her face.

”Wait, I don’t understand. If they’re gonna kill me regardless of whether I’m an actual threat or not, how can I do anything for you? And if I don’t have any actual power to stop them, how do I keep myself alive?”

”It is as you’ve said. You’ve done them no harm, you have no power. The Hounds will know this upon arrival. As random and indiscriminate as their attacks appear, they are more targeted than the public realizes. You, to them, are no real witch. You service and supply witches with your wares, which is enough for them to turn you into a monster in their narrative. All of this,” Puck motioned to the entire store, ”is an affront to everything they stand for. They will destroy it on principle, but they will know that you possess no real power, and that will be to your advantage.

“If you plead your case to the Hounds when they enter, offer them your knowledge of the occult in exchange for your life, they will have no choice but to accept. For all their efforts, there are some things one cannot know about the world unseen unless one is intimately involved with it, and that is where I come in. I shall grant you greater knowledge and true power, powers the Hounds will not know of because you did not possess them until now, that can be used to deceive the Hounds once you have infiltrated their ranks. It is a dangerous gamble, I admit, but know that you would have my full protection should you agree.”

Madalena fell to the wall behind her, slumping down onto the floor in thought. This was too much to take in at once. Puck seemed confident that he knew the Hounds well enough for his plan to work, but Madalena didn’t share this sentiment. But even if she didn’t, did it matter? If she agreed, she would have power like Marie, and with all that she had read about Puck, she imagined that whatever defenses he could offer would likely be more than enough to keep her safe from the Hounds long enough for her to get away from a dangerous situation. Another worry crossed her mind, what happened after all of this was over?

”I don’t know,” Madalena voiced her concern, ”I mean, assuming all of this goes down how you’ve said, then what? I can only get so close before they realize something’s up. What happens then?”

”A reasonable doubt,” Puck responded cooly, moving around to the other side of the counter and kneeling down to her level. ”It is true, the powers I offer come at a price. A bargain must be made, but upon the completion of this task, however far to completion it comes, you will not lose your power nor your place in the witching world. To be initiated into the great witchcraft is to be forever changed, my dear. There is no turning back. It is a bond I cannot break, nor would I wish it broken.”

”And if I say yes, do we shake hands, does lightning strike me and I fall into a deep sleep? How does this work?” Madalena questioned, her old sense of humor finally surfacing.

Puck chuckled as he stood up, holding out his arm to help Madalena up a second time. He lead her over to the counter and wave a hand over the top, an oversized, tattered, black-leather bound book manifesting from a spout of flames and dark smoke with a flash that left Madalena momentarily dazed. Puck flipped through its pages, landing on a blank page near the middle.

”If you agree, you need but sign your name here . . . then all the world shall be yours in return.”

I’ve always felt odd. As Eva’s mind ran the thought through her head. I should be more broken inside right, I mean tragedy has struck me and my friends are dead. I met Mrs Sloan shortly after Julius died in that fire set by the villains who robbed the Natural History Museum, and amidst the emotions from the funeral goers I felt calm. I know I’ve been taking some medicine and the doctors say that it’s been helping me with my therapy, that and Dickens who they think is just a dog. The busy sidewalk street overflowed with people getting out of work, suits flooded the crosswalks and briefcases sat by their owners laps as they relaxed in the park, the day wasn’t bad as Eva mused what her mind could be thinking.

Eva had not made herself that publically known, of course there was the fight against Game Genie which was broadcasted on the news and talks of the sword girl had become more common in Pacific Point. None of which seemed to impact her life here in New York, Abraham had given her his number and set of to discover where the soul stone was taken. And Eva felt left out. Abe was more versed in the supernatural than her able to hunt and deal with just about any magical creature that lay before him or so he claimed. She did believe to an extent however and knew she had much to learn about all this new world for now she was boots to the ground trying to dig up info on Shock Jockey, whom had all but vanished. Perhaps it was her lack of skill gathering clues or just pure bad luck and timing that lead her with no leads.

Eva turned a corner and walked down an alley way the start of every bad end for most civilians. As cliche as it was a gunman was stalking Eva Walsh from the shadows a masked man who for all intents and purposes is a hired gun. His arm pulled back a gun from his back and set his arm into firing position all within a few seconds of Eva recognizing the threat. His moves were well practiced and he delivered a line on the off chance someone was listening. “Hand over your purse.” His finger was already poised to pull the trigger setting off Eva’s own flight or fight response as she herself summon Excalibur to her side something that spooked the hired hitman the Sewer lid behind him popped off and an arm lunged out from the darkness.

“WHERE THERE IS INJUSTICE I AM THERE. For like the enveloping night nothing is beyond the reach of the Law! Like a can of beans sitting in your pantry I am a comfort to all who need aid for the Grocers of Justice are open twenty four hours a day! Seven days a week!” He said yanking the gunman's hand towards himself and setting up a right hook to his jaw. With a POW!. His fist sent him into the wall of the nearest building he turned to Eva. “I would say you are safe! But you are no damsel. Do your parents know you’re running around with a dangerous weapon? Young fangirl I met some months ago.”

”Uhh” Eva said as she was unsure how to respond to his entrance. ”My guardian does.”

“Fair enough, say haven’t I seen that sword elsewhere?” Sewer Gator pondered with his bloody fist rubbing his gruff chin. “I have! You were on the news some time back, with that Genie business. I recognize the hoodie and sword combo. Well done fledgling hero.”

Eva was astounded, as clueless as he appeared he was not as dumb as she thought he was. Or perhaps she needed a proper costume.”Well. Yea, that was me.” Out of the corner of Eva’s eye she saw the gunman try to raise his gun again only for Sewer Gator to swiftly kick if from his hand without turning back.

“THE EYES OF JUSTICE CANNOT BE MUDDIED BY VILLAINY!” Sewer Gator beckoned to Eva to follow. “Come, we must go. The United Hero Front has been tracking this man ever since he entered this city. A tip from an Anonymous caller tipped us off. We have been searching for him for a while I need to alert the authorities to his capture.”

”Why? Is he a known killer.”

“That he is, a hitman hired to assassinate a young girl, that is all we know. I assume you were his target have any clues as to why?”

”Maybe, but nothing current springs to mind.”

“TO THE HERO DINER! We shall see if we can’t discover who hired this man but first. I MUST SEEK THE THRONE OF GODS. I think there’s a place around here with a bathroom.”

Mentions: @Dedonus(Kyra Muller)

---

Gloved fingers dug into triggers as soon as the crackle of water boiling hit the air. Gum recoiled deeper behind his hiding spot as 5.45×39mm rifle rounds and a single 12.7×41mmSR revolver round cut through the misty cover that erupted from Kyra. Muzzles flashes stung the young boy’s eyes, the snaps of bullets clawed at the inside of his ears, and even with the air drenched with water the foul fumes of spent gunpowder burned in his nostrils nearly making him wretch.

The shooting lasted only a moment. Gum and the robbers looked onwards expecting to hear a bullet ridden corpse crash to the wet floor. No sound came amidst the falling water and as soon as the steam cleared they were greeted with empty store space.

“Merde” Devil cursed, head darting to and fro in search of the foxy hero as Gum’s trouble face exploded into a smile.

“How’d she do that?” Gum could only wonder in barely restrain silence as a brief surge of panic seemed to sweep through the ranks of the robbers.

“Fockin’ damn it, did she turn invisible or somethin’?” Tower asked, spitting blood from his cut lips as he bent over and wrenched the whimpering (partially scalded) Hermit back to his feet.

“Unlikely.” Devil said quickly and firmly as he looked between the robbers. “Even if she turned invisible when the steam rose up we were firing enough that we would have at hit her a dozen times on pure accident. Fire isn’t her only trick it seems, she has some kind of movement based power.”

“Like teleporting?” Tower asked, thrusting Hermit’s AN-94 into his uninjured hand.

“Or turning into steam, slipping between dimensions, shrinking down to the size of my patience-” The Frenchmen’s words lingered as he turned his gaze back to the hostages and rubbed the hammer of his revolver.

“However it doesn’t matter where she can move. She’s still in this store and likely isn’t going to leave until we’ve bent over and kissed her furred ass like she expects criminals are supposed to. Everyone keep your eyes peeled and remain together!”

The robbers nodded collectively and turned their gaze outwards from the area they had previously fixed their gaze on. Those who were near the hostages moved forward, walking past them as they began to look towards the edges of the store for any sign of the intruder. Seeing his chance Gum slipped towards the hostages, walking in a crouch to lower his profile. Water had pooled to the point it was up to the welt’s of everyone’s shoes, making it difficult to move without splashing about. Yet the sprinklers still continued to drone on and masked Gum’s noise with their own.

Gagged and restrained not even the three hostages saw Gum as he came up behind them. Splaying his fingers out as hardened Keratin claws pushed from his finger tips.

Dragging the feline cutters across the hostages bindings Gum heard a series of satisfying snaps as he clipped through the zip cuffs and restraints. It was only now he had really begun to realize how properly sharp his otherwise small claws were.

“Just go out the back.”

He whispered into the ears of the employees as they shed their bonds with only the gags choking back screams of surprised. One by one the three minimum wage workers turned and stood to their feet. Despite Gum’s warnings however they abandoned any semblance of stealth and bolted towards the fire exit at the far rear of the store.

The splashing of three sets of shoes alerted one of the more keen eared robbers. Almost reflexively he shouldered his weapon and wrapped his finger around the trigger to fire. He failed to see the blue eared cat boy crouched down barely three feet away.

Without thinking Gum kicked off the floor and hurled himself at the robber, arm pulled back and hand opened wide. Only the splash of the young boy’s shoes bursting from the pooled water tipped the robber off and he turned his head just in time to see an arm swinging towards his face. In one swift motion Gum drew his right hand down the left side of the robber's face.

Claws, like steel razors cut into his forehead and were pulled straight downwards by the falling moment of Gum’s leap. Claws pushed down through the eyebrow and outright split into the eye with a hot oily spurt of fluids.

“ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”

A high pitched scream shook the store and every robber spun in place to see one of their colleges crash to the floor, a fount of blood spilling from a mess of gore where an eye had once been.

Gum landed on his feet in front of the collapsed man covered in a hearty smattering of red. The boy barely had time to fully realize what he’d done when another robber fired from the hip. Moving without thinking Gum rolled sideways throwing pooled water in a spray as bullets tore through the space where he had been moments before.

As he rolled Gum outstretched his arm and scooped the gun besides the fallen robber into his hands. Jerking to his feet the boy turned the rifle that seemed laughly large in his hands towards the man who had fired on him.

“!!!”

The armed man already had his finger on the trigger of his gun and even with Gum’s reflexes could have been the first to fire. Yet in that moment, and only that moment, the robber hesitated. A child was pointing a gun at him and his finger refused to listen to him.

Gum’s finger smashed back into the trigger of his rifle without a single loss in momentum. A brief, thunderous series of bangs cut through the air as half the clip of an AN-94 was emptied into a 27 year old robber.

No shout of pain or cry of agony escaped the second robber’s lips as he crashed to the ground. The high power rounds of the rifle had punched clean through the light kevlar vest he wore and had refused his lungs to the consistency of soup in a matter of moments.

It had only taken a instant to pull the trigger but for Gum the man’s body seemed to fall in slow motion. He felt as if he could see blood droplets land in and send ripples through the water pooling on the floor before the man’s body dropped. Adrenaline blasted through his bloodstream as he looked up to see every robber in the store point their guns at him.

Denied even a second to fully recognize what he’d done Gum bolted and ran to the right as Tower and the remaining robbers fired at him. His legs carried him ahead of their aim but only barely as wall of gunfire followed him, reducing the shelves and displays he passed to nothing in a haze of chaff.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Gum screamed, unable to contain his fear and unbridled panicked as he moved.

As Gum ran Devil stepped back and slid behind a shelf on the left side of the store watching as their hostages ran out the back door.

“As much as I hate to admit it the renard was right. We can either leave here in chains or in body bags, but not as free men. Not unless…”

Glancing around Devil reached into his jacket and pulled out a phone. At a glance the cellphone seemed like any other but it’s sleek exterior, dead black coloring, and the strange checkering across the entire frame gave away it’s more advanced nature.

Without a pause or the consideration of any alternative Devil opened the phone and speed dialed the only number stored to memory. Pressing the phone to his ear the dial tone rung in his ear drums before a voice on the end greeted him.

“Yes, it’s me. I’ve reconsidered your offer.”

“...”

“No.”

“...”

“Yes I understand I’ll be at a disadvantage in regards to negotiating our place in things but I’m willing to accept that for some assistance.”

“...?”

“Don’t act surprised, besides there’s more than enough in it for you. There are two here, but she said there were others on their way.”

“...”

“Hmmm. That’s less than ideal but as long as you actually come through it shouldn’t matter. We’ll try not to die then.”

Hitting the end call button Devil flipped the cell phone closed and tossed it to the floor. It had begun to smoke. By the time it fit the floor it’s frame had collapsed in itself the plastic melting and the circuitry cooking to unrecognizable state. Even in the constant drizzle of the sprinkler system the strange cell phone was quickly reduced to a blob of inert plastic...

There was a puff of rising duct from a book Merlin pulled from her shelf a title illegible to the human eye long lost and forgotten by mere mortals. She had been observing with the Eye of Gideon an orb which saw anything she chose that was unshielded by unconventional means and the siren that lived in Lost Haven was of great interest bending the natural flow of leylines and being fed directly from them to sustain her lifeforce likely Merlin mused unknowingly as the creature who began calling itself Bernice was ignorant of her own ability. But more interesting than that was the people who gathered around her as she tore chaotically through the daily lives of innocent bystanders.

The Young Alchemist who scavenged buildings was unimportant a useless side character in Merlin’s eyes, but the bearded man. He was someone she had met in another life and the reason she herself had yet to swoop down and swipe this creature for her own personal studies. Salamander, what a quaint title he chose. But it was time to say hello and see how this version differs from his otherworldly doppleganger.

A door opened on the edge of Lost Haven it was an unassuming apartment just next to a chinese restaurant wearing a little more than a thin robe covering the essentials she floated above the masses and past the forests would soon catch Salamander’s eye.

The old man didn’t bother opening his eyes, leaning against a tree and looking for all the world like he was just taking a nap. One eyebrow quirked underneath his hat, however, and he mumbled under his breath, though perfectly audible to his new visitor.

“This is becoming quite the popular spot for something most know as the ‘quiet’ countryside. What, precisely, are you doing here?” His eyes opened slightly, and he fingered the pommel of the sword at his hip idly. “Mind you, of course, the siren is under my protection, not a loose player.”

”I didn’t come for a serenade. I came because you were wanting people to see you, and I was keeping watch for who would come for this interesting specimen. Lo and behold the Crow of all beings. I called you friend for lack of a better world in an alternate universe. Surely you have begun to notice things are changing in this new age. Magic is beginning to awaken like it was once long ago, oh and the Fae are in a tizzy thanks to foolish humans.”

The Salamander chuckled. “Go figure, you’re the first of all the spectacularities in this town to notice I showed up. Well, it’s not like I was planning on throwing a party, really.” He struggled up out of his prone position and glanced up. “You certainly know how to make an entrance, I’ll grant you that. What’s this business about the Fae, though? This humble joke I’m stuck in doesn’t let me have too much of an awareness these days.”

Stepping on the soft earth with her bare feet.”I should, I’m almost as old as you are though I keep my youthful appearance. As for the Fae it’s not too significant to beings like us humans calling themselves the Hounds of Humanity burned down a Fae nightclub a dance tavern I suppose would be more familiar a term. They’ve been killing those they deem unnatural. As if they have that right to decide when we have been on this earth far longer. I suppose though I’ve yet to introduce myself forgive me I nearly forgot. I am Merlin one who has seen other worlds and ascended from magics practiced by mortals. Speaking of which, have you seen Solomon’s Ring?”

The old man peered at her, eyes flicking back to their bird state. “Mighty high up there on your chair, mortal. However powerful you might be, you haven’t really gotten past being one of them yet.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Nevermind, didn’t mean to insult. No, I haven’t seen that ring, nor would I let go of it if I had. I suppose you already know who I am, then, seeing as what you called me earlier, though I’d prefer if you didn’t call me that in front of anyone else. Salamander will do just fine until I can wring Coyote’s neck myself.”

“As for threats from those...what did you call them? Dogs? Anyway, them. If they’re good enough to piss off the Fae instead of being amusing, you may very well have to step in yourself. Not exactly easy to raise them up. I know. I’ve tried. But they do sound like the same stupid bastards who have been around as long as humans have, always the ones in a crowd who can’t stand to see people as miserable as they are. Nasty bits of work, usually. I still remember the Forties vividly.”

“And,” he added, “You still haven’t answered my question. Can’t trick a trickster, madam.”

”Very well. I have knowledge to transcend mortal magics, but not the ability. Bobbles filled with magic are always within reach and I often switch between sources to best ensure victory. I have the training but lack the pool with to draw magic from. While not an issue for mortals if I wish to entertain beings who have called themselves gods I need to properly ascend. Solomon’s Ring would go a long way to achieving that. And you. I’ve had little interest though with these Hounds I felt that’s not something I should concern myself with at the moment. Tis why I keep Arthur’s heir by my side. She’s the one who’ll deal with this and the Fae and if she fails perhaps I will step in.” Merlin noticed Crow raise a brow, and realized he had yet to notice Excalibur’s return. ”You don’t know do you? Excalibur has chosen again. A young girl of Arthur’s bloodline is to be the next Champion. Perhaps I will introduce her to you soon.”

Salamander stood there for a second, sorting through that information. His eyes glazed momentarily over the thought of having the sword, though he knew better than to try and take it directly. And then he laughed, long and loud, bending over almost double for a moment. Once he had calmed down, he said, “You white people and your damned ‘bloodline’ this and ‘heir’ that. Man, you guys crack me up. But,” his expression sobered. “If you want her to meet me, I’d be fine with that. Blood or no, the blade picking a person is pretty impressive. So sure, bring her by. I’ll be here.” He gestured expansively at the hill behind him, upon which rested the cottage ruins.

“And if you want her taught a few tricks, that could be arranged too, though it’ll cost you, of course.”

Merlin smirked. ”And you’re love of shiny things shines once again. Maybe I’ll dangle a quarter next time I visit. And your, what do you call her, protoge? Can meet the girl, Evangeline or Eva as she prefers. We could do well to test their potential against these Hounds. However, you’re ties with other gods. If you learn something about the ring I’d quite like to know.”

“Yes, tempering them in the fires of battle could be good. A way to see how far yours has come along and where I need to start with mine. As for the Ring, I’ll keep my eyes open, but no promises. You’ve probably got a better means of finding it than I do at present.” He gestured at himself. “Fucking Coyote has a few centuries to pay for with this one.”

”I wouldn’t mind helping with that, I could find a spell in the Arcanium Magisterium.”

“Ha! If you can find a spell in your book to undo one of his pranks, you’ll be the talk of the town, missy. Up top and down below. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he said, getting back into his former position, “I have napping to catch up on. These old bones, you understand.”

Darya sighed expressively as she stared at the blank page of the spiral notebook sitting in front of her. Despite the window being open and both fans running at top speed, her room was blistering, but trying to do her homework anywhere else would have been distracting. Half of her cousins had shown up today for some sort of event planning, and it was too sunny out for her to go to the park without getting heatstroke.

She leaned back in her chair and stared at the tapestries adorning her ceiling, trying to recall what it was that made sodium so interesting to her professor. Something about combinations with other elements, maybe, she thought to herself. The glass of water on her desk rattled in response to the thought, its contents sloshing about as they responded to her subconscious. She let her chair fall forward and caught the glass before it tipped over, the few drops that escaped suspended in midair until she opened her mouth and steered them in to amuse herself.

Even with practise, she was still very much feeling like a newborn learning how to walk with these powers, at least compared to the others she had worked with. Thunderbird, especially, seemed like he had been born to his powers, using them by reflex instead of effort. And while they had all told her that she'd get used to it in time, she couldn't shake the feeling that it was going to be a long road.

Interrupting her thoughts, the ringtone she had set for the group she had just been thinking of broke the monotony of sound in her room, vastly overshadowing the drone of the fan. She snatched her cellular up, eager for anything to alleviate the tedium of homework, and hit the answer button.

“Hello? This is D- Tiamat.” She winced, silently cursing herself for her slip up.

“Tiamat, this is Rocky. You should turn on the television. Channel Seven. Two minutes.” As usual, he hung up immediately after talking, a habit she disliked intensely.

Fuming at her part time compatriot, Darya scrambled up out of her chair, out her door, down the stairs, and into the maelstrom of small children that her living room was, only Leila and Anouseh, the youngest of her aunts, to manage them. Basir was busy trying to make his way to the couch as well, but had been mobbed. She slid past him and the distracted children, snatched the remote away from his hand as she passed, and snuck into an empty spot, ignoring his belated protest at the theft. She rang the bell sitting on the end table, a signal that everyone should be quiet for something important. All of the children had learned from the beginning to obey this signal, and all three of the other adults turned sharply to her. It was not used to restore order, but the air of rapt attention she wore had them and the kids all look to the television, which flickered to life and flipped over to the channel she had been directed to.

One of the afternoon news broadcasts came on from a commercial break. A doll-like blonde woman looked into the camera and said, “Welcome back. Now, we have some exciting stuff for you. Coming live from Denver, our own Samantha Powers has been called to interview very special guests. Samantha?”

The live feed showed a small Latina woman, standing in a power suit in front of a building Darya recognised. She swore out loud. “Thanks Tammy. We're here with the members of the United Southwest Heroes Association. Ah, let me see if I've got this right. Thunderbird, Rocky, Broadway, and Doc Holliday?”

The four were standing right there, just outside of one of the various buildings they'd met at before missions. Not a headquarters, but more like one of several clubhouses, kept varied for security's sake. Doc tipped his hat so cheesily it caused Anouseh to giggle.

“Yes'm, got 'em pat.” Darya rolled her eyes at his drawl, which she knew to be an affectation. Holliday was actually from Chicago originally.

“And you've asked us here specifically, today?”

Thunderbird nodded, his face grave as always. “We wished, as one of the only organisations in our field, to address the current terrorist attacks across the country, and indeed, the world.”

Samantha looked as though she had just been slapped, clearly having expected some human interest piece or perhaps a kind of public service announcement, not a direct response. But the heroes plowed forward before she could try and steer the interview off to easier-to-digest subjects.

Broadway spoke next, her hair glittering unnaturally with her powers. “Make no mistake, citizens, this is terrorism. Not only that, but murder and arson. These people have killed so, so many innocents already, and they do not plan to stop. So, as citizens of America, we must stop them.”

Doc took up the baton. “An' we don' jest mean us supers, either. All of us Americans have fought against tyranny and oppression, in all of its forms, as long as we've been around. Heck, we started this country on those very same ideals, and these rotten ess oh bees have done turned those ideals upside down. There have been plenny o' groups what wanted to 'purify' the human race. An' we know what happens to them.” He winked at the camera.

This time it was Rocky, with his deep and rumbling voice. Unlike the others, he didn't wear a mask. Darya knew this was because he lived alone, his entire family having died long ago, and was unafraid of exposure. With his stature and build, he also gave the distinct impression of a talking mountain. “These 'Hounds of Humanity,' he said, with a completely undisguised tone of hatred, “want not just that, though, horrible as it already is. These sorts of people will not stop once they have purged us metahumans out, though, should they accomplish that goal. The type of person who join such groups will always be afraid of the different, the unique, the special. And thus they will turn their sights on so-called 'normal' people. Any who threaten them will be targets, you can be sure of that.”

“Thus, we cannot be lax,” Thunderbird said, “in our defense, not just of ourselves, but of America and the world at large. We ask that any who are willing to stand up to these terrorists do so, but do so safely. Do not expose yourselves to danger, but work to cut their influence where you can. Those in the Southwest know that we strive only for peace and protection of those in our area. We urge others to do the same, and to ensure that, above all, no more innocent people die, whether through the Hounds or through our own inaction. The police, try as they might, are outmatched.”

Broadway grinned, always the saleswoman even through her mask. Her teeth actually sparkled. “And that's why we're recruiting! We can't fight back against this threat by ourselves, in tiny groups of one and two. So the USHA is officially re-branding, as of this interview. The United Heroes Organisation will be working closely with the FBI, state police, National Guard, and elected representatives to assemble a task force to combat this new threat and make America safe again! And we need any and all metahumans, wizards, fairies, and anyone else with unique talents to step up to the plate! No one's identities will be compromised! Just show up to your local FBI office with your normal heroing gear and sign up!”

Having finally gotten a chance to talk, Samantha immediately began with the questions. “So you're government sanctioned now?”

Doc grimaced. “We really don't want that to be the term you use, but fer all the fancy legalese, yep. We are.”

“Are you then replacing STRIKE?”

Thunderbird shook his head. “No. Those were fine men and women, but they were a government agency. Think of us more along the lines of the task force that brought down Pablo Escobar in the nineties.”

“And what do you say to those metahumans who represent what the Hounds say all of you are like? The villains?”

Rocky growled. “As much as we hate to admit it, we need all the help we can get. But amnesty will only last until the Hounds are taken care of. And, if they can't even help out for the good of their own survival, then they should just keep their heads down and stay out of our way.”

Darya clicked off the television and stood up in a daze. The family members present looked up at her, and Leila said what they all were thinking. “We already said you must do what is in your heart, sister. Go. I will make sure your homework is ready when you come back.”

Within the hour, the broadcast had been repeated on every single public news channel, and it was all the late night shows could do to not kill each other to have Broadway on their next episodes. It seemed the heroes were finally getting their act together. Darya personally thought it wasn't soon enough.

---

Horse and Hattock, Horse and go,
Horse and Pellatis, Ho! Ho!

The words echoed through the shop, followed by the low howling of wind through crevices in the wooden frame.

Tout tout, a tout tout,
Throughout and about,
Here and there, hence and thence!

A dull ring sounded like the tiny jingle of chimes or twinkling of bells, heralding the arrival of some faerie creature or the beginning of a work of the Arte.

Fair is foul and foul is fair,
Hover through the fog and filthy air!

Each charm added to the potency of the last, the long string of trasnvection formulae weaved together to invoke the witch’s powers of flight.

Madalena sat astride an alder branch fitted with dark bristles recently collected. In the storage space behind Shadow of the Moon, she watched as her feet began to slowly lift from the ground. She had done it! With some luck, Madalena had achieved full levitation. Her sense of wonder was quickly interrupted, however, by a sharp bump on the head and a heavy plop on the concrete floor.

”GAAH, Goddamiit!” she cried, rubbing her head and setting herself upright. She examined the broom to make sure it wasn’t broken, then her leg to search for a sprain. Her priorities were a little mixed up, but she had taken hours to fasten all those twigs into bristles and she didn’t want to go through the trouble a second time in less than twenty-four hours.

That’s what I get for flying in doors . . . and on the clock. Madalena mentally scolded herself, propping the broom against an empty shelf and making her way into the main store.

Her bargain with Puck had gone over well. After signing his book, she was given a stack of books related to Old World witchery and magical lore, as well as a splitting headache from the knowledge Puck had imparted directly. It wasn’t much and she would certainly need to do her research to fill in the blanks, but it was enough to give her some extra leverage over the Hounds when they came knocking.

Of course, Madalena did what any other aspiring witch would do first, or so she imagined, and went straight to the flying ointments. She’d seen too many stills of the White Witch not to want to experience such a thing first hand. It had taken her only a day and a half to induce complete levitation, but actual flight was a different matter entirely. Madalena hadn’t the courage to attempt full flight. With the threat of the Hounds still looming, she thought it best to practice such magic in private . . . or at least behind a locked door.

Madalena positioned herself behind the register, thumbing through a few small journals Puck had left. Most were written, at least in part, in some foreign or mystical language with which she was now familiar, but it was still exhausting trying to mentally translate everything. Instead, she looked for pages and titles that stuck out. Her skimming was interrupted, however, by the familiar ding of the bell on the entrance and heavy footsteps.

Madalena was confronted by the sight of five darkly clad, armed men barging into the store and moving hastily to her place behind the counter.

This is it, she thought anxiously, this is what Puck prepared me for. I have to stay calm, I have to hold my ground.

Madalena continued to coach herself as she stepped out from behind the counter to meet the leader of the small group, much to his surprise. She stood with her arms tucked behind her back, legs straight, sporting a welcoming smile.

”Well met!” she greeted the Hounds as she would any other customer, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster despite how internally distressed she was. ”What can I do for you gentlemen today?”

The men positioned themselves strategically about the store, stopping when Madalena greeted them. They looked at each other and laughed, the leader, a tall man in slightly bulkier body armor and face fully obscured, stepped forward, mere inches away from Madalena.

“Well now, what’s this? Hospitality?” the man’s muffled voice shook Madalena to her core. She knew that she shouldn’t be intimidated given all the protections the Puck had promised, but she couldn’t help herself. Knowing that she had the means to defend herself wasn’t enough to rid her of the fear of confrontation.

”Of course, you’re my guests aren’t you? What kind of owner would I be if I didn’t warmly greet my customers. Speaking of, isn’t it a little hot to be walking around in all that black? A moon and star print skirt or black mesh blouse is one thing, but you’re all decked out head to toe. Do those chafe?” Madalena rambled. It wasn’t uncommon for her to be overly chatty, though her nerves were likely driving this conversation.

“You picked the wrong day to come into work, little miss. It’s about to be a lot hotter in here than in this armor.” The man readied his weapon, signalling for his men to complete their mission. One by one they began turning over displays, smashing statues and trinkets, dousing tapestries, rugs, and robes in accelerant.

Their leader backed Madalena into the counter.

“Must be sad to watch all your hard work go up in flames. Maybe you should stay here and go down with the ship.”

He tripped Madalena and fastened a cuffed her left hand to a heavy display case by the register. She gasped as the wind was knocked out of her.

W-what do I do? her mind raced, searching for an answer. They had been more forceful than she anticipated. She wanted to believe that they would go easy on her if she cooperated early on, but now she could see that Puck was right. They didn’t care if she posed a true threat, she was just in the way.

”WAIT!” Madalena cried as one of the men took out a lighter. He lit it without looking over to her. She would have to show more conviction. ”I can help you, you know! I can’t do any magic myself, but it’s my job to know about it! If-if you let me go, I-I-I can give you information! Yeah, I’ve heard some things from customers, I’ve read about magic for years, I could b-be an asset, please!”

Madalena was genuinely pleading for her life. Puck’s promises did little to comfort her despite knowing that he would hold up his end of their bargain. Fortunately, Madalena’s desperate cries were to her advantage.

The Hound leader ordered his men to halt their destruction, turning to Madalena and kneeling down in front of her. He held her head level with his, staring into her eyes through thick goggles that hid his own, then dropping her chin and turning back to his men.

“What do we think boys?” He convened with his group.

“You can’t trust the bitch, she’ll say anything,” one replied.

“Yeah,” another agreed.

“I don’t know, the General told us she was harmless,” the third member spoke up.

“And he has been lookin’ for informants . . .” the last member chimed in.

“Well then,” the leader said, walking over to Madalena. “I guess today’s your lucky day. It just so happens that the Witchfinder General needs the lowdown on bitches like you.”

He unfastened her restraints, then shoved a simple, black, flip phone into her hand before signalling his men to leave the shop.

“We’ll be in touch. Oh, and I wouldn’t leave town if I were you . . . he’ll know.”

He slammed the door with enough force to shatter the lower glass pane. The few shelves that remained relinquished the last of their displays onto the floor, shattering them instantly. Shadow of the Moon was a mess, but it was still standing and Madalena was still alive.

She slumped down onto the floor and let out a long sigh, fighting back tears. If ever there was a time to cry, to let out her frustration, now seemed most appropriate. But Madalena was tired of crying, she was tired of being taken by surprise. It may not have gone the way she wanted, but she had succeeded and was mostly unharmed.

”I did it.” Madalena whispered to herself, head turned up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Phase one was complete, but she dared not think of what was yet to come.

Surrounded by jars of varying substances and scented candles a circle lay chalked on the floor as Carol read words of great power speaking in an unknown tongue and lost language as Barron stood off to the side going over various reports of magically inclined individuals of interest.

As the circle reached the ceiling and soon a form began to appear Carol spoke first welcoming her guest. “Ah. Mrs. Valis there are things we’d like to speak about, myself and my husband. Roman Adessi’s death is a tragedy, but one wholly brought upon himself. The Five Families or is it four now? No matter. They’re actively dismissing our armed escorts in favor of their own inadequate security details. We cannot defend them if they set us out on the streets and give us false addresses.”

Hekate’s face was grim. As the smoke which conjured her presence cleared, it was apparent to the Vanderbilt’s that she had been in mourning for some time, and her expression was dark and unyielding. This wasn’t the time for such discussion, but Hekate had put herself at their mercy. She answered to their call because she had to, because keeping herself distant would only hurt their already strained relationship.

”Mrs. Vanderbilt,” Hekate greeted Carol with a heavy sigh. She straightened herself, trying to hold back her grief and rage. ”These are trying times for the Fi . . . Four Families. It is only recently that they have been brought together in peace, and so soon after, one of their own was taken.” Hekate held back a sob.

”They are stubborn, I must admit. Traditionalists, all of them. In their eyes, they are the only ones fit to look out for their own, and given what has just transpired, I would say that they are understandably cautious of giving out the location of their strongholds to just anyone.”

Barron slipped his arms to his sides with his left holding a tablet. ”Forgive me if I seem callous, death was more common than shit in my last world, but we should use this tragedy to galvanize the rest of the families. Bring them to action and while terrible use this event to strengthen their alliance. Because I don’t intend to sit idly by, if someone lights a fire I find them and burn them with their own flames. I’ve been thinking it’s about time we get on the offensive. I’ve been gathering reports, various Champions are rising again, Excalibur has returned. And since Broker is also a concern one I no longer have a viable option to deal with.” Barron said while a scroll laid on his desk.

”You knew that. I know that, I may not have the magic nor the wisdom. But I know god complex when I see it. You aren’t the first to play this game with me, Robert House tried this too thinking I wasn’t capable of pulling a stunt to outsmart him. But I’m big enough to put this behind me, we have more pressing matters to deal with.”

Hekate perked up at the sight of the scroll. She wondered how long it would take for Barron to get past her rouse.

”I’ll not deny that I deceived you, used your ignorance of magic to give you false hope. But while we’re on the subject, allow me to explain. This isn’t something that needs to be looked over.”

Hekate positioned herself between Carol and Barron, speaking to both but more so to Barron. She crossed her arms and spoke sternly.

”This attitude you seem to have, the idea that you can ‘outsmart’ or ‘one-up’ myself or any like me, that is what I’m trying to circumvent. You, Mr. Vanderbilt, suffer from the same affliction as Mr. Adessi . . . hubris, blinding hubris. You think yourself superior, that given you stature and ambition you have power enough to turn the tide ever in your favor, and this simply isn’t true.

“I offered you a false cure for Broker because there is no cure, there is no way of dealing with him in the manner you wish, and that you believe so shows how little you know. This world is so full of monsters and horrors, older and greater than yourself, with powers that should make you shudder. They care not for you for to them, you, even an Elder Vampire, are a grain of sand. You said that there were no gods in your world, but there are billions here. Beings of power that will use you to their own ends. It is to your benefit, Mr. Vanderbilt, to learn this quickly. A time may come when you do not have someone like myself to remind you of it, and then where will you be?”

Hekate came off as harsh, but it was necessary. She wished to ensure that Barron knew just how unpredictable this portion of the world was, how the unseen world would be his undoing lest he heeded her warning.

Barron smiled, it was malevolent, filled with a sense of excitement and bloodlust.”See, see. That’s what makes it exciting. My world had no gods, no masters, only man. It was flesh and teeth, bullets and disease. You could fire a gun and someone surely would die. As much as I enjoy living I love being tested against what would inevitably kill me. I am aware that yes, I lack a lot of power compared to gods and sure I’m far too cocky for my own good. But I also know I don’t have to do this alone, nor do I intend to. If Broker becomes a problem I will have an answer, if you fail to see one that is your shortsightedness. There is always an answer. And I will find it. Even if I have to use others to obtain my ends. I will use everything at my disposal.”

Shuffling back over to his desk he placed his hands atop the corners and smiled as he looked back. ”And where will I be then. Thrilled. Should death take me I’ll give everyone a good thrashing, should I stand victorious I toast to my enemies. But I will win in the end. That is the Vanderbilt way.” Turning back to face Hekate. ”And what will you do? The Hounds of Humanity are closing in, this may be the darkest hour facing many supernaturals who cannot defend themselves. I plan to have a counter measure. A team. Champions who will defend us, question is where do you stand? I have no intention of taking a seat on the sidelines. My home lies in flames, the Fae are riled up. And the Families can’t turtle up hoping this passes quietly.”

”Do not be fooled, Mr. Vanderbilt,” Hekate replied, lowering her arms to her sides and calming her posture. ”Neither myself nor the remaining families intend to sit idly by while this city burns. I have a plan in mind, not unlike your own. And despite my single transgression, we have a standing contract. My small betrayal was no betrayal at all, only a warning, a test. You and I shall yet work towards a common goal, and I welcome any measures you plan to implement in dealing with these Hound filth.”

Hekate sighed. She wasn’t sure what it meant, if it were a sign of defeat or compromise, but it was heavy with feelings she couldn’t put to words.

”To that end, I shall speak with the families on your behalf and remind them that you are to be trusted, as are your men.”

With pause Carol spoke. “And I think I’ll take your offer as well. Deepen my studies in magic.”

Barron placed his hands on her shoulders.”Really!? That’s great news. Would you kindly Mrs. Valis?”

Hekate looked uneasy. Carol did interest her as a potential student. She had all the makings of a powerful witch . . . but she and her husband’s ideas on magic were less than traditional.

”Tell me, Mrs. Vanderbilt, do you intend to fill the void left by Roman and his family by taking up witchcraft?”

“It is tempting. But I don’t think they’d accept me just yet. I’d need a few years to be close I think. For now we’re just the Vanderbilts. Your Swords, your Shields.”

”Very well,” Hekate replied with a wide grin. ”I shall ignite that vital spark within you, grant you the witch-fire and instruct you in the craft of the wise. But know this, to the other families, witchery is their life, it is their legacy. They trace their roots back to the colonists of the 17th century, some further into the Old World. Magic is a tool, yes, but in order to one day be seen as a member of the Five Families, you will need to treat witchcraft with the respect it deserves and demands. It is not a frivolous art. Well . . . sometimes.”

Hekate smiled. It had been some time since she oversaw another witch’s instruction. This would be fun. Quickly, she turned to Barron as an aside.

”That does not mean, however, that you can’t have your associates dabbling in other arts. Though your wife and her subsequent students must uphold a proper witching tradition, you and those you know may do as they wish, as I’m sure you were already aware.”

Location: Las Vegas, Hotel & Smitty's
Time: Starting Time 7:00 pm to 9 pm

If it hadn’t been for the sudden appearance of another set of twins Yeong wasn’t quite sure how they would have slept. Though to be honest the two’s sudden appearance, as much as it twas a god send, was a bit suspicious. No matter how well Ji spoke to them in order to explain the situation the longer this uncomfortable feeling laid in wait. As if the feeling was a snake like creature waiting for it’s prey to fall into its grasp before adding the finishing blows. The werewolf felt the taste sour on her tongue. Mentally she was hopping her older sibling wouldn't take their rather sweetened offer of a decent room and a bed to sleep in. Yet when the calmer twin tried to look further into how to repay them there was only one reply; helping with their problem when the time came. After this they barely saw the two for the rest of the night or at least that’s how it seemed.

---

The next morning the girl mumbled in her sleep, every muscle screaming for release do sitting in that god forsaken car. Then again at least it wasn’t anything higher up from the ground. Not that this seemed to bother her as much as Ji. Her figure slowly inched from the soft bed as a groaned worked from her throat. ” Shit. Why does everything hurt? Ngh. Ji. Your phone is going off.” She called out loudly as the sound continued to fill the once quiet air.

A dirty look towards the second bed in the room was all the werewolf needed in order to semi calculate where to throw one of the two pillows on the bed directly at the oldest one. Even though the younger twin wanted to smack her sister, in an attempt to awaken her from her deep slumber, the object could have smacked someone or somewhere else.

Ben reached over and caught the pillow before it could plow into the sleeping form of Freya, lounging against the wall next to him. He himself was in a chair, quietly reading his book. He looked up, smiling lightly. “Don’t look at me. I can’t answer it, whoever it is would be really freaked out if I was the one who answered.” He returned to his book.

” Oh. You two are still here.” She said in a rather distasteful tone. The woman's features twisted into something between distrust and panic. Though after a few moments she was able to recall what happened the previous night. A hand reached for the stand and the familiar locked screen seemed to flicker in place. Normally Yeong wouldn't have known the password, due to her sibling changing it all the time, but this time she did.

After putting it in the werewolf groaned. ” Great. Looks like the newborn has sent us the meeting spot. Should we awaken our siblings or talk?”

“Yes we’re still here. It’s weird how the people who said they’d help you with your problems if in return you help them with their problems decide to stick around.” Ben quipped, looking over his book at her. [color=goldenrod]”If there’s a meeting spot we should probably get to it. I’ll awaken my pain, you awaken yours and we’ll all hop in the Dov.” After shaking their respective twins awake, the Dover twins snagged breakfast and then joined the two werewolves in the Dov. It didn’t take long for Freya to once again take over the face of the duo, chattering away while Ben went back to his book.

When they arrived at the meeting spot, the Dover Twins let their new allies take the lead. They stayed, as inconspicously as their massive frames allowed them, to the back, awaiting the verdict.

_{banner credit to Hellis}

---

Time: Evening - Present Day
Location: Smithy's Grocery Store - Meat Aisle, Las Vegas

The busy grocery store was in full motion, shoppers pushing grocery carts, cashiers ringing through items. People milled about, around the small group meeting in the meat aisle. Katarina, Benjamin and the White Witch were joined by two sets of twins Yeong and Ji, and Freya and Ben. The two incredibly tall fraternal twins forcing shoppers to turn around. While the others were unseemingly holding strange qualities just below the surface. Introductions were passed amongst themselves.

They truly held no notion, no preconceived understanding of whom now approached.

Invisible to the eyes but not unnoticed by a nose blue mist seeped underneath door frames, through open windows. It moved around people everywhere in the store, every shopper. But, ignored the small group of supernaturals, metas and witch. It settled, one by one people around them dropped collapsing into an unconscious heap. Asleep in whatever position they were in. Slumping over countertops, against shelves, falling to the laminate floor.

An eerie quiet descended upon the lobby. A moment of pause stretched, then lights began flickering out, one by one the fluorescents above went dark. Wall lights rapidly flickered off. Emergency exit lights popped on, giving the store some illumination, however it paled in comparison from harsh brightness before. Shadows stretched long in all directions. From where they stood they could see the bright Las Vegas strip dim then disappear in swathes of darkness.

If one was looking closely, they’d see the shadows had begun to move unnaturally shifting into various shapes. The Fey, unbidden by their natural invisibility had begun to crawl from the depths of the shadows on a chorus of haunting giggles, the sound carried no real direction but as if they were being heard a great distance away. They crawled down the walls, across the sleeping humans. Over the top of grocery store shelves, making perches out of the hanging sale sign, hiding amongst displays. They all spoke in a tingly, strange language, akin to the ringing of a bell. Waiting in anticipation for the arrival of their Ambassador.

Amidst the babbling chorus of the Fey, the sound of the automatic doors sliding open could almost be lost. What couldn’t be missed, however, was when they were cast open to reveal the looming form of an 8 foot tall figure. What little light remained played strangely across the surface of Mandate’s smooth and broad frame, and the low glow of her crimson eye stood out in the gloom.

The golem’s gaze focused upon the non-Fey occupants of the area, before sweeping across those who were asleep in the store. Finally, with a single seemingly ponderous step, the massive figure cleared the doorway. Standing aside, she gestured inwards. ”They’re here, Miss Ambassador.”

Stepping through the threshold, the Fey quieted upon her arrival. Standing with her back straight, nude Prada heels with an enamel sheen clacked against the laminate floors striding forward. Stepping over the sleeping body of a woman. The Ambassador dressed fashionably as always. She wore a knee length pale pink skirt, a white transparent blouse, opened with a white v necked top beneath it. She wore a silver blue topaz tear drop necklace and earrings to match. On her elbow was her purse.

Bach walked a pace behind her in his typical dark green jacket, with various wooden and leafy jewellery hung around his neck. Leaves readily falling from his head, notably two horns poked up high from his temple. Dark yellow eyes surveyed the small group, he had his hands deep in his pockets.

The trio strode forward stopping, with several feet between them. Her lips were pink, makeup done with a practiced hand for perfection. “Bonsoir, ladies and gentlemen. I truly hope I am not intruding but I feel as though, we should have been invited to this little gathering.” She laughed behind a soft hand her French accent colouring her fluent English. “For reasons none of you are privy to of course, but that is why I am here. To inform you.”

She turned her eyes onto the White Witch, the charm illusion she wore made her face appear subtly different, an impressive little mask. But her body, stature and aura about her was unmistakably that of Gwyneth Owens. Particularly witchy with the shadow of a familiar hanging about her. Odette pondered if it was Holt who guarded her now. Her icy blue eyes swept over to the boy-werewolf, the Fey around them whispered about them all. Werewolves, reeking of the beastial magic. The twin girls seemed to have some magical potential about them as well.

The other set of fraternal twins were a mystery to her, tall as Mandate, faces she did not recognize. She assumed acquaintance the way the stood away from the others. The vampire though earned a sniff, her undead presence plain in the pallor of her skin and the colourless eyes.

“It has been sometime since you and I had met, White Witch. You’ve found yourself some new friends. Although…” She paused thoughtfully tapping her chin. “It seems you pulled them straight out of a young adult novel.” She laughed again, the Fey among them laughed with her.

Mandate giggled along with the fey, though it did not show except in the slight shake to her shoulders. Her gaze settled upon the White Witch from where she stood behind the Ambassador, before sweeping over the others present once more. There wasn’t much to be seen, as far as the golem could tell; she didn’t have the eye or the sense for magical things that the Ambassador did. She’d ask her about it later.

She inhaled then sighed lightly, “I have made some new friends as well. Your faces are all new to me so allow me to introduce us. My name is The Ambassador of the Fair Folk,” Gently she placed her hand on her chest then gestured to Mandate, “My golem friend is known as the Indomitable Enforcer of the Divine Mandate. Mandate for short.”

The golem in question raised one massive hand, giving a small and polite wave. ”Hello!” she greeted cheerfully. Her harmonious voice and warm demeanor was perhaps at odds with her broad, towering figure, though it matched the strange ‘smile’ on her face. ”Mandate is fine.” she assured them, nodding to the Ambassador.

The Fey gathered watching the small group, waiting for their own responses. Ready to leap to aid on a single order from their Ambassador. Bach, invisible to those without the Sight stood idly by, grinning lazily himself. The air was chilled, tension palpable twisted like a spring.

"...Voyager's mysterious disappearance continues..."

Riley mumbled as the sound of her superhero name roused her back to semi-consciousness. She felt terribly numb, like she had been surrounded by white noise. As her senses came back to her, she realized she was someplace dark and cramped, and as she tried to move she realized her arms and legs were twisted into a rather awkward position. Light seemed to be leaking from what looked like a door, and as her hearing came back Riley thought she could hear someone on the other side.

"H-hello?" she croaked, her voice sounding hoarse from the lack of use. Immediately the sound of voices stopped, replaced by a sudden shuffling of movement. Straightening herself out, she powered on one of her psi-shields to illuminate the cramped area. She caught a glimpses of what looked like piles of clothes and boxes piled haphazardly around her. Before she could get a better look, there was a click and the door swung open, blinding Riley with the sudden onslaught of light. Throwing her arms up to shield her eyes, she shifted just enough to tumble right outside the small room, landing on her back at someone's feet.

"Oh....duck...." The voice sounded familiar. As her eyes quickly adjusted to the light, Voyager glanced around what looked like some sort of living space before looking up at the knight-like helmet of...

"Fullbright?" Voyager asked, more confused then anything else. "Why am I in your closet?" The white steel and golden helmet quivered slightly as Fullbright shook with panicked terror, and Voyager realized that her enemy was wearing a rather ordinary t-shirt and jeans combo instead of her usual vestments.

"It's...a very long story, Voyager." Going by the fact that she had dropped her usual theatrical voice, it was clear that Fullbright had no idea what to do in this situation, and Voyager didn't really have much of an idea either.

"Well...could you help me up?"

A few moments later Voyager was up and sitting on Fullbright's sofa, idly picking at loose threads in her severely battle-damaged uniform. She tried to think back to what caused all of it, but couldn't place her finger on it. Had this all been from that fire? It was the last thing she remembered doing before she woke up again. Fullbright walked back over and tossed Voyager a water bottle, which she easily caught and gulped down.

"Honestly, we all thought you were dead," Fullbright commented as she stared at the half-alien.

"Um, we?"

"Well, Fangs was the one who found you and brought you here. The others really didn't know what to do with the Hounds running around-"

"There are dogs running around?"

"Uh, not those kind of dogs..." Fullbright said, scratching the back of her neck. "I mean the Hounds of Humanity. They're some paramilitary terrorist group. They popped up a few days ago the night we found you, and they've been hunting down and shooting up meta hangouts since then. Amorphous almost got himself killed the other day, poor guy." Riley was about to ask if Amorphous was badly hurt before something clicked in her head.

"Wait, a few days ago? But I just fell asleep last night..."

"Last night was three days ago, Voyager," Fullbright said bluntly. "I don't know what happened but you've been out since Fangs and that Airbender girl brought you over."

Voyager felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. Bad guys were running around Pacific Point, and she was asleep for three whole days. How many people had been hurt when she was away? How many people were dead that she could have saved. And Martel and Jordan...would they have thought that she had been killed too?

"I don't really know why we kept you around, since all of us are kind of, well, enemies," Fullbright said awkwardly, patting Voyager on the shoulder as the alien girl stared blankly at the floor, confusion warring with the shock of what was happening. "But since the Hounds are after people like us we're all on the same side. Enemy of my enemy and all that."

"But, what do the Hound people want to hurt Metahumans for?" Voyager asked innocently. "Did they do something wrong?" Fullbright looked at the half-alien in confusion before what was going on clicked, the color seeming to leave her exposed neck in the process.

"Wow, I'm really not qualified to explain that," Fulbright said, flustered. "Maybe when this is over and the situation isn't so bizarre we can talk about it, but right now maybe you should get out of here before the others get back."

"Yes, that does seem like a good idea," Voyager said, eager to get back to the lab and make sure her friends knew she was okay. "But we can be friends until the Hounds are gone. Maybe we can even fight them too!"

"Uh, sure, let me just give you something to cover up with." Fullbright said, cautious of how accepting her enemy was of this. "Might need to wait on that, me and the others are kind of busy right now."

"With what?" Voyager asked, turning her attention back to the ruined state of her outfit.

"The Hounds came after me the other night," Fullbright explained, once again confused by the shocked look on the face of her 'enemy' as she returned with a box pulled from behind a shelf. "I'm fine, but the bastards kidnapped my girlfriend in the struggle. We're going to mount a rescue."

"Oh dear," the half-alien said in response. "Are you in need of any help?"

"No! I mean uh, no I think it's best we handle this on our own. The city needs you more then it needs us, after all."

"Hmm...well I suppose you're right," Voyager admitted as she took the package from the villain. "What is this exactly?"

"I don't honestly know, some sort of suit?" Fullbright said with a shrug. "Girlfriend ordered it the other day and asked me to keep it here. It looks like it'd be your size, and the colors match. She'll probably be pissed that I gave it away, but if it's to you I think it'll soften the blow." The villain suddenly turned toward the window as what sounded like the bass line to a song floated into earshot. "Crap, that must be then, you'd better run."

"Thank you Fullbright, hope to see you soon!" And with that Voyager was out the door and down the hallway, the package clutched to her chest as she meandered down the stairs. Easily finding a rear entrance, she slipped out the back to properly open up her impromptu gift, starting to tug off the shreds of her old outfit as she got a better look at the new one. Her mouth dropped open in shock. This wasn't just close to her old outfit in color. It was almost perfectly matching! It had the same purple and black color, the same highlights, the same armored plating...it even had a gap where her inhibitors would be! Turning it over in her hands and letting it unfold, she half-expected it to be the same design, but let out a gasp as she saw the familiar design on the shoulders and collar. She knew this design by heart; it looked almost exactly like the Starfleet uniforms from First Contact! Feeling a sudden chill, she shed her old outfit entirely and pulled on the new one. Not only was it comfortable, it even fit like a glove too! Turning around to admire herself, she wondered what else was in the box and reached down to pick it up, only to catch glimpse of a note that, in her excitement, she didn't see fall from the package as she opened it.

Ms. Fletcher,

Here's the final prototype, if there's anything else you want to fix send it back, otherwise it's ready for action. Hope your friend Riley likes it!

-Thorvald

She read her own name with mounting dread. The suit matching her wasn't a coincidence, it WAS for her. And Fullbright said that her girlfriend had ordered it. A girlfriend named Fletcher...who had a suit made for her. Fletcher...Jordan Fletcher. And if she was the girlfriend, then...

Tears welled in her eyes as Voyager let her arms hang in disbelief. Her best friend...on top of all the people they hurt, the Hounds had taken her best friend. It had hurt to find out how long she had been gone and how many people she couldn't save from the Hounds, but this? She...she didn't know what she was feeling. Unsure of how to react, Voyager reached down for the box again to finish searching, her excitement replaced by that nebulous feeling again. Inside were the boots that went with the outfit and a brand new pair of goggles. She turned the goggles around, seeing her own reflection with the new suit in the purple glass lenses. A sense of duty welled inside her as she saw herself as the captain of a starship, leading a loyal crew into battle and saving the day from the bad guys. Seeing herself like this...it wasn't enough to dampen the hurt of knowing her friend or the city was still in danger, but Voyager knew what she was feeling now. She felt like she had a job to do. She felt like she had to save her friend and save the city from the villains.

She felt like a hero!

Seconds later there was loud bang as Voyager triumphantly barged into the room, her uniform fully assembled, her eyes glowing with psionic power. A loud shriek came from Fullbright as she dived under the table while Monsterk4t and Typhoon took up fighting positions, the latter drawing his blade with a flourish.

"I THOUGHT THE IDEA WAS FOR YOU TO LEAVE QUIETLY???" Fullbright bellowed from under the table before emerging with her helmet on again. The two other villains gave Fullbright a look before turning back to their enemy again.

"I know you're going to try to rescue Jordan Fletcher," Voyager declared, her words echoing with psionic power. "That's why I'm going to help you!"

They weren't exactly in a position to say no.

---

Elsewhere...

Maddy Fen Ming quickly became a sort of minor celebrity among the other interns when she returned to Silver River after her stint at the hospital. A bit morbid to say the least, but Maddy did at least appreciate the sympathy and the encouragement that she got from other students. Less welcome was the attention she got because of how 'thrilling' the story was. News flash: Getting shot is not fun, and as intelligent and bright as her fellow students were, very few of them picked up on the fact that she really just wanted to bury her head in her work and not talk about how afraid she was that she was going to die every five damned minutes.

"Happy place, Maddy, happy place..."

Feeling exhausted but spirited, Maddy shouldered open the door to her flat, exhaling a sigh of relief as she kicked her shoes off her aching feet. Almost on cue, there was a distant thump and a small shape darted across the floor towards her.

"Heya Kaiser," Maddy said sweetly, leaning over to let her arm hang down "How's things?"

Kaiser, a fluffy white cat with coffee colored markings on his cheeks, purred contently as he rubbed his face into her outstretched hand. Pausing to scratch him behind the ears, Maddy trudged over to the center of the room and plopped down on her loveseat, Kaiser jumping up after her and curling into a ball next to her. It had been a long day, but it felt good knowing how much she got done. The material orders were finally sorted and up to date after her absence, she got herself caught up on the Institutes biological studies, and most importantly she had made excellent process on her new material. Still was, in fact.


"Hmm, nothing out of the ordinary yet," she pondered, staring at her left hand encased in a glove made from the yet unnamed material. As far as she knew, the adaptive matrix of the stuff was working fine. Anyone else would have released it and called it a day, but she wanted to account for everything. Heat resistance, damage resistance, or in this case, making sure being in contact with the stuff wouldn't burn your skin or something. Thankfully, the material seemed to be not only harmless but quite comfortable and form fitting, though it was hard to tell just from it being on her arm. Feeling pleased with her progress, she flipped on the television and stretched out, wondering what she would do for dinner.

"...in other news, Voyager's mysterious disappearance continues, entering its third day," the news anchor carried on in her professional tone. "As the Hounds activities in the region escalate, many are voicing concerns that one of Pacific Point's more vibrant public figures may have run afoul of this terrorist organization."


"Yikes, I hope not," Maddy said, idly scratching Kaiser behind the ears with her other hand. Maddy hadn't been following the news recently for obvious reasons, but the Hounds story had been inescapable by design. Needless to say, when a rogue terrorist group arrives in a flurry of explosions and bloodshed only to declare war on metahumans, you tend to take notice. Her parents were so scared that they called her nonstop for the rest of the day when the news broke, and Maddy couldn't blame them. She was scared too.

Flipping off the news channel in an attempt to find something a bit more mindless, she heard a distinctive ping from her PC in the loft. Leaving Kaiser in his comfy spot, Maddy dashed up the stairs to check the message from Steam, chastising herself for forgetting to turn it off before she left. She was pleasantly surprised to find it was from Megan, another of her friends from work.

Lucina64: Hey Maddy, do you know who had the keys for the company truck last? Need to make a last minute delivery.
Lucina64: Yavor said he thought you'd know.
Lucina64: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Smiling Maddy bent over to type out a quick response, kicking her wheeled chair away with the back of her foot by accident, where it floated gently across the floor right into a tall lamp stand.

WyldHyena: idk, check with Vic, I think he was out last.

Maddy started to ask what she needed the truck for before something fell right on the back of her head with a loud bang. Screaming out in terror, she instinctively clutched a hand to her stomach and stumbled backwards in a mad attempt to escape. Slipping off the top stair, Kaiser let out a yowl and took off into the other room as Maddy caught her foot on a railing and tumbled backwards down the stairs.

*CRASH*

*SHHHRIIP*

Head spinning, heart pounding in her chest, a dazed Maddy concluded things weren't moving as fast anymore, and that she hadn't been shot again. Feeling irritated and more then a little embarrassed over that display, she got to her feet to survey the damage, pulling herself up bu the metal railings of the loft.

Blinking, Maddy took another look to settle herself after the fall and found herself staring over the railing of the loft. It was at the height of her chest...but she had just fallen down to the ground floor? Reaching up to rub the sore spot on her head, she winced as her knuckles smacked into the ceiling.


"What the...?"

She glanced up, seeing the roof of her apartment a lot closer then it should have been. She looked down after feeling something pop, noticing for the first time that her shirt and jeans had been shredded and were hanging on by threads. Maddy looked down at her feet, then back at the ceiling again. Feeling it cautiously, she felt another seam in her shirt pop as her arm extended outward. Looking back at the loft, she spotted the broken lamp and the chair that had caused her fall. She reached over and picked up the lamp to right it again. With one hand. The lamp was the size of a ruler. Maddy stood there in stunned silence as it finally dawned on her.

Maddy was three times as big as she was a moment ago.


"Okay Maddy...don't panic," she said to herself, the quivering in her voice and hands betraying that she was about three seconds from a mental breakdown. "You can handle this. You're a big girl. In...more ways then one at this point." Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes to try and stave off the inevitable. "Don't lose your head now. Think of a way to fix this. Think of a way back to norma-aaaaaah!"

The mantra turned into a frightened yelp as Maddy felt herself shrinking down towards the ground, the sudden height decrease throwing her off balance. After a moment of frantic panic, Maddy collapsed onto her loveseat at a much more normal size then before. Immediately jumping to her feet again, she dashed over to the coat rack, leaving a trail of shredded denim and cloth behind her to line up with a coat hook that she knew was at her eye level. A perfect match. Breathing a sudden sigh of relief, feeling substantially more drained then before, she tried to stagger back to the loveseat but stopped halfway, leaning against the wall and sliding down to a sitting position.

"So..." Maddy told herself coolly. "That...just happened." There was a small mewing noise as Kaiser snuck back around the corner and cautiously approached Maddy again, clearly scared of Maddy becoming a giantess again. "Crazy night, huh Kaiser?" she said to the cat. The statement seemed to sooth the feline as he picked up speed to come to her side, purring soothingly. Maddy started to pet him before she realized something; she still had the glove made of that material on. It hadn't torn or stretched in the slightest and felt just as new and whole as before.

"This will require further study..."

The hostage negotiator waited as the phone inside the Bed, Bath, and Beyond rang. He had called several times, yet the criminals within the store were not responsive. When it was clear that no one was coming to the phone, the police officer disconnected his call and walked back to where Talus and Gajana were standing. He alerted the two superheroes, along with the other high-ranking officers at the scene about the current situation before taking up the standard issue electronic megaphone.

“Pick up the phone,” the hostage negotiator commanded. “We have the premise surrounded. It is in your best interest to answer us!”

However, two separate bursts of gunfire suddenly exploded from within the store. The SWAT team hastened to their positions at all of the entrances and exits to the Bed, Bath, and Beyond, prepared to storm in if necessary. The SWAT team positioned at the rear of the store saw the first action. Right after the second round of gunfire, the back doors swung open. If the SWAT team there were just a little more trigger-happy, they might have gunned down the hostages by mistake. Fortunately, they realized that the three individuals rushing out of the building were the hostages and not the robbers before they could make a mistake.

“The hostages are free,” one of the SWAT members reported into his walkie-talkie. “I repeat. The hostages are free.”

“You have a green light.”

---

Kyra hid behind a shelf display where she had landed after teleporting away from the armed robbers. Now that she was out of sight, Kyra now had an opportunity to plan her next move. Since the intruders clearly outnumbered her, the safest approach would be laying low until the authorities took care of the situation. Kyra would not be any use to the police if she was shot and killed. She just had to make sure that the villains did not escape.

Then, Kyra heard another barrage of bullets. Since she was behind the display, Kyra concluded that the robbers must have been aiming at the person who they were attacking before she intervened. From the far end of the building, Kyra saw a person of short stature round the corner as he dodged out of the way of some more stray bullets aimed in his direction. As she got a better look at this individual, she realized that he had to have been a kid. She was even more shocked when she spotted a gun in the kid’s gloved hand. However, before Kyra could do anything, she heard Talus’ voice over her communicator.

“Look out, Firefox,” Talus warned her. “The S.W.A.T. is coming in.”

In preparation for any flash grenades that the police would surely use, Kyra closed her eyes shut and instinctively pressed her hands against the side of her head. However, since old habits die hard, Kyra swiftly shifted her hands to the top of her head, where her fox ears were located, and pressed them against her head.

Suddenly, several flash grenades penetrated into the building at the breach points that the S.W.A.T. had picked for their entrances. Blinding flashes of light, followed by clouds of white gas filled the air as the S.W.A.T. personnel entered the Bed, Bath, and Beyond, with their weapons at a ready position. The sound created by the explosion of the flash grenades made Kyra’s ears ring, despite her attempt to shield them with her hands. When she turned to face the S.W.A.T. unit nearest to her, she could tell that they were saying something because their lips were moving, but she could barely hear what they were telling her. Therefore, she just raised her hands above her head and allowed them to escort her out of the building.

While she was being lead out, Kyra turned her head to see what happened to the kid during the S.W.A.T.’s breach. She caught sight of another S.W.A.T. unit that had their rifles pointed at both the boy and presumably the other armed robbers. Since her ears were still recovering from the flash grenades, Kyra could barely make out what one of the SWAT members were barking at them.

_{^{“Put the gun down and get on the ground! Put it down, now!”}}

Berenice had been busy fixing another fish skull to her lines when Charlie had come back to the cottage and told her to go away so she could do something. She hadn't wanted to, it was her nest after all, but Charlie had been nice to her and there lots of words she didn't understand, so she took off to go play in the wind.

This was one of her favourite day-to-day activities. The sea breezes along the cliff became quite strong a few hundred feet up, and she could hover and flip about and tumble much better than she could near the ground. The smell of the ocean and the clean air were wonderful, and she especially enjoyed feeling her feathers ruffle and move when the wind pushed against her. For a few minutes she just sat in place, buoyed by the breeze, staring out to sea and watching a pair of seals playing around a mile or so out to sea. Looking back, she saw some strange person hovering off near where Salamander was, but thought nothing of it. She twisted and spun to make a play dive at Charlie, which was when she saw her friend waving her down anyway, so she did so, landing on a section of the wall.

“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.”

”Okay, Car-lee.” She hopped down into the main area and folded her wings up, waddling over near her nest and preparing to take a late afternoon nap, when she noticed the smell. Whatever it had been, it was awful. She reared up onto her talons, standing as tall as she could, and beat her wings, trying to fan out the stench. The wind this kicked up was far more powerful than she would have thought, and a loose chunk of wall stones came down, revealing something that made Berenice pause mid flap and nearly fall over.

Inside the wall, which was apparently hollow, there was a tiny person, staring at her in horror. No more than three or four inches high, they were dressed in normal people clothes, though they seemed to have been stitched together from scraps of cloth and leaves. In its...her hands, she held a tiny spear, made of a splinter of wood with a fishbone lashed to it. A folded up leaf seemed to be serving as a backpack of some sort. Both of them locked eyes on one another, and the tiny person seemed unable to move. Berenice, for her part, was torn between two instincts. On the one hand, she had a driving desire to catch and eat small things like this, but on the other, it was a tiny human-like creature, which she associated with kids and wanted to protect.

She hopped closer to it with her odd gait. The tiny girl didn't move, except to cower slightly. She hopped closer still, bringing her within grapsing range. This time the girl crouched low, seeming to develop a bit of spine, and brandished her spear. She said something, but Berenice couldn't hear her through the rushing of the breeze through the cottage ruins, so she moved closer still. Now within only a half foot from the tiny thing, she was rewarded with a fishbone spear thrown at her face. She blinked as it struck her nose off-kilter and bounced harmlessly to the ground. The tiny girl seemed horrorstruck by this turn of events and ducked behind a chunk of masonry that jutted up near where she stood, jabbering down into the wall in a rapid-fire language the siren did not understand.

Within the span of a few breaths, seven more miniscule people had appeared, brandishing a variety of weapons made from slivers of metal and bone. They seemed to range from teenaged to middle of their lives, all with black hair braided or pulled back, and all of them wore leaves and woven grass fibres as clothing. The largest of them, four and a half inches tall, strode forward to stand bravely in front of the rest, holding out a shard of glass with a woven grip that resembled a katana.

“Great bird woman, come no closer! Our tribe has done you no harm yet, but we will kill you if you force our hand!”

Berenice's sharp eyes noted a few smaller ones, perhaps their children, hiding just around the edge of the masonry, before one of the adult females dragged them out of her view. The tiny man noticed her eye movements and readied his blade.

Speaking very softly so as to not blow them over, Berenice asked, “How long have you lived in my nest?”

Since she did not seem to be threatening the children, the man relaxed, but did not sheathe his weapon. “Since the great thunder that birthed you. Your presence drives off many creatures who would eat us.”

”Why are you hiding, then?”

“We do not know you or your ways, and you are also a predator.” He gestured at her treasure lines, from which hung many bones among the other glittering things. “We do sometimes take from your scrap pile to fashion weapons and tools, but never from those.”

Berenice settled back on her talons, folding her wings over and staring at them. She didn't quite understand why these people were so small, but they were otherwise exactly like Charlie and the other humans she had met. And ever since she had first met the children, she knew that smaller humans needed protection. Why were these any different, other than being smaller and thus needing even more protection than the kids?

While she was mulling through this thought process, several of the other warriors were in whispered conversation with the brave man, who seemed to be some sort of leader. He nodded once, and then addressed her again. “Great bird woman, we must leave, now. You will not see us again.”

"What?” she squawked. ”Why do you have to go?”

“It is the way of our people. The giants find us and they want to catch us and study us, so we must flee now. This is the way it has always been.”

”I am not going to study you! Or eat you!”

“Your visitors may. We must go.”

”But...” Berenice was having a hard time articulating her thoughts. Thankfully, the little man paused. The warriors seemed to be ready to move, but they also stopped.

”Okay, so anywhere you go will be bad. Here is better, because the other animals don't come near my nest, so you are safe here, yes?” Her speech was rapid fire, almost like a sparrow chirp, but they seemed to be able to understand her fine.

“This is true.”

I will protect you from others, then, and you don't have to hide unless they come. I can bring you food, and you will not have to go.”

He glowered at her. “We can fend for ourselves. We always have.” The half dozen behind him nodded, though the first girl looked more thoughtful.

”But you could stay. It would be easier, yes? You have lived here long enough to have babies. They cannot be easy to move. And you've been here as long as I have, so this nest is as much yours as mine.”

The girl moved forward, and entered into fierce whispering conversation with the man. She was obviously braver than she had first appeared. Berenice waited patiently while they conversed, glancing around to make sure Charlie was not hearing what was happening. After a few moments, they seemed to finish. The man and his warriors moved off, leaving the girl alone to face the siren. She looked up into what must have been one of her worst nightmares, but seemed to hold her ground, even though she shook slightly.

“I am called Sunheart. We have decided to try this new thing, but if it's to work, we must do a few things first.”

Berenice smiled brightly, though seeing as how her teeth seemed to unnerve the girl, she quickly schooled her face. ”What do you need to do?”

“We must fix the wall here, though we should leave a window so we can speak. Before that however, to avoid violating the Laws, we must do something that has never been done before.” she took a deep breath. “We must make you one of us.”

”Am I going to become small?”

“No, no. But you must be one of the tribe, so that we can live with you without fleeing. You would be special, and be able to go out amongst the Big Folk, where we cannot. This has never been done, not in all the knowing of our tribe. My uncle, the one you spoke to, is informing the elders now. By moontime, we should know whether or not this action will be accpeted. If it is not, we will leave.”

”Oh. Okay.” Berenice thought for a moment. ”Why are you still here, then?”

The girl took another deep breath, and a barely perceptible gulp. “I must teach you what you must know before the ceremony, if it is to happen, and I must also become your companion, to know if you are worthy. If I deem you not to be, we also will leave.”

”How do you know if I am worthy or not?”

“I must judge by your words and deeds, to know if you are brave, and clever, and fast.”

”But how will you stay with me if you are so tiny and cannot fly?”

“Um.” The girl looked a bit dumbfounded. She had obviously not thought of this. “I don't suppose you would just...stay here?”

”I will get hungry.”

This thought clearly terrified the girl, but she steeled herself. “Then I must follow you anyway. However I can. It is my duty, and a great honour to be chosen to evaluate another. I will live up to it.” Her jaw jutted forward with pride.

Rather swiftly, however, the both of them were reduced to pacing back and forth, Berenice in the ruins and Sunheart on her little span of broken wall stones. It took several minutes before an idea came to the siren.

”Sunheart, what if you rode me like the fleas do?”

Sunheart stopped her pacing, and looked about to say something angry about being compared to fleas, but then stopped short and stared at Berry up and down, taking in her size and especially her feathers.

“It might work. I have ridden squirrels and grasshoppers before.”

Without so much as another word, Berenice hopped forward and extended her right wing so that the leading edge was within a step of the tiny girl. Hesitating for a moment, both due to her instincts screaming at her to run from an approaching predator and because of the thought of riding on a Big Folk, Sunheart swallowed hard. This would be probably the most terrifying experiences she had ever had. Then, glancing back at her home, she nodded to herself and leapt across the gap and onto the feathered surface.

Berenice waited patiently, not daring to move her appendage until Sunheart had scrambled across the slick surface of her flight feathers and made it onto her shoulder. It tickled very badly, especially as the girl moved down her side to find a spot near her waist, burying herself into the feathers and securing herself with a tiny woven rope. Berenice assisted her getting it all the way around the leg she was on, shifting to adjust as it went along the inside of the crook of her leg, and then waited again until Sunheart had tied herself down. They looked at each other at a very strange angle.

“Okay,” said the girl to the siren. “Let us begin.”

Ben's Current Power set

-2x Human Strength
-2x Human speed
-Bulletproof

Time: Evening - Present Day
Location: Smithy's Grocery Store - Meat Aisle, Las Vegas

Freya glanced up from her idle scan of their new allies and their powers as a strange smell filled the store. Not that it was interrupting anything. After the awkward introductions, she and her brother hand sidled off to the side, letting their new allies hash out whatever plan it was they had. They were only there to help regardless, not offer input on the plan. Her eyes widened in minor alarm as everyone who wasn't some form a super collapsed, unconscious, and the lights went out one by one. This isn't good. She sidled closer to Ben as he sighed, putting his book up. "I was almost done too." He grumbled, readying himself for a fight. Her knowledge that things were going to be very bad, very soon, only increased as she noticed the shadows shifting and giggles echoing all around them. "Freya..." "I don't know. I can't see anything.

Mandate that snatched their attention as soon as she appeared. Ben because she was immmediately the biggest threat in the room. Freya because her powers were, quite literally, the strongest she'd ever seen. "Oh. Good. They have a literal walking tank of doom and destruction." She immediately began producing an orb based on Mandate's durability, hoping fervently her allies wouldn't do anything stupid for at least ten minutes.

As Odette arrived and began to make her speech, Freya's eyebrows rose. "This really won't be good." She muttered quietly. It took almost five minutes for the whole affair to end, which was more than fine with the Dover Twins. As soon as the french woman finished, Freya smiled winningly, giving a formal bow. "Bonjour, mademoiselle! C'est un plaisir de faire votre connaissance. Je suis Freya, et c'est mon frère Ben. Nous sommes les jumeaux de Douvres." She made her way over to their allies as she talked, tossing an orb over to her brother. He effortlessly caught it, replacing one of his orbs with it, tossing the replacement to Freya. Freya leaned way down, working on another orb, and spoke quietly to her companions.

"Try not to attack for at least another five minutes. Ben and I will be able to help to our full abilities then. Ben will take care of the Golem if you do. If not, I suggest Katarina and the witch take on The Ambassador, while the werewolves take on Mandate. Don't get in a direct fight with the Golem, she can and will break your bones with a lazy backhand. She doesn't appear to have any particular speed powers, so she might be human in that regard, though I can't say 100% that she doesn't have something up her sleeve to change that."

Ben's New Power Set

-2x human Speed
-2x human Strength
-Mandate's Durability.

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

Charlie tied up the worst of her wounds with makeshift bandages, cleaned them with alcohol she pulled out of the whisky she had on hand. The deeper gashes stung worse than a mean wasp. For the most part she cleaned herself up, then decided as much as she would have liked to be here for Berry’s lessons Charlie herself was running on fumes. Hungry (in spite of Berry’s hospitality), extremely tired, now wrapping up unexpected hits she took from a shitty little necromancer’s familiar. It was time to head home.

She sighed at the phone screen, calling home. The conversation was short, her mom had picked up relieved to hear from Charlie directly. Jules left Lost Haven for a forty minute drive out to Carver Cliffs, the hiking trail drop off lot. Charlie knew the drive home was going to be a long one after Jules got one look at her.

She considered the old phone and decided to leave it behind for Berry. When Charlie popped back inside Berry began shuffling awkwardly, as if she was trying to hide something out of embarrassment. The alchemist assumed Berry held no shame for obvious reasons. She squinted then shrugged, placing her phone on string hanging from one of her treasure lines.

Instructing her, slowly, repetitively, to only answer the phone when her name was on it. Modifying the call display to appear as Car-lee. The battery on that old phone would last a few days idle. It took a few tries to teach Berry how to answer the phone, Berenice complained of the awful noise it made when it rang but eventually with some convincing she promised to answer it when it rang. She hoped if Berenice couldn’t answer it at least Salamander could. She feared he’d be worse off than the 3 week old siren.

With some line of communication established she said her goodbye with a promise to be back in a couple days with some help and more information.

Her hope was to return with some leads of where to find Sebastien, the disgraced apprentice of Salamander and monster presumably lurking through Lost Haven’s underbelly in search of his next victim. In Charlie’s mind she painted him an ugly creature.



Time: 1 hour later, Present Day
Location: Carver Cliffs, Outside Lost Haven

Fireworks brightened the sky at the hiking trail drop off, blues, reds and greens fizzled away much to Jules’ frustration. When she pulled up in her old lemon of a car the fireworks died away with one last cherry bomb. Every chance Charlie had to signal her mother, she used fireworks.

It was without a doubt the one thing Jules regretted teaching Charlie how to make.

As she pulled up, she caught a glimpse of Charlie battered and bandaged in the headlights. Walking stiffly, Jules’ face hardened. Crows feet wrinkled at the sides of her light brown eyes, her long ashy blonde hair pulled into a messy bun. Still in her work casuals of jeans and purple t shirt, a unique emerald ring winked as she drummed her fingers across the steering wheel.

Charlie pulled the passenger side door open and plopped down after setting her staff and backpack in the back seat. Her hood was removed, Jules saw the scratches along her face then cast her eyes down to her arms and legs. It sent her mind in whirlwind of imagination. She hadn’t seen Charlie since the night before, Jules was well aware of the trouble her daughter got into. She saw she was alright now but it never really quieted the worry. The radio news quietly played in the background of the rumbling engine.

“Hey Mom, thanks for picking me up.” Charlie said watching her, as Jules inspected her.

Without missing a beat, “What happened.” Jules demanded.

Charlie sighed sinking into the seat, “I was gonna save this for when Gramps and Harry could listen too.”

Jules pursed her lips, tight lipped she replied, “Charlene Gretchen Croll.”

Charlie winced.

“Okay, alright calm down. Jesus, don’t need to break out the full name. I know this looks bad but it’s for something you’re not going to like.”

“What a relief.” She pulled out of the parking lot heading back on the road into the city.

“When I went out the other night with Carrie we found something this morning and you’re not going to believe me Mom.” Charlie licked her lips, “We found a siren in the park. A girl with wings and bird torso.” She said.

Jules snuck a look at her then had her eyes back on the road, “You have got to be kidding me, Char. You got yourself wrapped up in some real magic crap?”

“It… gets worse.”

Jules sighed witheringly.

“Carrie and I helped her get back to her nest in Carver, her name is Berenice. Berry. She’s like… three weeks old and the result of some crazy necromancer’s human experimentation.” Charlie explained fiddling with some loose string in her skirt. “I saw his notes. The necromancer’s mentor, Sebastien’s mentor is Salamander. He is this old weird, probably bird, wizard that showed up to offer to help teach Berry to use her magic and he wants to kill Sebastien. Since he’s still alive in Lost Haven somewhere.”

Silence stretched between the two, Charlie tacked on rather lamely after a few seconds. “I wrestled with Sebastien’s familiar and sent it packing back to its master. That’s where I got the cuts. The fucker had some claws.”

Jules drummed her fingers across the steering wheel. “This is coming from you, Charlie, who wants to stay on the downlow because of the Hounds of Humanity. What have I told you-”

“Keep my head down and my nose out of other people’s business. Like three times last week, twice the other day-”

“Attitude, young lady!” Jules snapped.

“Oh right and you think I can just abandon someone when they’re lost. Abandon them after finding out they were just born three weeks ago, he used someone local snatched some poor girl and mashed her body up with a bird and a shitload of magic.” Charlie fired back.

“It’s clear nobody in this family listens to a damn word I have to say! You asked your sister to keep this a secret and she was so tight lipped about where you had been that all I got from her was some dry sarcasm.” Jules said exasperated, “You don’t listen to me when I say stay away from trouble. She sees us butting heads and she thinks she can argue with me too!”

Charlie pinched the bridge of her nose, then took a deep breath in through her nose.

“She listens to you during lessons.” Charlie said.

Jules cast a doubtful eye at her daughter.

“I’m serious. Harry listens during lessons, she’s tried to cheat around certain things by asking me for the answer and I’ve told her the answers are always in the lessons. That was the week she tried to bleach all my scavenging clothes before Gramps caught her. She was mad that I didn’t help her but then she started to pay attention during the lessons.” She said sincerely, green eyes holding her mother’s. “Harry isn’t stupid, she knows what we’re arguing about.”

“I have never said anything about Harry being stupid-!”

Over the radio a breaking news broadcast began, another attack by Hounds of Humanity in Las Vegas. Burning more witches at the stake destroying an old and powerful family with new anti-magic weaponry, horrified the pair of alchemists stared ahead at the road while they listened. Jules remembering, imagining every witch she ever met, made friends with being burned. The horrific descriptions lent well to her imagination. Similar thoughts bounced around in Charlie’s mind.

Jules quietly turned the radio back down, “That isn’t our city.” As if the distance could provide comfort.

“They’re in Lost Haven too. Hounds of Humanity is hunting us down and that’s what Harry is scared of. She doesn’t see the divide like you do, Mom. Neither do the Hounds, they’re painting us all with the same brush. She’s scared that our family is next on the hit list.” Charlie said, then admitted quietly. “I’m afraid too.”

Jules seemed pained, “Then what do you expect me to do Charlie? Go in guns blazing? Die in a glorious ball of flame?”

“No! Mom, please. Just, talk to Harry. Include her when we’re talking about shit that concerns the family’s safety instead of shooing her into another room where she can hear every fucking thing. For once,” Charlie’s tone hardened, “Just for fucking once take this shit seriously. Talk to our neighbours, I’m going to deal with Sebastien.”

Jules opened her mouth to reply then bit back the words, settling in for a long quiet ride back home. When they arrived back home, pulling into the back alleyway dirt parking lot up behind another vehicle on cinderblocks. Both women wearing a nearly identical scowl. Charlie grabbed her things slamming the car door. Jules stood up from the driver’s side before Charlie ran off inside she tugged her into a tight hug, standing a little taller than Charlie herself. Jules’ expression softened considerably.

“I’m sorry, Char. I love you and Harry so much.” She said, with a sigh Charlie hugged Jules back.

“Love you too, Mom. Sorry.” She mumbled into her shoulder.

After a few beats, Jules held Charlie out at arm’s length, “We’ll have a family meeting, everyone including Harry. We’ll decide what to do to protect ourselves and what we can do for our neighbourhood. For now though, you’re right about that necromancer. He’ll bring hell down on our heads with getting the attention of the Hounds. You and I are going to look for him.”

Charlie brightened at being taken seriously but felt a pang of guilt at her offer, this wasn’t her mom’s problem. She casted her eyes away, “I can handle looking for him on my own, you focus on the shop. I’m helping Sallyman- I mean Salamander. He wants Sebastien dead.”

“The Wizard Bird.” Jules commented.

“For lack of a better word, sure.”

“What’s he like?”

“I don’t trust him but he’s alright.” She replied lightly then led the way inside through the back door. She was greeted by the warm display of polished wood floors and glass displays of Croll Corner. Their footsteps creaked across the floor, Nathaniel sat at the till counting his float for the night. He sat tall and lean in the stool for a man nearly seventy years old, a little bit of belly poking out over the belt of his shorts. He squinted at the calculator waving at the pair as they came in through. He wore his grey beard short trimmed, brows bushy, hair long in a pony tail.

The shelves were decorated with hand crafted knick knacks, stone baubles and terrariums. A little from each Croll. Unique bubble gardens of various herbs, flowers and moss species. Dried feathers and shell collections pasted (with some steady handed help) to papyrus textured paper in frames hung from the walls, artistically frayed edges. While behind display cases were stones, crystals and gems cut raw then polished as bookends and paperweights. Charlie’s own work displayed alongside Nathaniel’s, recycled metal work refurbished, brushed clean and functioning desktop toys like Newton’s Cradles. While they sold handcrafted giftware, decorative items they offered repair services for jewellery, antiques, woodwork, and mechanical repair. Miraculous Repair was their slogan. Promising their customers no matter how old or how broken, they could fix it.

Croll Corner had been established as a family business when Nathaniel opened it’s doors back in the early 1970’s, every child of his own contributed and worked for the shop at one point in their lives. Now under the continuing management of Julianne Croll and Nathaniel’s grandchildren, with a few staff hired outside the family to help run the shop.

The building itself was three stories with a basement workshop where the majority of repair and storage was for the shop. While above is where the Croll’s lived.

It was home.

Charlie kissed her grandpa on the forehead as she passed, he caught her by the scruff, his incredible nose sniffed her head. “You’ve been messing with some wicked creatures today. The hell you been kid?” Nathaniel said.

She broke his grip with a huff, stepping out of her boots. “Got into a fight with a necromancer’s familiar. Don’t worry about it, gramps.”

He reluctantly shut the cashier drawer. Worry in his green eyes. “Let’s see to those scratches. I’ve got just the thing.” He said edging off the stool and standing up straight he patted her back upstairs. He turned to share a look with Jules, she nodded.

“I can close the shop Dad, see to Char.” Was all she said turning away.

Nathaniel followed Charlie up the creaky stairs, commenting as always, how he was going to get to fixing that. In reality it was one of the few detectors in the house that let him and Jules know where the kids were, whether they were four or twenty-four. In their bathroom off from Nathaniel and Jules’ room, he kept some good salves for such occasions. When they came up to the landing socked feet padded across the wood floor, greeting them was the final member, Harriet Croll.

At fifteen she was sprouting as fast as her sister, nearly five foot ten growing out of pants every week it seemed like. Her dirty blonde hair was streaked with pink and in a ponytail. She wore jeans with holes in the knees, and an old hand-me-down hoodie. She had her mother’s big brown eyes.

“Charlie!” Harry hugged her then pushed away holding her nose, “You reek like fish.”

“Thanks for keeping a lid on it.” Charlie said as she passed, Harry followed behind Nathaniel. Harry stood at the doorway when Nathaniel began humming through his cabinet, Charlie took a seat on the edge of the bathtub, she turned around rolling up her leggings removing the bandages and plopping them into the wastebin.

“So spill the beans, kiddo. What have you been up to the past couple of days?” Nathaniel asked.

So she did, she went into a bit more detail now that she wasn’t afraid of being reprimanded by her angry mother. Nathaniel had a fair share of tsk’s and looks of disappointment for her though. Harry listened throwing the odd question, when Charlie caught them up.

“So… you didn’t get me a feather?” Harry asked. “From neither the bird wizard or the siren?”

Charlie sighed having completely forgot.

“Jerk.” Harry said icily, then stalked away.

Nathaniel chuckled, “It’s alright you’ll make it up to her, you said you’re going to go back?”

Charlie nodded. Standing up from the bath tub, ducking under the shower curtain rod. “I need a couple days to catch up, get Carrie’s second opinion on it all. I still have no idea how to find Sebastien.”

“We’ll figure something out, don’t worry Charlie.” Nathaniel reassured her with a gentle pat on the back. “You always do.”

“Thanks, gramps.”

Charlie shuffled out of the bathroom, stripped down in her bedroom then into some peejays finally collapsing into her bed. Harry sat sulking on the other side of the room back against the wall her phone in her hands.

She drifted off immediately, dreaming of birds in flight.

Although it had only been minutes since Jordan called up to Midas’ office to tell him that they had acquired a specimen while in the sewers outside of the underground laboratories that reside in the sublevels of the Midas Industries facility, it seemed as if much more time had passed. It was times like this when Midas cursed the speed of his private elevator, which allowed him easy access from his office directly to the sublevels of Midas Industries. Although the elevator itself surpassed the speed of traditional elevators, for a man like Midas, it was never fast enough. Especially if the screenshot that Jordan had sent him from his body cam was to be believed. It seemed that in an era of “Gods and Monsters,” Mr. Jordan may have delivered the latter directly to his doorstep.

It was certainly an interesting prospect. Should he be able to convince this being to join his cause, he could be on the verge of accomplishing something truly great.

As the elevator came to  a stop in the sublevels of the Midas Industries industrial complex, his heart began to raise with anticipation, and when the doors finally opened and he laid eyes on the mysterious being that had allowed Jordan and his men to bring her to him, all expectations were exceeded. The woman, who stood just a few inches under seven feet tall, with skin almost as black as pitch was a sight to behold. Though she had agreed to follow his men, something about the way that she held herself suggested that she was powerful indeed. Midas just hoped that he would be able to harness that power for himself and his cause.

“I must say, when Mr. Jordan called me to let me know that he had discovered you down below, I was not prepared for you.” Midas said with the smile of a snake oil salesman. “I’m Richard Midas, and I’d like to welcome you to Lost Haven.”

Raeviir regarded the man with a mixture of amusement, interest, and barely-concealed contempt. This was just another human - just as ordinary a meatsack as everyone else around here. He wasn’t armed, however - was he a fool or arrogant? Even the men who had found her were armed, and they had paled before her strength, and now this… this man dared to stand before her, weaponless? Raeviir didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ”For a man named Midas, and the esteem with which these little bugs held you in… I’m disappointed. Where’s the gold? Where’s the opulence? All I see in front of me is a short little human male. You’re all males. All of you, no doubt holding your women in bondage and slavery as you always are.” Raeviir scoffed, her emerald eyes glowing brightly with emotion; disgust, boredom, disappointment. ”I can guarantee you, human, that none of your kind are ever ready… especially for me. Thanks for your welcome. I suppose I should at least extend you the courtesy of my name… Raeviir El’Anadar, Pathfinder and Kinslayer.”

Behind her, one of the armed men, no doubt tired of Raeviir’s attitude towards them all, and especially Midas, went to raise his weapon. In less than a heartbeat, Raeviir whirled around, drawing her scimitar and activating the runes, flooding the area with a burst of faerzress energy, and igniting the blade’s acidic venom. ”Drop the fucking weapon, you idiot. I guarantee you I’ll remove your head from your pathetic little shoulders quicker than you can even raise that to fire at me. I’ve had children tougher than you try to kill me and fail.” Raeviir’s face was contorted into a vicious snarl, her teeth bared and her voice dripping with hatred. ”I said, DROP IT!” Raeviir pushed the blade in contact with the man’s helmet, where the caustic fluids coating the blade began to corrode the helmet’s metal, green flame licking at the man’s head.

Humans. Always the fucking same.

Midas had been at the ready with a witty retort, however, as he watched the acid from the strange woman’s blade eat its way through the helmet, and if it hadn’t been for the quick reaction of the man, who ripped his helmet off and flung it away from himself, the acid very well could have eaten away into his flesh,  he felt all urges for witticism fall to the wayside. Midas now knew that this woman, whoever...whatever she was, was not someone to be taken lightly. She was a woman of incredible skill, if not incredible power, and it would be in his best interest to not only avoid the woman’s ire, but somehow get her to join forces with him.

“I assure you, my lady, we most certainly are not all the same.” Midas said cooly, doing his best to conceal the very real horror that he was feeling, not only due to this woman’s show of aggression, but the thought that he could suffer a similar fate as his man’s helmet.. “Now, if you’d follow me, I would love to show you around.” Midas said as he motioned for her to follow.

”You can assure me all you want, human- Midas, it doesn’t make a damned bit of difference. I’ve had three times your lifetime of experience. You’re just lucky I’ve nobody else to turn to… or at least, I haven’t had chance to see anyone else before your men picked me up in those damned sewers.” Raeviir snarled and lowered her sword, the man she’d threatened having thrown away both his weapon and his helmet, which was beginning to corrode at an alarming rate, eventually igniting in a burst of green flames. Raeviir scoffed and turned back to Midas.
”Fine. I suppose I’ll see whatever it is you have to show me… and you won’t need your guards. Two reasons...” Raeviir’s snarl turned into a smirk of self-satisfaction, bordering on outright arrogance. ”Number one, it’s not polite to show a lady around whilst shoving a gun in her back. And two… In the time it would take them to raise their weapons in the first place, you’d be a headless corpse, twitching on the floor.”

Nevertheless, Raeviir sheathed Suffering. ”Off we go. Any traps and you all die screaming. I swear it by the Queen.”

“There will be no need for that.” Midas said as he ordered his men to fall back. “Right this way my dear, I have so much to show you.” He said as if he were trying to regain control of the situation before he led her into the heart of the complex.

Raeviir’s menacing tone did not budge. She looked at Midas, staring deep into his eyes, almost right through him. She knew she was at the advantage here, and she knew she would eke every single moment of power over these humans. And she’d enjoy it. ”I will be the judge of that. On both counts.”

“Indeed, I’m sure.” Midas said in a tone that was meant to placate the bizarre woman. He had already gotten off on the wrong foot with Racheli, and that was a mistake that he attempting to avoid with this creature. As he approached the doorway into the facility, he paused momentarily and motioned for her to follow. “This way, Lady Raeviir, I have someone that I am looking forward to having make your acquaintance.”

Lost Haven Financial District
11:19 AM

I want you to picture the most sleaziest stockbroker you can imagine. Have you got an image? Is he a guy with slicked back hair, one of those orange tans, and a suit that costs more than what you make in a year? If that's what's in your head, then you know exactly what Sean Dunmoore looks like. And like that proverbial sleazeball stockbroker, Dunmoore has no conscience and no morals. His company, SD Securities, is one of the top dogs when it comes to trading and investing in Lost Haven. SD Securities has been investigated by the FBI and SEC for everything from wire fraud to ponzi schemes. Every time he's walked away unscathed, the Teflon Trader among one of his many nicknames. He is without a doubt one of the smartest and most corrupt white collar crooks in the country.

Which is why he's the perfect mark.

"This all sounds very risky, Mr... Blomkamp, was it?"

"Yes," I said in my best South African accent. "It is risky, Mr. Dunmoore, but the payout would be exponential."

I didn't raise my voice or even let excitement creep into it. Jackob Blomkamp, Vice President of International Trade and Development for Afrikaans Tool and Mining, was not a man who got excited very often. He was too professional for that. With my crisp suit, bulky glasses, and fake mustache I looked every bit the part of upper corporate management with the personality to match.

Dunmoore rubbed his chin and leaned back in his chair. Behind him was the cityscape of Lost Haven, spread out beneath him like feudal kingdom. "So these diamonds your company has in backstock, why can't they just sell them through legitimate means?"

"Ahh, Mr. Dunmoore," I said with a clucking tongue. Like a parent gently scolding an ignorant child. "You are not very familiar with the international diamond market. A small cabal of companies control import and export laws, only so many diamonds can be shipped out of producing countries every year. They do this to keep the supply down and the costs up. What we would be doing in effect is--"

"Diamond smuggling," Dunmoore said with a smirk.

"That's crass, sir," I said with a hint of annoyance in my voice. "We are simply liquidating our assets and transferring them to another company."

"Illegally moving a product out of a country and into another, that sounds like the textbook definition of smuggling to me."

I threw my hands up. "Call it what you will. As it currently stands, our company is cash poor but asset rich. The diamond market here in the United States is ripe for making profits. It is much more stable here that is in Africa. We are waiting for a coup to overthrow the president. If that were to happen, then trading would come a standstill and all our surplus would be stuck in South Africa. We need to get them out the country as soon as possible. From the comforts of Lost Haven, we could quietly sell our diamonds in peace. But to do that, we need money to arrange the export of our reserves to the United States."

"Why me?" asked Dunmoore. "Why not someone with experience in the precious jewels market?"

"Because, people who know diamonds also know the diamonds laws. And like I said earlier, the market is a very small one. Word would get around fast. You are an outsider, one who has no qualms about... regulations."

"Those are just accusations," he said with a finger pointed at me. "Nothing has ever been proven."

"Regardless, you know opportunity when you see it. For an initial investment of two hundred thousand American dollars, I am prepared to offer you twenty-five percent of proceeds from all diamond sales we conduct after they are safely here in America. Furthermore, you would own five percent Afrikaans Tool and Mining."

Dunmoore looked at me for a long moment. He pressed his fingers together and closed his eyes before answering.

"Thirty percent of proceeds, and I own ten percent of the company."

"I...," I hesitated. It was something Blomkamp would do. "I am not authorized for that deal. Shall I... speak with my board of directors tonight and call on you tomorrow? I feel like they will accept, but I need their final approval."

Dunmoore nodded slowly.

"Very well. Let's have lunch. I'll have my secretary call you tomorrow morning and let you know where and when."

"That is...," I wiped sweat from my brow. The suit was wool, too thick for the weather outside and indoors. But that was part of it. Jacob Blomkamp had a penchant for flop sweat. "I will have an answer by then."

Dunmoore stood and we shook hands.

"Hopefully the one I want to hear."

"Me too, sir," I said as we walked towards the door. "Me too."

----

Little Ulster
4:30 PM

My lip still itched like hell from the fake mustache. I learned the hard way once that you have to shave completely before applying those things. When the need for a quick change is called for, it rips your stubble and half your damn lip off. I scratched it as I walked around the general clutter that was my apartment.

To an outsider, I would look like a transvestite hoarder. Clothing of all bodies sizes, makes, and even genders were strewn across the room on hangers along with makeup, wigs, and false mustaches. Books on every topic from US naval history to home and gardening were crammed on the wall mounted shelves. The books, clothes, and makeup were all part of my job. Tools of the trade if you will. To be a good grifter you have to be able to become the person you're pretending to be.

I walked through the clutter towards my discarded Blomkamp disguise and a book on the history of African diamond mining. To some grifters all these props and research are considered a crutch, but I need it. Today I couldn't have just be Jock Sturgeon pretending to be a South African mining executive. I had to be a South African mining executive Jackob Blomkamp and think and react like him. Grifting is the most intense form of acting you will find. Every time you preform the stakes are so high. Entire fortunes and even your own life is dependent upon your performance, so you have to be the best. I'm like Daniel-Day Lewis.... If, you know, Daniel Day-Lewis stole shit.

A loud pounding on the door snapped me out of my reverie.

"Who is it?" I yelled.

"A guy who is really fucking good and kicking down doors, Sturgeon. Open up."

I walked to the door and looked through the peephole. Shit. The Stafford twins were standing at my door. Short and thin Johnny Stafford, with his shock of gray hair and pale skin, looked nothing like dark skinned and tall Jimmy Stafford. Their boss hired them only because their names matched and he got a kick out of seeing them together. one of my shoes had more intelligence than the Stafford twins put together.

"Mister Sturgeon, he no here," I said in my best Hispanic maid voice.

"Fuck you, Sturgeon," said Jimmy.

Johnny laughed and added. "We know you're in there. So get your cleaning lady to open up."

See what I mean?

"Okay, fellas," I said as I opened the door. "Ya caught me. Now what is this ab--"

Jimmy grabbed me by scruff of my neck and yanked me from the threshold of the apartment.

"The Ambulance Chaser requests your presents," said Johnny.

"I think you mean presence," I said as the two took turns pushing me down the hall towards the stairs.

They led me down the stairs towards the front door. Through the walls I could rock and roll music from Gingy's pub. Gingy was nice enough to let me live above her place. She could have lived in the apartment any time but didn't like to. She said she spent enough time at work that she needed to get the hell out sometimes.

The twins hustled me out into the street and into an idling town car. Sitting in the backseat was the Ambulance Chaser himself in a slick suit with pinstripes and gelled hair that was combed to try to hide the fact that it was rapidly thinning. He winked at me and patted the seat beside him.

"Jock, my boy."

If you live in the Lost Haven area and have a TV then you know exactly who Percy Fitzwaller is. His ads always ran late at night and in the middle of the afternoon. They were goofy as hell, with real life testimonials from people who Fitzwaller had represented in personal injury various lawsuits. The commercials always ended with Fitzwaller holding an umbrella as computer generated dollar bills rained down from above while a logo beneath him had his phone number and the logo of "Fitzwaller $how$ You Dollar$!"

When he wasn't busy suing over hot cups of coffee and cars with bad brakes, Fitzwaller took up his second occupation of criminal fixer. With a vast network of runners and go-betweens, Fitzwaller could arrange things from simple theft to arson to even murder for hire. His nickname of the Ambulance Chaser was a bit on the nose, but Fitzwaller seemed to really enjoy it. And he made enough profit at fixing to afford the Stafford twins. Although, admittedly, they weren't exactly top shelf muscle.

"What's the occasion, Fitzwaller? Trying to find out if me or a love one as been affected by mesothelioma?"

"Funny," Fitzwaller said with a sniffle. "I'm here representing my... other business."

"Well, I'm flattered, but I've got a game running right now and I can't steal--"

"It's not that," he hissed. "And if it were, I wouldn't be approaching you directly. I had my network for that."

My eyebrow raised at the change from present to past tense.

"Had?" I asked.

"Shit," he said with a sigh. "That's what this is about. My network of cut outs and go-betweens. I had a list of them and they were stolen."

"Wait a minute... you're telling me you actually wrote down who you employed to carry out your work for you? I thought you were a lawyer. Since when is it smart to keep notes on a criminal conspiracy."

"You don't understand," he snapped. "I... the last few months I've had trouble remembering everyone. It's... I'm getting old. There, I said it. I got so many people I use to approach people it gets hard to remember. So I had a guide of sorts. I kept it in my office safe. Well last night someone broke into that safe and took all my notes. My list of the networks for every job I contracted out for the last six months."

No witty comment from me. Not at that time. The way Fitzwaller's system worked made it foolproof. If he got contracted to, let's say, burn a business down, then he would approach someone beneath him and hand them a stuffed manila envelope. Inside that envelope was a name of the next person in the chain and a smaller envelope that that person would hand off to said person. It went that way until it got to the arsonist at the bottom. Serious crimes were always six or seven people deep, insulating Fitzwaller and his client as much as humanely possible. If someone had a list of the chains, then it would be the easiest thing in the world to roll it up from the bottom down and haul them all in for felony conspiracy.

"Yeah," said Fitzwaller as he saw the look in my eyes. "That's how serious it is. I need those papers back. I need you to get them back for me. Ten grand up front to do the job, a bonus to follow upon the speedy return of the papers."

"Perce," I said softly. "I wouldn't even know where to begin..."

"You still a burglar?"

"Only if I'm desperate or nostalgic... or desperately nostalgic."

"So you got friends in that world still. Start there."

Fitzwaller reached into his jacket and pulled out a stuffed white envelope he handed to me.

"Ten grand. Find those documents."

"What if I can't find them."

Something close to a smile crept on his face.

"Or I send the twins after you. And what's left after their through I'll feed to my dogs."

"Wait... are you saying their gonna eat me?"

"Get out the car, smartass," growled Fitzwaller. "And get to goddamn work."

----

Lost Haven Financial District
7:14 PM

Sean Dunmoore sat in the darkness of his office lost in thought. He was the only one left in the office. The people who worked for him knew the drill by now. He was always first one in and last one to leave every day. The rest of the financial world had plenty to say about his business practices, but none of them could talk about his work ethic or his devotion to the job.

All day long he had been consumed by his meeting from this morning. He kept thinking about that strange white skinned African man with his proposal. He'd heard of some crazy schemes over the years, but nothing like this It was like something out of a movie. South African diamond smuggling. Any minute now he expected James Bond to burst through the door.

Still, something about the whole thing seemed sketchy. Well, sketchy apart from the acknowledgement that the scheme involved breaking several national and international laws. He know so little about Blomkamp and his company... whatever it was called, he had the man's card somewhere. He looked it up online and found a bare bones web page announcing that Afrikaans Tool and Mining was indeed a company in South Africa, but nothing else existed on them. Sean leaned forward and picked his phone up off the hook. He looked through his rolodex until he found the number he wanted and dialed it.

"Al? Hey it's Sean Dunmoore up in Lost Haven. Yeah, it's been awhile. Are you still in DC working for the Department of Commerce? Right, good to hear it. Look, I need a favor when you get in the office tomorrow morning. I want to know what you guys have on record for this company called Afrikaans Tool and Mining. Yeah. I can spell it for you, you got something to write with? Yeah."

If these guys were as international as Blomkamp claimed to be, the US government would certainly have a file on them. And if they didn't? Well, then he would know for sure that this plan that sounded too good to be true really was.