Location: Lost Haven-Maine, Apartment Complex

Time: Around 9 pm

Racheli peeled off her pajamas, then her foot slid the pile to the side. Casually she lifted a foot then stepped into the tub. She sank down into the hot water slowly, disrupting the water before it became still again. Vapor rose into the room until it cast a haze in the bathroom causing her to sink further into the heat surrounding her shape. Her brown hair darkened as she dunked herself lower. The ends plastered against her neck, the thoughts of yesterday washed away from her attention.

Soon it would be sent swirling down the drain where it would be forgotten for a short time.

The heat seeped into her skin, her body temperature elevated and seemed to mildly burn at her insides. A slight weakness washed into her limbs drawing a relieved sigh. In that moment, Racheli felt human. Even for a brief moment, she absorbed the sensation and appreciated it. Heat began to match her inner temperature as her attention drifted to the water. Blood flecked off her skin and subtly discolored the water, swirling and dancing just under the surface. The detail easily caught her attention then held it.

Never before had she ever seen it quite like this. Her good arm fisted under the surface, feeling her temper claw at her heart, as she struggled not unleash in a surge of energy. She hated it.

Forcing her eyes to avert from the microscopic display, her head leaned back. Something dark and unsettling curled in her heart. Some instinct sensed a predator lurking about causing her thoughts to still. Impulsive her eyes jerked to the side, spying someone there. Racheli’s lips tightened into a frown before she snapped.

“Do you know the fucking meaning of privacy?”

Michael’s eyes narrowed into a familiar annoyance. His lips thinned as he glared, his eyes shifted to her missing arm. Reining his temper, he twisted about and faced away. However, he wasn’t through with her.

‘I told you that it wouldn’t work. Now can we try it my my way?’

Racheli snorted, letting the silence stretch between them. Her stubbornness wanted to tell him to fuck off and leave her be, but she had to admit he had a point. She casually glanced down at her arm. It seemed to twinkle back at her as light reflected off its surface, a small metal stump. Midas’ method hadn’t fixed the damaged drawing a fresh wave of irritation to wash over her. Her body slouched lower into the water, fully intending to ignore him as she soaked.

An hour in, an eruption of energy swept across her mind. The room felt like it was jerking about as Racheli splashed violently.

“WHAT THE HELL?” She shouted.

Her limbs gripped the tub sides in reaction, trying to steady herself. Immediately she sat upright with eyes darted about for the source. Nothing. Upon seeing no one, her racing heart gradually settled back into her chest and her back leaned against the tub once more.

Letting her nerves collect themselves, Rach decided it was time to get out.

Her hand reached for the cotton towel as she hastily wrapped it about her middle, her legs quickly stepped out onto the mat. She paused long enough to struggle with pulling the plug out with her foot. Water followed her curves with gravity into the ground where it drenched the floor. Rach, still rattled casually walked naked out of the bathroom. Her hand held the towel to her hair as it shook it dry. At this point, all modesty was tossed out the door to ease her task at drying herself.

The earlier event disturbed her, her mind cast it off for the moment. No point in dwelling on it she chided herself as she waltzed to her bedroom. Today had been an exhausting day and all she could decide to do was sleep it off. The morning wouldn’t have this bullshit lingering over her head.

---

Benjamin’s form kept low and slinked through what little smoke remained, using it to his advantage. His shadowy figure was only betrayed when light penetrated the thickness, his features still hazy and blurred in his movement. Golden eyes filled with purpose and aggression as he sought additional threats.

This wasn't over. Some instinct screamed in the back of his wild heart, the beat thumped loudly in his veins and vibrated each time. Paws danced through the scattered remains of various gains, snacks and blood leaving a smeared trail where he had paced repeatedly.

His fur bristled when his nose caught a whiff of the incoming Hounds. Little thought or planning edged into his mind when his body prowled closer. Ten men seemed ready and more organized this time. Three held strange devices at the ready while they were flanked by their fellows, their weapons raised and fingers close to the trigger. Brazenly, Benjamin’s large, bulky mass erupted from the smoke. His maws widened to latch onto the nearest man’s arm.

Fwooosh!

White, sticky tendrils poured out of the nozzle into his jaws causing Benjamin to choke midway through his action. The taste was chemical and completely horrible. He barely landed on his paws as he took a moment to claw the riot foam out, the liquid’s now solid mass took up the full front of his face. Effectively sealing his mouth shut. In his brief distraction, he made the perfect target.

Bullets sliced through the air and embedded into the younger werewolf, severing though flesh and embedded into muscle. The force’s impact managed to bash off some of the foam allowing the wolf to see. The flash of muzzled caused his head to twist away. Blood droplets and chunks of foam scattered across the tile floor, staining it red. Benjamin’s muscles tightened as he let out a deep, threatening growl. His animalistic eyes widened in anger at the sensation of bullets hitting him.

Their weapons rose again and Benjamin darted into the smoke once more. Shots peppered behind him as the flimsy plyboard was punctured in his wake, the last one managed to catch his hind leg and crippled him. An ear splitting yelp escaped him while he tried to create distance between the men and himself.

Seeming to guess this, one of the men made a circular gesture to surround him. The finger then pointed to about three individuals, two with guns and the final one with foam, to follow him.

Unaware of the danger on his heels, Benjamin whimpered softly in pain as the adrenaline died down. Something was different about these bullets. Blood dripped down his sides and made his path slick, his pads barely found purchase along the smooth floor. His fur was matted in about six places as his muscles began to feel weighed down. They barely responded to his commands. Weakly his nose turned to the nearest wound and inhaled.

Nothing. No scent, save for his blood which mingled with an off color taint. A shiver traveled up his spine. His right paw slipped as his side toppled to the ground hard, his breath laborious. The werewolf’s eyesight darkened the moment three figures appeared and cautiously walked toward him. Their weapons ready for the killing blow.

All Benjamin could do was weakly growl.

---

”Do not insult my intelligence, Circe.” Hekate snapped at Circe, pacing over the lavish tile of her inner sanctum, dark garments floating in a phantom breeze. The two witches hadn’t seen nor heard from one another in 180 years, and Circe’s idea of a greeting caught Hekate in a sour mood.

”I meant no disrespect,” Circe appologized, her sultry voice conveying more sarcasm than sympathy. ”But the topic requires further discussion, given recent events . . .”

Hekate glared at her former pupil, falling onto a stone bench with dramatic flair, leaning her head back and releasing a dreadful sigh. Circe had always been meddlesome, more so than Medea, though no one would know it given how isolationist she was. This wasn’t the time for Circe’s prying hands.

”Does it? 2000 years it’s gone withough discussion, why bring it up now, amidst all this chaos? The Winter Court is rising once more, the witches of this city, this country, are falling to lesser men, powerless. The Five Families are short one coven and infighting will soon begin if I don’t maintain control. And then there are my other associates in town . . . I don’t have time for your meddlesome inquiries.”

”Precisely,” Circe rebuted, setting herself next to her mistress, taking Hekate’s hands in hers. ”You don’t have time, but not for the reasons you may think. My Lady, you’re spread too thin, and you haven’t the time to spare to all these pet projects.”

Circe caught Hekate’s attention, staring deeply into her eyes.

”I won’t mince words, you’re nearing your end. You’ve felt it, I know you have. You have been diligent in your protection and granting of the cunning flame for centuries, but there is one duty you’ve overlooked. Finding y-”

”My successor,” Hekate interrupted, turning away from Circe, head turned downward in sulken dismay. ”Yes, I know. The duty I have failed to uphold.”

Hekate spoke of the role of Witch Mother, a unique title but one held before she assumed that mantle. In the years preceding the rise of man, the Witch-Fire took shape, forming a duality that became known as the Witch Mother and Witch Father. It is their nature to be reborn in a continuous cycle; every few centuries a new leader rising from the living, the dead, or the Other. When the new Witch Mother or Father rises, the old one fades. Hekate’s infernal husband, the Bucca, rose to power in the early 15th century, his predecessor, an Egyptian sorceror priest, falling as he rose.

In those early years, Hekate too should have fallen, but something happened. Her successor wasn’t whole. Hekate reigned as the Witch Mother centuries longer than intended, but recently, she could feel the new Witch Mother near, not quite whole, but growing in strength.

”There is too much still at stake. I cannot fall, not while the Winter Court is at work, not while I’m needed.”

”Nor do I wish to see you leave.” Circe spoke with genuine emotion this time, placing a hand on Hekate’s lap and the other cupping her face. ”Medea and I have served you well, have we not? Allow us to shoulder your burdens. She has already been dispatched to see the end of the Winter Court, and I shall take your place as ambassador of the families here, and elsewhere. Do what you must to see your reign last for another 2000 years, but do not fool yourself into believing it will go away, that you have more time.”

Hekate smiled, kissing Circe’s forehead.

”You are too good to me, the both of you. I shall do as you ask . . . but do not fool yourself into believing you my master.” Hekate joked, the two of them chuckling heartily.

Hekate felt a faint pull, someone calling to her. Her face turned sour, her spirits lowered considerably.

What’s wrong, my lady?”

”It would appear time for you to meet one of my associates.”

With the morning hours just about over, Eva sat watching the little people the Clan as they were. Children were exhausted the Elders famished. Eva’s watch ticked and the Clan just wasn’t ready to move out. “Dearie, we are auld unprepared, all auur food auur supplies gone. We have young aunes who need nourishment and in no condition to move anymore. We will need a while to rest.”
”I’ll get some things, food, milk water? Sound okay?” As the greying Elder gave a nod Eva popped through a door. While things at the Hero Diner progressed slowly.

“We don’t know who ordered the assassination, only that they were not expecting anyone with powers or abilities.” Rosie said as she looked at the files they had on the would be Hitman. “This one is average, skilled but not equipped to deal with heroes. Any normal person would be a fairly easy target.”

Mulling around between organizing the anti Hound watch and response force and the matter of a attempted murder Rosie was nowhere near able to dedicate heroes to this matter, that was until American Rocket returned slipping off his flight jacket. “Afternoon Rosie, a cuppa joe for me and our new friend here. Who has something you’d be interested in.”

Rosie eyed the gal, aside from the ripped dress and pink locks the girl seemed to be average but she knew who she was, “Flower. The Berserker in a Dress. Why is she here?”

“Why!? Why you ask, well because my employer knows who put the hit on Eva. Kinda surprising really wouldn’t have guessed. It was the Family, the Mother and Father. Don’t know why but they wanted her out discreetly.” Flower said with a pretty smile despite her roughed up appearance.

“And your employer is whom?” Rosie asked thinking there must be a catch.

“Someone with money and power. I’m sure you know the Supernatural community is in a tizzy and he wants to restore balance and best way, bring together a team. He wants Eva, as she wields Excalibur. Chance that I'd meet the only person who'd meet the description for the new King of Britain. And chance even more I'd be working for someone wanting to know who that might be.”

“Okay, assuming I believe this employer of yours is a kind soul. Discrete is not what I’d call hiring an assassin. I’ve seen plenty of nobles in my day, rich folk who play the long game not hire out help to off their kids.”

“I know right! But hey boss says it was them, though in this messed up world you never know. Could be clones, evil clones. Or maybe the Father isn’t as smart as he should be; the guy married into the name, weaseled his way in with the daughter and stole her heart. Likely doesn’t have a good bone in his body.” Slipping herself into a chair one could almost forget that she currently acted as a mercenary with the dignified care she showed merely taking a seat. “But I could use a drink before we continue. Got any brandy?”

Rosie narrowed her eyes and spoke calmly. “Have an ID?”

--- Elsewhere ---

”She isn’t ready, it’s too soon for her to take the trial.”

”Perhaps but she needs to, she is of no use to me as she currently is. For now make preparations to meet the Lady.”

With a grave tone Arthur snapped back.”I had a lifetime to prepare, I held a sword before I could run. This could kill her.”

”Not of my concern. If she cannot fulfill her role then we may be all doomed by the coming threat.”

”Not your destroyer of worlds again, last I checked the two Speedsters clocked his hide out of orbit.”

”And.” Merlin stood feet hovering in mid air as if there were ground firmly beneath her feet, watching Eva exit a mini mart. [”It’ll be back I know it.”

As the Sun set those who slept at Alistair’s Mansion awaited the sun’s passing once again the warriors prepared as Eva and the young snoozed away the night. And with the rising sun of the new day they were finally ready to depart, all holled up in a large pack Eva had brought from home. With a single step she saw a neighborhood and a home before her; paper in hand she read over the adress one last time and stepped up to the door. ”This is it. Hide yourselves.” Eva said as she secured the straps and raised a hand to knock.

Double Post

The walls of The Hub reverberated with the sultry sound of Clara’s voice as she belted out a slow and seductive cover of “Nothing Else Matters.” From his favorite table in the far back corner of the club, which still provided him with a fantastic view of not only the dance floor, but the stage as well, Scott sat with him arm around Alexa as they watched Clara and Keira’s band, “The Queens of Nowhere” perform. With everything that’s gone on over the last few weeks, from Alexa’s parents coming to town and her father making Scott’s life a living hell, to the clear and present threat presented by the Hounds of Humanity, this was the first time in what seemed like a lifetime that Scott was able to spend any quality time with Alexa or any of his friends for that matter. In fact, just after returning from assisting a stranded fishing vessel in the Sea of Japan, then a quick stop in Pacific Point, California, Scott learned of the Hounds’ attack at Lost Haven University earlier in the day. The fact that the attack happened while he was away from Lost Haven bothered him. Learning of the attack after the fact, and knowing that he was too far away to help left him feeling vulnerable and angry.

“Are you alright?” Alexa said in a whisper as she leaned in close and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before resting her body against him.

“Yeah, I was just…” he started to say but she cut him off.

“Thinking about the Hounds. Me too.” She finished his sentence. “We’ll take care of them.” She finished with an air of determination in her voice. The attack at the campus had shaken her to the core. She had been in her office at Winstone when the attack happened, and she hadn’t learned of the attack until it was too late for her to do anything. However, she decided that they will worry about the Hounds of Humanity tomorrow.

Tonight, they will worry about each other.

Scott looked out at the dance floor and watched the crowd, and he noticed a difference between this crowd tonight and past crowds. There was a palpable tension in the air. People were uncomfortable, they were afraid. The Hounds of Humanity had been effective in striking fear into the hearts of people all across the country, however, these people that were in The Hub on this night refused to allow that fear to rule their lives. So they were here, singing, dancing, and drinking. Then suddenly, something told Scott that something wasn’t right. There was a screech of tires just outside of The Hub.

“What’s wrong?” Alexa asked as Scott began looking around the club, trying to find any signs of trouble.

“I’m not sure, I just hear…” he was cut off as the lights inside the club went out, and there was a sudden flash of movement as the doors burst open and a number of men in black body armor rushed inside. “They’re here.” Scott said.

Scott looked around the club lately, and even with the lights out there was still some light coming in from the streets. He knew that he had to do something, or people were going to die. Unfortunately, there were too many people inside the club, and there was nowhere for him to change out of his civilian clothes. It was clear that tonight Icon would not be making an appearance; Scott would have to deal with this without the benefit of his alter ego.

”Stay here.” He said to Alexa before springing into action. Scott bounded from the table and moved toward the Hounds who were at the front of the door. However, he wasn’t fast enough. Before he could reach the assailants, they had already begun shooting.

Scott watched bodies dropping to the floor as he made his way toward the first of the Hounds, who he met with a backhand slap that sent the man soaring through the air, crashing hard into two other gunmen which sent them crashing into the wall behind them. He then turned his attention to another gunman, who was targeting the patrons at the bar. Scott raced toward the man, moving faster than the average person, but not so fast as to draw attention to himself. He hit the man with a right cross, dropping the gunman before he was able to get a single shot off.

“Oh no, you’re not having all the fun.” Alexa said as she joined the fray. She was met almost immediately by one of the Hounds. She stopped short as he leveled his assault rifle at her, but instead of backing away, she motioned like she was throwing a punch, and instead of making contact with her fist, a small bolt of electricity jumped from her hand and hit the man in the chest, causing him to jump back as if he’d been hit by a truck, the electric shock he received causing him to empty his bowels.

Up on the stage, the band had gotten to safety. Clara head lead her band mates to the back where they would try to get out of the back exit. However, Keira stayed behind. She ducked behind one of the large amplifiers and watched the chaos as it unfolded. She wanted to help, to tend to the wounded if she could, however, the flying bullets kept her pinned down, forcing her to be a spectator to the carnage. Amid the chaos, she saw that some people were fighting back. While most of the club’s patrons ran for cover, some were fighting back. Of those who were fighting, she immediately saw Scott, one of the club owners and someone who had become a close friend was right in the thick of it. He knocked a couple of the gunmen down with a single punch, then spun around and reverse clotheslined another, which sent him crashing halfway across the dance floor. Then she watched as another of the Hounds crept up behind him and pulled out a revolver, and fired three shots which looked to hit him square in the back. She cried out for her friend, then looked on in amazement as he simply turned around and shoved him, which sent the man flying.

“Oh my…” She uttered to herself in disbelief.

The attack was short, but brutal. Fortunately, Scott and Alexa, along with a number of the other club goers acted swiftly and drove the Hounds of Humanity thugs off. When all was said and done, fifty three people were wounded, twelve were killed. However, if it wasn’t for the actions of a brave few, the number of casualties would have been far greater. As the LHPD secured the scene, Alexa walked up to Scott and put her arm around his waist. He looked down to her and as their eyes met, a silent resolve was shared between the two lovers.

The Hounds of Humanity were going to be stopped before they could be allowed to hurt anyone else.

---

Time: Evening (Forever Evening)
Location: Smithy’s Grocery Store - Las Vegas

Marie fell back in exhaustion, catching herself just before hitting the stained tile. She cupped her head with both hands, the sharp return of memory more painful than she might have expected. Her ears rang for a moment as her head throbbed. The air around her shimmered with something old. There was power there, power that hadn’t existed before, at least, not that anyone could tell.

Holt rushed to Marie’s side, his ethereal form phasing through the remnant chaos.

Marie, Holt’s raspy voice conveyed concern as best it could. Are you alright? Did something happen?

He could feel it, of course. The change in Marie’s voice moments before, her posture, the burning embers within that bathed her in an ephemeral glow, all was apparent. It was just as Puck had warned.

Marie stood slowly, the hem of her dress covered in blood, dirt, and ash, her sunhat blown away in the fray, small nicks, bumps, and bruises on her lower legs portraying more harm than she’d realized.

”Yeah,” she groaned, dusting herself off, wincing as she bent her right arm which had caught the brunt of her fall. ”I’ll live.”

The smell of burning flesh carried through Smithy’s, the charred corpses of her victims still blanketed in hot flames. Marie looked them over, emotionless, remorseless, but trying to make sense of what had happened. Gwyneth had taken over, that much she knew. Could she trace this new memory back to others, use it as a torch to illuminate Gwyneth’s other dark secrets? She scanned the room, hoping to find context for her newly discovered memory.

Odette had watched the White Witch change before her eyes. She felt Gwyneth's possession in her purse burn through the enchanted walls warming her leg. It astounded her the power released even at close proximity to another piece of her soul. Every time she turned around it seemed Gwyneth and by extension the White Witch was setting the bar higher. For the briefest of moments she saw Gwyneth herself. Slowly she approached White Witch, seemingly herself once more. Mandate was close by while Bach whispered in her ear on her shoulder.

“Quite the reaction, rage and witchfire. I suppose that was only a brief glimpse.” Odette guessed, the fey around them flocked openly surrounding Mandate and some returning to their Ambassador’s side lingering in her shadow and around her head.

“That was far too easy, The Hounds would not seriously expect to rid us that easily. Sending in a few people with guns.” The sorceress shrewdly observed the White Witch, physically and her clothing were in a state. “You are prepared to continue fighting, yes?”

Marie turned to glare at the Ambassador, but her eyes weren’t filled with hate or rage, only fatigue.

”If I must,” Marie’s voice carried her tiredness, but there was a subtle determination there as well. ”Might be easier if you handed me that box.” Marie gestured to the Ambassador’s purse. She didn’t know if touching Gwyneth’s artifacts would strengthen her any more than being in proximity to them. Either way, Marie was keen to be in full possession of what was hers.

The Ambassador dug the still warm trunk containing Sight out of her purse, “It would certainly be an interesting experiment. This...belongs to you.” She said with a slight begrudging tone. Clearly not eager to hand over her bargaining chip. They had shook hands and a contract was signed. The White Witch was obligated not to do her harm. “It is fair warning of me to say, powerful wards protected this for centuries and the magic that these were steeped in were powerful enough to pull my mind and soul into a world built then maintained by Gwyneth, by her will and her will alone. They are more than just containers for memories.”

She offered it.

Marie took the trunk quickly, holding it in both of her hands while looking Odette in the eyes.

”So you really saw her?” Marie sounded invigorated, her excitement apparent. ”She . . . pulled you into another world? Where did she take you? What did you see?”

Marie rattled off questions, all the while opening the box to reveal dozens of small divinatory stones, runes, and coins bearing images and symbols she didn’t fully recognize. The box gave her no trouble, but there was a power in it, something that resonated with her. Perhaps it hadn’t made Marie stronger, but more aware.

“I saw you. When-” She hesitated to say, taking an extra moment to tailor her words, “When I first began to look for more information regarding you, I did not fully understand what it meant when I discovered you and Gwyneth are one in the same, just incomplete. When I met you, in past memories - a bubble so to speak, you isolated yourself from the world. You believed that Queen Mab was still ruling in the Summer Courts. Only then did I finally understand. It is like a mirror.” She said holding the White Witch’s attention with her icy blue eyes. As for her other questions, there was no time to go in depth. “There will be time later to discuss, as for now we must focus. Gather what energy you have left to defend you and yours.”

Mandate, for her part, had meandered closer during the Ambassador’s exchange with the White Witch, having returned to her side once her playtime was done. The heavy golem was mostly preoccupied with wiping at her hands with a strip of cloth stolen from her victim’s clothing, working to remove his blood from where it pooled at her joints and crevices. Still, some of the conversation managed to float its way into her ears. Hopefully the Ambassador would give her the important footnotes at another time.

”You think there will be more to kill, Miss Ambassador?” she asked, curious and perhaps a little contemplative. Maybe she should have grabbed the man’s gun like she’d been wanting to, she mused. It wasn’t like she needed it, but such things killed faster than she could run. Although, she’d found it inconvenient the last time she’d held one, how it did not fit her finger, or her hand for that matter. The little piece that prevented her digit from operating it didn’t look important…

The Ambassador turned looking up to her friend, “Yes, I do not doubt the Hounds of Humanity are finished with us yet. I remember quite clearly, only a few days ago the destruction they brought to us.” A rumbling agreement from the Fey around them. “We are not the weak-”

Three bullet shots rang through the store cutting through the shadows, cutting through the distinct form of a Far Derrig in their rat-like appearance. Their dark red coat bled colour, greying into ash as the silver bullet ‘purified’ the spirit. With it the strangled cry of their death.

The Fey around them erupted with anger, in a blink of an eye their magic soaked their surroundings elongating Odette’s shadow filling it with various shapes making it unrecognizable. The ground in the aisles became swampy with bog, a vile stench permeated the air. The Ambassador braced herself against it. In another blink The Ambassador began warding her surrounding area, Words of Power summoning the Arcane Stream upon them. She stepped behind Mandate, working another layer.

It became abundantly clear that her wards would do them no favours, multiple shots began to tear through the shop. Each with a target, not firing indiscriminately as they did before. Her wards shattered. Fey took shelter in their boggy hatred, erecting natural shields of their own as opposed to magical.

The sudden pain striking Mandate, which a foggy memory compared to the sting of insects, brought with it a violent flinch from the golem, her arms swinging up instinctively to block her face as she nonetheless turned her body towards the assault, presenting a wider target and greater cover. ”Ow!” Ow? Ow? That was unacceptable. She was becoming far, far too familiar with pain, in her opinion; one time was already too many.

But Miss Ambassador came first. The golem whirled on her feet deceptively quickly, resisting the urge to arch her back as the little stings prickled their way across it, rather than her front. She now faced the Ambassador and the White Witch, her body low and hunkered forward, arms spread. ”Miss Ambassador, are you alright? They’re hurting!” Her voice was almost a petulant whine, her ‘v’ of a mouth flipping into a frown. Areas of the golem’s broad chest carried dents, as if pockmarked. Similar marks were doubtlessly appearing on her back now, judging by the noise and stinging pain.

Holt positioned himself between Marie and these new assailants, ghastly arms like black tendrils spread wide to absorb the oncoming fire. A silver bullet passed through his left side, a flash of light and crackle of energy sparking from the impact. Holt screeched in pain, an audible hiss that sent shivers down Marie’s spine. She’d never known he could be hurt.

Looking down on his left hand, a mass of sharp, ethereal claws, a burning hole had pierced Holt’s form, the edges of the wound glowing with white light, preventing the familiar from healing himself. Instinctively, he took Marie’s shoulder and pushed her behind Mandate alongside the Ambassador.

Marie could hear a dull whimper, one of the wolves had been shot. Before she could survey the area to see which one, another bullet came zipping past, grazing her right shoulder. At first, it was nothing, only the slight sting of air hitting the fresh cut left by the edge of the bullet. But soon after, there came a sharp pain, a burning pain that seemed to spread to her entire arm. She winced, holding her arm closer to her body to ease the pain, but it wouldn’t pass.

Witch hunters . . . Holt spoke in a whisper, looking to the attending fey all gathered in the Ambassador’s shadow. He could see the looks in their eyes, some held panic, but others true terror. He wondered if they knew.

”I-I-Is-s this s-silver?” Marie struggled to ask, gasping with every breath, teeth clenched in response to the pain. She knew the powers that iron held over the fey, indeed, over any magic; she knew the stories of witches being harmed by silver, but never had she experienced the malice of witch hunters or their instruments . . . not in this life anyway.

Holt nodded, looking down to find that his wound had only partially closed.

Their weapons are blessed. These are the armaments of witch hunters, your magic alone cannot halt their progress. But perhaps our magic combined . . . Holt turned to the Ambassador, now fully visible in gruesome detail, a black shade with no distinguishable features save a head full of jagged teeth and two long tendril-like arms sporting vicious claws.

Holt finally appearing and pushing the White Witch around meant she was as affected by their weaponry as The Ambassador’s wards were. The familiar was a shadowy apparition with teeth in what she assumed was his true form. White Witch herself was injured from a bullet graze. Mandate had clear dents across her chest and arms. She assured Mandate, “I am alright.” Her brow furrowed, switching to new tactic. Do as her allies did, the fey had in their expression of anger changed their surroundings to their advantage. From what she could see the ground had become swampy and difficult to trek through. The items on all the shelves were still there, haphazardly but they remained.

The Fey in her shadow whimpered as Bach tried to console them, he tugged on her ear. “My Lady, we cannot remain.”

She nodded. “White Witch, we need to gather everyone close, set traps and slow down their advance. We may not be able to affect them directly but everything around them is still susceptible.” White Witch seemed to be focusing elsewhere, Odette snapped her fingers in front of her face. “No matter how battered you are, focus allow the pain to sharpen your actions. Fan the flames.” Odette adapted a hardened tone, firmly trying to get her attention. Stabilize the fear. The Ambassador hardly wanted to send the Fey into certain death and it would soon mean they would be surrounded, there was only so much Mandate could do. “I need time to craft our escape.”

The rings of dents ticked time away, Odette closed her eyes calling upon the Arcane Stream the shelves of groceries began to levitate surrounded by misty blue. Some of the floating cans were shot out of the air mistaken for a true target. A shout from one of the Hounds told them they were not far, perhaps conserving their limited supply? Soup cans, bags of pasta, boxes of powdered potatoes were lifted scattered into the air at random. Another shot sprayed soup contents, feeding the swamp.

Marie followed the Ambassador’s words, straining her eyes, which had begun to glaze over with a soft haze. This nullifying poison was spreading, weakening her, draining her stamina, dulling her mind. A tool of the witch hunters, she thought, to make their victims unable to protect themselves or fight back. But Marie was no second rate witch. Gwyneth had made herself known before, twice now. Perhaps these circumstances were exactly what she needed to unlock that hidden potential.

Holt, Marie’s mind linked with Holt’s, even her inner voice carrying the same fatigue as her body, Shake the earth, stir the winds, don’t let them any closer.

Holt gave a single nod, his ephemeral body coalescing into a mass of dark shadows, shifting into the form of a large raven. Off he flew into the fray, carrying on his wings an unnatural gust of air. Around the Hounds he flew, drawing some of their fire as they struggled to see his misty figure in the growing fog. The wind became so strong it threatened to topple still standing shelves. The Hounds’ bullets flew straight, but their focus was gone.

Soon after, Holt assumed a form Marie had seen only once, the one gifted to him by Joseph, that of a black goat. He stomped around Smithy’s, bucking his head, long, gnarled horns scraping the walls. With each pass, the ground beneath them began to shake, upsetting their balance further, forcing them remain stationary to catch their balance.

Marie used this time to conjure her strength, or that of Gwyneth, and find some piece of that old magic. Much to her surprise, it came with relative ease, a gift she had witnessed before but had not always been able to perform . . . the gift of fascination. She lifted her arm, two windows near the entrance shattering in response, spraying the still encroaching hounds with shards of glass. The winds summoned by Holt became more wild with her aid, as did the trembling, now stretching to the walls and ceilings, causing light fixtures and display shelves to fall and add to the swamp of debris.

Odette caught her balance of the shaking ground against Mandate, that would be what they needed. Disturbing the environment around them was the perfect deterrent. The Ambassador turned her back to Mandate, summoning her will to open a portal. Bracing herself, she shut out the world around her, shutting out the audience, closing her mind to all foreign distractions. She acclimatized to the vibrating ground, the noise faded away. Quietly the sounds of a rushing river came to her in her imagination, far away and changing from the sounds of a river to a heartbeat. She lifted her arms into the air blue energy flowing down from her hands to her arms. Words of Power spoken in French Odette invited the Arcane Stream to open and it responded in kind.

A line of energy was drawn down, it widened in a triangle brightening their surroundings considerably. A wave of life flowing from it. From it slowly a door took shape, first it’s wooden frame, panels and then finally a golden door knob and hinges. The portal was formed after a couple minutes. Light outlined the frame. Opening her eyes, Odette looked to her right seeing the White Witch pushing through her injuries then to her left she saw two guns pointed at her.

Dread spread through her stomach. Two Hounds had broke away from their main formation, sneaking alongside the parameters to arrive alongside them. Turning to face them magic still gathered in her hands, no time to properly react, the pair of guns fired. Odette flinched at the first bullet ricocheting off of Mandate’s right arm while the other found its home in her shoulder. The force drove her back into Mandate’s left arm. Stumbling to a knee.

The pain was white hot blooming down her arm and collarbone. The burn from the blessed bullet spread blocking magic from her right arm. She felt familiar with the pain as if she was experiencing the poison of iron once again. “My lady!” Bach shouted, growing back to a human size supporting her torso. Lifting her clear of Mandate’s arm.

Odette let out a drawn out groan, biting down hard on her lower lip. Stifling the cry.

“Ki-Kill them.”

Mandate barely heard the command, though it was hardly necessary. Something had squeezed inside of her for a terrifying moment after the startling pain had bloomed on her side rather than from behind. Then it had returned, and made a seemingly permanent home for itself when Mandate registered Odette’s motion in her arms.
The sight of the ambassador on her knee, a wound driven into her shoulder, was what solidified the feeling. No. And then the Ambassador was leaving her arms, her mind too stricken in that moment to protest. There was a chorus in her mind-no, rather, her mind was the chorus, babbling and incoherent. Fear, twisting inside of her like a knife inside fragile human flesh. Rage, scalding and seething, demanding.

It was a combination of the latter and simple instinct that snapped the golem free of her trance. The tile was exploding beneath her foot before she had even completed her turn, a wordless and senseless scream tearing itself free as if from a hundred throats in discordant harmony. The soothing surreality of her multi-toned voice was gone, leaving only noise and fury.

There was no adrenaline in her body, no veins to carry blood and no heart to race, but the distance between herself and her targets seemed to eat itself up at a frantic pace, the ground exploding beneath every stomp in her long-legged, hunched sprint.

The hounds, for their part, seemed to realize the futility of their gunfire after only a moment. Their backpedaling retreat became a frantic dive to escape her reach. Her arm swung around with all the speed of a frantic rage, the strike of her claws snagging and tearing through one soldier’s equipment, followed by the flesh of their side. A strange buzz swept across her hand in the moment of contact, but it didn’t matter. It was, compared to destroying them completely and utterly, a secondary issue.

The hound was sent into a crimson spiral to the ground, their scream echoing oddly in the magic-rich air. The other paramilitant was caught in a firmer grasp; Mandate’s hand struck true, snapping around their throat like a vice as the golem skidded and stumbled past. It was only a momentary restraint that did not see them decapitated as her first Hound had been.

It didn’t matter. They had to die. Anything else was unacceptable, and anything too slow was not currently practical… But Mandate would allow herself a small vindictive act. Her stampeding became a skidding turn, her occupied hand slamming into the ground hard- accompanied by her target’s neck- as she fell onto all fours. Lifting up the dazed and choking man, the golem lunged to close the distance with the injured secondary ‘soldier’, still writhing and scrabbling upon the ground. The choking man was slammed head-first into his agonized companion, and suddenly both were silent. Not enough, have to be sure. Her hand released his throat, covering the entirety of the man’s face. Screaming with that same agonizing fury, she drove him downwards.

The ensuing force of his head striking his companion’s turned both into what could only be called shrapnel, and left her hand buried into the floor up to the elbow.

Grasping Bach’s shoulder The Ambassador pushed herself up back to her feet. Feebly, her breathing was shallow, blood bloomed across her white blouse. Sweat beaded at her forehead. She felt like everything was fogged, growing distant by the minute. She saw Mandate’s retaliation. She looked to the door then pointed, “W-we need to leave.”

Bach nodded gently towing her to the door, with her free hand she grasped the doorknob tugging it open. All the while the floor was unstable with the disruptions from Holt and the White Witch. A wall of light greeted her as the door swung wide open. She grasped the frame, looking to both White Witch then to Mandate. The Hounds were on the other side of their defenses, Fey came flowing behind her running to the retreat of the portal. The flowing energy of the Arcane Stream gave her the final push to cross the threshold to safety.

Marie made a motion to Holt, bidding him to return.

Holt did as commanded, making one final revolution around the room, trotting down the isles, dodging around struggling Hounds, nicking a few with his horns as he passed. Before returning to Marie’s side, Holt passed by the other half of their group.

The Ambassador has opened a portal for us. Gather yourselves and fall back. Further efforts to protect yourself will be in vain.

With that warning issued, Holt returned to his ethereal form, appearing next to Marie as a mass of dark shadows, supporting her with his magic.

Marie could feel the influx of power, it was enough for her to make her escape. Picking herself up, Marie followed the Ambassador through the portal, the chaos of Smithy’s slowly fading to black, replaced by the soft glow of the night sky and the sound of rushing water.

Darya sat on a bench in the center of a small square somewhere in the northern area of Lost Haven, elbows on her knees and chin in her hands. If it weren't for the fact that she was in her full costume, with added bits of body armour lent from the local police armoury, she would have looked like any bored or dejected teen. As it was, she struck on odd sight, and no one was willing to come within fifteen feet of her. She guessed that only a little part of that was due to her unusual appearance, and quite a bit more was from the attention of certain groups it would undoubtedly draw were she to stay here long enough. Which, unfortunately, was the whole plan.

She sighed, glancing up through the ballistic lenses that covered her eyes at the roof corner where she knew Dragon was. As it turned out, he was some sort of ranged combatant with fire powers, and was providing a third of her cover from up high. Two snipers were behind her, sweeping the sparse crowd for threats while they waited for their targets to take the bait. Naia and Broadway were also here, at the edges of the square in shadowed alleys, waiting for a chance to strike. Two armoured SWAT vans were also lying in wait, with Holliday on hand for emergency backup and medical aid, along with ten FBI and SWAT volunteers. More of those were hanging out in shops or benches around the square. Even with all of the backup, Darya felt alone and exposed, and apparently it showed somehow in her posture, because the little earbud crackled and Rollins' expressive voice came over the comms.

"You looks bored, Tiamat. Wanna hear a joke?"

Another voice cut in, Faulkner, the team lead in LH. "Can it Rollins. She'll be fine."

Darya was not entirely certain she liked Faulkner. His brusque attitude was fitting for a leader, but he had a dampening effect on morale. Several of the others tred to make small talk with him only to find out later that they had received unofficial reprimands, and the whole unit was starting to sour after only a few days. That wasn't helped by their lack of any sort of success in either side of their operation in the city. Broadway and her had had no luck gaining the attention of even minor local metas, excpeting a pair who had backed out and ran as soon as they heard what the mission was. And no surveillance on likely locations had turned up a single Hound or any sort of evidence of their activities. Thus, today found Darya sitting outside in the hot summer sun, on a very uncomfortable wood and iron bench that had certainly seen better days, waiting to be attacked.

A pigeon landed near her and made noises at her, fixing one beady eye to her left side, where next to her a small paper bag sat. In this was her "lunch": a 9mm handgun and two compact flashbang grenades, to use in case they had some way of thwarting her powers. The bird obviously thought she had a real lunch, and burbled at her again. Darya's boredom got the best of her, and she leaned back, stretching her arms out lazily to rest along the iron bak of her seat. Several people twitched nervously around her, but otherwise no one noticed. Which changed rather quickly when, from the fountain behind her, the centerpiece of the square, a jet of water shot and splattered the ground directly next to the pigeon. The bird took off making angry cooing noises at her, and she stuck her tongue out at it before realising the cloth of her mask blocked it. The bitter taste of dry fabric clung to her mouth and she felt reprimanded in full by karma for her actions.

Apparently others had taken notice. She heard several people on the radio chuckle, and Faulkner sigh, but that was not what caught her attention. Two men, on the edge of the square, were now staring directly at her. She hadn't noticed them before, but they were rather well built, and in very utilitarian clothes. One pulled out a phone and began talking into it, not removing his eyes from where Darya sat.

"Roof team, Dragon. I think they've noticed," she said quietly.

A few seconds later, one of the snipers reported them to Faulkner, and suddenly the air was tense. The two men stood up as the phone conversation was finished, and then they very purposefully made their way out of the square and onto the surface streets nearby.

"Look alive, people," Faulkner said. His voice was steady. "Looks like we've finally got a bite."

Broadway cut in. "They actually fell for this? She's been sitting out there for an hour and a half. It's not like we go meet for lunch in full costume."

"I don't know, but they definitely are up to something. Stay sharp people."

Having successfully stired a hornet's nest, Darya decided to keep at it, and began to play with the fountain. She contented herself with drawing the water out into long, lazy circles, hovering a few inches over the pavement. She divided them, sending little serpents of water to snap playfully at the heels of civilians passing through the square. This had the added benefit of lowering chances of civilian casualties. No one wanted to be near crazy powers right now. Within a few minutes, most of the square was empty. And fifteen minutes after that, they got their first sign of incoming action. Several black cars and two large vans pulled up across the street from the square. Darya stood, and began gathering water into puddles and pools around her, as well as causing the fountain to swell with far more than it could hold, forming a towering structure behind her. As per the script, she called out a challenge to the vans, daring the terrorists and cowards to come get her.

She was not ready for the van's side doors to slide open, revealing a machingun mounted in each one. She didn't listen to the shouts over the radio, her nerves had already reduced her hearing to nothing but her pulse pounding in her head and the sudden bleching staccato of the guns as they fired. The water slammed down all around her, a swirling wall filled with now half-frozen slurry, knocking the heavy bullets off course enough for her to avoid the worst as she launched herself to the opposite side of the fountain. After a few seconds, the water relaxed, the guns silenced, and a new voice called across the square.

"Having fun yet, freak? We'll get you yet, and whatever stupid freak friends you have lying around!"

Two blasts sounded from the rooftops, and then two more. A streak of fire flew down from dragons and lit the sides of both vans so immediately that the trio of men from each had to abandon them. The sniper shots had taken out the engines of the smaller vehicles, which had the efect of scattering the Hounds out onto the street and behind cover. Suddenly the situation was far messier than they had planned. And screeching tires from further up the street said it was about to get even worse.

Well, Darya thought to herself as both sides opened up with more gunfire. At least I got some civilians out of here.

Lieutenant Jones was not having a good day. This was largely in part to his being behind a stone pillar near the square that was being chewed up by bullets from government stooges protecting a couple of monsters. Like he had always known, the government was obviously behind this wave of freaks taking over the world, and here, in this time and this place, it was his job to stop it.

One of his men stumbled into cover near him and looked at him expectantly, helemt askew until he awkwardly adjusted it. "There's a lot more of 'em than we thought, Lieutenant! What are your orders?"

Jones grinned at the boy (he must have only been nineteen) and growled, "Let's show them what we've got."

---

Faulkner was swiftly getting order on comms, it seemed to Darya, as she listened for orders relating to her. Water and ice covered the whole fountain, and she was busy getting a wall up across the square to provide more cover to civilians and her team at the same time. Unfortunately, the pipes for the fountain were limiting her gains, only able to push out so much without rupturing, so it was slow going, and she was pushing her senses out to find more somewhere. They were too far away from the ocean for her to reach, but perhaps the river was close enough.

She was distracted from this task by two things at once. First, as more of her human teammates pushed forward, she was building cover for them with blocks of ice, draining her reserves, but the advance was stalling out before they got to the line she was attempting to draw with her powers. Being so defensive, she was relying on the others to take up the attack, and whatever tech Dragon was using was starting to have lower effect as their enemies moved out of his line of fire. She saw him load another round of whatever it was into one of the two tube launchers he was using, but he was forced to duck down before he could get a shot off as a flurry of bullets chipped away the stone of the roof edge he was using for cover.

Second, a new person had cut into the fray. He seemed brutally effective, and, perhaps more importantly, on their side, even though she didn't recognize him at all. Several Hounds went down with bullets in their brain, but the man had become pinned behind the pitiful cover of a simple newsstand. She knew she needed to act, and the rest of her own side seemed oblivious to his plight. Quickly, she called over the radio.

”Broadway! Suppressing fire! I need them blind for a minute!”

A strained but cheerful voice answered her. “Got a little busy on this side, but I can spare a couple shots!”

Darya glanced over to the entrance of the side alley where Broadway and three agents had been and saw that, indeed, things had gotten hot in there. Apparently the Hounds had thought to encircle her, but didn't expect as complete a trap as they had laid. Muzzle flashes and the brighter flashes of light that signaled Broadway's presence were lighting up the alley entrance. As she looked, Broadway's ginger hair, now glowing from her power usage, poked around the corner. A glittering glove appeared, and three quick lasers fired out and up into the street where the main force of Hounds was gathered. Darya knew better than to watch, even before Broadway called over comms, “Watch your eyes, boys and girls!”

The lasers detonated over the street, like gigantic flashbombs, and weaker lasers sprayed out in every direction. These weren't even enough to burn, but anyone caught in the face with them might well be permanently blinded. As soon as they went of, Darya sent a rushing cascade, most of her reserves, across the square. It formed a wall of water and ice nearly hip height from the edge of the steel fountain all the way to the beleaguered man behind the news stand. She began waving to get his attention and get him to make the run over to her far more solid cover while the Hounds struggled to recover their eyesight. Curses over her radio told her not everyone had taken Broadway's warning seriously enough, and it seemed they had only bought a slight lull in the fight rather than a victory.

---

Jones cursed vehemently while he tried to blink the after effects of the flashes out of his vision, seeing only shadows of his surroundings through purple and green splotches. He leaned around the pillar and fired a short burst blindly into the square, hoping for some luck, but was not rewarded with any screams.

“Teams Two and Three, report,” he urged. The responses were not as he had hoped.

“Team Two, we've got that laser bitch blocking up the alley with a couple of stooges. We need grenades or something, they're bunkered too well here! Too many dumpsters for cover!”

“Sergeant Yates for Team Three! I don't know what the fuck is happening! We're in the woods or some shit! Some sort of illusion, but nothing we've got is breaking it!”

Jones spat some more curses, rubbing at his eyes. “HQ,” he said dejectedly. “Status update. We need back up. At least four metas, including illusions and fire. Could use something heavy.”

“Roger that, Lieutenant. Any sign of the primary target?”

“Negative, HQ. He hasn't shown up yet. Thought the bar was supposed to knock him loose?”

“They fucked up, Jones. Get the gun ready, just in case.”

It felt like an eternity since his encounter with The Psionic Nexus. The Wanderer’s energy was drained from the night of encounters of the small pockets of men from the Hounds of Humanity. Luckily, he hadn’t sustained many more injuries from the initial two encounters and the bleeding from his shoulder had stemmed off into the clot-covered clothes while leg injuries were bandaged by his barrier ability. It is surprising the things you’d have to do to survive the Wasteland, especially when there are other mutants outside of the Behemoth to worry about. While the wound would need to be looked at by someone who would have an idea on what to do with bullet wounds, the barrier would hold everything together so the mutant could achieve whatever goal is in his mind. The goal in mind now? Finding this ‘Voyager’ that the psionic wolf spoke to him of. And what better place to start his search was the location of the psionic event that occurred hours before.

With each minute passing since his encounter with the Psionic Nexus and the large group of the Hounds, The Wanderer’s mind thought about the next attack that the group would have planned for him. He thought that the group would know the fate of that group by now and pin the blame of the scene on the mutant himself. And if the group’s actions had expanded the number of men needed to take him down went up from that small group that attacked the woman to 25, then what would the group size be to avenge their fallen comrades? While facing the squishy nature of humans was simple enough for the mutant to stomach, facing such a large number of them is a prospect that even he didn’t want to face. He’d rather face 25 Behemoths at the same time than face a large number of humans with technology that he never knew about. But still, he would march on, persevere through any challenge that would come his way. Even if it means living a lonely life in a time so unfamiliar to him.

He emerged from the streets he had been walking through and entered a relatively quiet park. In his psionic eye, he still sees the faint aftermath of the psionic event. The has a feeling that in the next few hours, he would be at the site and would begin his search there. He first checks to see if the coast was clear. If I were the Hounds, this park seems to be a good place to hold an ambush, he thought to himself, drawing his rusting revolver. While he was still holding onto the wounds with his barrier, he can’t focus on using his other psionic abilities; especially when there isn’t a need for him to use the other psionics at the moment. When he sees that the coast is clear, he moved from the street he had been travelling down into the park. For the first few minutes upon entering, everything seemed ordinary, besides the usual lack of human activity.

About halfway through the park, The Wanderer heard crashing sounds from all around him. The familiar sounds of various vans and people carriers roared closer until they emerged from the treeline, headlights blaring out straight at the mutant as they sped towards him. With six rounds in the chamber and more than that in the number of cars, The Wanderer simply began running. At times when the cars were upon him, he phased out of their path and carried on running. Bullets flew through the air as sub machine guns rained down bullets upon him, though they either missed or were deflected off of short bursts of barrier that he conjured. The leg wounds started to bleed again as there were no longer anything to hold the pressure. After a few intense minutes, he emerged from the other side of the park, with all the cars emerging at various intervals along that edge.

With the open streets around, The Wanderer thought that he could escape in the numerous alleyways that the warehouse buildings had and, eventually, the rooftop. However, that plan was ineffective as he faced a whole barricade of Hounds, blocking off the street that he’d planned to escape through. Not sure on the exact numbers, but he could estimate that there were at least 40 of the black-clad terrorists that faced him, with two in each of the pursuit vehicles that had chased him. All of them armed with assault rifles or mounted LMGs and all muzzles were trained on him.

“Open Fire!”

Without any time to think of any other plan, the barricade started firing as soon as The Wanderer threw up a dome to protect himself from every angle. It was at that moment that the group began spreading out around him, preventing any form of escape while they focused fire on the dome. While the dome did protect him from the onslaught of bullets, it certainly would not last forever. If he had been fully fit then he could laugh off the ambush until they ran out of bullets, but each impact on the barrier was felt in his mind, slowly losing his focus on keeping it up. It was because of that focus to keep the barrier out that he can’t concentrate on an escape route to phase jump to. He had to admit it, but he was trapped here and the prospects of him getting out of here alive were getting slimmer by the minute.

---

The stuffy little room felt exactly like an elementary school class room in a district where money was tight. The overly cheery posters, the stiff chairs that were clearly uncomfortable to everyone else. A lone fan, rattling with age, stirred the hot air, and dust motes swirled in the morning sun streaming through the window to illuminate the group of metas who had apparently volunteered to live here. The scent of cheap coffee hung in the air, since it had been made available to anyone who wanted it. Nicky had some in a tiny plastic cup, more out of something to do with her hands and mouth than for any sort of effect the beverage might have had.

The group that had assembled was, for lack of any sort of unifying word, strange. The girl who had told her off last night, Rose, sat primly, hands neatly folded and hair carelessly over one shoulder, looking like a princess without even trying. Nicky still didn't know if she should hate the girl or not after last night. Next to her was another girl, but this one, was the opposite of Rose in almost every way. Where Rose had muscle and tone from what Nicky knew was years of athletics practise, this girl was wasted and almost skeletal. Her hair was completely gone, growing only in stubble. A huge swathe of surgical stitches covered on temple and arched around the back of her head, and her eyes were only half open at best, though she was definitely awake. Rose had pushed her wheelchair in and then sat down next to her as if they were the best of friends, though they never exchanged a word.

Across from Nicole, next to the wheelchair, was a statue. That was the only word Nicky could find to describe the man. Facial features were hard to make out, but she guessed he was around the same age her dad had been. But where her dad had been tanned from days out in the sun, this man was, somehow, pale grey, patterned in swirls of darker lines. He had introduced himself as Marble, and she had to admit, the name fit. Aside from just looking (and sounding she had noted. He made grinding noises) like he was made from his namesake, he was built like a boxer. His thin t-shirt and jeans did nothing to hide that.

Between him and the next person was what Nicky had assumed was the chair reserved for Crawford, and then there was Freddy. Nicky was a little grossed out by Freddy, and she doubted her inexperience in schooling her face was doing anything to cover it. Freddy was enormous He took up two chairs. Rolls of fat covered everything, so much so that she couldn't see his knees. His short black hair and dense beard were neatly kept, and his eyes were kind, even when he looked her way. A little sad, perhaps. But Nicky was horrified by the jiggling, which happened every time he moved. She felt a little guilty, mostly because she assumed his powers had somehow caused or affected his weight, but she couldn't help herself.

Two other chairs were present. Another empty on the other side of Freddy, and then the one next to her, which contained a tiny Japanese girl, wearing a gold kimono patterned with autumn leaves. Even including Freddy, this girl had the most shocking appearance, as she had fox ears instead of normal human ones, and a bundle of fox tails erupted from her rear. They writhed around in response to what seemed to be the girls mood, and they currently lashed in what Nicky could only guess was nervousness or excitement, if her experience with dogs was any indication. Her stark black hair was done into a series of elaborate knots that only emphasised her strange ears, as well, as if she wanted to draw attention to them.

Megami, as she had introduced herself, was weird enough that Nicky edged in her seat towards the gap in chairs that separated herself and Rose. She wasn't exactly certain, but she suspected the gap was there because of the toss up last night. Someone had been watching. That put her on edge and irritated her. Logically, they had to have cameras to record stuff to study, but the fact that they didn't tell her she was being recorded pissed her off.

Crawford walked in just as her mood was beginning to sour, wearing a green sweater vest over a cream coloured shirt and tan trousers, despite the heat. Apparently he was here in his “teacher” role instead of his scientist one. He paused as he looked around, then said, “Good morning, everyone. Charles, are you present?”

Nicky jumped when a voice echoed, as if from great distance, from the empty seat between Freddy and Marble. “Yes, Mr. Crawford, I am here.”

“Excellent! Well,” the older man said, taking what was apparently the only open seat. “Let's begin, shall we? First off, we have a new member of the group, who I presume Rose has introduced?”

“Oh, no, Professor,” the girl said. “That would've been rude. I let everyone introduce themselves, as Nicole and myself have already had a spat.”

“I see.” Crawford fixed the pair of them with a rather disappointed look. I was hoping you two would be getting along, actually. You have rather complimentary powers.”

Nicky was about to snap out an answer when Rose cut her off. “Unfortunately, we both had some illusions about the other, but I think we've moved past it, haven't we?” She smiled sweetly at Nicky, but the younger girl got the warning that broaching the subject in group would not be tolerated. It was helped by and invisible nudge against her shoulder, just barely enough to move her.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, sullenly nodding. “We're good.” mentally, she added, For now.

“Alright, well, Since that seems to be working out, let's see if we can get up to speed on poer studies. Ah, sorry, Frederick.” Crawford looks at the fat man, whose round face filled with a smile.

“S'okay, Teach, it's funny.” Fred's voice was as thick as his body.

“Well, let's start with you, then, Frederick. Any increases or fluctuations?”

The man shook his head, chins wobbling. Nope. Still stuck at three hundred a second. I don't think I can break the sound barrier unless I drop some weight.” Nicky finally placed his accent as Georgian before her brain caught up to what he had sad. She knew her eyes goggled, but she didn't care. Holy shit, he's a speedster!?

“Well,” Crawford said, writing something down on his clipboard. He always seemed to have one of the damn things. “With the diet Doctor Grisham has set, we should see some changes soon, but I'd also like you to try lifting weights and some aerobics aside from running, which obviously isn't much exercise for you here even with your special treadmill. Any feelings you'd like to share with the group about your powers?”

“Same thing as always, Teach. Disappointed I can't move faster.”

“Hmmm.” Crawford made another note, and then turned to face the empty chair. “Charles? Any luck with your project?”

The boy with the ghost voice (Nicky assumed it was a boy, judging by the youthful tone) spoke up. “Yeah, actually! I could show you!”

Nicky wondered how an invisible person was going to “show” anything, but was shocked into silence again when the boy flickered into existence. His image wasn't steady, was mostly transparent, and had no colour, but even through all of that, two things were painfully obvious. One, he couldn't be any older than her, and maybe even younger with how skinny he was, and two, he was completely nude. Crawford made a harrumphing noise as the boy disappeared again.

“I would appreciate it if you would start wearing clothing, Charles. But the progress is good. Is that as long as you can hold it?”

“Yes, professor,” came the echoey reply. “Any longer and my skin starts to burn, which is also why I don't wear clothes.”

“Have you talked to the doctor about that?”

“Well...uhh...”

Crawford made another note. “Why not, Charles?”

“Well....she's a girl, Professor.”

Nicky could almost hear the embarrassment in Charles's voice. Crawford had to hide a smile. “Well, she is also a professional, Charles. I don't think you have anything to be particularly ashamed of. Make sure you bring up your skin, we might have something that can help. I am sure we'd all like to see more of you around here.”

The group laughed, and then Crawford looked to Marble. “Any changes, Harry?”

“No.” His voice was beyond gravelly. Nicky thought of boulders knocking together.

“Hmm. Well, you and Nicole have something in common, perhaps you two can talk later.”

“Okay.” Nicky doubted they were going to talk much at all with his repsonses, but she looked at Crawford questioningly.

He caught the look and made a little 'o' with his mouth. “Of course, Nicole, terribly sorry. Harry has the same sensation loss you do, though he also lost his sense of smell. Perhaps the two of you could brainstorm about how to overcome the problem.” Turning from her, he looked at the wheelchair bound girl, who Nicky realised she had never gotten a name for.

“Rose, how are you feeling today?”

Nicky's whole world dropped away in shock for a moment as she looked from the girl in the wheelchair to the one next to her. The healthy Rose gave her a wink before addressing the question.

“The pain's okay, I guess. Could be better or worse. Still don't have any mobility right now, and I would kill for the ability to eat even a piece of bread. But clarity is at one hundred, and I still haven't found a limit to how long I can stay out.”

Crawford made yet another note. Nicky was beginning to hate that clipboard. “Good, good. I would like to see you in more than out, of course, but I like that you are staying so positive, Rose.”

The healthy Rose shrugged, and both bodies smiled, though the wheelchair version was delayed and weak. “Well, it can only get better from here, right?”

All eyes were suddenly on her, and she felt her face flame with embarrassment. She hadn't been the center of attention like this since before the explosion, and-

Screams sounded in her ears. The rush of gas from a broken line. The taste of ashes in her mouth. Burning plastic and meat mixed in the air, a horrible smell. She couldn't see because the bricks were all over her face.

Breathing hard, she caught herself before she fell out of her chair, but it was a near thing. The empty cup rolled away from her as her vision came back to reality. Slowly, words came back into her hearing.

-kay? Nicole, can you hear me? You're okay, you're safe.” Crawford's voice. Hands on her own, she could see them. Older, definitely Crawford. She looked up and saw Rose and Megami flanking him as he crouched in front of her, all three with worried expressions. She shook her head, trying to clear away the cobwebs of illusion from her head.

“Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry. I...I got lost.”

Crawford nodded, slowly letting go and standing up. He motioned to the two girls and all of them returned to their seats before he addressed the group.

“As you can see, not everyone has as happy a story, something I have been telling you about for a while now. Please let Nicole adjust at her own pace, and do not ask prying questions. I will only tell you that she is just as special as the rest of you, in her own way.” Turning to her, Crawford asked, “Are you okay to answer a few general questions about how you're doing in front of the group?”

Just at that moment, Nicky actually felt like the man could have asked her to jump off a building and she would've done it. He had cut off her fear of being cornered and pestered thoroughly. She mutely nodded, biting at her lip.

“Okay. Any change in your hunger? Or sleep?”

She shook her head. “No. Still not hungry. And I'm still never tired. I don't even remember what dreams are like any more.”

Crawford nodded. “I expected as much. Unfortunately, it may be best, at present, that you don't sleep. As much as subconscious healing might be good for you, it could also be overwhelming. I'll talk to you more about a plan later, one on one.” Finally, he turned to Megami.

“Is there anything you'd like to add, Megami-sama?”

The girl said something in rapid fire Japanese, and Crawford nodded. “I thought so. I will ask for your help later, if that is agreeable?”

“Hai.”

“Very good. Okay, I think some of us are probably done for this morning. If anyone wants to ask me something right now, please do, otherwise we'll convene this afternoon for the best part of Tuesdays: The Showoffs!”

An intense, humid heat clung close to the city. It had rolled in that morning, making an awful, miserable commute for everyone on their bikes. Sweat poured off people as they made their way around the city on errands, or to dinner that night. Normally, San Maria was hailed as one of the most climatically comfortable cities in the country, but this heat was different. It was the topic of conversation of everyone that day.

It was as if the air itself was trying to pound people into the pavement. In other parts of the state, the forests were burning thanks to the extreme heat, and even in San Maria the air smelled faintly of smoke. It was as if the city was on the edge of becoming hell on Earth.

Little did the people idly chatting about the heat know, that’s exactly what it was about to become.

The factions that were about to turn a cold war into a bloody one were on the board. The Church of the All-Seeing and and the Integrated Dimensional Research Group knew each other well, though the Frogs had no idea why the two were at odds. The Bayside Bandits waited in the wings, with the Eye believing the gang was solidly under their control. Instead, El Bandito and his men were ready to break free from the cult’s iron fists, violently if need be.

Then there were the Frogs, blind to their own purpose, caught in the maelstrom of their new world. They were the few that would stand for justice in a melee of those clawing for their own power and destiny. The question would be if their conviction would be enough.



IDRG Pyramid
San Maria, California
Now

Director Dyer paced about his office. Below, in the bowels of the building’s garage, the truck carrying some of the most important specimens he had ever created was getting ready to hit the road to a secure location outside the city. He hated doing this, but it was necessary. The Eye was here. Not only were they in San Maria, their leaders were here. It meant they had found the location on this world. It meant that before long, they would attempt to summon their gods to consume the beings of this universe.

He was not going to let that happen. Not after all this time searching. The contents of that truck were the only thing that would stand against the ones that dwell between universes, should the need arise. At least, the contents were what they still had under their control.

The Frogs were out there as well. Dyer had ramped down the attempts to capture them, at this point. The Frogs were fighting the Eye. That’s all that mattered. Maybe having them outside the IDRG’s control would come in handy down the line. They were a convenient distraction to draw the Church’s gaze from the scientists.

“Director,” the voice of the caravan leader came through his intercom, “we’re ready to move out.”

“Proceed,” he responded while he peered out of the bay cities.

He and his people had worked and searched so long for a home. When they came here they had nothing but their scientific knowledge, and they used that to build their empire here, in this bastion of scientific research. Silicon Valley was seemingly made for people like them. Dyer had hoped they would have finished their work before the Eye showed up. That way they would have been prepared to repulse them.

Now he was reduced to desperate actions to ensure their plan wasn’t completely destroyed.

Once the trucks were on their way, he sat down at his desk and allowed himself to relax. They were still manufacturing the serum in the lab, so there would be more tests even after this. But the last living success story was on that truck. It was going to be the first in an army, once they could locate the gene that made the mutations stable. After that, he would save this planet.

Dyer drifted off into his own thoughts, but was roused after nearly half an hour as alarms began to blare through the pyramid. He fumbled to the intercom, “What the hell is going on!?”

“Sir!” his chief of security responded. “The caravan was attacked moments ago, and we have reports of Eye agents inside the building. I’m sending a team to you.”

“Understood,” Dyer composed himself and walked over to his desk. He punched a code into the safe below his desk, which swung open to reveal a gleaming, silver gun. It was unlike anything on Earth, and when he powered it up it hummed and began to glow with a red energy.

He had killed the agents of the devourers before.

He was prepared to do it again.



Moments Ago

El Bandito popped the magazine out of his AK-47 and checked the ammo inside for the third time. It was a nervous tick he had developed years ago when his first boss on the streets had handed him his first piece. He had never felt so powerful, yet so nervous. Now he had to do it at least three times. He wasn’t nervous anymore. Now it was just a habit. Maybe he considered it a good luck charm. He wasn’t sure.

Still, he felt something in the back of his mind this night. Maybe he was nervous on a job for the first time in a long time. The leader of the Bayside Bandits had good reason to be. Tonight he’d be declaring war on a insane, black magic cult. He had gone up against a lot of different rivals before, but the Eye were unlike anything he’d seen before.

Still, they were a threat. A real threat. Maybe it was a dormant form of patriotism or love for his cities, but he didn’t want this monsters to destroy the place he built his empire. He might lose this fight, but he was gonna fight nonetheless.

“Boss,” Burn’s voice came over the walky talky, “the trucks are almost here.”

“Okay, is everyone in position?” the boss responded.

“Yea, jeffe,” Crash gave him the affirmative. “We’re ready to move on Burn’s mark.”

“Oh, you’ll see my mark,” the pyromaniac chuckled.

El Bandito nodded to the two men that were in the car with him. They were loyal soldiers, and he gave them the thrill of their lifetime by bringing with him as his personal guns tonight. Crash was leading the main strike team, and Burn was in charge of demolitions, as he always was.

Suddenly, the road exploded in front of a convoy of four trucks as they traveled down a sparsely used road on the outskirts of San Maria. Asphalt flew through the air, peppering El Bandito’s car with pebbles. A light pole slammed down onto the lead truck, crunching the cab like a beer can.

“That boy is not subtle,” the boss muttered before yelling to his men, “Move in!”

That’s when the firefight started.



Now

Mozart moved silently through the alleys of downtown San Maria, not exactly sure what he was looking for. He and his siblings had just felt something off in the air, so they went out on patrol. Angela had an exam for one of her summer classes tomorrow, so they were on their own without a pair of eyes to guide them to trouble.

Behind him, he could feel Clara’s apprehension.

“What’s wrong, sis?” he asked while he continued to slink forward.

“You mean other than everything?” she asked sarcastically, causing him to chuckle. “Just everything, Art. We all felt something tonight. Something that made us come out on patrol. That doesn’t strike you as odd? What if it was some weird magic from the Eye? Or something embedded in us by IDRG?”

“The thought’s crossed my mind,” he admitted. “We don’t know where we came from. We don’t know why we’re here. Maybe it’s time to start trying to find that out.”

Clara’s obsession with where they came from had been palpable for months. Maybe it was her scientifically-inclined mind, but according to her it was impossible for us to exist. She wanted to know how we were created, as well as why. Art let her ponder it, but he hadn’t cared all that much up until recently. They existed. They knew they had to protect this city. That was enough for him.

At least it had been.

The more Clara prodded, the more he came to her line of thinking. They probably needed to find out why they really were here if they were going to finish this fight. It was time to start pulling on that string.

Before he could get deeper into the conversation with her, an explosion rang out. The two looked at one another with surprise in their eyes. Art eventually said, “I think that came from the IDRG Pyramid.”

“We need to check it out,” she said.

“Go without us,” Ludwig said from another part of the city. “We just registered shots fired near the industrial district. Lots of shots fired.”

“It sounds like a warzone over here!” Bach interjected.

“Okay, you two be careful, we’ll take care of IDRG.”

Time: Evening (Day of the Hounds of Humanity's first apperance)
Location: Lost Haven Special Cases Building

The Lost Haven Special Cases Department, a special branch of the Lost Haven Police, made to address the problems and concerns arising from and regarding metahumans. The Hounds had watched as this them as they solved their first cases, rising from a fledgling division and blossomed into an actual unit. They watched with high hopes, that the city was finally acknowledging the real problem, hoping that the LHSCD would use their new tools for justice. But were ultimately disappointed, the police had not changed, most metahumans arrested were not given their dues, and now they had to intervene. This was the duty of the Hounds of Humanity, to ensure justice and to protect humanity.

Several vans pulled up to the front of the LHSCD building, within the span of moments several dozen well-armed men poured out the back of each vehicle, accompanied by two armored figures, they burst through the front doors, and without warning they opened fire on anybody not wearing their colors. Like a machine, the Hounds mercilessly gunned down both officer and civilian.

Some of the civilians tried to escape through a doorway but with no cover they were easily seen, and a burst of gunfire cut them down. A few of the officers had managed to pull out their side-arms, but it wasn’t enough, any casualties on the Hound’s side were minimal at best.
The first few minutes of their invasion into the LHPD building went exactly as planned, all thanks to Major Farland, who had spent the last days studying the SCD building in detail. From room layout, mission loadouts, to its individual personnel. And with the LHSCD’s field armor out of commission this was the perfect time to strike.

Just like the mission reports, most SCD officers carried standard police issue side-arms, something easily repelled by his armor, and as expected, with time more of them geared up if they weren’t already. Several squads wearing customized police body armor equipped with M4A1’s blocked his path, and just like the others, he and his squad cut a bloody swath through them. It was only a few minutes into his intrusion and he felt as if the police were pulling back for some reason, but he was taking too much ground, so it was about time they sent someone at him.

Right on schedule. Farland thought to himself as several officers appeared further down the hallway. He recognized their equipment, they wore armor just like the others, but they all also held rifles. Farland recognized them, the cylindrical receiver sat on top, with a hose connecting to a container on their backs.

“Hounds, fan out, Mark 2 delta formation!” Farland shouted as the thrusters on the back of his legs came to life, he quickly drove up the wall and over the ceiling in a spiral, moving too fast for the policemen to track. Their shots went wide, coating some of the slower Hounds, and the ceiling as they tried to nail him along with the other suit. As Farland flew around the hallway he reached behind his back to unhook a ‘blade’. The sword had a length of four meters, and a pointed tip at the top, but the actual ‘blade’ was missing, a problem he fixed only a moment later.

Kapoosh.

He flipped a switch, and a stream of violent rippling blue energy connected from the hilt to the top. Farland swung his arm, the blade quickly slashed through the air, and the bodies of the officers collapsed onto the ground with a thud.

Other officers attempted to nail him down as soon as he landed, but he wasn’t alone, the second hound suit aimed an arm at the group and several miniature missiles launched from the forearm, leaving trails of smoke behind as the crashed around the officers. The explosions surrounded the officers, throwing their bodies around the area, several of the foam containers ruptured in the explosion and began to spew foam outwards, blocking the hallway behind him, and the one the officers came from.

“R&D needs to fix that damn A.I. when we get back.” Farland mumbled to himself, he checked the camera view from the MK2 suit to examine his squad, and then twisted a small embedded knob on the side of his head. A small crackle signified the radio coming to life.

“The mission hasn’t changed, continue to mission point.” Farland said, since he remembered the layout of the building it would only be a matter of time now, but as soon as he turned around a figure burst through the wall in front of him. Debris from the wall exploded outwards, what Farland made out to be a fist crashed into his helmet, obscuring his main cameras, and knocking him down onto the floor with a loud crash. The tiles underneath him shattered in multiple directions.

“The SCD’s second suit, was finished?” Farland said out loud, his statement came out as a question, but the answer was already spelled out in front of him, in the form of a gold badge reading “Police, Protect & Serve.”

“Stay down on the ground, and identify yourself!” The other armored figure shouted. Colonel Farland considered his position for a moment, these were simply men and women doing their duty, he couldn’t fault them for that, and they deserved to know who killed them.

“We are the Hounds of Humanity, we’ve come to do your job for you, and we will not surrender.”

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

Richard Hunter, a detective, and the newest addition to the LHSCD, found himself in a real battle only a week into his new posting. It was only hours ago he was reading manuals and shooting dummy rounds, but being thrust into action so soon was jarring, with the only functioning suit in his hands, he only hoped his hours into practice runs would be enough. At this point he had a good handle on movement, and the general functions on his weapons, but the exact details on his armory and abilities were a little sketchy.

Still, he counted himself lucky that he was able to make it this far without something serious happening. So when the entire station went on alarm he found himself both scared, and angry. To lose fellow policemen somewhere they all felt safe, that was unforgiveable, and he’d make sure he intruders paid up in full.

He had rushed out of the basement as fast as he could, carrying only a limited armament with him, his comrades in arms were in danger, and if he hurried he could save them, he hoped. Although he wasn’t able to save these men, he’d do his best to make sure they were the last to die today.

“The Hounds?” A voice from the inside of his helmet said, as if remembering something. That voice belonged to Artemis, the LHSCD’s secret AI.

“Did the other guy fight them too?” Richard asked, slamming a knuckle into his palm. He then leapt up and slammed his fist down, intending to smash his enemy square in the head. But the Hound quickly slid away, and launched into the air, correcting his stance.

“No, but we’ve received numerous messages from them. We thought they were just upset civilians forming some kind of hate group, we thought wrong.”

The Hound did a sweeping attack, intending to use his blade to get at Richard’s head. Heat and danger alarms blared inside his helmet, warning him of the threat.

“Deploying Particle Dispersion Field.” Artemis said as a soft hissing filled the room. The area around the energy sword shimmered, and it began to flicker, but it didn’t die out completely. The boosters on Richard’s own armor fired up and gave him the extra length he needed to get away, but it was clear who had the speed advantage, and they both knew it.

The Hound aimed his arm at Richard and several blue flashes shot out from his forearm, beams of bright blue energy sped towards Richard, but they had all shrunk down to the size of a toothpick before they reached him.

“Sorry, looks like we’ll have to do this mano a mano!” Richard taunted, but his eyes dashed between his gauges, the particle field was doing its job, but he wasn't sure it was supposed to go down this fast.

Particle Dispersion Field: 79%

“Mr. Hunter, 11’o clock!” Artemis shouted, but Richard had been too distracted with the one Hound to see the other close in and tackle him, taking them both through the wall and into the outside. A loud metal clanging shot out through the night, heard alongside the heavy pelting of water and thunder, the cement in the side alleyway cracked and crumbled as they crashed into the floor.

“Stretching the Particle Field like this is going to deplete our supply quickly, try to take out the one with the sword first.”

Richard grunted a reply and leveled his rifle upwards and let off a quick burst before using his boosters to dash away from the other Hound. The second one wasn’t giving him any time to attack the other, the second one had to go first, or at least be dealt with. He turned and unloaded his clip at the second one, but the bullets stopped against a blue barrier.

“An energy shield, blade, full on flight, interesting.” Artemis muttered.

“Less interesting, more solutions.”

“Try your grappling cable; it might hold him long enough for a take down, but you might want to time this one.”

“Well use the shield then.” Richard mumbled as he dashed away from a missile bombardment, the second Hound was starting to escalate its attacks, and the flying Hound took this as his opportunity. With Roadblock being suppressed by the other suit he could use this chance for his heavier weapons. The Hound’s chest began to light up, energy particles gathered into the center of the light, and a bigger beam tore through the sky.

The beam struck Richard dead on, leaving a deep black scorch mark, blowing him onto the streets, and into a parked minivan. The alarm went off, along with the vehicle next to it.

@Indy Cooper@Athinar

---

“-the destruction wrought by the Hounds is nothing compared to the property damage wrought by this metahuman seen here.”

The screen showed a picture of Pantheon, taking down a helicopter, and then showed footage of David’s earth spikes in action, striking out at the Hound’s vans.

“This metahuman shown earlier appears to possess massive strength, and the ability to control the earth around him. As shown from this video here, taken from-“

“Ah, come on!” David accidentally shouted, grabbing the attention of his daughter Madeline, she ventured halfway down the stairs.

“Something wrong Dad?”

“E-Uh-Oh!” David yelped as he fumbled with the television remote, he managed to change the channel, but he wasn’t sure if it was just in time or not. The TV showed an armored woman grasping at her arm after a laser had struck her; a brightly colored title card covered the scene a moment later signaling the break into commercial.

“Uh, it’s Princess Solaira! I thought you said she was born from sunshine, so why does she get hurt from Professor Bright’s Lightbeams?”

“Huh, aren’t you too old to be watching that? Even I stopped.” Maddie said judgingly and maybe even jokingly, but it still stung a little.

“What happened, you used to love this show?” David asked. "You used to do this all the time." He began waving his arms in a circle dramatically. Apparently it was supposed to look like the moon.

“If you have time to play around would you mind picking up some stuff for me? I left the list on the fridge, thanks!” Another voice shouted from across the house, his wife Cecilia in the bedroom, presumably still freshening up before leaving.

"How'd she hear us, we're on the other side of the house?" Madeline whispered, a look of confusion painted her face.

“Motherly instinct?" David said, giving a confused shrug.



David had spent about an hour gathering up all the items on the list, just the usual restocking on snacks and essentials, and what he assumed to be beauty products. He always felt weird shopping for women’s stuff alone.

Next time I’ll just bring Maddie with me. David thought bringing her would probably help at least fend off the awkwardness. His brows furrowed a second later as the sound of gunfire erupted from a block away, other people got curious too and stopped, forcing David to hit the brakes as well. Listening around for the source David assumed he found it as bright lights and flashes exploded from behind a few buildings.

David brought up his phone and started typing to his wife.
<Going to be late traffic jam :( >
There, and it’s more or less true.



Terra Firma flew high above the city, feeling the breeze on his skin, even if it wasn’t actually skin, was amazing, that along with his bird’s eye view of the city were almost enough to make him forget why he came up here. Another series of bright explosions and gunfire was more than enough of a reminder, as he got closer he realized just what he was getting into again, and his fists clenched together tightly.

That armor, it’s the Hounds, again.

David sped towards the square, from his angle he saw a few things that didn’t match up, a large mist haunting an alleyway along with Hounds jumping around yelling at each other, and several ugly ice sculptures around the entire park, among other things.

The dazzling pillars of lights from before shot out again, leading David to an alleyway, in it he spotted a weirdly dressed woman along with several other armed men, he caught the lettering on their backs. Police, and NSA agents; even as confident as David was in his local law enforcement, he couldn’t let them deal with this alone, especially since they were so badly outnumbered.

“Looks like you could use a firm hand!” David shouted and he shot towards them.

David dove downwards, behind a line of Hounds attempting to surround the woman, keeping in mind of both property and person; he slowed his descent into a slide, and swung his arms underneath the legs of several hounds, tripping them up, over, and onto their heads.

In that same instant he spotted a Hound about to get the jump on one of the police, so he flung his finger upwards, and a thickened piece of stone and concrete shot upwards in the shape of a door, stopping the Hound from firing, the slab fell backwards onto him, knocking him out, or keeping him otherwise occupied.

“Unlike the Hounds of Humanity, a real dog knows when to stay down!” David roared as he spun his fists around into the chest of another Hound, blowing him back into several of his friends, and into a large pile of garbage bags. Several of the Hounds took immediate notice of David, giving him a burst of rifle fire from several directions, his stance faltered only for a moment.

David then rushed towards one of the closest Hounds, hoisted him over his shoulders, spun in place, and tossed him into a dumpster; the force of the throw caused the dumpster lid to slam shut. David dashed across the alleyway, throwing his fists into the nearest Hound he could find, until he felt that woman and the agents had enough room to breathe.

“So who are you, and what brings the Hounds to our neighborhood today?”

Broadway threw off a sloppy salute and aimed one finger past the newcomers shoulder, sending out a blindingly white beam that exploded much as before past the end of the alley. Grinning, she said, "Name's Broadway. That's Jones, Hickock, and Avery. We're part of what was supposed to be a trap for the Hounds, but I think both sides underestimated what the other'd bring to the table. What about you, hot stuff? What do we call our timely cavalryman?"

---

Darya swore as the strange gunman ran off, but she could do nothing to help those who weren't accepting. She began freezing over the whole of the wall she had built, even as rounds ripped through it, until it was thick enough to stop most of them. Most of the squad in the square moved up and took firing positions at it and next to her behind the fountain. Meanwhile, she had found her source of water in the storm drains and sewers. I think it only fair I douse them in the same filth they spew out of their mouths, she thought to herself as she worked her powers along the tubes of concrete and steel beneath them.

Faulkner came over the radio. "Dragon, take care of those vans, but try not to kill. We need them alive and arrested if at all possible. Tiamat, Hold the square and try to push forward. Local reinforcements have begin arriving, at least one meta and PD are inbound. Area's cordoned off now, they're draining what they can of civvies."

"Oh, good," said Rollins, leaning her back against the fountain next to Darya. She gave the younger girl a smile through her balaclava before glancing over edge of the structure and firing off a tight three round burst. "Because the one thing I was worried about with all the bullets flying was these guys' welfare." Darya realised that comment was for her benefit alone as Rollins clicked her radio back on and said over comms, "Don't worry about us, fearless leader. Just try to keep them from slipping out like the rats they are."

Darya stared at the woman. Her heart was racing, her pulse hammering in her ears. The staccato of gunfire, even if it was dying off now, was wearing her nerves raw. Another round pinged off of the fountain near her and she threw herself flat, whimpering a little. Rollins grabbed her shoulder and shook her.

"Hey!" the big woman shouted nearly in her ear. "Are you hit?"

She shook her head negative. She knew she was edging closer and closer into panic, and at this point, she couldn't even trust herself to open her mouth in response without screaming.

"Awww, sheeyit," Rollins said, then her voice went back up on comms. "Tiamat's broken, Faulkner. I dunno how much of her barricades will hold up with her panicking, and we're a little busy to move her right now."

"Alright, sending out the doc," came the response.

Within a few moments, Darya's hyped up hearing picked up a different gun firing. It sounded bigger than the assault rifles, and far slower, almost like the snipers, though not as menacing. Cowboy boots slid in front of her vision and a strong calloused hand gripped her under the arm and hauled her into a sitting position, where she could see Doc Holliday's visage filling her vision.

"Darlin', I know you ain't been in a fight like this before, but I need you to keep it together, okay? Plen'y a; folks can't handle this, but there are people here that need you right now, y'hear?"

Darya stared at him, even as he removed her goggles and checked her eyes.

"I know it's scary, but c'mon. We took out that big mech suit guy back in November, remember? And just last month there was that crazy one who could turn into the giant rattler? You handled both of those, you can handle this, right?"

Another bullet spanged off of the metal next to them, causing Darya to flinch. Holliday, however, spat a curse and swung his free hand up and over her shoulder, levelling his Winchester Repeater on the fountain edge. The gun went off like a firework right next to her ear, and the sensation caused her powers to snap back into focus. The cover wall was beginning to melt, though as soon as she noticed, it shored up. A huge puddle was forming around them as, in her panic, she had begun to draw all the water she had held off on before around her. And on the edges of her perception, the storm drains and sewage had stopped moving, and were building up tons of pressure.

She nodded once at Holliday, who winked at her before firing again, and then stood up. The man's face fell, and Rollins grabbed for her to haul her back down, but the water from the fountain had already risen up the shield her. Several rounds slapped through it, sent spinning off course and slowed considerably by the sheer force of pressure that she was moving through the sphere she formed. It was impossible to see through, the fluid moving so fast around the periphery that it was beginning to froth, but she kept it up as she hopped down into the fountain pool and drew up as much as she could. The pipes burst as hundreds of gallons poured through them, and still kept moving, tearing up dirt and concrete as it did so. The reservoirs, pipes, toilets, and everything else in the neighbouring buildings was suddenly drained out of them, until Darya had finished building what looked like a titanic dragon's head and neck, made of water and debris trapped within. She stood at the base of it and began walking forward, not bothering to scream out challenges because at this point, no one would be able to hear her anyway.

Time: Night (Day of the Hounds of Humanity's first appearance)
Location: Lost Haven Special Cases Building

Particle Dispersion Field: 54%

Polarized Armor Integrity: 77%

“Shit, this gap is a pain in the ass, why can’t we fly?” Richard grumbled as he picked himself up.

“I’ll overcharge the boosters, use this to close the distance, but be warned it’s a one use. After this they’ll burn out.”

“Alright, on my signal.”

The Hounds started again, more missiles, and a moment later a warning directed him to another energy build up.

“Now!” Richard shouted, the boosters on his backpack, and the back of his legs practically exploded, launching him in a blurry arc towards the flying Hound. Richard gritted his teeth together, the g forces were a little too much, along with the fact that he never trained as an astronaut. But his maneuver caught his enemy by surprise, the Hound quickly switched back to his sword, hoping to catch Richard with the blade.

Richard had never actually fought with Artemis before now, so entrusting her with something as important as saving his life was risky, but he had to while he readied the cable on his left arm. Fortunately his trust was well placed, Artemis remembered what he had said earlier, and the small manipulator arm on his back rotated the shield on around to block the sword. Unlike his enemies, the Roadblock shield was simply a stronger, larger, riot shield with the letters “LHSCD” on the front.

The blade swiped down at Richard and collided with his shield, the blade let out a loud ‘fizzing’ noise as it struggled to burn through his shield, molten metal dripped down the sides, and a tiny slit appeared giving Richard a look right into the fading blade. The shield suddenly swung back around to the side, throwing the blade up and away, creating an opening. An opening he used to unload his rifle on the Hound, and extended his free arm, giving the grappling cable a perfect angle.

The higher caliber bullets from his rifle put some decent dents in the Hound’s armor, but the real attack here was the cable, it swiftly wrapped around the Hound and electricity shot through it a moment later, causing the Hound to shout in pain; sparks of electricity jumped out of the Hounds suit, along with various lights along his body flickering. Richard reached the peak of his jump arc and began to descend, he attempted to reel in the Hound as he fell, the cable went taut as Richard dangled in the air, and the motor in his arm began to loudly groan as it struggled.

“Fall dammit, fall!” Richard shouted as he dropped his gun to lay his other hand on the cable, thankfully Artemis stopped the electrical current for him, and he yanked the cable downwards with both arms. The sound of the both of them falling and crashing into the wet cement boomed through the night.

The both of them landed right on top of each other, with Richard on top, which was lucky because apparently the other guy wasn’t willing to risk friendly fire. The man tried to get up, but Richard wrestled with him, they traded blows with each other multiple times, but the Roadblock armor was in better condition, and managed in gaining the upper ground.

“We have nothing to cuff him with; the reinforced cuffs we use on metas won’t fit his armor.” Artemis said as Richard and the Hound struggled against each other.

“Mark 2, disengage friend or foe tags!” The man shouted, a loud chirp came from the other Hound and its chest opened up.

“A robot?” Richard muttered as the second Hound’s chest plate opened up, revealing several cylinders inside, he quickly realized those were gun barrels.

“You idiot, you’re right here with me!” Richard shouted.

“The mission will continue without me.” He replied, his voice was empty, like he was accepting his defeat. Bursts of yellow shot out from all six chambers, aimed right at both Farland and Richard.

“Artemis, the shield!” Richard yelled out as he moved himself to cover the downed Hound, the shield promptly rotated around to defend the both of them. The blasts were mitigated by the particle field, but they still proved to be powerful as they melted through the shield, splashing against the back of the Roadblock armor, leaving behind blast marks.

Particle Dispersion Field: 33%

Polarized Armor Integrity: 66%

“You saved me?” The Hound asked, even going so far as to meet eye to eye, as best he could anyways.

“The police have always been a lifesaving organization, besides, you’re the main suspect.” Richard said as he slammed his elbow into the man’s head, his head fell to the ground. After confirming that he’d been taken out, Richard unhooked a grenade from his hip and tossed it at the unconscious man as he took off into a sprint. The grenade exploded a moment later, covering the man in a yellow-white coating.

Richard spotted his rifle from earlier and double timed it, he dove onto the ground and let his body slide, his fingers were only inches away before a barrage of yellow energy blasted the gun into bits, along with scoring several hits onto his left arm. Richard grunted, his armor held out for this long, but with its defenses running lower he was starting to feel it even through the armor plating. He furrowed his brows as he eyed his gauges.

Polarized Armor Integrity: 58%

Richard mentally recapped his viable weapons, his destroyed MHS-42P rifle, a couple more foam grenades, the cable, and his fists.
“Damn, we got nothing.” Richard muttered, he got up and continued trying to dodge the energy shells, but he felt like he’d been driven up the wall.

“Don’t give up yet, look.” Artemis pulled up a zoomed in image as she spoke. Rolling out from around the front of the building was one of the mechanical scooters from the garage, on top of it sat one of the Roadblock backpacks, attached to it was a large weapon, about five meters long and two meters wide. An id tag popped up, identifying it as the AC-107 Beam Launcher, an experimental weapon he hadn’t been allowed to see yet.

“I won’t be able to make it; it’d see that as a threat, just like my rifle.” Richard was starting to run out of breath, he’d been fighting at his hardest for a little while now, and avoiding that robot suit’s shots was no easy task, especially without his boosters.

“It’s on remote control, but without access to our power core it only has one shot.”

“Alright, I’ll flush him out, you catch him.” Richard said as he slipped another foam grenade into his hand and tossed it, the foam exploded and quickly covered the MK2’s shield, but it turned off its defenses at just the right time to escape, but this movement left it open.

The AC-107 let off its only shot, a thick red beam pierced through the air like thunder, impacting the MK2 in the side, and blasted it into one of the empty Hounds vans. The force and weight of the impact caused the van to explode in a giant fiery explosion. The remote controlled scooter flew backwards from the recoil of its shot, toppling over and spinning into a fire hydrant.

“Nice shooting, Artemis!” Richard shouted, pumping his fist in the air.

“I wouldn’t celebrate just yet Mr. Hunter.” Just as Artemis said that, a missile shot forth from the van wreckage, the warning alarm barely gave Richard enough time to duck.

“This thing just won’t die.” Richard said, but he noticed something, the energy shield looked like it was trying to block out the flames, but it kept flickering in and out, whatever that was powering those shields must have been damaged. A large hole in the side of the Hound furiously shot out sparks, the suit itself jittered and jerked as it tried to straighten itself, most if not all of its gun barrels were damaged.

It’s over.

Richard sprinted as fast as he could towards it, Artemis had rotated what was left of the shield to help block the missile shots, the multiple consecutive missile blasts shattered what was left into several dozens of metal fragments, but now he was close enough. He threw his fist forward, fully intending to smash the head part in, instead the robot Hound caught him by the arms, twisted it’s torso around and attempted to throw him.

But Richard reversed it by quickly turning his head, twisting his own trajectory mid-air, allowing him to land on his feet. He then lifted the Hound and slammed it into the ground, crushing its head in, sparks and several miniature explosions shot out across its body as it fell onto the cement.

“Finally.” Richard breathed a sigh of relief.

“Detective Hunter.” The radio in his helmet cackled, and another voice spoke through his helmet radio, a man this time, he sounded almost as tired as Richard was.

“Captain Kelly?” Richard was startled to hear from him so soon, but he was glad the chief had managed to survive, and let that show in his voice.

“There’s something you and Artemis need to see, get down to the cells.” Chief Kelly replied, his flat response worried Richard, and he braced himself for some bad news.



The scene was just as grizzly as the upstairs, the guards on duty had been gunned down like many of the officers upstairs, except this time there was more. The metahuman’s the LHSCD had arrested earlier were all dead in their cells, most were simply shot as they stood, some still clinging to the bars. The more durable ones sat disfigured on the floor, some kind of chemical had melted them down, making them easier to kill, if not outright doing it itself.

"We managed to incapacitate the other, Hounds of Humanity, men over in the hallways. But, a few of them must have slipped by somehow." A officer said solemnly as he and the rest of the LHSCD looked into the cells.

“Jesus…” One of the surviving officers muttered as they gathered behind the doorway, as law enforcement officers, they sometimes saw the worst of humanity, but it wasn't something they all got used to, and it certainly wasn't something they all enjoyed. Everyone's faces twisted in their own ways as they saw what was written at the far end of the hall.

Written in red paint. H.O.H.

The weight of their failure sunk into each and everyone of the officers present, a heavy, oppressive mood filled all of them until a booming voice caught their attention.

“The next time we see these Hounds of Humanity I want to be ready! Dr. Frasier, take the rest of the R&D team to take a look at those Hound suits. Detective Hunter, I want you with the rest of the detectives, follow up on any leads.” Captain Kelly barked out their new orders, usually he was cheerful and loud, easily the heart of the entire station, but his switch to a stern and anger disposition was jarring.

“Sir, there’s not many of us left.” Another detective uttered in a low voice, his eyes made an effort not to stare back at anyone.

“That’s for later, for now, you have your orders.”

@Indy Cooper@Athinar

“Call me, Terra Firma.” David said, he returned her grin with a thumb up instead seeing as how his ‘faceplate’ had no facial features at all.

Is this really what the I’m supposed to look like? He thought to himself for a moment before he pushed it back into his mind for later. And just like his worries, he pushed back another Hound, by way of a firm kick to the chest. The alleyway was starting to look clear thanks to police, Broadway, and himself working together. With the fighting dying down he remembered that there were other people all around the square, and they could probably use a hand too.

“It’s starting to clear up here; I’ll trust that you guys can handle things from here.” David said with a wave of his own as he lifted off.



David recalled that odd mist from earlier, and decided he wanted a closer look at that, so he turned to investigate it.

But he spotted a man on the rooftops, he looked like he was trying to peak over the side of the roof, but gunfire raining around his position kept him down. Several Hounds were ducking in odd angles, suppressing the man, and hiding outside his firing angles. David extended his hands to his side, lightning sparked off his arms, and then he quickly brought them higher into the air to gather more electricity. Lightning danced all around his figure, coalescing into his hands as they came together, he then pointed the tips of his fingers at the Hounds and separated his hands.

An intense stream of lightning bounced in-between his palms, snapping and cracking loudly, several bolts shot out with a sharp rumbling, striking most if not all the Hounds weapons, burning a hole through them, making them useless, or too hot to hold.

The sound of erratic gunfire called to him, he wanted to help this man more, but the Hounds were everywhere.

People come here with their families dammit. David thought, he looked around the square scanning for the people who should have been there, but didn’t find any, perhaps the police and those other heroes cleared them out, the lack of obvious civilian casualties gave him
hope.

David gave a casual wave to the rooftop man as he flew off.



He was closing in on the strange mist, he could make out several Hounds inside, along with a couple policemen just outside the fog, the men inside were shouting about trees, and firing off into the sky or into the walls, seemingly jumping at each their own shadows.

Were the policemen too scared to move in? Either way, these men already risk their lives enough, they didn’t deserve to be questioned for avoiding danger, especially when it was so uncertain. So he plunged into the mist as quick as he could, and was surprised by what he saw.

Trees stretching across the sky, overgrown grass going all the way to his hip, and birds chirping in the background; it even smelt different. The entire scene was completely at odds with what should have been here.

“A forest, but how?” David mumbled, but he grew dizzy for a moment, his vision blurred, and a warm feeling slowly embraced him. He thought he heard a slight whispering too. David’s landing wasn’t exactly subtle, so of course the nearby Hounds spotted him and quickly opened fire on him; he raised his arms in defense as his body stumbled backwards, he shook his head trying to get his bearings again.

A moment later a bright white light flared in his “eyes” and his vision quickly restored itself. Instead of the forest from just moments ago, it was an alleyway, just like it should have been. But the Hounds were still walking and acting as if they still saw that forest, shuffling around trees, or taking cover behind them as they shot at him. The Hounds saw his bullet resistance so they ran back to create distance, but it was weird, where a wall or pile of trash would have been they avoided it by suddenly turning, or walked in place, crouching a moment later wherein he assumed they thought they were taking cover.

There was also a robed figure doing something weird with his hands, they took on a subtle glow, and one of the Hounds inexplicably fell over. None of the other Hounds took notice as they were all too busy firing on David or strategizing with the rest, giving ample time and opportunity for the figure to run over and cuff the Hound.

So he’s helping, alright.

Several large chunks of concrete rose up into the air, they separated into smaller pieces about the size of a brick, and as the concrete climbed into the air, David cocked his arm back and thrust it forward. The stone blocks hit the remaining Hounds square in the chest, where their armor would be thickest, knocking them down and out.

David was about to address the robed figure, when a water pipe underneath him started moving funny, it burst up through the cement and water shot out of it, towards the center of the square. Thankfully his connection to the Earth gave him ample warning and opportunity to dodge it; he made sure the figure was able to avoid it as well before he started to speak.

“So, who are you? And is that yours?” David asked, gesturing over to the now giant water dragon. Staring at it made him wonder if he was capable of that same level of control over the Earth, or if he was even able to affect water. But he decided to wonder later, the square wasn’t big enough for two dragons, and trying to experiment with his powers might be too distracting.