Location - Madison Bank - Fighting Criminal Scum @Argetlam350

WHIFF! Nothing but air. Having thrown his weight into a missed punch, it took a second or two for Ziggy to regain his balance. Readjusting his hoodie, and loose pants, he looked to the criminal again. She wouldn't exactly see much of the crystals, but the glow, and the odd crystal growing on his hand, sure. He had to admit, this Scorn, Mistress of Shadows, wasn't half bad. Primarily agile. A tad more so than him, since she clearly had more fighting experience. But... "Well Miss Scorn, lets find out."

As she charged him, he attacked. Throwing another punch, and watching it go wide, missing her as she ducked beneath. Instead, he watched as a razor sharp claw slashed through the air, aiming for the tendons of his leg. A loud CRACK split the air, and something went skidding along the floor. But it wasn't his leg. It was one of the claws on Scorn's gauntlet. When two hard objects meet, one has to break first. It wasn't the boy made of crystals. His pants leg was torn from the slash, exposing more of the glowing light from beneath. Ziggy's response wasn't to stand and wait, but instead take advantage of the failed attack. He kicked out, directing his foot directly into the face of his attacker.

"GET BACK!" He shouted, almost by reflex. His heart drumming along with the hope that he'd get a hit in. He was scared. Her attacks didn't work, but he was scared. As if for a moment, this wasn't something he'd ever fought before. Criminals and guns, yes. Claws and psycho ladies? No.

Agent 021, alias “Hotshot”.
Location: Madison Bank
Time: 07:22
Responding to disturbance by meta-Human identified as “Scorn”.
@Argetlam350 @Argetlam350

---

"Hey Scorn!" A voice called out from behind Stardust and Scorn, before she could completely get away. What faced them was a less than threatening figure in a leather jacket, boots and bike helmet. "I thought a freak like you always hid in the shadows."

Of course Hotshot didn't plan for stuff to go this way. He was on a break, enjoying his day off. The intelligence he gathered with his partner was still being analyzed. Chang was given the R&R he so desperately craved. He was out in the old cafe he's father used to take him to back in the days. He ordered the same parfait he's father always got him. He was sucked into memory lane. Reminiscing about the past when he noticed his phone buzzing. There was an alert. Normally he'd ignore the alarm. Let some other agent take care of it. That wasn't until he noticed the news blaring on the overhead television in the cafe.

"BREAKING NEWS" The text underneath the reported read as it scrolled to the left. "BANK HEIST AT MADISON BANK"

Chang couldn't help but stare out the window. Sure enough, at the end of the street, there were sirens blazing. Chang took in a deep breathe and sighed. Guess he wasn't going to get the chance to finish his dessert after all. Chang stood up and left a tip at his table. He walked out the alleyway besides the cafe. He's bike was there. His BMW K1600 was there along with his bike helmet. He placed the black headgear on. Then he made a dash over the police cordon and found himself standing in front of a wounded vigilante and a fleeing psychopath.

"Not up for some more games?" Hotshot asked, baiting Scorn to strike at him.

Scorn's momentum and shock of losing one of her claws, made her open and meant Starbright's foot connected with her face. She fell backwards, her nose burning and the taste of blood in her mouth as blood pour out of her nose. The pain though was brief as she remembered she was a claw short.

"Oh now you are going to get it," she growled getting up spitting out some blood, getting ready to strike again. However her attack was delayed by a new player to their game.

"I'm always up to play Hotshot, but it hardly seems fair, two against one," she replied to Hotshot. She went to a defensive pisition. With Starbright seemingly indestructible to her claws she needed to think of a new way to fight him. A twisted grin appeared on her face as an idea came to mind.

"I know how to even the field. What we need is some darkness," she stated the area growing dimmer as the shadows in the room seem to grow. Within the shadows she dissapeared laughing ",Let the games begin. How good can you would be heroes see in the dark?"

Location - Madison Bank - And Hotshot makes three. @Argetlam350+@Aquamarine

Score! The first real damage went to Ziggy, watching Scorn retreat. He'd have immediately gone in to keep fighting, but suddenly they weren't alone. Turning around, Ziggy turned his attention to Hotshot, the rather obvious hero. Ziggy didn't exactly have a supersuit, though he lacked genitals, so he wasn't too worried about that. But now he was thankful. Hotshot's bright color palette looked, kinda ridiculous. But that was probably the intended effect after reading too many comic books. He turned to look at Scorn, who was now on the defensive. But... They still had bank robbers to stop.

"Hotshot, you take care of Scorn, I'll stop the other robbers." Stardust said, taking a step back to get closer to the other hero. The darkness began to creep in, and while Ziggy knew he might be able to fight Scorn alone due to his more... Durable standing, Hotshot was the more experienced hero, and Ziggy was bulletproof. Humans weren't. One of the first lessons Ziggy learned when he he wanted to tickle one of his handlers with a pistol. Thankfully he survived. "Can you do this?" Ziggy didn't even wait for a reply, because even in the dark he'd taken the time to see where Scorn had come from. Pulling off his hoodie, he exposed more of his natural blue glow, relying on that to help him find his way in the dark.

He made a beeline sprint for the vault, knowing that in that moment he freed Hotshot up to use whatever abilities he had without worry. Hopefully Scorn would choose to focus Ziggy, leaving her open enough for Hotshot to get her. Nightlight boy to the rescue apparently. She couldn't hurt him, so that was something.

Black Mask/ Unknown/ Male/ Unknown
Location: Hide Out Tags: 83% done with your shit

Black Mask slunk down the stairs, dripping water behind him as he walked. When he got to the bottom, he was greeted by the curious gaze of Mindraker, probably wondering what had taken him so long. He offered no explanation as he set the sopping wet bag down on the floor and carefully began unpacking the equipment. Luckily, the bag was lined well enough to keep it dry.

He set it out and then tossed the bag aside. Raker could do with it whatever he pleased. It was time for Black Mask to get some rest. He didn't linger any longer. He drug himself back up the stairs and into the rain.

Dinah McBride / female / 21 / hero
Location: the Streets of Centerville; Over and Out
Interactions: n/a

Dinah decided she didn't want to wait around and see how the fight might resolve between Terminator and the Lightening Rod, so she took the opportunity to dash back the way she game, darting through the hole in the still golden fence and fleeing through the alleyways. She decided then that her brief debut as a superhero was also her swan song. Never again. She was not equipped to fight robots, especially when there were others out there more fit for the job, like Sparky back there.

She slowed down once she was back out on the street, quickly pulling her gloves back on before pulling the scarf away from her face and pushing away the hood, taking a few deep breaths as she walked rapidly back to her apartment. Man, and she still had a paper to finish. So much for a quiet evening of studying.

Orren Daily/ Male/ 25/ Civilian
Location: Hallow Grounds coffee shop Tags: A Nefarious Broadcast

It was about 5 in the morning that Orren arrived at the coffee shop to open. The alarm clock had gone off far too early that morning; he felt like he'd barely slept. His brown eyes had deep circles under them. Clearly this wasn't his first night with poor sleep. Insomnia was a familiar feeling to him; he'd had it for at least a couple years now.

He made himself a latte while the oven warmed up. Orren sipped it with tired eyes, watching the sky turn pink outside. When the oven beeped, he went about baking the fresh cakes and breads that the shop offered along with coffee. The smell often drew customers in. Once the front case was stocked, he went around and opened the doors for business. Sometimes, there would be people waiting. Luckily, that wasn't the case today. Orren went around back behind the counter and perched on a stool.

His eyes drew up to the TV that sat in the lobby. The news was still on, talking about the events of last night. Didn't those super guys ever give it a rest?

It was nearing 6 AM, and the usual morning rush was strangely slow today. Customers flowed in at a rate just high enough to keep Orren from falling asleep on the counter again. He handed a man his cup of black coffee and thanked him for coming by, then zoned out a bit as the next gap between business began. The TV caught his attention, offering meager entertainment. Then, it flickered.

Orren blinked. Had he imagined that or.... Nope, there it was again. The News cut out, giving way to the brightly colored bars that appeared for a test screen. Then it went black. He straightened up, scrunching his brows together. Was their TV broken?

Good Morning.

The white text appeared on a black background, then faded. A panning shot of a downtown office park replaced it. The camera paused on one particular building before fading out again.

Remember me?

The words appeared on a black background once more before fading, this time, being replaced by a video of sad looking cats and dogs in caged. It looked like it was ripped from an old ASPCA commercial.

Not for very much longer.

This time the words fell over the ASPCA video, right as it focused on a barking dog before fading to black.

We have run for so long.

The word appeared over black, then faded to a shot of a dark alley. One could just barely make out two masked figures standing within the shadows.

Now I am tired.

The screen faded black again.

Now it's your turn.

This text faded out and replaced by one word.

Goodbye.

The colorful bars flashed onto the screen again before it cut back to the feed of the morning news. The anchor lady looked stunned until she realized that they were live again. She cleared her throat and shuffled the papers on her desk.

"Um...well, it appears our live feed was just hacked. I'm being told that the proper authorities are being notified, but let's continue with our program. Uh...John, why don't you tell us about the weather."

Orren didn't hear a word the weatherman said. He was thoroughly disturbed. Even in a well lit store, in the middle of the morning, he could feel paranoia creeping into his mind. Other customers in the shop had taken notice of the strange interruption as well, and where now discussing it quietly. Whatever those creeps had in mind, one thing was clear: someone was going to get hurt.

Douglas Song

Hallow Grounds Coffee

The time it had taken Song to reach the more northern side of the city in the wee hours, post rain no less, was a timely and complicated matter. Not because there were many threats or perils he was to face, but because it was so far out of the usual area he kept himself to. Yet this mission above many others held great importance, if only symbolically in mind and to maintain a series of rituals long established; Song needed more tea. It was not an inexpensive endeavor either, as a man who took only from criminals to pay his bills reasonably had little - petty thugs carried petty cash after all. What complicated it more was that the prize was rare in itself, an import of China. Many novelty shops that had once carried it among their shelves long since ceased, leaving only those more select coffeehouses to have it, if at all.

So while he drifted between the streets, those which seemed to grow livelier by the moment, he recalled in mind the name of the retail that sold the much needed resource. "Hallow Grounds", clever, catchy, strange one would use such a name, perhaps it meant more? In another a day, another life rather, the wayward monk might be able to inquire why they called it such a thing. At least it was no terribly further north than the college which had gathered a strange storm about it the last night. The lightning, the thunder, most perplexing. To Song, the city seemed to be changing, as if its balance was shifting more than before.

How right he would be without even knowing in slightest, for the moment the man stepped to the shop, door opening with a slight ring of a bell, the newcomer paused as he surveyed the people. Their expressions were confused, perhaps even ever so slightly in shock, others looked about in similar disbelief and equal lack of understanding. Fortunately none of them were burning metaphorical holes into the Asian man in the black long coat with their stares on the chill morning, a relief he much appreciated with a slow exhale. Looking around, from them to where there eyes went, he noted a television playing. The weather? What about it?

Still as the grave he lingered, though there was nothing to be noted. Odd grew worse at that and not wishing to standout too much, the man simply shrugged and guided himself to a rack of import goods the shop held. Hand laid to the tarnished wood finish, he browsed, keeping eyes and ears open while going about his business. The asset must be here, somewhere...

@Metronome

Location - Government Agency - Morning

"So, you stopped the bank robbers?"
"Yes I did. That's what heroes do, right?"
It was outside the bank, less than thirty minutes after the incident. Reporters had gathered, since they had probably been on their way since the bomb first went off. The police had come, and Stardust had carried the captured bank robbers to the proper authorities. Several people had gathered, finally getting a chance to see the new government made superhero who had been briefly mentioned in the news a week ago. Now not only was the news vastly more interested in the strange boy, but he'd done something impressive.
"Well, yes. But are you aware that you managed to capture seven members of the dangerous Scorn Gang?" The reporter pushed the mic against Stardust's face, and the alien boy took a step back to breath.
"Well yes, that was seven members, right. I mean, their leader got away." He wasn't going to lie. After all, it seemed so meaningless to let somebody escape. Scorn could hurt other people!
"Yes, but that was because hero Hotshot got in the way, right? He was fighting Scorn, and you were stopping the robbers."
"Well that is accurate, but it's honestly not hi-"
"You heard it here folks. The new hero, Ziggy Stardust, no civilian identity, managed to subdue the seven members of the Scorn Anarchy Gang. While at the same time, veteran hero Hotshot failed once more to capture the reoccurring crook. Which only begs the question. Is it time for Hotshot to let the new kid take over, and hang up his cape? More at ele-"

The TV clicked off, leaving Ziggy alone with Agent Mother in his room. It was comfy enough. A single bed, a nightlight, not that he'd need it, and a selection of government mandated books. Which was pretty much everything, but anything that may seem the bit anarchist or pro-rebellion. Ziggy didn't mind. He understood the fear. But he would always like to read that Hunger Games books he heard about a few times.
"Why did you turn it off?" Ziggy said, not even turning to look at Mother, who had been responsible for turning the TV off.
"It's not productive." She said, looking to the superboy. "You're getting frustrated. You don't think it's fair that they twisted your words. Get used to it. The media isn't your friend. You either control them, or they control you."
"But why would they do that? I mean, he's a hero too."
"Being a hero is a popularity contest. The news networks love it when heroes fight. When they're running around and competing. It makes for good news when the new guy out plays the old guy. New blood is good for the body." Mother said, looking at Ziggy as she spoke. "You may not like it, but the government wants a hero to champion them. If they can, they'll push you as the next big thing. You'll be the greatest hero as far as the media is concerned."
"But I don't want to push Hotshot out." Ziggy sighed, finally standing up. "I'll go through a training exercise. It'll clear my mind."
"Before you go, consider this. Hotshot isn't going to quit just because you outdid him the once." Mother said, still sitting as Ziggy made his way to the door. "More so than ever, he'll be doing everything he can to prove he's the best hero around. I want you to avoid him. I don't need you fighting another superhero. The top brass won't like it."
"I'll try." Ziggy said, but he wasn't sure if he could keep that promise. After all, it seemed this Creep organization was being active. He'd have to face them most likely. And if he was going to face them, he expected Hotshot would too.

Scorn / female / 29 / Villian
Location: Tunnel of Solitude nursing wounds

Scorn had retreated to her hideout once knowing that she was not being followed. To say she was angry was an understatement. She wanted to have her fun but the other portion, her transaction from the bank had been thwarted but the newest kid to play hero. Hero only pleasure to come from being thwarted was how the media was seemingly putting the new hero on a pedestal and leaving Hotshot to be blamed for her escape. During her fight with Hotshot, she had heard some of the commotion going on in the back of the bank, once figuring that the drill team had been stopped she had decide it best to leave, hating to admit that she had been stopped. Scorn needed to get herself treated anyways. So when an opening was provided she slipped out the bank's broken front doors and ran.

Now back in her tunnels with whatever members of her gang not out on the streets patrolling, she worked on fixing herself. The cuts and bruising were simple. The nose wasn't much harder though it ruined her painted face which she did not enjoy. Then finally came the broken claw. Since the claws were stuck to her, repairing it was a much more difficult challenge. She was lucky enough to have someone with the right tools but they themselves were nervous because they knew if they messed up the repairs they would be on the other side of the remaining claws she had.

She inspected the members work deeming the repairs to be good and patted him gently on the head as if he was a child before walking off, her shoes echoing off the old tunnel's walls. While she was down seven members now, at least she knew they wouldn't speak on where she was located. Jail time to them was far better then having to face her wraith if they spoke out. Scorn could only hope that the media backlash to Hotshot at the moment would provide some tension between the new hero Stardust and Hotshot. The only thing better then fighting heroes was watching them fight each other.

Dinah McBride / female / 21 / hero
Location: A College Kids' Apartment -> Hallow Grounds; It's too Early for This
Possible Interactions: @The Harbinger of Ferocity@Metronome

Dinah rose early the next morning sore and still tired, her alarm jolting her awake at the bright and early hour of 5:45am. She groaned and grabbed her phone, quickly shutting off the incessant buzzing and laying still for a moment. If she didn't have class at 8, she would have just gone back to sleep. But since she had gone on a midnight adventure instead of doing her homework, she had doomed herself to an early morning of equations and unhealthy amounts of coffee. No, the hero lifestyle was not for her. She could barely keep up with classes, work, and her internship. Thankfully, it seemed that no one had been hurt the night before, thanks to whoever that Hijack fellow was and the lightening lady. She couldn't speak for the cyborg, but it looked to be in pretty bad shape when she fled the scene.

After mustering up the motivation, she finally rolled out of bed and bleary eyed, pushed her way out of her room into the small living area. She was immediately greeted with the sight of a boy was passed out on the couch with a pillow under his head and a bucket on the floor. Kyle must have been too drunk to make it home safely after her roommates' party. There was still trash and clutter everywhere, and the TV was on; it probably had been all night. The aftermath could have been worse, so cleaning it up wouldn't be the worst experience. She walked over to check on Kyle, who seemed to be sleeping peacefully, when the newscaster's voice on the TV behind her suddenly cut out.

"Good Morning."

The tone was low and the audio quality rather poor, causing Dinah to turn around and face the television with knitted brows. She watched the broadcast in silence, not exactly sure what she was witnessing. Strange and seemingly unrelated images flashed across the screen as the voice relayed its message to whomever happened to be watching at this ungodly hour. It was brief and strange, the feed cutting back to the news and a flabbergasted anchor, who quickly tried to get her show back on track. Dinah stood without moving for a few seconds, unsure of what to think or do with the information that had just been provided. Whatever it was, she had a bad feeling about it.

Now thoroughly confused and still trying to wake up, she switched off the ancient piece of tech and shuffled to the kitchen and hunted around her cabinets for coffee. She pulled out the tin and popped with lid only to find a few measly grains nestled at the bottom. Damn. She tossed the empty container into the full trash can and went back to her room. She would just have to go out and get caffeine elsewhere, there was no way she would be able to do any sort of calculus without it. She tossed her pjs on the unmade bed and dug through her closet for a few minutes before settling on leggings with a baggy blue sweater and heading into the bathroom to finish getting ready.

By the time she had finished and returned to the living room to get her backpack, Kyle had woken up and was rubbing his temples with an agonized expression. She smirked and rolled her eyes as she moved past the twenty-year-old to grab her things. "We're out of coffee," she informed him as she pulled her shoes on, "You'll have to ask Chelsea or Nat to go pick up more."

She received no reply other than a pained grumbling while she snatched her keys and left the apartment, pushing loose blonde hair out of her face as she descended the stairs. The nearest coffee shop was "Hallow Grounds", an establishment many of the locals frequented, and was always a great place to go in a pinch. The bell chimed merrily as she entered, the TV catching her eye when she stepped into line to place her order. Looking around the strangely somber atmosphere, she had to wonder if anyone else had seen the same broadcast she had earlier that morning, if anyone might have any clue what it meant. There was a small part of her that considered that it could have been a part of last night's shenanigans, but with the amount of strange people in the city, each with their own agenda, it was unlikely.

Orren Daily/ Male/ 25/ Civilian
Location: Hallow Grounds coffee shop Tags: Karate kid,
College girl

In his focus on the TV, Orren lost track of the customers lining up in front of him. When he finally turned back, he jumped slightly. "Oh. Uh, sorry. Can I help you?" The guy in front of him was new. Orren had never seen him in the shop before, he was pretty sure.

The girl behind the guy wasn't exactly a regular, but she came in from time to time. Orren did his best to push off the unsettled feeling in his stomach and the pretend that the purple bags under his eyes didn't exist as he gave his best customer service smile.

Talos took one last, angry look at lightning girl, before he darted off to the wall and dug his hands in hard, scaling it quickly, before he was on the roof and out of site. He was in a very rough shape, and staying to fight was not the logical choice at all at this point. He had been bested, and that irritated him greatly. He needed some human bone to rebuild his face. He looked down at the street and saw the drunk guy from earlier, still passed out. Talos easily manged to snap the man's neck and sling him over his metal shoulder, then he began to head back to his warehouse.

A few hours later and Talos was attaching in the last piece of black metal to his head. The gunshot and the lightning strike had destroyed very intricate pieces of his face that took a while to be fixed. While fixing his head, Talos's main problem had dawned on him - he was alone. If these heroes ganged up on him, he would lose. Either he needed to make sure to take them on one at a time, or he needed comrades. Finally, he was done. He placed down his tools, looking out of the window to see that it was now dawn. He turned on the television hooked up to the wall in front of him. The news was playing a story about a bank robbery last night. Something that he hadn't heard about. Then the TV began to figure? Something wrong with the screen? But it then became very apparent that something much stranger was taking place here. Words. Images of suffering animals. And then, a sudden, very faded shot of two masked men in an alleyway. He had a perfect image in his mind of last night - the two masked men he had encountered. Perhaps just a coincidence. But nothing ever was in this world.

But it was time to head out again. Last night made it pretty obvious that he needed some new tech. And he was thinking of something that could possibly match a blast of electricity in cutting and flesh-destroying ability. There was a government facility in the city that could definitely hold some experimental, private technology. He decided not to wear a disguise, not wanting to have another one made unusable, instead donning a colour-changing silicone suit of his own creation (co-incidentally, also re-engineered from tech he stole from a government facility) which allowed him to easily blend in. He took the things he needed to break in, then headed out.

It wasn't long before he reached the facility. Watching from an alley, it seemed well guarded. He needed to plan a way to get in. There was a cluster of trees which could provide good cover. He also needed to make sure not to trip the alarm to something like this. Or at least, when he was already on the way out. He slipped around into the tree cover, reaching the side of the building, checking for guards along the whole distance. He reached the wall, feeling a hand along to try and find a weaker spot. But there was no weak spot. This was a sight he should have seen coming. Perhaps he needed to try and dispose of a guard to expose a spot he could slip in. He threw a small, vibrating device into a shrub, which made it shake, then stood back. As a guard walked up, he gripped a piece of wire in his hands and dove them both into the bushes. Only Talos came out. He slipped inside the building, knowing it would take little time for the guards to notice their fallen comrade. He needed to get to where the weapons would be stored, quickly, as he navigated the hallways.

Douglas Song

Hallow Grounds Coffee

There was little Song had to truly say, but one thing he noted was the channel on the television, especially as the man at the counter stared off into it at a loss. There was no coincidence in these things, that much the outsider knew to be truth, but he was not content to confirm this alone and gave a soft nod to the man. "Orren" was his name, if his work dress was anything to be believed, but Song played ignorant of this as well when he heard the man speak up - freed of his trance by a slight start and jump from surprise.

"Oh. Uh, sorry. Can I help you?" He was asked, to which he nodded again, remaining reserved and humble though hosting legitimate concern, albeit more played out and exaggerated over his otherwise persistent tranquility.

"Yes, what happened?" Song inquired, lifting a hand enough to point to the television, "Why is everyone so on edge? Bad news?"

From there he set a small wooden box atop the counter, one of still somewhat raw finish and containing, like a chest, the boxes of tea he intended to purchase. It would serve as his tea chest as well, no matter how crude the unsanded wood was. No bigger than a shoe box, Song kept his other hand upon it while he looked from the television to Orren, then back again. The reflection of the screen, just as it had before, revealed the young woman behind him, the one that entered not long after. She too had been confused as he was, meaning she hadn't an idea either of what took place.

Song did, quite well at that, beginning to piece the details together more and hoping the sleepless man he conversed with would provide ever more on it.

@Little Italy@Metronome

Orren Daily/ Male/ 25/ Civilian
Location: Hallow Grounds coffee shop Tags: Karate kid,
College girl

"Uh," He put it so elequenty. Orren struggled to explain what had just happened. Honestly, he wasn't too sure himself. "Someone just, like, hijacked the TV signal or something. It showed some weird stuff, dogs in cages and these two guys in masks. I think they were guys. I dunno. It was strange."

Orren slid off of his stool to ring up the overpriced box of tea. He wondered what it was like to be able to buy this shit regularly. What was it like to have disposable income? He scanned the barcode and the price flashed up on the register.
"That'll be 12.59, please."

Douglas Song

Hallow Grounds Coffee

Song's amber eyes searched the man for a moment, running through everything he had said and what a bizarre illustration it all created in mind. Yes, yes this did seem to match all of which Song knew, a compromised television station, two men in masks, some sort of seemingly disturbing message. Dogs, however, did not make things any more clear - the cages did. What did the cages mean? That too must have been some sort of insight that for the moment was meaningless or lost, a murky undertone amidst the clarity of the visionary waters. He lingered not on this for too long, reaching into his pocket to withdraw a wallet.

"That is bad news for sure."

As planned, Song hadn't more than forty dollars, and utterly lacked any electronic means of payment; not a single card lined the old, decrepit leather thing. Thumbing through it, he came to take out a badly wrinkled twenty, one that had gone all too long through the hands of many men, certainly far more than those of the night before. Handing it over, the buyer of the tea carried on in his conversation.

"How often is this tea ordered?" Song inquired, tapping the box with the fingers resting atop it.

@Little Italy@Metronome

Dinah McBride / female / 21 / hero
Location:Hallow Grounds; Rumor Has It
Possible Interactions: @The Harbinger of Ferocity@Metronome

Dinah was scrolling through facebook when the man in front of her asked the guy behind the counter about the broadcast. She stopped browsing her social media and looked up sharply, looking between the two silently. So she hadn't been the only early bird to witness the strange message. The conversation between the two concerning it was brief, the cashier brushing it off as some hackers' publicity stunt. That would be the easiest explanation, but she wasn't sure if she totally believed that. Still, there wasn't a thing she could do about it. There were a dozen other things she had to worry about, the authorities could take care of the hackers.

She tucked her phone in the pocket of her backpack and clasped her gloved hands in front of her, waiting patiently for the asian man in front of her to finish his transaction. The coffee shop wasn't terribly crowded, considering how early it still was, but the morning rush would be in soon. Part of her wondered if it was really worth the grade to give up those few extra hours of sleep.

Orren Daily/ Male/ 25/ Civilian
Location: Hallow Grounds coffee shop Tags: Karate kid,
College girl

Orren shrugged. "Not very, I guess. Most people come here for coffee and free wifi. I think we get it in once every couple of months." Orren looked past the man, who was now just holding up the forming line behind him, and waved the next girl forward.

Thr door jingled as another worker came in. A young woman with dark hair sporting blue streaks brushed by the line and went back behind the counter.
"Hey Nikki," Orren greeted her with lackluster. The young woman offered no response. She went to clock in, then came over to open up the next register to split the line into two.

Orren turned back to the woman in front of him, unaffected by his coworker's cold shoulder. "What can I get you today?"

Location - Government Agency - Morning @KaijuBaragon

THWACK! The machine spun about, crashing into the far wall and falling to the floor with a clank of metal and wiring. Another sound of impact filled the air as Ziggy spun around, a leg lifted up into the air to connect with another robot. The impact was solid, reverberating through his body in a way he didn't like. But it barely mattered. He had to keep moving, keep fighting. Sticking the kick, he turned to a third target, further out than the other two. A length of crystal was already growing over his hand, and with tension it fired across the distance. It struck metal, but instead of piercing it began to spread over the chassis. Getting into the small gaps, the machine whirled to a stop, before falling dead to the floor. There stood Ziggy, sighing softly as he took a step back, looking around.

This was the Danger Room. The government facility Ziggy spent most of his time inside had developed this room specifically for him. Well, that and all the other superheroes they eventually planned to create or control. After all, what government wouldn't want access to all that power? But for now, it was only Ziggy, well... Ziggy and at least a dozen robot dummies to take out his frustrations on. The robots were easy to fight, less complex than people. Easier to fight since he didn't need to hold back. Walking over to the farthest robot, he placed his hand against the rapidly growing crystals, were he slowly began to pull it right back into his body. The crystal that made up his body learned... And for a moment he felt like he could grow once more. But he stopped that. It wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want to grow, he wanted to stay himself.

Turning his attention to the dozen or so robots lying around, he then looked around further to the many windows lining the wall. There he could see the many soldiers, government agents, and scientists watching. The scientists took their notes, and moved on, with other projects ahead of them.
"Good Work, Agent Stardust." The voice of the observer said, his voice echoing over the intercom system. Ziggy finally relaxed, and began to set up the robots again before he was interrupted. "Don't bother. You're done for now. Take a break, it's lunch time." Sighing outloud, and he finally stepped away from all that work, and left the robots for others to work on. Lunch sounded like a good idea.
____________________________________________________________________________________
Elsewhere in the facility...

Douglas Jones was new to the whole 'working for the government thing.' The whole soldier thing he was used to. But this wasn't a military base. It was a freak research lab. Right now built around the one freak they'd managed to grow on their own. Not that Douglas was complaining. Every once in a while he'd hear rumors of how the government was planning to make super soldiers later, and he wanted in on that. He wanted fire powers. Since he was young he'd always liked fire. How it could be used for so much. Giver of life, and taker of it. But as he patrolled outside, he noticed something odd that made him wish he had fire powers. A vibrating bush, and a leg sticking right out of it.
"Hey, guys inside? I think I got some bodies." Douglas radio'd in as he approached, grabbing the leg and pulling it out. "Yep, one of ours. We got a break in, doesn't look good. These guys..." He looked to the body. Rick Grimms, new guy, same shipment as him. Dead, with his neck gashed right open. The radio blared to life, kicking him right back to reality. He listened, and replied quickly to each burst of static. "Yeah, either we've got a guy with some really nasty skills, or I don't know what... You sure about that? Well, I'm not saying no, but it doesn't look like a supervillian thing. No lasers. Well, if you're sure." Pretty simple conversation really.

A moment later, the alarms were all blaring at full volume.

Douglas Song

Hallow Grounds Coffee

The rudeness of the man to interrupt Song's business was perhaps almost expected at this point; these people were in such a hurry with their lives they hadn't the wherewithal to recognize he would having willingly ordered more then and at that moment. One would not ask such a question, let alone receive such an answer, and attempt to continue the exchange if they did not intend to go down that very route. Song laughed instead, not one to belittle or berate the barista manning the counter. Smiling as he did, he hefted the box on to his shoulder and wrapped an arm around it with familiar ease.

"Next time then I will make my order."

Song looked Orren over once more before turning to depart, allowing the implications to settle, and avoiding the woman who had been called up to the counter from behind him. Without paying her much mind, he then vanished as strangely as he had come, toting now only the small wooden crate with him out the door. While it was still overcast, a chill on the air, the sun starting to bring ever more light and warmth so slowly by the minute, Song was pleased to have worn his long coat this day. Not just that it was one of the few things to keep the unpleasant wet chill in the air from him, but that short of his box, he would blend in among any other young businessman or professional lingering about the gourmet coffee shops - of course so long as he kept it on over his sweatshirt.

It was always a matter to remain of little interest to as many as possible, but some days were just easier than others. After all, how else would he look into the strange events of the masked men? Surely they would rerun and discuss the events, launch an investigation by the police, and be the talk of the town, but Song, perhaps of the entire world, was the only one who had met them just after the act. It left the business up to him as it were then...

@Little Italy@Metronome