Scorn / female / 29 / Villain
Location: Out and about

While merging into crowds was near impossible for Scorn, she found ways to traverse the city, commonly taking back alleys, using the shadows to bounce between them, or finding means of getting to the rooftops. Mostly she kept to her territory, where her gang members were most prominent but today she was feeling adventurous from the night before and thus went outside her zone to enjoy the day as well as do some reconnaissance. While fighting heroes was fun, running a gang required a steady flow of profit in order to keep things smooth and any chance she could get a leg up on any other local gangs was always good. While currently the flow of money was at the moment steady, she had wanted to secure a backup as precaution but the foiled heist put a snag in that.

"Guess we'll just steal more turf from the others," she thought to herself ",But which of the remaining small fish should I go for? Decisions, decisions. We'll flip a coin later."

Talos thought it was rather lucky that the hallways, as far as he could tell, were empty. No guards. Very odd. Either someone else was breaking in at the same time, or this was simply a very poorly guarded facility. Soon enough, he reached a large metal door, locked with some sort of combination pad. Prising open the face of the number pad, he worked his technological skills, and closed the face, punching in some random numbers afterwards. The heavy door slid open, and Talos slipped inside. His metal feet clacked on the cold concrete floor as he looked around.

This seemed to be the perfect room to break into. At the back of the room there was a rack filled with unusual looking guns. The main focus, however, was in the centre of the room, where a column with a glass cylinder on top of it was placed. Talos checked out the guns first. Above the rack, a label read "CONTAINMENT OF THE ASSET - THERMAL WEAPONRY". Now, this was interesting. He picked up one of the weapons and looked at it up and down, before deciding to test it out. He aimed it at a wooden shelf filled with documents in the corner of the room. An orange blast drilled a hole straight through the documents and onto the other side. Excellent. He took two of the guns, slinging them over his shoulder, then concentrated on the mysterious sight in the centre of the room. He looked closely into the glass cylinder. A piece of flesh lay on a stand in the cylinder, covered with crystals which seemed to be... moving, fluctuating. How interesting. There were documents in a pocket attached to the pillar, and he flicked through them. They showed pictures of bodies, covered with the same crystal.

Then the alarm began to blare. He had taken too much time, and he cursed. He clicked the glass cylinder away from the concrete and held it tightly, before leaving the room. He took one of the heat-guns over his shoulde, facing it ahead, awaiting the inevitable coming of the guards who would try and stop him. But he was ready. He stepped down the hallway, alarms blaring on every side.

Agent 021, alias “Hotshot”.
Location: Centerville GDIF Regional Headquarters, [Data Restricted]
Time: ----
Agent 021 Mission debriefing.

---

"Agent Chang, have a seat." The speaker system voiced out as Chang entered a white room bare of any other aesthetics other than a black sofa seat in the middle. To it's side was a black glass table with a glass of clear liquid. 'Water.' Chang thought to himself. 'Couldn't even bother to get me something with flavor.' Chang sat as instructed. His arm still ached. The bruise on his face still stings. Now he was going to get chewed up by his superiors.

"Agent Chang. Let's begin shall we?" The voice asked. It was devoid of any emotion. Chang knew the façade.They were gonna start him off slow and soft then they were gonna hammer him in. Chang didn’t flinch though as he sat. In fact his resolve only became more solid.

“Agent Chang. Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?” The voice asked. Chang nodded slightly.

“At 7:22 you decided to respond to the an incident at Madison Bank, is that correct?” The voice asked. Chang nodded again.

“Without your protective gear?” Chang nodded as before. “Explain agent.” The voice demanded in an authoritative tone. Chang sighed before answering.

“I figured that GDIF personnel would respond soon enough to the incident, especially since it was on the news. The situation required a swift response. The Foundation that pride itself on its Punctuality and Efficiency right?” Chang felt a bit of comfort doing his backbiting tone.

His superiors seemed to ignore his condescending tone for now. “And there was another meta-Human on the scene yes? Identified as ‘Ziggy Stardust’. Is that correct? Who was already responding to the situation. What made you think this character wasn’t able to contain the threat? ”

Chang crossed his arms. “He wasn’t one of ours. Hell he might not even be Human.”

“His actions could have given you valuable time to come back to headquarters and…”

Chang slammed his fist on the table. “I’m a field agent! Field agents respond to threats! It’s not my fault the rest of your agents acted slowly!”

“You allowed a Meta-Human, repeat offender to escape and endangered innocent lives while doing so. You are reprimanded from any sort of field work and will stay in the facility at all times. Do I make myself understood?” Chang’s superior asked. His voice stern. Like a father scolding his child. Chang didn’t take too kindly to that. He gripped the table next to him with both hands and flipped it over. The glass of water breaking on the wall after impact.

“You are dismissed Chang.” The voice ordered. The door opened and two armed personnel entered. Chang pushed through them. His body radiating heat. He wasn’t going to let this stop him. He had a score to settle.

Dinah McBride / female / 21 / hero
Location:Hallow Grounds; Caffeine Fix
Interactions: @Metronome

Dinah watched momentarily as the man in front of her left before stepping up to the counter when the barista beckoned her. She recognized him, Orren was his name, but her only interaction with him involved her occasional coffee purchase.

“Morning,” she greeted, offering a tired smile. She wouldn’t call it a good morning. Strange, rather. “I’d like a hazelnut latte, extra shot of espresso,” she said as she fished her wallet from her purse. She was going to need the extra boost if she was going to make it through class and then work afterward. She was slightly tempted to inquire about the broadcast, but from what she had over heard from Orren’s conversation with the previous customer, he knew about as much as she did.

Douglas Song

Best 8 Motel

By the time Douglas Song had returned to his humble quarters, he had plenty of time to dwell on the matters of what all he had come to witness and interact with over the past twenty-four hours. By the time the key met the metal face of the lock, turning it over, he had slipped into the room, allowing the door to secure behind him. He would meditate upon the matter, look further in, and attempt to analyze every ounce of his insight and intuition, and the tea would be crucial to this.

Not that for the man, let alone anyone else, did this tea provide insight, but it was a ritual. One that could be invoked in times of deep reflection or insight. So his fingers set to work, unlatching the small metal hooks upon the unfinished wood. Opening it again after, where the minor chest rested upon the edge of the bed, he plucked one of the bags from it and went about to set the spartan coffeemaker, with its cheap plastic exterior, to boil. When all would be said and done, Song would review the news. But first he was to delve into the self, then sleep, allowing insight to grip him where it might not otherwise.

The two masked men would not be such a mystery for long, Song knew this, but the truth about them - would that come to light? That he would need know for himself in this new life he pursued.

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

Orren nodded and entered the information into his register. "That'll be $4.48," he said. He then went to go make the fresh espresso. The smell was bitter and strong, and it honestly made him want another drink himself. Maybe he would make one before he got off today.

The espresso machine roared as it produced the pitch black brew. Once it was done, the barista went about making the rest of the drink. He scooped the frothed milk over the top, making a thick foam layer and then snapping the plastic cap over the cup.

"Here you go, ma'am," He handed the drink over and gave her that classic minimum wage employee smile.

Location - Government Agency - Morning @KaijuBaragon

The blaring alarms filled his ears, and Ziggy was alert. The deafening noise ran through the whole facility, which began to fill with the addition of US soldiers. Military men holding guns ran through the building, holding their rifles at the ready. Ziggy heard in scattered words that somebody had broken in. Clearly the military was getting sloppy, or maybe they just believed nobody would be ready to break in. But either way it seemed it was all up to Ziggy Stardust. Well, Ziggy Stardust and at least fifty armed men with semi-automatic rifles. After all, he couldn't just leave all this to them.

The soldiers split up, breaking into groups of five and searching different corridors. Ziggy went with Beta Team, made up of five humans he'd never met before. In a way, he knew so few humans. So it didn't bother him. But what did bother him, was the grey blob standing in the middle of the hallway. It was the eyes that drew his attention, and that of the four humans standing by his side.
"Who are you?" Ziggy said, standing in front of the five soldiers. "Put down what you have stolen, and come quietly. Fighting you would risk endangering others, and I'd rather that not happen."

Dinah McBride / female / 21 / hero
Location:Hallow Grounds; Overthinking
Interactions: @Metronome

Dinah handed Orren the money in exchange for the piping hot drink, returning an equally exhausted smile and a small nod of thanks as she stepped out of line and made room for the next customer. There were a few empty tables here and there, so she picked one near the window and sat down, drawing her laptop from her back pack and setting about finishing the work she hadn't finished. Headphones drowned out the morning buzz and helped her zero in on the screen as gloved fingers sped over the keys, the time displayed in the top right corner reminding her she didn't have the luxury of messing about or procrastinating any more than she already had been. However, focusing was proving difficult as her mind started to recall the events of the previous night and analyze them more closely. She really had no business acting the way that she had, but she couldn't help but wonder what might have happened if she hadn't made the decision to intervene. Moreover, her brief "episode", as her parents had been apt to called them, was very uncharacteristic of her now that she was older, and she was suspicious of the reason behind her brief breakdown in the halls of the college building.

Focus, she reminded herself, shaking her head slightly and turning her thoughts back to physics.

As the alarms continued to blare, Talos continued steadily down the hallway. He had stolen the most powerful weapon (he assumed) that the facility had here, and bullets wouldn't do much anyway. These thermal guns were obviously designed to contain something very powerful. A human would probably fare as well as a piece of wood and cardboard. Human voices began to echo, unsurprisingly, from other corridors and other rooms. And there was a small patch of voices coming down the hall in front of him, accompanied by footsteps. And then the group came into view. There were humans, obviously, but also something... extraordinary. A non-human, blue, crystalline viewing. This must be the asset. And he had asset containment in his hands.

Then the being spoke, commanding him to put back the things he had stolen, and to come quietly. Like some sort of prisoner. Then came a warning about endangering human life. If the asset wanted to warn something about endangering human life, then he shouldn't have picked Talos to warn about that. He gripped the glass containing the crystal, now realising that it was a piece of the being that stood before him. He faced the thermal gun towards a human who stood at the edge of the group, clicking the trigger without hesitation, sending an orange beam through the man's chest. He then reached a hand to his silicone mask, and slid it off.

"You must be the... asset, I assume. You are indeed quite incredible. Anyway, who I am is not important, at least not yet. I have no worries about endangering or ending human life. I hold a weapon specifically designed to stop you, and now these weapons belong to me. I see that you value human life. So, let me walk free or I will end much more of it."

Scorn / female / 29 / Villain
Location: Out and about... Somewhere over the Rainbow

Feet dangling over an edge of the building, Scorn surveyed the city from above with a bored expression on her face. Below her the city went about not knowing the deranged psychopath sat above. Yet there she was doing nothing of much interest. Her reconnaissance mission had switch to her debating on what else she could be doing thus leading her to sitting atop one of the many buildings of the city and pretending to shoot random targets with her finger and thumb. She could go get coffee, while she tended to stay out of the public eye she did manage to occasionally get away with running around on the sidewalks though it required disguising herself up and removing the paint from her face which she never enjoyed. She decided that was out of the question.

Perhaps another heist? Again she decided that was out of the question. With one foiled heist the other potential targets would be on high alert for her to try again. Hunting other gang leaders down sounded to boring for her at the moment. When she thought about just heading back to her tunnels she suddenly had a great idea.

"How about some painting," she said excitedly to herself ",I'll just need to get my hands on some fresh spray paint and find the nearest billboard." With a new sense of joy she was off to the nearest hardware store to get the material she needed to begin her work on a master piece of art for the entire city to see.

Orren Daily/ Male/ 25/ Civilian
Location: Grocery store Tags: The consuming loneliness

The rest of his shift crept by, and before long, Orren was clocking out. He hung up his apron and headed out the door, a cheerful chime announcing his departure. The young man headed up the block to the nearby grocery store. He needed to refill his meds, lest he wanted to repeat of the last time he let himself run out.

Funny enough, not many places seemed to carry this stuff. This pharmacy was the only one that kept it on hand. It would sure be unfortunate if something were to happen to it.

Orren headed over to the pharmacy counter and put in his refill request. While he waited, he walked around the store to pick up a few essentials: bread, eggs, canned beans. He checked out and went back to the pharmacy to get his pills.

"Mr. Orren Daily, 50mg Zeflexen. Is the information on the screen correct?"

Orren glanced over the info, his name, address, prescription, ect. "Uh, yes sir. Thanks." He took the little paper bag and swiped his debit card to make the copayment. Once it was all done and processed, he stuffed the baggie in with his groceries and went on his way.

Location - Government Agency - Morning @KaijuBaragon

The smell of burning flesh was never a positive. And yet, it was a shocking reminder that come things just can't be reasoned with. Ziggy didn't look at the soldier, after all, he didn't need to see it to know he was dead. And he didn't want to see it. The smell alone was sickening, and the sound of another human vomiting didn't help the mood.

This situation had gone badly. Already he was at a complete disadvantage. He could look at Talos and part of him just knew, 'this thing isn't organic.' A machine probably. Clearly a machine judging from the voice, and how it seemed to remove its own face. It clearly wasn't human with that hole right there, and that metal jaw. The gears grinding behind that metal shell... It was unsettling. Was this what others saw when they looked at Ziggy? Something so clearly wrong that it couldn't be understood?

"Retreat. Let others know not to get involved." Ziggy finally said, not even turning to look at the soldiers he was ordering about. One of them opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Eventually, he nodded, and took a step back, cradling the body of his now dead ally. Before Talos could fire again, or even think of doing so, a wall of crystal erupted behind Ziggy, digging into the walls and sealing that entire route off.
"Yes, I am the 'asset.'" He finally said. He hated that term. It felt so... Self defeating. "You promise that if I let you leave, you won't hurt anybody, right?" He paused to let Talos speak. "I can't just let you run through his facility hurting people. If I help you leave without having to fight anybody, you have to promise me this. You'll never come back, got it? Promise me that."

Douglas Song

Best 8 Motel

Having wisely spent his time in the depths of his meditation, the man had begun to piece together the evidence of all he had bore witness to. The two criminals in black, punctuated by masks, one of who appeared to teleport were known to him, though at first in the conscious, waking, thinking world he had forgotten just who they were; there had been words, rumors of two such men and how their strange doings were never quite explained. This was clear now, at least to Song, for he recognized they together, or in some fashion, had the means to move themselves through apportation and cloud minds, befuddling those who lacked inner focus and bodily discipline. Such talents so explained their mysterious ways and how they always seemed to slip away in what little was known about them.

What came next while Song sat idle before his table, a small cup of steaming tea filling the air with its floral scent, was that they were still quite men. Fragile, feeble, fallible, still very human despite their own superhuman talents. One of them had some sort of illness or malady that caused seizures while the other seemed not to suffer the same outcome, but could only move or react so fast. They were still people in the end, not something entirely inhuman or incomprehensible. This thought was mulled over further by Song who, with both hands upon the ceramic cup, drank quietly once before returning it to the table drenched in shadows. The darkness of the room relaxed the body, allowing the mind to wander after all.

So their motives were, or so Song reasoned, comprehensible and rational. They methodically acted when they entered the broadcasting station and then so thereafter when their broadcast played, especially after the contents proposed. Men, animals, cages, supposedly - like a public service announcement. But who to? Clearly the city itself was in play, but why? Was it for them or those that would see it and know? This Song would not reconcile with himself, but it could be brought together in time. They had some sort of bond, between their dress and that they were willing to defend one another, that they had some sort of message they wished to convey for all from them both... at least in part.

Motion after motion did the serene man ponder these things until he finished his drink, hours later. Now it was time to rest, to sleep, to recollect his mind and body and repeat this pattern of insight once more, after collecting information in the night to come.

He could see the panic flash across the faces of the men as he nonchalantly downed one of them with the thermal weapon. The asset looked at him with slight fear as well. If he could grin, this is where he would have grinned. But he just stood silently, clutching his stolen prizes to him as the asset barked an order to the soldiers, before the dead body was carried off by them.

Then suddenly, the glowing being expanded a mass of crystals from himself, blocking off the entrance. Talos glanced at the sample in the glass cylinder. Perhaps much more useful than he thought. But he quickly turned around as the crystal being began to speak. Something that almost sounded like a plea. It was unusual for Talos that a non-human of this power would regard human life in such a high regard. He could rule and command them easily if he wanted to? Why was he content with just being one of their weapons? To Talos, it didn't really make much sense. But he was being offered a safe way out of here with all his loot. An offer too good to refuse, certainly.

He walked forward a bit more. "Alright. You will help me leave with all my prizes, and I won't hurt anymore of your precious human masters." He paused. "I won't need to come back. I've gathered all the useful things from this facility. Let's not delay. Show me the way out."

A vaguely menacing broadcast.

The end of another day. The sun was sinking, the sky was on fire with red and orange. The reflection of the fleeting day danced on the water of the bay. The city would soon be thrust into another spell of darkness. As night took over, the people and their intentions began more sinister.

Across the city, the TVs would flicker. Was it real? Was it another power surge? Static took over for a moment before it was jarringly replaced. The imagine of a clock, silently ticking. Then, text faded in over it.

Tick tock...

The image then cut away to various news reports of heroes around the city. An anchor woman stood in front of the camera, praising Hotshot for stopping a bank robbery, then switched to a man at a desk, talking about Dr. Wattz saving a woman from being kidnapped. A couple more mentions flitted across the screen before suddenly cutting to black. The jarring cut was then met with another line of words.

Where were you then?

The next few clips showed the outside of a college dorm, then cut to a shitty motel, then to the outside of what looked like a bunker. It cut to black again.

Where are you now?

The text faded, and the screen filled with what looked like nonsense numbers. An odd audio played over the numbers. It was like the quiet hum of a machine, with a rhythmic click every over second or so. The distinct sound of something rotating.

13050520 1305 2308051805 200805 23091404 0212152319

The text faded out to the sound of an ominously ticking clock, then the sound of a grandfather clock chiming 10 times. Then, just like that, the broadcast was over. The city was left to scratch their heads and figure out what hell it meant.

Scorn / female / 29 / Villain
Location: Making art

Stealing the spray paint had been a simple task, just a matter of changing apperance slightly by flipping her jacket inside out and covering her face with a old ski mask. The police would be busy looking for any old run of the mill common thug while she got all the time in the world to find the perfect billboard to paint her masterpiece.

-----

"It's finito!" Scorn said excitedly to herself as she tossed her final spray can away off the side of the billboard. The image was a representation of her gang. It was of a skull, wrapped in one of the signature hoodies of the gang, commonly which were orange. The eyes were hidden and the mouth open slightly. Black tendrils were behind the image going outward in all directions. Behind that lie a rainbow of colors to give the image a bit more 'pop'.

"A perfect piece to show off where my turf is, shame the city will probably get rid of it," she said admiring her handiwork before taking a phone out of her pocket and taking a picture of the image ",A picture will have to do. The heroes at least know a place I reside if they want to come find me." With that she disappeared into the shadows of the billboard seeking a new challenge or job to do.

They reached the exit, a huge set of doors which opened out onto a sea of alleys and buildings behind the facility. All his stolen loot gripped in his metal hands, or slung over his shoulder, he turned to Ziggy standing next to him.

"Hopefully I won't need to see you again. But let me present this question to you. Why are you content being their little lapdog? Their little weapon? You could be so much more. You should be ruling them, not taking their orders. You are superior to the humans in every way."

Then he nodded, and walked out, quickly vanishing into the jungle of concrete and brick. The city was a lot busier now, and he dodged the main streets to avoid getting seen. He couldn't get caught with all the loot he had just stolen, or even get noticed by someone who worked in law. They might follow him back to the warehouse. Then all the tech he had been building up for the last few years would all be lost. That would be a damned shame. Most other abandoned places in the city have been converted into living spaces, anyway, for the surplus human population. Irritating.

--------

It was evening now, and Talos sat intently on a stool next to a desk. There was a small rat in a glass case, which he had caught in the corner of his warehouse. And then he had the crystal sample. He combined the two components, the rat convulsing and twitching as crystals popped up all over its body. How very interesting. The rat keeled over soon, very much dead. He almost felt sorry for the little thing. It wasn't human, it did nothing wrong really. But its death was necessary. He tucked the main crystal piece away in a secure glass case.

Suddenly, the TV playing as ambient noise in the background began to flicker again. Tattered pieces of news reports about heroes. More vague and revealing shots. Then, a code. He quickly paused the television. He could translate this code in under a minute. So, he did. Meet me where the wind blows. That was certainly an intriguing code. Where did the wind blow. He rewound the clip. A rotating sound. His mind put something together - the wind farm. There was one in the city, right towards the outskirts. But he didn't want to go all the way there. He didn't know what this was yet. But he had an idea.

He dug around in his tech stores for something, and soon found it. A very small camera drone that he had designed. Small, and very quick. He opened the window and sent the small thing out, being controlled by a screen which he held, which also showed the view. It reached the wind farm, searching around for signs of life.

Dinah McBride / female / 21 / hero
Location:Home Again; They Gotta Update Security
Interactions: n/a

After a fairly busy day of studying, class, and her internship, Dinah had made it home once more, the aftermath of her roommates' party last night thankfully gone. She had grabbed takeout on the way home and sat down on the couch after flinging her backpack to the side to watch and record Hell's Kitchen reruns until she got the motivation to do anything else. Gordon Ramsey was screaming about scallops so rubbery that you could use them as tires when the feed suddenly cut, the screen showing nothing but static. Dinah groaned and set her had eaten dinner to the side, about to get up and kick the ancient piece of technology when it sputtered back to life, but instead of everyone's favorite angry British chef, there was a clip of a ticking clock.

Her stomach dropped as she sat in silence and watched yet another strange broadcast, similar to the one she had seen this morning. However, something caught her eye. The dorms, the college dorms. She recognized them, she had lived in them her freshman and sophomore year. But why were they included in this odd broadcast? She was as confused as ever, and the numbers meant nothing to her. Then just as soon as the ominous message began, it was over, and Hell's Kitchen popped back not he television. The broadcasting station needed to secure their feed so whoever these people were couldn't hack into it anymore. How that had managed to pull this off, she had no idea, but hopefully someone could fix the situation soon, because she was starting to become very concerned. Whoever these guys were, they had called out heroes for... whatever reason. Considering that they had shown specific heroes, Dr. Wattz, Hotshot, the like, maybe one of them would step up to the challenge.

Douglas Song

Best 8 Motel

Song had been preparing for some time for the evening news, to come to see if anything had been learned about the strange events that took place earlier that morning. Fate on the other hand had entirely different plans for that, the sort where it intervened in a divine and clear manner, as bright as the moon would be if the city's lights had not drowned it out. It arrived to him, the message that was, as he sat quietly in the chair at the desk, accompanied only by the empty cup; like the container, Song was away from himself in mind and thought as if he had vacated his body, returning only at the crackle of the television to life.

At first it was the ticking of a clock, but the man was not fooled by this. Calmly rising from his chair, soon holding it by its back, he shuffled it aside and stood to bear witness to the cryptic message. As strangely as it came, it left, flickering through various images, one of which he noted in particular. With a nod, scanning over the numbers, they faded out seemingly for good, with Song only pouring himself yet another cup of his tea.

"Good." His lips answered the screen before disappearing behind the mug's rim. A pause came as he drank, but it followed after with more words, "You have made my work easier."

The base of the cup clattered to the plain, though decidedly aged face of the table, Song's palm resting atop its mouth. He would move again now, up and vanish to somewhere else as he had before. This was no real challenge after all, the most he owned being a cache of weapons, a few clothes and personal goods, and a tiny tea chest. The numbers themselves were no trial either as perhaps wittingly or unwittingly, the broadcasters showed him the location of someone who would know what they meant; the college. There would be little issue in blending in among the students or recognizing the exact place displayed in the frame. Considering they were a student? They were unlikely to up and leave the campus, even if something this odd had happened, assuming they even saw it. Someone, somewhere there would have an in.

So in a silent few minutes, with footfall no louder than cat's feet, the stoic, clam figure drifted among the room and vanished after; nothing more than a bag across his shoulders, a scarf wrapped around his face, and his clothes changed once more to jeans and a jacket. For all intents and purposes, being a nobody had its perks.

Dinah McBride / female / 21 / hero
Location:Centerville Community College; Gotta Bad Feeling About This
Interactions: n/a

After sitting still for a few lingering minutes after the strange broadcast ended, Dinah abruptly stood and grabbed her grey hoodie from where it was left hanging on a chair, pulling it over her head and stuffing her keys into the front pocket. She knew she had no business investigating this phenomena, but her curiosity got the better of her. Maybe could at least find some clues to get someone better suited to handle the situation on the right track. The buses were still running at this hour, so she boarded one headed toward the college, bouncing her leg nervously as she stared out the window at the passing streets. Up until this point, she had done a pretty decent job of staying out of trouble, save for a few mishaps here and there. However, the past 24 hours had efficiently ended that streak.

She exited the bus once it reached her stop, standing at the entrance to the campus for a moment before taking a deep breath and starting forward toward the dorms. Why had her old home been featured in this video? Had something happened here? An accident? Maybe she should go through some of the schools old records to see if anything involving superhuman occurred that ended in tragedy. It seemed like a good place to start.