It didn’t take long for Kayla to scout the area she signed herself up for. Though there wasn’t much in the way of Hounds besides weapon caches for the terrorist group to return to, there were televisions in the rooms on all the news stations, as if something big was waiting to go down. As she watched in horror, the news about three places being devastated or destroyed by a weapon started to break on all of them. The people of Paris, TX; Nautican Island, MA; and Philadelphia, PA were all wiped out or outright killed as all bar Philadelphia were wiped off the face of the planet by weapons in orbit of the planet. The archer’s eyes widened in horror as the news broke out, left speechless at the thought of thousands of men, women and children were killed. Reaching for the radio on the belt, she pressed the send button. ”Guys, turn your attention to the news…” she spoke, her voice hiding little of the shock of the news. She carried on watching as all the news channels were cut out and a shadowy figure replaced them on all the screens. This was the first time that Fletch had seen a worldwide message from The Hounds:

“We warned you. We told you that compliance was non-negotiable. Yet you chose not to listen.”
“The time for talk has passed. From this moment on, you are either with us or you are against us.”
“We are coming, and you will either stand with us, or you will burn with them.”

Whatever the message’s meaning was, the pit of Fletch’s stomach began filling with anger. How dare these… these monsters! she thought to herself, gritting her teeth as the shadowy figure was replaced with the news channels that got cut off for the broadcast. Her right hand clenched into a fist, nails digging into both leather and the exposed skin to either leave their mark in the glove or draw blood. She turned and began walking out of the room, holding the radio in hand. ”I’ve got to cut my time here short. I need to help out with whatever has happened. In mind, she has one thing that she needed to do: get answers to what has happened. And she was planning on finding any of The Hounds that are still operating somewhere in Lost Haven to get them.

---

Fletch raced through the streets to get to her destination of Little Ulster. She figured that she’d start in that area of town and slowly expand her search until she found The Hounds. And to think this was to be done with the Penose, she thought, concentrating on the road ahead of her to avoid crashing. As she raced through Sherman Square, her eyes looked over to the Sherman Center. She could only imagine that the terrorist group were planning on targeting this city next, seeing as this is the hub for all the famous meta superheroes today reside. It was only the fleeting moment that she saw Icon and Iron Knight that she realized that a response was happening in the aftermath of this attack. Without hesitation, she put her bike into a skid, stopping several meters from the group that was forming. As she took off her helmet, she was listening in to the conversation that the group were having, recognizing Lyger in the group as well.

“If you all remember back to the Pax crisis three months ago, a heroine named Archangel used orbital strikes surgically to destroy quite a few of the dome-generating devices hidden across the country. I believe that the Hounds have somehow stumbled upon one of these satellites and have repurposed it for mass destruction. I have no idea how this WMD had fallen into the Hound’s hands, although I can only guess that S.T.R.I.K.E. saved one as an insurance policy. But I do have a plan.”

”I’ve repurposed one of Archangel’s old chassis. Since they both should have the same technology built into them, we should be able to exploit the satellite’s programming. Maya here has graciously agreed to help us out by running the exoskeleton.”

“I was at the university the day it was attacked, I destroyed those towers. This is the bit of technology I fished out that they used to hurt metahumans with - a special sound frequency. Probably the same shit we’re going to run into again. If you want to dismantle that satellite you’re gonna to have to do it properly. I’m the woman for the job. I have as much at stake, Lost Haven is my home. And. . .” Fletch watched as the unknown woman was talking to the other heroes in the group, seemingly looking at each of them in the eyes. “I’m going to help whether you like it or not.”

“If you’re willing to fight, we can use all the help we can get. Maybe it’s time we took this conversation inside.” Icon responded to her. Seems that I’m in the right place to help out with this Hound shit, she thought to herself.

“I was about ready to make the same suggestion. We need to make a plan of attack so the Hounds can’t use that satellite to murder countless people in cold blood.”

”If you guys are after the bastards that caused all that damage earlier today, then count me in,” she spoke up, looking at the group on top of her bike. ”I don’t want them to target here next, not when there are lives at stake.”

Location: Few blocks from Sherman’s Square.
Time: Late Afternoon

---

Racheli’s feet snapped off the elevator, alerted by its soft ding, then made her way for the door. It surprised her she hadn’t gotten lost while navigating through the twisting hallways. Casually her thumbs hooked into her jeans when she walked by the doorman, his eyes turned to scrutinize her presence. Her head whipped instinctively in his direction and warned him off with a hard glare. Today had been rough enough for her, the last thing Racheli wanted was some big ass bully staring her into submission. Too bad it was harder to rein in her natural fear about the fact he was armed.

She shrugged off once she stepped outside. The woman made a sharp right toward to the LHPD’s station, her feet barely slowed in her pace.

It was a bad idea. Through it had been months since her disappearance, Racheli was still a wanted individual and she knew the moment she fucked up she would have Gene Corporation coming knocking. They wanted their property back pretty badly. Bad enough to frame her for a crime she was actually victim of. Her blood boiled at the fact is just to get at the virus she was currently saddled with. She wasn’t going to become someone else’s guinea pig. Especially after she figured out a way out of Midas’ slimy grasp.

Quietly thinking over her dilemma, Racheli’s path took her past a tv store and her ears caught something dreadful. She gradually grinded to a stop as her eyes looked beyond the collecting crowds. A news announcer stood, suit crisp and clean, in subtle distress over recent events. His eyes flipped between the notecards and the camera he was speaking to.

“Again, Nautican Island, Massachusetts and Paris, Texas have been completely destroyed. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania was also devastated in the attack which government officials have confirmed originated from the satellite weapon that destroyed the home of billionaire industrialist Christopher Arthur. Please stay tuned, we’ll provide more information as it becomes available. But as of now, thousands have been confirmed dea…..”

He was cut off abruptly by static before a new voice replaced it. Slowly a single man shrouded in shadow appeared, unfazed by the disaster that had happened. They faced the camera, his voice digitally altered, when he uttered his simple message.

“We warned you. We told you that compliance was non negotiable. Yet you chose not to listen.”
“The time for talk has past. From this moment on, you are either with us or you are against us.”
“We are coming, and you will either stand with us, or you will burn with them.”

The Hounds of Humanity had gotten Racheli’s attention now.

“Shit.” Allison Sparks said to herself as she navigated her SUV down the narrow side streets near Racheli’s apartment. She had figured that with the developing crisis that it would be easier to get to the safehouse that Midas had stashed his new toy, however, she was sorely mistaken. In light of the recent attacks on American cities by the terrorist group the Hounds of Humanity, the police in Lost Haven had begun cordoning off certain parts of the city. She had expected as much, however, the LHPD had become quite efficient in handling emergency situations.

BEEP! PING!

Ms Sparks’ eyes were suddenly drawn to the large display next to the dashboard. To most people, the display was nothing more than the entertainment hub for the vehicle, which might be where one would find the radio controls or maybe even a GPS, and in a way that was true. However, this GPS was not finding your way around the city, instead, it was a tracking system, and this tracking system was calibrated specifically to the homing beacon that Midas had implanted in Racheli.

“Where are you going?” Ms Sparks asked as she watched Racheli’s homing beacon move. Once news broke of the attacks, Midas had sent Ms Sparks to retrieve Racheli and bring her back to Midas Industries, as the labs beneath the Power Plant were specifically built to survive a nuclear blast, which should make it more than capable of withstanding a sudden bombardment from the Hounds’ secret weapon. However, Racheli wasn’t at the apartment when Ms Sparks went there to retrieve her, so she had been forced to track her down.

It didn’t take Ms Sparks long to find her. Once she got back onto the main roads, Racheli’s homing signal began to grow stronger. After several minutes, she had tracked Rach down to an electronics store not far from the safehouse apartment. As Ms Sparks approached the location of the homing signal, a wave of relief quickly washed over her as she saw Racheli.

She was standing in front of the electronics store with a crowd of people who were all transfixed on the televisions in the windows. The televisions were playing a news broadcast which was covering the recent attacks that had left several cities either in ruins or completely erased from the face of the earth.

Paris, Texas was gone, as well as Nautican Island, Massachusetts. Ms Sparks suppressed a shudder as she thought about the fate of Philadelphia, and she pulled the SUV up next to the crowd in front of the store and rolled down the window.

“Racheli!” She shouted, probably louder than she had to. The crowd had been standing in silence as they watched the news reports on the attacks, and the sudden outburst caused several of the people to jump. Ms Sparks waited for Racheli to look in her direction.

“Get in. We’ve got to get out of here. Now.”

Racheli flinched as her name was called. Her eyes -ice cold and hardened- twisted about to lock onto Ms. Sparks, her lips pressed tightly together. Without another word, her feet shot out toward to the SUV then pulled the door open. As she ducked inside, her words sliced through the air.

“Do you really think that will do any good?” The door slammed behind her, not bothered at all.

Ms Sparks studied Racheli for a moment as the young woman climbed into the SUV. From the moment she had met the young woman, Racheli had a certain air of resentment about her. And truth be told, Ms Sparks could understand exactly why she was the way she was. She could even relate a bit. However, on this day, there was something different about her. There was something else there, yet, Ms Sparks couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“I don’t know.” Ms Sparks honestly replied to Racheli’s question. “Maybe, maybe not. It doesn’t really matter. The boss wants us back at the Power Plant.”

“Good, I have a question or two to ask him. Starting with why,” Racheli replied.

Her hand curled under her chin, propping her head up against the car window. She stared into the street as she barely blinked.

“He wants us to be there because it’s probably the safest place in the entire country right now. If those assholes decide to vaporize Lost Haven, the facility under the Power Plant would probably be the only place to survive. It was built to contain Icon himself, and it can take a direct hit from a nuke. It’s where he’ll be, it’s where he wants us.” Sparks told her.

“What about afterwards? I won’t hide because I doubt hiding will solve this problem. They won’t stop until all metas are dead, or worse. They already proven they will kill anyone to ensure their goals,” Racheli countered, her mind shifted to what she had been taught most her life.

Expectations about doing the right thing, no matter how hard or impossible it might’ve been. That’s what was expected of her. Besides, it got in the way of finding him.

“You’re right. They won’t stop. But they’ll be dealt with. We just need to get to the Power Plant and figure out our next move. At least we’ll be safe for the time being.”

“I haven’t felt safe since this morning,” Racheli mumbled, still staring out the window.

“You and the rest of the world. Those pricks really changed the game today. None of us are safe, not anymore.” Sparks said ruefully as she drove on.

“No, but I didn’t really care until now. They aren’t the ones that rattled me this morning and if my gut feeling is right, things just got much worse for me. At least I can do something about the Hounds,” Racheli replied.

Sparks listened to Racheli as she drove. And as she listened, the things that Racheli was saying made sense. Sparks thought about what had happened today, she thought about how the Hounds had managed to change the world with the press of a button.

She thought about the thousands that had been killed in Paris and Nautican Island. And she thought about her mother. Her mother who still lived on Benjamin Franklin Drive in Philadelphia.

Marissa.

She also thought of the one person that she had ever truly loved. As she drove through the streets of Lost Haven toward the Power Plant, images from her past played in her mind. She thought about the first time she met her first love. She was sitting alone in the dining hall during dinner at Philadelphia University. Her friends had abandoned her for the evening for a night of drinking and debauchery. Of course they had invited her along, however do to a big Philosophy exam the next morning, she had declined.

So alone she sat at the table that she and her friends regularly occupied eating what passed for a slice of pizza (though she couldn’t say for sure if actual cheese or pepperoni had actually been used in the creation of the alleged “pizza”), when a raven haired beauty sat down beside her and began chatting her up.

Then memories of trips to Eastern State Penitentiary during Halloween for the famous haunted house that the former prison put on every year, and how Marissa would jump into her arms when a “monster” would jump out at them from the darkness.

Memories of nights spent in together, just the two of them. Memories of holidays, Valentine’s Day.

And then the memory of the day that she left Philadelphia, and Marissa behind to pursue opportunities elsewhere.

She had always wanted to reach out and see how she was doing, but she never found the time. And now, now it was too late. Philadelphia was in ruins, and Marissa was more than likely dead. And now she would always regret that she was never able to find the time, or possibly courage to simply pick up the phone.

Suddenly much to Racheli’s surprise, Ms Sparks stopped the car.

“Go.” She said simply, never taking her eyes off the road.

Racheli’s figure was nearly tossed from her seat as she caught herself, her hands slammed hard on the dashboard. Her head snapped to the woman’s direction. Her jawline was clenched tightly while she tried to find words through the haze of anger gripping her. She didn’t like to nearly be sent through the windshield, her voice filled with frustration and fury at the last statement.

“What the hell? Are you trying to test my fucking regeneration ability?” Rach growled, refusing to move.

“If you want to do something about those bastards, now’s your chance.” Sparks told her. “I had...friends in Philadelphia. If you can make those sons of bitches pay for what they did, do it.”

“There’s a few issues with your plan,” Rach began as she twisted in her seat, facing the woman. Her temper already tugged at its leash, trying to make her lash out at Sparks, before she swallowed it down for the moment, “First off, I have a damn leash.”

As if to emphasise her point, she turned her head then tap lightly the location of her ‘explosive’ reminder. Her rage fueled her irritation, refusing Sparks a chance to interrupt her points.

“Second, I have no idea how to help. And finally, just because the Golden Dick can tell me what to do… doesn’t mean you can. So chill out.”

Sparks waited for Racheli to finish before she responded. In the short time that she had known the hotheaded woman, she had learned that Racheli could be a bit like a Nor’Easter, a wild storm that you just had to allow to rage on until the storm had passed. So she allowed Racheli to vent until the young woman’s annoyed glare told her that she was ready to listen to a response.

“First of all, don’t worry about the explosive. I’ll tell you a secret, you’re too valuable to Midas. He wouldn’t actually activate that thing unless he thought his life was in danger. He’s an asshole, not an idiot.” She said looking into Rach’s eyes to see if she understood.

“Secondly, you can help. I’ve seen you in action. You just have to do what you do. And rumor has it that there are a group of heroes gathering over in Sherman Square. If you go now, you can catch them.”

“Lovely, teamwork…,” Racheli couldn’t help but groan, knowing it wasn’t something she was the best at.

In fact, she barely knew how to use her abilities or not make a natural disaster in the city. Gradually any metal on her person shifted then liquified. The silver trails rose across her skin to form the deformed-skull like mask across her features, ensuring her identity was hidden. She popped open the car door before she paused mid way out.

“Two things before you go. You might want to consider a change in wardrobe. There’s a bag in the back of the car, you might find it useful.” Sparks told her.

“And I need you to hit me.” Sparks said with a grin. “I can handle Midas, but I need to make it look good.”

A devilish smirk crossed Rach’s lips making the mask come off as more sinister, “I got a better idea and I don’t need to touch you at all. Let me get the bag out of the back first, then you might want to exit the SUV.”

Racheli finished exiting while she stepped toward the back, retrieving the bag and slammed the door. Her hand didn’t leave the surface. When she spotted Spark step out, she focused on the vehicle.

Nothing happened for several moments.

Suddenly metal screamed and crunched, the SUV’s outside gradually compacting into a large version of a crushed can. Not wasting anymore time, Racheli reached into her back pocket for Midas’ cellphone.

She tightened her hand into fist causing it to crack, then tossed it to Sparks.

“Tell him that you found me here, but when you went inside to retreive me…you didn’t find me. Instead my cell was in the bathroom and when you came back out, the SUV was crushed. You can’t take me back without a ride, right?”

“I can do that.” Sparks said.

“You know something, you’re not half bad after all. I have a favor to ask. Can you have the handwriting analyzed on this card?”

Racheli reached into her jacket, pulling the card in the envelope out and giving it to Sparks. Without another word, the woman bolted for Sherman’s Square a few blocks away.

Sparks took the card that Racheli had given her and put it in her pocket. As soon as she got back to Midas Industries, she’d do as Rach had asked and have the handwriting analyzed. Though she didn’t know why Racheli had made such a request, she knew that the young woman had her reasons. She watched Racheli as she bounded away from the crumpled SUV toward Sherman Square and a fight with the Hounds of Humanity.

“Give ‘em hell, kid.” she said as Racheli vanished from sight.



After making a brief stop to change her outfit, Racheli edged into Sherman Square.

It occurred to her that Sparks’ direction was too vague. She had no idea where this group of ‘heroes’ were meeting exactly or how not to make her introduction anything but awkward. Most of all, Rach wasn’t even sure if she could manage working in a team. Pushing the negative aside, her eyes caught a blue and silver form flying overhead. Her eyes followed it to the tallest structure within the area.

Seeing him land on the street, she started to edge out from the building’s alley across the street. Racheli hesitated when she spotted others arrive shortly afterwards. Through she wasn’t a coward, she couldn’t be sure how they would react to a random and unestablished individual approaching the group. It didn’t help her insecurities were stirred by the growing numbers.

This was going to be a nightmare.

Rach’s steps gradually began to stop. Her arms crossed over her chest while she leaned against the wall, her ears tuned in to the conversation they were having. She watched the Alchemyst arrive, her metal already shifted and ready to protect herself from any potential attack. Upon learning she wanted to join, Racheli felt herself relax then resume her eavesdropping. Farther conversation was interrupted when another hero arrived on a bike wanting in.

“How many more are going to show up?” Racheli said under her breath, not pleased with the growing number.

Location: Lost Haven
Time: Afternoon

“Fair enough.” David replied, after Fletch declined his gesture. Something about abused trust, which he understood, and assumed it was related to her current persona. The superhero role was dangerous enough, what with the super villain encounters, and this sudden rash of terrorism from the Hounds. But to be betrayed by someone you trusted, that was an entirely different kind of scar compared to what a bullet would leave, and potentially more painful. David thought of himself as fortunate that nobody but him knew of his secret.

And so he spent the next few minutes helping to clean up, he circled the area helping to make sure more Hounds weren’t waiting around in the shadows, and retracted the stone slabs he had erected across the square.

Hopefully they were of some help.

The time came to help with the helicopters, his take down of the military vehicles was sloppy at best, but he considered himself lucky that he managed it at all. Apparently he had the strength for it, but he had never fought genuine military aircraft, let alone any sort of dogfight. He had just finished helping bring in the helicopter crew when a nearby policeman caught his attention.

“Phew, almost one o’clock now, glad we got some help with this though, things were looking pretty rough for me earlier.” The officer said while checking the watch on his wrist.

“Did you say one o’clock?” David’s head swiftly turned towards the man, the speed might have given him whiplash if he was a normal man.

“Y-yeah, almost.” The officer stuttered, completely surprised by the sudden question.

“I’ll trust you guys with the rest, good luck!” David quickly shouted as he burst into the air again.

In his experience fights never lasted too long so he had expected to wrap up and return home before anyone missed him, but he never stayed around to help clean up, a bit irresponsible on his part he admitted. But what he did should be more than enough, apparently most other heroes didn’t bother to stick around, and hopefully nothing he bought would have spoiled by now.

David took care to pick out a discreet location near his car, somewhere he could change back to normal in private. He had the advantage of not needing a mask or costume, but slipping up could lead someone like the Hounds right to his doorstep, and that was something he could not allow. But lucky for him, the area happened to be cleared out, all thanks to those men working with Broadway and Tiamat.

He thought back to that mess for a moment.

Are they really so strapped for help they’d bring in a kid? Someone that could barely keep her powers in check at that, although, granted it might have been due to her panicking, but she would never have been there normally.

He willed for his human body again, Terra Firma’s body burst into embers that slowly dissolved into the air, revealing David Jones, who suddenly fell onto the alleyway wall. A sudden heaviness had formed in his chest; sweat began to bead around his forehead and chest, and he started gasping for breath, as if he’d just ran a few miles back in gym class.

It’s happening again, just like after the LHU attack, what the hell’s going on? My body didn’t react like this at all back in South America, so why now?

David was starting to catch his breath, and his body slowly returned to normal.
“Damn.” David muttered as he took in another breath.



David drove the family SUV up the driveway, and didn’t bother messing with the garage. He had left the groceries sitting in the car for close to an hour, and with the summer heat, he could only hope the milk and eggs were still good. As soon as he walked in he called for his daughter to come help, Maddie of course agreed to help, it was either that or lose out on some allowance money, or maybe something worse.

Heh heh, it’s pretty nice having someone else carry around all the heavy stuff for once.

Later today they planned on attending a special summer time festival, a music concert, special seafood events, and all sorts of attractions were supposed to keep them entertained for a few hours, maybe even make a few new memories; you can never have enough of those. According to the website it was supposed to run a little late, almost till midnight, but since it was summer David and Cicely decided to ignore that and stay out all night.

Although his stomach was soured a little by the Hounds today, he did his best to ignore it. For the next few hours David spent his time on the sofa, eager to put recent events out of mind, he settled in for a session of “TV and chill”, as he called it. But Maddie was quick to tell him it meant something else.

“Huh, just sitting down and watching TV is what it means right?” He asked, but he had been ignored.

Kids these days and their slang, have I really fallen that far behind? David wondered as he gave his chin a rub.

There was a special on TV, the pilot episode of some kind of hero show, the fights felt kind of fake, but apparently the selling point was that the actors all used their “real” super powers. He could only assume their powers were the useless kind in fights, or they were lying, but either way, his daughter was enjoying it, and it wasn’t that bad anyways.



The time had come for them to start getting ready to leave; David had just put on a fresh shirt, when his body suddenly felt weaker, his chest grew tighter, and the faint echoes of people screaming reached his ear. He dropped his mug onto the floor as he stumbled over to the kitchen table and braced himself on a chair.

Like a thousand people, screaming out in terror, what just happened!

“David!”

“Dad!”

David looked back up at his wife Cecily, and his daughter Maddie, they weren’t reacting to the voices at all, just him. His mind paced about, wondering what those voices could have been, he hadn’t even called for the Earth’s power, so it couldn’t have been that, right? But he didn’t have to wonder for very long, a breaking news alert appeared on the television screen. The faces of the Jones family all reflected horror and fear. Three cities had just been attacked, no, destroyed. The news station began to play traffic camera footage and cell phone videos from those that happened to be recording at the time. Images of the destroyed cities appeared on screen.

“Everything was...” David started to mutter, but quickly cut himself off.

Burned to the ground, incinerated…

The news anchors were desperately trying to say something relevant, talking about government news sources, helicopters attempting to get a closer look, but they were interrupted, replaced by a shadowed man. Like before.

“We warned you. We told you that compliance was non-negotiable. Yet you chose not to listen.”

“The time for talk has past. From this moment on, you are either with us or you are against us.”

“We are coming, and you will either stand with us, or you will burn with them.”

The news station was allowed back on, and they frantically tried to report the situation as best as they could, including their sudden hijack. David’s mind went back to the vision the Earth had given him at the very start, images of the ground burning, people dying and screaming all around him. His face went pale and a cold sweat broke out along his body.

Was this why you gave me your power, Gaia? Was I meant to stop this, was I supposed to fight this? How, dammit, how? David’s face contorted as fear, anger, and confusion raced about in his mind. His body collapsed onto the chair he had been leaning on.

David briefly thought about going into space, if he even could, and combing the skies for that satellite weapon. His mind filled in the gaps with his imagination as he thought about confronting it, a giant mass of metal, circuitry, and human engineering in the form of a giant gun barrel. His body would immediately fly forward as fast as he could, his fist aimed right down the middle, but then fear took over his thoughts. The gun suddenly lit up with a glow stronger, and brighter than even the sun, as it fired. The resulting beam completely engulfed him, overpowered, and erased him in an instant. His mouth went dry, and his heart began to beat heavier.

No, that is, something I can never fight!

Concern for the safety of his family shook him out of his self-induced nightmare. The Hounds hated metahumans, and they didn’t even bother sparing a thought for innocents getting caught in the middle. He had to get his family away. David briefly thought of the Moloids, he remembered them hinting at a stronger power base elsewhere, maybe some kind of city; could he keep his family safe there?

His face frowned even further. No, they must hate me after that time, they’d never help.

The only choice left was to move, to fly his family elsewhere, away from the heroes and villains. He struggled to say something, and after a few more seconds, he managed to open his mouth.

“W-we have to go, we have to leave Lost Haven.”

---

Time: Shortly after the attack in Las Vegas
Location: Hoover Dam, Black Canyon, NV

The portal ejected the group forcefully onto a concrete structure the likes of which Katarina had never seen before in all her years of life. The violence with which the portal threw them through was unwelcome, to be sure - Kat fell awkwardly on her injured leg, grimacing as she stumbled back to her feet. The Frenchwoman - may God forever curse her for this! - was saying something about how she expected Marie to be in one piece and unmolested by the time she returned. Kat sideswiped a glance at her, a venomous glint to her eye, but said nothing, even when the damnable woman called her 'vampire girl'. Girl? She was hundreds of years older than all of these mortal scum combined, how dare this insolent whelp refer to her so? Why, were she at her full strength, she could wipe this foolish young woman from the face of this planet, or condemn her for an eternity of undead slavery with but a look! Did she have any idea whom she was dealing with?

No, of course not... This was not 1600. This was the 21st century... people had long forgotten her Red Reign and all it stood for. And she was not the Katarina of that time. And more pressingly, she was wounded. For all her indignation and fury, Katarina knew that she wasn't in any great shape to fight, and simply held her tongue - albeit with great difficulty. The frog would win this little battle... lull her into a false sense of security, make her think she was in control of the situation and she could order everyone about with impunity. Whatever wary appeasement there was between the frog and Marie, Katarina would have none of it. Kat would work with this odious little carbuncle for as long as it suited her, and then, when she had regained her power, she would excise the frog from the skin of humanity, and it's little golem construct with it. Ambassador title be damned. As the Frenchwoman opened her own little portal to... wherever, Kat returned her attention to the stricken Ben. His condition had not improved, and it seemed that the group, at the moment, was unable to counteract the doubtless-horrific effects the silver was no doubt wracking upon Ben's system. Kat herself was too injured to contemplate what she would normally do, otherwise she would attempt to at least concentrate the silver in one area and draw as much of it out as she could with her teeth, but she could not afford such a high concentration of silver in her weakened body... for now, anyway. It seemed that once again, the Red Countess was powerless in the face of adversity, just as she had been 400 years ago. She sighed and slammed her fist onto the fence atop the dam's walkway, crushing the steel framework with ease. She didn't care for the damage. Only that she was incapable of protecting those she felt obligated to do so. And the one person she desperately did.

Kat couldn't quite explain her infatuation with the werewolf. Deep inside her, emotions that she had never really been able to show were finally making their presence known - feelings such as compassion, and selflessness; perhaps even love. During her initial sojourn amongst the living, Katarina had never seen mortals such as Ben and his comrades as anything other than tools, or playthings - items to be used until broken, and then thrown away, left to decay and rot amongst the rest of the detritus of human civilisations. Yet here was a man whom she had saved from assault, who had then taken her in (although with some difficulty), given her a bed, a place to stay... normally, she would have exploited this ruthlessly. More fool the man who shows mercy to the Countess, and all that, yet Kat felt no desire, no longing to do so. Perhaps she had learned from the Fall. The cattle were still powerful, in sufficient numbers - the Crusade had put paid to any thoughts of inherent vampiric superiority over any and all opposition. No. Perhaps this time would be different. She put this to the back of her mind - Kat would have plenty of time to ruminate on her predicament and internal emotional turmoil later.

Instead, she turned her attentions, albeit reluctantly, to her surroundings. And what a landscape she found herself in. She had never known the existence of construction of this scale. The Hoover Dam, it was called by the mortals - a sheer face of concrete, impounding the terrifying force of nature in the Colorado River. Kat gazed at the cascading tumult of released floodwaters cannoning down from the slipways and jet-releases further down the dam, a terrifying two hundred and twenty metres (though Kat had no real way of determining the height of the dam) below her. It was... hauntingly beautiful. To watch what was once an unstoppable force which had carved out this massive canyon, impounded by physics, engineering and sheer human determination. Humanity had advanced far since the days of the 1500s. No longer did the peasants live in wooden and mud hovels, thatched with straw from offshoots of wheat farming. Instead, humanity had progressed to damming even the most powerful rivers, to housing thousands, if not millions, in urban agglomerations formed of glass, steel and concrete. It had seemingly not yet occurred to Katarina just how far humanity had advanced since her defeat, and now, looking at the white cascade of river water that gushed forth from the dam, it almost struck her in one blow. The aforementioned cattle were cattle no more. No vampire had ever been able to construct such massive feats of engineering - nay, even the Tower and Schloss Neuhausen paled in comparison with the Dam. And it didn't stop there, not with the Hoover Dam. Nuclear power. Nuclear weaponry. Aircraft carriers larger than some buildings. Supertankers even larger still. It didn't matter that Kat had also been exposed to humanity's fractious and oft-tribalistic nature. There were always bound to be those who opposed the marching of progress. Doubtless there were those advocating for a return to the 'old ways', before the days of mass mechanisation, globalisation and massive feats of engineering.

Maybe it was worth giving these humans another shot.

Alas, for all this, it was time to leave. The White Witch had deigned that they needed to move elsewhere to receive treatment for Ben and her own wounds - some place known to those of Fae origin. It was with a slightly heavy heart that Katarina acquiesced. She would have loved to stay at the Dam until sunrise... but needs must.

---

A movie and dinner was their plan, but rarely do those accord. Pantheon was several hundred feet in the air as he flew behind the grey Honda. The trek to Lost Haven’s downtown area seemed a lot longer than usual, perhaps it was because of rush hour--as Manuel and Shati obeyed the rules of the road, Pantheon had to follow suit. He couldn’t lose them after all. When Manuel and Shati finally reached the downtown area, Pantheon landed softly some feet behind them; it was hard to remain inconspicuous given Pantheon’s size and strange costume. In a town like Lost Haven, though, it was easy to pass for a cosplayer.

Shati and Manuel made their first stop a donut shop. Pantheon procured a bench across the street, eyes pinned on the two as they walked inside the small donut shop with hands joined together. They smiled and giggled, Manuel planted a kiss on Shati’s cheek. Hassan nearly puked. Hassan wasn’t going to make his move just yet--he had to let them believe they were truly alone before he made himself known. When they exited the donut shop and headed for the movie theater near the downtown square, Pantheon followed. Weaving through the downtown crowd was irritating. Eventually, Pantheon managed his way through the wave of bodies and caught up with the two teenage lovebirds.

It was a shame they had both only ordered single donuts and not a dozen. Hassan, too, loved donuts--especially those with extra glaze and sprinkles. The couple finally reached the movie theater after a considerable walk and went inside, Pantheon followed behind. When Shati and Manuel reached the register to purchase tickets, Pantheon towered over them both; his shadow cast a cloud over them both.

“Two tickets for--”
“Three,” Pantheon added
“Oh. . . my. . . FUCKIINNNGGG. . . GOD!” Shati burst!

Hassan giggled and waved. Then he continued,

“Three tickets for Black Panther, my man!” Hassan was brimming,
“FIRST: We didn’t even come here for some stupid superhero movie, and SECOND: WHY ARE YOU HERE?” Shati rebuffed, volatile as could be. Hassan stuck a finger in his ear, her shouting made them sensitive.
“Come on, Titi--you’re gonna give me a headache. Let’s stop all this shouting about things we can’t control, huh?! Let’s enjoy ourselves!”

Hassan shut up a chuckle. He wrapped Pantheon’s large arms around the two teens and escorted them toward their theater: 10 on the left. This was before he lay eyes on the concession stand: popcorn, hotdogs, pizza, soft pretzels--a dream. To the counter Pantheon went, Hassan was giddy! A young woman with shoulder blade length french braids walked up to the counter,

“What can I do for you?” a smile wrought on her face, less because of her genuine desire to serve--as attested by puffy eyes and dark bags beneath those eyes--and more because of corporate protocol,
“I’ll taaake. . .” Hassan tapped his chin, “two soft pretzels, two large popcorns, two nachos, and three hotdogs!” the young woman at the counter was shifted from her malaise momentarily and issued several amused--or perhaps offended--blinks,
“That will be… 35.72.” Hassan twisted and pleaded with Shati in silence. He wasn’t getting paid for being a superhero, not yet anyway.
“No. No, no, no! I’m not giving you anything! I’m calling ma!”

--

Downtown traffic was still infuriating. Rahna’s large black SUV was a gas guzzler anyway. She had just filled it and it was already on a half tank. She was less than enthused. With grad school looming around the corner, she couldn’t afford to fix that dump of a car again. Looming in the back of her mind was more doubt: doubt about whether she should even be going to school, it wasn’t like she was keeping up with the loan payments she already had; there was doubt about what would happen to her family if her cousin were to ever become a target. If he did, could she protect him? Worse, could she stop him? Pantheon, the warrior, was always violatile, violent, arrogant, aggressive. No other possessor of the entity had been able to subdue it when merged with it. She doubted her well-intentioned and bombastic cousin would fair any better.

Her bottled fears were exacerbated when she heard the radio fade into the foreground of her conscious,

“We warned you. We told you that compliance was non-negotiable. Yet you chose not to listen.”
“The time for talk has passed. From this moment on, you are either with us or you are against us.”
“We are coming, and you will either stand with us, or you will burn with them.”

No. That couldn’t be coming from who she surmised. Not the Hounds! They already had Lost Haven in their clutches with the attack on the University a while back. They struck again? Where? What had they done this time? It was then that she got a text from Bibi,

’Did you hear the news’
‘no what happened’

The video Bibi sent was grainy, but one could make out the audio well enough: “A tragedy has occured in our nation today. The entire city of Paris, Texas has been wiped out, and millions have lost their lives in Philidelphia this afternoon. We have no word on how man”--the black figure then appeared on screen and delivered the message Rahna had just heard in her radio,

“We warned you. We told you that compliance was non-negotiable. Yet you chose not to listen.”
“The time for talk has passed. From this moment on, you are either with us or you are against us.”
“We are coming, and you will either stand with us, or you will burn with them.”

Rahna’s gut twisted. She put a hand to her mouth to prevent herself from screaming. She couln’t veil her tears. Her phone slipped out of her hand. Her mind re-focused; her babies were out there. She had to go get them. The Hounds wouldn’t attack downtown would they? It was her dread of that unsurity that caused her to command the road in front of her: she weaved in and out of traffic, pushing well over 90. All the while, she grabbed her phone and called Shati.

Wee-oo, wee-oo, wee-oo

The cops were already on her.

--

Shati’s phone blazed a-ringing from inside her jeans’ pocket. After her outburst at Hassan, she answered it, her voice still salted with ire,

“HELLO? WHO IS THIS?”
Rahna pulled the phone away from her ear, “Why are you yelling? Is Panth--Hassan there?”
Shati let out an exasperated sigh, by now Manuel and Hassan had struck up a conversation. Shati had a strong desire to murder them both.
“Yeah, he’s here. Did you and ma send him here just to fuck with me?”
“What? No, first of all: watch your mouth. Second, just put him on the phone, Ti.”
“Pllth!” Shati wished she could punch Rahna in the face, too. Acquiesce, she handed the phone to Hassan. “It’s for you.”

Hassan took the phone from Shati, he held it to his ear like a 40 year old businessman trying to work a bluetooth for the first time. Then he spoke,

“Rahna. Are those sirens? Are you in dan--”
“I’m fine, Hassan! Listen: something terrible is happening--I think the Hounds are behind it. I-- ” one could hear the burst of the truck’s engine utilizing all of its horsepower and the police sirens humming in the back, several horns honked in syncopation. Rahna screamed out the window, “make sure Titi and her boyfriend are alright! And Hassan, I’m counting on you. Keep him under control. Don’t fuck up.”

When the line went dead, Hassan stared at the phone. A surge of frustration rippled through him and he crushed Shati’s phone in his hand. And just as subtle, fear. These Hounds had before killed innocents without mercy, taken away people’s rights to enact their lives and liberties on their own accord, and the Hounds had done it again, this time millions of bodies were destroyed because of them. They would be responsible for mothers weeping over their children’s closed caskets; because of them there would be children who were now orphans; there would be lit and silent vigils--useless thoughts and prayers.

And there would be no telling how many more would die, or if Hassan’s own family would be subject to their wrath. No. He wished he could destroy these Hounds himself, but that would be foolish--he would need help, but he knew of only the Alchemyst and Terra Firma. He would find others and there would be justice. He would take down these Hounds of Humanity--even if he had to give Pantheon control to do it.

No sooner had Icon and the gathering of heroes turned to go inside of Arthur’s Sherman Center, did another newcomer arrive on the scene. This young woman had arrived on a motorcycle, and before introducing herself had expressed her desire to help take down the Hounds of Humanity before they could do to Lost Haven what they had already done to three American cities. It was a sentiment that he shared, and he was glad that so many people had come together to stand up against the evil that the Hounds of Humanity embodied. As the newest arrival finished speaking, Icon looked to Radiance and Arthur, then to Lyger, who all seemed to nod in agreement.

“In that case, why don’t you join us? Icon said to the woman. Before the woman responded, he was suddenly aware of another presence.

“How many more are going to show up?” He heard a female voice say. He looked around, and after a moment his eyes locked onto the source. It was a lone figure dressed all in black, a hood partially concealing a mask.

“Hopefully, as many as we need.” Icon responded to the woman who stood firm away from the group. “Now I think it’s time we took this inside.” Icon said as he motioned for the gathered heroes to follow him. If they were going to do something about the Hounds of Humanity, they needed to act fast. The Hounds had already proven what they were capable of, and Icon was afraid of what they might do to top their latest attack.

Gomorrah was a hot place. Always crowded with new guests and gamblers trying their luck on the slots, while sharply dressed dealers kept big spenders on their toes. It was successful and as Barron looked out on the Vegas strip, flashes of New Vegas flooded his mind, the spire he had always dreamed of conquering, the walls erected along freeside and the Wrangler. He chuckled thinking if those squatters could see him now, a clean Vegas. He had spared no expense at building up his casino and it payed him back every cent, and perhaps it was Vegas of old that lead to his overspending in security that few guests would ever see but it gave him a piece of mind knowing that he had a gate in case groups of armed men made it past the screenings.

Meanwhile, in the dank alleyways surrounding Gomorrah, hidden in shadows cascading off the piercing metal and glass giants of the city, The Winter Court began to mobilize. With orders direct from the Witchfinder General in Lost Haven, Captain Hawthorn, recently promoted and in competition with the good Captain Dahl for control of the Vegas outfit, stationed his men at every imaginable entrance, waiting for the signal inside. Two agents were sent in armed with countermeasures to whatever systems were in place to keep intruders at bay, both mechanical and magical.

“Be ready,” Captain Hawthorn called to his men, tuned in to the comlink in his left ear. “And don’t be stupid, save the big guns for that twisted son of a bitch, Barron.”

Taking their time, wandering to avoid suspicion. The two agents eventually found terminals in this crowded den of crooks, taking out a tablet the man connected it to the computer on the kiosk. Waiting for the signal to follow from his partner after she found a suitable spot which to begin any countermeasures against magic. It was during this time a server past by with glasses nearly glanced over until a thirsty guest demanded their attention.

His partner on the other hand had made it to the women's restroom and began looking for a stall that was unoccupied. Finally after ten minutes a woman caked in makeup walked out allowing her some privacy in order to unpack. Sending a text, her partner responded and in a matter of minutes the action started.

A prompt from the tablet indicated that the security gate had been disabled and with another text Hawthorn would be notified.

Hearing the buzz from his pocket and the quick chirp on his headset, Captain Hawthorn motioned for his unit to advance, storming the building through front, side, and back entrances, their dark forms like walking shadows in the bright casino. The first group to advance began smashing machines with their weapons, pushing patrons to the floor, some firing into the ceiling, some opening up on bartenders and casino workers, whom they assumed were likely afflicted with some manner of inhuman curse.

“Come out, come out, Mr. Vanderbilt,” Captain Hawthorn taunted as he strutted down the lower hall of the casino, glancing up to the office that overlooked the entire establishment. “We heard you like a bloodbath, and we’re here to deliver.”

Chaos ensued as patrons ran and hid screaming from the Hounds, who shot indiscriminately at any living thing, knowing that at some point, they would catch Barron’s attention, or kill a few of his lackeys in the meantime.

In the quick moments that followed Carol wondered what was going on, a text arrived to her phone and not from the security room. One of her floor dealers had sent it, and as she looked at it’s contents it was horrifying. Well to any normal human it would have been. Even if she weren’t a Vampire; dealing with petulant children was something she was all to familiar with. As she quickly informed her husband, the floor was still in chaos as dealers the next line of defense against an armed invasion began throwing out cards that increased in size and density exponentially. Creating makeshift barriers saving what guests they could, and fighting off other hounds when possible. Dealers had small decks, of different cards. Only a handful of each in case of an emergency and since there were a lot of tables there was always a lot of dealers on the floor. A jack smashed into a hound as he was busy dealing with all these magic cards, and while the magic surrounding the building had been negated there were still plenty carrying concealed weapons.

One such dealer, Fortuna or so she called herself. Was a plucky brunette with a metagene, luck was always on her side turning the odds slightly in her favor. Her hand reached for the pack of aces and with a deft toss sliced down a hound about to murder an innocent guest as a barrier of jacks began to separate the guests from the hounds. “Move to the stairs! Get to the second floor everyone!” As they moved in terror more dealers began to make a defensive line. The Street Bosses had been called, Southie was on his way along with others who got the call and all they needed to do was hold out for Barron to make his play.

Hawthorn and his team were surprised by the magic playing cards, having only witnessed incorporeal barriers in their previous missions. They weren’t deterred for long, however, as Hawthorn gave the all clear for his men to reload their weapons with the blessed silver. Normal bullets ricocheted off the dense wards, but the silver tore clean through, leaving small holes that widened as the Hounds continued their assault. It was enough to halt their immediate advance, but those barriers wouldn’t last for long.

Ducking behind turned over blackjack tables the cards had all but been shredded. Some guests had already fled to safety but certainly not enough, whatever weapons these hounds were using seemed to have an odd if but effective enchantment against their magical barriers. Still aces kept cutting down hounds that got too bold and Carol was arguing with her security team who at this point were furious at whatever tech these hounds used to hack their systems.

“And you cannot pinpoint whatever terminal this is coming from?” Carol asked.

“Only that it’s on the first floor. We’ve managed to narrow it down from the guest room terminals so that only leaves any information kiosks.”

“You can figure that out, but not which terminal?.. Hold on.” With a ping from her phone a text shot up that read. Blessed silver. Under heavy fire.

“Another ten minutes or so and we can isolate the hacker.”

Sighing. Carol sent the text to her husband, who was strangely calm. Having not left his room yet he looked at the message and smiled.

”Well. I suppose I won’t be going down there unprepared then.” Taking his steps away from the door he moved further into his penthouse a moved a panel exposing a button.
As Fortuna and the other dealers waited and slung cards out to defend themselves. Some thudding could be heard as the elevator came crashing to the floor. A silent pause from the dealers and another thundering smash could be heard as a mechanical suit fell upon the elevator, gunmetal grey nine feet tall and built like a mobile tank. Barron had brought more than himself from his old world, he brought with him knowledge. He and his wife that is and while most of their old world’s secrets were lost Advanced Power Armor in conjunction with this world’s high tech level had created a beast of a suit something that would make the military cream themselves if they had access to it.

Strolling like one would walk through a park Barron made his way over to the Hounds asking kindly. ”Would you shut up and die.”

Hawthorn’s men backed away slowly, still firing their weapons but taking note of their lack of effect. This was not a magical weapon, this was something else entirely. The Witchfinder General couldn’t have anticipated technology of this scale, Hawthorn thought, aware that if he and his men lived, they faced the wrath of the General for failing their mission.

Captain Hawthorn said nothing, only making a subtle motion for his men to toss a few explosive canisters Barron’s way, hoping they might disturb the armor enough for an opening.

Unleashing a wave of blood in front of him he smacked down the canisters as if his blood were a sheet blanketing the field directly in front of him taking the explosive impact and stepping over the now cracked floor as his blood retracted into his suit. Turning to the dealers to spoke. ”Find the terminal disrupting our systems and escort any remaining guests to safety. I have these guys.”

With a nod, Fortuna rushed back using Barron as a shield, her and the other dealers began sweeping the area any kiosk that had something unusual connected were to be destroyed and anyone hacking killed. All the while Barron turned his gaze to the hounds and bull rushed one of them into the wall smashing his head in like a egg. ”I’m going to have to repair that later. But you. You come into my home, MY CASTLE! And think I won’t be prepared?”

A few Hounds shuddered at Barron’s sudden advance, jumping at the sight of his strange magic. Hawthorn had expected as much, and his resolve was greater than his men. He repositioned, sending a few behind Barron, who unleashed more explosives while Hawthorn kept aim and looked for an opening. If he could just get one shot off, the blessing on the bullets would do the rest.

As Barron began to turn to deal with the threats behind him his eyes began to linger on one man, one hound who had guts and a steely gaze in his eyes. Barron thought you. The commander. Just as explosions rocked his left side damaging his systems severing servos that would normally hinder arm movement in humans. But without any regard to his body he swung around tearing his arm off on the inside of his suit as his body began to stitch itself together again as he unleashed a whip of blood.

Meanwhile elsewhere in the city approximately fifteen minutes out a man began to run straight through traffic past cars and trucks over the roadways and leaping through a building all the while taking no damage nor harming any of the surrounding structures. His body phasing through matter like he was never there all the while thinking. I need to get to the boss.

Seeing their effort, the Hounds continued their assault, exhausting their supply of explosives in the process, trying desperately to save their stock of blessed bullets until they had a clean shot. Captain Hawthorn watched as Barron’s power came at him, smashing into his side and knocking him into an adjacent slot machine, forcing the wind from his lungs. He suspected that had he not been wearing his inscribed iron cross, the whip would have torn straight through him.

The Captain stood up slowly, maintaining his aim on Barron while his men continued to tear at his suit.

Continuous explosions rocked his suit, often rendered ineffective with his powers those that did slip through began to blow away servos and critical components and as good as the suit was the man inside of it was better, stronger and faster than it could keep up with which soon began to show as the sheer strength Barron possesed began to tear the metal and wires with each swing of his arm. And inevitability the suit began to malfunction likely that anyone who worked on the suit for Barron could attest to as his herculean strength and speed akin to Hermes or at least close enough to match any speedster could have predicted.

However as Barron fought off the Hounds Fortuna and the rest cleared the floor dispatching lone hounds until they eventually found the terminal that was causing system failures. As the minutes had already flew by they knew they had to act fast throwing a massive card into the terminal forcing the nearby hacker into action as he took aim and began firing. While the other dealers ducked for cover, Fortuna began to charge the Hound reaching for her deck of aces only to find it empty. Taking out her joker card she tossed it up into the air and it began to float and expand until she reached one of the edges and pulled it down kicking the card towards the hound smacking him across the chest and flipping over like a flying carpet as it flew taking the hound who was firing at it along for the ride.

Hawthorn looked for an opening, finally noticing the areas where the armor began to tear away, the machinations behind them slowly failing. He let loose several rounds into the same general area, hoping that a couple might piece through enough to graze Barron. A graze was enough for some creatures, and Hawthorn hoped it might be enough for Barron.

As Barron swung up a hound in the air and crushed him. A round finally managed to pierce his side rhickocheing on the metal and squashed itself inside his ribs. The pain was immense but nothing he couldn’t handle but the sudden impact opened him up to more gunfire as more rounds began to graze and shred through him slowing him down and allowing a brief moment of weakness that Hawthorn could take advantage of. Barron’s blood bagan to leak out as his powers over it loosened as the strength from his legs gave out and he had trouble moving.

The Captain took notice of Barron’s predicament and ordered his men back, moving himself closer for the killing blow. Unfortunately, his timing was off, sending a stray bullet into a hunk of metal before noticing the telltale signs of an ambush.

As the red flashing lights clicked on Barron chuckled looking up to spot the ceiling lights flash. “Looks like you get to have a nice parting gift. Courtesy of the US military. I present my GAU Avenger!!” As tiles in the ceiling spread out a gatling autocannon dropped out and began winding up.

And just as the action inside began reaching a fever pitch Barron began to force himself up falling over to one knee. As a familiar hand reached out to him from behind.

“Hey Boss man, you need a hand aur should I just kill these mooks?”

”I got myself. You just sweep the place Southie.”

“Right-O boss. I’ll clean the floah fah you in the meantime.”

Southie stood in a long furred coat with spiked knuckle dusters and shaved head as he smiled. Running right through each bullet unphased and clocking hounds across the cheek. Going directly through cover and smacking Hounds around as he phases through every obstacle.

Eventually getting to his feet Barron stood as blood dripped and he sluggishly hobbled towards the Hounds. ”I’m not down yet boys. I’ve got plenty of hospitality for you all.”

Captain Hawthorn stumbled back as the intangible assailant took a sizeable swing at his stomach, knocking the wind from his longs a second time. This power wasn’t magic, else the bullets would have pierced his skin. No, this was an exceptionally gifted meta, the type of enemy with whom the General had little to no interest. Hawthorn’s eyes shifted to Barron, weakened by the spray of blessed silver, but advancing nonetheless. If he didn’t do something soon, Hawthorn’s unit would be destroyed.

“Fall back,” he hesitantly muffled into his headset, wincing as he limped toward the nearest exit, hoping to dodge anymore of Barron’s surprise guests along the way. Others followed suit, backing toward opened doors still firing their normal rounds into Barron’s backup forces as a precaution.

”I’m going to miss this version. Oh well.” Barron said standing up with what remained of his powered suit barely hanging to its frame. ”Wish we had some of those Marvel super metals. I could use a Wakanda right about now.” As some of his men gave chase to the Hounds; Barron took a seat on a wrecked slot machine the suit crushing what remained of the internals as it spat out coins. As Barron tore off the helm that sat on top of his shoulders he took in the chaos that the Hounds had caused and lifted his phone.

”Carol. Set up a meet with Hekate. Maybe the families as well. I think it’s time to finally deal with our, security issue.”

---

Location: Poseidon Energy, Pacific Point

"A laser satellite. A fucking laser satellite, and they can't even find it."

"Perplexing to say the least," Martel said in agreement, idly adjusting his new nameplate on his desk, the one denoting his 'demotion' to the SPARK division, that was knocked askew when Jordan Fletcher slammed both her fists onto it. "It might have belonged to S.T.R.I.K.E. and the Hounds merely stole it, but given that armor the Gargoyle had, I wouldn't put anything past them." Martel might have had a better idea if he hadn't been so exhausted, of course. SPARK had been put on high alert following the Hound terrorist attacks, and thanks to the general chaos unfolding staffing had been skeletal to stay the least. The violently loyal Jordan Fletcher was there though, if only to rant and rail against the "scum-sucking piss-swilling butchers" that were the Hounds of Humanity, which in light of what had happened wasn't exactly hard to disagree with.

"They'd better find the Finger of God fast," Jordan growled, repeating one of the nicknames the media circus gave to the orbiting laser cannon in the wake of the tragedy. "I'll eat this chair if those fuckers don't have that thing pointed at us right now." Jordan's temper subsided slightly as the morbid idea of Pacific Point getting wiped out crossed her mind.

"Let's hope that's a long way off. For now, we need to plan on how to combat this," Martel said, moving across the room in his chair to retrieve some files. "Riley and Mr. Adams have the most experience fighting the Hounds, so we should meet with them to coordinate."

"Sure Riley will be pleased to be fighting with Electric Elvis again," Jordan said with a smirk. "Think she's right outside actually, I can grab her if you want."

"Do so, I'll get the Rabbit Industry reports and see what I can glean from them."

Jordan spun on her heel and exited the office, leaving Martel to thumb through the thick binders he collected, and briskly making her way towards the front desk.

"Yo Riles, Martel wants to talk with you about...uh, you comfortable there, Riley?"

Riley, who had changed out of her usual superhero outfit into her usual comfy jeans and a t-shirt, was reclining along the surface of Jordan's security desk like a bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her pointed ears twitched as she turned her head slightly to spot Jordan.

"Oh...sorry Jordan." Riley turned again to stare at the ceiling, letting out a slight sigh as she did so. Jordan quietly took a seat at her desk, letting the silence hang a bit longer.

"You hanging in there Riles?"

"Yeah..." Riley said glumly. "Just thinking about the attacks on those cities."

"Mmm...it's hard not to." Jordan said, wishing she had something a little more meaningful to say. It wasn't the first time Jordan had seen and experienced a tragedy like this, but Riley had only ever been around for a month, and Jordan felt she had the responsibility to be there for Riley while she comprehended what had happened. Jordan had expected some big talks with all the classic questions about human nature and why its important to keep fighting evil, but Riley's relative silence had thrown her. The alien heroine wasn't exactly shy about expressing her emotions like this.

Still, a quiet moment shared spoke volumes. Jordan just hoped it was saying the right things.

"Um, hello? Is Voyager here?" Jordan and Riley both looked up as a lanky redheaded man in Police Officer blues appeared in the doorway.

"Here I am!" Riley said, attempting to sound perky as she dropped off the desk onto her feet. "I'm not in trouble, am I?"

"Oh no, not at all," the officer said, sniffing slightly as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. Jordan couldn't help but noticed they looked unusually red, and Riley had noticed it too, judging by the slight head tilt.

"Is everything okay sir?"

The officer sniffed louder this time, conflicted by Riley's concerned expression. "Nothing really it's...my little brother. He works in Paris, Texas."

"Oh no..."

"I've been trying to get a hold of him or his friends, no luck yet," the officer said, his eyes welling with tears again. "It may be just the phone lines getting jammed, but..."

The officer stumbled over his words slightly as Riley, wordlessly, pulled him into a tight hug. The stunned surprise was enough to break the floodgates though, and the officer reciprocated the hug, gently crying onto her shoulder. After a moment or two, the officer broke off the hug, drying his eyes with his sleeve as he readjusted his jacket.

"Thank you...I think I needed that," the officer said somberly, taking the tissue that Jordan offered from her desk.

"Any time," Riley said with a warm smile. There was a moment of silence before a look of realization crossed the officer's face.

"Oh, right, why I'm here!" The officer cleared his throat as he fished around in his pockets for something. "So, the chief wanted me to pass along something we found, on the off-chance that you were going after the Hounds. You remember Krauss, the Gargoyle?"

"More then I'd like to know," Jordan said coolly, tipping her chair slightly as she leaned back. "I thought he was dead."

"More then you know," the officer recounted. "By all means, once Krauss joined up with the Hounds he was a ghost. Every trace of him post-military was scrubbed clean; we couldn't even dig up a parking ticket on the bastard. We were about to close the case when a visiting detective from the East Coast recognized his profile."

"Ooh, the plot thickens!" Riley said excitably.

"The detective had been investigating a murder and remembered interviewing our general here. Evidently he left quite an unpleasant impression," the officer said with a smirk, as if he asked whether or not anyone was really surprised. "He was innocent to that particular crime, but his interview was still documented, and after a bit of digging through police records we found a few more instances where he popped up in unrelated cases, usually because he was being disruptive. That right there is a collection of security photos and interviews collected at the time, and all of that is enough to say that we think your general spent a good deal of time in-"

"Lost Haven!"

Riley leapt a little bit as Martel unexpectedly appeared behind them, punctuating his statement by slamming the office door behind him why he waved a few pages in the air.

"Er, yes, Lost Haven," the officer said, looking mildly impressed. "How did you know?"

"You were following the general, I followed his base," Martel explained, as Riley and Jordan noticed the name 'Rabbit Motors' on top of the scientist's page. "I've been afflicting a great deal of boredom upon myself to dig through these financial records, and while that Hounds base was still officially part of Rabbit Motors, its utilities and logistic data were rerouted through a location in Lost Haven. Then when I looked deeper, I found out that the place also handled the information of a broadcasting center in Las Vegas. A broadcasting center on the same street of a place called Smithy's Grocery Store."

"I remember that name!" Riley recalled. "There were reports of an altercation between a band of metahumans and some Hound goons at that place!"

Martel nodded. "And coincidentally, the Lost Haven location disconnected the Broadcast center shortly after the attack."

"A general and a shell company of the Hounds spotted in Lost Haven," Jordan recited. "I hear Maine IS nice this time of year..."

Riley, Jordan and Martel all traded looks with each other as they came to a decision. The only decision they could really make.

"The Pacific Point PD can hold the fort, Miss Voyager," the officer said, flashing a salute as he anticipated the choice they were making. "On behalf of all of us...go and put the fear of God in those bastards." The officer made his exit, and as soon as the door snapped shut, the remaining three sprang into action.

"SPARK needs me here, but I can do without my security detail for a while," Martel reminded them, moving to the phone on the desk to dial Briley Patton's number. "If you two get a flight tonight you can make it to Lost Haven by the morning.


"Three of us," Riley corrected him. "I am certain Hound Dog will want to come along as well. I will go and contact him!"

"I've been itching for some real payback against the Hounds," Jordan mused with a devilish grin. "I'll go get our equipment for the trip. And you'd better get your suit ready.

Riley nodded, her chest practically swelling with determination as she pounded a fist into her other hand.

"Let's go kick some Hound butt!"

An Undisclosed Location

President Jefferson Blake stood at the makeshift podium before the cameras in a daze. Just an hour ago, he had been pulled from his office in the West Wing and hurried away from the Whitehouse, to a series of underground tunnels that beneath Washington, DC that had been built during the height of the Cold War. The tunnels lead to what could almost be described as an underground city, which had been meant to function as a safe house for the entire US government in the event of an attack on the Capitol. And while Washington, DC itself had not been attacked, the country itself was under siege. As he was relocated from the White House, his security staff had briefed him on the attacks that had been carried out on Paris, Texas, Nautican Island, Massachusetts, and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

He knew that he needed to be strong. Not to put on some self aggrandizing show of power to stroke his own ego and to appeal to his base, but he had to be strong for the American People as a whole. He needed to show that although things were bad, he was still here for them, and he would be sure that everything would be alright.

Even though he wasn’t so sure that it would be.

The man behind the camera began counting down to the moment they would be going live to address the nation.

Three…

Two…

One…

As the red light on the camera came on, indicating that they were now live, President Blake’s mouth was dry. Without the aid of a teleprompter, he tried to find the words that had been dancing around in his head from the moment that he learned of the attacks. As he tried to speak, his tongue felt like sandpaper.

The words just wouldn’t come out.

So he looked down at the podium and took the small plastic cup that was sitting off to the side and took a sip of water, and then a deep breath and looked directly into the camera.

“My Fellow Americans.” He began.

“Earlier today, the United States was attacked by the terrorist organization The Hounds of Humanity. Over the last several months, these terrorists have waged their personal war against the people of this great country. However, none of their actions, as heinous as they were could have prepared us for the devastation that they caused today, in an attack that is completely unprecedented in the history of not only the United States, but in the history of the world. Three cities, full of hard working people, full of families, full of hopes and dreams, completely and utterly devastated by the Hounds and their so called ‘Finger of God.’” He paused for a moment as if to collect his thoughts.

“Today we pray for the people who were lost in Paris, Texas, Philadelphia, and Nautican Island. We mourn with the families that were left behind, and we grieve together as a nation.” He paused again as he attempted to put what he was feeling into words.

“I know that you are frightened, however, now is not the time to give in to your fear. Now is the time for the people of this great country to stand up together and tell the monsters that were responsible for these attacks that we will not be beaten, we will not be bullied, and we will not stand for such evil acts of terrorism on our shores, or against our people.” He said, his voice becoming stronger as he spoke, the anger that he felt beginning to show in his words.

“I am authorizing the use of the full strength of the United States Military in order to hunt down the so called Hounds of Humanity and bring those responsible for the atrocities witnessed today, to justice, as well as to search out and destroy the orbital weapon from which they launched their attacks.” He pounded his fist against the podium, clearly impassioned as he spoke.

“There is no place in this world or the next, where these monsters will be able to hide. As I leave you today, I have a message for the Hounds of Humanity themselves. You have hit us. You may have hurt us, but you can rest assured, we are a strong and resilient people, and we will persevere. You can run, you can hide. But we are coming for you, and hell is coming with us.”

Angel's mind was clear. Holding a machine pistol in one hand behind his back, he strode with purpose towards the office building, hooded jacket, sunglasses, and bandanna concealing his face. Spoofing all the cameras in the building to play a repeat feed from the last ten minutes, he began his assault.

As he walked into the lobby, the receptionist smiled brightly at him. "Hi, can I help y-" She cut off when Angel pulled the gun on her, pointing it at her face. Immediately, she started breaking down. "P-please, don't hurt m-me! I don't know anything, I'm just the receptionist!"

Angel, keeping his gun steady, pointed at the desk. "Push the button for security, then run." Nodding hysterically, the receptionist did as he asked, then ran out of the building, into the street. As an afterthought, he bricked her phone. The police would only complicate things even more. Striding to the elevators, which he made sure still worked, despite the silent alarm locking everything in the building down, Angel got inside, and with a thought, started up to the 25th floor.



Kyle Johnson, security guard for Omega Solutions, and grunt for the Hounds of Humanity, was eating a donut when an alarm started to blare from his security monitors. Scarfing down the rest of the donut, Kyle leaned forward, checking each individual camera for the situation. When he didn't see anything serious, he was confused, but he switched over to the alarm source indicator. Apparently it came from... the front desk? But Carol was fine, just sitting at her desk, playing solitaire.

Huh. He needed to check this out in person, and call backup.

Grabbing his walkie-talkie, he depressed the call button, and called the most dangerous man in the building, the Omega Head of Security, and a Captain for the Hounds of Humanity. "Hey, uh, Walker? I think we have an issue down at the front desk, I'm going to go check it out, send backup, okay?" The crackling voice that came through the other end chilled Kyle to the bone.

"U̙̜̝͈̺̬͚n͇͞d̵e̵̻̮r̘̙͖̱̠s҉̘͍ͅt̬̣̟̜̭̯o̙̲̰̰͘o̻͕̬̺d̟̘.̤̳̩͎͕͡ "

Shivering, and clipping his walkie-talkie to his waist, Kyle strapped his gun, and headed towards the stairs, as the elevators wouldn't work during a security lockdown. Quickly going down the two flights to the ground floor, Kyle looked out into the lobby carefully, scanning the area before entering the room. Everything seemed to be in order, except... Where was Carol?

Frowning, Kyle unholstered his gun, and advanced to the middle of the lobby, examining the area around the desk, before heading over to the large, automatic, sliding glass doors. Heading outside, he entered the street, where he scanned the area around the door, before getting stopped in his tracks in terror.

Directly in front of him, standing two stories in height, was a bigass robot. And it was pointing a machinegun right at him.



BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT

Angel could hear the gun even from here, inside the elevator. So the first of security had found the ATD. Angel didn't pity them, though. They would've repaid the favor, should they have found out he was a Metahuman, after all.

Stepping out of the elevator, into the executive suite, Angel readied his gun once more, and hacked into the actual video feed, displaying it on his phone screen, trying to get a sense for what awaited him behind the large oak double doors. One man, sitting at his desk, apparently unworried about the sound of the ATD engaging his security forces. Either that, or he couldn't hear it. Angel heard that these executive suites could be pretty soundproof at times.

Regardless, Angel opened the door quietly, and slipped in, pointing his machine pistol at the Hound-bought CEO. Looking up from his work, the CEO said, "Ah, yes, can I-" And then got a suppressed bullet in the forehead. Swiftly moving over to the completely isolated laptop, connected to the Hound network, instead of the regular internet, Angel began to work, worming his way past firewalls, cracking codes, and destroying barriers, simply by thinking about it.

It had taken Angel a bit of work to locate someone within the Hound hierarchy that had one of these unique devices that only connected to the Hound network, but it had been simple for one such as him. Even if they were able to keep any traces off the internet, they couldn't keep their radio signals silent, and several safehouses had a knowledgeable Lieutenant or two. A surprising amount of the intel had come from blackmailing the Hound members' families, threatening their schools and workplaces, etc. Angel was caught off guard by the amount of Hounds that had families. Everyone had a family, of course, but it's just... The Hounds didn't seem to be the type of organization to attract family men and women.

Shaking his head clear of the thought, Angel worked his way into the location of the hub that this computer connected to, a warehouse by the docks on the south side. Bricking the laptop, Angel made his way back to the elevator, preparing to rush out of the building to his mech. The sounds of Sherlock, inside the ATD, engaging the high-security response team in combat reached him even here, so he needed to be ready to move.

The elevator door opened, and Angel ran.

Swiftly making its way from underneath the horizon over the trees was a single Black Hawk Helodrone, followed by several more Helodrones. The Helodrone flew swiftly, its bearing heading straight for the city of Lost Haven. Having taken off from an undisclosed location, Galm Team had made a pit stop to one of [REDACTED]'s secure outposts to consolidate intel before heading off to Lost Haven to find more. While most of Galm Team were in the helicopters hanging out in the back of the formation, there were only six onboard the lead helicopter. Cipher, Mr. Smith, Valkyrie and three of Eagle Eye's many combat bots. They remained in the helicopter while Eagle Eye flew the drone as fast as it can go, while the only person in the helicopter who wore a mask gave the two women the skinny.

"I know we didn't give you guys any time to prepare, so I'll give you the briefing verbally." Mr. Smith said, leaning back in his seat. "Even though the data from the computers in Mexico were scrubbed, thanks to Eagle Eye, were we able to intercept enemy comms and get an exact location on one of their facilities." Mr. Smith said, grabbing an HK G3 rifle from beside him, patting the butt stock before loading in a large magazine. "The facility is located in the Warehouse District of Lost Haven. This place will be unfamiliar territory to us so keep your eyes out." He slapped the charging handle into place with a *CHACK!*, chambering a round. "Our objective is to neutralize any threats, and find any intel on that satellite. Chances are, that blast radius that Sandman saw are plans for another satellite attack, so we must act fast before we get vaporized ourselves."

Valkyrie gulped before nodding, messing around with the settings on her left cybernetic arm with her right organic arm. "Are we getting any support from any local forces? Like the National Guard or local police?"

"The President just declared a state of emergency, and the National Guard and NSA are already mobilizing and attempting to crack down on any perceived terrorist threats." Mr. Smith explained. "However, we haven't shared any of our intel with them. We're afraid that if we do, the National Guard would attempt to evacuate the city, and thus tip off the enemy... risking the possibility of triggering whatever the fuck that blast radius is for. So we're on our own for now."

Cipher nodded before speaking. "What about Crow Team? Where are they going?"

"Crow Team, which is headed by Sandman, is going with Pixy and the rest of the crew to set up a small base of operations outside the blast radius on Carver, that way we can rest up and resupply there if need be." Mr. Smith explained. "They'll also be setting up sensor arrays around Lost Haven so just in case if the satellite fires on Lost Haven or anywhere nearby, they can immediately get a lock on the satellite from the source of the beam, and allow Eagle Eye and Dragonborn to get a lock and shoot the damn thing down." Mr. Smith sighed. "Hopefully we won't need them... but if we do, we'll make sure that if the satellite fires, it will fire for the last time."

Cipher nodded. While she wasn't too much of a fan of being vaporized by a kill-sat before completing some of her life goals, she at least hoped that if she did, that Dragonborn would do her job and destroy that satellite once and for all. She hoped that the blast radius was for something less severe, like a toxic gas or some strange portal or bomb of sorts. Something that Cipher and the rest of her team can easily survive. When she gets some alone time with Eagle Eye, she's gonna have to ask him to at least save the memories of her, and her comrades, so that if they do die here, the legacies of Galm Team will still remain alive.

Mr. Smith looked around before speaking to Eagle Eye. "Eagle Eye, relay this to Crow Team as well." "As you wish." "Attention Galm Team and Crow Team. I have a proposition for you. Whoever's the first to locate that satellite through any means that doesn't get us killed will win a lifetime supply of Skittles and Milky Way candy bars on me. I hope that's enough incentive for you guys. That is all!" He said before leaning back again. "Fuck me..." He sighed. Cipher was at least relieved that she wasn't the only one who was scared about it. Mr. Smith then regained his composure. "Alright, just remember. Keep your eyes out, check your corners, and shoot straight. Quia Pax."

"Quia Pax." Both Cipher and Valkyrie said in unison, putting their fists to their chests before grabbing their rifles, Cipher grabbing her FAL with Valkyrie grabbing her G3. Cipher put her rifle into battery as Valkyrie performed the HK Slap with her cybernetic hand.



A pair of F-15 Eagles soared across the sky, one of them unmanned, another manned by a woman. The woman, callsign Dragonborn, flew high above Lost Haven, leading the two-bird formation at the highest point they can both safely reach without breaking the limits on their Eagles. The woman looked up at the sky and sighed through her oxygen mask, before receiving a transmission.

We should be flying clear of the blast radius. Eagle Eye warned the pilot of the manned aircraft.

Dragonborn responded, her accent reeking of Kiwi. "Oi, I know!" Dragonborn said, looking up into the sky. "We got no radar contact, right? None whatsoever?"

Negative. Eagle Eye replied. The target satellite comes equipped with top of the line cloaking technology. It cannot be detected through thermals, optics, or radar.

"Those cheat'n bastards." The Eagle Rider sighed in exasperation. "Let's just hope that the fockin' ASATs do their damn job." Dragonborn said, mentioning the large missiles that were loaded onto the center hardpoints on both fighters.

They will, I assure you. Eagle Eye said, bringing the unmanned F-15 closer to Dragonborn as more of a gesture than anything. We just need a proper datalink to guide our missiles, and I'm doing my best to find it now, and so is Galm and Crow Teams.

"Righto." Dragonborn turned towards her 'wingman', giving the unmanned fighter jet a friendly wave. "Let's go fly out of the radius before the damned Hounds get any ideas." Soon enough, the Eagles broke off of their flight path and headed North to remain in the more safer areas.





The lone Helodrone made its way into Lost Haven, flying past buildings at a low altitude, as to not get detected by any enemy radar. If the Hounds had any radar, that is. Mr. Smith brought his G3 to shoulder, and stood up within the Black Hawk. "Remember our cover story. We're Hendrix mercenaries on contract for the US Government. No more, no less." Mr. Smith said as the Helodrone approached the warehouse district but stopped short. "Get ready to drop."

Both Cipher and Valkyrie stood up, 7.62mm NATO rifles at the ready. The first to jump out of the Helodrone were the three combat robots that Eagle Eye controlled, jumping from either side of the Black Hawk and into an obscured area in between several shipping containers. After the three combat bots cleared the drop zone, two fastropes were produced from the upper hardpoints of the Helodrone. "You're cleared to drop." Eagle Eye informed them.

Valkyrie led the way, slinging her G3 on her back before fast roping down onto the ground. She promptly crouched and brought her gun to her shoulder, and soon Cipher and Mr. Smith followed, bringing their guns out.

"Eagle Eye, second verse is same as the first." Cipher said. Wilco. The Helodrone promptly retracted the ropes and took off on its own, arming the guns onboard hot and going to a nearby area to act for air support if need be. Cipher then turned to Mr. Smith and nodded to him, giving him a thumbs up.

Mr. Smith made a hand signal of 'on me', and promptly led the team through the Warehouse District, heading straight towards what they suspect is a Hounds of Humanity cell base. They moved swiftly and quietly, and while the robots were somewhat noisy, only those nearby would detect them. Moving through a variety of shipping containers, stockpiles and several warehouse buildings, Galm Team closed in on their target.

A warehouse worker, wearing safety neon and a hard hat, was just done operating a forklift, and was just about to clock out for the night. They had him working crazy shifts ever since the attacks in order to get productivity levels raised before martial law was established. He sighed, wiping his brow. He just turned around to see heavily armed people... three people armed with large rifles and three murderbots. The man was just about to scream.

Mr. Smith raised his hand at him and spoke into his mind. "Calm down." His voice was compelling, and carried an imperative force with it to the man's mind. "You saw nothing here. We're just policemen. Make sure everyone is clear of the area."

The worker nodded softly before promptly running off.

Cipher turned to Mr. Smith. "You know, the amount of times you use that power is starting to bother me a little." Cipher said softly before advancing forward with her commanding officer.

Mr. Smith chuckled. "Hey, if it gets me free candy and keeps the innocent safe, it works for me." Mr. Smith said, moving into the darkness with his team of six. "We should be getting close, everyone split up in groups of two. Valkyrie, you're with me."

Valkyrie sighed while Cipher split up with another bot, and two bots split up from their formation as well. "Are we gonna do this routine again? Someday someone's gonna catch on."

Mr. Smith shrugged as he stacked up behind a wall. "How will the enemy catch on if they got their heads full of hot lead?" A slight pause. "Exactly."

“Very well. Prepare yourself.” Alex would slowly start to move forward his arms
sliding up and down each other as he sized up his opponent. This man was no joke. Finally someone who would be a challenge, if for nothing other than his sheer strength. Alex decided right then and there, he wouldn’t use any chi. He didn’t want to cheat himself out of a fun time.

In a single moment with one movement he leaped forward feigning a double palm to the chest but instead moved his hands upward to try and get them past his shoulders so if he did he would try to slap both ears with force to cause a loud ringing noise to disorient the man.

The Legate was not so easily tacked down as being simply strong, he was a brutally efficient machine. As fast, as strong, as tough as anyone could conceivably be. A short half-step forward followed by a hard drive of his right heel into the floor, he shot his knee upwards to intercept the man’s chest as he shot forward. Throwing his own body backwards and pulling his head back out of hand’s reach, extending his left arm straight forward to jab through the fully extended arms of the shorter man. An advantage of reach would let his arm reach, if the quick strike was not intercepted.

Alex would feel the knee in his chest, simultaneously as he also felt the jab smash into his face. It wasn’t enough to daze him, he has dealt with worse. But here was a chance. Alex would begin to fall away, while he was he tried to slide his right hand down the man’s arm, if he was able to he would grab at the wrist before the man was able to pull his arm back. That would give Alex the ability to pull the man forward, simultaneously shooting a palm right from the man’s nose to try to push it into his skull.

The hand reached towards his wrist as he withdrew the jab but the Legate’s foot dropped down from its sharp upwards knee, striking down with the full weight of his left heel onto the right foot of the martial artist. Simultaneously he used the leverage of his foot being dropped down to shoot his head back forward and strike at the man’s open palm with the corner of his forehead, redirecting the force and position of the incoming strike to avoid injury to the self and cause a sharp stinging pain to the numerous nerve endings of the hand.

His right arm drew back and his weight pulled into his right foot, as though he were preparing for when he reacted to the stomp.

He would squint in pain as he felt the pain shoot through his arm and his foot. His eyes glanced down to his foot where this man’s foot was still at.He would pull the man’s left arm across his body as to try and position his body sideways so his right arm couldn’t reach him. Meanwhile leaning in and ducking lower he would aim a couple short jabs right at the man’s left iliopsoas muscle at the hip trying to cause him to go off balance by dealing damage to the muscle that connects the femur to the hip.

Using the forward pull of his left arm as a springboard, Legate drove hard down with his left foot again and brought his right knee hard into the forearm of the descending blow. Checking it at the wrist connector with the hard sharp of his leg, as well as pulling his left arm back to reduce the angle at which the oncoming blow could optimize its strike by shifting the positioning of the man’s own body, using his own movement as leverage.

Alex would grunt as his foot would send shockwaves of pain to his brain. But he was already committed to the attack. Continuing with his strike, even with the pain in his forearm from the knee, he would strike at the hip with force, pulling his arm once more forward he would try to use the strike to put the man off balance, so he could elbow the man in his gut, releasing the arm he had a hold of he would shoot his body and his arm straight up as he went to strike a palm into the man’s jaw to try and send him reeling backwards.

With the strike in his leg disorienting his posture the oncoming blow struck true and hard and staggered him back, his foot lifting up and off of Alex’s foot. He jerked his left arm back and pulled himself two steps away, striking himself back up into a proper defensive stance. A little crack in his lips formed where the palm had struck.

When Alex threw the blow the position of his head prevented The Legate from being struck on the jaw, where his head was pulled in and his chin tucked. So where his hand found providence was across the line of his lips, and the crack on his lip seeped a thin trail of light blood.

Alex would straighten his posture back up as he slowly started to walk around the circle his hands up in front of his body. His hands positioned like two C’s as he as well took up a defensive position. He would test The Legate’s reflexes by feigning like he was going for a kick but each time there was no commitment.

Only a moment later though he leapt forward his left hand feigning a shot to the side, but his true target was The Legate’s armpit, hoping to cause the arm to fold. His right hand ready to grab any counterattack coming his way, while his feet stayed slightly away, however with how much taller The Legate was it was hard to keep them too far without missing entirely.

Backing off with stuttering steps, the Legate adjusted his posture and reset his eyeline. He’d drawn back when his head was struck but he recovered now and danced backwards from the feinting blows. It was suspicious when someone withheld power in a blow, Legate spotted this and watched with keen vulturous eyes.

He turned his body away from the strike towards his armpit and lashed out with a quick cheeky jab, nothing too hard but just enough to prod the distance, to push Alex back for a moment and help him retake the flow of the battle.

Alex felt the blow smash into his face, but it was much less powerful than the hits he’d been receiving. Alex would continue his assault, he would jab at The Legate’s right rib cage, trying to deal damage to an important area. At the same time as the punch he would be following up with a palm coming out to make it look like he was going for another body blow. Once again, it was a feint, trying to use his arm as more momentum to help him bring up his foot to try and smash his heel into The Legate’s face with a reverse hook.

Intentionally taking a sharp breath as he pulled back from the blow to the ribs, Legate felt the hand bash into his cage. The force rattled him for a moment and he felt himself go to gasp for breath instinctively, but held in for a moment. He saw the man spin around and bring his leg up hard, aiming to strike the right side of his head with the blunt of his foot. A reverse hook functions as a hammer, to be hit by one would be next to instant unconsciousness. Legate couldn’t afford to hit the mat right now, so he simply wouldn’t.

Raising his right hand up he drove his elbow up and pushed in with his foot, driving the sharp of his elbow up into the path of the oncoming foot. Aiming it directly at the achilles tendon, intending to use the force of his own blow and the movement of the leg to knock it numb with a hard and precise strike.

Alex would grunt in pain as he felt the achilles almost pop. Thankfully he had seen the elbow coming and relaxed the muscle before the elbow would snap it in two. He quickly brought his foot back to the ground as he tried to not waste a moment of movement. He would quickly regain his footing to and within moments of his foot landing would try to spin on it, almost clumsily on the now numbing foot to sweep at The Legate’s left knee with his opposite foot going for a fierce roundhouse kick onto the side of it.

Dropping his left hand down hard, he pulled his right foot back and spun on his hip, pushing down his weight so the incoming blow would strike hard on the hard of his knee. The force of the kick would push him back but once the knee came to a halt his left hand would slip behind it and grip hard on the fabric of his pants leg.

A shock of pain went all the way up his leg as it smashed into the knee. The second though he felt The Legate grab his pant leg he would jump with his other foot, trying to do an Enziguri kick with his heel to the back of The Legate’s head. Alex’s hands shooting down to help catch him before he hit the ground, whether The Legate held on or not.

Legate saw the oncoming kick and shifted his right foot forward, keeping his left foot in place. Using the triangular positioning of his legs as a strong foundation, he pulled himself upright and in doing so brought the leg he held tightly straight upwards. Turning Alex’s body with it and making the man’s leg go low when it would have gone high, slamming the hard of his foot into the blunt space of his shoulder. It would certainly bruise, but would not knock him out like a proper kick to the back of his head would have.

Feeling his leg hit the shoulder, wasn’t quite part of his plan. But his body starting to be pulled straight up from his other leg wasn’t apart of the plan either. The kick not forcing The Legate to release his other leg would be the main problem. He felt his hands against the ground as he tried to wrap his other leg around The Legate’s arm. Tucking his chin and his body he would swing himself toward The Legate while trying to use that as a way to help his legs push The Legate’s body forward, hopefully sending him forward and forcing him to release Alex’s leg.

A proper Hurricanrana requires a bit of backwards momentum, but can be executed if you have sufficient core strength, and Alex certainly had the ability. However, Legate is cruel and exploits the weaknesses of his foes. Alex’s hands on the ground would prove to be the ultimate downfall of his offensive. With one foul and swift movement, Legate lashed out a side kick towards Alex’s exposed wrists with the flat of his foot. Aiming to drop him on his face by knocking him off of his own support.

Alex’s eyes widened as he saw the kick coming towards his wrists. He knew that such a kick would actually break his wrists and do more damage to his face. He couldn’t risk that, he lived to fight, and wasn’t about to let himself be subject to having to sit out for a few months over a little pride. He closed his eyes as he focused the chi that he knew wasn’t his to circulate through his body. The Legate’s kick would find that his arms felt like he had just kicked a steel beam. It still hurt, he could tell with the force being used this man wasn’t looking to just win, no he was looking to hurt. Alex thought for a moment on how much The Legate possibly could have hurt himself from the kick, but he knew there was no reason to focus on it. He brought his free foot back and kicked towards The Legate’s chest with it, that leg also as hard as a steel beam, hoping to deal some damage and force The Legate to think twice about his fighting style.

A jarring shockwave rode up the Legate’s leg as his boot met a steel hard pillar instead of the fluid shock of flesh on flesh. His hand let go of the leg in his surprise. What he’d seen before was now active once again, and the Legate knew that Alex was finally taking him seriously. Before he had any time to pride himself on his success, his foot slammed into his chest and the Legate was sent skidding backwards across the floor. He felt the wind escape from his lungs and he stumbled backwards almost toppling before his feet found grip and he ground to a halt.

The wind was knocked from him and he instinctively wanted to suck air hard to refill his lungs, but he took a slow and long breath through the tube in his mouth. His eyes had closed somewhere between the kick and him coming to a halt, so he opened his eyes slowly to look at Alex’s recovery from his awkward position.

Alex would grin as he felt his leg begin to fall to the ground. He would spin around on his knees to prepare for a counterattack but would take a sigh of relief as The Legate had not quite charged at him yet. Alex would slowly go to his feet putting his feet into a position where they were both facing towards The Legate, one behind the other. Alex’s hands going up as he took a breath and released the old chi, using that constantly would tire him out all too quickly. But he knew he would need to attack with his regular chi.

He closed his eyes and took another deep breath, his own chi now flowing through his body, he could last much longer on this one. He would feel like the world around him was slowing down. His feet dug into the mat for a moment before he would come right after The Legate moving quickly and without a lost movement as he came up and would try to lead with multiple punches going downwards in a rotating motion towards The Legate’s lower abdomen, trying to bait him in to block low, only to follow up with throwing an elbow right to the side of the right rib.

Taking in a deep breath all the way into his gut, The Legate relaxed his diaphragm so he didn’t suffocate from the shock of being kicked in the chest. He had just relaxed himself when Alex came rushing towards him, Legate was forced into a knee jerk reaction. Quite literally, he drove his foot hard against the mat and extended his right leg entirely backwards. Thrusting his left leg out, driving his knee entirely forward into the path of Alex. Intending to drive him back a few steps.

As well, he pulled his arms in tight and secured his guard fully, pulling his elbows to his sides and tucking his chin behind his fists. Whether or not Alex’s punches came was yet to be seen.

Alex was in a full immersion of his chi, causing everything to seem so slow. He would quickly hop to the side as multiple powerful kicks would come out trying to land on the right leg as long as he could keep away from The Legate’s left leg he should be okay. These kicks were all aimed at different points, one at the hip , one at the side of the knee and the third a powerful one at the ankle to try and make him stumble from being on one foot. Alex’s hands no longer moving but instead would have one above the other infront of his torso as if ready for any attack coming.

Anyone else would have been totally unaware, the speed of his movements had changed and only the mind enhancing drugs of the supersoldier kept his pace. The first kick came out and struck against his hip, his thigh and knee reflexively bent and he pulled himself backwards away from the next two blow. Pushing himself back with his free leg and hopping a few paces away. The hot stinging of where Alex had landed the first kick was a brutal warning that he should avoid being kicked again.

It seemed as though Alex was finally taking this seriously.

Alex would watch as the man jumped away from him, it was his turn to be on the offensive, he felt he was fast enough to actually catch this lumbering man off guard. Not letting The Legate have a moment to rest he would push his foot that was kicking back into the ground and using both legs jump forward. He would try to land inches away from the man as he launched two fists in two directions. His right fist would move upwards at The Legate’s chin, the other at The Legate’s hip. His arms would seem to cross in front of his body, which would show the technique to block his torso while still attacking with force.

Legate checked the chin blow with his elbow, catching the small bones of the hand with the thick hard bones of his arm. The sensitivity of the fingers and the numbness of the elbow made this a good trade, he wouldn’t lose any force behind his punches but Alex would have to retract some so he didn’t break his fingers from repeated stress. His left knee rose up to catch the next strike with another hard bone to make sure Alex lost both trades.

With both blows checked, Legate moved in with a hard right hook to the left side of Alex’s head. Aiming to rattle his brain and rock his world with a hard fisted blow to his brain. Normally he would aim for the chin, but Alex was no fool and he would block a knockout blow. Something like this would be unexpected, since it’s unlikely to knock a man out with a blow to the temple.

Alex would feel the pain of hitting the hard bones go through his hand and up his arm, thankfully he held back some power so his hands didn’t break against this large man’s hard bones. He would continue his attack though. Just have to be faster! He would think to himself suddenly before he watched for the punch coming towards him, a blow to the chin it had to be what he was going for. His arm was beginning to shoot up to block it, but seeing the attack differently as it got closer he would throw his fist at the cubital fossa. He was hoping to stop the damage before it was too much. He was slightly late though feeling the hit to the top of his head he would stagger to the side as he shot a glare at the man.

Jumping forward he wouldn’t want The Legate to have a moment to breath, with his jump he would throw a slight kick out at the man’s ankle on the leg he had been kicking at earlier, hoping to throw The Legate off balance.

The pressure of the blow pushed his arm back and away from the man’s head and a kick was lashed out towards his ankle, but this was the third time he’d tried to take out his ankle and the Legate was prepared. With a slight raise of his foot he stomped down hard on the foot that came towards his ankle, and using the force of the downwards movement and the momentum build up from his arm being pushed back he spun his hips.

Driving hard into the blow he bent his left arm in and aimed a sharp and lethal kind of elbow to the exposed right side of Alex’s head. If it connected fully with a normal man it would shatter the brow and split the skin apart like a knife through paper. Even knowing Alex was superhumanly strong, the Legate was a killing machine, he would tear him apart piece by piece if he had to.

That money blinded him, his reddened face tightened further and his lips sucked in the oxygen through his tube. Every pound of muscular fortitude went into this blow with his elbow, he was making it very clear that he would kill Alex if he didn’t fight back with everything in his power.

Alex would grunt and give a slight cry of pain as his ankle was trapped under The Legate. He saw the elbow coming at his face full force. This is a spar, what does he think he is doing?! would be the first thought through Alex’s mind. He would try to budge for a moment but he would realize it was pointless very quickly. He could channel his chi, but that wouldn’t be enough and he knew it. He would close his eyes and the old chi would enter and go through his entire body. His head would harden and become steel like with its density. If he carried through with the blow he might risk breaking his elbow.

Alex would know he had no choice here. This man wasn’t going to stop, and he was trying to kill him. Instinctively he would shoot a hand towards The Legate’s stomach, and then one to the chin in quick succession. Alex would have his Old Chi flowing through him, each punch would be quicker and even harder than the ones he had felt before and at this range; it could very well be lethal.

Legate felt the hard body beneath his elbow but carried through entirely, the sharp of his elbow cracking but not breaking entirely. The strike to his stomach pushed the wind from his breast and he gasped for air, shutting his eyes for a single moment. Catching him off guard in the moment of his closing eyes, the blow to the chin carried a massive amount of force and it he could feel the bones in his spine begin to decouple.

He needed to act now and drew himself up with the force of the punch, bringing back his right fist with every single pound of force humanly possible. More powerful than a punch from a drugged up gorilla, he was aiming to take the head off of Alex with a single uppercut and finish him now before any further injury could occur.

Alex’s eyes widened, He is really trying to kill me! was his thought. Hardening his arm he would swing his arm down to smash his now, metal like density, of an arm and hand into the wrist of The Legate. If that worked he would follow up with a quick punch to the chest to cause The Legate to stagger. If he did even slightly, Alex would begin to use his rolling punches into the chest of The Legate; each punch would have the old chi backing it, and would feel like steel hitting him in the chest , the punches would move up his chest until finally one full power punch would go straight for his face.

There were several thumping blows, punctuated by repeated cracks, followed by a massive crack and a pop. The Legate’s head spun entirely backwards from the final blow, his neck unable to resist the force of the punch.The crack was his jaw snapping, the pop was his spine bursting, no longer able to withstand the pressure. His face changed for a moment and he dropped to his knees, slumping over on his side and losing the oxygen tank from his back.

It clanged across the floor as it rolled and bounced, and stopped when the tube could extend no more from the Legate’s mouth.

The Legate was dead.

Alex knew there would be a lot of questions, but he had no doubt; he had gotten into a fight for his life. He had to do what he had to do. Anyone watching could have seen that and known that obviously he wasn’t wanting to kill The Legate. But he walked away as people called 911. The waiver would save him from any lawsuits and the cameras with the evidence that he had to defend himself in such way would save him from the police. If not that, his aunt would give him her lawyer, one of the best you could buy. Alex was displeased with the result, an end of a life that didn’t need to end.

Alex would be waiting in his dojo, the red mats were out and the crowd was gone. There was a decent group of about 10 people who were practicing their movements on wooden dummies that looked like large wooden boxing bags with pegs sticking out of them. Alex sat there observing his students, they were all going full speed with sounds of grunts and hands against wood echoing throughout the area. His eyes would keep watch over every student it seemed.

The place was still a cement building besides the red mats that had been placed down all over the place, so there was not much change to how it looked. There was a door to the backroom as well off to the far right of Alex. Indented into the wall would be what almost looked like a shrine, but wasn’t it was simply wooden stairs up to a chair, which was where Alex had been sitting when Nicky had entered into the tournament. He sat in the back close to the spot where his chair was but still in front of the steps he seemed completely at peace and calm with everything that was going on. To his left there was a janitor who was cleaning the cement floors with a pressure washer which was hopefully going to make the place smell better.

Nicky’s bare feet slapped down the hallway. She stopped momentarily right at the door and tapped her left foot, listening, then bent down and plucked a piece of glass from between the toes. She examined it for a second, then shrugged, tossed the offending debris over her shoulder, and kicked the door open. Entering the dojo, her nose crinkled at the stench of effort and sweat, and she glanced about until she spotted Alex across a pair of students.

“What’s shakin’, old man? Ready to teach me how to kick ass better, or are all these kids gonna have to make me prove myself or something?” She glared around her as she almost stampeded through the practising customers. There were several grumbles, but no one seemed ready to attack her, which she expected after the display she had made at the tournament.

“Or, even worse!” She cupped her hands in front of her mouth in mock horror. “Are you too injured from the druggie to stand up? Did he break a foot or something?”

Alex’s eyes would watch this little girl walk into his dojo, barefooted and with a loud mouth. It made him laugh almost. He wouldn’t even hesitate but to stand up from his sitting position. “No, I’m not hurt, thanks for your concern.” Crossing his arms as he looked around at the student before saying to them. “Take a 10 minute break. Come back and continue where you left off, remember, as hard and as fast as you can.” he would start stepping towards Nicky with a grin on his face, “You have seen way too many movies little girl. I am not going to test you, as I already have come to the conclusion that you can become the best Martial Artist this world has ever seen.” Chuckling at himself and shaking his head he thought about why he would ever give such praise to a girl who already had a hard time shutting her mouth.

”Who do you belong to Nicky? Who is in charge of you? I would like to talk with them.“ Alex would say this as he got a medicine ball out of a chest close by the medicine ball weighed about 15 pounds; but he would give it to Nicky anyway. “Hold this, and do this. he would show her that both of his hands were on opposite sides of the ball as he began to move his hands where one would guid that side of the ball to the top and the other would guid it to the bottom, his hands would then switch roles, where the one that went to the bottom would go to the top. After he showed her he would hold the ball out, if her hands went out to grab it he would simply drop it in her hands.

”Uh, first off, fuck you no one owns me, old man. But as to who’s in charge of me, that’s...up for debate? I mean, first it was the cops, then it was the lady at the halfway house, then that place got shot up and I was back with the cops, and now it’s the weird-ass pair of doctors who wanna try and figure out my ‘gift’ or whatever. You can talk with ‘em, I ain’t gonna stop you, but they’re kooky as fuck with all their feel good messages and shit.”

She glanced down at the ball being offered. ”What, you wanna play basketball or something? I don’t see any hoops, Mister Miyagi.”

“Just do what I showed you Nicky.” Alex would say in reference to the ball, it was odd he had really no care for her insults or her childlike behavior, but the way he was acting made it seem like he could care less. Walking over to the janitor he would whisper something into the man’s ear. The man nodded as he walked away and passed the red mats and into the back.

Alex would walk back over to Nicky and correct her form with his own hands, if she was actually doing the exercise. “Listen. I need you to tell whoever is supposed to take care of you, that you are going to china for a few weeks.” he would pause as he chuckled and looked at Nicky, “Oh yeah, surprise you are coming with me to china for a few weeks, I could train you here. But nothing against the talent and abnormal things here, but in China, there is a plethora of harder people to fight.” he would say it as it was almost a matter-of-fact. A grin across his face as he stood in front of her and waited for her response.

”Wait wait wait. First you tell me I have some hidden potential or some shit like out of a cartoon, and now you want to go to China? Like, Chinese China?” She took the ball and started doing the motions he had demonstrated. ”You want to take me, a fifteen year old girl, with you, an adult stranger, to China. You don’t think that’s...a little fucking weird, old man? Like, the cops are gonna think you’re a slaver or something.” Her eyes narrowed slightly and she stopped moving the ball. ”You’re not, like, a kiddie diddler, are you? Cause I could wreck your shit if you try some bullshit. Ain’t no rings in justice.”

“Listen Nicky, if that’s what you think, feel free to not come along. But that’s where I am going regardless if you join me or not. I am simply offering you to join, if you’d like we can invite one of your...” he would pause as he thought of the word before raising a finger in the air, “Over positive doctors.” He would say as he watched her roll the ball in her hands and nodded. “Quit going so fast, it needs to be a fluid motion. Don’t let your arms raise up and down, you are controlling the ball.” he would say a few of the trainees would start to talk about when they had to first do that but would shut up the second Alex looked at them. “Here’s the deal. You don’t think you are learning anything or you think I’m going to try something, feel free to yell and scream and walk away, I won’t go after you, but if you think for even one moment, that what you are learning will be useful, I would ask of you to stick with it until the end, and if you do. I promise you, very few people will be able to beat you.”

The teenager continued to scowl at the man for a beat more, then shrugged. ”Whatever. It’s not like you could do much to me anyway. And I am not the scream and runaway type. And I really don’t give a crap what the cops think of anything. You should probably talk to the docs, though. As annoying as they are, I don’t think they need to be worrying about me.”

The ball’s motion smoothed out, but quickly went to jerking motions again. ”So, in the interests of what you just said, oh Wise and Powerful Oz, what the fuck is the point of this thing?” Her tongue stuck out just a bit as she tried to keep her motions smooth, and it was obviously having no effect in tiring out her arms even slightly. If anything, she was moving it faster now that she was getting used to the motion, even if it was still sloppy. ”And how long do I have to keep doing this? This isn’t some wax on bullshit, is it? I’m not looking for some deep, philosophical knowledge in the surface of the ball, am I? Because I am not equipped do deal with hippy shit.”

“Yes, let me take care of the doctors. Okay? I will call them and take full responsibility, I am sure that they would be happy to have you out of their care.” He would walk back over to her and sigh, “Keep the ball in a fluid motion. No, this isn’t a wax on wax off thing. This is how you know what your opponent will do before you do it.” He would say this as he sighed with a grin as he watched her get sloppier than before.

He would walk up to her and take the ball and put his hands underneath her wrists and forearms, he would begin to do a circular motion which basically forced her arms to go with it. “Go ahead try and hit me with one of your arms.” he would say nodding, whatever arm she would try to use, his goal was that he would shoot his arm forward and flick her nose, blocking whatever arm was suppose to punch him by using his arm as well as showing that he could go on the offensive at the same time.

She paused for a moment. If she tried to hit him, he’d know she was going to punch because his hands were on his arms. And he was tricky, she remember that. Well, two can play at this game, she thought. Instead of using either arm to punch, she thrust the ball forward with both hands as hard as she could.

He would feel both of her arms tensing up he instantly shot both of his arms at her face. Those arms would push Nicky’s arms upwards which would in turn push the medicine ball to skid off the top of his head since he ducked just barely. His hands going towards her face would stop before flicking her nose with both of his hands. “Do you see what I mean?” he would say before standing up and taking a breath as he walked over and nudged the ball in her direction. “It’s not about speed, it’s about learning the movement, when you control your opponent’s movements, you have won the fight even if you are only 5 seconds into it.”

”This is like in that Art of War stuff, right? The coach made us read it, but I didn’t get through the first chapter before everything...went to shit.” She stopped the ball with her foot, then passed her foot around it twice, keeping one edge of the appendage on the surface of the ball at all times. She then slipped her toes underneath it and tried to flick it up, but sent it flying off into a wall instead.

”That thing’s pretty heavy, huh? Got a soccer ball in here somewhere? I am way better with my legs than I ever was with my hands. Maybe I should be kicking. I’ve seen some of those movies where dudes keep kicking the other guys legs to keep him from moving around. Looks pretty fuckin’ cool, and I bet I could do that easier than with punches and shit.”

Alex chuckled at the idea of it being from the ‘Art of War’. “Not quite from that but it has a similar message, you are right.” he would say as he watched her play with the ball. He would watch the ball fly into the wall. Alex still smiled at her, even at her incessant talking, berating, and language, he never faltered to give her a smile. “No, we don’t have a soccer ball here, we will get to kicks when we get there; for now this is to help you with two things..” He would walk over to the ball pick it up and walk back over to Nicky dropping it in front of her. “It works on, patience, and proper form. You could have seen every martial art movie in the world and know how each move works. But if you don’t have proper form; it will all fall apart..”

Alex would walk over to a stone pillar where he would stand in front of it that grin still plastered on his face as he looked at Nicky. “The patience, is one of the keys to your chi. There are many people who fight, but few who can fight with their whole being. If you don’t have patience, you will give up before you are done. You will give up before you can do this.” He would look back to the pillar and take a deep breath, throwing a single punch the entire cement pillar would crack from where his fist was, but the back of the pillar seemed to explode into shrapnel of cement flying against the wall while the front remained intact. “What I want to teach you will not be what I teach my ordinary students. I believe you can perfect your form and everything. As you see, the front remains only cracked. The back however, is shattered, we do not fight for real to look cool, or because we feel we want to fight; when we fight, we fight to protect ourselves and the ones we care about. When we fight for real...” Alex walked back over and knelt down to look at Nicky in the eye. “We fight to deal massive internal damage, because if I have to fight to protect myself or the ones I care about. I won’t hold back.”

Nicky stopped in her motions with the ball when the punch landed into the concrete. Her eyes went wide. ”Holy crap, dude! Oh! You should try that on me! I wanna see what happens!” She was almost hopping up and down in excitement, bouncing on the balls of her bare feet. ”I bet you I can take it! Some dude tried to stab me in the eye and it didn’t do anything!”

Alex chuckled and nodded, he figured that she wanted to see ‘cool’ things and of course, without fail she wanted him to try on her. “Sure. I’ll try it on you.” he’d still have that same grin on his face as he walked up to her. He took a breath as he got into a stance. His punch was fast, faster than when she had been fighting him in the tournament. If it hit, it would hit her in the solar plexus. Any normal person would have either been dead, winded, or on the ground from the pain.

Nicky felt the wind go out of her lungs, but without the spasms that would normally effect the diaphragm, she easily refilled them. Otherwise, except for having to take two steps back for balance, she felt completely fine. ”See? Told ya I’d be fine. So when do I get to crack concrete? Also, aren’t you gonna need to get that fixed?” She glanced past him at the still settling dust from his blow to the pillar.

Alex would look at Nicky who seemed to be just fine a chuckle came from him. “This is why I said you’ll become the best martial artist. But you have a lot to learn before you can.”
He would look back at the pillar his eyebrows raising before he shrugged. “It will get fixed, don’t worry. As for when you get to break concrete. That depends on how well you do in your training, and if we can get you to connect to your chi.” He would kneel down as he handed the ball back to her. “Like I said, first comes patience though. Without it, there’s no way you will survive this training before quitting, no matter how much your body can take. If your will and your mind are weak you are as well.”

The girl rolled her eyes with a groan, but, surprisingly, actually followed the instruction, ignoring the stares from the other students and focusing on trying to get her movements correct. Within a few minutes, however, she growled in impatience and looked back up at him. ”How long do I have to do this? It’s been hours already.”

Alex smiled at that, “It has only been a few minutes.” he’d say as he walked over to a chest and got out an hourglass. He would sit it down in front of her as the sands would begin to fall. “Go until the time here runs out, I will be still watching you. But I am going to call the people you placed as a contact on your registration form, get the process of you going to China ready. Oh… and don’t worry about a passport. That will be taken care of. Now focus on keeping the ball in the same location. Don’t let it move up or down!” He would almost sound like he was enjoying the fact that she was hating it. In fact, he was, he loved to hear the complaints of new students. It reminded him of when he had to do the exercise for 24 hours as a punishment by one of the monks when he stopped doing it only 10 minutes in.

”Ugh. Fiiiine.” She stopped for a second, fishing something out of her tanktop, and held out a card to Alex. ”Here. That should patch you directly to Crawford, he’s the psych guy. Say something like I seem to be doing really well with physical exercise or something, he’ll probably be fuckin’ overjoyed that I’m-” here she held out her hands and changed her voice to a mocking imitation, ”making progress in my adaptation and treatment of my issues.” She rolled her eyes again and went back to rolling the ball around.

Alex would take the card and nod to her, walking away with it in his hand as he pulled out a cellphone to call Doctor Crawford he would dial the number as he walked into the back room while Nicky worked on the ball.

---

(The next day)
Alex would park the car outside of a completely different airport than the one that is usually used, Nicky would hear him on the phone. “Yes, Aunty, it is important. I promise you I’m not just taking a trip to sight see, I have business there…….. Yes…...Yes… Don’t worry I will advertise your brand for you when I win a tournament. Yes I know that they are going to be a pain in the ass. I’ll take your pilot out to eat sometime in return, sound good?” he would nod to the phone, “Okay. Love you, bye. he’d roll his eyes as he looked to Nicky, “Ever been on a plane before? Or even better, a private one?”. he’d grin at her as he grabbed his suitcase from the trunk.

Nicky could barely contain her laughter during the phone call, pressing her hands over her mouth. She finally exploded as he hung up. ”Pfffft hahahahhaaaa! You call her ‘Auntie’? What are you, five? And no, I have never been on a plane before. We drove when we moved to Philly, before that fuckwad gave a buncha stupid morons superpowers.” She clambered out of the car and stared around. ”You must be loaded, huh? Flying around in private jets, wrecking your own place with punches an’ shit. What are you, some sorta billionaire? You just fight for kicks?”

Nicky would see it was a small airport and waiting for them was a plane already started with a man in front of the stairs.All around them was a forested area, the very runway looked decent, not as well kept as an international airport but it didn’t matter much it was still very smooth. “Yes of course I call her Aunty, that’s what she is afterall. Whether I’m 5 or 29, I need to respect the people who helped me get to where I am, even if that means swallowing my pride for the sake of what they enjoy hearing.”

As they reached the pilot, the pilot would bow and take his bags as he walked away and Alex started up the steps of the plane he began to speak. “I am not rich, I am well off, indeed. But my Aunt is the rich one. I simply have money from my job and the countless tournaments I win. She is the actual owner of all of this.” he’d throw his hands out towards the plane as he entered there would be leather seats and a leather sofa. A TV, a bar and a fridge in the back. It’s going to be a long flight.” Said the copilot as he looked back into the plane. “Get comfortable, it might take us awhile to get cleared to go off the ground.”

Nicky found a seat she deemed comfortable and flopped into it, kicking her feet up onto the one in front of her. She was wearing a buttoned white blouse over her grey tanktop, and a basic pair of jeans. For once, she was actually wearing shoes, although they were just basic black sneakers and looked fairly new. She stared out the window for a few moments, then looked over to Alex. ”So do you go to China often, old man? Speak the language and shit?”

Alex would sit across from her on the sofa as he grinned, “是的，我经常去中国。” he would nod to her after he got done speaking before saying, “That means, yes, I do go to China often. I know Chinese, Japanese, and of course English.” He seemed rather relaxed as they would be able to hear constant arguing from the cockpit, something about air clearance and needing to have proper identification outside of their plane number. Alex seemed to shrug it off before looking back to Nicky, “Are you hungry? Thirsty? We have food and drink here, and of course, you might also want to take a nap it might be a bit to get us off the ground, and then even longer to get to China.”

The teenager squinted at him for a moment. ”I’m surprised the docs at Happy Skippy Shithole didn’t tell you. I don’t eat, drink, or sleep. I mean, I can eat and drink, but it doesn’t taste like anything and it does nothin’ for me. And I can’t sleep. At all. Ever, apparently. I think I’m halfway through month four, now.” She stared out of the window for a few moments, muttering something to herself, then seemed to remember her manners and said, ”Thanks, though.” Her mood had shifted, suddenly. Where before she was cheerfully antagonistic, now she seemed to sink into herself, not reacting to any outside stimulus at all, just staring out of the window.

A hum of thought would come from Alex. “Interesting.” would be the word he chose as he listened to her before shrugging. He reached behind the bar grabbing some gum. He would grab a piece for himself and then throw the pack towards Nicky. “Well, if you can’t eat, drink or sleep. Let’s just keep your ears from popping from the altitude adjustment, also this gum is trash anyway, so it’s only really good for chewing to keep your mind off of things. So go ahead, take a piece.” Alex would point to the packet of gum next to Nicky, if she looked at him, she would see that same grin on his face, except this time it was way more warming and kind, despite everything she had called him he didn’t seem to care at all. Was it empathy? Maybe, Alex felt it was best at the time for him to just give her a smile. “And fuck those doctors by the way, you are going to get very far away from them, at any moment.” They would hear the pilot yelling getting louder now as the plane engines seemed to start to rev while they started to move.

She reached out and grabbed the gum, popping it in her mouth and chewing thoughtfully for a moment before making a face. ”What, do rich people not know what good gum is? Jesus.” Despite her protest, she kept chewing, huffing out a sigh around the piece. ”Nah, I mean, they’re annoying, but they seem alright. They’re good people, just...not what I need. The other people in that support group seem to be doing good with ‘em, so I guess it’s fine.” She sat quietly for a bit, flexing her hands from clenched fists into flat open palms, then back again. She knew she should feel the strain, as she flexed her fingers as far open as they would go, but like always, there was nothing.

”I dunno, man. They said it’s a super power, but I don’t feel super. I feel like I’ve been cursed. I can’t feel anything any more. No pain, but no tickling sensations. Can’t feel the breeze. I used to love running, it’s why I got into soccer. But all the great feelings in my legs, feeling the wind in my hair, the exhaustion after a long game? All of that’s gone, and it fucking sucks. Add on no taste, and this weird thing where I can’t tell how long something’s going on, and it feels like I’m being punished or something.” She again stared out the window, chewing like she was trying to kill the piece of rubbery sugar in her mouth.

”Anyway, how come you go to China all the time? Just for fights and shit?”

He would listen to her his hands on his chin as he nodded to show he was following along. “Well, I don’t stock this plane, so I couldn’t tell you why they choose the gum that they choose.” He would continue to listen to her before speaking again with a soft and yet firm tone. “Yes, I imagine that it doesn’t feel like something that is a good thing for you.I understand that your doctors are good people, but maybe their techniques are just wrong.” he would simply shrug at that. “Have they ever tried to just sit and listen to you? I can understand the want to feel something, if I couldn’t feel I’m not sure how i’d react. But you see the thing we are going to find out for you, is if it’s just physical. Because chi…” he would pause and point at his heart. “As corny as it sounds, it comes from your spirit, from within… This does all explain why you were complaining about the ball rotation exercise so much as well.” Alex would rub at his chin in thought for a moment.

“Well regardless of all of that, you obviously can still feel emotions. So we are going to have fun while in China. I do not always go there to fight, sometimes to do archaeological digs, sometimes to study. Other times to train and fight. But there is plenty to do there. But I need you to promise me one thing, if I am going to train you.” his voice would get serious almost stern as they would feel the plane beginning to leave the ground and hear the pilots yelling, “Finally!” “I will teach you how to fight, I have 10 different martial arts at my disposal, I will teach you all of them. But you do not ever fight for real unless people are at risk, or you are. But I don’t think you will have much of a problem with the latter. I have gotten into plenty of bar fights, broken noses, broken arms, all of that. But I would never unleash myself upon someone who is not threatening mine, or someone else’s life; because, it is when we unleash ourselves, that we will kill. The last thing you want, is to have the thought of you accidentally punching someone because you got angry and you end up killing an innocent. That is why I also must ask you to refrain from fighting anyone that is not me until you have mastered complete control of your chi.”

Nicky had glanced over at him as he said the word ‘promise’, and had had all intentions of at least listening. But then the plane shook, and the engines whined up to speed, and suddenly she was back in the apartment, people shouting outside, the green glow everywhere. But she hadn’t been in the apartment when it happened! She ran up the hall, shouting for her sister, her father, anyone she could find. Turning, she found herself in the kitchen, and there they all were, sitting at the table, stiff and awkward. And then she realised they were already dead. As one, they turned towards her, staring accusingly at her. “Why didn’t you save us, Nicole?” All of their voices echoed and reverberated in her skull, endlessly repeating, with a high pitch screaming tone behind it, except it was her screaming. The explosion ripped through the apartment, flinging her through the air alongside the pieces of her family. She landed with a thud, and the rubble and faces piled into her, with a maniacal laughter from someone else and she was back in the plane, curled into a ball, screaming endlessly and kicking at the back of the seat legs from her position on the floor.

Alex shot to the ground after her watching her fall and scream, he wouldn’t be sure if it was the healthiest thing to hold her, but in a plane it was better than her accidentally breaking something that might cause a problem. He would try to wrap his arms around her, he wouldn’t seem to care if she started to hit him he would hold his ground. “Nicky, Nicky, listen to me. You are here in the plane. You are with me, I am not going to hurt you, I am not going to do anything. Feel the ground if you can, feel the texture, fuck the temperature, just feel the texture, you are here in the plane; on the way to China.” he would say, he was trying to use grounding techniques he had learned from a book once, he recognized what was having as a sort of PTSD flashback. He had one goal, get her back to the present and away from wherever her mind went.

At first, with arms around her, she kicked and bit, but as the voice caught in her ears, she settled. It took almost twenty minutes for her breathing to steady, during which time she could only sob and curse sporadically. Finally, she slapped at his arms and dug her elbow into his ribs, growling out, ”I’m fine, I’m back, fucking let me go!” After securing her freedom, without a word, she fled into the onboard lavatory, unsteady on her feet both from her flashback and the motion of the plane. The door slammed behind her and locked with a loud click. Shortly thereafter, Alex would be able to hear water running.

He would grunt at the pain from being elbowed and slapped but would hold tight until she was finally back to herself. Alex would easily let her go, he wasn’t about to force her to do anything that she wasn’t wanting at that point. Her running into the bathroom, he figured it was just her way of trying to escape. He would simply sit back onto the couch and pull out a cigarette. Lighting it he would take a deep inhale and look at the ceiling of the plane. Thinking about what he had gotten himself into this time.

Nicole leaned over the sink and dry heaved, hacking and coughing even though she had no stomach contents. Her brain was trying to get something out that wasn’t there, panic still gripping her mind. She steadied herself slowly, breathing in deep and shakily through her nose and holding it for as long as she could. When she realised she could just hold it forever, she let it out as slowly as she could, then did the next breath for a thirty count. After her body stopped shaking, she finally looked herself in the mirror. Her eyes weren’t red like they should be, but her face was tear-streaked and her skin sagged slightly, and her eyes were still wide and alert. She was thankful there was a bright light in the room. She wasn’t sure at all she would deal well with shadows for a while. Still, after she got used to it and her world stopped spinning, the rocking of the plane was almost soothing, in a way. She knew it had been that initial jerk of motion that had thrown her, and made a note to avoid or prepare for that in the future.

Finally feeling some semblance of her usual self, she washed her face in the still running water, swished some in her mouth out of habit, then shut the faucet off and left the bathroom. She resumed her seat, but staunchly refused to look Alex in the eye. Instead, she folded her arms tight against her stomach and stared out of the window at the passing countryside.

Alex would continue to smoke the cigarette as Nicky came out of the bathroom, not looking at him. His eyebrows raising at her while she turned to look at the countryside, he would’ve let a chuckle out but he decided it was not the best choice. He would stand up and start to head to the bathroom, but without a word he would drop something in the seat next to Nicky. It would be a ball that would squish easily, it had multiple grooves on it. It looked like it was slightly old, but it was still in good condition. He’d simply walk into the bathroom and let her do whatever she wanted with that.

She waited until after he had gone into the bathroom before even looking at what he had dropped. She recognised the general purpose of the item, having seen many in the facility and at the police station. Snarling, she snatched it up, twisted in her seat, and hurled it after him uselessly. ”I don’t need your fucking stress ball, you condescending fuckface!” she screamed at him, then twisted back to normal posture and began drumming her feet against the back of the seat in irritation.

He would simply continue to walk, the ball would bounce off the wall and would seem to bounce back towards her slightly before it would fall flat on the floor. It felt like a stress ball but when thrown it obviously seemed to harden slightly. He would be in the bathroom for a bit before coming out his hands wet. “Did you know that everyone can use chi?” he would say this as if he had not even heard what she said to him. He picked up the ball as he balanced it in his hand. “Technically we all use it every day, but if you aren’t trained to use it then you are stuck at your set base:we all have a set base that we use, when we get emotional; when we train, work out, all of that. This ball isn’t for your stress, it is for your training. This ball reacts to Chi, if you can fill it with chi when you throw it, it will become harder until it is bouncing around. Or, if you are really good at it, it will become as hard as a rock. Now all you have to do is focus on the ball, focus your energy, imagine yourself pushing a mist onto the ball when you throw it.” he’d say this without his voice changing from earlier but there was a grin on his face, almost as if he knew something he wasn’t telling her but he was going to let her try and figure it out.

”Okay, hold on old man.” The teen’s head snapped around to stare at him. ”You said the movies were a buncha bullshit and whatever, but now you’re talking about magic? Like? First I’m the chosen one and now there’s chi? I know I signed on to train, and I will, but that is….Sure, you can punch that pillar. It exploded, I saw it. But that’s just physics, right? There’s no fuckin’ actual, real life Chinese magic.” Despite herself, she looked back along the aisle to where the ball had landed, staring at it for a few beats before looking back at Alex. Almost all of the fear and anger was gone from her face, now. In its place, there was a hint of what she might have been: Childlike wonderment and hope, but tempered with a healthy skepticism from having to grow up too fast.

Alex grinned taking another inhale of his cigarette. “There is no magic in what I do. Chi comes from the soul, it comes from within you. Magic would be only a select few people could use it. Chi, anyone can.” He would give her a grin as he walked over and grabbed the ball. He would throw it at the back of the plane. Unlike hers she would see it bounced off the back and went and bounced on the ceiling and back to the ground and would start to bounce almost as if it was actually a bouncy ball. Alex would walk over to it pick it up and squeeze it to show Nicky that it indeed was squishy. “Your chi, is literally your will, your soul, everything in you. Channeling into action. When it is balanced, you can do amazing things… like punching through cement. It wasn’t just my form that I did that. It was my chi that allowed me to do that. I never said you were the chosen one by the way Nicky, that is up for you to decide. Because if you don’t put in the effort, then you will not change.” he put the last part in there with an almost as-matter-of-fact, type of voice that seemed slightly harsh, but was obviously nurturing at the same time.

She waved her hand dismissively at him. ”You said the ‘Best martial artist in the world’ or something. Sounds like chosen one bullshit to me, old man. But,” she leaned forward, ”If China is as interesting and challenging as you say, Miyagi, I’ll work harder than you’ve ever seen. Cause I don’t gotta sleep, I can only spend more time training, right?”

Alex would nod at that and hand her the ball as he sat down at the couch to sleep as they were already well on their way.

---

They would land in Beijing capital international airport. It seemed Alex was prepared with everything, even with somehow having gotten Nicky a passport. Everything seemed to run smoothly as they got through security without a hitch. Nicky would be able to walk past all of the stores in the airport as they walked past it. Alex would seem to have a one track mind, get to the planned area as fast as he could. He would call a cab and Nicky would be able to see the absolute shock on the cab driver’s face as Alex spoke to him in fluent and unfaltering Mandarin. The cab driver would begin to drive, eventually out of the city, and towards the mountains.

Nicole was fascinated by her surroundings as they left the airport. The main highway out was lined in thick foliage, that gave way suddenly to the urban sprawl as they entered the city. She pressed her nose to the window as, on the left, she could see the downtown capital of another country. Depressingly, it looked quite a bit like any other city she had seen, but she supposed that was because she had grown up in two of the greatest cities in the world. Still, she hadn’t seen the glitz in a while, and she loved it. Soon enough, though, they started the steady climb up into the mountains. The glass fogged up, and her view faded into darkness as night descended. They had chased daylight almost the whole way, but they seemed to drive forever. Finally, she gave up trying to secretly see a panda and looked at Alex again. ”So, old man, am I gonna be learning the language while I am here, or am I forever gonna be thinking people are insulting me?”

Alex would seem to not move when he was sitting in the cab, he would talk for a moment here or there with the cab driver in chinese but never anything too long. His eyes would continue to look outside as if he was remembering something, or remembering someone. His eyes shot to the girl as she spoke. “Well Nicky, if you want to learn the language I sure can teach you. But you are going to have to study hard, it is not an easy language to learn at all. And you are going to have to practice your martial arts. Even with staying up 24 hours a day. Do you think you can handle all that work and balance it? “ he would ask his head tilting slightly as he spoke, his brown hair just barely getting in the way of his eyes.

”Can’t know until I try, right? I’ve never tried to learn another language. But I bet I can practise words while working on my form at the same time. Make it harder, and I dunno, ingrain the words into my muscle movement or something?” She shrugged, then looked at the driver. ”Hey, would you say your language is any harder than English?”

The driver seemed to look back with a confused look as he turned to Alex. Alex spoke to him in Chinese as a short exchange between the two would happen in the language as Alex turned to Nicky and said, “He says he’s never had to learn English, so he wouldn’t know.. Now as far as you doing them while you are practising, that could work. But it also might completely distract you from your form.” As he would speak they’d see a massive temple come into view while they rounded the top of a hill as Alex nodded with a grin on his face. “We are here.”

”Holy shit, old man. I didn’t know this was gonna be like the actual fuckin’ movies.” She climbed out of the vehicle and stared up the mountainside at the ancient stones. ”These places are actually fucking real?”

They would step out of the car and Alex would grab his bag. As they looked up they would see stone stairs with what looked like they went up into the heavens. Those were off to the right, but in front of them was probably about 100 steps of stairs as Alex would nod. “Welcome to your home for the next few days, and no. It’s not quite like the movies.. But it’s close. “ he would give her a wink as they looked up at the massive temple, it was red with the traditional roof that hung bright gold banners with what looked like golden pillars. The cement all the way up to it was covered in cracks that had bits of moss coming out of it, and the doors were two massive dark brown wooden doors. Next to the doors was a massive gong with a picture of a monk on it meditating. Around the front they would see multiple different monks training and sparring with each other. If Nicky could see, out on the right hand side, she would see these monks punching a massive boulder. One of them obviously an instructor would punch it and the entire boulder crumbled in one hit.

Nicky stared around her in wonderment. It had taken all night to get here, but now she realised that this was a completely foreign land. Nothing like this would’ve ever existed in Philly or New York. She had never seen mountains like this, nor buildings so old. She watched the monks training for a moment, and showed the first sign of trepidation she had had in a very long time, stepping back slightly to stand just behind and to the side of Alex. ”So, am I gonna have to, like, sweep the yard or clean the toilets or something? And how the f-” She actually choked back the curse, the atmosphere of the place getting to her. ”How am I gonna know what they’re telling me? And aren’t you supposed to spend, like, ten years at one of these places to learn all the cool stuff?” She stopped babbling finally and clamped her mouth shut as one monk threw another what looked like ten meters, only for the thrown man to land lightly on his feet and laugh.

Alex would smile at Nicky and pat her on the head if she allowed him to., “Normally, yes it would take you years to learn. But the great thing is you don’t have to sleep, and you don’t have to take breaks for your body to recover.” He would say as he waved to a monk who bowed to him. “You shouldn’t worry about what you are going to have to do. I will be the one personally training you, if one of the other masters do, they know english well enough to tell you what you are doing wrong or not. Also, no. You won’t be scrubbing toilets or mopping floors. You really are influenced by TV aren’t you? We don’t have time to make you do that when you are needing training.” He would walk up to the doors as he opened them they would see hundreds of people all meditating, or practicing on a wooden man. Each monk’s movements were smooth and quick, if Nicky looked around she would see that there were still monks sparring in here, some with swords, some with poles, some with Kendo Sticks. A man would be front and center he looked ancient almost with his long beard as he was walking around and speaking in chinese to everyone and correcting their form and such. Alex would bow to him and say something in Chinese to the man, the title he gave him would sound like see-fu.

The teen stayed unusually quiet. If she had thought the atmosphere outside was impressive, in here she could almost feel centuries of warriors pressing down on her with their attention. It gave her the creeps, but also a sense of...Was it unease? Impression? She couldn’t tell, really. But the clacking of wood and thudding of fist to flesh kept her grounded here. She vaguely remembered something about politeness and began taking off her shoes awkwardly, before noticing other were wearing slippers inside, and sheepishly stood back up to watch Alex talking to this See Foo man, who she gathered was the grandmaster or general or whatever these guys called the one in charge.

Alex and the man would talk constantly back and forth before the man would simply hug Alex and then kiss his cheek. “And so then this is the little girl?” The older man would say in an almost normal english accent. The only difference was that he still had a lingering sound of a chinese man behind his syllables as if they were foreign to him. “I see, well welcome to the temple. Please, make yourself at home. Just try not to upset anyone. If what Alexander says is true you won’t get hurt. But better to not have to crawl back up a mountain from getting tossed. Though I’m sure Alexander will keep you plenty busy.” he would stop his attention drawn to the clanking of swords as he shook his head, “I have to take care of some students. Please excuse me.” He would bow to the two and walk off.

Alex would motion for her to follow him down a stone corridor, she would see hundreds of doors all over the place and Alex would eventually come up to one at the very end of the long hall. Opening it she would see she had her own stove oven, a mattress, a small dresser fan, heater, and a small window that let her see over the cliff and see the jungle of China. Alex opened his hand towards it as if to motion for her to go ahead and go in.

She peeked around the room cautiously, then nodded. ”Okay, so this is way too much space for me. I don’t even have spare clothes, man. I guess I can leave my shoes in here or something. What’s below the window?” Not bothering to wait for an answer she moved over to it, pushing her head out so she could see down the side. After a moment she pulled back in and grinned at her teacher. ”Betcha I could jump out of this pretty easy. I’ve never fallen that far before, looks like fun.”

She pulled her shoes and socks off, setting them in the corner, then bouncing on the balls of her feet as if she was stretching them. After a moment she caught herself and stopped. Even after four months, exercise habits were proving difficult to break. She guess it was probably fine, but at the same time, it did nothing for her and just wasted time. She clapped her hands to shake herself out of the spiral she could feel coming on and forced a cheery face. ”Alright, Mister Miyagi, what are we waxing first?”

Alex would smile at her eagerness he motioned for her to follow him. As they walked down a few more halls and down some stairs they would find themselves in a small room with massive stone lions around it. “This… is where you will find your burst… this is where you will learn to let your Chi go… these walls have withstood thousands, if not millions of years of chi and damage. And you… are going to be their next victim.” he would say with a grin. “In here you are free to go wild, for as long as you want. In here, you will release your chi. Once you realize how to let it come out of you, you can start to learn how to harness it and control it inside and outside of your body. How has the progress with the ball been?”

Nicky fumbled the little ball out of her pocket, held it up and stared at it. ”I might have gotten it slightly less squishy? I could’ve been imagining that, too.” She held it between her two palms, finger interlaced above it, and positioned in next to her solar plexus. Her face screwed up with effort, and like when she had been concentrating on her movements with the medicine ball, her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth. Slowly, inexorably, her hands began to press inwards, until she noticed it and relaxed them. This process repeated a few times before she looked up at him. ”Yeah, I don’t get it, old man. You said imagine pushing a mist into it, but you can’t push mist, right? Your hand just passes through it.”

“You must let your energy flow into it. You must stop focusing on the ball, focus on your mind, your spirit. We use chi daily, find that chi and push it. Mist can be pushed, but not by our hands. It is pushed by the wind, just how you must let your body naturally push your chi into that ball.”

Nicky rolled her eyes, but bent to to the task, thinking to herself that this was going to be a long couple of days.

---

Time: Early Morning - Day Before Satellite Attack
Location: Paris, France

Slouching against the door, The Ambassador sighed painfully. Vienna came bustling to her side, bushy hair stout figure full of concern. She helped Odette to her bedroom for privacy.

“Oh My Lady, what happened?” The household fae asked in Common Fey.

Odette squeezed her eyes shut, stripping from her shirt, “I was shot, remove any scars. I do not want to see a trace of this wound left on my body.” She replied in Common Fey.

“Of course, My Lady. As always.”

Bach came in behind them, patting her hand. “I hate to remind you but you have that meeting to attend.”

Odette suffered through a glare.

“The one with the mercenary you set up with Jacque.” He reminded, gently.

“I recall just fine, Bach.”

“So…?”

As Vienna lowered Odette down into bed, concealing her eye roll behind her hair.

Odette’s expression deepened. “I am exhausted.”

“Would you really be willing to let a contact slip away because of poor manners?” He sat at the edge of her bed, casting a judgemental look inclining his leafy head.

Odette groaned pushing the heel of her hand against her forehead in frustration. “Fine. When my shoulder is tended to I will see to the mercenary. There is no need to incite guilt.” She said, giving him a serious side eye.

Bach nodded walking away, Odette relaxed while Vienna applied various remedies to remove toxins of the blessed silver, speed healing, soften skin from scars. While Vienna massaged she asked quietly, “Beg your pardon My Lady, you seem to have a knot in your shoulders.”

“It has not left for days.” Odette agreed. “We have been very busy.”

Vienna smiled knowingly, “Tell me about it, My Lady. Perhaps talking will help work the knot out.”

Odette casted her thoughts back to only days ago. “The Heist on Barron’s warehouse went well enough I believe.”

“Oh yes, yes. You worked with that silent man.”

“Silence, Vienna. He is not actually silent.” Odette corrected her. “We were successful in gaining the ingredients for the cure-all potion. Barron had a variety of things stored in his warehouse I would have quite liked to peruse through. Unfortunately vampires and metahumans patrolled, one took a sip from my arm.” She explained and Vienna’s expression soured rightly. “He is a pile of ashes now.”

“Very good, My Lady.” Vienna massaged her shoulder, working the magic into her skin. “Undead, such a menace.”

“Mm. While they bit me, they shot Silence. I was able to remove the bullet for him, during the heist he was…” She searched for an appropriate word to describe Lekh, “Reliable, made of steel. Once I deliver on this potion I imagine he will be quite the versatile ally in the future.”

“That almost sounds like admiration, My Lady. It’s not often at all you’ll describe someone as such.” Vienna commented.

“True, it is rare.” She replied not volunteering anything else. She switched to Mandate. “Mandate was harassed by a golemancer and a mimic. Poor thing, she was rather upset. I did not expect to bond with her as I have.” She said smiling. “She has grown incredibly attached to me but I am quite fond of her as well, genuinely. I can hardly imagine her not at my side for future work.”

“She is quite the peculiar construct, it gives me peace of mind you now have a dedicated shield.” Vienna said pressing her thumbs deep into her shoulder blades, Odette grunted.

“Oui. I will be leaving her here while I go back to America but not without giving her something to do. I would like to see her kept busy with a independent project either here in Paris or elsewhere. I believe it will be a good learning experience for her as well.” Odette said rolling to her side then to her belly while Vienna worked.

“I trust Mara will continue to accompany her.” Vienna asked tentatively, uncomfortable with the thought of Mandate having unsupervised independence.

“Oui.”

“What of these Hounds of Humanity? They have been on the news, whispers all over Paris of your exploits against them. Refugees praising the bold Ambassador of the Fair Folk, you made quite the impression to American spirits.” Vienna said proudly.

Odette grinned smugly, “I am an opportunist, Vienna. Sadly it came on the back of destruction but as the seasons turn so does the cycle of endings lead to beginnings.”

“As to be expected of My Lady.”

“We managed to square away dealing with the White Witch and Puck.” Odette continued, a knot reforming even under Vienna’s hands. “Met the Witch-Mother herself, Hekate. She was in league with Barron, Five… no I suppose Four Witch families call Las Vegas their home as I found out. Fortunately, I was able to talk myself out of trouble with Hekate who unknowingly gifted me Gwyneth’s Sight.”

Vienna stopped, “Truly, My Lady?”

She nodded.

“A stroke of luck or fate. I am unsure which still. I was able to contact the true spirit of White Witch’s reincarnation. Brokered a deal of mutual peace in exchange to help her come back to power and control over her body making for a potentially new powerful ally. I originally assumed Gwyneth was whom my prophecy predicted to herald my end but I was unfortunately incorrect.” She said notably bitter about her mistake. “Puck ‘gifted’ me a new version of the same prophecy. Some nonsense with reference to the Garden of Eden.” She chewed at the inside of her cheek, a few moments stewing on the very idea. “As if any of my close allies could remove me from power. Puck does not understand the lengths I go to erect safeguards.”

“Of course, My Lady. Puck is not all-knowing.” Vienna said with some doubt. She hoped Odette’s flagrant dismissal of Puck’s prophecy was only temporary, natural denial. The household fey was sure Bach would convince her otherwise to take it seriously, as she should.

Comfortable silence filled the space Vienna massaged the knot away. “It sounds far more complicated than we originally thought hmm?”

“Mm.” She agreed. “The White Witch has surrounded herself with werewolves, a vampire, and general incompetence. The metahumans do not understand who they have attached themselves to. They have a strange set of abilities to absorb skills upon first impressions. One of them gained the ability to see Fair Folk immediately and understand Common Fey as a language, they were attempting to hide it but did so poorly. If I have any influence over Gwyneth’s return it will be to isolate her from those who would only weigh her down.”

“Gwyneth has a healthy distrust of mortals and humans. I am... unsure how this will turn out. There are far too many variables to account for. With Freya Dover’s sight I cannot send in fey to watch them as I would normally. I may have to resort to scrying.” She mulled it over.

“If you were dealing with the witch and her group how did you get shot?”

“Oh, the Hounds of Humanity brought blessed silver ammunition with them.” She said with a wave of her hand, “A slight miscalculation.”

Vienna shook her head slightly, disapproving.

“It was successful, we escaped and they owe me for that. Whether they feel they do or don’t.” She said rolling her shoulders feeling all pain and tension melt away. “That feels much better Vienna. Good work.” She sat up then making her way to her closet to decide on a new outfit. “I gained precious resources from my trip to Las Vegas. I hope I can maintain this momentum with this mercenary, we have a few things in common I hear.”

Holding up a dress and belt combo to observe in the mirror she hummed with indecision. Then plucked a pair of grey felt heels free to compare - deciding then. She quickly changed into a pale pink and grey dress with a gold studded belt, gold studs were on the wrists and along the collar, paired with the grey heels. Smoothing it down, she twisted at the hip in the mirror noticing blood splatter in her hair. Rolling the strands in her finger tips, she looked down at her fingers with mild disgust. Shaking her hair out then adjusting it. Exiting the closet Vienna complimented her spritzing some perfume.

“Bach, we are leaving to meet with Forge as a final piece of business for today.” She called out, before exiting to the gardens Odette addressed Mandate. “Think on where you would like to spend some time Mandate, whether that is here in Paris or another city. I won’t be gone long.”

Odette made a new portal, heading to Los Angeles.

Darya was uncomfortable. No, it was more than that, her throat hurt. It was raw and dry, so she coughed, but almost immediately, there was a sudden pressure on her neck, squeezing the airway tight and cutting off precious oxygen from her lungs. Her eyes snapped open to see the snarling face of a woman with her hands wrapped tight around the girl's neck.

"This is what you get for killing the Captain, you mutie bitch," the woman growled, low enough to not be heard. Darya could only gurgle in response. "After I put you down, I'm going after that fucking archer, and then all your other disgusting freak friends!" To punctuate that statement, the woman spat in her face.

With what little time she had, Darya's brain kicked into overdrive. She swiftly realised she must be in the hospital, because this wasn't her bed or her room at the hotel. The woman above her, wearing a black bodysuit and her blonde hair tied back or cut short, she didn't know which, had to be one of the terrorists. Which meant the police officer outside her room that would have been assigned to her as a guard due to her status as a temporary government official was either dead, disabled, or in league with the Hounds. So no help was coming. And she couldn't possibly use her power in a hospital to enough effect to save her life without killing or putting at risk dozens of civilians, if she could even use it at all right now. Which meant she had to fight.

Her hands came up swiftly, monitoring probes and an IV ripping out as she did it. Instead of going for the hands around her neck, she went directly for the eyes, slapping her palms against the woman's face. She got too close, it's too personal, she thought. But I can't go easy on her. She dug her thumbs into the woman's eyes, eliciting a scream and an immediate relief on her her throat as the assassin tried to remove Darya's grip on her face. The hero sat up as the woman leaned back, but her legs were still pinned. Two quick jabs lashed out into the woman's throat, and then another hard swing into her sternum caused the blonde to buckle around the middle, gasping for breath. Darya took her by the shoulders and bodily shoved her off of the bed, surprised to note that she did so almost too easily.

Coming off the bed onto the same side, she landed her feet as hard as she could on the woman's stomach, but before the could get down and render her unconscious, another two figures stepped into the room. Both had silenced pistols. Behind them, she could see the blood splatter on the wall from her guard. Anger clouded her mind alongside fear of the gun, and she rushed the two new opponents. Her training had never covered what to do about two gunmen, but she was well taught enough to improvise. Their surprise cost them the initiative, and she got underneath one's raised gun, grabbed the weapon, and used her momentum to haul it back the wrong direction, snapping his trigger finger in two. She moved past, in between the two of them, as the other swung his pistol to try and track her, keeping it low and to his side. Darya spun past her first target onto the opposite side, keeping her hold on his gun.

The man whose gun she held drew a knife with his free hand, as she would not let his hand leave the gun. She ignored it for a moment, speeding up in her move around him and then dropped off of her feet, using him as a lever to swing both her legs up in a double kick to his partner's gun arm. The pistol swung up towards the ceiling as it went off, and all three crashed to the ground. With her trapped enemy face down, she continued her grip, wrapping one arm along the backside of his elbow, and rolled across his back, dislocating the shoulder. He wheezed and lay still as she rolled off of him into a crouch. The other was scrambling for either of the dropped guns. Darya launched herself into a flying tackle, taking him back to the ground and sitting on his chest. There, she grabbed the sides of his head by the ears and slammed the back of his skull twice in quick succession on the tiles of the room. The second hit had a sickening crackle sound to it, so she halted, staring.

A slowly expanding puddle of blood rolled out from the man's head, and she got up in horror, turning to the other two. Another pool of blood was oozing out of the second gun man, who was feebly struggling, now on his back, to extract his own knife from his sternum, where he had fallen on it. The woman's face was turning steadily darker shades of of purple, and her throat was a mess. Aghast at the damage she had wrought, Darya hurried out of the room, only to find even more horror outside.

Three bodies lay dead outside of her room. One was Faulkner, a bullet through his throat. A police officer and nurse lay next to him, a large throwing knife in the officers temple and two bullet holes in the nurses heart. She ran past them, barefoot and hospital gown flapping, to the nurses station, which was also full of corpses. The assassins clearly hadn't bothered with subtlety. At least twelve dead now, three at her hands, and she didn't have the heart to check in the other patient's rooms. She raced around the desk and snatched up a phone, swiftly punching in the emergency code. Dispatch was delayed picking up.

"Nine one one, what's your emergency?"

"I am at the hospital, there are many dead people!"

"Ma'am, I need you to slow down. Are you safe?"

"Yes, I think so." She glanced around the area, crouching as the man on the line reminded her that there could be more.

"Okay, I need you to tell me which hospital and which floor."

"I'm sorry, I don't know. I just woke up."

"Okay, tell me what's happening since you woke up."

"I woke up to a woman trying to strangle me. I fought her off and the two men with guns, and....oh Allah, I think I killed all of them."

"You killed all three assailants?"

"If they are not dead or dying, they will not be attacking any more, no." Now that her panic was settling down, Darya wondered at the strange echo she was getting from the dispatch operator. It was subtle, but there.

"Okay, ma'am, I need you to tell me how many people are still alive? Are there any other victims nearby?"

"No. There is a dead FBI agent and a police officer down. It seems they killed all of the staff. I haven't checked on the patients."

There was a slight pause before the response. "Ma'am, I need you to stay right where you are. Help is on the way. Just stay down and wait for someone to come find you, okay?"

Darya startled in horror as two things clicked in her mind. The first was that help couldn't be arranged that fast without a location. She had not given them any indication as to where she was except the hospital. It would take what, twenty minutes for them to check for a non-responsive officer. The second was that she had not dialled the outside connection first, so she was not actually talking to the dispatch, she was talking to someone inside the building.

"You bastards," she whispered, before realising she shouldn't have given up that she had caught onto their plan.

"Shit!" came the response, and the phone clicked with the hang up. And now Darya was alone, on a hospital floor that more resembled a slaughter house, with blood on her hands as well as all over the floor, with enemies of unknown number coming for her. And no way to call for-

She snapped her head around to the whiteboard behind the nursing station. "Trauma Recovery Ward – LHGH" it read across the top. After slight pause for new horror to notice that her own civilian name was on that board, she vaulted over the counter and raced back to the deceased policeman. With a grimace, she reached down to his shoulder and clicked the radio transmitter on. "Dispatch?" she asked quietly.

She was rewarded with a different voice, female and sounding over-worked and exhausted. "This is dispatch, who is this?"

"Oh thank the Prophet. I am at Lost Haven General Hospital. There are multiple dead, including this officer. Hounds have infiltrated security and are on their way to kill me. I don't know how many civilians are still in the building."

"Holy shit!" The radio crackled, and was not addressing her when she heard, "All units, I repeat, all units, this is Dispatch issuing a 10-34. All available units report to LHGH, we have an active emergency, multiple HoH on site with unknown civilian casualties. Code Two, I repeat, Code Two."

The radio crackled again, then addressed Darya, "I don't know who you are, but it'd be real nice if we could get numbers on those HoH. Don't put yourself in danger though. If you have to get out, do it. Over."

"I'm afraid my first priority has to be the civilians, dispatch. But I think they're after me, to be honest." She glanced up, thinking she had heard something moving.

"Oh hell, are you a metahuman? That's right, one got transferred. You the water one?"

"Tiamat, yes, that is me."

"Alright, Tiamat. You've got about fifteen minutes before SWAT arrives, and about a dozen cruisers are on their way. Is that badge...is he dead?"

Darya's voice was thick. "Yes."

"Take his radio with you and clear out of there. Try to get to the ground floor or the roof if you can, collect civilians as you go. We can extract them once we get there. I've just gotten two choppers en route. And good luck. Over and out."

Darya grimaced again, and pulled the radio off of the dead man's belt, then realised she had nowhere to put it and was quickly running out of time. She bolted across the hall, into her room, and then had to duck as two rounds cracked into the door frame. The man with the knife in his chest apparently had gotten the strength to try and kill her again, but it faded from his eyes before he could pull the trigger a third time, and his head lolled to the side. Darya cursed, then went to the blonde. She had suffocated already, and as much as she hated it, Darya needed clothes. She fumbled for a bit, found the fasteners, and by stages managed to yank the body suit off of the woman's corpse. Struggling into it, she found that they were nearly the same size, though it was tight around the hips and thighs, as well as her chest and upper arms. She couldn't get the front zipper up all the way and still have full mobility. Shit, now I'm going to look like some white Hollywood action girl. How embarrassing.

She checked the belt on the suit, found a third silenced pistol tucked into a holster. Her uncle's training paid off again as she noted it was an Sig 226. A spare magazine from each of the assassins and the two out of the other guns gave her probably more than enough ammo, but she snatched the .45 off of the officer's body and tucked it into the back of her belt. One more pause to take Faulkner's cell phone and then she moved for the stairs, only to find herself having to duck into a side hallway and slide into an open room door. The stairwell door had just opened, and she heard boots tramping up the halls and a large amount of calls between troopers.

"Room 4, move!"

"I've got bodies here!"

"Hall clear, checking rooms!"

"She's gone, these are ours!"

"Holy fuck, she took out Freeman!"

"She's still here, find her!"

Darya exhaled slowly as she eased the door closed. Looking behind her, she was relieved to see that the bed had been empty when everything started, so she didn't have to feel even more guilty than she already did. She listened closely. At least four distinct voices, and probably two or three additional that hadn't said anything yet. She didn't know enough about tactics to understand what they were going to do, and she certainly didn't fancy her chances against more than two armed opponents at once. Even then, it was risky.

A sudden shot rang out, and Darya winced. The nurses and her allies were already dead, which left only one target that could have been. She didn't want to kill these men, monstrous as they were, but if it was between them and the patients on this floor, she knew what call she had to make. And she couldn't wait in ambush, that would just end with more people dead. As silently as she could, she slid the door open again, and peeked around the corner. Two men were standing about ten yards away, conversing in low tones. These had what looked to be full body armour, unlike the thin tactical suit she had stolen off of the assassin. They thankfully held handguns and not assault rifles or something equally unpleasant, except that one also had a shotgun slung across his back, one of the short pistol grip variety.

One quick inhalation for nerves, and then Darya stepped out of the hallway. With the drop on the men, even out in the open and in full lights, she had time to place both shots were she wanted, and she was very well trained by her ex-military uncles. Both men dropped like puppets with their strings cut as nine millimeter rounds entered their spines at the base of the skull, and she moved across the hall and peered around the corner.

"Hey, where's Adams?"

"Shit! She's here!"

Several cracks rang out, but nothing near her. Still, she ducked back and slid down the wall a few feet, until she was near a door. She knew going into any given room might be trapping her and possibly a civilian with no exit, but between that and the open hall, she'd prefer the former. Two men turned down the hall as she thought of that, and her pistol went off again, twice at each of them. One dropped, the other she only got in the arm before he ducked back around the corner and called out her position. Shitshitshitshitshiiiiit ran through her mind as she made the split second decision to charge instead of retreat. At worst she would die, but maybe they'd leave the patients alone if they got her.

She stuck her pistol around the corner at head level and squeezed off two more shots along the wall blindly, rewarded by a gurgling shout. She ran out across the open space in the middle of the floor and leapt across the counter, slamming into the wall with a thump as bullets impacted above her, destroying the white board and causing it to fall over her. She scrambled out from underneath it and put her back to the bottom of the desk, then listened. Multiple shots tore through the desk, probably more nine millimetres, but none close to her. She judged one angle based on the hit on the desk versus the wall, poked her head up, and fired two into the center mass of the man who had shot it. He dropped and she did the same, more rounds hitting where she had been. She scooted away from that spot.

"You fucking freak! I'll fucking kill you!"

If they were carrying the same as the assassins, she figured they'd have probably two spare clips on them, at anywhere between ten and fifteen in a magazine. If she could run them dry, she'd be in a much better position, but then again, any one of those bullets could end her run very quickly. She popped up and fired three more times, missing everything, and scooted again. This time she almost didn't make it away, and there was a loud boom. Someone else had found the shotgun, both the noise and the large smoking hole in the desk bearing the evidence. She ejected her magazine, slotted a fresh one in, the stuck her arm through the holes and emptied it in blind fire. At least one person screamed, and they all sounded like they had moved to cover. "At least they're not treating me like an easy target anymore," she muttered to herself as she reloaded again.

Thinking quickly, Darya glanced up at the wall to her left, looking for the emergency exit map. It wasn't there, nor on her right. As movement sounded on the tiles, she counted three enemies still active, and at least one of them had a radio. "We need more up here, she's too good with a fucking gun." The response wasn't clear to her, but she knew this would be problematic. And her adrenaline was starting to run her brain, conscious decisions giving way to panicky fight-or-flight. She cycled a few breaths through her nose and out her mouth, listening for clues.

One man fired a few shots through the desk again, and Darya stood up to return fire, only to see the butt end of the shotgun come swinging from below the lip of the desk, taking the Sig out of her hands and nearly breaking her finger the same way she had to one of the assassins. She ducked back down as the Hound laughed. "Not so tough now, huh, bitch?" She heard the man stand up as she yanked the .45 from behind her back, aimed through the desk, and fired twice into the man's torso. The sudden change in kick from her previous weapon gave her arms a shock, but the bark of the big gun going off stung her ears more, unprotected as they were. The thump of the man hitting the floor was still audible was, though. With the breathing space she had, she set her feet under her in a crouch and ran for the edge of the desk, making for the outer hall outside of the ward. Several rounds chased her, but nothing hitting it's mark.

Breathing hard, she checked both sides as the went through the swinging door. Several hallways extended off to either side, but the elevators right in front of her were off, so she had to choose quickly. She could hear men running after her. Three more emerging from a hallway on her left made her decision. She caught a look at the submachinguns they lifted as she ducked through the the door next to the elevators. Bullets ripped through the open air behind her, several striking the door frame.

For a normal girl, being in the bathroom would be problematic in this situation, and Darya admitted to herself that she had been hoping for a room that cut through to another door. Thankfully, though, this was a good spot for her. She closed all the stall doors, plugged the sink drains with paper towels from the open box on the wall, slammed the faucets on, and then ducked behind the entry door frame just as the three kicked in the door, which swung in and hit her. Two of them stood with guns raised, the last one slowly stalking along the stall doors in what Darya could only think of as a classic blunder straight out of Hollywood movies.

"Come here, little freak," the man said. "I've got a bullet that needs planting in your brai- SHIT!" Darya didn't need a lot of water to coat their guns, fill the barrels and trigger guards, and freeze them solid, nor did she need a lot of time. Eschewing killing as they panicked, she lashed out with the butt of her .45, taking the first man near the door directly behind the ear and dropping him like a rock. The next tried desperately to fire his gun, but his finger frozen to a stuck trigger gave him nothing. She smashed him across the nose with another pistol whip, feeling sick as she watched his face collapse. But she had no time for regrets. The third man, having had his hand off of the trigger, was free to swing it like a club at her head. She ducked low and punched with her free hand, weak and off balance, though she managed to hit the sweet spot just underneath the sternum. He fell back winded, and she dropped her weapon in order to seize him by the gun arm. With one hand in the middle of his shoulders, she hauled him upright and smashed his face through one of the sinks, then stepped back. She felt the air of a bullet rip past her head at the same time she heard the shot, and twisted around to look as she dropped to the ground.

The last two from the ward had followed her, and both were firing one handed now that they had missed the surprise shot. Darya launched herself through the stall door near her, then used it as a springboard to leap across the tops of the stalls as the pair fired into them. She could feel her power surging through her own body, fluids shifting in response to both her muscles and her control. She had no time to wonder at the sensation, though, as she hurtled over the last stall and shot her hands out to grab one of the men. She actually went over his head, but managed to snag his elbow as she did. She rolled over him, carrying the elbow with her and the man with it. The joint snapped under pressure at unnatural angles, but she kept rolling until just before she landed on her feet, releasing him as he flew across her back, straight into the wall across the hall. He cracked the paint as he rebounded onto the tiles, but she didn't watch him, instead turning to his partner, who had nearly got his gun in position to put a round in her.

She skirted around his arm as he fired, feeling the graze on her thigh as she grabbed his forearm and bicep. She planned to lift herself up and the well-built man's frame and knee his elbow, but her new-found strength instead hauled him down, shoulder ripping out of socket, to smash his elbow down onto her knee, snapping it backwards. As he stilled in shock and screamed, whole body tensing, she let go of his arm and threw a series of rapid blows. Sternum, ribs three times, foot to the crotch, and then twice across the jaw. He went down like a sack of potatoes, and she finally stilled, listening. Their were groans from the first man she had pistol-whipped, the man in the hall, and the one buried in the rubble of the sink. Nothing else except the running water.

She looked down and hissed at the gouge in her thigh, running nearly from hip to knee, then paused as she moved to find bandages. She remembered her arm being hurt very badly. Rolling the sleeve of her stolen outfit up, she saw a wide scar across her forearm. Apparently either Doc Holliday had tended to her, or she had been in here much longer than she thought.

---

Time: Evening, Three Weeks Before Satellite Attack
Location: Undisclosed Location, New York City, New York State

Sergeant Fred Moonill was on front watch. Watch duty in the middle of a city, on a safe house the location of which was known to only a few. It was, perhaps, the most boring job that one could think of. Sitting on his ass behind a reinforced steel door which was designed to stand up to anything those mutie freaks could throw at them. His assault rifle was on his lap, his monitors scanning the areas outside for any unusual activity by the city's denizens... it was boring, but hell it beat anything else. Fred flicked through the screens - some hobo sitting in an alleyway, some fancy businessmen walking down the road outside, probably plotting the death of the American economy as they always did. A pretty girl with blonde hair standing by a street lamp with a cigarette in her hand... looked smart, but was treated like a hooker from the attention of the fatasses walking by. Fred's stomach turned... to him, the fatcats and the muties were one and the same - vicious pricks who wanted nothing more than to put their own world view in place, and ride roughshod over everyone else, the consequences be damned.

Fred took out a cigarette and lit it, inhaling deeply on the smoke. He had a propensity to grow agitated easily, and smoking was really the only way he could calm down. Besides, he'd come from a family of smokers - his mom and dad both smoked, his gramps and granny did too. Jeff did, Lisa did... it was just what you did. He held the cigarette between his teeth as he checked over his rifle for any spots or rust - a holdover from his days in the Army - and went back to checking the screens. A couple of them were fuzzy, and the blonde was nowhere to be seen. Frowning, Fred smacked the side of the monitor several times to clear it up, but it was no use. The monitors were fuzzing over, one by one. "God damn it." He'd have to call up the techs in the basement to get this fixed. He reached for his radio and pressed the transmit button. "This is two-one, reporting in. I've got some interference on the cameras, can I get someone from tech up here to clear it up?" No sooner had he finished his report, than two of the cameras went black. No report. Nothing. No input feed. Frowning, Fred checked the back of the monitor to see if any of the cables had come loose, but nothing was out of the ordinary. "Shit, this is the last thing I need... I'm a soldier, not a god damn technician." He got to his feet and slotted a magazine into the well of his M4, before walking over towards the door.

In a split second, Fred's world exploded. A blinding flash of light and an overwhelming surge of pain, followed by darkness.

---

The door had been blown clean from its mounting in the front door, blasting away several chunks of masonry as it had cannoned into the front room of the safe house. The watchman had been standing behind the door as the charges had detonated, from the looks of things, whilst the camera monitor had also been blown from the desk and lay in a pile of wiring and dust shaken loose from the shockwave of the charges' detonation. Cracks had appeared in the surrounding structural walls, and clouds of smoke and plaster dust filled the air. In the doorway was the woman responsible for such an initial onslaught - Rubis. She was dressed head-to-toe in black, with a maroon beret atop her head, sloped to the left as was the custom, and a tactical vest with several grenades, spare RPK magazines and a black assault pack in which contained several large blocks of shaped charge plastic explosive - Semtex, to be precise. A shrill alarm rang, shattering the brief silence following the detonation of the explosives, no doubt alerting the occupants as to what was going on, as if they needed any other information. Rubis unhooked an RGO and cast it into an adjacent room, which looked like a ready room or break room. Inside, two dazed and confused Watchmen were struggling to reorient themselves after having witnessed a rather significant emotional event, and neither of them noticed the small bundle of explosive Soviet joy that had been tossed into the room to accompany them. One had the common sense to run out to check what was going on, only to be met by the repetitive bark of a raised AK-74N firing at fully automatic. The heavy 5.45mm AP rounds punched clean through the body armour - unsurprising at such close range - and sprayed crimson clouds onto the cracking walls behind the Watchman, followed by another deafening explosion as the RGO Rubis had tossed into the break room exploded, shredding the unfortunate sod who was still in the room with shrapnel, and probably concussing him badly to boot. He was alive, but no threat, whimpering and sobbing from the shock and pain of the grenade's explosion - Kseniya unholstered her PPK and put a bullet into the man's brain. She didn't need his whining whilst she was trying to get a job done. The watch room only had one other exit - another reinforced door that no doubt led downstairs into the basement areas of the safe house which would hold the target location.

Kseniya slung her rifle back over her shoulder and jogged through the still-swirling clouds of dust and smoke to the door, and unzipped her backpack to prepare another two charges. However, as she did so, the door slid open to reveal a nasty-looking chap in a black armoured bodysuit, with an M16 at the ready and aimed directly at her. Snickering, the Watchman pulled the trigger, rounds thumping into Rubis' head with tremendous force and frequency. In response, Kseniya gave a guttural yell of defiance and charged down the Watchman, her shoulder impacting squarely with the man's testicular area. Armoured or not, that would sting... and sting it did. The Watchman screamed in agony, his grip on his rifle slackening as both he and Rubis flew down the steps to a landing area halfway down the staircase. The Watchman got the worst of the landing, cracking the back of his bereted head on the concrete wall, a splatter of blood erupting from the impact point. Death must have been instantaneous. Further down the stairs, two other militiamen readied their guns and one called into his radio; "All units, this is two-four, we have a confirmed intruder alert, all security to general quarter- argh!" He was cut off in another spray of crimson liquid, as Kseniya had gotten to her feet, unslung her 74N and loosed off a burst in the militiamen's direction. The radioman took several bullets in the chest and left shoulder, dropping him almost instantly - the other had sensibly dove for cover in a nearby doorway, but it wouldn't avail him for long.

Kseniya opened fire again at the doorway, peppering it with hot lead to suppress the militiaman behind it as she surveyed the situation. She noted that the hallway in front of her was reinforced concrete, almost like the top levels of a bomb shelter - these guys were serious when it came to the construction of their hideouts. From the end of the hallway came forth a veritable squad of infantrymen - at least six militia from the Watchmen. They opened fire, several rounds striking Rubis in the torso, but without effect. Grimacing, Kseniya unhooked another grenade from her vest and threw it down the hallway, scattering the militia behind what cover they could find. The man from earlier, however, wasn't done - he had gotten to his feet, and rushed Kseniya as she finished throwing the grenade. Knocking her to the floor, the militiaman straddled her torso and landed several blows to her head - though again, with little effect beyond irritating her. She took hold of the man's head and slammed her own into his face, definitely breaking a nose from the sound of the impact, whilst in the distance, the grenade detonated, showering shards of shrapnel all through the hallway in a steel rain of fragmentation. Several fragments embedded themselves into the Watchman atop Rubis, shortly before she pushed him back and then kicked him in the chest with both legs, shattering ribs. Those four who had survived the grenade earlier were now once more opening fire, forcing Rubis to ignore the critically-injured man in front of her and return her attention to the others. She reached over and took hold of her rifle and fired a long burst down the hallway, which drove the others into cover.

The magazine was dry.

Quick change, drop the old, take hold of a fresh magazine, slot it in, check the charging handle. Textbook quick reloading under fire. The survivors had retreated behind the door, and sealed it shut. Rubis didn't know how many there were behind it, nor how many rooms lay beyond... she would simply take one problem at a time. The keypad on the side of the door was bright red, with text reading SECURITY BREACH: LOCKDOWN IN EFFECT. Like that would stop her. She still had plenty of charges... she reached into her backpack and placed down four 500-gram charges on the corners of the door, wiring all four up to a single detonator she held in her hand. She unwound the wires down the hallway, and then looked over at the dying Watchman to check he wouldn't be a problem... he was bleeding out. No issue. Two... one... fire! The blasts blew the door clean off its hinges and shattered the surrounding brickwork. The door itself flew backwards and down some steps into a central room filled with several large computers and screens, and terrified technicians hiding under desks. On one particularly large screen was shown a map of the state and Watchman activity. The door itself had taken out the four men covering behind it in rather... gruesome fashion, but Rubis wasn't finished yet, as another four of them made themselves known at the other end of the room, firing wildly at the doorway in an effort to suppress Kseniya's advance. It would work... if bullets actually had an effect on her. Striding forth through the gunfire, Kseniya raised her rifle and fired controlled bursts at each militiaman in turn, killing or gravely wounding each and every one of them. She looked around at the technicians... they were all staring at her, some with fear, some with hatred in their eyes. Kseniya shrugged and slung her AK over her shoulder, unholstering her PPK once more. They all had to die. They were all responsible for their organisation's actions. One shot. Two shots. Three shots. Four. Five. Five suited bodies, with bloodstained wounds. C'est la vie. She emptied the last round in her pistol at one of the technicians who she thought had been killed.

Kseniya walked down the stairs, finally able to catch her breath after the adrenaline and excitement. The map was quite something - she opened an inner pocket on her tactical vest and took out a USB flash drive. This was the purpose of the safe house - and all it took to get there was the deaths of over a dozen militiamen, some technicians, and some Semtex blocks. "Pathetic, really. You call yourselves an army..." The alarm still rang in her ears as she downloaded the intelligence maps and databases onto the flash drive - its continued ring was troubling for Kseniya... were there more on the way? Was there an external alarm room that was calling in extra security forces as she stood there, waiting for the download to complete? Evidently not. She finished up the download, and headed out, back the way she came, with the disk drive in one hand, and her AK in the other, a broad smirk on her face.

Nobody fucked with Rubis.

---

Time: Evening before Satellite Attack
Location: Forge’s Lair, Los Angeles

The quiet outside was interrupted by the far away sounds of sirens, the odd car passing by. The wind picked up in a light breeze, skittering dust motes across the concrete floor of Forge’s home before quieting again.

Unnaturally the wind immediately began to quicken once more, strongly blowing against the front door, rattling against the steel hinges. Dust went up in a cloud, bright blue light followed the wind lighting up the frame of the door. Casting a cold glow, briefly gaining intensity before filtering away with an audible close of a door. The wind died away then the sounds of heels clacked, approaching the warehouse.

The Ambassador knocked on the door stepping away to give some space.

Zoë looked up from her phone at the sound of a knock. Slowly, she got up out of her chair, stretched luxuriously, then pocketed the phone and strolled over to the door. She paused for a beat to allow her face time to reset, as she had been letting her power go for a minute. For once, she figured it might actually be good to have someone know what she herself looked like, instead of hiding it. Letting out a sigh of nerves, she hauled the door open and gestured for her guest to enter with a grandiose sweep of her arm.

”Please, make yourself at home. I am afraid I could only find so much in the way of creature comforts before you arrived, but hopefully it’s not too disappointing.” Saying that, she glanced at the client’s face and felt a slight blush start. Mon dieu, I think I might be in trouble. She is not villainous looking at all. She gulped and stepped out of the way.

“Any effort toward hospitality is appreciated.” The Ambassador replied sweetly stepping inside, invisibly Bach followed behind her in full size, peering about as he did. “Allow me to introduce myself, you may refer to me as The Ambassador. My associate Jacque had referred you to me. I have some work for you, if you are interested.”

Her heels clacked across the concrete heading for the table set up with refreshments and... it was made entirely of iron. Bach froze at the sight of the furniture, hissing into Odette’s ear, “She knows! Surely this is a trap!”

Odette idly swiped at some hair, pushing Bach away from her personal space. Odette traced a hand over the back of the chair, “An interesting choice in decor.” Her parisian accent sharp, without need to filter.

”Oh! Je suis désolé, it’s the only thing the store had on short notice, I’m afraid. You’ve caught me just as my operations have hit a high note, and unfortunately all of my more favourable furniture is indisposed at the moment. I don’t even have a cushion to offer.” She sat down hurriedly, using just the tiniest bit of her power to heat the top of one bottle of wine enough for the cork to pop out - one of her favourite party tricks, since she didn’t even need to touch a corkscrew or the bottle itself.

”<As to business, I am always interested>,” she said, slipping into the more comfortable mother tongue. ”<Jacque said you were looking to handle something with these terrorists who have been so bothersome as of late? What in particular were you looking for?>”

Odette noticed the wine, feeling the tiniest bit relieved. After the day she had, a glass would do wonders.

“<If I may.>” She said, easily slipping into French as well. She poured the flame flute just over three quarters full. “<You are correct. The Hounds of Humanity have been a wrench in my own personal work while disrupting projects for The Shroud Syndicate in America. I work as an independant arm of the Syndicate, smuggling over borders is… my speciality. The Hounds have been moving significant product from coast to coast.>

Bach paced away, huffing angrily at the sight of iron. He circled the pair with generous distance.

“<It is forcing my hand to hire outside my contact list for more specialized personnel. Such as yourself, Forge.>” She smiled a pinkliped smile. “<Your particular talents caught my eye. Tell me, have you any experience in supply disruption?>” Odette leaned forward on her elbows, cradling her chin in the heel of her hands, ankles crossed. Gazing at Forge, whom didn’t meet her eyes.

Zoë felt her face starting to flush, and worked to school herself. Calm down, this is a business meeting, damn you. She managed to look the Ambassador in the eye for a split second and then turned her attention to very purposefully selecting a piece of cheese to eat and pouring out a glass of wine for herself as she spoke. ”<I have been known to cause some disruption, yes. I was in the middle of organising the results of such a raid when Jacque called, in fact. Would you prefer a seizure of their goods? Or perhaps a systematic destruction of their supply chain? I can manage either quite handily, in fact.>”

Bach finally slowed his angry pacing, deciding to scout around the warehouse on Odette’s behalf. Snooping into her kitchen.

“<Excellent, yes that is precisely what I want to do. It has been no secret the Hounds of Humanity have been targeting metahumans and other groups. Their edge stems from manpower and technology. I want to destroy their ammunition chain, one that carries a very special bullet and from what my sources have told me, parts to build weapons effective against all varieties of metahuman. Sound based.>”

Siddling to the edge of her seat, from inside her purse she slowly pulled a small vial containing the bullet Bach pulled from her shoulder earlier. Pausing, she shook the bullet around in the vial. “<There is more to the Hounds hunting metahumans. I must ask, Forge. Do you believe in things unseen? Unexplainable phenomenon, people imbuing power from spirit or the supernatural?>” Odette held the vial in front of her.

“<Do you believe there is more lurking in the shadows than in the light of day?>” Her icy blue eyes filled with intense curiosity.

Zoë stared at the bullet in the vial. Far shinier than any she had seen before, and she recognised the metal by the sheen. She whistled low in wonder. ”Someone would have to have a lot of that to make rounds out of it. That in itself might make it easier to find them.>” Her eyes flicked up at the question, meting blue with her own brown-flecked green. She swept a lock of blonde hair back behind her ear and leaned back, regarding her guest with a little more caution, though not a lot of suspicion. Her face heated up a bit, as well.

”<If you are talking about magic? I don’t know. I can burn half as hot as the sun, amongst other talents. Even so, I haven’t ever seen anything like evidence for what you’re talking about.>” Her fingers tapped out a delicate little ditty as she frowned slightly in thought. ”<That’s not to say I want to not believe in things. My grandfather, he always left out the milk and bread and wine, every night, and his vineyard has always grown exceptionally well, even in bad years. He always talked about it being a blessing from the ‘little folk’, but mother and father always said it was just good fertiliser.>”

She sighed, blowing a small breath out and sipping her wine. ”<We live in a strange world, mademoiselle. I could probably be convinced to believe in just about anything at this point.>”

Odette grinned, pleased. “<Your grandfather is a very smart man.>”

Bach waited behind the countertop of the kitchen he nodded, exasperated but still in agreement with their original plan.

“<I have money to spend and work to be done. If money is not all you aspire to have in this life, I have great deal of other rewards to give in good faith.>” Placing her wine on the table she stood, gracefully tugging the chair away. In her full height she snapped her fingers signalling the various elemental spirits that had travelled with her to come flowing into the warehouse.

Earth sprites appeared at the doorways, squeezing in under frames and weatherstripping green following their every step, plant life sprouting across the concrete. Air sprites came flowing through the vents and window seals burst open with vigor. Water sprites came freely of the kitchen tap, the faucets opening completely. Finally the fire sprites danced on light following the scorch marks in the concrete, immediately interested in the likes of Forge. All were visible, small and singing the strangest of songs in a language of their own. Some danced with their own elements while others intermingled, adeptly avoiding the iron furniture. They came by the hundreds, colours filling the space with life and magic.

The Ambassador stood away from the iron, allowing the sprites to find perches on her arms and shoulders. “<The Good Neighbours, Fair Folk, Little Ones. They certainly do appreciate your hospitality and manner. And I, whom they answer to. My full title is The Ambassador of the Fair Folk.>”

Zoë nearly choked on her wine as the spirits came, and for a split second, the air around her heated very quickly, her hair rising on the now swirling air. But she immediately cooled off as thoughts clicked into place, and at the non-threatening nature of the little ones. She scooted her own chair back, getting out of it to crouch down and watch the little firey ones. She was drawn to them as much as they were to her. She looked up at the Ambassador from her position, eyes wide.

”<They are real? This is no trick or illusion? My grandfather is right?>” She held out a hand, index finger out, gently reaching for one of them to hop onto, though none did. But the dancing and singing was more full of life than anything she had seen in years, and even though she couldn’t understand the words, the song made her feel more at peace than she had in some time.

”<I will not say I don’t like money. That would be a lie, I do like some comfort in my life. But this,>” she gestured around her, ”<this is far beyond money, eh? Are you some sort of creature like them?>” She made no attempt at all to hide her stares, now, though they could easily be taken for awe.

Odette watched Forge’s reaction, pleased. This was always the easiest step, showing a little slice. Building the illusion from the ground up, lifting the veil as it were. “<No trick, no illusion. The Hounds have laid their crosshairs upon the Fair Folk directly among others apart of the magic community. The bullets they use are blessed silver. I am unsure if they ship the bullets plain or blessed.>” She affectionately ran the tips of her fingers over the sprites heads, leaving the final question up to Forge’s imagination. A little mystery is always afforded.

“<I am happy to pay you your rates for this first job but - pending this job is a success, I have far more to offer in the way of artifacts, magical convenience, healing, all you really need is a little fantaisie.>” The Ambassador explained, a number she could easily part with. Forge struck Odette as playing a part of an independant, starting up and building on a nest egg. Comfort couldn’t really be what she was working toward, she wanted to know what she really needed. “<I have a few tips on their routes and a facility where they produce the silver bullets. The job is yours if you want it.>”

Zoë stood up, reaching onto the table and retrieving her glass, draining the contents in one swift motion, then looked at the little vial with the bullet in it. Without asking, she snatched it up, opening it and dumping the thing into her open hand. She held it up, examining the markings from where it had been fired, then a little further out from her face, she made a gesture with her eyes at her fellow Frenchwoman and said, “Regarde ici, s’il te plaît.” Within a few blinks of an eye, the metal was glowing, and then liquefying into her palm. It kept going, the heat coming off of it becoming nearly unbearable to stand less than a few feet from. Finally, it began boiling, until it was gone, not a trace left on her pale skin.

”<The silver, I think, shouldn’t be a problem, though I have no idea what to do about magic. Thankfully, I am very good at improvisation. For killing dogs, for ‘hounds’ sounds too noble, I charge a discount rate. The work you are proposing? I would think perhaps one hundred thousand would be reasonable, so let’s cut it down to seventy-five. And as for further work,>” she glanced up and down at the Ambassador, looking like she was judging something. ”<I think we could probably work something out, though I must insist that the dogs must be put down before I am willing to move on to other assignments. My own jobs have been drying up, either from clients dying in attacks or not willing to expose themselves, bunkering down. It is wonderful to see that someone else is looking to take the fight to them and burn out their dens.>”

She stared around herself at the little sprites, and shook her head, giggling a little and placing her hands on her hips. ”I owe my grandfather quite a few apologies already, I suppose one more is in order now,” she muttered to herself in English.

Odette smiled, templing her fingertips. She switched to English, following suit. “Bien. Kill indiscriminately, destroy all they have built. I will have the cheque cut upfront through your agency.”

She extended her hand to shake, “<It has been a pleasure, Forge.>”

The villainess took the proffered hand and cut a proper curtsy instead of the modern shake. ”<Indeed it has, Ambassador! I look forward to reporting a successful completion. Please feel free to stop by for lunch some time, once I get my new estate satisfactorily set up, of course.>”

“<It’ll be a date. I’ll send you the tips I have.>” She replied, Bach had wondered back to her side sneering at the metahuman, unable to find anything really worthwhile. He was the only fey present still maintaining invisibility.

“Until your report, Au Revoir.” The sprites all around her kicked back into energetic gear joining together in a cloud swirling through the rafters in the warehouse, finally swooping around Forge before departing out a window.

Location: Lachance Stronghold-Henderson, Nevada

Time: Late Evening

---

Benjamin’s mind tried to recollect the recent events, but it was all a hazy mess. Immediately he felt the familiar burning in the back of his throat, followed by the putrid taste of rotted meat and blood. Acid burned along his esophagus until it reached his mouth causing him to lurch forward. His mouth open to spew a thick, tar-like substance across the wooden bowl in his lap. It stained the surface as it puddled in the center. Immediately the scent caught his nose causing Benjamin to jerk back and press the back of his hand to his nose, blocking the scent. The nauseous tried to fill his middle, churning the insides, only to relax once more.

It seemed the herbs he was given had helped keep the sickness from spreading. Taking a moment or two to collect himself, Benjamin shifted the bowl beside his leg. Sweat coated all over his skin making it twitch in discomfort. His hands reached up to pull his wet hair back against his scalp as he tried to adjust to his new surroundings. He felt horrible. Every inch of him was sore and weakness poisoned his system. Even worse, he was vulnerable thanks to his exposure.

Unable to bear it much longer, Benjamin rose to his feet and strolled to the next bench. His hands snatched up the simple tunic and pants left behind for him. They seemed a bit too baggy for his frame, but he ignored it. Baggy was better than naked.

After he finished up dressing, he absentmindedly rubbed his left wrist. Thick red lines were visible where the bindings held him down as a wolf. When he shifted back into human, he was able to pull his arms out and undo his ankles. That’s when he had vomited up whatever had gotten into his system. It was an unpleasant experience. Everything seemed alright now while Benjamin tried to seek clues about his whereabouts in the room. He doubted he would be able to simply wander about without a chaperone. The thought draw a groan in his head.

The sound of a door opening caused him to whip about abruptly.

---

Wild, Wicked, and Wretched be . . .

Madalena inscribed the words in a delicate script around the iconic crown of vines and thorns, a tribute to the visage of Puck that stood posed within this plaited circle. It had taken hours to get the lines just right, all the little details and intricacies numbing her nimble fingers, more so than working with actual vines. The subtle incantation was a minor addition to a more ancient spell, both a reminder of what lie beyond the threshold, and a deterrent to an unscrupulous few. Fascinating and strange, Maddi thought, how a simple phrase spoken with conviction could lend such power.

When the last word had been successfully burned into the wood, Madalena took a step back to admire her work. Her task was simple enough: inscribe the back door of Shadow of the Moon with the symbol of Puck, though she hadn’t accounted for the arduous and highly meticulous nature of etching a door with a hot, metal stylus. It was a miracle she managed such definition given she’d neglected to sketch the symbol beforehand. But as with many small endeavors filling up her free time, Madalena found success. The next step, however, would prove more difficult. It was one thing to form the glyph that gifted access to The Red Devil, but another entirely to actually gain entrance.

”Here goes nothin’,” she let out with a hefty sigh, letting loose her fatigue and breathing in the strength she needed to activate the seal.

Traditionally, Puck’s door was conjured via a symbol sporting his likeness, carved, etched, or drawn onto any surface. One need only knock and the arms of The Red Devil would swing wide open, welcoming the weary traveler, needy supplicant, greedy witch, and anyone else who had the means to enter. Given recent events, however, Puck saw to it that only his permanent doors (those scattered in forgotten places the world over) and those bearing the new inscription could access the tavern; and these portals required more than a paltry knock.

Fortunately for Madalena, she had a closer connection to Puck than most. Rather than go through the full ritual to activate to door, she need only fan the flames of her inner spark, the cunning flame imparted to her by Puck . . . which was easier said than done. Still a novice, albeit a rather knowledgeable one, Madalena had considerable amounts of difficulty in igniting the witch-fire when she needed it most.

She rolled her shoulders, stretched her neck, took in a few more deep breaths, then touched her hand to the door, feeling for some sort of shift in its structure. There was a twinge of something, the smallest speck of warmth cast adrift in the air, waves of aromatic smoke that seemed to dissipate the longer she tried to place them.

Come on . . . her mind raced with frustration, pleading for whatever link she held to that place to be established. Another minute or so passed with no sign of success, only strings and visions of what lie beyond.

And then it clicked.

An audible “click” like a lock or a door bar being removed or lifted sounded in her mind. Mouth stretched in an eager smile, Maddi opened her eyes to a welcome sight. The door, once wrought with knicks and scratches from all the sharp-cornered tables and shelves she’d brought through it, was a crimson beauty, and the symbol she’d burned into the center was now golden and embossed. It worked!

Wasting no time, Madalena pulled the door open with force enough to pry it from its hinges, or so she’d like to believe, and shot through, slamming her quaint little store in Lost Haven behind her.

---

The Red Devil’s atmosphere had changed considerably. Puck had always run a highly profitable and booming business, but the sheer volume of patrons now filling the ground floor was immense. Expensive round tables of rich dark wood were replaced with longer variants and low benches. The round stage at the far end of the tavern had been moved into a corner to accommodate the new seating arrangements, as had the bar, whose counter was pushed closer in. Wall lights were removed in favor of chandeliers to make room for a greater number of shelves and cases housing associates wares. The place was packed.

And yet, the mystery and mystique was still there, hidden among the wealthy decor in the form of odd centerpieces on each table, eerie paintings that lined the walls and structural beams, the earthy tones that accompanied accents of scarlet and gold here and there. It was ominous and beautiful all at the same time. Which says nothing about the wealth of patrons, all sinister, seductive, and strange in their own way, seeking refuge from the Hounds, booking passage back to whatever world they originate, looking to capitalize on the fear of the unknown, some just having the odd drink before passing through.

Madalena had never seen such a display. Not in her wildest dreams could she imagine such a bustling and beautiful scene. It gave the streets of New York a run for its money.

Waltzing down a large spiral staircase was Puck, dressed in dark finery and towering above most of the tavern’s patrons. He took a few moments to mingle before motioning for Madalena to follow him upstairs. She clumsily trotted down the haphazard rows of tables, dodging the obstacles she could see and apologizing to the ones she couldn’t.

The first floor was home to the workroom and several offices used by the contract holders under Puck’s employment. Maddi caught a glimpse at an ornate plaque sporting “The White Witch’s” moniker at the far end of the hall, but was rushed into the workroom before getting a second look.

Maddi’s eyes lit up at the contents of the space, a smorgasbord of witching tools and accoutrements lining every wall. On her first pass she noticed three working altars with alchemical apparati atop and small fire pits fitted with dark cauldrons and kettles, a counter full of divinatory tools, eight shelves scattered throughout the room stocked with old texts and scrolls, three desks littered with research notes and experimental writings, an open area with a variety of ritual implements and the leftovers of a goetic summoning, and a massive wardrobe seated next to a spinning wheel, distaffs, and other spinning and tailoring instruments.

”So,” Puck’s cold voiced echoed off the walls, sending a chill up Madalena’s spine despite having heard it multiple times before. ”Judging by that eternal grin of yours I assume everything is to your liking? Is it as you imagined?”

Maddi shook her head, forcibly closing her mouth to display a little less awe, but her eyes betrayed her. She knelt down by one of the kettles, running a hand over the cold iron, inhaling the remnants of a long dead flame.

”No . . . it’s a helluva lot better than I was expecting! Honestly, how old is this?”

Puck might have thought it strange that a cauldron had captured her so had he not been through this with over a dozen other witches. To be in the presence of one’s art, to feel the pulse of the craft run through a place, he knew the power that held.

He couldn’t help but smile, kneeling down with her and resting a hand on her arm.

”It was a gift from a brief tryst in the late 18th century, but that’s not why I’ve asked you here.”

Puck stood and led her over to the wardrobe, skillfully dodging questions about his love life.

”I realized after my last visit that I’ve put quite a strain on you, and for that I must apologize.”

He took Madalena’s hand in his, catching her off guard with his show of sincerity.

”I-It’s nothing,” she stuttered, taken aback. ”I mean, I’ve been onboard for a while now so I know what’s expected of me.”

”Even so,” Puck continued, turning his back to open the wardrobe. ”You are more than a simple employee of mine, Madalena. You are my gift to the world, the first witch I have sired in over a century. I have placed you at the forefront of my operation against The Winter Court without taking the necessary steps to ensure your safety, and for that I apologize. So I present you with this . . .”

Puck stood aside, revealing a beautifully crafted gown made of fine, crimson velvet with a high collar, and a low, seamless hem. With it was a similarly colored hat with a short, curved brim, tall crown, and beautiful plume as an accent, as well as a pair of silken gloves that stretched up below the sleeves of the dress.

”The finest garments crafted for one such as yourself by the finest seamstress I know.”

Maddi’s mouth swung open once more, her eyes shining brighter than before. She stepped forward, taking a sleeve in her hand and feeling the soft fabric on her skin. It was more comforting than it should have been, she thought, as if some piece of nostalgia had been sewn into it. She silently dreamed of wearing clothes like this as a girl, playing the part of princess or duchess. It was high on a long list of impossibles that had suddenly become reality . . . but why?

”It’s beautiful,” Madalena graciously replied, turning and looking up at Puck’s black eyes, her own welling with joyful tears. ”But I don’t understand. What his this . . .”

”I’ll tell you,” Puck interrupted. ”When a certain Marie Heartford worked in The Red Devil, she insisted on going by The White Witch, even wore a charm about her neck to mask her appearance. I thought it silly until I realized how ingenious it was given our current predicament. You now have power, power that the Witchfinder General knows nothing about. Should he discover, however, that you have been harboring a piece of the cunning flame while working with his men, he would surely visit his wrath upon you. Thus, I have devised a way for you to work with him, and with me in secret.”

Madalena grinned, catching Puck’s not so subtle hints.

”You want me to have a secret identity, right?”

”Precisely! In your normal guise you shall be Madalena Hawthorne, an unassuming citizen of Lost Haven with an interest in all things strange and a flair for the dramatic. But in secret, you shall be an agent of mine free to use her gifts without fear of discovery. You’ll just need a name . . .”

”Hex!,” Maddi blurted out as soon as he could. ”I’ve been thinking about this as soon as The White Witch hit the scene, silently pretending I was out working my magic like her . . . although not exactly like her because of the whole ‘lost memories’ thing, but maybe a little bit because her meeting with the Witch Father was sort of close to ours when you think about it, though I guess . . .” Maddi caught herself before she trailed off any further.

”Anyway,” she said with a cough, reeling herself back in. ”I’d like to go by Hex. A little cliche but in an outfit like this I think it’ll have a certain effect on people.”

Puck shook his head with a grin and a low chuckle.

”As you wish, Lady Hex. But do not be captured by illusions of the grandiose. I’m not grooming you to become one of those costumed imbeciles who do good. This is for your continued safety during our fight against The Winter Court, and a valuable business investment when you start taking on contracts.”

Maddi blinked.

”Wait, you want me to be one of your contract maker, holder, whatevers?”

She wasn’t entirely put off to the idea. Afterall, it was part of her gifts as Puck had explained them. Given that Maddi held a piece of Puck’s power, she could weave binding contracts with only her words, though she never stopped to consider what that meant.

”The terms of our agreement were far different to most. You are not required to work for The Red Devil like others I employ past your efforts against the Witchfinder. However, I would ask that you consider it. There are only so many gifts I can offer in a singular exchange, but if I had your continued service . . . well, then I might be persuaded to relinquish a few secrets early.”

Maddi needed to pace herself. In just under a week, she’d been cast headlong into a world she knew nothing about, gained unimaginable knowledge and power, became intertwined with the Hounds and their plans as a ploy, and was staring down a dangerous path that involved her jumping even further into the shadows. But if that was the case, why not, right?

”What the hell,” Madalena shrugged, ”Might as well take what help I can get, and if I’ll be here all the time anyway, why not get something out of it?”

Puck’s impish grin spread ear to ear.

”Spoken like a true witch. You’re learning rather quickly, but even with all the knowledge you’ve been granted and all the materials at your disposal, there are a few ‘tricks of the trade’ you’ll need if you wish to work in the shadows like your predecessor.”

Puck turned his back again, walking over to a shelf piled high with magical implements of all shapes and sizes.

Madalena cocked her head, her awe filled smile never fading, though his words struck her as odd.

”Y’know, every time you mention Marie, it’s like you’re walking on eggshells.” Madalena thought aloud as she trailed behind. ”She’s not in trouble, right? I mean, she’ll be back at some point, won’t she?”

The corners of Puck’s mouth turned downward with Maddi’s audible concern. Truth was, Puck knew so little about Marie’s current path, he couldn’t accurately predict any future involving her. Secretly, he hoped The White Witch might once again grace the halls of his tavern, but with Gwyneth’s ambitions set so high, he doubted that he and Maddi would ever see the Marie they once knew.

”She’ll return in due time,” Puck called back as he rummaged through the collection of items, his uncertainty marking the statement as less than the truth but not quite a falsehood. ”Aha! There you are.”

He turned back around holding a beautiful scarlet cane in his hand, shaped to look like rose vines with thorns jutting out at uneven intervals, the top fashioned into the shape of a rose and more vines to make up the handle.

”Another gift, a cane crafted from elder, an important tree for our kind. Beneath its branches devils, spirits, and witches dance. It is a powerful tool in your craft and can greatly improve the quality of any work, but so too can it hinder or halt our movement and command forces over which you hold dominion.”

Madalena took the cane into both hands, marveling at the craftsmanship. It was so sleek and smooth. She could feel the power emanating from it, the reaction it had to her touch.

”That isn’t all,” Puck spoke before Madalena could thank him, reaching into his vest and pulling out a small, worn, leather journal. ”This is my last gift to you, but you mustn’t read it now. There is a matter that requires your attention first. You’ll need a particular set of skills to unlock the secrets this journal holds.”

Madalena took the journal, turning it over in her hands a few times but refraining from taking a look inside.

”Wanna give me a hint at what that means, bossman?” Maddi requested, trying to riddle through Puck’s ambiguity to no avail.

Puck smiled.

”No, my dear. I’m afraid that would be too easy. Worry not, I shant leave you to wonder for too long. Though I cannot tell you what I mean, I can certainly show you.”

Before Madalena could question what he meant, Puck waved a hand and away she went, swallowed by shadow and ethereal mist, away to a distant, yet familiar place.

---

The heroes began to move away into Sherman Center, Charlie felt a mixture of surprise and noted the other arrivals some chick with a metal mask and looking like she walked out of a biker gang. Charlie probably stared for too long. She hung back a little deciding this was probably her only chance to make a call. Let someone know what’d she be doing.

Digging around in one of her pockets she produced her cellphone, beaten up and fixed way too many times to count. She clicked through her contacts scrolling past her mom’s cell, home, and even Carrie’s cell. They all would, reasonably of course, tell her to turn her ass home. Charlie needed some nerve not a voice of reason. She stopped on Madelena’s number, hitting the call button.

Holding a tight grip on her staff.

The line rang for several minutes until the default voicemail message played. It seemed strange that someone like Maddi hadn’t taken the time to make a custom one. Not long after, however, the air shifted, carrying that same ominous chill as before. Shadows began to dance and coalesce, ushering a crimson figure into existence. But what followed wasn’t what Charlie expected.

From behind the mist, Madalena stepped forward, ruby heels clacking on the cobbled street of the square. She was dressed in velvet fine, adorned head to toe in eloquent shades of red, a cane at her side. Her hair was pulled neatly back into a tight bun, and around her neck was a simple charm, a black stone at the end inscribed with a strange symbol.

Madalena looked around, then looked herself up and down, staggering slightly from the jolt of realization that she had been sent halfway across Lost Haven, catching herself with the cane.

”What in the . . ,” Maddi whispered to herself, making sense of her situation. She looked up, though maybe she should have been looking down, and yelled. ”I still don’t know what this means! And why the heels?”

Charlie looked to her phone and then back up, “. . .Maddi, that you?”

Pocketing the phone again she approached. “How the hell did you get here?”

Madalena looked at Charlie, recognizing her voice and the staff at her side.

”Charlie!” she exclaimed, lowering her voice a little once she remembered Charlie was wearing a mask. ”Hmm, so that’s what Puck meant? Guess he figured you could use some help doing . . . whatever this is.”

Madalena felt good with that response until she realized she hadn’t answered Charlie’s question.

”Right, how did I get here . . . Puck sent me, and check out the new digs!”

Madalena modelled the costume briefly, posing her arms with the most awkward high fashion looks in mind, swinging the cane a couple of times before almost throwing it at Charlie.

”Sorry, getting used to all of this. So what are you doing here?” Maddi questioned, looking around to see a couple of men and women in costume quickly shuffling away inside a building.

“Puck, how’d- you know what, I’m assuming it’s something I’m not gonna understand. You look great but your face looks different and your voice sounds weird.” Charlie said, stepping up little closer. “Uhm. I-I’m going to help the metas. You know, destroy the satellite thing.”

She pointed with her chin to the backs of the heroes. “I was just trying to call you, actually.”

“Have you seen the news?”

Maddi nodded, turning her head down and fumbling with her cane.

”Yeah . . . I heard just before I spoke to Puck. I knew some people in Philadelphia once upon a time. Hope they moved before all this happened. That’s probably why Puck sent me here like this. He wanted to make sure I could work without the Witchfinder knowing who I was. Thus,” Maddi motioned to her clothing.

”Lady Hex was born.” her voice picked up slightly, a small smile creeping up on her crimson lips.

”And I think you mean we are destroying the satellite thing! Puck told me I was needed somewhere else before we could continue tracking down the General, which must mean that one, even Puck is a little upset about the Hounds recent attacks and two, the General must be operating independently to the other groups. But this should take them all down a peg.”

Charlie held her staff in both hands, “Maddi, I. . .I-”

“Fuck.” Charlie swore. “Are you sure? I’m only here because these metas can’t do a job right. And I can’t go home knowing the satellite is pointing at Lost Haven. This- this is really dangerous. It’s going to be like it was at the university.”

She reached for her hand.

“Please be sure.”

Madalena stepped closer, taking Charlie’s hand in hers.

”Puck told me that my powers are, for better or worse, fueled by mischief. The uncertainty and entropy of events, the possibility of multiple outcomes, small acts of chance and pieces of luck, I have power over them. Now, can you think of anyone more apt to take control of this chaos than me?”

Maddi laughed, tightening her grip.

”Besides, as far as I can see it, we’re the only ones like us with a foot in the door. I don’t see any other witches, magicians, or alchemists nearby. I promise you I’m sure about this. In fact, you have my word that no harm will come to either one of us on this mission. OH! Look at that, gave you my word and we’re in a handshake, looks like I’m bound to keep my promise, so long as you agree.”

Charlie shuffled her mask down and nervous laughter bubbled out of her. “I guess so, you’re the expert Lady Hex. I agree.”

“Yeah we’re the only ones, but I’m really glad you’re here. I was calling ‘cause I thought I’d lose my nerve.” She admitted looking at Icon’s back. “I knew if I called anyone else they’d tell me to go home.”

“I didn’t want to go but I don’t want to die either.”

---

Location: Lachance Stronghold - Henderson, NV
Time: Late Evening

Katarina had been anxiously awaiting some news - any news at all - from the witches about Ben’s condition. Suffice to say, they weren’t readily forthcoming with such information, but merely remained quiet… aggravatingly so, in fact. Then, all of a sudden, they disappeared into a room with him, and closed the door behind them, whilst Kat had been instructed to keep out of the way. It rankled and grated on her patience considerably, and yet, for not the first time today, Kat kept quiet. She just had to keep calm, carry on and keep her head down whilst she integrated with the group at large. The other werewolves were with her, each of them swiping distrustful glances over at Kat, but she paid them no attention, preferring to examine the weaponry that she had looted from the Hounds once again, and in much greater detail. So many detailed intricacies that she had overlooked - three-shot burst, for one. She turned the rifle over and over in her hands, testing how easily it was to manipulate and hold for a long time - in truth, all to keep herself from demanding access to her stricken werewolf. She needed something to do to keep her mind off everything, and specifically, off him and what he must have been going through, thanks to that damned silver weaponry. She noted something else from the firefight as well, now that she had had time to think; she had not once resorted to magic, preferring to utilise the artificial firepower of the Hounds instead. It was a weakness of hers - what magic she could remember from her libraries was slow and cumbersome to bring to bear upon her foes, and in such instances as said firefight, it could have gotten her killed. And it could have hurt her erstwhile allies to boot. She needed faster-acting and more targeted spells to complement her new arsenal. She’d have to note that one down for later.

But for now, she returned her attention to the rifle. At least that was a concrete and dependable item. Not like anything else around here- the door had opened! The witches filed out, each of them sneaking a look into the room where Kat and the others had been spending their time… Yes, yes, everything is fine, now please, go away. She watched each of the witches through furrowed brows and unblinking eyes, before getting to her feet and walking over to the doorway, checking to make sure they had actually left the area, before walking the short distance to Ben’s location. The door was closed, but unlocked. And so, thinking nothing of it, she opened it.

She instantly wrinkled her nose as the smell of rotted flesh, putrefied essence and acidic material washed over her as though she were back at her laboratory in the Tower. For a brief flicker of a moment, her prior memories as the Countess flashed through her mind, but no more. She winked to him as he whirled around to meet the opening of the door, and closed it behind her. ”Don’t get too excited, Ben… it’s only me.” She gave a snicker.

Ben’s shoulders immediately relaxed when he spotted Kat. He rolled his eyes at her snickering, a bit irritated at her amusement over his image. Public indecency was going to get him arrested one day if he couldn’t control the wolf. His frown deepened. Pushing the thoughts out of his head, he leaned over for his tunic and snatched it up with one hand. His back was turned to Katarina while he shoved his arms through each sleeve then lifted it down over his head.

One final tug, he then addressed Kat.

“Where are we? I can’t remember much clearly,” His voice held a bit of pain at admitting it.

”We’re in Nevada, Ben. Some stronghold of some of your witch friend’s, er, acquaintances, I suppose is the best way of saying it. Truth be told, I don’t know much more about this place than you do, only that it’s mostly safe from the arschloche that decided to fill us all with bullets.” Kat walked over and pulled Ben into a gentle embrace. His skin was surprisingly warm to the touch, and she subconsciously made an effort to match him temperature-wise, lest he end up hugging something cold as ice. He was soaked with sweat, and the aforementioned smell hung in the air like a miasmatic cloud - in the old days, people would have fled from the room in terror, frightened that the smell would somehow infect them or sicken them. Kat knew better than that, though. And so did apparently modern humans.

”How are you feeling? A little better now that the poison is out of your system?”

“Terrible, like lukewarm death and worse,” Benjamin said as he let her hug him, unsure how to react.

After several moments, he gently removed her arms and pulled away. He jerked down the shirt to ensure his muscles were covered as he considered his next question. Once more he faced Kat.

“Where’s the White Witch now and who else came?”

Kat was slightly taken aback at Ben’s reluctance to engage in an embrace, but then, she remembered his earlier reluctance to do so in previous meetings. It was a peculiarity of his; one that Kat, truth be told, had no interest in delving into at any point in the near future. She gave a half-smile, and giggled as he pulled down the shirt. ”Aww… I was enjoying the sights… That’s not good to hear about your condition - though I would know about feeling like death warmed up, huh?” She sat down on a chair next to Ben, her nose now having been mostly innured to the scent of the… foul effusions that had marked the purge of the silver from Ben’s body. ”I don’t know where your witch friend is, actually… I saw her leave a while back, but haven’t seen head nor foot of her since… apologies. As for who else we have, I believe we have some friends of yours - twin werewolves, I think? Aside from us… nobody else. The French bitch scarpered shortly after we escaped from Vegas - she got us into that scheißsturm and then she vanished into the fucking night, with that robot thing that went with her. She, ah, how do you say it, brought the heat on us? And then ran like the coward she is.” Kat sighed and rubbed her forehead - she herself had not fully recovered from her own injuries, though Ben had suffered much worse, and Kat was acutely aware of such matters.

”The other twins, the man and the woman, they also left shortly after we escaped. I don’t know where any of those who left are, though… Knowing the French, though, I bet that one fled back to France, as they always do…”

Benjamin looked at Katarina with a hard set jaw, “Why do you say she had something to do with the goons that showed up?”

It was odd that a publically hostile group against supernatural would show up right after they met Odette. However, he had doubts she was suicidal enough to risk her own safety and nearly get them all killed. His neck hairs rose up at the thought of Odette causing him to growl in his throat slightly before he cleared it.

Taking a moment to calm himself, his eyes turned to Kat, “I have get my inner wolf under control. This is getting hard and I’m going to be found out if I don’t. I don’t want to end up in a laboratory somewhere being cut open or experimented on.”

”Ben. Think about it. This woman shows up bragging about her unimaginable power, only for the damned Hounds to show up, seemingly from nowhere, and engage us with heavy weaponry, and weaponry specifically designed to deal with us, ja? I mean, come on, I’ve heard of coincidences, but gottverdammt that’s too much, too convenient. Either she’s being followed and dealt with, or she… she led them to us. Either way, I don’t trust her one bit. She’s dangerous and I don’t like it…” Ben’s following statement raised Kat’s ire, however - of course, the humans still were suspicious of werewolves… superstitious fools. Cut up in a laboratory somewhere?

”Not if I have anything to say about it, they won’t...” She cocked her head to one side and narrowed her eyes - maybe there was some way that Ben could be taught? It would have to mean giving him over to the witch, and maybe the werewolf twins in the next room… but it beat Katarina trying to teach Ben herself, on a subject about which she knew precious little other than what she had briefly read and witnessed in person. ”I suppose the others in our little group could help with that. I don’t trust them either, but if you do, then I’ll go along with your decision…”

“I’m not saying she’s innocent or didn’t have something to do with it, but self preservation is a thing. If I’ve learned anything from Daniel, it’s never to jump to conclusions until you have evidence. It just makes things messier.”

Clearing his throat again, his eyes turned to Kat. He noticed the blood leaking to the surface of the clothing from the now obvious bullet wounds causing him to inwardly groan. Benjamin gritted his teeth a moment before he spoke.

“Did you even get looked at? At all?”

Kat sighed and shook her head. He was right, of course, jumping to conclusions such as that would only really serve to engender distrust and dislike between the members of the group - which for all they knew, might have been the purpose of the woman’s visit in the first place, and they could ill-afford fractious tempers at this point in time, particularly after the Hounds had wrought their bloody havoc. Speaking of which, the dull pain from her bullet injuries was back. It was a mild discomfort… well, perhaps mild was a slight understatement. They still were sore. She winced under Ben’s gaze as he asked the question she hoped he would not. He had a way of turning on the interrogative capability when he wanted to.

Of course she hadn’t sought any attention for her own wounds. His were worse at the time, and he wasn’t a vampire able to regenerate with the sinking of his teeth into a vein. She felt like laying that on him… but decided against it. ”N-no... I didn’t think it was necessary at the time… h-hey, most of the shrapnel worked its way out! I… uh… I think.” Oh dear. Not the best defence of her inaction. Probably could - and should - have phrased that better. She offered a hopeful smile!

“You’re going to make me take care of you, aren’t you?” Benjamin said the words in an annoyed tone, but the way he said it held a hint of threat. One that unofficially made it clear he wasn’t just going to let her walk away until those wounds were taken care of.

The hopeful smile had not worked. Damn. ”What do you mean by that? I’m sure these will be fine by morning… right? It’s only a bit of metal.” It was not just ‘a bit of metal’. And it hurt. A lot. But she was committed to the ruse now - and besides, his wounds were still worse than her own! Never mind that Kat, the vampire was the bloody rearguard for a group that included a giant robot thing and several werewolves… and that she’d done that to get Ben to safety as quickly as possible. Contradictions abounded.

”Though… maybe I do need taking care of… this is actually quite painful.”

“Yeah,” Ben sighed then sat back down on the bench.

His hand reached for his collar then loosened the tunic around it enough to expose his skin. He turned his head until she could get a full view of the artery and added.

“Come on. Let me get you fixed up before you pass out on me.”

”Benjamin, no! You’ve only just recovered from what they did to you, the last thing you need is this…” Kat’s demeanour quickly recovered from the initial shock of Ben’s idea on how to ‘get her fixed up’. Of course. This was the only actual way to get it done, without injuring anybody else or infecting them with the Kiss. Kat sighed and shook her head, irritated at her need for blood - her own weaknesses coming to the fore once again. ”But… ugh… Fine.” She got up from the chair and walked over next to him, nuzzling her head into the gap between his head and his shoulder. And then, with some degree of hesitation, she bared her fangs, and sank them deep into his flesh, his warm vitae draining from the wound down her throat, a surge of energy flowing through her torpid veins. The bullet wounds ceased bleeding, and began to close over as she slaked her thirst.

She withdrew her head from the bite area, and wiped at her mouth. The bite site itself closed over quickly, to avoid too much sanguination. ”I wish I didn’t have to do that…”

“And I wish I wasn’t a werewolf, but that’s not how the world works,” Ben pointed out as he wiped away the remains of his blood.

He didn’t mention he felt weaker than before. Kat would only mother him and he couldn’t handle that right now. It didn’t stop him from twisting about then laying his head against her lap.

“I think I need some sleep before we do anything else.” He yawned.

”I’ll say…” Katarina stroked his hair as she closed her eyes… It would be good to catch a decent amount of shut-eye.