Murder was something that Phoenix was well acquainted with. He remembered how his sister had come to meet her end so many years ago, so the tear stained eyes of Mindy Diasco were nothing new to him. He was standing outside of the police briefing room, or at least that’s what they had called it. Phoenix was called in by a detective who got word that he had visited the small town from the locals. The police station was an inviting place for him, he had never actually stepped foot in one, but he had heard they existed from various members of Paradox. One such member being Beatrice Hanamura, a nice woman who acted as the agency’s blacksmith in a way. “Police stations are kind of scary if you’ve never been in one before.” She had told him one time. “Just know that if you ever find yourself in front of an officer, it’s best to be compliant. Going against orders can lead to deadly consequences.”

The precinct didn’t seem all that scary to Phoenix. He actually kind of liked sitting in the waiting area next to Mindy, though he figured he shouldn’t be too happy right now. He glanced down at the girl sitting next to him. She hadn’t spoken a word to him at all, not since she walked in and saw him sitting there. She had let out a little gasp of confusion. “Do I….?” She was about to ask who he was, but recognition graced her features once she got closer to him. She said nothing, and sat down next to him, patiently waiting. She wore a mask of despair and tiredness.

She looked different from when he last saw her. Her eyes had a bluish tinge around them, and he wondered if someone had hurt her somehow. “It’s unkind to stare, Phoenix.” The God spoke to him. He quickly looked away, ashamed he had been gawking at someone like that. Just when he was about to consider answering the voice back, the door to the briefing room opened and Eris Goodoire stepped out. They still wore the brightly colored clothing that Pheonix found to be a pain to look at, but their expression was far too dismal for their attire.

The man behind them was tall, and business like. He wore an unbuttoned suit jacket, with a plain white dress shirt underneath. Phoenix hadn’t brushed up very well on his future fashion attire knowledge, but even he could tell that this so called detective was a little bit over dressed for his job. “Alright, thanks for being cooperative Miss Goodoire. I’m going to need to speak to Mindy next.” He gestured toward Mindy, not sparing Phoenix a cursory glance. She didn’t move, and the detective noticed this. “Hey, I said I need you for questioning.” He said it a bit louder, as if she couldn’t hear him.

Eris glanced nervously back at the detective. Suddenly Beatrice’s words of advice about listening to the law echoed in his ears. He decided to speak up. “Uh...'Excuse me, miss. He need you.” It was a bit broken, but he was sure it got the point across. Mindy seemed to shake out of her stupor when she heard his voice. She looked up at him confused, before she suddenly seemed to remember where she was.



“Oh, right.” She said, hollowly. She got up, and made her way into the briefing room with the detective. Eris sighed heavily, and took Mindy’s spot next to him. They both sat quietly for awhile.

“So,” Eris began. “Any idea why they want you here?” They asked.

Phoenix thought for a moment, he had been trying to muster up an answer to that very question himself, but he just couldn’t understand what the death of Darius Winters had to do with him. He shook his head. “No, I know nothing.” He said.

The two of them sat in uncomfortable silence for a little while, neither even looking at the other. Phoenix had to wonder how he came to be partners with someone like Eris Goodoire. It wasn’t just their terrible taste in clothing, but their name and their looks. There was just something achingly familiar about them, yet he couldn’t place why. He had never met Eris before, and seeing how this was the future essentially, he couldn’t have met them. Still, he had a hard time looking at their face for too long. It scared him a little.

“What’s Paradox like?” They suddenly asked. He jumped at hearing their voice.

“It’s nice.” Phoenix said. “Good people there.”

“Really now? How long have you been in Paradox?” They turned to look at him.

“Some months. I have few missions, though.” He answered. “We’re partners. You and me.”

“Partners?”

Phoenix nodded. “All members get partner when they join, eventually.” He said.

“I’m not joining Paradox though.” Eris said, which surprised Phoenix. “I was supposed to just go for practice, not to be a member or anything.”

“Oh.” He didn’t know what say to that.

“I don’t think I’m even going to do that now…”

“Yes you are, ma’am.” Charlton arrived at the precinct. He walked toward them, a stern look on his face as he spoke.“I know this has been a rather difficult two days, but you need to control your powers however you can.” He nodded at Phoenix. “Hello, Phoenix. What brings you here, tonight?”

“I don’t know.” He answered. “What….what will he do? When I go to the room with him?”

“You’ve never been to a precinct before?” Eris asked, confused.

Phoenix shook his head. “I have never seen a police officer before.” He said.

“No need to worry, then. You just have to answer his questions honestly.” Charlton explained. Phoenix looked taken aback.

“He will ask me questions? About… Darius Winters?”

“Most likely. That’s what they asked me about, anyway.” Eris said. They leaned back in their chair, and closed their eyes. “He’s a strange one, that detective.” They murmured.

Charlton took a seat, and the three of them waited for Mindy to come out of the room. Phoenix and the God of the Sea played a friendly game of I-Spy while waiting, and then the door finally opened. The Detective looked smug when Phoenix saw him, and this time the man decided to give him a once over. He seemed to grow even more secure of himself when he glanced at Phoenix.

"Your turn." He pointed toward Phoenix. Phoenix got up, slowly. He looked at Charlton and Eris, who both gave him encouraging looks. The Detective ushered him into the small breifing room, and Phoenix relaxed when he saw what the room actually looked like. Just a table, two chairs, and white walls. Nothing to be afraid of in here, and the Detective even gave off a friendly vibe. "Take a seat please." He gestured at a chair at the end of the table. Phoenix gingerly sat down in the plastic armchair, and faced the detective with a brave face. He seemed younger than most adults Phoenix had seen in this building, and he held a nice, kind air about him that made you want to trust him. "I am wary of this one, Pheonix." The god whispered. Phoenix gulped nervously at his words.

"So, Mr....Phoenix, is it? Can you tell me why you were sent here this week?" The detective asked. Phoenix nodded, though he didn't answer. The detective cleared his throat, impatiently.

"I...I came to meet my partner." He said, slowly. The detective nodded, and scribbled something down on a notepad. Phoenix couldn't read it very well, it was all in english. "Ask his name, match stick." The god spoke again. Phoenix was glad he had someone else in the room to guide him, just a little. "What's your name?" He asked, clearly.

"I am detective Roland Moore." He answered. "You seem a little more talkative than I thought." Roland observed.

"I just don't talk very well. In english." Phoenix explained. Roland nodded, chuckling patronizingly.

"Yeah, I can see that. So you're meeting a partner. Would that partner happen to be Ms.Goodoire?" He asked.

"Yes, they are my partner. I got no chance to tell them in time. I was..." He searched his mind for the right word. "Late." The detective nodded.

"Okay, that's unfortunate I guess." Roland shrugged the answer off as if it didn't matter to him. "How did you know Darius Winters?"

"I didn't. Not actually." Phoenix said. "I just met him. Couple days ago."

Roland smriked, and gave Phoenix an amused look. "Really now? So this is the angle your playing, huh?" He asked. Phoenix looked at him confused.

I don't-"

"I know you can hear me, Dehxi." Roland seethed through gritted teeth. He was glaring at Phoenix, but he had a feeling that Roland wasn't really looking at him, but rather in him instead. The Rolun spoken into the room was a sound that Phoenix missed dearily, and he nearly gasped when he heard it. Roland continued on, a completely new person than the one Phoenix had aquainted himself with. "You can't keep ignoring me like this. First Goodoire, and now you?! I would think you'd have had more class than that." He gestured toward Phoenix. "And what is this host you have chosen? This wasn't the deal at all!"

Suddenly, Phoenix felt a burst of pain from his left eye. It was excruxiating, and he tried to scream, but that familiar calm song of the waves washed over him, claiming his voice. His mouth spoke words that were not his, and his voice trembled like it was somebody else's. It was somebody else's. "I had no choice, Daraeya. The boy was the closest thing to a healthy body then. That idiotic village leader was poisoning them all with your jewel, yet he laid untouched." Phoenix could still see out his other eye, and was able to read Rolands- no Daraeya's, facial expressions. He calmed down a little.

"I can't believe you." Daraeya shook his head. "Do you know how long I have been trapped in the mortal realm because of Goodoire and his stupid antics? Far too long! You said you would get the jewel back, and in my hand."

Phoenix felt his shoulders shrug against his own will. "I am sorry, Daraeya, but I am trying. You will have to be more patient." He said. "It doesn't even matter right now, what matters is this mortals death." He must be referring to Darius Winters.

Daraeya shook his head sadly. "He was Brune's host body." He said. "Brune is lost with no anchor, and no lover, and no-" Phoenix was so utterly lost and confused at this point. He didn't want to interrupt the God of The Sea, however.

"Enough of that. We have roles to play. You find out who killed Brune, and I'll get another shard along the way. We can't keep talking for too long, the other's will grow suspicious of Fexixote." Dehxi, the God of the Sea, spoke Phoenix's name, and it shocked him deeply. The pain receded, and it was almost as if it were not there at all. Phoenix rubbed his eye, softly. Daraeya looked him over.

"You will follow what Dexhi says, won't you?" He asked, threateningly. Phoenix nodded, earnestly. He nodded, "Good. Don't tell anyone about this talk, though Goodoire has probably spilt the beans already, knowing how he is."

"Who...?" Phoenix asked confused. He felt like the name Goodoire was familiar, yet he never knew why. If Daraeya knows the name well, then maybe there is a reason for that.

"Nevermind that. Dehxi will explain all, he is a powerful god. You should feel honored you are his host." Daraeya said. Phoenix just nodded again, and Daraeya dismissed him.

"I will explain all at a quieter time." Dehxi spoke from within his mind. "Just act normal. If the others ask you what Daraeya talked to you about, just say Darius Winters. I was right to be wary of that one, Felixolo...." Dehxi sounded like he regretted ever going into the briefing room with Daraeya.

"Yes, you were very correct."
.........................
hey so here it is finally, lets hope I can get the other one's done faster while all this shit is still going on.

In the days since Hounds of Humanity had been defeated, Kyle had hardly heard from Harry. Aside from the occasional text checking in, there was nothing. Kyle had tried getting in touch with his mentor to go over cases that he had been investigating prior to the ordeal with the Hounds, however, the old man would simply tell him that he didn’t have the time, or that they would look into it later. Harry’s seeming disinterest was very much out of character, and Kyle had begun to grow concerned for his friend. So, when he received a text message from the old man telling him to meet at a specific address in Crown Ridge, he was both relieved and concerned.

Meet me at 53 Somerset Ave, Crown Ridge, noon. The message had said.

Kyle arrived at the address Harry had provided just before noon and was slightly confused as to why the old man had wanted to meet here. There was nothing there but an old decommissioned post office building which looked as if it hadn’t been touched in twenty years. Around the perimeter of the old building was a large brick wall which much like the rest of the property had seen better days. The wall was in disrepair, and in some places looked to be crumbling. However, as he looked closer, he could see that it appeared that there had been some recent renovations to the wall, as well as what looked to be a state of the art surveillance system.

“What’s going on Harry?” Kyle asked out loud, although he was alone.

Not seeing Harry anywhere, Kyle began to walk around the outside of the wall which surrounded the old post office. He was puzzled as to why Harry could possibly want to meet here. Though, one thing he had learned in his time working with Harry, is that the old man always had a reason for everything, he’d just have to wait and find out what that reason was.

12:04

Harry was late, which Kyle found odd. Harry was never late, for anything. The old man was always quick to remind Kyle of one of his many rules of thumb, “if you’re early, you’re on time. If you’re on time, you’re late.” So, the fact that Harry had not arrived yet had him slightly concerned. However, he did not have to worry for long, as after a few minutes, he saw Harry’s black Cadillac round the corner before if pulled up to the curb in front of him.

“Hi.” The old man said with a smile as he stepped out of the car. His tone was much more jovial than normal.

Now, Kyle was worried.

“What’s up?” Kyle asked as he greeted his mentor. “Why did you want to meet here?”

“Come this way.” Harry said, motioning Kyle to follow him through the gated entrance which would take them to the other side of the wall. ‘We’ve got some things to discuss.”

Harry led Kyle to the old post office building, and as they got closer Kyle could see just how badly the building had deteriorated from years of neglect. Though, as he looked more closely at the building, something seemed slightly “off” about it. Something about the building seemed artificial. Kyle followed Harry around the left side of the building to a section of wall which was just out of view from the street side.

“Put your hand there.” Harry said pointing to a specific section of the wall that was broken into four square panels, indicating that Kyle should put his hand on the second panel in. When Kyle did as he was instructed, nothing happened.

“What is this?” Kyle asked, growing slightly frustrated, and yet, even more concerned for Harry. In the past few weeks, something had been off with Harry. He didn’t seem to be as fully invested in what they had been doing as he once was. He also noticed the little things, the fatigue in Harry’s eyes, the difficulty the older man had with seemingly menial tasks, such as picking up a coffee mug, or the increasing frequency in which Harry forgot things. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was just another example of Harry’s recent troubles.

Almost as if sensing Kyle’s trepidation, Harry placed his palm of the same panel that Kyle had, and much to the younger man’s surprise, the panel glowed with a bluish hue and the wall slid open, revealing a large elevator with enough room to fit two cars side by side.

“Your biometrics haven’t been programmed into the system yet.” Harry explained to Kyle. “Once we do that, it’ll open for you too.” He finished as the elevator began to move downward.

“Harry, what the hell is this place?” Kyle asked.

“This…” Harry began. “This is what I’ve been working on for the last month.” He explained as the elevator came to a stop.

Once the elevator had stopped, the doors slid open revealing a large room. In the center of the room was a rather unassuming car. Although it was a nice looking car, it didn’t seem to be anything special. Then his eyes shifted from the car to the rest of the room. On the far wall was a large computer array, and in the opposite corner of the room was a workout station, complete with weights, climbing ropes and cardio machines.

“What is this place?” Kyle asked even though he knew the answer.
“This is your new base of operations. During the cold war it was common for the US government to build bomb shelters beneath municipal buildings, this was an example of one. It was decommissioned in the 70’s.” Harry began.

“I was able to purchase the property on your behalf, and using some of my old contacts I was able to establish several different shell companies to hide the identity of the true owner, but that’s not anything that you have to worry about.” Harry said, clearly enjoying the baffled look on Kyle’s face.

“It will make operating within Crown Ridge more efficient. Of course, you’ll still have access to The Garage should you need it.” Harry explained. “I know it doesn’t look like much now, but we’ve been working on this for weeks, when we’re done, it’ll be all you need.”

“We?” Kyle asked.

“Kyle, this is a young man’s game.” Harry began, ignoring Kyle’s question. “And I’m not a young man anymore.”

“What are you saying?” Kyle asked, concern creeping into his voice.

“I can’t keep doing this Kyle. When I began training you, you were just a kid with unlimited, untapped potential. And while in many ways you are still that same boy that showed up on my doorstep with Ronnie, you’ve grown so much.” He paused for a moment, closing his eyes and tilting his head to the floor at the mention of his grandson.

“But there’s nothing more I can teach you.”

“Harry…” Kyle began but was immediately cut off.

“It’s time for you to take the next step, it’s time for you to be your own man.” Harry told him. “And as it’s your time, it’s also mine. It’s my time to retire.”

“What are you going to do?” Kyle asked, the shock of the moment made it difficult for him to get the words out.

“Oh, I think I’m going to go to a nice tropical beach somewhere and spend my days sipping fruity drinks with umbrellas in them.” Harry joked. “But no matter what, if you ever need me, I’ll be there for you. I’m just a phone call away.”

“I…I was not expecting this.” Kyle admitted, still struggling to find the right words.

“But I wouldn’t leave you without getting you set up with everything you need. I know that it doesn’t look like much right now, but neither did The Garage when I first started working on it. This place, this place will be special…and you’re going to make it your own.” Harry told the younger man.

“Harry, you said ‘we.’ Who were you talking about?” Kyle asked.

“Them.” Harry said as he pointed behind Kyle. Much to Kyle’s surprise he saw two young women standing behind him. One was a young blonde woman who looked to be barely out of high school. The other was a dark haired Latina woman who was about his age, or slightly older.

“Kyle, I’d like you to meet Cassie Welch, the best hacker in the Western Hemisphere. Trust me, the computers are in good hands.”

“They call me Whisper.” She sad as she extended her hand to shake his.

“And this is the woman that created most of the equipment you use, Ash Martinez, also know as Echo. Her father was the most innovative engineer I’ve ever known. And I have to say, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I think you’ll be excited to see what she’s been cooking up for you.”

---

Nicky's head was buzzing with the effort of trying to remember everything Wang had taught her in the bus. Basic phrases like “hello” and “Can I get some lunch?” were about all she could handle, though her pronunciation was apparently pretty good for a white girl who started learning today. She brushed her hair back in the humid air and stared at the interior of the shop they had stopped at. Next door was apparently the house they were going to stay in, and also the home of the owner of this place. As far as she could tell, they sold things to wizards. There were all sorts of dried animal bits in glass jars, racks upon racks of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, and a case of tiny boxes behind the counter she sat at.

However, she wasn't waiting on ancient Chinese medicine. She was waiting for the owner of the shop to finish forging her papers so she could legally travel in China. Apparently the guy had lots of experience with American passports, though she wasn't sure why. However, waiting as not Nicole's forte, and the smell of this place was beginning to get to her, as well as the jar of what looked like eyes staring at her. She climbed off the stool and wandered outside into the daylight.

Except for the style of some of the buildings, Zengzhou looked like any other city to her. She guessed that was what she had heard called globalisation, though she wasn't sure and didn't really care. At the moment, the street she was on was a tiny side street, more like an alley than anything else. Across the way was apparently an apartment complex, with a grocery store on the ground floor. At least nothing looked glaringly neon like Beijing had when she had ridden through on the first night here. She felt a pang of guilt about running off from the Temple and Alex, but it wasn't really a place for her. Not that anywhere she had been since the Incident had felt like home.

She didn't notice the three men approaching her until they spoke. She shook her head, to signify that she couldn't understand.

“Ohhhh,” said the largest one, wearing a jean jacket and torn shirt. “American girl come to China, think no learn Chinese? Typical gwailo bitch!”

The baseball bat came from behind and slammed into the back of her head, knocking her torso forward. She straightened up and grinned. It hit again, this time her upper arm, and she turned to her assailant. Another two men behind her. They all looked like rough types. As the bat swung again she caught it cold and kicked the man in the crotch as hard as she could. His grip fell off of the bat and he crumpled, groaning. Another hit behind her, low on her back and small, a knife or something. She didn't bother flipping the bat around just spun and struck out with the handle. The man who had just tried to grab her arm from behind took it to the temple and dropped like a stone.

An arm wrapped around her neck and hauled backwards, and the two still in front of her both held what looked like needles, though one of them was missing the needle part now. He threw it away and said something in Mandarin, scowling at her. She whipped the bat behind her head and smashed it into her captors elbow, making him scream and let her go. She hurled herself forward into the other two and began swinging wildly. Several times she was hit, but since it had no effect, she didn't really bother to pay attention. All of them were yelling now, and then they scattered.

As she stood there, roaring her defiance, the old man from the shop stepped up and patted her on the shoulder. She jerked, then looked at him. He gave her a smile.

“It is good you fought them off, or else you would have ended up kidnapped and sold to some opium den and no one would ever see you again.”

”Holy shit, that actually happens?”

His smile faded, and the look of pain in his eyes was intense enough that even Nicole noticed. “Yes. All too often, I am afraid. Even worse along the coast.” He sighed, then straightened up and smiled again. “Come, young girl. Your papers have been prepared, and you are now a legal traveller in China!”

I forgot how user-unfriendly the UI for this Game Genie cube was. I originally thought I could just boot the thing up, push a few buttons, and then I would be ready for my little hospital visit. But in reality, it took me fiddling around with the program until I was cutting things awfully close. I was not worried about being late, since it wouldn't take long to get there. I just wanted to be able to just click and go.

While I was dealing with these last-minute issues, I heard my cell phone, which had been resting next to my laptop, start ringing. When I glanced over towards my phone, the caller ID identified that my mom was on the other side of the line. Of all times, why now? Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother to death. She fully supported me moving out to Pacific Point for my modeling gig, even though I, her daughter, have never lived in a different state as her before, let alone on the other side of the country. But she can also talk ears off and ever since I relocated to California, it has gotten even worse. If I’m not careful, I’m never going to be able to get to the hospital in a timely fashion.

“Hey, Mom! What’s up?” I cordially answered her call while still focusing part of my attention on my computer screen.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re okay!” My mom gasped in relief. “I was so worried when I heard what had happened in Pacific Point.”

“I was at home the entire time, so I wasn’t in any real danger,” I lied to my own mother. I mean, what was I supposed to say? That I was not only stuck in the middle of the incident, but I was trading blows with the metahumans whom the Hounds had driven mad? Although I have a pretty solid relationship with my parents (or why else would they have allowed me to move to the West Coast), I have no idea how they would react if I told them the truth, that I’m a metahuman drider. I would hope they would be understanding, but you never know. How would you react if your little girl was now more spider than human?

“Please just be careful. My poor heart can’t even bear that thought of something happening to you,” my mom told me. The concern in her voice was quite clear.

“Don’t worry, mom. I can handle myself.”

I was not even sure of that, considering the rollercoaster ride that has been my life ever since I was ‘blessed’ with metahuman powers.

“Mom, I’m going to have to head out soon, so could I call you back later?”

“Of course!” My mother responded, “I don’t want to hold you up! Your dad and I miss you so much, so don’t hesitate to call!”

“So do I, mom. And I'll call back whenever I'm free again.”

After I had hung up, I turned back to my computer screen. By that time, I had finally figured out what I needed to do to get the cube working. Therefore, I clicked my mouse and activated the cube that Talus had recovered from the Game Genie’s attack on Pacific Point. There was a brief moment of darkness as I was sucked into the cube before I materialized back on the chair I had been sitting in. But now, I was wearing a Spider-Gwen costume that looked more authentic than any movie wardrobe unit could produce.

I then stood up from my chair and slid it under the desk that sat in front of it. There was just enough room that was perpendicular with the desk for a quick roundoff back handspring. Luckily, with my spider powers, I landed on my feet like a cat, without making too much noice to bother the girls living below me. Since I had spent much of my adolescence doing cheerleading, throwing up my arms upon the landing was just ingrained into my subconscious, even though there was no audience or judges to see it. I’m still figuring out how to use my gymnastic knowledge in my drider form, so it just felt nice having my powers while still looking one hundred percent human.

It is kind of weird that they asked me to do this little stunt. Although I am a little more well known, I’m sure there are people out there with spider powers that did not include looking like one. I guess I'm a good choice because I'm a blonde, but you can't see Spider-Gwen's hair while she was in costume. Normally, I would never be caught dead dressed as my fictional archenemy, but since it is for a good cause, I could swallow my pride.

“I am such an idiot,” I exclaimed as I slapped my forehead with my hand. The reason why Spider-Gwen is my “fictional archenemy” is because Marvel blatantly copied my likeness by making the superpowered Gwen Stacy look like me. So, the staff at the hospital would be expecting a Spider-Gwen that looked like a drider! That means I have to redo the hard-light transformation process all over again!

After some frantic googling to figure out what the current Spider-Gwen’s costume looked like, especially on the spider abdomen and legs and desperate typing on the program tied to the Game Genie cube, I was finally decked out in the correct Spider-Gwen costume, now fitted to my drider physique.

I guess I really wasn’t lying to my mom. I was going to need to really run to get to the hospital to arrive on time!

---

Late Summer

Central Park, NY


The North Woods of Central Park were a particularly quiet spot in New York, especially with midnight around the corner.

David relaxed as the water soothingly made its way beneath the wooden bridge he stood upon, leaning against the rail languidly.

He did not much look like himself, dressed in an uncharacteristically casual manner: slim jeans over a pair of ankle boots, coupled with a hoodie and an obscure meme t-shirt to tie the whole ensemble together. He also sported a large, if well kept, fake beard which obscured the lower half of his face, whilst a generic black cap crowned his head, hood on top. These threw some shade over a pair of glasses, which further concealed a pair of dark, brown lenses.

The glasses were purely for show, of course, but they helped tie the illusion of being someone else together. What were truly interesting, however, were his contact lenses: top of the line, cutting edge technology, they provided the wearer with an intuitive form of augmented reality, feeding him information on his environment. They had cost him a small fortune in the black market, but it was not a purchase he regretted: not by any stretch of the imagination.
The lenses had several functionalities, such as modulating the eye color, recording or taking pictures at any given moment, connecting to the internet and of course, feeding a live stream directly to Deep.

They could also run different programs to focus on analyzing different aspects of the environment, but with the tech being so new and experimental, there was not a lot to choose from. Fortunately, with all great technological advancements comes great military interest, and the defaults carried advanced reconnaissance and combat interfaces, and Deep was almost out of Alpha for a proprietary code, focused on assisting Dave in his more nefarious ventures.

The man suddenly perched up. The lenses were picking up movement, but they did not seem to be able to pinpoint any shape or form.

“...Are you seeing this?” the man whispered.

“I am,” the telltale ‘deepthroat’ reply came through, “It’s probably just a glitch. Or a pigeon. Perhaps I ought to refine…”

“Shush,” David urged him, “Someone -is- coming.”

I hate this city. Bryan Loomis thought to himself as he traversed through Central Park toward his destination. Though his occupation had brought him to New York numerous times, no trip to the “Rotten Apple” as he liked to call it, was ever short enough. Fortunately, this assignment was relatively straightforward. All he had to do was make contact with a world renowned thief and give him a dossier with a business proposal from his employer, and then he could be on his way.

However, this assignment had proven to be easier said than done. The thief in question was just as elusive as his reputation had indicated. In truth, there was very little information about the man out there, and much of it had proven to be more fiction than fact. However, through his vast resources, Loomis’ employer had been able to dig up a sizeable amount of information on the master thief, a man that for all intents and purposes, to the rest of the world, simply didn’t exist. Since arriving in New York the previous day, Loomis had been on the thief’s trail, tracking him from Times Square to Staten Island and everywhere in between. He nearly made contact with him at a small tavern on the Upper East Side after one of his leads had proven to be promising, however, the master thief had proven elusive as ever.

Another of his leads, which came from one of Midas’ top informants had lead him here. Central Park was a massive area within New York City, which made finding a specific individual, especially someone who does not want to be found, much like finding the proverbial “needle in a haystack.” Fortunately, Loomis’ informant was more specific in regards to a location for the elusive thief. As Loomis made his way through the North Woods of the park, he thought that he heard someone talking.

Loomis adjusted his glasses as he looked around the area, and much to his surprise, he saw a man standing on a wooden bridge not too far from his current location. He took a moment to study the man, and when he recalled the admittedly fuzzy images that he had seen of the thief, he was sure that this man may very possibly be the master thief himself. So Loomis straightened his wiry frame and walked purposefully toward the man on the bridge.

“James Cavindish, you are a hard man to get a hold of.” He said as he approached the man on the bridge.

David’s heart jumped in his chest, followed by a guttural feeling of sickness. He’d been ready for anything, even the flash of a gun’s metal, or perhaps even a badge’s… but hearing that name was the last thing he expected.

Ever since the ‘loss’ of his real identity, James Cavindish had become, for all intents and purposes, his ‘main’ alter ego, his civil identity, so to speak. It was a persona which he and Deep had meticulously crafted over the years, an up and coming magnate of the toilet roll industry, owning 49% of the rapidly growing “Cheeky Monkey” brand. It was a legitimate business, and one of the many ways in which he and Deep laundered their money. When the hacker asked him about the idea, David shrugged.

“It was something my grandfather used to say when he wanted to illustrate the difference between something you want, and something you -need.- ‘Fads come and go, but a hundred years from now people will still need to go for a shit.’”

All in all, it was the name that paid the bills and the signature that justified the expenses, and a matter he had taken a great deal of care in keeping completely separate from his criminal endeavours. They had been so clever… so careful!

He took a deep breath, inhaling quietly through his nose whilst he mentally ran through half a dozen techniques and tricks to keep himself cool and coherent, detached from his suddenly mixed and bubbling emotions. He could almost hear Deep’s stunned silence through his earpiece, -surely, screaming internally as he tried his best to remain professional.

His instincts, on the other hand, told him to run, to talk his way through a swift exit and find some hole to hide in… but he had already taken the bait, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to squeeze the moment for all it was worth.

He stood up from the railing, as if to better regard the man. The lenses were as good as useless in this regard, more an annoyance than an aid as they continued to malfunction in the scarce lighting. Still, he read no ill intent in the man’s tone or body language.

“Not hard enough, it would seem,” he replied in his non-descript accent, his warm voice calm and collected, almost playful in its tone, “Honestly, I’m a little disappointed in myself. I always thought I’d be retired before people even began to suspect of my real identity.”

“Yes well, when your pockets are as deep as my employers, you’ll find that very little is out of your reach.” Loomis quipped as he stepped towards the master thief.

Loomis could tell that Cavindish, despite his cool demeanor was slightly spooked by his sudden appearance and the fact that he knew the man’s name. There were certain tells that everyone, no matter how well they hide their emotions, have that give away their true emotions, and Loomis was an expert in identifying these tells. Sometimes it was a twitch, or a sudden shifting of weight, sometimes it was even the way someone blinks an eye. Sometimes it was a combination of things, and sometimes it was something different altogether. Loomis had an odd knack for identifying these traits and using them to his benefit.

“The thing is, Mr. Cavindish, my employer has a need for someone with your...particular skill set.” Loomis said pointedly before adding, “And he is willing to compensate you generously for your work.”

“I told you this was a bad idea...” Deep’s voice came through David’s earpiece, unable to contain himself any longer, “You have to get out of there. I have already uploaded the quickest escape route to your lenses and I can have the dro…”

David never heard the end of his sentence, a quick click on the earpiece muting his partner, “Yes, well,” he echoed his interlocutor, “Flattered as I am that your ‘employer’ went through all that trouble to figure me out -and believe me, I ensured there was plenty- I honestly find this invasion of my privacy to be rather unprofessional, if not a little rude,” he scolded the man, his eyes hardening, “I do not appreciate being strong-armed.”

“Strong-armed?” Loomis asked as a smile stretched over his face. “Believe me, if my employer were strong-arming you, you’d certainly know it.” Loomis assured the thief.

It was the truth.

Richard Midas was known for many things, however, showing restraint in attaining a goal was not one of them. This tenacity has seen him do any number of reprehensible things over the years. When he felt that someone could help him achieve a goal, he spared no expense and there was no depth to which he would not sink in order to get what he wanted.

“Be that as it may, this is one job that I don’t think you’ll be able to turn down.” Loomis said with a jovial tone of voice, trying to get this interaction back on track.

David produced a cigarette, taking a deep drag to ignite it as the corporate henchman went through the motions.

There was little point in further rallying for honour amongst thieves or making hypocritical demands for trust. As much as it pained him to admit it, the condescending little wanker was right: the thief had no doubt in his mind that these people meant business (possibly in more ways than one), and if they’d wanted to hurt him, be it with this information or otherwise, they could’ve done it by now in far less of an elaborate manner.

“Pffft,” Dave blew out the smoke in what seemed to be an effort to contain a laugh, giving the man a cheeky smirk, “Alright then, Jimmy Helms. Let’s hear your pitch.”

Loomis smiled, more to himself than anything else. It had been awhile since he had been tested by someone, and this man had not only had him running all over the city to track him down, but he had proven highly entertaining when he finally did catch up with Cavindish.

“I’m impressed. I’m actually a fan of Londonbeat. I thought I was the only one.” Loomis quipped as he reached into his pocket and produced a thumb drive. “All the information about the job, as well as how to contact me is on this drive.” Loomis said as he approached the man.

“Now, I know that compensation is important to a man like you, and I think you’ll be pleased with the offer my employer has authorized me to make to you. Twenty-five million up front. With another twenty-five million upon completion of the job.” Loomis said as he stood just feet from the thief with his hand outstretched, offering him the thumb drive.

The thief couldn’t help but raise a brow. That was a hell of a lot more generous than what had been originally placed upon the table. Five times more generous, to be precise. He took the thumb drive, eyeing it with a small smile.

“You know, I fully intended to haggle a bit with you, but you’ve proven mighty good at taking the fun out of all of this. Even so, you can tell your employer that if his word is as good as his money, I’ll steal the moon if he bloody well pleases,” he tipped the thumb drive against his forehead, as if bidding the man farewell, “I shall contact you once the job is done. Oh, and next time, stick to the codenames, asshole.”

David did not wait for a reply before taking off, and if one was ever spouted, he did not bother to listen to it. He could hardly wait to get home and see what was on the drive… yet funnily enough, he was in no hurry to hear his partner’s litany of complaints. Deep would just have to simmer until he was back to the apartment.

“Do you really wanna go now?” Eris asked her quietly. They stood in the tiny apartment, alone save for Charlton who stood outside the door. He had offered to drive Mindy to the airport if she wanted, and Mindy had agreed wholeheartedly. Eris was afraid of Mindy leaving, but they couldn’t really blame her.

“Yes, I have to. My lab is back home, and...I have something I need to check over again.” She said. Eris knew she meant the weird, blue blotches around her eyes. They looked like bruises when Eris first saw her, and it kind of freaked them out. Now they were just faint lines of indigo that could barely be seen on her dark skin. Mindy wouldn’t really explain what had happened, but Eris had found a terrible blue mess when they returned to the apartment yesterday, so it must have been something bad. They tried asking, but Mindy was dazed that day, and almost not like herself. They shrugged.

“Yeah, okay. I understand. Just take care, alright?” Eris said to her. Mindy smiled, sadly.

“I will try to. The detective has given me a lot to think about, however.” She sighed, and left through the door. Charlton escorted her to the car, the only one he and Eris had managed to buy for themselves. They waved goodbye to the two of them, as they headed off for Mindy’s flight. When the car was long gone, Eris sighed heavily, and flopped back on the couch, tired. I have about 2 hours until Charlton gets back with the car. That’s enough time for a visit.
……………….

They arrived at Max Heighnsworth’s record shop in about twelve minutes later than expected. Max was still open, and the last customer of the day seemed to be shuffling out with a bag of records and cds. Eris waved at them, and they smiled back, not at all suspicious of what New Jersey’s number one Music Hero was doing at a record shop. Max’s new shop was a lot different from the dingy, poster ridden music hall back in Georgia. For one, none of his classic posters were out, which was fine with Eris, but the entire aesthetic from the ceiling to the cash register was drastically different from before. It seemed grunge bands were popular in Provence, for some reason. There were a lot of weird looking metal posters on the wall, and the decor of the room was purely gothic. It was like walking into a halloween supplies store in the middle of june.

Max spotted them standing outside, and admiring (mostly gawking at) the new makeover. He practically ran outside to greet them, and it seemed to Eris that Max’s new design choices went further than just the shop. Everything he wore was black. His hair, his shirt (which was nicely pressed, they might add), his pants, and his shoes. “Hey!” he greeted. Eris raised a hand, nervously nodding to him.

“I see the record shop has gotten a makeover recently.” They said, chuckling a bit. Max scratched his chin sheepishly.

“Yeah, well ‘give the people what they want’ is what they always say.” He said. “Come on in! I’ll show you a roundabout tour of the place.”

Eris laughed, and decided to go along with it. “Yeah, alright. Show me around.”

Max lead them through the small space of the shop, and showed them almost every inch and corner. Eris could tell he was very proud of this little shop of his, as he gestured toward every poster, and every record he owned in the place. “All the old stuff is in the back. I had to remodel my whole look to attract business around here.” He explained.

Eris picked up a horrid looking album cover that contained flames, a skull, and...is that a minotaur? “I didn’t know Provence was into this kind of stuff. They seemed....I don’t know, old schoolish.” They said.

“I thought so to. Normally, small towns like these are into that rockabilly shit, you know?” Max shrugged. Eris nodded, painfully remembering the time their neighbor threw two brick messages through their window.

“Yeah, I guess.” They trailed off. Eris breathed in deeply, steadying themselves for what they were about to do. “Anyway, I didn’t just come for a tour of the place Max, though this is a nice shop...I wanna ask you about this.” Eris took from their pocket the green Moth pin. Max’s friendly demeanor disappeared entirely when he saw what Eris held in their hand.

“Damn.” He said, after awhile of just staring horrified at the pin. “I guess she wasn’t lying then, you really did find it.”

Eris raised an eyebrow. “She?”

“Leila said you and Mindy found my moth pin.” Max shuffled his feet awkwardly.

Eris gasped quietly. “So it is your’s. You’re a Paradox Agent?” Max raised a hand to his lips hurriedly.

“Shut up! I’m not supposed to talk about it. Leila’s orders.” He said. “That moth of her’s could be listening in on us.” He glanced nervously at the pin.

Eris crossed their arms, slightly peeved. “Leila has been giving a lot of orders lately. She told that Phoenix guy we were partners.” They said. “I think she thinks I’m joining up as an agent, for some reason.”

“You’re just training though, right?” Max asked. Eris nodded.

“Yeah, that’s the plan anyway. Only problem is I don’t know where to go for training. Only person I knew who knew the way was Darius, and well...I can’t train yet. I’m staying in town to solve his murder.” They said. “I can’t just leave it like this, Max. Whoever killed him held a grudge.”

Max sighed. “Well, you are a Super now, I guess. But supers don’t really…solve mysteries. They stop crimes from happening, and you’re a little late for that, don’t you think?” He said, shoulders sagging. “I didn’t know the guy personally, but you are right about one thing. It seemed way too malicious for just a spur of the moment kind of deal. Stringing him up on the building and what not.”

Eris threw the moth pin back at Max, who caught it, and put it away swiftly. “Well that’s one mystery down, at least. But there’s two more I’ve got to solve. You know the detective who came by and asked us questions?”

Max nodded. “He came by the other day, asking all sorts of things. Like what kind of music Darius liked, and how I knew him.” Max shook his head, confused. “He also...knew I was an agent. Somehow. He wanted to know Paradox’s involvement with Darius, and all this other stuff I couldn’t really answer. What’d he ask you?”

“That’s the thing. He didn’t ask me anything. He just told me a bunch of stuff about the case. And I think the oddest part of all of this is the rope that was used on Darius. It’s not rope.” They explained. “It’s...wood. Really intricately carved wood, apparently.”

“Wood? Come one, Eris. You don’t really believe that do you?” Max scoffed. Eris shrugged.

“I don’t know either. But the guy invited me to forensics today. They want me there for some reason, the science people. I don’t know what you call them, but those guys in white lab coats who look over dead bodies and shit.”

“Wow. Okay. That’s...a little odd. You don’t think they suspect you or anything?” Max asked.

“No.” Eris said. “I think it’s worse than that. I think...I think Provence may have a Villain on the loose.”
………………..

“Ah, there you are.” Roland Moore, the detective investigating Darius’ death, greeted Eris as they walked into the dark forensics lab.

“Are you sure I’m supposed to be here?” Eris asked. A woman in a long, white coat came up to the two of them, and stuck out her hand. She had blonde, shoulder length hair adorned with cutesy bows, and barrettes. She smiled warmly, as she looked up at Eris.

“Yes you are E.G! We’ve personally invited you here for help.” She shook Eris’ hand. “Well, more like I invited you here. Sarah Guddenhair, at your service.” She chuckled. She gestured toward a long table in the dark room, which held an array of what looked to Eris like a bunch of branches from a tree. “This here is the rope we found tied around Mr.Winters. It’s pretty odd, don’t you think?” Eris reached out to touch one, and a piece of the brittle material broke off in their hand, leaving a smudge of stiff, brown dust.

“What is this stuff? And how did they wrap Darius in it if it’s so...hard?” They asked. Sarah came around to the other side of the table.

“I can answer that one easily! You see, the rope is made out of what I think might be made of plasma.” She beamed, proudly.

“Plasma is a real thing? I always thought that was just a fake, made up thing for sci-fi movies and shit.” They exclaimed. Detective Moore spoke up.

“It is very much a real thing. But, Sarah is wrong about it being plasma. It is wood, simple as that.” He said. Sarah pouted, and Eris began to wonder what age this woman was supposed to be.

“Roland thinks it’s some kind of super power. Like your abilities, or something.” She said.

“We ran into a super a couple of years ago with plant powers. He turned villain early on in his career, and we never caught him.” Roland walked up to the wood on the table, and inspected it carefully. “This wood looks exactly like the cedar and oak he used to tangle up a few robbers, back when he was a super. He had an alias, something like ‘Plant Man’.”

“And you want me to catch this…’Plant Man’? I don’t even know where I can possibly start looking for this guy, for all I know he could be dead.” Eris said, bluntly. Villains were not known to live a long life, especially if they were old.

Sarah clapped her hands excitedly. “That’s where I come in! You see, we’re gonna test this wood, and you’re going to help!” She said, happily.

“Okay, but how? My powers aren’t exactly plant related.” Eris said, holding up their walkman plainly.

“Provence is kind of on a tight budget, and we here at the lab don’t actually have any of the high tech equipment we need to...analyze whatever this thing is.” Sarah said, dejected. Her entire demeanor changed immediately, and her shoulders slumped. Then, she perked up lightning fast. “But cedar and oak make an odd noise when it comes into contact with loud noises! And who better to make noise than…”

“A Music Hero. Got it. So you want me to just blast music as loud as I can?” They asked. Roland nodded.

“Make it as loud as you can, but be careful not to make it too loud. I like having my hearing.” He said.

“Same here. Keep it to a minimum, when it comes to the noise.” Sarah stretched her arms lazily in the air, and sat down in a reclining office chair.
Eris turned back to the wood on the table, and picked a piece of it up. They held it in their hands, and they had to say it certainly felt like wood. Why do they even need me, it’s obviously wood.



The song screeched out of the walkman at an unearthly level, and Eris’ ears hurt. They dialed the volume back, completely forgetting how loud the first few seconds of this song were. The wood vibrated in their hand, and Eris held it up to their ear. Was this the strange reaction that Sarah was talking about? They couldn’t hear anything coming from the wood. Then suddenly, they felt it come alive in their hand, and the wood went limp. Roland looked at it closely, curious about it’s properties. Eris turned the music off completely. “Icredible.” Roland whispered, as he took the rope out of their hand. “I don’t remember this being in his skill set, though. As he learned new tricks?”

“Or maybe this isn’t his doing? It felt like....like…” Eris tried to pin it down.

“It was an illusion.” From the doorway, Leila stood there, a cane now accompanied her. The moth, Charlotte, rested gently on her head not fazed at all. “Eris, it’s good to see you here.” She greeted.

“Why are you here, Leila? You seem to have a talent for showing up at the strangest times.” They said. Eris crossed their arms, slightly suspicious of the Paradox leader.

“I called her here.” Roland explained. “Your agent was...useless when it came to questioning, so that’s why you’re here.”

Leila smiled, demurely. “Of course. I will answer anything you ask of me.” She said.

“Lets do it here, and now. First question, how do you know this is an illusion?” Roland surprisingly started his interrogation right then and there. Eris felt that might have been a bit uncouth of him, and maybe even a bit unprofessional. But then again, Roland didn’t come off as a professional person.

“I know this is an illusion because I can do the same thing, albeit with a bit more flourish and Charlotte’s help.” She said. She went to go take a seat near the table with the wood, and she gingerly picked a piece up. “However, I did not make this, though that may sound suspicious. I have a clue who did though.” The rope was then succumbed to a throng of tiny moths that fluttered around it in a green blur, and then disappeared in a burst of sparks and light. The wood had been transformed into the rope that Roland still held in his hands.

“Woah!” Sarah breathed in amazement. “That’s awesome! How did you do that?” She asked eagerly.

“My questions first, please.” Roland pushed her aside, and she huffed with a pout and a childish cross of her arms. “How is it that Paradox is connected to Darius Winters?”

Leila sighed, sadly. “Snowflake was partnered up with Paradox. We worked together to further the education of the students at Snowflake, using the technology Paradox owned.” She said. “I’m afraid that’s a lost cause now.”

Roland moved on. “Whose this suspect you have in mind?” He asked. Leila stood up, and walked over to Roland. He stepped back tentatively.

“Charlotte says you already know who he is.” Leila said, quietly. “She says ‘You two are old friends’.” Eris felt a bit creeped out with Leila and her weird telepathic moth.

Roland seemed to be considering it however. “Old friends…” He looked at her sharply, and looked her over, suspicious. Eris wondered what the hell was going on, when suddenly Leila smiled, and walked to the door.

“I feel our interview has come to an end now.” She said. “I will think over what you have said, Mr. Moore.”

Roland didn’t object, it was a rather short interrogation, and Eris wasn’t sure they could even call it that.

And then she left. Sarah whirled around in the office chair, spinning it around. “Well I guess we were both wrong. Man, what a bummer.” She said.

“We have a lead though.” Roland announced. “I’m going to be leaving Provence in a couple of days, and I want you to come, Eris.”

“Wait, what!?” They exclaimed. “Why me?”

“Not just you, that Phoenix kid too. Both of you are integral to catching this perp.” He said. “We leave for Seattle in two days.”

“Seattle! The guy is all the way out there?” They asked.

“Yes. Be ready.” Roland left, presumably to do more research on whoever this villain was, or maybe to buy plane tickets to Seattle. Going to Seattle didn’t seem fun. At all. And Roland didn’t even bother to explain anything, as usual.

“What’s wrong with Seattle?” Sarah asked. “I heard it’s a cool city.”

“Nothing. It’s just...I don’t know. I’ll see you later, Sarah.” They said.

“Okay! Call City Hall when you get there, we’ll all be waiting to hear how the trip was!” She said, cheerily.

Eris smiled, but it didn’t really match how they felt. Charlton was not going to like them leaving to Seattle.

Especially with his husband there.

………………

Welp, the plot thickens it seems, and we get to meet Charltons husband so that all seems exciting huh? by the time I upload this, I will have been moved into my new home, and hopefully the update schedule won’t be so out of wack, lol.

Abigail ran her fingers back through her hair, sweeping the cinnamon locks back out of her face. She briefly though about hunting down a hair tie, but the last one she had seen was supposed to be in front of her on her desk, and it certainly wasn't there now. She sighed, and glanced back at the file Constance had prepped.

Most of the photos showed a fairly decently kept suburban home, certainly lived in. The exterior had a little bit of overgrowth and some fading or chipped paint, but otherwise looked good. The inside was annoyingly bright-coloured, decorated by either an eighty year old grandmother or a cat lady, either one of which had an obsession with cows. Two floors and a basement, everything neat and in order. Nothing in the photos gave her any sense of a haunting, but normal cameras stood no chance of picking up most spirits except in rare circumstances, and these looked more like real estate pictures than anything else.

She set the photos aside and scanned over the report, in Courtney's neat, tight script. Eileen Booker, her husband Frank, and their two kids Mike and Bobby, had been living in the house with no problems for almost a year. After a remodel of the kitchen, however, they began noticing unusual things. Items not where they were left, Doors opening on their own, faucets running when no one had used them that day. Standard stuff. Bobby, six, had reportedly seen someone moving about on the second floor in a hurry, but never gave a good description.

They had been informed of her rates, and were happy to pay, considering they had had two amateur teams and a priest come through with no success. The priest had been unable to find anything, so had done what Abigail called a “general rinsing”, not targeted at anything specific and usually ineffective against all but the most basic spirits. Cho Investigations, however, was not an amateur group. Several major landmarks had confirmed her work, a slew of people were pleased to have been “confirmed” haunted for tourist income. Those places had had to pay extra, since she would prefer helping spirits out, but the owners had insisted she leave them there, even after she had explained the dangers of doing so.

At any rate, the Bookers had agreed to her five hundred a day plus travel costs. Given the very basic sounding nature of this job, she'd only need to bring Brett for camera work and Therese for keeping the civilians out of her way. And cash was cash. Courtney knew enough about heir work to know not to pass duds onto her desk. Every case had to go through at least one local team's efforts after calling CI. If the locals couldn't deal with it, then it was brought to Abigail's attention and she figured out how to proceed. This was a new process, put in place after several weeks last year had been wasted on investigating nothing except duds. Generally those were either over-excitable housewives or people who wanted to be “famous”. They were usually disappointed to find out that CI didn't participate in the television programs, and only recorded events for their own liability insurance and as a record.

The phone in the main office rang, and as always Courtney answered it before it had a chance to do it a second time. The office itself was the first floor of Courtney's house, which had been inherited from her grandmother. Situated in Dorchester, not but a block from a police station, it was a decent location. They definitely benefited from being able to point crazies towards the cops, and they were hardly ever vandalised. They both lived on the second floor, where the kitchen was. Courtney had rented the third floor cheap to some college kids, who occasionally poked their heads in but otherwise left Abigail alone, which was fine with her.

While she was musing, Courtney came through the door into her office, with an unusually hurried pace. Abigail could feel a lot of tension, worry, and a vague sense of fear coming off of her.

“What's up, Courtney?” she asked. Courtney knew she'd already have picked up on the mood.

“That house, the one in the file?” Courtney shook her head. “I was doing some background on it. We can't take that job, Abigail.”

The psychic sat up a little straighter and cocked her eyebrow. “Why? What's wrong with it?”

“The county library there just rang me to give me their report. It was built in 1880, and was torn down and rebuilt in the Twenties after the police found...Well, it sounds like they've got at least a few murders, and maybe more that were sacrifices. Last three owners just packed up and left after a year and a half each. Like, to the day, eighteen months.”

Abigail pursed her lips. Demonic possession was no joke. Last time she had tried to deal with it, Brett had been hospitalised for three weeks and it had taken the local priests and the sheriff to keep her and the victim contained.

“Are we sure it's demonic? It could just be a wraith.”

Courtney shrugged. “It's possible, I guess, but I don't like thinking about you guys heading into a demon thing again. Also, they said they've been there what, thirteen months? Things are probably just starting. Your call, though, Abigail. You're the one that actually deals with them.”

“I appreciate the concern, Courtney. But that sounds like a place that needs to be dealt with. Call up the team and tell them we're headed to Tennessee.”

---

Abigail stared bleakly over her steaming cup of shitty diner coffee at the local priest, Father Evans. If she looked as bad as she felt, it was almost as bad as he did. Neither of them seemed to want to move much, and every attempt at eating the greasy breakfast in front of them elicited winces. The rest of the team had already taken off, save Courtney, who was finishing up with the local PD. There were moments of the last few days that Abigail wished she could forget, notably the keening, inhuman screams from a boy no older than ten, but she had to admit, it had finally been a win.

“So,”, said Father Evans, in his thin, reedy voice. The man looked to be only around sixty, though it was hard to tell through the strain and weariness of this morning. “This is what a real psychic does?”

“Mmm,” she shook her head and swallowed a mouthful of coffee. “This was way more intense than usual. And I don't call myself that. Medium's probably a better term, though I'm a psychic too, in some aspects.”

“Well,” the older man stared into his eggs, deep in thought. It took him several moments to piece together what he meant to say. Abigail was willing to grnt him the time, taking the opportunity to get more of the burnt caffeinated rink down her gullet.

“I have to report to the archdiocese. Of course.” He shook his own head at the thought. “I'm not a licensed exorcist, so I don't know what they'll make of my testimony. But you'll be coming out of this glowing in the church's eye if I can help it.” He stared her in the eyes, his a clear hazel. “I don't think I could have saved that boy alone.”

“I don't think I could've either, Father. To be honest, I'm still not sure exactly how we managed it.” She set down her coffee, and tried a bite of bacon. Far too crispy, but the salt helped. “I know my team is taking a month vacation afte this one. I don't know if I'll ever shake this headache.”

“Well, in this parish, at least, you're welcome any time. Let me or Sister Robinson know if there's anything you need before you leave, we'll be more than happy to provide.” He gestured at her with his fork. “I know the family would like to thank you before you take off.”

Abigail shook her head emphatically. “I appreciate it. They can pass on the thanks to C, if they want. I can't handle that sort of emotional feedback right now.”

“You know...”

Abigail winced, and her tone became slightly more 'polite.' “I know, Father, because I've heard it before and I can feel it coming from you. 'God gave me a great gift and I could do more with the proper organisation.' I've heard it before. While I appreciate your position, and logically might even agree with you? I will never work directly for the church.”

“Ah well.” The priest threw up his hands playfully and looked towards the ceiling. “In this one you put a lot of pride, eh, Lord?” He chuckled, and picked at his eggs a bit.

“You do the Lord's work, even if you won't accept our help, Abigail. I will keep you in my prayers from now until my time is done.”

---

No one else was home, which left Abigail in a right mess, as they had also left several bottles of whiskey in the cabinet and she was having one of her 'bad nights'. She sat, her arms splayed out, most of her torso spread along the card table in the kitchen. She knew she was drunk, possibly the most drunk she had ever been. It was hard to tell. Attempting to move sent a bottle crashing to the floor, but the sound of breaking glass only barely registered in her ears. All she could really hear was the emotions and surface thoughts of most of Boston, echoing around her head like she was standing in an arena packed to five times its capacity. The whiskey was barely cutting the edge off, and she was too drunk to call Courtney and try to get something stronger.

The cacophony was driving her mad. It had been going on for more than two hours, now, and with no way to make it stop, she was beginning to have the bleeding effect, where she lost who she was in the noise, and just became a conduit for the crowd. She screamed incoherently and threw an empty bottle across the kitchen. However, instead of shattering, there was only the dull thunk of glass on flesh, and then a weirdly echoing giggle. All of the sounds ceased all at once, leaving Abigail stunned to see a young girl, maybe ten years old, leaning against her refrigerator. She was blonde, with a cherubic face, willowy limbs, and a bright blue sundress on. Abigail blinked several times, shaking her drunken head, but the image wouldn't leave, so she decided to tackle the problem head on.

“Yer not...Yer not normal. What happened? You need to be buried?” Abigail's words slurred significantly, and she wondered how much she had actually had.

The girl laughed, and the sound chimed off of the metal in the room. “No, silly,” she said, “I'm here to help you.”

“What d'you mean? Nobody can help me. Got nothing but the living and the dead runnin' around in my head.” She paused for a second. “Heh. That rhymed.”

“I'm here to help because you help so many others. My name is Hannelore. Some call me the Watcher.”

Abigail's head snapped to attention, and her eyes narrowed at the girl.l she had seen that name twice, ever, in her research. Hannelore was a psychopomp, perhaps the psychopomp whose presence mutated to help everyone deal with what they were seeing. The Grim Reaper, Cu'Sith, Nephthys, the Valkyrie. All were rumored to stem from Hannelore herself, and were considered, among those who were in the business, if not a part of her, then at least servants of hers. And apparently the ancient embodiment of death was standing here in her kitchen. Fixing herself tea, as it seemed.

The small girl took the seat across from her, and Abigail sat up, rubbing at her eyes.

“You've been having some problems, Abigail. Not a lot of people you can relate to, even among your close friends, hmm?” The little girl sipped her tea and kicked her feet back and forth.

“I mean, I guess?” Abigail was not prepared for this. “Why are you so interested? You're just the guide, not the guard.”

Hannelore laughed, and Abigail saw shadows dance and skip at the sound. “No, you're quite correct, I am only a guide. My reach doesn't fully extend here. But you,” the psychopomp gestured at the medium with her tea cup. Come to think of it, we don't have any tea cups. “You are one of the mortals who is of the greatest use and help to me, which is why I do not like seeing you in distress. Unfortunately, “ she sighed. “I cannot erase your gift. Not only is that beyond my power, but it is what makes you so useful. Instead, I can only offer you direction.”

Abigail's eybrow twitched up. “What do you mean, direction? Are you giving me a quest?”

“Nono, nothing like that. But here in the next month or so, the town of Lost Haven, Maine, will need your help. Several places will, actually, but that one is the one you can actually prevent more tragedy.”

“And the others?”

Hannelore fixed her with a dead stare, and Abigail felt the full weight of time and life in her guest's eyes. “There, you can only put them to rest.”

Now that the threat of the Hounds had been put to rest, things were starting to get back to normal in Lost Haven. Since Lost Haven was not in impending danger, or at least the next crazy psycho had not revealed him or herself yet, Kelly thought that the coast was clear enough for her to take Jean, Taylor, and Darren to go see Mr. Giuseppe so the three newbies could get genuine superhero apparel instead whatever makeshift costumes they might have managed to cobble together. As this job did not require all three of the “veterans” to go, Zac decided to stay behind to hold down the fort while Sammy and Kelly chaperoned their new allies to Lost Haven. Sammy, too, did not need to accompany the four other metahumans, but she insisted.

Sammy’s intentions, however, were not so difficult to guess. As soon as the five metahumans had arrived in Lost Haven via a warp gate that Kelly had generated with her magical abilities, Sammy just so conveniently got herself separated from the rest of the group and immediately made her way to Crown Ridge. Since there were three of them getting fitted for costumes, Sammy had plenty of time to make a quick little pitstop at Lost Haven’s twin city.

In no time, Sammy was standing in front of a standalone, brownstone townhouse, which belonged to a certain cat-themed hero. Although Sammy could not find the key that “her” Kyle had given her for some strange reason, she nevertheless knew where to find the emergency key hidden outside of Kyle’s home. After she had confirmed that nobody was watching, Sammy reached into the mailbox associated with the house and pulled out the spare key.

After Sammy had let herself inside, she discovered that Kyle was not home, which was how Sammy hoped her little surprise visit would turn out. She then hurried upstairs and pillaged Kyle’s dresser for one of his t-shirts. Since Kyle was several inches taller than Sammy, what would just be a regular shirt on the cat-themed hero would look like a short dress on her. Once she picked one out that she particularly liked, she then deactivated her power nullifier and reverted back to her snake-girl appearance. Because her clothes were no longer suitable her serpentine figure, Sammy just shed them off and pulled on Kyle’s t-shirt, oversized for her.

As Sammy turned towards the bed, she noticed something off. It appeared as if someone, other than Kyle, had been sleeping in his bed! But that was impossible! She and Kyle were engaged. He would never cheat behind her back. Sure, they lived several states away, but they had something special between them, something you could not just replace with a one night stand. He promised that they were getting married.

Pushing these fears out of her mind, Sammy threw herself onto the bed. Now all she had to do was wait until her future husband would come home.

As Kyle turned down his street, he did so with a heavy heart. Almost from the beginning, Harry had been his mentor and his friend. When Ronnie had first introduced Kyle to his grandfather, Kyle had only recently begun his endeavor as the masked vigilante, Lyger. Those first few months had been trying. Kyle had no direction, no real idea of what exactly it was that he was trying to do. He had a desire to help, and the physical gifts and nearly unlimited potential to do just that, he just needed a guiding hand to show him the way.

Harry had provided that guidance.

When Ronnie died, Kyle was filled with anger and hatred. He had pushed everyone away as he set out to avenge his friend’s murder. However, again Harry was there. He had put his own grief aside and was there for his young protege, refusing to allow Kyle to slip too down the path of darkness. While continuing to help Kyle in his mission, he refused to allow him to be consumed by hatred.

Harry had saved Kyle, and now he was leaving. Although Harry had gone out of his way to set Kyle up with everything that he might need, including a new two person support team, Kyle was filled with doubt. He just did not know that he could do this without his mentor. These thoughts weighed on his mind as he made his way up the front steps of the brownstone. Kyle approached the entrance to his home, taking out the key and unlocking the door. He took a moment to check the mail slot before he went inside, seeing that there was nothing there he closed and locked it before locking the front door behind him.

Kyle was parched. It was a hot day, and the walk from the new base of operations, while not far, had left him wanting a nice cool drink. He made his way to the kitchen and and took the pitcher of water from the refrigerator and began to pour himself a glass of water when he heard a sound coming from the bedroom. It sounded like the bed had creaked, which was odd because there wasn’t supposed to be anyone home. Sam was supposed to be at the university radio station putting content together for a memorial show for the victims of the Hounds of Humanity attack on the school. So he left the kitchen and went upstairs to the bedroom to investigate. When Kyle got to the bedroom door, he saw that someone was curled up under the blankets.

“Babe? I thought you were at the station today.” Kyle said as he sat down on the bed next to who he thought was his girlfriend and gently caressed her back.

“Can’t a girl surprise her man every once in a while?”

A long, scaly snake tail slithered out from underneath the sheets and began to wrap its coils around Kyle’s body. He was then pulled off his feet into the bed, where he finally saw who was reclining under the sheets. A woman with pale green skin and brunette hair, wearing one of Kyle’s shirts, drew Kyle into her embrace and planted a passionate kiss on his lips. Kyle was correct that her name was Samantha. Just not his Sam.

“I was so worried about the Hounds’ activity from the past few days! I didn’t want to become a widow before I had a chance to be a bride!” She admitted to him after she parted from his lips.

At first, Kyle didn’t recognize the woman who had been in his bed. But after a moment, he knew exactly who she was. But something was wrong. The Sammy Kadowski that he knew had feline features as a result of magic. How she had come to take on a reptilian appearance was a mystery to him. Also a mystery, was exactly how she got into his house, and why was she in his bed. He had been unprepared for the large, snake-like tail that wrapped itself around him before forcing him to her where she met him with a deep kiss.

He pulled away from her embrace, still shocked by what had just transpired. He took a step back and was ready to yell at her for what she’d just done. Breaking into his house, climbing into the bed that he shared with Sam wearing only one of his tee shirts. But he couldn’t yell at her. Something had clearly happened to her that had left her in this state. So he simply sat back down on the edge of the bed.

“Sammy, what happened to you?”

“You, too?” Sammy asked as she sat up on the bed while using her arms to prop herself up. Both Zac and Kelly were also bewildered by what Sammy considered to be her normal appearance. Even the Silver Sorceress was surprised, although only for a moment. And now Lyger looked like he had never seen her without wearing a power nullifier.

“What could have scrambled all of your memories,” she mumbled to herself.

With an uncanny swiftness, Sammy tossed aside the sheets, slithered out of the bed and coiled around Kyle again. She rested her arms around the back of Kyle’s shoulders so her head was level with his and looking over his shoulder.

“You’re not getting cold feet, are you?” She whimpered with an clear concern in her voice. Her arms were beginning to tremble, not because she could not hold herself up even with her snake half wrapped around her ‘fiance,’ but rather because of a different fear: that he was backing out.

Kyle knew that something was very wrong with Sammy. He had been well aware of her feelings for him, however he had been under the impression that they had resolved that issue the last time Sammy had come to visit him. She was well aware of his relationship with Sam, so this latest development was certainly a shock. Kyle listened to Sammy speak, and as she spoke, she began to make less and less sense.

“Sammy, what are you talking about? And why are you here?” Kyle asked, at a loss for words.

“How do you not know? You’re the one who freaking proposed to me!” Sammy retorted back to Kyle’s question. She then extended out her left hand in front of Kyle and revealed a ring on her finger. But this was not the special ring that Kyle had given her so she could look like something other than an anime character for once. Instead, it was a much older ring, the very one that Kyle's own father had given to his mother when they first got married.

“Doesn't this prove it? How else would I have your mother's ring?”

Seeing his mother’s ring on Sammy’s finger was like a punch to the gut. Though she had been gone for nearly ten years, some days the pain was as fresh as the day that his father had told him that she didn’t survive the accident. He missed her deeply, and seeing her ring on someone’s finger...someone who he had not given the ring to, caused a deep anger to boil within him.

“What the hell are you playing at?” He wanted to say. “How dare you steal that ring?!” He wanted to shout.

But he didn’t.

He cared for Sammy, and though he was angry about this personal invasion, he took a deep breath and chose his words very carefully.

“Sammy, where did you get that ring?” He asked, still unable to believe his eyes.

“What do you mean?” Sammy said with a confused look on her face. “You gave it to me when you took me down to the stone ledges to see the sunset. You know just the perfect spot to have an amazing view of the ocean, where we could see the setting sun glitter over the water. And right before the sun was gone, you pulled out your mother’s ring. I know how you feel about your mother. I would never dishonor her memory.”

Kyle stared in disbelief at his mother’s ring on Sammy’s finger. She swore up and down that he had given it to her, and although he knew that he in fact hadn’t, she seemed convinced that he had.

“Sammy, this doesn’t make any sense.” Kyle finally said after a brief pause. “I couldn’t have given that to you. We’re not together.” He said more bluntly than he had intended. However, before she could respond, he tried to clarify what he had meant.

“I mean, I thought that we’d already talked about this. I’m with Sam, and I love her. You and I are friends, but that’s all we are.” He tried to explain, but from the look on Sammy’s face, he could see that this was not going well.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Sammy said as she uncoiled her tail from Kyle’s body. Tears poured down the snake girl’s cheeks.

“I remained faithful to you this entire time, yet you don’t even have the decency to tell me you’ve moved on until now? I’ve even gave up my virginity for you. And what do I get in return? Being tossed aside for your next squeeze.”

She then turned her attention to the ring that had belonged to Kyle’s mother and started to pull it off. At first, Sammy struggled with it for a moment, but it eventually just slid off her finger. Where the ring had been resting on her finger, there remained a band lighter than the rest of her skin, revealing that Sammy had been wearing this ring for a few months now.

“I guess I don’t need this anymore,” Sammy admitted before she tossed it onto Kyle’s bed. She then glanced back at Kyle. Tears still flowed from her eyes because of her broken heart. Her face did not bear any sign of anger, as there was not a single bone in her body that could be angry at Kyle. Instead, her face expressed disappointment and sadness.

From the look of sheer heartbreak that was etched on Sammy’s face, Kyle knew that this wasn’t just some game that Sammy was playing. She earnestly believed that she and Kyle were engaged, and that he has been unfaithful to her.

But how?

He wondered to himself if someone had done something to her, if they had somehow manipulated her mind to cause her to believe these lies. Could someone have implanted false memories of a fictional life together? He wondered if this Sammy was somehow a clone of the Sammy he knew, which could possibly explain the physical differences. Or could this be some strange side effect of the magic that had caused her condition in the first place? Kyle didn’t know, but he was going to get to the bottom of this, for Sammy.

“Sammy, I don’t know what’s going on, but we’ll figure this out.” He told her. “I’m your friend, and I’ll always be your friend. We’ll find out what did this and we’ll fix it. I promise.”

“But there’s nothing wrong with me!” Sammy bawled. “I’ve looked like this ever since Zac and Kelly got their powers from Diplodoc’s serum.”

Sammy then scooped up the clothes she had discarded earlier and hurried out of the bedroom so she could change back into her regular clothes. Around the corner, Sammy found the upstairs bathroom. She slithered in and slammed the door behind herself. Once inside, she reactivated her power nullifier, reverting her back to her regular human appearance. She then started to dress herself with her own clothes.

“Sammy, wait,” Kyle said as Sammy slithered out of the bedroom and down the hall. As expected, she ignored him and slammed the bathroom door shut. As he stood there alone in the bedroom, he kept turning his mother’s ring over in his hand, and not wanting to misplace the heirloom, decided that maybe he should put it back in the drawer that he kept it. Much to his surprise, when he opened the small jewelry box in the top drawer of his dresser, he found that his mother’s ring was still exactly where he remembered it.

“What the hell…?” He said to himself as he took his mother’s ring, his mother’s real ring out of the box and examined the two rings against one another.

Aside from one small difference, the words “My Life, My Love” engraved on the inside of the band of the ring that Sammy had been wearing, the two rings were identical.

“Sammy, come here. You need to see this.” Kyle called out.

However, Kyle did not hear any response, nor any footsteps walking back towards his bedroom. When Kyle checked the upstairs bathroom, he found that the door was unlocked and unoccupied. Only the shirt that Sammy had taken out of his closet remained. There was no way Sammy could have slipped past Kyle without him noticing. But when he noticed that the bathroom window was slightly cracked open, he realized that there was only one way Sammy could have possibly slipped out of the house. Yet when Kyle opened up the window and peered outside, he did not see Sammy within eyeshot. The area immediately below the window was not disturbed, so Sammy must have reached the ground without hurting herself.

“Wonderful.” Kyle said to himself as he continued to look out the window hoping to catch a glimpse of Sammy. When he realized that she was probably long gone by now, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, where he went through his contacts. From there, he sent a pair of text messages detailing what had just happened. The first text was to Zac, who was one of Sammy’s best friends. The other was to Sam...His Sam, to tell her exactly what had happened here tonight.

Time: After Hounds Encounter

With his business with the Hounds finally concluded David quickly rushed back to the airport, eager to check on his family and wrap them in his embrace again. During the fight at the airport he had done his best to keep them safe, and shut down the Hounds as quickly as possible; but during the last stretch something had gone terribly wrong, and that had been on his mind this entire time.

The police were keeping everyone there for a little longer, taking statements, and sorting out the injured, which meant that the building was just as crowded as it was earlier; which meant that nobody was really around to watch the stairs to roof access.

After several painful minutes David found his way back to the main terminal building where he had erected his stone dome with the intent to protect the civilians, and most importantly, his family. Most of it still stood, most of the people inside were excavated, and a large amount had been carefully torn down from the looks of things.

Various rescue personnel were working with a few of the heroes from earlier in order to tear down his construct piece by piece, it looked like it was slow work seeing as how this wasn’t something they usually did, and David had originally made the walls thick. He apologized silently.



David moved swiftly through the crowd, bumping more than a few shoulders on accident while scanning over everyone’s faces as quick as he could, but as it turns out he didn’t need to bother as they found him first. A voice called out to him across the room.

“David!”

He quickly turned his head around to see Cecily waving to him, along with Madison right next to her. Seeing the both of them together lifted a heavy weight off his heart, and he pushed his way through the crowd towards them. The three of them gripped each other tightly, and simply held each other for a long while.

“Where the hell did you go?” Cecilia shouted in his ear, still refusing to let go.

“We got separated from you, then we got trapped!” Madison sobbed into his side, her voice was shaking, it hurt him to see them like this, and it pained him even more to hear that last part.

“It was dark, and then part of it fell down!” She continued to bawl, he couldn't blame either of them, this was something neither of them should have experienced.

David softly put his hands behind the both of their heads and drew them closer.

“I’m sorry I got separated, but I’m here now, we’re all here.” He said as gently as he could, his own voice started to tremble as well. David looked past Cecily’s head to see that stone barrier he had made for everyone, even with the tears in his eyes he could still see it, the part of it that had fallen first. Somehow the part that hid Madison had crumbled, letting her and those with her witness the fight; the part that had exposed her to potential stray bullets and shrapnel.

Why had it fallen?

Usually they never gave up that fast; either he or someone else had to tear them down. But this was a question for another day, for now he left things as they were. His family was alive.

Time: 12:00 AM - Two Days After Satellite Attacks
Location: Gallows Hill – Salem, Massachusetts.

---

Marie and Odette walked in silence, following closely the sacred saunter of their wilding companion, who moved in turn to the rhythm of some whispered rhyme, of which only the end was audible. Every awkward townie or awakened traveller looked on with maddened stares. A twinge of strangeness leapt overhead, riding waves of brittle chill, much cooler than was customary for the time of year.

It was a shame that no one could see it, how the night truly danced when the witches had their way; how the sidelong streaks of ivy and moss glowed with subtle delight, trailing up cobbled paths and red-brick colonials with envigored haste; how the streetlights dimmed to welcome a phantasmal orchestra formed entirely of seagulls, black corvids, and echoes from beneath tired asphalt and behind weary logs - the call of spirits without names to remember; and how the common folk, unaware, sailed home as if possessed, bewitched by the faint humming of the trees.

Salem was alive during this time, and not in the metaphorical sense, but truly living: breathing, singing, dancing in its own way.

Maryann began twirling and turning about in the invisible waltz, still firmly ahead of her companions. Gallows Hill came into view, marked by tall, spindly conifers and the water tower with its witchy motif. Smoke and embers trailed above the sparse canopy, signalling all who neared or warning them away.

Marie could feel herself swaying to the ethereal music, arms waving at her sides in a half rhythmic expression, called to the Sabbath, even if it wasn’t the Sabbath proper.

Aware enough to explain the phenomenon, Holt appeared before Odette as she struggled to keep up with Maryann and Marie’s manic pace. He bore no mortal form, instead composed entirely of shadows that formed slender tendrils on either side of the central mass, ending in sharp talons, and a long neck sporting his “face,” a set of jagged teeth and a wraith-like stare.

”Are you familiar with the witches’ Sabbath,” he questioned as they neared their destination. ”How it calls to all who share the blood and bear the cunning flame?”

Odette’s gaze turned to Holt’s form and she paused thoughtfully, “Certainly read about a Witches’ Sabbath. As we know, culturally Sorcery and Witchcraft are split. Those born and born without inherent abilities. ” Odette replied.

She closed her eyes breathing in deeply, the energy in the air was palpable. If she were not sensitive to such strange things in the night, there would be an unmistakable instinct raising the hair on her arms. The very same energy seemed to enrapture the likes of Marie and Maryann clearly being drawn in. Naturally inclined. Odette caught her curiosity in what it must feel like. Bach watched on with a sly grin, the leaves in his hair seemed to brighten and grew anew - he was absorbing the energy all around them.

“I can feel the energy all around us but feel no pull.” She said, fixing a bit of stray hair behind her ear, “One of us must be able to think clearly.”

Curious all the same, witches and faerie surrendered to it in some form.

“I thought we were contacting The Land not participating in a Sabbath.”

”Is there a difference?” Holt queried as the light of nine iron braziers came into view, symmetrically scattered atop a steep hill.

”Therein lies the difference between witches and so many others who practice. Witchcraft “rides the hedge,” so to speak. It is hungry for spirits, fueled by dance. The witches here celebrate The Land as those in other far-flung places celebrate their ancestors, or the Bucca, or Hekate, or some other patron. And where this celebration takes root, a Sabbath is born.”

He swirled around Odette as a shadow, wheeling about in the air, just visible, called by the same force as the witches.

”Never forget that madness is divine,” Holt whispered in both ears. ”What you see as level-headed, The Land, and indeed many others, see as blindness.”

Hearing Holt’s voice surround her, a smile twitched at her mouth, “Madness is divine.” Echoing Holt’s words. Stopping at the incline of the hill, Odette stepped out of her shoes toes flexing in the grass. “The only way to learn is to join the dance. You are right Holt, one does not need eyes to see.”

Leaving her shoes, removing her jacket revealing her exposed back - it was almost to warm to wear it in the first place. The large tattoo of a yew tree was in full view, the lines began to faintly glow blue she was calling upon the arcane stream to join them. Odette ascended the hill behind Maryann and Marie. A hand drawing close to the brazier, feeling the heat of the flame. The energy did not call to Odette but she would revel in it all the same. She peered around at the other witches that had gathered they all moved to the same rhythm Marie danced to.

She rose to en pointe drawing her arms above her head picking up the way the witches moved she followed suit. A hand drifting by each brazier as she passed, Bach remained firmly outside of the circle eyeing the braziers with hate, more Fey gathered at the base of the hill respectfully giving the ceremony its space. Like Bach, they were drawn to the power.

Rich vapours pouring from hot coals encircled the scene in a protective screen, fumes of foxglove, mugwort, and willow twirling unnaturally with wisps of light, weaving themselves around each attendant like an ephemeral ribbon. The ground atop Gallows Hill was marked with the symbols of the four covens, connected by a written incantation, words that were felt, not read. Some forty witches gathered around the outer circle, jumping, singing, screaming, losing themselves to ecstatic dance. Inside the covens’ seals stood each leader: Jordan Merritt of the Pewter Wyrd, Alexander Gavil of the White Willow Wyrd, Victoria South of the Gallows Wyrd, and taking her place across from the others, Maryann Douglas of the Essex Wyrd.

“Begin!” Maryann commanded and all took their place, the outer witches collecting behind their familial seals in a haphazard fashion, the head of each coven standing in the circle, hands raising in unison.

Marie could feel her purpose, instinctually standing at the center of the ritual next a low-lying brazier, much larger than the others. She motioned for Odette to join her as the ritual commenced. The hairs on the back of Odette’s neck stood up at the chorus of voices and lightly stepped up beside Marie, lowering from the balls of her feet, planting herself like a root. She closed her eyes, automatically raising her arms answering a call from the Arcane Stream, unwittingly surrendering herself. Salem’s intersection of Ley Lines playing its role tonight, The Land’s heart beating in rhythm with the Arcane Stream.

The ritual began.

A feral cry echoed through the hills, bathing the witches in a sweetly sinister calm. In unison, the coven leaders chanted:



A craven shroud fell over the witches, their eyes glazed over, their bodies moved with fearsome speed, some hovering above the ground, some spinning each other with reckless abandon, some falling to the ground in ecstatic bliss. Their leaders danced in place, twisting and turning with elegant guile as the center brazier was stoked by their spell, conjuring a wind that threatened to cast them all adrift.

Then everything stopped, and time seemed to stand still, each witch frozen in their position as if paralyzed.

Vapours pooled to the center, rising higher and higher, dancing in the light. Soon, a figure came into being, darting from one side of the circle to the next, swirling in an ethereal wind, shapeless, incorporeal, amorphous. It spoke through the coven leaders in unison.

“The time has come once again, and a new conduit rises to the occasion.”

Maryann stepped forward, stretching her arms and neck as if she’d been asleep, approaching Marie and Odette at a leisurely pace.

“A shame what happened to poor Christian May,” Maryann and her cohorts lamented, “but I suspect you are more fitted for the task . . . yes, I can feel it, the old magic these witches covet so; it sings in you.”

Marie had never seen such an invocation. It was rare for witches to succumb to ritual possession, though not unheard of. The Land was truly a part of these covens, so ingrained in their traditions as to take their shape and work through them. Marie was in awe.

Odette felt a chill fall across her spine as the witches froze in place, but the chill soothed as they spoke in harmony reminding her distinctly of a certain golem’s harmonious voice. Sparing a glance at Marie before greeting the spirit possessing Maryann, “Great spirit of the Land, we wish to renew the sacred pact shared amongst the covens who were called here tonight.” Odette spoke quite confidently, clearly and without waver. “We act and speak as one.” Reaching for Marie’s hand the sorceress never broke eye contact.

“We know the former Faerie Queen Mab spent time here a century ago. We wish to connect with shades of her, as well. Please, show us the imprint Mab left here when she aided the witches.”

Bowing her head respectfully, curtseying lowly she added, “If only for the honour to dance for you, Great Spirit in return.”

“We?” Alexander’s voice stood out among them, his body moving forward where Maryann’s had frozen in place. He moved closer to Odette, his face mere centimetres from hers. Odette smelled the incense so strongly but other bitter notes registered on his breath.

“Ah,” the echo of voices amusedly concluded, “you are bound in some way, yes.”

Alexander placed his fingers over Odette’s eyelids. She held her place fighting the instinct to flinch at the invasion of space.

“Here, you share a piece of the old magic . . . how interesting.”

Victoria stepped forward, placing a hand on Marie’s shoulder.

“Do you speak as one, my conduit, or has the curtseying sorceress stolen your tongue?”

Odette’s eyes narrowed at that comment, perhaps it would have been beneficial for Marie to take the lead. This was no faerie court.

Marie turned to Odette, tightening their clutched hands for reassurance. She squeezed back, silent communication passing between the pair.

”Yes,” Marie spoke plainly, ”My friend and I are as one. In exchange for our aid in this rite, under the terms to which you and these witches have already agreed, I ask only for knowledge regarding the former Summer Queen.”

The four leaders smiled in unison.

“Very well,” Maryann stepped forward as her companions returned to their place. She made a sign over the central brazier that caused great swaths of smoke to pour from lit coals. It rose slowly, revealing certain images.

“Your Faerie Queen found herself among witches north of here, Andover. She and I are kindred spirits, born of the blood of stars if you believe the old tales. She held considerable influence in her time; a beacon. But the throne wasn’t hers to take.”

The smoke revealed the likeness of Mab, a slender woman dressed in fine robes, sporting moth wings and maidenly features. She danced with a dozen women, sending them in one form or another. Then a storm formed above them, a noose fell from the clouds, and the witches disappeared or scattered. Next, a carriage arrived and off stepped a fair, matronly woman dressed in rich garments.

“The Witch Queen arrived soon after, drawn by the blood of her fallen kin. In the likeness of Elizabeth Parris, she rallied all who remained, took them to Salem and started anew . . . but Mab yet lingered, weakened, but not weak. If the witches weren’t to be hers, the earth itself would.”

The smoke revealed a scene of Mab standing atop a large mound.

“She raised her Faery mounds, opened doors to her childhood home, welcomed friends into the New World. Mab even tried to corral the wild things born to the shadows here, but we are not so easily won.”

An image of Mab appeared above the brazier, slowly fading until only smoke remained.

“And away she went.”

“Opened doors?” Odette echoed eyes drinking in the smoky visions, catching details of Mab’s face and clothing. She turned to Marie, “Do these doors still remain?”

“Perhaps the door to-” She caught herself, to Tir na nOg. . .

“Merci. It is interesting Hekate was involved here, though not unexpected. Is there anything else Mab involved herself in the New World?”

She was reaching for anything, recorded history took them so far but it was impressions from the spiritual plane that could leave a clue, a thought, anything that could lead them to their next destination. Odette followed her instincts, doors opened and closed but perhaps some were left open after Mab departed?

Jordan stepped up.

“Her work here was done, but her touch is yet felt.”

The witches pointed to Marie.

“Kindred spirits,” they sang, “a creature of the old magic. She is but one who carries the spark, a shared ember, link to the past, door to another world.”

”What do you mean?” Marie spoke up, heart racing.

Jordan placed both hands on her shoulders.

“Something lingers below the surface, waiting, watching. Can’t you see it?”

Marie shook her head, searching for whatever the Land was hinting at.

But something did catch Marie’s eye, a floating ember, something hidden in the smoke, behind it. She moved closer to it, inhaling the incense, recalling a memory. This time, however, Gwyneth’s Sight pulled at Odette’s mind, drawing her in.

They stood at the threshold to the Summer Court, bright rays falling over a thicket of green, lush foliage and flowers of the sweetest perfume lined a throne of thorny vines. Mab sat atop it, her features decidedly more envigored than they’d seen in other visions. She held Gwyneth’s hand with care, speaking in a tongue they couldn’t decipher.

Gwyneth replied in old Welsh. The only word Marie could recognize, perhaps by design, was nain

Grandmother.

Marie gasped and the world returned.

Odette inhaled holding the breath. The heel of her hand pressed against her temple. Mab was Gwyneth’s grandmother. The noise dropped away this meant a connection, their chances grew exponentially. Another of Gwyneth’s items must be kept with Mab or within the Faerie realms. They were being shown as much by no coincidence.

Merde.

“Marie. . . Do you know what this means?”

Marie stumbled backward, tripping on herself, caught by Maryann who sported a wicked smile.

”M-Mab was Gwyneth . . . my faery ancestor.” Marie stuttered, dumbstruck. She’d known for some time that her power was innate, but to be the granddaughter of a Queen of Faerie, one of the first monarchs to the Summer Court no less.

”Mab has the next item, she must. But what is it? Where did she go?”

Marie looked hopeful, turning her gaze to the coven leaders, silently praying that the Land would hold the answer. But that was beyond its reach.

“I have upheld my end of our bargain, conduit,” it spoke through every witch in attendance. “I have given you all I can. You must fulfill your purpose here, take my hands.”

Maryann returned to her portion of the circle. In her place stood a mass of pungent vapours, swirling like a storm, vaguely humanoid and wild. A pair of arms manifested, taking Marie’s outstretched hands.

“Through you, all power shall be returned to the Land, and prosperity will fall on these witches.”

A vicious wind circled around them, accompanied by the crackle of thunder overhead. Soft lights rose from lit braziers, ephemeral wisps that surrounded Marie, filling her nostrils, her eyes, her mouth, forcing her head back in resplendent agony, divine ecstasy. Power coursed through her veins, passing into the hands of the Land’s shade, flowing through the shadow into the earth. The bare trees dotting the hill began to rise, enlivened by the return of vital essence. Voices whispered through flourishing limbs, spirits of old, brothers and sisters. Slowly, the mass of smoke took shape, growing into a beast with spindly features made of bark, patches of “skin” the colour and texture of moss, claws like bones, and the head of a great stag perched on a spike like an effigy. The most unsettling where its human-like eyes, but it lingered only for a moment, fading from view once all power had been restored.

“The pact is renewed,” its guttural farewell echoed over Gallows Hill.

Marie took hold of herself, riding a wave of euphoria that soon turned to nausea, but she kept down the sick. The covens were no longer paralyzed, dancing about the circle as if nothing had happened, but the world around them had certainly changed. A vibrance was there, electricity, a warmth that came from nowhere.

The energy they felt earlier was like a breath of fresh air now, it was a lightly caressing breeze across Odette’s bare shoulders, the exposed skin of their arms. The Arcane Stream filtered away into the ground itself, her mind was racing with the ritual, with the revelations. It was cause for celebration. Taking on a small amount of the energy filtering through the air on the tip of her finger Odette tapped the side of Marie’s temple, whispering the spell, “Clarté.” Stabilizing her after channelling so much power.

Taking hold of her hands once again Odette guided them away from the center to dance, dancing past the braziers joining the witches proper in revelry. Skipping, spinning in place rising then falling from en pointe. There was no proper form, no direction or technique just - movement. There was no other way to expend the energy that filled them now except to move. For the second time that day, the smiles they shared were genuine.

2:03 AM, The Next Day

As Icon soared high above Lost Haven he could hardly believe that just under twenty four hours ago, the city had been under siege by the Hounds of Humanity. Now, the city was at peace. Most of the city’s citizens were now at home, tucked comfortably into their beds, blissfully unaware of just how close they had come to oblivion. It was moments like this, when he was able to see this magnificent city in a light that few others ever could, that made this life that he has chosen so worth it. Seeing the bustling city at rest, with so few people out on the streets, seeing only the lights of the city’s skyline as it stands in stark contrast against the darkness of night was something to behold, and it was moments like this that he was grateful to have been given the ability to do the things that he can do in order to protect not only the people of this beautiful city, but people all over the world.

Icon slowly began to descend as he approached Sherman Square, which had been the focal point of the conflict with the Hounds. A sense of despair washed over him as he saw the destruction that had been wrought on the Square, which was a cultural and economic hub for Lost Haven. Icon mourned for the businesses and homes that had been damaged or destroyed in the conflict, but he knew that the people of Lost Haven were resilient and they would recover from this latest setback.

They always do.

That thought bothered Icon. Not that they always recovered from things like this. But that they had to recover, seemingly on an increasing basis. And this time it wasn’t just the bad guys that were doing the damage. In fact, some of the so called heroes that had responded to the Hounds’ attack had caused just as much, if not more damage than the Hounds themselves, and that was not acceptable.

We have to be held accountable, otherwise we’re no better than them. Icon thought to himself. In fact, it had been something that had been on his mind a lot in the last twenty four hours, since he witnessed the destruction that both sides had caused to the city. It had been on his mind when he and Alexa had returned to her penthouse apartment after the Hounds had been defeated, and it had been on his mind when Chris Arthur had reached out to him.

Icon slowed as he approached Sherman Center, the large tower illuminated the night sky like few other skyscrapers West of Dubai could. Though Sherman Center was no longer the tallest building in Lost Haven, it still proved to be one of the crowning jewels of ot only Sherman Square, but Lost Haven herself. As Icon got within feet of the building, a set of large bay windows slowly began to open, allowing him to gain entry to the large conference room on the other side of the glass. As he touched down on the marble floor of the conference room, Icon could see that he was not alone. Christopher Arthur sat at the large circular table at the center of the room.

“I got your message.” Icon said as he approached the man who had proven to be an invaluable ally on more than one occasion.

“Oh good, you’re here. I don’t know why I never used skywriting to contact everyone else before,” Chris said when he finally noticed Icon entering the conference room. He took one last sip of the tea he had been drinking while waiting for Lost Haven’s greatest hero to arrive before he set it down on a nearby side table. He was wearing a gray robe, embroidered with his initials, along with a pair of slippers that were matching in color.

“Don’t worry. I’m wearing shorts underneath this.” Chris reassured Icon when he stood up from his chair to greet the blue and silver garbed hero. Considering that the heroes of Lost Haven had just defeated the Hounds, why couldn’t Chris conduct this meeting in a more casual dress attire.

Icon nodded to Chris as he spoke. He had known that Arthur was a bit eccentric, as most billionaire superheroes are apt to be, so he wasn’t overly surprised by his choice of attire. In fact, he supposed that he should be glad the Arthur was wearing anything at all, considering some of the stories that he had heard about the man. Nevertheless, if this was about what Icon had suspected, he thought that it would be prudent to get right to it.

“I think I know what this is about, but I have to ask. What do you need?”

“We have something to discuss that should have done a long time ago,” Chris responded. “Over the past few months, we have been only reactive to the threats that have loomed over this city and even the world as a whole. We have had success with impromptu team-ups, but someday even our raw talents won’t be enough to win the day. We need something more proactive, something more permanent. We need to form a team.”

Icon stood there in silence for a moment as Arthur’s words resonated in his mind. The truth was, the man was right. There have been an increasing number of crises that have occured over the last couple of years, from D-Day to the Pax Metahumana debacle, to the Hounds of Humanity that have proven to be too wide spread for any one hero to handle alone. And while the heroes have been lucky thus far when alliances needed to be formed, they couldn’t count on that good fortune to continue. With a team, they would be able to not only deal with any situations that might arrive, but they could police the conduct of the participants as well, something that was sorely needed during this last conflict.

“I agree.” Icon told him. “I’ve got some ideas as to who we should bring in. I’m guessing you do as well?”

“You think I would have called this meeting if I didn’t?” Chris answered Icon back with a laugh. “I think a good place to start is with the heroes who gathered at Settler’s Clearing in Park Royal during the Pax Metahumana Crisis.”

Chris was of course referring to the first five heroes he had recruited at that time: Icon, Lyger, Radiance, Thunderbolt, and Boom. Except for the twins, Chris knew that the other three heroes were still active. Those three heroes participated both in D-Day and the attack on Sherman Square by the Hounds. This would create a strong foundation for Icon and Chris’ all-star team.

“I haven’t heard from the Speedster Twins for months now, but I think I know a potential replacement. You might have met her during the Hounds’ Attack. Her name is Slipstream and he runs her operations out of Pacific Point. I teamed-up with her once when I was out west, so I probably could get her to come onboard with our team.”

“We’ve met.” Icon confirmed. “I think she has a lot of potential.”

Icon thought about the names that Chris had mentioned, and he agreed that these heroes would be a solid foundation on which to build a team. Though the twins would have been ideal, he had heard rumors that they went missing shortly after the Pax Metahumana crisis. There hadn’t been any sightings of them in months. Though, he had a good feeling about Slipstream, and he was sure that she would be more than capable of stepping in and filling their boots. He also knew that Radiance would be in, as he and Alexa had discussed this exact idea on numerous occasions. There was only one question that he had about Arthur’s list.

“Lyger. Do you think he’ll be willing to join? He doesn’t exactly seem to play well with others.”

“Although Lyger is a loner, he has come through for us every time he had answered the call for service. We might have to be creative when we ask him to join. It probably would be better if you did the honors. Maybe even mention that this was your idea. Otherwise, he might tell me to go fuck myself.”

“You might be right. I’m pretty sure I overheard him saying something about wanting to punch you in the mouth.” Icon agreed.

“Then he better get in line. I’m sure there’s a line a mile long of people who want to punch me in the face.” Chris shrugged off Icon’s mention of Lyger’s desire to cause physical violence to Chris.

“You’re probably right.” Icon chuckled as he took a seat at the table across from Chris, where the two heroes began to set out a plan to recruit prospective members of this new “super team.” And although they had a good starting point, they knew that they would need others to join this new endeavor in order for it to have any chance of success.

(OOC NPC set up post so I can get more things down the line.)

Rosie hovered over the coffee pot dispensing freshly brewed motivation with each cup as the last heroes trickeled into her establishment finally sure that no one was currently attacking the city or it's citizens. The Hounds had crawled back into whatever hole they lived in and looking into what information Flower had brought them yielded some results, it was true that Eva's father had done business with some criminals who used a front to do operate. Private Investigators crooks more like it, crooks with a long rap sheet. How anyone mistook them for legitimate upstanding citizens is beyond her understanding. Still the fact that Nathaniel hired these goons was something she and other heroes couldn’t ignore proof enough that something was off about the whole ordeal. Walking over towards American Rocket exiting the diner counter she sat down next to him at the booth his rocket pack laying before them taking up space on the table.

“Rocket, I’d like you to go across the pond and meet our friends in England, The League; with your pack out of commission for a while until Blue Beagle can fix it, I think this is a good time for a vacation.”

Raising a brow with a cup of joe in hand. “Ah yes ‘Vacations’ to meet superhero groups and uncover a weird conspiracy sure. I love those. One of these days I just want a beach all to myself. No Mole Queens, No weird terrorist radical ninjas with alien guns, just me and shells on the sand.”

“Well yes.” Rosie said as she looked towards the television that had their mayor addressing the people of New York.

--- City Hall ---

His tie adjusted his suit immaculate Sampson smugly approached the podium fully aware the public had suspicions his eyes shifted up and words began pouring from his mouth smoother than a clean shave. “Ladies, Gentlemen, Stan from the Times get my good side this time.” Letting a joke bring some levity he loosely shrugged and returned to a more somber tone. “But before we begin a moment of silence for all lost to these Hounds of Humanity.”

With all the violence and the sudden and wholly revelation that heroes with powers exist and that terrorists had declared a war against humanity many had something to pray for someone or just an end to the madness. Placing both hand upon the podium Sampson spoke. “I’ve been hard on supers, it’s hard for good men in blue to perform their jobs when heroes without training or emergency response experience. We do not need civilians trying to be heroes, there are no super villains, no secret lairs. Only criminals who need to be arrested and prosecuted to the full extent of the law.” Stopping and raising his hands passively. “ It’s why I created Stars and Stripes. Putting badges on supers and giving them the training they properly need to aid the police not listen to a police scanner in some dusty garage or dress like a stray cat. I do not support these terrorists and they will be rooted from their holes and stuffed into cells for their crimes.” Taking a step back he raised a single arm and began waving within seconds he continued while backing away. “That’s everything, New York’s finest are here to ensure your protection.”

The reporters began swarming the Mayor as his bodyguards kept them away until one managed to sneak past and corner Sampson before he reached his car. “Mr. Mayor. Your thoughts on the heroes of Sherman square? Single handedly stopping the Finger of God despite the local police efforts?”

“Ah yes. Well the Lost Haven Police didn’t have my creations.” Pressing down on his cuff-link and machine popped out from his trunk and began to form into a cannon of sorts and put the width between him and the female reporter, “You see I haven’t stopped inventing not after I became Mayor, go ahead it’s harmless unless given cause. Far more advanced than anything that Knight ever created.”

The reported could feel alongside the body of the floating gun. “Impressive I suppose, a rather brutish display of force.”

“You did corner me. Now if you excuse me I have to prepare documents to ensure the NYPD are capable of dealing with more threats human or otherwise.” His machine kept the reporter from pushing further as Sampson seated himself and was driven off.

All the while someone slinked back into the darkness leaving a destroyed parking meter behind as the only evidence he was there at all.

The plane had an unsettling calm over it, Mindy noticed that no one talked or whispered, no babies seemed to cry, no kids seemed to scream. Everything held an air of bated breath like the entire cabin was waiting eagerly for something to happen. It made Mindy anxious, she hated the silence. Looking around, she noticed the man slumped on her arm sleeping, though he looked to be snoring loudly, didn’t so much as mutter in his sleep. The seat was cramped, but then again, so was everything else on the plane. Mindy was more concerned with the silence than the seat space. She couldn’t think with how quiet everything was. It made her want to scream, which she knew would be seen as an extreme action, but it still nagged at her like when she was back at the hotel.

She bent her body out into the aisle to get a better look of the plane, hopefully trying to catch the attention of one of the steward’s. The front of the cabin wasn’t empty, but none of the attendants were very attentive of their surroundings. One woman had her head lolled back, drool forming on her uniform as she slept soundly, but quietly. A man in an apron with the flight logo on the front leaned lazily against the cockpit door, not minding that he was potentially blocking a path to the pilots. No one but her seemed to be fully aware of the atmosphere on the plane, and this unnerved her even more so than anything else. She gulped, anxiety slowly bubbling to the surface. She could feel that something was wrong, like a perfect painting with a few missing details, there was just something off about the whole scene.

“Silence is supposed to be a calming attribute.” A voice rang out through the quiet. It was feminine, yet deep and slightly accented. Mindy couldn’t place where the voice came from in relation to her seat in the plane, but she knew the accent was definitely Nigerian. “I can feel your heart racing from all the way down here, what’s wrong?” The voice asked. Mindy made as if to speak, but found that she couldn’t. Her own voice had grown tight with worry. “Ah, my apologies, young doctor. Allow me.” A moment passed, and that tight feeling went away. The anxiety was still there, but her voice had returned.

“Who...Who are you?” Mindy asked, quietly. She didn’t think speaking loudly would be appropriate, despite the woman talking cleary as if she were next to Mindy.

The woman laughed. “I am...many things. A God is what you should think of me as. I rule over the earth, you know.” She explained.

“You’re god?” Mindy asked, awed. More laughter from the woman.

“Not the one you’re thinking of, doctor. I am my own God. They call me Dexarte, Goddess of the Earth and many Trails.” She said. “It’s a long title.”

Mindy scoffed. “To be sure. Well...why are you here, Dexarte?” She asked. “I know I’m a doctor, but there’s only so much I can do.” Dexarte chuckled lightly.

“I am looking for someone.” Dexarte said. “You know him by the moniker ‘Phoenix’. We’re supposed to be looking for someone else together.”

“I do know Phoenix.” Mindy said.

“Of course. I know this already.” Dexarte explained. “I am a God remember?”

“Then you will have no trouble finding him, right?” Mindy said, smugly.

“Well now, I didn’t say any of that. I do need your help.” Dexarte said. “Tell me where Phoenix is.”

Another moment of silence passed before Mindy spoke again. “No.” She said simply. Dexarte sighed, with a hint of amusement.

“I see you are braver than I thought.” She said.

“I will only tell you if you reveal yourself to me. Stop hiding, wherever you are.” Mindy said. Dexarte seemed to think it over, because Mindy did not hear the Goddess’ voice for quite sometime.

“Very well.” She said, finally. A soft snap of fingers could be heard from somewhere in the plane, and when Mindy looked next to her near the aisle, she nearly jumped from fear at the sight of a woman standing there straight backed as if she had always been there. Dexarte made for an alarming sight. Her skin was dark, and her hair was a light, stone gray. It curled in excessive amounts down her back, in a poofy, frizzy train. She wore a short, cream colored dress that ended at her knees in the front, but continued onward in the back; tiny bows and butterfiles were littered here and there along the dress. Mindy looked at the womans face, and saw that she had quite some years on her. Wrinkled laugh lines formed around her eyes, as she smiled down at Mindy’s startled expression. Intricate, sprawling golden tattoos were etched onto her face, around her grey eyes; they looked like ancient henna designs to Mindy. Suddenly, her meeting with the detective comes to mind. “What’s the matter, doc? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Dexarte joked.

“Or a God.” Mindy smirked. “So you really are a...Goddess. Not just some super with a fancy outfit?” Mindy asked her, raising a skeptical eyebrow. Dexarte nodded.

“I am indeed a God. And now that you have seen me, you will tell me about Phoenix.” She said. Mindy cocked her head to the side, she was feeling a little more brazen than usual, and that’s a wonderous statement considering the more recent events in her life.

“What do you plan on doing to him?” Mindy asked. “You don’t exactly seem dangerous, but I’d bet everything that you’re keeping this whole plane quiet right now all on your own.” She gestured toward the plane passengers.

Dexarte swiped a finger across her tattoo, underneath her right eye. “Sharp eyes. I am doing just that. I only need to speak to you, after all.” She admitted. “I already told you why I need to see Phoenix. To find an old friend of ours.”

Mindy nodded. “Yes. But who is this friend of yours?” She asked. It was the first time Mindy saw the Goddess’ easy demeanor slip a little.

“I’m afraid that’s none of your business doc.” She said, tense. “Why do you want to know?” Mindy looked away from her, self conscious.

“There was someone I once knew who...well, he had connections to strange people.” Mindy began. “He passed recently, and I had no idea what to do. However, I’ve been told something very revealing about him that makes me highly suspicious of you.” She explained. Her hands clasped the sides of the seat tightly, as if the plane were falling at mock speed.

“I am certain I could not have known this friend of yours.” Dexarte laughed, quietly. “I may be a friendly God, but I don’t fraternize with everyone I meet.”

“I understand. But he has certainly met you, he just wasn’t...aware of it. You appeared to him in a different light.” She said. “In a different body, with a different voice, and a different name...even a different gender.” Dexarte squirmed uncomfortably where she stood. “You could’ve met him when you were someone else, is all I’m trying to say.”

“Yes. Perhaps. What was his name?” Dexarte asked, frowning.

“Darius, Darius Winters.”

Dexarte’s eyes lit up in recongnition. “That name...is familiar. I have met him before, you were right. He has passed you say?” She asked, sadly. “I used to work under him, as an assistant in his lab. Are you the same as me? An assistant?”

Mindy shook her head. “I was a student, I guess. This detective mentioned him meeting someone like you a few weeks before he was-” She stopped herself, and Dexarte looked away.

“This detective of your’s is right about a lot, it seems.” She said. “He didn’t mention my name, I presume. Otherwise you would’ve recognized me.”

“It was just a small description, but it’s stuck with me for awhile. I thought at first that the detective meant a super of some kind, but to see an actual god…” She sighed. “It’s been kind of a hectic week for me.”

“I can tell, just from looking at the trail you’ve left behind. You have had quite the exciting life.” Dexarte said. “But still, I need to know the whereabout’s of Phoenix. I’m sorry about your friend, really, but this is important.”

“Phoenix is with a friend. In a town called Provence, New Jersey.” Mindy answered. “So...you don’t know anything about how he could’ve...died?”

Dexarte shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid I didn’t even know he was gone until you told me just now. I’m sorry.” She said.

“It’s fine.” Mindy said. “I was just hoping.” They both sat there in silence for a short while before Dexarte moved. She bent forward, directly in front of MIndy’s face, and grabbed the girls head in her hands. Dexarte then proceeded to lightly trace something below her eyes, along the bridge of her nose, on both cheekbones.

“If you ever need me for anything, trace along your eyes and I will be there.” She said. “I have to go now. I don’t have much keeping me on this plane, except for this.” She held out an ingot of iron from her pocket.

Mindy felt along her face where Dexarte had touched her, very confused, but willing to hopefully try it out when she got the chance. Dexarte smiled at her, and waved, before she disappeared again entirely. MIndy looked around for her, wondering where she could’ve gone, but stopped when she realized the plane was filled with noise. The man next to her was snoring loudly, two kids were playing games in the next aisle back, and passengers chatted while the plane flew them to Goergia. Mindy’s thought’s were far from home, though.

……………………

Welp we are slowly but suely getting there folks, I welcome you to Dexarte (Day-Shar-Tay) Goddess of the Earth and many Trails.



I've been listening to RWBY's soundtrack again, so here.

---

Time: After the Hounds Assault

The team Briley Patton had sent over to deal with the crisis in Lost Haven was experiencing something they hadn't truly felt since the Hounds first showed their face to the world; jubilation. It started with the news that the Finger of God had been reduced to a useless, burning husk, foiling their attempts to snuff out cities like candles, and things only got more celebratory when word reached the team that the Hounds leader had been captured as well. While the crew still worked diligently to prepare for the inevitable emergency relief, there was still a jovial lightheartedness, no doubt fueled by several cases of beer that had been rolled out just for the occasion. It was a dizzying hodgepodge of movement, save one figure sitting at her makeshift workstation, listening to the gentle beats of the Pet Shop Boys pumping through her headphones.

"In a West end town a dead end world," Jordan Fletcher sung breathily to herself, her cheek plastered to her keyboard. "...the East end boys and West end girls..." Turning over in her chair, she expected to feel just as jubilant as the others, especially given what she had gone through at the hands of those fascists, but she just felt...overpowered. Like her heart had been beating out of her chest for years before it finally slowed down again. She didn't feel bad or tired at all, just...relieved. Relieved that every single nightmare scenario that played in her head would not come true, relieved that things turned out alright after all. Deep down she really was elated of course, but coming down from the panic high took the wind out of you. So much so that she was barely aware when a familiar purple face plopped down on the desk next to her.

"Hey Jordan," Riley said sleepily, sounding remarkably like Jordan felt.

"Hey Riles'," Jordan replied back, shifting slightly to remove one of the headphone cups without using her hand. "Heard you got the Finger of God."

"Yep."

"Cool."

"Went into space."

"Sweet."

In the ensuing celebration, it seemed no one had spotted the alien super-heroine just yet, which was fine by the both of them. It was nice to just sit here and not have to worry anymore.

"They got the boss, by the way."

"Of the Hounds?"

"Yup."

"Good."

"Mhmm."

Jordan turned to look at Riley, who was grinning weakly at her.

"A burger sounds good right now."

"Damn right it does." Riley's eyes lit up slightly as Jordan flicked her head towards a pair of takeout boxes sitting at the head of the desk.

"Victory burger."

"You are awesome, Jordan."

"Only as much as you Riles."

They fist-bumped.

One Month Later

“Hey babe, can you give me a hand? I can’t get this last bag up on the shelf.” Alexa called from the other room.

“Be right there.” He replied. He hadn’t been sure about this trip when Alexa had first suggested it. With everything that they had just gone through with the Hounds of Humanity, as well as the re-opening of the Hub after the attack there, to just the day to day responsibilities that he had in Lost Haven as Icon, he wasn’t sure that now was the right time. However, in the month since the Hounds were defeated, things had been relatively quiet, so he believed that maybe taking a little break with Alexa overseas might not be the worst idea.

Though, upon leaving Lost Haven, he almost immediately regretted it. As they pulled off of the tarmac at Robert D. Sherman International Airport in Lost Haven in the Winstone International private jet, Scott remembered just how much he hated flying in a plane. Unlike most people who have a dislike of flying, Scott was not afraid of flying. Quite the contrary, he just hated how slow it was. He had grown accustomed to flying himself anywhere he needed to go, and when you’re able to fly across the entire United States in a matter of minutes, flying on a plane—even one as nice as Winstone International’s luxury private jet, just seemed like a waste of time. Though, it wasn’t all bad. The flight from Lost Haven to Paris gave Scott and Alexa over ten hours alone with one another. It was the first time that they’ve had that kind of uninterrupted time together since before the Hounds attacked. Between Alexa’s work at Winstone International and Scott’s split duties between getting The Hub back up and running and his duties as Icon, they just haven’t had the time together that they’d like.

But this trip was a chance to change that. Aside from some business negotiations that Alexa had to attend to for Winstone International, they had nothing but time to themselves to explore The City of Lights. Truth be told, Scott had been looking forward to finally being able to spend some quality time with the woman that he loved without the pressures of his dual life getting in the way.

No super villains.

No catastrophes.

No recruiting.

No costumes.

No Icon.

Just Scott and Alexa doing the things that couples do while traveling in Europe.

Scott made his way toward the bedroom to help Alexa get the last bag up on the shelf that she had apparently been having a hard time reaching. However, when entered the room, much to his surprise it was empty. He looked around, only to be startled when Alexa reappeared in the doorway carrying two glasses of wine.

“What took you so long, Flyboy?” Alexa said with a grin as she handed him a glass. “You need to see this.” She told him as she took his free hand and led him away from the bedroom, down the hall of the extravagant suite that Alexa had booked at the Le Grande Peninsula Hotel and over to the large sliding glass doorway which led to their private rooftop deck.

As they stepped out onto the deck, Scott was surprised to see that it included a small sitting area as well surrounded by shrubbery, and off to the left was a small round hot tub just large enough for two. However, the thing that really stood out was the view of the city itself. From this deck, they could see almost the entire city, everything from the Arc de Triomphe to the Siene, which wound its way through the city. However, the sight of the Eiffel Tower in the distance, illuminated in a spectacular golden glow which to Scott seemed like a sort of beacon against the dark night sky was something to behold. Though he had seen the tower several times during his exploits as Icon, he had never had the fortune to see it from this perspective, and as he looked away from the tower and into Alexa’s eyes, he knew that this would be the most magical getaway that he could have ever hoped for.

Time: Afternoon
Location: Adirondack Mountains, New York.
-
The forest was alive.

From the towering pine to the smaller, humbler birch, from the moose to the black bear to the gray fox. Everything teemed with life, lurking in every hole and nest, or hiding away in the trees on quick wings. The sun was high in the sky, casting its light down into the dark wilderness and, farther away, the hundred-something humble villages and towns that Mandate knew called the Adirondack Park home.

And with a raging fist, one of those humble trees found its trunk exploding as Mandate shouted her frustration. Because no matter where Mandate looked in that light, she could not find what she was looking for. All she had learned, over the course of her three day hunt, was what to call the things around her, which had so haunted her with their strange familiarity.

"Stupid PINE!" the towering golem bellowed, barely heard over the thunderous crash as the tree toppled into its fellow flora, then to the forest floor. The beautiful wildlife that had enchanted her so much only a few days ago was probably in full flight, but she didn't care; it could only distract her for so long.

She wanted answers. Her foot lashed out, smashing into the tree's stump and spraying its remains in all directions, kicking up dirt and dust that only clouded her vision more. The forest was alive, and she was determined to kill some of it to vent her frustration and let it know her disapproval. There were towns and villages that she could have struck her way through, but that was too much attention, too much trouble. Huffing, the golem's clawed hand swiped out to tear through another stupid hiding tree's stupid trunk as her thoughts ran wild.

Somewhere in the dark woods and- perhaps- among the towering mountains were the answers she was looking for. Whether in the deep forest or somewhere high in the peaks, she could not recall, but she knew it was somewhere in here, hidden away from the villages and towns that were scattered through the Adirondack Park- at its outskirts. She could guess why. The answers to her cloudy memories, clarity and peace of mind for her raging thoughts. Proof that her past was dead, and that she had killed it and buried it in the rubble.

But the mountains were massive, and they stretched farther than two people could ever hope to search on foot in three days, even with the help of magical instruments. Mara had seemed like the answer to her problems, with her resourcefulness and trinkets, and so she'd recruited the goblin into her hunt. That hadn't panned out, but the golem wasn't really mad at the goblin herself. She had tried her best.

She was mad at nature, that conspired to hide things from her. She was mad at her own impatience, her scatter-brained uncertainty, the way her thoughts clawed in from the darkness with the possibility that she would never, ever find her birthplace, that she would wander the wilderness for months before she found any sign of it, if she wanted to avoid the people. She was angry for a lot of reasons. It was too much to think about, and when she had too much to think about, she began to lose focus. She began to grow uncertain, and distracted. And when she was distracted, she turned inwards.

She paused, shoulders sagging as she stared down at the torn up dirt and wood, leaves and wood chips cascading down onto her from where they had taken flight from her rage. For a moment, the silent shock of her short-lived rampage overtook the forest, and she was left with the sun cascading through drifting leaves and across her silvery form, alone with her thoughts.

I miss Miss Ambassador.

"Oi, Mandate!"

The golem's head snapped up, towards where Mara was seated upon a large rock. Mandate found herself impressed; the goblin was quite far away, so her voice must have been powerful indeed. Her hand waved up as high as it could over her short body, inviting her over. She accepted the invitation with a final backwards glance at her own destruction, sighing loudly-the actual noise for once, rather than simply saying the word.

The distraction would be good.

Mara eyed her as she approached with trudging steps, taking her in with a long look and scooting back further up her perch. "Ya seem frustrated, Mandate." she remarked. Was it that- well, yes, it was obvious. Huffing, the golem in question turned around, falling heavily-with a slight bump to her weight for emphasis- against the forest floor, pulling her legs up to herself and wrapping her massive arms around them. Imitation of posture she had seen before, it made her feel slightly better.

"We haven't found anything, Mara! Nothing at all! I know it was in these mountains somewhere, I just know it." she whined, expressing her thoughts as the goblin slid down to sit beside her, keeping some distance for some reason. Adjusting her rather hefty glasses, the lanky goblin checked her watch once more.

"I know the feelin', Mandate. Much as I hate to say it after how long we've been digging around, it doesn't look like this is going to pan out." She held up her watch for emphasis, tapping it with a gnarled finger, as she cast a sympathetic look Mandate's way. The golem could not squint, but her dimly-glowing crimson 'pupil' focused upon the little device nonetheless. Oh, that's right.

"You're going home soon. And I'm going to get back to Miss Ambassador." Mandate felt herself sagging once more, some of the tension that did not physically exist leaving her posture. She was ambivalent, but not because she wasn't excited to see her favorite human companion again.

She was going to be abandoning the hunt, without any answers or evidence to show for it. And that meant, one day, she'd probably have to ask Miss Ambassador for help instead; Mara was okay company, but her trinkets hadn't been enough to track down her origin. Either it was too far away, a fault of Mandate's memory, or it was hidden, in which case a more powerful sort of magic would probably be needed anyway. Mandate didn't know much about magic, but she knew that power mattered.

And Miss Ambassador, she was very powerful. She could help, Mandate knew, if the golem found it in herself to share her past. She had only told Mara what she needed to know, and there she wasn't particularly concerned; the goblin was small and weak, and Mandate was not vulnerable to her. Physically, or emotionally.

It was different with Miss Ambassador. Mandate squirmed, realized she had gone too long without responding further to the goblin's observation, and hummed. "I guess you're right, Mara. We should probably get ready to go home." she admitted softly.

Mara's strange face softened as she reached up, brushing dust and dirt off of Mandate's arm, then settling her hand upon the clean patch. "It'll be fine, Mandate. You got all the time in the world, right? Whatever you're after, I figure it can't hide from you forever, eh?" she offered optimistically, patting Mandate's silvery arm.

The golem straightened up, considering the goblin's little pep talk, and nodded slowly. "I guess I do, huh? Thanks, Mara." Indeed, she had all the time she could possibly need. And when she was ready, she had a powerful friend who she was sure would be able to help her, and together they would finally bury her past for good. Only when she was ready, of course.

"Right, I'll get in contact with the Ambassador." Mara stood, brushing herself off. Nodding to her companion, a thought occurred to the golem.

"... I should wash off before we meet them, though."

The Library had always been a love and hate thing for Johan. There was no place in the multiverse with more magical lore and knowledge stored in it. It was a place for scholar, protected by forces so vast even elder gods thought twice. But it was presided over by a the Librarian. A ghastly form that had the emphatic capability of hannibal lecter and a thirst for knowledge that compromised for nothing. Not even the end of the world.

Johan wasn’t sure what he was looking for. He shifted trough book after book, tome after tome. The pile beside him grew like a monument to his ignorance of the finer point of magic. He was a mage, yes. But he had cheated, inside him sat the equivalent to a magical nuclear reactor, the arcane stream called into mortal flesh. To him magic was intuitive now, a few spoken words and a few runes. This however, this was old and wise magic. Cold iron and folkloric bane kind of magic. The magic needed to kill a king.

The King.

His king.

“So.” The librarian hovered over his shoulder, a impossibly tall, slender and wiry creature that might be human or similar at one point “Why is the Elves going to war?” The librarian asked as he picked up a few tomes with a whisk of his finger, energy wisps enveloping the books and rearranging them. Johan ignored him, shifting through the tomes on the table. He was looking into divination, flipping pages through the 'Bergadotters Visioner.' A old swedish text banned by the catholic church back during the conversion days in old northern Sweden. Before Nordic Kings and when Central Europe was still talking about vikings as a plague on civilization.

His eyes stuck on a passage, hardly eligible.

“And the king stepped of his throne, wielding Hilring, the Axe of Ice, bearing down winter and death.” Johan felt a sudden chill as he read the words, felt like the text was somehow making the room colder as he read. “His armies tenfold that of mortal kin, immune to led and fire” Led and fire? There was no led weapons back then. This was a vision of the future all right, complete with bullets.

“Steeped in fire and blood, his boots tread mortal soil, and giants wake from slumber long. Long forgotten magic will burn again, and with the world” By now he knew it was more then his imagination. Rim frost crawled across the table and he could smell the blood and fire mentioned.

“Unless a crown of iron is donned and the spear of odin finds its mark, the age of man shall be no more.” Johan sighed, sliding down into his chair as he closed the book. A tear made trail trough the dirty and grim on his face, before it froze.

“Potent. Are they not”

“Her gift was true, beyond anything I ever read.”

“Indeed. They strung her up you know, the early nordic Christians. Said her words were from the devil. The next day, the church in her village was destroyed by trolls.”

“Her name was Bergadotter. Daughter of the Mountain. I suppose they didn’t know her heritage well enough.” Johan muttered as he tapped the book while in deep thought. “I don’t see a solution..” He stared at the book, as if willing it to give him another way out. For their to be a happy end to his prophecy.

“I do” The librarian said solemnly, flipping the book open, pointing to the engraving of a man wearing a grey crown.

“That is not a solution” Johan snarled, turning to face the creature known as the librarian.

“You are champion of the king. Part of your duties, is to bring the king to bear should he fail his own.” The librarian spoke, producing a book that read “The Courts of Fey” in old fae script.

“But they do not see it that way” Johan insisted, a sense of panic rising within him

“The old laws are the grounds of magic. They will kneel” The Librarian countered, as if citing the book without even opening it.

“I don’t fucking want them to kneel.” Johan spat, desperation and impotent rage making his voice crack.

“But so they must, were you to save your other home” The librarian made the book vanish.

“I would need a army.”

“No. What you need, is the threat of one.”

“...The Excalibur girl”

“They will not fight Mortals AND Albion. And she can back your claim. I would be wary of the one called Ambassador. The Court of Summer and Winter are sympathetic to the Elven King. They will interfere unless you can head them off… ” The librarian said, getting awfully close to Johans face, making the Magus back away.

“Anyways. Good luck” The librarian shoved him in the chest and suddenly, Johan was back in the alleyway again.

“...Fuck!”

---

"You okay Riles? You're looking like you're about to keel over."

Riley pushed herself off the wall she was leaning against, shaking her hair out of her eyes as a pair of Poseidon crewmen jogged past with armfuls of food packets. "Well, I have just finished flying into space. That is a bit tiring."

Jordan looked up from her electronic notepad with a wry grin, her eyebrows raised. "Wow, since when have you been sarcastic?"

"That is not a bad thing is it?" Riley said quickly, sounding concerned.

"Nah, just messing with you," Jordan said, craning her neck to glare at a couple of crewmen unpacking another large box. "Just been a while since I felt like joking around. Hey, be careful with those medical supplies, dumbasses!"

Riley sighed wistfully, getting a good look around Lost Haven one last time. A lifetime ago she escaped into the streets from a Poseidon laboratory, wanting to save people from the mad creations of the Game Genie. Now she was here, traveling into the skies and fighting alongside other heroes to stop a mad terrorist group threatening the nation. She tried to think of what BPE-45A, trapped in her cryogenic tube, would have thought if she heard that she would have flown into space to help take down a city-destroying super-weapon. Or battled with a mad general in a vulture-like robotic suit. Or even had an incredible hamburger with her best friends. Would that frozen alien ever believed that one day she would go so far to save the lives of millions of people, or were such things impossible dreams at best?

Maybe they were dreams, Riley decided. Dreams worth fighting for. And a part of her hoped she would fight for that dream again someday.

"Well unless you feel like floating on yourself, we have the plane fueled up and ready to go, Riles," Jordan suddenly piped in, snapping Riley back to the real world.

"You're not coming back?"

"Not yet at least, the boss wants me to oversee the relief efforts, at least over the next few days," Jordan explained. "Believe me, if I could I would. I am really missing Jane right now."

"I am missing home, and my friends," Riley reminesced. "Mr. Martel, Miss Patton, Typhoon, Monsterk4t..."

"Only you would ever consider supervillains 'friends', Riles," Jordan said with a laugh. "Either way, I'm sure they need you back home more then I do. Better get rolling." Jordan turned to leave but faltered, hovering mid-step before spinning right back and pulling Voyager into a bear hug.

"Thanks for everything, Riley," Jordan said, her tears soaking into Riley's jacket as she pressed her face into her shoulder. "Thanks for saving me. For saving everyone." Riley tried to say something, to try to put how she felt about her best friend that had gone through hell and came out swinging into words. All that she could do was stifle the tears running down her face, and as they broke apart, judging by the look on Jordan's face, Riley didn't need to say anything anyway. She understood.

"Well...I had better catch my flight," Riley remarked, still rubbing moisture from her eyes. "See you back home, Jordan."

"See you there, Voyager."

At long last she was headed home. Riley vaguely noticed how a handful of the crew had gathered near the plan to see her off, but mostly her thoughts rested on the trip back. Briley Patton had arranged for a more comfortable flight back home on a proper passenger-equipped plane, and Riley was certainly grateful. Giving a nod to the pilot to show she was ready, Riley gave a wistful sigh as she collapsed into the closest seat and, just as the plane touched off the ground, shut her eyes and slipped away into a well-earned rest.

Where are you?

Riley grumbled under her breath, twisting around in her seat.

Tell us where you are.

Riley flipped herself over and yelped as the seat vanished from underneath her. Scrambling to her feet, she blinked at the sudden change in her surroundings. The plane had vanished from around her, and she was in an inky black void, devoid of light.

"Huh? Wh-where am I?"

Where did you go?

"Who said that?" Riley demanded, spinning around nervously. "What is this place?"

You've been gone so long.

A light crept into her peripheral vision. Turning, Riley saw a tall figure a short distance away, illuminated like it was standing in a spotlight. Cautiously, she crept towards the figure, her arms raised and ready to fight.

We thought you were lost. Gone. But never forgotten.

Riley's hands started to shake as she drew closer and closer, drawing up to the figure's back.

Tell us where you went.

"H-here I am," Riley said nervously. "Wh-what do you want with me?" The figure turned his head, the silver steel and the wide grin glinting in the spotlight.

"Isn't THAT the million dollar question, darling?" Primetime said in his insipidly cheery tone of voice.

"You!" Riley snapped. "What are you doing here, smiling man?" Before Primetime could answer, Riley suddenly picked up the sound of...the ocean? Turning around in confusion, she spotted the torrent of rushing water just as it careened right into her, knocking her off her feet and carrying along the helpless alien for the ride. Riley tried to call for help, but the water twisted and threw her back and forth as it carried her along, drowning the words before they reached anyone's ears...if there even was anyone.

Shortly before she resigned herself to be drowned in an unstoppable flood, Riley felt her body smack into something solid, the water around her crashing to the ground. Sputtering and choking, she pushed herself up from the water pooling around her, trying to feel around for something to hold onto to get her bearings. Riley stopped short of this, not because she gave up, but because she felt she was wearing gloves now.

Blinking the last bit of water from her eyes, she looked down at her hands to find them five fingered and wearing gloves she did not recognize. Realizing she was lying in a pool of water, she leaned down to get a better look at herself and barely stifled a shriek. The face staring back was not hers, instead replaced with that of a man, unshaven and gruff looking with piercing blue eyes and an angry red patch of skin covering a portion of the right side of his face. Even the outfit had changed, replaced by what looked like a long leather duster and body armor. Stumbling to her very unfamiliar feet, she became aware of a purple glow filling the dark void, reflecting off the water gathering at her ankles.

At last.

Riley looked up to see a figure floating in midair, hovering just out of reach...herself. The other her stared down at Riley with an unreadable expression, her eyes filled with purple light, her arms extended outwards to the side.

"W-what's this supposed to mean?" Riley demanded, surprised she still had a familiar voice. "Why are you me?"

You can come home now.

The voice seemed to be coming from the other Riley, despite the doppelganger not even moving her mouth to make the words. "I was heading home, before you stuck me in the weird dark place!" she shouted up at herself, her hands clenching. At this, the other Riley turned her head, almost from bemusement.

Have you ever wondered where you came from?

Riley felt something drop like a stone in her chest. "What do you 'mean where I cam from'? I came from Pacific Point! In a box, perhaps, but technically speaking..."

Enlightenment is sought. You must find him to know.

"Him?" Riley asked, looking down at the unfamiliar reflection in the water. "Do you mean the guy you made me look like?"

He shares your gift. Lay the path for one another.

"B-but why?" Riley asked, almost pleading. The other Riley, as though in response, smiled slightly, without a word crossing her lips.

You will be able to come home.

Light began to flood the room, the black giving way to a blazing violet as the water below her began to percolate. Before Riley could demand a better answer, something overwhelmingly massive burst from the floor in front of her, sending waves crashing along the standing water. Riley caught a glimpse of the serpentine beast, its red and white feathered scales gleaming in the light, before it opened its maw and crashed down on top of her.

"YEAAAAAAGH!"

"Ach, sorry about that!" the pilot called from the cockpit of the jet. "Wasn't expecting any turbulence around here."

Riley blinked, realizing she was back on the floor of the private jet again. Scrambling rapidly, she pulled herself back to the seat and looked at the window. The familiar blue face and red eyes stared back at her, said blue looking quite a bit paler then usual. Breathing a sigh of relief, Voyager collapsed backwards into her seat.

"You alright back there?" the pilot called out.

"Ah, yes, I am fine!" Riley reassured him, straightening out in the chair. "Just...had a bad dream, I suppose."

"No worries, then. Sorry if I shook you awake, we should be smooth sailing from here to Cali."

"Sounds good, carry on!" Riley said, trying to sound encouraging. Leaning her head back, she ran over the details in her head of what had happened. Whatever was talking to her, it wanted her to come home. But where was home? The place that she was sent from when she showed up in that tube? Or maybe somewhere else? And then there was the other alien, Primetime. The other her. The strange man she took the appearance of. The surreal dragon. The spectral wolf. Wait, was there a wolf? Riley strained her memory. Nothing specific came to mind but...there had to have been one. A glowing, spectral wolf.

The one coming back clearly to her, though, was that man, the one who had powers like hers, according to whatever was talking to her. The one who she needed to find, to help both of them. Riley frowned at the prospect of following weird visions in her head. She wasn't sure whether to trust them yet, especially considering that strange-faced alien was involved.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to keep an eye out.

Location: Zion National Park, Utah. Nearly 2 hours and a half outside of Nevada.
Time: Evening, month after the HoH attack.

---

Ben bounced in the old pickup truck’s seat. Each bump jousted his figure in the cab as he fought to remain still, getting bruises on his side when he failed. It was obvious the suspension needed to be worked on. However, the owner hadn’t the money or the time. As Duff put it, training a pup was a full-time job.

Thinking of this, Ben’s eyes drifted over toward his mentor.

Duff Muir. The gruff, elderly man sat in the driver’s seat where he stared ahead. His weathered hand lazily sat on the wheel’s top while he guided the rusty thing through the narrow path. In the rearview mirror, a red dust billowed behind and obscured its view. The old werewolf didn’t seem to notice as he kept driving forward. Greasy, salt and pepper hair hid underneath an ivy cap sitting lopsided on his skull. His free hand took out the hand-rolled cigarette wedged between his teeth then flicked the amber tip through the cracked window. Duff’s fingers lazily scratched his scraggly, thin beard before noticing Ben’s eyes looking at him.

“Wot?” His heavy Scottish accent wove through the escaping smoke.

The elder man’s eyes crinkled causing the crows feet to deepen, aging his appearance for the moment. Though he didn’t look it, Duff was well over a hundred years old.

The truck’s gears grinded and popped drawing a frown from Duff. He grumbled as he leaned forward, his arm jerked the gear shift down. His eyes attempted to check the gage before flopping backward. Benjamin had learned to read his expression, both by instinct and common logic. The guy wasn’t exactly hiding his frustration.

The door handle clicked when he stepped out, his boots crunched across the gravel to the hood. He popped it up to look inside. Dark smoke escaped into the air causing the old man to hack and cough. Benjamin sighed. His eyes turned to the window, ignoring the suffocating heat wafting in to replace the earlier breeze.

Barron had introduced Duff to him shortly after the deal in the hospital. At first, their meeting had been fully soured by the fact the werewolf knew the vampire on a friendly level. It brought Benjamin’s suspicion and anger to the surface. Gave him a will to continue to live. There was more than one occasion they clashed in violent ways and Duff always came out on top. Joseph only stepped into the fray once.

As days turned into nearly a week, the aggression toward each other faded until Ben finally imprinted properly with his fellow werewolf. After that, he couldn’t bring himself to bare a fang at the old wolf.

“You piece o’ shat,” Duff grumbled, his hands reached to examine the guts.

Curious, Ben cranked down his window then shouted to him.

“What broke on it now?”

“Nuthin’!”

“Bullshit, I know that look,” Ben countered.

Duff’s face peered around the upraised hood, a frown and squinted eyes plastered on it. A reddish tone even colored it. The man appeared ready to scold the daylights out of Benjamin but instead held his breath. For several moments, Benjamin wondered if Duff forgot how to breathe naturally before he gestured for Ben to hop out of the truck.

Exhaling, he walked into Duff’s wake. The sun gradually dipped down past the hazy blue horizon. The dying light cast everything in a blood red light then faded into a deep purple, shrouded it in shadows. Duff just kept on walking. Neither of them needed the sun’s light to navigate the landscape as they trotted deeper into the park’s shallow brush.

“What are we doing here Duff?” Benjamin asked in a hushed voice.

“Hunting small prey, Pup,” the old man replied.

He then added, his figure a little hunched over, “Git ready to change skins.”

Rippp!

Ben watched Duff’s flesh and clothing tear, their seams unable to contain the extra bulk anymore. Greyish black fur spilled out through the tears. Bones snapped then cracked, the joints readjusted to something digitigrade. A tail extended from the spine to lash at the air. Shreds of flesh fell into the ground. Upon touch, it turned to dust as the evidence vanished into the breeze. When Duff tossed his head back a loud howl escaped his throat. It died in the night.

His wolfish head turned behind him with the demand he is not alone. The command gnawed at him causing Ben to sigh then strip naked. Unlike Duff who had no issue walking around naked, the teenager had replaced enough clothes to last him a lifetime.

Again, the painful transformation had begun. Over the weeks he had done enough the pain quickly dulled into a faint memory. He no longer screamed or grunted, instead, he growled in impatience. There was obvious hatred in doing this. When the last of the bloodied skin dried then flaked off, he shook himself.

In the darkness, they both appeared like oversized wolves. Bizzare natives almost. Benjamin lifted his nose into the air and took a deep inhale. Series of scents wafted all over his attention, coating it with information and direction. He settled on a rip young ram. Thick and healthy. His tongue licked his chops before he bolted into the direction with Duff hot on his heels.

Sean Abbott found himself standing in the Greyhound station right of of I-787 in Albany, New York. It had been a long journey coming down south from Lost Haven. He even had to make a transfer stop in Boston just to make his way to the state capital of New York. Sean had planned this little trip as a surprise for one of his old high school friends, Brooke McFadden. Sure, most guys would not bother spending an entire day on a bus to see an ex-girlfriend, but Sean thought she needed to see a friendly face after she had moved away from home.

While Sean was waiting for a taxi, he felt his phone buzz inside the back pocket of his pants. Once he had pulled out the device, his phone displayed a local news alert. Apparently, there was a hostage situation at the Citizens Bank on the corner of South Pearl and State, which was weird because it was way past banker’s hours.

Sean paused for a moment. He had come to Albany to see his friend, not to fight crime. When the news report revealed that a metahuman was likely to have been the cause of this situation, there was even a greater temptation to rush into action.

“Who am I kidding? I drag this costume around with me everywhere I go,” Sean muttered to himself. At first, he turned and calmly walked away, trying not to draw attention to himself. But once Sean was ought of sight, he dashed off, stripping off his clothes and revealing a green colored costume as he went.

---

It was late in the evening when Zac was exiting the Times Union Center, along with hundreds of other individuals. An all-purpose entertainment venue, particularly outfitted for sporting events, the Times Union Center was located in the heart of Downtown Albany. Because the girls (and Darren) were out of town for the day, Zac decided he deserved a little quality time with the guys. Therefore, Zac and a few of his football teammates decided to catch a game of their local arena football team, the Albany Empire.

Or at least Zac thought it would have been his day off. He had received a text from Kyle Porter that explained how Sammy made a surprise visit earlier that day. Zac was not really surprised, especially since Kyle had given Sammy, who had been crushing hard on the cat-themed hero, a freaking ring. Sure, the tiny piece of jewelry could hide Sammy’s feline features, but did he really have to give her such a device in a shape of a ring? If Lyger did not see this coming, it was his own fault for Sammy showing up in his room half naked. All Zac responded with was that he would deal with the situation once the girls get home, but until then, he should keep one eye out for Kelly. Although Zac knew Kelly would not do anything to Lyger, as both Zac and Kelly knew something was off about Sammy (she’s a freaking snake girl!), Zac just wanted to make Lyger a little nervous that Kelly would show up and go nuclear with her magical powers.

“I can’t believe we lost even though we were up by 12 with one-minute left in the game!” Victor complained to Zac and another of Zac’s football teammates. Victor was built like a lineman, maybe a little on the heavy side, although that’s what a good guard needs to be a bruiser in the trenches.

“That’s what happen when you miss so many extra points. Was it something like five kicks?” Zac answered back, although it did little to talk the big man down

“What they really had to have done was defend against an onside kick! It wasn’t like the 2010 Super Bowl where the Saints unexpectedly onside kicked. Albany knew this kick was coming. Just such a frustrating way to lose a game.”

Zac then felt his pocket buzz. When he pulled out his cell phone, he noticed a news alert concerning a metahuman incident at the Citizens Bank. After a quick check of the map app on his phone, Zac realized that the Citizens Bank was not that far away. The report mentioned that whoever was holding up the bank was demanding that Raptor needed to show up, unless the police wanted things to get ugly. Normally, Zac would have checked the situation out anyways, but the villains called him out by name and innocent bystanders were counting on him, Zac really needed to show up tonight.

“Hey, Zac. We’re going to crash at Victor’s place with a few of the other guys. We’re getting an Uber, so do you need a lift?” Anthony asked. He was the second teammate who accompanied Zac to the arena football game. He played starting cornerback on defense.

“Unfortunately, I better get back home. Kelly probably will return by the time I find my way home.”

“Then we’ll see you at summer training in the morning,” Victor said before giving Zac a big bear hug. The strength of the offensive guard almost squeezed the breath out of Zac.

“I look forward to knocking you on your ass tomorrow,” Anthony promised with a smile on his face.

““You’ll have to catch me first,” Zac answered back with a laugh.

“Say ‘hi’ to Kelly for us,” Victor requested, “and if she makes those cookies again, please send some my way!”

“Sure thing, on both accounts.”

After Victor and Anthony had piled into the Uber, which they had ordered, and the Uber had driven away, Zac began walking up South Pearl Street. He needed to find a dark alley or something along those lines in order to change into his Raptor costume. Thanks to his power nullifier, it only took a press of a button to change. Once Zac was outfitted for what he hoped would be a short evening of superheroics, he dashed down South Pearl Street, running at a speed well above the posted 30 MPH speed limit.

Once Zac was approaching the Citizens Bank, he saw that the Albany police had already set up a perimeter around the building. Men and cars surrounded the building, blocking any escape route other than through the air. One of the city buses was parked right by the entrance of the bank, its emergency lights flashing in the evening darkness. That must be where the hostages had come from, since it was way too late for a bank to be open at this point at night.

When one of the police officers noticed that Zac, wearing his Raptor costume, had arrived, he waved the young metahuman through the police line and pointed him towards the hostage negotiator. The plan was simple. The police would send Zac in first in the hopes that he could dissolve the situation peacefully. However, if he had not come out within fifteen minutes, the SWAT team was coming in.

Given an Albany Police Department vest, just in case, Zac entered through the front door of the bank. There, he found a handful of citizens huddled on the floor. When they saw Zac walk through the door, some of the hostages’ eyes glowed with hope. After Zac confirmed that the perpetrator was not nearby at the moment, which he found strange, he gestured to the hostages to make their way out through the entrance. He made sure to remind them to identify themselves as they exited. The police were on high alert because of the metahuman threat and no one wanted to get shot for no reason.

After all of the hostages had shuffled out through the front doors, Zac swept through the first floor one last time. Before he gave up and left the rest of the search to the police, Zac noticed faint weeping coming from behind the tellers table. When he peered around the corner, he found an insectoid metahuman woman hiding beneath the desk. She had tears gushing down from her eyes. In fact, Zac recalled that this was one of Diplodoc’s metahumans who for some strange reason saved Zac and his friends from the Hounds. It took Zac a moment to realize this because he did not recognize the mantis girl with her mask off. The antennae and compound eyes that she possessed reminded Zac of Kelly.

“Don’t worry, nobody is going to hurt you,” Zac told the young woman to calm her down.

“No one is going to believe that I didn’t cause this,” she answered Zac back. “And I can’t be outed as a metahuman. People will see me as a freak.”

“Then explain it to me so I can at least help you out.”

“I didn’t realize I had gotten involved with the wrong crowd until it was way too late. When I refused to go along with one of their plans, they dumped me here as a decoy for their real plan.”

“And what would that be?”

“They found the location of a long-retired S.T.R.I.K.E. agent. They never told me why they were going after him, but they were desperate enough to set up a decoy, it has to be important.”

“Interesting. What could Diplodoc be up to now?”

Zac started to help the mantis girl up onto her feet when he heard a stir within the room. When he turned to see if anyone was there, he saw no one. He turned his attention back to the woman, who had now placed her mask back on her face, which only left her curly red hair visible in a ponytail. But Zac would soon learn that there was in fact a third person in the room.

“Really?” A voice said from behind Zac and the mantis metahuman. “Just because I themed myself after a praying mantis doesn’t mean you Looney Tunes have to be animal people, too! Villains need to get more original these days. Zoology isn’t the only field you can find inspiration from!”