---

"This is not going to work."

"This is TOTALLY going to work," Reisen insisted, her indignation causing the wind on the rooftop to stir. "You rob banks for a living, how are you getting cold feet on a heist?"

"I'm not good at sneaky ambushes, everything I do gives off light," Fullbright complained. "Why can't we just have Amorphous drop a blob in the roadway and cut them off?" She jerked a thumb at the good doctor, sitting nearby with a grumpy expression and fiddling around with one of his blobs like it was silly putty. Monsterk4t, who was holding up a pair of binoculars to his face-mask in a position where his "eyes" would not have been able to see through them, gave a few shrill tweets in response.

"Exactly, and if Darrow reroutes after a botched heist they're not going to slip up again," Reisen said, giving the mute DJ supervillain a slight smile. "It's not like you two won't be helping, we WILL need to fight them off. Maybe through a slaughterhouse like in the game or something."

"...game?" Fullbright repeated. "Reisen please don't tell me you got this idea from a video game or something..."

"Er..."

"Here they come!" the robotic ninja Typhoon announced, suddenly springing to life from his meditative stance. "Ready your blades!"

Reisen and Fullbright put their gripes aside and dove into cover as the caravan turned around the corner and down the side street, a pair of Humvees leading a few trucks down the alley.

"My source has told me it's the blue triangle with the goods in it, friends," Dr. Amorphous reminded them. "Those fools will pay for what they did to me..."

"I see it," Reisen said, putting a hand to her headset. "It's coming up...steady...steady...NOW!"

The convoy's peaceful trundle through the backalley was interrupted by the sound of scrunching metal as a bulldozer burst from a locked warehouse gate. The Humvees barely slammed on their breaks before the loaded slammed into the side of the truck with the goods, lifting it into the air and carrying it right on through, the four-armed tarantula girl laughing maniacally the entire time.

"Well I'm glad Fangs is having fun," Fullbright remarked. "Let's go guys, after that bulldozer!"

A sudden burst of wind scattered the armed guards trying to dismount from the trucks as the villains descended on the convoy. Reisen stayed airborne throwing guards left and right as Typhoon flipped and spun his way through the crowd below her, landing killing blows on the guard Reisen flung with perfect precision. Amorphous' blobs went to work swallowing up the boots and guns of his hated enemies as MonsterK4t launched an acoustic blast that flipped one of the Humvee's over.

"Let's move team!" Fullbright shouted, manifesting a sword and shield of light and hewing her way through the goons. "Time to get our payday!" Reisen stifled a laugh as the villains fought their way through and chased after the runaway Fangs. MonsterK4t was still flipping cars with his sonic blasts when his friends were pushing through, and as he brought up the rear, he couldn't help but pause at the sight of the cubes scattered along the ground. Figuring they must have been in the truck that just got bulldozed, the mute villain stepped back as the strange cubes began to glow...

---

"See Caliber makes me think that you use guns," Terra commented, slurping the last bit of milkshake out of her cup before tossing it in the nearby trashcan.

"It's synonymous with stature too, Ter," Maddy Fen Ming insisted. "Not a common synonym admittedly but it's appropriate for something that's both big AND small."

"Still better then Valencium," Aleks said, finishing off their own milkshake as the trio meandered down the street. "I at least know what a Caliber is."

"Oh come on, I panicked and it was the first thing I thought of!" Maddy whined jokingly. "Superhero names are hard to come up with."

"Only cause you're too smart for your own good," Terra observed. "Seriously, that's a good name for your alter ego, but it needs something punchy, like...the incredible Caliber!" Maddy grinned and said nothing, trying to hide her reddening cheeks by taking a drink of her shake.

"I'm not THAT incredible, Ter..."

"Hey, I think it's pretty amazing you can do all that size change stuff," Aleks said. "I just hope I get to see you in action like Terra did."

And right at that moment, the barrier that the group crossed in front of exploded, and a cargo truck being carried by a bulldozer careened through, the driver cackling madly. Aleks took one look at the crazy procession and chucked the rest of their shake into the trash as well.

"Well, me and my big mouth."

"Come on Aleks, let's see where that bulldozer went," Terra piped up, grabbing her friend by the arm and tugging them along behind her. "You want to change and meet us there, Mads?"

"Er, sure, sounds good."

Moments later, Caliber emerged from the nearby alley and chased after the rampaging machine. She didn't have long to run however, and found the vehicle smashed halfway through a road divider, its wheels lifted off the ground and its engine smoking badly.

"Hey, it's a superhero! The Incredible Caliber!" Terra shouted excitedly from the nearby bush next to Aleks. Rolling her eyes, Caliber crossed over and yanked the door open, jumping back with a yelp as a giant hairy lady with four arms tumbled out.

"Whoooah..." Fangs said woozily. "That was wicked fun!"

Caliber crossed her arms impatiently. "Can I ask what you think you're doing, er, fuzzy woman?"

"She's helping us, of course."

Caliber turned around and had to restrain another yelp as a whole band of villains surrounded her threateningly, weapons and powers on display.

"That truck right there is our haul," the ringleader said, pointing a blade made of light at her. "A corrupted corporate treasure to be better serving the people."

"And REVENGE!" cried a deranged looking scientist.

"So I suggest you back down before we beat worse then the barbarians in Civilization 6," a woman floating on the air demanded of her.

"Hey, I know that reference!" the bush shouted before someone punched them.

"It is four versus one, tomodachi," a robotic ninja stated. "It is best if you stand down."

"I'm a lot more dangerous then I look," Caliber said, cracking a smile and preparing to change size. Before she could grow, however, a sixth team member ran up to the group, a character wearing some sort of electronic DJ headgear resembling a cat, who unleashed a series of beeps and whistles.

"Huh...what about a genie, Monsterk4t?" the ringleader said. "Wait...genie..."

"Uh, guys," the fuzzy woman suddenly spoke up. "What are all these cubes doing?"

All of them turned to look at the truck, which at this point had caught fire, its cargo of strange rainbow colored cubes spilling onto the ground, all vibrating and glowing brighter by the second.

"...wait, I remember something like that from the news," the girl floating in the air said. "Something about..."

"A game genie?!"

"Tawagoto!"

"TAKE COVER!!!"

Everyone ran for cover as the truck exploded in a fireball, a fireball that erupted into a rain of multicolored pixels and cubes. Soon a mob of pixelated bad guys began marching out of the rainbow fireball, with additional enemies bursting to life as the cubes thrown into the air hit the ground.

"It's Game Genie cubes!" Fullbright shouted over the din. "Darrow was trying to make their own Game Genie cubes!"

"Why couldn't it have been gold or something like that?" Reisen griped.

"No time to argue, we gotta fight our way out of here!"

"Hey, but aren't you supposed to be arrested or something?" Caliber interrupted the villain conversation. Before she got an answer, laser blasts raked the ground near her as a group of giant robot wasps flew into view. Moving quickly, Caliber grew a couple stories and swatted the robots out of the air, catching one and scattering the other two.

"Yeesh," Fangs said, wrestling with a couple of Hammer Bros nearby. "I'm glad we didn't have to fight HER." Tensing her back muscles, fangs lifted up the two koopas and performed a suplex, pix-elating both of them.

"This is preferable, for these beings are truly worthy of my skills!" Typhoon cried out, slicing through a couple goons from the Ninja Gaiden games. Fullbright rolled her eyes before spotting a tossed sawblade fly towards her, just barely deflecting it with a beam of light.

"I'm gonna floss my teeth... with your face!" Fullbright turned to spot a bunch of shirtless lunatics in white masks charging out of the fire in all directions. The concise villain group soon found themselves scattered and separated, and the pixelated mob was harder to fight through then the corporate goons by a long shot.

Reisen flew through the streets, blasting away at goombas and robots before feeling something catch her behind the legs, falling to the ground, she soon found herself surrounded by viking-looking soldiers in blue cloaks and leather helmets.

"No flying away for you, Imperial scum!" one of the soldiers said.

"Skyrim belongs to the Nords!"

"Oh this is a treat," Reisen grumbled, blowing back the soldiers and flying back to her feet again. "Time to send you back to Sovvernguard or wherever you nuts like to g-"

"DIIIIIIEEEEE!"

Reisen turned around in time to see a giant of a man raising an axe over her head. Bracing for a hopeless dodge, the man suddenly roared in pain as a sword slashed across his chest and he collapsed to the ground. Reisen glanced at her savior, a swordswoman with an equally blue hairdo.

"This doesn't look like Ylisse at all," Lucina remarked, brandishing her blade at the Stormcloak soldiers. "Seems like you could still use a hand, though."

"Yeah, save my butt there princess," Reisen said, floating into the air again. "Want to wake your blade on these goons with me?"

"Gladly!"

Meanwhile, Caliber was exchanging blows with a Metal Gear at her giant size and had just downed one when something hit her in the head like a lead-lined fist. Just barely staying on her feet, she easily spotted a German Panzer IV tank trundling along the road, more realistic then the other pixelated monsters but just as fictional.

"Surrender, dummkopf!" came a comedic accented voice from within. "Stupid Amerikana and their fancy size changing technology!" Before Caliber could protest that she wasn't American at all, another shell rocketed past her from the opposite direction, exploding the German tank into a shower of pixelated flames. Caliber turned her head and spotted a T-34 roll up and come to a stop next to her.

"Tada!" came a voice from inside as Terra popped out of the top of the tank, inexplicably sporting a Russian military uniform. "Hey Caliber! I think that there must be some World War 2 shooters programmed into those cubes. Check what we found!"

"We?"

At that, the front hatch opened up and Aleks stuck their head out, sadly lacking the same uniform as Terra. "I think it's probably from Company of Heroes 2, actually," Aleks commented. "Since every shooter is about the Western Front and the Americans nowadays."

"You sh-houldn't be in there!" Caliber stammered at them. "You could get hurt!"

"Hey, I can handle this just fine. Not going to stand by and let you have all the fun!" And with a wink, Terra descended back into the tank, which trundled off to find more Nazis to run over. Feeling it was pointless to argue, Caliber turned back to the fight with the Metal Gears, only for something massive and heavy to swing right into her, smashing her into the nearby building. Catching her breath, Caliber realized the heavy thing was in fact a massive anchor, being swung by a familiar figure in a diving suit just as big as she was.

"Nautilus!?" Kaliber asked.

"BEWARE THE DEPTHS!!!"

"Yep, definitely Nautilus."

Dodging under the second anchor blow with some creative shrinking, she was about to prepare for her next counter attack when the giant sea monster suddenly lurched as something flew out of the sky and slammed into him, knocking him into the building just as hard as he had flung Caliber into one. Nautilus recovered and attempted to counterattack, but the newcomer charged her eyebeams in response.

"Not this time, crazy anchor man!"

Voyager fired her Psi-Beam right into the center of the monster's visor, causing it to roar in pain before it exploded into a shower of pixelated debris. The space alien heroine pumped her fist in celebration and made to fly off.

"It's Nautilus, by the way," Caliber found herself saying.

"Hm?"

"Oh, the crazy anchor man. He's named Nautilus."

"Oooh, I think I get it, thanks!" Voyager pondered the giant superheroine for a moment. "Hey, wait a moment, I know you! You are the lady who can change sizes! You fought that strange rock robot!"

"Er, yeah, that's me. Caliber."

"A pleasure to meet you, Caliber!" Voyager said cheerily. "Here to help clean up the pixel monsters too?"

"Well, I was in the area..."

And so the two heroes went to work, fighting their way back towards the explosion and getting rid of the pixelated monsters, at least the ones attacking the city again. By the time the pair of them started working the police had arrived in force, and the rest of the fighting was fairly easy. Caliber handled the big guns while Voyager kept things clear of the small monsters. Soon enough, the mini-crisis was over and the scene had finally calmed down.

"A job well done!" Voyager said proudly, dusting off her uniform. "We should do this again sometime, have a proper team-up. Are you local too, Caliber?"

"Sorta, yeah," the now normal-sized caliber said, feeling a little shy in Voyager's presence. "I'm just glad to help any way I can, really."

"Me too!" Voyager said cheerily. "It was nice to work with you, Miss Caliber!" The size-changing heroine meekly smiled, which vanished as a news camera went off nearby.

"Ugh, do they have to...?"

Voyager shrugged. "You get used to it, sometimes."

Before they could respond, a piercing shriek erupted from the crowd as one of the white-masked men sprang forward, a grenade in each hand.

"Drop-kick your babies!" the psycho shrieked. "I AM IMMORTAL!" The words barely left his mouth before a blast knocked him backwards and out of harms way, before he exploded into pixelated goo.

"Lucky me I brought my shotgun," Jordan Fletcher shouted over the crowd, cocking the gun and stowing it on her back. "I heard about what happened and hurried over. Someone told me Darrow was involved, so I wanted to be sure."

"Well, I'm glad you came," Caliber said, looking noticeably paler. "I don't want to know if those grenades were real or not."

"This was still fun, though!" Voyager announced. "I do hope we can do this again sometime!"

"And hopefully for a long time afterwards!" Jordan said with a laugh.

"Haha, yeah," Caliber said, spotting Terra and Aleks waving at her from nearby. Terra still had the officers hat on. "Hopefully for a long time."

Voyager offered a handshake to the size-changing heroine, who accepted it. The cameras went wild.

---

"Oh I so do enjoy a happy ending!"

Sitting in Maddy's loft apartment, watching the scene unfold on her fancy TV Screen, Primetime leaned back on the sofa and unfolding his arms. Snapping his fingers, the TV set turned off on its own and the strange tv host alien leapt to his feet straightening his tie. Finding it satisfactory, he leaned over to scratch Maddy's cat Kaiser behind the ears, who either didn't notice or didn't care about the smiling alien creature in his owner's house.

"Course you were a bit late on the anniversary, but I suppose better late then never, eh?" Primetime snickered. "Ah, well. I'm sure if you would talk back, you wouldn't stop meowing about how wonderful all of these people and characters are, and how grateful you are to be a part of this. So chatty!"

Swirling his hand around a bit, he produced a shot glass, already filled with liquor. Walking over to the glass walls of the loft looking over the city, he raised a glass to the world outside.

"Here's to you, friends. Five incredible years, and many more to go!"

The mutated komodo dragon's tail whipped around and caught Mozart in the chest, thudding like a wet log smacking against a pool of mud. The heavy, powerful blow drove the air out of his lungs and sent him hurtling through the air of the server room. He slammed into a bank of computers. The towers smashed to the ground like dominoes, sending sparks and plastic pieces scattering through the room. He rolled off the destroyed equipment onto the floor and struggled to get to his hands and knees. Around him he heard his two brothers trying to contain their new opponent.

Art fought to get air back into his body, and as he did croaked to his sister, "Clara!?"

"I'm fine!" she called back. "Just a few more minutes!"

Art cursed under his breath. His brothers were right. This was a trap. Maybe it wasn't always intended as one, but the IDRG was too well funded and too well prepared. They weren't going to allow an opportunity to pass them by.

"Don't let that thing bite you!" she added. "Komodo saliva is notoriously noxious!"

"Oh great!" Bach retorted. "I thought this guy didn't have enough things that could kill me! Poison spit! What a relief!"

On the other side of the room, Art saw his smaller brother dodge and dance around the much larger creature. It continually snapped its jaws shut in the space where Bach's arms, legs, and head had been a fraction of a second earlier. Each attempted chomp sent tendrils of putrid saliva showering to the floor.

Bach was agile, but the komodo was backing him into a corner. The creature was smart. Who knows if it was as intelligent as the frogs were. Maybe after their escape IDRG decided that giving their weapons full, human-like intelligence meant it would be easier for them to escape. Still, the thing was a natural hunter, and was using its instincts to its full advantage.

At least it was until Ludwig caught it with a stiff right hook. The creature stumbled back, but kept his feet, surprising Art. When Ludwig really reared back, he could send a car sliding across the street, but that punch barely fazed the mutant. It merely staggered a few steps back before it roared at the big frog.

"Oh shit," Lud muttered and prepared himself for the full fury of the rampaging lizard. He managed to get out of the way of a lunging bite, bringing his elbow down on the lizard's snout. The blow sends the dragon off balance, but it was still under control enough to smack Ludwig across the face with its broad tail. The blow sent the Frog sprawling to the floor.

Mozart wasted no time in rushing to his brother's assistance. He knew he couldn't take the more powerful mutant on by himself, but he sure as hell wasn't going to allow it to kill his brother.

"Hey, you walking purse!" he yelled at the komodo dragon, and picked up a metal post from the wrecked server bank he had been tossed into. "How about an appetizer before the main course!?"

The komodo turned to face the eldest frog and hissed furiously at him. It charged, and received a strike across the face with the metal bar. The blow sends a sickening thud through the room. But it still wasn't enough to bring the mutated animal down. It merely came at Art again. It attempted to chomp down on the frog, but instead he managed to wedge the metal bar in the mutant's mouth.

Still the creature pushed against him, and tried to chomp down. Art felt the bar start to give under the pressure. He smelled the foul, hot breath that emanated from the drooling maw of the creature.

"Clara!" Mozart groaned against the strength of the creature. "Any day now would be great!"

"Okay! Okay! One...more...second!"

Suddenly, the servers in the room began to spark and fizzle, and the lights in the entire building went out. The dragon backed away from Art and began to thrash wildly. Art motioned to his siblings to back away from the creature, imploring them to not make a sound as they did. The lizard would have poor vision in the dark, especially following a flash like Clara just let out.

As the komodo dragon raged, a short burst of laughter emanated from the doorway of the server room. The four of them turned to find a tall, broad-shouldered man standing there comfortably. His bald head reflected what little light was in the darkened chamber, and on his head was some sort of metal headband with a series of flashing lights across it.

"Well, I'm disappointed you escaped, but as your creator I have to admit I feel some pride that you're able to do everything I designed you to," the man smiled, oozing with self satisfaction.

Art tensed up at the sound of the voice. The days they were imprisoned here and experimented on, he had only heard it through speakers and comms. It was the voice of Director Jordan Dyer of the IDRG. This was the man responsible for all the horrible things that had ever happened to him and his family.

He could feel the rest of his siblings were ready to take on the man responsible for all their pain, but Art knew that would be a mistake. They needed to get out of there. Now.

"Well, that's what you people do best, don't you? Feel impressed by yourselves?" he shot back at the scientist.

"Oh my child, you wound me," Dyer smiled evilly. "Would it make you feel better to know you were a mistake? That it was clear I gave you too much intelligence? It was a common mistake. Not the first time it's been made. But that's been rectified with your cousin here."

Then it dawned on Art. The thing on his head. He was using it to control the dragon remotely. At least as much as he could.

In a swift motion, Mozart used his flexible foot to snatch another piece of metal off the ground and hurl it at Dyer. It struck true, cracking the head piece.

Almost immediately, the komodo dragon took off down the hallway, barrelling over Dyer, and the Frogs followed. As they made their way to the exit, they passed by the reptile tearing apart the IDRG security teams.

Art looked over his shoulder as he passed and saw as the dragon was finally shocked into submission.

"Sorry, brother. But I won't let you die here. I'll come back," he said to himself as he and his family disappeared into the night.

”Here we are, quiet, out of the way, and one of the coolest places in Pacific Point!”

When arriving, The Wanderer couldn’t believe what he was seeing, leaving him speechless. Upon finishing their business in the street, Voyager had insisted on the time traveller to visit a library. Most of the libraries he was used to was either rubble or gutted of most of its contents. This one had been different to him.

The library was modern in appearance with a glass front that exposed the literature that was inside. People inside were reading through the books, working on their laptops or flicking through the catalogue of books to determine where everything was. To a normal person, it was just your average library. To the mutant, this was something he couldn’t get his eyes off. There were more books in this one building alone that those he had seen in the whole of Pine Bluff 200 years in the future.

The pair of them approached the front desk, prompting the attention of the blond, curly-haired librarian sorting returns and the puppy curled up in a blanket next to him, yipping happily at the two superheroes.

“Ah, good morning...er...Voyager…” the librarian said, pausing as he took in the appearance of Wanderer.

“Morning, Mr. Savo!” Voyager said, reaching over to scratch the puppy behind the ears. “How are you and Lee doing today?”

“Fine, fine,” Mr. Savo said, not taking his eyes off the more dangerous looking of the two. “Er….who is your friend here?”

”While I do not have a name to give myself,” The Wanderer started, his attention returning to the new conversation at hand. ”But for simplicity, I am known as The Wanderer. The name might be familiar from the monster metahuman problem the city had a month ago, where I stopped the problem alongside the heroes Gajana and Firefox.”

The time traveller looked around the building. ”Actually, as we are here, I was hoping if there was any information in relation to world history and the news of the city within the past few months. Can’t say much, but I’m not from around here so any of that information would be helpful.”

“Ahh, I do think I remember you from that incident. Always nice to see more heroes around here.” Mr. Savo murmured as he crossed to his computer to perform a search. “In any case, besides our historical encyclopedias, we have an archive of local and national newspapers backed up on our systems. Should help you get caught up, eh?”

”That should help me get caught up a lot,” the mutant replied, a small smile forming on his usually stern face. ”Thank you very much for the help.”

With the information he wanted being here, The Wanderer began to walk further into the library. The number of books in this building had been more than what he had seen from the outside. As his hand touched the books, feeling like-new to his fingertips, he sighed with a sense of peace. ”When I had been trying to survive back in my time,” he started, directing it to Voyager when out of earshot of everyone else in the library. ”There had been only a few dozen books that were salvaged from all the buildings around our settlement. None of them had been in the same quality as these books. This will certainly help with everything that our knowledge didn’t have back then.”

“Yeah, I came here a lot when I was figuring out stuff. It is very calming to just spend some time here, thinking.” Voyager responded, flipping through a picture-filled history text. “I cannot imagine what it was like to not have all this stuff to access...though it was not very helpful when it came to understanding what I can do...or what I was...” Her voice faltered slightly before she set down the book to look at Wanderer curiously. ”Do you think that is why I had that vision a month ago? Because the Psionic Nexus being wanted to send me to someone who knew about what I could do?”

The Wanderer looked up from the book he had picked up while Voyager had been talking to him. He immediately put down the encyclopedia and raised the now-freed right hand to his chin. He thought about the meeting he had with the Nexus. While it had given him a mission to try and find Voyager, the reason behind trying to meet it was something that he still thought about to this day.

”To be frank about it,” the mutant started, both eyes looking at her. ”I have no idea what the Psionic Nexus is planning or if it’s in relation to the visions you had a month ago.”

Relaxing his body, The Wanderer allowed his right hand to slide down to his side. ”To be honest, if it wasn’t for that psionic event you caused during the Hounds attack, I probably wouldn’t know it would have existed. But it did want me to find you for something or another. Probably to train you in psionics, seeing as you had used them like a kid with a new toy. No offense.”

”None taken.” Voyager said, sounding understanding as she flipped through a stack of archived newspapers. ”I cannot exactly take classes on it, and the visions are often the least confusing parts”

The Wanderer looked away, thinking about the vision Voyager kept mentioning. This vision, his chance encounter with The Psionic Nexus and its message to find her and that psionic event came from her. They were all connected in some way. ”As for your vision, when did you get it? Did you also experience something like that when you were in Pacific Point a month ago?”

Voyager paused, looking up from the newspaper stack thoughtfully. ”Ah...yeah, I think I did experience that vision a month ago. I remember, it was right when we were heading back from Lost Haven, and the whole Hounds incident. I think it happened before too, and maybe a little...after?” Voyager rubbed her temples to repress her frustration. “Ech, it is so confusing. I can understand how to travel into space but I cannot decipher this vision. Is the Nexus always this….vague, with you?”

”Hmmm…” The Wanderer murmured. The information on the visions was certainly more helpful to him to try and understand what Voyager was trying to figure out. ”From what I can gather, these visions might be directing you to try and find the things that are in them. I think that much is evident as you did have a vision of me in them.”

When referring to the Nexus, the mutant couldn’t hold back a chuckle. ”To be honest, I’d be lying if I said I understand its cryptic messages. It didn’t specify why I was to find you a month ago, just told me that it was. These visions of yours, however… I do not fully think that those were from the Psionic Nexus. I could very well be wrong, though. There’s a whole lot to it that I have no idea about. The only thing I know is that it was the cause of that psychic ‘earthquake’ that happened a month ago, and I think that was just it arriving to the vicinity of this planet.”

”Yeah, I sort of have memories of that happening...” Voyager pondered. ”My vision that I have of you didn’t feel like that though, so maybe it was something else that sent it? Maybe it had something to do with that creature that was also in the vision...”

The Wanderer listened to Voyager as she spoke more on the visions. The whole thing was still a bit confusing, despite knowing about the type of psionics in his future to certain individuals. For someone to give someone else visions? That was a first for him. ”Well, it sounds like you have a plan of action then,” he replied. No doubt, whatever she needed to do was something she would do herself. He was only there to meet with her, as per The Psionic Nexus’s instruction. Perhaps to train her? Perhaps to band together to help stop the apocalypse from happening? For now, those answers remained elusive to him.

Equally lost for any further information, Voyager glanced over at the newspapers Wanderer was sorting through, spotting the familiar shape of a anchor-wielding monster on the cover. ”Hey, I remember that, it is the Game Genie incident! My first time trying out my powers and helping people. I even met my first friend, Miss Pendragon and...her…”

Wanderer’s mind drifted off as she began talking about an event that happened in Pacific Point before the Hound attacks. He paid no attention to her flipping through the pages like crazy. He just focused on reading the news stories of the time when the Esper family was killed to try and see what events led up to that moment. So it came to his surprise the instant a news article was shoved in front of his face, the mutant hiding none of the look.

“DICKENS!” Voyager shouted, prompting angry stares from the other patrons, though she could care less right now. ”This dragon, Dickens! He was in my vision, the one that led me to you! The Psionic Nexus or whoever sent the vision must want me to find him again!” Voyager looked like she was about twelve seconds from bouncing off the walls, she was so excited. ”I bet Martel would know where to find Pendragon and Dickens. He knows everything!”

Voyager handed the paper back to Wanderer, pointing out the building in the background of the photograph. ”I have to go and find him, if you need me I’ll be around this place! This...this feels like the right thing to do. Like it is going to answer all my questions.” And with a flash of purple and an excited yelp, Voyager shot out of the library and was gone.

Being bombarded with information at a very quick page, he was still focusing on processing it when she dashed off out of the library. With a confused look on his face, The Wanderer looked around to see some of the annoyed people in the library with him. Unsure with what to do now, the mutant shrugged and carried on sifting through the newspapers, carrying on with his search.

---

The commotion at the spaceport as Andrews was picking up a package had caused great alarm in the marketplace. So much so that the seller of “gently used goods”, as they called them, had simply ditched the meeting place. Andrews and his security detail had begun pushing through the crowds as vendors quickly packed tarps and ripped off crates, while some instantly collapsed on the spot. A being sitting on what Andrews would have described as a hover chair dashed by leaving a goopy mess in its path. “We should see what the hubbub is about. Explore if there’s a angle we can exploit a bit.”

“Don’t you think we should called Mrs. Patton? Doctor Andrews?” One of the earpieces suits spoke up. “We are deviating from the current plan afterall.”

“I don’t see why we should, we’re not throwing ourselves into any particular danger.”

“I respectfully disagree.” The woman standing next to him said echoing her colleague. “I am skeptical of what would make visitors to this planet quickly pack up their wares as if the place was set ablaze. Calling Mrs. Patton should be our priority.”

Sighing, Andrews succumbed to logic presented to him, perhaps he had let his curiosity take over his own common sense. “Fine. We’ll inform Mrs. Patton. But we should ask around and get answers as well.”

While his bodyguards contacted their boss; Andrews had came up upon a merchant still packing away his goods. Short and lacking arms the bearded creature was moving things with the many tendrils that made up his thick facial hair. “You there. Fine Merchant. What is happening to cause such panic.”

Looking towards the human the Beradain rubbed his tendrils together as such a pace the sounds it produced vocalyzed words that Andrews could understand despite how high pitched and raucous it was. “A cosmic being has landed, you have fun with that one. Wish you luck. Human of Poseidon.”

Taking that knowledge in as the short being tossed crates upon a hover lift, Andrews spoke with his guards as they had just informed Mrs. Patton of the recent developments. “What shall we do. If we don't make haste and vacate this place ourselves then we could get caught up in something quite perilous. Our business was cut short and we no longer have a purpose here.”

--- Meanwhile at the Poseidon Pacific Point plant ---

The news was slowly getting wind of something happening in Davenport. The Military had kept things quiet enough; for whatever that was worth as videos surfaced of a strange being floating over lake Champlain. “A hoax.” One commenter said. Another comment was jiberish as if they smacked thier keyboard. A few minor heroes typed out evacuation instructions to anyone recording. Briley Patton was sitting in a chair feeling uneasy about the whole situation all she did know was something touched down, her Military contacts didn’t give her enough clearance to wipe a General’s ass so asking them anything was a waste of valuable time. “Andrews.” Briley called over the comms as Andrews and his team were waiting for further instructions on their way to the parking lot. “Extract to safety if such is possible and put a drone in the air, I wish to confirm a few things and speak with this armored hero conversing with such a beast. No not beast; Celestial. I think that would be more fitting of a name.”

Driving out towards the airport they readied the drone as soon as they entered Vermont Airspace. It would bounce signals off satellites once it was close enough to its target as no one would be hanging around long enough to ensure it got anywhere near Lake Champlain; this was an expensive kamikaze toy as no one expected it to return in any piece that would be recognizable.

---

Fear was one of life’s most universal instincts, or so had Takol told him once. All living creatures, no matter how powerful, felt it. Even nigh omnipotence could not make one immune to it.

However, there was a vast difference between knowing this in theory, and actually understanding it. To experience that emotion through such a great being’s perspective, to share that invisible, intangible impulse within, made the idea of universal constants seem a lot more real than he could have ever imagined.

And this being, which could so massively yet effortlessly distort space, was afraid. They felt panic, dread, and it affected them to their core.

“What frightened you?” Asked the Andromedan, sparing a sideways glance to the being’s matter as it spread towards Burlington, threatening to bring their cosmic energies to the people he had grown up with. When he turned his eyes back to the being, they emited new sound, lower than the previous ones, but also thicker, as if sound could be comprised of particles.

That did not clear things up in the least.

“Please, show me.”

They repeated the sound, and this time its resonance made the Andromedan feel like his very atoms were quivering. Not exactly a new sensation for him, but certainly a clarifying one.

An image came to him with that sound, and much like the being that communicated it, it was hard to comprehend. Yet the Andromedan understood just enough to feel the being’s fear replicated within him. Something, someone, had come for this being, hunted them down like a ravenous predator. Something from dark space, from far beyond the Milky Way.

Then another image came to him, of something relatively small, metallic, approaching Lake Chaplain with great speed. A drone, but not a military one.

The being became defensive once more, and the Andromedan felt the return of its pulsating energy, growing ever more frantic, ready to distort and destroy the incoming threat.

“Oh, no”, whispered the Andromedan. He clutched his anchor, willed it to share more of its spatial magic with him, to help him stabilize the space around them. “No, no, no, no... Please, don’t move. Don’t attack. I’m here. I’ll keep you safe. Let me keep you safe.”

He tried to keep his voice steady and mostly succeeded. There was no desperate trembling in it, no panic, but he could feel it within himself. He knew he had two choices left now: either try to cast the being out, push it through a rift in space, or destroy the fast approaching drone.

He heard a disturbingly catchy jingle play before it came into sight, a tune from one of Poseidon Energy's ads; the one that spoke about making a better world.

“Poseidon Energy! A better world today!” sang a woman’s sugar sweet, chipper voice, accompanied by cutesy high notes from a piano, easily selling him on the slogan for a brief instant.

There was a pause, followed by a woman's voice.

“This recording, I want all of this.”

The drone moved ever closer to the Andromedan and the cosmic being, its matter holding steady despite the growing push and pull of the surrounding spatial forces. Once it reached a distance close enough to converse with, it stopped and hovered in place, and the voice returned.

“I am Briley Patton of Poseidon Energy. May I ask the business of the creature in front of us? This Celestial?”

“The Universe does love coincidences”, the Andromedan muttered to himself, and felt the space around them reduce its density. Some palpable tension remained, but at least the being was not about to panic and wreak havoc.

He turned to the drone and spoke with an authoritative voice, his cosmomancer side shining through just as his human side was faltering.

“This Celestial, as you call them, came seeking my protection as a cosmomancer”, he said. “So long as we treat them kindly, you have nothing to worry about.”

The absence of sound save the tiniest buzzing of the hovering drone was all that they heard it took a full minute to respond not because of technical errors no, doubt was why the silence persisted so until Briley again spoke. “So you say hero? If I am to believe that, kept a low profile even more than most so why should I take you at your word?”

“Well, I mostly deal in outer space problems”, said the Andromedan, careful to keep a mostly abstract hold on the uneasy Celestial. “I’m the Andromedan. I have an Earth name too, if you’re curious, but I don’t know if I want to share it with a drone from a shady corporation...”

The sensation of the Celestial folding on themself made him take a brief pause. Either they were calming down or they were about to have a minor implosion.

“You should take me at my word because this is my home and all I want is to keep it safe”, he said. “Now, I’ll be happy to explain whatever you want to know about me and what I do. But right now all I want is to help my new friend here and keep them from causing any harm to the city. This is what I do.”

A beep rang out as the drone took a moment to itself. “Fine I will assume that your intention is genuine, there will be more to talk about at another time this drone can be dropped off at any Poseidon facility. Should you chose to do so otherwise it will power down for now; I do expect to see you again under more casual circumstances and any personal information you chose to disclose is of your own choice.”

“Actually…” said the Andromedan, trying not to notice that the Celestial was apparently very close to folding itself into a mass of moving crystal. “I do have something to talk to you about, Miss Patton. Give me a moment to get my friend here to safety and then maybe you could tell me where we could meet”

With a bit of help from his part, maybe he would be able to make the Celestial small enough to fit in his pocket. Although, if he had his physics right, they would probably be far too heavy in such a state.

“So…” he said a bit sheepishly to the Celestial, letting his anchor’s power course through him. “Do you have a place in mind where you’d like to stay, or is it okay if I help you reduce your mass and volume so I can carry you around?”

The shrinking being from dark space responded in their bizarre, non-verbal way, making it quite clear that they would follow the Andromedan. They felt safe with him, which warmed Gabriel’s heart quite a bit. He allowed himself a smile as he got his spatial magic to work on their matter, aiding in its decrease with just a bit of a push. In a matter of minutes, with the Poseidon Energy drone still watching over both beings ih its disturbingly voyeuristic way, what had once been a cloud of sapient cosmic dust and gas transformed into a hovering, ever-changing handful of black and gold crystals with a light of their own. Gabriel did not dare put them in his pocket, but he did sigh quite audibly, relief washing over him like a light spring rain.

“Thank you, God”, he whispered into the skies, and watched with a smile as the space around him slowly but surely returned to its past state of relative normality. Lake Champlain became a proper Earth lake again.

“Well, Miss Patton, what say you?”

Another beep from the drone as Mrs. Patton replied. “I am currently at the Pacific Point Poseidon facility. Off KeyElectric road. That would be the most convenient for myself I have a schedule to maintain so I won’t be in the city long.”

“Sounds good to me”, said the Andromedan, pulling out his phone, thankfully still intact. He found the place on his map app, made a not-quick-at-all phone call to his family (they were a bit freaked out by the ordeal but not too much, on account on their good boy Gabriel being there to save the day as usual) and he was ready to go.

With a flick of his wrist and a snap of his fingers, the Andromedan opened a rift in space and jumped through it, the Celestial following close behind in their new, miniscule crystal form.

The drone crashed to the ground with a final saddening beep as it shut off power, being of little interest to Poseidon as it was no more advanced than a civilian drone with the exception of a satellite uplink which was cut as the power cell was turned off. Briley sat in Phister’s office thinking of this new interstellar hero and checking on what heroes were available nearby should this Andromedan fail.

Phoenix walked far away from Eris and Charlton and decided to follow Dexhi’s advice, which was to follow Daraeya. “Detective Roland Moore” was on the job, and oftentimes Phoenix forgot Daraeya was even an actual Goddess of Air. Like now, for instance, she was walking to some police station in the hopes of securing an office there for a few days while they investigated Eric. Phoenix shuddered, thinking how that man had just grabbed him unawares like that, and with complete venom in his eyes. Phoenix couldn’t imagine what it would take to hate someone like that, or how much someone was willing to go in order to get revenge or whatever sick thing Eric craved.

“Truly this Eric Garland is a monster which the likes you have never seen before, Fexi.” Dexhi cooed in his head. Phoenix gulped, tired of this assignment already. He had found his partner, yet they weren’t willing to leave for Paradox just yet. Something told him he might just have to stick around until this murder was solved just to say he had accomplished it. A paradox indeed, He thought. He had finished the assignment, yet not really for things were still not done. Eris was his partner, but then they weren’t actually his partner. They hadn’t even spoken to each other excepting that one short moment in the airport. Phoenix’s head was low as he followed Daraeya through the Seattle precinct doors. He heard a soft scoff up ahead.

“Quit your snivelling, Phoenix.” Daraeya said. “Even small relationships like this one take time. You need a bit more patience.” She said.

Phoenix just nodded in turn. “She is right. A lot has happened in the short time you’ve known Eris Goodoire. They need time, Fexi.” Dexhi told him.

“Yes. I understand now, I was just a bit…um...I forgot the word for it.” He searched his mind.

“Anxious?” Dexhi offered kindly.

“Yeah, I’m anxious. What if we can never be good partners because of something like….this happening? I don’t think I can be a very good Partner if I don’t know how to console a person I barely know.” He said to Daraeya. They stood in a corner, and Daraeya glanced around the somewhat empty waiting room. A secretary in the standard blue uniform eyed them curiously.

“We will talk about this later. Right now, we focus on finding Bobi Adolow, and the police here will question Eric on their terms, not his.” She said. She patted him on the shoulder, and turned to address the woman at the front desk. Daraeya introduced herself as Roland Moore, and told her that he was looking for an office for about a week. She nodded, and told them both that there was a vacant space waiting to be used.

Phoenix helped Daraeya set everything up, moving in spare desks and a chair. Eric was somewhere in the building, that much Phoenix knew due to Dexhi snooping around in the minds of random passersby looking for any mutinous thoughts about a Mr. Charlton Gaslowe. He was sitting in a room by himself, handcuffed to a chair and with an officer writing on a clipboard eyeing him skeptically.

Finally done with setting everything up, Daraeya sat down and sighed heavily. “Well now,” She stated. “We have to think about what to do once we find Bobi Adolow. What we’re going to ask her more specifically. I tasked Mindy with trying to track her as well before she went off to Georgia, hopefully she’ll get back to me soon.”

“I think we need to ask about this accident of hers.” Phoenix suggested, though he thought it was crass to just outright mention her disability with no tact.

“She may not be what we expect when we go to meet her.” Dexhi said, and Phoenix had to silently agree with him. “The girl has been through some kind of accident before hand.”

“If anything, she may be a villain for all we know. A past like that, it’s enough to make anyone turn to darker prospects.” Daraeya added.

Phoenix shook his head.“I don’t think she’s evil, or a villain at all.” He said. “And we won’t know anything about her until we find her-” Then the phone rang, and the two of them turned to look at it, confused.

Daraeya answered it, a confused tone to her voice. “This is the office of Detective Roland Moore with the Seattle Police Department, what can I do for you?” Her hand shook slightly, as she looked at the receiver with wide eyes. “Miss Adolow! Uh….We need to have a few words with you…”

Phoenix wanted to say something, but Daraeya shushed him. “What…? Yes, there’s someone with me...Yes, he does work for- Oh my god. You’re a Paradox Agent?!” An angry, and somewhat agitated and accented voice came from the speaker. Daraeya handed the phone over to him.

“Um...hello?” Phoenix answered. A woman’s voice, someone much older than him in years, sighed heavily in his ear.

“Finally, another Agent to talk to.” She said. Her accent was strange, and one he hadn’t heard before, but later Dexhi would explain that she was Australian, a place he had never been to. “I figured since both of our assignments line up with each other, we should work together. I heard you’ve been looking for me?”

Phoenix nodded, “Yes! We have, all over actually. We need you for the murder of a man named Darius Winters.”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard. I’m willing to help you, if you can help me. I’m looking for someone as well. Another Agent.”

Phoenix paused, and then racked his brain. Something about this seemed familiar. He remembered when he first went to Max Heighnsworth’s house, Leila had questioned him openly about a missing Agent named-

“You’re looking for Shou Hanamura.” He said.

“Yes. That’s him. You seen him around?” She asked.

“I’ve never even met him, but I can help you find him if that’s what it takes to question you a little.”

Bobi chuckled. “Of course. That’s perfect. When do you want me to come down for questioning?” She asked.

Phoenix looked over to Daraeya, confused. “Tell her to meet you whenever she can.” She said.

“Roland moore says you should meet us down here...now?” He told her.

“Okay. Please stand a bit to your right.” She answered.

Phoenix didn’t know what she meant, but did it anyway. He was shocked to see a flurry of green moths surround the spot he used to stand in, only to fly away and reveal a somewhat dizzy Bobi Adolow.

Phoenix looked down at her arms subconsciously, and sure enough one of her hands was entirely shiny, metal.

“Now then.” Bobi said. “Where do you wanna start?

.....................................

From the moment that he and Alexa had landed back in Lost Haven, Scott Hunter had been constantly in motion, which was a stark contrast to his time spent in the Greek Islands. There, Scott had enjoyed leisurely strolls on the beach, boat rides, and surf casting at sunset. However, the moment he and Alexa had returned to their lives in Lost Haven, they had been forced to go their separate ways. While he was busy unpacking from the trip, Alexa had been whisked away to Winstone International for another round of, as she had put it, “tedious, but necessary meetings with a bunch of uptight assholes in suites.” Naturally, her father had flown out from Los Angeles to sit in on the meetings and lend his expertise. However, both Scott and Alexa knew that it was just his way of making sure that she was running the Lost Haven branch of Winstone International to his liking.

While Alexa had been tending to the family business, Scott had been busy making preparations for The Hub's grand re-opening. There was a lot to clean up and repair after the Hounds of Humanity had stormed the club prior to their downfall. Though the death toll could, and would have been higher had Scott and Alexa not intervened, there was still a lot of work to do.

Truth be told, Eric had done most of the work. He fought with the insurance company to get the money for the repairs, and when that was finished, he hired the contractors to deal with the structural damage to the building, while he did most of the cosmetic repairs, such as patching bullet holes and removing broken furniture himself. Although Scott had offered to postpone or even cancel his trip overseas, Eric had balked at the idea and insisted that Scott go and spend some much deserved time away with the love of his life, and that he had everything under control.

When Scott walked through the doors of The Hub for the first time once he returned, he was happy to see that Eric had followed through on his promise, and had handled most of the heavy lifting of getting their club back up and running on his own. Though Scott felt slightly guilty about leaving Eric to fend for himself, he had again proven that he was more than capable of taking care of things on his own.

Once the last of the plaster dust had been swept away, and the tarps covering the tables and chairs which were scattered throughout the club had been removed, and Scott and Eric had their first glimpse of the new and improved interior of The Hub, Scott decided to take his leave. Slowly, he ascended the back stairwell toward the apartment over the club. He made his way down the hallway toward his apartment, stopping at the door to get his key. When he stepped through the front door, Jenny came from out of nowhere with her phone in hand, miming making a phone call.

“Help, 9-11! There's a stranger in my apartment!” Jenny teased in an exaggerated tone. “Oh, wait. Nevermind, it's just my absentee brother.” she finished with a big grin before throwing herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing with all the force that she could muster.

“Hey, I missed you too.” Scott said with a laugh as his kid sister pulled away from the embrace.

“So, how was your trip?” Jenny asked as she moved through the apartment toward the living room. After stowing his bags in his room, he joined his sister on the couch, where they spent a good portion of the night catching up over everything that had gone on over the last week and a half.

Mozart tossed and turned in his sleep. Through the fog of his dreams, visions came and went, making real rest impossible.

He saw Director Dyer and his glowing, mind-controlling headband part through the mists of dream. The red lights were not the dull, glowing red they were earlier in the night. No, now they were pulsating spotlights cutting through the dark, causing Mozart to shield his eyes. His head throbbed in coordination with the red lights. He could hear the scientists words echo through his mind, even if Dyer's lips didn't move. Yet, the "words" were unintelligible. He could tell the scientist was trying to give him orders. Orders he felt compelled to follow.

He dropped his hand to stare into his tormentor's eyes. He cut through the blinding, painful light in time to see the smile of the man. It was hungry and desperate, though the words Mozart continued to hear were unlike any language he was familiar with.

As Art tried to concentrate on the words he heard, a set of claws ripped through Dyer's enormous head, and a hurricane of black, inky darkness swirled from inside. As it twirled around Mozart it whispered to him. The words were still unintelligible, but began to morph into something more recognizable. The voice too changed, first from something harsh and commanding to something more feminine and reassuring as it continued.



The swirling blackness began to form into something more tangible, and before long took the visage of a snarling jackal-human hybrid. The void behind it began to take the shape of San Maria, but Art could see ti was burning. The smoke and the flames mixed with the darkness of the dream, giving the frog the thought that he was in hell.

Before he could completely despair however, a light emerged from his chest. He looked around and saw that there were four other lights just like it floating beside him. All five sped towards the carnage, and in a flash it was wiped away. In its place was a gigantic frog, almost like a God.

"Chosen,"

it said in the same voice he heard before.

"This burden falls on you all. Protect the gates, or everything will be lost."

With that, Art woke with a yell.



The knife sliced through the man's throat with ease. His comrade attempted to raise his weapon and fire on her, but instead she flicked her wrist and tossed the knife his way, embedding itself in his throat. He choked on his own blood as he clawed the weapon out, before falling to the floor.

She snarled as she recovered her knife, wiping the man's blood on his black cloth face covering. It wasn't worthy of touching her weapons. These fake warlords were nothing more than children playing pretend in a sandbox the rest of the world didn't care about outside of what comes out of the ground. The could have their caliphate. But what they found in this ancient chamber was hers.

It had taken her so long to find it. The Medjay had done their jobs well for all this time. Even as Egypt transformed itself over the years, they had moved the sarcophagus across the globe. They had fulfilled their mission the Pharaohs had given them all those years ago. It was worthy of respect, she had to admit. Her own bloodline had failed at the same time they were so devoted.

Outside she can hear the gunfire of the warlords. They clearly believed in vain that they could repel her men. They could not, of course. The soldiers of the All-Seeing Eye were the best of the best. Trained across the world but brought together by their combined faith, they could stand against any foe.

She wound her way through the stone passage way, running her fingers over time-worn glyphes and paintings. This tomb was not originally meant for its current occupant. Whoever it originally housed had been moved long ago, of course. Taken by one explorer or colonizer or another. It seemed like the Medjay had been using such already-plundered tombs to hide their charge. She discovered dozens of past hiding places. It took her a while to find this one, but this was it. Her search was over.

In the end, the Medjay were undone by panic, as most fools were. They knew the All-Seeing Eye had opened and was searching for its master. They came here, in the middle of a warzone, and that brought the attention of the warlords. They killed the Medjay guards and took their prize, though they did not know what they had obtained.

The woman crossed into the final tomb chamber, and in the middle, the black, gleaming sarcophagus stood. She felt herself drawn to it. For years she had searched, and finally it was in her grasp.

Footsteps approached from behind her, and she turned to find Koga, her lieutenant.

"Kemsit," he nodded to her before laying eyes on the tomb and smiling. "So here it is after all this time."

"Yes," she smiled broadly, "prepare the ritual."

She watched as the mystics set up and began the chant. Her heart rose to her throat as the sarcophagus began to vibrate, and the lid cracked open. From inside flowed a black, viscous fluid that looked like oil but smelled of death. The vibration stopped just as the lid was pushed off from inside the coffin.

Two strongly built, caramel-colored arms thrust out of the liquid, and pulled up the body of a man that looked more like a statue than a human. He stood at near seven feet tall, and his bald head reflected some of the faint light in the chamber. Scars from countless battles covered his skin, and even after all this time he strode powerfully and confidently out of the grave.

He opened his eyes and looked down on her and the other men of the Eye. Without thinking, she took a knee in front of him, "Grandfather."

His eyes narrowed before a smile crept across his face, "Granddaughter. It has been that long, then."

Kemsit looked form side to side and hesitated, "Uh...yes. It has been...longer than you had anticipated. Our bloodline has failed you for too long. But now your crusade can start once again."

"Rise, child," the Jackal said to his descendant. "I desire to breathe the free air once more."

She walked next to her ancestor, in awe of his power. As he passed his new followers, he was handed a black cloak, which he donned. Looking down on her, he said, "What is your name, child?"

"Kemsit, Grandfather," she responded dutifully.

"Ah, like my queen," he smiled. "Like your grandmother."

"...yes," she nodded.

Before long, they were outside, and the Jackal got his first look at the modern world. He shielded his eyes as he was bathed in a spotlight from one of the Eye's circling helicopters. In front of him, a row of all terrain vehicles surrounded the tomb, all of them manned by armed foot soldiers. As his eyes swept over them, they all dropped to a knee, reflecting his presence.

The moment clearly moved him. But not just the show of devotion, but the vast technological marvels he now witnessed. The Jackal knew he had slept long. He felt it in his bones. He could never have guessed at the true length of his slumber, however.

He looked down at Kemsit, "How...how long has it been?"

"Thousands of years," she responded with a combination of venom and shame. "Your descendants before me turned the Eye into a simple cult. Used its followers to feul their own greed. Until I discovered your texts. I redeemed the All-Seeing Eye and began looking for you to fulfill my birthright."

"And for that you are blessed, my child," he smiled at her. "And the key?"

"We have some leads."



Angel woke with a gasp. Her head pounded and her mouth was dry as if she had the worst hangover of her life. But she knew she hadn't drank
last night. Hell she was at work until late and then came right home.

She worked late. The words rattled around in her head for a while before it came rushing back. She had been jumped by frogs. Giant, mutant frogs. There were a few of them. They took her ID to get into the IDRG building.

"Shit," she muttered to herself.

A wave of panic spread through her. What if something had gone wrong there? What if she would be blamed? No one was going to believe that a bunch of big frogs had taken her card from her. What was she going to do?

Feeling herself beginning to hyperventilate, she rushed to the window to get some air. There, on the fire escape right outside, was her key card.

Dennis flinched and threw up a quick construct shield, sending the bullet ricocheting high into the sky.

A small mass of bloodied pigeon feathers flopped onto the street beside them.

“Awww, Valiant…” Dennis said mournfully. He turned and fired two charged bolts from the Golden Rod at the duplicate Dirty Harry. He ran three steps and took to the sky.

“Eaglet, what exactly are you doing? Over.”

“Buying myself a few seconds to think about things. I’m dealing with two metahumans, one who can change his form by replicating movie quotes… maybe TV as well.”

“And the other one, Eaglet? Over.”

“The other one hasn’t said anything yet. Seems to be able to change shape as well, though. Potentially even less limited to form. I saw the other one take the form of multiple people at once...”

“Eaglet, reminder about the codenames and that you have to use the word ‘Over’ at the end of your transmissions. Over.”

Dennis sighed in frustration as a bullet ricocheted loudly off his construct.

“Don’t sigh at me...” The old man chided.

“He has a very big gun and doesn’t seem too worried about using it. Fortunately I’m faster than him and the constructs seem to be able to take care of it.”

He reverted back from Dirty Harry to the stock standard dirty adolescent, staggering and leaning against a row of parked motorbikes.

“I think I’m getting the hang of this.”

The boy looked at what he was leaning on, looked back at the Aquilifer and leered. “Say, that’s a nice bike...” His voice changing in its mimicry.

“Wait… where do I know that from? That’s-- Oh no…”

He changed form into what looked like a LAPD police officer, his skin briefly flashing in a metallic appearance.

“He’s a T-1000! He knows Terminator 2 and he’s now a goddamn T-1000!”

The police officer’s arm took the form of a long metallic blade, which he swiftly swung at the floating Aquilifer who barely raised a defensive shield in time.

“ # Don’t die… Let’s not die. Try not to die. Let’s live and not die… because dying is less good, and living is somewhat bet-ter… # ” Dennis sang to himself as he dodged sharp metal limbs and gunshots from the metallic mimic.

Dennis took to the sky once more, he swooped down and fired an energy bolt at the Quote King. Which he took in stride, and swatted the Aquilifer away with a long metal limb. The Aquilifer bounced off a building, and shaking his head clear, he took to the skies once more.

“Maybe-- Maybe I can wait him out. He seems to only change for short periods of time. Over.”

The T-1000 began to charge, but then his gait changed and staggered. He was reverting back.

Dennis levelled the Golden Rod at the boy, and fired off an energy bolt.

For a split second he thought he saw the boy grin. He could faintly hear him call something beneath the sound of the charged energy blast.

“Kneel before Zod.”

The blast discharged. Smoke filled the street and when it cleared, a single bearded man dressed in black and silver stood in its place.

“Aw crap…” Dennis said, surrounding himself in a spherical energy shield, as he quickly tried to pull up and make an aerial escape.

Seconds later, the black and silver man took to the sky and with a single punch Dennis was sent sailing hundreds of metres inside his little bubble.

“I’m dealing with an angry, evil superman now… This is not good.”

“Eaglet, I keep telling you. You have to finish your transmissions with over. Otherwise I don’t know when it’s clear to talk. Over.” Alan responded.

But the old man, found himself receiving a stream of verbal abuse.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!? I’m trying not to die here! I’m going up against someone who can basically change himself into anything he can think of and I’ve got you in my ear going on about trivial radio bullshit so much I can barely thi--”

Dennis caught himself.

“Huh…”

A plan began to percolate. Dennis just had to keep himself alive long enough to implement it.

The Quote King was a black streak, arms a blur as he used super speed trying to land a punch whilst Dennis did his best to hold tight with his shield construct.

Dennis was hopelessly outgunned, but fortunately his opponent was inexperienced at using such a diverse and brilliant powerset, tried to beat him with pure blunt force, which even Dennis was able to deflect, providing he didn’t try to directly take on the violent criminal’s strength.

Seconds seemed like eons as the Aquilifer counted down until he’d revert back to his true form.

Then he peeled off. Sensing his own power waning, the Quote King tried to return to the ground to make sure he wouldn’t freefall.

Dennis picked his moment. Just before the Quote King could land, he grabbed him with a construct and flung him back into the air. Swooping over to get in his face, before he could regain his bearings.

The Aquilifer hollered, singing slightly off key as he threw the Quote King around the city.

"Eaglet, what exactly are you doing? Over."

Another high toss sent the Quote King, now back in his regular form soaring out of control over highrise buildings.

“ # And when she knooows what she waaants from her ^{TI-HII-HIIIME!} # “

“STOP! I can’t--!”

“ # And when she waaaakes up and maaakes up her ^{MII-HIII-HIIIIND!} # “

Dennis was singing in an exaggerated high falsetto.

“ # She’ll see I’m not so tough! Just because! I’m in love with an UPTOWN GIRL! MY UPTOWN ^GIIIIIIIRL! #

Come on! Sing it with me now!” Dennis yelled.

“Stop! Oh God! I can’t even think! I’m gonna---”

“ # And when she’s waaalkin’ she’s looookin’ so ^{FIII-HIII-HIIINE!} # “

“I’m gonna be sick!” The Quote King cried out, before throwing up his lunch.

Dennis smiled wryly as he caught his opponent and the escaping contents of his stomach all in another construct and flung them all back up in the air again. Coating the forlorn supervillain in his own mess.

“ # And when she’s taaaalkin’ she’ll saaaaay that she’s ^{MIII-HIII-HIIINE!} # “

“ *Blub* Oh God! You’re a goddamn monster… *Blub* I hate you-- I hate you so much!” the freshly tumbledried Quote King of vomit muttered.

Dennis dove down and dropped him on the asphalt, certain he’d had enough. Before walking up and knocking him out with a single swing of the Golden Rod.

“Pretty sure that one wasn’t exactly ‘By the Book’, Eagle-One. But that’s one down and one to go… Where’s the other one gone? Over.”

But Dennis didn’t need to ask at all.

He turned around and saw a yard-sized throbbing fist of an animated mouse from a yellow woollen sleeve.

“Eaglet, should be at your 2 o clock. Over.”

“Yeah… Yeah, I--I see it. And I don’t think it’s very happy with me.”

---

Within the Citizens Bank, Zac saw a man dressed in a tight, green superhero costume. A pair of yellow lenses stared back at him, while a red “M” stood out on the chest of his costume. This insect-themed hero had just quipped about the awkwardness of so many animal-based gimmicks in the metahuman community. That comment caused Zac to hesitate momentarily.

Meanwhile, the unknown metahuman, seeing this opening, hurdled over Zac and landed behind him. Too quick was this man’s move for Zac to react, resulting in his foe grabbing hold of Zac’s raptor tail and tossing the cretaceous hero across the room into a consultant’s desk after the green-clad metahuman had spun him around a few times.

“Eat your heart out, Mario!” the mantis-themed hero quipped again.

Zac was not given much respite from his foe’s attack. His opponent had leap towards him for a second time. If Zac had not rolled to the side, the man would have connected a direct blow to Zac’s back. From the cracking noise originating from the place where the man’s fist had made contact with the floor, Zac knew nothing good would have come from getting hit by such a punch.

Zac needed to do something to turn the tables on this guy. When Zac aimed a kick at the man’s leg, he was able to sweep the metahuman off his feet. This guy must not have a sixth sense. At least Zac would not have to worry about that type of power in this encounter.

If Kelly were here, or at least the version of her before she got Silver Sorceress’ powers, she would have been well suited for this situation. Her insectoid super-strength would have been a match for this man’s powers. Zac, on the other hand, did not possess any innate super-strength. Instead, Zac had to play to his own strengths: his speed. Although his green-clad opponent has shown himself to be agile on his feet, there was no way he could keep up with Zac.

Therefore, Zac jumped to his feet while his opponent was sprawled on the ground and then he placed some distance between himself and the green-clad metahuman. Zac kept moving about, making sure that there was no way this man could land a hit on Zac.

“So, you want to play keep away, now don’t you?” the mantis-themed metahuman called out to Zac. Suddenly, a bio-electric spark began to flicker off the metahuman’s hand before he launched a small bolt at Zac. Since he was not expecting an attack like this, Zac only had seconds to drop to the floor, slide, and duck under the attack.

“Mantis, stop!” the redheaded metahuman girl, whom Zac initially found in the bank, finally spoke up. For most of the fight, she had been cowering beside a nearby desk. At that very moment, Mantis was winding up for another ranged attack, but when he heard the girl’s voice, he froze. It was a relief for Zac, as his first attempt to dodge the bio-electric bolt had placed himself in a vulnerable position for a follow-up attack.

“Brooke?” Mantis said with a shocked tenor in his voice.

“How do you know my name?” Brooke asked in response to hearing the green-clade metahuman saying her name.

“It’s me, Sean!” Mantis announced before momentarily lifting his mask to give her a peak of his face and immediately pulling the mask down.

“You have been Mantis for this entire time?” Brooke asked.

“When did you get powers? And why are you robbing a bank?” Mantis retorted back.

“This is quite a touching moment, but I think it can wait until the two of you have gotten out of this situation.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re also one of my friends secretly running around like a superhero without me knowing!” Mantis exclaimed after Zac interrupted his conversation with Brooke.

“I have never seen you before, even as your superhero alter ego.” Zac answered Mantis back.

“Then how are we going to get out of this situation?” Brooke then asked, her voice trembling from the situation she had found herself in. “The police have surrounded the entire building!”

“Well, this bank probably has a security camera that recorded everything. We could prove that—” Zac suggested, but he paused for a moment before mentioning the red-head’s name, as it felt weird using her real name, “Brooke was as much as a victim as the hostages.”

“Wait, you want to hand her over? No way!” Mantis protested, even though Brooke was his ex.

“I think this is our only option without making the both of you fugitives. With a good lawyer, she will definitely get out of this pickle.”

“Sean, I think this might be our only good option,” Brooke tried to convince Mantis.

“Alright,” Mantis finally relented, “But we need to find that tape first! We don’t want to giver Brooke over to the fuzz without the evidence, too.”

---

Colonel Thaddeus Bulb had been retired from S.T.R.I.K.E. for ten years now, although, once you have joined S.T.R.I.K.E., you never really leave it. After S.T.R.I.K.E. had been blow to kingdom come by the Hounds of Humanity, many of the “retired” agents of S.T.R.I.K.E. fled the country in fear of what the Hounds might do to them if the human supremacists would find them. These men knew too much and could not risk that information falling into the Hounds’ hands.

But Thaddeus Bulb was no coward. He never ran away from a fight when he was employed by S.T.R.I.K.E and he would not change his ways at his former employer’s demise. Not even his advanced age would hinder Bulb from defending himself.

He soon discovered that it was not the Hounds whom he should have feared. His face was pressed against a puddle of his own blood as he was tied up to capsized chair. The beating that he had taken had dazed the old S.T.R.I.K.E. agent. His blurred vision could make out three figures, only one of whom had a regular human figure.

“This was a very informative conversation, Thaddeus,” Doctor Diplodoc boasted over the wounded man.

“We should better get going. Company should be arriving soon,” the Silver Sorceress suggested to Doctor Diplodoc. However, despite Bulb’s current state, he began to laugh, with some intermittent coughing.

“You really think this was worthwhile?” Thaddeus Bulb retorted, “Nautican Island was baked by that sky beam. There’s nothing left for you.”

The wooden floorboards creaked under the strain of Diplodoc’s weight as he approached Bulb. Instead of bending over, squatting down, or kneeling, Diplodoc merely contorted his long neck so that his head was a couple feet away from Bulb’s.

“I find your lack of confidence in my intelligence disappointing. Do you think I am a simpleton?” Diplodoc told his captive, “We know that the S.T.R.I.K.E. bases could withstand a nuclear holocaust. The Finger of God would have barely scratched its surface.”

Thaddeus Bulb in retaliation spat in Diplodoc’s face, spraying a mixture of saliva and blood on him. Diplodoc’s only response was to shake his head before raising it back up. Diplodoc retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away the mess on his face and glasses.

“Alas, we have overstayed our welcome.” Diplodoc finally stated while nodding to Silver Sorceress, who summoned a small portal large enough to allow her, Diplodoc, and Leo to travel through it. “Say hello to our friends, the Hounds of Humanity. I’m sure they will be so happy to see you.”

After these words, Doctor Diplodoc, Silver Sorceress, and Leo stepped through the portal and departed from Thaddeus Bulb’s house.

“FUCK—” However, Bulb could not finish his curse before his house burst into an inferno of flames and explosions. Within seconds, the house had been burned to the ground and all that remained of Thaddeus Bulb were his ashes.

---

The scent of chemical cleaners mated with the bitter aromas of a protective fumigation, coalescing into a slow rising mist that settled in the rafters overhead. Madalena, hair pulled up in a quick yet elegant braid with only a few strays to interrupt her vigorous scrubbing, had been hard at work restoring her business to its former glory, polishing wooden countertops and hardwood floors, dusting forgotten shelves and awkward corners while attempting to maintain the current layout of merchandise and failing to do so. Over the course of two hours, she’d dropped and nearly broken a series of pewter and ceramic bowls and statuettes. The final thirty minutes of cleaning had seen the death of two candle holders, shattered well beyond repair.

Even so, Madalena wouldn’t be dissuaded, fervently working to return Shadow of the Moon to a state of peace, readying it for her maiden voyage, a grand reopening after nearly two weeks of chaos.

Ding! her phone reminded her of the time, buzzing twice before playing the shrill tone again, biding her to stop working. She let it ring, furiously scrubbing away a collection of wax fused to the front counter.

To hell with it, she thought, moving the cash register a few inches to the right to cover the molten pile of red. Satisfied, she removed her phone from her left pocket and paused the reminder. Charlie at 3 the notification read. Looking up, Madalena checked for the familiar car pulling into the storefront parking.

Emerging from the old car, this time from the driver’s side was Charlie herself. Hair braided in pigtails, a backpack slung over her shoulder and dressed a few layers lighter than usual in jean shorts and a blue t-shirt, staff in hand. Locking the door by pushing down the pin she went inside Shadow of the Moon greeting Madalena with, “‘Sup.”

Taking a look around, the clean up obvious from one look. The shop was looking closer than ever to normal again. She nodded approvingly as she looked around. “Nice work, looking good in here Maddi.”

She looked to the dust bin with broken ceramic pieces. “Need me to fix anything else?”

Plopping her backpack to the ground beside the counter, she flung the alchemical key onto the counter it skidded into a spinning circle. “I thought I made progress on the stupid thing last night but whatever I did didn’t stick this morning when I took another crack at it.” Leaning into her staff with a huff.

Madalena smiled and put away her phone, picking up the key and turning it in her fingers a few times. ”We’ve got all day to figure it out,” she responded confidently, pulling the leather-bound journal from behind the counter and presenting it to Charlie.

”I’ve made some progress with the street names in the illustration. The inscriptions, I think, are hints to certain buildings where the key can be used, but the streets themselves were pretty easy to find.”

She pulled out a tourist map of Lost Haven, pointing to a trio of circled locations. The first was a street in Chinatown, a few blocks north of Shadow of the Moon. The next was near Sherman Square, and the last was close to the university.

”I’ve also taken a look at the incantation at the back of the journal. It’s a conjuration of some kind, an invocation of three spirits. Although I’m not sure what they have to do with any of this.”

Leaning over the counter, chin in the palm of her hand she frowned down at the map, “I’d love to figure it out. At least the locations aren’t hard to get to, mom let me borrow the car for the day.”

“The spirits are probably some oldies with a grudge against the Winter Court.” Charlie guessed, “Puck seems like he’s lining up some pieces for a few power moves.”

She flapped her hand at the back room where the portal to the Red Devil is, “I won’t pretend to know what he’s planning, getting more involved in the magic community lately is just proving I don’t know as much as I thought.”

Glaring at the key in Maddi’s hand, “I will solve that fucking key,” Pointing accusingly at it, completely aware of how dramatic she must of seemed, “If only fuelled out of pure spite.”

”What’s the process here?” Madalena eyed the key, trying to understand its construction. She was familiar only with the illustrative and metaphysical side of alchemy, that which intersected with high and low magic. But the chemical compounds, the methodology, it was all foreign to her.

”What do you actually do with the key, how do you ‘solve’ it?”’

Charlie perked up at that, clearly eager to to explain anything alchemy. “Gramps said I have to balance it perfectly in its weight. He stuffed the key with variously weighted elements.”

Lifting herself up to sit on the counter she reached behind it groping for a pen and digging in her pocket for a coin. “One go-to for changing elements is changing the form they’re currently in to something else.” The penny softened in her hand dripping over the pen, creating a dirty copper outer layer around it. “Like water from a solid, to gas or liquid. Encased in the key is a bunch of intricate and sensitive webs of composition affecting its solid weight. Gramps essentially made it a giant ass chemical puzzle for anyone to scratch their heads over.”

She tapped the end of the penny pen on the counter, the copper cracked down the middle revealing the pen inside. “I’m afraid to crack it open because there’s so many things inside the key if it came in direct contact with oxygen it may just spoil everything else rendering the key impossible to solve.”

“So.” She said with a sigh through her nose. “I’ve been playing with the composition to get it right but haven’t had any breakthroughs yet. It’s like…” Looking up to the left trying to remember the comparison Harry had used the day before to describe it. “It’s like playing operation.”

Madalena nodded half enthusiastically. It was obvious she didn’t understand the full process, but Charlie’s explanation was enough.

”Does the journal not have any more clues?” the questions was genuine. Thus far, it had described the entirety of their quest, albeit cryptically. ”Maybe there’s a piece of your granddad’s formula still in here to find.”

She flipped back to the front few pages, presenting them to Charlie.

“I’m not sure,” Charlie said with the purse of her lips. “He used his formula to bring the key forward, I’m still blown away how much was in those pages to keep the key itself inside the book. Just when I thought we were getting close to peers he lays down new shit.” Leaning around the cash she pulled some scrap paper starting to write out lines of alchemical formulae herself, she continued to write as she spoke filling the page top down. “If you imagine Gramps in front of a few chalkboards filled from top to bottom of formulae he wrote himself, like you see in the movies. Intimidating as fuck to see at first right?”

“My instincts are telling me differently. He knows how it looks but it is something simple. It’ll be a front for something I just don’t know what it is.” Pulling out of her little satchel a can of diet coke and a packet of sour cherries, she finished the page of formula sprinkling a few bits of candy onto the paper while popping one into her mouth and putting the can of soda alongside them. The writing lit up faintly with light, the candy disappeared. Charlie popped the tab taking a sip, “All that for cherry flavored coke. So you see what I mean?” She said offering the can to Maddi.

Madalena took the can, considering for a moment the complexities of Charlie’s gifts. She went to take a sip, but decided against it, setting the can on the counter and pushing it aside.

”Haven’t had a soda in three years,” she explained, ”weaned myself off them just before I moved to Lost Haven. But I see what you mean; all those pages of formula were just to hide the key. Guess we just have to work this one out ourselves.”

Charlie shrugged, “Yeah. . .” She could barely stifle her laugh, “Now you sound like Gramps,” Sipping the can. “Liquid poison tastes real sweet to me.”

”Bet I could brew up something deadlier that tastes just as sweet . . . actually, I wonder if I could.”

Madalena’s rambling was cut off by the tiny ring above the door frame, followed by a familiar voice.

”Knock knock,” Marie stepped forward, arms cradling a chilling hare the color of tar, ”Hope I’m not interrupted.”

”Marie!” Madalena’s eyes went wide, her natural smile extending from ear to ear. She shuffled from around the counter and stood next to Charlie. ”I wasn’t expecting you back so soon. Wait, why are you here? Not that I’m not grateful, I just assumed you’d run off again, but not in a bad way -”

”Good to see you too,” Marie interrupted. ”I came because I had a little time to myself; the Ambassador and I are pursuing separate leads. I’m using some of that time to relax.”

Marie turned to Charlie, extending a hand, careful that she didn’t drop her shadowy companion. ”Charlie, right? We never had the chance to speak the other night. Good to see you again.”

Charlie shook her hand squeezing lightly, “That’s right, glad your stuck up associate isn’t with you. Served up looks that could freeze hell over.” She laughed leaning back into the counter crossing her arms. “We’re just working on a project of our own, deciphering a stupidly difficult alchemy key.”

Charlie pointed to the rabbit in her arms, “That a familiar or something? Rabbits don’t usually look like a tub of black paint.”

”A rather crude observation,” Holt spoke aloud in an echoed, raspy voice.

”Right, he wasn't visible the other night. Charlie, Madalena, this is Holt.”

”Pleasure,”

”He served under a friend of mine prior to my arrival in Lost Haven. This is one of his forms.”

Madalena leapt forward, gently running a hand over Holt’s head. His fur, or whatever made up his physical body, felt strange, cold yet comforting, soft yet brittle. ”Well I’m happy to have you here, both of you. I did wonder if you had a familiar. Is Holt the only one? Wait, you probably shouldn’t tell me that, should you? Oaths and all that. Never-mind. God I’m just happy that we can talk about all of this. I had so many questions after you told me about The White Witch, but you were gone before I got the chance.”

Marie chuckled, eyes moving between Madalena, Charlie, and their alchemical key. ”That’s partially why I came. I’ve been involved in something fairly complicated and wanted to share it with you. And given the state of the Hounds and the Winter Court, I wondered if I might lend a helping hand while I could. If that’s alright with you?”

“Crude but right,” She paused making a face, “Which is largely how I operate.”

Handing over the key to Marie, a little wary of Holt feeling her skin prickle with a strange vibe. “Any help is appreciated, I haven’t figured it out yet. We’re supposed to balance its weight so that when sits on the tip of my finger it doesn’t lean one way or another. Know anything about Alchemy?”

She looked to Holt, “How about you, Holt?””

Marie turned the key over in her hands a few times, running a finger down its length, trying to gage from observation only if there were anything her magic could do to unveil its mystery. Alchemy in its more advanced states was a foreign concept, but perhaps her malefic version could still be of use.

Holt’s expertise was much the same. While under a previous master he might have been privy to knowledge pertaining to the science of magic, the knowledge was inconcise. ”Perhaps the weight will balance itself,” he offered with no further explanation.

”I see where he’s going with that,” she handed the key back to Charlie. ”I’m guessing you’ve tried playing with its composition, probably the first thing you tested, right? Have you brought it into contact with something to see how it reacts?”

Charlie’s expression soured considerably grabbing the key back, “Gee, thanks for the helpful insight. Yes, I have tried oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, you name it. Been keeping it basic, need some gloves to test some acidic qualities against it.”

“Maddi please for the love of the periodic table don’t go cryptic on me alright?” Charlie said folding her hands at her friend walking around the counter to lean against it with a huff. “Shit, what if we end up speaking in limericks and rhymes next?”

Marie raised her brows. ”I can see tensions are high.”

Madalena nodded. ”She’s been at it for a while now, we both have. It’s frustrating to keep being given puzzle after puzzle after puzzle. I mean, I had to translate about three pages of Passing the River and overlay a map of Lost Haven onto a tiny tree map.”

“Instead of actually helping we’re stuck with puzzles, I get that we’re fresh and still,” She put on a huge frown and brought up a pair of quote fingers, “‘Students,’ I guess. Fuck, there’s bigger fish to fry.”

Rather interesting company you keep, Holt whispered in Marie’s mind.

”Tell you what,” Marie raised her voice a little to drown out Holt’s comment, ”Rumour has it you’ve created a door to The Red Devil. Why don’t we all go to the workroom upstairs and calm ourselves. We can chat, get reacquainted. I’ll answer your questions while we work a little magic.”

”Yes!” Madalena’s response was immediate, somewhat embarrassingly. ”I mean, I’ve wanted to try a little collaborative magic. Aside from the chaos in the square, I haven’t practiced much.” She turned to Charlie. ”It’d give us a chance to rethink things, maybe have a breakthrough.”

Charlie’s leg bounced in thought, “I am calm. We’ll go back to the Red Devil, maybe a change in scenery will help after all.” She shoved the key into her back pocket, grabbing her cherry coke and staff. “Calm as a babbling brook.” She muttered, petulant.

---

They walked in stride, the maiden trio, to weather the the clamor of congratulations issued by patrons of the demon tavern, reveling in drink and anecdotal memory. Each moniker drifted as discordant melodies: the White Witch, Alchemyst, and Lady Hex, renowned titles among the hidden folk of Maine.

A virescent imp, draped in coral-colored finery and standing a few heads shorter than the shortest among them, walked the merry band up the spiral column of crimson stairs to the second highest floor, whose landing was littered with ornate decor, four steps above the rustic furnishings of the downstairs bar. Golden urns sat atop low tables with an equally rich trim; masterfully sculpted and hauntingly beautiful busts perched atop dark pillars etched with esoteric markings whose placement was a mystery; tall candelabras lit cluttered corners whose space was occupied by scarlet love-seats and reading chairs from an Elizabethan tragedy, accompanied by book towers and mounted shelves holding all manner of occult curiosities.

But the crowning jewel of this royal array was neither the seating nor gleaming oddities, but a far more sweetly sinister sight. Opposite the landing, where fine furs and delicately scattered rugs gave way to polished stone, stood two monoliths, eldritch pillars holding aloft an intricate arch bearing The Red Devil’s insignia, forged by some unnatural force. Beyond this portal lie a world of wonder where all aspects of the witches’ craft could be explored. Every nook was filled with a work of art, talismans and trinkets of wood and bone lining scorched tables and waxy plinths.

One wall held a small library of texts and tomes, scrolls and spells, filed haphazardly in crooked rows that climbed to the ceiling and jutted out nearly to the center of the room, acting as a divider between one world and the next. Another space was reserved for botanical creations and concoctions, filled with drying herbs hanging from hooks and rafters, and those kept in jars among other bottled oddities before a long-table of alchemical apparati, complete with a space in the wall for a bubbling cauldron, as well as smaller variants atop silver stands. Further in, a wardrobe surrounded by spinning wheels, spools and thread, and the odd loom rested beneath great tapestries depicting untold stories. Adjacent this scene was a wall of mirrors and other reflective surfaces used in divining all manner of hidden truths.

It seemed almost impossible that so much could be fit inside a single room, so much that one could easily miss the other grand displays at rest just beyond the periphery.

The imp bowed before his mistresses as they reached their destination, pardoning himself to other duties.

Charlie waved as the imp left, staring at the room around them marveling at the details, endlessly something new to see. She felt like she had stepped into a completely different time, the atmosphere sending a small prickle of excitement across her arms. The very distinct need to touch everything as well. In the mirror she raised her lip checking her teeth and digging a nail to remove some green leftovers.

Wiping down her shirt she whistled lowly. “I have never wanted to touch stuff so badly in my life before now. Marie, you’ve been on the DL for a while now don’t hear much about the White Witch in the news anymore.”

Stepping close to one of the divining mirrors she stared at the edges hands behind her back with her staff. “Not that it’s any of my business, just curious. Crime fighting and moonlighting ain’t for everybody. I don’t really blame you either, some of the metas on the headlines are Grade A douchebags.”

“As we found out for ourselves.”

Marie turned her head slowly, scanning the room, one she’d longed for in months past, before resting her gaze on Charlie and Madalena. ”It was only ever secondary,” her words were cold, distant, trailing behind another thought that remained unaired.

”My work with the Ambassador, strange as it might sound, is more fulfilling. The White Witch, useful as she was, was never really what I wanted.” she smiled at Madalena, gingerly setting Holt on the floor and taking Madalena’s hands in hers.

’I’ve learned a lot about myself in the past few months.”

Madalena maintained a smile, looking between Marie and Charlie, happy to be sharing the space. ”So, what’s the story, gal? Where’ve you been running off to for the past three and a half months? Honestly, I think I know as much about you as Charlie at this point, uh, no offense.”

”No, you’re right,” Marie assured her, ”I’ve been distant, caught up in something personal and a little complicated . . .” she paused, thinking as she looked around the room, resting her eyes on the scrying mirrors.

”Maybe it’d be best to show you. Holt, would you bring me a pin from that table?” she motioned to a pincushion resting with a host of other sewing equipment.

Holt nodded, leaping into the air and changing quickly into the form of a raven, floating over to the table and delicately removing the needle with his beak. In an instant, he appeared at Marie’s side, dropping the pin into her hand before retreating to the top of the wardrobe.

Marie moved past Charlie to the largest of the mirrors. Without hesitation, she pricked her finger with the needle, squeezing the end and allowing small droplets of blood to pool on the surface of her skin. She then marked the rim of the mirror with blood, forming an ovular pattern around its face.



The words flowed with a certain rhythm, more lyrical than strictly poetic, almost as if Marie had been singing rather than chanting. She stood further from the mirror, waiting for her magic to manifest. At first, there was no difference, save the ring of blood on the mirror’s surface. To Charlie and Madalena, Marie looked the same. But slowly, something began to shift. Their reflections were no longer seen, only Marie’s, and there was something strange about her, clothes that didn’t match her own, hair a little longer, more wild. By all accounts, her reflection depicted Marie, yet nothing but her face seemed the same.

The alchemist noticed the changes immediately, it was Marie in the reflection but also not. Licking her lips she turned to Madalena, she wondered what was going through her mind. Seeing your friend after a long time and they’re clearly different but in a jarring way. Leaning against her staff, cheek pressed up against it. “Who is Gwyneth Owens? Long lost twin sister you left behind at a renaissance fair?”

Smiling to take the edge off her sarcasm, “Probably something a bit more important.”

Her eyes settled on Maddi.

Madalena remained silent, listening intently.

”Gwyneth Owens was a Welsh witch born to unknown parents in 1496,” Marie continued, staring at her reflection with a faint smile, ”Her life was marred by sacrifice and betrayal, always at the hands of those she trusted most. She was a well-learned witch, born of faery blood; cunning and cruel.

“Toward the end of her life, Gwyneth began searching for a way to be free of her oppressors, something permanent, irreversible. One evening in 1520, she successfully split her soul into multiple parts, placing each in a magical vessel, her most prized possessions. She scattered these items, cast them adrift, bid them never come too near one another again, not until the time was right. Shortly thereafter, she was tried for witchcraft and executed.”

Marie let out a heavy sigh, shoulders tensing, head turned a few degrees from the mirror. Her reflection, however, held an unabashedly proud stance.

”But the piece of her that endured couldn’t move on. As planned, it was called back by the other halves of Gwyneth’s soul that remained on Earth. Twenty-three years ago, the stars aligned just so, and that piece of Gwyneth’s soul was brought back into this world, given new life, placed in the loving arms of Eliza and Stephen Heartford as their daughter, Marie.”

Marie turned to face Charlie and Madalena, her stance mirroring her reflection: head high, shoulders back, eyes burning with an eerie determination.

”But I have and will always be, Gwyneth Owens. Over the past few months, I’ve been in the Ambassador’s company, among others, searching for the pieces of my past. When I say I’ve been finding myself, I meant it. I’ve been looking for my memories, honing my craft, becoming whom I was meant to be.”

Holt looked on in a mix of horror and awe, though neither could be traced in his shadowy features. Where once timidity reigned, now an unbridled confidence exuded from Marie, one he couldn’t help but admire.

Madalena felt much the same, though her expression conveyed more confusion than admiration. What did all of this mean, she wondered, and what did it change? She tried to find the right words to express her emotions, but remained silent instead.

While Charlie didn’t know how to feel herself, extraordinary people stepping into their roles or story was something she couldn’t really relate to. Not knowing her own path much less being any closer to figuring it out. Pursing her lips briefly she relaxed into a smile, “A woman plucked out of time, I wouldn’t know where to start with a goal like that so best of luck magical destinies and all that.”

“Here we are worrying about a key and you’re out there picking up what remains of you. I don’t envy that.” Blowing some hair up out of her face with a sigh, she looked down to Marie - Gwyneth? - having a thought, “What happens after you get yourself back together? Anybody who wronged you in the past is probably good as dead.”

Marie shook her head. ”I’m not sure. I assume I’ll pick up where I left off, and even if my original persecutors are long dead, The Winter Court is just as great a threat.”

”So,” Madalena finally chimed in, ”You’re over 500 years old? And you were born with your power? AND you’ve been scouring the world on some secret magical quest without telling me? Oh that’s low, Marie, er, Gwyneth, or . . . which one should we use?”

Marie laughed, happy to see that her news was well received and hadn’t further damaged her relationship with Madalena. ”For now, Marie will do, and I know it’s confusing which is exactly why I wanted the time to figure it out before I told you. But now that you’re, well, here, I didn’t see the need to hide it anymore. Besides, I’ll need some allies once my campaign for world domination begins.”

Madalena laughed, then stopped for a moment to consider that Marie wasn’t joking, then laughed again, satisfied that it was just part of their humor.

Charlie laughed along too, albeit a bit nervously, “Career focused, cool.”

Pulling out the key spinning it on her finger, “At least there’s some rhyme and reason behind your inclination to being cryptic now. Comes with the spooky package-” The key spun on and then off her finger flying directly into a pewter scrying bowl full of water. “For fuckssakes-”

Tracking over to it about to reach in she stopped, seeing something different about it. Looking over her shoulder at the pair of witches, “No eldritch horror is going to pull me into the bowl right?”

”Pfft, of course not! Well, probably not. Although the archway outside does look a little Lovecraftian doesn’t it?”

”It’s just a scrying bowl,” Marie assured her, ”Unless that key has done something to it, you should be fine.”

She shrugged slowly, “It’s not the bowl but the key, it’s-” She looked down at it, cocking her head, “It’s different. I’ve been keeping it dry, thought mixing water would have fucked it up.”

Reaching in running her fingers along the new divots along the shaft of the key, scooping her hand under it keeping it under the water. “There’s nothing special about the water right? Just plain tap.” It felt lighter, scrunching her brow, “Fuck me, if this is what works I will lose it.”

Lifting it out of the water the golden sheen smoothed back over. A smile of excitement as her eyes lit up putting it aside. “Got anything I can write on?”

Holt flew down from his perch, taking in his talons a blank scroll from a desk joined to the small library behind them, dropping it at Charlie’s side before taking his place on the corner of the table, watching the process unfold.

”What are we thinking, Charlie?” Maddi questioned, moving closer to inspect the alchemist’s work.

“I’ve got a couple ideas.”

Tugging the page over and pulling out a pen scratching away chemical symbols stretching out in it’s equations not caring how she mixed her alchemical symbols as well. Pausing briefly turning a brilliant smile onto Madalena, “Simple, always keeping it simple. What are the most common elements found anywhere in the universe?”

“Not just here on Earth.”

She turned back to the page stopping only to dig out the leftover packets of salt she had. Tearing it open with her teeth dumping the contents into the bowl, “I need more salt.” Gesturing to the bowl, shuffling to the table continuing to write.

“The answer is the first ten elements found on the periodic table.” she answered her rhetorical question, going on “Nathaniel Croll, prodigy, university professor and the neighbourhood’s best gardener. He believes in life at its most basic components, what do we all need to function?”

Looking between Holt, Marie and Maddi finishing the equation. Holding it up proudly she gestured to the bowl, “Water.”

”Almost like the weight balanced itself,” Marie smirked, glancing between Charlie and Holt, who had moved closer to the scrying bowl.

Madalena lovingly swatted Marie’s arm, ”BUT, still quite the achievement, I’d say. Good work, Charlie! That’s one more piece of the puzzle put in place.”

”If I might be so bold as to inquire,” Holt finally spoke, ”what does this key open? I assume it must lead to great riches or a small armory with which to combat The Winter Court.”

”Well . . .” Madalena looked down, pulling the leather-bound journal from her side and flipping through its worn pages. ”I haven’t the slightest. I know that we’re meant to find something on each of these streets, but exactly where, or what for that matter, we’ve yet to figure out.”

Marie peered over Madalena’s shoulder, looking down into the journal.

”It’s Act I Scene I of Macbeth,” she said after only a glance.

Madalena shot her a look, ”You read it that quickly?!”

”Whatever powers of perception Puck might have gifted you, I’ve been at this longer. I recognized the metre and the structure of the phrases.”

She pointed to the first street, the one nearest Shadow of the Moon. ”When the hurly-burly’s done.”

The next near Sherman Square. ”When the battle’s lost and won.”

The last near LHU. ”Where the place? Upon the heath. Of course this is all masked in riddles and allegory, but the clues seem to line up with recent events.”

How long ago did Puck write this, Madalena wondered, astounded by the speed with which Marie was able to solve the riddle and equal parts annoyed that she hadn’t found it sooner.

“Shakespeare, of fucking course.” Charlie said, exasperated. The thought of returning to the University made her stomach turn, it had only been over a week since the attack. She wasn’t sure how’d she react. “Whatever, let’s give this a go.” Replacing the key into the water, laying the sheet of paper across the rim of the bowl making sure it didn’t dip into the water. Placing her hands on both sides of the bowl she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in.

Slowly, each line of the equation lit up. Charlie’s brow furrowed, concentrating working through each line as a guide, hair lifting across the length of her arms. The water began to bubble as air shot out of the key. Her core tightened at the exertion, sweat beaded. For Charlie it was akin to slotting pieces of the puzzle together - connecting a chain that flowed from every direction. Several minutes passed when the full length of the paper glowed brightly, the paper began to disintegrate into the water from the middle out to the edges. Water flowed into the key itself, flowing through tiny channels inside it - unseen over the surface of the water.

When the transmutation was complete Charlie stepped away panting, sweat at her brow and down her back. “Alright I think that did it.”

Reaching into the dirty water she pulled free the golden key, water pooled out of it. It felt lighter than it had ever before, placing it on the tip of her finger and holding it out in front of her she let it go holding her breath watching it. It tilted left and right wobbling before settling out perfectly straight. Staring at it willing it to move, it remained where it was.

Her face split into a fantastic grin, “Yes! Yes!”

”Fascinating,” Holt offered, edging closer to the key from his perch on the table.

”Yeah,” Marie agreed, ”Good work, Charlie.”

”Way to go, Charlie!” Madalena yelled, walking forward and placing her hand on Charlie’s shoulder. ”We’re one step closer to figuring out whatever the hell it is we’re meant to be figuring out. “

Nodding happily, “Piece of cake.” Holding up the key out for them to see. A little sheepish she turned to Marie, “Thanks for your help. This is important, we’ll be able to visit each of the sites today to unlock them with the key now.”

”Well,” Madalena was skeptical, holding the journal closer to her face, skimming through the pages between the map of Lost Haven and the invocations at the back. There were charcoal illustrations, rather abstract, depicting scenes similar to those she’d scene in wood cuts from the 17th century. ”We have the key, we know where to go, but I don’t know what to do once we get there.”

”Only one way to find out,” Marie offered thoughtfully, ”back to Shadow of the Moon.”

A quiet permeated the domed, stone ceilings and walls of the bomb shelter lair were quiet as the frogs sat at the breakfast table. The place had been built by some wealthy San Franciscan during WWII when they were worried about the Japanese coming to the mainland. Apparently they didn't have the same belief in the US military most did at the time. Still, it had been forgotten as time went on, making it a perfect place for them to live. It was outfitted with plenty of furniture, running water, and electricity. Clara had managed to rig it up to allow them some more modern creature comforts of course.

"So are we gonna talk about it?" Bach asked as he watched everyone pushed their breakfast around on their plates. None of them had said a word before that. Hell, they had barely looked at one another since they sat down. It wasn't normal for them. Well, it was mostly normal for Lud, but he didn't talk all that much to begin with. The other three, however, were usually going a mile a minute. Art would be discussing the episode of Star Trek he had watched last night, Clara about the chapters in the book she had read, or Bach about whatever video game he was currently playing through.

But this morning there was nothing.

"Talk about what?" Clara asked, a hint of trepidation in her voice.

"The dream we all had last night," Bach put his fork down and looked at her incredulously. "Dyer. The shadow dog. Giant frog lady? Come on. I know you had it too."

Clara rolled her eyes. Art understood exactly why, of course. Clara was a being of pure rational thought. If something could not be understood and explained by science, it simply could not be. He wasn't sure if it was the way she had been altered in the experiments that created them, or if it was just a natural predisposition to science. But Clara was just too rational to believe they all had the same dream, whether she had it or not.

"Bach come on-"

"I had it," Art interjected before she could shoot the youngest turtle down completely. "Just like you said."

"Me too," Lud nodded. "With the five spheres of light? Saying we were 'chosen' or something?"

Clara's eyes narrowed at her brothers. Art wasn't sure what she was going to say, and neither did she. She seemed to be choosing her words carefully.

"Okay, if this dream was real, and if we all had it, that wouldn't mean anything, would it?" she asked sheepishly.

"You think all of us having the same dream at the same time is meaningless?" Lud asked with a short laugh. "Clara even for you that's a bit too rational."

"Come on, you guys," she shook her head. "There's no such thing as being a chosen one. We're not Harry Potter."

"If we were, I'd totally use that invisibility cloak inappropriately," Bach laughed to himself.

Art knew this was going to spiral out of control. Clara was nothing if not persistent. Lud wasn't much of a talker, but he was as immovable in a conversation as he was in a fight. Bach...well Bach just liked egging people on. If he didn't put a lid on it soon, they'd spend half the day bickering with one another.

"It doesn't matter what the dream was or meant," he interjected himself into the conversation. "What we know is that IDRG is going to keep making more mutants like us. They're building some sort of army. Why? We have no idea, and we need to find out. And we need to save those other mutants."

"You mean the mutant that tried to eat my face last night? Yea. Great plan, Art," Bach groaned.

"Seriously? That's the play, fearless leader?" Clara rolled her eyes.

"Why shouldn't it be?" Mozart was defiant. "We should just sit back and let another one of our kind be used as a weapon by the people who were gonna do the same to us? Last time I checked the whole idea of us sticking around was to make sure IDRG was stopped from doing...whatever the hell they're planning."

"Count me in," Ludwig shrugged. "I remember what they did to us in those cages. If we can stop anyone else from experiencing that it's worth a try. And we might just take those bastards down along the way. I could live with that."

"I go wherever the big guy goes," Bach patted Lud on the shoulder. "Little guy like me needs his muscle around. Besides, if he's not there, I get hit a lot more in the face, and that's no fun."

Clara looked at her brothers with annoyance. She knew they were right, but she was stubborn as always.

"Fine, but if one of you get eaten, don't come crying to me," she crossed her arm.

"I mean, if we get eaten we're not gonna be able to cry to anyone," Bach's face scrunched into a confused mug.

"It's an expression, B," Clara smiled at her little brother. "Don't think too hard. The fire suppression system in this place is shot."

The four of them laughed hard, erasing any tension.



Angel shifted her feet nervously as the eyes of Jordan Dyer stared holes into her. She had never dreamed she would be here sitting in his office. Of course, she also never imagined she'd be here after a group of giant frogs had stolen her keycard and used it to break into her place of employment. In her mind she had always figured this moment would come after she discovered cold fusion or something. Though realistically that was probably just as unlikely.

"You know why you're here, Miss Aquila?" Dyer asked, folding his hands on his desk, the light reflecting off his bald head like a spotlight.

"Yes, sir," she looked down at her feet. "My card was used to gain access to the building. Something bad happened."

That much was certain. The main entrance way had been blocked off for use for the day. Whispers from people who had seen it claim it was covered in blood. Angel couldn't be sure if the frog creatures could have been behind that. They stole from her, of course. And even drugged her or something. But they hadn't really harmed her, and had placed her safely home. They even brought back her keycard. They couldn't be murderers, could they?

"Yes, unfortunately that is an understatement," Dyer nodded grimly. "Did you see who stole your card?"

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, "Yes, sir. They were...well they were giant frogs, Director."

The Director's eyes narrowed at her before softening into a smile, "Well, you saw something that not many ever have, or were supposed to."

"I understand, sir," she started to shake her head and apologize profusely. "I'm not gonna tell anyone. I want to work here. And I didn't want to give them the card but they like-"

"Relax, young lady," he smiled warmly. Well, at least it was meant to be warm, she thought. But there was something unnatural about it, like he rarely smiled or didn't know how to do it correctly. "We aren't going to fire you or do anything to you. We're just happy that those dangerous experiments didn't hurt you as they did others in this building."

So they were behind what happened here. Amazing. Why they spared her when they ripped others apart was a mystery.

"Still, best be careful from now on going home," he warned. "We don't want a repeat of last night. And if you ever see the creatures again, please contact me immediately. I've authorized you to be able to email me."

"Thank you," she smiled with relief. "But, sir, if I may ask...what were they?"

"We live in strange times, as you're aware miss," he became serious. He continued, lying, "They were an alien life form. We believe they are not friendly. We are hoping to recapture them and make sure they don't harm anyone."

Made sense to Angel. She had seen so many weirdness across the world in her life. What's another group of aliens?

"Thanks for the straight answer, Director," she got up to excuse herself. "I'll make sure to let you know if I see them again."

"Thank you dear," the Director saw her out.



As the girl left his office, Dyer heard Doctor Dyson step out of the shadows of the office, "So, do we need to have her followed?"

"No, I don't think so," Dyer shook his head. "She's eager to please and too scared to work with them. If there's any more contact, she'll let us know."

"And what are we to do, sir?"

"Continue working on the transporter," Dyer commanded. "And have the bioengineering department continue making soldiers. We're getting close, Myles. I can feel it."

Location: Benjamin’s home, NYC
Time: Morning, month after the Wolf Hunt.

---

Darkness cleared to a scene Benjamin didn’t expect.

Someone’s hands found his throat. They wrapped about then squeezed, forcing the air from his throat. His lungs burned in the struggled as his fingers failed to tear them off. The attacker straddled him, pinning Benjamin to the ground, while the strangling continued. Benjamin’s heart raced in vain as his air died inside his lungs. Gradually, his dying breath whispered out a question.

His voice sounded feminine and faint.

“Why?”

Benjamin felt his assailant smirk rather than saw, his vision sought around any means for one last stand. His eyes found the floor mirror. The reflection shocked his common sense. Instead of his own image shown, it was a blond, pale-skinned woman staring back at him. Unconsciousness consumed them both.

Benjamin jerked upright in his bed. His hand reached up to touch his temple, the sharp pounding pulsed through his head and reminded him he was alive. For the first time in a long one, he was grateful for it. His nightmare’s vivid images pushed at his memory, but he ignored them. Casually he twisted his feet about his bed edge then pushed into a standing posture.

He stood dressed in only his boxers while he scanned his closet. Finally, he picked out a pair of worn jeans and tee-shirt, getting dressed for the day.

Benjamin stealthily navigated into the kitchen, worried he might encounter Daniel’s girlfriend. Something was wrong. It hit him the moment he entered the room, noticing that Emma was nowhere to be seen. Usually, she would’ve been cooking food for his morning meal, but there were no familiar aromas lingering in the air. A sinking depression threatened to creep into his core before he jerked away from it. His figure walked to the refrigerator and looked inside.

Leftovers were usually neatly packed away in individual portions on the shelf. His eyes lingered on the location but found nothing. It appeared they were all cleared away without any new ones taking their place. A strange sensation stirred in his gut as he grabbed the eggs, bacon and a premade protein shake.

He began to make his own breakfast while guzzling down the protein shake to stave off hunger.

His memories of last night were hazy as he used the bacon grease to cook the eggs over easy. When he finished up, he turned off the stove and headed upstairs with his food. The last thing he wanted was to become trapped by Lori down here. When he reached his room, his free hand picked up a remote and flipped on the tv.

The background noise of the news anchor was welcomed routine compared to the night’s strangeness.



Duff stood outside Ben’s room. His knuckles were white as they banged on the door for the tenth time, no one answering it. The wolf’s instinct snarled something was wrong causing Duff’s impatience to get the better of him. He glanced around then subtly jerked the handle, breaking it in a subtle movement. As the door open, Duff glanced inside. Nothing was amiss at first until the older wolf’s eyes focused onto the bed. It looked like it had been barely slept in.

Two scents hit Duff immediately. One was Ben’s, but the other he was not familiar with. A younger boy who’s natural musk mingled with sterilization agents and something he couldn’t place. The wolf’s upper lip curled into a snarl before he snorted.

He edged deeper in, checking the room.

“Benjamin? Are you ready to go?”

Nothing.

There was no scent leading out so Ben didn’t leave through the door. In fact, the smell abruptly stopped in front of a wall and then nothing. Not happy about the unknown, Duff reached for his cell phone and texted the contact number Barron gave him.

‘Benjamin is missing.’

A haze hung over the dim bulbs in the diner, as outside the trademark fog of San Maria had rolled in off the bay. It reminded the older man sitting at the counter of the days before smoking had been banned in the states in public places. He cursed the nanny state. Those were the days. Could light up whenever he damn well pleased. Now he had to find an underpass to hide under if he wanted to smoke. Fucking Americans.

The younger man next to him pushed his pancake remnants around his plate. The boy, no older than seventeen, had a dark olive complexion and curly black hair. He was agitated, though he that wasn't anything new.

"We should move in now, sir," he looked up at the older man. The boy was talented, for sure. But he was impetuous. He was too eager, which led to sloppy mistakes. But that's what happens when you're a kid. Patience would come with more experience. "What's the point in waiting? We know where she is."

The older man sighed and rubbed his creased, bearded face with a leathery hand the size of a catcher's mitt, "Because we're not here to make waves. Why do you insist on making things harder than they need to be."

"I do not. I like making things as quick as they can be," the boy responded. "We know we don't have much time. We know what failure means."

"We're not gonna fail," the man rolled his brown eyes. "We've prepared for this for a long time."

"No, you did," the boy shot back. "I was indoctrinated into it."

The man winced at that. He often forgot how little time had passed since he found the boy and taken him under his wing.

"You're right," he admitted. "But you've still got the skills."

"That I do, sir," the boy nodded. "Shall we put them to use?"

"We shall."



Clara found herself wedged between the floor the metal tank of the bunker's water purifier as she fiddled with it. It had been letting in a little too much grit for her liking, and she wanted to head of a possible clog before it became a real problem.

"Can you hand me that ratchet?" she asked her brother who sat a few feet away by the toolbox.

"Sure thing," he picked it up and tossed it over to her. "So how mad are you at Art and Lud right now?"

She should have expected this conversation to come up sooner rather than later with Bach there. He wasn't one to let things simmer. It probably came from being the youngest in the family. He always needed to know anything and everything as quickly as possible.

Clara didn't want to talk about it, if she was being honest. One of the reasons she came to the utility room was to get her mind off of things. She often found that letting her arguments with her brothers peter out was more effective than brooding on them. They never listened to her as-is. What use was it to dwell on it?

This one was a bit different though, she had to admit.

"Mad? I'm not mad," she responded after a few moments of silence. "But I am annoyed. Believing this silly superstitious crap. It's ridiculous. We're not some holy chosen warriors. We're a bunch of science experiments trying to survive. Putting our neck out severely decreases those chances."

That was the gist of it. She knew they were special. She knew they were gifted. But she also knew that they were being hunted at all times. If they weren't careful it would mean the end of all of them, and that was the last thing she wanted to happen.

"Yea, but like, if we don't help what if other people die?" Bach asked, twirling a screwdriver in his hands. "I don't want that to happen."

He was right, of course. Bach loved the humans. He was fascinated by them. He spend more time watching them than doing anything else, especially his chores.

"I know, B," she pushed herself from under the tank. She looked into her brother's eyes, and saw nothing but sincerity there. He was so pure and innocent, she almost had to laugh. Somehow the hell they lived through at IDRG hadn't taken that from him. For that, Clara was thankful. "We'll help where we can. But we need to be smart."

"I'm, like, always smart," Bach winked at her.



Angel couldn't get the past few days out of her head. Granted, that was to be expected when you had come across four giant, talking frogs who your boss said were alien invaders. Still, there was something about the way that Dyer talked about the frogs that made her question his motives. While they were obviously naturally off putting, there didn't seem to be anything outwardly malicious about them.

She had ran over the events of that night over and over in her mind, trying to remember anything that may have been threatening. Nothing came to mind however. They wanted her keycard, and returned it. Other than that they were being apologetic, almost.

She rolled her desk chair in her room over to a map of San Maria hanging on the wall. The young woman took a pack of pushpins along with her and sighed, "What the hell are you doing here, girl?"

Her hand hovered over where she had run into the frogs before, and she pushed a pin in before running a string to the IDRG Pyramid, marking the two places she had known the frogs had been.

"I'm going to find you," she nodded to herself and pushed the chair back, admiring her simple work. "I don't know what you are, or where you came from, but I'm going to find you. And I'm definitely going to make sure you don't knock me out next time."



The IDRG building sat in the distance like a beacon cutting through the fog, taunting Mozart with its omniprescence in San Maria. It was the kind of building that you could see no matter where you were in the city. After they had initially escaped, it represented nothing to him outside of the chance of them being recaptured. now, however, it was the reminder that there were more like them being held in that place. More poor creatures that never asked to be made and unmade into living weapons, these ones without the ability to free themselves like he and his siblings had.

Now the Pyramid no longer brought fear to his heard. Instead it filled him with a silent rage.

"You can stare at it all you want," Lud croaked as he took a seat next to his brother and handed him some sushi. "You're not gonna bring it down with your mind. Unless you got some power you haven't been telling me about."

"No, no psychic powers that I know of," Art shook his head and picked up his chopsticks. "If I did I'd be making you or Bach do my chore days. I have a lot of Star Trek to catch up on."

"Why not Clara too?" he asked, popping a roll into his gaping bullfrog mouth.

"Easy," Art shrugged and took another bite of his own, elbowing his brother in the side, "telepathy only works on the weak minded."

"Oh, very funny Obi-Wan," the largest frog groaned. "Almost like you've practiced that one."

"Hey, you walked into it," Art finished off his sushi. "Where do you get this stuff anyway?"

Lud winked at his brother, "Blind chef a few blocks down. Smelled good when I was exploring the city. He came out and found me in the alley. Offered me some. And now we have a hook up."

Ludwig and Bach had been exploring the city more than he and Clara had. Art had wandered to the redwoods forest a few times. But Lud and Bach were fascinated by the city. They loved watching the people and the energy flow through it. But Lud had been the one to notice everything wrong with it. The Bayside Bandits had moved into San Maria and were beginning to set up shop, consolidating their power in a city not prepared for their onslaught.

"Well, I am not sorry about that."

The two brothers sat there quietly and enjoyed the views of the city. Other than the one building that rose above the rest, Art already considered this his home. It was beautiful in its own right, and it was mostly full of good people. Well, he figured it was full of good people. He wasn't sure, of course. The only person he had ever met that wasn't trying to capture him he had knocked out with his own bodily poison. So maybe not the best start at making friends, but he wanted to protect the people of San Maria none the less. Who knows what else IDRG was doing in their labs. The whole city may have been in danger.

"So about that dream...," Lud broke the contemplative silence.

"Hey I thought you were on my side?" Art turned to Lud.

"I mean, I am," he shrugged. "At least when it comes to helping to stop IDRG. We've already seen what they can do. We can't sit around. That ain't in my blood. If there's a fight, I'm gonna fight. But being 'chosen' or whatever? You've been looking for a purpose ever since we escaped IDRG. Maybe the dream isn't necessarily it. Maybe it's just helping where we can. Look around at this world we were born into. Clearly it needs all the help it can get. We can do that."

Art looked down at the street. Thanks to the fog the brothers were completely obscured from the people walking below. His brother had a point. They could be the heroes of this city. They had all the requisite skills. They could just focus on that and he could forget about the dream.

But he couldn't. Yes he wanted to help the people of San Maria. But what they were chosen for...he felt it was too important to throw to the side. Until they figured out what the dream meant, helping here would do.

"Yea, I think we can," Art patted Lud on the shoulder. "This place...we'll keep it safe."

"Good," Lud smiled broadly. "I know just where to start."

“MAAAAAAAAARTEL!”

The helpless raven-haired intern with an armful of papers barely had a second to react before the door burst open in a flash of purple and overly excited alien barged on through.

“Aaah!” Riley yelped, literally skidding to a halt. “I am so sorry!” Not even leaning down, she picked up the intern with her psionic powers and placed her back on her feet again. “There we go, good as new!”

“Ah, thanks I guess,” the intern grumbled, annoyed as she took a moment to collect her papers. Riley gave a double thumbs up in response.

“What in blazes is going on out here?”

“MAAAAAAAAAAARTEL!”

The intern shrieked again as Riley’s excitement came back in full force and she was propelled through the door Riley came in, leaving behind a cloud of very important documents as Riley rushed up to the good (and very confused doctor).

“OhmygoshIwasatthelibrarywithwandererandwewerelookingatbooksandIpetadogbutthenIsawthatbiganchorguyandrealizedthatbigdragonthingywasabigdragonthingyIsawthenIranoverthenIsmashedthroughthedoorandthen-”

“Riley, calm down, please!” Martel said, chuckling slightly. “Don’t give yourself a heart attack before you let me know what’s happening.” The alien heroine took a deep breath, her glowing dampening down a little bit before she resumed.

“I realized something about my psionic dream!” Riley said excitedly. “The creature that I saw was the same one I fought with on the Game Genie day! The one who was with the knightly girl!”

“...you’re certain?” Martel said, mildly surprised. “Because as it happens the, uh, “knightly girl” had a package arriving for her that I just finished inspecting.”

Riley’s eyes widened with excitement. “Maybe I can talk to her about the Dickens again!”

“I certainly don’t see why not,” Martel responded. “Come on, let’s get to my office before all the interns quit.”

Riley’s sudden arrival meant that Martel didn’t have time to clear his normally immaculate desk, which was dominated by a large metal crate and various tools and technical devices scattered around it to help with the tests he just finished. With a click the screen rang in Martel’s office directly from Phister’s location which Mrs. Patton was currently using. Each ring buzzed in intensity as per usual.

“Such brilliant timing,” Martel remarked going over to his viewscreen promptly. “I should perhaps buy a lottery ticket.” The camera clicked on as he stood in front of it, showing the good doctor with Riley idly milling around in the background and bouncing slightly. “Dr. Martel here,” Martel announced briskly.

Distracted by the remaining footage of the alien creature Briley almost didn’t catch the quick response from one of the leads of SPARK. “Yes. I had been monitoring for Riley and now that she’s here, I’d like you and her along with that certain package to come along to Phister’s office. There is someone I’d like to introduce, properly this time for Riley of course.”

“Someone say my name?” Riley piped in, appearing over Martel’s shoulder. “Oh, hi Miss Briley!”

“She’s...very enthusiastic to see you,” Martel said, wincing as he tried to avoid getting hit by the alien girl’s frantic waving. “We’ll make our way over there as soon as possible. I’m of the impression that Riley has business with the recipient of this thing as well.”

“Knightly girl is getting this?” Riley asked, looking curiously at the large metal case. “Ooh, I will be able to ask about Dickens then!”

“How delightful,” Martel said in a droll tone as he ended the communication. “Say, since you’re here, do you want to carry that thing with your psionics?”

Riley nodded enthusiastically, straining for a moment before the case levitated off the desk. “Goodness...it is rather heavy…”

“Nearly threw my back out carrying that thing in here,” Martel said with another chuckle. “Let’s hurry, I’d rather not keep this friend of hers waiting.”

The raven-haired intern stumbled back through the door to the main hallway, just as Dr. Martel emerged from his office alongside Riley, the giant, heavy, metal crate hovering in front of her. With a little whimper, the intern quickly stepped to the side and let the pair of them pass, breathing a sigh of relief before she tripped over the coffee table and dropped the sheaf of papers again.

The handle turned and the door began to open as Martel walked Riley into the room with the large crate in tow careful to set it down gently and avoid damaging anything. Knightly girl stood leaned up against a stack of books with a literal bucket of pizza in her arms from Bucket O’Things likely the greasiest fast food restaurant anywhere in the world as strings of cheese hung from her lips. Mrs. Patton welcomed the two to sit with a gesture.

“Dr. Martel, and Riley I’d like for you both to meet as you call her, Knightly girl, Eva Walsh; my niece I didn’t want you to find out some other way who she was.”

With a soft wave Eva continued munching on the pizza as Briley spoke. Riley was beside herself and looked about two seconds away from squealing with delight and tackling her with a big hug. Luckily, she composed herself this time.

“I felt guilty keeping this from you as you had kept Riley’s secret for some time before I found out, I wouldn’t want you to feel I had lied to you in any way.”

“Understandable, really,” Martel pondered. “I would have done the same thing in your shoes. I DID do the same thing in your shoes,” he added with a little pang of guilt, glancing over at the overexcited alien.

Sometimes gravity has a way of anticipating incoming transformations in space, almost like a living creature with instincts, with built in codes that let it react to outside stimuli. The reaction, in this case, was a sudden, wave-like gravitational oscillation which made several small objects in the room begin to orbit around a bit of empty space behind Eva. An impromptu asteroid belt of sorts, which grew in mass as some books and, eventually, the literal bucket of pizza, joined the clutter. The very light in the room became distorted into a bizarre series of multicolored curvatures, and the air gained a cool, crisp feeling to it, like it had been purified with mostly harmless radiation.

Then it all went back to normal. Objects fell down as they remembered where ‘down’ was. Light acted normally again. The air recovered its previous smell and texture. The bucket of pizza performed a tragic reenactment of the extinction of the dinosaurs as it crashed onto the pristine floor and violently spilled its precious, precious contents in a cheesy splatter many feet wide and long.

“Aaaah, not the pizza!”

”Bloody worthless tosser!” Eva exclaimed as goop covered her, the floor and parts of the ceiling. Briley looked at the mess with disdain more so that William Phister would be outraged than anything else. ”Gonna have a fu#king terrible time getting this sauce out of my hair.” Eva said as she wiped cheese from her face, and shirt.

What the gravity in the room had anticipated revealed itself quite suddenly, in a spontaneous display of colorful cosmic energy right in the middle of where the asteroid belt of pizza, books and stuff had been. It was a sphere that was not quite a sphere, an object that was not an object at all. It was a proper rift in space, made from bits and pieces of space itself. And not just the space in that room, but the space from many places.

The rift made no sound, or at least the air around it could not reproduce it. Although, by the looks of it, whatever sound its motions could have made would have been spectacular and surreal, like the finest chillwave. There was a rhythm to its inner motions.

It must be remarked that a human body, or any body for that matter, never looks like itself while passing through a rift in space, at least until it crosses into conventionally accepted space. The cells in any body have to adapt to the fact that the space between them is now completely relative and can take nonsensical forms to maintain the body as a whole alive and sapient, and the end result of that is easily lost among the rest of the cosmic nonsense going on in the oniric spaces between spaces.

Ergo, the creator of the rift appeared at first as certainly humanoid in appearance, but a bit on the wrong side of the uncanny valley. From outside the rift, they caught a glimpse of a slender being with neon-colored hair and eyes, iridescent skin, and features that were sometimes round, sometimes sharp. And then, just as they had seen it, the being was standing in the middle of the ring of cheese, papers, pens, pencils and books, and he was unquestionably human.

Gawking, Eva stood there for a moment before she yelled. “I Assume this was your doing you giraffe-necked, carebear-reject unicorned ET wanker.”

The young human in the black and purple armor had a handful of rules he stood by at all times, no matter the context. Partly because he wanted to be a good Christian boy, but mostly because he liked them. One such rule was not engaging with abusive language.

This time, however, he had no choice but to break that rule.

“Why ‘giraffe necked’?”
Asked the young man, hand immediately caressing his neck to check its length. He had never felt insecure about it. Nobody had complained before.

He glanced around and furrowed his brow a bit, a bit confused. The cheese under his boots felt dangerously slippery.

“Man, I was aiming for the entrance hall”, he mumbled to himself before turning back to Eva. “I’m really sorry about the mess. I guess my beacon was a bit off. Usually I’m very accurate with rifts.”

“Wow!” Riley suddenly piped in, hopping to her feet. “I do not mind, that was interesting. It was like something right out of Star Trek!”

“The next generation or the original series?” He asked instinctively, not taking a moment to think about what the girl looked like. A part of his brain, thoroughly accustomed to non-human people, was probably doing the hard subconscious labor of just passively accepting the blue skin, red eyes and tentacles for hair as a perfectly normal thing to see.

“Hmm, I would say next generation, effects were a little better…” Riley pondered before her eyes suddenly lit up with excitement. “Hey, you know Star Trek too!”

“My mom loves sci-fi stuff”, said the young man, “so I grew up watching Star Trek and Cosmos with her every night. We both agree that Picard is better than Kirk.” Riley nodded with approval at this decision.

”Never saw yourself come through one of your rifts yea. Looked like an elephant laid a snake egg that somewhere between smashed a rainbow. And yeah next time use a door, even Voyager knows what doors are. And she's more energetic than a Jack Russell terrier with a can of red bull.” Riley gave an innocent wave, seemingly confirming the fact.

“I did try to look at myself through a rift once”, he answered, his consciousness on the verge of catching up to the fact that he had been conversing with an unknown alien. “Looked more like a koi fish wearing a red velvet cupcake as a wig to me...”

He paused, bordeaux eyes turning to Riley. His mouth parted slightly, a look of mild confusion briefly showing in his features, and he spoke again.

“I’m…” He hesitated, then gave his head a little sideways shake, loosening strands of his long bordeaux hair from his ponytail, and smiled. “You can call me Andromedan.”

He approached the two young women with an outstretched hand, a bit of cosmic energy lingering in the air around it like a little, multicolored cloud.

“Riley!” the tentacle-aired alien confirmed happily, much to the visible chagrin of Dr. Martel and the other humans. “Voyager works too, if you want to use the fancy name.” Like Andromedan, a little bit of energy lingered in the air around her as well, psionic to match his cosmic.

“Nice to meet you, Riley!” He answered with a bit of a chuckle.

”Pardon the sticky hands, I feel like a deep fryer fu.. I mean was smashed into a washing machine.”

“No worries”, said the Andromedan. “Mine are still coated in space dust. It’s very hard to clean properly.”

Her aunt had those eyes about her, the ones all parents give their kids that death stare when they know they’ve gone too far. “Yes well I’m glad you’re all here, but please we have a reception desk. Now you’re all mature adults here, or I’m pretty sure most of you are we haven’t quite decided on Riley yet given her unknown biological systems, far as I know she could be one.” Turning to Martel, Briley spoke. “Dr. Martel if you could open the case for Mrs. Pendragon here. And if you.” She said placing her gaze upon Andromedan. “Have any business we should get down to that.”

“Oh, right!” Said the Andromedan, reaching for Briley, his smile diminishing into a more professional style. “So… I actually have a couple things I want to ask you about. First of all, want to know what sort of equipment you’ve been buying from alien merchants.”

He then deftly pulled his phone out of one of his armor’s pockets and presented her with a picture of his newest pet. More specifically, a selfie he had taken with the alien creature and Jake, where the three of them shared a massive bowl of ice cream in bed in a sunny weekend morning.

“And what do you know about Thorian Thrashers?” he asked, not yet noticing Riley hovering behind him, looking at the selfie with stunned silence.

Briley sat silent for a minute. “You do realize we are a company that specializes in cutting edge tech, and military contracts, some are yes weapons others armor and energy consumption. While I cannot divulge all the purchases we’ve made we are just beginning to understand what makes alien technology so special. It’s use of energy and micro compression of technology. I can fit a phone in the palm of my hand, but an exosuit has more technology in its pinky or similar appendage than most home computers.” Unfazed by the picture that Andromedan showed her of a creature much like Eva’s space dragon, she calmly continued. “And that creature is what exactly.”

“It’s Dickens!” Riley interjected into the conversation, bouncing on her feet like a child with too much sugar. “But...a little different. Do you know more of them?”

“...Dickens?” Muttered the Andromedan. “Not a bad name.”

He gave the alien girl a closer look of the creature in his phone screen.

“This is a Thorian Thrasher”, he said to her, giving Briley a sideways glance. “An invasive, predatory and very, very powerful animal… at least when it’s all grown up. If you’ve seen one on Earth, that’s… a bit of an issue. It’s an issue if you see one anywhere near any inhabited planet, really.” Briley sighed but she supposed that was to be expected.

“What if I saw one in my head?” Voyager asked innocently.

“You mean… like a vision?” He raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Yes, exactly!” Voyager said, pleased that someone understood at last. “That is why I came over here so urgently, because I wanted to ask about Miss Knightly Girl and her Dickens. I think...someone is sending me a message, and it involves Dickens in some way. At first I thought it was some dream, but it felt...too personal.”

“It’s not out of the question that what you saw could have been a direct message,” Martel explained helpfully. “Some of the resonances in psionic energy that I’ve observed have been similar to brain wave patterns, and if so they could be deciphered by a psionically attuned system.”

The Andromedan stared expressionless for a bit, his voice even, if a bit softened, when he spoke.

“Okay, so… I’m majoring in humanities and stuff, so I’m gonna need you to dumb that down for me. A lot.”

“Sorry, bad habit,” Martel said apologetically. “In essence, the energy force that Riley can wield can also function as a messaging service. Essentially someone sent an e-mail with a message saying ‘Dickens is important, go find him’.” Martel’s grin faltered slightly, then his eyes widened in realization.

“Neat”, said the Andromedan, mostly to himself, nodding. “But why that particular ThorianThrasher?”

”Right what the hell is up with Riley getting spammed with visions of Dickens. How does he factor into, well, anything?”

“It just occurred to me...Riley, you’re certain that no one on the planet could have sent you this vision?”

Riley shook her head no. “Only one other psionic person I know about, and he could not have sent it. Why?”

Martel scratched his head. “Well, if the message came from deep space, which the Thrasher seems to indicate, then…the only way it could have reached you is from a similarly attuned system. In layman’s terms,” Martel said, giving the others a look. “The message would have to come from someone of the same species.”

There was a stunned silence as Riley clapped her hands over her mouth.

Briley surmised that considering her vast psionic capabilities that is was more than possible there would be others of her species that had similar or stronger powers or ones they haven’t encountered yet. “Perhaps your kind is trying to reach out to you whatever their intention may be. I’d be a bit careful of anyone able to enter another’s mind even to convey a psi-mail.”

Martel nodded in the affirmative. “It is a highly reasonable explanation.” He then backed away slightly as Riley started to float into the air.

“You mean...there’s more of me out there?” she said, her hands still clamped across her mouth in sheer surprise.

The Andromedan seemed to be on the verge of speaking for a moment. He hesitated. His mind had caught up to Riley’s technically-not-human appearance, but it was more than that. When he did speak, his voice sounded rather subdued.

“It’s… possible”, he said, looking at the alien girl as he stuffed his phone back in his pocket. “I have never seen someone like you, but I’ve heard of species with psionic powers. Not a lot of them, and I think most of them are extinct… but there’s that.”

He was quiet again, pensive, but this pause was shorter.

“Riley, what do you know about who you are? Do you know anything about how you got here?”

“Um...not much. I just sort of woke up in a box when Miss Fletcher found me,” Riley said, her spirits faltering slightly. “The rest is sort of...foggy.”

The Andromedan nodded and remained quiet for a little while.

“Well, whatever this all means, it involves a Thorian Thrasher, so I need to be involved”, he said, arms crossed over his chest. “Where is Dickens?”

Eva looked at Andromendan still pulling toppings out of her hair. ”What's it to you?”

“I have a sorta moral responsibility to keep Thorian Thrashers away from inhabited planets”, he explained. “They’re no evil creatures, but they are apex predators and they never stay docile for long. You can’t keep one on Earth.”

”I don't see any harm in it, he seems pretty happy, even though I don't know much about Thorian Thrashers. Anyways he's safe at home. Probably sleeping, he does that alot.”

“Look, I keep my own in my dorm room and they’re very sweet”, he said. “But one day he’s going to try to eat you or someone you love. I just want to preempt that. Find your Dickens a safe place in the galaxy where he can eat and grow and not be a danger to anyone.” He pulled his beacon from his pocket, felt its energy, and thought of planets where a Thorian Thrasher might be comfortable and harmless.

“I’m going to be taking my Thrasher with me soon, but I would really like to make sure that there are no more of their kind on Earth. If something goes wrong with mine or yours, I’m the only cosmomancer available to help and I know I’m not strong enough to fight a fully grown Thrasher.”

“Do you think I could come with you?” Riley asked, her excitement coming back in full force. “I think it is what the vision wants me to do, to help you bring the Dicken Thrasher home!”

The quiet hesitation from before returned, the Andromedan’s face suddenly impassive.

“I’m not supposed to leave Earth at all, so I was already breaking a promise by going away for just a couple hours to get the Thrashers away from the planet.”

He seemed to be musing aloud, but as soon as he was finished he was smiling again, and he spoke to Riley with a bit of enthusiasm.

“Might as well make it a long trip”, he said and chuckled. “Just so we’re clear, though, we might be going to some really far away places and you’re absolutely going to need to pack warm clothes, some snacks and old jazz vinyls, if you have any. I assume you don’t have any cash from any interspatial currency, so old jazz vinyls are the next best thing. Xenomusicologists love them and will trade you fairly for them.”

“Not that I don’t trust you to go galavanting through the cosmos,” Martel interjected cautiously. “But Riley, are you sure you’re in a position where you can take this trip?”

“I HAVE already been to space, somewhat,” Riley said, pleased with herself. “Plus if the city is in danger I know someone who can come to its rescue. I met her earlier, she is quite capable and a force to be reckoned with!”

Halfway across the city, Maddy Fen Ling was passed out on her sofa watching Jessica Jones on Netflix.

”So, what you're like the Space Police, Space Marines? You go around in battleships and mop decks? Assuming I do believe all that, and yeah Dickens has had some people before, they were villains and I scolded him so he shouldn't do it again; I'm still not exactly ready for space, breathing oxygen and all that.”

“Well...” said the Andromedan. “To answer your first question, no. I’m not really a space cop or marine or anything like that. We cosmomancers are more like diplomats and occasional rebels. And I rarely go around in battleships. Rifts in space are faster.”

Martel cleared his throat. “And in answer to your last statement, I believe this would be helpful.” Turning his attention to the heavy crate, he quickly entered a passcode into the locking mechanism, and with a shrill tone the lock snapped open, letting off a dramatic depressurized hiss. “I’ve been double checking some of the features on this bit of equipment, I think it will suit your needs, no?”

The armor was simple and knightly, pauldrons were clean and without any pronounced edges and spikes, the gauntlets had plenty of finger joints and covered the forearms, a raised chest plate would deflect blows and allow ample space for her chest. A leather looking material was underneath even though Eva assumed it was far from normal cow hide, the legs and knees had protection and the helmet was closed and seemed like it would actually hide her identity. With a cute capelet hanging off the back. ”No shit, you make this Doc? It looks more like a hero suit than my hoodie ever did.”

“I helped with the less interesting systems, power and connections and the like,” Martel said with a slight chuckle. “The design is mostly Lion’s work, it’s an impressive bit of engineering.”

“It does look especially knightly!” Riley said, admiring the sleek design.

“Speaking of which, if you are planning on heading across the galaxy, I have a suit for you as well Riley,” Martel announced. “Nothing too different from your usual, just some better armor and some backup life support, so you don’t need to rely entirely on your powers to function out there.”

“Ooh, that would be helpful,” Riley admitted, giving a nervous gulp at the thought of her barriers breaking down when she was out in the vacuum of space. Naturally though the idea of being in space reminder her that she was in fact going into space.

“We’re going to spaaaaaaaace!”

Amanda was exhausted.

The day that she had spent at Leanna's farm was a day of firsts. Never in her life had she gone into a chicken coop to get eggs, and if she had her way, she'd never go into another one. She had never realized how nasty chickens could be, until today. As she went around the coop gathering the eggs like she had been instructed, a large, red chicken had approached her, it's chest out and its wings back, squawking as it kicked at her with its surprisingly sharp talons. Fortunately, it backed off enough for her to get the eggs without much of an incident, because she didn't know what the older woman would do to her if she had slipped up and dropped one of the eggs...but she knew that whatever it was, it wouldn't have been good.

She had somewhat better luck with Shelly and Gwenyth, the two cows that she had been tasked with milking. It was a surprisingly easy job, once the two cows had decided to stand still in order to allow her to do the task. If Amanda hadn't known better, she would have suspected that the animals were secretly trying to test her somehow. Though, she knew that the very thought was ridiculous. The work was hard, and she knew that it was just the beginning of whatever was to come. She was just glad to be home now, and was looking forward to an evening in with Izzy, Gemma, and some friends. Whatever fresh hell awaited her in the morning would just have to wait until then.

Suddenly, the smell of Gemma's famous nacho casserole wafting down the hall brought her out of her quiet reverie. It had been hours since she had last eaten anything, and with her hyperactive metabolism her stomach was not just growling, it was roaring.

“Oh...that smells so good.Amanda said as she watched Gemma take the dish out of the oven.

“Don't touch it.” Gemma replied, her tone mockingly snarky. “Company's coming. It'd be nice if they got some this time.”

“That happened once.” Amanda countered. “Okay, maybe twice.”

“Twice?” Gemma asked in an exaggerated tone.

“Okay, okay, three times.” Amanda conceded. Before Gemma could respond, the apartment's buzzer sounded, indicating that their guests had arrived.

“You gonna get that?” Gemma asked sternly, as she stood in front of the dish with her arms folded, almost daring her to make a move on the food. However, as Gemma and Amanda had their standoff in the kitchen, Izzy had opened the door for their friends.

“My God, what happened to your face?” Izzy's words echoed throughout the apartment, which caused Amanda and Gemma to make their way into the living room from the kitchen. When they arrived, they saw that Mike was sporting a black eye.

“Yeah Mike, what happened to your eye?” Gemma asked with a hint of concern. Then she began looking around the apartment and noticed that it was just Mike and Andy who had arrived. “Where's Karen?”

“Karen?” Mike asked. “Oh, that's a funny story. Karen won't be coming by today...or, like...ever.”

“What'd you do?” Amanda asked.

“Why'd it have to be something I did? Why couldn't it have been her?” Mike protested as Andy tried to hide a smirk.

“Because I know you.” Amanda said. “Seriously, what happened?”

“She decided that we're at different places in our lives and that it was better to call it quits.” Mike told his friends.

“Bullshit.” Andy chimed in. “Tell them what happened.” He finished while stifling a laugh.

“Fine.” Mike said, clearly annoyed.

“Well, Karen got her hair done, and let me tell you, it was hideous.” He started. “And when she asked me what I thought, what came to mind was, 'Honestly, it looks like you got caught in an explosion at the basic bitch factory.' However, what I said was, 'Baby, it looks gorgeous.'”

“So, what's the problem?” Amanda asked.

“The problem? The problem is that she knows me too well. She ignored what I said, and slapped the shit out my expression.” Mike told them.

“Damn...”Izzy said.

“That's rough.” Gemma added.

Andy and Mike, along with Mike's now former girlfriend where friends of Gemma's from UC Pacific Point. She had met them while hanging out in the lounge in the Student Union and they had been pretty close ever since. Mike and Andy were the ultimate odd couple. Mike was a classic nerd. He was obsessed with comic books and playing roleplaying games. If there was a game of Dungeons and Dragons or Shadowrun anywhere on campus, it was more than likely that he was playing.

Andy on the other hand, while deep down was as much of a nerd as Mike, he was also a gifted basketball player, and had lead the UC Pacific Point Sharks to consecutive division titles and even a birth in the NCAA tournament. Though he and Mike seemed to be the last people on Earth who would associate with one another, they had become inseparable since freshman year. He was, in fact a bit of a chameleon, able to traverse effortlessly through multiple social groups, making it nearly impossible to peg him in one versus another.

“Well, why don't you guys come in and take a load off, we got a ton of food.” Amanda said she locked eyes with Gemma and mouthed “I'm getting that casserole,” with a grin.



Meanwhile

Minerva Cross stood outside of Pacific Point's First National Bank. Her legs felt like jello and it felt as though she had a belly full of butterflies. She had never done anything like this before, and she really did not want to be doing it now, but she had no choice.

Up until the night that she got caught up in one of those meta domes during the Pax Metahumana crisis, she had been a normal twenty-something making her living working as an assistant in a real estate office. She hated her boss who was a lecherous man in his fifties who could be considered what her father used to call a snake oil salesman. Although she hated her job, and she died a little bit inside every single time that she went into the office, it paid the bills, barely. Even after she had been granted these powers, she tried to live a normal life. She had no intention of going out and becoming a criminal mastermind, and she had not desire to become a superhero. She just wanted to live her life, and be left alone.

However, that all changed last month when her boss, Greg came back to the office after a long lunch. He had an odd swagger about himself, which was probably due to the fact that he reeked of cheap booze. He had been somewhat aggressive with her, making comments about her clothes, and how she really should wear shorter skirts to work, as he explained,

“You'd be a lot more comfortable, this is Southern California after all.”

Although she found him repulsive, she could deal with the little comments. However, when he crossed the line by reaching up her skirt and grabbing her, she had had enough. She turned on him and slapped him across the face with as much force as she could muster. Then, she stood frozen in fear as he rubbed his face, which burned from the slap. Time stood still as he just stood there, looking down at the ground, his face began to turn several shades redder.

“That was a mistake.” He had said finally as he brought his eyes to bare on hers. Then he stepped toward, his arms outreached as he attempted to grab her.

As he reached for her, he was suddenly hit by a white light, the impact felt like a punch in the gut which lifted him up and flipped him over a nearby desk. And with that, panic set in.

What have I done? She thought to herself as different scenarios raced through her mind.

What if I really hurt him?

What if I killed him?

Then she saw him begin to move as he tried to get back to his feet, and decided that she did not to be there when he did, so she turned and ran.

She ran away from her office, and in doing so, she ran away from her life.

The following month was a difficult one for her. She had tried in vein to get a new job, however, her former boss, Greg Aleworth had done his best to smear her name all over the city. Despite being one of the most repulsive human beings that she had ever had the displeasure of encountering, he was well connected, and she had found herself essentially blackballed in the city, unable to find a job in any field, much less in real estate. In fact, she hadn't even been able to land a job flipping burgers in a fast food restaurant.

Here, a month after “giving her resignation,” she found her self with no money for food or rent. The only thing keeping her from being homeless was the cities renter protections, and the fact that it took months, and sometimes years for someone to be successfully evicted. That notwithstanding, Minerva was desperate.

And that is why she found herself standing outside of the First National Bank. Her stomach fluttered and her knees grew weaker by the second. She knew that she should just walk away now, she knew that it wasn't too late. However, she also knew that if she didn't do this , she faced another day of being hungry. If she didn't do this, she faced another day of uncertainty. She knew, that if she did not do this, she faced another day of fear. She took a deep breath to steel herself, and she made her way to the front doors of the bank. She closed her eyes and took another deep breath, forcing the butterflies from her stomach and she concentrated on what she had to do. Suddenly, an iridescent light begins to emanate from her hands. As the seconds passed, the light grew brighter and brighter, until it reached the point where it would have appeared that her hands were miniature spotlights. Then she pushed forward, and the doors of the bank exploded inward, clearing her path inside.



Amanda's Apartment

“So, I'd marry Iron Knight, screw Icon and kill Voyager.” Izzy said giggling.

“Iron Knight?” Amanda asked. “Why him?”

“Why not him? He's funny, and guessing by the amount of tech he's got, he's probably got more money than God. I mean, the guy must be Midas rich.” Izzy defended her choice in the infamous Marry, Screw, or Kill game that they had somehow found themselves playing. “So Amanda, you haven't weighed in at all. What say you?” Izzy asked, goading her roommate.

Amanda did not answer. She just sat on the coach between Andy and Mike shooting Izzy a look that screamed “How can you ask me to play this stupid game, I actually work with these guys...a lot.”

“Yeah Amanda, please, I'm dying to know.” Gemma chimed in.

“Well...I guess if I had to choose...” Amanda started.

“...the scene from the First National Bank on Bolsa Grande Avenue. As you can see, police have made little headway getting inside where the intruder has barricaded herself in the vault.”

Saved by the bell. Amanda thought to herself as she got up off of the couch.

“I just remembered, I have a meeting about a gig tonight. I should probably head out.” Amanda said as she made eye contact with Izzy and nodded toward the television.

“Oh right, was that tonight?” Izzy asked, playing along. “You should hurry, you don't want to be late.”
With that, Amanda jumped up and headed to the front door. Once she closed the door behind her, she zipped off down the road toward the First National Bank.



Moments Later

As Slipstream arrived at the scene of the break in at the First National Bank, she saw that the entire area had already been cordoned off by the police. They had set up a parameter of at least a couple of blocks in each direction around the bank, which meant that the thief had nowhere to run. And that would mean that in light of that, the thief would be desperate, which meant that they were dangerous.

Slipstream raced through the police line and up the stairs to the bank, a sudden burst of wind was the only indicator that she had been in the area. She searched the bank, racing from room to room, floor to floor searching for any potential hostages. She was also searching for potential threats. As she went room to room, she kept an eye out for anything that could pose a danger to her or any bystanders. Bombs, traps, and additional accomplices were all potential problems that she was keeping an eye out for, none of which materialized.

Once she had made sure that there were no hostages or other threats inside the bank, Slipstream made her way to the vault, where the intruder was said to be holed up. Once inside the vault, she found a young woman, probably close to her age throwing fistfulls of money into a pair of backpacks.

“You know, I'm pretty sure that you'll need a withdrawal slip for that.” Slipstream said as she leaned against the wall behind the woman.

The thief jumped, dropping one of the bags to the ground and spun around to face the new arrival.

“Back off. You can't stop me.” The woman said in an almost scalding tone.

“Yeah, I hear that a lot.” Slipstream said. “Why don't you just put the bags down and make this easy on yourself?”

“Not gonna happen.” The woman told her confidently.

Slipstream wasted no more time bantering with the woman. Instead, she rushed at the woman, throwing a right hook right at her chin. However, as she reached the woman, there was a flash of light and the punch connected with nothing but air.

“What?” Slipstream said, unable to believe that she had missed.

“I told you,” the woman said from behind her. Slipstream turned to face the woman, who thrust her hand forward, and a flash of blinding light came forth, and hit her like a freight train, sending Slipstream crashing through one of the massive columns which stood in the vault area, causing an explosion of plaster and debris.

Slipstream lay there amidst the wreckage of the destroyed column, the woman's attack had left her dazed, however, she had more fight left in her. Unfortunately, as she got to her feet, she realized that the woman was gone. Then, the pain in her back and ribs...and everywhere else overcame her and she went back down to one knee to catch her breath.

“Yeah...I'm definitely not telling Leanna about this.”

The day had felt uncomfortably long, the hot sunshine on the bleak pavement seeming to bounce back ten times as strong, a furnace to his thick and sweat-soaked clothes - vest, shirt, coat, wide-brimmed hat. Beard, technically, though only for lack of less conspicuous disguises.

The smell of smoke lingered in his nose and the smell of vomit lingered in his clothes, and he'd kept to the alleyways with a hurried pace, head down and out of sight as much as possible despite his feet and belly begging him to take a break. He feared much more than the police right now, so close to his goal...

In his left hand he clutched the tattered paper - a shoddy pamphlet, dry and decaying at the edges from anyone's guess how long of drifting on the wind or clinging to awkward corners of roof-tops or tree branches. On its reverse side was a map to the district, a cramped and over-developed area north of Midtown. It seemed like an okay sort of place to live, but in that dense and unyielding way that was so common to city residences.

Will these people show you the way, Mansa? whispered the spider, its voice echoing in his mind in time with the constant, uneasy quiet of the place, Or will you show them?

They promise prosperity... but they wouldn't be holding a rally if they didn't need a little help, after all.

The meeting place of the rally itself was a humble street corner, a rummaged together black and silver stage like some sort of street band, aluminium pipes linked up to low-cost stage equipment. The pizza joint opposite seemed empty, as people avoided lingering too long in the area aside from those attending the rally...

And all around, steadily increasing as he got closer, was a number of posters and graffiti - both in support and violent opposition - discussing metahumans or magic. He'd noticed a slight uptick in the number of police cars on the main roads, but he had steadily practiced the art of remaining unnoticed through sheer quality of unlikable smallness.

"Bum dressed in decaying beige" was not exactly a fashionable look, and the thick, matted stubble around his chin was constantly itchy. It was hardly a fitting look for the title the spider claimed was his, but the greatest kings had come from nothing, hadn't they?

As he approached the crowd, his mind wandered to that morning, and the line between charity and pragmatism.

----

That morning he had rested in the blasted out shell of a building, the place he'd called camp, until eleven. The warnings of the spider from the night before had been for nothing more than a lost soul called "Jack", and through the night and morning they'd developed a quiet, sudden sort of bond, even sharing his last few snacks with the man.

Jack had been in even worse shape then he was, drunk out of his mind and clad in a spit-laden old bomber's jacket, the last remnant of a Jack Daniel's gripped in his hand and ever more stale at the inside of the bottle.

"Y'all awful sweet," he'd whispered, "Us nobodies gotta, uh-"

The majority of Jack's Daniels came back up in a stinking torrent, staining the base of Everett's trousers as his breathing laboured, his eyes deteriorating somewhat, trying to maintain consciousness.

Everett's eyes went wide, panicking at the sad, yellowing sockets where the man's own eyes still barely remained, diluted and dazed.

Will you watch him die? whispered the spider, You need not choose prosperity.

But Everett knew there was no danger here. Only dust, and despair.

Desperately, Everett reached into his bag, pulling out the last water bottle, carefully bracing Jack's head against his knee, leaning him forward to raise the bottle to his lips. Everett's nose curled and he wanted to vomit, the man's acrid breath close to his, though he quickly reprimanded himself, bottling the instinct and reining in his focus.

"Not worth worrying about. Prosperity or ruin my ass! Right now it's just two guys in hell."

Most of it dribbled down his matted beard, but it didn't matter. Everett watched as the man's lips curled around the bottle, sipping it slowly. Trace by trace the man's thirst took over, his body's survival instinct kicking in strongly enough to overcome the terrible desire for death that his conscious mind had clung to.

As the last of it ran out, and Everett slowly reached down to take the mostly empty whiskey bottle from Jack, he was comforted to feel the slow and rhythmic breathing against his knee. Snoring loudly but soundly, Everett took the towel from his bag - for the most part a ragged and dirty thing, unwashed for longer than he liked to think about - and curled it, a makeshift pillow.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Everett suddenly realized that he could feel his own chest pounding. The same sensation as when the secret service had been pursuing him, but now...

This relief, this energy of survival, was stronger than before. There was a meaning to it. Something bigger than himself.

He looked down at the empty glass bottle in his hand, and pondered what awful circumstances had led Jack to this situation. The point at which wealth was but one of the problems, something deeper and more wicked than gold could fix alone.

... But I can't leave him with nothing.

Your hands hold prosperity, but freedom's gift is still theirs' to choose.

Jack would wake up the next morning alone, still alive, with a vaguely bottle shaped lump of gold in his hand. Next to it was a note, with the address for a pawn broker - one of the few in the city who hadn’t yet had a stranger pay them a visit in gold.

…

Now if only the police weren’t on the lookout for reports of a bum with golden hands.

----

At the rally he lingered at the back, unnoticed by all except those who stood closest to him. He got a few grubby looks and one guy’s expression read like a bulldog staring at its own vomit, but he tried to avoid getting too down about it.

Their focus was drawn, after all, by the scene of the stage - the person about to speak was a someone, and a someone who would change the world forever.

---

Zoë paced back and forth behind the “screen” that shielded her from her audience. At the moment, there was basically no one out there, just a busy street, though she was certain some people had stopped and looked just because...well, what else do you do when there’s obviously going to be a show of some kind later? Of course she hoped none of her audience would come away with the thought that she was putting on an act, but she was sure there’d be doubters. After all, with how decrepit and alone most people felt around here, she doubted even a quarter of the people who respond in any sort of positive way. But she had to try.

She adjusted the cutoff charcoal pinstripe waistcoat, made sure her midriff was hidden by the white blouse underneath, and sat down in a heavy sigh. Sonya handed her a bottle of water without a word, which she cracked open and sipped on gratefully.

”How much time left before we start, Sonya?” The assistant didn’t even bother to check her watch before she chirruped “More than half an hour, if you want to get a game in, madame.”

Zoë regarded the small television hooked up to a playstation console in front of her cushy chair, looking like nothing more than a college dorm room setup behind a stage screen, and shook her head.

”No, best keep my head clear and not let them hear me cussing.” The phone in her pocket chirped at her, so she fished it out of her pocket, grateful for the distraction. Seeing the number associated with it, she quickly motioned to Sonya to abandon the area and keep everyone out, then opened the text.

The text read from the mysterious faerie mistress and recent employer The Ambassador.

.•♫•♬• Dear friend, where might I be able to find you for a chat?
I would love to congratulate you in person (୨୧ ❛ᴗ❛)✧
•♬•♫•.

Another text followed shortly after.

•♫•♬• (•́⌄•́๑)૭✧ My arrival would be immediate •♬•♫•

Zoë immediately looked around. She stood up, stuck her head out of the side curtain from the stage to find Sonya waiting patiently for her orders. “Get me the best bottle of wine you can possibly find in the next three minutes. Now.” The girl looked slightly offended, but suddenly blipped out as was her way. The villainess looked back to her phone and typed swiftly.

Oh yes! I have time now, if you know where I am. I live in Detroit, now. Let me know if you need directions.”
•♫•♬• None needed, please stand by.•♫•♬•

An equally quick reply vibrated Zoe’s phone.

Within minutes fiery sprites descended into the city, drawn to the unforgettable signature of Forge leading The Ambassador to her whereabouts with little to no time. Out in the open with very little to mask her arrival. A handful of feet away from where Zoe was relaxing, a visible line of light seemed to split through the air vertically. Slowly it widened, the grass around the sidewalk seemed to grow longer, the air tasted sweeter as the Arcane Stream opened up flooding life into the surroundings.

Within the light a door formed, solidifying from seemingly nothing, completed with the shiny golden door knob and hinges to match. The door opened revealing The Ambassador herself. Wearing a pair of squared framed Dolce sunglasses, a white long sleeved backless crop top snuggly wrapped at her neck, long black slacks with a pair of strappy open toed heels on her feet. Red lipstick, blue hair with loose curls. Never far from her shoulder was the golden chain attached to her little clutch purse. Pushing her sunglasses up onto her head, a bright smile as her eyes settled on Forge.

“Bonjour, Forge.”

”Mon dieu, even if you can do it, maybe give a girl some warn...ing” the villainess gave the Ambassador a long a shameless once over and then got control over herself and looked around for something to distract herself with. Her gaze settled on one of the controllers near her, and she grabbed one, almost without thought, and held it up towards her guest, her free hand trying to pull her dyed blonde hair into something not as professionally coiffed as her hair currently looked.

”Wanna, uhhh….play a round of a game?”

The lingering gaze did not go unnoticed by the Parisian. Making her way over, careful of stepping over the grass, “Pinstripe, always a bold choice.” Odette said with approval, looking down at the controller having never played video games beyond mobile games. “I am afraid you would spend more time showing me how to play instead of actually playing.”

Noticing the stage around the screens, she commented, “I wanted to commend you for the work you have done against the nearly extinct Hounds.” Her hand disappeared into her purse, up past her elbow. Removing a newspaper with the headlines, a full blown picture of the destruction Forge had wrought against the metalworks owned by The Hounds of Humanity. Holding up the paper, “Excellent work I am quite pleased with the results.”

”Oh, of course, we should get to business!” Zoë sat up, then stood, probably with a little more haste than the situation demanded, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Of course the chiens were no match for a real force of anything. Simple bullies to be put down. I hope you have already gotten the shipment of silver I sent you, and I hope we cleansed it properly?”

Odette squinted with amusement, “Oui, it was adequate. The silver was removed from what made it special. However, I fear The Hounds were simply a symptom of a much larger problem.”

As Zoë spoke, she paced, and her mind was in turmoil . What exactly was it about this woman that threw her so far out of her professional bubble that she had to scramble so? No matter, there was business to discuss, and she had had much.

”As you had requested, I eliminated any source of the weapon against your people I could find. A wide broadcast of locations occurring earlier in the month gave us a great deal of advantage and I do believe we even managed to wipe out their source of the material itself, though of course I cannot be positive of that.”

Just at that moment, Sonya blipped back in, holding out a bottle towards the center of the “room”. Zoë took it, muttered something in the girl’s ear, and then she vanished again, having never opened her eyes. Odette blinked unsure of seeing Sonya in the first place.

“...As you were quite thorough, The Hounds… The Winter Court better known now, have an arsenal of weaponry.” Odette replied, a lip turned up. “One step at a time, take more than they could ever hope to give.”

<My apologies, I was not expecting your company at quite this time. My offices might have been more suitable, though this is quite an acceptable venue for now, I think?> Letting her native tongue flow out of her mouth, Zoë found herself suddenly much more relaxed, though she suspected the scents on the air might have more to do with that than anything else. She wished her natural suspicions would come up to second-guess her, but they remained idle.

Odette smiled warmly, placing her hand against Zoe’s over the bottle of wine, responding in French, “<Apology accepted. This is fine.>”

Never unprepared, Odette was naturally curious of the mercenary meta. At first her resume fit the destructive power she needed to deal a blow against The Hounds of Humanity, Forge covered her tracks purposefully making it difficult for anyone (informant connections or not) to dig for more information about her. Interest growing by the sheer challenge alone, Odette wanted to know more about her. Clearly, Odette had captured her attention in turn. “<So, you have certainly struck me as an artist… a performance artist?>”

She gestured to the stage beyond the screen, “<If you don’t mind my curiosity, I was not expecting to arrive to stages.>”

”Hmmm? Zoë glanced to her side. <Oh, no, I mostly do standard pieces, you know, still art. This is for a separate project I am working on.> the girl flushed even more shyly from the sudden interest in her hobbies, and she quickly switched topics to avoid any further emotions from showing on her face.

<So what do I owe this visit, mademoiselle? Surely my email reports keep you informed enough? Are you here to renew our contract? I do not think it is quite up, as the job is not, by the letter, complete, although certainly the Hounds are less and less of a threat as the weeks go by?> She didn’t at all seem to notice the slightly pleading tone in her voice as she continued talking.

“<Quite the change in scenery from California.>” Odette observed. She brushed some hair behind her ear, “<The Hounds are a crumbling force, yes. I want to discuss changing the contract as the Hounds shrink into obscurity, I foresee us working together once more.>”

<Ah, of course. My current project is keeping me a little busy here in Detroit, but I am sure I can manage some time to deal with another matter, especially if it’s as…lucrative as the last job.> The statement had the hint of a question, though even flustered, the merc’s professionalism wouldn’t let her ask for financial figures until after the job had been described in detail. She swept her hand out, inviting Odette to sit on the little beat-up sofa they had found to set up behind the curtain. <And I am still curious about this organisation Jacques had linked us through, though of course I don’t mind direct negotiations. But typically my clients like a certain degree of plausible deniability in case the job goes poorly. Not that I’ve given them a reason to doubt me personally, but I am rarely the sole contractor someone is employing at any given time.>

As Zoë sat and looked just ready to fish into her pocket, Sonya appeared again, setting down tiny card table. She blipped out, then back in again, this time with a trio of wine glasses and a bottle opener, which she set about using fastidiously.

”This is my extremely loyal protege, Sonya. Sonya, this is one of my employers, you may call her the Ambassador.” As her business sense finally overtook her other mental gears, Zoë seemed to relax deftly. She took a wine glass with a nod of thanks and sat back, regarding her guest with an expression that was, while not quite so guarded as it could be and certainly not cold, told that she was certainly more centered now.

Sonya curtsied, smiling politely and offering a wineglass of a deep, bloody red liquid to Odette. “Mademoiselle, if you care for some?” she said, quiet and subdued. But her eyes flashed a warning that she seemed to be aware of every dynamic between the two and was not at all pleased with the situation, even if her manners were impeccable. Her entire air gave off that of an experienced diplomat or saleswoman.

Taking a seat on the couch she leaned up to pluck the glass of wine, making direct eye contact with Sonya, the loyal - protective protege. Aware of Odette’s attempts to lower Forge’s guard, while Forge was relaxed Sonya seemingly was stiff as a board. “Merci. A pleasure to meet you Sonya, great power is found in mobility I wonder how far you can teleport or if you are simply too fast for the naked eye to observe? Unique abilities are an asset, especially when one is smart enough to utilize them to their full potential.” Taking a sip of the wine, eyes not leaving Sonya, “Curating talent takes a particular eye, one that Forge clearly has for keeping you close.”

“I digress,” she said, adding with a low flirtatious comment “Lucrative work always finds its way to excellence, Forge. It seems you and I are both curious about one another.”

Turning her body toward Zoe, leaning her arm against the back of the sofa cradling her wine glass in the palm of her hand. “Jacques and I work for a long established, creeping international organisation, heading up its division in France. A stepping stone of sorts to connect America to Asia, we provide reliable and entirely discreet transportation of goods due to yours truly. Borders mean nothing to me.”

“I also work the high profile jobs, servicing a… close relationship with the mystery man at the head of it all. My ongoing interest in what is left of the Hounds of Humanity has become focused, the anti-magic division simply budded off recovering from the blows dealt. They are now known as The Winter Court. Witch hunters, iron cross wearing heathens marching under a banner of unbridled hatred with full intents to wipe the likes of me and mine from the Earth.”

“You can see why that would be a problem.” Another sip, licking her lower lip. “While they are fully prepared for magical retaliation, they are not prepared for-” She gestured to Forge. “You. I am currently working on my own way to undo them but there is a particular lieutenant I would confidently bet you against.”

”So you’d like me to begin a take-apart of this Winter Court, then? I’m going to admit, while anti-magic might not be a problem for me, I’m not entirely comfortable going up against unknown odds with an enemy who deals in something so esoteric.” The mercenary shrugged, took a sip, and glanced up at the curtain. ”While I maintain a certain degree of expertise, I’m not at all experienced with that side of the world.”

<Hell,>” she said, slipping back into their native tongue, ”until you contacted me, I didn’t know that part of the world even existed. And while I am sure I’d be dealing more with bombs and guns and whatnot, the chance of running across something nasty, even on a rescue basis, means I’d be completely out of my element. Which means my price goes up substantially.>

Odette considered that, nodding as Forge spoke, moving to French as well, “<The Winter Court… do carry a certain degree of surprises I will admit. It would simply be poor form to send you against them with little to no knowledge, obviously.>”

“<Regardless of price, I can match it. You’d become an asset, prepared and paid for the work.>”

”How long term a contract would this be? And how much of my attention would you like?” Zoë leaned forward, elbows on knees. ”Obviously I have projects going on, so if you’d like me to focus solely on this it would run up very high, but if this is only worth half my time, even long-term, I could probably charge you a little less. Given the resources necessary to track an elusive organization and what would end up being my overhead, I’d say you’re looking at an even million up front. It would be far less, but as we’ve gone over, I have little idea what exactly to expect in terms of their resources, and I’d rather not come crying to you with expenditure reports if I can at all help it.”

Leaning forward as well, she smiled, “<All of your attention would be a start.>”

“For this particular focus I do not believe it will necessarily require your full attention. My portals can deliver you to the necessary locations and remove you just as quickly without worrying of travel. Surgical strikes, hard hits.” Odette explained. “Charge by the job.”

”No offense, I’m sure your abilities are more impressive than they seem, but I am not willing to rely solely on someone else for transport. I’d much prefer to transport myself. And of course surgical strikes, I wouldn’t do much else unless specifically asked to, that’s my natural style. The up front charge was for research and locating targets, which means by necessity going to outside sources unless you can furnish the locations yourself.”

Waiting a beat with another taste of wine, Forge was insistently independant. Not quite on board with depending on anyone else, The Ambassador smiled briefly at the thought how familiar this all felt, eyes flickering down at her wrist, “You would not be the first disinterested in travelling by way of portal, convenient as it is. At the very least allow them to act as an emergency exit if you find yourself ever backed into a corner, a contingency that would serve to benefit only you.” Odette offered.

Reaching into her little clutch purse she pulled out a thick manila envelope, “I have various eyes and ears on The Winter Court, unfortunately they cannot get as close as I’d like them to. Naturally, you would want to make an informed decision before taking on any jobs acting as my scalpel against The Winter Court.” Forge was on the brink of understanding the level of threat The Winter Court posed not only to Odette but to herself if she choose to do the work. Odette saw an artist in Forge she also clearly saw a pragmatic individual, as a mercenary there could be a number of things she could ever want whether that was more money, fulfilling work or gaining a steady leg up in the world. It was all to push towards a singular goal. Moving parts of a bigger picture. Understanding that would mean Odette could provide exactly what she needed without recognizing it as a need.

First, was to present the challenge. A push.

Her brow furrowed, levelling her warning with chilling tone completely offset by her cordial approach since she had arrived, “Based solely on The Winter Court’s own actions they are well provisioned and in spite of their previous alignment they would not hesitate using all manner of resources to achieve their goals. They have collected a broken little line up of witches, fair folk, practitioners to defend against magical assailants.” Laying the thick envelope between them, raising her index finger, “There is little they will not resort to while defending themselves you may picture one horrible thing or another, you could prepare for weeks on end to counteract whatever they may throw at you and it would still be something different. If I had every scrap of information on them we wouldn’t be having this conversation, they’d be ashes in the wind.”

She shrugged so easily, casting her eyes away to the screens allowing another momentary pause while she drank her wine, “I understand if this is too risky or challenging, you proved yourself able to move against their facilities on your own but perhaps I came to the incorrect person to take this contract.”

”Tch, hold on now. If I didn’t like some risk and danger I wouldn’t have gone into this line of work. But mitigation of some extreme parts is good for long term career goals, oui?” Forge leaned back, glancing at the envelope. Her lips pursed for a second, eyes flicking idly, clearly not focusing on anything actually in front of her. After several moments, she nodded to herself and looked back to her mysterious client.

”Alright, we’ll assume from here I am working on this. Any time I find a target I will let you know, and you can decide, based on your own strategy, whether I should go or wait. I’m the boots on the ground, and you’re paying me, so I can only have so much autonomy here.” She stood up and began to move, thoughts moving ahead of her current situation already.

”Given the ongoing nature of our relationship, and also my current other projects, I don’t think I’ll need to charge you any retainer fee this time, and we’ll call it on a case-by-case basis for strikes. With the intel you’ve already got,” she waved her hand vaguely at the envelope, ”I should be able to dig up something big and juicy within the week. But since it’s your enemies and I’m just a contractor, I will leave grand strategy to you.”

Pleasantly smiling, success - she had no doubts. She responded, “<Excellent. If that is one thing I can guarantee is your autonomy, Forge. I find these terms to be agreeable,>” Raising her hand to shake, “<A pleasure doing business with you as always. Let me know if you change your mind about portals acting as a emergency escape route, you never really know when they may come in use.>”

Zoë nodded, holding out a hand for a shake, Odette grasped her hand finding it to be much warmer than she expected feeling as if she dipped her hand into hot tub water. Leaning over the space between them customarily giving Forge air kisses on both cheeks.

<I will consider it. Feel free to drop by here in a few days and I’ll see if we can’t do something fun instead of just business. I think there’s an opera coming in soon but I can’t remember the exact date. And if you’re interested, I can give you a tour of my facilities here and you can see why I’m not available all the time right now.>

Sonya appeared at her elbow, and muttered something in Russian. Of course.” She smiled at her guest. <You could also stick around if you’d like for the rally, but I’m afraid I’ve only got a few moments before curtain now.>

Checking the time on her phone Odette hummed in thought, “I would like to see the rally, my curiosity has been piqued since arriving.”

Gesturing to the stage she said, “Lead the way, mademoiselle.”

Zoë strode out from behind the curtain to look upon what faces might have gathered. The stage was set up on the corner of two streets, a pizza place behind her, in one of the more destitute areas. There were more than she expected, to be certain, pretty much all of them just standing around, chatting, trying to figure out what this was all about. They turned to look at her in twos and threes as they noticed she had appeared. She waited until the majority had looked up, not saying a word into the microphone until then. Once she had their attention, she took a deep breath.

Here goes nothing.

”People of Detroit!” she began, projecting as much as she could in her best American accent. It’s not like they could afford to block off traffic. ”How long has it been since you had a voice around here? Oh yes, you have a vote to be sure, but how long has it been since it actually got you what you needed? How long have you been paying for fatcat CEOs and corrupt officials to party with movie stars while you tried to figure out how you were going to pay for electricity and food this month?”

She had chosen her outfit specifically to raise questions about why she was acting like she was on their side, and by the look of several people, it was working. She had considered dressing down, and then realised that it might come off as pandering. Besides, she had to look successful for this to work. Hence she was also concentrating on not using her hiding power, letting everyone see her as her.

”How long have you had to jump from job to job as the owners of national chains sold off and bought up places, making more money off of lay-offs than you ever expected to see in your life? How often have you been at the edge of actual destitution, wondering if it was ever better?”

”Well, I’m telling you, here and now, that it’s your fault.” The faces in the crowd went from boredom or interest or perplexion swiftly over to anger. Zoë held her hands up in a ‘simmer down’ motion. ”You don’t want to admit, sure, but it’s true. You let these people do this. They walked in and said this is how it’s gotta be, and you let them do it. And then you went on, while life gets worse and worse, even long after it was clear that none of them had actually told an ounce of truth. So now you sit here grumbling about it being unfair, but it’s you being unfair to yourselves”

They were back to puzzlement, but a few had more thoughtful expressions now. A lot were still angry, and there were more of them now, as the crowd gathered from the nearby sidewalks. Odette stood off to the side of the stage watching with interest, a bemused little smirk poised. Unknown to many around them the fire spirits flocked to the stage to watch, inextricably attracted to Forge in her uniqueness. She looked to the crowd for reactions the perceived offense settled on them. Forge was ultimately holding their attention now, drawing more in. Her chameleon accent rang true to her own ears, had she not heard her true native tongue only moments ago to compare.

”There is of course, a way forward! And I am not talking about burning down your neighbours businesses in protest. That doesn’t change anything. No, you need to take control! You need to remember that they’re only there as long as you allow it! It’s their rule that you need money in order to campaign. You could do it on a dollar a day! All you need is the votes! They fed you the image that it takes millions of dollars and slick advertisements and lots of little things that were never really necessary, and you bought it wholesale, but it’s a lie.”

A voice from the crowd shot up. “So what do you want lady?” Mutters of assent echoed Got them. Now they’re interested. As long as I can keep them involved, I won’t have a hundred pissed off people trying to hit me.Scratch that, two hundred.

”Not a lot. I paint and do other art and I make a lot of money doing it! I got my TV and my apartment and everything I need. I just want you to stop being sheep and start being people again. You don’t have to take any of this lying down.” She paused. Now came the scary part.

She held out her hand. ”And I know how scary being the underdog can be. Just recently I had to deal with a whole lotta people wanting me dead, and they nearly succeeded twice.” Her fingers were suddenly wreathed in flames, the small, low energy ones. They danced and flickered. She carefully watched the faces in the crowd.

”Yeah, I’m a meta. I’ve got powers. I didn’t ask for them, but I have them. And I guarantee that there’s more in this city. And all those scared people who tried to kill us, they just had misplaced their fears. Metas are people, just like you. It’s not like having powers takes away your emotions, your compassion, your jealousy or greed. You’re still a person. What those people were scared of was change.”

Zoë leaned forward, and the flames on her fingers arced above her suddenly, a huge plume of dancing fire, sweeping around her like a cloak before calming back down and settling on her hair. The front two rows had winced in the burst of heat, but oddly none of them looked worried. The fiery theatre making this little slice out of their day memorable.

”That’s the thing about change, though. It comes whether you like it or not, just like these powers. So you’ve got to either adapt or run. Well, here’s what I say: We can change this city for the better. We can kick out all the fat bastards who live off your backs, we can change the rules, and we can even change the game. It won’t be easy, it won’t be fun, and we may even get hurt. I won’t lie, we’ll face fierce resistance from very powerful people. But we can do this. Together, we can take back Detroit and make it work again.”

”This ain’t a town hall, though. I’m not taking questions. But there’s pamphlets if you want ‘em, with the address of my building. You can stop by for a chat any time you want. Have a good day, people, and remember. It’s up to you.”

The flames went out as she turned, and walked swiftly back behind the curtain, listening to the chatter of the crowd behind her. Twenty out of the whole group would probably bother to come by the office, but that would be enough. And who knew? Maybe here had been a meta or two out there as well. The Ambassador’s expression shifted subtly, knowing full well her investment would be worthwhile in Forge. Unknown to Odette, Forge successfully captured the attention of the crowd and a certain metahuman at the edge of the rally.

She moved back behind stage, meaning to give her praise.

Zoë had moved back to her little sofa, and was doing her best to stay calm. Her hands were shaking like paint mixers, at least to her, though in reality they weren’t so obvious. She stared ahead of her, poring over what had just happened in her mind, face pale and little tiny beads of sweat on her forehead. She wasn’t used to sweating, it didn’t happen from heat. But the body still had its programming, of course. She wiped her face with the back of one trembling hand and smiled weakly at Odette as the Feyspeaker came around the back. ”well, that wasn’t a total failure, at least!”

---

Across the street from the rally, in a little bookstore halfway down the block, two people in suits sat at a little outdoor table, drinking tea and looking nonchalant. The woman looked off down the street towards the hubbub, whilst her dark haired partner read the newspaper. He glanced up at her. “Any clues?” he said in a rumbling baritone.

“Not as yet,” she said, brushing back a loose strand of auburn hair. Her accent had come under control only a little, and it was very obviously French. “I mean, it could be who we’re looking for, but they’ve never really been the public type, oui? Always in and out, no real solid evidence. Zis would be an extreme departure from the pattern.” Her finger pushed at this glass in front of her, and it was suddenly almost a slushie more than simple iced tea.

“Sure, I suppose,” said the man, “But Emily, we haven’t really got much of an established pattern to begin with.”

“You are correct. Well, once it’s broken up, let’s get a pamphlet and see what we can see.”

Abigail let out an expansive sigh as she got off the plane. The break from large populations had been nice, but as they had approached Lost Haven's airport, she could feel the pressure of an urban population's multitude of busy minds pressing on her again. At least is wasn't quite as bad as Boston. She shouldered her back-pack, the only luggage she had brought with her, and slid her sunglasses out from her denim jacket's breast pocket. Placing the cheap little things across her eyes, she made her way through Sherman Airport as quickly as she could. The rest of the team had stayed behind, coordinating with her through Courtney but unwilling to come to Lost Haven due to the rather higher than average chance of getting caught up in some sort of heroing.

Abigail scoffed at the thought. After all, just last month they had helped her fight a damned demon. Then again, the seemingly endless numbers of fights between metas in the city did give her some pause, but when Hannelore herself says go, someone in Abigail's position didn't exactly have much of a choice. So she had booked the ticket and hotel room, left instructions for the company while she was gone, and headed out, despite not knowing what the hell she was supposed to do here.

Once out of the front doors of the airport, she flagged down a taxi and took a ride to the hotel. It wasn't a rand affair, more one of those business traveller places where you weren't expecting to stay in the room except to sleep and shower and neither did the hotel. Even though the rates were fairly reasonable, she winced as she signed in. She'd have to do something about money while she was here, though gambling was going to be tricky. Maybe the old bar tricks would work?

There was definitely a queer tang to the signature of the city, she mused as she set her bags down in her room. She thought about changing for a moment, but it hadn't been a long flight and the white blouse and khaki shorts were probably fine, though she ditched the jacket in favour of an oversized maroon hoodie she'd had so long the logo on the front was worn off, not that she remembered what it had been to begin with.. She'd definitely need to snuggle into it later on when the noise got worse. As it was she desperately wanted a drink, but it was far too early in the day. And the amount she felt she'd probably need to drink was going to kill what budget she had.

Right, she thought to herself. Money, then drink, then find out why I'm here. As long as nothing horrible hap-

A shiver ran down her arms as she opened her room door. Something in this city was rotten, and not in a normal, oh-that's-how-cities-are sort of way. It had taken her a while to nail down, but something felt completely off kilter, like she was standing on an ice flow with no balance point. Something in this city wasn't working right in her mind. Or, now that she had noticed, lots of little somethings. Individuals?

This process continued as she got on the elevator, rode it down, and exited the building. She was still near to the airport, and let her feet carry her forward, not paying attention to where she was going. Her surface reading, always working, let her avoid walking into traffic or pedestrians, allowing her time to analyse what she was feeling. It wasn't spirits, angry or otherwise. She knew those were around, could feel where some of them were concentrated, but these new things were like holes in her psychic map of the area. Little tears, maybe?

The giggle dragged her out of her thoughts. She looked to her side and saw a tall black man- scratch that, he's a black as night- walking next to her. The top hat was bad enough, but the smell of whiskey and the white facepaint gave the game away. And then he spoke, and her brain nearly twisted itself inside out, because that was the little girl's voice that had been in her kitchen just a few days ago.

“So you noticed them, huh? They bother me. You need to get rid of them.”

“Are you seriously dressed as Samedi right now?”

“Well he's not around here, so I won't be upsetting him. And besides, it's not like he can stop me from using it.”

Abigail's eyes goggled. “What if someone says something?”

Hannelore shrugged. “No one will notice.”

Abigail looked at the people she was walking past. It was true. Their eyes seemed to slide over the area the psychopomp was occupying without noticing anything there, even though they seemed to make the subconscious decision to not occupy that same space. And it seemed that same field of...not invisibility, but disinterest had moved over her as well.

“I figured it'd be easier than having everyone think you were crazy. At least to begin with.”

Oka-ay.

“So what,” she asked, “am I supposed to do about these holes. Hell, what are they?”

“Oh, someone's being very naughty in this city. They're undead.”

“Give me a break. Undead arent-” She stopped herself. Of course Hannelore would know more about it than she did. And she had just gotten rid of a demon.

“Okay, so what? I just need to stake them or something? I'm not exactly much of a fighter, you know.”

“Oh no,” the skull paint widened as she grinned. “Not vampires. I'm fine with vampires. They're not really under my purview until they get careless.” The grin dropped.

“No, these are creations. And they use a bit of the soul to make. Which means the person can't move on. Normally I'd dispatch someone a bit more influential to do this sort of thing, but we've got our hands full dealing with some of the rest of the mess people made. Plagues are one thing, but wiping out a modern urban center means even we've gotten more than we can handle in one go.”

“Wait.” Abigail shook her head. “You mean these are zombies?”

“Hmmm.” The figure flickered, becoming the little girl again, sporting a tattered and stained black velvet Victorian dress. Bits of her hand were missing as she raised it to tap her chin with one bony index finger. “If I had to use a word in order to get you to understand it on a basic level, then yes, zombies is what I would say. Even though that is a very overly simplistic and completely erroneous description. Golem might be better, but only a little.”

“And how do I destroy these....whatever it is you call them?”

“Well, I'm not actually sure. I've not really seen these before.” The psychopomp hopskotched forward now instead of walking. Abigail was horrified to see bits falling off and regrowing in various places. “I would suppose your first step is to find who made them and stop them from making more, though.”

“These don.t urp, scuse me. They don't just happen like normal spirits?”

“Oh, no, these are definitely man-made. Probably literally. It's never the ladies who make the rotting bits thing, they always end up with demons or being witches or something. Only the men seem to want to mess with the rotty toys.”

And with that and a final hop, Hannelore turned to dust and Abigail was left standing on the corner, staring. And when someone actually bumped into her, she knew she was alone again. Well, as alone as she ever was. To hell with this, drink then money woes, she thought, and left at half a run to find the nearest bar as the surface thoughts of the city, held at bay by her guide's presence, came crashing back into her head mercilessly.