September had brought a chill to the nights in Serstol, the first frost happening a week ago, with temperatures remaining comfortable most days. Trees were changing colors, animals were preparing for winter, and the city was the same as it had been for almost two years.

Almost.

There were rumors flying around the city of changes to the Guard. That they were going to be opening using capes. The balance seemed to be shifting, and eyes are getting directed towards the Guard in scrutiny.

It didn't help that a small time group calling themselves Tag Team had been leaving graffiti over the Guard and the government buildings without getting caught. In fact sightings of the group, sometimes solo and sometimes having three or four members, were all but rumors to anyone outside the First Guard.

In the early hours a young girl with a skull bandana over the bottom half of her face walked through the fairly empty streets causally, whistling what some might recognize as an ancient pirate shanty. To the exceptionally observant, they might even notice that her shadow was just a tad darker than it should’ve been at this time of morning.

And then just as she passed by the Governor’s building she blurred, dashing forward, and disappeared through a window that was barely open. Anyone who might have seen her would be wondering if they had just imagined her or that the early morning was playing tricks on their eyes.



Matthew stood from the chair at the back of the stage, his blue eyes not particularly expressive as they briefly roamed the crowd. His footsteps quieted the murmuring, though he didn’t speak immediately. There was no microphone, he had to speak loud enough for his voice to carry. He was in his late 30’s, but looked far younger. He wasn’t particularly tall, nor attractive. Dark, short brown hair covered his head, though it was slightly messy in the front.

"Ah-Ahem. Good morning everybody. I know it's a bit early for everyone, doubly so for our night shift over there." His voice wasn't particularly deep or gruff, though it was masculine. He sounded at ease, the tempo of his words just slow enough to accomodate the more sleepless members of his audience. When he finished his first sentence he gestured vaguely to the darker corner of the room. A couple of Final Guard employees were there, ⁴sight and Slingshot included. "I imagine that they're the reason why our coffee pots had to be refilled the moment the doors opened." ⁴sight's face cracked the slightest of smiles, and he nodded his head a fraction, almost invisibly in the poor light. Slingshot nodded, a smile crossing his face as he raised his coffee cup. He let two beats pass, so as to not interrupt the scattered chuckles amongst the crowd.

"It's early for me too, but I wanted us to get onto the same page as soon as possible," His eye darted momentarily to the clock above the door, past the small crowd, seeing seven on the dot, before his eyes flicked to read John's expression. John was in his fifties, and looked more like a general without the pomp and circumstance than when he was in full regalia. Something in John’s eyes informed him of what he had already known--offering that little bit of acknowledgment to the midnight patrol had lost him some amount of favor. Sympathizing with the capes so directly was dangerous with John, and he was a dangerous man to lose favor with. It was not a good idea to get on the bad side of the man who had led the First Guard since its conception. Matthew continued on to the next sentence without pausing, his eyes going back to scanning the general sentiment of the crowd with a steady ease. If he had let it hang, it might've caused the slightest bit of anxiety in the younger members.

"I know I haven't had the chance to speak to some of you newer members," Matthew paused, moving papers to make the sound of him shuffling them. He had no need for the words on the page because he had already memorized the speech--this was a form of lip service, something to humanise him and bring him down to their level in some small way. "I'm Matthew Banks, the newly appointed director of the Final Guard. For the majority of you this will be my introduction, so I'll explain a bit about myself. I worked with the Protectorate and PRT in their original forms. I stopped working with both soon after the Alexandria incident." The name brought some people who weren't paying attention back to him. His face so far had been rather cheerful, genial even, when he had made his joke. Now, a bit of emotion colored his face. His lips tightened at the bad memory, his eyes drifting downwards towards the podium.

"Life was different, after. I was mostly working with standard law enforcement, but it didn't pay nearly as well. I chose not to sacrifice my principles and it was that much tougher when..." Matthew gesticulated, indicating the building, but also seeming to suggest the entire planet--the end of Bet. He took a moment of silence, in memory of what happened, not wanting to bring it up again. They had already experienced it and did not need further reminders. "I've been in Serstol for a year. I was working with First Guard rather recently when Article 114 passed, and trust me, I was as surprised as the rest of you when Final Guard began forming. Jonathan over there," he nodded towards the general, and the rest of the crowd followed suit. "Jonathan reminded me why we need capes. I'll let him tell you."

The older director had already stood and quickly begun climbing up the stairs on the right side of the platform leaving Matthew to stand off to the left side of the podium, free to take in the room without distraction. They were in a lecture hall with polished laminate wood floors and half of the lights were turned off, giving the room a mellow ambiance. Along one wall was an assortment of breakfast pastries and some coffee pots, and there was a good four feet separating the chairs and tables and the wall. Despite the fact that the room was clearly much bigger than its current purpose required, the way that the tables enclosed the seating gave the illusion of a smaller, cosy space that was almost just the right size.

In all there were about fifty chairs and forty people present. Fifteen of those were ex-First Guard members who had transferred, trained military men. four of them were capes, half of which Matthew could name off the top of his head. Six were journalists, specifically vetted by Matthew himself. Diana, the leader of the First Guard's Charlie Team, was present and looking towards her boss, while simultaneously looking extremely hungover. The rest Matthew didn't know, though he could intuit some information: a Junior Guard member here, a secretary there. The organization would grow, but for now it wasn't going to be trusted with the resources that he would've liked. John started speaking, and Matthew listened while watching the man in his periphery.

"The First Guard has been struggling as of late. Not with the jobs we've been doing, but with the jobs we can't do. We've been careful to not bite off more than we can chew, and have had an acceptable amount of losses over the years, but that's because we've let some criminal elements exist." John's voice was gruff, scratchy, roughened by cigarettes and time. Matthew idly recalled that it wasn't actually cigarettes, but instead cigars--that and brandy were his particular vices. He held himself tall, often towering over the room in more than just rank-- not just above them in standing, but just above them. "We need the Final Guard. To put it bluntly, we've needed them for a while, but the governor is a busy lady."

This admission of weakness felt wrong to Matthew. It was something that John wouldn't normally do. Did someone else write this speech for him? His eyes narrowed, almost imperceptibly.

"I'm hoping that the Final Guard will put an end to the more troublesome elements in play. The First Guard will try to cooperate as best as they can when needed, and hopefully a bit of training in the field will mean that our squads can work well together." John backed away from the mic, going back to his seat while the audience provided respectful yet quiet applause. Matthew joined in the clapping, only moving back in front of the mic once John was fully seated.

"Thank you John, I don't have any doubts about our cooperation." Matthew lied through his teeth, though it was unlikely the audience would pick up on it. "Our main enemies right now are some of the more resilient gangs that have popped up: Blood and Soil are a constant problem, Red Eye are a surprising newcomer to the scene, somehow having grown strong in a very small amount of time." Matthew saw nothing on the audience's faces that could betray any disloyalty. "Finally, the Fallen have set up camps nearby." Three people reacted to that, heads turning. Three people that Matthew didn't know yet, no one working for him fortunately. Did they know, were they members? Matthew's mind ran through the possibilities as he continued his speech without so much as a pause.

"We can beat these gangs, with your help. Powers or no, we can leave the city a safer place than when we started. Thank you for your time. I'll have a chance to talk to each of the new squad members today, even in a one-to-one setting if you prefer."

A few people rose to leave, retrieving their jackets off the backs of the chairs, while Matthew’s secretary Sandra hurried over in her heels to flick on the lights. He noticed some people squinting at the sudden brightness, Diana especially. Matthew gathered his papers, and moved to the steps while Sandra crossed the room to talk to the Parahuman Squad members, telling them they could grab more from the breakfast table if they desired as Matthew began walking towards them.

The group was SWAT, Slingshot, ⁴Sight, and a young cape the director didn’t recognize, who was wearing a mask over the top half of her face. They were all in costume, ⁴sight in a brown trench coat, looking like an old school detective, with only his black masquerade mask standing out. SWAT was wearing an FBI uniform, so dissimilar to the Final Guard and First Guard uniforms that it was almost nostalgic. Slingshot was wearing road leathers, a costume that Matthew didn’t actually like. Too many capes just wore motorcycle leathers as their full get up. The last one was the cape that Matthew couldn’t recognize. She was wearing a bird like mask over the top half of her face, with long dark brown hair. Her thin build, along with the brown hair reminded Matthew of his sister. He knew, power wise, she was pin that brought the team together but that was all he had. Fling, or something. He’d have to ask Sandra.



The sun was just beginning to rise, the cold chill of the night still creeping across the ground as a single leaf fell in front of her face. She reached out almost lazily, letting the slightly red-orange leaf land upon her gloved hand, before she held it up between two fingers to the masses around her.

“All things come to an end. The PRT, the Triumvirate, the world. Even Serstol. Because that is the inevitable fate that awaits everything,” she said, her voice muffled behind a black mask set in a black hood. Dark hair flowed out from the space between, wavy with streaks of blue, as she slowly rubbed her fingers together. The leaf, now shredded and falling scattered around her, was left forgotten. “But sometimes it needs a little help. Sometimes a little push. And sometimes...Well, sometimes it needs more.”

Her black boots didn’t make a sound as she stepped forward, sweeping her hands out from beneath her cloak vaguely towards the distance.

“The Twins understood this. The Twins knew how to shove, how to make the very land itself shove with them. How to make the powers of those who opposed them push with them. And so do I.” There was a moment of silence as even the animals and insects seemed to freeze.

“There’s one of ours who decided to make a bad choice. And somewhere out there, in that city, our family needs us. Rend, Transcendent. Take a dozen volunteers into the city. Find her. And bring her to me. Bring her home.”

"...even in a one-to-one setting if you prefer."

As the man behind the podium finished his speech, Enki pulled back from the crowd that had gathered in front of the electronics store's display window. Enki watched and listened to the crowd intently, making a note of their reactions, before writing it down in their notebook.

Enki reflected on the events that had transpired since their arrival as they began making their way towards the Final Guard HQ at a leisurely pace. Serstol was big; they'd spent days simply exploring and wandering, and yet seemed as if they'd only scratched the surface. Part of that was due to sheer size, and part of it was because of variety. The food here seemed particularly noteworthy in that department, though they hadn't been able to actually try any of it. That was probably the most glaring issue they'd have to tackle: money. Still, it wasn't like there weren't any options. A conventional job was likely out of the question, but then, parahumans often pursued other avenues of employment.

Enki flipped back the pages of their notebook as they rounded a corner, skimming over their notes for each respective day.

• Stares.

That was perhaps their most common remark. It wasn't all that surprising in hindsight; Enki not only stood out physically, but their clothing did so as well. That probably meant that some people had figured out they were a cape. Enki smiled at the thought. The attention wasn't wholly unwelcome—it wasn't like they were planning on keeping a secret identity, though the idea did feel a tad romantic in retrospect. Enki flipped to a new page, writing the idea down, before moving the pages back again.

• Secret crime-fighter?
• Secret crime-maker?

The page read:

Current priority: meet and learn about city's factions and groups. Heroes first, villains after.

Currently known factions:

• First Guard (not accepting capes.)
• Junior Guard (might be seen as inappropriate?)
• Tag Team (limited info. Should confirm rumours. Location might prove challenging.)
• Transients (small group, not openly recruiting. Bad reputation due to press?)
• B&S (white supremacists. Violent. Best to exercise caution or avoid altogether.)
• Fallen (Cult villain group. Endbringer worshippers with ties to old world. Violent; exercise caution.)
• Taggers? (rumours about group painting graffiti. Supposedly anti-government, pro cape. Warrants investigation.

As they finished reading, Enki added another name to the list.

• Final Guard (new hero group. Accepting of heroes. Old world Protectorate equivalent?)

Enki circled the newly added name, before smiling.

It took him courage to stand there in front of a group of state officials. The whole ordeal of actually working for the government made Judah slightly uneasy. After all, his last government position was with the FBI before he was fired for vigilantism. That was among his lesser offenses. Now he had been given a second chance. To start over and make a difference. He had tried to make positive changes from the outside in as a vigilante. Now it was time to change things from the inside out as part of The Final Guard. The hope for a safer city kept him there, despite his hesitant feelings.

Over the last couple of months, SWAT had done various patrols with the Final Guard. They were routine checks, nothing noteworthy. However, the feeling of being back in law enforcement was nostalgic to him. He immediately took to the work, pouring himself into it. He looked forward to facing off against the criminal parahuman elements of Samekh. His track record had been flawless so far..barring a few minor incidents. It was good to be back.

He quietly watched Matthew make his way over to them. Judah perceived with his power that Matthew was more complex then he gave off. His emotions were much like a stained glass window. Various pieces connecting to form a intricate whole. He would be hard to discern completely. SWAT raised his goggles onto his helmet to look eye to eye with the director. Then he removed a glove from his hand and extended it for Matthew to shake at an even angle. If it was accepted he would firmly grasp and greet him, "Sir."

Seeing him face to face was interesting to say the least. The man had no prior military, or law enforcement background. Matthew was pure public relations. As long as he stayed out of the actual mission planning, everything would go smoothly. Otherwise, not so much.

---

Seven days.

Seven days and the Fallen have yet to track me down. I can't count on my luck lasting much longer...

Edith thought to herself as she walked down the street. Edith had been awake all night, the threat of a Fallen member finding her making it impossible for her to bring herself to close her eyes. She might be able to power down for a bit if she found a crowded location maybe? No, the Fallen didn't care about killing civilians... Maybe resting near the First Guard headquarters would give her a safer place to sleep? They could possibly be enough of a deterrent for Edith to hunker down next to for a little while. Though if the First Guard got their hands on her it'd probably be just as bad as if the Fallen found her...

Edith let out a sigh, put on her dirty hoodie and headed towards the centre of town. Sure the First Guard wasn't a perfect option it at least gave her a goal.

It didn't take too long for Edith to run into a problem. A crowd. Edith had to force her way through the people, in an awkward mix of shoving and sidestepping. After breaking through the mob she noticed a figure ahead, judging from their getup the person was likely a cape. Perfect even more things to worry about.

Edith picked up the pace, walking so fast she was almost jogging. Hopefully, Edith could just breeze past this guy and get on towards the First Guard headquarters.

Enki had never liked large crowds. That was one aspect of city life they couldn't quite tolerate, especially since it felt so pervasive. Even worse, since their clothing was so loose-fitting, it was an easy way to get dirty, or even worse, have someone step on their toes. As such, Enki decided to slow down and stay behind the packed crowd of people in front.

However, Enki's thoughts were soon interrupted as a woman in ragged looking clothes slipped past the crowd and continued heading their way. Another thing to note down, perhaps? Enki thought as the woman seemed to be looking straight at them. Well, that wasn't unusual in and of itself, but she did seem to be in quite hurry. No, thought Enki, She's running from something, not to it.

Still, it was none of their business, so Enki brushed the thought aside, though not before offering the woman some advice as she passed by.

"You know, you'll probably attract a lot less attention if you take your time and try to blend in."

"We can beat these gangs, with your help. Powers or no, we can leave the city a safer place than when we started. Thank you for your time. I'll have a chance to talk to each of the new squad members today, even in a one-to-one setting if you prefer."

Ed stifled a yawn with the back of his hand. His body yearned for the sweet embrace of sleep, but it didn't seem like that moment was close at hand. Last night was a relatively boring affair, as most nights tended to be. ⁴sight and Ed had been on duty since 10 pm, and they'd shared maybe twenty words between each other. He was a quiet man, ⁴sight, but he knew his shit. Ed respected that.

His eyes then turned to SWAT beside him. They hadn't had a proper conversation yet, but he seemed a decent enough guy, maybe a bit too serious. And next to SWAT, stood Dart. She hated Ed from the moment she had laid eyes on him, and he had no goddamn idea why.
Ed's attention then turned to the Director, who was steadily approaching the group. Ed downed the last of his coffee and began mentally preparing himself to not pass out.

"Hey Charlotte, you're late."

Charlotte stepped into the store she worked at and looked at her manager. She was late by three minutes, due to some unforseen circumstances that she couldn't have controlled that morning. "Sorry! Sorry! I had to finish drying some pants, and my dryer added another few minutes when I wasn't lo-"

"Whoa, calm down! I'm just givin' ya a hard time. I'm not gonna yell at you over three minutes." Whew, what a relief. Honestly, the pants that Charlotte was wearing at the time were still a little damp from the ordeal. "You're already working a bunch of days this week that I didn't schedule you for already, so it's okay. You're at least here to work 'em, unlike Damien."

"I thought you fired him already?" Damien was quite the terrible worker. Always late, rude to the customers, and never cleaned up the shop later. Working with him was a nightmare, easily, and all the other workers were just itching for the inevitable day for him to go. Everybody hated him, and everybody also expected that since Charlotte was taking his shifts he had gotten fired the week before.

"I'm only the assistant manager. Trust me, I'd fire him on the spot, but the actual manager's the only one with that power at the moment, and you know the situation."

"Right... so... we're giving me his shifts so he gets worked up and quits?"

"Exactly. Think you and me'll be able to handle this shift together?"

"As long as you're okay with me possibly taking a quick 10 minute break at a random time. I... need to make a phone call, and I dunno if the office I'm calling will put me on hold for a long time or not." Of course, this didn't mean an actual phone call. It was just in case Charlotte had to go stop some criminals, which she hoped didn't happen. She wasn't very fond of being Aesthetic if it could get her in trouble, but if it needed to happen, it needed to happen.

"That's fine, as long as we're not really busy then."

"Cool. Well, shall we start opening up the shop then?" Charlotte pulled her apron's knot tight and her hood down as she walked towards the overturned 'OPEN' sign, waiting for the go-ahead from the assistant manager.

"Go ahead!"

---

"Howdy girls!" Kendall stepped into the sheep pen in their boots and overalls and found themself happily greeted with a paw from the sheepdog collie of the farm, Roscoe. "Heh, and boy." They dropped a hand down to pat the dog's head and snout before they began their rounds of the sheep pen. It was one of the things they had to do every morning, just to make sure everything was spic-and-span and there wasn't any sort of hazard lingering around, no matter how big or small.

Everything was alright at first, with the pen being fairly well kept in terms of the fence around it all. The grass was good, the stream that flowed through was nice, and everything seemed to be in order. It wasn't until a little while later that Kendall saw the fence was a bit broken in one area. Not very broken, it was just that a board had fallen down and needed to be fixed up. Without a moment of doubt, Kendall grabbed the board that had fallen and placed it atop the fence, balancing it on the two stakes that had the other boards nailed into it to make a nice fence. They'd have to fix that later. Right now they didn't have any nails on them, nor did they have a hammer.

Kendall looked back towards the rest of the farm before quickly looking at Roscoe. "Roscoe!"

The collie poked his head up, tilted, as he watched Kendall's every move.

"Were there any problems last night with the sheep?"

The dog got all the way onto the ground, almost imitating an army crawl, before putting his paws on his snout then standing back up with his dopey smile.

"Good. No troubles." Kendall stepped over to the collie and got onto the ground, rubbing the neck of the doggo and scratching behind his ears. "It's because you're such a good bodyguard of these sheep! Good boy! Very good boy!" Roscoe's tail wagging wasn't enough to convey their excitement as they began to grunt out in happiness.

After a minute of love, Kendall stood back up and looked towards the farm. "I need to go tell Ana that the fence is broken. I wonder if she's awake... meh, we'll find out. C'mon Roscoe!"

Roscoe got up to his feet as he trotted happily beside Kendall, the two heading up towards the farmhouse with a pep in each step.

It was a fine speech, she thought as she mingled with the crowd, it made her respect the Director more. She’d not seen much of the man since her joining, there’d been little need for them to interact, which was fine, she supposed. Mostly she’d done a few patrols with her new associates, well...that and power testing and paperwork. She’d learned more than she would have expected from the power testing, funny that. Though, it wasn’t too unexpected seeing as she’d only had her powers for roughly a year. At the thought a small frown flitted over her features, before they smoothed out again.

Her thoughts flitting elsewhere she remembered his mention of the coffee pot needing refilling and how two of her colleagues had reacted. Her masked gaze drifted down to her hands and she fidgeted, they were empty. Maybe he hadn’t thought to acknowledge her? She was rather new after all. Her lips ticked up faintly at a new thought. Maybe he’d thought her presence was obvious and didn’t need to be mentioned. The thought, no matter how unlikely it was, warmed her.

As the speech ended, Presidio turned away from the stage and to the rest of the Final Guard’s team, or at least those who were present. Her head tilted faintly. She’d done her research on them, but had yet to meet them all. Mostly she’d interacted with ⁴sight and Dart, the two she’d patrolled with before, the latter twice in fact. Thinking back brought more of that bubbly warm feeling up through her chest, brightening her smile.

She took steps forwards, gently making her way through the edges of the crowd and back to the other parahumans even as the crowd thinned out, most people leaving. Her eyes drifted to the two present she didn’t know and she felt her heart briefly flutter, her breath catching for a moment before she forced herself back under control.

'Focus. It’s okay, you know of them even if you haven’t met yet. Can’t be too bad. Heard good things. They’re competent capes. Look! SWAT is even shaking hands with the Director. A man of integrity' Her gaze darted back to Slingshot, the hero looked...decidedly tired based on posture, or maybe bored? Those were natural, he couldn’t be too bad.

Gritting her teeth against the anxiety in her mind, Kari steadied her beating heart as she approached and then offered the group a friendly wave in tangent with a winning smile. “Room for one more?” She asked, her voice steady and almost teasing.

'Thank god,' she thought, realizing that all those days and nights of practice had let her slip into the persona of Presidio rather than resorting to the hopeless shyness of her civilian identity. It was a relief honestly and her shoulders relaxed slightly as the anxiety faded into a quieter sort of background noise. Feeling more confident now, she glanced at the Director after casting her gaze across each of her colleagues. The man was engaged with SWAT, that was fine. She moved to shift her attention but remembered that the others were paying attention to the Director as well. All this taken in, she tested a posture, resting a hand on her hip and swaying her weight to one side as she regarded the man, eyes no longer darting between people. She swallowed slightly, hoping the progression had looked natural.

Maybe she should have hung back till they’d finished talking? No, that would have been much more awkward. Ugh….

Why did people have to be so hard?

Unconsciously she’d begun lightly tapping one finger against her hip, one of the few pieces of evidence that pointed to the emotions she was trying to keep hidden behind the “easy” smile and relaxed demeanor. She desperately wanted to make a good impression.

The Fallen were never this silent. Even during a sermon, there would be hoots and hollers of agreement. But with the leadership declaring action against a lost member of the Family, there was an undercurrent of... something... in the audience’s eyes. Too many things, maybe. Excitement. Trepidation. Bloodlust.

Daisy Ripper was personally livid. This was the sort of issue she took to heart, and she didn’t want to be left out. She rhythmically tapped her gauntleted fingers on the side of a tree. To those less familiar with her, it might seem like a nervous tick. To those that knew her better, it was like she was playing with a loaded gun. Trigger-happy in all the worst ways.

She took a step forward as soon as she heard the word ‘volunteer’. Hopefully they would find her.

Whisper looked over the crowd, reaching out and laying a hand on Transcendent’s shoulder before jerking her hooded head towards the tree where Ripper stood.

Her voice reached over the growing murmurs as people stepped forward as volunteers. “Take the new one. She wants to volunteer? Great. Then let us see what she’s got.”

Dozens of eyes turned towards her, the crowd parting for her to move to stand with the other capes. She approached the group with a small smile on her face. It wasn’t the smile of emotionally balanced people, but it was her smile.

“I’m excited to join,” she said, “I would loathe to have my family run away from me again.”

“Good to have you, Sister,” Transcendent said in a jovial voice, slapping a hand on her shoulder. He was in a good mood as usual, it seemed. “I hope you brought your A-game, cause this is going to be a mostly undercover mission until we find her. You might’ve seen her around, actually. Edith? Eh, about yay high, kinda red lookin’ eyes? Purple-ish hair. She stands out, you can’t miss her honestly. Spends a ton of time down at ol’ man Kiln’s? Ah, I’m sure you saw her around. Can’t imagine what got into that head of hers.”

Daisy gave a nod, flexing her armored fingers.

---

"MORNING BITCHES!" Ana yelled as she erupted from her room. Hmmm, no response... Kendall must've been outside working, good on her.

Ana groaned as she did some morning stretches, her joints popping and grinding together. Ana then made her way into the kitchen and plucked a beer out of the fridge. It seemed that L wasn't about at the moment, Ana just assumed that L had retreated into the bunker to work on her tech. Typical tinker shenanigans.

With another groan, Ana stumbled into the lounge room and flopped onto the couch, flipping the cap off her beer bottle on her way down. She briefly fumbled around under the couch pillows looking for the remote, after a fruitless search she let out a miffed grunt. _{"Why do people have to move things... I had it exactly where I wanted it..."} Looking to the left of the TV she spotted the remote sitting neatly next to the TV. Ana got up and retrieved the remote before sinking back into the couch and flicking on the television. "Wonder what shit's on..."

Ana was hoping for news on what the Guard was up to. If the rumours were to be believed, then the Guard was going to be seeing some changes, whether they were good or bad. Instead of the news, Ana was greeted by the morning cartoons. Perhaps that was a sign that Ana should lay off the cape stuff for today.

Coil

"I'll have a chance to talk to each of the new squad members today, even in a one-to-one setting if you prefer."

Was that everything?

Coil wasn't quite sure what the takeaway was, or why this meeting had been so immensely important. All of the officers would've been around for long enough to piece the presented information together on their own, right? This couldn't all have been for the benefit of a few newcomers, right?

Coil turned towards the people around her. Gruff members of First Guard and softer and younger looking non-powered members of Junior Guard. A few of them had increasingly weird scars. The most extreme example within her periphery being a woman that had a mass of translucent crystals in the shape of a hand lodged right into her face, leaving flesh and part of her inner mouth exposed. Flesh had partially started to grow over the crystal, similar to a tree that grew through an iron fence. An old wound, whoever may have caused it was probably either in prison, reformed or dead.

Coil began to regret her choice to stand in the back instead of moving to the front with the other capes.

"So! What's your opinion about the director?" She asked.
Might as well try to lessen the tension, Coil thought.

"He sounds okay thus far," one of the women replied. She sounded young. She must have been in her early twenties at the latest.

"He sounds like he's playing politics," the crystal-woman responded.

"He should," one of the First Guard with scars replied. This one a man, with a prominent jagged scar on his forehead. He didn't elaborate, opting to sneak a few glances at some of his coworkers.

Their conversation ended after that, while the quiet chatter of the other attendees started to fill the air. People who knew each other, people who had seen and celebrated success and victory in the past. People who weren't strangers or teenage girls completely out of their depth. It had all the same broad strokes and features Coil knew from her time as a Ward, but the atmosphere felt off. As if there was some kind of tension affecting the various Guards.

Coil needed to stop playing the loner and integrate herself. "I'm gonna go grab some grubs. Anybody want some?" A few people came along with her, Coil guided them towards the various pastries. She picked a cinnamon roll for herself and walked away from the food without pausing, weaving into yet another mostly empty corner.

After a bit of consideration, she decided to move towards the other Capes and one of the men who had spoken, still chewing her pastry. Somebody would surely tell her what she was meant to do here sooner or later.

People are dangerous. Capes are especially dangerous. Villains are potentially dangerous, but heroes will always make themselves a danger if you give them the chance. Change is dangerous; this Final Guard thing is change for the heroes. Further research required to know the big picture, but investigating dangers is dangerous, Audrie's thoughts buzzed as she walked down the rundown street, hands in the pockets of her hoodie, hood up, eyes on the sidewalk.

Normally she would mind her own business, but she had run out of scrap for tinkering again. Safety by the pound.

She vaguely knew that everything she did was illegal, but dumpster diving had been the kind of thing you didn't want cops seeing even before the world ended. That, and even --was it a year?-- on, any kind of caping still had that illicit itch to it, that edge of transgressing the fundamental rules of society. Any nervousness aside, she knew a few good spots in this home that never failed to let her down. First stop was an electronics store with a dumpster out back that had been good enough to her in the past.

---

As Audrie turned onto the street where her foraging ground was, she saw a crowd in front of the store, loosely gathered around a woman with long hair in weird clothes. Cape. Her fingers scrambling in the hoodie's oversized central pocket to verify the tinkerings she had brought just in case were still there (not everything she would bring on an in-costume mission, but including her modded phone and a few simpler traps), she picked up the pace slightly and took the first available turn off the street into a tiny alley between buildings, activating her stealth power once she was out of sight.

She was enveloped in that faint static feeling of her power, that coiled danger that --unlike every other danger, and she knew plenty of different kinds-- felt good and powerful and her's, and she could imagine what it must have looked like as she smeared or pixelated and faded out. She looked to the other end of the alley, thinking about how to get closer.

The tank that shoots first wins because most hits are lethal. Need to take the lead on information. Capes are dangerous.

A quiet alarm began to chime at four thirty in the morning. A large scaled finger swiping it away marked another night of little sleep, not that sleep had ever been a priority for Basilisk. His body rarely got tired the way it was, sore muscles just needing a few minutes of rest to get back to normal. The fibers of his muscles knitting back together and flushing away the cramps. There was never an exhaustion, even in the worst of fights. Just the worry, the fear, a bone tiredness that came from just being in the thick of things for far to long. Not that those sorts of things had plagued him in nearly a year. No, now his only worry was the sounds he had picked up through the half conscious state his altered form considered sleep. One of the kids had a cough, another had woken a nightmare bad enough that their roommate had been roused from sleep and had helped them calm down. He'd listened in but kept to his room. No matter how used the children were to his presence Basilisk's frame was still enough to freeze the unexpected who encountered him in the dark. He'd check the sheets once everyone was up and about and change them if need be. But for now he had to get ready for the day.

It took an hour, every morning, to make sure no knew spikes had grown. Nothing that could catch on his clothing or one of the kids. Any offending protrusions of scale hard bone snapped off and tossed into the flower box outside the window to rot away. Thankfully they didn't bleed so there was no reason to waste more time waiting for each snapped spike to heal. Then once the spikes were cleared away and clothes were donned Basilisk hunched his way out of the room and lumbered down the hall towards the kitchen. Thankfully none of the kids were running around this early and he could get to work preparing breakfast for the bunch. Claws punched through can lids as his tail retrieved ingredients from the fridge for the morning meal, pancakes and canned fruits. A little treat for the kids for the weekend and something simple for him to whip together, though it was using the last of the flour that they had left. He'd have to pick up more while running errands. The smell of breakfast soon began to draw attention through the halls as orphan and employee alike made their way to the kitchen to pick up their stack. They each thanked him as they grabbed the plates, but the eyes slid away before they ever reached his face. Still scared... He bit back a sigh continued to cook.

Once everyone had eaten and another one of Cynthia's people had taken over the dishes Basilisk called out, the kids who had been chattering quieting down as he spoke.
"Alright runts, I'm running out to get some sh-stuff... If you've got anything you need tell me now. Anything you want comes after."
None of the kids spoke up and he took it in stride. He had expected the silence and moved towards the exit, scooping one of the younger orphans out of his way with his tail and gently setting them to the side before he made his way out the front door. He cycled through the things he needed to get in his head. "Medicine for the kid's cough, flour for the kitchen, detergent for the laundry.. and maybe if I've got some spare cash I can pick up something to make brownies. It's been a while since I've made those. Since before the end of the world..." He grumbled as the thought came to mind unbidden and he shook his head. The flicking motion of his tail and head drawing a few wary looks from the other people walking the early morning streets. Ignoring the stares he hunched his shoulders and began making his way further downtown to retrieve the things he needed.




Samantha, Calvin Ball, was buzzing with energy as the men in charge wrapped up their speeches and the Director started to make his way towards the small group of capes that had gathered near the front of the chamber. She had to get up there, there were so many questions she wanted to ask and just meeting the man in charge seemed like something any cape looking to earn their stripes would do. But in her costume, the modified Junior Guard uniform she had been given, it wasn't like she could just run up there! There were the members of the other squads who had been called into attendance that shot her looks when she had gotten to squirrely in her seat, annoyed that the mention of super powered criminals in the streets seemed to energize the young parahuman instead of sober her. They were the unpowered, the ones that on the best of days would just ignore her in the headquarters and at worst would be on the edge of their seats waiting for even the smallest slip up. They wanted her to be punished, they wanted that dumb smile that always seemed to be on her face to be wiped away by another session of cleaning detail by herself instead of being out there in the city helping! And there wasnt a single bit of their thinking that Samantha resented.

Some of the members of other squads had been fighting parahumans since even before Gold morning, scars and cold stares told their stories. And to them she was one of the dangerous ones, reckless and unpredictable. Having bounced between Junior Guard squads since the beginning, all because of one over eager throw that had melted half their van and placed her squarely on the shitlist of everyone who hated the collateral damage that capes caused. And she had taken it all in stride. Late night patrols, hour after hour of pointless cleaning detail, running between offices acting as a glorified messenger girl in a mask, and being the only member of her squad that had attended the meeting that required attendance to be punctual or be locked out. She had accepted the task of taking notes (not realizing the event was going to be televised until she had looked up five minutes into the meeting) and now wanted nothing more than to be mixing it up with the other heroes! One of them was shaking the Director's hand even as she just sat there, staring through the wide lenses of her mask.

She had to get up there! She just had to! Maybe if she just waited a little longer she could make it seem like she wasn't so eager to rub elbows with the other costumed people in the room. So she put her plan into motion. Sloooooooowly she made her way to the table with all the food on it, warmly greeting anyone she caught the gaze of with a "Hello!" as she just grabbed a bagle and some yogurt off the trays. Then she sloooooooowly made her way through the small crowd of people. Moving between groups and trying to seem like she belonged to the conversations that immediately ended upon them noticing her presence. She continued her "casual" approach, oblivious to the fact that anyone with eyes that bothered to pay her half a thought would catch her staring at the group of five heroes with wide excited eyes.

Lantern Jack

Earlier today...

It was a quiet morning on the outskirts of Serstol. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming, kids were playing. The scent of baked goods exuded from a local bakery. Everything around these corners was peaceful, downright idyllic. The various overseers and capes were busy elsewhere - for the most part.

"Excuse me, Sir?"

One cape was around. He was currently busy brandishing his cane like a scepter, making a show of slowly turning towards the person who had addressed him. His name was Lantern Jack, a (currently) smalltime mercenary. His costume was basic, but clearly a costume - Suit and tie under a trenchcoat and Domino mask, with a top hat to round out his appearance.

"Hello, my child. Are you lost?"

The child shook his head.

"Please go die." The kid turned around and ran away on short wobbly legs, leaving Lantern Jack behind.

Lantern Jack watched the child and saw it duck behind an adult. An overweight woman of the same hair color, quite likely his mother. She was clutching her handbag and eyeing him the same way someone might eye the aged turd of a dog.

"Freak! Stay away from my child!"

Lantern Jack swapped into his Breaker state, causing the pair to recoil. The kid tried to hide, while the mother hurled her bag at Jack. A handbag, made from snakeskin. It flew right through, impacting the ground behind him. Jack shifted back a few seconds after. Meanwhile, the woman caught herself, getting busy cursing him out.

"Butthole," he muttered in German whilst moving towards the impromptu projectile. He grabbed the handbag and looked at the woman. After a few seconds of consideration (and insults of him being a thief and a villain), he hurled it further away. "You look like you could use some exercise! Both in body and mind," he shouted. The woman was still hauling insults at him.



Now...

"And then she sent her kid to get the bag," Manfred finished his recollection."Fucking Paraphobes."

Liz had nodded along to her brother's rant, only paying slight attention to it. She had more important things to do, being on the clock, working her office job as a middling importance interdimensional diplomat. She was currently busy contacting some corner world under the thumb of a random wannabe mastermind Supervillain to negotiate about opening up the other dimension for Samekh-based tourism. Apparently, some obscure mammal going by the name 'Palaeoloxodon namadicus' wasn't extinct on that world, which led to a ludicrous amount of scientists trying to enter it illegally. If everything went well on Liz' end, they would soon use official channels alongside their less reckless colleagues.

"That sucks. Hey, I got another client for you."

Manfred rolled his eyes, annoyed at being ignored. "Neat. Who's it, what's it, where's it?"

"Another one of my colleagues. Needs a bodyguard. The usual building."

"How's the money?"

Liz took a deep breath. "Ridiculous. Twice as much as the last job."

"That's not a lot. I made ten times this much as Irrlicht on a bad day," Manfred complained. He planted himself on a chair next to his sister. The chairs scraping noise briefly startled her, making her shoot him a short indignant glare.

"You should take more risky jobs, in other dimensions. Cathy called-"

Bringing Cathy up had been a mistake. "Fuck Cathy," Manfred cursed, interrupting his sister, "that backstabbing bitch-"

"Yes, I know," Liz interrupted him, "but she..."

"I don't care. When is this job?"

A deep breath left Liz's mouth. "Very short term. You have two hours."

"Alright. I'll be home once it's done." Manfred didn't bother standing up, shifting into his Breaker state. The dim ball of black light clipped into the chair. Liz groaned in frustration. How many times had she asked her idiot brother to stop being so blasé about his cape identity?

"Ask for a 'Jeremy King'. Don't come into my room after you're done, get takeout on your way back if you don't want to starve," she ground out. She knew Manfred, he wouldn't respond while being a ball. She wasn't sure if he could even talk right now.

The ball floated up and down, as if to convey a nod. When Liz didn't say anything else, Lantern Jack turned around and flew right through the floor, onwards to the governor building. Once he was out of earshot, Liz slammed her head into the keyboard.

---

Edith paused for a moment before turning back to look at the Enki. Of course, they had to notice, out of all the people there it was the one that looked like a cape who had noticed Edith. ” Thank you for the advice. But I suggest you mind your own business if you value your safety.” Edith’s words came off as more of a warning than a direct threat, her tone being more wary then aggressive.

“Mmm…” the robed cape seemed to consider Edith’s words as they stopped. “Fair enough, I suppose,” they replied as they turned around, their face adorning a smile despite the warning. “Truth be told, you have piqued my curiosity, but I’ve other matters to attend to at the moment, so I’ll just have to hope we cross paths at another time.” With that, the stranger turned around, their white robes whipping around with the movement. “Best of luck!”

Edith locked eyes with Enki for a moment, they didn’t seem like an immediate threat. But Enik’s interest made Edith nervous not only for herself but for Enki as well. Breaking eye contact, Edith looked around for the nearest alleyway; it was one only a couple of meters ahead. She then gave Enki one last glance before slipping into the alleyway without a word. She hoped she’d not cross paths with this strange person again.

Near the edge of the lecture hall, a young man wearing a black, white, and purple costume was resisting the urge to start bouncing his leg. Damien—no, Werelight when he was in costume, he needed to get in the habit of switching between his ordinary name and his cape name—didn’t find the speech boring, but listening to speakers and attending meetings wasn’t quite what he’d expected when he signed up for the Junior Guard.

He hadn’t expected the borderline hostility that he’d received from his fellow group members and its administrators, either. His team leader had reminded him of that yesterday when he claimed that the invitation Werelight had received was most likely sent to him by accident, and that he wasn’t important enough to attend the meeting. Werelight hadn’t trusted him. Sure enough, he hadn’t been summarily tossed out of the meeting when he had shown up anyway. He wasn’t even the only member of the Junior Guard present. He did receive a few looks, but Werelight was a relatively new cape; he was confident that was enough to explain it.

Werelight’s musings were interrupted by Director Banks’ introduction. One line in particular stood out to him.

"We need the Final Guard. To put it bluntly, we've needed them for a while, but the governor is a busy lady."

Finally, Werelight thought to himself.

Ever since he joined the Junior Guard, his new life had consistently failed up to his ideals. His foster parents were...unenthusiastic, and depressingly bad at cooking; the other members of the Guard had their own issues; and his and his team’s opportunities to make a real impact on Samekh had been few and far between. But this speech—delivered with the Director’s weight of authority—was a possible sign that things would change for the better. He hadn’t mentioned the Junior Guard so far, but the Final Guard was going to be called upon to take action, which meant that the Juniors would most likely be next. Right?

Werelight’s power stirred inside of him. Immediately, he focused on his attention on it, worried about the possible consequences if it decided that the middle of a meeting was the perfect location to start causing trouble, but the movement quieted down on its own a second later. Was it restless?Werelight wondered. He’d had his power for almost a full year by now, but he still couldn’t claim to understand what made it tick. He knew the broad strokes of its motivations, but its continued refusal or inability to communicate with him barred him from learning more. Maybe he’d work it out eventually.

He did know enough to say that it wanted to be used, though. Hopefully, the impending troubles with the Fallen and Blood and Soil would be an opportunity for both of them to get what they wanted.

Not that that that would be a good thing for the city of Samekh, obviously. Werelight had already spent time feeling guilty over the fact that he was secretly hoping for a chance to prove himself, a chance that would most likely end in chaos or death for some of Samekh’s many innocents.

In the aftermath of the speech, Werelight hesitated, uncertain about what to do. The Final Guard capes were nearby, but about to engage Director Michael in conversation. Without another Junior to back him up, Werelight didn’t feel comfortable getting involved in their discussion; he didn’t know the members of Final Guard well enough. However, nobody else in the room struck him as an obvious conversation partner.

For the time being, Werelight decided to stay where he was, listening in on the fringes of the Guard’s discussion. Perhaps another Junior would start a conversation he could get involved in—that would at least give him an option.

Ragtag was busy flitting through papers in the Governor's desk when she heard the most god-awful screeching noise quickly followed by even worse sounds. She paused momentarily before grabbing half a dozen papers and two manilla folders before she dashed out of the office, zipped through doors on her way out. As she neared the bottom floor a security guard turned the corner, freezing for a moment at the young teen barreling towards him before her appearance clicked with his training.

“FREEZE!” he yelled, drawing a baton. She, of course, didn’t freeze. Instead she laughed, like she was sharing a joke with the man, before she bolted around him faster than he could blink. As he turned towards her, his mouth opening in confusion, she raised one hand to flip him the bird, her other hand drifting towards her side.

In seconds she was out on the street, holding two cans of spray paint. Utilizing her power she quickly tagged the entire front entrance to the Governor’s office with a graffiti message before she bolted again, just in time for the guard to stumble through the entrance. He turned to stare at the graffiti, shaking his head as he pulled out his walkie talkie.

DOWN WITH THE TYRANT!

Many blocks away, however….



Goosebumps were forming on Spindle's calf, her skin burning where the wire pressed her dress into her butt. The wire was thick, braided out of a bunch of smaller wires, which were formed by smaller wire, seemingly endlessly. She could FEEL them intertwine, could even unravel it within seconds from the inside out if she so chose. Instead she made small movements, keeping it between her and the ground as it swayed. She was left momentarily deafened by a strong breeze, forcing her to move the wire to keep her from plummeting. One of her hands held binocular, raised but not in front of her eyes, while the other was resting on the megaphone in her lap. Spindle was wearing a light blue dress, with shorts on underneath. No mask adorned her young face, framed by short white hair. As the wind slowed, the beat of helicopter blades reached Spindle's ears, tingling and almost numb though they might've been. It grew louder, approaching her position. More wires were spread in front of her, a veritable jungle of tiny strands. The smaller more central wires had been painstakingly greased to keep them from catching the light, caring less about the thicker wires hanging flush against the buildings on either side of her. Some of those thicker wires were acting as supports for the smaller ones, some of them were bound and restricted by her power currently, waiting to fall and trap the fly in her web.

The helicopter got much louder as it rounded the nearest street corner. It was dark blue, with the First Guard logo emblazoned on the side of the Little Bird's frame. The nose of the helicopter dipped down as it quickly approached the ground before twisting and dragged the right side of the craft upward, fighting against its own momentum to end in a hover. Spindle raised the binoculars as it slowed to a crawl. The soldiers were quickly unstrapped themselves from the strut. They picked up their weapons and let themselves fall to the ground.. The person Spindle assumed to be the squad leader took the longest, grabbing his backpack off the floor of the helicopter as he slid off the seat and over to the strut before falling to the ground. He landed hard, one of his men already holding out his gun. He stood from the crouch he had fallen into and they started advancing into a nearby alleyway. The helicopter turned and spun up its rotors in the same motion, gaining height and heading directly towards her. Idly she tugged a white kneesock higher, her head slightly tilted and lips pursed as the thing approached her. She dropped the binoculars, and left the megaphone in her lap as she raised her hands. The pilot noticed her when he was around 300 yards away; he hadn't been expecting someone in his airspace, despite the city's cape population. He tipped the nose up, trying to bleed forward momentum into vertical, and the rotors touched the first of her strands.

Spindle's hands moved in unison with the string, crossing in front of her. Psychic grasp released, the small leads fell as large wire suddenly swung outward, faster than gravity would allow them. Brute force meant no precision, but she didn't need precision. The helicopter's blades met one of the thickest pieces of wire, and warped suddenly, cutting through the wire while slowing significantly. The entire vehicle was already turning sharpy, twisting over itself when it hit the second wire. Too many things happened at once. Without Spindle even asking, more wires moved, pressing underneath the helicopter to catch it while the ones above quickly halted the rotors. It was loud, wrenching metal and the crack of her spindles snapping. A majority of the speed had been sapped, though the helicopter was still toppling. Spindle felt the wire move in her grasp, not entirely in her control as it rushed to compensate.

Finally the great beast stopped, hundreds of wires and wires within wires cradling it. A mere fifty feet from her, its rotors chipped in too many places to count, and the ends bent. It had broken a majority of the wires that touched it, but had lost the fight to quantity. Spindle raised a couple dozen of the recently wires into the air, guiding them to the cockpit to wrap and worm themselves around the pilot. Slowly she raised the megaphone with her hands, rising to her feet, ready to begin the show. Careless step after another she didn't fall, as she paced along her tight rope, holding the crowd so far beneath her absolutely transfixed. "Hello, my name's Spindle. I've got a hostage, and one term.

“Disband the First Guard."

---

Through his peripherals he watched the other members of the FInal Guard, as he accepted SWAT’s handshake with a firm grasp. A slight shift in the group meant Matthew could see one more member, Presidio. She had slipped his mind. That was a bad sign, that a cape under his employ was completely forgotten. He would have to take their files home tonight and memorize them. He could do a bit of flashcard work, read their histories a couple more times, and make himself that much more presentable to them. Speaking of acting more presentable to them, Fling was glaring daggers at him. He had heard a note that she’d been less amenable as of late, but this was a bit more than that.

Already in one of his team member’s crosshairs. Sometimes it couldn’t be helped, he would have to talk to her privately asap. ⁴sight looked dead to the world now that Matthew was closer. His costume concealed a lot of his features, but Matthew had met the man when he had a full tank. Running on empty changed one’s posture, where they put their hands, all the little things added up. That observation was doubly true for Slingshot; even without seeing the boy when he had a full night's rest, Matthew could sense the lack of it. SWAT was raring, and Matthew assumed, reading. Emotion manipulator and sensor, a terrifying person to be around. The other powers present were fancy and flashy, causing direct damage often enough. SWAT however, he could be subtle. Matthew had specifically told his various staff to not mention on their own a rule against using his power on the director. If asked, they were to respond that SWAT didn’t have “write permission,” in different words.

Presidio was last but not least. It was almost the feeling that she was a kindred spirit, a younger version of himself. An actor. It was good acting, honestly, only her own self doubts about her performance giving it away. He smiled at all of them, the act wrinkling the edges of his eyes. He spent the slightest second more smiling at Presidio before speaking. "Nice to meet most of you for the first time. Faces in a file-" masks, not even faces "-are so much different from meeting you all in person." Matthew said as he released SWAT's hand. Matthew opened his mouth to say something else, but Sandra interrupted him.

"Sir, the three Junior Guard members you invited are also here. Make sure to set aside some time for them." Matthew had completely forgotten. The invitation had been written a month in advance, one of the first plays he had made. It was sent a week ago, and had since slipped his mind.

"Of course. Thank you Sandra. Can you find them in the crowd and tell them I'll be with them in a moment?" He said, his tone polite. Sandra didn't answer verbally, just giving a nod before moving to follow the instructions. She had short black hair, and looked stereotypically secretary to the point of cliche. Matthew had asked about it once, and Sandra had seemed confused about the inquiry. Turning back to the gathered heroes, Matthew reached up to scratch the back of his head, giving the impression of being slightly embarrassed. Surface level. "I'm not at all used to being called sir. Some of the staff even started out trying to call me Mr. Fielding." Lowering his hand, he stood straight again, as if to reassert control. All of this was the game. All of it was politics, all of it was public relations, all of it was talking with people and shaping their view. Of you, of the company of the agency, it didn't matter. The expectation changed, the standards flexing with time, and boundaries redrawn.

John was walking towards them now, having just gotten off the phone. "I didn't actually want to set a time limit, I wanted instead-" He interrupted himself, looking over at John who had set a hand on his shoulder. As he did, he noticed how the room had shifted, light hearted before turning to quick conversations on cell phones. The news crew Matthew had been ignoring in the back of the room was packing their stuff up as fast as they could.

"We've got a situation. One of our helicopters was incapacitated by a shaker, and the pilot is a hostage. We're going to need your team's help, we can't lose that man. It would destroy team morale to have another death this month, and–God–he has a wife. It's only one cape, but we can't close the distance or take a pot shot without risking. . ." John trailed off, his voice tinged with barely supressed rage. Even though the man was a complete hardass, but it was clear that the soldiers under him did mean a lot. Fixing this without a causulty would mean John would owe Matthew.

It wasn't guaranteed though. Looking back at the heroes, his eyes instantly rested on ⁴sight. "Can your team mobilize?" Matthew asked. ⁴sight didn't immediately respond, but something about him convinced Matthew that he would say no. John spoke before either ⁴sight or Matthew could.

"I have the authority to pull some strings and allow some of the Junior Guard members at this event to join you. You can form two teams, with Dart commanding the second. I know you don't like having squads of five, ⁴ Sight." It was diplomatic, but also rushed. That would reduce the size of the favor.

Matthew was already nodding, keeping his eyes on the squad leader. ⁴Sight nodded tentatively, then nodded again more firmly. "It'll work. We can learn about the threat on the way. You don't mind commanding the Junior Guard Dart?" He asked, turning towards his compatriot. She looked surprised and a little uncomfortable about the prospect at first.

"Not about stealing glory, but I think it's better for our teams to have a consistent leader, and it’ll give you more field experience. You’ll be given the information from on high and will give them a briefing." ⁴Sight noted, trying to quell Dart’s worries. She reacted well to that, seeming to steel herself to the prospect. For SWAT’s benefit, ⁴Sight added ”I know you expected to lead a team sooner rather than later, but I want Dart to get some experience now that you've already gotten.”

It would be done then, two teams versus a single shaker. It was all too convenient though, wasn't it? On the day of his announcement, the First Guard runs into trouble they can't handle. Who was pulling this string?

---

The first Junior Guard that Sandra found was the very inconspicuous Calvin Ball. Without hesitation she put her hand on his shoulder, leaning down to say ”The director will see you after he has finished with the Final Guard. Come with me for now, I want to gather the rest of your Final Guard compatriots together.” Her voice was that of an older woman who didn’t like dealing with children. Calvin acted like a puppy who had just reached the end of his leash. Guilty, but still wanting to act. Sandra brushed it off quickly and searched for her objective.

Next was Coil, who was a bit less conspicuous. She was also in full costume though, so still very conspicuous. This one was wearing a–a witch costume? With Calvin close behind, Sandra approached her and spoke without trying to grab her attention beforehand. ”Coil. The Director is going to see you soon, with the opportunity to schedule a 1 on 1 interview in the future.”

"And he'll tell me why I'm here, right?" Coil said, sounding suddenly uncomfortable.

The communicator in Sandra’s ear buzzed briefly before beginning a message. ”A shaker has been spotted a couple blocks away, seemingly by herself, and she took down a First Guard helicopter. The Junior Guard are going to be gathered, and mobilized in a temporary squadron. John already approved these orders.” Sandra straightened as she listened, before speaking again.

”Change of plans. Come with me.” Sandra said, already turning.

A simple ”Oh, okay." was Coil’s response, barely heard as Sandra searched the crowd. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Calvin basically hopping up and down, very excited. She suddenly moved, approaching Werelight from behind and put a hand on his back while she leaned forward.

”There’s an emergency, your temporary team leader will brief you. Come with me, now.” She said firmly.

Werelight flinched, but after composed himself soon after. “Understood,” he said, rising from his seat. He began another sentence but Sandra was already moving, approaching the group formed near Matthew. His expression was thoughtful, and slightly grim as he looked over the Junior Guard members.

Sandra watched him, it felt like he was sorting through tones he could use for this particular conversation. ”Dart over there is going to be your temporary team leader. We’re going to brief her, and then she’ll brief you on the way to the helicopter. If you don’t want to participate in the mission, now is your time to back out. Otherwise, follow her commands, and it’ll mean great things, maybe even a full career as a cape in the future.” The tone he had chosen was guarded, seeming distinctly concerned about sending them into combat. Still he seemed confident they could handle it.


The wind was whipping through the open sides of the jeeps as they roared across the country side, dips and bumps in the dirt road jostling the passengers as the Fallen search party shot across the flatlands between the forest and the city. Several hours had passed since the meeting and their eventual leaving.

Rend was driving, Transcendent hanging half out a window of another, while Ripper was plopped in the passenger seat of a third vehicle. There were almost two dozen Fallen alongside them, and another two vehicles in total, while they talked through walkies on a special frequency.

“.....happen to know where she is?”

“Sanders saw her around the edge of town a few days ago. Couldn’t approach by himself.”

“Xaya noticed someone matching her appearance when she was out shopping yesterday around the food market.”

“So she’s moving inward. Towards the Guard?”

“Sounds like it. Maybe she’s hoping to use their base as cover and a defense to keep us away?”

“Maybe. She’s gonna be alone regardless though. Guard won’t help someone like her.”

“I don’t know. You hear about Final Guard? Bunch of capes being recruited as a fucking task force.”

“Eh, they won’t take her. She won’t go to them directly anyways. And, besides, we’ll get her before she even gets the chance. Bring her home just like Whisper ordered. She can’t get away from me,” Transcendant said confidently. “Think she’s probably gonna hunker down somewhere nearby. We’ll check hiding spots first, then go into the more likely places. We’ll divide in half, and I’ll take the newbie.”

The chatter died down as they approached the city limits, everyone carefully adjusting their face protection as they passed the first farm.



"Was it strange to be there again?"

"No, why would it be strange?"

"Weren't you rejected the first time?"

"It's not polite to bring up a lady's failures."

At that Percy faked a guffaw. Vanish rolled her eyes, smiling slightly. They were in costume, Vanish looking particularly punk, dark leather, chains, and Percy. . . Well Percy didn't actually wear costumes. He had a hoodie on, the hood flipped over his head and sunglasses. Percy had never cared that much about the whole secret identity thing, always saying "I'm here for a good time, not a long time." It always sounded hollow though, he had been going to college when they met which cost money. Investing in one's future was not what the people who didn't mind dying did. Unless they were shorting it.

'Shorting' was about where Vanish's investing knowledge ended, and so did the metaphor. There was a reason she had failed out of college. It made her uncomfortable to actually think through those reasons, preferring the apathy of partying, drinking, drugs, and this. Percy opened the door for her, a sarcastic smile on his face. Vanish scoffed with equal sarcasm, but went through the door. The bank would've been beautiful, but the rejection of her internship made it ugly at the same time. It seemed to Vanish that the place was rotten underneath. The horse with a limp had to be put down. It would break the bone over and over, not knowing that it's continued action would destroy it.

Percy was gliding across the floor his torso barely bouncing as he approached a teller. One of the guards was already moving to intercept him, the smallest detail having given Percy's hostility away. Smiling at the mistake she could chide him about later, she raised her hand. The projectile was silent, despite being almost supersonic; the brick shattered as the guard's leg shattered. That was less silent, a violent cracking redoubled by the bricks crumbling

A few seconds passed before chaos erupted around them. Percy had jumped the counter, knocking a teller out with a swift kick in the same motion. He moved to intercept another one as Vanish looked for more security. "Put the fucking money in the bag." Percy yelled as Vanish's rested her eyes on the next guard. He flinched, undoing the clasp over his pistol. Steeling his nerves, he leveled it on Vanish and shot. There was no wound in her chest when she raised her hand again.



Manifold stretched, not that she really needed to. It was an old motion that made her feel good, though, while she observed the pieces of her midsection in the mirror, looking for anything that stood out as abnormal.

She’d been up for the last 8 hours while everyone else slept tinkering away at herself. Adding, improving, making better. She’d even figured out a way to better improve her production systems in the process!

Upstairs she could hear movement as the other two got ready. She was about to join them when her phone lit up with a text message.

From TL:
Panzerstahl moving. ETA 15 min, 5 mile south. Maybe more or less depend on movement. Going towards the city. Big tank, heavy, two more of the old model too.



She stood up proper, shutting herself back up as she walked towards the stairs that led out of the guarded bunker. Pushing open the secret door in the floor she stepped into the lounge and pressing her fingers together for a sharp snap.

<<We’ve moving. Nazis in tanks, 15 minutes, a few minutes away.>>

Enki watched as the metal bird above their head flew by. The thing had them transfixed, though they couldn’t quite remember what it was called, the word being just on the tip of their tongue.

Heli… something or other.

As it passed by, Enki noticed there was writing on it, and although it seemed to be moving to land, it was still a little too far away to be legible. Enki turned to watch the flying contraption as it moved away and downwards. Enki drew in a breath as their body started heating up little by little.

1...2...3...4...5 seconds. Not quite enough. 6...7...8...9...10.

Enki flexed their arm. They felt the strength, the weight, felt the air brush their skin more clearly, could hear and differentiate the voices in the crowd much better, and smell the different smells that the city offered. More importantly, however, they could see better. Enki squinted, and the flying machine came into focus, and had just enough time to read the emblem emblazoned on its side before it disappeared out of view.

Crossed swords behind a tower… that must mean.

The vehicle belonged to the First Guard, then. That would certainly explain the armed soldiers. Enki frowned. As interesting as this vehicle was, there was probably little to be gained from interacting with the First Guard, and it would probably do Enki even less good if they decided to interrupt their mission.

And so, Enki noted down the event, before moving along. It was only about a half minute later that Enki found themselves turning back towards where the helicopter had assumedly landed. Enki couldn’t see it, as it was now obscured by the rows of high-rises, but they could definitely hear it. Metal. Snapping, tearing, breaking, bending, all in a span of seconds. Had it crashed? If it did, it didn’t sound like it had caught fire or exploded, so the likelihood of there being imminent danger was...

“Disband the First Guard."

Ah, so that’s how it is.

Enki sighed, before smiling. The day had only just begun, but it seemed that they were about to be sidetracked already. It took them about a minute to reach the site of the ‘crash’, and Enki had taken that time to ramp up. By then, their body was hot to the touch, just a little below the point where their body would begin to start steaming to release heat, so it wasn’t yet obvious that they had been using their power, though those with keen eyes might have noticed the air around them hazing, though even that wouldn’t last long, as their body would begin to cool down.

As Enki arrived on the street, they realised what had really happened to the helicopter. The thing was caught and ensnared in a veritable latticework of metal wires, roughly fifty metres off the ground. From there, Enki’s gaze moved to the culprit: a young woman sporting a dress. They found themselves smiling, even as they crossed their arms. Enki could appreciate a cape who had a good sense of style. Enki pondered their next course of action as they studied Spindle.

After a moment, Enki decided not to intervene, at least not yet. Enki wasn't sure if the woman had allies, but if she did, then they’d be making enemies. Moreover, intervening like this could be seen as stepping on the First Guard’s toes, and that would likely sour relations with the Final Guard as well, and that was even worse. If the woman attacked Enki, or forced them in, however, that would be an entirely different matter.

---

Edith walked a couple of meters into the alley before looking over her shoulder, the stranger hadn't followed her that was good. Edith's shoulders sagged a little as she let out a sigh of relief. At this point Edith had no idea who she could trust, agents of the Fallen could be anywhere. Like cockroaches... Glancing around the alley Edith guessed she could probably rest here, she wasn't super close to the Guard HQ but that was probably for the best. Alleys around the Guard HQ probably had cameras in them.

Edith leaned on one of the alley walls and closed her eyes savouring the moment of quiet. The moment didn't last, of course, the loud sound of a helicopter approaching quickly crushed any sense of calm Edith felt. Helicopters were never good news. There was almost always something wrong somewhere if a helicopter nearby, be it some clogged traffic or a bank robbery helicopters were always there to be a set of eyes in the sky. The sound slowly levelled out and settled, it seemed that whatever was going down was only a block or two away. That was... Much closer than Edith would have liked, though if she stayed put she would probably be safe.

Then suddenly the sound of rotor blades breaking caused Edith to run out of the Alley and look in the direction of the sound. She couldn't see it from where she was but whatever was going on the helicopter didn't sound like it was going to be airborne much longer. Edith quickly decided to run the opposite direction to the sounds of the crash. Edith heard someone talking over a megaphone, but the wind rushing past her made it impossible to tell what they were saying.

Edith full sprinted at least two more blocks away from the event. The distance made her feel a little safer, but full sprinting down the sidewalk would have obviously put some eyes on her. Not to mention she was now another two blocks away from the Guard HQ. Shit, this wasn't good. There was too much going on and there was no alleyway to scurry into. This situation was only getting worse in Edith's head, at this rate she was going to have a panic attack.

Basilisk had placed a single clawed hand against the door to the bank, intent on withdrawing the cash he would need for today’s shopping and already expecting the normal hassle of suspicion and delaying. But he did not expect the door to suddenly rip open away from him and a tide of panicking people to stream out. He heard screams at his appearance, people’s eyes wild with the terror of being trapped between himself and whatever had kicked this off. He felt a man strike him in the hip as he barreled past him and knew that he was going to need to get out of the way before someone got crushed. Reaching up, the reptilian man dug his fingers into the brick and hefted his bulk up and to the side. Frozen people saw the opening and darted away while the more sensible victims kept their bodies and heads turned his way while doing their best to not get trampled. One person tripped and his tail lashed out, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her to the side before she could get stepped on to many times. He matched her terrified shriek with a growling snarl.

“Shut it lady. Get up and go.”

The order given he loosened his grip. There was a scramble as she got to her feet and ran, the uneven sound of broken heels clicking on the road fading away quickly. As she ran Basilisk squared his shoulders, the flow of people from the early morning bank crowd quickly dissapaiting before him. This was something he didn’t want to have to put up with, the heroes were just as likely to attack him when they arrived but if he left there would be witnesses saying he had guarded the door. Nothing he could do other than act. With a low crocodilian growl he ducked down and stepped into the bank, slitted eyes scanning the scene. He could smell blood, the scent of a recently fired gun, and the whimpers of the people who had chosen to cower instead of flee surrounded him as the people saw only a new threat arriving. Two people in what could barely be called costumes, a pain in his tail if he were being honest.

“A bank robbery, a bit cliche for villains. But I guess a couple of thugs can’t think past movies. Now why don’t you just get your asses out of here before I rip you both into pieces?”