The happy smile that was on Tom's face due to seeing Grace and walking over to her was wiped off his face in a split second as Grace immediately insulted him for being drunk. He took a step back, looking genuinely wounded at her comments, before he crossed her arms at the softening of her tone. It was too late for that, thought drunk Tom, as he looked at Grace with a slight frown, simply pretending that Rumi wasn't there even when Grace attempted to make some small talk with him. "It's a party, I'm allowed to drink at a party, and especially a party hosted by my best friend. That doesn't make me an... an idiot." He chewed on the last word, looking at Grace as severely as he could while tipsy.

And then he was suddenly interrupted by a fairly drunken Joseph, who seemed to take it upon himself to barge in and give him some, what, advice? On how to deal with the situation? There wasn't even a situation to deal with, Tom thought to himself indignantly as he looked at Joseph. "I don't know what you're talking about, Joe... Stuff being lost, room temperature, you're not making sense, I don't need you to tell me about... stuff. There isn't even any stuff. So juuuust..." Tom moved Joseph's hand off his shoulder as gently as he could for a drunk person. "Go back to drinking, I don't need any advice, I don't even have stuff to advise on! Especially not from you, alcoholic..."

Tom was then distracted by a familiar voice, and he saw Jamie suddenly running at full speed and entering herself into 6 cartwheels of a moderately decent quality. Tom laughed and cheered her as she cartwheeled along before dunking into the pool, Tom feeling some of the water fly out and splash him. But he didn't really care, it was just water after all. The smile from his face went again when he looked at Grace. "Whatever... If you don't wanna talk to me just because I drink, then fine. I'm allowed to have fun, but I guess being fun makes you an idiot!" He said coldly before turning on his heels and walking over to the pool, snickering as he looked down at Jamie.

"I don't know whyyy you did that, but it was awesome... Next time you should do seven... No, eight! Yeah, eight... High five, anyway!" Tom crouched down and gave her a hearty high five before standing up and walking back past Grace, Joseph and Rumi and back towards the house, seeking out another drink, and maybe someone else to talk to. Hopefully someone that wouldn't care if he'd had a couple of drinks... Yeah, someone more fun, that he didn't have to know all about quantum physics or whatever to be worthy of talking to.

@Hitman @Scarifar @Rabidporcupine @canaryrose

"Well you're pretty and handsome!" The young hero chimed back as they settled into place, the pair now being surrounded by several other inebriated dancers. As they danced, Brie wobbled unsteadily on her feet, being only mere moments from toppling over. Luckily she had the sense to grip onto Will's arm and was able to steady herself before she fell unceremoniously to the floor. Wedge sandals may have been a cute pairing with her outfit but they were a disaster in the making after a few drinks. It really was a miracle that she had not yet found herself face-first on the floor. "Whoops, that was close!" She grinned tipsily, moving her arms so that they were loosely wrapped around his neck, the added height from her shoes at least being useful for something.

Looking him up and down, Brie couldn't help but let out a small laugh at how they were moving. It wasn't how she'd normally dance to club music but it was nice anyway, even if Will did look incredibly awkward. "I like dancing with you." She smiled lightly as they swayed back & forth. It was a pretty obvious thing to state but Brie was drunk, and drunk Brie often blurted out things that needn't be said out loud. Unfortunately for Will, she wasn't being the greatest conversationalist at that particular moment. There was a lot of things sober her would want to say. Like, was he okay and where had he been? But current Brie barely knew what time it was, let alone ask such serious questions.

This thought was soon interrupted anyway when a Starbright favourite, 'Elaborate Posing', started blasting through the speakers. Even a heavily inebriated Brianna couldn't help but pull a face at this, her nose scrunching at the autotuned pop. Unfortunately, she had also remained oblivious to the several people who had dashed onto the dancefloor, eager to break out their best poses as the chorus began. Brie was wholly unprepared for this and when a hero roughly barged past her, she lost her balance, her legs suddenly slipping out from underneath her. This time the world actually was spinning as she tumbled to the floor, and she was unable to stop herself from letting out a loud squeak of surprise.

"Ouch..." Brie blinked as sat up, looking extremely disorientated. Luckily it was carpeted floor so she wasn't really hurt but she still had no idea what had just happened. Most of the people around her were so drunk that they hadn't noticed her fall and were still aggressively posing. Glancing around, she suddenly realised that she'd half-dragged Will down with her, not having had the sense to untangle her arms from around his neck. "Oops, I'm sorry!! Are you okay? Are you hurt?" She began to needlessly panic as she attempted to pull him closer so she could look at him, failing to notice that she was still sat in the middle of the crowded dancefloor.

@Infinite Cosmos

---

The Fourth of July; the celebratory day of American independence. Samson was long familiar with this explosive day. If he was honest, it was among his least favorite holidays. Not because of the patriotism, or most of the festivities. No, it was the night's end that proved troublesome for him. While it was entertaining to see the fireworks, the sound was what ate at him. Ever since a child, he would have to be careful where he was on this night because of the curse of his hearing. Otherwise, he'd become nearly deaf for the following few days.

Other than that, the eventfulness of the day often worked out in his favor. Kept him out of the house. Away from the lackluster thoughts that he always ran from. Therefore, in spite his wariness of colorful explosives, Sam was here in the Von Brandt household. He simply brought noise cancelling headphones to go with the earplugs he always wore. While he did manage to join in some of the shenannigans, he often found himself in a corner contently keeping watch of the chaos when the party took a turn for the drunk.

Though, when that got old and Grace started pulling out fireworks, he took to exploring; finding that Blake and his father had quite the guitar collection in the basement. Naturally, he was inclined to try a few out. At that point, he sort of lost himself in playing. He played along to some of the party music that he could hear upstairs, then just songs off the top of his head that he felt were fitting.

While he was down there, he noticed a bottle of whiskey and smiled a little. It reminded him of his good friend Zee, all those months ago. He didn't hear much from him now though, after the Gugliano mission. Though having sent him to his step-father for guidance, it was clear his friend would never be the same after that day...He was doing it again. Spoiling the fun by overthinking little things.

None of that today, was what he told himself. So, he decided that there was enough of being cooped up down here for the night and he went back up. Once up, the smell of alcohol was strong, though, the stumbly people made him smile in amusement. It only took a second to find those of his herd that he knew, taking notice of Brie and Will. It seemed all well and good, though his eyebrow twitched when B crashed to the floor. While impulse would have been to go check on her, she had William there and he could be rather territorial at times. So, the hunter would respect that and keep back for now.

With them being a little more drunk than he thought, he decided that staying up here would be the better idea. That way he'd be able to keep a closer eye on things before anyone got hurt too badly. He wouldn't parent it though, so he headed to the kitchen to grab snacks. Settling on a bag of ranch tortilla chips, Sam took a spot on the couch.

Eyeing Tom on the approach from outside, Sam waved to the gravity manipulator.

The music choice from the DJ was not something William is much used to. A mix of Top 40, Pop, and R&B it seems. William moved somewhat awkwardly, not really know how to act in such situations. Should he put his hands on her waist? Should he try to imitate those scenes from a club that he has seen through various media outlets? All the thoughts made his movements stiff and unnatural, as if he was trying to find a balance in between being an young adult in a club and a responsible adult dancing with their partner.

"I'll take handsome. You're the pretty one." He replied with a soft smile. Somehow, her words always relaxes him. His gently placed his hands on her waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck. When she stumbled slightly, William moved to wrap an arm behind her to steady her. "Yeah. I would offer to take your shoes off and carry them for you but I don't know how clean the floor is so..." William said, shrugging slightly.

At Brie's comment about dancing with him, he leaned down slightly to give her a small peck on the cheek. "And I like dancing with you." He whispered to her. In reality, his first thought was saying something along the lines of 'I like spending my life with you'. But he obviously thought better than to just blurt that out. It wasn't a guarantee that she would remember it anyways. In any case, William continued to sway, albeit awkwardly, to the beat of the music with Brie in his arms. Meanwhile, his thoughts would randomly drift from the party to actually spending the foreseeable future with Brie. What would that even look like? What would that even be like? If Brie was to look at him during this, it would seem like he was just absentmindedly swaying and he was peering into the distance.

The music change snapped him back to reality. Ugh. Why was Starbright's song being played here... Shouldn't Blake pop out of whatever canoodling he was currently engaged in and put an end to this? In any case, the song started, and a flock of drunken guests rushed to the dance floor to aggressively pose, like some idiots. One of them, some no one that more than likely snuck into the party actually had the audacity to barge in to the mass of people so aggressively that they essentially pushed Brie down in the process. For William, it was more the fact that one moment they were standing and dancing, and the next William felt his line of sight suddenly change. In an attempt to not fall, Brie grabbed William and dragged him down. Taking a moment to process everything, William immediately turned his attention to Brie. "Ah. I'm ok. Are you hurt?" He got on one knee and checked on her, gently moving her arms and dusting her off a little. In between caring for Brie, he would glare up at the buffoon that charged past them and knocked Brie down. It was his lucky day that Brie was here and he was a no name.

In one swoop, William swept Brie off of the ground, one arm under her legs behind her knee and the other behind her back holding her up. William stood up and walked off and out of the dance pit. Finding a small clearance, he set Brie down and looked her up and down, making sure she wasn't hurt. "I'll go get you some water, or would you rather I stay here?"

@Danvers

The Fourth of July found Angelica Alexander in a very …uncharacteristic circumstance. While normally, the eldest Alexander would be perched on the very edge of the party, watching the goings-on with an expression oscillating between confusion, bemusement, and horrified affection, today she was at least somewhat more involved. Blake would be proud.

The young woman, clad in a white, off-the-shoulder crop top and navy blue miniskirt, stood amid a crowd of heroes that she did not quite recognize. Her usually impeccable makeup was already a bit smudged, eyepoppingly bright red lipstick lightly smeared at the corner of her mouth and her eyeliner blurred as though she’d rubbed at her face with the back of a hand. She swayed to the beat of the music that was playing – she couldn’t be entirely certain of the song, that’s how loud it was, but the bass was loud enough to reverberate through the floor and drown out the noise from outside, so it was a good enough place to be for her.

Angie stirred her cocktail, a fancy red-white-and-blue layered slushie in a margarita glass, and tried to remind herself that the night was supposed to be fun. She’d honestly thought it was going to be, up until the fireworks a few nights ago had rendered her panic-stricken and useless, curled up in a shaking ball in her bed with a pillow squeezed tight against her chest. Lots of teens smuggled fireworks in for the season and had their parties early to avoid getting caught, it seemed, because the first two weeks of July in their neighborhood were always laden with firework noises and sirens. It had been no different this year, and so she was running on very little sleep and quite a lot of emotional stress, and yet – here she was, at a party. One of the biggest of Blake’s parties that she’d ever been to…

She hadn’t mentioned to him the thing with the fireworks inducing her panic, or any such thing; he was such a sweetheart but she didn’t want to cause him any worry. Truthfully, also, she was afraid to mention it. She’d long been involved in all manner of sneaky operations and had used her fair share of firearms and explosives; the noise hadn’t bothered her, beyond when she was very young and new to this whole line of work, so it was incredibly frustrating and self-hatred-inducing that now, as a grown-ass adult with a grown-ass job and a grown-ass track record of covert ops, she could suddenly not even bear to hear a firework go off without her mental state collapsing.

She’d downed two shots right when they got here, quietly and sneakily enough that no one had really noticed – or they’d thought she’d done her usual thing of taking shots of water, to appear to be in the partying mindset while still maintaining her wits. Nope, she’d taken two shots of some alcohol or another – she’d honestly not been paying attention to the label – and it had certainly had the desired effect, blurring together the world around her and hopefully staving off the panic that she could feel rising from even thinking about what was to come. Clumsily, she took a large gulp of her half-melted margarita, scrunching up her face slightly. Extra strong was certainly an acquired taste, one that she had not yet acquired.

She thought she heard Blake’s voice, cutting through the thumping bass of whatever R&B chart topper this was, and she stumbled as she limped through the crowd in search of him. “Cupcake?” Angie mumbled out, the word noticeably unclear. She definitely heard him shouting upstairs, and hovered near the stair railing waiting for him to return. Seemingly, she missed him through the fog of alcohol, but it was easy enough to pinpoint him by his obnoxiously bright hair. Wobbling on her feet, she limped off after him, paying little mind to the person he was talking to as she slipped her free hand into his. “You’re handsome,” she whispered, giving him a moderately-inebriated smile.

---

---

Parties at the Von Brandt house had never been Eliza’s scene. First the Halloween, then the pool party - they’d both been absolutely catastrophic for her.

But today? Today was special.

Adjusting the blanket she’d wrapped herself in, tucking it under her chin instead of up over her nose as it had been, she grinned up at Patricia, sleepy affection written all over her face. She snuggled closer against the taller girl’s side, adjusting the placement of her fingers between Patricia’s. Her gaze lingered on the soft upwards tilt of her girlfriend’s nose, the barest suggestion of her dimples, the smooth line of her jaw…

It was very hard to resist the urge to kiss her in that moment, but doing such a thing would require readjusting, and the two had just managed to get comfortable. The blanket pile was warm and inviting, the documentary just interesting enough to take up the majority of her background attention while not trying to distract her from the beautiful human being she was cuddling with.

Gosh, Patricia was her girlfriend. Just the thought made her giddy, though she quickly bit down on the thought. It was secret, for now – at least at work, and at home, and everywhere but at school. Lots of people had seen them kissing at prom, after all, and though everyone in her quintet had been incredibly accepting, it was yet another reason now for her to be excluded from and shunned by many of the groups at school… she pushed the thought from her mind, resting her head on Patricia’s shoulder and squeaking happily at the gentle forehead kiss, managing to peer up into her hazel eyes for a brief moment, before refocusing on a loose wisp of her hair that caught the TV’s blue light.

“This is wonderful, really,” Eliza tried to reassure her, her voice soft and for once not tripping over itself. She really meant it; her heart rate had settled back to normal and the panicked, nauseous tension in the back of her throat was but an unpleasant memory, the tingling in her fingertips mostly gone. Her ears still rang, but that was normal for her, sometimes for hours after a sensory meltdown. “You’re wonderful. This is perfect. So are you.”

Eliza gently stretched up in her seat, clutching the blankets so as not to let them fall, and placed a soft kiss on the side of Patricia’s jaw. It had been meant as a proper cheek kiss, but she’d misjudged distances. Oh well. It was a kiss, and set the butterflies to gently fluttering beneath her ribcage again as she snuggled back in, her attention idly flicking back to the montage of photographs currently being narrated on the television.

Alpha was out like a light before he noted that something felt off. Then, he awoke in this new strange place. The last thing he remembered was helping with the "after party" of the Blake's residence when most of the party attendee's had left.

Then there was the gas...and like a damn rookie, he was caught.

Understanding the situation, Alpha had just laid there but listened as the super villain now ID'ed himself as Nero while talking to Firebird. He told them about their location. During his speech, Nero had said that the place was "abandoned movie set for a Marcus Aurelius biopic". Alpha knew his way around the city and even the country so he had a good idea as to where EXACTLY they were at.

But even so, it was a moot point if they all wound up dead or couldn't even contact anyone on the outside.

Now standing up after hearing what he guessed was the end of Nero's speech slash laying the rules of his game out, Alpha began checking himself over. Of course, he was disarmed. His police issued side arm and it's hostler were gone along with the shock baton. His tactical vest though was still present so he did have some protection but every one of his communication devices were gone rather obviously.

He then heard Firebird trying to lift the spirits of the captive hero's with his usual smart talk but even Alpha knew how bad their situation was. They were on the super villain's home turf. No doubt he had the place rigged with traps, camera's and listening devices and who knows what else. He had two hero hostages to ensure they all play by his rules. He didn't seem to care about killing hero's either.

Even more so innocents as he then noted the Ogre's approach...noting two corpses of people they had eaten it seemed.

While Alpha did question on how Ogre's even exist, he simply dismissed the thought. They were walking threats and they had every intention of taking their lives if given the chance it seemed.

"...I got these...I'll see how well they fight at least if any want to step in...Firebird...all of you...conserve your strength...I've heard some things about Nero and while he may seem..."strange"...he's rumored to be a Tier B plus villain but that's just a rough estimation. He's a hired villain, usually working with whoever pays him the most..."

That's when Alpha's body began to glow as he tilted his head left and right while balling up his hands into fists.

"...master abductor and a skilled fighter in his own right...his power allows him to manipulate any sort of metal within his range...still...he hasn't done anything so bad to warrant H.E.R.O. intervention from what I read in reports but he's very elusive...still, I wonder who hired him to pull a stunt such as this that could put him on every hero's radar slash hit list...", Alpha said in a monotone voice.

He then began walking towards the Ogre's, just walking past Firebird...

Brie smiled gently at Will as he checked on her, compliantly letting him move her arms this way and that. Even if she had hurt herself, which she probably hadn't, the alcohol pretty much numbed everything so she felt perfectly fine. She might have a couple of bruises in the morning but that wasn't exactly anything to cry over. "I'm okay. It's kinda comfy down here actually." Brie had no intention of moving herself but suddenly Will had picked her up, proceeding to set her down in a relatively quiet spot away from the circle of dancers. Her gaze briefly strayed back to them, letting out a light giggle as someone who looked suspiciously like Piranha Man attempted (and failed) to do the splits. Distracted by this poor attempt at gymnastics, she only just registered what Will had said, her focus quickly flitting back to him.

"Oh, no! Don't go!" She pouted, wrapping both her arms protectively around one of his. "Can you stay with me please? You might get lost if you go!" Her eyes widened as she said this, apparently thinking that this was a real possibility. Patting the spot on the couch next to her, she attempted to pull him to sit down before resting her head against his shoulder. Will was so great...and this has been a good party. No, the best party! She'd have to tell Blake so tomorrow. Yeah, she'd definitely remember to do that. She was certain of it...

The next day...

Brie kept her eyes squeezed shut as she slowly came to, trying her best to will herself back to sleep. She didn't want to wake up yet. It was way too early. And why could she hear voices? Did Jamie have the TV on or something? Oh god, she was probably watching Glee again. She wasn't sure if she could deal with another rendition of 'Don't Stop Believin', especially if she was hungover. Last night was a bit of a blur but she knew for certain that she'd drunk a lot. The last thing she could recall was sitting on the couch with Will and then there was just...nothing. It was a little strange but not unheard of, so she wasn't particularly worried.

Shifting on the floor, she suddenly realised that she wasn't in her own bed. Her exposed skin felt cold against the hard surface she was laid on, and she couldn't make out the usual weight of Dogs head as it rested against her feet. It wasn't uncomfy per se but it for sure wasn't the lumpy mattress she was used to. For the briefest of moments, a wave of panic overcame her as she was pulled back to all those times she had slept on a cold floor. But, no, she was being silly. This definitely wasn't Brookside. It smelt way too nice.

Begrudgingly, she peeped open her eyes, inwardly cursing at the bright light. She could recognise the form of Will not too far from her which was reassuring at least. As she fully came to, she realised that the voice definitely was not any of the Glee cast and was infact, one that she didn't recognise. "Urgh, why is he talking so loud. Will someone tell him to shut up." Brie grumbled unhappily, placing her hands over her ears in an attempt to drown Nero out, every word he was saying sending a sharp jolt of pain through her head. Sitting up, she blearily blinked at the television screen, a wave of dizziness overcoming her as she tried to focus on the image in front of her. Brie's hair was a complete mess, half-falling out of the buns she had tied it in, and she roughly pulled at the hair ties to let her long brown locks fall down her back.

"Wait, what...why are Grace and Eliza on TV?" Staring at the screen, her very tired and very hungover brain was unable to make sense of the scene at first. "They don't look so good...Oh..." As she slowly began to comprehend Neros words, her face paled, partly from worry and partly from the nausea that had begun to settle in her stomach. Brie had no idea what had happened to them but it definitely was not good. In fact, it seemed very very bad. At least Blake seemed confident. He said it would be a walk in the park, so that meant things were probably gonna be okay. She hoped so anyway - she was far too hungover to die.

Unsteadily getting to her feet, she meandered over to Blake so that she could take a closer look at the map he was holding. Bries face was a picture of confusion as she tried to make sense of it, the young hero being unable to understand even a single word in latin. "Nope sorry! I don't know what any of those words mean. Looks like gobbledygook to me. Er...why don't you let Rumi have a look? He's like totally smart and stuff." She gave a half-hearted shrug before wandering back over to Will, taking to leaning against him whilst she watched the unknown hero. "Who's that guy?" Brie whispered, her green eyes tracking the stranger as he wandered outside. She had completely missed the part about ogres so she had no idea what he was talking about. Maybe he was still drunk or something. Yeah, that was probably it.

@Infinite Cosmos @Hitman @DarkRecon @Scarifar

Rumi's eyes opened suddenly, and he pushed himself off the ground. His head swiveled from side to side as he attempted to regain his bearings. He had been lying on a stone floor, marble if he was not mistaken, which explained why he felt so sore and cold. All around him were the usual group of people he hung around with, either unconscious or slowly waking up. The decorations around him brought thoughts of Rome to his mind, which he thought was odd, but he quickly brushed the thought aside. He thought back to what had happened, and remembered the orange gas that had knocked them out. Rumi had thought it strange that there would be rain, despite the weather forecast predicting a low chance of it. Whether it was a coincidence or manipulated, Rumi couldn't say, but whatever the case, it had led to the ambush.

Just as Rumi decided to determine just what was going on, the screen flashed on and revealed the mastermind behind the show. Nero, a Roman-themed villain with a rather annoying ability to manipulate metal. At the very least, Nero was willing to reveal the location of their prison and its defenses, clearly too proud to conceal such details and confident that they could not overcome them. "No Blake, not 'odor', 'ogres', though I can't imagine their odor would be very nice either," Rumi corrected Blake as he followed him outside. "Anyway, the Lombardo’s Ogre is an A-minus class threat, a hulking beast of fat and muscle with the durability to match, and certainly not native to the Americas. Also, it travels in large packs, which means we may end up facing more than one at a time." This also raised the question of who managed to import them here, because Rumi highly doubted Nero was capable of doing so, but he decided not to mention this detail due to its insignificance to the current situation at hand.

Looking over Blake's shoulder at the map, Rumi gestured to him, saying, "Yeah, gimme that. I'll translate it." Rumi snatched the map from Blake's hands and examined it, muttering, "Vivamus, Moriendum Est... 'Let us live, we must die'..." The four locations marked on the map were curious to note, and Rumi also wondered what significance they held. A few of the heroes began to engage the Ogre that had appeared, but Rumi paid it little attention. He figured the more combat-oriented of them would be able to handle a single Ogre, and he would focus on his task. "Balineum translates to 'bath', which means there is certainly going to be something water-related there. The basilica is basically a type of church, though far more important than a mere church. The coliseum is self-explanatory. And the forum is the center of this movie set," Rumi explained. "Let's pick our destinations carefully. There may be more to this place than Nero has let on."

Tom was still feeling annoyed as he stomped inside the house, planning on get another beer from one of the various coolers that had been strewed around the house... Or maybe he would get something from Soda Boy, something stronger. If he was an idiot for downing a couple beers, he may as well drink a lot more, because he couldn't become more of an idiot, right? "Stupid Grace... Idiot..." Tom muttered to nobody in particular. On his way to Soda Boy he spotted Sam waving at him, and Tom put on a smile and waved back happily. After what seemed like ages he could not locate the soda based hero, so Tom simply sighed and made his way over to a cooler to grab another beer, before getting into a conversation with some other random hero he didn't know the name of.

Soon enough it was time for fireworks, and Tom made sure to stand far away from Grace as he watched them, cheering and whooping and saying vaguely patriotic things as he watched the fireworks explode in the sky, getting very into the whole mood of the celebration. He had already downed his beer by the time that Blake's personal fireworks display was over, so as soon as it was he went in and grabbed another, waning the hours away drinking and talking to random people, some of which he didn't even really like at all. He was also trying to avoid Grace, the booze only making him more and more annoyed at her as time went on. But he tried to put that to the back of his mind and enjoy the night.

At least, he was enjoying the night. That was until the orange mist began to spread through the room. Tom frowned and looked around. "Oh, what... What is this? It's all orange!" Tom exclaimed before he joined the fellow patrons of Blake's party and passed out, falling backwards onto the carpet.

---

Tom awoke suddenly, lying on his side. He opened his eyes slowly, noticing that he was lying next to someone with long blonde hair. He felt sick to his stomach. Wait, no, god, no, he hadn't had he?! He sat up quickly, realising that he was not in his bed, or any bed, he was lying in a cold stone room. Firstly, he was relieved that he hadn't done what he feared he might have just done. But that was immediately washed over with the fear of where the fuck was he, and what the fuck was going on? He heard a voice and glanced over, seeing Blake with his fiery red hair all sticking up, muttering. "Dude, what the fuck is going on, where are-"

But Tom was immediately cut off by the sudden pompous voice coming from the TV, and as the whole speech began, Tom came to the realisation that they were, to put it lightly, in deep shit. They had been kidnapped by a supervillain! A fucking supervillain had come to the party and somehow kidnapped them all! He seemed to forget the memory of the orange gas. Maybe Grace was right, maybe if he hadn't been drinking he wouldn't have been kidnapped. Maybe he was an idiot... Tom didn't really listen to much of Nero's speech as he looked around to see who was here with them. Looked like the whole gang was here: Jamie, Patty, Brie, Rumi, Will, Angie, that guy he vaguely knew who went by Alpha.... Minus Eliza and Grace. They must of got out. Of course they did, they weren't drinking.

Tom glanced at the screen again just in time to see the screen change to the view of Grace and Eliza chained up. Tom stood up immediately, angry. "What the FUCK? YOU BASTARD!" He yelled at the screen angrily, just in time before the screen turned to black. Tom's head was spinning. Just a few months after they had gotten away from the mob by the skin of their teeth, now they were all stuck in this bizarre... Wait, what was this place, some kind of weird Roman city? He hadn't been listening all that much during the meat of Nero's speech... And did Rumi just say OGRES?

"Fucking what now? Ogres? Ogres?! And they travel in fucking PACKS! PACKS?!" Tom exclaimed, putting his head in his hands for a moment, joining Rumi in looking at the map over Blake's shoulder. "Just how resistant are these ogres, can I just make them fly up and then fall down and then splat? They're just like big idiots right, can we like trick them or something?" Tom spouted out of a lot of ideas, before pointing towards the place Rumi had identified as the bath. "We could go there... If there is water then Will will be more powerful, and all of us need to be the most powerful we can be, if we're gonna be fighting fucking ogres.... Shit."

@DClassified @Hitman @Scarifar @Danvers

Slowly coming to, Patricia squeezed her eyes open. But then immediately shut them, because it was way too bright in her room. Fuck, her mom must have turned on the light or something… and why was it so cold? And hard, too. She didn’t have the best mattress on Earth, but it usually wasn’t hard as rock, and it definitely was not a sitting up mattress. Had she fallen asleep in a chair? Reluctantly, she opened her eyes again, this time stretching and sitting up off the wall. But she wasn’t in her room. Glancing around, her eyes widened with confusion. Why were… what? Most of her friends (except Eliza and Grace, she noted with some concern) were laying on the floor in some kind of Greek temple thing. Or Roman. She had never been able to tell the difference. In their party clothes, no less. But… but last night, they had just been at Blake’s house. For some strange reason, though, Patricia couldn’t remember going to sleep. Or leaving the house.

Did I take LSD? Why the fuck would I do that?

Out of the corner of her eye, a television crackled to life. She flicked her eyes to it, glaring. Either there was a good fucking reason why she woke up in a Roman temple, or someone was getting mindcontrolled. Her eyes widened as he spoke, and she jumped to her feet. Fuck. They had been kidnapped by villains again?! How did this keep happening- were villains just out for their blood or something? Ugh! At least Eliza and Grace seemed to have escaped. Her eyes narrowed into slits as she glared at the television, gaze smoldering. Whatever. They’d get out of here and throw this guy into Coldwater, easy peasy.

But Patricia’s hopes were dashed upon seeing Eliza and Grace chained to the wall behind Nero. she gasped, her face going from red to pale white. Her jaw slackened, and her eyes went wide. “No, no no no no…” She shut her eyes, shaking her head back and forth. Eliza… Oh God, Eliza. This was a nightmare, this had to be a nightmare. She pinched her arm, hoping that she’d wake up from whatever drug-induced, surreal nightmare this was. Of course, she didn’t, and her anxiety only grew tenfold. As well as her rage, of course. Who the fuck did this villain think he was?! Taking her- taking her girlfriend and saying he’d stab her- she’d stab him right fucking back, thank you very much! Yeah, yeah!

“Ellie, I’m coming and I’m gonna fucking KILL THIS BASTARD!” Patricia managed to scream at the TV before it shut off, and she stomped her foot on the ground in anger. She slung her head back and yelled again, frustrated, before marching off to where Blake was standing.

Meanwhile, Jamie was still on the floor, arm cast over her eyes and curled up into a ball. Ugh. Why why why did she have to be up this early? It was way too bright, and her head was pounding something fierce. Hearing rising voices and the yelling of a familiar teen (Patricia?) Jamie reluctantly opened her eyes and sat up, immediately going green at the sudden change in position. She moaned and glanced around. “Where are we?” She had half-listened to Nero’s speech, but wasn’t quite sure. This wasn’t Blake’s house. Had she gotten blackout drunk again? That was no fun.

Seeing everybody else standing at the entrance, Jamie dragged herself to her feet and went over there. She stuck her head over Blake’s shoulder, staring at the map, bleary-eyed.

“Our priority needs to be finding Nero beating him, and getting Grace and Eliza- hey! Listen! I’m talking!” Patricia was saying. She snapped with her fingers loudly, trying to get everybody’s attention. “I know that all of you are hungover as shit, but you need to focus.” She seemed pretty irate- to Jamie, at least.

“I have an idea!” Jamie piped up, raising her hand. She was still squinting at the sunlight. Then, she pointed at the map with her right pointer finger. “Eeny meeny miney moe, catch a tiger by its toe, if he hollers let him go…” she sang, concentrated, while slinging her finger about. “Let’s go to the… basilica? First!”

Patricia aimed a death glare at Jamie. “We need to- let’s not decide this with childish- UGH! We need to split up. Go in groups. We’re no use all together.”

Jamie moaned. “But I totally just picked it and everything!”

Patricia facepalmed.

@KaijuBaragon@DarkRecon@Scarifar@Hitman@Danvers

---

"Sam!"

Though the darkness, he heard his name but he didn't want to move. The hunter knew that voice; His dreaded voice.

"Samson, where are they?!" It questioned him again, angered by his silence. The reality was that they both knew what had happened. Samson merely kept his eyes closed in hopes that the man would eventually just walk away. However the youth knew well, too well, that he didn't go anywhere. The boy flinched as the footfalls came closer, muscles tensing, but Sam didn't dare open his eyes.

"I remember specifically tellin' you not to get attached to any of them. DIDN'T I?!" The voice thundered in the space of his silence. Hands gripped at his shoulders and shook his body. "ANSWER ME, CABRÓN!!"

Silence seemed to agitate the voice more, as the hands roughly shoved him and his body crashed into the ground chest first. Sam groaned, but the footfalls momentarily shifted away and his body relaxed. The boy kept to the ground, refusting to look up until he was sure the man was farther away. His hopes of it being over were shattered, though, when he heard a low metallic hum that made him freeze.

"Well, you must think you have some big cajones for defying me." There were steps closer up until Sam could feel the presence of the man standing over him. His hair was snatched up and Sam's body tensed worse than before; aching, begging him to speak up. A foot was planted firmly onto his back.

"We'll see where your loyalties lie after this, Son."

Sam launched up from the marble floor to his feet, breathing heavily. It had been a long time since memories of him had surfaced. Whatever put him out, then, must've been strong. Looking around, it would be an understatement to say that something was wrong. His last memory before darkness was Blake's home. He doubted any drug could create an illusion of this magnitude. Though the orange, ammonia smelling mist, he could now see, wasn't part of the party decorum.

What was more, he could see the others in their varying states of consciousness and the ones that were up, at least, over in the direction of Blake. Having clearly missed something amidst his own state of unconsciousness, Sam tried tuning into what the others were talking about. Patricia's aggravated barking seemed to point to them being kidnapped as a whole. Furthermore, that Eliza and Grace were hostages of sorts.

Somehow, it didn't come to him as a surprise that they were attacked during the party. It was meant to be a happy occasion, and with it taking place at Blake's home, there was no reason to suspect anyone of treachery. That was how they were able to execute it so effectively. As they clearly weren't dead, it meant that their captor had some sort of purpose for them. Considering there were captives that were specifically known, the objective would have been to find them.

The giant's shoulders seemed to go back to their normal calm as he made way to the developing group. As he did, he looked around to notice the cicular archetecture among the dated structures, able to put together that they were roman. What was more, going by the amount of daylight and the rough position of the sun, it was midway through the morning...Which meant it was likely a quick transportation from Blake's house to their current location.

It was like a punch to the face. The metallic gut-wrenching smell of...His eyes turned to the scent and his eyes narrowed to get a clearer picture from the distance; Ogres. While Rumi's recalled analysis may not sound so intimidating, Sam could tell with his enhanced vision that a group of that size wouldn't be ideal to confront head on.

Even still, he eyed the new guy, Alpha, taking steps in that direction. Kanati placed a hand on his shoulder to discourage him from taking the action. "It might not be a wise course of action. We have a bit of time to at least decide what direction we are going. Mindlessly fighting isn't going to get us out of here."

Sam took in a breath and looked towards the others, then to the ogres gaining traction. His mind ran a mile a minute. "Actually, to the contrary, some of us aren't exactly in battle condition to be splitting up. It would be of no use if we are having to save each other in this foreign environment. If we do, we should diverge into two groups at most and pick two destinations."

Alpha was about to engage the ogres to at least buy time when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He then looked at Kanati for a moment after what he said to him...then slowly started backing up towards him and the rest of the heroes but kept himself in a "power up" state while watching the approaching ogres.

"...agreed...but I was merely trying to buy time...not mindless fighting...", Alpha responded.

Still watching the ogres, he then said, "...decided quickly with a plan...the ogres won't wait for us...and watch what you say out loud...Nero no doubt has cameras and listening devices all around...", he then said to the group.

---

Starbright was enjoying the night and the conversation with Glacia. It was clear she had just joined Wings for the fame aspect, but he certainly didn't mind the other bonuses she mentioned. However the conversation was frequently interrupted by that bald drunken oaf Mr Impressive. While the other two heads were more than respectable, Mr Impressive clearly came to this party sloshed. It was a social gathering, no backwater piss up you expect to see in Brookside or some poor people places. But it wasn't until Starbright paid attention to the words Mr Impressive was saying that he actually decided to do something about it.

You see, Sea Serpent was currently flirting with a sportsman who looked suspiciously like Blake. It isn't too out of the ordinary, a lot of celebrities cheat on their significant others. Sea Serpent was just another industry secret so to speak. No, the problem was when Mr 'I've finished a bottle of whiskey before a social event and think thats' Impressive started threatening first-baseman, Bryan Colby. Only backing down when he realized it wasn't Blake. The next words out of his mouth were along the lines of "good I bloody don't want to see kindling boy ever again. If all goes right tonight no one will have to." It was of course the drunken ramblings of a seasoned alcoholic but it wouldn't harm to check in on Blake, just in case.

Starbright scrolled down, like way way down, his messages to find the invite to Blake's 4th of July party. But he didn't get a reply to his message after ten minutes. 'He is probably just passed out by now, Starbright. You don't need to worry about this, just enjoy the party.' But it kept weighing on him. 'Ok you should check in on him. But what have they ever done for you. Just last week you walked into the common room and no one even complimented your new haircut. Of course you get one every two weeks, but it would have been nice if they said something.'

'Wait no hang on they could be in serious danger, you need to leave.' With his mind decided he needed to excuse himself from Glacia, who had been watching his thought process from the outside. "Are you alright? You seem to have something else on your mind. Ooo I hope it the decision to join Wings. Eeeee!" She was very excited with this idea. "No don't be silly I'll have to check in with my manager first anyway. I just think the alcohol is starting to hit me and I better leave before I become a train wreck, like you know who." Starbright made a slight gesture toward Mr Impressive before immediately leaving the party. Glacia noticed Starbright had not been drinking at all.

Starbright only spent a good 5 minutes talking to news coverage outside. This was remarkably short for Starbright.

---

Starbright arrived to an empty Von Brandt house, his stomach sank. So Wings had tried, and clearly succeeded to take out the group. While his first question was why, the more important question is what to do now. Starbright would not be able to implicate Wings in this outright. In terms of media they had the edge on him when it comes to news and image of honesty. But he could still start the search and that required his special Starbright phoneline.

See, Starbright has a few places of special treatment in HERO as part of his contract and a line dedicated to him was one of them. "Hi, yeah, Starbright again. Hi Francine how are you doing? Hope that little problem in the office is patched up." He had begun a bit of banter with the response lady. "Yeah so anyway I have a little problem of my own. Namely the Firebird and the occupants of his party have gone missing. I believe it was a villain attack and a damn good one at that. If you could get an investigation team or something to come down as soon possible that would be great." "Ok thanks for that." With an investigation team already on response it should put pressure on Wings of Law, that was a good start.

---

Though Bateman Turnpike wasn't anything fantastic by any means, the road remained fairly clean as the dividing point between Brookside and Watervale. It was a perfect place to begin the turf war. Now Gugliano is out of the picture, an aspiring business man such as Midas can seize upon a few oppurtunities. Along it was a variety of small businesses in Brookside and the road itself was overall the center of much livelihood. It was among the safer areas of Brookside as well, though that wasn't really saying much at all. Because it hosted a little known but lasting gang the Turnpike Ratdogs, best known for distributing contraband and other illegal materials from Watervale docks into Brookside. While being trumped up delivery boys didn't pay well it is vital to gaining power over Brookside criminal markets as well as a reasonable stake in the Watervale markets too.

Midas and his newly fashioned gang, the Brookside Bruisers, were fighters, the Turnpike Ratdogs were no such thing. Once the Ratdog warehouse was found it took very little effort to succeed in a hostile takeover. Once everyone was on the ground Midas begun his speech. "This warehouse is now property of the Brookside Bruisers. Everything you do goes through me. You gave the Guglianos a cut of profits, that now goes to me. If any of you have a problem with that, you can speak up now." There was only silence echoing through the warehouse. "Great other than that its back to business as usual. You can also expect hands on protection from the Brookside Bruisers. You won't be paying your way and being left to the dogs anymore." It was a strong move to begin with, but only time would tell if a hotshot Watervale gang would step to the plate. Either way, Midas had to prepare for retaliation.

Well. So much for a peaceful 4th of July celebration. It is like that one line in Harry Potter from decades ago. "Why is it when something bad happens, it's always you three?" Only this time it is the group aptly named The Gang from H.E.R.O. William vaguely remembers seeing an orange mist engulf the party venue. Whatever happened next was hazy at best...

When William slowly woke, his head was pounding and essentially threatening to explode. He grimaced, reaching up to massage his temples with his right hand. He blinks a few times, looking around him to take in the atmosphere and assess the situation. The TV, and Nero, couldn't have been louder than the music at the party. However, given his current state, the sound was deafening and not conducive to the pounding headache he was experiencing.

Listening quietly and looking up at the TV to see a battered Grace and bound Eliza, William sighed and shook his head. "Hey Tom, look, its your girlfriend..." William made the useless comment aimlessly, though he addressed Tom directly with it. He tilted his head to give Brie a small kiss on the forehead as she leaned against him. Rubbing her shoulders softly, William continued to make some more useless comments "Why is it always us that get caught up in some bullshit? This shit tier villain wannabe was probably hired by some cheap fucks to get at us anyways. Lets just blast our way directly to his actor and grab Grace and Eliza. I need some water...and a fucking nap... I can't be asked to do all this..."
Some among the group that are in the same predicament as William made comments and suggestions that were way more logical. Rumi, being who he is, made some logical explanations about their current situation. Tom was obviously very invested in the situation and behaved as such. Some new guy William has not interacted much tried to be the hero among them and go off to fight some...ogres? What the fuck are ogres? Like the movie monster? Maybe this actor wasn't as shit as he thought. If he managed to get actual ogres in here...

"Oi New guy," William spoke to Alpha nonchalantly. "I get it you want to fight, you're not the only one here about that hero life." He said. Yes, he sounds and is behaving more calloused than usual. Blame it on the drinking and the drugging. He stood up, though with more effort than usual. "Right. So. I heard something about a Bath. That means water, like Loverboy over there said. I'll go there, I would say I'll take someone else with me too but I don't know who to take. Brie maybe?" He said. Was there some logic behind his thinking? Perhaps. Water and electricity, when controlled and paired correctly, can be extremely powerful. But, truthfully, William wanted to keep Brie close, as to keep her away from harm. "That leaves the coliseum and basilica. If I had to venture a guess, I'd say we should split the teams as such. Brie, myself and perhaps new guy into the bathhouse. Sam, Tom and Blake into the coliseum and the rest of the Gang into the basilica. Here is my reasoning. Water-based locale for me, obviously. Alpha can be our like... personal guard if things get too close. Sam, Tom, and Blake are potentially ones among us that are the most suited to deal with a physical fight, as it happens in coliseums. Tom can use his aerial mobility to provide support. And Sam is... big. The basilica. People sing in church so Patricia would be great there. Besides Jamie can provide enough firepower by herself. With Rumi controlling the situation, that shouldn't go too poorly, granted that she listens to him. And for JoJo, just... use your powers and don't die, I suppose. There. Did I miss anyone?" William said, visibly tired from all this thinking and plotting.

William looked down the hallway to get a physical assessment of what they're looking to deal with. "Wait. There are a fuck ton of those ogres down there... We'll switch the groups around. Blake's group heads to the basilica and maybe JoJo can help there instead... And for God's sake use your fucking powers this time... But then...the groups are all mixed up. Ugh." William grumbled. "Ok. Here. The bathhouse group is now Brie, myself and Tom. The group charging into the ogres should be new guy, Blake, Jamie and Rumi, with Rumi providing battle plans on the fly. The coliseum group then becomes Jojo, Patricia, and Sam and Angie. With Jojo primarily tasked with keeping the group alive... There. God that made my head spin even more... Any objections or whatever?" William said, massaging his temple some more to try to alleviate the pain some.

@Hitman@DarkRecon@DClassified@canaryrose@KaijuBaragon@Scarifar@Danvers@Amethyst@Rabidporcupine

The following events had come to fruition over the course of a few months of planning.

The first and the most easy had been to find a location for the event to take place. It had to be somewhere that was large, but also tucked away enough that people wouldn't come looking once the alarm was raised. It also needed to be fairly close to Club 27. After a week of covert searching after his kidnapping of the ICOSA, Caustic had located an abandoned recording studio in Kingsdale. It was slated for redevelopment in September, but that didn't matter - it was going to be done before that date anyway, some time during the Summer was best for an idea like this. Lot's of parties and events for the villain to pick and choose from, there was plenty of variety. And then, the next simple decision was choosing what exact date to use. Fourth of July came pretty naturally - so many people would be launching fireworks, so if gunshots did occur, the sound of them would be masked by the vast swathes of idiots gleefully celebrating their holiday.

The second task had been tracking the security detail of Caustic's quarry. Like the first task, it had been surprisingly easy. They were just normal people, buff people with guns and combat training granted, but normal unpowered people. And what's more, Caustic was going to take them completely by surprise. After that, he spent a little bit of time staking out Club 27, the locations of outside security cameras and things like that. If he was seen on the night and the alarm was raised then the whole plan might collapse. The next task was the one that was actually somewhat difficult - Caustic had to find himself some broadcasting equipment, and then work out how to use said equipment to hijack broadcasts elsewhere. After scoping out a few locations, he settled on some shitty Castleburg news station that was pretty much bankrupt. He didn't even have to rob it - he simply paid some grunt from Brookside some money to go and purchase the equipment off them for an offer they couldn't refuse. The 2 months or so after that was spent with Caustic figuring out exactly the broadcast was going to function. He cracked it a week before the Fourth of July.

So, on the Fourth of July, Caustic was currently sitting in an apartment opposite Club 27, looking across with some binoculars. The loud booming music coming from the club and the steady stream of worthless celebrities and heroes he could see going inside only made the villain more irritated and more determined. He knew he was going to be sitting here for a while, perhaps until the early hours of the morning, until his quarry left the party, likely inebriated, high, or both. Perhaps he would be with some young woman picked up at the party. But that didn't matter - like the security detail of his target, this theoretical individual would be expendable. The hours ticked by and by, and Caustic didn't move from his spot by the window until 1am. It was then that he spotted his target walking out of the club to a car parked nearby. Three men in dark suits also got into the car a couple seconds later. It was time to move.

He knew the route the car would take - it was a simple matter of intercepting it. Luckily, he had long figured out the shortcut to a place where he could intercept the car easily. After reaching the spot, and after about a minute, he heard the noisy car making its way down the road. As soon as he saw it turn the nearest bend. He stepped out suddenly in the road. The car, reacting to this sudden pedestrian, swerved suddenly, but the driver was clearly not ready for this, and instead the car slammed into Caustic sideways. Or at least, it would have, had the villain not turned on his powers just before the impact. Caustic stood unbothered in the road as the car went right through him, which left a massive hole in the car, and one of the security men in the car completely corroded. It veered again, crashing into a wall. Caustic stepped up to the car. The driver was dead. One security man was left, who quickly leapt out of the car and reached for his gun. Caustic quickly put him down with a single touch to the face. Then he peered into the car at the terrified, rainbow haired man sitting there.

"Hello, Rainbow Dancer. Enjoy your party?" He sneered, before, pulling the struggling Wings of Law member from the car.

---

It was now 9:30am the next day. Rainbow Dancer had been taken cared for well enough, considering. Caustic had given him some water and locked him in a room, pocketing his phone. No doubt the news of the crash of his car and the disappearence of the well known hero was all over the news right now, a situation which was perfect for Caustic. Rainbow Dancer had tried to use his powers to escape from the room on multiple occasions, but they were far too weak for that, and besides, he was too old. He had also tried yelling, and at one point threatened to sue Caustic. He laughed to himself, putting the finishing touches on the equipment. As the clocked passed the aforementioned time, Caustic got up and opened the door. "Come with me. Now." Rainbow Dancer made a dash to escape, but Caustic calmly grabbed his arm and delivered a painful burn. Not enough to cause any lasting injury, just a reminder of the fact that he should probably be obedient.

Caustic marched Rainbow Dancer into the studio's lobby, where the natural morning light was filtering in through the windows. "Kneel down over there. In front of the camera." Rainbow Dancer spat. "For the last fucking time, let me go. You can have all the money you want. You can even have publicity, I could get you exclusive membership of our club, and all the girls you w-" Caustic laughed loudly and sneered. "I don't want any of that. Right now, I just want you to kneel. I'm not going to ask again." At that, Rainbow Dancer kneeled, still looking annoyed, but still quite confident, as if he thought this would just be some minor inconvenience he would have to deal with today. Caustic then marched to the camera, then another device, and flicked a couple of switches.

All around Castleburg, many TVs began to glitch and flicker, changing from whatever programmes they were broadcasting to the view of the pissed looking Rainbow Dancer kneeling in a dusty lobby. "Are you recording this? What the fuck are you-" Caustic shushed him off camera, before stepping into view himself, donned in his usual gas mask. "Some of you might know who I am already. Those who do, please inform those who don't. Today, I join you with a symbol of corruption." He gestured downwards. "Rainbow Dancer. I imagine many of you probably idolise this man. Those with powers and those without - because he is a hero." He said the last word with almost unheard of contempt.

Rainbow Dancer called out. "Damn right I'm a hero, and you're a fucking psycho, I'll kick your ass!" Caustic gave him a swift punch to the back of the head, and ignored him. "But the truth of the matter is - there is nothing moral about hero work. All it does is protect the lazy and the weak from those who have been given gifts. And we live in a world where those gifts have been watered down and regulated by organisations like H.E.R.O. And ICOSA. But I could ramble on and on about what I think about H.E.R.O. This particular meeting is a demonstration about how those you hold up as standards of heroism and morality are more corrupt than anyone. I am honest. I do not hide my intentions. Unlike Rainbow Dancer here. How can you call yourself a hero after what happened to Riptide Boy?"

The colour seemed to flush from Rainbow Dancer's face. "Why don't you tell the good people of Castleburg what really happened with Riptide Boy?" When Rainbow Dancer still remained silent, Caustic pressed a finger to the back of his neck and delivered a searing burn that made the hero scream. Tell them. Tell them now, or I can promise you far more pain than he endured." Of course, Caustic didn't give a fuck about Riptide Boy, or that whole incident. But why not use that situation to further his goals. After 20 or so seconds of searing heat, Rainbow Dancer relented, and screamed - "Fuck, fuck, alright! I beat him, okay! I beat him, I beat him half to death, broke half the bones in his face, then left him by the side of the road to d-die!"

Caustic released the finger on Rainbow Dancer's neck, grinning under his mask. "Thank you for your confession. And now, your reward." Caustic pulled something out of his pocket - a small Wings of Law logo pin. Caustic held it in his bare hand for a moment, squeezing it. When it was shown to the camera next, it seemed to be glowing a sickly shade of green. Rainbow Dancer looking up at it nervously. "A... A pin? What are you gonna do with-" Before he could finish, Caustic dropped the pin.

As soon as it hit the top of Rainbow Dancer's head, a sick sizzling sound could be heard. He didn't even have time to scream before the life slipped from his eyes, and a few seconds later, the pin dropped from the bottom of his jaw. "Heroism with class, hm? I advise all heroes, especially those with exceptional public reputations, to be careful. This will not be the last broadcast." Caustic stepped out of view after saying that, footsteps approaching the camera, which was still looking at Rainbow Dancer's body.

A few seconds later, the broadcast fizzled out, and returned the people of Castleburg to their normal broadcasting schedules.

As the others spoke, Joseph had been quietly making his own preparations for the battles that were sure to come. His runes were gone, most likely removed when they were taken to the set along with his knives, meaning he was going to have to improvise. Unfortunately, this involved ruining what had been one of his nicer jackets, ripping the sleeves off and tearing them them into a pair of long ribbons. From there, he took a small piece of sharp looking rubble from the ground nearby and cut his chin, using the blood to write a series of runes on both sides of the fabric. After checking to make sure they were all properly written and unlikely to erase themselves and part of their surrounding, likely including his own arm, from the fabric of space and time, he began looping them around each other, the runes fusing into a tight cord and reinforcing them to an unnatural level of durability. Finally, he tied the end of the cord around the piece of rubble, which had been similarly enchanted to provide his makeshift whip with a little extra pizazz. Almost every enhancement he'd written pushed the limits of what twofold arrays were capable of. He truly hoped they'd be enough.

Unfortunately, it sounded like he wasn't going to get the time to make any extra enhancements to his clothes, as the ogres had already begun their approach. He listened to Will's hasty plan, and while the water wielder ended up having to go back and make a few rapid revisions, the end result seemed decent enough. He did have to bite back a retort at the implication that he wasn't using his powers often enough or something.

"Well, I'll admit, I was actually sort of excited to take on an ogre horde or two, but I suppose I'll leave that to you if you really insist..." He said, his voice sounding as if it was taking actual effort just to speak. "I'll admit though, I haven't had the chance to prepare any communication or medical tags, so we'll have to find some other way of contacting each other, and my medic abilities will be limited."

He then proceeded make a sound that might have been a hiccup, stumbling slightly.

"I may also still be a little drunk... or a lot drunk. However, I assure you, I'm perfectly capable of fighting. Perhaps even moreso."

And then he shrugged.

"Either way, I have too many plans over the next couple of weeks to die today. I'm gonna guess you guys do too, so let's just try to avoid letting down the people who'll be waiting for us, yeah?"

With these last ramblings out of the way, he turned and started making stumble-running in the direction he was pretty sure the colosseum was in, hoping his group was with him and not just watching him run to what would almost definitely be certain death if he were on his own.

@Infinite Cosmos@DClassified@canaryrose@Amethyst

Pandora's Potts was Pandora's favorite place in the world. It was a homely little spot, tucked away in a quiet corner of Passenger Island. It was a townhouse, crammed inbetween other retail stores and homes. The bottom floor was Pandora's Potts, the second floor was Pandora's home. Technically her legal name was Jane Smith, but everyone just called her Pandora. If it's up to her, no one finds out her name is Jane Smith.

Pandora lived and worked in her little flower shop, alone, by herself. She did everything. Managing, cleaning, flower care, going out and designing flower set ups for various clients. It was her own little space that she had worked for herself. Well, she cheated a little bit, but it's not like playing fair was ever apart of the so-called American dream.

As for the shop itself, it was made of wood. The storefront had a large glass window that let in a large amount of natural light. There was a wooden door with a small glass window that had a colorful Viola made from different pieces of colored glass. The place was absolutely overgrown, with porcelain and clay pots lining various shelves high and low, all of them with different types of beautiful flowers. Several LED lanterns were hung up and sat down on various places, giving the place a homey glow. There were many strange antiquities and knick knacks, like cuckoo clocks, coasters, figurines, cards. A gramaphone in one dark corner played old classical music. Paintings of landscapes and longdead people were set up in the few spots of negative space. It smelled like wood and the sweet scent of flora. It was a cozy place, entering it felt like entering another world. A weird world, that was old, a mishmash of different eras and aesthetics all crammed together.

Over the front door, in light orange letters in a fancy font, was Pandora's Potts. Spelt with two T's, always. On the roof of the place one could see vegation hanging over the edge and what looked like a greenhouse built on the roof.

The icing on the eccentric cake was enigmatic shopkeeper herself, Pandora. An enchantingly beautiful woman that looked like she was from a story book, with vibrant orange eyes and aubern hair that was tied up into a loose, messy bun. She walked around barefoot, with a heavy green apron draped over her toned shoulders. Underneath the apron she was wearing a grey crop top, so one could see the sides of her athletically built torso. Finally, a pair of very short jeans that accentuated her muscular thighs. This was her domain, and despite the fact it was a shop supposed to be entered and perused, one couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't quite welcome.

The redhead was currently in the far corner of the room, standing by a closed backdoor that lead to a laundry room and staircase into her home. There was a flower back there in need of attending too, and she was dilligently leaned over with a pair of small clippers in her strong hand, gently pruning it back. It was actually a collection of yellow-petalled stocks that looked like they were trying to erupt into a bush at any moment. There was a small parchment tag hooked into the pot that read "Forsythia, 11.99", clearly scratched in her own handwriting.

"You are so very pretty, you know this, Misses Forsythia? Oh, yes, indeed." She cooed gently, speaking to directly the plant. She was gently swaying her hips to the beat of the music as she did so. "But we can't have you growing too much, no. No, we can't. You grow too fast, don't you? You eager little flower. You just want to take over the whole world, don't you?" Snip, snip, snip.

It was done, and the woman leaned back, satisfied. Gathering up the loose buds in her hands, she squeezed them real tight. Them and the air trapped inside her palm turned to water. Opening her hand it flowered a few inches above her fingers as she manipulated the air to keep the water suspended. Tipping her hand she showered the flower in additional war. "There we go. Feeling better? Not so thirsty anymore?" She asked. No response except a slight rustling as some of the stems were bumped by falling drops.

"All right, that's done. All my flowers are done for the day, and it's only what..." She glanced around and her eyes found the cuckoo clock the wall above her cash register's desk. The little spot that only she was allowed to stand behind. It read 8:30 AM. Pandora had been up all night, like she very often was. "Plenty of time left in the day." Whether she was speaking to the flowers or to herself, it wasn't entirely clear.

Slapping the non-existant dust off her hands, Pandora quietly travelled upstairs, her bare feet padding along the carpeted wooden staircase. Her house was all soft lighting, soft carpet, and warm hues. Clocks, paintings, flowers, natural lighting. It was much less congested and busy than the shop below, giving Pandora plenty of room to breathe and relax. Wires were plugged into the wall that travelled and vanished into the ceiling above. It was clear a lot of thought had been put into this place in terms of interior design. The florist went over to a large, boxy TV, adjusting the antenna and pressing a button on the side. The dusty box thrummed to life. She spent a few more moments making sure the connection was clear before flopping lazily on the couch, picking up a newspaper and flipping through it. Right now, she was relaxing. She had a few clients reserved for birthday parties, weddings, or just people who wanted to pretty up their house with flowers. Pandora surprised herself with how sociable she could be if she just pretended to like people, but it was quite draining. Still, she liked poking her nose into other people's business and getting a vertical slice of their short lives and what they were doing with them. Her heels rested on a wooden coffee table.

About an hour passed of her just sitting quietly in this room, when the TV flicked to something more interesting than infomercials and cooking shows. Pandora's orange eyes flicked away from her newspaper and towards what looked to be some kind of signal hijacking.

"Mmm. This should be good. What's the villain of the week have in store for us this time?" She set her paper down in her lap and paid close attention. Some kind of studio. She raised her impeccable eyebrows, impressed, at the sight of Rainbow Dancer tied to a chair. Pandora had heard of that one. Quite famous, wasn't he? She couldn't quite remember the specifics. But the point is, this Mug had captured a live one and was looking to make an example of him on live TV.

"Oh, dear. Poor sod. No way he's making it out of this. No Mug worth his salt would allow this chance to slip through their fingers." She mumbled to herself. Pandora's dialect was English, her accent was light. Not as stereotypically posh as one might expect from a woman of her presentation, but rather a soft and singsongy Yorkshire accent. Her eyes switched from the display of terrorism on screen to a particularly interesting advertisement about electric toasters in her newspaper.

Her mind recognized the kind of villain this was she kind of tuned out. Whatever ideology he was hiding behind was bonkers. Really, this guy just wanted to be able to do whoever he wanted to whomever he wanted. She chuckled lightly at his comment about how "Hey, I'll kill you, but at least I'm honest!" Truly, it was better to be stabbed in the face than stabbed in the back. This guy wanted to erode public trust in H.E.R.O organizations so he could take advantage of the reduced power they might get. To do so, he's got this poor Bloke all tied up and ready to confess to some act of heroic brutality. Sounds like Rainbow Dancer has this coming, at least. "Uh oh. 'Ere it comes," Pandora anticipated what was coming next, watching as the masked man raised something over Rainbow Dancer's head. The 'reward'.

Pandora winced and laughed a little, a sympathetic one, like she was watching a funniest home video of a man bonk his head on something rather than one of a person being brutally murdered. "That's rough. Oh, yeah, that's real rough. Went straight through, it did." She tsked her tongue and shook her head, glancing back down towards her newspaper.

After a few moments she felt a pang of guilt and looked over to the open door of her bedroom. There, sitting in a water-filled blue glass vase, was a singular, beautiful rose, illuminated by the yellow light streaming in from the semi-parted curtains. Pandora tilted her head to the side, frowned, and then averted her eyes from the flower that judged her.

About fifteen minutes later, she heard a bell's jingle ring through her house. The bell above the front door had been activated, indicating a customer had entered Pandora's Potts. Setting down the newspaper and leaving the TV on, she walked quickly downstairs to meet the customer. A middle-aged white man who was handsome enough, awkwardly staring at all the flowers around him as he waited for her to show up.

"Hi, welcome to Pandora's Potts, how can I help you?" Pandora asked cheerily, seamlessly switching into a midwestern American accent, the kind you hear on TV shows and in movies. The man seemed a little taken aback by her appearance and cleared his throat. In his hands he was holding a pot- on of hers- with a withered looking flower inside. Immediately the fake smile seemed obviously forced as her orange eyes went cold. She walked behind the counter and set her hands on the wooden surface.

"Uh, yeah, hi. Uh, my wife bought this for our daughter- and, it's uh, it's broken." He said simply, extending it out towards her. "It's uh, it's dead."

Pandora blinked once. "Yeah?" She said, imploring him to continue. He seemed uncomfortable already, but wanted to stand his ground. "Well, we want a refund."

"You w-" She exhaled through her pink lips, staring down at the wilted, dead flower. Her fake American accent briefly slipped. "Sir, I'm afraid I can't give you a refund on damaged goods." The man frowned and furrowed his brows. "What do you mean? The flowers no good, I can't use it for anything. It's ugly." He extended out his arms, holding the pot, as if he expected her to just take it.

Pandora shook her head, her shoulders tense. "If you wanted it to not be ugly, you should have kept it alive. Your wife recieved explicit-"

"Can I speak to the manager?" He asked, interrupting her.

Pandora reached out and evaporated him instantly with a flick of her wrist. This puny mortal dared question her floral ability? He dare challenge her within her realm? She is Pandora, the goddess of this domain! She hast hath slain more men than thee has't seen full moons! Die, die, intruder! Return to the depths of deepest, darkest Hell from whence you came!

No, not really. Pandora just tensed up and had to play nice. He could leave a negative Yelp review, and any harm against her business would be a harm against her flowers.

Do it for the flowers, Pandora. Do it for the flowers.

"Sir," The 'American' said, "I am the manager of this establishment. I understand if you're upset." She explained professionally, reigning in her impulses. The man seemed anxious. He was probably intimidated by her beauty, the unnatural color of her eyes and hair, and the fact that it looked like she could beat him up even without those things. If one were to give him credit for anything, it was that he really wanted this refund.

"Yes. It made my daughter cry. It was supposed to be a birthday gift." He said, looking down at the flower.

"Look..." She briefly rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I can give you some store credit. Maybe we could help you pick out a new flower. You said your wife bought this? Do you have a reciept?"

"Uh, no." The man responded.

"Do you have the card that was used to purchase it?"

"Uh, no, it was my wife's card." He said, shifting uneasily.

"Well...okay. Okay." She inhaled and stood up straight, slapping the counter top, putting on a big smile. "Lucky for you, I recognize all my flowers, with or without a receipt. I can tell that's one of my own." She shifted her weight onto one leg and tilted her head to the side. At this point the customer relaxed a little, now that he wasn't going to have put on any more shows of being tough and that she wasn't pissed at him. (Externally, at least.)

"What's your name, sir?" Pandora asked as she walked around the counter and took the pot from his hands.

"Uh, Derek." He responded.

"Well, Derek, let me just take that from you. Could you follow me, please?" She beckoned him with her index finger. The two of them walked to the back corner where Pandora indicated the collection of stems and stalks that made up the Forsythia plant. "If you're going to buy a flower using your new store credit, I'd recommend this one. It's tough, and receptive to many different types of soil. It will bloom in the spring into a beautiful yellow color. Aslong as it gets plenty of sunlight, you can have a big beautiful yellow bush growing in your garden. It can also work as a privacy wall. Just bury this in the ground and it will grow to be big if you water it two times a week."

"Is it a bush or a flower?" He asked. Pandora's eye twitched.

"It's a bush of flowers. Tough, and pretty. Not a lot of maintenance. Once it gets going it practically maintains itself. It's named after William Forsyth, a-"

"William Forsythe, huh? I liked him in The Mob Doctor." He noted, rubbing his beard.

Pandora's smile was very big, and very wide as she watched the man pretend to mull this deal over. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Hmm. Well, okay. I'll take it." He said.

"Great!" Pandora clapped her hands together and picked up the flower soon-to-be-bush. Holding it in one hand she travelled over to large cabinent full of shelves organized in no outside discernable order. Pulling one shelf open she gathered a small plastic sack of small seeds and handed them and the plant to the man. "Great. These will make a great birthday gift to your daughter if she likes flower. A bush like this will last for years to come. If you ever want more help in building your garden, I'll always be here to help."

The man was being ushed out the door very subtly. Every step he took, Pandora took one forward and body blocked him from the rest of the store, slowly squeezing him out. "Uh, yeah, thanks, this is perfect. Thanks a lot."

"My pleasure, sir. Please feel free to return any time soon. I also help arrange weddings, parties, and any other social event. Pandora's Potts is the place to be if you want sincere, personal service. Okay, thank you. Bye, buh-bye now!" She said as, waving him goodbye. He smiled back, and the door closed behind him. Taking a few steps back, she did a full three sixty and went to strangle the empty air space where his neck just was, absolutely wringing the life out of it. Exhaling, she went over to the wilting flower and began tending to it.

"Oh, my poor baby. What did that nasty man do to you? You're all shrivelled up. No sunlight? Probably stuck you in her bedroom and left you there, I bet. Oh, you poor little thing." Placing her hands on it, she gently ran her thumb over the stem and color and life began to return to it, if only slightly. It was a start. This kind of starvation would require real care. Unfortunately she couldn't have it out in the open in the store, and her house upstairs wasn't condusive to healing from this kind of trauma. This little flower would have to be taken up to the greenhouse.

There was no actual way up to the greenhouse. Technically she wasn't even permitted to build things on the roof, but a greenhouse ontop of a flower shop was something not many people questioned. One would have to deliberately seek out infractions and so far no needling bureaucrats had called her out on it. It looked like a natural addition, and Pandora was certain it was totally stable.

Her special Pandora-only way to access the roof was via the bathroom. That was where she knew there was nothing waiting for her, she had it all taped off and everything. Passing by the TV to turn it off, she entered the tiled bathroom and closed the door behind her, locking it. Casually, she stuck her hands and feet into the side of the bathroom wall, climbed up and vanished through the roof while carrying the pot in one hand. The wall and ceiling molded and turned to goo to make room before sealing itself back together as if nothing had happened.

If the second storey of the house was for Pandora only, than the greenhouse was super duper Pandora only. No could could enter this place unless they had superpowers. The greenhouse itself was full to bursting, a small glass hut full of flowers of all kinds. The perfect place for creating and maintaining life. Around the perimeter of the greenhouse and inbetween the three foot high wall around the edges of the roof was various types of exercising equipment. Treadmills and bench presses and dumbells. A small personal gym, isolated and open air.

There was no door into the greenhouse. Instead Pandora phased through it like she did the roof. Placing the pot down she drew water from the air, concentrated it into water, and showered the injured plant with water. Running her thumb gently over it once more, the flower stood slightly straighter and had more color returned to it's pink petals. "You just say here, little fella. You'll feel better soon. I'll be back in a few hours to check up on you."

Sighing, she phased through the glass walls of the greenhouse. Picking up a nearby 30 pound dumbell, she absent-mindedly lifted it up and down in her left arm as she looked over what she could see of her street. Most of the other buildings were a similar height to her own. Pandora sat down and rested her right arm on the edge of the wall around the roof while playing with the dumbell in her left hand. She could see the towering downtown of New Athens. Turning, she could see Savior Island.

"Ugh. Savior Island. How far up one's own ass can one get? 'Savior Island'." Pandora complained derisively under her breathe, staring at HERO One anxiously, enviously, guiltily. She let her cheek fall onto the back of her hand and stayed there for a while, her orange eyes occasionally flicking down to the street below to see if any customers were entering the building.

---

...Chainsaw Charlatan was a dangerous opponent, with all the destructive power of a Chainsaw and none of the fuel requirements. With a swipe of his hands, he could slice clean through 5 men, and that wasn't even counting the power of his WEAKEST LINK form. A mighty foe the likes of which was unseen in the entirety of the American Northeast for... well, at least a week. Probably. Of course, a man who had the roaring fury of a Chainsaw would turn to crime - unfortunately for him, there was someone ready to stop his Mutilation Menagerie before it even began!

"Hahaha, FOOLS! You think your puny firearms can stop the might of my TWO-STROKE ENGINE!?"

The gloating form of The Chainsaw Charlatan was easily twice that of a normal man, but it may have been hard to tell since he was doubled over with laughter. He wasn't laughing long, however, before the sound of a sonic boom ripped through the afternoon air - along with the arrival of a warrior in black. The nearby police cheered at the arrival of their Hero.

"Look! It's The Bullet! We're saved!"

"Hey, It's THE BULLET! You have to shout it, it's written out in all caps... Your reign of terror ends here, Chainsaw Caper!"

"Oh really, Bullet? I doubt that - How can your pathetic Super Speed stop me, when I can simply saw your Super Legs off! MUAHAHAHA!"

The Chainsaws that adorned the Charlatan's arms appeared to double in length as he entered his UNDERCUTTING mode. He swung his right arm into the earth below him, and moved it up and towards The Bullet's legs with a speed that should have been inhuman, even without considering the hundreds of pounds of earth that came between the blades and their victim. They came out of the ground at a blinding pace, and the sun still reflected off of their dirtied teeth as the Chainsaw was held in the air.

Dirt was the only thing covering the Chainsaws, however. In the instant the Chainsaw Charlatan began his attack, The Bullet had already devised a genius counterattack. When the Charlatan began attacking, The Bullet ran up to him - and with blinding speed, he yelled out his signature attack.

"It's time to Eat Lead, Chainsaw Charlatan! Special Shot: 9 Millimeter!"

And in an instant, the fight was over. The blow connected solidly with the Charlatan's chin, and he fell to the ground lifelessly. (HE WAS VERY MUCH ALIVE, JUST UNCONSCIOUS!!! PLEASE STLP LEAVING COMMENTS ABOUT THAT, THE BULLET DOESN'T KILL!!!)

One of the officers thanked The Bullet as the others struggled to find a way to handcuff a man with chainsaws for arms.

"We would have been goners without you and your hot lead of justice, Bulle- I mean, THE BULLET!"

"It was my pleasure, Officer. There's always a BULLET in the chamber for evil-doers! Now that my deed is done, I must continue on my neverending quest for Justice - Goodbye, and continue your good work!"

The Bullet ran off from the scene, leaving a smile on all those he passed. With the Chainsaw Charlatan behind the bars of Coldwater, people could sleep soundly knowing their lives wouldn't end with the roar of a toothed-blade and an engine thirsting for blood. Crime never stops, but with The Bullet around, it would also never be able to rest.

THE END

---

Chad smugly hit the submit button on the prompt he had spent the last few hours writing. Ever since gaining his powers, he had started writing a blog on his future exploits, eager to spread the word of his superhero identity before he even began. He tried not to let it go to his head, but... I mean, 126 VIEWS EVER was pretty impressive, if he said so himself. There were, of course, detractors who sought to cause a bit of ruckus in the comments, but Chad was a very patient man and quickly eased their complaints with logical rebuttals.

And if that didn't work, he could just ignore them.

Unfortunately, Chad didn't have time to wait for the 2-3 comments that would flood in over the next 12 hours - He needed to get to work 15 minutes ago! He quickly shut off his laptop and ran to his doorway, from which his uniform hung. Chad thought it was a bit more stylish than most fast food uniforms, especially the crossed P's that looked like Pizza Peels that served as an emblem. He changed into the red shirt, khakis, and hat in less than 5 seconds, and left his room at a normal jogging pace. Percy was standing at the register, a job that Chad usually performed unless there was a delivery that needed to be made. The older man frowned when he saw Chad jog up to him.

"Jesus, took you long enough. I've been standing at this register for what, half an hour? Even if this is a part-time thing, you need to take me seriously as your boss."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Porter. I was working on something really important."

"Whatever, you're here now. You know, for a Running Back you sure move slow when you want to..."

Chad froze at the words. Running Back. He hadn't played football ever since he got his powers - ever since his parents started to hate him. He hadn't even touched a football since his mother-

Chad's breath came out in fast, ragged-sounding croaks. Percy quickly noticed the sudden shift in demeanor and brought the younger man into a tight hug.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. It's alright, relax. I'm sorry about that - I forgot for a second, that's all... Tell you what, take your mind off of it and get to work, okay big guy?"

Percy clapped Chad's shoulder and broke off the hug. Chad did feel a lot better after that physical contact, even if it was brief - he hadn't touched someone in months.

"Thanks, Coach."

Percy paused slightly but continued to the Manager's office. Chad turned his attention to the uncomfortable and slightly confused customer, welcoming them with the standard company greeting that oozed with the faux-optimism he had grown so accustomed to displaying.

"Welcome to Porter's Pizza, home of the 'Heavy-lifting' Watervale-Style Pizza. How may I take your order?"

---

"...and the flower was DEAD! Can you believe that? That lady at the store said they were easy to take care of, but even when my daughter watered it every day, it still ended up dying! My little girl was crying so much, I just had to get her favorite pizza to make it up to her. Oh sorry, was I talking too much again? My husband always says I do that!"

A small line of impatient customers had formed up behind the droning woman, but Chad had barely noticed. He was too busy focusing on her story. He had learned at a young age that listening to everything a person says was very important to make them listen to your own opinions, and Chad found listening to be much easier than arguing.

"Oh not at all. Trust me, I understand how confusing those florists can be with instructions. I once got a 'low-maintenance' Cactus when I was a kid, and they died on me constantly! Wasn't until I got 'Lenny XIV: Bamboo Blaster' that I finally stoped getting new plants. Not even mentioning the dog-"

"Yes yes, dear - I'm on a bit of a schedule, however, so can you give me my order?"

"Oh, of course, Mrs. Jackson! You wanted a 'Mini-Porter' Combo, with an additional order of 'Carrier-sized' Chicken Wings - plus 3 orders of 'Heavy-Lifting' Watervale Style Pizza. Is that all?"

"Yes, that's right! You're a better listener than my husband, dear!"

"Alright your total is-"

Suddenly, Chad was pulled away from the register by two small arms, and Percy's familiar voice rang out from behind him.

"Jimmy, Chad is going on his lunch break, take the register please!"

The next thing Chad knew, he was sitting in the Manager's office, with Percy pacing behind his desk.

"Chad, great work with Mrs. Jackson - she's one of our best clients. As, uh, a show of appreciation for you toughing out her monologue, you can take the rest of the day off. Congrats."

Chad paused. Percy was relaxed when it came to taking time off and moving schedules around, but he never offered free time unless he got into one of his moods like this. Chad chose to spoke very carefully, afraid to set off his boss like he did that one time...

"Um, are you sure about that, sir? I don't mind dealing with Mrs. Jackson, she's a nice lady when you get to kno-"

"YES, Chad! I'm sure. Look, everybody needs to be out by 12:30, and while you get us good reviews, you're slow as hell at the register. Just... Take the day off, okay? And get back home a bit later than usual."

Chad stayed silent as he rose from his seat and left the room. He likes the free time, and he especially likes the free time. He just didn't like the feeling it left in his gut when Percy started acting like this...

---

Chad liked running. When you were running, everything melts away except the ground beneath your feet and the wind flying past you.

When you stayed still, you were unoccupied. When you didn't move, all you could do was think. Think about everything you once had, the feeling of resentment mixed with shame when you saw people you thought cared about you walking down the streets without a worry in the world. The fact that you couldn't play a game you dedicated your life to because it reminded you of things you didn't want to remember. When you were forced to think, you were forced to reflect on every choice you made, and wonder how you could have done better if you had a second chance.

Chad didn't like thinking. He liked Running. Even more than Running, though, Chad liked Acting.

Chad had spent countless hours laying in his bed, tossing over how to properly contact H.E.R.O about his addition to their ranks. He thought about emailing them, purposefully getting rescued by one of the members, and even using his Super Speed to contact Starbright backstage after a concert (as well as get an autograph or seven). But no matter how much he thought it over, he could never find the proper plan of action, always second-guessing himself and finding flaws and holes in his plans he so carefully built up.

That was his problem. Chad thought too much. That's why THE BULLET needs to act.

That's why, currently, Chad was racing to HERO One, the Headquarters of H.E.R.O. The shores of East Flank were a bit difficult to move around, considering how much wealthy people seemed to be obsessed with waterfront property and the trouble it was to find a clear shot to Savior Island that wasn't blocked by a building. Luckily, he eventually found his straight shot, and Chad did the (somehow) easier part.

People usually think you need to be running at an incredibly fast speed to run on water, and while it's true that it is impossible for a normal person, Chad was faster than most people. Even he thought running on water would be difficult at first, but after his first three weeks of training, he could do it with little discomfort. Of course, it was probably made easier by the fact his vision was much poorer at the speeds he was moving and he didn't need to worry about looking out at the seemingly endless ocean. Chad was more nervous about stopping on the island without crashing, and while it was a bit difficult considering he had never been to Savior Island, he managed to slow enough near the end to land himself safely near H.E.R.O One. Chad allowed himself to grow a smug smirk beneath his helmet. He couldn't have managed that when he first got his powers, no way in hell!

"Let's Go! It's Bullet Time, baby! I'm gonna be a hero, I'm gonna be a hero, WOOOOOO!!!"

Chad should have been feeling fear, and some anger at his stupidity. While Chad thinks and THE BULLET acts, Chad has never committed a major crime before. The Bullet, however, had the bright idea to run from a Villain-infested city to the Headquarters of H.E.R.O, dressed in an all-black armored costume that concealed his face, and shouted the words "It's Bullet Time" very loudly. Most people would call this a bad start to their hero career.