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B R I E F I N G


C A P A C I T Y: 0/8

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B R I E F I N G


C A P A C I T Y: 1/5

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C A P A C I T Y: 0/5

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BLITZ

Mission Assignment: On Cloud Nine
Location: N-Train

Clack, clack, clack, clack.

“Man, this is really some primo shit,” muttered the hulking giant of a man named Quinton, covered in a barely-fitting black muscle shirt and green athletic shorts inside one of the train’s bathrooms as he divided some lines of coke on the sink, rapidly inhaling them into his nostrils. His eyes were already shot to hell, and he figured it didn’t matter since there shouldn’t be any prick journalists in the area. Journalists were the spawn of the Devil, if such a thing existed.

With one long line snorted, BLITZ threw his head backwards, accidentally denting the bathroom wall as he roared, “Yeah, baby, I’m fucking ready!” A few harrowing seconds later with the small bathroom constraining his movements, and Quinton was back in one of the passenger cars as he wiped his nose. He half-listened, half-ignored the Assistant Director’s words, but did focus upon the fissile material they were transporting. Retaining that was definitely mission critical, to the point BLITZ would likely sacrifice a Hero in order to protect it.

This knowledge in mind, Quinton carefully made his way through the tight doors down to their precious cargo, bursting into car after sliding his credentials, bellowing to Dhampir, “Sup! Uh… Who are you again? You look like you’re aiming for moody bad boy, shit, you even read books in this day n’ age.”

BLITZ strolled inside and took a seat against the wall, off-handedly mentioning, “Probably best I sit back in here since I’m a hands-on kinda guy, and we’re on a train that hauling so much ass it might even be faster than me. Besides, our buddies will get a pleasant, fisty surprise if they wander in.” The man whipped out an enormous vape and began taking hits off it, blowing off strawberry-smelling smoke.

It reminded him of the luxurious train rides enjoyed many years back, while serpentine eyes were fixed on their target. Not every mission was executed from afar, as it was, choice of words very much deliberate.

The Viper was aware of their mission parameters. Protect the train. It was also quite efficient if one was to remain incognito, but this was where Viper’s obscure reputation came into play. Few people knew of him, following the serpent’s arrival at HERO. There were no toys of him, no shows, no biographies uploaded onto streaming services. When dressed in his attire, Nico would forgive others for mistaking him a guard, or soldier. An obfuscating set of attire, to be sure, it covered the ex-assassin’s body in its dark shape, blue highlights giving way for a visor analyzing his surroundings.

Slowly, Nico strode down the passenger cars. In his grip onlookers could spot a well-tuned submachine gun, ready to fire if raised from an otherwise lowered position resting in his clawed hands. It was almost ironic how frequently the theme of remaining unknown echoed across Nico’s being. Slender, obsidian claws removed the risk of fingerprints, where his powers left a distant memory in their wake, without evidence to accompany the picture drawn by deadly grace.

Moving his gaze from left to right, Nico’s visor circled each passenger, offering him information brought forth by facial recognition software. A gift left by ‘The Vigil’, Nico’s old company, his ancestral home. It allowed for an array of utility, aiding Viper in his missions to achieve maximum efficacy. Every chef had his coat when entering the kitchen, after all. Maintaining a gaze on the passengers, Viper noted how his presence offered a mixture of discomfort and intrigue. He was a small creature, indeed, setting him aside from most individuals walking the same stage. His silent approach would, however, earn more than a few glances.

The Viper proceeded towards the next car, walking past sliding doors before a voice rang through his helmet. It was the director. So far, Nico had made sure to scan their train guests, and had grown somewhat suspicious of a few. Some appeared relaxed, and mainly ignored his presence, while others grew somewhat tense as he walked by, eyes moving towards his weapon, and visor. Indeed, Viper’s suit stripped him of humanity, equaling the operative to those many robots patrolling Castleburg. A surface level analysis, of course. Throughout the passing of years, Nico had developed a conscience, and his heart had long since rid itself of an icy coat. The boy, or rather, the old man for those in the know halted after offering proof of status, and reaching his allies. Dhampir and Blitz.

A soft frown bridged itself across Nico’s lips beneath that mask, his visor fixing itself on the large man whose muscles had built a reputation. Residue was scanned beneath his nose. Hopefully this wouldn’t alter the wrecking ball’s actions in a direction of chaos. Though, following Viper’s involvement in HERO, he had learned that more than a few of its operatives were bridging the line between friend and foe. Personally, Nico kept to himself. He didn’t comment on the state of others, and knew better than to play his hand. Where he no longer aimed to use others as chess pieces, he preferred to stand next to the board, rather than on it.

”Dhampir,” Viper commented, as if answering Blitz’ question, voice robotic beneath that suit, his ‘hero’ attire, a title he had not grown accustomed to. Hero, something he would likely never deign to label himself. Nico was little more than an old killer attempting to feel better about himself by changing sides. He knew this, and attempted to fight through it. No one else did, of course, short of the Director, but it was his past that allowed Viper this new position. ”Blitz,” he continued, offering a soft nod and in a way introducing the two, considering the larger hero’s more dismissive nature of memorizing an ally’s handle.

It was worthy of note that Viper cheated, his visor offering the information needed, but it would be a lie to claim that he had not studied his co-workers. An occupational hazard, one might call it. Strengths, and weaknesses, names, and habits, interests, and routines.

Viewing the containment they had been tasked with protecting, Viper’s clawed tips gently tapped against his gun. Such death and devastation this could cause, and it was foolish to disregard complications. Plans tended to fade into obscurity upon contact with an enemy, which forced improvisation. Luckily, Viper was quite experienced in that regard.

Again, Nico’s attention fell on Blitz in response to a vape the serpent would have to carry with both hands. The man was an addict. Had the ex-assassin imbibed in such substances during his old job, termination would have been swift. At the very least, Blitz presented a reasonable approach. He was likely the best option in guarding the fissile material. ”Yeah,” Viper agreed.

---

---

Blaze was perched on top of the cruiser’s rail, legs dangling freely, fingers loosely wrapped around the tops. The seat wasn’t comfortable, but that didn’t bother her. The extra exposure to the sea breeze was worth it. All that was missing was some good (or free) drinks and snacks, and it’d feel like a damn proper vacation, though the ride was a fairly short one. She couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to just jump in, but unfortunately being on mission didn’t allow for such fuckery, despite how appealing a dip would be.

She’d nearly lost one of her flip-flops, which was about the most exciting thing to happen so far. It would have sucked to have it gone, since it, and the rest of her attire this time, was actually half decent. Short shorts, and a crop top, all in black, and only somewhat worn with age. Yeah, she’d forgone the hobo look for this one. First, because it’d lose her cool points with those rich city kids for sure. Second, because she didn’t anticipate destroying her outfit. Blaze still had that hair-underwear thing going on though, because it’d be bad to flash a bunch of minors. Actually, she’d been considering recently to start going out in just that. It was seriously a hassle to scavenge in trash for rags or searching second-hand shops for a good deal all the time.

That train of though disappeared entirely when they finally docked Lighthouse Island. She jumped on the deck with a grin, and practically jogged down the ramp to meet the principal. “Hey-o, it’s Blaze. So, where d’you got the little bastards?”

After the introduction, she looked her fill of the buildings. She’d never been here before, so it really ended up making her feel like a tourist. It was a neat place, and given it was HERO affiliated, it was bound to be decked out in that showy, over-the top way. She wondered if those little thieves even knew how good they had it to be housed here after their stupidly flashy crime. They didn’t even know to do it rightly. No finesse, all careless self-importance. Yeah, they were kids all right. Likely spoiled ones at that. Didn’t mean they couldn’t be fun, though, and Blaze was looking forward to meeting (and messing with) them.

God Jeremy hated flying...

Why HERO couldn't just have had a nice, safe headquarters on the ground like they used to, he didn't understand. One engine issue, either accidental or intentional, and all HERO's leadership could be taken out just like that! He didn't think he'd ever really get it. Other people seemed to find it cool, or inspiring, but he much preferred the stability of solid earth.

"Whoa, this s so cool! I've never been in a real aircraft before! Do you get to do this all the time here Mr Stray?!"

He sighed at the voice that came from beside him, turning to look at his young companion.

"Yeah, I 'get to.'" He sighed. "I personally don't think there's any funner experience than sitting in a tiny metal tube hurtling through the sky, with absolutely no control of whether I live or die."

Graham paused for a moment, tilting his head to the side as he tried to figure out why his teacher had phrased it like that. It didn't sound very fu-

"Oh! Wait! That was 'sarcasm' right?" He asked, feeling pretty confident he'd gotten it. He was proven correct when the old man let out an actual smile, if only a tiny one.

"Well, wouldja look at that. You're really starting to get the hang of it, aren't you?"

"Yeah!" The shapeshifter said happily, adjusting his glasses to keep them from falling off when he bounced in place. "I could tell because the stuff you said didn't sound like you enjoyed it at all. Also you smell like fear."

Jeremy decided to ignore that last comment, instead nodding to him.

"Good. That's progress. Don't get too ahead of yourself though, that was an easy one. Starting today, you're going to have to talk to new people on your own, without me around to come and save you. If you don't want to get tricked again, you'll need to keep working on it, got it?"

"Right! I won't let you down Mr Stray sir!" Graham said, grinning so widely that Jeremy half expected his face to split in half.

Jeremy half winced at the response, though he couldn't quite help the small smirk that appeared on his own face at the same time.

"God, don't call me sir, I'll break out in hives..." He said, before feeling the thump of the vtol landing at the academy, sighing in relief. "Well, looks like we made it in one piece. Ready for your first mission as a hero?"

"I think so!" Graham answered, only hesitating slightly. "I'll do my best!"

"Well, sounds good enough to me." Jeremy said with a nod. "Alright, let's get going. Time to show the world the real Graham."

---

It was only a short walk from the landing pad to the docks, where it looked like Principal Lee was busy greeting the other young heroes involved in the operation.

"Now Barbara, please. I know it's been a year, but you aren't telling me you've gotten senile enough to forget my face already, are you?" Jeremy asked with a chuckle, before looking down to Graham and nodding.

The bespectacled boy nodded back, and approached the principal.

"Hey, I'm Graham! I've been travelling with Mr Stray as his apprentice for the last year, so I'm hoping I can be a decent hero like the rest of you guys. If there's anything I can do, just let me know!"

Jeremy nodded faintly, almost imperceptibly to anyone who hadn't already been watching for it. Sure, the introduction might've gotten a little stiff around the middle depending on who you asked, but it was a lot better than when they'd first met at least.

"Please, Blaze, mind your language. They're just misguided, I'm sure. Not to mention we're also in a school." He said, before turning back to Lee. "But yeah, unfortunately I didn't get a whole lot of information on these kids from the Director before she sent us down here. What can you tell me about the misguided little bastards?"

---

---

It wasn't much like Sophie to hide. For as long as she could remember, she yearned to be front and center, for fear of missing all the action. But the nature of this mission called for a touch of subtlety; HERO had the element of surprise, and it would do little good to make her presence too obvious. So, she picked out a hiding spot all on her own, in the place a gang of jetpack pirates would be most likely to target: the storage car. She settled amongst a collection of small crates, tucked atop a railing that ran across the ceiling. It would shield her from view of the door, while offering a sizable vantage point against any intruders. Even better, it served as a comfortable reading spot away from the din and chatter of the other passengers. All in all, choice real estate.

And there, she remained for some time, manicured fingers pushing the pages of her novel from right to left. The train departed from the station not ten minutes ago, and she was already bored half to death. Not that she wanted these pirates to attack the train, mind you. But when waiting around for villains to make their move is your full-time job, it's practical to bring alternative means of entertainment. Hardback novels had long since fallen out of fashion, but she always found them preferable to the screens that took their place. The tactile feel of the cover in her hands and the pages against her fingers made the words feel permanent. Safe. She could read the same work a thousand times, and feel secure in the knowledge that its printed ink would never change.

Of course, it wasn't jetpack pirates that eventually disrupted her quiet. The only other people walking into the room were her colleagues, none of whom seemed particularly inclined toward friendly conversation. Unfortunately for them, that never stopped her. She pulled a pocket mirror from her belt, taking a minute or so to apply another coat of lipstick and sort out the smudge in her eyeliner with her fingernail. She gave her hair a toss, and practiced her smile in the mirror. Yes, it would have to do.

Sophie peered over the railing and down at her coworkers. "Hello, darlings!" she called from above, her thick accent underscoring each word she spoke. With a flourish, she dropped from the ceiling, her mane of blonde hair somehow managing to remain in place. She flashed the trio a winning, impossibly bright smile. "Fancy running into you all here."

Inside the ship, Megumi could not have felt more miserable. Megumi thought she had been used to the effects of motion sickness when playing VR games, but the moving ship proved otherwise. She could swear her stomach had gained a life of its own and wanted to crawl out of her mouth. It was a shame, too, as she had packed some snacks she wanted to eat on the journey. In a desperate attempt to escape her seasickness, she issued a command to her robot companion Gem, "Gem, enter- ugh, enter 'Gematria' mode." Gem then began to transform, quickly taking on the humanoid form that made up Megumi's hero persona, Gematria. Grabbing its left hand, Megumi's body then turned into a mass of electric sparks as it entered the the Gematria android. On its face plate, two blue eyes lit up and blinked, signifying that Megumi had taken over and become Gematria.

Patting her stomach area, Gematria felt relieved that she could no longer feel her stomach doing flips. She still couldn't eat any snacks, but that was a problem for another time. She made her way up to the ship's deck, and saw that the ship was already nearing their destination. Like Blaze, she too was eager to get off the ship, though for a different reason than her. "Yeah, Blaze! That's not appropriate language to use on a principal," Gematria scolded her. Turning to Barbara Lee, Gematria bowed her head and addressed her, "Apologies for our rudeness, Principal Lee. My name is Gematria, and I will do my utmost to succeed in our mission."

---

Pandora really hoped they didn't show up. She just wasn't in the mood to deal with flying train pirates. Her eyes closed, one leg crossed over the other, leaning back in her chair. Listening to the sound of this preposterously fast magnetic train. Might as well be magic to her, for all she knew how it worked. Unlike many of the others, Pandora was not in the storage room. She was in a passenger car.

Unusually for her, Pandora was smartly dressed. A red dress up shirt and black trousers, kept on her waist by two slick suspenders. Some dress shoes completed the look, and her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows. Her hair was still that vibrant red color, her eyes that Altered orange color she had made herself. And of course, her hair was still tied into a loose bun. That much hadn't changed. One new thing was the watch on her left wrist. It might, just might, help the long-lived woman keep track of time.

The Assistant Director, the one that went by Man-Titan, explained their mission. If she bothered to open her eyes and look, she could spot his personal vehicle keeping a calculated distance from the train. Pandora sighed.

"Couldn't they get the robots do this?" She asked the air. Maybe another Hero was in the train car with her, she couldn't tell. "They're only people with jet packs. Just-" She mimed a finger gun. A little tiny explosion happened on the edge of her finger trip as she did so. "Shoot them."

On second thought, perhaps she should be hoping they show up sooner rather than later. Like ripping off a bandaid or having to put down your favorite horse with a shotgun, best do it quickly and get it over with. Jetpacks. Absurd. They weren't real pirates. No, Pandora knew what real pirates were like. For a while she had served the Queen in hunting those bastards down. Utterly depraved scoundrels, the lot of them. Even worse was the pirate-themed supervillains. Or that one time, with the kraken. Now what? They steal weapons from trains? Pittering around with their little school-boy backpacks? It was insulting, is what it was. Pandora didn't know why she was complaining internally. She'd chosen to come on this mission. Complaining was just something to do, she supposed. Something she could think about. She had vowed off drinking and smoking back in the 1910's, and there wasn't much to read. So she just sat here. Waiting. Of course she knew in her mind, the waiting would be nearly instantly forgotten. Nobody ever remembered the actual amount of time they sat in boredom. It all got compressed in retrospect.

Didn't help her now, though, did it?

---

---

Darkness. A city at night. Each stalwart light like a star against the sky. An artificial substitute as the progress of man dominates even the radiant beauty of the heavens. Streets still warm from the heat of the machines and the sun. Concrete cracked under the weight of a thousand years of hierarchy and disrepair. A people, a world, closer together than ever before and yet so divided. Race, class, gender, metahuman or not...

A spinning wheel, set in motion by events. When the time where times passed passed into the time of when times went past. And now the will of millions hibernates in the tenement halls and torn plaster walls. Kept asleep by the alluring siren's song of convenience and false luxury. Modern civilization in all it's glory, built in by the plundered value of labor and resources from all over the world.

The only way to shatter these chains is to unite. Only when the common man truly realizes the shared humanity of his brethren. Only when the chains of oppression can be melted down and reforged into the links that can united us can we truly be free. The people need heroes, now more than ever! And more than that, the heroes need the people! That is the power of human compassion! That is the power of Shadow Scythe-

"Penelope!"

"Wuh?" Penny blinked into focus, looking around the storage room.

"You were day dreaming again, dear." A kindly elderly woman that runs the Brookside Homeless Shelter says with a smile on her face.

(I was night dreaming. The shadows are where I belong!)

"Oh, uh, sorry, Ms. Tabernacky." Penny says aloud, smirking.

"Are you done moving these boxes in, sweetheart?"

"Yes, ma'am." Penny nods.

"That's wonderful, thank you dearie. Would you mind helping out in the soup kitchen for a while? Robert needs to head home soon."

"Sure thing."

"And goodness, girl. You should turn a light on if you're going to be heading in and out. It's practically pitch black in here." The woman flicks on a light in the storage room.

(It matches the color of my soul.)

"Sorry, haha." Penny rubs her shoulder.

"What if you hurt yourself?"

(THE SHADOW SCYTHE WOULD FEEL NOTHING BUT THE BURNING FIRE OF VENGEANCE.)

"I'll be more careful." Penny smiles warmly, grimacing slightly. "I just, uh, don't mind the dark."

Ms. Tabernacky shakes her head. "Well, okay. Sometimes I worry about you, that's all. You're such a sweet girl."

(Justice is sweet. I'm not.)

"I, uh, appreciate it ma'am. But you don't need to worry about me, I'll be okay. Soup kitchen's on the left?"

"Mhm."

The halls of the Brookside Homeless Shelter (BHS) are nicely painted, freshly done only a couple years ago. Cardboard and plastic boxes full of miscellaneous supplies are scattered throughout the halls. Or stacks of chairs, or ladders, occasionally a janitor's cart. Distant sounds of chatter become louder. Pushing open a pair of swinging kitchen doors, Penny enters the kitchen. She smiles and waves at the soup chefs. Penny isn't much of a cook, but she has a pair of hands. And that's all a person really needs to help others. Sometimes you don't even need that much.

Her role was to move food out of the kitchen and into the lines, where it can then be transferred onto the plates and trays of the people in the cafeteria. Penny was a regular volunteer at the BHS, often showing up after school or on the weekends. It was a community center, a place where folks could come together, create connections, and lift each other up. Penelope Mai Lu liked it there.

---

Later that evening, Penny was at home in the bedroom of her apartment, finishing up her homework. The bedroom had a small TV, a face camera, a Playstation a generation or two behind. There were posters hanging on the walls of heavy metal bands. A bookshelf full of political theory books. A closet and a backpack within. Overall pretty normal room for a teenager. Ish.

Her father could be heard negotiating with the management of the massive tech company he worked for. The place where, very occasionally, Penny piggy backed off his access into the building and made off with some of their weapons. The expensive stuff they well off to security forces and riot cops. You know, thicker boots to crush people under. Penny thought they were much better off in her hands. That way they could be an implement of the people, not the government. Besides. They screwed him over a lot. It was vengeance.

Penelope finished off the last of her homework for the night, sitting back and sighing. The sooner she could get out of high school, the better. The flexible schedules of college would allow for more versatile community service. She would just do easy courses. Ideally she could get enough funding from the public through donations that she could be a vigilante volunteer full time. And being a video game streamer. She just needed to be in college long enough that her parents wouldn't get suspicious, really. Then she could just be vague about what she does for a living?

Ugh. It's hard. She would tell them, but they wouldn't understand. They would just think it was her being reckless and stupid and inconsiderate again. Just another manifestation of her condition. Not like she could blame them. But she was being careful. There was even a doctor that had agreed to help her off the table!

Beep beep beep. Bum bum bum. An ominous alert from her cellphone. Penny quickly checks it. Several people have noticed suspicious activity from an abandoned warehouse. Running theory is a meth lab. Stange smells, people in suits, under the board activity. Meth in Brookside? Not on her watch.

Penny grabbed her Duffel Bag of Doom or Something. It was heavy and full of useful supplies. She headed out of her bedroom. Her father was in the kitchen, her mother, Susan in the living room watching TV.

"Where're you off too, hon?" Susan, her step-mother, asks, concern lifting her eyebrows.

"I'm heading to the gym."

"...You've been heading off by yourself a lot lately."

"I'm practicing my independance. Just, moreso than usual. You don't need to watch over me every little step of the way." Penny goes to the door. "I'm not a kid anymore."

"I- I know. I just worry about you, sometimes."

Penny exhales sharply through her nose. "Lots of people do. But I'm fine, I promise. I like going to the gym and hanging out with my friends, and spending time at the BHS. I'm-" She rolls her shoulders. "I'm happy, Mom."

Her mom smiles sadly. "I'm glad to hear it. Just be careful, all right? I do trust you. I love you, Penny."

Penny smiles back, nodding. She opens the door, steps outside and begins to close it. "I love you, too, Mom. After I hit the gym, I'll just be doing some more community service." She growled, squinting enigmatically.

Susan looks startled. "What?"

"Some community service!" Penny repeats, brighter this time. "Love you bye!" She closes the door behind her and smirks. Easy peasy. She's totally clueless! Now it's time to fight some crime.

---

Much better. Shadow Scythe Vengeance is on the prowl. After biking to the general area of the warehouse, she deposits the Cycle of Violence and the Duffel Bag of Doom or Something and takes to the rooftops like a panther. Fully suited up, she's lithe and agile. She's got her two Scythes attached to chains, sheathed in her hips. As well as a pair of bolas. Two fighting sticks placed in holsters on her shoulders. Several pouches and a belt full of more easily concealable and compact tools, such as grenades and bolas. She was a veritable arsenal, even if she couldn't unfortunately bring every little gadget with her on every mission. Otherwise she would sacrifice her impressive stealth and acrobatics.

SSV took to the rooftops. Making jumps as long as fifteen feet, the vigilante had pushed herself well beyond what most people would consider their limits. And she was only going to get better. This was her hobby, her career, and her passion all in one. Nothing else mattered. In this world, people could fly. If they could do the impossible, then so could she.

(I fly on wings of hope.)

Once the warehouse was in sight, she pressed a button on the side of her mask. Two lenses covered her eyes, creating little beady white dots on the inside of her skull mask. Very creepy and badass, if you asked her. Zooming in on the building, she confirmed it was the correct warehouse. Setting a metal case she had carried with her down, she remote piloted the Guardian Angel quad-copter drone. Silently it scouted out the entire place, looking for an entrance. She set the empty box down, but left the Guardian Angel floating in place.

(Rooftop ventilation shaft. There's the way the Shadow Scythe shall enter. No better way to strike down enemies of good then from above.)

In order to cross the street, she tossed her scythe across to a building opposite of her. It embedded itself in the edge, and connecting the chain to her other scythe, she created a makeshift tightrope, pulled taut. She grabbed on to it and climbed across rather quickly, her legs hanging beneath her.

Once she was there, she leaped over a few more rooftops and made it to that of the warehouse. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she quietly unscrewed the vent (it was already falling apart, so it was very easy to do.) Then she set it aside. But she wasn't going to enter- not yet. First, some recon. She piloted the Guardian Angel around the place. She peaked into windows and got an accurate count of the people inside. One of them was a mutant, possessing a fish head. He could be more powerful than the others. At the very least, he had a bigger bite and she couldn't phase him with water. And yes, this was a meth lab all right. There were workers and chemicals, set-ups that she recognized from other labs she's busted. Not on her watch.

(Divine sight sees all. No evil can escape my vision.)

Guardian Angel continued rotating around the building, peaking into various windows. Some of them were cracked open, or slightly broken, allowing the quietly whirring machine to get a good look at just about the entirety of the inside. Moreover she found hiding spots, paths to take, places where her enemies might find cover or security. And she was looking for more metahumans, since apparently one was involved. Metahumans can make things trickier, but in her experience they often rely on their powers as a gimmick. No versatility. They all have a weakness that can exploited. And rarely do they have anything that would help defeat the element of surprise. Getting the jump on someone negates almost all superpowers.

(Just one more reason I was born in the night. An invisible protector, a grim avenger. I walk into the darkest depths of humanity...and become their master!) Shadow Scythe Vengeance thought to herself, her eyes on the little screen infront of her as she sat cross legged on the roof, her back against the ventilation shaft she was intending to enter.

---

'God this sucks.' Travis thought to himself. 'I thought there was supposed to be explosions and badass fights, not waiting on a stupid train for an hour...'

That was a bit of an overstatement - Travis, like the other members of the mission, had only been on the N-train for about 10 minutes. It's just that, unlike them, Travis had no patience whatsoever. Usually, when he rode one of the E-trains, Travis would talk with one of his friends or listen to music on his phone or something. But since this was a cargo train and he had to wear this stupid earpiece, both of those options were out.

...Well, Travis probably could listen to music since he wasn't on a public transit train. Most people only really use earbuds to avoid annoying other people.

Instead of thinking that though, Travis chose to pace around his car, occasionally lounging on the cushions and chairs. Usually, in those old action movies, the bad guys struck immediately - what was taking so much damn time!? Were the Rocketeers stuck in traffic or something? They have freaking jetpacks!

Travis stood up from his chair, leaning against the wall to look out one of the windows. The East Flank stared back at him - homes, restaurants, laundromats, and all other kinds of buildings flew past at speeds that made it near impossible to recognize any singular structure. If the pirates crashed the train or Travis fell out somehow, even with his durability he'd probably end up as paste on the pavement below.

Travis dropped the line of thought - too morbid. He wasn't going to get knocked out of the train, he was going to kick a bunch of ass. No point in thinking about what ifs, right? Instead, Travis began focusing on his reflection in the glass. A young man in black cargo pants, a white hoodie, with a crappy plastic mask around his neck looked back. There was a cut on his neck from his shave this morning, though Travis hoped that the wooden sword hanging from his belt loop would distract anyone from noticing. He really needed to work on his costume - he'd already been in HERO for a week, and he was wearing stuff he dragged out of his closet. Who knew getting a costume that wouldn't get wrecked up every fight for the few dozen dollars he'd saved up would be so difficult...

Hopefully, this mission would pay out some big bucks. The thought of asking if the food on the train was covered by HERO crossed Travis's mind, but before he could think of who he could even ask, a loud static sound pierced his ear. A second or two later, the Assistant Director's ('You think he'd mind if I called him Ray?') voice rang out through the earpiece, telling the Heroes to watch over their actual objective instead of sitting wherever.

Travis smirked slightly - Finally! Something to do! He quickly got to his feet and began walking towards the back of the train. He had initially chosen a car near the front, thinking that the Rocketeers might attack the rails in order to stop or derail the train. As he walked through, he was starting to think that was pretty dumb - while they destroyed the M-Train, gold was a lot less explosive than Weapon-Grade Thorium. If they tried to derail the train or force a stop, they would risk it getting damaged or blowing up... Probably.

Travis wasn't really sure what 'Thorium' was exactly, but 'Weapon-Grade' made it sound like something that was dangerous to drop.

Finding the final door, Travis was pleased to see that most of the other Heroes assigned to the mission had already shown up. He wasn't sure which ones were assholes yet so he was kind of nervous about making first impressions, but it was probably a lot less boring than hanging around an empty train car. Travis pulled out his HERO ID card and unlocked the door, walking inside just as an absolutely massive man blew a huge cloud of smoke from his vape in Travis's direction.

Travis immediately walked out, coughing into his hand violently.

'Why is his vape pen so huge!? ...And why'd he go with Strawberry?'

Travis had never done well around smokers. Second-hand smoke seemed to irritate his throat and lungs especially quickly thanks to his power, and while the man had never been an asthmatic, he found himself struggling to breathe whenever he was in a room with someone smoking. Thankfully, he didn't need to deal with it too much - his father's drug of choice was injected rather than smoked, and the only one of Travis's friends that vaped, Bomber, did so far from Travis whenever they hung out.

Even though it pissed Travis off a little that he just embarrassed himself in front of the other heroes, he decided to shrug it off. After all, they were kinda doing something important right now - it made sense to try and relieve some stress. Hell, he didn't even see Travis walk in, so he didn't do it maliciously. No reason to hold a grudge over that when they're on a mission...

At least, until that big guy does it on purpose. Then he'd definitely be filed under Asshole.

Deciding that there were probably enough people keeping watch over the safe, Travis chose to walk a few cars down. The Rocketeers wouldn't go straight at the Thorium, most likely targetting one of the other cars in order to minimize the chances of damaging it... Then again, Travis didn't really consider that the safe that contained the material was probably designed to take as much damage as possible without harming the fuel inside. He was mostly just looking for an excuse to wait somewhere else till the action happened.

Thankfully, Travis's breathing was already getting back to normal. If he was lucky, the pirates would only have rockets, and not tear gas. When he decided to stop, Travis found himself in a car alongside one of the other heroes he saw at the station - an attractive woman in trousers and a red dress shirt, with hair tied up in a bun. She looked more like someone about to go to work or some dinner party than fight a group of flying pirates.

Travis was just happy to have someone to talk to, oblivious to the fact that the woman had her eyes closed when he walked in and probably wanted nothing to do with him.

"Do you know how long these things usually take to start? I've only done the 'get cats out of trees and clean up Ambleweeds' kind of missions."

---

---

Plop.

A small, somewhat tattered book had landed in the frothy water that was being tossed about behind the sleek cabin cruiser. It looked like it had definitely once belonged to a library, back when paper literature was not just an amusing, and somewhat inconvenient, past time. “Dumb book...” A voice grumbled as the yellowed pages and cracked leather casing began to sink under the waves, destined to be lost forever below the questionably polluted waters. “Dumb dead language.”

She’d been getting bored recently, so Liberty (or mom as she insisted on being called) had gotten her this super duper interesting intro book to Latin. And by super duper interesting she meant ‘why the hell would anyone want to learn a dead language?!’ As far as she knew, she wasn’t good friends with any long dead roman emperors or whatever. And after learning all of their ancient swear words, she’d found herself rapidly losing interest. No doubt she'd be in trouble for tossing it overboard but that was a problem for future Riley, and future Riley wasn't here right now, was she?

Oh well. It was gone now. So long boring ass book.

Immediately forgetting her momentary grievances against ancient languages, Riley peered over the edge of the boat, long white locks spilling over the crown of her head as she watched the water. It was nice to get away from Castleburg...well to a different island at least. Even if it did look like she’d be able to do a full lap of the whole place in less time than it had taken them to get here. Her eyes darted over to the dock as it began to come into view, hopping up from her seat as the boat pulled slowly to a stop.

Humming some top 10 pop song under her breath, she happily followed after the others as they disembarked from the vehicle, sea breeze wafting cooly over the skin that was exposed on her bare arms. Apparently, for it wasn't really a conscious choice, she'd chosen to wear some ripped denim jeans and a light purple...or was it blue, crop top. Maybe not the most appropriate thing for attending the academy but at least everything was clean.

“Yeeeeeah Blaze.” Riley chipped in as the others began to introduce themselves, nudging the pyrotechnic gently in the side with her own elbow, a small smile on her face. “Don’t be so mean about the poor little douchebags.” She hadn’t really wanted to do this mission - mainly after hearing that some of the others were off to fight flying pirates on one of the mag trains - but she figured it might be kinda funny. That and she was pretty curious about what they'd done to get into so much trouble. She'd decided it must be something super terrible and super awesome.

“Anyway, I’m Cassandra Clark, of the cl-...” Pausing mid-sentence, she brought a finger up to her lips, tapping on them softly. “Wait, no that’s not right... I’m Riley. That’s it. Or Polaris, I don’t mind watcha’ call me really.” She shrugged her shoulders as if the lie was little more than a freudian slip. Sometimes it was best just to skim over it, nudge everyone quickly onto the next subject at hand. Either that or try and lie to several people who definitely already knew her real name. "So yeah, when do we get to meet them?"

---

---

---

Had the ride over been anything but a moment of calm before the storm? Maybe. All that Lucian knew was that he'd taken some time to listen to music and stretch in some privacy near the back of the HERO Cabin Cruiser along the way. The salty spray of the ocean was about as calming, but the younger man was anything but lackadaisical about the mission either. It seemed simple enough, but to him he could never not take a missions seriously either. Especially when it involved delinquents with powers. That particular topic hit home a bit for him personally. He'd seen those streets, lived on them even. Eleven years of his life were spent living there, and he'd still make visits in his personal time once in a while ever since to talk to old friends and neighbors and such. Even lent a hand helping someone move a couple of times.

Yet on another hand he was happy to get to come to the island, get this mission done as quickly as possible, and see his little sister by popping in to say hi.

Still, once the boat finally stopped at the docks, Lucian pulled the wireless earbuds out of his ears and put his things away in the worn, faded, army green duffel bag he'd brought along with him. A little something he brought on less intensive missions like this one, though for all he knew things would go awry the moment they all stepped onto the dock. Or perhaps he'd been drilled to think like that before. Either way, as the nineteen-year-old changed into his hero attire and made his way over to the exit ramp...he couldn't help but crack a grin at the face that had come to meet them at the dock.

"Hey Principal Lee! Long time no see! Remember me?"

Ah, the memories. Not all good at first, not bad by the end of his time spent at the Academy for Young Heroes. Those were some years of change to be sure. At the same time, though, Lucian hoped she wasn't still going to hold the whole "augmented the teacher's restroom to send it crashing into the basement" incident against him still. Hell, he could still remember the sound of the chorus off busted pipes spraying water everywhere down that hole through the lower floors...

Lightly shaking his head to try to chase out the embarrassing thought, the younger man also perked up as he noticed another pair nearby. Well, a certain familiar old fart in general at least. Guy with him seemed to be a ray of sunshine, though he kind of seemed like a naïve little puppy as well in some capacity, but apprenticing with Stray wasn't a small thing. Even so, the blonde-haired boy walked over to where Jeremy was before giving him a brief thumbs up and opening his mouth to speak.

However, the comments of two of his peers outright drew his attention and gaze to Blaze and Polaris quickly. His face, underneath the mask at least, as well as his tone of voice took on a more serious and lecturing manner in a heartbeat.

"Hey, knock if off you two. Kids or not, this is a mission and we need to not let our guard down unless you want one of those 'little douchebag bastards' to get the jump on you."

Ugh. Why couldn't they take this seriously enough at least? At least 'Gem', as he'd nicknamed a certain hero on the team in his own head, was trying to be proper about things. Same went for Stray naturally...but Lucian had no idea about his new ward there. Seemed enthusiastic enough at least. Hmm.

@Danvers@Scarifar@Rabidporcupine@SilverPaw@Hitman

The softly dramatic lines of Poulenc’s flute sonata drifted through Rory’s rose-pink earbuds. Her flute was assembled in her lap, her fingers working the keys in time with the music only she could hear. The young woman had spent most of the commute, after the introductions and briefings were out of the way of course, folded up in a comfy cabin seat inside the H.E.R.O-logo-emblazoned cruiser boat. The others were being loud, and reckless, and volatile. Besides, Rory had a flute lesson in the morning that she had to practice for, or failing practice, at least actively-listen-to-repertoire for.

Truth be told, she felt more than a little guilty. It was her first proper mission as a fully-fledged, full-time hero, both hers and her sister Marcie’s, and by the time they’d gotten to put in for their missions there were only a few spots open on any of the teams. Marcie was drawn to something flashy, because of course she was, and Rory… well, she’d wanted to go back to the Academy and help out with the disciplinary problem there. She owed it to the school after all. And she figured Marcie would understand that, she logically knew she would have… but she might have told a white lie about Marcie’s chosen mission being full when she’d submitted her request.

Oops. That was a mess to sort out and apologize for… much later. After they both got back. Everything was going to be great for both of them and all would be forgiven. Certainly.

The boat gently knocked against the dock, and Rory carefully put her flute away before she dared move. After just a few moments, she unfurled onto her feet, half a pace behind the others. She was dressed for a normal day, a pink shirt over blue jeggings, with a grey sweater tied around her waist in case she got cold. Her flute case, the hard-sided one further padded in soft brown faux leather, hung from a chain strap across her body, like a stylish (if oddly-proportioned) handbag.

Despite all her guilt and her nerves, the sight of Principal Lee brought a smile to her face. She had quite liked every interaction she’d had with the principal, though she supposed she’d never exactly been in trouble during her time at the school. As the others made their greetings, she subconsciously stepped away from them, flashing them a bit of a reproachful look as they referenced young classmates as “little bastards.” That’s exactly the impression we want Principal Lee to NOT have of us!

Oh well. The principal would straighten them out. She ignored her boatmates, turning bright eyes on the principal alone.

“It’s wonderful to be back here, Principal Lee!’ she said, her smile and words genuinely enthusiastic, and just a little too serious for the occasion. “Thank you so much for letting me be included on this mission.”

Wasn’t this job supposed to be exciting?

Marcie paged through a book on her holo-reader as the train zoomed past the clustered, gleaming skyscrapers of Castleburg. So far, nothing had happened, which was just fine with her. Maybe nothing would happen, and she would get paid for sitting on a train reading her favorite book. Now that would be a good day. But, unfortunately, that was unlikely. She’d take the peace and quiet she could get. In fact, she had set herself up for getting the maximum time alone- she had taken the smallest passenger car and locked the door.

The girl hadn’t bothered with bringing her costume. Instead, a too-large blue zip-up hoodie, a pair of jeans, noise-cancelling headphones, and sneakers were her armor. Her dark-brown hair was messy and shoulder-length. She chewed on the string of her hoodie absent-mindedly as she read. It was her first mission without Rory - her sister - and her brain hadn't quite registered that fact. Much like someone might obsessively check a pocket, hoping for their missing phone to miraculously reappear, Marcie kept glancing over her shoulder towards where her absent sister should be sitting. They were both going to be just fine without each other; they had trained for this and were more than ready to be their own heroes. She knew that, but their bond provided a social safety blanket not unlike a phone might, and she found herself missing it just as acutely. Her sister had desperately wanted to go on the mission to Lighthouse Island today to talk to some delinquents, and Marcie’s aversion to meaningless socialization and cheer had far outweighed her desire to stick with her sister. Additionally, this mission had been full, so even Marcie’s begging wouldn’t get her sister to go with her. So here she was: alone in a train, waiting for sky pirates to jetpack down and try to kill her.

She slumped down in her seat and exited her holo-book. Maybe there was a cool movie she could watch again? She busied herself with scrolling through Netflix No, no, not that, ugh, maybe, that’s terrible, no, NO… Pirates of the Caribbean was old as rocks, but it would’ve been fitting. Maybe?

Thankfully, the agony of selecting a movie was interrupted by a voice over her ear-piece. Marcie sat up straight as she heard the voice of the Assistant Director. Storage room. Quieter, maybe? Unlikely. From what she knew of her mothers’ friends, heroes tended to be loud and ostentatious. Being in an enclosed room with her coworkers would suck. But she had to sigh and bear it. Marcie would go to the storage room, then.

She approached the door behind someone else- Trent, maybe? She was bad with names. Trent-or-something decided not to go in and turned around. Alright. Maybe he didn’t like smene inside. Then, she herself opened the door, and…

Chaos. Cloyingly sweet and sticky strawberry vape smoke wafted from the mouth of who she knew as Blitz, making her gag, and a pale boy was pointing a glowing sword at a pretty blonde woman. Marcie stood in the doorway with a deer-in-the-headlights look, staring at the scene. “Nope. I’m not doing this.”

Like “Trent”, she let the door close behind her and walked away. Any sort of smoke had always irritated her- cigarettes were the worst, although scented vapes blowing straight into your face were a close second. Additionally, she had zero desire to deal with inter-colleague fighting today.

Despite a desire to return to the peace and quiet of her train car, Marcie knew she should probably remain around her colleagues for any eventual fight. She walked for a bit until she found a train car with “Trent” and another woman. She could’ve sworn she had seen her earlier when they were getting on the train- definitely another hero. So, she opened the door.

“Hi.” Her eyes flitted from man to woman. “Europa. Or Marcie,” she mumbled. She stood in the doorway awkwardly. “Can I sit down?”

---

The woman in the red shirt cracked one eye open as she was asked a question. This was Travis Einstein, also known as Dead Man. One of the newer recruits. Tough as a walnut, apparently. Ever since joining up thirty or so years ago, Pandora's slowly been developing her "actually try" muscles again. So she knows everyone's names and a basic outline of their powers, too. Wonders could be worked if one bothered to read the files. It's also why she didn't just tell him to fuck off with some kind of biting remark. Not that the option wasn't extremely tempting.

So tempting was the option, that she ended up kind of doing it anyway. It was like second nature.

"We've penciled the pirates in to arrive at 4:15 PM, Travis. The scrap should take about five minutes, clean up about ten. That way everyone'll be home for supper." She replied, not a hint of sarcasm in her voice. The northern british accent she maintained out of spite was clear in her voice. Pandora switched the crossing of her legs, adjusting how the suspenders sat on her shoulders.

A few moments later, a very quiet voice prodded into the room. Pandora turned over her shoulder to see the girl introduce herself as Marcie. The Donnelly-Alexander girl, one of the daughters of Patricia and Eliza. From what little she had seen, it definitely seemed like she took after Eliza. Especially the "Murmer" part. Eighteen already, ready to be a soldier. Shuffle in left, exit stage right. So it goes.

"Speak up, love, we can barely hear you. You can sit wherever you'd like, as long as it isn't the window sill." Pandora replied. Then Pandora leaned down, reaching under her seat and fetching her satchel. Retrieving it she began sifting through. Would she try to...entertain these two? Maybe. Failing that, she could at least annoy them slightly.

"You two ever play a game called Twenty-One? You might know it as Blackjack." From her satchel she produced a deck of playing cards. Extending a hand out to the side of the train, she pulled out a little table. There wasn't a table there, as far as she knew, but there was one now, for she willed it so. She even wrapped a hand on the bottm of the table and yanked a stand out of it, welding it to the floor with a nudge of her foot so it wouldn't fall over.

"Get two random cards, tell the dealer to give you another one in the goal to get as close to 21 as possible without going over. Whoever has the closest, wins. I, the dealer, put down two cards of my own. If my hand ends up the closest, both of you lose. If you two aren't interested, I'll just play solitaire and you can watch on longingly. But we have some time to kill until 4:15 PM. And I'm well away how easily you people get bored." Pandora said. Holding the cards in her hand, she began shuffling them about in various ways with her Alteration powers. Mixing them in with each other and floating them from hand to hand. Oooh, aaah. For a long time there she was worried about what might happen if people put together what her powers were. Only so many heroes in existence with Absolute Matter Alteration. But Pandora stopped giving a shit about that before she even joined up with HERO. Keeping her original name off people's lips was the only reason she even bothered with the whole incognito thing. Besides, there'd probably be some sort of...kerfuffle. However minor, after all these years. Just let people speculate. Maintaining the secrecy of her powers themselves was just a pain in the ass.

---

---

When the old man trekked to them along with some teenager, Blaze didn’t pay them much attention besides a passing glance. But then, he had to turn out to be one of those boring sticks in the mud. She was just about to mouth off to him, but at his following words, she realized he’d been only joking. She huffed out a laugh, rolling her eyes, though fondly rather than in irritation.

“So, you do get it, man. I was kinda worried there for a moment. Haven’t seen a deadpan that good in a while, so I was sure you’re being all mindful for your kid,” she gestured at Graham, who’d introduced himself as the old man’s apprentice, “tryn’a make some good example or shit, ya know.”

When the second person tried calling her out in just as many minutes, she sighed. “Oh, c’mon, did’ya not just hear the old dude? It’s fine. ‘Sides, I bet the lady’s had to deal with way worse. ‘S part of the job, yeah?” she asked rhetorically. Directing a critical and doubtful expression at Gematria, she added, “You better get used to that if you wanna deal with them kids. No way they’re gonna give a fuck for any of that forced politeness crap.” She nodded once firmly, setting a fist at her hip, satisfied that she’d made a great point.

At Polaris’ input, she tilted her neck to the side, chin tilting lightly up, and quirked a smirk in her direction. “Yeah, alright,” she chuckled, returning the nudge with a light rap of her knuckles against Riley’s shoulder. She had no idea what was going on with the name thing, but the curiosity was barely a minute thought, the question disregarded as irrelevant nearly as soon as it’d popped up in her mind.

Blaze stretched both her arms up, bending at the waist front-to-back then back-to-front, working out the slight discomfort that sitting on the boat had brought with it. She lazily eyed the over-serious young stud who joined Gem’s side in this little discussion. Who thought people could be so passionate about one tiny harmless comment?

Blaze lowered her arms with a roll of her shoulder, and just-so happened to casually crack her knuckles as she said, “Can’t wait to see ‘em try,” with a drawl, eyebrow raising in challenge. Maybe the blonde needed to be uptight to deal with a group of delinquents, but in her experience, that approach would either get him dismissed entirely or end up backfiring spectacularly. She was hoping for the latter, because that was likely to be more entertaining. Though…she probably shouldn’t be secretly wishing to see a teammate get one-upped by untrained metahumans, huh? Oh, well.

---

---

Sophie's eyes drifted toward the sword pointed at her neck, glinting with suspicion. She supposed, then, that she should have figured as much from someone so clearly on edge. Her warm expression fell into a steely neutral, and stayed there. One hand reached for the pistol sitting at her hip.

...Did she just take a step closer to the deadly energy sword? What possessed her to do that?

The tension in the room seemed to skyrocket until Miles sheathed his sword. And once he did, her hand left the firearm to rest in its holster. The red bleeding into his cheeks prompted a vague, amused smile to grace her features; unfortunately for him, she found his stammering and blushing quite adorable. Whether or not she'd voice this opinion, however, she could not decide.

"It's okay," Sophie offered once he sat back down. "It never hurts to be careful, right?" She took a careful glance at the book tucked under his arm, and smiled once more before taking a seat next to him. She sat just close enough that her arm brushed up against his, and continued to do so with every breath she took. The move was so nonchalant-so effortlessly casual-that she might not have even done it on purpose. Perfume wafted from her person, smelling of peonies and raspberry. She set her own book in the center of her lap, cover face-up: Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere. "I'm very sorry for startling you."

---

RENDER

---

---

Time seemed to have been a lost concept as a pair of chestnut irises gazed out over the vast expanse of glittering lights that made up the city she called home. She had been like this since the last rays of sunshine dipped away, fading the swirl of warm colors that once painted the sky and instead turning it into a dazzling show of stars or at least that’s what it would've been if the lights she now gazed at didn’t pollute and dim the view, stealing the show for themselves. The distant sound of honking traffic pulled her back from the rabbit hole that was her thoughts causing her gaze to finally shift downward as her hand dug into the pocket of jean shorts. A frown etched its way onto her features as she finally glanced at the time lighting up on her cell before shoving it away once more in frustration. She always prided herself with being punctual, setting an example and presenting herself in the best light if possible which is why she had arrived long before she had been expected let alone needed but now look at her, late. Nilin hadn’t meant to find herself completely lost in thought, spending hours leaning against the metal fire escape railing of some random run down building near the location that would be her first mission. In truth, it was that very same mission she was currently thinking over because while she knew what she must do and that ultimately it was to protect the vigilante as well as others that might follow suit and avoid future damage but...if anyone could understand a bit of this Shadow Scythe Vengeance woman, it would be her.

When someone else blessed with powers wasn’t around her to make her able to feel the power that lingered in her own veins, she was just the same as SSV. That one thought sparked many others on how she felt about the situation because she could see herself trying the same route had HERO not been an option for her. Nilin couldn’t state that the vigilante wasn’t skilled or prepared either. A bit eager, sure, but their plans of action were solid and warnings were stated against trying such actions and even going as far as to provide other ways for citizens to help. The vigilante was simply trying to help her city or that is the sense she got from pouring herself into the vigilante’s videos which were not her normal fashion of things to watch. It had started out as a kind of know thy enemy kind of deal which is how she ended up spending the morning and most of the afternoon for that matter with a bowl of extra buttery popcorn, sweeping through the collective majority of videos and skipping over the things like video game play and what not to get to the fighting. Slowly, as she continued onward, Nilin actually enjoyed herself in her study and even possibly looked over a couple of non-work related videos (which she would absolutely deny doing) and got a bit of a laugh or a genuine smile at this woman’s character. The problem is, she actually liked SSV and she didn’t know how much trouble she would be in with HERO when she was caught.

She shook her head, focusing back to the present with a deep sigh while dragging her fingers through her ebony locks. ’Better to just get this over with...I can’t let my teammates wait on me forever.’, she thought, pulling her hair up into a messy bun as she made her way across the catwalk to the waiting ladder. Nilin slid herself down said ladder, plopping onto the street below with a louder thunk than usual since the boots she wore currently were much different from the ones she had designed costume wise. The name of the game was to blend in and not stick out so she did just that, donning on street attire instead of going full costume. She mostly appeared as she would have on a normal day, jean shorts accompanied a loose grey t-shirt that had a random graphic design, part of which was hidden under the red flannel shirt she had tossed over it with the sleeves at least rolled up near her elbows. Comfy and easy to move around in though that didn’t mean she was without some of her usual equipment, always one to keep prepared. A short stroll later, she finally made her way into the warehouse, using the designated entrance for them and having the first glimpse of the stage they had set.

She could smell the chemicals in the air before she could even hear the bubbling of liquids which in part was being drowned out by casual conversations as they all waited for their guest to arrive. Her nose crinkled in distaste, her arm going up to her nose to block it before snagging a mask for herself and scanning the room. If she hadn’t been in the know about the ruse, Nilin doubted she would have believed this wasn’t a true up and running meth lab. Apparently, there was absolutely no problem in making the scene as authentic as possible within a matter of days and more than enough willing bodies to play as meth makers or henchmen. Suddenly, it felt like something was grating against her nerves, a headache trying to form as her power was slowly trying to reach out to the few meta humans within the bunch, the range close enough now that she had hit a current point. She could pick them easily out of the bunch, some more obvious than others but she wasn’t in the mood to play with the unknown just yet. The extra metahumans for the scene were all well and good for any backup but she only knew her teammates powers so with that she quickly pressed in her headphones, keeping her attention on the music to help tune out the unwanted connections trying to form. She hoped for the best as she moved into the crowd, the confident and relaxed steps she had previously now slower and more hesitant as Nilin worked her way over to Mr. Fish Face to see if he know where the others were. She only took a moment every now and then to appear as though she was working on one thing or another to seem less suspicious or out of place if being watched, subtly glancing up at least once to see if anything was amiss yet, figuring that would be the point of entry though nothing could be confirmed until she spoke with the ones that set everything up. Finally reaching her destination, she asked straight out,”Have the others arrived yet?”, crossing her arms as she waited for answer and probably appearing like she was irritated but in all honestly she was just hugging herself and trying desperately to tune out the powers of the piranha in front of her, hoping the sooner she got answers, the quicker she could put some distance between them.