---

---

---

“No questions. I have my directive.”

Artemisia - or “Titan” as her superiors also liked to call her - set out on her task as she had done countless times before. Orders came, details and conditions were provided, and the cyborg fitted herself properly and raced out for her target. She was armed only with her twin pistols, both equipped with suppressors to give her a stealthy edge. She also had a beacon to be activated when she secured the syndicate ship and it’s cargo. On her signal a team would come in low by chopper and secure the vessel and the prototype aboard and her mission would be complete.

Artemisia knew nothing of this prototype other than it was a weapons module of some sort, the only of it’s kind currently. She knew nothing of this criminal syndicate who she was told intended to hawk this new weapon system to belligerents in third world countries, for mere profiteering at that. However she imagined there was actually a bit more to it, such as perhaps this syndicate having an unseen interest in these tumultuous countries, or even some kind of personal or moral tie. This mattered not of course and the cyborg shook the last of her stray thoughts from her mind as she crossed the waters of Tenebrae. Her boat slicing through the otherwise calm sapphire waves as she approached the yacht.

Artemisia abandoned her boat about three hundred yards away from the yacht. It was a simple civil model skiff and - if not recovered - it would simply be written off by any who found it as someone hadn’t tied their boat tight enough to the pier and it had drifted out into the harbor. Securing her weapons at her hips she dove headfirst into the cool water and began taking broad strokes just beneath the surface. Artemisia’s artificial limbs and lungs allowed for her to move at a constant fast pace and take deep breaths of air to keep down under the water and stay concealed.

It took her estimated two minutes to cross the long gap between her now adrift boat and the syndicate yacht. Artemisia raised up from the water slowly, eyes scanning the railing along the side of the vessel. A single guard walked by, clad in black with a kevlar vest on and balaclava covering his face. Artemisia hoisted herself up over the railing and moved in behind the guard. With a swift calculated motion the cyborg grabbed and twisted his head, snapping his neck. No sooner than his body hit the deck than his one of his comrades turned the far corner, catching a glimpse of the fallen guard just before a bullet caught him between the eyes killing him as well.

Artemisia was a weapon, and as a weapon she was meant to be efficient and surgical. And that she was, moving stealthily across the topside like a reaper in the dark. She killed two more men near the bow of the ship, shooting them both in the back of their heads as they had stood idly chatting away. She killed the the fifth and sixth men atop the observation deck, two more snapped necks, the second to fall had been unaware of his now dead comrade nearby in his final seconds. Artemisia checked the bridge and top deck lounge before she went below deck, killing another guard in the bridge and two more in the lounge as they slept, the last falling to the floor gurgling and coughing from a gunshot to the throat.

Ten down. The leads and the rest are below deck.

There were four “bosses” below and ten more men with them. However she had no idea where the four primary targets were located and decided that continuing with stealth was her best option. I should grab one of the guards and make him talk, Artemisia thought reloading her pistols, if he refuses… then the heavy handed approach it is. She felt a wave of annoyance wash through her as she made her way down into the lower deck from a stairway across the lounge. She couldn’t risk even one target getting away so an open firefight was out of the question. As she reached the bottom of the stairs Artemisia activated the beacon she had been given. It would take the cleanup team about six minutes to get across the harbor from where they were waiting and roughly another minute for the chopper to take position so they could fast rope descend. Artemisia imagined by the time they reached the ship and took up position she would be making a move on the syndicate leaders themselves. If I happen to arouse suspicion and the targets try to flee - even if they get past me to the top deck - they’ll run right into the cleanup team.

Artemisia encountered the first two guards as she rounded a hallway, meeting them head on. Most would have hesitated if even for a second which was all it would take for the enemy to shout and sound the alarm or open fire. Artemisia instead reacted instantaneously bringing up her pistols and firing, peppering the two wide eyed guards with shots. As the two fell dead the tall cyborg strode forward, empty shell casings rolling from her boots like fleeing insects. Fortunately for me they were not wearing body armor. Artemisia cursed herself for such carelessness and moved on.

The luxury yacht wasn’t a large ship thankfully, all the bedrooms were on the second deck floor. Within the first four bedrooms Artemisia checked she found three sleeping men, the discarded weapons and equipment in their rooms telling her they were among the guards. Each time she slunk in like the shadow of death itself, using the short retractable blades in the end of her fingers to slice open their throats staring coldly into their shocked visages as they strangled on their own blood. She found two more guards in a small lounge in the middle of the second deck and killed them both as then happened on a small map of the second deck in the lounge. There was a bar and billiard room on the far side of the second deck, odds were the four targets would be there. Passing on her interrogation idea Artemisia decided to kill everyone else between her and her targets. It was then she heard the familiar buzzing of a helicopter through a nearby window. Time to finish this.

On her way through the ship Artemisia encountered the last three guards lurking the hallways alone, killing them all with well placed headshots from around corners. She also came across a pair of stewards, indiscriminately killing them as well with no second thought. Artemisia had no worry of consequences for such actions of course, after all it was an understanding that in such operations small amounts of collateral damage was acceptable.

Artemisia’s four targets were indeed all in the billiard and bar room, two playing a game of pool in fact and the other two lounging at the bar nearby. The door burst open, snapping off its hinges in fact from there cyborg’s strength, the four men scrambling from what they were doing.

One. Artemisia fired her raised pistols, one of the men at the bar falling dead, a smoking hole in his forehead. Two. The other at the bar dropped dead next to his cohort. The two other men had cast away their pool sticks by now and were frantically drawing their guns. Three. The third collapse to his knees, grasping his chest as blood poured staining his white dress shirt before falling onto his side. The fourth brought up his pistol and squeezed off a shot, the bullet making its mark striking Artemisia on the underside of her left forearm. There was a sharp metallic sound paired with the tearing of flesh, the cyborg woman not even flinching. Four.

“Let’s go, three by two’s!” Black clad operatives in helmets and Kevlar scuttled down the stairs onto the second deck weapons raised. The top deck was clear and secure and now the second squad was sent to secure the below decks area and the prototype as well. The squad leader feeling a jolt as he saw a tall figure approaching him from down the hall but shouted for the men at his back to hold fire seeing that it was Titan. The tall female cyborg sauntered toward them casually, twirling her pistols down and into their holsters.

“Targets eliminated, the prototype is in the cargo holds below.”

“You can confirm that?” Asked the leader.

Artemisia nodded and stepped aside as the men rushed past her boots clapping the floor in a chorus. The last target had taken a shot in the knee, wounding him and leaving the immobilized syndicate leader begging for his life. Desperate for some sort of mercy deal he willingly squealed in the end, telling Artemisia of the weapons prototype down in the holds in some vein hope he could trade it for being allowed to live and escape. In the end all he for was a bullet in the brain. Artemisia had expected the prototype was down below but she was happy for the confirmation. She doubted the man was lying seeing as how manic he was and even if he somehow was the cleanup crew could simply tear the yacht apart and find what they were looking forward.

The mission was complete and as Artemisia ascended to the top deck, ignoring the quick salutes of the men she passed, she felt the usual satisfaction at her precision. A sort of grim pride at her continuing surgical skills as an operative. A pride that as always swelled within as she boarded the waiting chopper.

Love Street (The Haven)
Time: Morning

After a few drinks, enough to make the atmosphere pleasantly swim, there was a creak of wood as the barstool beside him was filled. The lights dimmed, like a candle was blown out before sputtering back to life.

“Oshus, “ said a cool tone beside him.

An old friend stared at him over the rim of a double shot of the aged brandy they normally wouldn’t serve customers, her posture and attire as impeccable as ever.

“If you wanted to invite me for a drink, you simply had to ask.”

Linus sat at the front of the Haven for a while, he wasn’t in a hurry. Collecting his thoughts before Hel arrived, normally, a casual drink would’ve been all he was here for. But she had the city around her fingers. If anyone had answers, it would be her.

”Much as I can’t resist a few drinks with an old friend like you, this ain’t just that. Those guys I told you about? Those Shadow Knights? Looks like they weren’t foolin’ around…”

He finished off his glass before setting it off to the side.

”Sunny got a hold of me. Got me to help with some sort of big job of hers. A friend of hers heard about a machine that could steal a meta’s tricks. Problem was, it was in pieces and those pieces weren’t altogether. We nicked one, got snagged by their boss. Same goofy lookin’ clown that stopped me when I got here.”

Linus wheeled around in his seat, leaning against the counter. ”So, they got a piece of this magic machine of theirs. I came here thinkin’ you’d know something about them.”

Her black glossed nails tapped the wood. "Those Knights..."

A crick pulled at the edge of her glossed lips as she finished her glass, setting it to the side. "At one time, long ago, I took the venom out of their sting."

"Nothing but meta poachers, I thought. That was when they had their little fingers in my network. Nicked three of my best girls."

Her eyes grew distant, reminiscing. "Most cracking metas you'd ever laid eyes on."

"When I learned they had a Queen, well... What happened next..."

A dark look crossed her porcelain features. "I give no excuses. You know how I feel about family."

"You were living peacefully on the seas when the nights of chronic static choked the air. 'Normal' people waking up with crushed lungs, difficulty breathing, unsightly deaths in the hospital. All a side effect by our nightly fights. I wanted to get even with them, take back what they stole from me."

"We pushed them as far as to abandon one of their facilities. Searched that bloody place from top to bottom, but they wiped it clean except for one thing. A message."

The lights flickered, a chilling aura in the air. All jolly and thrill in Lovestreet slowly drained as patrons peeked over their mugs at the dark angel with an expression on her face that would stop the heart.

"My girls. Powerless. Unrecognizable." She closed her eyes, elbow leaned on the wood. "I had to tell their families they died."

Her eyes burned a hole in the wall behind the bartender, recounting the tale. "Our final battle marked an end to the Knights, I made damn sure of it."

"The Queen, she was a psychic. In terms of raw power, super effective, but against me, her powers would tear themselves apart like an atomic bomb in her mind. She fell into a maddening rage, toppling the Knights herself before succumbing to a guilt-ridden coma."

"With the Queen out of commision, I forced the remaining Knights to hand power of the city back to me. No metas went missing for years after that."

A huff of air passed through her nose in short, sarcastic laughter. "Hell. Sunlight touched the streets, for once."

The bartender passed her another drink which she held up, crossing her legs as she mimicked Linus' posture. "But now, you've had the pleasure of meeting their new King who's mobilzed the Knights once again."

Her face crinkled in elegant disgust. "I should have finished them off when I had the chance, but alas..."

"If what you've said is true, the recent disappearances in this city can't be fully blamed on the Hunters, innit?"

She took a sip, eyes looking pointedly at Linus. "And if they're collecting pieces of this machine, it may be related to what happened to my girls all those years ago."

"And if I had to predict what they'll do next, these Knights will cause metas to fall off the map faster than, dare I say, one of your legendary waves.”

”What a time to be alive.” He commented, not a trace of concern or humor on his face. Despite his demeanor, Hel could no doubt see through that cool face better than anyone, and would know he actually did care about the subject. Throughout the years, he was well acquainted with the Valkyries, her people, her family, the people who made this city safer than it used to be. Hearing that they had been run through stuck with him. And the fact that she said she lost her most powerful…He could name a few who might fit the description. He and them went a long way back, to put it lightly.

”That bad, huh?” His voice just a fraction lower from hearing Hel’s story. ”Well, this king ain’t messin’ around. Sounds to me like whatever you did, he took it personally. You’re tellin’ me those girls were powerless when you found them? And I was gone. That don’t add up. What Sunny and her techy friend told me is that machine they’re scheming’ hasn’t been built yet. How’d they take someone’s powers years ago?”

She leaned back in her seat, eyes narrowed like flints of steel.

“Curious, innit? Bloody puzzle. But, my girls told me somethin’... interesting.”

“Phantasm,” she said, “Gets into trouble all the time. Too young for you to have met, but she’s got that fire I like. The kind that makes me think she might run the Valks when I’m gone.”

She took a sip, setting the glass down with a bit more force than necessary. “She saw somethin’. When I caught her doing deals outside, she told me.”

Her black taloned fingers traced on the wood, “Large containers shaped like tubes, and a room filled from top to bottom, more than the eye could see, of nothing other than, as she put it, ‘pickled powers’.”

“I’ll be damned to hell if they’ve had the ability to take a meta’s ability this whole time, but no way to use them ‘till now.”

Rainsinger took her words in. Years of harvesting people, cutting them up and collecting what made them tick, and they were just now getting around using them. How long has it been since he was involved in such schemes? It had been a lifetime ago since Linus stuck his nose into the business of Valkyries and their enemies. In another time, he gave that all up. He decided he was done with fighting over scraps.

Two decades of being a person that fit in with society, living with people who he called friends. He left everything behind for it, and he found what he was looking for. He had a life where he could live rather than survive. He didn’t need Tenebrae anymore.

And yet, there was more to that now. It wasn’t just his life on the line here, not anymore. He could walk away and never come back. But something inside him knew that leaving wasn’t going to happen. Were it not for Hel, or even the old man, Linus would’ve crawled into a hole somewhere and died there. Even before the rest of the old players were worth mentioning, Hel knew him. Linus couldn’t bring himself to leave without doing something about people causing problems for someone who was trying her damndest to give metas a place they never had. He was many things, a criminal, a survivor, a dead man, and more.

He was not a coward who turned his back on people. His people.

”Well, it looks like somethin’s gotta be done about this. I’ve been gone way too long. Listen, I know you’ve got about all the power you could need down here, and I know it’s been a while since I’ve been around. But I ain’t about t’let this slide. Almost wish I came back a little sooner…”

There was a note of genuine sympathy in Linus’ voice, one of sincerity towards an old friend.

”You need any help from an old timer across the sea. Just ask.” He told her, staring straight into those cold eyes of hers.

Hel watched the storm flick across Linus’ face. The seas soothed the man, but she knew nothing could calm the hurricane brewing deep under the surface. Her eyes flicked to the side, talons digging into her palms as they always did when she needed the pain to clarify her thoughts.

“You’ve given me the last puzzle piece I needed, Oshus. I was painfully unaware of the Knights and their damned king working on something this big. The terrorist attacks, the disappearances, higher amounts of black market traffic: it all makes sense now.” she said, eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

“Your girl is still in town, yes? Take her and get out of here. If Astra’s seen you, you’ve been marked. I wouldn’t doubt they have men on their way now to collect what they can before they push their endgame.” Her eyes twisted closed, anger flashing across her face.

Her fingers plucked notes out of the air, pressing $200 on the counter, eyes sizing up the bartender. Today it was the young boy from the night Phantasm had her little ‘off-the-books’ scuffle. “My dear, pocket the extra, and keep hush-hush ‘bout this.”

“Yes ma–” the boy said, hand touching the money before violently recoiling, mouth letting out a strangled yelp as he stared in horror. On appearance, nothing had changed in Lady Hel’s visual except the wilting look in her eyes, her selective phobia at play.

Her eyes closed, shaking her head softly as she turned away from the counter.

“Oshus,” A vampirish look in her eye, feet toward the door. “There’s no time.”

A rare smile crossed her lips. “Be safe, old friend.”

“If we’re gonna have a chance to subvert this and save Tenebrae from her fate, I will need to track down my ace.”

”Haven’t even been here one week and it’s time to get packing. Well, you ain’t wrong…I know a place.” His eyes narrowed at the floor in thought. ”Real far north out of here, edge of Alaska. Been there hundreds of times after I left here. People like us fit in there, a lot.

Linus stood up and followed Hel to the door. ”I’m gonna grab those two and we’re gonna head up there. We’ll lay low. I know the place like the back of my hand- Astra comes up there? He’s dead meat. Everybody and their mother’ll be aiming for his head. We’ll be fine up there, but don’t let me miss the action if you need a hand here.”

”Bastard won’t be able to lay a finger on us if he tries.”

Enemy Yacht
Coastal Waters, Tenebrae
Time: Morning
@Shu

After a final sweep of the cargo hold, the clean-up crew located their target. When they began securing the cargo, however, they caught a snag.

"Sir, I think you need to see this." said one of the officers. He was toeing the small crate warily with his rifle as if it were a hornet's nest.

The commander turned. "What is it, officer?"

"Sir, I think..." he gingerly exposed the back of the crate, revealing a mass of wires, white paste, and a timer, "We got a problem."

The commander cursed, pulling on his walkie. "I need the bomb specialist down in the hold. Now."

Tension-raised seconds ticked by while the crew's bomb man sat in front of the crate, teasing apart wires.

"We're gonna run behind schedule at this rate, EOD," the commander said, "Can you get a handle on it?"

Just as the specialist was about to respond, a loud crash reverberated near the back of the hold. The commander immediately raised his hand, signaling, and the team split up to sweep the hold. The commander heard bullets peel off to his right. On the floor, blood pooling out of fresh bullet wounds lay a man with a white mask, dressed in a suit and tie.

The commander's eyes landed on the officer who took the shot. "What the hell is this, officer?"

"I don't know, sir. We did the sweep, every inch was accounted for. He just appeared out of thin air."

"Well, whoever this guy was, he wasn't planning on sticking around," the commander mused. "The crate was clean when it entered the hold. He must have placed the bomb, and tried to make it out without being caught."

The commander sighed. "Sweep the entire yacht again, just to be safe. Once we disarm the bomb, we're out of here. And for the love of God, be quick. The Titan is falling behind schedule."

A chorus of voices. "Yes sir!"

---

Valkyrie HQ
Unknown, Tenebrae
Time: Morning

The frantic ruffling of files, and over the thrumming of her heart, the Valkyries' cleaning girl failed to hear the door open to Lady Hel's office. She was in a place strictly off-limits, but with a broom shoved in the crook of her arm, she was sure she could convince anyone she was simply doing her job.

"You really think you're slick, hm?" said a dark, cool voice.

The girl stiffened, slamming the cabinet shut and whirling around. "I-I'm just"--Her heart dropped, recognizing the voice--"...cleaning, ma'am."

Lady Hel strode across her office, regal and immaculate. She sat against the edge of her mahogany desk, eyes intent on her intruder. A single porcelain hand reached up, grazing the girl's cheek before tearing off her hat, revealing long, jet-black hair tumbling down past her elbows.

The wet, tearing sound of red eyes blinking open in every shadow of Lady Hel's room drew a heavy, oppressive weight, choking the very air. Lady Hel watched the girl freeze up, savoring the fears rolling around in her, before giving the command.

"Reveal yourself, Corva."

The red eyes drew teeth, diving like crows on prey, pulling apart the mental illusion, shedding the skin of a small Valkyrie cleaner, and revealing the tall shadow of the former Queen.

She shook off the rest of the eyes with a withering psionic aura, dusting off her shoulders. Her hand rested on her hip. "How did you know?"

"Your fear. It didn't fit a cleaning girl who never lived through the Dark Nights." Lady Hel said simply, slipping behind her desk, one leg folded over the other in her leather swivel chair.

"Now, my dear, give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you this very second," she paused, "and tell me what you're doing in my office."

Corva stared plainly, watching the thoughts flicker around in Lady Hel's mind. "I see time hasn't changed you. Those girls you lost... they still haunt you, don't they?"

Lady Hel's eyes narrowed. "Corva, I know more about you where it counts, and I swear I'll push you over the edge of insanity this time. Don't push me."

"You may know my fears, but I know your every thought. Talking with the lost Alpha, I see?"

Lady Hel's hand cracked the wooden desk as she lunged across the desk, the other hand balling the hem of Corva's cloak in a fist, pulling her into a vampirish glare.

Her words were a slow, dangerous whisper. "Get. Out of my head. And talk."

Corva watched her for a moment before her eyes closed, raising her hands in compliance as she pulled a file out of her cloak, tossing it onto the table. 'Top Secret: Operation Phantasm' was written across the top.

Corva's voice was soft, barely hiding the anger lacing her tone. "You call me a monster, but I've never manufactured an heir by killing her own family, Hel."

Lady Hel's eyes softened, guilt flashing across her face as she read the file's title. Numbly, she let go of Corva's cloak, stepping back.

"This is bigger than her. Then me, or you." Lady Hel said, eyes snapping from the file back up to Corva. "This is about metas not waking up to their homes being broken into, not fearing the streets in the daylight. For that future, I'd sacrifice anything, including an heir that will carry my vision."

"Did you ever consider that you were part of the problem? Why metas have such a bad rep, hm?" Corva said, hand gesturing to the file.

"Better than stealing children from their beds and destroying them for a little 'pickled power', innit?" Lady Hel said bitterly.

Corva scowled. "It's necessary."

Lady Hel stared, then laughed, a harsh, staccato sound. "How is it any different from what I've done? I've sacrificed to save our way of life here, to save the people, my people, that you've taken."

"It's. Necessary." Corva made her words firm.

Lady Hel gestured to the room. "How?"

"By doing something you never could do, were never brave enough to do," said Corva. "We will save everyone now, today, on the front lines."

"I may have ruined one girl's life, but you... you've really eaten the bloody cake on this." Lady Hel paused, eyes leering. "How many metas, Corva?"

Corva's eyes widened. "..."

"Hm? Can't remember how many you've subject to a fate worse than death?" she said, "All due to your vision, no, your lust for ultimate power."

Lady Hel placed her hands on the desk, leaning toward Corva, watching the fear build up in her. "You're not doing this for some noble cause, little Queen."

Lady Hell shook her head. "You're doing this because you're scared. Weak. You forget everyone else; It's you who needs ultimate power to sleep at night. Innit?"

Corva started. "That's not--"

"And when the world burns while someone hands you a bloody crown, then maybe, you'll finally find the 'peace' you seek. But at what cost? A world where metas have been so tortured that they can't even bring themselves to live in the perfect world you've brought on by the hands of their fallen brethren?"

Corva stepped back, hands balling into fists. "Shut up!"

"You know I'm right."

"I said shut up." Corva's words echoed with power, telekinetic power seeping from her body.

The room began to shake, walls and floor peeling up from the unbearable weight of telekinetic power. The same power that caused the numerous hospitalizations during the Dark Nights. Lady Hel watched carefully, holding her ground as shadows swayed in her aura, ready to puncture Corva's fears.

Lady Hel's voice was soft. "I'm right, and you know it. I can see your fears, Corva, shifting pitifully between fear of weakness and a fear of doing the right thing."

Corva snapped, and with a scream, she lunged at Lady Hel. But the moment her fist reached the Valkyrie, Lady Hel burst into a murder of crows, disappearing into the office's shadows.

Corva glowered, shaking her head. "Why... why are you holding back?"

Silence.

Corva's voice hitched. "Why not just end me now, and finish the Knight's Queen once and for all...?"

Standing in the darkness, Corva trembled, clenched fist raising to smash the desk before she de-materialized, disappearing from the room.

---

ACE Chemicals, Shadow Knights HQ
The Loop, Tenebrae
Time: Morning

A hand flicked the switch in the Knight's observation tower.

The lights flickered on.

Corva, who was bent over the desk, whipped around. Astra, standing casually at the door, had black smoke seeping off him in an attempt to barricade the telekinetic hold crushing his lungs.

"Corva," he said softly, seeing the tears streaking on her face. "You can let go of me."

Corva blanched, hastily wiping her face, and turned away. Astra sighed as the telekineses faded, and he stepped into the room, eyes staring curiously over Corva's form.

"I haven't seen you like this for a long time, my black rose," he gave her a keen sideways look, "I take it Operation Phantasm was a drop?"

Corva sniffled, eyes him accusingly. "How did you-- wait, no, you knew it the moment I left the building."

Astra gave her a look. "It's literally my job to know everything going on in this HQ, Corva. Come on."

Corva stood up a little straighter. "I did what I had to. You can punish me as you see fit."

"No..." Astra said thoughtfully, gloved hand tapping his chin in amusement. "No, I think the personal torment I'm seeing is enough." he shrugged. "Your side-step of my authority is forgiven."

His eyes gazed at the screen, feeds of data pooling down in sheets. GPS signals followed by long, encoded strings of data pulsed on a map.

"We have metas to contain and Phase II to start. I expect all the black boxes to be fully online and operational by the end of the day, Corva."

Corva's eyes hardened. "You mean..."

Astra nodded tragically. "Yes, the heart is unusable. Whatever Code Solaris did, it completely wiped out the capacitors in the heart's neural centers. We will have to do this a little more traditionally now."

"And you're okay with it?"

Astra stopped, turning to face her, eyes an intense, heart-crushing stare. "Are you questioning mine and Eos' authority, Corva?"

Corva looked away. "No... no, my king."

"Good." He said, nodding.

Staring at Corva out of the corner of his eye, Astra smiled, "Don't cry, my black rose. You will lead us into a bright tomorrow, where all our sacrifices will see fruition and peace. You'll see."

Corva refused to meet his eyes. "...Of course."

Satisfied, Astra nodded. "Good. I expect a report by the end of the day."

As Astra exited the tower, the door shutting behind him, Corva stood in the silence, hands wringing her cloak.

---

Valkyrie HQ
Unknown, Tenebrae
Time: Morning

Keys jingled in a lock as a large wooden door swung open, revealing the place Phantasm stayed during her 'grounding'. A traditional bedroom, large, with plush velvet carpets and a curtained bed. Phantasm stood at the window, turning to stare sideways as Lady Hel entered her prison.

Yes, a prison it was, for as innocent as it looked, it was completely inescapable. The bars across the windows were electrified, and a thin metal sheet was sandwiched within the walls, ceiling, and floor, charged with enough voltage that she had successfully burnt her hand more than once.

Phantasm pursed her lips, resolutely turning back toward the window. "Have you come for more answers? I told you everything."

"No, Phantasm. I need you."

Phantasm turned, eyebrow raised. "Ma'am?"

"Circumstances have changed, necessitating my ace. Follow me, I'll brief you on the way."

Phantasm blinked in surprise, carefully hiding her relief behind a mask of indifference as she stepped forward. "Tell me everything."

---

MCC, Tenebrae
Heart of The Loop, Tenebrae
Time: Afternoon
@Blizz

Deep within the spiraling corridors of Tenebrae's high-security prison, hidden away in the 'Classified Zone' sat a man who was forgotten to the world. His cell was a feat of technological advancement with three layers of heat-proof glass and heat-resistant steel with a casing of water-coolant in the walls. It had the ability to plummet the room into sub-freezing temperatures in the case of an emergency: the dreaded code purple.

Of course, to Carver's personal guard unit, the last code purple was 19 years ago, when Carver went all out in an unexplained rage.

The footfalls of a guard change sounded in the hall, but today, there was no guard approaching outside Carver's glass viewing port. Instead, curiously, there was a woman in a tattered cloak, skull mask clipped to the side of her head as she spat out a breathing device, catching her breath as she leaned an arm against the viewing port. Her eyes sized up Carver, and she picked her next words carefully, as Lady Hel instructed.

"How long you wanna stay in there, taking the fragile peace Rhea enjoys for granted?"

She pulled a phone out of her pocket, tossing it so it quantumly slipped through the wall and into Carver's hand. "Check the video on that thing. See what your friends have been up to after all this time."

A fuzzy video was playing from the vent with a bird's eye view on Rainsinger and Sunny in a platform shaft with more enemies than friends, a glowing device in Ellie's hands, and a lot of guns.

"That device she grabbed is just one of the pieces that will mark the end of Tenebrae as we know it. Sure, she destroyed it. But these guys have a backup plan. Our spy network picked up on black boxes around the city set to go off as soon as tomorrow, turning the entire city into a heart generator, siphoning bioenergy to power their doomsday device. Normal humans will last a few days at most, metas, maybe a few weeks."

"Your family is up there, blissfully unaware," Phantasm said, pulling away from the window. "But you're not going to let them get hurt. And we know how to help you."

"We need to get into their facility. You're the only one who can break-in, and if you're successful, we'll give you the means to keep your family safe."

---

Boardroom 21, Titan Division
Below City Hall, The Loop, Tenebrae
Time: Afternoon
@Shu

"Another successful mission, Titan. I'm impressed." the Director said, tucking a strand of purple hair behind her ear as she studied the cargo's schematics on the holographic table.

"This opens up so many questions, like how this intruder materialized on the ship, and why they put an easily diffusable bomb on the prototype." She said, hand running across her chin in thought.

Her hand raised in a positive gesture. "We've been able to narrow their organization. These masks belong to the Shadow Knight's goons." she sighed, "Which is disturbing, given the political developments--"

A call buzzed from the Director's pocket, which she picked up and put on speaker, "Yes?"

"Director, we have a situation."

"I'm listening."

"Well, uh, we have an intruder."

"This is the highest security government facility in all of Tenebrae, how did someone get in?"

"We uh, we just figured out the bomb... wasn't a bomb after all. It was a GPS signal."

The Director paused, her voice dropping to a dangerous tone. "Explain yourself."

"W-well ma'am, the signal just spiked, and then, uh, this woman just appeared in our forensics room. We've identified her as the Shadow Knight's former Queen. B-but we have her barricaded in, she can't leave, there's a whole squad of security with their guns on the door."

Her hand pressed her temple. "You idiot, she doesn't want to get out, she wants the device."

A frantic shuffle on the other side of the line. "We can storm the room, ma'am."

"No," she said, eying Artemisia. "There's only one person in this whole division I trust with the former Queen handling a highly classified item. Stand by for the Titan."

"Yes, ma'am."

The phone snapped shut, and the Director clicked her heels, hands clasped behind her back.

"Well, that answers that. Titan, I'm sending you to the lower level forensics room 19B. Secure the prototype and apprehend the intruder for questioning. Do whatever you need to contain the situation efficiently. And make sure, whatever happens, the prototype is not used."

The forensics room 19B was closed off to the outside facility for good reason, as it had safety measures in place for handling dangerous items. There was only one point of entrance, the high-security clearance door. The inside of the room was spacious, filled with smaller rooms that were used as storage rooms, blast-proof in case an item was, for whatever reason, explosive. The hallway with branching storage rooms led to a larger room filled with an empty floor and movable tables, examination equipment, and tubes of power sources from floor to ceiling in case something like a heart needed to be siphoned off.

At the back of the room, behind the lines of tables and power tubes, Corva crouched stealthily, prototype in her hand and telekinetic power suffusing the room, creating weight in the air.

Tenebrae Maximum Security Prison, 27 floors beneath ground level, stuck behind the walls of a remotely controlled icebox for 20 years.

It was about as pleasant as it sounded.

Nathan "Carver" Ridge. Former member of the Gray Dragons, diagnosed pyromaniac, felon. Charges include, but are not limited to: Multiple accounts of murder, arson, unlawful possesion of prohibited chemical substances, and unlawful possesion of firearms.

Normally, a man such as this would be sent to death row, but someone decided that his capture was an oppurtunity. A chance to explore scientific possibilities for containing other metas of his caliber. Their new captive would make for a perfect lab rat, they said, it's not everyday you capture an Alpha-class meta, after all.

And so, they threw him in a hole, never to see the light of day again, in a liquid-cooled room. A marvel of moder day prison engineering. Three layers of heat resistant glass diffused by coolant made sure he could never push the room past the average temperature of a cool summer day. Carver made no attempt after one year to threaten the security of the prison. He was cited for "good behavior" as most prisons do, except in the case of someone like him, "good behavior" only meant the guards were allowed to exchange words with him after 19 years. Nothing more, nothing less. Not that Carver truly cared about such a thing. Gone were the days when others had any sway over his existence in a way that amounted to anything. The guards who were on the payroll to guard him and only him were not his friends, or his enemies. They only kept their eyes on him in rotation throughout the day. Visitation was out of the question, it was unlikely his mother and sister were informed of his location when he was incarcerated. Once a week, only in the interest of pleasing the prison's non-humanist stockholders, Carver was permitted time in the yard above ground, same as the average prisoner. He was followed everywhere he went by no less than three specially equipped guards at a given time, and without his knowing, a sniper rifle loaded with tranquilizing munitions was aimed at him from a location he was not aware of, any time he stepped more than 3 feet past the door to his cell. In the past two decades, these measures only proved necessary once, in a fit of rage even Carver himself strains to remember. He hadn't seen natural light for another 2 years, as a result of that incident. There was no kind way to say it: He was kept alive for the sake of it.

They didn't have to, after all, the city never had much fuss to make over executing metas who stepped out of line. He always told himself that there was probably some angry god out there who refused to let him die his own way, or karma finally caught up with him. It didn't matter to him, one way or another. His life ended 20 years ago, when he and Grayson escaped a burning building with their lives, when Grayson escaped with his life and his freedom. The outside world had no need for him. His old friend had no need for him. He lacked a purpose in what was left of his life, all he could really do was wake up, stare at the walls, think about the old days, exercise, and go to sleep. That was exactly what he did, every day, and was exactly what he would continue to do until the next time he left the cell was in a body bag. He was just an animal these days. At least he had...Well, nothing. He had nothing.

What would the old man say to that, he wondered.

Carver had woken up that day knowing exactly what would happen: He'd hit the floor, do a hundred push-ups, then a hundred sit-ups. Then he'd stare at the ceiling for five minutes, then he'd do nothing for the rest of the day. He knew what he'd do, until he very well didn't.

His usual morning guard stepped away, and he knew the next guy would take a few minutes to get here. Three minutes and fourty-seven seconds, he figured. Except it wasn't one of his personal guards, it wasn't even a guard at all. It was like death herself had come and paid him a visit. A torn cloak, a skull mask. Carver only caught a glimpse of it through the window of his cell, but it was the most vivid thing he had seen in years. He almost wrote it off until someone spoke to him. That wasn't unusual, the guards usually spoke to him to give him a hard time and keep him feeling low. But this...It reminded him of how life felt for a moment.

"How long you wanna stay in there, taking the fragile peace Rhea enjoys for granted?"

Rhea. His sister.

The mention of that name was like a slap to the face, like cold water. His head snapped forward in confusion. He said nothing for an eternity.

Eventually he gave a response, a slightly gravely voice, slow and only somewhat hollow, without a hint of a grow or any aggression. "How do you know that name?"

She threw a phone through the wall. Was she a meta?

"Check the video on that thing. See what your friends have been up to after all this time."

He caught it in the air instinctually, and his heart damn near exploded when he saw the video. Grayson surrounded by guns pointed his direction, a shield of water in front of him, and a blonde girl with glowing hands.

Rainsinger, and Sunrider.

A look of shock and dismay spread across Carver's face. He was still around. After all this time, after what they went through, he was here. And Sunrider, she was still here too. It was like watching life pass him by, was everything either of them planned for themselves just given up on? Carver barely processed what he was seeing before the voice behind the door talked to him again.

"That device she grabbed is just one of the pieces that will mark the end of Tenebrae as we know it. Sure, she destroyed it. But these guys have a backup plan. Our spy network picked up on black boxes around the city set to go off as soon as tomorrow, turning the entire city into a heart generator, siphoning bioenergy to power their doomsday device. Normal humans will last a few days at most, metas, maybe a few weeks."

"Your family is up there, blissfully unaware, but you're not going to let them get hurt. And we know how to help you."

"We need to get into their facility. You're the only one who can break-in, and if you're successful, we'll give you the means to keep your family safe."

His family?

The end of Tenebrae?

This was all too much for him, almost.

Carver sat in silence for what felt like hours, did one of those two send someone for him? Did Fadeaway work her magic? A million questions swirled through his mind, but there remained a certainty in all this he allowed for himself: If those two were involved, this had to be happening for a reason. But still, this was a surprise to say the least. Rhea was at risk, it seemed. That used to be the one thing that let him wake up in the morning.

Carver gathered his thoughts for a moment, after everything was dropped on him like a brick.

"Who...the hell are you?"