Above the earth, hanging in orbit, not particularly distant from the former position in which the former space station had occupied, hung another artificial satellite. Considering the sheer quantity of detritus and other junk in earth orbit, the product of hundreds of various efforts to reach space and passing particles picked up by the earth’s gravity it was no surprise that there would be an artificial satellite. But this one was not like any other in orbit...

Within a faintly lit chamber a luminous blue green orb dominated. A projection that emerged from the center of the room filled most of the chamber with a scale model of the earth below and as long slender fingers encased in metal brushed across the surface of the glowing orb it shifted. The fingers pinched together and then widened and a portion of the globe blurred and changed its focus, expanding until a singular image of a city filled over half the projection.

The fingers moved again, manipulating the image as it zoomed in still further, now only a few city blocks were visible, and the people below while still ants were visible as they moved about their business below. A gathering was visible, and another casual motion the image changed once more to zoom in on the gathering. A few more deft strokes painted several individuals seemingly placed at random throughout out the crowd red, as well as the more obvious security personnel arranged around the speaker’s platform.
But as the fingers moved again, bringing the image into sharper focus on the man who actually was speaking there was a shudder, a tremor in the motion, a tremor that became a clenching of a fist that caused distortion.

“Targets set. Verify?” A computerized voice inquired and then a moment later as several more motions completed it continued. “Targets verified. Firing in T Minus 5 minutes.” As the voice finished speaking the white and gold armored figure drew its hand back from the globe and walked away in the direction of the launch bay.

---

The voice that sounded was a rich and hearty voice, one clearly practiced and trained to carry and resonate. “I come before you today, people of Lost Haven, people of the state of Maine, people of the world who are watching, for two reasons. The first as I am sure you all know is the fall of the Gold Dawn space station. I could tell you about gross negligence, or allegations of conspiracies surrounding Mr. Midas and his station but I won’t. As far as I can tell that belongs in the tabloids.”

“Instead on the behalf of myself and my family, as well as the other local employees of Macros International I wish to extend my thanks to the man who saved the city from the station’s fall.” Albrecht Macros continued as many in the crown nodded. “To the man who saved this city I extend my gratitude and thanks, for without his fortuitous intervention I would not be here to announce the newest step forward.”

While the earlier platitudes and thanks had been designed to appease the masses and to appear human in the wake of the near disaster this line was less expected and attracted more attention. “What is this next step you ask? In truth it is quite simple; we at Macros International have always strived to introduce the very best and to bring the best to you, the people. And now I am pleased to announce that with the aid of our fellow allies in progress the Traupitz Biotech Institute we will be starting human trials on a treatment that has shown 99% effectiveness at curing cancer in animals.” This announcement was predictably met with a thunderous amount of applause.

“We-” The corporate giant had barely begun to continue the next stage of his speech when he was interrupted by thunderous cracks of sound. There was little time for anyone to react, yet alone figure out what had caused the sounds, but in their aftermath perhaps a dozen men and women in the audience simply toppled over with no visible wounds.
Predictably the crowd began to panic, but the shock had only begun to set in as the guards who had surrounded the platform began to move to hustle their employer off to the waiting vehicle for extraction. However before they could do more than begin to move another series of the thunderous cracks sounded and the rest of the security forces simply dropped in much the same way as the members of the audience had.

That was when the screaming began. Though as the crowd panicked Albrecht Macros merely raised a brow and stood behind the speaker’s podium. The security forces spaced out throughout the crowd and around the podium had not been the only members of his security in the vicinity and if he was to be assassinated it would matter little, he was prepared for a transmission and his replacement body was already prepared and waiting in the wings.

The drivers of the cars in his convoy, also members of his security staff had just emerged from their cars and pulled out legal weapons when the source of the initial strikes arrived. A vehicle approximately three times the size of a large car and suspended by unknown means abruptly appeared over the panicked crowd. Bullets pinged off an invisible field that surrounded the craft as it descended and a doorway hatch on the side opened up.

With a show of intelligence the MI security shifted the focus of fire to the place where the hatch had opened, but ultimately they were too slow. The first shot that came from the figure that had emerged headed straight for Macros himself. And as that shot flew towards him several more bursts came from the armored attacker in the direction of the last members of the security.

The shot fired at Macros was not a conventional attack but rather a net and it wrapped around the captain of industry, immobilizing the great man even as his security engaged the attacker. While his analysis, conducted by the microcomputers enhancing his brain functions indicated that his implants would allow him to break the net field such would reveal too much and there was a hero in town apparently so such was too great a risk.

As Macros analyzed two of the three drivers were struck by the plasma and simply ceased to exist, leaving no evidence behind. The third however had dodged, showing speed of his own. Several further shots were dodged before the gold and white armored figure simply pulled the secondary trigger and unleashed a torrent of superheated steam that engulfed the last security man. While for a moment there was movement within the steam it quickly ceased as Macros relayed the kill order to his own defense, not wanting to risk their true nature being exposed.

With the last of the security taken out the gold and white armored figure moved swiftly towards Macros and the hissing sound of a plasma sword activating sounded.

“Yes Mom, I’ll be careful.” Scott said into the phone, for what must have been the tenth time since his mother had called him twenty minutes or so earlier. When he answered the phone, he was inundated by his mother’s enthusiasm about what she had witnessed him do the previous day.

He had tried changing the subject several times, to his journey back to the East Coast, to the new apartment, as well as the progress that he and Eric were making with the club. However, it always came back to what happened the day before, and the precautions that he would have to take from here on out.

As he and his mother discussed matters over the phone, the television broadcasted a press conference that was taking place in downtown Lost Haven. The volume was lowered, however, Scott could hear every word as clear as day.

Raptorman said
The voice that sounded was a rich and hearty voice, one clearly practiced and trained to carry and resonate. “I come before you today, people of Lost Haven, people of the state of Maine, people of the world who are watching, for two reasons. The first as I am sure you all know is the fall of the Gold Dawn space station. I could tell you about gross negligence, or allegations of conspiracies surrounding Mr. Midas and his station but I won’t. As far as I can tell that belongs in the tabloids.”

“Instead on the behalf of myself and my family, as well as the other local employees of Macros International I wish to extend my thanks to the man who saved the city from the station’s fall.” Albrecht Macros continued as many in the crown nodded. “To the man who saved this city I extend my gratitude and thanks, for without his fortuitous intervention I would not be here to announce the newest step forward.”

While the earlier platitudes and thanks had been designed to appease the masses and to appear human in the wake of the near disaster this line was less expected and attracted more attention. “What is this next step you ask? In truth it is quite simple; we at Macros International have always strived to introduce the very best and to bring the best to you, the people. And now I am pleased to announce that with the aid of our fellow allies in progress the Traupitz Biotech Institute we will be starting human trials on a treatment that has shown 99% effectiveness at curing cancer in animals.” This announcement was predictably met with a thunderous amount of applause.

“We-” The corporate giant had barely begun to continue the next stage of his speech when he was interrupted by thunderous cracks of sound. There was little time for anyone to react, yet alone figure out what had caused the sounds, but in their aftermath perhaps a dozen men and women in the audience simply toppled over with no visible wounds.
Predictably the crowd began to panic, but the shock had only begun to set in as the guards who had surrounded the platform began to move to hustle their employer off to the waiting vehicle for extraction. However before they could do more than begin to move another series of the thunderous cracks sounded and the rest of the security forces simply dropped in much the same way as the members of the audience had.

That was when the screaming began.

“Mom, I’ve got to go. Something’s going on in town.” He said as he hung up the phone.

There was a sudden whir of motion, as Scott quickly changed out of his civilian clothes and transformed into the blue and silver clad hero that had come to be known as Icon. After opening the large double windows that ran across the roof of his apartment, he took flight, and within seconds was soaring over the city. He may not have known exactly what was happening at the press conference, but he knew that he had to stop it, before more people were hurt.

He rocketed away from his apartment toward City Hall, where the press conference had been taking place. He only hoped that he could get there in time to prevent any more damage from being done.

As he approached City Hall, he saw the scene unfolding before him. He watched as a lone figure in gold and white armor emerged from a strange craft and quickly eliminated Macros’ security staff with deadly efficiency.
As he got closer, he saw the attacker turn his head, as if somehow he knew that Icon was coming. The attacker quickly turned with a weapon raised and fired off a bolt of energy in his direction. Before he was able to move, the bolt hit him, the resulting impact lit up the sky in a fiery explosion. However, Icon was undeterred as he continued on his path to intercept the attacker.

As Icon got closer, he saw the attacker ignite what he could only describe as a sort of laser sword as he closed in on his target, Albrecht Macros.

Before the attacker could strike down the businessman, Icon touched down just behind the gold and white armored attacker.

"That’s enough! Don’t take another step." Icon said as the assailant turned to face him.

Tremor had only been in Tokyo for an hour and was already amazed at how far it had come since he left it eight years prior. On ever corner technology was being embraced, the city was growing, and the people too. But it was also very strange to him, all of it seemed artificial, synthetic, a party full of fake smiles and hushed whispers. Was it a good thing to be dragged along the the rope of progress? Or was all this advancement costing the people, the city, something internally? He could do nothing but hypothesis as he stode through one of the meticulously designed parks that had sprang up to compliment the urban-planning of the metropolis.



The perfectly manipulated pond to his right reflected very little beauty to Harada. All he saw was smog traced silhouettes of tastelessly tall buildings and a stream of incessant traffic flowing through the bloodstreams of the city. His ld life was not long behind him, days of pain, of pride, of servitude. He was the fist of the Yakuza not long ago, a fist that one did not cross. Tremor did not miss that life. No, but that life may have very well missed him. The only reason he had agreed to come back to this place was the first-hand information that a certain little birdy possessed. A birdy that was late. It made meditating on his life very difficult with the sense of urgency on his mind. It would be best not to dwell in the place your enemies called home after all.

Before the figure in white and gold armor could actually strike down Albrecht Macros the motion had been abruptly halted and the plasma rifle was raised, pointed and fired at what appeared to be a distant speck in the sky that was rapidly growing larger. With casual dismissal as soon as the shot was fired the assailant took a final step and brought the blade up to swing and decapitate the captain of industry.

But before the blade could be brought down a crash came as the former speck in the sky slammed down to earth behind the white and gold armored figure. It spun, displaying impressive and honed combat reflexes and the sword strike that would have decapitated Macros now slammed right into the side of the blue and silver clad man’s neck. There was a faint sizzle but no more as the blade was simply stopped and did not cut through as expected.

But the attacker showed no hesitation and the plasma rifle was discharged several times in rapid succession, hammering the interfering hero at Point Blanc range as the malmetal armor of the attacker simply shed the energy. Even as the shots were fired the white and gold figure jumped up and using the hero as a springboard catapulted backwards flipping in the air while holstering the gun and dropping a silver egg shaped object towards the ground.

Just as the figure landed the silver egg would explode, unleashing an eruption of hard light shards that would theoretically kill both Macros as the hero as they were both well in the blast radius.

Raptorman said
Before the figure in white and gold armor could actually strike down Albrecht Macros the motion had been abruptly halted and the plasma rifle was raised, pointed and fired at what appeared to be a distant speck in the sky that was rapidly growing larger. With casual dismissal as soon as the shot was fired the assailant took a final step and brought the blade up to swing and decapitate the captain of industry.But before the blade could be brought down a crash came as the former speck in the sky slammed down to earth behind the white and gold armored figure. It spun, displaying impressive and honed combat reflexes and the sword strike that would have decapitated Macros now slammed right into the side of the blue and silver clad man’s neck. There was a faint sizzle but no more as the blade was simply stopped and did not cut through as expected.But the attacker showed no hesitation and the plasma rifle was discharged several times in rapid succession, hammering the interfering hero at Point Blanc range as the malmetal armor of the attacker simply shed the energy. Even as the shots were fired the white and gold figure jumped up and using the hero as a springboard catapulted backwards flipping in the air while holstering the gun and dropping a silver egg shaped object towards the ground. Just as the figure landed the silver egg would explode, unleashing an eruption of hard light shards that would theoretically kill both Macros as the hero as they were both well in the blast radius.

The attacker pointed some sort of rifle at Icon and began firing, jumping up onto him and spring boarding off of him in a back flip, and in one motion the attacker holstered his weapon and dropped a silver egg shaped device to the ground.

Icon quickly recovered from the blasts, and noted that the device that the attacker had dropped had a small red flashing light near the tip of it, confirmed his fear that it was an explosive device of some sort. He quickly moved toward the device, picking it up, and turning away from Macros, cupped it in his hands and held it tightly against his chest. The device detonated, sending Icon crashing through the podium that had been used for the press conference, reducing it to splinters. His tactic had worked, he had absorbed the full impact of the blast, sparing Macros from the deadly explosion.

He lay on the ground, momentarily stunned by the blast, however, once he had cleared the cobwebs which had resulted from the unexpectedly powerful blast, he got back to his feet and prepared for the next assault.

The attacker finally appeared taken aback as the silver and blue clad hero simply tanked the hard light grenade and there was actually a slight delay between landing and launching the next attack. But even as this hero proved able to resist the attacks the white and gold armored figure continued to focus primarily on Albrecht Macros.

A metal coated hand suddenly held a slender handgrip and with a hissing sound and the characteristic flash of light a plasma whip came to life in the assailant’s left hand. As the whip ignited the figure was already moving, its arm already extended.

There was no subtlety in the strike, the plasma whip being flicked out in a deadly arc that would take it straight through the corporate titan as the sword was held up to ward against a direct attack by the blue and silver suited nuisance. Even as this attack was launched however the strange vehicle from which the gold and white armored figure had emerged began to drift sideways. As it moved a hatch at the front slid away, mal metal parting to allow for the barrel of a heavy duty plasma cannon to poke out.

Raptorman said
The attacker finally appeared taken aback as the silver and blue clad hero simply tanked the hard light grenade and there was actually a slight delay between landing and launching the next attack. But even as this hero proved able to resist the attacks the white and gold armored figure continued to focus primarily on Albrecht Macros. A metal coated hand suddenly held a slender handgrip and with a hissing sound and the characteristic flash of light a plasma whip came to life in the assailant’s left hand. As the whip ignited the figure was already moving, its arm already extended. There was no subtlety in the strike, the plasma whip being flicked out in a deadly arc that would take it straight through the corporate titan as the sword was held up to ward against a direct attack by the blue and silver suited nuisance. Even as this attack was launched however the strange vehicle from which the gold and white armored figure had emerged began to drift sideways. As it moved a hatch at the front slid away, mal metal parting to allow for the barrel of a heavy duty plasma cannon to poke out.

Icon watched as the attacker ignited a whip that appeared to be created from the same source of energy as the sword that was being wielded in the other hand. He also noted that the strange craft which the attacker had arrived in had leveled what looked to be some sort of cannon directly at him. The attacker flicked his wrist and sent the laser-like tendril directly at Macros’ neck.

Wasting no time; Icon left his feet, flying just feet off the ground, he grabbed Macros and flew him out of range of both the attacker and the cannon.

”This might be a good time to go.” Icon said to the titan of industry before turning his attention back to the attacker.

Not waiting for a response from Macros, Icon flew back toward the gold and white clad attacker. With the target of the attacker’s assault out of harm’s way, Icon flew directly into the attacker, lowering his shoulder into the armored being’s midsection, ramming the attacker hard, sending him crashing into the side of a parked news van.

”I think it’s about time you and I had a little chat.” Icon said as the attacker tried to regain his bearings.

Even as the hero impacted the attacker there was still evidence of the training that the being clearly possessed, the sword and whip deactivated in the moment before the strike to ensure there was no chance of self-injury following the impact. Then there was the impact and a sickening crunching sound.

The gold and white armored figure still made not a sound of pain even when slammed with great force that smashed it into the side of a van and that left a momentary dent in the armor around the midsection. The dent however quickly smoothed itself over as the malmetal worked to repair itself and undo the denting blow.

As the figure levered itself to its feet again the cannon mounted on the front of the vehicle spat out a burst of plasma that struck the hero from behind and sent him sprawling to the ground. Then it spat another burst, and yet another after. The white and gold armored fighter flicked both hands and this time two plasma whips flared to life. Both of them were sent flicking out at the superhero just as he regained his own footing, still straining under the weight of fire.

It was subtle but the force behind the whip blows seemed to be greater than the earlier impacts that had struck the hero and as the whips wrapped around his legs the being tugged hard using the whips to hurl the hero into one of the pillars in front of city hall.

Then again demonstrating either grave single-mindedness or overwhelming determination the figure turned and moving at a sprint charged towards Macros who had remained, watching with interest.

Raptorman said
Even as the hero impacted the attacker there was still evidence of the training that the being clearly possessed, the sword and whip deactivated in the moment before the strike to ensure there was no chance of self-injury following the impact. Then there was the impact and a sickening crunching sound. The gold and white armored figure still made not a sound of pain even when slammed with great force that smashed it into the side of a van and that left a momentary dent in the armor around the midsection. The dent however quickly smoothed itself over as the malmetal worked to repair itself and undo the denting blow. As the figure levered itself to its feet again the cannon mounted on the front of the vehicle spat out a burst of plasma that struck the hero from behind and sent him sprawling to the ground. Then it spat another burst, and yet another after. The white and gold armored fighter flicked both hands and this time two plasma whips flared to life. Both of them were sent flicking out at the superhero just as he regained his own footing, still straining under the weight of fire.It was subtle but the force behind the whip blows seemed to be greater than the earlier impacts that had struck the hero and as the whips wrapped around his legs the being tugged hard using the whips to hurl the hero into one of the pillars in front of city hall. Then again demonstrating either grave single-mindedness or overwhelming determination the figure turned and moving at a sprint charged towards Macros who had remained, watching with interest.

Icon got to his feet as the attacker again made his way toward Macros, who had not heeded the hero’s warning to get out of harm’s way. Icon let out a grunt as he again left his feet, to trail the would be assassin and keep his target safe. Moving at break neck speed, Icon caught up with the assailant, wrapping his arms around the gold and white clad attacker, and driving him into the ground. This proved to be of little concern for the attacker, who almost instantly got back to his feet and reached for one of his many weapons.

Icon chose not to give him the chance. Instead, he hit the armored attacker with a right hand that dented the armor covering the attacker’s face. He then fired back with another punch that sent the attacker crashing into the brick and mortar exterior wall of City Hall, the impact sounding much like that of a high speed automobile accident.

The attacker again stirred, getting back to his feet, and as he did so, the armor seemingly repaired itself, the dents left in the armor vanishing even as Icon charged in for another assault.

As the hero proceeded to rain a series of blows down on the armored figure there appeared to be genuine damage as the armor dented repeatedly and the armored assailant was thrown hard into the wall of city hall where the wall crumbled a bit. As the being climbed back to its feet once more the armor again repaired itself but the being shook its head as if to clear it even as the hero began a charge.

But the white and gold armored figure did not reach for a weapon, or even seem to have much fight left in it and sagged as the hero drew closer. Just before the silver and blue clad hero could land his blow however the armored being moved, dropping down to avoid the fist as the back of the helmet slid open. A mass of tendrils, long, ropey and nearly white in color lashed out and upwards to wrap around the hero’s arm. As each tendril made contact a barb at the end dug into the flesh of his arm though they did not break the skin.

Then before the hero could react to the strike all the tendrils served to conduct a massive jolt of electricity into the man leaving him temporarily paralyzed. As the hero sagged the gold and white armored combatant quickly withdrew more of the egg shaped objects and pressed them against the hero while holding the activators.

Then before the man could fully regain his motor skills he was thrown away to land. And five of the grenades exploded simultaneously against his chest. As the explosions went off the vehicle that had dropped off the armored figure moved and the hatch opened again to allow it reentry before blasting off into the sky.

Zac WIlson | Zac Wilson (Dreamverse) | Decrepit Old Man
August: 5 Months Before Concurrent Posts
A decrepit, old man sat in the corner of a small cell, clinging with both of his wrinkled hands to a long, wooden staff. He seemed to have been staring into the wall, but his eyes were glossed over. His blindness was the curse of his amazing gifts. Next to him was a small boy, his guide, his eyes. The child was focused on the comic that his hands grasped, reading it at a lightning pace. A pile of additional comics sat next to the boy, waiting for him to explore their pages. There were Spider-Man comics, ones of Batman, of Iron Man. There were even several comics based on the Heroes television series.

Even though the old man could not see it, he heard a group of men walk into the larger chamber adjacent to his own cell. It sounded like they were dragging someone into the chamber, no doubt the next test subject.

“Tiresias, prep the child for another run at Project Dreamrunner.”

Tiresias knew well what this meant. His captors had been attempting for the last several months to find something in the dreams of his child companion, something that could further there goals. They had already developed a serum that would bestow superhuman powers onto normal humans by activating dormant genes within the human genome. However, this group has not yet determined the correct genes required to create a stable transformation. Therefore, they would use the failed test subjects from this unperfected project as guinea pigs, forcing them to explore these dreams. The formula was so instable that the subjects would die within days, so what is the harm in using them for this project too, or at least that is what the captors thought.

The small child reclined on the small mattress within Tiresias’ cell, falling asleep in seconds. Tiresias then placed both of his palms on the child’s forehead. A wave of lights crawled up his arms, finally arriving in his eyes, causing them to have an eerie shine. The guards creaked open the cell door, allowing Tiresias to exit. One of the guards pulled the old man towards the center of the room, guiding his hands toward the next test subject. Once Tiresias’ hands covered the next victim’s face, the light in his eyes surged into the unconscious body in front of him, until finally he could not feel anything in front of him. The body had disappeared.

---

A blinding light jarred Zac awake. As he started to sit up, he felt that something was off. Why was he sitting on a table? In fact, why was he not at home?

“The patient is awaking, doctor! We need more sedatives!”

As soon as the word “sedative”, Zac finally crashed back into reality. He was in a room surrounded by a staff of doctors and nurses, with probing devices and needles everywhere. All Zac knew was that he needed to get out of there. But as soon as he started to leave the surgery table, one of the nurses yelled, “Someone restrain the patient”. Fortunately for Zac, his speed gave him an edge, allowing him to outpace all the guards who piled into the room. As Zac tried to escape, he discovered that he was aimlessly blitzing through wherever he had been taken. While Zac was trying to figure out in his head how he was going to escape this massive maze, he failed to calculate the proper distanced that he required so that he might stop before he crashed through one of the exterior windows.

The window shattered as Zac torpedoed through the glass, smashing down onto the ground. While the fall was not high enough to wound Zac mortally, nevertheless, he still sustained some bruises, in addition to the cuts from the broken glass. Zac tried to get on his feet, but the pain from his bruises and cuts deterred him from moving. Suddenly, Zac felt a rush of wind strike his face. Right before him stood a costumed figure.

“Who are you?” Zac asked.

“Hello, Zac. Glad you’re awake now.” The man said, his voice sounding eerily familiar. The man was wearing a costume that made it seem like he was from a comic book. His whole costume was brown, with a lighter brown coloring the inside parts of his arms and legs, his torso, and his neck. In addition to this, there were also black stripes running down the man’s back, with smaller ones covering his arms and legs. The material seemed to be spandex (the most common material amongst all superheroes), but for some strange reason, the texture did not seem right, as it looked way more comfortable than spandex.

“You sound familiar, but I can’t quite place my finger on who you are.”

“It’s because I am you, or at least a different you from an alternate universe,” the man said, pulling back his mask, revealing that he had the same face as Zac did. “But you can call me Raptor-Man, just to avoid confusion.”

“Alternate Universe? How did I get here? I was just answering my front door and then BANG! I’m knocked unconscious.”

“We’re not sure how you got here, either. We only know that you suddenly appeared on our doorstep a few hours ago. And you were in a pretty bad shape when we found you. Apparently, the serum that gave you your powers was not yet perfected, causing your body to reject it. We were lucky enough to have injected you with a stable version of the formula when we did, or you could have died.”

“So it was my powers that were making me feel so miserable this morning, not the pierce wound I got when Kelly stung me.”

“Pierce wound?”

“Yes, the one on my right foot.”

“Oh! That wound. We definitely found a shard of glass where that wound was. Don’t worry, we removed it.”

When Zac heard this, his heart sank down into his stomach. The previous night, Zac had just cursed out his girlfriend, falsely accusing his girlfriend of something she obviously did not do. She even tried to tell him that her barb was still sheathed. Nevertheless, he did not listen, since he also just had a dream in which she had just jabbed in him the foot. How was he ever going to make it up to him? She probably is sieving in hate right now.

But another thought struck Zac’s mind. If he had almost died from the imperfect serum, what does that mean for Kelly? Was she dead now? Would he be too late even if he could go back to his own reality right now? How could he let her leave his life when the last thing he said to his girlfriend, the girl who meant the world to him, was that she was his worst nightmare?

“Alternate me, er...Raptor-Man! We need to get me back to my own time! A life depends on it!” Zac again tried to jump to his feet and this time he succeeded, but it was obvious to Raptor-Man that Zac was still hurting from the injuries that Zac had received from his fall through the window.

“Don’t worry, Zac. We are trying to figure out a way as fast as we can. In the meantime, let’s get you back inside so that we can tend to your new injuries”.

Raptorman said
As the hero proceeded to rain a series of blows down on the armored figure there appeared to be genuine damage as the armor dented repeatedly and the armored assailant was thrown hard into the wall of city hall where the wall crumbled a bit. As the being climbed back to its feet once more the armor again repaired itself but the being shook its head as if to clear it even as the hero began a charge.But the white and gold armored figure did not reach for a weapon, or even seem to have much fight left in it and sagged as the hero drew closer. Just before the silver and blue clad hero could land his blow however the armored being moved, dropping down to avoid the fist as the back of the helmet slid open. A mass of tendrils, long, ropey and nearly white in color lashed out and upwards to wrap around the hero’s arm. As each tendril made contact a barb at the end dug into the flesh of his arm though they did not break the skin.Then before the hero could react to the strike all the tendrils served to conduct a massive jolt of electricity into the man leaving him temporarily paralyzed. As the hero sagged the gold and white armored combatant quickly withdrew more of the egg shaped objects and pressed them against the hero while holding the activators. Then before the man could fully regain his motor skills he was thrown away to land. And five of the grenades exploded simultaneously against his chest. As the explosions went off the vehicle that had dropped off the armored figure moved and the hatch opened again to allow it reentry before blasting off into the sky.

Icon lay on the ground, the combination of the massive electric shock and the numerous grenades that the attacker had deployed against him had left him stunned. He struggled to get to his feet, and he did so just as the attacker had climbed into the strange craft and shot off skyward. Still feeling the effects of the surprise attack, Icon stood unsteadily on his feet for a moment before he took off in pursuit of the strange craft.

The craft moved at an incredible speed, in fact, it was so fast that Icon had trouble catching up to it first. He had underestimated just how fast the craft was moving, and at one point had nearly lost visual contact with it.

No you don’t. You’re not getting away that easily. Icon thought to himself as he pushed himself to fly faster.

As he closed in on the strange craft, he saw that the cannon that had been leveled at he and Macros before was still aimed in his direction, and as he gained on the craft, it began to fire. Icon barrel-rolled out of the way of the large energy bolt, which whizzed past his head harmlessly. The cannon fired several more shots with similar results. Icon then fired a focused energy beam from his eyes at the cannon. The controlled optic blast hit the cannon, reducing it to molten slag.

Satisfied that the cannon was disabled, Icon increased his speed, gaining more ground on the craft. He was however, taken again by surprise when a compartment on the underside of the craft opened and several small, metallic objects fell from the opening. He was too close to avoid the objects, and ran into them at full speed. Upon making contact with the objects, there was a large explosion which knocked Icon off course, causing him to fall several hundred feet before he was able to gather his wits and continue the pursuit.

Shaking the cobwebs from his mind, Icon again rocketed off after the strange craft. He knew that the proximity mines had cost him precious seconds, and at the rate of speed the craft was traveling, it would soon be out of reach. He lowered his head and pushed ahead, increasing his speed at such a rate that the crashing sound of a sonic boom could be heard for miles around as he broke the sound barrier.

The sudden burst of speed gave allowed Icon to again close in on the vessel. The craft loomed larger as he closed in on the escaping assailant. As got closer, he fired another round of optic blasts at the craft, striking the fleeing vessel in the aft hull. A cloud of smoke erupted from the hull, however after a few seconds it had dissipated. Icon pushed harder, driving himself closer to the ship, until he found himself flying underneath the long, thin craft. He clenched his fist and cocked his arm, then with a powerful blow, he punched a hole into the bottom of the hull.

He felt components crumple and break under the force of the punch, and smoke began to pour out of the damaged craft. Suddenly, the port which had released the proximity mines earlier in the pursuit opened again, and a small silver disk fell from the opening. Icon released his grip on the vessel in order to avoid the mine, choosing to hit it instead with an optic blast, causing the mine to explode.

Icon looked on as the strange craft began to spiral out of control toward the ground, and as he again gave chase, this time to prevent what would likely be a fatal crash for the pilot, the vessel vanished from sight, seemingly ceasing to exist.

He did not see a crash, and there was no explosion. Icon just hovered in midair, baffled by the sudden disappearance of the strange craft.

The race for the sky had been unsuccessful. The aft cannon had been destroyed by repeated blasts that this man had emitted from his eyes, the mines had bought precious time but not sufficient to clear the atmosphere and with the primary propulsion systems offline the vessel had no means by which to finish reaching escape velocity. It began to fall back towards the earth far below.

Within the vessel the hands wreathed in metal moved rapidly, keying in commands and orders that the crippled ship attempted to obey. The fall could not be halted, and a crash was likely inevitable. But the systems still obeyed their master’s commands and the stealth field activated before the hero could close on the ship again.

“Warning. Multiple System Failure.” The computerized voice hissed out, it appeared the communications systems within the vessel had also been damaged. More rapid movements by the hands produced a semistable fall and the vessel’s plummet slowed and became more controlled. But such was to be too little to prevent the crash and the vessel plowed into the ground, kicking up snow and dirt while tearing a path through the undergrowth. It was fortunate that the craft had avoided direct collisions with any trees as it came down, and the stealth system would likely be able to sustain itself virtually indefinitely as that system's power cells were undamaged.

The craft simply lay there on its side against the ground with no signs of life from within and condensation pooling on the slowly cooling hull. But after several minutes the mal-metal hull near the front of the craft peeled open slowly and the white and gold armored figure collapsed out of the hole into the snow.

“Deactivate.” A pained voice hissed from within the suit, and the mal-metal began to slough off and run down the beings body too pool in a vague pack shape. As the metal of the armor pulled away the appearance of the individual who had launched the attack at last became clear. It was a woman, and as she slowly worked her way back up to her feet it became clear that the fight had not been kind. The right side of her face was bruised and already turning a dark purple color, one of her arms hung awkwardly at her side, likely the product of a dislocated shoulder, and her bearing was pained.

The tendrils that made up her hair, looking like a cross between what had launched out at the hero previously and human hair stirred weakly even as they visibly continued to revert to a more human appearance. Her good arm gripped the upper part of the other arm and with a wrench popped it back into its proper position and not a wince or a grown of pain escaped. For even as her body reverted to its base imprint state her mind was focused elsewhere. It was impossible and yet it was true, she had failed to do the thing she had dreamed of ever since she had discovered the truth about what she was, about the terrible crime committed against her and her people.

As she dwelt on the enormity of her shocking failure another sensation began to tug at her and she realized that she was cold. A brief thought sent impulses running through her body to trigger her Vrier cells and make the necessary modifications. But instead sharp pulses of pain and cramps seized her and even her reserve did not allow her to hide the pained expression that resulted. She was tapped out, the rapid changes in a short period of time had drained her reserves and now she was vulnerable to something the Visisth never feared, the environment.

But at this point that mattered little, Macros had escaped and she would see him dead. But to do that she had to get back to the city. Her armor had reverted to a covert form, camouflaged as something that resembled a backpack, though it weighed far more than it looked like it should. And with determination but pained steps Alsia set off through the snow covered woods towards the city.

---

It was hours later that the half frozen and battered Visisth finally dragged herself into the city. She had done little research on earth of this time period, believing that it was not worth knowing and that as nothing would be advanced enough to threaten her she could simply prepare for Macros’ security and kill him as she had dreamed off. Now she regretted the decision to strike without proper reconnaissance, it had been sloppy and amateurish and now she was reaping her reward.

But even as she regaled herself for being sloppy and foolish she continued her treck towards what her last direction checks had identified as the MI corporate headquarters. She would have her revenge, the thought drove all others from her mind. Her protective membranes slid across her eyes, clearing out accumulated filth from the city as she staggered down a deserted alley. Normally they would have flicked back open, but this time in exhaustion they stayed closed and the more human eyelids over her eyes flicked shut as well.

Slowly her staggering walk forward ceased and overcome by exhaustion, injuries, and exposure Alsia collapsed on the sidewalk.

Eric Dean was in an odd mood. Just hours earlier, his best friend had taken part in a breathtaking showdown with an armored assassin who had attempted to take the life of one of the richest men in the world, which was his second heroic feat in as many days. Eric knew that the moment that Scott had revealed himself to the world, he had changed things. He just found himself wondering exactly how much things had in fact, been changed.

His friend’s exploits as the hero known as Icon weren’t the only things on his mind. Together, Scott and Eric had been preparing to open their very own nightclub, which they had decided would be called “The Hub,” because they hoped to convey with the name, that their club would be the premier destination for people from all walks of life to enjoy an evening on the town. Eric had secured the proper permits while Scott had been busy preventing a giant space station from crashing into the city, and the club would be ready to open in just a few short weeks.

Eric had had a long day working at the site of their club, meeting with contractors and vendors to make sure that everything was in order for the grand opening in three weeks time. He wanted nothing more than to kick back on his couch, have some leftover pizza straight out of the fridge and a bottle of beer while he sat in front of the TV and did absolutely nothing for the rest of the night.

After getting off of the bus at the corner of Easy Street and Oakland Avenue, Eric began making the two block trek to his apartment. As he ventured toward his home, he took the opportunity to check out any and all ladies who happened to cross his path. Granted, with the frigid temperatures that were the norm for Lost Haven in late January, the female form was slightly harder to appreciate due to the fact that most of the women were covered by bulky winter coats, he still enjoyed what he called, “The Lost Art.”

As he got closer to his apartment, he noticed something that seemed quite odd. Laying against one of the buildings was a young woman. She looked to be in rough shape, judging by the bruises that adorned her face. It looked like someone had truly done a number on her. Forgetting how tired he was, he rushed over to the woman’s side to see if she was alright.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked with genuine concern.

"I'm fine, I just need a moment.." The young woman started to try and get up only to fail. "No, I'm not" She said, with a hint of defeat in her voice.

Eric looked her over, and upon getting a closer look at the damage to her face, the bruises, the discoloration in her eyes, he knew that she needed medical help.

“Listen, "we've got to get you to a hospital to get looked at." He said, taking out his phone, about to call for an ambulance.

"No hospitals." The declaration was emphatic. "I'll be fine"
With the woman’s protestations, Eric returned his phone to his pocket.

“Alright. Look, my place is just around the corner. Why don't you come with me, we can clean you up and get you something to eat. You'll be safe there." He said, not wanting to leave the young woman, who obviously was in need of help.

"Thank you." She said as she wearily motioned for him to lead the way.

Alsia had not expected kindness or aid from humanity. In truth she had expected very little as the cold and her injuries had numbed her body and mind, driving them closer to collapse and then ultimately to a point where she had lain unconscious in an alleyway for several hours. But rather than suffer an ignoble death from exposure and her own stubbornness it appeared that there was a reprieve. She had been shaken awake by a concerned human and an act of will kept her membranes from sweeping across her eyes, settling for the human blinking to clear them.

Her first instinct had been to shrug off the attempt to help, and the visisth had tried to rise and continue onwards only to sag back down to the ground. It appeared that she would have to accept the offer of help. For a rare moment there was a feeling of twisted gratitude, the imprint forced upon her allowed her to pass as human and it had likely just saved her life.

As the human helped her up to her feet and led her away Alsia readied herself for treachery. It was foolish and against her training to trust someone without extensive reconnaissance and evidence, but at this moment she would have to make due. It didn’t help that she badly needed food.

Eric took several steps in the direction of his apartment before he realized that the young woman needed more help than she was letting on. She stumbled as she walked, her legs looking as if they would give out at any moment. He stopped and stepped closer to the woman; he placed her arm over around his neck and supported her as they walked.

Together they walked in relative silence, as they made their way to his apartment, which was on the second floor of an old brownstone which had been converted into apartments in the 1960’s. Though he had been told that the plumbing and wiring were updated just a few years ago, some of the plugs didn’t work, and the pipes were constantly being clogged. Even with all the flaws, he wouldn’t give it up for anything.

Carefully supporting the young woman, he reached into his pocket and produced his keys. He opened the front door to the brownstone and gently guided her up the winding staircase to his apartment. Again, with her leaning on his shoulder, he unlocked the door and lead her inside. He guided her to the couch, where he let her sit.

“Here, just relax. Would you like some water? I’m not sure what I have for food, but I know I have some leftover pizza in the fridge.” He asked awkwardly, not entirely sure what to do in this situation.

The last several months had been trying for Kyle Porter, as well as his alter ego, the masked vigilante known as Lyger. Not long after a car accident that had nearly cost him his life, Kyle became aware of some startling new abilities that he seemed to have developed. His senses had become augmented, his senses of smell, sight, and hearing where much keener than they had ever been. He was also blessed with an incredible agility, and with that, he was also much stronger than he had ever been before. He had pondered what to do with these new gifts, and noting that the city that he loved was running rampant with gangs and violence, decided that he needed to do something about it

With the help of his friend and roommate Ronnie Chang, he began to formulate his new identity. Ronnie was an avid fan of nature, and after witnessing a demonstration of Kyle’s feats, he told his friend that he was as agile and powerful as the great cats. With this in mind, they set about designing a costume for him to wear while he was engaging in his newfound pastime.

After a gang had attacked the LHU fall carnival, which he had thwarted; he began to focus on the advanced assault weapons that the gang had been armed with. He had managed to destroy several shipments of the weapons, however, despite this; he was unable to stem the flow of weapons into the city.

Several weeks after the attack on the fall carnival, Ronnie had introduced him to his grandfather, a retired member of the British Secret Services, Haruki “Harry” Takahashi. Harry took Kyle under his wing and began training him in a form of martial arts that he had come to call Tae Mu, which was hybrid of numerous styles of martial arts.
Harry also upgraded the Lyger costume, reinforcing it with a lightweight, flexible Kevlar mesh, as well as upgrading a number of the suit’s gadgets, including built in grapnel lines, tranquilizer darts that could be fired from his wrist gauntlets, night vision, as well as a built in communications system so that he was able to keep in contact with Harry while he was in the field.

Harry also provided Lyger with transportation in the form of a prototype motorcycle, as well as a super car, which Kyle had nicknamed Kaiju, because he had told Harry that the car was “a monster.” The car was equipped with a number of tactical advancements as well as upgrades which increased its speed and maneuverability.

While under Harry’s tutelage, Kyle came closer and closer to finding the source of the high tech weaponry. After months of cracking down on the 83rd Street Demons, the gang which had attacked the carnival, and had been the primary users, he finally caught a break. The international arms dealer, known only to Interpol and other international policing organizations as The Franchise, appeared in Lost Haven, confronting Lyger personally, with a number of armed accomplices. Lyger was able to take down The Franchise’s thugs, however, the elusive arms dealer had managed to vanish.

Lyger’s leads had dried up, and he was unable to get a break in finding The Franchise, as most members of The 83rd St. Demons had gone underground as well. It seemed that months of hard work had seemingly been for naught, as the dealer have gone off the grid completely.

Until earlier tonight, while Kyle was on a date at the local arcade, when he finally caught a break. While he and Addy were engaging in a game of air hockey, Kyle spotted someone who he recognized across the arcade, one of the 83rd St. Demons that he had roughed up weeks before.

Kyle had planted a tracking device on the thug, and hoped that it would lead him to The Franchise, and the guns.

Now Kyle stood before Harry, who was seated at the computer console. He was dressed in his Lyger costume, save for the mask which remained in his hand. It had taken him longer than expected to reach Harry’s home in the outskirts of Lost Haven. He had spent much of the evening with Adeline, whose company he had been enjoying more and more since the recent breakup with Keri, his girlfriend of three years. His friends had cautioned him about pursuing anything with Addy, however he knew deep down that she was something special, and more than worth any of the repercussions that he would have to face as a result of whatever their budding relationship would bring.

When he finally did arrive, he was forced to suffer through what seemed to be hours of Harry cracking jokes about Kyle’s social obligations, as the old man had little patience for such things, though he did understand that Kyle did need to take some time for himself, otherwise, he would become too immersed in his work as Lyger, and become consumed by the identity that he had created to help the people of the city. It was something that he had seen happen before, something that he hoped he would never see again.

“Did we get a hit?” Kyle asked the older man, referencing the tracker he’d placed on the thug in the arcade.

“We did.” Harry confirmed. “He’s just outside of the French Quarter, in a warehouse off of the intersection of Derby and Lafayette Street.” He finished.

“Not one of their usual haunts.” Kyle said as he placed the mask over his head.

“No, it’s not. This might be our guy.” Harry said as he looked at the computer monitor.

“Let’s hope so. With any luck, we can end this tonight.” He said as he made his way toward the car,

“Be careful.” Harry said simply, a slight edge of worry crept into his voice.

“I always am.” Lyger said as he climbed into the car, starting the ignition and driving off toward his destination.

Alsia was ready in the case of treachery or betrayal, but even if the human who had stopped to aid her for an unknown reason was hostile she barely had any strength left, maybe enough to shove him away and make one desperate sprint, but what then? As unpleasant as it was the Visisth mercenary, bounty hunter, at times assassin simply had to trust that this was a genuine act. And so she allowed the human to continue leading her, first to a building and then inside and up to the rooms where he dwelled, at least it was warmer there.

She sat upon the couch slipping her pack off to sit beside it and as the human spoke her hands that were so often clad in metal reached up to feel at her face. She almost forgot to flinch, but covering such a reflex was not common in humans, a sign of training that she did not wish to demonstrate, and so she winced and gasped as if in pain at her own touch.

“Yes.” She said finally after what seemed the appropriate amount of time. “I’d like some water and food.” At the last word her stomach grumbled convincingly and hunger surged up more. Alsia could consume a human, but the thought was little more than a half reflected instinct flickering across her mind, such things had been buried by conditioning in her childhood.

A replay of the event several days ago blared on one of Jessie's televisions, causing the immortal to snap to attention. "Well wouldja fuckin' look at that, Jack..." Jessie murmured, stuffing the cheese flavored styrofoam known as Cheetos into his mouth with gusto, fear of polluting his body with whatever the hell was in his afternoon snack non-existent. Jack gave Jessie a curious sigh, leaning over in his chair to take a peek at the wall of T.V.s (most of which were stolen), a choppy video from an iPhone showing a streaking bolt across the sky intercepting a falling space-station and bringing it down to a safe descent, the station snapping to a break to share the weather. "I wasn't expecting rain..." Jack shrugged, uninterested in Jessie's competition for infamy. It had been nearly two months since the first bank heist for ninety dollars in change went down and since then Jessie had steadily vamped up his capers, Ulysses was breaking headlines for his crimes, which were starting to branch into events like forcing a city official to play a game of Russian roulette, to seeing who was the better sky-diver between the mayor's aide and Jessie (neither of which had a chute). "You know he's going to be everyone's newest obsession, people are going to go on and on about how this city finally has its savior..." Jessie stated the obvious, looking toward's his partner in crime with a faint smile. It was as if on queue, the man who stopped the space station was battling with some armoured assassin, looking like a damned fool in tights. Jessie snickered, flicking off the T.V., "Well Jack, he's definitely going to capture everyone's hearts now."

"That's exactly what you want, isn't it?" Jack gave in to Jessie's obvious baiting, to which Jessie nodded. He stood up with a jolt, his rolley-chair sliding across the room before coming to rest against one of Jessie's vending machines. "This makes things much more interesting, really. Now I have some real competition out there. Someone who has an inability to ignore the threats to our little city. Jack, I have a new game." Jack sighed, opening up a word document to keep track of whatever it was Jessie was about to start blathering about. "I want everything that there is to be had on this wannabe Superman, Jack. I want his name, his hobbies, his family, where he lives. I want to know everything... And why stop there?" Jessie strode over to his vending machine, slapping the button for a cola, the can clumsily falling through the machine before being spat out into the basket. "I want to find out if there are any others like him," Jessie continued, swiping the can and snapping it up to take a long sip, "Ahhh... So from now on your number one job is finding out who else is hiding their powers, cause there certainly won't be just one of 'em seein' as we got myself and Superboy here already."

Jack nodded and started to dive into researching any leads, being stopped almost immediately by Jessie's excitable voice. "Before we get started though, I have someone we're gonna meet." Jessie was making his way to the garage of his hide-out, yanking his jacket and bandanna off of a coat hanger as he strode through the complex of concrete and granite. Jack knew not to question his boss and quickly grabbed a tablet and stylus to keep notes and look into things on the go, taking a moment to pause and look around Jessie's hideout. It was massive. A warehouse lined with gigantic columns with vast open space throughout the area that was around the size of a football field. It wasn't the prettiest of places, but it certainly gave Ulysses enough space to do whatever he pleased, and it gave Jack more than enough working space. An improvement on his previous office which was simply a rusted out van with an antenna attached to the top. They still had the POS in the complex's garage, though it was more of a relic now. Jack had at first pestered Jessie about how he managed to buy out such a large area of underground property, as well as he he could afford the several dozen televisions, the video game stations, the slew of cars, a small armory worth of weapons, and all the other crap that seemed to be appearing. Jessie only gave the vague answer of it being a gift. From who, he wouldn't specify. Jessie did have money laying around, but there was no way it could be this much, at least as far as Jack knew that is.

The two piled into Jessie's low-profile 1996 matte-grey Toyota Corolla. It smelled vaguely like Doritos and, had Jack looked under his seat, did in fact smell of old Doritos. Jessie tapped a button built into the steering wheel causing the metal garage door to slowly ascend, allowing the car to slide out before it automatically sealed behind them, cutting off access from the drainage system that it opened to. The vehicle moved quickly through the pipe before spilling out onto a dirt road sat near small port in Lost Haven's Chinatown. Jessie drove as if on autopilot, his eyes fixated on the road before him, Jack uncomfortably sitting by him as the immortal seemed to be lost in a haze. "You heard of Hex?" Jessie said suddenly, his eyes still glued straight ahead. "You mean that computer worm from a few years ago that knocked out the French Qaurter's power grid for a week and a half and fried half a million dollars in hardware across Lost Haven?" Jack questioned, assuming he was right. He knew about the worm well enough, remembering the letters H.E.X. that crawled across his screen a few years back before the monitor turned black and his computer overheated to the point where his hard-drive was irreparably damaged and his motherboard melted. He still had bitter memories of that and remembered how he swore to kill the son of a bitch that released it. "You're pretty close." Jessie shot back, merging lanes and giving Jack a quick glance, "Hex is the closest fella out there to me, Jack. He was that worm and now, we'll... You'll see."

It was nightfall by the time they arrived, Jessie and Jack arriving before what looked like a crack-den in one of the worst areas of Lost Haven. "You sure about this?" Jack asked slowly, cautious to close the car door, a crawling sensation building along his spine. Jessie nodded, taking the lead and marching straight toward the front door. It opened with a push, the door getting caught on a taut wire several feet from the doorway. Jessie scooted in, Jack carefully moving behind him, the hair on his neck at a rise now. The house was filled with a spiderweb of cables, hundreds upon hundreds of feet of wire filling the house, lining the ceiling and walls, the floor littered with bits of machinery and, mostly, damaged computer parts. "What the fuck kind of guy lives here..." Jack muttered and as if, by magic, his answer appeared through a nearby doorway. A metallic hand reached around the door, gripping the cracked wooden frame, and soon followed a man near seven feet tall, his limbs consisting of machinery, minus the basketball sneakers and baggy shirt and shorts that adorned his metallic frame. His head was a boxy T.V., the screen filled with a red background, a face with mismatched eyes and a fanged grin filling the monitor. The figure held an ax and looked from Ulysses to Jack, the toothy grin flipping into a frown. In a metallic voice it turned to Jessie and asked bluntly, "Who's the brat?"