Nova City Bank, The Heart of Nova City

_{Made in collaboration with @Estylwen, @Crimson Flame, and @Goblininamech}

---

It was payday. Finally.

”Power's been cut to the block, boss.” Came the voice through the walkie-talkie.

Ethan grinned behind his half-face gas mask. The other half was his masquerade mask over his eyes, and the hood draped over his head. Masked Solaris was about make headlines again. This time, with friends.

He glanced to Pestilence and Pine sitting in the back of the van with him. They were geared up too, and ready for game day.

”Like we discussed, Pestilence, throw your gas grenade out the moment we enter. With their temporary blindness, Pine, I want you to ensnare all the hostages with vines. Then we break through the locked door, have Pestilence cut out the generators, and we plant c4 on that vault. Then, we rake in the cash, leave a dirty bomb for the heroes to play with while we leave.”

The van bumped along the road, before it screeched to a halt. Ethan spoke into his radio. ”All men, move out!”

And he pushed open the back of the van, leading the group out at a jogging pace to the front of Nova City Bank - the biggest bank in the entire city. It was surrounded on all sides by Solaris men in gas masks with rifles, with at least six vans watching the entrance and exits. And, discreetly on the side, was a getaway vehicle sitting under the office windows.

Ethan pushed aside the double doors, entering the lobby of the bank. Surprised glances their way turned into horror as he proclaimed loudly. ”Stick ‘em up, this is a robbery!”

Pestilence walked in the bank in his full regalia, right behind Ethan with his cane in one hand, the foot ball sized grenade in the other and a duffle bag that contained his ‘present’ for the heroes. As soon as everyone turned the grenade was already airborne and releasing its toxic payload in a pinkish fog. “Not to worry everyone, it's temporary you will be fine, trust me I’m a doctor.” He said as he used his cane to slide the grenade further into the crowd of people. All who breathed it in had their vision at first turn fuzzy, then blurry, before going completely black.

Poison Oak raised his arm, and thick thorny vines erupted from the floor and walls. The vines coiled around people’s arms and legs, pinning them in place. Of course some people ran and screamed in terror as vines grabbed them. Pine couldn’t help rolling his eyes. These people’s money supported the industries that were destroying the Earth. But when the Earth fights back, they’re the ones that scream the loudest. “Stay still.” Pine said matter of factly. “The vines tighten if you struggle.”
With a flick of his wrist, a particularly unruly vine pulled a bank guard’s weapon from his holster and flung it across the room. Pine turned back to Ethan. “The room is secure,” he said calmly. “No one’s going anywhere unless I decide otherwise. Now, let’s get this over with before the so-called heroes show up to ‘save the day.’”
Ethan looked in a satisfied manner, ”I couldn't agree more.”
And Ethan strode over to the security door. The one that barred the way to the vault downstairs. Standing in front of it in the gloom of the bank, a blue sphere of molten light appeared in his hand. He guided it towards the lock, steel melting away at an incredible speed. In a matter of seconds, the security of the door was finished and it swung wide for them.
”Shall we?” He called to Samson, Pine, and the contingent of men that had followed them in, duffle bags slung over their shoulders.
They descended the staircase, meeting the hallway with its motion-activated alarms connected to the building's generators. The vault gleamed in the distance, waiting for them.
Ethan shot Samson a look. ”Time to shine, my good sir.”
“My pleasure. My furry friends, I think it’s time yall did your part.” He said as dozens of rats seemed to stream from the darkened corners of the bank and into the vents and hollow ceiling. The sound of skittering feet faded as they searched for and found the generators before only a few minutes later the rats had chewed through every wire connecting to or from them. “There you go, the path is clear.” Samson said as he continued down the hall amazed at how well the plan was working.
With the generators offline, the hallway was free to traverse. Ethan gestured to his men, who quickly shot forward. C4 was attached to the vault, and the men gave a thumbs up to Ethan, everyone moving back and taking cover.
”Moment ‘o truth, boys!” Ethan called out, ensuring everyone had taken sufficient cover, before he peeked around the wall. The timer finished, and a massive explosion took the vault. When the smoke cleared, the vault was dented and hung ajar. And, within the vault, were rows and shelves of cash and gold bars, ripe for the taking.
Ethan whistled, and gestured to his men again. They filed in with their bags, shoving cash and gold into them at rapid speed.
They were so close. Nothing could mess this up.

The lights flickered back on, momentarily blinding everyone as the alarm blared to life, filling the bank with a deafening wail. Red strobe lights spun wildly above, casting frantic shadows across the room.
Meanwhile, all police radios and scanners tuned in would hear the bone-chilling broadcast come in.
“Robbery in progress at Nova City Bank. All units, respond. Suspects are still inside. Officer safety is a priority”
Any hero listening in on the radio would have been alerted to the robbery unfolding before them. The bank would soon be surrounded, and the clock was ticking.

Location: The Alleys of Nova City

---

So much blood. The ground of the alleyway was slick with it, spreading out from the limp figure that used to be Tim’s friend. This- it wasn’t supposed to be this way! God, someone, please help him. He doubled over and retched, dry, heaving convulsions wracking his body. He remembered that- that monster. It grabbed Henry. Then, God, it tore his throat out.

Hurried footfalls echoed around the narrow alley as Tim sprinted, panicked sobs forcing their way out of his ragged throat. Henry was dead. He couldn’t get the images out of his head. The human body has over a gallon of blood inside of it. It’s supposed to stay inside. God.

it moved with inhuman speed grabbing henry biting henry eating henry

That monster came out of nowhere. And what! What did it want with them?! This wasn’t about the robbery, was it? It was an accident. It was a fucking accident! They never- they never meant to kill anybody. “Just a simple stickup.” That’s what Henry had said. And yet, every time he closed his eyes all he could see was the cashier’s twitching body, the gushing wound in their neck fountaining crimson liquid. Now he saw Henry too.

gorged on henry finished looking up at me smiling always smiling blood dripping between teeth

When the monster was done with Henry it just… smiled at Tim and waved. Then, in a flash of something dark, like smoke, it disappeared. Cold, cold air emanated from the place the creature had been, and before long Tim was running in the opposite direction. He told himself that if there was even a single chance that Henry was still alive, he would have tried to help him. But there wasn’t a chance. Too many pieces of him were missing. In a flurry, he rounded a corner in the alley before being sent flying to the ground. He’d bumped into something. Heart nearly pounding out of his chest, he looked up into the eyes of the monster. They glowed soft red in the dimness.

“Hey.” The grin widened a fraction as it took a step closer.

“Wha- bu- no! No no no! How?!” Tim cowered as it advanced on him, paralyzed into place in a heap of himself on the ground.

“MuGshOts buddy! Y’all are repeat offenders so, you know. Cross reference the security camera footage they showed on the news and yeah- thE mAth maThS.” It had reached Tim by this point, grabbing his shirt by the collar and lifting him up off the ground. Wide, crimson eyes peered into his own. They were creased at the corners with amusement. “Ever hear of trigger discipline bUddY bOy? She was only sixteen you know.” The monster laughed. “I LOVE guns. Used to carry one aLL the TiMe when I worked for Koth. But she was only sixteen. Why would you shoot? Nervous, right?” Tim had begun to sob. “Well don’t WoRrY about a thing pal! You don’t gotta be scared anymore. I’m not the vengeful type.” The monstrous smile widened to proportions that Tim didn’t think should be possible. “Super heroes ain’t like that. So this’ll be over quickly.”

ate henry gonna eat me ate henry gonna eat me ate henry gonn-

---

Chuck’s jaws clamped down shut around the scumbag shooter’s skull, teeth shredding through skin and meat and crunching through bone. Alongside iron and a hint of salt, the taste of something bitter and terrified fell upon his tongue. The soul. Enough of the body was left behind for police to identify. But the soul? Chuck ate every bite.

He looked down at the corpses in deep self-satisfaction. “AnOthER pair of criminals off the street!" Can’t forget the most important part!” He rummaged into his pockets, pulling out a sharpie and pink sticky note. He bounded off after leaving the very important message behind.

---

It was some time later that news of the Nova City Bank robbery spread like wildfire. Chuck was extremely excited at the prospect of being able to team up with all the other heroes that would undoubtedly lend their aid to his most recent catastrophe. Maybe this would even get Blaze out of retirement. God damn that guy was so cool.

And so, with thoughts of heroism and team-ups flooding his mind, Chuck focused his mind on the teleport spell that would get him to the exterior of the bank. Reciting the demonic runes in his mind as waves of cold air pulsed off of his body, he disappeared in a flash of black soul-stuff, reappearing before Nova City Bank to a chorus of terrified shrieks rejoiceful applause.

“HeLLo! Don’t WorRy everybody! Glutton fights for YOU! For JUSTICE!”

He looked around dimly. Where was everybody else?

“...I’m gonna wait for the rest of my team though!”

Made in collaboration with @Estylwen

Earlier…

Florian would receive a voicemail on his phone.

Poison Oak! I got a proposal for ya. You, me, the Nova City Skyline. Let's talk about the collective thorn in our side, yeah? How we can help each other, ya know, ya know? See ya at the 75th floor of Arakana Tower, 218 Gold Conference Room, tomorrow, 1:00 PM.

Click

Dr. Florian Pine listened to the voicemail with a frown, clutching the phone tightly in his hands. The voice was unfamiliar, and the proposition vague, but the mention of “the collective thorn in our side” piqued his interest.

He took some time to think it over. The plants in his lab came to life, moving and responding to his emotions. Pine didn’t trust anyone, but his curiosity often got the better of him. What did this person know? What did they want? And, more importantly, what could they offer him in return?

---

The mysterious gentleman who left the voicemail yesterday now sat in the well-lit conference room in the Arakana Tower, swiveling a little in his leather seat, eyes on the clock. It was 12:55 PM, and Ethan, dressed well in a dress shirt, tie and slacks, sat patiently for his guest.

They'd be coming through that door any minute.

At exactly 12:59 PM, the doors flung open. There stood Poison Oak, in his full green skinned plant covered glory. He wasn’t interested in pleasantries or concealing his true nature for anyone. “I hope you have something worth my time,” Poison Oak said coolly. He raised hIs arm, and produced a throne of leaves, vines, and flowers for him to sit in. “Because I don’t make deals with you corporate types lightly.”

Ethan smirked, standing and moving to one of the cabinets in the room. ”My dear Poison Oak, I consider myself more of a gangster scum than any corpo, but I do consider myself trustworthy. “Now, I'd offer you a drink, but I'd rather not be insensitive. Do you eat sunlight, or do you still have space for a glass of scotch?” He said, pulling out two crystal glasses and a bottle of amber liquid, setting them on the table. He proceeded to pour two glasses, moving around the conference table to offer one to Florian.

”There's been… news. The cops are on the move. And on top of that, the ‘heroes’ of the city want to gain their fame by collaring the villains. No one is safe. No you, not me. Now, they could ‘divide and conquer’, but that doesn't sit well with me, ya know? Not when we could help each other.” Ethan said, a glimmer in his violet eyes as he spoke.

“I don’t have much use for liquor…” Pine said dryly. “But I’ll take the gesture as you trying to play nice.” He didn’t reach for the glass, instead folding his arms across his chest.

Ethan's lip quirked at that, and he humorously poured Pine's share into his own cup, ”Cheers, then.” And he took a sip, resting his back against the table.

“I’m not intimidated by the cops, but those so-called heroes are like pests in my garden.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “They don’t understand what I’m doing here. What I’m protecting.” Pine sighed. “You’ve piqued my interest. Keep talking. What exactly are you proposing? And what’s in it for me?”

Ethan nodded, before taking another sip of the scotch. ”Mm. An alliance.” He set the glass on the table, his focus entirely on Pine.
”Your enemies become my enemies. Your problems become my problems. And my ventures… become your ventures. Like a certain… bank heist I’m planning.
“What do you say? Are you down for making some good money with me?”

Pine let out a chuckle. “Money? Do you think I’m just some common criminal out to line their pockets?” His vines coiled tighter around his arms, rustling faintly as if reacting to his tension. “Every day, the planet suffers while humans squabble over pieces of paper. I’m not interested in human greed or profit!”

Pine sighed. “Now, if this ‘bank’ happens to fund projects destroying rainforests, or if this heist would hurt those who harm the natural world, then you have my attention. But if this is some petty grab for cash? Then you’re wasting my time.”

Ethan raised a hand, ”You're absolutely right. Money is a construct that corpos use as an excuse to kill the earth, it's true! But my friend, how will you expand your influence? You can only do so much as one person. Imagine having people working for you, exercising your will?”
He slapped his palms together, drawing together his thoughts, before he leveled at Pine. ”Nova City Bank launders money from all types of criminal organizations. Some of those poach rhinos. Some of those unethically mine diamonds. Some of those use precious fresh water to process bitumen, leaving it toxic afterward. “So, hitting this bank where it hurts takes funds away from those assholes and puts it in your pockets, where it should rightfully belong, mm?”

Pine’s eyes narrowed as Ethan spoke. “A bank laundering money for poachers, miners, and water-wasting parasites…” he murmured, seriously considering the thought. “Now that’s a target worthy of my time. Now it’s more than just a simple heist, it’s justice. And I have to admit, the idea of stripping those monsters of their ill-gotten gains has its appeal.” Pine nodded his head the more he thought about it. “If I agree to this, it’s because I will ensure that the stolen funds are directed toward something meaningful—restoration projects, sanctuaries, resources for protecting the Earth.” His green eyes lit up with intensity. “Not your personal ambitions.” Poison Oak extended a hand, “Alright, you’ve got yourself an ally, for now. But if you betray me, just remember, plants don’t forget, and neither do I.”

Ethan smirked, giving Poison Oak a firm handshake. ”You're a wise man, my friend. I wouldn't dream of betraying your trust.”

[a week before the heist.]

Samson would receive a voicemail on his phone.

Heyyya, Pestilence. You like money, right? I like money too. Why don't we see how we can make more of it together, eh? Why don't we meet up? Say, the Gem Nightclub. The noise and lights make it reeaal discreet. 10:00 PM, tomorrow? You'll want to say you have a reservation under Masked Solaris. See ya then.

Samson was in his lab's storage room going through his stock of chemicals and stored experiments when he heard his phone go off. He ignored it thinking that if it was important they’d leave a message. It was about an hour later once he was done going through what he had and what he needed that he finally got around to checking his messages. It seemed whoever this Solaris person was they wanted to make some sort of deal. He thought about it for a while before deciding to go, even if he wasn’t tempted by whatever deal was being offered he still had to figure out how this person got info on him. He set an alarm and went back to work, after all if this was some sort of trap he’d have a surprise ready.

---

The music was thumping in a pumping, well-polished nightclub in the ritzier area of Nova City. Ethan was sitting in one of the VIP booths in the back, away from the dance floor. The neat thing with these VIP boxes was that, once the door was shut, it was essentially sound-proof. Perfect to discuss heinous topics.

He leaned back against the plush lounge seat, dressed in a dress shirt, tie, and slacks. There was already a smoke to his lips, making the room slightly hazy. His eyes slid to the door, waiting.

Samson was finishing up the final touches to his ‘surprise’ should this meeting turn sour. Obviously he couldn't bring a weapon into a club as if this man was smart he’d have him checked beforehand, so Samson had injected a couple dozen leeches with a special chemical compound that caused nausea, blurred vision, and impaired balance in mammals. If it came to it he could have them crawl unseen and deliver their payload. It was around 9:15 once he was finished and headed out.

It took him about 30 minutes to find the club as he didn’t get out of the lab much unless he was ‘working’. He was wearing a black suit with a dark red under shirt, the dozen leeches unseen as the lay flat against his back. After a quick conversation with the door man, and after being checked for weapons, he was led to the V.I.P booth and ushered in.

Once the door had closed and they were left in silence he looked at the man who’d apparently wanted to meet the infamous Pestilence. “Well you say you want to talk, lets talk.” He said in a low gravelly voice. “You know who I am may I ask what your name is?”

Ethan stood as Samson entered the VIP booth, grinning as he bit softly on his cigarette. He extended a hand for a handshake. ”Masked Solaris, or Ethan Smoke. I'm not one for hidden identities, personally. Bit old-fashioned.” His voice was light and clear with a humorous lilt.

He gestured to the seats, ”Please, make yourself comfortable. Can I offer you a drink? Their scotch here is to die for.”

He took his seat on the lounge again, reaching for the untouched glasses and flipping them right side up, opening a bottle of scotch sitting on the table and pouring for both Samson and him. Then he set the glass closer to Samson, picking up his own glass and swirling it slightly in his hand.

”Times are ‘a changing, Pestilence. We used to be able to survive alone, but with the recent movements of the cops, and those damn ‘heroes’, it's getting riskier and riskier to score big.

“That's why I'm proposing an alliance. Your enemies become my enemies. You help me with my heists, you get a cut of the take-away. Say… 70/30?”

Samson shook Ethan’s hand as he spoke and listened as the man gave an offer he wasn’t expecting. An alliance, a way for them to be safer from this world's so called guardians. He thought it over as he looked at the man over his fingers tapping on the side of his glass, which he’d accepted but has yet to even take a sip.

Samson could see the pros to such a deal but there were risks as well. This man could leave him high and dry if something went wrong, but he wasn’t wrong about the hero’s being a pain in his side, yet more people clinging to the weakness of humanity like it was something they needed.

“That is an interesting offer but 70/30 is a steep cut.” He asked as he leaned forward, his face devoid of any expression and his grey eyes cold. “60/40, in your favor of course.”

Ethan held his smoke in his hand, taking a sip of the scotch, face scrunching up reflexively at the strong taste. ”Mm. Pestilence, ya twisting ma arm here,”

He shot Samson a smirk, ”You know I got overhead, men to pay. Everyone's got a hand in my pocket, damn.”

He leaned back in his seat, breathing in a deep inhale from his cigarette, before he shrugged, chuckling. ”Alright. Just for you, 60/40. Actually got a heist planned for next week, if you want in on it. The Nova City Bank.”

Ethan waggled his eyebrows at Samson, a mischievous glint in his violet eyes. It was the biggest branded bank in the city, with the highest security. To even attempt it was a suicide mission waiting to happen.

Samson was a bit shocked by the acceptance of his counter offer so quickly though he didn’t show it. This shock was deepened by the next words out of Ethans mouth, to rob The Nova City Bank was a bold if reckless move. He wanted to deny him right away but something in the back of his mind kept him from denying it out right. With funding like that he could further his experiments by leaps and bounds. Despite his better judgement he nodded towards Ethan and said. “Maybe but before I commit I’d need to see a plan. If I’m going to take such a big risk I need to know we’re not going in there half cocked.”

He continued to tap the glass of untouched scotch as stared at Ethan trying to figure the aloof man out. The leeches under his shirt shifted slightly as he said. “And on the off chance I agree I’ll even pitch in and help arm us. I have a few experiments that need a field test.”

”A field test, huh?” Ethan mused, before he took one final drsg of his cigarette before sinking it in a crystal ashtray. He pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolling through it for a moment before setting it on the table, allowing Samson to see a floor plan of the bank. He leaned forward in his seat, widening the map and pointing to the lobby area.

”So, after we've killed the power to the city block, We storm the front lobby area. The cameras will be down, so don't need to worry about that. Don't have to worry about the silent alarm either. After the front lobby is secure, I'll sear through the lock to the underground vault area. The hallway to the vault is coated in motion sensors that are hooked up to a generator, so they'll alert the police if they aren't deactivated. However, destroying them with a little star-power will let us take the hall. Then, we set some C4 on the door of the vault, take cover, and bam! It's ours. Faster than if I were to try and melt through it. Go through to the offices on the main floor, smash the window, our getaway driver will be on the other side.

“All in all, it should take about four minutes to do.”

Ethan cocked an eyebrow at Samson. ”So? I'm curious what kind of field tests you wanted to do, I might have to adjust the plan so it all fits.”

“Hmmm, I see. I could probably send a few of my little ‘friends’ ahead to take out any back up generators they have.” He said as he looked over the map. “This way we don’t have to stop to deal with the motion sensors and they can scout out in case there's any surprises.”

This plan actually wasn’t half bad and with his help it might just work. “Well, three things to be exact. The first is a chemical agent that when breathed in by warm blooded creatures causes temporary blindness. I have that put in a gas grenade. The second is a fast acting virus I’ve been cooking up, it’ll cause any injected by it to have their joints stiffen making it harder to move. I have a few auto injector bolts and back up crossbows for that.” Samson said as he looked from the plan to Ethan. “ The third is actually a way to make sure no one follows us. A dirty bomb laced with an airborne virus I’ve been working on the last few years. We plant it in the lobby and then if any hero shows up they either see it or we tell them and they have to deal with that first. Oh, and don’t worry about yourself or your men, just have them wear a gas mask and shower after.”

Ethan smirked at that, his eyes glinting mischievously. ”You are a master at your field, my good sir. Yes, I can fit that into the plan real easy, and we'll be sailing outta there with the dough before anyone can say anything.”

He chuckled, tapping his drink on the table to emphasize his point, before tossing the rest of it back in one fell swoop. His face scrunched up reflexively, before that grin was back on his face.

”Well, we'll definitely want to keep in touch and work out the finer details before the big day, yes? Here's my contacts.” And he passed an embossed business card to Samson. Solaris Consultants was the name of the company, an obvious front for what really went on behind the scenes.

[color=6666ff]”Now, was there anything else you wanted to discuss before we wrap this up? You can take the bottle home, if you like.”[color] He said, gesturing to the scotch.

“No, I think we have discussed all there is for now.” He said as he got up leaving his still full glass on the table. He stopped right before exiting and said with a very faint smile. “No thank you, I'm not much of a drinker, but thanks anyway. I do have a piece of advice for you though, since we’re allied and all now.” He held up a hand and allowed one of the leeches to slip from his sleeve to wrap around one of his fingers. “You should really get better security, I have a few dozen of these guys on my person. I wouldn’t want this partnership to end so quickly.” He then turned and left just as quickly as he came.

Ethan's eyebrows raised up, before amusement flickered across his face. ”I'll keep that in mind…” He mumbled slyly to himself.

A Few Weeks Ago
Ironclad

---

Dante sat at the bar of the Rusty Nail. A dive bar on the bad end of Ironclad that had seen its fair share of lowlifes and hapless wanderers looking for somewhere to drown their sorrows in a place they could avoid too much attention. Dante wasn't sure which best described him, but he hoped it was the latter. He'd been sitting at the bar for three hours, or five years depending on how you looked at things, and was sticking to his usual routine - nursing a beer and feeling sorry for himself. He couldn't help but think that if Marcus could see him now he'd be disappointed. All that work making him into the second Halcyon and it lead him to the bottom of a grave and his protoge to the bottom of a bottle.

Dante swirled the amber liquid in his glass before swigging back another gulp. The Rusty Nail wasn't much to look at with its flickering neon lights, scratched tables, and a jukebox that only played half the songs before skipping. But it was quiet, and the people here minded their business. Most of the time, anyway.

The door creaked open, letting in the cold night air along with a group of three men. They were loud, already halfway to drunk, and wearing that particular swagger that came with a complete lack of self-awareness. Dante barely glanced at them, his eyes instead settling back on his bottle.

He could hear the bark of their laughter behind him, the clatter of chairs as they shoved a few patrons out of their seats. The bartender muttered something in protest, but a sharp, slurred command to "shut your mouth and pour" was enough to silence him.

Dante sighed, his fingers tightening slightly around the glass. Not my problem, he thought, leaning forward as if to make himself smaller. He'd learned the hard way that standing out rarely ended well. He wasn't scared for his own safety, but using his power just painted a target on his back. These guys weren't worth his time, he could piss down any gutter and soak five of these losers, they were a dime a dozen in Ironclad.

Dante could hear their laughter rise above the faint music from the jukebox. Eventually, the conversation turned toward him as the group sauntered over to the bar.

"Check out this guy!" one of them sneered, jerking a thumb toward Dante. "Sitting here all moody, what's the matter buddy girlfriend left you for some other poor bum with a 20 dollar jacket?"

Another laughed, tipping his beer toward Dante's back and spilling it on the floor next to his boots. "Bet he’s writing poetry in his head. 'Oh, woe is me, my beer's gone warm, my life's gone cold.'"

"Looks like he tried to fight a lawnmower and lost." the third said, gesturing at the scars running down Dante’s face. The others burst out laughing, their jeers growing louder.

Dante ignored them, taking a slow sip of his drink. He'd learned a long time ago that responding only gave them fuel. After Marcus' death he'd have relished the chance to push these clowns through the wall, but these days he just wanted to be left alone.

One of the men, emboldened by the lack of reaction, leaned in close. "Hey, buddy." he drawled. "What's with the silent treatment? You too good to hang out with the rest of us?”"

Dante's fingers tightened on his glass, but he didn't look up.

"Leave him alone." the bartender muttered, but his voice lacked any real force.

"Oh, come on!" the man said, turning to the bartender with an exaggerated shrug. "We're just trying to get the guy to smile. He's bringing the whole place down."

The other two joined him at the bar, snickering as they loomed on either side of Dante.

"Maybe he's one of those wannabe superheroes." one said, nudging the man next to him. "Probably with some loser power. Control over dairy products or something!"

The first one smirked, leaning in closer. "What's the matter? Someone break your heart? Or just your face?" The group let out another laugh, taking their drinks and moving over to a table in the corner of the room. Dante and the bartender caught eyes for a moment, he could see the relief on his face.

Then, a scuffle broke out behind him.

The woman at the next table stood abruptly, yanking her arm out of one of the men's grip. "Don't touch me!" she snapped, her voice firm despite the tremor beneath it.

The man leaned back, smirking. "Oh, relax, sweetheart. We’re just trying to have some fun. You’re the one getting all uptight."

"Leave me alone!" she said, stepping back toward the bar.

"C'mon now." the leader said, taking a step toward her, his voice oozing false charm. "No need to be rude. You could at least say thank you when a guy's being friendly."

Dante closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose.

When the woman shoved past him to put more distance between herself and the men, the leader's mask slipped. He grabbed her by the arm, his grip tight enough to make her wince. "Hey, I'm talking to you!"

"Let her go." Dante said, his voice calm but carrying an edge. He hadn't moved from his chair yet, only moving his eyes to track them from the corner of his vision.

The men froze, glancing at him before bursting into laughter.

"You serious?" the leader asked, squaring up to Dante. "You gonna play the hero tough guy? You didn’t learn the first time? What’re you gonna do, tough guy? Drink us to death?"

Dante pushed back his stool and stood, his towering frame forcing the man to crane his neck slightly to meet his eyes. He kept a palm pressed firmly on the top of the bar, he felt a bit unsteady from the drinking.

"Last chance." Dante said, his tone steady as he stared the man down. "Let her go, and you walk out of here."

The man sneered, his free hand darting into his jacket. The glint of metal caught Dante’s eye just as the pistol came up, pointed at his chest.

"You don’t scare me, hero." the man spat, squeezing the trigger.

The shot cracked like thunder, silencing the bar. Dante staggered back a step as the bullet struck his arm. He gritted his teeth, the gravity field instinctively dampening the impact, but the pain still lanced through him as the round embedded itself shallowly. Blood seeped through his sleeve, the wound a dark stain against the dim light of the bar. The clown had the audacity to shoot him, and worse yet he'd put a hole in his second favourite drinking arm.

The leader blinked, his confidence faltering as Dante straightened, flexing his fingers. The room felt heavier, the air pressing down on them with an almost imperceptible weight. Dante shook his bleeding arm, cracking his neck as he clasped his hand around the barrel of the small pistol and snapped it upwards.

What was that quote about letting sleeping dogs lie?

---

Present Day
Nova City

---

The mid-morning sun gleamed off the mirrored glass of Nova City's towering skyline, casting patches of light across the busy streets below. Dante walked with his hands in his jacket pockets, his shoulders hunched against the weight of the world. The fresh scar on his upper arm throbbed faintly, a grim souvenir from his last run-in at the Rusty Nail. He barely remembered how he'd gotten home that night, only that the lowlifes hadn't been walking by the end of it.

His steps carried him into the heart of downtown, where the hum of life was louder and more chaotic. Office workers rushed along the sidewalks, coffee in hand, while cars honked in the gridlocked lanes. A street musician strummed a melancholic tune on a guitar, its melody briefly catching Dante's attention. For a moment, he paused, his gaze distant, before the buzz of his phone jolted him back to reality.

Reaching into his pocket, Dante checked the cracked screen. It was a news notification: "BREAKING: Armed Robbery in Progress at Bank of Nova City – Hostages Reported."

He frowned. The location was only a few blocks away.

Dante swiped the notification away and tucked the phone back into his pocket. Not his problem. Nova City was crawling with heroes these days, flashy types with big names and bigger egos. Someone else could handle it. He was still on the fence about returning to the hero business. He'd drunkenly made a pact with himself after that night in Ironclad that he'd dig up Marcus' legacy and start doing some good again. Right, sure, and maybe next week he'll quit the booze.

But as he turned the corner, the distant wail of police sirens drew closer. People were clearing the streets, their hushed voices and hurried steps thick with anxiety. He passed a mother pulling her child along, fear etched across her face.

"Isn't anyone going to do something?" the woman muttered to no one in particular.

Dante clenched his jaw. He kept walking.

His path veered into an alley, where he leaned against the brick wall and stared at his reflection in the cracked window of a boarded-up shop. His scruffy hair, tired eyes, and the weight of disappointment etched in every line of his face stared back at him.

"You're better than this, kid." Marcus’s voice echoed in his head, unbidden. He could see the old man staring back at him in the murky reflection of the broken window.

Dante's fists tightened. He didn't need a lecture from a ghost. But as much as he wanted to shove the memory aside, it clung to him. He reached into his pocket, pulling out Marcus' old red bandana and staring at it for a second. With a low growl, he pushed off the wall and turned back toward the street.

The bank was just ahead now. A police barricade had been set up, officers crouching behind their cars, weapons drawn. Through the glass doors, Dante could see flashes of movement, vines creeping up and rooting hostages in place, gas seeping up from the floor, and what looked like rats scurrying about on the floor.

Dante stopped at the edge of the scene, keeping to the shadows as he assessed the situation. He felt the familiar pull in his chest, the gravitational power that simmered just beneath the surface, begging to be unleashed. He didn't need to get involved. He could walk away, disappear into the chaos like he always did.

But then his gaze landed on one of the hostages, a boy no older than ten, clutching his mother’s arm with tear-filled eyes.

Dante exhaled sharply.

Enough.

Stepping out from the shadows, he strode toward the barricade, tying Marcus' bandana his head as the scars underneath his eyes began to glow that same shade of red. The officers tensed, their attention snapping to him. One of them raised a hand to stop him.

"Hey! You can’t go in there!"

Dante didn’t stop. "I'm not asking permission."

Before the officer could argue, Dante stepped past the barricade, the gravity in his steps already shifting as he climbed the steps to the bank doors.

That’s when the temperature dropped. A sharp pulse of cold air spread outward like a wave, sending shivers through the assembled onlookers. The light bent and darkened for a fraction of a second before a figure appeared in a burst of black, otherworldly energy.

"HeLLo! Don’t WorRy everybody! Glutton fights for YOU! For JUSTICE!"

The declaration cut through the tension, though it left the crowd more confused than reassured. Dante's sharp gaze locked onto the being, a hulking figure standing six feet tall, its unnatural grin and piercing red eyes more menacing than comforting. Dante instinctively felt his feet plant into the ground and his hands raise in a fighting stance. For a moment he thought he was involved in the robbery, but his gut told him otherwise. Whatever this thing was, its motivations had nothing to do with the money in that vault.

He let himself relax, standing straight as he hooked a thumb underneath his belt. The hero business sure had changed since he'd been gone if this guy was being called in to save hostages. He rubbed his chin.

"Justice, huh?" He let out a grin, glancing down at the crowd looking up at them. "We look more like the villains than the ones to dish out justice here, pal. The only thing stopping those cops down there from sending some hot lead our way is the fear that you'd just eat the bullets." He moved over to the door, trying the handle only to find it securely locked by vines that must have been as strong as a metal bar. "Tell you what, you look capable enough, hows about I get this door open and we get to work before the boyscouts in leotards get here?" He said grinning back to the row of teeth behind him. This wasn't exactly the team-up he'd envisioned to kickstart his return to heroism, but he couldn't help but feel it made more sense than working with some of the guys he'd seen on the news. If anything they had similar taste in jackets.

He concentrated his energy through his body, and the air immediately felt heavier around them as the gravity within him grew stronger, heavier. He raised his boot and with one mighty kick he burst open the doors and blew free the vines holding them in place. Taking a step inside the bank as he motioned for Glutton to follow him.

---

Location: Nova City, Midnight

---

The night was supposed to go well.

And for the moment, it was.... but something just felt off. There wasn’t the slightest hint of police presence on the outskirts of the city and the night was quiet, almost deathly so. That should have been a good thing, the uneventfulness. And yet....

It freaked James out.

It was just his nerves, Hank assured him. All they had to do was get this meeting over with and then he’d be living the high life. He’d finally get to leave this shitty life behind and move on to the greener pastures he deserved. The words rang hollow even to his ears. This little crew of his may not have been the best in the business, but they got by well enough. A little robbery here, a little extortion there, and everyone walked away alive and happy. Well, they did. They were pretty low-key among lowlifes, so there wasn't much they could do without stepping on the toes of any of the bigger fishes in Nova City; supervillains, that is. It worked out alright though, as long as no one got too greedy.

But, even in a small group like theirs, there was bound to be greed. Festering beneath the surface, waiting for its chance to screw someone over. That’s why there were only three of them now. Tommy was a smart kid, but he could be a real idiot sometimes, and that was a bad combination in their line of work. It was only a matter of time before that pot boiled over, and when it did....

James grimaced at the memory.

It was a damn shame too.

It wasn’t all bad, though. It did end up leading them to this little opportunity they had here.

The building they stood in was old. The word was that the place had been abandoned for near a century at this point. Shit was old. John rubbed his hands together anxiously, and James couldn’t blame him. The place gave him the creeps. He never did understand why some people gravitated towards shitholes like this, or why they insisted on a set time if they were going to be late.

What was taking them so long?

The sound of several sets of tyres on gravel reached his ears and James sighed in relief.

“Feckin’ finally. Alright, boys, let’s get this–”

James didn’t jump. Of course, he didn’t. He didn’t scare that easily, and no one could say otherwise.

But anybody would be concerned if they heard the sounds of gunshots and screaming coming from outside a building they were in. There was a fight of some sort going on out there, but none of the men inside dared check it out. None of them were stupid enough to get involved in a firefight if they didn’t have to, especially with only two of them armed.

It didn’t take long for the noise to die down, and then all that was left was an eerie silence. The three men glanced at one another, and an unspoken agreement was reached. James swallowed thickly as he pulled his pistol from his waistband, his arm shaking more than he’d like to admit. He inched closer to the front of the building, giving his two companions a quick look over his shoulder to ensure they were maintaining a modest distance.

Before his fingers even touched the door, something slammed into it hard. The metal bent inwards from the force, and something sharp was shoved through it. This time James didn’t even try to pretend he wasn’t spooked. He scrambled backwards in a panic, firing off three shots into the door as he did. The other two backed right up with him, though Henry held his fire.

“Jesus Christ! What the hell is that?!”

Calming his racing heartbeat a bit, James took a closer look at the door, his eyes squinting in the dim light.

Was that.... a sword?

Before he could even finish processing that revelation, the door was violently ripped off its hinges, sending all three of the men inside scrambling back once again. Then, someone stepped through the shattered frame, dressed in all black and wearing a mask that betrayed no sign of humanity. A sword was held loosely in its hand, dripping a familiar red liquid onto the floor.

The figure paused for a moment, tilting its head as if in curiosity. Then, it started moving again, and all hell broke loose.

The night had been going well. Just not for criminals.

---

“Are they.... dead?”

Adrian paused for a moment as he slid his blade across his forearm, wiping the blood on his sleeve. He barely spared a glance at the bodies lying on the ground around him.

“No. They’ll be fine.”

At least, that was the case for those inside the rundown building. The ones on the outside, on the other hand, well, the authorities would probably get there in time. And if not, they would reap what they sowed.

“Ominous....”

Adrian didn’t deign to give a response. His eyes swept over the area one final time until he was satisfied. Crouching slightly, he pressed a single figure to the wall and started to carve their calling card into the fading brick. It’d taken a while for them to finally decide on what it should be, but the end result was.... satisfactory.

---

Location: Nova City, Morning

---

If Adrian needed sleep, he might have noticed the passing of time more.

As it were, though, to him the news of the Nova City Bank being robbed came not long after he was done “cleaning”. There was never a dull moment in this city, he mused idly. Cracking his neck loudly, Adrian stood from his low crouch, his muscles shifting beneath his skin as he did. Now, how to get there?

Hm. There were a few options available to him, but he was too close to the city’s outskirts to get to the bank in time. But, there was another way....

“It’ll take a few jumps if we go like this, but we can get there in about 60 seconds. Probably. I think.”

Well, dubious certainty aside, that was far less time than it would take him, so it wasn’t even a question.

“Do it.”

Closing his eyes, Adrian took a deep breath and let his focus slip. In an instant, he felt himself lurching and then nothing. He couldn’t tell for sure how long he was being twisted and shoved through space, but he could certainly tell when his feet finally touched the ground again.

“66 seconds! A bit off, but that’s fine! That’s fine....”

Adrian straightened himself out, twitching slightly at the feeling of his insides shifting back into place. He glanced behind himself, noting the shocked and wary expressions of the people behind the police barricade. Then his eyes landed on the bank’s front doors and he breathed a soft sigh.

“Looks like we’re not the first ones here. Let’s get started.”

Nova City, Located beneath Valentine Hospital, two weeks ago before.

---

"In other news, yet another body found exsanguinated in a string of bizarre "vampire" like killings. Law Enforcement refuse to comment on whether this is the making of a serial killer or supe that's lost control, and local officials decline to make any statement regarding the cases at all. The body makes number 15 in the last two months, local citizens growing concerned and questions of a potential curfew? Mayor of Nova City has finally taken time out of his busy even schedule to come ease citizens minds, Mayo-" the TV turned off suddenly, revealing in it's reflection an exhausted and drained Fae. She looked down in her lap to the hand cuff closed around her wrist, following the long chain to the other hand cuff linked to a bar in the wall. This was fucking useless and she knew it...but it was the only thing keeping her guilt at a manageable level.

"If handcuffs you know I can break out of, are enough to absolve you of the guilt, you'd probably make for a great poli-"

"Shut up." Fae had taken to trying to deny Bloodlust any attention for the last week since the last night she'd broken free. Nova City would be horrified to find that the fifteen bodies were only a fraction of the actual people she's...Bloodlust's killed in the last year that Fae's grip on keeping her heart rate down, and in turn, keeping Bloodlust below the surface has been slipping. thirteen years and they had always had an agreement. Bloodlust would never forcefully take control, if Fae let her free once every week. That's been the deal since Fae had awakened her powers at 16. One that Bloodlust seemed to have been waiting to break for the last thirteen years. Fae had spent many sleepless nights, attempting to figure out why the night seemed to be weakening her ability to keep Bloodlust at bay, frustratingly to no discernable answer.

"Maybe our little Faeby is finally sick of keeping it all bottled up. Let it loose, let ME loo-"

"Stop talking, you're not re-" a flash of memories burst into her thoughts all at once, a child begging for Fae to help her. Bloodlust sinister laugh and smile as she led that child down a dark alley. The fear filling the child's eyes and he began to realize that Bloodlust's grip on his tiny hands were much to tight, her nails starting to di- "ENOUGH" Fae slammed her hand down on the glass coffee table in front of her, it cracking into a spiderweb around her fist. A laugh seemed to ring out through out the open living room, the broken table reflected Fae back to her what she imagined her soul might look like. In the reflection, parts of her showed back Bloodlust's face, the one Fae wore every time the monster was free. A horrific smiling face mixed with the broken expression of Fae. She could feel it, tonight would not be a success for Fae, Bloodlust seeming not to appreciate the seven days of a cold shoulder.

She kicked the table away from her and tried to meditate, do anything to try and keep her calm, but Bloodlust would wait till just before Fae would relax, flashing her more horrific memories. Her watch sent off an alert "BPM over 150, suggesting changing your environment" eliciting Fae's increased annoyance, it was only a matter of time now. She resorted to holding her breath and focusing on her heartbeat, counting each one, bringing herself back down off the "ledge" so to speak. She sighed and closed her eyes, thankful for her body seeming to listen to her again.

"How can you be so sure?" Bloodlust's voice seeming to grow distant as if the monster walking away from the woman's inner thoughts.

Fae opened her eyes to her standing above a man whose neck had a chunk bitten out of it, the sounds of the city suddenly hitting her as if she had been encased in a barrier from the outside world until now. She stared down in horror at the front of her clothes, covered in a nauseating amount of blood. Fae's knees gave out from under her, tears pooling into closed eyes, disgust and anger were the only thing keeping her from shedding them. Fae didn't even realize she was being held in Bloodlust's prison, and the thought that Bloodlust was getting strong enough to keep her suspended inside, with no memory of the switch? Fae shook with fear at the prospect that she was losing her fucking mind, until the smell of Iron finally hitting her nose, quickly rising to throw up behind a nearby trashcan. Once her stomach was free of ALL its contents, Fae turned to the man, a profound sense of sorrow and guilt hitting her as she inspected the mans young face.

She didn't know how Bloodlust had ended up selecting the unfortunate guy as her target, and upon searching his body, she found a wallet containing pictures of a pregnant woman and an ultrasound. Fae's hands trembled, her vision blurring as uncontrollable tears began falling. "Don't fucking ignore me Valentine, this relationship doesn't work without communication" Bloodlust whispered in her ear, as it seemed like she released what seemed to be the events of the night leading up to this exact moment. The man had been parked in an alleyway with a woman so obviously not his wife when Bloodlust choose him and the woman as a nice double feature for the two remaining bodies she was required to satiate her hunger.

"It doesn't justify murder like thi-"

"Then call the police and sit here for the consequences of your actions" Fae's silence was sickeningly loud "I'm sick of you pretending like we're not two sides of the same coin, newsflash cupcake, you've been okay with murdering people since you've been sixteen. You want an explanation for why your losing your grip on the reins more often? You're a fucking hypocrite and I'm sick of playing nice while doing all the heavy lifting. So make a choice, turn yourself in, prove to me you're actually this moral paragon of good you're lying to yourself about or pick up the slack like the serial killer I know we can be"

Bank of Nova City, Current Day

---

Fae had been at the bank for the greater part of the morning. She decided that this morning after a long night containing Bloodlust successfully, that she’d be opening a fund for Widows and Widowers who become so because of super powered individuals. Her investment portfolio had earned her more money than she’d ever know what to do with, and the least she could do was try and make things right.

“That cheating father to be from four days ago probably looking up and is gratified by your charity, sucks he won-“

Fae closed Bloodlust off from her thoughts, digging her nails in to her palms to refocus herself. She was seated in the office space of her account manager, considered a VIP client from her fame and wealth she’d accrued in the last five years her center had been opened. The account managers office was decently cluttered with all spectators of her life, Fae caught wind of the story presenting itself in each picture that showed her family. A family of four, a loving family apparent through their smiles, their youngest son appeared to get more sickly with each passing photo, until it was obvious he had gotten diagnosed with something.

Fae wondered if their child sat on the long wait list to gain access to her Center. Hopefully the boy would fight for just a little bit longer. Between the restless nights containing Bloodlust, and the center being on the precipice of an Earth Shattering break thru in cancer treatments, she was at the end of her line, but she could feel it, the good this treatment good do. The lives potentially saved wouldn’t absolve her of sins, but it would be a start. She looked to the long one way tinted window overlooking the Lobby and spotted her Account Manager zigzagging through the lines and crowds with paperwork in her hand. It was ungodly busy at midday, one of the many reasons Fae tried to get here so early but to no avail. She was filled with dread as she watched the citizens of Nova City bustling below, unaware a monster was licking its lips in anticipation for the chance to be set free.

“Not here, pleas-“

“Stay calm and I won’t” a laugh accompany the words cutting through her thoughts. A thinly veiled threat, their relationship basking in the most tension between the two since Fae and Bloodlust first carved out their agreement. Fae once again resorted to digging her finger nails into her palm, this time breaking skin. She sucked air through her teeth, as she brought her hand to her mouth and drinking just a tiny bit of her own blood, her hand healing back. Fae shifted forward in her seat, resting her elbows on her knees and propping her head on her closed fist. Almost on queue, the Account Manager finally burst into the room, slightly out of breath.

“I’m sorry Dr.Valentine, my boss has to approve any financial pla-“

“There’s no need to apologize, I knew what I was walking into when I arrived an hour before the Bank opened, and I was the 21rst person in line” her smile accompanying the joke, reassured the woman as she took her seat adjacent from Fae, stapling and sliding over the paperwork needed to open the “Valentine Hospital fund for the Unlucky” a long term investment fund, accruing its own money over time and open to the public to donate too.

The Account Manager, Sophia, almost fell to her knees when her Boss asked if she could help THE Fae Valentine, one year shy of thirty meant they were the same age, but Sophia felt it. Dr.Valentine had a different aura about her, that Sophia found impossibly intoxicating, and with a matching demeanor to boot, the account manager felt privileged, doubly so when she thought of her 10 year old son’s long battle with leukemia. It was almost as if the heavens had ordained her the opportunity to meet the woman trying her hardest to help people like her son. She hadn’t brought any of this up of course, and had decided to choose against asking if Fae could possibly look into her son’s case after finding out why the virtuous doctor was here today. She would be ashamed of herself, considering that Dr.Valentine’s fund was a reminder to Sophia of how bad she could truly have it. God the thought of doing this without her husband almost misted her eyes, if not for Fae finishing signing and sliding back the stack of papers.

“Alrighty Dr.Valentine, is there anything else you’d like to discuss today?” Sophia started filing papers into their designated folders in her desk, pausing to make eye contact with the Doctor. Only to find Doctor Valentine was standing by the window and looking down at the lobby. How did the woman move so fast? And quietly at that? Sophia a bit startled, unable to see the lobby from her seated position “Doctor, is everything alr-“ Sophia standing to see what pulled the Doctors attention so intently, was met with the beginning of a bank robbery, Sophia’s first in the year she had been working here. The woman started hyperventilating, seeing the actions of real villains taking place in front of you, and not through a TV screen was something Sophia had been able to avoid for the last 29 years of her life. What if she died here, what would happen t-

A hand was placed on Sophia’s shoulder, snapping her out of the whirlpool of thoughts threatening to panic the woman even further. She found Dr.Valentine’s eyes as she looked up to the woman who was crouching in front of her. In her panic, she hadn’t realized she’d fallen back “Sophia, I need you to take a second and breathe” the Account Manager listening to her almost on command and not of her own volition. In a matter of ten seconds, the anxiety and fear dissipated, leaving a calm mind. Fae helped her up and they carefully peered through the glass, surveying the situation. “Is there any way out from the second floor?”

“Other than a window? The building doesn’t have any emergency exits from the second floor and above out of the building. It all funnels to the first floor, the closest emergency exit is out in the open of the lobby, do you think we can outrun them?”

“Even if we did, they probably have guys outside and who knows what these guys will do. Are you absolutely sure there’s no other way?” The doctor looked down to the smaller woman and despite her panicking earlier, she seemed to be racking her brain of anything that could help the two escape. Giving Sophia a prick of Gene V was definitely the right call, the girls panic almost setting Bloodlust off earlier, and though Fae hadn’t realized it, Sophia apparently had a much deeper affection for the Doctor. Otherwise, she would’ve been less panicked, but never this calm and collected without an already good disposition towards the Doctor.

“Wait! There’s an old mail elevator from before the renovation they did 20 years ago, it’s behind some plastered walls but I remember when I did the first day tour of the job, my boss talking about how much of a pain in the ass everything was before they went digital, but…” the woman trailed off, looking at the Doctor worried “I don’t know if you’ll be able to fit in something like that.”

“Let’s cross that bridge when we get there, lead the way, I’ll follow closely, don’t look back, okay?” again Sophia was unaware of Fae using her power to force the commands on the account manager, only feeling like it was the natural thing do, given the circumstances. Leading them out, the quietly, Sophia and Fae quickly made it across the open second floor without any hitches, the first red flag that Fae should have noticed. Reaching the wall painted with some corporate statement about the level of safety and trust they have with Nova City. Ironic truly, and the Doctor found some satisfaction with slamming a chair against the wall to break into the dry wall. All for the appearances of course, the Doctor would’ve been able to press a finger with no effort into the dry wall to take it down, but Sophia was close behind her. The reveal of her powers could very well ruin her public image and career.

As the account manager said, behind the wall, was a dark and old hallway, the light from inside the second floor office space dimly lighting the annexed hall. Taking a pen light out of her pocket, Fae and Sophia stepped into the hallway and stopped short of the very small door at the other end of the hall.

“You weren’t kidding…” she ran a hand through her hair and thought for a second “Go first, there’s no way it’ll fit us both and send it back up, I’ll try to squeeze in some ho-“

“What if come to find out what the sound was from the second floor? What if you get caught? What if I get stuck? We should just go surrender or try to hi-” Fae grabbed the Woman by the shoulders, her eyes glowing red as they made eye contact.

“I will be down right after you, I promise nothing will happen to me. What’s your son’s name?”

“Grayson”

“When we get out of here, and everything is normal again, bring Grayson to my Center, I’ll take him as a volunteer patient, free of charge, sound like a deal?” the mention of the deal and her son seemed to break the unyielding loyalty that Fae’s power was holding over her.

Tears filled her eyes as she hugged Fae “thank you” Sophia unsure of how Dr.Valentine knew, but eternally grateful, before climbing into the tiny elevator. Fae smiled at her reassuringly, before closing the hatch and hearing Sophia pulley herself down the shaft and into the room that was being used for left over renovations and repair materials. Fae opened the door once Sophia knocked on floor of the mail elevator to give the all clear for Fae to pull it back up.

Though unfortunately for the Doctor, the universe’s timing was impeccable. As she started pulling up, she heard footsteps running toward the opening they made in the wall from the office space. Fae cursed under breath, closing the hatch in frustration, of course it wouldn’t be this easy for her. She wasn’t confident she could force herself to fit and she didn’t have time to gamble. Instead she formed a small solid disk of blood beneath her feet and raised herself into the air. Floating and crouching the shadowed corner directly above the hole in the wall.

“Fuck, somebody let Poison Oak and the boss know we might have hero rats already in Bank” a gun barrel breached the hole from the office side, Fae holding her breath as five men climbed through and made their way to the mail elevator.

“Let me out…I can get us out of this free of charge”

“Shut up and stop talking, let me think”

“What is there to think about, let me out, give me these five men, and I’ll promise to give our body back, two minutes is all I need” Fae was in a crouch holding her breath as she was certain there wasn’t any other gang goons coming into the small hallway atop the blood platform. They still hadn’t looked back at the entrance, and the metaphorical timer to make a choice was ticking faster and faster “I’ll even leave you alone tonight, I’m not giving any more than that, take it or leave it you fucking tease”

Fae smiled at Bloodlust’s desperation for fresh blood, knowing if she held out, she could work a deal to her favor “Deal.” Letting go mentally of the binds that help Bloodlust at bay.

---

“You think someone was small enough to actually use this thing?” One of the masked gang goons spoke up as the leader of this small five man squad stopped short of the shaft door.

“Guns ready, just incase they couldn’t get it to move” the four other men raising their guns to the closed door. Opening it, the boss let out a playful scream, the other four unaware of his joke, screamed in unison. The leader burst into laughter, slamming the shaft door shut and turning to slap the goon who asked the question on the back of their head “No I don’t think an adult could fit in there, you fucking pussi-“ The hole in the wall that they came through was closed off from the inside, instantly plunging the hallway into complete darkness. “Yo what the fuck guys?” The leader radioed to the people who had been standing outside in the office space.

“Not really sure what’s going on, looks like a sheet of solid red metal rolled in front of the entrance, you didn’t see it when you walked in?” The goon on radio sounded like he was going to laugh at any moment from this stupid situation the five on the other-side found themselves in.

“Fuck you, I would’ve noticed something this fucking big having the chance to trap us in here” his hand left his radio as he went to turn the flashlight at the end of his gun on. It came on at half power, the man slapping it to no avail, having to settle with a dim light Illuminating the sealed hole, revealing that the metal material was wet...what the fuck? “where the fuck did this thing even come from?” He waved his light around the sealed hole, racking his brain as to where something this big could have been hiding. The hallway began to smell like iron and nickel, and the leader had chills go down his back at the eeriness of the situation finally setting in “help me move it” he handed his gun to one of the smaller men of the group, him deeming he wouldn’t be of any help. The other four walked back towards the entrance, the smallest man standing just far enough away that they could see what they were doing. The first push, was enough to send the group into a panic as it didn’t budge even an inch. “Calm down you fucks” he called out through his radio to the guys on the other side “hey can y'all try pushing whatever the fuck this is away from the wall?”

“Yeah you’re going to have to wait a second, looks like some shits popping off downstairs and we’ve been called to hel-“

“Don’t you dare leave us stuck here” the leader was met with silence “these honor less little fu-“ the light in the room was suddenly sent into chaotic flashing as the his gun was thrown and shattered against the red metal blocking their way. The four men fell back startled, the flashlight rolling and blinking in and off as it rolled to reveal the rest of the hall way at the adjacent end.

To the horror of the remaining four, the smaller man who had been standing back to shine the flashlight, was hanging from the air, his legs flailing as he scratched like a rapid animal at the bubble of crimson encapsulating his head from the base of his neck. Muffled screams sounded from inside the bubble, before a sickening ripping of muscle and sinew as the man’s screams reached a gut-wrenching crescendo. His head stayed within the bubble, while the rest of his body fell to the ground, hitting his knees and falling forward, the spray of blood washing the grey stone of the hall ways and even splattering against the the other four men who standing in absolute shock. The flashlight turning off almost as if was intended and the quartet of men didn’t move so much as a muscle, all focusing on the spot they knew the bubble was floating in the air with the head of their teammate spinning inside. Two of the men seemed to piss themselves, as the group sat in the horrifying silence. Until the bubble popped, the head falling with a nauseating plop, rolling to the feet of the four. Like kicking a hornets nest, two of the four began firing out into the hallway blindly, while the leader and the biggest man of the group desperately tried anything to get what they just started realizing was solid blood. The muzzle flashes coming off their guns illuminating the whole hallway moments at a time. The two men emptied their clips, going to reload at the same time, a spear rocketed out from the darkness, Harpooning one of the two, and yanking him back into the darkness at the end of the hallway.

“Wh-wait wait wait wait wa-!“ his abrupt guttural screams ripped through the hallway, making the leader and bigger goon resort to trying to kick the blood wall down. Each taking a turn at kicking at first, the horrific sound of far to much blood falling to the ground from the other end of the hallway quickly destroying any technique the two had, devolving into a variation of desperate full force kicks and slamming their bodies against it. The other goon who had been reloading, finally able to slam a new mag into it with hands wet from blood, went to spray aimlessly again. As he raised his arms and pulled the trigger, his hands were cut off from the wrist. Bloodlust caught the gun with both hands, turning it on the goon who hadn't even been able to contend with his sudden "stumping" as Bloodlust affectionally referred to. Emptying the mag into his chest, thirty rounds cutting through the man, and ricocheting off of the blood wall still trapping the remaining two men. They each dove to either side and curled into balls as bullets flew past them back into the hallway. The leader's ear ringing, he drew his gun as he struggled to get up, shakily aiming into the dark all around him. Taking one step, he almost fell on his ass, the floor seemed to be flooded with...his stomach welled uncontrollable at the realization, forcing him to double over to throw up.

"J, you good?" deafening silence answered back. He felt along the wall, unsure of where he was after the chaos from Bloodlust firing the gun at the door. Finding a wet stone wall, the leader feeling his stomach threaten to relieve itself once more, but he had to try some way to live through this. His knees barely holding the man up, as his hand slid against wall with every sloshing step. He felt across the blood wall that seemed to be getting more wet with each minute they were trapped in here. "J, are you okay?" the sound of quiet gasping came from in front of him, reaching out, his hand met the arm of J, the bigger man grabbing his wrist. Panicking, the leader shot by accident, the momentarily flash of light painting a horrific scene of J speared through his throat, his torso ripped open. The man couldn't contain his terror "W-W-WHAT KIND OF HERO D-D-DOES THIS?"

The laugh that echoed through the hallway wasn't malicious, it was violent, horrid, unlike anything a human should hear "there be no heroes here" Bloodlust floated just above the surface of the flooded hallway, flicking a finger up, six spears erupted from the blood around the leader, a quick and brutal death. Bloodlust cleared the blood wall, letting light come back into...such awfulness. A smile so sinister crept across the monsters face, a blood thorn crown forming over head like a twisted halo. With a snap, ALL the blood in the room began forming streams and rushed towards the unholy thing atop her head. The bodies of the five men becoming exsanguinated husks and the room spotless, as if Bloodlust was never there. She heard the chatter and screams outside and thought of the prospect of all that blood. Her blood felt hot, she wanted more, more than bargained. She took a step towards the opening.

"We made a deal."

"Yeah so wh-"

"We made a deal. Remember what you did, you said that night?"

The monster growled...but relinquished control, for reasons unknown to Fae, but with a different level of gratitude. She fell to her knees returning back to her normal self. Bloodbath avoided, she thought as she looked back to the mail elevator. Definitely not fitting, was what she decided. She pushed deep within herself, the horror of what she just was a passenger for, as she walked back out into the office space, back to square one. Every step replaying the statement Bloodlust made about no heroes, every step trying to distance herself from any thought of why she was given a power like this.

Mika sat and sipped her frappuccino while looking for all the world like she was idly scrolling on her phone, as young people all over the world do. And while she was scrolling, it wasn't entirely idle. She had multiple video feeds incoming from all the CCTVs in the area, fed to the device through her powers. And while it wasn't beyond her to view the feeds directly, it was a lot less of a headache to have phone do the processing for her.

And of course, it freed her to think about what was going on. Which wasn't good. For some reason, a relatively simple robbery had turned into a gathering for paranormal individuals - with the attendant risk of collateral damage. Back in Japan, supers were heavily regulated and licensed, and one of the aspects of their training was to minimise danger to civilians. That wasn't the case here in Nova City, and the body count when supers clashed could be frightful.

Mika tugged on a lock of pink hair, a nervous habit that she never could quite break. She needed a plan, but things were moving fast, and it seemed like even more paranormals were on their way. There should be a protocol, a hierarchy - someone taking charge and making sure things stayed in control. But it looked like more of a free for all, and she was worried that jumping in would only make things worse.

But even so, there was a need for crowd control, and someone had to keep the civilians safe. Let the other supers fight it out if they wanted - Violet Lightning was here to help people, not gain glory. Time to change up and do her duty.

---

---

Lilah had been taking a break from testing the latest iteration of her armour. The auto-manufacturing suite had completed the assembly overnight, and she'd taken the Mark 7 out for a test. She was thoroughly impressed with the performance, even though it was incremental; response performance was up, battery efficiency was better and the minor aerodynamic tweaks and flight control surface improvements had made flying a joy. She hadn't managed to get a significant speed boost, but she hadn't been aiming for one this time. That was on the big board of ideas stuck to the wall in the workshop she and her small and closely held staff of confidants called 'the wish list'.

Lilah had slid the visor up as she sat on one of the eagle-like sculptures that jutted out from the upper corners of the skyscraper she'd chosen to alight upon. Sounds of the city drifted up from below, it's hustle and bustle and the rhythms of daily life long familiar background noise to her. It mingled with the chatter through her helmets' earpieces as it automatically monitored police and news frequencies.
The almost peaceful reverie was broken into by by the sudden burst of noise from a police alert coming over the airwaves:

“Robbery in progress at Nova City Bank. All units, respond. Suspects are still inside. Officer safety is a priority”

Lilah snapped her visor back down, obscuring her face completely. She rolled forward, slipping off of the stone grotesque to let the vibrant flash of her energy wings catch the air as she effortlessly and gracefully tilted and soared toward the area of Nova City that held the bank.



A short while later, the scene came into view below. Lilah flared into a stop as she hovered above the scene; taking in the cordon of police officers, including SWAT around the perimeter, and - quite obviously standing out - the little group of other Supes outside the bank. As she watched, someone she didn't recognise moved up to the front doors and powerfully kicked them in. She winced at the sight; it seemed like an incredibly risky approach. Before she could even touch ground, someone else; large and grey with what looked like a tail, crashed through one of the windows and into the interior of the bank, out of sight to her normal vision. The front
"Ah crap," she muttered to herself, "there goes the careful, tactical approach..."
She set down soundlessly with a gleam of her multi-hued energy wings, armour gleaming with their reflections.
She looked across at the only other person still outside the bank; a man clad in combat armour that at least visually looked almost as sophisticated as hers, though she got no power readings indicating it was powered like hers. A moment later her armours' computers confirmed his visual reference with online sources.

"Rift, isn't it?" she said warily across to him, nodding in his direction. "I take it we're the late ones getting here? Care to go in together, I imagine whatever is going on inside will probably need untangling after whoever else has barged their way inside, and there are people in there that need rescuing and getting out".
She tilted her head toward the door, and took up a defensive stance, projecting a forcefield in front of her, large enough to shield them both as she approached the stairs, thermal imaging scanning the interior ahead of her to get a picture of where everyone was inside to form a strategy as she moved.

The rhythmic hum of the cruiser’s engine filled the cabin as Officer Ramirez tapped his fingers idly on the steering wheel. He was driving, as usual; he preferred it that way. Tate, his partner, sat in the passenger seat, thumbing through his notes on a notepad he always kept handy.
“Think they’re ever going to fix that light on 12th?” Ramirez asked, half-joking as they waited at an intersection. The light ahead flickered faintly, the green hanging on for dear life.
Tate snorted, not looking up. “Doubt it. They’ll replace it when it falls on someone’s car. Maybe.”
“City priorities,” Ramirez muttered, easing the car forward as the light finally turned.
The two had just finished a routine patrol through a quiet residential area. The biggest excitement of the day so far had been a call about a missing dog that turned out to be napping in its backyard. Now, they were en route to grab coffee and finish their shift in relative peace.
Tate glanced at his watch. “We’ve got an hour left. Think it’ll stay quiet?”
“Don’t jinx it,” Ramirez said quickly, shooting him a warning look. “You say something like that, and we’ll get—”
The radio cut him off, crackling to life. “All units, all units, 10-90 in progress at Nova City Bank. Possible armed robbery with multiple hostiles. Meta-level threats reported. Backup requested immediately. Units in proximity, respond.”
Both officers straightened in their seats, the air inside the car suddenly heavy. Ramirez’s hand instinctively went to the lights, flipping them on as the cruiser lit up in red and blue. He grabbed the mic. “Dispatch, this is Unit 3-2. En route to Nova City Bank. ETA three minutes.”
“Copy, 3-2,” the dispatcher replied. “Advise upon arrival. SWAT is in route.”
Ramirez shot a quick glance at Tate. “Guess you jinxed it after all.”
Tate sighed, shoving his notebook into the glove compartment. “Figures. Let’s just get there and do our job.”
As the cruiser sped toward downtown, weaving through traffic, both officers shifted into a focused silence. Ramirez kept his eyes locked on the road, pushing the speed limit with calculated precision, while Tate mentally ran through potential scenarios. Neither spoke much—they didn’t need to. Years of partnership had taught them how to settle into the rhythm of a tense situation without wasting words.
By the time they arrived, the chaos was already unfolding, and the bank loomed ahead like a fortress under siege. Ramirez brought the car to a halt behind the growing line of police vehicles, his pulse steady but elevated.
“Let’s hope SWAT’s close,” he muttered as they stepped out and joined the front line.
*******
The scene outside Nova City Bank was a flurry of tension, the air heavy with the overlapping sounds of alarms, sirens, and the occasional crackle of radios. Officer Ramirez stood near the barricade, his hand resting on the grip of his pistol as his sharp eyes scanned the area. Beside him, Officer Tate kept his stance firm, his weapon held low but ready. Both men had their orders: hold the line, secure the perimeter, and wait for SWAT.
“You think the crew’s still holed up inside?” Ramirez asked, his voice steady but low.
Tate nodded, not taking his eyes off the bank’s front doors. “No way they’re gone. Power’s back, alarm’s going, and the place is still lit up like a Christmas tree. SWAT’ll handle it, but until then, we hold.”
Ramirez gave a quick nod, but his focus shifted as movement caught his eye. A man was approaching, his steps deliberate and unhurried. His presence immediately set both officers on edge. The man—Dante—moved with an air of absolute confidence, his lean but solid frame accentuated by his dark, fitted clothing. His face was sharp, and his gaze carried an intensity that seemed to cut through the chaos around him.
“Sir, stop right there,” Ramirez called out, stepping into the man’s path with a hand raised. Tate quickly mirrored the action, his pistol held low but ready.
“This area’s restricted. Turn around and leave, now,” Tate ordered, his voice sharp and authoritative.
The man didn’t even slow down. His cold, piercing gaze swept over both officers as if they were little more than obstacles in his way. "Hey! You can’t go in there!"
"I'm not asking permission." he said flatly, his tone dismissive.
Ramirez stepped forward, reaching for his baton. “I said—”
“Leave it,” Tate interrupted, his jaw tight as he watched Dante disappear into the chaos beyond the barricade. “Guy’s a problem, but he’s not ours to solve right now.”
Ramirez frowned, still glancing back in the direction Dante had gone. He keyed his radio. “Dispatch, Unit 3-2. We’ve got a situation at the front barricade. A civilian forced his way through, ignored our orders, and entered the perimeter. Male, lean build, dark clothing. Possibly armed, though we didn’t confirm.”
A crackle of static preceded the dispatcher’s calm reply. “Copy, 3-2. We’ll notify units inside the perimeter to intercept and assess. Maintain your position at the barricade. Do not pursue.”
Ramirez looked at Tate, frustration clear on his face. “You hear that? We just let him walk in, and now it’s someone else’s problem.”
“Orders are orders,” Tate said flatly, scanning the area again. “It’s a mess in there already. We can’t leave our post every time someone thinks they’re the exception. SWAT’s almost here. Let them handle it.”
Ramirez sighed, nodding reluctantly. “Yeah, you’re right. Just hope whoever gets him knows what they’re dealing with.”
“Me too,” Tate muttered, eyes narrowing as he returned his focus to the bank’s entrance.
Before the tension could settle, a deep, guttural cry tore through the night. Both officers instinctively turned toward the source. Emerging from the shadows was a creature unlike anything they’d ever seen. Its sleek, glistening skin shimmered under the flashing lights, its seal-like features contorted with a strange, predatory intelligence. Powerful humanoid limbs rippled with muscle as it moved forward with a blend of grace and menace. Finley.
“What in God’s name…” Tate murmured; his voice steady but filled with disbelief.
Ramirez’s grip on his pistol tightened. “Focus. Whatever that is, it’s not here to help.”
The creature locked its eyes on an armed guard standing at the bank’s entrance. Before anyone could react, it lunged. Its leap was impossibly high, clearing the barricade in a single, fluid motion. It crashed into the guard with devastating force, knocking the man to the ground.
Ramirez brought his weapon up instinctively but held fire, the scene unfolding too quickly for a clear shot. “Tate, call it in! Now!” Ramirez barked; his weapon trained on the creature but hesitant to fire without a clear shot.
“Dispatch, this is Unit 3-2,” Tate said, his voice calm but urgent into the radio. “We have an unidentified hostile, possible meta, engaged with personnel at the bank entrance. Repeat: hostile is non-human. Requesting immediate backup and tactical response.”
Finley moved with eerie determination, leaping through the bank’s broken doors and vanishing into the chaos inside.
Ramirez exhaled sharply, his mind racing. “First that guy, now this… What the hell’s happening here?”
Tate squared his shoulders, his gaze hard. “Doesn’t matter. We hold. No one else gets through, and we keep this perimeter locked down until backup arrives.”
Ramirez nodded, his focus snapping back to the barricade. The approaching wail of sirens grew louder, but the night was far from over.

Draven trudged through the crumbling streets of the old Sentinel District, a plastic grocery bag dangling from his hand. The ‘hero’s’ salary—what little was left of it—had sustained him thus far, but it was a far cry from the life he used to lead. His latest attempt at grocery shopping had been another exercise in frustration. The stores were crowded, even during hours when only night owls and misfits once roamed. He had preferred it that way, back when he didn’t have to dodge strollers or endure the endless chatter of the public he once served.

As he neared the warehouse that now masqueraded as his home, he paused at the battered metal door. A sigh slipped out, carrying with it a quiet prayer.

Please, not tonight,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with resignation.

The door groaned open, the hinges protesting in a drawn-out wail. The interior was just as he’d left it—dim, damp, and bearing the scars of long-forgotten fires. Charred walls and a lingering smell of ash reminded him daily of the life he’d burned to the ground, both literally and figuratively. Yet, past the desolation of the outer corridors lay a patch of relative normalcy.

Draven had spent months carving out a semblance of living space from the ruins. The concrete walls, ceiling, and floors gave the area an austere, bunker-like quality, and every piece of furniture—if it could be called that—was made of concrete or metal. Anything remotely flammable was locked away in fireproof containers. It wasn’t ideal, but it was safe, and for Draven, safety had become synonymous with solitude.

He entered the makeshift kitchen and set the offending plastic bag on the counter. The fact that paper bags had fallen out of fashion annoyed him more than it should have. After all, they were biodegradable. Grumbling to himself, he unpacked the meager assortment of items he had managed to procure.

For once, the warehouse was silent, devoid of unwelcome visitors. His self-proclaimed ‘fan’ hadn’t shown up yet, which spared him the task of scrubbing scorch marks off the floors after futile attempts to burn the creature into oblivion. He leaned against the counter, his mind drifting.

Why Glutton—that thing—kept coming here was beyond comprehension. The demon, as he liked to call it, was the only one who still dared to call him by his old name: Blaze. A name Draven had long since buried, along with the bright-eyed fool who thought the world was worth saving.

Blaze was dead. Nova City had killed him. He had been remade in the ashes of their betrayal—he was Hellfire now. A villain, yes, but at least an honest one.

Still, Glutton clung to the name as if it had meaning, as if the hero it belonged to could somehow be coaxed back to life. “Blaze,” the creature would rasp with that maddening grin. Draven’s fists clenched at the memory. He’d tried to burn it out of Glutton, but the demon was as stubborn as it was grotesque.

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to calm down. The flames flickering at his fingertips faded.

---

The sun hadn’t risen yet, but Draven was already awake. Sleep came in short, unsatisfying bursts these days. Concrete beds weren’t exactly designed for comfort, even when covered with the best flame-retardant sheets he could find. Not that it mattered. The lingering heat from his Hellfire often left the bedding smelling faintly of smoke by morning.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the slab, his feet met the cold, unforgiving surface of the concrete floor. He winced slightly, slipping on a pair of well-worn, fireproof slippers that made faint scuffing sounds as he shuffled into the kitchen.

With the remote in one hand, he flicked on the television, letting the familiar hum of morning news fill the air. It wasn’t so much entertainment as it was white noise to drown out the echoing silence of the warehouse. The anchor’s monotone voice prattled on about weather forecasts and mundane local events, but Draven hardly paid attention.

His focus was on the battered coffee maker sitting on the counter—a relic from a better time. He filled it with water and a scoop of cheap, pre-ground coffee, its bitter smell wafting through the kitchen as it brewed. Grabbing a chipped ceramic mug, he waited, leaning against the counter as the machine sputtered to life.

The screen behind him flashed brighter as the segment transitioned, catching his eye. He turned back, watching absently as the headline scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

“Bank robbery in progress at Nova First National Bank,” the anchor announced, her voice carrying a note of urgency.

Draven’s brow furrowed, his interest piqued. He grabbed his mug, the coffee still steaming, and took a careful sip as the report continued. The camera cut to a chaotic scene outside the bank—shattered glass, panicked civilians, and the familiar glint of hero armor.

Still shirtless, he crossed the room, leaning closer to the television. The announcer began listing the heroes who had arrived on the scene, her voice now bordering on excited. Then, a name that made him freeze:

”Glutton.”

Draven’s breath hitched slightly, the mug hovering mid-air. He set it down with a faint clink, his jaw tightening as the screen displayed the figure of the demon among the would-be heroes.

“What the hell are you doing?” he muttered, his voice laced with irritation.

He turned from the television and walked briskly back to the bedroom, the concrete floor cool under his feet. Tossing on a black shirt and a pair of worn jeans, he caught a glimpse of himself in the cracked mirror propped against the wall. A shadow of who he’d been stared back—gaunt, unshaven, and tired.

Fully dressed, he returned to the kitchen, pouring another splash of coffee into his mug. Glutton’s name repeated in his head, each echo tugging at a mix of curiosity and annoyance.

The thought of the demon meeting its end in a mundane robbery was, at first, satisfying. But the longer the idea lingered, the more it rankled. Draven chuckled dryly, shaking his head as he leaned against the counter to watch the broadcast unfold.

”I’ve tried to kill you myself, you bastard,” he mused aloud, taking another sip. ”If I couldn’t, I doubt a couple of crooks will manage it.”

He set the mug down, his lips twitching into a wry smile. Still, a flicker of unease remained. Whatever game Glutton was playing, it was bound to be as maddening as it was dangerous.

“Do not disappoint me, Demon.” Draven muttered, his voice low and cold.

As the camera panned to the ongoing chaos, he settled into the chair nearest the television, coffee in hand, wondering just how far the morning would spiral.

---

Suffocated under corruption and violence, Nova City was in dire need of someone endowed with unshakable virtue. Someone with the strength of arms to take action against the most foul evils that crept beneath the city's surface. In such times, a knight was needed. It was not unfamiliar territory for him. He was ready and willing to answer the call.

Only this time, he had been too late.

The armoured figure stood terribly still, the pale blue surface of his form glinting under the bright sun. His form was tall, broad, and angular, standing nearly nine feet tall if one counter the mane-like plume of icicles that crowned his helm. Indeed, his entire body was covered with jagged formations of ice that concealed every bit of his flesh. His face, too, was hidden behind a mask, betraying nothing as he gazed upon the mutilated corpses before him.

The men were dead. Many pieces of them were gone entirely, but enough remained that the knight was quite certain these were the ones he had been seeking. They were meant to have been brought to justice, to admit their heinous deeds, beg the forgiveness of their victim's family, and spend their lives attempting to make things right. But instead--

<sub>GLUTTON WAS HERE. YOU ARE WELCOME PEOPLE OF NOVA CITY :)

P.S. THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS TO THEIR VICTIM</sub>

Just above the mess of mangled limbs and viscera, a small note had been stuck to the wall in the alley. The handwriting was rather big. The knight didn't need to approach any closer to understand. His boots remained planted just beyond the threshold, only a few inches from the freshly pooled blood.

Glutton. It rang a bell. A blurry image of a nightmarish cannibal sprang to mind. They had never met one another in person, but the knight had some sense of who he was dealing with. If these were the sorts of people patrolling the streets of Nova City, then he had certainly been right in his decision to journey here. More than ever, a knight was needed.

The knight quit the alley and returned to the nearby street. With each footfall, his frozen boots made a high-pitched clink against the concrete below. The sound attracted the eyes of passersby, and there were even a few young people whose eyes lit up with wonder and recognition at the sight of the cold cavalier. The knight's gaze, however, fell quickly onto a pair of police officers who were hurriedly climbing into their patrol car. They were unaware, it seemed, of the corpses that lay just around the shadowy corner. He raised a glacial gauntlet in greeting.

"Ho there, honourable guards! I must give to thee an account of a matter most grim!"

His booming call filled the entire street. And yet, the officers only flicked on their sirens and hastily drove off.

...Was something else happening today?

Ivan sighed as he looked over all the paperwork on his desk. Various reports and documents cluttered the entire space, ranging from case histories to evidence documentation to scheduling work shift forms. Nose meets grindstone, Ivan thought to himself as he began organizing his workload, going through it bit by bit. Soon, documentation reached the proper files, officers were being assigned to areas that needed aid, and inspection reports were being approved. Ivan went through his work methodically and efficiently, ensuring each piece received proper attention. One unsolved case caught his eye: the Valentine Tragedy. A series of unfortunate events that led to the loss of Fae Valentine's entire immediate family. As he opened the folder up, a beeping alarm eventually went off on his watch, indicating it was time for a short break. Ivan simply turned it off, put down the file, and went off into the break room for a cup of joe. He figured he could use one to recharge himself. It was low-quality instant coffee, but he didn't feel the need to be picky.

Just as he poured himself a cup full, static suddenly burst from his radio, followed by an alert: “Robbery in progress at Nova City Bank. All units, respond. Suspects are still inside. Officer safety is a priority.” Ivan grunted. Those criminals just had to pick the worst of times. Quickly chugging down his coffee, he dropped his mug into the nearby sink and rushed outside. The once calm and slow workplace had turned into chaos. Officers were rushing to get themselves properly kitted up, and calls were buzzing in like crazy. Ivan also made his way over to the armory, gathering a few magazines for his service weapon and a riot shield. He slung it over his back, made sure his weapon was properly loaded. "Let's get there pronto, men! Lives are at stake!" Ivan said to everyone, who responded with a resounding, "Yes sir!"

As multiple police cars arrived at the scene, his included, everyone began rushing out and getting into formation. "Maintain formation. Keep civilians away from the premises, and prioritize safety," Ivan barked orders while transforming his body to take on a crystalline form. Ivan then made his way over to a couple of cops who were already at the scene. Officers Tate and Ramirez saluted at the sight of Ivan, but he gestured for them to stand down. "At ease. What are we dealing with here?" Ivan asked them. "Sir! We've been holding the perimeter, ensuring the safety of civilians and our fellow officers," Ramirez said. "Yes sir! Just following orders!" Tate chimed in. "Um, though at least a couple people did enter the building despite our best efforts. We already reported it through our radios." Ivan nodded. "I heard." Even now, there was chatter coming through about other metas making their way into the bank. Judging by their various appearances and lack of proper coordination, it was highly likely they were vigilantes. This was no time to stand back and allow chaos to unfold in the bank. Ivan grabbed his radio and spoke into it, "This is Lt. Ivan Barrett. Team, we initiate Operation: Vanguard." At once, various officers gathered behind Ivan, who now held out his riot shield at the ready, and together they proceeded into the building. The plan was to go in, find hostages, and evacuate them to safety while the "heroes and villains" fought each other.

The World Power stood tall at the center of the United Nations Global Authority's grand chamber, a space dominated by its circular design and illuminated by sunlight filtering through stained glass depicting symbols of peace. His uniform—a practical combination of army green and brown—was designed to evoke a sense of global unity and military discipline. Emblazoned on his chest was a simple but striking globe logo, a reminder of his role as the protector of all nations. Delegates from around the world watched attentively as he addressed the assembly. “In a world facing unprecedented challenges,” he began, his voice steady and commanding, “our ability to act as one determines not only the survival of our nations but the safety of our people. However, we cannot underestimate the threat posed by those who exploit division and chaos for their gain.”
The French representative, a sharp-dressed diplomat with a serious demeanor, stood to speak. “We’ve received intelligence confirming that ‘The Dragon,’ the infamous Yakuza overlord, has resurfaced. Reports suggest he has expanded his operations beyond Asia, establishing ties with criminal organizations in North America and Europe. His most recent activities point to Nova City as a potential stronghold.” The murmurs that followed were louder this time, the weight of the revelation sinking in. The Dragon, known for his ability to transform into a colossal, serpentine dragon inspired by East Asian mythology, was as feared for his raw power as he was for his cunning. His influence stretched far, connecting syndicates, cartels, and even rogue supervillains.
The World Power’s gaze sharpened. “The Dragon’s presence in Nova City cannot be ignored. His ties to multiple criminal organizations and his reputation for devastating violence make him a threat not just to Nova City, but to the stability of the world. I will personally coordinate efforts to address this menace, but I urge all nations here to share any intelligence they may have.” His words were met with nods of agreement, but a few skeptical glances hinted at the underlying tension—some nations still questioned whether superhuman intervention could be entirely trusted.


The World Power boarded an advanced stealth jet bound for Unity Citadel, the floating headquarters of the Omega League. The Citadel hovered over the Pacific Ocean, its shimmering metallic surface reflecting the sky, a beacon of hope and collaboration. Inside the meeting chamber, holographic displays projected a detailed map of Nova City, highlighting areas of suspected criminal activity. Waiting for him were his teammates: Night Cat, the shadowy martial artist with feline reflexes and unparalleled stealth; Dove Heart, the serene healer whose empathy extended to even the most hardened villains; Friction, the irreverent speedster with a knack for converting kinetic energy into devastating attacks; and Southern Cross, the bold Australian hero who wielded energy boomerangs and could mold his energy into weapons and shields.
“The Dragon is making moves in Nova City,” The World Power began, his tone heavy with the implications. “Our intelligence indicates he’s using the city as a nexus to consolidate his criminal empire. We suspect he’s targeting key infrastructure—Pinnacle Tower is a prime target, given its advanced technology and diplomatic ties.” He tapped a console, and the hologram zoomed in on the industrial districts near Nova City’s docks. “These areas have seen increased activity from smugglers and syndicate operatives. It’s likely The Dragon is coordinating from one of these locations.”
Night Cat crossed his arms, his amber eyes narrowing. “If The Dragon’s in Nova City, he’s not hiding for long. He’s smart, but he leaves a trail—a missing enforcer here, a suspicious shipment there. We’ll find his lair.” Dove Heart added, “And we need to be prepared for collateral damage. If he transforms in an urban area, the fallout could be catastrophic.” Southern Cross, leaning on a console, spoke up. “If we can track his underlings, we can get a lead on his base of operations. My energy projections can cover a wide area to flush out his crew.”
The conversation turned to strategy as they considered how to coordinate with local authorities and other operatives. Clues began to emerge as potential starting points for an investigation:
1. A Shipment of Rare Artifacts: Customs reports indicated the recent arrival of artifacts tied to East Asian mythology, delivered to a warehouse owned by a shell company linked to known Yakuza affiliates.
2. A Missing Informant: A local crime reporter who had been investigating syndicate activity near the docks had disappeared, leaving behind encrypted notes that hinted at a major meeting involving “a shadow over the city.”
3. Black Market Activity: An underground auction rumored to be selling superhuman technology was set to take place in Nova City’s underbelly, attracting some of The Dragon’s known associates.
4. Gang Turf Wars: Street-level gangs with ties to international crime syndicates were suddenly fighting for dominance in Nova City’s outskirts, potentially signaling The Dragon’s attempt to consolidate power.
The World Power turned to the group, his voice firm but resolute. “This isn’t just about stopping The Dragon—it’s about preventing him from building an empire that could destabilize the world. We’ll need to divide our efforts and follow every lead. The people of Nova City are counting on us.” With their mission clear, the Omega League began to plan their next steps, knowing the stakes were higher than ever. The Dragon’s rise had to be stopped, but finding him would require skill, teamwork, and no small amount of luck. Somewhere in the shadows of Nova City, the Yakuza overlord was waiting, his ambitions threatening to unleash chaos on a global scale.

The pale light of dawn painted Nova City in muted shades of blue and gray. High above the streets, Minda Rain drifted silently through the air, her chemical aura glowing faintly against the morning mist. Her sharp senses were tuned to the rhythms of the city, every distant shout, engine hum, and footstep feeding into her heightened awareness.
Then she felt it—a faint, acrid scent on the wind. Smoke
Following the trail, Minda veered toward a construction site on the edge of downtown. As she approached, the scene became clear: an unfinished building, skeletal and towering, with flames licking at its upper floors. Workers scrambled below, shouting for help as a heavy crane arm swung wildly above them, its cables damaged by the fire.
"Not exactly what I had in mind for a morning workout," Minda muttered, picking up speed.
A construction foreman waved his arms frantically as she landed near him. "Chemical Girl! There's someone still up there—top floor! And that crane’s about to collapse!"
Minda nodded, her mind already racing through her options. She glanced up at the crane. The massive metal arm creaked ominously, sparks flying where it scraped against the framework of the building. Time was running out.
"Got it. Get everyone back—far back!" she ordered.
The foreman hesitated, but the commanding tone in her voice left no room for argument.
Without wasting another second, Minda shot into the air, weaving through the rising smoke as her aura flared brighter. She phased through a wall of flames on the tenth floor, her enhanced senses guiding her toward the faint sound of coughing.
A young man, no older than twenty, was trapped under a fallen beam, his face streaked with soot. His eyes widened as she materialized in front of him.
"Hold on," she said, crouching beside him.
She grabbed the beam, her energy field flaring as she focused. With a controlled burst, she released a surge of energy, pushing the beam aside. The man gasped, staring in awe.
"Can you walk?" she asked.
"I—I think so," he stammered, his voice shaky.
"Good. Let’s get you out of here."
Minda extended her hand, and as he took it, her aura enveloped them both. Together, they phased through the crumbling floor, descending level by level until they emerged safely outside. The foreman ran to the young man, relief flooding his face.
Before she could catch her breath, a deafening CRACK echoed through the site. The crane’s arm finally gave way, hurtling toward the ground.
Minda launched into action, flying toward the falling structure. Focusing all her energy, she unleashed a wide, concussive energy burst. The shockwave slowed the crane’s descent just enough for it to land harmlessly on an empty section of pavement, the ground shaking under its weight.
A cheer rose from the workers below, and Minda glanced down, offering a quick wave. A small smile crept onto her face as she took to the sky once more, her sights set on home.
By the time she landed on her balcony, the city was bathed in warm morning light. Exhausted but satisfied, she stepped inside, the familiar aroma of coffee instantly lifting her spirits.
Her apartment was an eclectic mix of modern and personal touches. Neon-accented decor gave the space a futuristic vibe, while stacks of case files, scattered notebooks, and a well-worn couch hinted at countless late-night investigations. She kicked off her boots, poured herself a cup of coffee, and sank into the nearest chair.
"Nothing like coffee after an early morning rescue," she murmured, taking a sip.
The moment of peace didn’t last. Her watch buzzed softly, its purple glow catching her attention.
"Call from Dad," the display read.
Minda tapped the screen. "Hey, Dad. What’s up?"
Puzzle Box’s steady, thoughtful voice came through. "There’s a robbery in progress at Nova City Bank. Looks big—might be organized."
Minda sighed, setting her mug down. "Got it. I’m on my way."
"Be careful, honey," he said, the concern in his voice unmistakable. "And keep me updated."
"Will do," she replied, stepping toward the balcony.
Pausing for a moment, Minda glanced down at her boots, which she had kicked off earlier after her rescue mission. With a slight sigh, she slipped them back on, fastening them securely. A hero’s work was never truly done, and comfort had to wait.
The sun shown high above as she adjusted her gloves and double-checked her utility belt, ensuring everything was in place. Her sleek black and purple suit shimmered faintly under the city’s light, the beaker emblem on her chest glowing softly.
With her chemical aura flickering to life, she took one last steadying breath before leaping into the air. The city stretched out before her, a labyrinth of challenges waiting to be unraveled. And she was ready for them. Chemical Girl was on the move.


The wind whipped around Minda as she flew toward the heart of Nova City, her chemical aura casting a faint glow in the afternoon sunlight. The streets below were bustling with activity—commuters heading home from their midday break, delivery trucks weaving through traffic, and crowds of people going about their business. The city was alive with the energy of a typical afternoon, but a sense of unease hung in the air.
As she approached Nova City Bank, the signs of trouble became clear. Police cars were already parked outside, their lights flashing in rhythmic red and blue. Officers had formed a perimeter around the grand stone building, their weapons drawn and faces tense. Civilians lingered behind hastily erected barricades, murmuring in hushed voices, their expressions a mix of fear and curiosity.
Minda landed on the roof of a nearby office building, crouching low to avoid drawing attention. From this vantage point, she could observe the scene below without being seen herself.
Her sharp eyes quickly took in the details: the ornate double doors of the bank were shut tight, but several of the large, arched windows on the second floor were shattered. Through them, she caught glimpses of movement—shadowy figures pacing back and forth. Hostages, maybe? Armed robbers?
Her commlink buzzed softly, pulling her attention back.
"You there yet?" her father’s voice came through, calm but laced with concern.
"I’m here," she whispered, keeping her voice low as she surveyed the situation. "Looks like it’s already a standoff. Cops are outside, but no one’s made a move yet."
"Any sign of who’s inside?
"Not yet, but the windows on the second floor are shattered. I can see hostages in the lobby, and there’s some kind of vines spreading on the lobby doors.”
Puzzle Box hummed thoughtfully on the other end of the line. "Classic power play. They’re probably waiting for the cops to make the first move."
"Or a getaway vehicle," Minda added. Her mind raced, piecing together the scenario. If it was organized, there could be more people stationed outside or nearby, acting as lookouts or backup. She’d need to tread carefully.
"Remember," her father said, his voice steady, "assess first, act second. If this is a professional crew, they’ll be expecting a fight. Don’t give them one on their terms."
Minda nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. "Got it. I’ll do a quick recon before I move in."
"Good. And Minda?"
"Yeah?"
"Be careful."
She smiled faintly. "Always."
Ending the call, she turned her attention back to the bank. The intricate carvings on the building’s facade seemed oddly out of place now, juxtaposed against the chaos unfolding below. Her heart pounded as adrenaline coursed through her veins, but she took a steadying breath.
"Okay," she muttered to herself, standing and adjusting her utility belt. "Time to see what we’re dealing with."
With a leap, she took to the air again, circling the bank silently. From above, she could see more shattered windows, though the first floor remained intact. A few of the shadows inside moved with precision—quick, deliberate gestures that hinted at professional training. At least three people, maybe more.
A faint sound caught her attention: a voice, distorted by static. She honed in on it, her enhanced hearing picking up the source. An earpiece. One of the robbers was talking to someone on the outside.
Minda drifted closer, careful to keep herself out of sight.
"...police are holding position...looks like one or more of the heroes might have entered the lobby, but no sign of anyone trying to make a move yet...stand by for further instructions," the voice crackled.
So they did have backup.
That complicated things. She’d have to disable their communications before going in, or risk being ambushed by reinforcements.
Hovering in the air, Minda took another deep breath, her mind racing through possible strategies. This wasn’t just a simple robbery—it was a chess game, and she was determined to stay three moves ahead.
The stakes were high, but she was ready.

_{Interactions: Pine @Crimson Flame, Pestilence @Goblininamech, Silver Sentry @Rhona W, Rift @Aku the Samurai}

---

There was an explosion upstairs. It almost sounded like a boot had gone through the front door.

Company arrived faster than i expected. But no matter. Ethan thought, raising a hand to stop the group's progression. What were they about to walk up into was anyone's guess.

"PENGUIN!"

Then there was another crash, and the skittering of glass. What on earth was going on in the main floor?

And, as the tell-tale glow of a forcefield cast by Silver Sentry colored the top of the stairs, Ethan knew they were severely lacking on time. His violet eyes glanced to Samson, and he gestured to the bag the man held.

”Now is a great time for that bomb, Pestilence.” He said with a nod.

Before he turned to Pine. ”Can you detect anyone or anything outside the building? If so, is it possible to trap them? Not necessary, but it'll help.”

Ethan took one last glance as the two, then at his men holding the loot, before his eyes narrowed, and he turned his attention to the top of the stairs and the heroes getting the great idea of getting too close.

”WE HAVE A BIO BOMB!"

His voice carried, clear and strong, without fear.

”Stay where you are and do not move! Once we leave, you can attempt to disarm it.”

Ethan glowered at the top of the staircase, as if tempting them to disobey him. Then he scoffed, raising a hand up. Above all their heads, a massive blue star swirled into existence. It crushed through the ceiling, devouring and melting away the roofing above the main floors’ side office, to the rooftop to the outside beyond that.

Looking at the clear blue sky shining down from above like Providence, Ethan grinned to his comrades and men. ”I hope you brought your balancing shoes.”

Small red stars appeared in front of Pine, Pestilence and Ethan's men. The men seemed to recognize the game being played right away, and hopped onto their respective stars, balancing quickly. Ethan himself balanced on his own star.

”Just a quick note, don't put your cheek up against it. It'll sear your hair.”

Then, with a quick movement, Ethan shot the stars upward. They acted like a launching pad, shooting the group up through the levels of the bank and onto the roof in one quick, clean action.

---

_{Interactions: Glutton @BurningCold, Dante @Half Pint, Ltd. Ivan Barrett @Scarifar}

---

Meanwhile, on the top level of the bank hostages were in plain sight, covered in vines all over the lobby. Alas, as Fae Valentine wandered freely around the back offices, the main bulk of Ethan’s men were in the bank's lobby, dealing with a new wave of problems.

It's true, a few heroes had got past the men guarding the hostages. But they weren't focused on that. No. Ethan's men had their eyes on the police force entering the building.

As Glutton, Dante, and then Lt. Ivan Barrett would enter the building with his men, they would come across as painful sight in the bank's lobby. At least ten of Ethan's men, faces covered, had taken refuge behind the hostages bound in various places in the lobby, rifles pointed at the hostages.

”Take another step and we'll kill these innocent people!” One of Ethan's men shouted out. ”Let's talk!”

Pestilence should have known better, of course something like this would happen. Nothing was ever this easy. The lights were back on, the alarms were blaring, and it seemed the heroes were making there move. Pestilence shrugged the duffle bag off and was setting about arming the Bio bomb only a moment before Ethan called out to the heroes. Pestilence worked quickly as from the sound of things they didn't have much time. As he worked, he glanced to Pine and Ethan.

"Once it's armed all I have to do is press a button and it'll turn this entire building into a biohazard." He said as he worked. "And trust me, we want to be gone if that happens, or at least you two do."

He finished setting up the bomb and took a step back for a moment to admire his handy work. A simple design that was more made to get the virus air born and dispersed over a large area than pure destructive force. It wasn't pretty, looking like a high-tech propane tank more than anything, but it would get the job done. He didn't take long as he walked over to Ethan. "Ok it's ready." Samson said as he palmed the detonator in his left and his now .45 in his right. Now that he was closer he could see the energy shield of Silver Sentry on the top of the stairs. He heard more movement on the main floor and suspected more heroes. 'Dame, why'd it have to be an armored hero. If it comes to a fight I'll have to get creative.' He thought as he readied himself for a fight.

Just then Solaris lived up to his name and melted a hole through the roof with a large blue star. 'Impressive, and convenient.' Samson thought as he followed Ethan's men's lead and quickly hopped aboard the small red star, though it did take him a moment longer to secure his balance. "Don't follow, it's better for your health." He said to the approaching heroes before being launched up to the roof.

Pestilence landed on the roof with a roll that ended with him on his feet. He quickly scanned the roof for any threats, not seeing any he turned to the hole they just came out of watched to see if they were followed. "Ok, we need to get out and fast." He said calmly as he readied himself for whatever came next. "Unless you want to try and fight all those heroes, which in my professional medical opinion would be very bad for your health and extremely stupid."

Location: Nova City Bank, Lobby

---

Ho. Lee. Shit. THIS is what Chuck was talking about! Discounting all the times he had worked with Bloodlust against herself to beat her senses back into place, this was shaping up to be one hell of a first team-up! Chuck was all about those. In theory. He’d lost count of the amount of times he’d gotten his face burnt off trying to get Blaze out of retirement, and his number two favorite super hero of all time, Sir Arcticus, was fucking impossible to get a hold of.

Chuck would know, he’d watched every scrap of interview footage he could find on the guy like a thousand times and he seemed to be very good at ICING OUT the interviewers. Get it?

Now, though, he was reckoning with a different beast entirely. He had no idea who this guy was but he clearly meant business.

Chuck could work with that, as he was also a very serious hero. Following the man inside, his voice, like someone swallowing broken glass and olive oil, rasped out, “GRaVitY pOweRs? Sweet! One time I accidentally teleported a mile off target -vertically- so I know that’s some serious shit! The media calls me Glutton, but you can call me Chuck since we’re team-up buddies!” His glowing, predatory eyes looked the man up once more as the grin splitting his face split it just a little wider. “Nice jacket.” Ooh, he wanted that jacket. Where did he get it?

Dante let his boot hit the floor with a thump as he turned over his shoulder to reply to the friendly demon behind him. "Buddy is a very strong word, pal." He took a further step into the bank just as the giant Wereseal burst into the lobby and sent one of the guards spiralling through the air and out of the opposite window. This day wasn't getting any more normal that was for sure. It almost gave Dante a bit of comfort knowing that he wasn't the weirdest one in the room for once. "Well, Chuck, it looks like we've got company."

He took a quick glance around the dimly lit interior, scanning the room as he took in overturned desks, scattered papers, and the very faint sound of muffled crying from further inside he could barely hear over the destruction Finley brought in their wake. He adjusted his jacket, the faint squeak of leather punctuating the tense silence, and moved further into the building. His steps were measured, deliberate, each one betraying the readiness of someone used to walking into trouble.

Trouble is what the pair would quickly find as they stumbled upon a contingent of armed criminals using vine-bound hostages as bargaining chips.

He looked back at Chuck once more, his gaze flicking between the demon's toothy grin and the ominous way his eyes seemed to light up the shadows around him. "If we're doing this don't involve me in any of that teleporting business. I don't need a teammate landing us both a mile underground." He barely got the last syllable out before a bullet whizzed past his ear and embedded itself into the wall next to him. Dante instinctively dodged in the opposite direction, mumbling under his breath before jumping into the fight.

The armed guards shouted out, "Next one goes between your eyes! Or maybe one of the hostages!"

"Time to party."

Buddy is a very strong word? He doesn't wanna end up teleported a mile underground? Damn this guy was great at team-up banter! Classic! Not wanting to disappoint his new friend, Chuck got to work. Pushing the limits of his concentration, he began to quickly flash in and out of reality across the lobby, freeing the hostages from the vines that bound them one by one. The rapid, short range teleportations dropped the temperature across the lobby several degrees and left it obscured with wisps of dark gas.

Dante pivoted once more as another bullet zipped past, barely missing his shoulder. He moved like water, fluid and adaptive, sidestepping the shots from the guard's pistol with that old precision Marcus' had instilled in him all those years ago. He couldn't trust his power to save him yet, he was too rusty. He got lucky in that bar and even then he had to get stitched up by some back alley surgeon, now wasn't the time to make mistakes. Each dodge brought him closer and closer to the shooter, narrowing the gap between them until the guard's panicked fumbling left an opening.

In an instant Dante closed the distance, and in an instant surged forward and deflected the barrel of the gun with a sharp motion of his hand, before shooting his other hand out and gripping his wrist in a vice-like hold. He quickly twisted, applying pressure to his wrist joint and sending the pistol skittering across the floor to the sound of the man's pained yelp. Before he could react further, Dante slipped behind him, keeping a tight hold on the wrist as he wrenched it behind his back and sent a hard oblique kick to the back of the guard's knee and sending him buckling to the floor.

Dante acted quick, releasing the mans wrist and slipping his forearm across the guard's neck and pulling him firmly upwards into a dangling RNC, his sheer height pulling the man off of the ground and causing his feet to dangle in the air. The transition was seamless, the guard’s struggles growing weaker as Dante tightened his hold with calculated precision. He angled him towards another guard, using him as a makeshift shield as his buddy struggled to angle a shot around him. He released the choke and held him in a full-nelson as the man faded into unconsciousness and began marching forward towards the next guard struggling to weigh up whether he should take the chance and shoot through his friend and into Dante. He spent a little too much time deliberating, giving Dante just enough time to swing the unconscious body straight into him and send the two of them scattering to the ground like bowling pins.

Chuck let out a sigh as he ported the last hostage free of the vines. Directly saving people left a strange feeling in his chest. He'd never really done that before. Oh well! No time to dwell on distracting thoughts when there was real super hero work to do! Shunting himself through space into the center of the lobby, a rasping guttural laugh escaped his throat when seeing the work his new friend had already done.

There was still plenty of action left for him.

He was a blur of bone-crunching fists, soul-rending teeth, and savage instinct as he sprung forward. He closed distance on the nearest unoccupied guard, a few bullets catching him in the side and shoulder before he leapt forward, disappearing into a swirl of cold darkness. Not but a second later and he reemerged before his prospective victim, previous leap sending them flying together and scrambling to the floor. Chuck won the grapple very quickly, straddling the man’s chest as he rained blow after blow down on his face. When the sounds being made went from crunchy to squishy, his jaws snapped shut around the space above his mouth.

His teeth had caught onto something invisible. It tasted richly of steak sauce and regret as he jerked his head back, tearing the soul free from the body and swallowing it down in a quick gulp. The body was still alive, if barely, and it might be saved if medical attention arrived fast enough. Even so, there was nobody home anymore.

“AnOthEr viLLiAn off the streets!” Chuck roared as he charged at another pair of guards.

The glancing bullet wounds, which had been leaking a wispy black gas, were already knitted over. Good as new!

Reaching his quarry with only a few bullet wounds to speak of, Chuck busied himself with biting off the nearest hand aiming a handgun at him, swallowing both as his teeth crunched through the guard’s wrist. While he clutched at his stump and wailed, the other guard turned tail and began to run.

The heavy, bounding footfalls of Chuck would quickly overtake the guard’s own as a sickening, wet splorching noise filled the guard’s senses. If he had time to look down, he would have seen a fist punched through his back and out the front of his chest. He did not, however, have that time. Chuck’s teeth were already digging into the guard’s throat, rending flesh and guzzling down blood and soul-matter.

With that heroic business finished, Chuck charged off towards the next criminal in need of discipline’s firm but fair hand.

---

Meanwhile, outside the bank, Adrian tilted his head at the newcomer, taking a moment to process her words. It wasn’t often that heroes extended a non-hostile hand towards him, and while he wasn’t the most trusting of other people, it never hurt to at least be civil.

“Follow us if you want.”

With that short reply, Adrian made to step inside the bank. Before he could, however, a voice rang out, loud and clear.

"WE HAVE A BIO BOMB."

Adrian‘s steps froze.

“That sounds bad.”

That was a understatement. If they were being truthful, then the situation just went from bad to worse, and there was still a lot of room for it to get a lot worse. Without wasting any morre time, Adrian stepped into the bank ahead of Silver Sentry.

As he’d already seen from the outside, they weren’t the first ones to make their way inside the building. That still didn’t stop him from pausing momentarily when he saw who, or what, exactly had gotten in before them. The two people—and he used that term very loosely, considering he wasn’t even sure what exactly he was looking at for one of them—who were quite obviously not the ones robbing the bank had taken it upon themselves to deal with the actual thieves. At least, one of them had.

All of a sudden there was a loud crash and something else burst into the bank.

“Is that a seal?! Aww, it’s so cute!”

That wasn’t quite the word Adrian would have used.

A soft thud against his abdomen alerted him to the fact that he had just been shot. He glanced down at his chest; there was a faint mark against his armour, but the bullet hadn’t penetrated it.

“Rude.”

The next shot that was fired didn’t even come close to hitting him, Adrian ducking under the bullet’s path with practised ease. His optics locked onto the shooter and the muscles in his legs tensed. With a single fluid motion, he unsheathed his sword and surged forward at near-imperceptible speed, his blade singing as he split the gunman’s weapon in two, severing two of his fingers in the process. His leg followed next, smashing into the disarmed man’s face with just enough force to knock him out without killing him on the spot.

Without missing a beat, Adrian dropped to a knee and let his sword fall beside him, his hands moving in a blur as he unholstered his firearms and fired three shots in quick succession. Three more guards dropped to the ground, spasming in pain.

“Ouch.”

Barrels still smoking, Adrian quickly swept his gaze across the entire room. For just a moment, his eyes shifted into something else, allowing him to see everything at once. Once he was satisfied with his inspection, he sheathed his weapons.

“Room cleared.”

Chuck stared at the seal-monster in the distance with a stupefied grin on his face before acknowledging the new arrival with glee. Surrounded by blood and body parts, and covered in open wounds that leaked black gas into the air as they actively knit themselves shut, he looked all the part of a true super hero monster in a slasher flick. "Thanks for the assist!" He exclaimed through bloodstained teeth. "Me and Sergeant Gravity had it covered, but we're aLwAys happy to have more heroes on the scene!" The man still hadn't given Chuck his name, so Sergeant Gravity seemed like a pretty fair bet as far as super hero titles were concerned. "Hey WAIT I think I've heard of you! Aren't you that Cosmic Crusader guy? I thought you were DEAD!"

Adrian looked at the.... thing for a moment. Covered in blood and looking for all the world like a demon made flesh, it cut quite a disturbing figure among all the gore it'd caused, even if it didn't seem hostile. He thought they'd seen a lot, but the world still had a way of surprising them in the strangest of ways. It took him a moment to even realise it (he?) was talking to them. Cosmic Crusader?

“We’re not dead, as you can see.”

Chuck blinked slowly. "Where's your french accent?" Everyone knew Cosmic Crusader was a famous french super hero with low level reality warping powers. Perhaps they had a secret son?

Adrian shrugged at the demon, “No idea who you’re talking about, guy.”

"OH! SorRy!" Chuck advanced a few quick steps towards the man, shaking a hand free of blood as he stuck it out before him. "Media calls me Glutton! Friends can call me Chuck!" He looked around the gore strewn lobby with a pleased expression on his face before addressing the stranger once more. "Guess we saved the day!"

Adrian looked down at the hand the demon—Chuck—offered, pausing only a moment before his eyes flicked back to meet the gleaming red eyes of the creature once more, “.... Right. You can call us Rift.”

“This guy seems nice!”

Nice. Right.

Grin frozen on his face, Chuck stared at his outstretched hand patiently. Come on man. Why did everybody get all weird about handshakes? His eyes flicked between Rift's face and the waiting appendage.

“Come ooon. Do it! Don’t leave him hanging!”

Adrian rolled his eyes behind his helmet, the mask giving no hint of his inner thoughts. What difference would it make, anyway? If she wanted to shake his hand so badly, she could do it herself.

“I can’t! You have to do it for us.”

.... Fine. She didn’t have to sound so cheery about it. Breathing a sigh, Adrian finally took Chuck’s hand, shaking it once before dropping it.

As if the gesture activated him in some way, Chuck began to talk once again. "Rift? Cool name! You know I saw you going all schleeng and slice and pOw PoW POW that was awesome! My other new friend, Sergeant Gravity, has some pRetTy SicK tricks up his sleeve too! Cool mask by the way."

Adrian shrugged noncommittally at the praise(?), then turned his gaze to the other man inside the bank, “Thanks. You.... too.”

"Oh, no, this is just my face." Chuck waved in Dante's direction. "Sergeant Gravity! Look! A new guy! Did you see him fight?"

---

Even from the second floor, without having to look over the railing, Fae could hear one of her favorite people on this planet, much to the chagrin of Bloodlust.

"PLEASE, can we just ge-"

Popping out once the action was done for the most part, Fae leaned over the railing "Chuck!" calling down to the group of heroes and waving for some help. She had been looking for anyway to escape unseen, but from the crowd and police encircling around the building, and growing, that was looking far and far less possible with every minute passing. She had figured it was going to be a big deal that the Bank got hit, but she was unsure of where the group leading the goons were, and wasn't really interested in finding out.

A throaty laugh ripped out from between Chuck's teeth as his glowing eyes found the sight of his friend leaning over the railing above him. Quickly glancing between Dante and Adrian, he exclaimed, "Hold those thoughts! Be back later! MaYbe." And in another second a chill washed over Fae as Chuck appeared beside her to the fanfare of dark smoke. "Now THIS is a cross-ever event!" Crying out, he closed distance and wrapped her in a tight hug. Now they were both covered in blood and bits of meat. How nice!

"TOO CLOSE, TOO CLOSE, FAE THAT'S TOO MUCH TOUCH-" Fae returned his embrace despite all the... parts he was covered in. She had grown accustomed to the various states she happened to encounter him in pretty fast, the man seeming to never get a nights' rest, thought to be honest, she wasn't sure if Chuck even needed sleep.

She pulled back "Why didn't tell me you're in to-, wait more importantly, how did you get two heroes to team up with you?" she glanced down at the other two Chuck had been talking too before she called out. She had some many things she wanted to say, but more than anything, the fact that anyone else was able to handle the... heroes antics was more shocking than anything that'd happen today.

He shrugged. "Maybe Blaze sent them to test me! We all just kinda showed up here. Boy oh boy I HOPE it was Blaze." It was wishful thinking, he knew that. Far more likely that Blaze was observing him from afar, and still had yet to consider Chuck worthy of such an in-depth examination. But if Blaze wasn't involved at all? Well hot diggity dog Chuck might've just founded his very own super team! The Chuck-Men? No, maybe the Chuckvengers? Hmm, too generic sounding. Ponderously, he rasped to Fae, "What do you think about the Midnight Gluttons? For our new super team. Or maybe the Glutton League?"

Fae let out a hearty laugh, the sirens outside growing louder pulling her attention away as she wiped tears from her eye "I dont know if they'll like it as much as you do, but hey I think it's got a good ring too it, especially Midnight Gluttons, I can already see snack branding" what a moment of levity for Fae's brain, every time Chuck seemed to pop up around her. She tapped the mans arms to release her, Bloodlust's rising anger and disgust starting to show itself in the form of a slight headache. "As nice as it is to see you, we are in an active crime scene, any chance you could" she made a POOF sound with her mouth and spooky hands mimicking the demonic magic that helped Chuck "me, outside?"

Releasing her, his eyes widened a fraction as he nodded. "Oh! Oh- yeah. Like RIGHT outside or like... hOme? Give me a couple minutes and I can get us back to that SWEET pad of yours."

"If we go back home now, it'll be super suspicious that I was seen here and suddenly just disappeared. I also saved my Account Manager, so she's probably out there telling everyone I'm still trapped in here. DON'T make a thing about it, you know I can't do hero work for obvious reasons," already heading off where Chuck would go with that statement. "For now, I guess," her eyes shifting red as she hovered her hand over Chuck, all the excess blood on both of them flying into the skin of her palm, "lets boost your public image".

"I HATE THIS FUCK, I hate the way he talks, I hate how he just touches our body, he smells even worse than me. Why are you even helping him, I don't know how marketable a dismembering, pig headed, re-" Fae clenched her hands tight, keeping the door closed to her thoughts. She smiled, loving how much Chuck riled the monster up, and knew the torture was greatly upsetting it with the rising intensity of pain ringing in her temples.

"Now you know I can't be like how I always am with you out there right? Nobody gets to see me like this but you and my staff members, and remember I'm just a normie out there to those people, okay?" She held her hand out to Chuck to reassure to him that she wasn't ashamed of their friendship.

He nodded at her, the corners of his eyes creasing as the grin grew. Her image was important, he knew that. Time to focus! "Sounds good," He said to her over his shoulder as he leaned over the railing, looking down at Dante and Rift. "I'm taking this civilian outside!" His voice echoed and scraped in a powerful call across the lobby. Then he grabbed Fae by the hand and squinted his eyes in focus for a handful of seconds before emerging at the bank's front entrance with her in tow. Waving his arms at the assembled police officers, reporters, and onlookers, he triumphantly declared, "The main lobby is SECURE! It ain't exactly safe inside yet though! Rest assured we've assembled a team of the vErY bEst!"

As Fae walked towards the police line, Chuck took a moment to stare into the lens of every camera he could see and flash each one an individual thumbs up before walking back inside. There was work to do! Somewhere? Probably. Big groups of stupid people with guns usually had a top dog or two pulling the strings. As a former stupid person with a gun, Chuck figured he'd know.

Guardian
Location: Nova City Bank, Lobby
__________

It has been a year...for a year, working as a "cop" by technical standards but also doubling as a "SWAT" at times. Even now, she wondered if this was what punishment was like. She understood WHY she was made to be a "law enforcer". That for her, playing by "the rules" was the least efficient way to get things done. For her, it wasn't the work that was tough.

It was HOW they wanted her to do the work that annoyed her at times. To follow the orders of others.

Yet at the same time, it hadn't been as bad as she thought. More to the point, she understood WHY the rules were there thanks to those like Vanguard and, as much as she hated to admit it, Silver Sentry among other stories she had read...and many years before, she found out the hard way during her days in New York when that kingpin sent every last member of thugs after her. They even didn't stop fighting after injuries...more afraid of their boss than her even when their boss was behind bars...those dropped bodies will forever haunt and remind her what happens when you either bend or even break the rules too much.

But sometimes...you had to bend them...the hardest part was how much can you "bend" before something "breaks".

And this latest situation was perhaps a reminder of that. Organized criminals and possible "Metas" among them...possibly because the Nova Police were actually doing their jobs well on cracking down on crime overall...perhaps TOO well and perhaps NOT bending any rules. It was a delicate balance that much is certain.

Then...the "intel" on what she heard over the radio...the worst were individuals who made their way past the perimeter.

The big one being "Glutton". Known Vigilante and her "case" assigned to her due to her "street smarts" and being a former one herself. Glutton's recent activities have..."raised concerns" to put it nicely. While he only targeted "criminals", it seemed that it didn't matter to Glutton how "bad" said criminal was. To put it in general, his methods were considered "extreme" and based on his crime scene's alone, he seemed to look for ANY reason to execute his victims.

So as she rode along with the rest of Vanguard's squad, she knew her role. Wearing a SWAT helmet and what looked like high tech goggles of some sort, she was also wearing her pink body suit but a bullet proof vest was on the outside of it. But even with all the equipment she was wearing, her and everything she had seemed to just "vanish" as the van came to a stop and everyone started filing out.

But they were all used to it. They knew how Guardian liked to operate but that didn't mean she strayed too far.

Especially to her current partner, Vanguard.

She did remain that way until the hostage crisis part...then when it all went to hell when Glutton and, eventually, two others suddenly acted before Vanguard could organize a plan or even "stall" with the criminal who "wanted to talk".

After the dust settled, she decloaked right next to Vanguard...she then "swiped" her fingers in front of her, a pink "VR Window" opened and then another swipe, a pink "VR Keyboard" appeared. Typing away quickly, she pointed the "window" at the two newcomers.

"Oy boss. Got ID's. First with the white hair and facial markings is...whoa. Won't say his name out loud but guy was trained by Marcus Kane himself. Halcyon II maybe? And the other is only someone I started seeing rumors going on the dark web about named Rift. Don't know their ID's but there's a recent story going around that Rift is actually two people taking turns with one hero costume. Though the fact Glutton of all people called out one of two...not sure though."

Didn't matter to her if she was either the hero or vigilante. If there was anything she still believed in, it was information.

Guardian then swiped away both the window and keyboard and was about to make a move on Glutton before he announced that he was going to quickly teleport the "civilian" that had made her way to the lobby just now...and instantly Guardian recognized the lady. The same lady that she knew Vanguard was handling a relating case on.

"HEY! DON'T YOU-", she said but was too late as they "teleported" away. Supposedly somewhere outside the front of the bank.

"...ay diablo", she muttered, annoyed.

Falling back on perhaps bad habits, she tried to follow.

Problem was, she didn't ask Vanguard permission nor waited for an order. Despite being partners, he was still her superior.