---

Eclipse Bay, Simply Storage Solutions, Unit 13

Superhero news was always something, wasn’t it? Nova City Bank had some robbery going on, and it sounded like every damned superhero in the city was fixing to dogpile whatever band of misfits was—gas? Oh, this was getting juicier. Normal bank robbers kept things simple. Straightforward. Money in the bag—no dye packs—get out. Power outage across a whole city block? One of the channels reporting creeping vines? Pink smoke seeping out from under the door? That kind of showmanship certainly narrowed things down. It had to be supervillains. Plural. Even if there weren’t multiple in there, there absolutely had to be multiple hands on this one.

Look at that! The news was catching on too! Shame they weren’t getting any close-ups. A tablet screen was small enough already without the police barricades being so far out!

Georgia set her tablet down with a sigh. The news was just repeating the facts. Half of the live coverage was snapping away to get back to their stupid twenty-four hour cycles. And the local channel was still straight-laced enough that it wasn’t going to make any reaches.

‘So let’s think about this…’

Who would be in there? Vines were easy. There were only a handful of superhumans with any given power set, and an even smaller handful in play in any given location.

“Proud of you, hun,” she mockingly chirped. The local news had cracked it. Obviously vines meant Poison Oak. Who else could it have been? Someone from out of town? But the gas didn’t sound like his style. He’d use his pollen, wouldn’t he? Yes, that sounded right. So it was definitely, 100% the work of more than one villain. But that begged the question of who?

Villains counted a fair number of chemists, chemical-enthusiasts, and generally mad scientists among their numbers, definitely. Poison Oak was one of them—but definitely not the sort that’d be working with something looking like that. Did Poison Oak have any friends? Scratching her head, Georgia couldn’t think of any. The man didn’t often collaborate. At least, she’d never fought him and another villain at once. But the world was changing, wasn’t it? This wasn’t Poison Oak’s normal crime scene. Nothing about this was altogether that normal, except for how a bank robbery was just absolutely typical fare for supervillains. Banks were big. Banks were bad. Banks were easy punching bags, for how they pushed the little guy around and yet had the inconvenient weakness of having all that money just sitting around. It took a brave bastard to raid a gold reserve. It didn’t take supervillainy to mug a rich guy. But banks? Banks were just right for villains.

If she were ever going to go after such a big haul on her own, she’d do things differently. This was sloppy. This was showy. But that was the only choice a lot of people had, wasn’t it? And banks were getting ever-wiser to creative approaches anyway. Georgia could still remember the first time she’d toured the Federal Reserve and seen all the anti-teleportation measures that they’d implemented. There were good guys working on fixing weaknesses, after all. But even the best defences can be blown up, burned, or otherwise shredded through with the right will.

So banks. What mad scientists were into banks? That was a frustratingly long list. It wasn’t as if there were many evil universities giving out evil research grants. So supervillain scientists needed to get their money from elsewhere. And again, banks were just really good targets. So that really didn’t narrow it down either, did it?

But that meant there were two mad scientists in there. Poison Oak and someone else. Maybe there was a mad scientist convention going on in Nova City? Now that sounded interesting. Some new work would be nice. It had been a week—a maddening, painfully paralyzing week since her last job. Anathema needed to get going. Her fingers itched with a need to do something. Do anything. The seeds of wrath were sprouting again, damn it all. They were sprouting and getting ready to bear fruit!

Georgia’s glance snapped back to her tablet. Oh, mercy below and above! There was so much to be done.

She had to at least see it! She had to at least hear it! The carnage was beautiful—hopefully the building would explode. But the people! But the burning! That was too good to miss. A job or a show—either would be something. Georgia looked at the little trash can full of wrappers and empty cans. Maybe a nice bed for a little while would be good, too. Most villains had—or could easily get their hands on—a perfectly good bed to sleep on in their lovely, lovely, vile, vile bases. And air conditioning. And showers. Better showers than the private gyms had, anyway. The water texture and quality definitely varied. But it was so, so much better. And to have purpose? Something to do? Something to distract from the all-consuming silence?

That was perfect. News sucks anyway. Better to see it in-person.

Georgia chucked her iPad down on her bare mattress. There was a coffee shop across the street that wasn’t technically off limits, so it seemed. But what to wear for observing? A tank top torn along the back and underwear wasn’t going to cut it. The armour was way, way too much and too conspicuous. Fuck it, no point wasting time. Georgia called a clean pair of athletic shorts from the top of the basket full of comfortable day clothes. Neon green? Nope.

She chucked it to the floor and flicked her wrist to call the next highest out. Red was better. Sure. Red running shorts would be fine. She pulled them up and then hit her tail.

“Right. Can’t have fucking high-rise. Because why could I have it good?” Georgia scowled as she gripped the waistband and ripped the shorts clean off of herself. She chucked the shredded remains into the garbage can and walked over to the basket of comfy clothes. After rummaging through the neatly-folded clothes, she produced some black shorts that definitely wouldn’t go up too far. Fine. That would have to do.

As she pulled them on, she groaned as she remembered the irritating case of her tail. She whipped off her shirt, plucked yesterday’s bra off the back of her chair and clipped it on, and then pulled her tail up and weaved it through, and then pulled the mutilated top back on. With a scowl, she picked out the largest hoodie in eyesight. It was a piece of her own merchandise that so happened to be irritatingly comfortable. She’d scratched off as much of the print as she could be bothered to, but bits and pieces still cling to it, leaving cracked plastic on its front. A bit of one of her old blue eyes. Part of an H and an e. A bit of the flaming sword. Only one of those bonkers superfans would have guessed it was once a Hostess Hoodie, but seeing the bits she couldn’t scrape off still drove Anathema nuts. The stupid grey thing was just too comfortable to chuck.

With a sigh, she pulled the hoodie over her head.

“That’ll do.” she shrugged, mumbling to herself as she inspected herself with her phone camera and preened her hair out of habit. She shook her head, put the phone in the hoodie pocket, and then looked around the room for a moment. Binoculars would be great right about now. She fumbled for her phone again, and found a random hiking supplies store in Nova City.

“Where’s the damn thing…” she continued, waving her phone around the room before laying her eyes on a pocket knife. She tried to flick it open twice, muttered “Goddamnit,” and then pulled at the blade with her fingernails to get it out. Once she got it out, she took a deep breath, held it, rolled up her left sleeve, and slashed her left wrist. A wellspring of deep red blood began to pool as Georgia hissed in pain.

She took a step towards the blood-stained garage door. She slammed her wrist into the metal, pulled it to the left and then right as she fell to the ground, helping keep its trajectory with her hand, and then pushed it back up, right then left, as she stood, to create an oval of blood. She held her hand to her bleeding wrist, and, with a flash of fire, cauterized the wound. As she folded up her knife, she let out a frustrated sigh and whipped around. She slipped on socks, shoved her feet into black tennis shoes, and then grabbed a third sock from a little bin full of socks with holes in them. She shoved it into the centre of the blood oval and scorched it into a fine mist. A rift opened up, showing the interior of the hiking supplies store. Right before she put her foot through the door, she groaned again, flicked both of her wrists, summoning a tote back off the floor and several socks with holes in them, donned the bag, shoved the socks in it, flicked her wrists again to summon her phone and her wallet, and then stepped through the rift.

As she stepped through, she caught movement in the corner of her eye. An employee was standing there, frozen and looking at her with the wide eyes of a man uncertain if he was breathing his last breaths.

Suddenly, Georgia asked, instinctually adopting the flowery, gentle tone she once made a habit of as Hostess, “Sorry, what aisle are the binoculars in?”

The guy flinched as she grimaced and tensed her jaw right after speaking.

“Sorry,” she chirped, before hissing at herself and saying, “I mean...grab me a pair of binoculars. Adjustable ones.”

Looking at the frozen man and giving him not more than a moment to respond, Georgia snapped, “Fucking go on. Git. I’ve got shit to do.”

And he burst into a sprint. Georgia clapped her hands once, and the rift closed. She had just long enough to check her phone and see the latest update from the situation at the bank before he returned, panting and shaking. Georgia took the box in her hand, tore it in half, and incinerated the shredded halves with one hand as she put the binoculars in her tote. Then, she whipped out her pocket knife, pulled it open with her fingernails, and then snapped at the worker again, “You’re done. I’m satisfied with my service. Bye,” as she cut the same wrist again and quickly drew another blood oval. She cauterized the same wound, and then pulled another sock out of her tote, pressed it into the circle, incinerated it, and walked through into the bathroom of the coffee shop across the street from Nova City Bank.

Nova City, a coffee shop across the street from Nova City Bank

Fortunately, this one was empty. The only bad part about appearing in the bathroom was that sometimes there was someone using it, just ready to make a quick pee break into shitting after seeing someone step through a definitely evil-looking blood-red rift. She stepped out of the bathroom, took one look at the line, and then scoffed. Not a snowball’s chance in hell.

Georgia walked casually to the spot where the phone-orders were left, spotted what looked like a large caramel or chocolate frappé, pulled her wallet out of her tote, and grabbed two random bills out of it. She pulled the tagged cardboard bit off the drink as she took it, set the cardboard piece back with one of the bills—a twenty, it looked like—in it, and then craned her head to look at the counter as she stuffed her wallet back into her tote.

Georgia frowned and sighed as she gathered that there were no good donut options. After squinting to see for a moment and grabbing some napkins, she reached out the hand holding napkins with two fingers, and used her three free ones to beckon a croissant, a chocolatine, and—hell, why not—a piece of banana bread out from behind the counter. She caught them in the napkins, fumbling for a moment, and then set down her drink in order to slap the other bill on the counter. Then, she walked out with the stolen drinks, shooting back behind her a glare, daring the overworked baristas and the impatient customers to question her cash. That bill was a fifty, anyway. They’d live.

Finally, she was outside, ready to see the crimes unfold. It was always so much better as a live feature. One of the tables was bare, its chairs stolen by a larger group that looked like it was either done or waiting, but nonetheless eager to see the scene as it unfolded. Georgia hopped up on the table, set down her drink and food, and whipped out her binoculars to begin taking in the show.

This was gonna be good. And maybe there’d be a job opportunity to come…

The Dragon reclined in his ornate leather armchair, a serene but menacing smile curling on his lips as he watched the chaos unfold on the massive wall-mounted screen before him. The footage was shaky but vivid: masked criminals storming Nova City Bank, civilians screaming, and smoke filling the air as the news anchor breathlessly narrated the scene. His glass of amber liquor caught the dim light of the room as he swirled it lazily, the ice clinking softly—a sound almost drowned out by the murmurs of his lieutenants gathered behind him.
The hideout itself was a testament to The Dragon's wealth and influence: an underground lair hidden beneath one of Nova City's most unassuming ramen shops. The walls were adorned with intricate Japanese artwork, and a sprawling koi pond reflected the soft glow of paper lanterns overhead. Armed guards patrolled the perimeter, and encrypted communications buzzed quietly from a nearby operations table. It was both sanctuary and command center, an untouchable fortress hidden in plain sight.
The Dragon’s eyes, sharp and calculating, studied every detail on the screen. The bank robbery was chaos personified, but for him, it was opportunity. While the police force was being drawn to the heart of the city and the city's vigilante heroes were undoubtedly rushing to respond, his organization could operate in the shadows, making decisive moves that would further cement their hold over Nova City. “This is what the West calls a perfect storm,” he mused aloud, his voice deep and smooth with a faint accent.
“Boss,” said one of his lieutenants, bowing slightly as he stepped forward. “What are your orders?”
The Dragon leaned forward, setting his glass down on a carved wooden table. “We strike while their eyes are elsewhere,” he said, his tone as measured as it was ruthless. “Mobilize the enforcers in the Eastern District. The businesses there have been... resistant to our offers of protection. Send a message—loud and clear. Burn one, and make sure the others know why.”
The lieutenant nodded sharply and stepped away to relay the orders. The Dragon continued, turning to another subordinate. “And the West Docks? What is the status of the shipment?”
“It’s ready, boss,” the man replied. “Weapons and contraband. No one will interfere.”
“Good,” The Dragon said, his smile returning. “Tonight, we ensure that Nova City's underworld knows there’s only one kingpin in this city.”
As the screen showed images of police barricades and hostages, The Dragon’s mind raced with other possibilities. The robbery was just the kind of distraction that could blindside the authorities. He could use this chaos to infiltrate city council members with bribes or threats. He could stage an attack on a rival gang's stronghold and make it appear as though the chaos had spilled into their territory. Or perhaps he would target a key utility, such as the city’s power grid, creating further disorder and asserting his dominance over the infrastructure itself.
Finishing his drink, he stood, his towering presence commanding the room. “Tonight, we take Nova City one step closer to being ours. Let them play their games at the bank. We’ll be the ones who write the next chapter of this city’s history.”
The room erupted in murmured affirmations as his lieutenants scurried to carry out their orders. The Dragon returned his gaze to the screen, the chaos outside a stark contrast to the calm control of his lair. He wasn’t just watching the city’s downfall—he was orchestrating it. And soon, Nova City would belong to him.

Joseph shone a light in his patient's eye, carefully observing how the pupil dilated. "Pupils abnormally large..." he muttered, frowning thoughtfully. The doctor clicked off his penlight and scrawled a few notes on his notepad. "Dizziness, confusion, nausea... and you threw up earlier, too," he said calmly. "Yep, that's a concussion alright. I'll have to..."

His head perked up as he picked up the sounds of the microwave beeping and cutlery being set down coming from beyond his office's door. "Dammit Jackie, are you eating my leftovers again?" he yelled, annoyed. "I was saving those!" He shook his head as a muffled "Sorry, Doc!" answered him. He could swear that girl had a bottomless stomach. Then again, Joseph had been the one to give her a key to his house and let her come and go as she wished. He really shouldn't be surprised at this sort of thing anymore.

He turned back towards the man still sitting dazedly on a cot. He was pretty sure that guy was a pickpocket, not that he ever asked his patients questions. What they did was none of his business, and he'd rather keep plausible deniability. "Anyway, as I was saying, you're concussed. I'll give you some painkillers for the headaches. No alcohol for the next few days, try to rest as much as possible, and for the love of God, try not to get kicked in the head again." He gestured to the open door leading to the rest of his home. "I'll be keeping you for observation tonight. I'll show you to the guest room."

Once his patient was settled for the evening, Joseph sat at the kitchen table, groaning tiredly. He took a good look at Jackie. She was still ravenously devouring his leftovers, not a hint of guilt on her face. He was glad to see her in good health, but still. He had really been looking forward to that fried rice. "So, heard anything good lately?" Jackie, the self-proclaimed "Gossip Queen of the Underground", had been acting as his informant for the going-ons of the local crime scene ever since he'd started acting as Ironclad's local back-alley doctor. While she herself was no one important, just a small-time car thief, she had ears everywhere, and many friends in low places. Her title might be self-proclaimed, but it was accurate more often than not.

"Well," she said between two bites, "for once I've got nothin'. It's dead out there, no supers plannin' anythin'. Looks like somethin' is drawing them outta Ironclad for a bit." She gave a lopsided grin. "Sounds like you're gonna have it easy for a bit, Doc."

Joseph huffed a laugh. "Don't jinx it." His expression got bit a bit sterner as Jackie's words really sunk in. "If something's really drawing the usual crowd away, then it has to be something big. We should expect waves."

Jackie put her fork down as she began to think. "Y'know, I usually only tell you info I'm pretty sure is reliable, and keep the subject around Ironclad supers. You don't need to hear every little bit of drama about the local burglary ring. Even though it's really juicy." She leaned back in her chair, almost putting her feet up on the table, before a glare from Joseph made her put her feet back down. "But if you really think somethin' that big is goin' on... well, I heard some weird stuff through the grapevine."

"Now, you know I try to keep away from all that mafia shebang, but I know a guy who's a bit less careful. Word is, there's a lot of movement back in Nova City." Jackie began to dig into her (stolen) meal anew. "Someone is tryin' to push all of the other groups out. Some foreign syndicate or other. I even heard the boss is supposed to be this really strong super."

Joseph sighed tiredly. Supervillains going quiet, power struggles back in Nova, a superpowered crime boss making moves... that was bad. Really bad. They seemed to stay away from Ironclad for the moment, but whether they'd start trouble around here wasn't a matter of if, but a matter of when. The doctor had a feeling that this was just the calm before the storm...

The Rescue

Chemical Girl’s feet barely made a sound as they touched the cracked tile floor of the bank’s second story. She moved quickly but quietly, her translucent form shimmering faintly as her powers kept her insubstantial. The room was dark and hazy, the remnants of Pestilence’s gas clinging to the air. Her eyes scanned the space, zeroing in on four hostages tangled in thick, writhing vines. The tendrils constricted tightly around their arms and legs, rendering them immobile, and the hostages’ muffled cries of fear broke through the eerie silence.

“I see the hostages, Puzzle,” she whispered into her commlink, crouching low to avoid detection.

“Good,” Puzzle Box’s calm, analytical voice responded in her ear. “The vines are organic but infused with a strange energy—it looks like they’re actively resisting being cut. You’ll need to use your phasing ability to pull them free. Just be quick; Pestilence’s tricks always have a nasty surprise.”

“Got it,” she replied, her voice steady despite the tension crackling through the air.

Chemical Girl approached the first hostage, a middle-aged woman whose face was streaked with tears. The vines twitched and tightened as she reached out, almost as if they sensed her presence. She placed her hand lightly on the woman’s shoulder, her fingers shimmering as her power activated. In a fluid motion, she phased both herself and the hostage out of the vines’ grip. The woman gasped as the constricting pressure vanished, and Chemical Girl gently guided her toward the stairs.

“You’re safe now. Head to the ground floor and stay low,” she said softly.

The woman nodded shakily before bolting for the exit. Chemical Girl didn’t waste a second, moving to the next hostage and repeating the process. One by one, she phased the terrified civilians free, each time feeling the strange resistance of the vines trying to hold their prey. By the time she reached the last hostage, her breathing was steady but deliberate, her focus razor-sharp.

“They’re free,” she reported into her commlink as the final hostage ran toward safety.

“Good work,” Puzzle Box replied. “But the clock’s ticking. That bomb’s not going to wait for you.”

The Bomb

Chemical Girl turned her attention to the central lobby below, her sharp eyes locking onto the bomb sitting ominously in the middle of the chaos. It pulsed faintly, wires tangled around its surface like a steel spider’s web, and a red light blinked in a slow, menacing rhythm.

[“I’m heading to it now,” she said, her tone resolute.

“Careful, kid,” Puzzle Box warned. “This isn’t your run-of-the-mill explosive. It’s rigged with airborne dispersal tech—shrapnel and gas designed to spread destruction far and wide. But you can disable it with the Puzzle EMP. Left compartment of your belt. It’s keyed to short-circuit the trigger mechanism. You’ll only need to get it close to the core.”

Chemical Girl landed softly near the bomb, her shimmering form solidifying as she surveyed the device. The tension in the air was palpable, the faint hum of the bomb’s mechanisms sending vibrations through her fingertips as she reached for the EMP device.

With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the sleek, glowing gadget toward the center of the bomb. The EMP latched on with a sharp click, and a pulse of blue energy rippled outward, causing the bomb’s blinking red light to flicker and die.

“It’s disarmed,” Puzzle Box confirmed after a beat. “But it’s still live. You know what to do.”

The Phase

Chemical Girl nodded to herself, stepping closer to the bomb. She knelt, wrapping her arms around the heavy device. Its weight was nothing compared to the stakes at hand. Taking a deep breath, she let her powers wash over her body, turning her insubstantial once again.

The bomb shimmered as it phased with her, becoming intangible in her grip. With a swift upward motion, she lifted off the ground, her natural ability to fly carrying her seamlessly through the chaos. She phased through the shattered floor, descending into the earth below the bank.

“How deep are you going?” Puzzle Box asked through the commlink.

“Deep enough that no one gets hurt,” she replied, her voice calm but focused. She passed through layers of dirt and rock, her surroundings dark and silent as she descended to a safe depth.

Once she was sure the bomb was far enough underground to prevent airborne damage, she released it, allowing it to solidify in the earth. She reemerged from the ground moments later, her form shimmering back to solidity as she landed gracefully in the bank lobby.

“It’s done,” she said, brushing dust from her hands.

“Good work,” Puzzle Box replied, his voice filled with pride. “Now get back in there and finish this.”

Chemical Girl smiled faintly as she turned back toward the fray, ready to dive back into the chaos and help bring this nightmare to an end.

_{Interactions:Rift @Aku the Samurai, Halcyon II @Half Pint, Glutton @BurningCold, Bloodlust @Vidar the Quiet}

---

The sounds of blood curdling screams echoed out from the lobby as one goon after another was felled. Some had it lucky. They were only disarmed. But others? Others had their actual hearts ripped out.

In cases like these, who were the real villains here?

Regardless, the lobby was quickly neutralized. Of course, the only sounds the heroes and police would hear now was the sound of melting concrete as Ethan shot him, Pestilence and Pine up to the rooftop.

The hostages themselves were rescued as well, removed entirely from their vines. The lobby was cleared.

---

_{Interactions: Pestilence @Goblininamech, Everyone outside the building.}

---

Ethan directed his focus to the police barricading the building. They would have to take care of that first, before taking off. Wouldn't want to be easy targets in the sky now, did they?

So, Ethan raised his hand, ”Fast and quick it is, Pestilence.”

Stars of varying sizes blossomed out of his raised hand, collecting around him in almost a flower shape, before they shot forward.They rained down on the police and civilians gawking below, like holy fire, prepared to smite the weak. If any of these yellow stars were to connect, they'd ignite their targets easily, burning through flesh and clothing like paper. Anyone under the hellstorm would be severely injured, if not dead by the end of it.

He watched, hoping to have the group out and away in the next thirty seconds, if that was enough to decimate the police force.

***

@Kensai

As Violet Lightning would happen upon the scene at Nova City Bank, she would be in for a shocking surprise. All the police officers, police cars, and bystanders too close to the hailstorm were moments away from being rained on by little yellow stars that would most certainly act like the burning insides of a kiln, prepared to burn people alive.

If she had any ideas to combat the stars, she could take that action. Or wallow in the misery of being a fraction too late.

---

_{Interactions: Hellfire @Archazen, Sir Arcticus @ManyThings}

---

Syla attempted calling Hellfire. Poor bloke must have been too busy watching his TV, though, as it went to voicemail.

Ah well. She'd leave a voicemail then.

”Hellfire. The Masked Solaris has asked that I reach out to you. His stunt today is just first of many big-time cases. He is building up a coalition that will one day rival the Dragon and throw him out of the city. You know the Dragon won't stop until he has devoured this city.

That's why he is offering you a job. A partnership. Come join us, and forge your destiny in hellish flames, like they were meant to be. You have my number if you're interested.”

She pocketed her phone, turning the corner to come face-to-face with Sir Arcticus, staring confusedly as a police cruiser took off. He was right where the office boys said he'd be. Now she just had to initiate plan Distract.

”Sir Arcticus. There is a bank robbery. You must act with haste and apprehend the suspects, people are in danger.” She said, like she was talking about the weather instead of evident peril.

She pointed to the left. ”It's at Dewdeny Bank, ten minutes that way.”

Though, that couldn't be right. Nova City Bank was in the opposite direction, the same direction the cruiser had gone in. But would Sir Arcticus be able to tell if she was lying?

---

_{Interactions: Georgia @enmuni}

---

There was a slight step-step behind Georgia as footsteps approached her. With her hands placed behind her back, space given to the thorns in her left arm, the veiled magnificence of Aster stood beside Georgia, watching the chaos of Nova City Bank unfold.

”Beautiful, isn't it? The rich suffering for their sins through the actions of a few noble supers. As we speak, the Masked Solaris, Pestilence, and Poison Oak are doing their duty to the city, ridding it of corruption.”

Her veiled eyes glanced down at Georgia, and she almost seemed to smile. ”You deserve to be up there with them, bathing in the glory of righteousness today. But… Perhaps there are… other opportunities for you?”

She leaned in close, as if she was confiding in a secret for Georgia and Georgia alone.

”The Dragon is on the move. If we want a chance at punishing him for his sins, we will need more capital, more manpower. And more importantly, we need you.”

Aster leaned back slightly, taking in Georgia’s reaction. ”What do you say, Fallen Sister?”

---

For the police to have driven off in such a rush that they even failed to hear the booming voice of Sir Arcticus, something truly serious must have been calling their attention. The knight glanced back towards the alleyway. Was there any trace of which direction the man-eater had fled? Given his dark magic, it was quite possible that he had disappeared without leaving tracks in any particular direction. In that case, what were the chances that the officers were heading to the scene of Glutton's latest crime? They hadn't even found the remains of the gunmen in the alleyway yet, so it seemed unlikely, but perhaps he was doing something more publicly violent this time.

But even if Glutton wasn't there, it was the responsibility of a knight to respond to any incident in the city. Resolved to follow the police, Sir Arcticus, prepared to move. Frost gathered in the air around him as his armour creaked, only to settle down once more as a young woman approached him.

Although she spoke quite sedately, her words were deadly serious. As she told it, there was a bank robbery ongoing, in the direction exactly opposite to where the officers had been heading.

"Hm..!"

The knight gazed down at the girl, his frozen helm giving no hint as to what he was thinking. Brilliant blue light shimmered within the helm's eyeholes. For a moment, it seemed as though those cold flames were going to burn straight through her and expose the lie within.

"You have my thanks, young maiden. Thou'rt wise to bring this devilry to mine attentions. I shall pursue the pilferers forthwith!"

Luckily, it seemed that the icy hero had no idea he was being tricked.

The girl looked and spoke in a strange way, to be sure, but for Sir Arcticus to judge her for that would have been terribly ironic, given his own style of speech. As for the matter of the police cruiser heading in the other direction, it only meant the knight's presence at the bank was even more desperately needed! If those officers had another crime to fight, he would have to stand in for them.

Regarding Glutton, Sir Arcticus figured it was unlikely to find him at a bank. Even so, if he was needed, he would go. He would most likely have to wait for the monster to rear his head again before he could have a decent chance of finding him, anyhow.

Giving Syla an appreciative nod, the knight gazed down the road that led to Dewdeny bank.

"However, good maiden..." Frost began gathering in the air once more as he spoke, and a sharp chill filled the air. "...Did you say 'ten minutes'?"

Pale light wreathed the knight's jagged form, concentrating around his gauntlets and the space in front of him. Bystanders on the street, who up to that point had only been shooting the hero excited glances or snapping pictures on their phones, now stepped back in awe and confusion. Was he forging a weapon? Something else? Amidst the swirling light and frozen air, it was impossible to get a clear glimpse.

"I know not if you meant ten minutes on foot or in one of those horseless chariots that have become so popular in the city. But worry not!"

As the light reached its apex, even Sir Arcticus' form was completely obscured. As cold air decompressed and billowed out, it was impossible to stand near him. And yet, his voice was still quite audible, carrying over the blast.

"Sir Arcticus shall not take even one minute to come to the rescue of those people!"

In the next moment, he was gone, leaving the white-haired girl alone on the street, with tiny flakes of snow drifting around her.

As for the knight, he was already a block away. His movement was accompanied by the high ringing sound of crystallized ice striking against the road, but he was not on foot.




The knight sat astride a great mass of ice formed into the shape of a large, monstrous horse. The beast's body was almost crystal clear, but its form was covered in the same jagged plumes of ice that adorned its rider's armour. Frozen mist huffed from its nostrils and around its hooves as it carried the knight down the street at an ever-rising pace, leaving icy hoof-prints in its wake. With each movement, tiny cracks opened at the joints of its legs, neck, and tail, and in the next moment the cracks refroze, only to open again in the blink of an eye.

Syla had fooled Arcticus, no doubt, and she had sent him off on a wild goose chase, but this display was beyond what she would've been able to research about the capabilities of a hero from a different city. More than that, it was impossible based on what was publicly known about Sir Arcticus' powers. Videos and reports could be found online of him accomplishing many strange and impressive feats in Skyline City, but there was no way he was capable of creating a sentient being like this.

Of course, Borealis was not a sentient being. Each movement it made, from the twitch of its tail to the beating of its hooves, was managed by Sir Arcticus' control over ice. In essence, it was a puppet that merely appeared to be imbued with some supernatural essence of life. It doubtless would've been more efficient and simple for the hero to just ride around on a big levitating chunk of ice, but that sort of thing simply wouldn't do for a knight!

And now that he had taken the time to learn to create and manipulate the Faerie War Steed of the Winter Court, it was as easy as riding a bicycle.

Thanks to the passage of the police with their sirens on, the road immediately before the Hoarfrost Horseman was relatively clear of cars, with many still pulled over. As his noble steed picked up the pace further, it far surpassed the speed limit, and in a breath the girl who had kindly warned him of the bank robbery was many blocks behind him, out of sight.

As Sir Arcticus rode down the street, blitzing past cars and leaping clear over busy intersections, he couldn't help but notice the occasional police car passing him by, all heading in the opposite direction from him. Was there some other situation ongoing in the city that required their complete focus? Did none of them know about the robbery? If that was the case, why had that young lady walked for ten minutes to find him and tell only him about it?

Trying to push doubts from his mind, Arcticus tugged on the ice-chain reins that he held in one gauntlet, urging his steed forward as he focused on navigating Nova City's unfamiliar streets. A bank ought to stand out, he reasoned.

Borealis' speed had now risen far beyond the capabilities of any vehicle on the road. Weaving seamlessly between cars, its trail left a surge of cold wind behind.

Mere moments later, the knight found his objective. A squat, stone building that had clearly been designed to radiate a sense of reliability and security.

Coming to a stop near-instantly, Borealis and its rider were immediately shrouded in a cascade of mist and light snow. True to his word, not even a minute had passed since he had first learned of the threat to the people at the bank. In a brilliant flash, a twelve foot long polearm of jagged ice appeared in the knight's free hand, pointed skyward. It was a mighty entrance, aimed to strike fear into the hearts of any evil-doer who caught a glimpse. As Sir Arcticus looked around, though...

A warm breeze blew across the flowers planted in front of Dewdeny Bank. Two squirrels nuzzled one another in a nearby tree. A robin landed on a lamppost overhead. The front door opened, and an elderly woman took shaky steps out of the bank, guided arm-in-arm by her grandson. They stopped when they saw the lance-wielding warrior, looking a bit startled, as if he was the most exciting thing they'd seen so far in their day.

The hero breathed a sign of relief at the serene state of the bank. He let the polearm disintegrate in his hand. Then, he thought for a moment, and his heart sank. Was he at the right place? Had his sense of direction failed him in this new city? But this really was Dewdeny Bank! Had he misheard the young woman? Or had she misremembered which bank to send him to? Tugging at the reins, Sir Arcticus turned his horse around and tried to judge which direction all the police vehicles had been heading in. Just as quickly as he had appeared at Dewdeny Bank, he was off again, aiming to get it right this time. At that moment, all Sir Arcticus could say for certain was that something was happening today.

---

Nova City, Across the Street from Nova City Bank

Georgia sat cross-legged on the table, slowly sipping on her drink after having devoured the chocolatine in only a few massive bites. As Aster came to stand beside her, Georgia looked at the woman out of the corner of her eye. When the veiled woman spoke, Georgia looked forwards again at the crowd with a tired, indifferent expression. She slowly set the drink down by her side. She sat motionless and breathless for the first portion of Aster’s commentary, until the word ‘Righteous’ came from the woman’s mouth. Georgia’s expression slowly crumpled into a disgusted scowl, her nose wrinkling as one side of her mouth curled upwards towards it through the frown. She exhaled slowly, dramatically, and forcefully, the sound of the long exhalation ringing through her sinuses as every bit of breath sighed out from her nose.

Georgia began to nod slowly as Aster finished her thought, and then turned to look at her. Her expression shifted again, settling into a stern, disappointed, irritated look. As her nods sped up and became smaller and her red-eyes settled on the other woman’s veil, Georgia finally took another breath. She stopped nodding, and clicked her tongue.

“Righteous…” she drawled, “‘at’s a funny word, ain’t it? Real funny word.”

She clicked her tongue again and offered a brief concessionary smile.

“Real popular too. Lotta people talk about righteousness. What it means to be righteous. Who gets to be righteous. Why they’re so damned righteous and everyone else is so damned less righteous. Sound familiar? Every pastor does the same song and dance. Every rabbi. Every imam. Hell, there are plenty of people who call ‘emselves all sorts of things, who claim religion or science or mystical knowledge, and’ll sell you that word from the ankles up and from the neck down the very second you start lookin’. That word—Righteous. It’s a word from the Old Testament—straight out of the Torah. All the way back in the Beginning, there was man, woman, apple, then righteous—right there with Sin, capital S. Noah, Abraham, Jacob, Moses, David, Solomon, Cyrus the Great—Jews and gentiles all the way through to the Christian book and then the Muslim one. Rulers—rulers of Empires, like Cyrus. Kings, like David. They get to be righteous, even in spite of the cuckholdry and the murders and the rivers of blood and sin. If they get to be righteous, why, sure as hell might as well call Reagan, Clinton, Churchill, Tojo, King James, and everyone else who once gave a couple coins to charity righteous. Never mind the rapes and the bombings and the lies and the starving children and the bleeding adults and every other wrong under the sun that they might have seen fit to look into.

But y’all ain’t like that. I understand the idea. Y’all are actually righteous. More righteous than all the others. After all, you said it yourself. Y’all are just like super-powered Robin Hoods, giving the big guy what fo’ and showing that some folks c’n punch back damn hard. Takin’ blood money outta bloody hands, sendin’ a message, all ‘at bullcrap. ‘Cause whether y’know it or not, tha’s what it is. Some’in’ nice to tell y’allselves to help get a good night’s sleep. Righteous is a word—gets its power from what y’all decide it means. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. You think the rich are sufferin’ from this? They’re makin’ a shitload off the news coverage. Scared people tune in ‘n’ send all the views and the ad revenue ‘n’ all ‘at crap, all ‘at ghost money ‘at they can then go an’ make into real, cold hard cash. An’ the bankers ‘emselves? Sweetie, the Feds insure the banks. So the banks get all their money back—all the principle, that lil’ chunk of their worths that they’re required by law to have on hand, ‘n’ all they gotta deal with is the inconvenience of fixin’ their damn wall.

And the kicker? The real kicker? Guess who’s givin’ the Feds all their money. Us. The general us, that is, not the specific us. I worked my whole life for a tax evadin’ nonprofit called a church, now I’m a criminal. But us as in normal folks? Normal folks are where the Feds get the money to give that insurance payout. All y’all’re really doin’ is costin’ the taxpayer money for the purpose of supposedly inflictin’ righteous wrath upon the rich, who will, thanks to their—or, it’ll piss you off to know, really our as I’m includin’ myself in this group—our inconvenient habit of coverin’ our asses with so much chicanery that you’ll sooner hit yourself in the face than do more’n a lick of trouble for ‘em, will at worst find themselves ever so minorly inconvenienced, if that.

They’re bathin’ in the glory of righteousness because they turned on the damn faucet, honey. With all the bastards of hist’ry gettin’ to be righteous, y’all can be as righteous as y’all damn please, nevermind whatever what you’re really doin’ really means. Take a bath, take a swim, long as you can justify it to y’self. So if you’re sendin’ a message with this, have at it. But don’t tell me the rich’re sufferin’ when they ain’t, ‘cause they sure as hell won’t from this.”

Georgia pulled her pocket knife from her bag and began to fiddle with it, pulling it open as she continued.

“I don’t wanna do messages. I’ve preached a lifetime already, and I don’t know how to stop, but that don’ mean I like it.”

She slashed her left right finger and pinkie, and began to draw a small circle, perhaps a bit bigger around than her hand, on the table, without pausing.

“Fuckin’—rrgh—don’t try ‘n’ sell me on this crock a’ shit. I ain’t a hero. Never gonna be one again. And I don’t plan on convincin’ myself that I still am, could be, or should be, no. You ain’t talkin’ to Hostess. You wanna tell yourself this, be my guest.”

She took the napkin she’d eaten the chocolatine from and incinerated it in the circle, cauterizing her wounds in the process. The circle became a rift.

“But don’t you tell me if you think a job’s a mitzvah or ‘at the guy has it comin’.”

She pulled out a pack of American Spirit cigarettes, snapped her finger to close the rift, and then pulled one out. She hopped off the table and turned to face Aster head-on.

“I’ll join the ass-whoopin’ party. Tell Solaris my price is he gives me his spare bedroom while we’re workin’ together, or you do—whatever—an’ he gets me a nice—nicest this city’s got—steak dinner, ‘n’ you?” Georgia gestured at Aster with the cigarette, “You knock it off with the righteous talk as far as my shit goes. That’s not my business.”

Georgia popped the cigarette in her mouth, lighting it with her fingers as she did. She took a quick draw, and then added, “Oh, and I want, fuckin’, whatever you pay the goons.”

Georgia waved her hand dismissively at her last requirement, as if it was an afterthought. She took another drag on the cigarette, and held it, as if how she blew it depended on what Aster had to say next.

Interactions:
@Estylwen

---

Madison's bike hummed as she was smoothly gliding along the highway's fast lane like it was made of water. She loved riding. Right now she was heading from patrol route A to patrol route B. High in the sky behind her, a drone was tailing her, capturing stock footage. Clips of her riding along were always useful for something. It was also there to capture footage of her helping people, stopping criminals and generally being a Hero. That footage would later get used in promotional material or on Luxon's own channels. Madison tapped the screen on her bike's dashboard and called Rose, her personal maid but also her 'mission liason', so to speak.

"Hey, Rose. I'm heading towards Patrol Route B. Any crimes?"

"Nothing...appropriate. Two armed robbers held up a convenience store. Shot the Cashier. Glutton got to them. There's also a heist at Nova City Bank, but already have reports that several vigilantes are on the scene, as well as the police. If you went, you wouldn't stand out as a 'symbol of peace and security'. In fact, you'd only add to the chaos and confusion."

"Yeah, giving those a miss. I would hurt more than help. Anything else?"

"Well....nothing else we can get footage for.." Rose trailed off.

Madison frowned, and looked puzzles as she paused for a second before continuing the conversation.

"And anything we can't get footage for?...This wouldn't have anything to do with that missing prototype the warehouse manager was yelling about yesterday, would it?"

"I'm afraid it does. There's a semi-regular underground black market auction that happens somewhere in Nova City. The higher-ups are convinced that whoever stole the protype is going to try and sell it there. Now, they've been keeping an eye on potential customers. You know, higher-ups of rival companies and stuff. One of their potentical customers has been visiting the same restaurant every evening at around the same time. There's no prior record of this behavior being regular. I'll send you the coordinates of the restaurant and I'll recall the footage drone if you fancy a stakeout."

"Sure. I don't get to do slow, quiet heroics with a camera off me very often. Exposing the Underground Auction is just the kind of project I need after last week's energy drink commercial shoot took up all the time I should have been out helping people. "

Ivan paused as he entered the lobby, his shield raised and his gun aimed at the criminals who had their rifles aimed at the hostages nearby. This was a precarious situation, and this was only the main lobby of the bank. However, it seemed like the nearby heroes were already springing into action, seemingly not hearing the criminals out. They were even freeing the hostages, transporting them out. Vanguard took action himself and rushed forward, ordering the officers near him, "Secure the lobby!" They would ensure anyone still inside would not escape through here.

After the immediate crisis was settled, Guardian reappeared nearby and begin filling him in on some new information. Vanguard nodded. He was glad Guardian was around, even if she was more flighty than he would like. "Good to know. Keep me updated on any new information you find," Ivan said to her. Just as he turned to survey the situation again, Guardian suddenly shouted at something. He turned back to see, but by then he had already missed it. As Guardian ran off to follow whatever it was she saw, Ivan shouted, "Guardian!" but made no attempt to follow her. The crisis at the bank still wasn't completely over yet, and it required his attention more.

There was an explosion upstairs, and Poison Oak let out an exasperated sigh as dust rained down. He rubbed his temples in frustration. “Does everyone always operate this recklessly, or is today special?”

At Ethan’s request, Pine extended his senses, vines slithering through cracks and spreading outside the building. His glowing eyes flickered as he detected movement.

“There’s someone at the west service entrance, another by the north exit. I can trap them, but with these people have been cutting my vines, it will not hold forever.” With a flick of his wrist, the vines wove into thick, thorny barricades, cutting off the exits.

Pine scoffed at the announcement of a bomb but said nothing. If it bought them time, so be it.

After Ethan’s display of power, they made it to the rooftop. Pine steadied himself and surveyed the city below. The heroes were regrouping. Police were tightening their perimeter. And for what? A bunch og humans throwing their money to causes that hurt the planet they live on? “I do hope there’s a plan in place, or this bank will be our grave.”

Guardian
Interactions: Vanguard @Scarifar, anyone else in main hall?
____________

"Guardian!"

Guardian immediately snapped out of her current "frustration" mode with Glutton the moment her "partner" addressed her. She stopped walking away and immediately turned around to face Vanguard and just as quickly jogged back front and center. Then she saluted.

"Sorry sir. Got distract but...you missed it sir. Glutton just teleported Miss Valentine away just now. All due respect and you know what my current case and orders are regarding Glutton, I have to ensure Miss Valentine's well-being...of course, I'll hold here with you if you order it..."

Then, in a lower tone she then looked down and said, "...sorry..."

Even after a year, Guardian was still learning to stick with the group but years of her..."vigilante" years in New York still reared it's ugly head of working "solo" and doing things her way. Honestly, there were even days when she wondered how Vanguard and any of his team put up with this when she got like this.

Samson watched as Solaris rained fire on the police. "Thats one way to do it." He said as he kept an eye out for approaching heroes, taking pot shots with his .45 if he saw them. Then he heard that there were heroes coming from two different directions.

He turned to Poison Oak as he complained about his vines not being strong enough. After a moment of thought he gave a quick nod before saying. "You focus everything you have on the north, I'll have my rats swarm whoever's at the service entrance. They're not very strong but there's lots of them and they have a nasty bite. So, what's the plan after the boys in blue are out of the way. You were kind of vague about that part."

As he did all this, he also commanded his rats to swarm anyone at the west service entrance. As soon as he did so, every rat in or near the bank rushed towards the people there. There was a lot of the but they were just rats, so they were very easy to harm.

@enmuni, @Crimson Flame, @Goblininamech, @Silver Carrot

---

The aftermath of Ethan's attack left the area surrounding the bank charred in ashes. Some officers still stood, huddled behind riot shields. But the rest? The innocent bystanders too close to the show?

Faint whimpers rose up, the smoke parting to reveal people crumpled on the pavement, covered from head to toe in second and third degree burns. Faintly, the sounds of ambulances could be heard in the distance.

Ethan shot a look to Pestilence and Pine, ”They ain't walking this one off. I got a back-up getaway car on standby, let's head there.”

Once again, the red stars appeared near the group's feet, and Ethan flew them over the police barricade. He shot off yellow stars down at the officers who dared to even look at them funny.

Soon the group, with their bags of money, where running on the ground again, turning the corner where an idling van lay in wait. Ethan’s men opened the doors, and everyone pilled inside, the doors slamming shut while the driver screeched down the road.

Mission accomplished.

***

Meanwhile, watching the entire thing, Aster had her one hand rested on the table, the other one her hip as she listened to Georgia.

”My my. Well, I was never any good at explaining things. I'll leave that to the Masked Solaris.”

As Georgia held the smoke in her mouth, Aster leaned over, passing the woman and card. It had ‘Solaris Consultants’ written in gold ink against the white.

”Arrive whenever you like at the Arakana Tower. The receptionist will be told to be expecting you. And arrangements will be made for you.”

With that, to the sound of ambulances pulling up and the cries of the injured, Aster turned and walked off in the opposite direction, offering a wave as she departed.

***

Wireframe began their stake-out at the restaurant. And they learned a few things rather quickly. Some kind of password was used among men coming and going. Only those with the right password were let into the ‘Employee’s Only’ area.

Was this area connected with the Underground Scene? Was this where the auction took place?

While Wireframe watched, she received a mysterious text from an unknown number.

You could stare all week and not learn anything more. Not what is sold, not how people get in.

I have information that can help you with this. Why don't you come meet me tomorrow, 6PM?

-Auri

And besides the inclusion of an address at small office building near the heart of the city, Gold Pavilion, there wasn't much else for her to go off of. Could this person really help them?

---

[@everyone]

---

In the aftermath of the bank heist, news programs were going off the hook in their reportings, painting wanted posters of the three main suspects at large: Masked Solaris, Pestilence, and Poison Oak.

There was a press conference held by the NCPD, stating they would not rest until the culprits were captured.

And a few hours after? Two mysterious messages were sent all across the city to both heroes and villains. One from the Masked Solaris, one from an old player that had only recently emerged on the scene: Aurealis Ivory.

The message from the Masked Solaris read as followed for all the villains:

The Dragon is becoming a problem in our beloved city! I think you'd be the perfect match for our work. Of course, you'll be paid handsomely. You might even gain a little infamy~

Come meet me July 2nd, tomorrow, at 6 PM, and we'll talk about it. Arakana Tower, 30th Floor.

The message from Aurealis Ivory read as followed for all the heroes:

This has to stop. I fear greatly for Nova City and am calling out to all heroes who feel the same. Antagonists like the Masked Solaris and the Dragon will get out of hand at this rate, and may even become a global threat.

I have intelligence that can help you rid this city of them. Come meet me on the 48th floor of the Gold Pavilion, and let's put an end to this.

Tomorrow, 6 PM sharp.

---

---

---

---

---

---

[@all villains]

---

The money had been divided long before this impromptu meeting. Ethan had, of course, told Pestilence and Pine about the opportunity to make new friends, and had invited them early to the festivities.

As villains started entering the Lagoon Lounge around 6 PM, they would find a blue-lit, shiny bar lounge with the gleam of fluorescent lights hanging from above, and the light of the waning sun shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Ethan gave a wave to his guests as they filtered in. ”Welcome, welcome! Please, make yourself comfortable~” He would say, pointing to the open bar and the row of snacks, fries, samosas and and Russian salad available.

Ethan himself was dressed in a black dress shirt, white suit and white tie for the occasion, wingtip loafers clicking smoothly on the polished ground as he stepped.

He moved to the center of the room as people got settled, pointing to the case files on the other side of the bar.

”Feel free to pick a case file that you want to tackle. And if you want to team up with someone, that's okay too!

“Our goal is to learn more about the operations the Dragon undertakes, his weaknesses and how we're going to dismantle him. We need to figure out his sources of income, and relieve him of those…”

There were three case files lined up on the bar: the Dragon's Underground Auction, the Dragon's Cocaine Labs, and the Dragon's Casino Royale.

The Underground Auction gave details of the Irish Pint Tavern, which acted as a front for one of the stages of this auction house. It appeared to be heavily guarded though, so it was unclear how the best way to get in would be.

The Cocaine Labs were in warehouses on the edge of the city. Again, heavily guarded, but if they were destroyed, the Dragon would take a huge blow.

And lastly, the Casino Royal was a high-end slots and gambling house in downtown Nova City, and the gang made a heavy profit from it. However, it too was heavily guarded.

Ethan looked over his guests with a twinkle in his violet eyes, eager to hear what they had to say.

---

[@all heroes]

---

The Gold Trim Catering was lit up with its chandeliers, flowers, and fresh linens, waiting for their guests with earnest. Aurealis stood by the largest table in the room, dressed down in a silk white dress, holes cut for her wings to move freely.

”Come in, don't be shy. Let's eat, and let's talk about saving this city. Take a seat and pick a folder that you like.”

There were indeed folders dedicated to each villain in the city. They included recent photos, and a suspected base of operations. Among them, there was the Dragon, Masked Solaris, Pestilence, Poison Oak, and Anathema.

And, underneath the covers, there was a whole steaming turkey, mashed and spiced potatoes, bread rolls, cranberry sauce, gravy, and steamed vegetables.

---

Doc frowned under his mask. He looked around at the various heroes gathered here, these young people in all of their various costumes and gleaming gear, and he simply couldn't understand why he was called here alongside them. He definitively clashed, in his old, patched up white doctor's coat, a red cross hand-sewn on the back and a balaclava hiding his face. He'd chosen not to wear his kevlar vest: he doubted these heroes would try to stab or shoot him. Right now, he looked practically civilian.

"You'll have to pardon me," he said, his eyes narrowing at Aurealis, "but I don't see why I was called here alongside you heroes." He raised a hand to his neck, toying with the small silver crucifix dangling from it. "I'm not exactly one of you. I don't fight crime. I'm not a hero."

And that fact had been the whole reason he'd made the trek from Ironclad to here, when he'd gotten that message. He had to make them understand that they couldn't, shouldn't involve him. Because if they did... then his work could quickly become impossible.

He knew not every hero agreed with him caring for civilians and criminals alike, but surely they'd respect his wishes anyway?

"I can't... I can't really get involved in this whole mess." He huffed. "I'm a doctor and a first responder. A neutral party. Always have been. And I'm not looking to change that. I can't afford to."

"It's not like I can fight either. I can maybe offer some first aid, but you people don't need to go to me to get care. You've got hospitals for that. You can afford it." He started tapping his foot, getting a bit agitated. "So why, pray tell, knowing all this, was I called here? Please, enlighten me."

"And please don't bring me messages through my patients," he pleads, thinking back to the panicked woman who had brought him Aurealis' words. She had been nearly passed out in sheer fright, and he had to give her something to help calm her nerves. "The poor girl was just selling weed in an alleyway. I won't get involved in your hero-ing business, but descending upon her in all of your... incandescence was just too much. It's marijuana, not murder."

Ruby was anything but comfortable. She had tried to find some shadows to hide in, but no matter where she went there were watching eyes and glaring blue fluorescent light on her that made her stand out like the pale scar of the underworld. Much like such a scar, all she wanted to do was fade away and be forgotten about.

Despite all her misgivings, she stood there, pulling at the sleeves of her oversized black hoodie as she watched the fancily dressed and sometimes even costumed people in the area. She had only one simple reason she was here, despite the unnerving invitation and the room filled with people, there was some truth to this Dragon guy being trouble. She had heard whispers running around the Mystique. Rumours about foreigners with interesting tattoos, some odd criminal jobs, drugs flooding Ironclad and even something about a meta boss trying to take over the city.

None of that really seemed to bother Ruby though, what had gotten under her skin was one of the younger women turned up with dark bruises around her neck the other week. She had tried to play it down, saying it was just a customer with unusual tastes but the more the other girls had prodded, the more details had come out. Specifically, this newcomer had decided he was hot shit, and when Linda hadn’t reacted with awe, he had decided to prove his strength. This was just going to be the start if such men were going to be running this town, and Ruby was going to have none of it.

Which left the pale woman hiding in much too big black clothes, looking from person to person with bright sanguine red eyes, as she hesitantly reached for a samosa. She wasn’t about to start being picky when free food was available.

---

"Hey, boss. We delivered all the food and extra tables to floor forty-eight, and we moved the projector and folding chairs to floor twelve like you wanted, but..."

The pavilion employee scratched the back of his head lazily, holding his phone with his other hand. For all the chaos that had been unfolding in the city streets lately, his work remained pretty much the same. A few duffel bags of party supplies rested at his feet as he rode the elevator upwards, chatting with his manager all the while. He had brought those bags into the elevator, and he knew he needed to take them to the 50th floor before he could go on his break. As for the thing at the back of the elevator, though, he had no idea.

"...Where am I supposed to put the big ice sculpture?"

The frozen form of a large, armoured warrior, standing with its arms crossed, took up the back half of the rather lavish elevator. To the workman, the design looked very familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. Was the sculpture for some sort of really classy anime convention? As the elevator continued its quiet ascent, the statue remained unmoving, casting its gaze downward. Even thought it lacked a face, having only a stylized helmet, it gave off the impression of being deep in contemplation.

"Who left it here? It's kind of creeping me out."

Before the man could hear any reply from his boss, the quiet chime of the elevator alerted him to the opening of the doors. He picked up the duffel bags in one hand and stepped forwards, before stopping himself. The tiny number above the doors displayed 48.

He needed to get off at 50. Had he pressed the wrong button?

"Excuse me." The employee nearly jumped out of his skin as the deep voice sounded out softly from behind him.

In the same moment, a massive shadow fell over him, as the overbearing form of the ice sculpture circled politely around him. The crystalline ringing noise of its footsteps was muffled by the fine carpets as it ducked down to fit out of the elevator door. Without another glance back at the terrified workman, it turned down the hallway and moved out of sight.

Too shocked to let out a sound, the pavilion employee stood completely frozen as the doors slid closed once more, and the elevator continued upwards.

Sir Arcticus stalked down the hall towards the meeting place, his mind still turning over the events of the previous weekend. The day before, the local villains had claimed a victory over the heroes and vigilantes, and had made off with an obscene amount of cash. Moreover, it seemed clear that Sir Arcticus had been lied to by that girl on the street as part of the villains' comprehensive plan to make their escape.

Though he had arrived at the correct bank only moments after the getaway of Solaris and his associates, he had been unable to track down any of the fleeing evildoers in the unfamiliar streets of Nova City. In the end, all that the knight had to offer the innocent and the injured were apologies and promises to continue the fight against evil.

If he wanted to make good on those promises, he couldn't do it alone. Fortune had smiled on him in that department, as not long after the end of his search, word had reached him that an old hero was taking action to turn the city's situation around.

Just as he was about to step into the meeting space, Sir Arcticus' armour changed shape. The largest spikes of the helm and pauldrons vaporized, and his entire form shrunk a bit, down to just over seven feet tall. Into the surfaces of his arms, legs, and chest, shallow embossment formed in shapes that resembled trailing Celtic knots. He had become more presentable to suit the situation, or so it seemed.

He had been prepared to fight an uphill battle against evil, but even so, the turnout at the event was unexpectedly small. The host was there, and a hero with a paramedic-like appearance was arguing with her.

"If thou lack'st the will to oppose the serpents which suffocate the people of this land, there are none here who can force thee to take up the sword." Clinking softly against the floor with each footfall, the ice knight approached the pair. "And yet, thou hast come. If naught else, this proves thine acknowledgment of the existence of a problem. Someone must fight."

The knight stood over the table where the folders on the city's villains lay. Glancing at the label of each one. Some of them had been involved in the bank robbery, he knew, but who were the others?

"I am Sir Arcticus of Skyline." He introduced himself to Doc, putting one hand to his chest and offering a slight bow. "It seemeth my presence in this city is already known to hero and villain alike."

Even as his armour was kept entirely frozen by his power, there was still the slightest amount of moisture continuously present on its surface. It was only about as much as the condensation on a cold glass of water, but it was conceivably still enough to damage paper. The knight picked up a napkin before he reached for one of the files, using the cloth to protect the paper from his frozen fingers.

The particular file Sir Arcticus had chosen to peruse was one whose name had struck him as somehow familiar. The memory of a bitter fall from grace stirred in his mind. Anathema.

In contrast to the physician who scarcely seemed to want to be here, the knight stood resolute, in complete support of the heroes' operation. Although his way of speaking was a bit absurd, there was something in his voice and manner that firmly communicated a sense of courage and reliability.

"Lady Aurealis... As long as you are pursuing a brighter future for this city, I shall aid you in any way that you request. You have my word."

---

Nova City, Arakana Tower, the Night Before

---

_{Collaboration between @enmuni and @Estylwen}

---

It was quite late at night when Georgia finally made her way to Arakana Tower. And, in typical Anathema fashion, she had no regard for actually using the front door. Instead, Georgia emerged from one of her very own rifts from a window right by the front desk. She snapped her finger, the hellish rift zipped shut, and maundered to the desk. Without any further ado, the former heroine in a messed-up hoodie from her former merchandise clapped her hands together and shot the receptionist a piercing look. Without any further regard for her surroundings, she spoke.

“Solaris expecting any guests tonight?” she asked idly, making her voice sound almost like she was making small talk. But anyone who’d heard Georgia back in the day knew that any social niceties from her would have come off much less apathetic.

The receptionist nodded politely, either wholly unsurprised by the rift in which Georgia came through, or had an excellent poker face.

”Of course.” She passed Georgia an ID tag which read ‘Executive’ and pointed down the hall. ”Take the elevator, use your ID card to scan the reader inside, and it'll take you to the penthouse suite. The Mask Solaris will meet you there.”

If Georgia would do as such, she would find herself in the highest level in the tower. There would be a small hallway from the elevator that lead to a door. As she drew near, the door clicked open, revealing a man with tousled hair, dark dress shirt and slacks.

Ethan.

He offered a crooked smile, opening the door and stepping to the side, ”Welcome, Anathema. You're right on time~”

“Thank you,” she responded.

As she stepped in, she would see a warm, leather ensemble for a lounge. Ethan beckoned her through a second door, to a modern, open-concept kitchen. At the table, there was a cloth and two candles, and two silver platters covered in chrome covers.

Ethan gestured for her to sit, smirking. ”A little birdie told me you wanted a steak dinner, yes?”

Georgia crossed her arms, and a surprisingly good-natured, slightly embarrassed smile—not unlike the one she once sported in a meme from a few years’ back—sprouted on her face. With a light chuckle, she sighed.

“If I’d’ve known you’d be ready this fast, I’d’ve come dressed,” she drawled. She clicked her tongue, put a hand on her hip, and nodded, “You reckon I got a few minutes to freshen up, give this the dressing-up it deserves~?”

Ethan nodded, a knowing smirk crossing his face. ”Be my guest.”

Without another word, Georgia nodded, withdrew her knife from her hoodie pocket, and made a rift on the wall. She hopped through it, and some fair amount of crashing could be heard for a few minutes, before Georgia re-emerged. Shockingly, especially given how little time she’d taken, she looked quite well-put-together. She wore a backless, golden cocktail dress that hung on her neck like a halter and went down to just above her knees. Her hair wasn’t exactly done, but she had taken the liberty to somehow apply matching gold eyeliner and sparkly eyeshadow, as well as gold hoop earrings.

“Just needed a few minutes,” she affirmed, “Excuse the heroine look. Still haven’t found a new fancy look to do in a flash…”

She offered a shrug and took her seat, as if clearing out one’s wardrobe to look villainous was a mundane thing that just needed to be gotten around to.

“Anyhow,” she said as she slid her seat back in. She tilted her head and gave a genuine, bright smile—quite reminiscent of the one she showed the cameras a lifetime ago, “Thank you, really, for having me. It’s nice to dress up once in a while, isn’t it?”

Ethan smiled pleasantly at Georgia's change in attire. ”I have seen heroes dress in black and villains dress in white, so I'd say the attires meaning is entirely dependant on the wearer, my dear.

“And you'll find many more days of dressing up, working with me.” His grin turned cheeky.

He sat opposite to her at the table, his violet eyes gleaming in the candlelight. Leaned a little forward in his seat. Attentive, yet calm.

”You'll have to forgive my counterpart. She can be a bit overzealous at times.”

He shrugged lightly, before picking up the champagne bottle on the table, gently uncorking it. There was a subtle pop, then Ethan filled two glasses with the sparkling liquid. He leaned over and placed one in front of Georgia, and raised his own glass.

”To villainous new beginnings~”

And he took a small sip, before gesturing to her plate’s cover. ”Go on, don't be shy. Eat it while it's hot.”

If Georgia were to lift the lid, she would find a beautifully steaming steak with grilled asparagus and gravied mashed potatoes. There was also a small side of Russian salad.

Georgia sipped from her own glass, then cut into the steak. Inspecting the meat, she nodded approvingly.

“I think I’ll enjoy working for you more than most,” she commented. She matched the gaze of his violet eyes with her softly-glowing red ones, and smirked, “For one, you have good taste in steak.”

Georgia started cutting herself a piece, only to stop, click her tongue, and look back up from her plate. Her smile dissipated as fast as it came, and her expression settled into a neutral, if interested, gaze. “But, let’s talk a moment about your…counterpart, you said? She had some thoughts of her own. We’re going after the Dragon, now, are we? Don’t need any of the virtue crap. He stepping on your toes and need a spanking, or are we talking bigger moves?”

Ethan smirked. ”I knew I liked you. Got a smart head on your shoulders.

“Bigger moves, my dear. The Dragon is a necessary stepping stone to becoming the sovereign of the city. If we dismantle the Dragon, there will be no one stopping up from becoming a global force. Anything we,or you,could possibly want, would be at our finger tips.” He said, taking a bite into his own steak, his face lighting up. It seemed the big bad villain had a soft spot for delicious food.

He swallowed and glanced over at Georgia. ”You mentioned pay and lodgings. I'll show you to your room when we are done. As for pay, you'll earn the same as my men. $3000 a month.”

Georgia nodded along softly as Ethan explained his ambitions, raising an eyebrow in skepticism at his mention of expanding into the broader world. Want is such an ugly word. But it could not be denied that the man was, if nothing else, as close to the prideful reaching hand of man in the flesh as she’d ever seen. As he promised the world, Georgia blinked and smirked, as if to say, Sure, sure, whatever you say. But when the matter of pay came up, she took a moment to think and do the math.

“That’s…” she trailed, clearly still thinking unsure about what she was saying as she said it, “Not…bad? What is that, like, a bit more than twice minimum wage? So I gather most of these guys don’t have families, do they?”

Ethan gave an easy smile. ”For good performance they do receive bonuses. Like the bank heist we pulled off yesterday. And they do have families, a lot of them. Of course, you would be part of the bonus scheme, depending on your work.”

Georgia offered an appeased nod, perhaps mildly surprised, but otherwise satisfied with the answer.

“Whatever the case may be, $3000 a month is more than enough. I did a hell of a withdrawal a while back myself” she commented, in reference to the major ‘heist’ she’d committed shortly after her loss of hero status, where she’d forced several banks charged with the Gray family accounts to liquidate them and hand them over. Georgia made an aggressive, perhaps cruel, little smile as she spat the word ‘withdrawal’ with particular force.

“The money is a formality. That work you’re mentioning? That’s the meat and potatoes. This is the good stuff now. Been gettin’ sick of sitting on my hands again. So what’ve you got me doing first, then?”

Ethan smirked. He allowed himself another bite of steak and sip of champagne before speaking again.

”How are you with team work, Anathema? I plan to host a party tomorrow, 6 PM, where villains such as yourself can mingle and choose what they want to work on together.”

“I’m only Anathema to my enemies. Call me Georgia,” Georgia stated. With a brief sigh, she continued, “That said, I’ve worked alone, worked with a few folks, and worked with a whole lot of ‘em at once. Doesn’t really matter to me, long as someone’s got marching orders for me to follow.”

Georgia set down her fork and knife and picked up her glass.

“Not that I imagine you’ll have any trouble givin’ ‘em,” she added nonchalantly, “And speakin’ of, if there’s something you want me to do around here, let me know too. I don’ exactly have any other plans.”

Georgia nodded, as if agreeing with herself, before taking a formidable swig of the champagne.

“I made decisions as a hero. You don’t want me doing what I feel like, trust me. So what should I do there?” she concluded.

Ethan gazed over her, feeling like he understood her better. ”Very well, Georgia. Why don't I give you the task of infiltrating the Dragon’s Underground Auction? I have the password you'll need to get in. And then it'll be a matter of delivering it a blow it'll never come back from…”

He leaned back in his seat a little, that grin still on his face. ”Until the party tomorrow, though, why don't you rendezvous with my security team and you can learn more about the tower? Muster points, protocols in case of an attack, that sort of thing.”

“I think I can do that. But let’s be clear: Blow it’ll never recover from? You talkin’ literally or metaphorically?” she asked, with a small smirk flashing across her face when she posed the possibility of decimating the entire thing—clearly more enthused about the former idea.

Ethan snickered, finishing the last of his steak. ”I have been told that some of the specimens are alive. So, once they are out of the way, you can do what you like~.”

Georgia’s lips curled into a cruel grin, as her eyes flickered from her own empty plate to Ethan’s. She threw back the rest of her champagne, while with her left hand, she produced a puff of flames. She set down the glass with surprising care, and purred, “Then there’s only a bit left to ask. Since I’m workin’ for you, got anything you want me wearing for the big day? And do you want me to make sure he knows his perdition is coming from your hands through me, or will it be another mysterious attack from a fallen creature?” Georgia finally let her teeth show properly, revealing by the blood staining her fangs and welling in her mouth that in her consumption of the steak, she’d nicked the inside of her mouth more than once. Through the fiery grin, she enunciated, “That is, do you want any survivors other than these specimens~?” With a flicker of a grimace, she wiped her mouth with her napkin, and swallowed.

Ethan had a satisfied smile on his face. ”I'll have an outfit ready for you before you embark on your mission. And yes, if we can get into the Dragon’s head that his days are numbered, all the better. You're more than welcome to spare a few to carry the, well, message.”

He stood from his chair, gently nodding to the door. ”If you're finished, I can show you to your new lodgings.”

Georgia reached forward, flicked her wrist, summoned the bottle, poured herself another glass of champagne, downed her glass in three swigs, as if taking shots of it, and then scooted out from the table. With something between grace and drunkenness, she sprung up and made her way to the door, and like a débutante, offered her arm to Ethan.

“If you’d be such a gentleman~,” she cooed, “I’d be delighted.”

Ethan, an amused look behind his eyes, held out his arm a little for her to curl her hand around. ”Of course. I think you'll like this bit.”

And they walked together out of his penthouse and to the elevator. They went down about twenty floors, to a floor where the hallway was low-lit with strips of LED lighting on the sides. There was a door they walked up to among the few others, matching the number of Georgia's ID card.

Ethan nodded to the card reader. ”Go on, give it a try.”

Georgia swiped the card without hesitation and pushed the door open, holding a hand out briefly to telekinetically stop the door from slamming.

Inside, once flicking on the lights, there was a small foyer that led into a modern lounge, the lights of Nova City twinkling outside. Off to the side was an open-concept kitchen and two doors, one to a bathroom, one to a bedroom.

Ethan hovered at the door, a knowing grin on his face. ”What do you think?”

Georgia spun around, giving the whole place another look. She let out a small chuckle as a rather incredulous grin grew on her face.

“Shit, you could be making your bank as a property tycoon just as well,” she snarked, “But definitely, it’s more than enough—it’s great. Just two questions.”

Georgia held up a finger. “Can you turn off the fire alarms in here?” she asked. She held up a second finger, and continued, “And do any of the windows open?”

Ethan nodded, taking in her twirling with a bit of satisfaction. ”I can have them uninstalled tomorrow morning. And the windows open a crack, not enough to physically fit through, mind you.”

Georgia rubbed her chin, then clicked her tongue and spoke. “Any balconies or fire escapes?

Ethan pointed towards the kitchen area, where a small balcony could be seen through a curtain. ”Wouldn't suggest looking down too much if you've got vertigo.” He said with a chuckle.

Georgia looked behind herself and put her hands on her hips.

“Shit, so it is. Still gonna need the fire alarms out though,” she reiterated. She looked back at Ethan and snapped her finger, as if something had just occurred to her. “And one more thing,” she added, her expression drifting back to her stony, indifferent-looking resting face.

She ripped her dress’s halter neck and reached out with her other hand and flicked her wrist. A knife from the kitchen whipped into it. A tail—her tail, which she had previously kept quite discreetly curled around her left leg—curled around one section of the dress while she held the other side with her free hand. As the top of the dress tumbled down, Georgia ripped what of the dress’ back there was with the knife. She tossed the ruined garment to Ethan.

“That doesn’t fit well anymore. It’s supposed to go well below the knee, among other things,” she declared, gesturing towards Ethan with the knife, “But you can use it.”

She walked to the wall by the bathroom, slitting that same scar on her wrist as she did. Then, she pressed her wrist against the wall and drew a circle of blood on it. Georgia curled her tail around the knife to free up her hands and cauterized the wound. Finally, she ripped her underwear clean off of her hip, held the shredded undergarment to the circle, and incinerated it. “Just burn a shred of that dress in a circle of blood big enough to fit me, and you can summon me. Doesn’t matter where I am,” she stated, reaching into the rift with both hands. From it, she quickly produced a clump of clothes and a toiletries bag.

“I’m gonna take a hot bath and rest up for tomorrow,” she stated. Look back to Ethan, stark naked, she added, “Do me a favor and don’t try it out ‘till tomorrow. I’m not looking for any midnight callers,” before slipping into the bathroom and shutting the door without another word.

---

---

Nova City, Arakana Tower, 30th Floor, the Lagoon Lounge

And this was the outfit Ethan had selected? Georgia could not help but to deliver a dry, hoarse, mostly sarcastic laugh as she endeavoured to put the thing on. Really, the flair itself was…whatever. Showy? Yes. Very showy. But that wasn’t a surprise. Ethan seemed to have quite the fondness for it. What Georgia couldn’t wrap her head around was the open-skirt getup. The whole thing fit fine, yes, but it felt weird. The horns on the helmet weren’t heavy, but they definitely shifted the center of gravity for her head. And again, the open-skirt thing. Why? Maybe it made it easier to run with, but at that point, it looked well enough like folded-back wings. Except she couldn’t withdraw the skirt. Georgia found herself pacing around the apartment Ethan had provided, wearing the whole suit, just to try and get used to the strange thing.

Finally, checking the time, she realized there was no more time to navigate the thing. If she tripped on the skirt, she tripped. Presuming the heels didn’t just shred it, anyway. But who was to say?

Shaking her head, Anathema left the apartment, carefully nudging the skirt this way and that with her tail and tugging at it with her hands to keep it out of the way as she closed the door, and again when she came to the elevator. She was a touch later than most, and resolved to stay in the back as Ethan did his thing. Not that there was much to be said, in fact. The files, after all, had the entire thing laid out.

Looking around the room, Georgia spotted Ruby. Ruby…Bordell, it was, if Ethan’s files were at all accurate. She wasn’t a big name. But that could be useful. The Auction needed destroying. Apparently, though, there were people who could not, in fact, be collateral. That was the inconvenient part. It sounded like this place was selling people, and that Ethan wanted those people alive, at least. Targeted deaths were not her specialty. But if Georgia understood correctly, it was something cleanly within Ruby’s wheelhouse. The little death-canary, if that’s what she was, could do the trick well. With a frustrated grunt, Georgia pulled her helmet off. She summoned a samosa to her hand as she approached Ruby with purpose.

“You kill people by singin’, dontcha?” she commented, “I think you could be helpful for the Auction. I need someone who can be a mite discerning with who they kill. Up for giving the Dragon’s boys a show with me? I’ll bring the pyrotechnics.”

Georgia’s expression, like it so often was, seemed thoroughly indiscernible—landing somewhere between resting bitch face, the expression of a convict on death row, and someone only half-heartedly paying attention in class.

Interactions:
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@Estylwen@ManyThings@Rekkuza

---

The Stakeout had been fun. Using her wire form to get into the ventilation system, shehad been able to record all the comings and goings. There was no doubt that invitations for the auction were being held here. She recorded everything that was being said which was then sent back to Rose for analysis. The passwords may be useful but there was no guarantee that the same passwords would be in use for the auction itself. It also didn't help that if customers and contacts had conversation, the whole thing was nonsensical and likely entirely in code. Still, there was likely something that the buys back at base could decypher from her recordings.

Her phone silently buzzed in her pocket. She'd recieved a text.

You could stare all week and not learn anything more. Not what is sold, not how people get in.

I have information that can help you with this. Why don't you come meet me tomorrow, 6PM?

-Auri

There were so many questions. How did this person know her number? How did she know what she was doing and why? She immediately let Rose know. There was a possibility that there was a leak in Lexon. She also decided to cut the stakeout short. This was too important. Besides, the text was right. Anything that she could possibly gain from this, she already had. She slipped back out of the restaurant vents in her wire form, and returned to Lexon Tower.

---

The following day, Madison, in a white frilled blouse and medium-length skirt, attended the invite. Her hair was curled, her lean muscle was hidden and she looked every bit the classy rich girl she technically was. There had been no determined leak at Lexon, so she had been advised to attend the meeting and find out what was going on. It had been decided that she attend in civilian attire. Madison did not have the luxury of a private persona so there was no need to protect one, and attending such a lavish location in a costume that exposed her midriff and thighs would have been mortifying.

Arriving at the meeting room, Madison took a seat and looked at the folders. She immediately spotted the folder on Georgia, and averted her eyes. She liked to think she and Hostess had been friends, so her fall from grace was painful to ruminate on. She almost felt grateful when Sir Articus took her folder away. Sir Arcticus. Not that Madison could talk given her own careful mask of kayfabe, but surely talking like that all the time would get exhausting. There was also a man in a labcoat and a ski mask, wondering out loud why he'd been invited here.

"Just knowing more about these people and what they're doing, at the very least would help you help people. I imagine if there's anything in here that would hint that a lot of people might get hurt soon, you could be ahead of the curve." she answered. Despite her appearence of a spoiled daddy's girl, and her reputation as a corporate sellout, Madison was both passionate and knowledgable about heroics. It was her life's passion. Her life's purpose.

Madison flipped through some of the folders when a brief momentof silence fell. She immediately spotted something interesting, and leaned forward with interest as she picked up Dragon's file. So, he hada hand in the Undergroumnd Auction?

"Oh, this was what your text was talking about..." She muttered to herself, before lookingup and addressing Aurealis directly. "I was already going to investigate the Auction. Naturally, that's what Im' going to pick."