[IC] Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

[Alternax]

and

Leanna watched as the various group of terrorists gave up under the onslaught of heroes from the Square and the police from outside. She signalled to several officers to follow her and led them to the bubbles she had trapped Hounds in, then, once they signalled they were ready, constricted the bubbles once, then let them fade. The constriction left multiple broken bones and burns, but nothing serious, and far less than these men and women deserved.

With her powers returning to her after the expenditure of keeping her constructs up, she sighed, stretching her arms until her shoulders popped. Iron Knight’s announcement didn’t go unnoticed to her, but she needed a minute to regain her composure. Which was when she heard the request for assistance. She walked over to the mech suit with the police insignia on the surface and said, hesitantly, “Officer, how can I assist?”

Artemis, damn you, If I speak now..I’ll… Richard shifted his face into a grimace as he hesitated on using the mic for himself, and then Artemis saved him, or rather, finished what she started.

”Oh, I recognize you from our files, you’re Blacklight right? It’s good to see an older hero like yourself out and about again.” Artemis replied with a cheerful tone, and Richard continued to stretch his face into a scowl as he felt as if he’d been taken hostage; but his face softened slightly as he realized she had just introduced the new, or rather, older meta to him.

”Yes, I can’t fly, so I was hoping someone would be kind enough to give me a lift.”

”Well, that’s only a little of a problem. I assume you’re coming with to the raid. It’d be good to have an official presence around.” She looked the mech up and down once, critically, with her dark eyes.

”So how much pressure can this tin can take? Better than a car? A tank? If I’m gonna get a grip, I don’t want to violate the structural integrity of your armor. Also, how much does it weigh? That’s going to effect speed by quite a bit. Even as strong as I am, carrying a big hunk of metal is going to slow me down.”

”Hhhmm, well, it might be best to treat me like you would a car. Hard metal shell with with some delicate insides. As long as you’re not trying to blast off into orbit, I can probably take the G’s.

Dammit, Artemis, I’m a Detective not an astronaut, don’t go giving her ideas! Richard chose not to voice his feelings due to how close this, Blacklight, was, but he really did feel like he was losing more and more control each second.
”Alright, but if you feel like you’re going to pass out, let me know.” Her ‘wings’ flared to life, and she flapped once to launch herself over the mech, then, turned and placed her forearms under the ‘armpits’ of the machine. ”Alright, lifting off now. Don’t touch my wings or you might lose some parts, ma’am.”

The wings flapped once, twice, and then were beating rapidly. And Leanna hauled with a significant amount of her might. Not enough to tear things apart, but lifting with her forearms took more than she thought it would. Glancing around as she rose into the air, she followed to the plans she remembered from Iron Knight’s projections and moved towards the east, rain spattering on her head in ever-increasing patterns as she sped up. At this point her black hair was plastered to her scalp.

”You doing okay, officer?” she called out. ”I guess we’ll probably be there in around fifteen minutes. Sorry I can’t move as fast as some.”

As Blacklight lifted him, or them, up into the air Richard had to fight down a slight yelp as the liftoff had felt a bit sudden. But this was going better than he thought, he had the impression she was one of the faster metas, and that he’d start losing his lunch upon take off. Although, as soon as he looked down at the ground he realized that possibility wasn’t too far off.

Artemis had a different view on the situation. She had several hundred files on Meta’s and their powers saved to the on-board storage just in case she and Richard ever needed a reference to them, and Blacklight, a former STRIKE sponsored hero, would no doubt be in there. According to notes and history files it looked like she had spent some time voluntarily at various labs, not everything was recorded, but what was written down was amazing. Her powers interacted with light and temperature very similarly to a black hole in that everything was absorbed, head and light were touched and absorbed completely, her powers even put out heat, but thermal scanning showed that the ‘center’ of her powers was completely cold.

To think, that energy was doing this, was impossible, and this spoke to Artemis on another level. The Roadblock suit had to be redesigned for general use, but it was still outfitted with numerous imaging and sensor capabilities to track Metas, so she wasted no time pointing it all at Blacklight, unfortunately, she wouldn’t be gathering much. The R&D team had often played with the idea of changing out certain parts for more detailed sensor equipment to follow and study some metas, but those ideas had never actually reached the light of day, nor would they have ever been approved by the LHPD top brass.

”You’re doing great, you’re faster, and safer, than the alternative!” Artemis shouted back. Richard continued to stay silent for this, but he felt like part of that was directed at him, no, some of it definitely was.

Blacklight curved as they flew over Carver, the rain that slammed into her energy trail slacking off and leaving them in relatively windblown silence. She guessed they were probably going a quarter of her maximum, or around half the speed of sound, which was alright with her, as sonic booms over residential neighbourhoods were extremely restricted.

”So how, exactly, did the LHPD get a mechanical suit, or is that on a restricted knowledge basis? It seems kind of…” she struggled for the right word. She had never been much of a speaker.

”It seems a little excessive for street crime, you know?” She glanced at the houses down below her, remembering the tactical layout. ”Around ten minutes, officer. IK says there’s three targets. How mobile are you in this thing?”

The pixel face at the bottom of the Roadblock screen changed into a wide grin, then Artemis let out a short and hearty chuckle.

”Heheheh, this isn’t just for street crime! This suit was designed for the Lost Haven Special Cases Department to use in ‘special cases’ which more than often, turn out to be the rogue metahumans known as supervillains!” Artemis sounded insufferably pleased with herself for some reason, even giving the odd sense that she was proud of it.

She didn’t even make this thing! Richard thought to himself as he was forced to listen to her spout off.

”Hhmm, as for how mobile, that’s situational. We can move pretty well on the ground, but as you might have guessed, we can’t fly. The jets aren’t for show though, they just aren’t meant for flying, and they wouldn’t hold up under the stress they would take to make it to Carver.

”Well, if you’re not a flyer, there’s two other targets, I think? Sounds like we’re sealing them off and closing in from each entrance. Looks like flyers are heading for the helipad, which means I’m dropping you off to decide on your own, ma’am. If you have a preference, I can drop you at either location.”

The rain looked like it was heading inland, chasing them as they flew, though Leanna was sure she was outpacing it. She adjusted her grip on the mech beneath her, careful not to drop it or to grip hard enough to damage systems in it, a delicate balance she wasn’t used to.

At a glance the Hound base looked abandoned and in disrepair, the rain emphasized upon the moisture eroded surface, and it was easy to see why the building had been overlooked until now. As Blacklight brought them closer to the ensemble of heroes Richard noticed her shifting her grip occasionally, and he didn’t blame her.

The suit wasn’t designed to be held by human hands at any angle, so it was undoubtedly a little unwieldy, but that wasn’t the first thing on his mind. It would have made more sense for him to be a little more worried about her slipping, especially with the rain moving in, but as they approached the other heroes he was just glad he wasn’t being held bridal style.

An abandoned building...

”How cliche.” Artemis said as they closed in on the Hound’s base, she coincidentally finished Richard’s thought, but it didn’t strike him as weird. As a normal detective there were dozens of cases that led him to an abandoned apartment or building of some kind, it must have been the same for her and the others before he joined.

”Looks like that garage and the rooftops are covered. Take us over to that dockyard, if worse comes to worse this armor is more or less waterproof.”

“More or less? You can’t be vague with something like this!” Richard hissed through his teeth, doing his best to keep his voice from activating the outer mic.

Leanna looked down at the top of the...head? She wasn’t sure how to describe a robotic suit, honestly. ”Alright, I can do that, Officer. Speaking of which, while you know me as Blacklight, I feel kind of awkward just calling you by your title. Have you got a name, ma’am?” As the rain slacked off, the hiss from the outer area of her energy continued to slack off, but she still had to shout over the wind of their travel, or at least she felt she needed to. As she streaked in to land, she set the mech down on its feet, careful to not over balance, and nodded to the two women she had seen earlier, one of which was looking at her almost analytically.

”Hhhmmm, everyone likes to refer to this suit as ‘Roadblock’, so that should suffice, and thanks for the ride, you were very gentle.”

She grinned, hovering just in front of the mech. No problem, Officer, any time. Maybe we can grab coffee after all this is over. I’ll leave you to this section, I’m going to go help the flying team and provide some overwatch and support.” She held out a business card. ”My cell phone number’s on that, use your fancy suit to call me if there’s any trouble over here and I’ll be as quick as I can.”

”Hmm, it would be nice to see you again, and you know where you can find me.” There was a momentary pause in the conversation, Artemis had no control over the limbs, and so Richard reluctantly played along by accepting the card.

Oh no, Artemis, I don’t know how much more I can handle.

”Thanks I’m sure we’ll be fine, good luck.”

”Good luck to you too, Officer.” with a final, frosty salute, Leanna turned and, with a flare of her strange energy, she flapped her ‘wings’ and took off north towards where the flying heroes had started gathering near the helipad target, leaving her passenger and other nearby is a hissing cloud of oddly cold steam as the light rain hit the trail she left behind.

[fdeviant]

Cast

The Witch-Mother’s Charge

Compass Round

_{Part 1}

Location: Heartford Residence – Suffolk County, Boston, Massachusetts
Time: Early Evening, Day After Satellite Attacks

---

Heartford Manor firmly behind them, obscured by dense forest that swallowed all light, Odette and Marie, along with their invisible companions, moved swiftly along the cobblestone path leading deeper into the thick grove. The tiniest and briefest strands of light appeared in the corner of their eyes, dancing among the windswept branches before fading to black. A chill fell over them, the night’s cold fingers grasping at their exposed skin.

Marie pulled her satin robe over her legs, fumbling with the hem. She kept her formulary close by, tucked securely under her right arm, leaving only one hand free. Once she and Odette had settled in at their next destination, she would pour all attention into the book. For now, however, her mind was occupied with thoughts of her parents, a mixture of anger, despair, and well wishes. Truly, she wished them no harm, but their secrecy, their meddlesome nature kept Marie from forgiving them outright. It was unjust, keeping her in the dark all these years, allowing her destiny to fall at the wayside, drawing her further and further away from the truth. But there was nothing for it. She turned her mind to other, more pressing concerns.

Odette.

Glancing to her right, Marie kept the faery sorceress in her periphery, slowing her stride so that the two remained at equal pace. Until now, Marie took Odette’s involvement in all of this as an act of chance. But coincidence was slowly unravelling. Other forces were at work here, and Odette was somehow involved. Prior to Smithy’s, they’d only met once. How, then, did she become so instrumental to Gwyneth’s plan? Such intense consideration prompted immediate action.

”Why are you here?” Marie asked rather abruptly, taking a moment to consider how the question might be taken and qualifying it with, ”I mean, here in general. We only met once before the incident in Las Vegas. How did you get swept up in this?”

Odette walked on, leaving a few moments of silence between them. Clasping her hands behind her back. “I was beginning to wonder when you would ask.”

Marie had been distracted by Odette’s dramatic shows of force, her parent’s secrets and Gwyneth’s visions. Now they had a moment of quiet thought,  naturally things would turn to the whys and hows. The nitty gritty.

Odette thought of lying, pushing the subject aside causing more distractions. What would the point of that be? Neither Gwyneth nor Marie knew the exact reason why. Frankly, Odette didn’t want to admit it was fear that drove her into pursuing the White Witch. Fear of being burned. Even now with the prophecy’s revision, the more she denied it the more tangible it became. Unintentionally planting a seed of paranoia.

“Puck is the reason I am here.” She said,  she stopped her heel scraping at the unintended weight. “He- He prophesied my downfall… and I thought it would be by your hand. Odette’s icy eyes gazed at Marie, feeling exposed.

In contrast, Marie’s eyes were wide, almost worried. Of course Puck was involved, she should have guessed, but she couldn’t have imagined the impetus for Odette’s involvement was something so dire.

”I see,” Marie spoke softly, turning briefly to Holt, who walked alongside her in his newly acquired equine form. His expressions, the subtle shifts in movement, the ways in which is “emotions” manifested, Marie had become more adept at reading these signs. Holt didn’t seem nearly as surprised as she’d assumed, almost as if he were expecting that response, or at least knew of Puck’s interference.

She turned back to Odette.

”So you looked into me, The White Witch, tried to find a way to circumvent Puck’s prophesy and unwittingly came across Gwyneth, right?” her tone held a hint of admiration. Marie searched for information on Gwyneth for three months before turning up credible leads, but by the sounds of it, Odette was able to connect the dots much faster. Granted, her connections to the various denizens of Faerie likely sped up the process, but it was a smart use of resources nonetheless.

“Correct. That is how things began and when I negotiated with Gwyneth I thought I had beaten the puzzle. Puck wrote the contract, he took the opportunity to revise his ridiculous prophecy. I am now at square once again.” She said with no small amount of venom. “Obligated to see this through but the original intent gone.”

Her mood stormed over at that, Bach noticed the shift. He said nothing only observed. “This arrangement is not without gain but I am no closer to putting the prophecy behind me.”

She spread her hands open, “And I hate it.”Slowly clenching her fists. Possibly showing Marie far too much emotion, Odette’s unbidden fear coming out to rear its head.

”I don’t mean to pry,” Marie replied, taking note of Odette’s troubled expression and mannerisms. ”but I’m no stranger to Puck’s cryptic warnings. I’ve watched a few of his prophecies play out, and I’ve issued a few myself in his stead. If neither you or Bach have come to any conclusions, maybe Holt and I can shed some light?”

Be careful, Holt mentally warned. She may be of use to us now, but her motives remain a mystery. We cannot run the risk of endangering ourselves later by providing more aid than is required.

Nor can we risk losing a powerful ally to a preventable downfall. If we establish a level of honesty and trust now, it could save us the hassle in the future. Marie responded, not turning away from Odette, maintaining the illusion that nothing else had transpired.

“You are prying.” Odette said, Bach leaned over her ear stopping her snap.

“Don’t write her off, a clue is better than what we had before.” He spoke in french, hurriedly.

Pausing in thought, “I suppose any insight is better than none.” She sighed, bringing up her phone. She searched through the files pulling up the audio recording. “I’ve grown entirely weary of foresight.”

She played the clip.

”Sight . . . such woeful irony. The witch’s gift is yours to claim, a boon greater than you know, and yet one that will fail you time and again. Burned by witch’s fire, you stand ready in the garden to accept your paradise, not risen, but changed, changed as the cunning fire changes all. But even though the apple falls in your lap and the giantess gives her blessing, a serpent sneaks into your Eden and wraps itself round the Tree of Life. But this serpent does not tempt, no . .  he hungers.

When the veil was formed by the Spirit of Old, when the stars fell and soaked the Earth in their blood, he was among them, thirsting for new life. He whispers to you in sorrowful sleep, invites you into his bed. He does not turn you from salvation, that is not his aim. Indeed, ‘tis not holy waters which will save you from his torment, but cunning fire, the spark of a world long forgotten. Be swift, young Eve. Be not consumed by his lust, but ravaged by a flame that was. And the question is not whether you will be burned, but whether you will rise from the ashes . . . or will he?”

When Puck was finished speaking, she turned off the recording. “The reference to biblical creation myths is a tad cliche.” She said, forcing a light bit of commentary in spite of how dreadful hearing it again made her feel.

Marie shuddered slightly after hearing Puck’s voice, his ominously charming tone made much more eerie via digital audio. She scanned her mind for any and all relevant information, bidding Holt to do the same. Odette might have thought the biblical allegory cliche, but Marie knew there was implicit reason for the makeup of the prophecy. In fact, despite a lack of context, this was one of the more coherent prophecies Marie had heard.

”Well you already know that he’s referencing Gwyneth’s gift of Sight in the beginning, telling you how it will fail you, won’t let you see what’s coming,” Marie explained, unraveling more pieces in her mind before speaking aloud. ”He expands on that by telling you that you’ve been changed by the cunning flame, the witch fire that burns within Gwyneth has touched you and offered you a gift. Gwyneth is the giantess I would imagine, but why . . .”

”The Nephilim,” Holt spoke up, stopping a few paces in front of them. ”they were regarded as giants.”

Marie tapped her head.

”Of course, and the Nephilim are said to have carried the witch fire before man. They’re the ancestors of most magical traditions, witchcraft included. The ‘stars that fell’ is likely in reference to the Angels led by Azazel, who gifted mortal men and women esoteric knowledge. You’ve heard stories about the Fey that call them fallen angels, right? Those who landed on the Earth remained and became the very oldest among the Fair Folk?”

Odette nodded, “Of course I know.” The added information was curiously tied neatly into it. She chewed at the inside of her cheek.

Her brow furrowed, frustration bubbling up,  “How does it all tie together? The prophecy paints me as Eve and the Serpent is someone close. It is impossible for anyone in my inner circles to betray me on the level that it is suggesting.” She explained, doubtful. “It is impossible because I have safeguards against it. If that isn’t what the prophecy is suggesting then where do I go hunting my enemies?” She demanded. “Start seeing danger in every shadow?”

Back was beside her, nodding along. Having helped her create those very same safeguards.

“These prophecies are built to drive me to insanity.” She said, anger building. Bach squeezed her shoulder. Odette squeezed the bridge of her nose, calming down.

”If I may,” Holt spoke before Marie could respond. She conceded to him. ”It is entirely likely that whomever means you harm is not unknown to you. Waste no time in search for a foreign enemy where none exist. Indeed, you see them now as a friend. Whomever leads you astray ‘invites you into his bed.’ You gain something from one another. Perhaps he is not an enemy at all, and perhaps his betrayal is not an act you would consider treasonous, at least not now. Do what you will with this word of caution, but I would advise that you examine all outstanding pacts, contracts, and affiliations carefully, especially those with the Good People. Perhaps you will discover a trade more onesided than originally believed.”

Marie nodded.

”Couldn’t have said it better myself. Thank you, Holt.” She looked back at Odette.

“Thank you for the insight, Marie - Holt. It was something.”

”Glad we could help.”

Bach nodded to Odette, “It would be prudent to renegotiate past agreements, especially the older ones where we could stand to gain more now.” He suggested. “There is hope.”

She squeezed his  hand then dropped it. The professional veneer quickly came back up, she squashed everything else away. “Good advice. With that said, we need to move onto Salem. My prophetical problems are not our focus.”

She stepped away off the path, raising her arms up beginning her incantation for creating the portal.

As always reciting it in her native tongue. “Grand et beau flot d'âmes, fais-moi voyager, dis-moi la sécurité, offre-moi tes plus beaux cadeaux. Volontiers, ne viendrez-vous pas à moi? Ouvrez-vous, ouvrez-vous à la volonté de l'Ambassadeur du Folk. Proche seulement de ma volonté en tant qu'Ambassadeur du Folk.” It was like a prayer, repeating the words until the portal formed. It took a few minutes longer than it did typically, emotional turbulence sometimes affected her concentration.

When the portal was complete, the golden doorknob shiny even in the muted light. “Salem awaits.”

[nitemare shape]

Lyger silently crept down a long narrow hallway that seemed to go on forever. Though he didn’t know exactly where he was going, the energy readings in his heads up display seemed to indicate that a large amount of energy was being expended in the general direction that he was heading. As Lyger moved deeper into the compound, he soon realized that it appeared that it was abandoned. He expected there to be Hounds goons swarming the hallways in order to repel the advancing heroes, however there was only silence. He was alone.

Mostly.

“Up this way.” Radiance said to him as she hovered past him “There’s a massive electrical spike coming from somewhere down there.” She said as she continued down the hall. Lyger knew that she was right, he could see the readings on his HUD, however, how she knew that was a mystery to him. The only way that she could possibly know, he guessed based upon her power set, was that she could somehow sense the massive output of energy.

“How can you tell?” He asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“I can feel it.” Radiance told him, confirming his suspicions.

“I’ve got this. You head back and keep an eye on the rookies.” Lyger said referring to Pantheon, Alchemyst, and Lady Hex. The disregard that Pantheon had shown for human life did not sit well with Lyger, and though he knew that he wouldn’t be able to stop the hotheaded powerhouse head on, he had made it a mental note to keep an eye on him. The other two, he didn’t trust. He heard them whispering among themselves, and though he wasn’t able to hear exactly what they were speaking of, he did get bits and pieces. The were discussing something, or someone called the Witchfinder. Though he didn’t know who, or what that was, he didn’t like the possibility of someone’s ulterior motives screwing up this operation.

There was far too much at stake.

“No, you might need me here. Besides, I don’t think they need a babysitter. Arthur and Blacklight should have it covered.” Radiance told him with such conviction that he didn’t bother arguing the point. Instead, he just grunted in acceptance and continued down the hall.

Though Lyger couldn’t argue that Arthur’s heart was in the right place, he still doubted his ability to lead an operation like this. He still had issues with the way that Iron Knight had recruited people who were clearly not ready during the Pax Metahumana crisis, and that carelessness had lead to Bast being injured. However, she was lucky, she recovered. Lyger still intended to have a conversation with Arthur about that, however, again, this was not the time. But the time would come, and soon.

Blacklight however, was a different story. She was a disciplined and experienced hero. She had forgotten more about what it means to be a hero than a lot of people would ever know. Though, he did admit, that he was surprised to see her here as nobody had heard anything from her in years. Having her in the mix gave Lyger some comfort, because he felt that if anybody could keep everyone in line, it was her.

His mind returned to the task at hand as he and Radiance reached their destination. At the end of the hall, there was a massive blast door which ran the entire length of the wall. The door was sealed and there were two heavily armed Hounds standing guard. Lyger stopped short and put his hand on Radiance’s shoulder, pulling her back.

“We can’t take them head on, it’s suicide.” He told her as they peered around the corner at the Hounds guarding the doorway.

“Tsk, tsk.” Radiance said, shaking her head. “Watch this.” She said as she raised her hands up to face level, the air around them began to crackle as electricity jumped between her fingers. She then stepped out around the corner and before the two Hounds could react, she sent a pair of arcing bolts of electricity toward them. The electric bolts hit the Hounds at the same time, the jolt sending both men flying backward into the heavy blast door.

“See, sometimes there is an easier way.” Radiance said as she moved toward the door.

“Right.” Lyger replied as he rushed behind her, hitting the control panel for the blast door, and much to his surprise, the door slid open.

“These guys really need to do something about their security.” Lyger quipped as they entered what they discovered was a sort of command center. The walls were covered with large television screens. There were computer arrays spread throughout the room, and a large array set up in the center of the command center.

“He jokes?” Radiance said, feigning shock as she walked in behind him. “It really is the end of the world.”

“Radiance…” Lyger said. “We have a problem.”

“What’s wro…oh.” She replied, cutting herself short as she saw what he was referring to. One of the computer screens had a single set of large red numbers, and they were counting down.

01:39

01:38

01:37

01:36

“We have to shut this thing down, now.” Lyger said as he rushed to the computer console. He tried accessing the controls, but found that the console was locked and the only way to access it was to put in the password. They did not have the password, nor the time to find it.

01:20

Lyger immediately went to work, pulling the covering from the console and attempting to put a stop to the countdown the old fashioned way, by smashing the computer that controlled it. However, much to his dismay, the countdown did not stop.

“It’s not working.” Radiance said, panic creeping into her voice as for the first time the thought that they might not succeed penetrated her mind.

00:19

00:18

00:17

“The signal must be coming through another console somewhere. We’ll never find it in time.” Lyger said as he frantically began smashing various computer arrays inside the command center, however, he was right. There were too many computers and not enough time.

00:06
“Get back.” Radiance said. “We’ve got one shot at this.” She explained as electricity began to encompass her entire body, which caused her to take on a truly luminous form. Lyger asked no questions, and did not argue. He just did what she had told him to do. Then, an instant later; the sound of thunder reverberated throughout the command center, followed by a electrical sizzle as all of the electronic devices inside the command center went dead. Nothing, including the HUD or the communications system built into his mask had survived.

He quickly glanced over at the main console display and saw that the large red numbers flashed once, and then the console went black.

00:02 was the last number in the countdown before it went dark forever.

“Well, I wasn’t entirely sure that was going to work.” Radiance confessed as she took a deep breath, then took an unsteady step forward. Lyger stepped toward her and offered her his arm to steady herself.

“We bought them some time.” He said looking upward. “Now it’s up to them to take that thing out for good.”

[Dedonus]

Christopher Arthur III

Looks like they’re not going to be on the Super-Friends’ Christmas card mailing list, not that they were on it in the first place. Chris thought after his exchange with the Alchemyst and Lady Hex.

These girls obviously had issues with authority figures. While his quidditch practice comment might have been out of bounds, their actions clearly displayed their greenness. Lady Hex made a tactical error by summoning a hurricane-level storm that was equaling debilitating to hero and Hound alike. Her anti-technology spell could have become an equally devastating error if it had magically ignored friendly-fire. The two girls also seemed like they were attached at the hip. They even wore their membership in their magic community like a badge. Alchemyst even had the audacity to call out the competency of the metahuman heroes present.

It was such a pity that Lyger was entering the Hounds’ base at the same location as the two girls. Although Lyger was a fully capable superhero, he did have some issues being a team player. During the Pax Metahumana crisis, he decided to ditch the heroes who had assembled at Sherman Center to search for the device that would engulf the city with a dome that would grant everyone within it super powers. Lyger had some deep-seated trust issues that made him rely on himself more often than others. Not quite the role model that these two rebellious witches Chris would want for them.

After the two girls had mockingly called Chris ‘boss man’ and Lady Hex had given him a salute in such a way that made it clear she was not acting in a respectful manner, Chris left the two to their own devices. Hopefully Radiance can be the response adult of the group.

While Chris was on route to the helicopter pad, he saw two separate lightning flashes around his destination. On the rooftop, Pantheon was hunched down on a single knee. He seemed oblivious to the handful of Hound soldiers who had their weapons aimed at the man.

“Come on, tough guy. This is no time for sleeping on the job.”

Meanwhile, a man decked out in gear similar to the other present Hounds was boarding the advanced battle copter that the human supremacist group had been deploying.

“I guess this explains how you thugs could have taken out S.T.R.I.K.E. in one fell swoop,” Chris realized when he saw the identity of this man, whose name was Travis Murdock. “Something like that would definitely require someone who used to be on S.T.R.I.K.E.’s payroll.”

“I’m surprised you heroes took so long to connect the dots, despite our usage of S.T.R.I.K.E. technology in our attacks.”

“You did leave me comatose with that sky laser. Considering the circumstances, I think I’ve been doing pretty well.”

“Well, if you don’t mind, I have places to be,” Murdock told Chris before turning to his men. “Take care of these abominations.”

The five Hounds opened fire on the heroes who had landed on the Hound’s rooftop escape location. As they unloaded their rifles, the men slowly retreated towards the helicopter with their weapons still locked on the heroes. These five men then hopped onto their escape copter, still firing at the heroes to keep them busy while they helicopter began to rise off the ground.

“We need to ground that copter,” Chris alerted the other heroes, “but Murdock is worth more to us alive than dead. We can’t just blow it out of the sky.”

[Hellis]

Johan walked down the empty alleys of new york, a piece of chalk in his right hand. Getting back into the city had been more difficult then he had intended, the gateway to Alfheim had been torched, blown apart as part of the Hounds campaign. And with it, the leylines had been all sorts of messed up, and they had allready been all sorts of crazy since the whole soulstone dabacle.

“Lets see here” He mumbled beneath his breath as he found a corner of the alleyway that was surprisingly clean from moldy old cardboard, hobos and urine. Scratching the back of his head he tried to remember exactly how he did this. The hangover was not helping him in the least and it had been ages since he had gone to any lengths to find someone as elusive as his current quarry. The Librarian.

“This oughta be the place, ey.” He drew a large circle on the brickwall and began to fill it with all manners of runes and markings. Scribbling with a feverish expression as he forced himself to remember every detail of the complicated gateway he was making. It took the better part of a an hour before it was done. IT was nothing like the quick inscriptions and runes his kind used for quick and dirty magic. This, this was a masterpiece.

“And a little bit of blood” He bit his thumb, drawing a scarlet bead of his potent magical blood. Pressing it to the top of the arch. “Open” He commanded as the blood began to color the chalk lines and magic burst from the seals. BUt then the doorway shimmered and die, all magic fizzling out into nothing. A voice rang out, from all around him.

“Ahhh. Rune. We thought you had decided to crawl up and die. We lost lost a bet. We also won a bet.”

“Stuff your bet. I need some help.”

“Why should we help, Winterchild?”

“Becouse if you don’t, the King of Winter is going to turn the mortal realm into a giant pyre, and poof goes all the literature you love.”

“There are other worlds, other books”

“Didn’t you tell me this is the only world where Discworld was written.”

“....” There was a hum of power and the gateway opened before Johan. “Fine. Welcome to the Library between Worlds, Johan Winterchild.”

[nitemare shape]

Well, here goes nothing. Icon thought to himself as he reached escape velocity. He had no clue what would happen once he left Earth’s atmosphere and entered orbit. His lungs could explode, or perhaps he would lose the ability to propel himself forward. Or maybe, going into space wouldn’t affect him at all. The fact was, he wouldn’t know until he got there, and with the Finger of God pointed directly at Lost Haven, he didn’t have time to worry about what may happen. All he could think about was what would happen should they fail.

Once he and his mechanized ally had left the relative comfort of Earth, he found that the change in surroundings didn’t really seem to have much of an affect on him at all. Granted, there seemed to be more drag in the vacuum of space, which slowed him down, and he didn’t have quite as much control as he did while flying within Earth’s atmosphere but the effects weren’t that noticeable. What he did notice, however, was how silent space was. Even with his enhanced hearing, there was not a sound. To him, it sounded almost like being underwater, only more muted.

Another thing he noticed as he looked around was just how beautiful it was. Even as he moved in the general direction of the satellite, he glanced back toward Earth and was utterly awestruck by the beauty of the planet. It was like a bright blue jewel illuminated in the dark, a darkness speckled by the glow of countless stars, which shined like diamonds and dotted the black nothingness for as far as the eye could see. It was truly a breathtaking sight.

[i] Focus Scott, we’ve got a job to do.[/] Icon thought to himself as he forced himself to keep his mind on the task at hand. Although the scenery was spectacular, he couldn’t allow himself to lose sight of why they were there. The Hounds of Humanity had hidden a weapon in orbit above the Earth. It was a weapon that had already wiped two American cities from existence, and left a third city in ruins.

Now, that weapon was pointed directly at his home.

Chris Arthur, The Iron Knight had been able to locate the satellite, which had been dubbed by the media “The Finger of God,” and the few heroes that were potentially capable of space travel went into orbit to take it out. Although Arthur hadn’t been able to pinpoint the exact location, instead, providing Icon and the others with a general direction to look for the satellite, it didn’t take long for them to find it.

There it is. Icon thought as he first laid eyes on the Finger of God. At first glance, the satellite was no more remarkable than any other satellite that lay in orbit around the planet. However, the better he looked at it, the more he could see that it was much more than a normal satellite. The sleek gray and black surface did not stand out by any means. However, as Icon got closer he could see that something was moving on the surface of the satellite. It was one of the other heroes, he believed that she had said that her name was Voyager. She appeared to be working on the side of the weapon, prying a metal panel from the satellite. However, much to his surprise, she wasn’t the only thing that was moving on the satellite.

Points on the satellite appeared to slide and shift as it seemed that the Finger of God was almost aware of an incoming threat. Turrets began to manifest on the body of the satellite. There were two turrets on the top of the satellite’s hexagonal body, one near the bracing which connected one of the large solar panels to the body and another toward the front. There were two more on the bottom of the satellite in similar positions, and another near each of the small dishes that protruded from the satellite.

My God… He thought to himself as he saw something even more disturbing. The Finger of God’s main weapon which was located at the nose of the satellite suddenly came to life as a bright red light gave off a menacing glow which Icon know could only mean one thing…the Finger of God was powering up to fire.

Icon tried to increase his speed as he moved toward the satellite, however, with the vacuum of space slowing him down, and the added weight of the mech that he had been carrying adding even more drag, he wasn’t able to gain any velocity.

I hope he has some sort of propulsion system in that thing. Icon thought as he let go of the mech, allowing it to float free in space. We’ve got to take this thing down, now! Icon thought even as the satellite’s turrets began opening fire on the advancing heroes.

[Fallenreaper]

&

Location: Sherman Square
Time: During the HoH attack.

---

Racheli felt weighed down by the shock of bullets entering her body. Their tips shredded the skin, penetrated the muscles, and shattered the bone before she hit the ground. Water sprayed across her back when she landed. All the air in her lungs escaped her body in a swift movement. Life leaked from her wounds to taint the rainwater collecting nearby. In her mind, she knew she should’ve died. This was not something a normal human lived through and stood up to tell the tale later.

It took forever for her mentality to catch up to the fact she was still alive. Her mind was so trapped in its own little hell that she barely registered her limp figure being lifted up and hauled to the roof by Fletch.

With the sudden impact, her body twitched. The logic of being human and being a monster fought in her consciousness until finally, they collided. This was enough to snap her from her ‘death’ into the world of the living. Nanites saturating the blood began to tear the material at its very molecule level giving the impression of acid burning away the fabric. They altered the base structure into something more organic in order to patch the vital organs first.

At the last of Fletch’s words, Racheli’s figure jerked upright. Her mouth inhaled air rapidly causing her to break out into a coughing fit. Black blood trickle across her mouth before she leaned forward then vomited forth whatever remained in her stomach. Thankfully for her, it wasn’t much. Another stream of acidic blood sprayed across the roof’s concrete surface before dissolving the material and trying to slither back to its origins. In fact, all the droplets left in Nemesis’ wake began to deny nature’s own laws on their way toward her. The farthest ones died before even making it an inch beyond their starting point. Long exposure to the air appeared to be lethal or too much to handle.

For the moments she had remained by Nemesis’s side to try and stem the bleeding, Kayla was preparing for the worst that was to come. What if this was it? she thought. Evergreen will not be happy with me if I got through the blockade of the mafia war just to see her die? she shuddered at the thought of a pissed-off meta gunning for her, who had only her bow and arrow to protect herself. Her thoughts were detracted from this idea as Nemesis jerked upright.

“SHIT! SHIT!” Nemesis cursed out loud through heavy pants.

”Take it easy,” Kayla responded, keeping calm and composed as she tried to ‘scramble’.

Seeing the material on the woman’s body fizzling away and the acidic blood dissolving the rooftop had been the least of her concerns, especially as the blood was on her hands. The main thing was to make sure Nemesis was calmed down to slow down the bleed. ”Not to state the obvious, but you have been shot. It is pretty bad, but you can make it through if you stay calm.” Surprisingly, in a stark contrast from her confrontation with War-Pulse, her voice was calm, almost having a soothing tone in it to try and calm the meta.

From behind Fletch, she heard a male’s voice speak. His tone was icy and uncaring about Racheli’s condition thanks to his annoyance at her,“It’s about time you were woken from that illusion that you’re human.”
At first, the archer wanted to turn around and see who was behind the voice that came from outside of her vision. However, with her bow still resting a few yards away from her, there was not much to do but to keep tending to the wounds Nemesis had. ”Who says that she isn’t human to begin with?” Kayla responded, catching sight of the man behind her in her peripheral vision. ”After all, she looks human in my eyes. Besides, she has made morality choices. Surely that’s a trait a human has?”

“That’s…amusing,” the Virus began as he walked around Racheli, finally coming into Fletch’s view.

The speaker was a white man in his thirties with dark black hair, the strands cut short and parted at the upper left of his head. The bangs were combed to the right side giving him a very well groomed appearance. Draped across his lithe figure were a simple polo shirt and slacks giving him a fatherly guise to his image.

“Morals are subjective. Even the very people we are fighting truly believe they are benefiting humanity by eliminating those with threatening evolutionary qualities or abilities that could easily be used to selfishly hurt others. For their narrow-minded view, they believe it’s immoral not to act out for the survival of humanity,” the Virus’ tone was dark but firm in his words. A poison seeping through his lips into each syllable.

“More than just humans show this trait, even for selfish reasons, but they aren’t considered equals in your race’s eyes.”

“Looks are deceiving and morality is purely subjective. It doesn’t make you human,” the Virus retorted as he came to a stop before both women,“Even a monster can make a moral choice based on their understanding, but doesn’t make them human.”

Kayla gritted her teeth when the man responded to her comments. She had to admit that using the philosophical workaround to his comment about Nemesis’s status as a human wasn’t the best course of action. Even so, she wasn’t going to allow for that comment to stand. Especially when he dragged the Hounds into the argument. ”While I can certainly give you that much for a lot of the morality comments,” she started, her eyes furrowing towards his, ”I think the Hounds have lost all their standing in ‘fighting for humanity’ when they destroyed two towns and decimated a city, killing hundreds of thousands of lives. Innocent men, women and children that have nothing to do with their agenda. Doesn’t seem to me that they are the champions for non-meta people after such an act. Certainly the case in my non-metahuman mind.”

”To be honest, if there are more than just humans and animals out there then I wouldn’t know about them, purely from ignorance. But my point is that she’s still not a monster. Just a human who has abilities beyond my comprehension who just so happens to put up with an asshole such as yourself.”

It cast a casual look at Racheli then added,“She merely needs material to mend herself and it will be like it never happened. She still won’t listen to me over it.”

Racheli glared at the Virus, who shrugged it off. Feeling her actions were getting her nowhere, she finally glanced down at her chest then spotted the holes Fletch mentioned. A hand gently pressed to her chest before she pulled it away, the glove covered in a tar-like substance.

"I'll be fine. This is minor compared to having my arm cut off," Racheli said through gritted teeth.

As the man talked to Nemesis, Kayla was still confused by what he meant about needing materials. This had been the first interaction the archer had with the woman so she doesn’t know about any abilities. But, in a world where she had seen a lot of crazy things, the news that this was just a minor thing was surprisingly good in her ears. ”Well, if you can survive your arm being cut off and survive that explosion in Chinatown, then I’m sure that these bullet wounds would be a relative inconvenience.” Out of eyeshot, Archie, the plant-based marsupial, poked its head out from her trouser pocket.

“Yeah, give me a second,” Racheli said as she eyed the roof.

Begrudgingly, she slowly removed her glove then placed her palm on its surface. She inhaled a breath. As if given a signal, black blood oozed from her wounds and trailed down her arm. It swarmed with a purpose until it touched the ground. A subtle hissing grew louder while it began to break down materials, leaving behind a traced indentation of her hand. Unnaturally it retreated back inside the woman before the small nanites could die.

Racheli gritted in pain as her insides were already nibbling at the bullets buried in her muscles, bones and other cavities. The skin through the jacket’s holes were seen knitting themselves together. As if nothing had happened.

Kayla watched on as Nemesis began to work on getting healed up from the bullet wounds in her body. As the black blood dissolved the concrete that made up the roof, the archer looked at her hands as the gloves she wore had been covered with the same blood. Luckily for her, the blood hadn’t damaged the gloves too much that she would need to spend the time to make a new one. However, the combination of the damage from the blood and the roadrash on the right glove meant that she would need to get them repaired once all of this was over.

When it ended, Rach blinked then stared at Fletch in surprise.

“How in the world do you know about Chinatown?”

Any additional question was stopped when Rach heard, more than saw, the creature peer out of the woman’s pocket. Instinctively her head tilted to the side in order to get a better view. It took her a moment to fully accept what she was seeing as not being a hallucination.

“Before you answer the first question, where did you get that?” Her finger held up to prevent Fletch from interrupting her then dropped when she finished.

Once done, Fletch looked as the woman she was with gave her a surprised look. It was then that the ball dropped about what happened that night was brought up. However before she could answer that, the archer was silenced by as a lone finger was raised at her. Before she had to ponder on what the second question meant, she felt Archie shift out of her trouser pocket and crawl down to the floor between them. Its eyes looked at Nemesis with curiosity before, surprisingly, crawling closer to settle near her. Even the archer was visibly surprised by the lax nature that the plant marsupial had when around Nemesis.

”Both questions that are easily answered,” Fletch replied, her eyes keeping the light-hearted gaze from a moment ago. ”But to answer the second question first, Archie here was given to me by a mutual acquaintance: a plant-based meta known as Evergreen. I came into contact with him shortly before a mafia war broke out in Chinatown and gave me the creature for future uses as well as a companion.”

Kayla’s eyes shifted back to the serious tone it had before. Now it’s time to reveal why you gave that nod to her, she thought, pondering on how to word her next answer carefully. ”Going back to the first question you asked, I’m not going to sugar coat it. How I know about the explosion in Chinatown that you and War-Pulse got caught up in? It’s because I was there when it happened.”

Rach warily looked at the creature. Usually animals tolerated her presence or fled from her, unable to stand her. Like they sensed something wrong with her on a subconscious level and heeded their natural instincts. It concerned her briefly that this strange, mossy creature simply plopped down beside her. Slowly her hand edged out then gave its leafy outside a soft stroke along its head then spine.

After a few gentle pettings, Rach’s attention turned back to Fletch.

“It would figure he would break nature’s rule that animals don’t like me,” Her voice held some amusement hinted in the undertone.

Gradually she lifted onto her feet, her right hand raised out and gestured for help from Fletch. After she rose, her arm leaned down to allow the creature -if he wanted to- onto her arm. She would then return him to his proper owner before continuing the conversation.

“Better hope Midas never finds out or you’ll likely vanish or be silenced in some way. The rich asshat has an ego the size of the moon with the arrogance to match,” instinctively her hand reached to behind her ear. Her fingers gingerly touched the device under the skin that leashed her to the jerk’s whims. At least kept her from walking away from him.

When Archie felt a hand stroke its head and back, he reflexively pressed up against it. While he didn’t make any noise while it was petted, the face gave off an air that he was enjoying the experience. As Nemesis stopped petting him so that she could get back up, Fletch obliged her by reaching out for the hand and braced herself to allow the woman to get back up. Then, the archer watched as the marsupial climbed up the arm and returned to her, climbing along her arm until he reached her left shoulder, the green eyes looking at Nemesis with further curiosity.

”Yeah, I gather he would.” Kayla responded, a similar amusement in her tone.

”I think that as both you and Evergreen knew each other is the reason why Archie would be more at ease around you. He still gives me some shit, though still friendly towards me after meeting his creator for the first time.”

As she listened to her talk about Midas, Kayla was already thinking about her confrontation with War-Pulse. Surely Midas can’t be more of an asshole that that merc? she thought to herself. Then, she watched as the woman reached behind her ear. While it was possibly a normal reaction, the archer’s head tilted slightly in the direction the hand went. ”I bet he would want me silenced or to disappear completely,” she replied, her head returning to its normal, relaxed position. ”I think after sending two drones to incapacitate you and that asshat of a mercenary, resulting in destroying half of the block in Chinatown, I would want to keep that quiet and disguise it as something else.”

While she returned her gaze back to normal for Nemesis, the archer just had a nagging feeling that something was up. So, much like opening the door to her witnessing the events in Chinatown, she asked the next few question. ”One thing’s still puzzling me: You are a metahuman that has the ability to take down those mechs with seemingly little difficulty, barring whatever caused you the bullet wounds. Why couldn’t you simply walk away from Midas? Has he got something on you that means you can’t?”

“It isn’t that simple,” Rach scoffed, then lifted her hairline. She twisted for Fletch to see the misshapen and obvious unnatural lump near the back of her skull. Her mask retracted far enough to show it.

“The jerk took precautions and I really don’t want to see how far my ‘healing’ factor goes. It’s bad enough when my nanites touch it… they get shocked and disabled. So they learned to ignore it,” Racheli grumbled.

After Fletch examined it, Rach pulled back.

As Nemesis turned her head to show off what was stopping her from leaving Midas, Fletch began to focus on the lump in her head. Unlike the focus she used whenever she was looking down the scope of her bow, this one had been for her electronic and electrical engineering in focus. As she listened to what the device did to the nanites that were in her blood already, she can conclude that it was definitely electrical and would have some sort of circuit that would discharge a large current to temporarily knock them offline. Naturally, she assumed that this device would have some sort of power supply in there that would generate enough current and had a solenoid that a smaller circuit would activate which would be the sensor of something damaging it. Meaning, it was something that could be done to short the device so it could be extracted. Only one problem.

I don’t have the equipment with me to attempt something like that, she thought, her eyes narrowing at one prospect.

She ran a few possible ideas in mind that would try to shut down the device completely which might work for her disruptor arrow tip idea. As she retracted her focus, allowing for Nemesis to cover it back up, the archer raised her right hand to her chin, her left arm crossing over into the nook of her right arm. Appearing in thought, she listened as the other heroes started to leave to head off to the next place to fight the Hounds. Now, the next part is the more difficult one: saying she has a possible solution to the problem but not reveal who she was outside of the archer get-up. “I can’t think of anything to help you with that,” she began, starting to bend the truth in her words. ”However, I know someone who might be able to disable that device long enough for it to be removed or for your nanites to destroy it from the inside. Perhaps after we finish off these Hounds bastards we can arrange for you to contact her to sort out the details?”

Racheli’s eyes narrowed in suspicion for a moment. It appeared she might not fully accept the offer, before she bit her cheek side and submitted.

“Why not? I got nothing to lose,” She had to admit, then added.

“So… do you know what the fuck we’re supposed to do now?” Racheli found it hard to state she hadn’t been much help so far and had slight doubts that would change.

While Kayla didn’t show it, she sighed when Nemesis agreed with the prospect of ‘meeting’ her to try and disable the device in her neck. The hard part is now over, she thought to herself, listening as the woman asked what was to happen next. The archer finally turned around from the spot she had been at to look over the site where the Hounds fought against the heroes of Lost Haven and noticed that everyone bar a few stragglers have gone off.

”Well, judging by most of the heroes no longer being there, I think everyone’s gone off to fight the Hounds at another location.” Her gaze through the yellow lenses returned to Nemesis. ”I’m assuming you’re wanting to catch up to them and finish off these bastards?”

“You’ve not been much use yet…” the Virus pointed out, his tone condescending.

It was a subtle jab at the fact she didn’t understand or know how to fully use her abilities without going overboard. His expression made a smug smile when she glared at him again. Racheli really hated the projection, from his superior attitude to his poking at her flaws, forcing her to acknowledge her shortcomings.

“Shut up, stupid bastard,” Racheli growled.

She turned to Fletch, “Yes. It’s the best way to get underneath Midas’ skin, and I can’t pass that chance up.”

Fletch also turned to the man, her eyes glowering at him. ”At least she’s not a smug prick that no one gives a shit about,” she retorted, her voice hinting a form of jeer in it. While the archer had no idea that the man was just a projection from Nemesis herself, she figured that the man was seemingly harmless in the state he was in.

Kayla’s gaze returned to Racheli as she spoke about joining in the assault of the next Hound location. When the idea of Midas possibly getting annoyed at such a prospect, her lips curled into a mischievous smile. While the cowl hid the smile, her eyes hinted it. ”Well then,” she replied. ”I guess we shouldn’t hang around here for too long. Seeing as how I still have my motorbike around, depending on damage from the attack, we could use that to get to the next location. Will need to see if there’s anyone around to help with the directions, but I think Carver was mentioned so we’ll head there if no one is around.”

With things almost finished here and ready to be on the move, the archer walked up towards her bow, the weapon still at the place it skidded to from the initial landing. Picking up the compound bow, her eyes began scanning the surface for any damage. Sure, there’s a few scuff marks on the side, she noted, seeing the scratches on the non-arrow rest side. The bracket and the stem of the sight was also scratched as well, but it seemed that this was the extent of the damage. The limbs must have taken some of the energy out of the drop. Satisfied with the pull of the string to full draw, she placed the bow back on her hip and turned towards Nemesis. ”Shall we start our nuisance call to Midas?”

Racheli chuckled softly, “I’m following your lead.”

[DearTrickster]

Cast

The Witch-Mother’s Charge

Compass Round

_{Part 2}

Time: Evening - 8:00 PM - One Day After Satellite Attacks
Location: Salem, Massachusetts.

The spooky tourist destination was alive with its nightlife. Guided tours, bar crawls, street vendors out, the energy was infectious. Magical or lively otherwise. A muggy sea breeze rolled off the bay after a rather hot day. The pavement was still hot to the touch.

In the receding shadows of a church, briefly bright light casted shadows up the brick wall. Across the street, Nathaniel Hawthorne’s statue stood proudly, posed thoughtfully staring into the distance. When Marie and Holt crossed through the portal, Odette quickly shut the door, the portal disappearing. They looked around checking for witnesses, but something fell over the pair of them.

Odette felt a tingling in the tips of her toes, sharing the odd look with Marie confirming she felt something strange as well.

“Do you-!” A force beneath their feet sprung up, easily shooting them up into the air soaring past birds in flight. Their shrieks of surprise followed them through the air, having no control - flailing. Force and momentum sending them head over heels. They arced over the city covering significant distance, crossing the town border before making a relatively soft landing with magical assistance. They tumbled to a stop, Odette rolled to her back staring up. Covered in grass stains.

“It seems to me they have a sense of humour.”She said drily. Sitting up she brushed her sleeves free of grass clippings. Frowning at the green marks on her elbows and shoulders.

”What the hell was that?” Marie exclaimed, dusting off her robe and sheer gown, noticing a slight tear in the fabric caused by their abrupt removal. The dress wasn’t hers, but she felt poorly at having ripped Odette’s clothing, even if it wasn’t explicitly her fault.

”Holt?” Marie turned to find her familiar collecting her bags from the dust, wispy black tendrils closing around the collection of duffels, pulling them in and arranging them on the back of his saddle. A strange sight, Marie thought, for a horse to do something so unnatural; one that would certainly unsettle any unfortunate onlookers.

”I might have known,’ Holt responded dryly, trotting up to Marie and helping her steady herself. ”I should have warned you, my lady. The witches of New England are rather territorial. Their roots run deep, especially those who lay claim to Salem. I should have expected protective measures to be in place.”

Marie rubbed her hand gently across his muzzle before moving closer to the street leading into the city. Staying just out of sight, she tried moving forward only to find a force barring her entry.

”That’s one hell of a ward . . .” Marie commented, looking for the tell-tale signs of witchery or cunning craft. Sure enough, overhead Marie noticed wooden and iron talismans dangling from far reaching branches. In the dirt, obscured by brush and fallen leaves, she found pieces of magical squares and palindrome formulae, along with what she assumed were names of spirits written in a script she couldn’t make out.

Bach offered a hand to help Odette stand. She took it gratefully. While Marie found witchy wards in the trees and the ground, Odette saw mounds of earth with the tell tale sign of fae in neat little circles of mushrooms. Fairy Rings.

“Not without help from Good Neighbours.”She commented approaching one of the nearby fairy rings, a tiny adorable sign in blocky text read

MIND THE MUSHROOMS

A crude little happy face was below the words.

Bach whispered, “Sidhe. They do make for fantastic gatekeepers.”

Odette turned to Marie, “One moment, I’ll speak to Salem’s Good Neighbours. See if they can let us in.”

Odette crouched down, clearing her throat. Speaking in Common Fey, “Good folk of the Mound, if one has interest in speaking with me I can offer generous amounts of bone meal for your time.”

There was silence, Odette waited patiently.

Slowly, the soil shifted, the white capped mushrooms were sucked back into the ground - one at a time. Silence stretched then a pair of eyes gazed up from within the mound, regarding Odette with scrutiny.

“Hello, my name is The Ambassador of the Fair Folk.”

They closed.

The soil shifted more as a head pushed up from the Earth, a bark wooden hand shot out pushing on the solid ground, then another hand. Shoulders, a torso, and finally legs stepping out of the soil. Standing fully in a long wispy sheer dress a woman with fiery red curly hair idly brushed dirt from her arm. She offered Odette a hand to help stand. She took it, coming to her feet, a few inches shorter than the Sidhe. Her hands were maple wood.

“Ambassador of the Fair Folk, Bach of the Yew.” She said in common fey, Bach bowed his head in acknowledgment. Maple Sidhe a cousin to his Yew clan. “If I heard right, you attempted to gain entrance to Salem without permission.”

“That’s correct. We mean no ill intentions.”

She stared at Odette with pitch eyes - no visible white could be seen. “What of your friend?” She turned her heavy gaze onto Marie.

Marie could make out more of their conversation than she would originally have believed possible. Perhaps her proficiency in Faerie languages was returning along with her other memories? Regardless, Marie knew she was being talked about and would need to answer for herself.

Without asking for confirmation from Holt, Marie removed the pouch of tokens from her bags atop Holt’s saddle, presenting it the Maple Sidhe as a sort of badge of office, ensuring that the labyrinthian wheel on the front was visible.

”I am The White Witch of Maine,” Marie introduced herself in English, knowing the Sidhe could understand her even if she weren’t inclined to respond in the same tongue. ”sent by Genevieve Lachance of the Lachance coven on behalf of the Regent of Las Vegas, Lydia Velis, and other witching lines. I come in response to recent attacks by the Hounds of Humanity, bearing tokens of the Regent’s design to the four recognized covens of Salem.”

The fey loved politeness and tradition, especially those hailing from Europe and the Isles. Marie felt a little silly, giving in to the formality of her introduction, but she knew it would be well received.

Holt simply bowed his head, not feeling the need to announce himself.

The Sidhe said, switching to English as well. “I recognize those names, White Witch of Maine. If you are here for business allow me a moment to deliberate your access to Salem.”

She bowed her head disappearing back into the mound of Earth.

“I didn’t know you could understand common fey. ” Odette said. “She is probably bringing a message to the other witch covens.”

”I was vaguely familiar with it and other fey dialects, but I guess Gwyneth knew them fluently.” Marie replied, putting away the pouch and pulling out the small journal given to her by Genevieve. She flipped to the pages detailing the four covens of Salem. Just as in El Paso, their summaries did little to inform Marie of anything beyond their numbers and locations. Luckily, she was familiar enough with Salem’s unwritten history to make a few inferences.

Marie recalled questions she’d posed to Puck regarding Salem, as well as the witness accounts she’d read, those that weren’t submitted in trial, and those from witches unaffiliated with the trails altogether. According to her sources, the trials in Salem were politically motivated, as evidenced by their abrupt end after the accusation of the governor’s wife. However, though only two real witches were executed in Salem, Mary Eastey and Bridget Bishop, there were dozens who went unknown to the judges and townsfolk of Salem Village.

”Maryann Douglas,” Marie read aloud from the journal, ”heir to Mary Eastey, head of the Essex Wyrd in Salem; Jordan Merritt, head of the Pewter Wyrd; Alexander Gavil, head of the White Willow Wyrd; and Victoria South, head of the Gallow Wyrd.” she looked up at Odette.

”These witches are members of some of the oldest living traditions in the states,” Marie remarked with awe. ”The coven in Andover is the oldest. If I’m not mistaken, I believe it was also the first to form in the colonies.”

Marie looked to Holt for confirmation, who nodded in agreement.

“What does that tell us? They are likely to be very proud, they may be rightfully upset at our intrusion.” Odette said thinking out loud, she squinted at Salem beyond its city limits. “We will have to see the verdict when the Sidhe returns.”

The Sidhe returned after twenty minutes, Odette checked her phone -twenty-one minutes had passed since she left. The Sidhe appeared from her mound as she did before. She pointed at long barked hand at Marie.

“You have permission to enter Salem, your business reasons were verified. However. . .”

Odette raised an eyebrow at the pause then realized why.

“The Ambassador of the Fair Folk is not permitted to enter without a toll. You infamously carry chaos with you wherever you roam - especially with your portal sorcery, the witches do not feel comfortable allowing you into Salem without a price. You understand, yes?” She said turning her attention to the sorceress. “Regardless of your connection to the White Witch of Maine you are not permitted to follow her.”

Odette pursed her lips, then relaxed. “What is your price?”

The Sidhe levelled her heavy gaze upon her once again.

“It is safe of me to presume the witches left that decision to you? Name your price, I will pay.” Odette offered, boldly. “You know I am good for it.” They could haggle, but really a toll to get into a city would not be much to expect.

The Sidhe paused then gave the Ambassador a wicked grin. “I am pleased you asked, Ambassador.” Rough bark-like hands caressed Odette’s cheeks. She never broke eye contact.

“Name it.” Odette’s gaze held then shifted to Marie’s. There was always give and take in dealings with the Fey. Hoping she understood what she could learn from seeing this first hand.

Take note, Marie. She thought. Her eyes glided back to the Sidhe.

Her voice lowered, her touch became gentle the bark softened as leaves grew from her palms. “A kiss, I want to draw on a memory. Word travels fast, a unique individual such as yourself is bound to have a satisfying memory to share with me. Close your eyes, think of a lost love while we kiss and I will be able to see it.” She explained. “It will, humbly, be my secret and mine alone to keep.” She tilted Odette’s face up.

See all that I give to faerie, Marie. It has never been simple. She thought closing her eyes.

“A kiss and a memory to pay for my toll into Salem. It’s a deal.”

The Sidhe nodded solemnly, leaning in she pressed her lips to Odette. Odette thought of a lost love, a woman’s face fleeting across her mind’s eye - spots of paint on her chin, hair tied up in a messy bun. The fiery hair of the Sidhe reminded her of the dark auburn. Her stomach twisted into a knot, remembering how cold and angry she had been the last time she saw her. She held the Sidhe’s hands, fingers curling over the bark. The moment stretched then ended abruptly with a bite and flinch. The Sidhe drew blood from Odette’s lip then let her go. The Ambassador took several steps away patting her lip seeing the blood on her fingertips.

Marie watched with no shortage of fascination. She had experience with the fey, yes, but only in passing. She’d witnessed plenty of deals with Faerie, or their aftermath, but to see such a strange ritual unfold before her . . . there was something familiar in it. A kiss to seal a deal, well documented in lore and replicated in many a magical transaction, including in the exchanging of vows and initiatory rites of several witching traditions. It was both a horror and an honor.

Satisfied, the Sidhe drew out a long sigh, “Very good Ambassador. The toll has been paid, allow me to be your guide to Salem.”

---

Location: Cotting-Smith Assembly House – Salem, MA
Time: 9:00 p.m.

---

Marie and Odette, led by the invisible Maple Sidhe, climbed up the steps of the Assembly House, a well maintained federal style building, and one of many historic sites in Salem. Generally, the House served as a tourist spot for those looking to delve into the city’s non-witch related history. As a communal place for balls and feasts, the hall could be rented for entertainment purposes; though it was most often home to church groups and religious conventions. Perhaps unbeknownst to Salem’s denizens, it was also the center of the witches’ gatherings.

Inside, the pair were greeted by high walls filled with paintings of the city and its founders, along with general patriotic memorabilia and obligatory scenes form the witch trials. Its rooms were divided among several floors, all but the main assembly room, or ballroom in some instances, were littered with busts and displays set out for tourists. All of Salem’s old buildings had been turned into museums.

The assembly hall, however, was far less busy. As Marie and Odette wandered in, they found all monuments to the past covered by large banners, four in total, bearing esoteric symbols representative of the four reigning covens. Atop a slightly elevated platform sat four menacing figures, their presence imposing not because of their physical appearance, but because they were perhaps the most important men and women in Salem, and without question the most powerful.

Maryann Douglas stood from her high-backed chair, turning her gaze to her surprise guests. She was a tall woman dressed in an expensive suit, her dark hair draped over her left shoulder, the thick, raven curls contrasting with the white of her attire. Her face was gaunt, cheekbones high, lips full and tinted crimson red. Marie thought she could see the subtle signs of age on her face, lines on the forehead, wrinkles by the eyes, but none were visible. Maryann carried herself as a wise woman, someone well learned and aged, yet her outer appearance was eerily youthful.

“Welcome,” she greeted the duo, her voice low and melodic.

The Maple Sidhe gave Maryann a slight bow before disappearing, returning to her post outside the city.

“So,” Maryann continued, “our saviors have come at last, have they?”

The assembled witches laughed in unison, not mockingly, in fact their intent was unclear. Perhaps jovial?

“Maryann Douglas,” she gestured to herself, “but I’m guessing Lydia already gave you our names?”

She caught a glimpse of the pouch at Marie’s side, waving her forward with its contents.

Marie could feel the weight of Maryann’s words, as if everything that escaped her lips was dripping with witchcraft, bathed in magic. She’d never put much stock in auras, but there was an unmistakable field of power around this woman that sent shivers down her spine, like a static field that enveloped the four of them.

”Tokens,” Marie said sheepishly as she retrieved four bewitched coins from the pouch. She cleared her throat before speaking again, finding her voice in the silence.

”Tokens from Lydia Velis, pieces of a blessed vessel. They’ll provide protection from your enemies, or so I’ve been told.”

Maryann gingerly plucked the relics from Marie’s timid hand, briefly running a finger over her palm before turning and passing the tokens to her allies.

“Interesting,” she mumbled to herself.

“We do not pretend to understand what form Madame Velis’ protection will take, delivering the tokens was the favour White Witch took upon herself.” The Ambassador spoke, “We truly hope Salem has been spared from the Hounds of Humanity’s sorid violence. We have seen a fair share of blood spilled in the streets of Las Vegas.” A good first impression was The Ambassador’s goal of showing solidarity.

“Our Good Neighbours have had a large red target painted on their backs, as well. There have been major plays being made quietly.” She said, speaking comfortably from each witch to the next. “Fortunately, the metahumans of Lost Haven have struck a rather devastating blow against them as of yesterday.”Her gaze settled on Maryann, admiring her appearance.

She was completely correct in her first assumption of the Salem witches. While Marie felt an aura of power, Odette saw their pride. Old, traditional - pride. Odette found herself admiring that as well. They rightly earned to hold themselves in high regard and did well to show for it.

“How very poised and polite,” a man on the platform spoke up. He was a few heads shorter than Maryann, more pale, with a fiery red beard and messy red hair swept all to one side. He too held Maryann’s look of invigoration. “The Ambassador of the Fair Folk, I take it? I’m Alexander Gavil. The Sidhe and their kin speak of your exploits elsewhere in the states. You’ve done well for yourself, so I hear.”

“And The White Witch of Maine,” the other woman on the platform added. She was darkly complected, stouter than Maryann and a little shorter, dressed in fine silks and hair arranged in thick braids that fell elegantly over her shoulders and down her back. Her eyes were almost completely white, making her the most visually stunning of the lot.

“Or is it Chinatown more specifically? Seen you on the news couple months back. Touched by the Witch-Father’s hand, I can feel it. Victoria South,” she introduced herself, nodding to Marie, “it’s a pleasure.”

“Seems our dear Regent has the gift of foresight,” the final witch spoke up, a man visually older than his companions, with short, greying hair and more chiseled features, weather worn, yet still vibrant and youthful despite the signs of age. “How fortuitous. I’m Jordan Merritt.”

“And now that we’re all acquainted,” Maryann interrupted, turning to Odette, “Salem’s been marked by the Hounds before, but trust me dear, the enemy we face, the one these trinkets help protect against, is much older. But right now, they’re the least of our concerns.”

That caught Odette’s attention and curiosity. What were they hinting at?

Maryann turned to speak with the assembled witches, their hushed tones filling the ballroom for several minutes before silence set back in. Returning attention to Marie and Odette, Maryann motioned for the two to join her on the platform, having two seats brought up by workers they’d only now realized were stationed in the corners of the room. The seats were arranged in a circle with a large table at its center, atop which were tea cups, mugs of coffee, a pitcher of water, two bottles of wine and three of champagne, baked treats, finger foods, and fresh fruit, to name a few.

“Help yourselves to anything on the table,” Maryann graciously offered while taking her seat.

Marie took her place, seated next to Victoria, who poured a glass of wine and offered it to Marie. The lifestyle these witches led, Marie noted, was a far cry from that of the witches in El Paso, more akin to those of the London witches from her memories. It was both comforting and unnerving to Marie, perhaps because such hospitality was always preceded by tragedy, at least in her experience.

Odette supposed they were destined for appetizers for the evening, she did just that taking a share of fruit with a glass of red wine. Tucking some slices of fresh bread alongside some cheese. Waiting for the hosts to take the first bite, she sat in her chair. The little snacks and meals would not count well if she needed to complete heavy spell casting later but it was certainly better than operating on an empty stomach. Bach stood behind her, fully aware that he could not skulk around at his leisure. His eyes were focusing elsewhere.

“Thank you. It is curious that the Hounds of Humanity are not on your list of priorities.”

“What is taking precedence?” She asked, “Especially to involve the pair of us, happening to pass by at an opportune time?” Puzzling out why they weren’t simply sent on their way after giving the tokens. Pleasantries aside.

“Coincidences don’t exist in our world.”

Maryann smiled, taking a sip of wine before leaning forward on the table and clasping her hands together, resting her chin on her interlaced fingers.

“They have been a bit of an inconvenience, truth be told. Set in motion something dangerous that our gifted Regent has apparently picked up on. But before I unleash all our woes onto you girls, how much do the two of you know about Salem’s history, its true history? The reason why there are witches here in such abundance. Care to guess?”

Marie was honestly stumped. She often wondered, in the early days of her tenure at The Red Devil, why witches in the colonies mobilized at such a turbulent time in history, why they migrated from Andover to Salem instead of heading further inland to a yet uncolonized portion of the country. She had plenty of guesses, none of which she cared to voice. The most likely reason, in Marie’s mind, was the aftermath of the trials, how the public, years later, became so ensorcelled by the mystery and intrigue of Salem’s sordid history.

Odette thought while she chewed through some cheese and bread. Did someone important in their inner circle die? Was a sacred space desecrated by the Hounds? Why did witch families decidedly stay in a town after the locals put them to trial generations ago? There must be something more important tying them to the land. Truthfully, Odette knew little about Salem and its witches; she erred away from such places. Witches were an entity she rarely tangled with, her time with Marie being the first.

She sipped the wine washing down the cheese, “Personally, I know very little. What I can infer is that someone very important was killed by the Hounds or they tainted some sacred grounds? They have made a habit of salting the Earth wherever they show up.”

Maryann nodded.

“Christian May, dubbed the Official Warlock of Salem. Though not technically one of ours, he was well respected within our communities, a member of an Inner Court tradition of British Traditional Witchcraft, or Wicca, as most know it. He was our . . . public relations affiliate. He owned two shops in town, one that catered to tourists and general practitioners, and another that acted as a safe haven for many of our kind. Christian was well respected by the Land, and his untimely death, while tragic, is overshadowed by a need within our collective covens to renew a pact made centuries ago.”

Maryann could see the confusion on Odette and Marie’s faces. There were holes missing in this story, pieces of the puzzle that had yet to fall into place.

“Our ancestors, not those whose magic we covet, but those whose blood we trace in our own, arrived in this country with a simple goal in mind: to live freely, separate from the confinements and corruption of the Old World, hungry for the boundless riches of the New. The spirits who followed, the witches who carried and communed with the unseen world, were no different. Long had they been made to toil under the boot of the Catholic world, pushed to the very edges of society where they could thrive, yes, but under constant threat. So they flocked to the New World, hoping to take a place for themselves, a country all their own. They hoped to find their Eden.”

Maryann paused, calling Odette and Marie’s attention to an old map of Massachusetts just visible through the heavy banners that covered the walls. Aside from Salem, marked by a star, the only other city visibly indicated on the map was Andover, a short distance northwest of Salem. It was marked with an “x”.

“Their mission began in Andover,” Maryann continued, her smile never fading as she recounted the tale she must have told a hundred times over, almost as if she’d been alive to witness past events. “There were solitary practitioners scattered throughout the colonies, but the first coven, the first true gathering of witches in the New World began in Andover. They were a cunning bunch, powerful, and in great numbers. Witches almost outnumbered the common folk in Andover. What records we possess tell us that Mab acted as patron to these witches. The Faerie Queene took special interest in their goals. United were they under Her rule, but they were too ambitious, too open in their schemes. When the trials began, cunning craft was turned against their witchery; they were undone.

“For reasons unknown, Mab fled shortly thereafter, perhaps weakened by the town’s efforts to be rid of her influence. Witches in her service, those who survived that is, heard of the arrival of a powerful witch in Salem, hoping to secure a place for themselves further south.”

Mab was in Andover? Would the witches here have a clue of where she was last spotted? Odette’s interest was renewed tenfold, she shared a knowing look with Bach, his face remained neutral but his eyes mirrored her own. Perhaps this wouldn’t be a waste of time.

Marie was also intrigued, having remembered Odette’s brief mention of Mab and Oberon. Apparently, Gwyneth was at least partially acquainted with them during their reign in the late 15th century. Perhaps Mab would also be the key to discovering another of Gwyneth’s lost artifacts, assuming any remnant of her yet remained in New England.

“Having learned from their mistakes in Andover, Maryann continued, “Salem’s witches were more prepared. In fact, they used an inevitable trial to their favor. While there are no records beyond a few obscure sightings omitted by the court, we know that Elizabeth Parris, wife of the reverend Samuel Parris, was the impetus for the trials. She and her husband’s house slave, Tituba, having pledged herself to the Witch-Father at some point prior to her arrival in Salem, bewitched Samuel’s young daughter and niece, bidding them accuse innocents of the crime of witchcraft. With the trial under their control, Elizabeth, Tituba, and their coven could operate in secrecy just beyond the trial’s reach.”

Maryann, Jordan, Alexander, and Victoria put on a wicked smile, marvelling at Elizabeth and Tituba’s stroke of magical genius.

“Unfortunately, two of the coven’s own, Bridget Bishop and Mary Eastey, were hanged as the hex ran its course, but their sacrifice wasn't for naught. Better that two should hang before twenty burn. The trial came to a rather abrupt end the following year, much to Elizabeth and Tituba’s surprise. However, the accusation of the governor’s wife was to their advantage. Folks began to question whether or not Samuel and his friends in the court coaxed the girls into accusing important members of Puritan society, hoping that by the trial’s conclusion, they would hold an elevated station. Witchcraft was no longer a concern, which, ironically, allowed the witches to take control of the city.

“After Elizabeth’s mysterious disappearance and her husband’s departure from Salem, Tituba led the coven as a free woman. In an effort to consolidate power and ensure her hold over the city, she entered into a pact with the Land itself, a feat no foreign witch had yet achieved. Tituba asked for protection from the world of man, that Salem would never again fall to petty squabbles, that she and her followers would hold dominion, that they would possess great powers in exchange for their loyalty and devotion. In exchange, the Land wished only for the power, after a period of time, be returned, a cyclical ebb and flow of magic.

“Tituba agreed, separating the town’s witches into four separate covens, acting as the ambassador to each. She and four prominent members of each coven performed the ritual that would grant them the Land’s blessing. It offered protection from the elements, from foreign invaders, both mundane and magical, and taught them its secrets. As the witches grew stronger, however, the Land grew weak. At the height of the witches’ powers, they had to return it so the Land could renew itself. Years later, we uphold this tradition, and in doing so, have been granted great power and position within Salem. I, for example, have a seat on the city council and act as chairwoman to the city’s preservation society. We have the mayor in our pocket and the governor’s ear, all to ensure that our needs are met.”

Maryann sighed deeply, leaning back, eyes pointed down, burdened.

“We have a responsibility to Salem. The Land conjures lost spirits far more efficiently than we, it stirs old magic that keeps the city afloat. Tituba gave us our throne, provided us the means to have a place all our own in this country. Our pact allows both us and Salem to thrive. And in a moment of weakness, we allowed ourselves to become complacent.”

“In conclusion, Christian May was the key to renewing the pact. Like phases of the moon, your pact with the land cycles through peaks and wanes of power.” She fluttered her hand up and down, “The problem lies in May having no heir or successor to his position to renew the pact or speak on the behalf of the Earth for you?”

She gestured to Marie, “Where does the White Witch and myself fit into this tidy narrative? You wouldn’t go to these lengths to tell your histories to strangers.” Odette paused on that thought, adding - not unkindly, “As interesting as they are, I like a good story as much as the next. We have our own business to carry on with, including delivering the blessed vessels.”

As far as Odette was concerned her interest was firmly on Andover now. Knowing old covens, they obviously had a good deal to offer in return for helping with the pact. Obviously they needed outside help. Business was business, Odette never worked for free. She didn’t expect the witches to assume they would.

“Of course if you can make it worth our time to potentially be of help here. We’re open minded. Something as important as renewing the pact must be handled carefully.”

Maryann chuckled, leaning in, switching her gaze between Odette and Marie.

“Yes, there is a reason why we’ve kept you. Not just any witch can act as the fifth in the renewal of our pact. Christian was truly a pillar of our community. I doubt even he knew the weight his word carried. In being named Salem’s official Warlock, he gained the Land’s respect, earned its favor. May was our mouthpiece, our conduit and negotiator. If we thought any of our coven mates capable, we wouldn’t have asked you to stay.”

Maryann stared square at Marie.

“But you aren’t an ordinary witch, my dear. I felt it when you walked in the room, we all did.”

“Old magic,” Victoria interjected, taking Marie’s hand in hers, “old magic runs through your veins, a kind we rarely see naturally in the states. If you wanted, you could bend the Land’s ear. You share a common past, whether you know it or not. The cunning-flame burns brightly in you.”

“And we would gladly reward you for your time,” Maryann added.

Marie turned to Holt, who, for the entirety of the conversation had been pacing around the room as a black hare, stopping before each banner as if to pay respect or conjure some memory. Now, he looked to Marie, silent and stoic as ever. She could tell he was intrigued by the offer, but as always, his stance advised caution.

She then looked to Odette, who wore a heavier look of intrigue despite herself. Perhaps this was the push they needed to find Gwyneth’s next artifact.

”If I do this,” Marie spoke up, her tone unsteady. ”Won’t I be connected to the Land like the rest of you? Will I need to come back every few years?”

Maryann stood up and walked to Marie’s side, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“No, my dear,” she assured Marie, “you see, the fifth, our conduit, acts as a focal point for our collective power, the one who restores it to the Land. Not only this, they are our ambassador, our mediator, the one who defines the terms of our agreement. Tituba gave this role to herself, and May always had Salem’s best interests at heart. It is a vital position, yes, but it is more symbolic than our roles in the pact. However, if you become involved, the Land will surely reward you. So long as we receive the same benefits we do now, I care not what favor you would ask from us or the Land in return.”

Marie stood up, tapping Odette’s shoulder.

”Can we discuss this a moment?” she addressed Maryann but looked at Odette.

Maryann nodded.

“Of course, come to whatever consensus you must,” she replied, taking her seat and chatting idly with her allies. They all seemed confident that Marie and Odette would agree.

Marie called Odette to a corner of the ballroom, bidding Holt join.

”What do we think?” Marie questioned in a low voice, obviously excited by the prospect of aiding Salem’s finest, but unsure of the most fitting reward.

“I think we stand to gain something significant. Power from the land, knowledge from the witches could reveal Gwyneth’s next item for us. That alone, however seems a small ask.” Thoughts of reward churned in Odette’s mind. Would it be appropriate to gain more clues on Mab’s whereabouts? It would certainly reveal her interest of the former Faerie Queen but not what Odette meant to do with it.

“I want to know more of Queen Mab, no one has seen nor heard of her in centuries. It’s interesting that she personally helped the witches in Andover. I believe information will be our reward.”

“Are you up to the task? This sounds like it will be a rather draining ritual, White Witch.” She spoke quietly as well, seeing faerie out the corner of her eye. They paid attention to the pair.

Marie wasn’t entirely surprised by Odette’s interest in Mab. As Ambassador of the Fair Folk, knowing about current and former Faerie nobility seemed like part of the job, and establishing a connection with a long lost queen would certainly be a powerful display of influence, commanding great respect from any unaffiliated factions of fey. In truth, Marie was curious herself. If she had truly known the former queen, perhaps she could shed light on Gwyneth’s life.

”I’ve pushed myself over the past several days,” Marie responded with determination. ”I can handle whatever’s in store.”

Holt leapt atop Marie’s shoulder, shifting into raven. He wasn’t sure how to take Marie’s new brazen attitude. She was so shy when they first met, so reserved. Powerful as she was, Marie wasn’t one to take up opportunities for fear of being noticed. Now, however, she couldn’t stop, jumping headfirst into dangerous ventures seemingly for the fun of it. She was motivated by her need to remember, sure, but there was a strange joy that filled her eyes, perhaps the joy of rebellious revelry that all witches came to know. Whatever the case, Holt couldn’t help but feel proud, if such a thing were possible.

Odette didn’t quite believe it herself, another good reason why Marie should be working with Odette. The sorceress had power to spare. Unconvinced she replied, “Very well. We need some context before we can tap into the Land’s power through the ritual. We ask Maryann for some details right now as payment in advance. Perhaps Mab is our connection to the next item, Gwyneth’s affiliation with the former Queen and Fey cannot go unexamined. Each item does not simply have passing significance, they all have some deeper meaning to your past life.”

“Maryann is a descendant of Mary, is it by blood or by tradition? If it’s by blood she can tap into her ancestor’s memory by scrying.”The witches here having connection to Andover and their time spent with Queen Mab directly.” She casted a critical eye over the witches. “I safely assume they’re capable of a simple spell like that.”

She continued, “Maryann could provide us with some details of what her ancestor remembers of Queen Mab. Perhaps the Land can illuminate further…” She said trailing off, unsure of what exactly to expect from the ‘Land’ was it the collective spirit of the souls resting here or a branch of world?

“Qui vivra verra.” She shrugged. “We will have to see.”

”I am in total agreement,” Marie replied, happy that the two were able to come to a consensus so quickly. It was nice, Marie thought, being on the same page as someone. With her former group, she was always worried, worried that her goals and ideals would clash with the people she was meant to care for. With the heroes, Marie had to be present, yet scarce so as not to get wrapped up into other feats of heroism. With Odette, Marie knew that, even though their motives weren’t always one and the same, they were working toward a common, mutually beneficial goal; and Odette didn’t care how they arrived.

She and Odette walked back up to the table in the center of the room to find Maryann and the others completely silent, all eyes firmly on Marie, awaiting her response.

“Well then,” Maryann spoke softly, “what have you girls decided?”

Marie turned to Odette before turning back to Maryann, a smile forming on her face.

”I’ll do it. I help you with the ritual. But we’ll need something from you first.”

Maryann grinned wickedly, sporting a fierce smile that could rival Puck’s own.

“Name it and it’s yours.”

[Indy Cooper]

_{Banner credit NMS. Thanks, Cap'n!}

The HoH helipad attack site

---

Having dropped off the officer in the mech suit, Leanna banked around in the rain, leaving a curving trail behind her that continued to fizzle. She occasionally regretted that flying with her powers made stealth basically impossible, but now wasn't the time for it anyway. In the growing dimness, she made out the lights of the chopper as it was beginning to leave the pad. Chris and the pompous bastard she had met earlier were being fired upon, but she knew neither of them were in real danger. Over her patched-in earpiece she heard the warning to not destroy the thing. She grinned.

”Alright Captain. I'll ground the thing, you worry about making sure they don't pop cyanide pills or something.”

Streaking in as fast as she was able, she swooped up, and then straight down at the rotor in the middle of the blades that lifted the thing. Heedless of her own safety, she rammed the mechanism with her shoulder and all of her considerable strength, rocking the whole thing in mid air and bouncing it none too gently off the edge of the helipad. The rotor belched smoke and sparks as she laid both hand on it.

That turned out to be somewhat of a mistake. As the whole vehicle began tipping on ruined skids over the edge of the pad, her grip caused her to be spun at the same rate as the blades, dizzying her almost instantly. Unwilling to let go of her prize and see it tumble into the gloom below, her wings fanned out, the tips flashing into the path of the rotor blades, which cleanly severed them. She hoped Chris could deal with those before they scythed into a building.

Still spinning, she hauled herself against the centripetal force that was attempting to launch her into the air, swung her feet down, and in one motion planted her boots through the roof of fuselage and ripped the rotor completely off of the machine in a spray of hydraulic fluid, oil, and shrapnel. The impact of her feet drove the whole vehicle up and onto the pad, keeping it from crashing into the street, but left her stuck into the machinery. Blasting wouldn't work, as she could likely blow her own feet off, so she bent down and began prying twisted metal out from around her ankles, expecting the others would handle the rest.

[Hound55]

Isaac stood with his arms folded, listened to S.T.R.I.K.E’s tin soldier and said nothing. He’d been at the centre of three of these things now and Isaac was overall unimpressed.

A technological genius, but far too keen on the sound of his own voice. And from what he could tell from the Pax Metahumana incident he was left particularly underwhelmed by his tactical acumen specifically. Now he’d isolated and irritated the two magical wildcards amongst the group and the third mystical powerhouse seemed less than entirely stable.

In Pax Metahumana he’d chalked it up to overconfidence and incompetence, but now given what he knew about the Hounds of Humanity and how they’d formed as a splinter-group out of S.T.R.I.K.E, his suspicions were growing more fertile every minute. This was a man who would have set to have Icon engage a man who absorbed and could duplicate the powers of any metahuman. Now he seems to have distanced the only three magical beings present.

Isaac knew he could be ingratiating himself at times, but for someone who was supposedly a genius… could all of this be by design, for some greater, possibly malevolent scheme? And here, in the belly of the beast. Whose side was he on?

Isaac thought all of this, and behind steeled eyes he boiled.

But he said nothing. When the man in the metal suit deemed it necessary to split them all up, Isaac chose the underwater entrance by the docks by himself. He felt confident that, short of the speedster, he could make quick work of those inside and get the lay of the land early.

He also wasn’t entirely certain who he could trust here if it was indeed a trap, with Icon busy beyond the stratosphere, and felt safer in his solitude.

Isaac strode with some confidence to the pier, a small submarine surfaced and began to motor away presumably loaded with fleeing Hounds. Isaac reached into a specific pocket of his patch, pulled a grenade and lobbed it onto the bridge. He reached into the other side and pulled out a red smoke flare, activating it and throwing it at the submarine just as the C4 in the modified grenade went off and decimated the top of the submarine. This would force them to the surface, possibly even make them evacuate. Either way, they’d be easy pickings for the Coast Guard now.

Isaac took three deep breats as he approached the edge, and without a moment’s hesitation, dove in deep. Just a few metres ahead was his tagret. The air lock where the submarine was attached. This egress point. With a few strong frog-kicks he reached the lock and slapped hard at the button to seal and drain the water. As the water level dwindled he grabbed another grenade and threw it behind him, hitting a button to open the interior door. He heard a few splashes as the grenade found it’s target in the exterior wall with a small clank. Then the hair stood up on the back of his neck as he heard a few more splashes. Heavier splashes. More weight than just a small grenade displacing water. He turned around to see an old man in a cloak bending over to pick up the explosive.

“Wait,

NO!

”

Isaac turned around and with three steps he grabbed the stranger and then dragged him another few before lunging through the interior door with him, just as the explosion blasted at their heels. Shaking off the effects, the Vigilante got to his feet and slammed the button to seal the interior door as the water level rapidly rose.

“Well that’s part one taken care of…” he muttered to himself, turning around to see what kind of tagalong he’d just found himself saddled with.

It was no-one that he recognized. Just an old man in a cloak, with a length scarf and a staff which…

The one who called herself the Alchemyst also had a similar staff. Isaac quickly noted. It was a pretty fair bet that this man was another magician or mage or whatever term of the day applied.

The fact that the man was completely dry except for two distinct wet handprints where Isaac had grabbed the man only supported his theory. Water vapour seemed to gather and swirl in the air around his staff. The old man looked down at his own cloak towards the two wet patches that weren’t coming out with a furrowed brow.

“Yeah… sorry about that. Saving old men from themselves can be messy work.”

The Vigilante pulled out his sticks.

“I think we’re going to have company sooner rather than later, now.” He threw a flash bang grenade down the corridor just as armed men rounded a corner. “Since my entrance seems to have been a little less subtle than I’d originally intended.”

The men shouted as the phosphorous blast blinded them. The Vigilante was on them in an instant, throwing combinations and quickly flooring the first wave of Hounds. Before gesturing for the old man to continue.

“Just how I wanted to spend my day. Protecting a decrepit monkey skeleton in a cloak from a bunch of bigoted pricks with guns.”

In an instant one of the men who had been playing possum got to his feet and held a combat knife to the cloaked man's throat.

"Stay back! I'm getting out of here!"

The Vigilante scowled, then looked perplexed as the spring steel seemed to erode away from the man. Carbon and manganese atoms swirling like dust motes around the man's staff.

Then his expression turned to horror. He hadn't stopped at the blade or even the knife's grip. The man howled in pain as his hand was broken down on a molecular level, followed by the arm...

"Again?! I've found myself with another person who can do this... and this one's not a child." Isaac thought to himself.

Seconds later all that remained of the man's existence was a pair of boots.

"Great... Here I was thinking I'm protecting a decrepit monkey skeleton in a cloak from a bunch of bigoted pricks with guns. Now I'm protecting a bunch of bigoted pricks with guns from a decrepit monkey skeleton...”

[Afro Samurai]

^{But First, the Smallest of Steps}

Hounds Base, Helipad

---

Bullets bouncing off him awoke him from his trance; his iris returned to their arrayed colors. Around went his attention with gained rapidity, it took him a moment to adjust to the changed scene. There was Iron Knight beside him suddenly and he was sure he felt some cold fly past his head some moments earlier, the black and purple-pink streak disappeared long before he could register--or rather, bothered--to register its presence. Up to a vertical position he got. Whatever helicopter the group of men were supposed to be retreating to had disappeared over his head.

Eyes beheld the remnants of the Hounds as the backpedaled into their new nothingness which was formerly an escape plan. Pantheon was already unnerved and annoyed. What he normally saw as trifle had become hindrance; this was all taking too long. Toward them he marched; the lightning which coursed down his arm ceased. He paused in stead. Her image burned in the back of his and Hassan’s conscious.

It is time to leave. Let them deal with this.
No way we’re leaving! We’re here to help!
And all we have done is kill.

Break the child’s resolve.

Pantheon put the image in their mind of the mangled Hounds, the ordeal with the bat; the man Pantheon had tossed out of the tower at LHU, the dead mecha pilot--who Hassan was sure he had let live.

No, no. YOU did that! Not me! I--”

Pantheon was not so impregnable.

Find the separation, find himself. Fear; Hassan could smell it. A grip was easier now. Perhaps this woman was his key to being done with Pantheon, with this monster.

And? Th--”

Focus, Hassan! Fight! Pantheon’s feet grew heavy, the rainbow iris grew hazel--the color of Hassan’s eyes. The world he saw as dissonance and shades of emerald, blue, red, yellow was now one congruous color. Hassan felt something akin to himself--his own thoughts, his own feelings, just as he did while in that… place. Woah.

He tried to move, he could manage but a few steps. His gait resembled more an infant gazelle than a grown man. Although… his circumstances were special.

“What the? Hooo-leeee shit! Is this real? I--I’m doing it!” as the Hounds continued to fire at him, he turned stiffly to the Iron Knight,
“Mr. Tinfoil, I’m doing it! It’s me! It’s really me!” excitement high and fresh thoughts blooming a mile a minute, he suddenly bulleted toward the Hounds in front of them and scooped two into the nooks of his elbows and flew them upward.

“Wait, wait! This isn’t what I wanted to do! Oh, hell… er!” Hassan glanced at both men individually but offered them the same question; looks of horror and amazement plain and recognizable on their face if not covered by their masks and their cries for help,

“Either one of you fellas know how to uh… control a uh… magic man… thing?” they were still screaming. Not helping at all! Hassan would have to take a crack at this thing himself; maybe do it like he saw in the movies!

“Uh, systems off! Uh, power down! ...Gah, big ugly stupid fucking lightning bo--WAAAAH!” the boy wanted control? He would get it. Pantheon brought the trio hurling down toward the helipad at highspeed!

“No, you big dumb idiot! Cease and desist! Abort!” Hassan clutched the two Hounds into his bosom tighter and braced for impact atop the helipad’s surface. It was about to be a boisterous re-entry and a dreadful start to this… whatever had just started--but it had started.

[Aufklarung]

In

Space Oddity

Episode 02

---

THIS EPISODE'S THEME
"Under Pressure" by Queen & David Bowie

---

Interplanetary wars were not always grim and bloody affairs. Sometimes, they were rather quaint and even downright fun. More than a few space-faring civilizations had taken the logical step that, if they had been able to make both unmanned drones and spaceships, then surely they would be able to make unmanned space drones to fight their space wars. And thus, for some of the sapient species in the galaxy, war had transformed into something far less gruesome and tragic, and more akin to a clean, safe spectacle with mostly abstract political consequences.

The Third Vektrunixt War of Socio-Communal Restoration had so far been a fine example of this. It was a war fought between the inhabitants of the dozen moons that orbited this beautiful gas giant in the middle of the planetarily crowded Karrte Noxugru star system, in the center of the Sagittarius arm of the Milky Way. The peoples of the moons had split themselves into four factions, with the inciting one aiming to finally restore the semi-legendary Socio-Commune of Vektrunixt, which had once united the moons under one rather nice banner and some good ideas. This was, as the war's most widely accepted name indicated, their third attempt. The other three factions ran the gamut from pearl-clutching xenophobic tyrants who really didn't like the idea of interlunar miscegenation becoming a thing again to socio-communards who mildly disagreed with a couple policy positions of the first faction.

The Cosmomancers had not initially planned to involve themselves in this war, even though they largely sympathized with the socio-communards in particular and freedom fighting in general. Historically speaking, third times were never the charm and they had not been too keen on picking a side in a war in which, at first, nobody appared to be suffering more than minor inconveniences.

Unfortunately, after the fourth week of fighting, things had taken an unexpected turn for the worse, courtesy of a series of attacks targeted at population centers. Casualties had not been enormous, but they had left many refugees, destabilized three moons, and things had started to escalate. And that had led to the Cosmomancers semi-reluctantly intervening.

Now, three weeks after the arrival of the Cosmomancers, the bulk of the fighting was concentrated in Memim, the fourth moon, on the rather picturesque steppes near its southern pole. Thousands of robots and umanned drones clashed in messy explosions of color, made almost oneiric when mingled with the distortions to reality itself and energy bursts from the dozens of cosmomancers fighting alongside them. Beings of all manner of species, dressed in mostly similar gaudy armors, jumped and floated and ran around the field, smashing and slicing and blasting and disintegrating everything in their path. A few of them now and then fell back to help with getting the refugees to safety, but all in all they were all having fun, even if the numbers were not in their favor and it was beginning to look like the anti-socio-communards would win the day.

"Well, this sucks!" Shouted Takol, the annoyance remarkably obvious in the expression on his red face. His black eyes had an annoyed spark in them too, and his white tentacles did not appear to be in a good mood either. More importantly, however, his powers were definitely not expressing any sort of relaxation, given how all the space surrounding him within a couple dozen feet had become heavily warped.

He was not entirely wrong. It did suck somewhat, and the Ophiuchian obviously shared the former Andromedan's sentiment, as the other cosmomancer made a frigate-sized drone shrink until it disappeared. The Ophiuchian was very good at reducing the space between particles until objects were basically not even real anymore. Specially when she was angry.

"Where is Gabriel?" She shouted back. Luckily, she was not too distracted to turn a nearby pebble into a gigantic boulder, which shielded another cosmomancer from a frankly unwarranted missile strike.

"I did not want to ask him to come!" Said Takol, rushing past the Ophiuchian and jumping several feet in the air to pounce on another large drone. He had always enjoyed fighting the big ones. "He's never fought in a war before! I don't want him to get hurt!"

He was barely audible over the sound of the drone itself as he stood on top of it and tore the space between its particles wide open, cutting the very expensive weapon in half.

"Look, I know he's still just a kid, but he's clearly passionate about helping people and making a difference like we do and we could use a bit of that right now!" Said the Ophiuchian over the noise of the boulder she had grown being hurled at a squad of robots by another, gravity-manipulating cosmomancer. Purple smoke and green sparks filled the air as they were all smashed to bits.

Takol landed back on the ground, rump-first, with an audible thud. He had lost some practice in his landings since giving up the Andromedan's title and armor. It took him a couple seconds to catch his breath, and he would have killed for one of those barely legal energy drinks that they sold on the fifth moon.

"Alright, I know we're both a bit rusty but..."

A mechanical roaring in the sky interrupted him, and he looked upwards with much concern.

"Actually, nevermind."

It was a dreadnought. An unmanned dreadnought. And he had just finished expending his anchor with the previous drone. And the dreadnought was pointing its very, very heavy weaponry in the cosmomancers' general direction. And the weapons were charging up very, very, very fast.

And then there was a new sound, higher above. A very unique sound. It was hard to describe it, except perhaps by making a dozen strained analogies and desperately trying to connect them with hyphens and unusual verbs, so why even bother?

It was the sound of a spatial rift. A small but powerful rift, the sort that one should definitely not make without a beacon. And Takol knew at once that a beacon had not been used.

"Kid can sing the entire soundtrack of Rocky Horror by heart," he whispered to himself, simultaneously astonished and depressed. "But he can't remember to use his beacons."

A young human body in the black and violet armor of the Andromedan came through the rift. Or rather, it fell through it. It fell very fast. It fell very fast towards the dreadnought, and then it passed right through the dreadnought and landed on its feel on the ground, just close enough that Takol could see its youthful features and dorky smile. The dreadnought above found itself suddenly suffering from a sudden, very unexpected hole that ran vertically through its supposedly impregnable fuselage, and a rainbow of sparks and fire came from each end of the hole as it began to fall.

"Hey, everyone!" Shouted Gabriel, waving enthusiastically at the surrounding cosmomancers as the show of light behind him hit its deafening crescendo, then died down. Some ghastly human music was coming from one of the armor's hidden pockets, mostly drowned out by the ambience. "I came as soon as I heard. Ready to help."

"Well... At least his heart is in the right place," said Takol, surrendering to the temptation to smile as the massive unmanned spaceship crashed behind his protégé in an absurd show of light, smoke and smouldering material. He stood up, walked to his protégé and, pressed to choose between smacking him on the back of the head and hugging him, opted to hug the adorable human.

"We could use a hand," said the Ophiuchian. "Mind doing a bit more of... that while we finish evacuating the people? Or you could do the evacuation yourself while we...?"

Gabriel did not hesitate. "I'm gonna help evacuate."

"Your choice," said the Ophiuchian, before she walked away and towards a new wave of attackers that was approaching their position. It was a very big wave. Supported by another dreadnought. A very angry-looking dreadnought, assuming dreadnoughts could look angry. "But before you do that..."

"The big one?" Asked Gabriel, eyebrow raised and finger pointed at the colossal weapon of mass destruction in the sky.

"The big one," said the Ophiuchian with a nod, her mandibles clicking in what might have been an attempt at making an expression akin to pursed lips. The Ophiuchian's species did not have lips.

"...okay."

The human cosmomancer reached into the hidden pocket the music was coming from and pulled out a rather cheap smartphone with a cracked screen. Without taking his eyes off the incoming threat for too long, he put the album that had been playing from it on repeat, stuffed it back in the pocket, and stepped forward.

Humming happily along with Queen and David Bowie, he raised his hand as he began to trot towards the enemy, the Ophiuchian following. From a chain wrapped around his hand hanged his anchor, a young and powerful one, smeared with barbecue sauce. He had accidentally dropped it while having lunch back on Earth and had forgotten to clean it up.

The trot became a sprint and space began to shift around him. The drones and robots opened fire, but their bullets, lasers and missiles were diverted by the spatial distortions. He did not feel like running for a whole mile, though, so Gabriel decided to take a shortcut, and contracted the space between their attackers and them. Once they were upon the attackers, he let go of everything else and focused on the dreadnought. A rift, he just needed a small rift. And a small rift he got, and right where his hand was pointing at in front of him. He and the Ophiuchian jumped through the rift and, after a brief instant in the space between spaces, they were inside the dreadnought.

Alarms blared around them, which made no sense since there were no organic beings to hear it, but Gabriel was not going to file a complaint when he was supposed to be helping his friends and the people of Memim. They quickly made their way through the dreadnought's tight, definitely not organic-friendly corridors, the Ophiuchian and him making short work of the guard drones that came to oppose them. By the time they reached the dreadnought's core, they were coated in the drones' colorful fuel, which made Gabriel feel like he was back in the fun raves of his freshman days, even if the music was not entirely fitting.

The Ophiuchian hacked the core instead of just destroying it, which surprised Gabriel but definitely made him feel like their stunt was a bit less heartless towards this huge machine than he had initially feared. They made the dreadnought crash-land right on top of two of the columns of robots, which was a bit brutal, even if the robots did not have any actual intelligence, and came out from the dreadnought powers ablazing.

"Thanks, kid!" Shouted the Ophiuchian as she took on the robots by the dozens. "Now go help the people!"

Gabriel quickly opened himself a new rift while dodging a few shots from their foes.

"Thanks for letting me choose!" He shouted back as he formed a spatial shield just in time to deflect a very heavy laser. "I don't think I was born to be a soldier!"

"Well, we gotta do what our heart tells us to do!" Said the Ophiuchian just as she stole one of the robots' energy rifles and turned it on its owner. "And you've got a good heart! It'd be a waste having you just smash things or make them explode like I do!"

"Thanks! And good luck!" Said Gabriel, and jumped into the rift. A handful of robots tried to follow him, and their controllers immediately regretted it as the rift closed around them.

On the other side he found the people who needed his help. Hundreds of them, trapped right in the middle of the battlefield, huddled together among the ruins of what used to be their homes. They were visibly scared when they saw him, and he tried to reassure them with a warm smile as he created a spatial shield around them and lent one of them a hand to stand up.

"Hi," he said with his customary warmth, hand raised in greeting, a very nice gesture which was slightly undercut by a loud blast which sounded a bit too close for comfort. Many of the people around him yelped in fear, but he was unwavering.

"Is anyone hurt?"

Fortunately, he got many shaking heads in response. He sighed with relief.

"Okay. It shouldn't be long now, but I imagine none of you feels like waiting a minute more."

A massive bang. Something big and filled with volatile fuel had definitely blown up close by.

"So... I'm here to escort you all to safety, if that's fine with you."

There was a palpable bewilderment in their reactions, yet in an instant they were all in agreement. There were too many of them to open up a rift into a safer place, so they were going to have to walk together while Gabriel tried to protect them. He was fine with that.

"If anyone needs to be carried, I'll be happy to lend you a hand, alright? Don't be afraid to ask. We're all getting through this if we work together," he told the column of refugees that followed him, facing them as he walked backwards, keeping an eye at all times on the enemy fire directed at them. His spatial shield was holding up despite its size and the intensity of the attacks. So far, so good.

The march was not too long, and Gabriel was energetic and eager enough that he managed to keep them all safe and sound against the onslaught. Whenever a drone got too close, he was able to focus just enough, without losing sight of the shield, to apply a bit of spatial manipulation and split it in half by expanding the space between its right down the middle particles. An elderly woman did end up needing to be carried, and once again he managed, the piggybacking barely affecting him as he lured one large drone into a rift that probably led to the moon's north pole. And all the while, Queen and David Bowie kept playing from the hidden pocket in his armor.

The battle was won without a single person losing their lives. As they arrived at the Cosmomancers' safehaven, he could hear the last of the large enemy drones fall in the distance, and one of the other cosmomancers immediately confirmed it: they had, in fact, won. And not just the battle. The war too. The anti-socio-communards, having finally ran out of drones and robots, had sued for peace as soon as that drone had crashed into the steppe.

The third time had finally been the charm, and it had all been thanks to them.

---

The hours after the Hounds' attack on Berkeley were almost exactly like the moments that had followed that battle on Memim, close to the end of Gabriel's first year as the Andromedan. Almost but not quite because, in Memim, he had had his fellow cosmomancers with him, giving him guidance.

The students who had not been taken to the hospital just sat around campus, openly happy that the battle had been won but clearly struggling to move past the terrible fact that a battle had occurred in the first place. Gabriel had not bothered to take his costume off as he sat with the group he felt most comfortable with, in a corner of a cozy coffee shop just outside of the campus. Jake was beside him, cradling a cup of hot cocoa, cute eyes lost in the distance. Gabriel kept his arm around him, now and then giving his temples a little kiss. He was having an orange and strawberry smoothie, because he felt he needed and deserved it, and a chocolate muffin, because his stomach was weird and, instead of feeling sick when he was stressed or nervous, he felt ravenous.

In front of them, another student was holding up a tablet, showing him footage of the Hounds' attacks on other American cities. He was more distraught than angry, more concerned with the suffering of the victims than with the villainy of the culprits. Compared to those tragedies, Berkeley almost seemed like a minor skirmish, not worth his concern.

But Berkeley was his home. Or at least his home away from home. The people here mattered to him personally. They were an active part of his life. And the Hounds had targeted them. Had they taken advantage of his long abscense? Did they even know he existed?

He bit on his muffin with perhaps a bit too much purpose, and needed a long sip of his smoothie to wash it down.

"That's enough, Kat," said Jake to the student with the tablet.

"It's fine," said Gabriel. "I needed to see that."

"You're just torturing yourself," said Jake. "It's already happened, so watching it over and over isn't going to change anything. And other heroes have already taken care of things. They're saying on Twitter that Icon and others are on their way to disable the Hounds' satellite."

This time, it was Jake who gave him a kiss.

"And you were here when we needed you most."

That made Gabriel smile, if with a bit of effort.

"So... what are you going to do next?"

"Help," said Gabriel simply.

Jake chuckled. "Well, that's not vague at all."

"I'm basically making it up as I go along, being a late-comer and all," Gabriel said sheepishly. "Where are these Hounds concentrating their attacks?"

"Lost Haven, of course."

"I feel terrible for the people of that city," said Kat. "They never seem to catch a break. I know some people blame it on the disproportionately large population of meta-humans there, but at this point it's just plain bad luck."

"I've... never been to Lost Haven," said Gabriel.

"I have," said Jake. "It's not a terrible city. The people are nice, at least. A bit crowded, though, specially if you want to get inside their world of meta-humans."

"I'm already part of a very big team," said Gabriel, a bit of laughter in his voice. "Two if we count the swimming team."

"You're still coming to the next Queer Student Union meeting though, right?" Asked Jake, half-joking from the sound of it and the disarmingly cute expression on his face.

Gabriel laughed despite himself. "With or without the armor?"

---

The Hounds had never had much of a foothold in California. Their attempted pogrom in Berkeley had been one of a small handful of simultaneous attacks across the state, and all of them had been failures. The meta-human killers did not lack for ruthlessness or resources, but they had evidently underestimated the solidarity of Californians towards their meta-human peers, as well as the willingness of Californians to use firearms in defense of their neighbors. And so the Hounds had found themselves outnumbered and quickly overwhelmed in every city they attacked.

The point was that not many groups of Hounds had been left rampaging through the state, or at least none that Gabriel could find as he gave much of the state a quick, rift-aided glance. If they had any sort of organization still in place in the region, it was deeply underground and not too eager to try genociding meta-humans again.

So the Andromedan mostly dedicated his time to smaller problems for a bit, problems which involved neither the Hounds or anything from outside of the Earth's atmosphere. He helped firefighters save some people and their adorable pets from a burning building in San Francisco, then thwarted a ridiculously elaborate assassination plot on the mayor of Los Angeles, and then he assisted in finding and recovering several animals stolen from the San Diego Zoo. It took his mind off things, grounded him, and left him with plenty of time to go back to Berkeley and hang out with his friends as they all tried to deal with all that had happened.

In short, after realizing that trouble was no longer coming to him, or at least to his general vicinity, Gabriel refrained from looking for trouble elsewhere. As Jake had said, meta-humans were doing some good work against the Hounds. And besides, there was what Takol had said. He had to stay on Earth if possible and, as the principled young man that he was, he was committed to abiding by Takol's advice.

Then, just as he thought his hectic day was coming to a calm, mellow end, he got a tip. No, the Andromedan was not exactly the detective sort, but sometimes he got tips and he felt the obligation to pursue them, even if he was not much of a deductive person. Although the Earth was still a fairly marginal player in the galaxy's vast political, economic and cultural landscape, the aftermath of the Pax Metahumana incident had caught enough attention outside of the star system to attract a small number of traders and smugglers. What they had created, while technically legal, given that there were no human laws on interplanetary trade, was definitely an ethical black market. Dangerous alien artifacts and 'exotic pets' were sold in the barely hidden marketplaces scattered around the world. Thanks to Takol, Gabriel had come to know the location of every single one of them, and had the phone numbers (yes, they used phones) of a few alien merchants who knew better than to be on the wrong side of the Cosmomancers.

The tip consisted of two words: Thorian Threshers. On its own, it did not mean much to Gabriel, other than the still fresh and still scary memory of being chased by one on the desert planet of Tlievot. So he texted a lot of question marks until his source finally gave him a third word.

Milwaukee.

And that sent a shiver down Gabriel's spine. Not because of the obvious ominous implication in combining all three words and knowing that the source was an alien merchant, but because Milwaukee meant Wisconsin.

---

One thing that even Wisconsinites ignored was that their largest city was home to the largest alien marketplace on planet Earth. Which was remarkable, given how little effort the merchants put into keeping it secret. All you had to do to find it was ask the totally human employees at a little travel agency in the busiest part of the Bayshore Town Center if they knew how to get a business visa for Nepal. Confident that it was extremely unlikely anyone would ever ask that sort of thing seriously, and not worrying much about the repercussions of their laziness backfiring, they would then direct you to a room in the back. There you would find a comically deep hole in the middle of the floor, which would lead you down to a big, well-lit and well-kept tunnel. At the end of this tunnel was a big fancy door with a little friendly sign that welcomed you while reminding you that the alien merchants did not accept any human credit cards except, for some obscure reason, Argencard.

The marketplace itself was... actually quite wonderful. Despite the dubiously ethical practices, it had a warmth and an energy to it that felt very reminiscent of that of the greater bazaars in Andromeda. There was a rustic, old-fashioned quality to it that mingled remarkably well with the advanced technology and alien peoples that packed the narrow corridors and balconies. And the food being sold in the carts smelled weird but tempting, just how he remembered it.

"It tastes like ice cream," said Jake as he stabbed his spoon back in his bowl, his lips and tongue tinged blue by the concoction. He had insisted on coming with him the moment Gabriel had slipped up and mentioned that it was an alien marketplace. And Gabriel, having a soft spot for people in general, but specially cute people like Jake, had given up on his attempt to deter him.

"It kinda is ice cream," he said, taking a big spoonful from his own bowl and consuming it with relish. He had tried to look serious at first, since he was supposed to be following a lead, but it was hard not to look happy in his current circumstances. "It's just that the ingredients are not from Earth."

"And it's lactose free, you said?"

"Yeah," said Gabriel before he stuck his tongue out to see if it had been tinged blue too. It had. "Turns out most sapient species don't get the appeal of drinking another species' milk, specially as adults, so they just make do without any dairy products."

"So you're saying humans are the culinary weirdos in the galaxy?"

"Umm... yeah, pretty much."

The merchant he was looking for was in one of the most popular corners of the marketplace: the pet stores. Or at least the interplanetary black market equivalent of pet stores, which included a lot of heavy weaponry and really fancy accessories.

"Kurrenj Toh, hi!" he said to the rather placid-looking old alien who sat in the middle of a very cozy wood-and-steel cabin, surrounding by his very cuddly alien animals. Kurrenj Toh Feafejtla was a Graurra, a semi-lepidopteran species that resembled the Earth's moths, but without any wings and just four limbs. "How is your family?"

The Graurra's colorful, fuzzy face was quite expressive as she looked at him with what was most likely surprise and a bit of concern. She petted one of her animals with increased intensity, earning a very loud purring in response.

"Andromedan, it's been so long..." She said with a mechanical voice. Graurra could not speak English, or most human languages for that matter, without some technological help. "What has brought you back to me?"

"Thorian Thrashers," said Gabriel as he gave an approaching six-legged reptile a gentle pat on the head. It licked his gloved hand with an orange tongue. "Have you or any other sellers here been trying to smuggle them into the planet?"

She said nothing at first, but her antennae twitched.

"Who told you that?"

"Mlebla, the ice cream seller," said Gabriel. "He keeps an eye on everything while he's here... and he sends me cute cat videos in his free time. Anyway... did you?"

Kurrenj Toh still said nothing, but her antennae twiched harder, and she looked sideways.

"Kurrenj Toh, no," he said, and sounded genuinely, heartbreakingly disappointed. "Why would you do that? I know that they're not evil monsters or anything, but there's a reason why we banned Thrashers in the Cosmomancers' sanctuary. You can't do anything with them other than pray they don't eat someone."

"What's a Thorian Thrasher?" Asked Jake, and glanced at the alien. "By the way he talked about them, they sounded like space dragons or something."

"Thorian Thrashers are a very special gift from the Cosmos, human," said Kurrenj Toh, pointing at a poster on a wall to her left, which depicted one very big and mean Thorian Thrasher devouring a Tlievot sand worm. "With a beautiful... soul, like all other blessed creatures of this Universe. Really."

"It looks like a dragon sculpture made out of runny cream cheese," said Jake, looking understandably repulsed and a bit intimidated. "Do they really eat people?"

"Only sometimes," said Kurrenj Toh nonchalantly. Or maybe that was just the language device doing a bad job of putting emotion into her voice. She turned to Gabriel. "I had a committed buyer, Andromedan, and they offered good pay for a newborn one."

"But you're friends with Takol," said Gabriel. "How do you think he'll feel when I tell him that you've been doing the one thing he trusted you all to never ever do? Earth already goes through enough trouble without throwing Thorian Thrashers into the mix."

"I just needed a good last trade so I didn't have to leave empty-handed," said Kurrenj Toh.

That gave Gabriel pause.

"Leave?" He asked, taking a step forward. One of the animals growled at him, but Kurrenj Toh shut it up with a bit of extra petting. "You're leaving the marketplace?"

"I'm leaving Earth, Andromedan," she said slowly, perhaps trying to make her words sound meaningful. "And I'm returning to my homeworld and my family. My time among your kind, wonderful though you are, is coming to its end."

"But what...?"

A rift opened behind them, covering the corridor outside and the store's interior in its multicolored, shimmering glow. The animals shuddered and huddled closer to the Graurra.

Then she appeared, in her heavy, bright red cosmomancer's armor.

The Delphinian, and the only other human cosmomancer.

"Claudia?"

"Oh..." Said Claudia Southern, looking at Gabriel with absolute apathy. "It's you."

"Hey, yeah, hi," he said with an uneasy smile. "And this amazing person beside me is Jake. Are you here about the Thorian Thrashers too?"

"Hi, Jake," she said with just a little bit of warmth, not moving one inch from where she was standing. "And what Thorian fucking Thrashers? I just heard that alien merchants were leaving the planet en masse and thought I might as well ask the moth lady about it."

"She has a name, Claudia," said Gabriel, and directed his eyes at Kurrenj Toh again. "Also... what does she mean 'en masse'? It's not just you?"

"We may be mere salespeople, humans," said Kurrenj Toh, "but we can perceive the subtle changes in the cosmic climate. We can tell when a new force begins to influence the way things are. There's an invisible hand at work and we, sensible investors that we are, are going to take our gains and go home while you nice cosmomancers deal with it."

The humans stared in silence. Her antennae twitched again.

"Also, there might be a galaxy-wide recession coming soon and I can't risk making more investments in a marginal planet like this one," she spoke again, faster, almost like she was embarrassed. "Turns out there was a space station construction bubble in Perseus and it's about to burst."

"What did you mean by an 'invisible hand'?" Asked Claudia with her customary sneer, voice laiced with a dangerous lack of patience.

"A few weeks ago, in the galactic Outer Arm, some of our competitors came into contact with a mysterious trio of ships. Their designs were unlike anything they had ever seen, they carried no known insignias, and their crews insisted on communicating exclusively through audio. There was no way to identify them."

The Graurra stood up and walked to a dark corner of her store, her animals whining behind her in various tones at the loss of her fuzzy warmth. In that corner, there was a lot of advanced technology, mostly computers that tracked the economic trends for her particular sort of products, but also a very sophisticated-looking safe. From inside it she produced something... odd.

"You ever heard of the concept of predatory pricing, humans? Nasty strategy. I used it all the time in my youth."

In her fuzzy hand, she held an oval-shaped object that seemed to be somewhere between metallic, ceramic and crystalline in nature. More noteworthy, however, was that it appeared to pulse with colorful lights from within.

"But you know what's even worse than predatory pricing? Just plain buying many of our Outer Arm competitors out, probably to set up a monopoly. And then give them new products, weapons. And then, in exchange for all that, only make two requests of them..."

She set the object down on a nearby table, cluttered with various accessories and tools of the Graurra's trade.

"First, that they used their new resources to start a trade war in the busiest markets in the galaxy," she explained. "I trust that you are all smart enough to know what a galactic trade war would entail."

Gabriel held his breath without realizing it. He did know. Claudia did too, from her grimace. Jake... still seemed absolutely fascinated by this new universe he was discovering, so Gabriel had to assume he could not quite understand the meaning of Kurrenj Toh's words yet.

"And second," continued the Graurra, "that they distributed gifts to every cosmomancer in the Milky Way."

"So that's one of the gifts?" Asked Gabriel.

"Surreptitiously bought from a really stupid competitor of ours, yes."

"And what is it?" Asked Jake.

"Could be a bomb," said Claudia.

Gabriel gave her a concerned look. "Why does your mind always go straight to terrorism?"

"Because I live in the real world, fuckhead?"

"Now you're just being antagonistic for the sake of it and I won't engage you," he said before he turned his back on her altogether. "What else can you tell us, Kurrenj Toh?

The Graurran hesistated. When she finally spoke, it was in a lowered voice.

"I imagine that your peers know more about such mysteries of the stars than we do," she said, taking the object in her hand again and giving it to a still puzzled Gabriel.

"We should try to open it," said Claudia, suddenly standing beside him. "But not here. Do you have a beacon?"

Gabriel nodded, not taking his eyes off the 'gift', trying and failing to maybe get some information just by staring at it like an idiot. He eventually gave up.

"Jake," he said at last looking at his... boyfriend? Maybe in the next couple weeks he would know for sure. "Could you wait for me with Kurrenj Toh?"

Jake expressed his agreement with a very short, very sweet kiss, and a playful pat on his shoulder. Which must have looked absolutely adorable, because Jake was a lot shorter than him.

"Kurrenj Toh, I'm sure you and Jake will get along great," he told the Graurran as he made a gesture with his fingers in the direction of an empty space in the room. A rift appeared. "Jake studies anthropology at UC Berkeley."

And with that said, the two cosmomancers jumped into the rift together. The mesmerizing anomaly in space collapsed on itself a few seconds later, leaving the young human, the Graurran and a lot of animals alone in relative silence.

"So..." Began Kurrenj Toh. "Just human anthropology?"

Jake nodded, absentmindedly caressing some animal's fur without looking.

"I have a daughter," said the Graurran. "She's specializing in Perseus Arm anthropology. Lots of very diverse civilizations to study."

"You must be proud," said Jake, smiling.

"I am," she said. "And besides, she's better off studying sapients than non-sapients like her mother."

"Is it as expensive as it is here?"

"Expensive?"

"Her education?"

Kurrenj Toh watched him in what appeared to be a stunned muteness, at least for a few moments.

"I don't understand your question, human," Kurrenj Toh finally spoke. "What sort of monstrous civilization would force their children to pay for studying anthropology?"

Jake said nothing for a while. He stuck to quietly petting the animals with the fuzzy, moth-like alien, and tried not to sob.

---

An uninhabited ice planet. It was perfect for opening a mysterious and probably dangerous object, and it had the added benefit of not reminding Gabriel of Thorian Thrashers. And besides, he really liked watching the auroras.

The two cosmomancers stood there for a bit, contemplating the sky and paying little attention to the thing in Gabriel's hand. Their breath turned into steam in front of them.

"So... Claudia..."

"Hmm?"

"I wanted to apologize for stranding you for three days on an asteroid in the outer rim of Andromeda."

"You think I'm still salty over that? It's been a couple months now."

"Yes, I think you're still angry."

"Well, I am."

"I didn't know you didn't have a beacon with you," said Gabriel. "Otherwise I would have left you in Mongolia or Australia."

One of the corners of Claudia's mouth rose to form a half-smirk on her face, but there was not much humor in her eyes.

"I suppose I kind of deserved it when you pushed me into that rift. I had almost killed innocent people."

"I don't think you're a bad person, Claudia..." Said Gabriel. "But you think, say and do terrible things a bit too often."

"Maybe you should consider the possibility that we're looking at things through different lenses?" She said, grabbing the 'gift' from Gabriel's hand. "You spend your time either doing the smallest things or protecting the galaxies alongside the others in far away worlds. I'm the only one of the two who actually picks the big battles taking place right on Earth."

"The moment you pick a side in those battles, though, you're making a political decision."

"Of course I'm making a political decision," she said. "But so are you, you dumbfuck. The only difference is that your political decisions when it comes to Earth boil down to doing the bare minimum because you're scared of your own convictions."

"Claudia, I'm a bisexual Christian socialist who joined a libertarian commune of space wizards. If I start making major decisions on Earth, I'm definitely going to alienate a lot of people."

He sighed.

"You don't have that problem, because you're always on the 'right' side. You're on the side of the people who just want things to be 'normal' and comfortable. But what if what's 'normal' is actually awful in its own right?"

She said nothing.

He said nothing.

They let a couple minutes pass, gazed at the auroras some more, then simultaneously decided that it was time to do what they had come here to do.

"That thing is not from the Milky Way or Andromeda," said Gabriel. "Or at least not from any part I'm familiar with."

Claudia nodded in agreement.

"Maybe we should do this from a distance?"

"Oh, absolutely."

She placed the 'gift' on the snow, and the two of them walked in opposite directions, until they were far enough that the 'gift' was barely visible. And then Gabriel did the honors, expanding the space between the particles until he saw the 'gift' split in half.

Claudia was the first to reach the remains, and let out a relieved sigh as she kneeled on the snow.

"It wasn't a bomb, at least."

"But what was it?"

When Claudia stood up, she did so with something held tightly in her hand. Something that was producing a lot of pulsing light. For the first time in a long while, Gabriel saw some excitement show on her face, only for it to disappear all too quickly.

"It's... a beacon," she whispered to herself, then raised her face to Gabriel's. "I can feel it."

Gabriel touched the object, its surface somehow both crystalline and metallic at once, and he knew.

"And we know where it leads."

"Triangulum."

"There are no cosmomancers in Triangulum," he said, progressively feeling more concerned than captivated. "So who would know to send us a beacon?"

"It's so strange, though," said Claudia. "It doesn't feel as... natural as other beacons. The texture is all wrong, the energy is too condensed, like it's somehow been depurated... or synthesized."

"We should take it to the sanctuary."

"If what the moth lady..."

"She has a name."

"If what she said is right... then other cosmomancers may have gotten their own 'gifts' there already."

She gave him a meaningful look, and he frowned at her as he understood her meaning.

"We're not using it."

"You are not using it, shithead," she declared, taking a step back. "I'm going alone. I'll tell you later what I've found."

She raised her hand with the beacon in the cold air. A rift opened behind her, and she went through it without saying another word. Gabriel did not get the chance to try to dissuade her or say goodbye.

---

"Please tell me you didn't already sell the Thrasher," said Gabriel as soon as he came through a new rift into Kurrenj Toh's store.

"Fortunately for you, Andromedan, I did not," answered Kurrenj Toh. "I think my buyer died. Something about satellites striking American cities?"

"Sorry to hear it," said Gabriel, a bit confused about his own words for a bit, but finally determining that, yes, the buyer dying in the Hounds' attacks was sad, despite their unethical purchasing habits. "Does this mean that you will send the Thrasher back to its home planet?"

"I'm not doing that. I lost people trying to get it here. You send it back, human."

"I am not coming within a mile of any Thorian Thrashers, Kurrenj Toh. Even babies."

"You are within fifteen feet of a baby Thrasher right now."

Gabriel immediately took a look around, bourdeaux eyes searching the place for something pale, ugly and dragon-like. And then he noticed it.

"You kept it in your herbs garden in the back?"

"It likes my herbs."

"That's... actually very sweet," he said without an iota of irony. "So what planet did you get it from? Where to should I open a rift?"

"Takol told me he rescued you from an adult Thrasher back on..."

"Tlievot," Gabriel groaned, half frustrated and half incredulous, falling onto a couch beside a very cheerful Jake. "Because of course you got it from Tlievot. Because the Cosmos loves coincidences."

"That it does, Andromedan," said Kurrenj Toh, and for the first time he heard her laugh through her language device. It was not a bad laugh.

[Indy Cooper]

---

Time: Later that Afternoon - Day of Satellite Attack
Location: Carrie’s Apartment, Lost Haven

“Okay Berry, try again.” Carrie said kneeling in front of her grimoire tome. Berry was across from her.

They had spent the afternoon practicing various forms of concentration, clearing of the mind, connection with the spiritual energy surrounding her. Carrie felt it so strongly, it was unwieldy and raw. Littered around them were various stones, cracked in pieces or sitting in neat dust piles. Carrie hoped Charlie would help her put them back together later. Normal stones were not able to withstand the energy, moonlit charged gemstones barely held on for much longer. Carrie had also exerted her own guidance, allowing her own magic to guide Berry’s - appealing to the very present and instinctual animal she was.

The Clan were making themselves at home doing whatever they needed to do, Carrie pretended not to see them for their comfort.

They were practicing levitation, basics to help learn some control.

Berry attempted a rose quartz crystal next, but insistent knocking at the door broke both of them from their revery. The dogs woofed at the door unenthusiastically.

“Hold on Berry, let me go see who that is. I think we need a break anyway, watch some tv.” Carrie commented, stretching her back then picking up the tv remote to turn the set on, she flipped through until she landed on the kids channel. They were sitting in the living room, surrounded by the animals. Some who were curious enough to watch, others just wanted to be in the same room. They were always startled when a gem popped.

Berenice scowled at the box in the corner, then selected another stone. Carrie had been adamant all day about rest breaks, but the siren knew she had little time to prepare herself for the battles to come. So every time Carrie had called a break, Berenice instead practised the little bit that Salamander had explained in the short time they had spoken. Medication, or something close to that. Anyway, she was trying to sense the world around her without using her senses. So far she had only been able to feel her plumage.

Carrie looked out the peephole, confused by what she saw. A teenager with streaks in her hair. Reminding her of Harry. She left the chain lock in and cracked open the door.

“I already recycled my bottles this week, sorry can’t contribute to the high school bottle drive.” Carrie said, making a shooing motion. “Very busy, try the neighbours below they’re really into wine.”

Trying not to be too offended that she was confused as a fundraiser kid Eva responded a little snarky.

”Do I look like someone who does school activities? I was told I could find a friend I suppose I could call her that here at this exact residence. Is Berry home?” Eva said as she stood at a strangers house not sure how she should introduce herself. ”I go by Pendragon. After the Arthurian legends, I have quite a bit of connections to them. Considering he was my great or some such grandfather. I don’t actually know how far back the great should go.” Awkwardly Eva announced as she hoped that at least this lady would be friendly.

Salamander appeared next to her, grinning crookedly and leaning up against the wall. “I told you she’d be just as charming as her friend, though I suppose you haven’t met her yet either.” He turned his head to address the homeowner through the small aperture. “Sorry to bother you, young lady, but I’m afraid the fate of an entire tribe is hung in the balance for either half, and we’d like to reunite them.”

Berry startled when she heard the sword girl’s voice, causing the stone she was trying to levitate to rocket into the ceiling before detonating, but she had already chirped in pleasure and scooted out of the rain of quartz shards and dust, opening her wings near to full and hopping up beneath Carrie’s arm to stick her face as far through the door as possible.

“See, Car-ree? I told you there was a sword girl! You can tell her about the men with guns and the beast of bodies and the Clan is here, Sunheart!” This all came out as a string of syllables, more than a real, constructed sentence.

Eva paused as both Salamander and Bernice began to crowd around the doorway.

”Um, I really wish I were here for your bottles now. The other night was grand, had some gents who just wouldn’t bugger off, bless the Queen of E that we managed to escape you know. Hounds had their hands full with some undead twit. And I, don’t know a clan. No.” Said Eva as she leaned in to Berry. ”I thought that was a no go.”

”That is not a concern here, Warrior,” said Sunheart, peeking out from beneath the siren’s hair. ”Though perhaps we should adjourn inside?”

”Yeah inside might be best given Bernice’s physicality yeah. Can I come in?”

Carrie gave a long, “Ooohhh.” Understanding now herself.

Using her hip to shuffle Berry out of the way she closed the door to unlock it. Opening it wide, she let the odd pair into her home taking their word for it. “You must be Salamander then, the mysterious glue to the necromancer problems.” She commented plainly. The animals watched Salamander and Eva enter.

Carrie’s tabby cat hopped up to her shoulder, watching. Oscar the raven flew immediately to Salamander’s shoulder quorking his hello.

Carrie patted Eva’s shoulder, “My dear, if there was no threat of terrorist nutjobs running around I wouldn’t see a reason to seriously caution against blurting your secrets to strangers, but please do consider who might be listening. Secrets are what keep us alive.”

”Not getting attacked by nutjobs keeps you alive longer. Though as it’s my hero name it’s not too big a secret where I got it from I suppose; I’ll keep that in mind however.”

As the door closed, the Clan swarmed out. Around thirty tiny people erupted from the cabinetry, putting away weapons they had drawn at the knock of the door. They called out greetings to the children and elders that came out from Eva’s person, and there were many tight hugs and sobbing from elderly women and parents of the children. Sunheart watched from Berenice’s shoulder, staying apart from the celebrations, a grim look on her face. She glanced up at Salamander, who was muttering something to Oscar, and said ”No word on the others who departed on their own?”

Salamander regarded her with a kind look. “Your people are too adept at hiding even from my senses, little princess. They will be along, I am sure, but I could not find them myself.”

The old man grinned at something Oscar quorked into his ear, turning to Carrie. “You, madam, I thank for your hospitality. Your friend here says you provide excellent food for him and his subjects, though I doubt the cats would agree to such a title. You are correct, I am the one known as the Salamander. However, as you have let me into your home, and seeing as both my sort-of grandchild and the Inheritor are here, I suppose I should at least let up on the illusions.”

With that, his face practically melted, the beard receding until it was gone, hair turning jet black, shiny, and long. After it was over, he stood almost six inches taller, broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, looking very much Native American. His eyes were almost exactly like Oscar’s.

“Your riddle is making more sense to me now. I wonder if Charlie will puzzle it out.” Carrie commented scratching Oscar’s scruff, “No problem. Oscar has told me as much before, during communions. My coven, my family have had connections to animals for generations.” She was smiling, his transformation not fazing her the least bit. Spirit came in whatever form it chose.

Berry, for her part, stood as politely to the side as she could while the pair made their way in, but as soon as the door was closed and introductions made, she fairly threw herself at Eva, wrapping the girl’s waist in a tight hug and chirping like a robin. ”Thank you thank you, sword girl! You brought all of the children here safely!”

Carrie saw the new wave of people come off of Eva - Pendragon, that revelation slowly sinking in. Smiling a big grin at the happy reunions. Charlie wasn’t going to believe her.

Taken back from the sudden embrace Eva was more confused as to how to respond back. Her face clearly showed some distraught.”HOW DOES ONE HUG A BIRD PERSON!? Um, uh. Yes. Hugs are good, hugs are fine. Anyone have tips for this?” Eva said as her arms tried to find somewhere to hug back unsure if she should wrap around the wings or the torso.

“Well,” said Salamander, resuming his usual appearance, “As lost family has been reunited and introductions have been made, I must be off. There is a rogue student of mine that needs to be found. Berenice, you are not to pursue him on your own, though you feel you must, I am sure. You are not close to being ready to face him, and I am sure he built safeguards into you in case you turned on him, built in weaknesses he can exploit. Until we find out what those are, there is no safe way for you to engage him.”

He turned to Carrie. “I am afraid my little friend must stay safe, and I see no other option other than for her to bunk here with you. I can reimburse you if that is an issue, financially or otherwise, though you seem the type to refuse it even if you needed it.” He sat a small pouch on the counter and tipped his hat. “Thankfully,” he said with a wry grin as he reached for the doorknob, “you’ll have to work to find a way to change that into something more usable, I think.”

Carrie nodded, “You won’t stay for supper? Already feeding a small army.” She joked. Weighing the sack curiously, “I don’t mind obviously, Berry is welcome here as long as she needs a safe place. I just hope I can keep it safe.”

“I’m afraid not. Too much to do, and you seem to have a full house as it is. I will acquire a means of staying in touch.” And with that, the Salamander was out the door and gone, not so much as footsteps on the stairs giving away that he was still anywhere nearby.

Carrie placed the sack back down, looking over her guests. “Probably should think about security a bit more. Always got by on good neighbours.”

With so much more to protect, to look after for - Carrie felt quiet resolve.

”Yes yes. Hugs are okay.” Eva said as she finally reached around Berry’s head unsure where her own arms should even go. ”So now that Mr. Owl from the tootsie roll pop commercial is gone. Dinner does sound nice. All I’ve had is tuna from a quick stop, sure the sandwich was alright but I do miss a healthy meal. We need anything, I could actually portal away for something if you need.” As Eva said finally free from Bernice’s feathery embrace. ”I could also use a pizza, you guys ever ate from John’s pizzeria? Off Bleecker street? It’s grand. Amazing pies. Wait what time is it anyways? Are they even open?” Eva said as she checked her phone.

The crowd of the Clan perked up, and several made a dash for their spaces inside the walls. They came back out with their own meal, one explaining that they couldn’t possibly put anyone to the bother of portioning for them because the Big Folk wouldn’t understand how. They did, however, share what looked like fire roasted snails with the cats as a peace offering.

Berenice looked puzzled as Eva mentioned pizza. ”What is this? Is it like fish? I do not know anything about the human nest foods, I am sorry. But I can go get fish if you want?” Her wings folded back on themselves and tucked along her back, but even as she said that, her eyes caught the stones that she and Carrie had been practising with, and she began sidling back towards them.

”Not fish, but that’s good.” Eva said as she watched the clan with their tiny dishes. ”This is OMG. I don’t know what words I can use right now.”

“Pizza it is.” Carrie said grabbing her phone. “I think you’ll like it Berry.” Calling her favourite pizza place Carrie flipped through channels on the tv heading toward the news channel.

A phone operator picked up her call, “Hi I’d like to make an order for delivery-”

She dropped her phone at the breaking news headline. Scrolling names of cities listed as destroyed from a satellite attack.

News anchors confirming death in the thousands. “This isn’t real…” She mumbled. “How? I thought- . . .”

Carrie covered her mouth looking to Eva and Berry.

The siren chirped in curiosity as the news came on, then stared at the pictures of ruins and smoking craters, uncomprehending until she saw Carries horror-stricken face. ”Car-ree...That’s a movie, right Car-ree? One of those fake things you land people put on sometimes, right?” She cut herself off as the channel went black for a second, and then the ominous warning from the Hounds played. Her plumage bristled at the message, but in the back of her mind, she also memorised the sound of the man’s voice, so she would know when she came across him. Static discharges played in her hair.

”Car-ree. How many? How many nestlings?” There was significant strain in Berenice’s voice. All of the Clan suddenly looked up at the sound. Her talons were digging grooves into the flooring.

”Too many, more than the clan, or there trees in the forest where you lived combined. I’m likely underestimating here but one too many to count. Bollocks. There’s nothing I could do for that, orbital strikes. You see them in movies and you think that’ll never happen.” Eva was still shaken however compared to the sheer horror Carrie held in her eyes and Bernice’s instinctive reactions, Eva began to wonder why she felt more calm. Reaching for her anti depression pills she popped one straight into her mouth and turned to Carrie.

”I think we should stay in touch, in case something happens you call me and I’ll teleport over. Likely the other heroes are beginning to assemble, but I’ll leave this matter up to them. I’m not capable of taking down a space weapon. It might be best we prepare instead.”

Carrie rounded on Eva, “We don’t know anything right now!” Angrily she shut the tv off.

Carrie turned to the siren, desperately quiet and forcing herself to be calm. “Berry please, take some deep breaths like we were practicing e-earlier. In through your nose, control. Search for your control. We don’t know the extent of the bad things that happened here tonight.” Quick, she licked her lips exterting her own will to calm. “Think, think with that big bird brain of yours. Think about where your breath is going, how it fills your diaphragm.”

Carrie mimicked a deep breath, using the motion to calm her own panic away.

“Right Pendragon?” Carrie bumped her elbow against the teen. “We need to stay calm.” She nodded at Berry, brow furrowed.

Eva knew Carrie had to be angry with her, but she never really thought about glossing things over if it was bad and it sure as hell looked bad then there was nothing anyone could do to make it sound pleasant. ”Right, being angry isn’t going to help others, it’ll put more in danger. I have a sword that can cut people down like they’re paper. If I’m not careful, not in control of myself I could easily hurt innocents. There’s a great deal of discipline to swordsmanship or the act of weilding a sword. It’ll be the same for you Berry. You are potentially dangerous, and if you want to protect what you love you’re going to need to hone your abilities to always be in your control.”

”I don’t like killing, it’s bad enough I see ghosts but I’d rather not have blood on my hands. And yet. I could easily kill someone with the flick of a wrist. I’m not in some moral high ground where I can’t kill. But I don’t feel like I should be deciding who lives or dies by my hand, I’m not a Judge and there are better people to make that choice. What we saw was bad men doing horrible things, men who committed genocide. And not stooping to their level by killing by understanding that we can be just as dangerous and that by keeping ourselves in check we are better for it.”

The siren stood there, chest heaving with the effort of trying to keep herself in check. While there was no wind this time, the static continued to discharge in her feathers, and the twinkling motes faded in and out of view. Her golden eyes flicked from Carrie to Eva as they spoke. ”Life and death are simple out in the wilds, Pen-dar-gon. If you need to eat, you kill the rabbit and you eat. If a wolf tries to kill and eat you, you fight back until it runs or it dies. These...“ her voice cracked, and went suddenly more melodious, even if it was choked with emotion. ”These egg crushers are the same! They do not care about your laws and morals, do they? They just want to hurt and to kill. They are like the mad beast, foaming and snarling. There is only one answer for them, even if it hurts you to do it. If they are not dealt with swiftly, more nestlings die, and that is not to be let to happen!”

Berenice had no idea why everyone seemed to be so ill at ease with her reactions. She was angry, angry enough that her talons continued to flex, though she guiltily realised that they were damaging Carrie’s nest and tried to relax them. To alleviate that feeling, she began hopping from one to the other, to keep herself moving, to feel some sort of motion, even if it wasn’t to resolution of the problem. But the animals had all backed away from her, the Clan were hiding behind cups and other things on the counter and staring at her. Carrie and Pendragon seemed to be trying to get her to calm down, but she knew now was not the time for calm.

Then her human brain caught up: “You have no idea where their nests are, nor how to fight their guns or numbers. The only thing you can do is learn how to do so later.” As the idea took root, she suddenly slumped in defeat. Her feathers relaxed, her shoulder drooped, and her wings suddenly fell, not even bothering to fold up as she sat down. Tears ran down her face, emotions boiling over, and since anger and fighting was not an option any longer, she did the only other thing she knew how to do. She tilted her head up and sang out her sorrow, notes from a hundred different voices of birds mixing with her own human one in a haunting cry of despair and regret.

Carrie gasped quickly clasping her hands to her ears and as suddenly as Berenice began to cry the animals around her wailed their shared grief as well. The dogs howled their sadness, the cats whined, Oscar came to her shoulder to perch and look for attention. The feedback from the animals and Berry’s immense sadness hit Carrie like a freight train. She tried to close her mind to her animal companions but they washed over her. She went to her knees, tears dripping down her cheeks. She strained to keep her hands on her ears. She felt the despair, the regret with intensity from various sources, she lost the battle to the emotions. Squeezing her eyes shut she sobbed.

The neighbours below began to audibly sob as well, banging a broom against the roof.

”I think.” Said Eva as she stepped closer while Carrie and quite literally everyone sobbed, taking care to ensure Bernice could clearly see her approaching as she began to feel off as Bernice’s cry echoed through the room. ”That learning what to do with your anger might be best. Unlike the wolves, no perhaps like the wolves of the forest there are enemies and dangerous beings who’ll take advantage of you, use your anger against you or make you hurt others in anger without realizing how innocent they are. Take a look around. The Clan, the animals they’ve sensed the danger coming from you, and while they know you want to protect them they are not sure what you’ll do in anger.” Stepping an inch closer amidst the weight of despair Bernice radiated Eva spoke. ”As you live among humans and others you’ll begin to feel even more emotions, good, bad, evil, things you never thought yourself capable of. But there are people here who want to help, allow you to experience and what to do with what you learn. The people here seem nice and caring. They have a good home that feels warm to me so allow yourself to understand what you are and are not capable of.”

Berry wept for a few moments more, before something small flew from off of the counter and struck her square on the end of her nose. The birdsong suddenly died off as she reared her head back, going cross-eyed to try and see the tiny spear that was stuck there. Glancing up at the counter, she saw new figures, including the Chief. Behind the clan, the door was just closing as two warriors hauled in what looked like a rotting pigeon carcass. ”Why are you bringing foul food in? That has been dead too long to eat.”

The Chief stared up at the big folk, a scowl on his face. “We found it outside, staring at your door. There were more that scattered when we took this one, and it put up a very nasty fight.” One of his arms hung limp, dripping blood. Several others also bore wounds, with one lying still on the counter while a few of the women bound his leg into a splint. “This place may be under attack soon, by whatever sent that which destroyed our home. And you,” he said, pointing savagely with his good arm at Eva. “You need to inform me where my people have been. How many are missing or dead? Where did you take them? And you,” he snarled at Sunheart. “There is much you need to account for, starting with why the Big Ones are standing here staring at our people!”

Carrie broken from the birdsong, coughed reigning herself in. Dragging a sleeve under her eyes she took long steadying breaths patting her chest. “I can explain, just- ugh give me a second.” The grey tabby came into her arms for cuddling. All the animals distressed in various stages. “One moment.”

Finding her balance and tending to the animals, whispering to them individually. Comforting pats, soft words, blanketing the room with her own magic. Cuddling her cat, she stopped at Berry last setting the cat aside she hugged her as well.

“It’s going to be alright Berry. I promise we’ll figure it out, but it’ll be alright.” She pat down her hair, residual static snapped across her finger tips. The dogs took up Berry’s sides, the cats tried to take up space in her lap. The animals now projected the calm Carrie felt herself, magnifying her magic. Carrie looked up to the dead pidgeon, the rancid smell of death clear.

”I get you have you people to look after, but can you give me one second. Just one. I got hit by some sort of emotional wail or something.” Taking a moment to regain her bearings. ”I don’t know of any dead Clan members at least not for the ones I took with me, I feel like Bloody shit. Right I took them to my Grandpa’s place, in New York. I can move between doors in a certain way. It’s I dunno if you know what teleporting is. But it’s that. Like covering cities in seconds I guess, for what take months. Aside from a group of what five they said, everyone else that came with me is here. The five are off exploring the old house, told them I’d swing by for them in the morning. Just ask the rest. It seems like you all need to talk amongst yourselves already.”

Carrie held a hand in front of Eva, standing from her hug with Berry, “Chief, this was out of necessity in order to safely live here, as you can probably see I have quite a few animals. They know to treat everyone with respect now instead of seeing your people as food. Sun-Heart has been putting the security of everyone first and foremost, give her a break.”

Carrie shuffled off toward the dead bird, feeling dark energy pour off of it seeping into the floorboards. “First though before anything else I’ve gotta protect my home.” She opened the kitchen window peering at the buildings aside her and the back alley below. They were right, reanimated dead animals watched her apartment.

“Like hell I’m going to let some necromancer’s pets into my home.” Brow furrowed she quickly went straight for her bedroom, a collection of large pieces of quartz laid across shelves and in the corner of her room was quite possibly the neatest thing about the untidy room. The Altar draped in purple silk, animal bone and teeth. A small bronze mirror cradled in it’s center. A blackberry wreath laid on the table half done.

She plucked what small stones she had, freed sage from it’s bundle, stopping at the hanging herbs above her window - dried and ready to be used. Glancing down her ivy plant growing happily in the receding summer sunlight alongside her little potted rowan scrub waiting to be transferred to her yard. The herbs and plants were gifts from Nathaniel Croll.

Running back with her arms full she laid them across the kitchen island. Then ran back into her bedroom with sheers. She clipped a generous length of ivy, then a small sturdy branch of rowan, whispering her thanks.

Carefully with well practiced hands she weaved the ivy through the wreath, the bright green leaves mixed with the wood of the blackberry tree branches as well as complementing the berries themselves. Finally tying the branch of rowan to the top of the wreath with the remaining ivy. “Let’s see the bastard try to get past this.”

She carefully spritzed it with water then went straight for her front door. A hook already in place for past wreaths, she carefully placed it. Affectionately running her knuckles across the soft leaves of ivy. She closed the door and felt safer.

She came back to her other tools, brightfully noting, “When it doubt, sage it out!”

Lighting the end of the sage bundle on fire, she let it burn a little before blowing away the flames fanning the smoke. “Pendragon if you could help me, grab the salt in the cupboard and draw a ring around the dead pidgeon. I will smudge the entrances. The animals will help to drive away the dead, armed with protections of their own.”

With a nod Eva went to find the salt in the kitchen taking a bit long as she had to look through quite a few cupboards before she returned with it, and assuming she actually meant a circle of salt and not draw a ring in a pile she encircled the dead bird. ”So, what does this actually do? I’ve been watching that Supernatural show and so far there’s nothing on dead birds. It’s also a TV show, so.” As a sheathed sword appeared to her side as she sat it against the wall. ”Just in case I need this.”

Berry stared at the Chief, who was conversing in low tones and gesticulating wildly with the warriors who had come in with him. The rest of the Clan sat around them, forming a semicircle and watching. The siren shuffled closer and let Sunheart off of her shoulder, then moved over to watch the two women administer to the cursed carcass in the entryway. Behind her, the conversation got more heated as Sunheart joined in.

”What are you pouring the salt for? I do not think it will taste very good no matter how much you season it.” Despite her cheerful query, there was a definite downcast to Berenice’s features. She looked more like a scolded child trying to infiltrate back into a conversation than her normal self, and was obviously trying to cheer herself and everyone else up. Shockingly, she had even made a joke, unintentional as it was. Even so, she glanced back at the windows, adding, ”Should we not deal with the ones outside, too?”

Carrie nodded distractedly then took a double take at Berry, softening she replied, “It’s to purify the bad spirits away. We are freeing the animal of it’s necromancy chains. The dogs and cats will work together to remove the others and Oscar will take care of any birds. If not at the very least chase them off, don’t worry Berry we can protect my nest from Sebastian’s spies.”

One by one each of the animals lined up being outfitted with small charms to protect them from any lingering energy about the undead spies. Their strong bond and connections with Carrie ensured that regardless.

The conversation on the countertop broke up suddenly, Sunheart and a few of the warrior types lining up along the ledge overlooking the process. Sunheart herself was staring, while the rest checked their tiny weapons, looking grim. ”You have accepted us into your home with no qualms at all, Witch,” Sunheart said, loud enough she could be heard. There was no inflection on the word ‘witch’, merely a title. ”Now it needs defending. We will aid you in this.” Her tone was clear that she would brook no argument on the matter, and wordlessly, each of the warriors threw tiny ropes down from the counter, affixed to a coffee mug behind them. They lowered themselves down, then each took places a safe distance from one of the animals being geared up. Sunheart herself took a place in front of Oscar, eyeing him warily. ”If you would be so good as to make sure they take no offense to our presence, it would help.”

Carrie blinked, “Oh! Of course, thank you.”

“Let the dogs and cats sniff you out first before climbing aboard, Oscar.” Carrie said sternly turning her attention to the raven. “Be careful you hear me? Knock them out and let the others take care of them.”

Oscar quorked in response, Carrie nodded in understanding. Affectionately Oscar tugged at her sleeve. “All set, Sunheart. If you need to get their attention, call them by their name.”

Sunheart gave a salute, and the rest nodded grimly, faces stern. Most of them were checking their tiny weapons, which were mostly flint or broken glass or wood. A few, though, had already managed to supplement themselves with bits of razors or nails and paperclips. Sunheart herself had gotten a hold of a bow, made of animal bones and a length of springy wood, and had a sheaf of what looked like needles. They all gingerly approached the animals, made their introductions, and then clambered aboard their partners, with Sunheart taking the lead on Oscar, having had the most flight experience. She turned to Carrie with a fatalistic look and said, ”I will make sure they all come home alive.”

[Indy Cooper]

Carrie's apartment building, Eastern Lost Haven

After sundown

---

The sun had long since set on Lost Haven, and now a storm had rolled in from the sea, bringing with it cool winds and spattering rain. While Carrie had said she could stay inside if she wanted, Berenice didn't really feel too comfortable indoors, so they had moved her meager belongings on to the rooftop. Here, with the help of some of the Clan, she had rigged up a set of tarps to ward off rain and the harsh sunlight, and was settling in to sleep. Around her, Sunheart and a few other Clanfolk nestled into her plumage, apparently satisfied with her performance, or just appreciating the softness of her underfeathers.

The fight had been swift and brutal, but no animal nor tiny person had been injured. Fortunately, whatever magics Sebastian had used to reanimate the creatures left them with little in the way of creativity or instinct, and thus they were no match at all for the tactics of experienced hunters. The sheer number of corpses needing purification, however, had alarmed everyone present. A full score of undead rats and mice, four crows, one of which had escaped for several minutes until Berenice had spotted it and brought it down.

Now, with peace settling over the cool summer night's air, Berenice stared out across the nearby buildings. Thumps and flashes sounded in the distance, but earlier conversations, knowing how dangerous she could be and how inexperienced she was, kept her from investigating. One day, perhaps, she would be able to help fight against the monsters, but tonight was not the night for it. Reluctantly, she settled down deeper into her nest, made from old blankets and duvets and a few bits of wire and branches for structure, and closed her great golden eyes. Listening to the tinkling of her new treasure lines strung along the roof, it was not long before she joined the rest of the Clan in slumber.

---

Elsewhere

Abaristus scampered back as magic energy formed miniature lightning bolts around the extra-long work table Sebastian had assembled. The necromancer, for his part, sat back in the gloom of the cave, busily sketching notes into his journal. The actual top of the table, and thus his latest project, was invisible due to the energies pouring into the cave and around the surface. The entire interiour of this lair was aglow with blues, greens, and reds, flashing in different patterns as his laboriously placed, intricate layers of spells went off in the order he had prescribed. It had taken almost a week, straight, with no sleep, to design these spells, back when he had created the siren. Thankfully, his disgustingly traitorous familiar had managed to save enough of his journal for him to recover it.

Now, with some edits, the same spells had been placed carefully around his new subject, who had been, if anything, so much simpler to take. He had realised that his first mistake with the siren was that he had used too old a subject, with too strong a mind and personality. The younger, more supple mind was needed. In addition, something as flighty as a bird was too chaotic to truly control, so he had procured a different set of subjects for modification this time. With dwindling funds and a false address, he had procured specimens of Eunectes murinus, Hydrophus platurus, Dendroaspis polylepis, Oxyuranus microlepidotus, Ophiophagus hannah, Bitis arietans, and Deinagkistrodon acutus. Along with these were various other reptile species, including a saltwater crocodile, two types of geckos, and at greater expense than anything but the sea snake, a Komodo dragon.

The tiny Japanese girl, whose name he had never bothered to learn, had been kept unconscious during the whole of the 'editing', not because of any sense of lingering compassion in Sebastian's heart, but because the screaming may have drawn attention. That and the shock may have killed her had he not magically anesthetised her. At any rate, he had done extensive surgery, taking well over forty-eight hours, and that was with Abaristus and two zombies aiding him and magical time acceleration where appropriate.

The girls lower half was the most obvious feature changed. In place of the normal flesh and limbs, from the sternum down began a serpent body, fully eight times the length of the torso. Inside were all the normal snake organs, scaled up and/or modified to his purposes. Additions included a swim bladder, a massive prestomach that allowed the creature to digest almost anything organic it came across, and a modified reproductive track that he hoped would allow him to breed it. To help with that he had stored the girl's normal ovaries, safely sealed inside a magical container. The musculature of the entire body had been reinforced, as had the skelton, making the whole of the thing almost as tough as some metahumans, though nowhere near the likes of Icon or Blacklight, who he had found had apparently appeared out of retirement to fight the foolish monkeys on the surface.

The girl's mouth had also been extensively redesigned. The tongue, and her nostrils, were now equipped with all the normal sensory apparatus of a pit viper, accelerated to supernormal levels by careful modification. Just behind where the canines would be were a set of two pair, top and bottom, fangs, capable of delivering one of the deadliest venoms on the planet. At very small volumes, far below a tenth of what she was capable of injecting with the venom gland now between her palate and sinus cavity, it would swiftly paralyze the entre adult human body, begin dissolving skeletal muscle tissue, nearly vapourise nerve connections, and cause intense nausea, haemorrhaging from mucous membranes, and seziures within just a few minutes. He knew, he had tested samples on several indigent citizens of the city of fools above him.

The creature was also built for speed. He had yet to test it, but he felt confident it could move faster than normal humans could track, and was especially designed for both land and water. As a precaution, he had given it amphibian characteristics and a set of gills located just behind the human ears. The brain had been modified for all of these new senses, and he had also carefully erased all vestiges of humanity from the thing, saving the desire for a parent figure, a role he would of course fill. The scales, which ran up along the spine to the nape of the neck, were coloured to be nearly invisible either in fall foliage or in a river, being a dull brown and green striping along the top and pale yellow-ish brown along the belly. The end of the tail resembled a sea snakes, vertically flattened into a swimming fin.

As for toughness, the scales themselves, and the underlayer of skin on the human torso, he had molecularly strengthened almost to the level of kevlar, and in fact the scales were hard as forged steel. A massive, additional set of kidneys filtered out most toxins he could think of, along with a secondary liver, and the lungs he had adapted to filter out even some caustic substances. He was determined not to repeat his errors with the siren, so nothing was magically powered or reinforced, excepting the creation of the thing itself. Once completed, it would require no magical powering, as long as it could eat. It would require far more sustenance than a snake of its size otherwise would, but that was easily found.

Now, the only thing left was allowing all the spell to finish, inside the cocoon of a time slip he had constructed. This also allowed the creature to age naturally. The child had only been five, and while he needed a fresh mind, waiting for it to grow to its full size would take an irritatingly long time. This accelerated the process from years to mere hours. Even now, it was nearly twenty feet long, and nearing completion.

What he did not notice was the tiny crack in the final spell, a fatal flaw, the same one Abaristus had installed into the siren's conjuring and construction. As the last spell triggered and the time slip fell away, there was a thunderous boom, a crackle of released energy, and the last thing Sebastian knew was that the cave was collapsing in on him, but the creature and his familiar had both vanished.

[Dedonus]

Christopher Arthur III

Damn it, Chris thought as he saw Blacklight perform an extremely risky and dangerous maneuver in an attempt to prevent the Hound’s helicopter form making its escape. If it had been one of the rookies, Chris would not have been surprised that he or she made such a miscalculated mistake. But Blacklight was a veteran. She should have known better than attack the copter in that way. They could have tried a variety of different course of action other than what Blacklight did: try to disable the engine or stall the helicopter long enough for the heroes to extract Murdock. Blacklight instead endangered not only herself by diving straight into the helicopter’s rotor blades, but also the Hounds inside and anyone else within the vicinity if the copter had crashed.

And now Chris had to deal with the severed rotor blades. The two that were on the far side of the helicopter were lost causes. By the time he would have taken out the two that were on his side, the other blades would have slammed into the side of one of the nearby buildings. If they had any luck, no one would be injured by these rogue blades.

Taking out the first two blades was not going to be too difficult of a task. Chris first activated his energy shield and allowed one of the blades to collide with this protective barrier. The blade shattered on impact. Then, Chris turned off his shielding and took aim at the second blade. Once his armor’s targeting systems had locked onto the second blade, Chris blasted it into tiny pieces. However, instead of allowing the remains of the blade to shower the street below him, Chris scooped up the pieces in a high-durability bag that his armor ejected and immediately reeled back in once its intended target had been retrieved.

While Chris was dealing with these two blades, the other two whirled in the opposite direction. One harmlessly skidded across an abandoned rooftop. However, the final blade crashed into the side of the building directly across the street from the helipad.

“What the—do I have to babysit everyone here?” Chris muttered to himself when he saw Pantheon snatch up two of the Hounds from the helicopter and launched himself into the sky. Chris knew that Pantheon was not just flying those two Hounds to the police station since they began to fall back towards the ground once Pantheon had reached the peak of his jump.

Chris immediately bolted towards the downed helicopter. Those who had not been grabbed by Pantheon had been dazed from the crash caused by Blacklight. Chris took advantage of the Hounds’ current state and snatched a parachute away from one of the Hound grunts. He then soared up into the air and head towards Pantheon.

“You’re going to want to hold onto this,” Chris commanded Pantheon after shoving the parachute into Pantheon’s chest. Once the parachute was secured, Chris yanked on the pull string and activated the parachute. Since they were relatively close to the rooftop, as compared to the proper altitude where a parachute should be activated, the parachute would not provide the three men a smooth landing. But it should at least prevent Pantheon from creating crater on the helipad, along with two bloody corpses in his arms.

Once Chris had dealt with the problems the other heroes had caused, he then returned to the helicopter. The Hounds inside, including Murdock, were starting to recover from the crash and were now trying to force their way out. However, Chris just pushed the Hound soldiers aside and pulled Murdock out of the copter and tossed him onto the ground. He then secured the leader behind the Hounds with a cable stored inside his Iron Knight suit.

“It’s time to pay the piper, Murdock.”

[fdeviant]

Cast

Fire and Brimstone

Part 5

Location: HoH Headquarters Interior – Lost Haven
Time: Evening of Hound Attack

---

”So much for going it alone,” Madalena begrudgingly mumbled as she and Charlie trailed sluggishly behind Lyger and Radiance. In the gap between their conversation about sneaking through the front door and actually doing it, the two heroes sauntered in, exchanging cautious glances at Hex and Alchemyst but never speaking a word.

Maddi held an arm in front of Charlie, halting her advance. The two watched Lyger and Radiance disappear down a long hallway. Madalena doubted she and Charlie would cause enough of a stir to draw the heroes’ attentions. Time passed, and as one pair moved ever onward, down into the depths of the Hound base, the other travelled a separate path, electing to go up, hoping to find some remnants of the Hound’s internal intelligence.

Much to their combined surprise and amusement, Lady Hex and Alchemyst found the base almost entirely silent. They could hear the wind thrashing against the walls, brought in by a storm off the coast, not one conjured by Madalena’s magic. It was an eerie silence. Maddi almost wished she could hear the idle chatter of Hounds going about their daily routines, keyboards clicking, monitors beeping, communicators buzzing, the dull hum of radio static filling the spaces between. But there was nothing, nothing to hear and even less to see. Furniture had been strewn about in a panic, electronics smashed, walls bare, floor coated in debris. There was truly nothing in sight, which didn’t bode well for Hex and Alchemyst’s mission.

”I don’t even know where to start with this.” Madalena moaned with utter exasperation, upending loose rubble with her cane, not really expecting to find anything of use hiding underneath.

Charlie gave the departing backs of Lyger and Radiance a rather sarcastic salute, off doing what they probably wholly believed to be the right thing to do. Charlie’s own rebellious sparks faded. Shortly before the Hounds had arrived she shared Lyger and Radiance’s common motivation. Defend and stand for home. In that she found appreciation for those who not only wanted to, but could.

She looked to Hex, they couldn’t fly to punch a helicopter out of the sky.

What they could accomplish was taking care of an invisible threat, one that is strong enough to survive the fallout of the day. The battle was being fought but the war carried on tomorrow.

In that Charlie found purpose for her rebellion against the metas, against the heroes.

They would all, the Hounds of Humanity included, live to fight another day.

“Evil lair or not, they still have to have an accounting department to sort their paperwork out. We just follow the finances.” She tapped her staff against the bit of debris Hex lifted, cracking it in half. Beneath it Charlie pulled a piece of paper free, it was an old memo announcing someone’s birthday, mundane if they weren’t in a place so jarring. “No matter how fucked up they are they’re still people.”

“We keep looking. In a mess this big we’re bound to find something valuable, even if it’s not exactly what we wanted.” She said leading the way down another corridor. They walked past several offices, doors strewn open - Charlie clicked on her flashlight mounting it to her shoulder. The threads of cotton wrapping snuggly around it. Hex switched on hers.

“If I were evil accountants nickel and diming evil militant assholes where would I want to file my bullshit. . .” She said half jokingly as she peeked her head into one of the doors, it creaked loudly in the relative quiet. Scanning for movement she cautiously entered. Filing cabinets, rows of desks sat looking freshly abandoned. Drawers were thrown open, computers smashed to the ground - alone that would have been a goldmine to a scavenger.

“I wonder if it would be worth it to pick the computers clean of their hard drives.” She said, largely to herself gingerly lifting a desktop back onto the desk. To Lady Hex she said, “If you want to rifle through one of the cabinets see if they’re storing anything like invoices, addresses, employee profiles.”

A thought struck her, “Fuck, if anyone was hired through a third party they wouldn’t keep their shit here. We have to check.” She said digging into the tower’s guts and wires.

”This is probably a longshot,” Madalena unenthusiastically replied, taking the length of her cane in her right hand and tapping the hilt against the tops of each filing cabinet. One by one, the tall metal units began to rattle, some falling in on themselves, some sputtering out shelves and folders, and some seeming to crumble at Hex’s touch. Amidst the chaos, something stuck out, a fallen drawer with a single intact file at the bottom. Maddi rummaged through its contents, smiling as she found at least a hint of a clue.

”I think I’ve got something,” she proudly announced, speeding over to Charlie. ”It’s a requisition form and the accompanying purchase order. I can’t make sense of all the technical machinery mumbo-jumbo, but it’s addressed to the flower shop in Lost Haven where we met the General.’

Charlie stared at that little paper Hex held up, flashlight illuminating it. “That is. . .”

In Charlie’s other hand she had grasped the hard-drive wrenching it free. “Fantastic! You - me. We have to go scavenging together one night, that right there, is very handy.” She pointed enthusiastically with the harddrive, her brain caught up with her. “If that was something you’d want to do for fun because I’d get if it wasn’t a really fun idea-”

A flash of light brightened the hallway catching Charlie’s eye and she sucked in some air. As handy and quick as Hex’s solution was - it was unfortunately loud. She whispered, “Get down, I got this.”

Charlie stepped lightly o the wall, eyes on the doorway seeing the light get brighter as whoever behind it was cautiously making their way closer. Charlie drew a small circle for a hole, pressing an ear to hear the footsteps. There was a pair of them, she held up two fingers to signal Hex.

Gauging roughly how far away they were, she quickly drew a far larger circle in the wall, enough for a torso. Her finger drawing through the drywall like it was playdoh. Weakening the it to be about as thin as rice paper. “I call this trick the Kool-Aid Man.” She whispered, grinning through the mask.

She waited watching the light and listening to the footsteps, the pair walked quietly approaching her spot on the wall. She knocked very quietly, getting their attention. Their footsteps came to a stop, one of them - a masculine voice asking a ‘Oh no, did you hear that?’

She knocked again, then took several steps away getting some room. Then she dashed putting her full weight into the wall, busting through quite easily and sending drywall outward into the pair of Hounds. They shrieked with surprise, Charlie grasped the first gun pointed at her turning the barrel of it to liquid. With her other hand she swung her staff for a direct hit against the other - thankfully without a helmet. Disorientated, she quickly took down both knocking them out cold.

Turning to back to the hole in the wall she said, “Oh yeah.”

Madalena snickered, moving out of cover and looking the two unconscious Hounds over. The tables had truly turned. With their central base of operations out of commission, the remaining Hounds of Humanity would be scrambling to maintain their hold over the U.S., and even though The Winter Court wasn’t entirely constructed of Hounds, it relied heavily enough upon their support to take a decisive blow from the evening’s attack. They couldn’t rest yet, but Maddi felt a considerable weight lifted from her shoulders.

”Quick thinking,” Maddi complemented Charlie, ”although your delivery could use some work.” she joked, elbowing Charlie’s arm before returning to their search.

Charlie’s cheeks grew rosy, a quip suddenly lost.

”Those two probably didn’t stick around to clean up the mess. I imagine whoever’s still inside is here to tamper with evidence and shred their records. We’d better get a move on.”

Hex’s reasoning was solid, and she certainly hoped there’d be no more interference, but knowing the Hounds, there was more trouble ahead. They’d need to find more than just a few purchase orders from the General while they still could.

”Wait!” Madalena exclaimed, pulling a small journal from beneath her coat. This was her black book, a collection of minor charms, incantations, and conjurations she’d either found useful or of particular interest. A number of the book’s pages were loosely bound, some even folded and tucked in the spine to keep them in place. A few cords fell from between different sections, assumedly attached to talismans and other trinkets of general use.

”Here it is,” Maddi announced, confirming the spell in question. She looked up at Charlie. ”This might sound weird, but is there anything in here you can turn into an arrow?”

“Sure, there’s always something to work with.” She said, “Any preference on what it’s made of? I know material sometimes matter for spells.” Charlie shuffled some paper out of her pocket, already scribbling some deconstruction formula. There was a garbage can knocked over and she grabbed a couple aluminum cans. She balanced both on her hand, accounting for the remanent sticky residue of soda. The cans melted into her hand, pooling like a puddle of water. She played with the shape a bit in her fingers stretching it out and forming the pointed arrowhead, the shaft and metal feathers. Not unlike something she’d make to sell at Croll Corner. Solidifying it she passed over the completed arrow to Hex.

“Here.”

Madalena grinned, taking the arrow and setting down on the nearest uncluttered desk.

”Perfect!” Maddi proclaimed, taking the form she’d found on the Witchfinder General and holding it a short distance above the arrow. The edge of the paper suddenly caught fire, smoldering the form down into ash that fell rather neatly on the arrowhead, blackening it.

”The arrow is part of a divination . . . well, I’m turning into one, anyway. The actual spell was either written by a Pennsylvania folk magician or a Romanian witch from the 15th century, their formula doesn’t really indicate national origin. It was originally a spell to help an arrow find its target, but I’m switching things up by giving a piece of the target I need it to find. Ash from a form is a pretty poor taglock, I’ll admit, but it’s something.”

Regardless of Maddi’s doubts, Charlie watched on with curiosity. While she never quite understood or could wrap her head around witchcraft, it followed its own internal logic and reasoning. She loved watching it happen, the process was endlessly fascinating.

With the form now completely burnt and the arrow thoroughly coated in ash, Madalena referred back to her book to find the correct word to incant over the arrow. It was written in a script she was somehow able to read, one of the lesser chthonic tongues to which Puck granted unlimited access. The pronunciation, however, was a different story.

”Let’s hope this is right . . .” Madalena mumbled before speaking the word aloud, one that, once given breath, sounded like electrical arcs or the burning of hot embers. The arrow trembled for a moment before settling back in its place.

”Hmm, we don’t have a bow so maybe . . .” Maddi lifted her hand, bidding the arrow to levitate. With a swift and decisive motion, she sent the arrow through the broken wall, watching in amazement as, instead of colliding with an adjacent wall, it quickly changed trajectory, following an almost invisible path. Once the arrow was out of view, Madalena waited until she heard a loud thunk several rooms over.

”Guess it worked,” she remarked, clasping her hands together in bewildered amusement.

Charlie heard it’s landing as well, trying to judge how far it went like a textbook math problem. “Let’s find out.”

They quickly and as quietly as they could, followed the strange path the arrow took. It led them predictably to another office but inside there were another pair of Hounds, flashlights moving around, soft complaints of the shitty clean up job they got stuck with.     Wondering out loud why the fuck there was suddenly an arrow in the middle of their work. They tried to remove it with little success. It was holding fast.

On either side of the doorframe the pair of magically gifted women were pressed up against the wall exchanging looks of thought. Trying to hatch some kind of plan or distraction.

They were there for only moments before the emergency lights and fire alarm lights lit up all down the hallway, blaring sirens loudly bringing a warning of an impending strike on the base - on Lost Haven. Warning all employees to evacuate, for the impending strike from the satellite. Charlie clamped her hands over her ears.

The hounds began to yell various forms of ‘What the fuck!’ Panic gripping them, they threw the files they had in their hands to the ground.

“One minute, twenty seconds.” A countdown began, Charlie was bewildered - the warning came too late. The alarms and sirens were useless. What happened? Did Lyger and Radiance fail to stop the strike on this side of the fight or did they fail bring the satellite down from space?

There wasn’t enough time!

“One minute, five seconds.” No! The metas had to have pulled through - they really had no choice but to succeed or see Lost Haven wiped out. Charlie’s thoughts kept circling back to how useless a warning system was for less than two minutes. Like a bad fire drill.

The Hounds took off at a run going straight for the door, Charlie stuck out her staff across the threshold meaning to trip them. Madalena, however, came to her side, pulling the staff back, allowing the Hounds to flee, heading down a separate corridor to the one they were currently facing. It wouldn’t have done them any good to be stuck in a fight with the timer going off, and neither of the Hounds seemed to keen for a fight either.

”We’re not done, and I’m guessing neither are Lyger and Radiance.” Madalena yelled, sprinting into the room to look through the cabinet her arrow had pierced. She shuffled through the cabinet frantically, fearful that the satellite would unleash its attack at any moment, but intrinsically knowing that Puck wouldn’t allow any harm to come to her, and she wouldn’t allow harm to come to Charlie.

”Fifty-five seconds,” the countdown proceeded as Hex continued her search, finally landing on a folder that bore the Witchfinder’s likeness, a photo of the man in full dress and a strange symbol clipped to the inside.

”Thirty seconds.”

Madalena lowered herself to the floor, the deafening alarm clouding her thoughts. It was hard to remain positive and on track with impending doom looming over one’s shoulder.

”Ten” the countdown was in its final stage. Maddi struggled to keep her composure, but she swore that she would never again allow the Hounds to get the better of her. Out of spite, she refused to break down. She returned to Charlie in the final seconds, the two sharing a brief look - Charlie’s hands shot out tugging Madalena into a hug. The Alchemyst squeezed her eyes shut holding tight. One final form of comfort before a large blast from deep within the building shook the walls, followed by the distant roar of thunder. The warning lights went off, leaving the two of them in darkness once more.

Charlie’s heart was hammering in her chest when she squinted up at the lights dying and the sound disappearing. Her ears were ringing. Her arms loosened and she looked around, wondering briefly if she were imagining the alarms in the first place.

Madalena supported herself with her cane, nearly falling during the explosion below. She let out a long, relieved sigh.

”Cutting it a little close, don’t you think!” she screamed down the hall, knowing that neither Lyger nor Radiance would likely hear protests.

Charlie’s relief bubbled out in a laugh at Hex. She held her chest then crouched down to the ground, laughing. “Fuck.”

The giggles died into a deep sigh.

She looked up at Madalena again, wondering what she would have done without her being at her back tonight. No matter what happened Charlie was eternally grateful for her new witchy friend.

”Well that’s one problem taken care of,” Maddi said as she offered a hand to help Charlie up. ”And here’s another.” she brandished the file, opening it for the both of them to see.

Inside were the photos of the Witchfinder and a seal that assumedly belonged to The Winter Court. There were a list of contacts and associates known to frequent the General’s presence, as well as some brief notes on his work prior to involvement with the Hounds. None of it, as far as Madalena could tell, was explicit enough for them to act on immediately, but it was enough information to get them started.

”In light of the base almost evaporating, and given that the Hounds were gonna torch it anyway, I think we’re fine just taking the file as is, agreed?”

Charlie thought about that and said, “Yeah, there’d be no way to know for sure if the file was simply destroyed or stolen. It works in our favour, for once. The odds have been stacked against us.” She shrugged, reasonably the chaos here today would cover their tracks. Maybe not from the authorities but from the the General.

”Oh, speaking of scavenger hunts,” Madalena pulled the small leather journal from her coat. ”I didn’t exactly show up in Sherman Square to be a good samaritan, although I’m glad I came when I did. Puck gave me this right before I came. He told me not to open it until after I was needed. My guess, he wanted me to help you so that you’d be free to help me, although nothing’s ever really that simple with him.”

Madalena flipped through the journal, a puzzled look crossing her face.

The more Charlie heard about Puck, the more questions it inevitably raised. She wondered if she should be worried about factoring into anything an entity like him would be planning. Her eyes shifted from the files and to looking over Hex’s shoulder down at the journal. She squinted.

”Hmm . . . Now I get why I needed your help. There are instructions in the back of the journal. It’s a recipe of some kind, or a ritual, an invocation I think. But at the front there’s all this . . . well, I don’t actually know what it is. Some kind of alchemic formula I guess, but it doesn’t look like any I’ve ever seen before, not that I’ve seen too many, although in a lot of old grimoires you run into the magician or witch getting into their experimental phase . . . sorry, rambling. Maybe it’ll make sense to you?”

Madalena hopefully handed Charlie the journal, curious as to what she might find.

“Alchemists know all about experimentation.” Charlie joked, trading off the files. Reading the formulas. “This feels familiar. There’s a bit about plant matter, the break down of the cellular walls… attempting to strengthen them?” She asked, intently rereading it, thinking out loud. It wasn’t a formula she had seen before but the handwriting and its focus on plant matter rang a bell. It was written entirely free of chemical symbols - all of it was written in traditional alchemy. Messily scribbled symbols of fire and sulfur, interestingly a uniquely written symbol for tin... No it was zinc. She blinked quietly recognizing it. “This wasn’t just any alchemist, this was written by gramps! My gramps is the only one I know to write zinc in the most annoying way possible. We always mix up his tin and zinc! He specializes in botanical alchemy, plant life and I’ve never seen this formula before.” She said excitedly, “I never expected to see everything he’s worked on, we all keep certain techniques to ourselves but I’m sure if I talk to him we can figure it out.”

She thought, remembering now her family might be freaking out after seeing the news. Charlie groaned. Once again being left without knowing if she was alive. Tonight was different, she wasn’t sure what to expect from their reaction, she had a choice this time.

“My family is going to be pissed.”

[Crooked Knight]

---

Location: David's primary apartment. New York.
Time: Late Summer. Wee hours of the morning.

For hours now, lightning had been flashing and crackling intermittently across the night's sky, thunder crashing and roaring indiscriminately across the streets of New York.

With every bolt, David's eerily pale blues lit up like a cold flame, only to leave him back in almost utter darkness, the burning tip of his cigarette fighting an unfair battle against the shadows, fated to eventually die from consumption.

Despite being alone in his apartment, the thief still dressed somewhat smartly, an impeccable white shirt tucked into black suit pants, along with a trusty pair of oxfords. As he leant against the massive glass walls that looked out to his terrace, he could not quite remember the last time he'd seen a lightning storm of such magnitude, and even left a nearby window cracked open along its vertical axis to listen to it without having his apartment flooded.

There was a massive ripple in the sky, the young man hearing, feeling every stroke of light as it zapped and cracked, almost blinding him before crashing down on the building opposite with an almost immediate, deafening boom. Dozens of buildings and streets lost their light simultaneously as the very floor seemed to quake.

For a moment, it was like when he was a young boy, sneaking away in the night to his secret tree house at his grandfather's estate. He could barely see in front of him, but that made him that much more aware of his surroundings, as if life briefly became louder... before being rendered mute again by the storm.

He lost track of time as the storm raged on for what seemed like hours before its eventual departure, washing the streets of New York with a sense of relief. He barely even realized the lights had returned to the block before his phone rang, the man taking his time before activating the speaker.

“Mr. Raffles?” came a distorted voice, in classic deepthroat style.

“Hello, Mr. Manders.” David replied with a half-amused smile. His voice had returned to his original British accent, a smooth and proper, almost posh manner of speaking, to which he affectionately,- or rather, narcissistically,- referred to as 'the Queen's English.'

“I know it's late, and that there was a massive storm falling down on your head, but the protocols state. . .”

“It's fine, Mr. Manders. And I appreciate your concern. You're a good friend,” David told the man on the other side, a rare, genuine statement, “Is the line secure?”

“. . . Please.” Mr. Manders replied, as if offended by the question.

This earned another half-smile from the thief, who lit another cigarette in the process, “Don't get defensive, mate, it's only wise to double-check. Anyway, how are things?”

“. . .They're okay.” Mr. Manders replied concisely.

“Have you been getting out of the house at all?” David pushed.

“. . .I haven't missed a therapist's appointment in two months.” Mr. Manders replied, almost hopefully.

David pinched the bridge of his nose, “And I suppose she's thrilled that she is the only human contact you've had all this time. Physically speaking.” He pointed out, before Mr. Manders could protest.

“I'm not agoraphobic by choice, D... Mr. Raffles,” the man on the other side protested, regardless, “Maybe if I told her about my real life we could make more progress. . .”

“That is not a choice, Mr. Manders. You know it as well as I do.” David cut him off, making an effort to control his tone.

“I don't know, Mr. Raffles. She has assured me that doctor-patient confidentiality would protect me from-”

“Don't give me that,” David insisted, “Confidentiality is an ethics principle: it's not the same as privilege. And even if it were, there are always exceptions to the rule. What are you going to tell her, anyway? That you can plug your brain to the internet? Even if you weren't behind some of the biggest thefts in the last century, your abilities alone make you an international menace,” he lectured him, “Only God knows what the government, -nay, the governments - of the world might do if they found out someone like you exists.”

“I-I understand.” Mr. Manders replied. Even through the voice modifier, David could hear a hint of disappointment.

“I'm sorry, mate. I know it's a piss-poor situation to be in, but I'd rather give you the hard facts than lie to you. . .I'll always have your back, you know this, right?” he added in a reassuring, almost paternal tone.

“I do.” Mr. Manders replied simply, but it was about as confident a reply as anything he'd said all month.

“Good. Good,” David replied with a small sense of relief, “Remember, if she gets too pesky with her questions, or you think she's starting to suspect. . .”

“I will find a new therapist. Yes. I know,” the man replied, muffling a sigh, “How do you do it?”

“Do what, mate?” David asked in turn, flicking the cigarette against an ashtray.

“How do you keep up with all the lies?”

“Hah!” David couldn't help himself, “That's like asking how do I keep myself alive. Although I do suppose that technically, I'm a dead man. A ghost, if you will,” he mused, “You should know: you're the man who killed me, after all.”

“That isn't funny.” The modified voice reproached him.

“Oh, lighten up a little,” David smirked, “How long have we been working together, Mr. Manders?”

“. . .It's been one thousand, nine hundred and ninety three days since our first job.”

“And how many times have we discussed your retirement?” he pushed, seemingly unsurprised with the precise count Mr. Manders seemed to keep.

“. . . A few.” The man conceded, albeit less precisely.

“Have I ever discouraged you, or attempted to stop you from doing so?” David took a long drag from his cigarette, before putting it out on the ashtray.

“. . . No. You haven't.” He replied.

“There's your answer, then,” David replied, his smile practically triumphant, “Let's be honest: you love what we do as much as I do. This whole honesty poppycock is just bothering you because of what you've seen others do, not what you've done. There's a whole lot of bad people out there, but trust me when I say this: you're a decent man.”

“Th-thank you, Mr. Raffles. That does make me feel a little better.” Mr. Manders replied.

“Excellent! I am beyond glad to hear that, mate. In fact, I think what we both need right now is a rousing new challenge!” he noted, clasping his hands together

“Now? But that would be in violation of protocol. We're still thirty-five days away from our next scheduled-”

“I was there when we wrote the rules, Mr. Manders. And they're there for a reason.” David conceded after a rather abrupt interruption, “But what makes us really good at our jobs is that we can tell what rules we can break apart from those which are sacred: even those we made up ourselves,” he continued to explain, confident in his tone, “It's been long enough, trust me. Plus, this gives us an excuse to be in touch more often.” He added.

“. . .You're the boss.” The modified voice came through after an uncomfortable silence.

David kept his agreement to himself.

A segment of the penthouse's roof dislodged itself from the structure, revealing a projector, that focused a beam of light on the wall, whilst blinds automatically lowered themselves, filling the apartment with shadows once more. Images and data for a dozen jobs showed up on display, the hidden offers that Mr. Manders had handpicked out of the internet's murky bowels.

With a knuckle pressing against his lips, David read the information on display whilst Mr. Manders provided some commentary, the thief listening to it half-heartedly as he drew his own conclusions.

“What about number twelve?” he asked, ignoring the rest of Deep's speech.

“Um, number twelve, yeah... I don't know about that one,” Deep replied, clearly uncomfortable with David's interest, “I didn't find this offer, it was mailed to our, uh, 'business mail'. But I can't seem to track whoever posted it back to their source, and it doesn't even specify what they...-”

“They're offering ten million dollars,” David interrupted him, “The rest of these jobs are small-time by comparison. Set up a meeting: under our terms. Use location Eye as a meeting point. Dress code must be casual. I'll be wearing. . .”

“Listen to me,” the deepthroat voice modifier made Mr. Manders sound suddenly imposing, “I just told you I can't track whoever this is. Whoever they are, these people are most certainly dangerous.”

“Do you think they can find you?” David asked, succinctly.

“. . .No. That should not be possible.” His associate replied after a moment's hesitation.

“Good. Then do not concern yourself with me. Like I was saying, I'll be wearing. . .”

[fdeviant]

Esoterica

_{Part I}

Location: Tretower Court, Powys, Wales
Time: 10 a.m., Two Years Ago

Ars Obscura Members

---

[Recording . . .]

Imagine, as if it were the first time, of all your fragile mind is capable, of every image you could possibly conjure, of every untold story or forgotten dream.

Imagine.

What do you see? What impossibilities have you conceptualized? What worlds have you known, or creatures met? What horrors and wonders dance in full view or dart across your vision, and for how long do they linger? What stories have you convinced yourself are true, and which have you dismissed? The answers are irrelevant, of course. Nothing you could imagine compares to the truth, nor does your knowledge of this fact make the world in which you live more knowable.

Secrets.

Secrets hide in plain sight, wary of the scholar, infatuated with the skeptic, and amused by the knower who, in his hubris, deludes himself with the illusion of knowing. Nothing is known but one simple truth:

All is possible.

That is the secret we must keep, the one truth that, if known, threatens our very existence. When fragile minds and fearful hearts greet those unseen worlds, they flee, or fight, or fall, or force themselves deeper into the unknown, sometimes to their detriment, sometimes to ours. But the end is always the same, and the secret is no more.

Praesidium Arcanum Ignotum. That is our creed, our lifelong devotion: the protection of the secret of the unknown.

We are not a strictly regulatory force. We do not seek to control those under our banner. We are not a force of good, nor are we a necessary evil. There is a delicate balance that, when tipped too far in either direction, ends in our destruction. As seekers of truth, protectors of the unknown, and knowers of vast secrets, our only goal is to maintain this balance, and we will employ any means necessary.

I am the director of the Ars Obscura, Ursula Wyrcroft. I am your director, and if you are seeing this, congratulations, Apprentice. You will work as the veil which shields our world from prying eyes, an agent of the unknown and, ironically, the perpetuation of skepticism. Your task is never ending, but in exchange for your devotion, you will be granted almost unlimited access to our growing collection of esoteric knowledge and occult power.

Be warned, however, that should your exploration threaten to expose our operations, should you part the veil against my wishes, your time here will be short. This is not a place of learning, and I am no headmistress. By all means, use our resources to your advantage, interact with your fellow agents and apprentices, but do not expect instruction in the magical arts. Your education is not my priority, nor is your complete and utter compliance. Discretion is all I ask.

You will be assigned to one of our senior members shortly. They will act as your guide to our organization until you become competent enough to navigate on your own. And no matter what they tell you, the senior members aren’t your masters. The Ars is your master, and to it you are apprenticed, so don’t stroke the other member’s egos too heavily.

Allow me to once again congratulate you on this achievement. Know that, to hear these words, makes you a valued member of our family, and all questions, should you have any, will be answered in due time.

[. . . Stop Recording]

Ursula let out a heavy sigh, nodding to the cameraman, who promptly switched off the device once her speech had concluded.

“A perfect first take, Ms. Wyrcroft,” the lanky young Londoner complemented Ursula, taking a quick scan through the footage to look for any irregularities, any twitches or nervous ticks. He scratched his beard and readjusted his bright red beanie, noticing a change in lighting about halfway through.

“A little under-exposed toward the end, though. Might wanna have another-”

”That will have to do,” Ursula cut him off, hobbling over to marble bench a short distance from the rose covered trellis that acted as her backdrop. She let out another heavy sigh as she took her seat, closing her eyes and allowing herself to catch her breath.

Three weeks had passed since her last accident at the Agency, but her body was taking longer to recover. Shortness of breath, trembling, night terrors, and a heavy limp were perhaps the least grievous injuries she had received during her tenure in London, but it seemed she could no longer keep up with the physical demands of her profession. That was, perhaps, half the reason she had taken on this new venture.

“Ma’am,” the young man lingered awkwardly as Ursula rested, “If we could just get another take-”

”It will have to do,” Ursula sternly repeated herself. She had a midlands accent that was hard to place, but there was enough southern influence to make everything she said sound a strange mix of annoyingly proper and heavily foreboding. And there was so little emotion in her speaking voice, perhaps due to her injuries, that any change in tone made a terrifying difference.

”Make the whole thing darker if you must, just get me the file by tonight like you promised.”

He nodded, quickly packing up his equipment and leaving the garden with haste.

“A little harsh, don’t you think?” a man’s voice sounded from behind the trellis, drawing closer along with the loud clacking of expensive boots.

“You know the young ones don’t take criticism well. You’ll be lucky if you get that tape by the end of the week.”

Ursula chuckled, coughing between breaths.

”I don’t need it today, luckily. But the longer he takes, the more I consider shoving my cane up his-”

“Careful, Ursula,” the stranger warned, “your old hag is showing, and you’re only forty-three.”

Ursula recognized the man as her former partner, an executive officer of the London branch of The Agency of Paranormal and Metahuman Containment, Marcus Fields. He was an American, once a member of the New York branch until a few years ago. The London branch was less than enthusiastic to have another new agent joining. Their facility at the time was operating at max capacity; there was no room for new magical or meta detainees, and not nearly enough resources to accommodate new employees. Fortunately, Marcus joined as a replacement for a former interdepartmental manager. His experience in employee management, along with his list of accomplishments in New York, helped the London branch function more efficiently, paving the way for his eventual promotion to executive officer, alongside Ursula, whose magical expertise earned her the same position.

”You know damn well that I’m only thirty-eight, Marcus.” Ursula corrected him, shaking a cane in his direction before realizing that it made her seem more like a shrivelled old crone.

”It’s just the after effects of the miasma. A few more days and I’ll be right as rain.”

“And in the meantime?” Marcus questioned, taking a seat next to Ursula, brushing off his side of the bench to keep from dirtying his suit. “How will you lead this little experiment, hmm? You can’t form a united front while bedridden, Ursula. You should have just stayed in London.”

”So I can wait around while our board members turn into politicians and the government starts slapping on more restrictions? No, thank you. It’s never what I wanted, it was just the best option at the time. And now that I have the experience and the resources necessary to go it alone, I will. And on that note, why are you here, Marcus?”

Marcus started tapping his foot on the pavement, a longtime nervous habit.

“I wanted to see what you were up to.”

Ursula rolled her eyes.

“No, it’s true,” Marcus insisted, “we worked together for three and a half years, Ursula. You were the only one I could turn to in The Agency, you always had my back. That’s exactly why I haven’t told anyone about your little field trip. The board just thinks you retired after the containment of the miasma in Yorkshire. I’m guessing your pension is how you got hold of Tretower Court and Castle.”

”Our associates in Cadw happily put the land in my name after a sizeable donation last fall,” Ursula grinned, ”so long as I help them keep the grounds maintained, and the property remains ‘officially’ owned by Cadw, I can do as I please. And the pension, if you must know, went into some underground work. Did you know there was a mound just outside the Court? That’s why I chose the location.”

“I thought I felt more than just your abrasive presence when I drove up,” he joked, placing a hand on her knee. Ursula swatted it away.

”Worry about me all you want,” Ursula groaned as she stood up, supporting herself with gnarled, wooden staff about a head taller than herself. ”But no more unannounced visits. I can’t have The Agency following you here and throwing a wrench in my plans.”

“Which are what, exactly?” Marcus skeptically responded, following Ursula into the courtyard.

”I mean it, Marcus. You might be happy with how things are back in London, but I can’t stand all the bureaucracy. This is where I’m needed. You ‘protect’ the country your way, and I’ll protect me and mine. Fair?”

“If there’s no changing your mind,” Marcus opened his arms, “can I at least get a hug goodbye?”

Ursula turned around, a hint of a grin on her face. She walked up close, using her cane to support herself. Standing on her toes, she leaned in to Marcus’s face, her mouth centimeters from his ear.

”No,” she whispered, tapping his leg with her staff before wandering into the old manor home, waving behind her until she disappeared.

[nitemare shape]

“I hate this.” Slipstream said to Flux as they made their way into the heart of the Hounds base. “These places are never pleasant.” She finished, a shiver running down her spine as the memory of the last time she had entered Hounds of Humanity base ran through her mind. The things that she saw that day in the base just outside of Pacific Point haunted her. The image of all those metahumans locked in gages awaiting execution. The smell of blood and death that hung in the hallways, it was an odor that was so thick that no matter how often she showered, she never seemed to be able to wash that smell away completely. In truth, to Slipstream it was as if that experience had somehow stained her very soul, and she wasn’t sure that she would ever be able to escape the effects it had on her.

“I understand.” Flux said truthfully. While she had also seen atrocities in her life, some of which dwarfed the heinous crimes of the Hounds of Humanity, being an empath, she could feel the pain and trepidation radiating from Slipstream. She didn’t need to know what Slipstream had seen in her previous encounters with the Hounds, she knew just how devastating those encounters were because she could feel it as if she had shared the experiences herself.

“This must be it.” Slipstream said as she came to a halt at a set of massive bay doors that much to her surprise were wide open. She stepped through the doors into the cavernous room which as evidenced by the strong smell of oil and the large amount of vehicles and vehicle parts was very clearly the maintenance garage that Iron Knight had mentioned. They had suspected that this garage was a sort of launching point for the Hounds’ leadership’s escape, however, if that were the case, they were too late. The garage was empty.
Or so it seemed.

Once the two heroines were looking around inside the garage, they began hearing a loud thumping sound, almost like extremely heavy footfalls. Both women stopped what they were doing and began to look around for the source of the sounds. However, they saw nothing. As the sound grew closer, Slipstream noticed a puddle of engine coolant that had gathered on the floor of the garage near one of the vehicles. As the loud thumping sounds continued, the puddle of coolant rippled in time with the sounds, reminding Slipstream of the classic film Jurassic Park, and the way the cup of water rippled in much the same way as the T-Rex approached.

“Oh, this is not good.” Slipstream said.

“What?” Fluxed asked, however, she did not need Slipstream’s to say anything, as the source of the sounds became very apparent.
Slipstream looked in the direction of the approaching sounds, and her jaw dropped.

“Oh no, not good at all.” Slipstream said as she laid eyes on the source of the commotion, the mountain of a man called Richter, the same man that she had encountered in Pacific Point when she came across the metahuman traffickers. The same man who had once gone toe to toe with Icon, the man who would have killed her the last time they met had it not been for the combined efforts of herself and Iron Knight.

“You might want to run.” She said to Flux as Richter prepared to attack.

Without saying a word, the man-mountain charged at the two heroines. If not for Slipstream’s quick thinking and even quicker reflexes, grabbing Flux and pulling her from harm’s way, at least one of the women would have been nothing more than a greasy smear on the wall of the maintenance garage.

“Stand still.” The behemoth snarled as he turned toward the heroines and charged again. Both Slipstream and Flux were able to dodge Richter again, however, Slipstream raced back toward the brute and delivered a series of punches and elbows to the back and sides of his head before getting back outside of his massive reach.

The assault had begun and ended within the span of a blink of an eye.

“Bitch.” Richter said as he turned back toward Slipstream, slightly wobbly on his feet as he tried to shake off the effects of the attack.
“You’re an idiot.” Slipstream said to the man mountain. “You go out there and do whatever the Hounds tell you to do, knowing full well what they are and what it is that they want. And you still act like their lapdog. You’re pathetic.” She spat, the anger in her voice was undeniable. Anger that she felt toward this man, who had assisted the Hounds with countless atrocities against metahumans, against his own people.

“No, I just know the odds. I’ve seen what they are willing to do. They’re willing to cross boundaries that you heroes never will, and that’s why they’ll win. They will do whatever it takes. I’m just picking the winning side.” Richter told her.

“You’ve already lost. We routed the Hounds in Sherman Square, we’ve taken this base, and Icon is leading a team to take out the Finger of God as we speak. You chose the wrong side, and you’re going to spend the rest of your life in a SuperMax in the middle of the goddamned ocean.” Slipstream said.

“Well, be that as it may, you’re not walking out of here.” Richter said coldly as he started advancing toward her.

Slipstream prepared herself for his attack. However, much to her surprise, it never came. She stood and watched in stunned disbelief as Richter gently came off of the floor and floated up into the air as if he were nothing, and then suddenly he was violently slammed into the ground and seemingly held there by an invisible hand which pressed down on him, forcing the air from his lungs with such a force that the metal floor beneath him began to buckle. Slipstream looked over at Flux, who looked at the massive man with a look, not of anger or hatred, but of pity, until finally, unable to move or breathe, Richter blacked out.

As an empath, Flux could not only read the emotions of others, but she could feel them as if they were her own emotions. When she felt Richter’s emotions she only felt one—

Fear.

Not of her, or the fate that awaited him, but fear of the Hounds and what they would do to him and the ones he loved.

The thought that this man who was responsible for so much death and despair was capable of loving someone at all was shocking to her, but then she realized that he wasn’t working for the Hounds because he believed in their cause…but because he was protecting someone. And for an instant, she felt that she understood this man, and did indeed feel for him.

“We’re done here, we should go.” Flux said to Slipstream as she turned and headed back the way they came.

[Fallenreaper]

---

Location: Lachance Stronghold, Henderson, NV
Time: Early Morning, Before the Satellite Attack

”After all that time and effort I spent talking to that bitch, she just ups and leaves?! What am I, a fucking agony aunt supposed to give transient assistance and aid?!”

Suffice to say, Kat was less than pleased at Marie’s sudden departure from the group. The sudden departure, especially hot on the heels with the encounter with the… oh, what was her name, the Ambassador? That sounded pretentious enough, that was probably it. The Ambassador probably had something to do with it… The fae were all intertwined - it was all part of their philosophy from what Kat had seen of them, all of them working in one giant inter-familial strife and conflict, like a huge dynastic squabble over who ate all the pies, and how much did they pay for that troubadour. And mortals were there to be snapped up like flies in a spider’s web, mesmerised into selling what free will they had for flitting, fleeting power. Kat could only imagine how Ben was feeling - not that she needed to imagine any such thing.

Exasperated at their current predicament, Kat headed back over to Ben’s room, only to hear him yell in fear and desperation. She burst through the door as he finished another sentence, and started speaking without hesitating to find out what it was he had said.

”Benjamin, what’s wrong? Are you alright?!”

Ben abruptly stopped just outside the door. His hand pressed into the framing, steadying himself as he looked at the individual blocking his way. Confusion faded into relief when he recognized Katarina. He used his left hand to rub the sleep grit from his eyes.

“Yeah, just a fucked up dream,” Benjamin stated, trying to brush off the effects.

It was hard since he was sweating, pale and trembling all over.

”Are you sure?” Katarina, without thinking, embraced him tightly, if only to reassure him and give a material anchor… in case he thought he was perhaps still dreaming.

”You don’t sound alright, or feel it either. Do you need something to eat?”

Benjamin tried not to flinch again. Physical contact was difficult because he rarely ever encountered it as he let her hug him, using her body to balance and help him remain upright. After a few moments, he spoke.

“I’m not really hungry and I feel awful. I guess we should figure out what to do next.”

”The first order of business is making sure you’re okay, as far as I’m concerned… and then we can find out where that damnable witch has gone to and get some answers as to why she just decided to… up sticks, as it were. Without even so much as a by-your-leave.” Kat shook her head and sighed heavily, pulling away slightly and giving Ben a lookover.

“Wait...what? Marie left? When?” Ben abruptly interrupted, his expression concerned now.

”Marie… left. I don’t know why, I don’t really know when, but… she’s gone. I don’t know where she’s gone or what she intends to do. We had a talk, and then, the next thing I know, she’s just… gone. But anyway, we should probably concern ourselves with ourselves. Things have been pretty rough these last couple days, right? We could plan the next course of action with your companions as well… those twins? I don’t know their names, apologies…” Kat cracked her neck absent-mindedly, and looked about to see if the aforementioned companions were anywhere to be seen.

“I guess,” Ben felt a churning in his middle.

Suddenly an urge to leave tried to overwhelm him causing his fingers to tighten around the frame, his knuckles white and verging on ripping off the wood. Gradually he inhaled, then exhaled to stomp down his anxiety.

“Ji and Yeong, I think? And yeah, the last few days have been pretty rough. We can’t really get a break, can we?”

”Hey, hey, hey, it’s alright…” Kat took hold of Ben’s hands and gently squeezed them, concerned at his sudden change in mood and its gravity; his reaction worried her. She had no idea that Marie’s departure would have had such an impact on him, but it… strangely made sense - Ben and Marie seemed to know each other, be familiar - were they part of the same group, that Marie had now simply abandoned? With Ji and Yeong, the twins? Could be possible.

”N-no… life really could give us a break, that’s for certain. If you want, we could head out, get some fresh air - you could probably use some after all of the scheisse that you’ve been through, especially after the Hounds. Sound good to you?” Kat smiled as warmly as she could manage, despite her fangs perhaps lending a more bestial appearance to her features then she would have liked. She also knew that the sun would make her plan a bit more complicated than it initially appeared - though she was no Draculesti, and would not be instantly destroyed upon exposure, Katarina was still vulnerable to the light of the sun - something that she dimly remembered researching work-arounds from four hundred years ago… Wouldst if only the Crusade had not happened.

“No, it’s not going to fucking help,” Ben blurted out as he moved past her.

He was angry and bitter. That was much was clear to Kat while she watched him leave in a hurry, seeming to put distance between them. The elder vampire was left standing there along with her thoughts. Gradually her skin flickered with an alarm when unseen eyes raked themselves down along her spine, traveling from head to toe. As if sizing her up from behind. Kat’s figure whirled about to face the source: a small, wiry black crow.

Its sharp angled head tilted to the right then left. One beady red eye always keeping watch over her. It clicked its beak a bit, softly snapping it open and shut. Before Kat could shoot off her first attempt at a counter-spell, a mist engulfed her shape. It muffled her voice causing the magic spell to disappear almost immediately. Then she was gone. On the bench where Ben had laid sat a single note, one appearing to be written by Katarina, stating she had business to take care of and she would be back. The flutter of wings was all that was heard before it vanished into thin air followed by a soft, feminine chuckle.

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🐺

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