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Aquaman had always told him that having allies on the battlefield was the greatest of assets. To have someone at your side in the hour of greatest need was a power greater than the Trident of Poseidon, according to King Orin. Kaldur always saw that as a metaphor than a legitimate lesson, but he had to admit his King's words were ringing true now that other young heroes had joined him here on the battlefield of New York in order to repel these horrific invaders.

Beside him was Beast Boy, a hero he had fought beside before. The young man was impulsive and tended to talk too much for Kaldur's liking, but he was as useful as any on the battlefield. One of Batman's sidekicks was here as well, but it was not the Robin that Kaldur had once known. This one was smaller, yet seemed to have a chip on his shoulder. Still, the Bat tended to make sure his charges were skilled. The one with the S on his chest unnerved the Atlantean. Aquaman had never mentioned another Kryptonian to go alongside Superman and Supergirl. But this newcomer was strong and seemed to be willing to help. That was enough at this point.

The strange alien they had rushed to help was a whole other matter. Kal heard her muttering to herself in no language he had ever heard. However she ended up here, she was clearly completely unprepared. The young man from the seas knew what it meant to be a stranger in a strange land, as he himself was every time he stepped onto dry land. But acclimating their new friend would have to come later. First that had to survive this encounter.

Kaldur turned to his allies, "Our enemies are strong, but it's clear they rely on nothing but their strength. An enemy like that is easy to confuse and break if the tide can turn. It's clear they never expected us, and figured they would be able to take the girl easily."

He turned to look at the orange skinned girl, who clearly had no idea what he was going on about.

"Robin, if you're anything like the Batman, you can provide a distraction while Super...boy and I splint their ranks up the middle," Kaldur nodded to the two of them before turning to Beast Boy. "I need you to take care of the girl. If any get by the three of us, I want you to take them down. If there are too many of them, transform into something that can get you and here out of here. Take her to someone in the League or something. But whoever she is, she's clearly important and needs our help."

He realized he was dolling out orders, even though he barely knew most of the heroes he was now gathered with. The thought brought a slight blush to his cheek, "We can do this. I know we can. Are you all with me?"
Alright, my guys. I gotta lot of catching up to do. Has anything had much to do with the X-Men side of things happened outside of Maxx's and Doc's posts?


Negative, but just FYI we will be soft rebooting the game next month. So if you want a clean slate that will be an opportunity
N O M A D



The ax passed through the log like a hot knife through butter, and both halves fell onto the mountainous piles on each side of the cabin's chopping block. The wind kicked up and sent a shiver down the man doing the work's spine. The chill in the air was strong, but it was clean.

The cold had begun to whip through the mountains early this year. The locals had told the man they knew as Grant Barnes that it never snowed at this altitude this early, but that when it did it often meant that the winter would end up being a mild one when all was said and done. The down home superstitious nature of the sentiment had brought a smile to Grant's, or rather Steve Rogers's, face. If the people of Rock Fall, Montana knew who their new resident really was, they were doing an admirable job of pretending not to. Steve hoped the beard he had grown was enough to throw them off the scent, but he was never great at deceiving his fellow man.

But these people lived uncomplicated lives, and that's all Steve needed right now. Time to think and get his head on straight. He saw Sharon everywhere he turned now, and he wasn't going to be any use to anyone as long as that was happening.

At least that's what he was telling himself. Deep down he didn't know if that was the real reason he was here, or if it was because he was scared. It was an odd admission for someone like Steve Rogers to admit. But he was lost in this new world. Things were no longer black and white. Everything was a shade of grey.

Suddenly, Scout, the German Shepard Rogers had adopted about two months ago stood abruptly up from a deep sleep and let out a low, aggressive growl.

Steve bent down next to the dog and patted his head, "What is it, boy?"

He got his answer when the rumble of an engine began to crest over the hill. A truck swiftly followed, and Steve saw one person inside it. But that didn't mean there weren't more vehicles on their way. He snapped at Scout, who was in the ready position behind the super soldier. Steve himself gripped the ax a little more tightly, in preparation for whatever was coming.

But his stance relaxed as the door opened, and Roy Harper, the one-time SHIELD agent known as Arsenal, stepped out. The younger man nodded to Rogers, "We need to talk."

"Looks like I don't have a choice," Rogers motioned towards the modest cabin. "Warmer in there. Don't have much to offer besides some bad coffee."

"Bad's better than none," Harper shrugged and plucked a big bag out of the bed of the truck. "Though we might need something stronger."

The wood door creaked as the two men and one dog trotted through it. The inside was nothing special, but it was everything Steve needed. An old, plushy couch and chair with well-worn grooves where Steve and Scout sat every night sat in front of an old TV. Steve had little time for most of the fluff on it, but even he had to admit the documentaries he found had done wonders for his understanding of the modern world. A small kitchen sat in the corner, the pot of coffee on a small hot plate. On the other side of the wall that bisected the cabin was a bedroom and a bathroom. It wasn't anything to look at, but it was his.

Steve motioned to the couch and Harper took a seat. Scout placed himself across the coffee table from the fugitive, silent, still, and never breaking eye contact.

"Cute dog," Harper mused, moving his head back and forth as the dog kept his gaze.

"Found him on the road," Steve explained as he poured the coffee. "Was abused by his former owner. Took him off his hands, gave Scout a cheeseburger and he's been following me around ever since."

"Yea, I can tell," Harper's eyes narrowed. The dog's narrowed back.

Steve handed the black sludge to the younger man and took a seat in the chair, "What's in the bag?"

"We'll get to that," Harper changed the subject. "You seem to have everything you could need out here."

"I get by," Steve shrugged and took a sip. "Getting my head back on straight isn't going to be easy."

"Yea," Roy rolled the coffee in his hand. "It's gonna have to be."

Rogers put his cup down on the table, "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means while you're up here playing Jeremiah Johnson the world is going to shit," Harper snapped bluntly. He put his cup down and met the eyes of the former Captain America. "Ever since you and Wonder Woman disappeared its like things are coming apart at the seams."

Steve scoffed, "Come on. Things aren't great. But I think that's a bit dramatic. There's plenty of others to take care of things."

"Yea," Harper nodded curtly. "Plenty of others to get picked off by ARGUS, or HYDRA, or the League of Assassins, or whoever else is out there. There are a lot of us. You're right. But we're unlinked. Broken. Scattered. Easy picking for the hyenas that want us gone. Once that happens, they'll be free to plunder and pillage as they want."

"I'm not a leader anymore," Steve looked out the window and shook his head. "I can barely figure out who the enemy is."

Harper let out a acidic chuckle at that statement, "Please. Steve Rogers unaware of right and wrong? No, you know exactly who the enemy is, Captain. You're just afraid to admit it. Because the enemy is all around us. They've infiltrated the government. The police. The military. But you know who they are. You're just scared to work outside of the system to fix things. To chart your own path. To stop taking orders and start giving them. That's how we'll win this war."

"What war is that?" Steve's eyebrows raised.

"The only one that matters, Captain Rogers," Harper removed the item from the bag and tossed it to Steve. The vibranium shield felt familiar as it fit into his hand, like an old comfortable shirt. He turned it, and saw the bright blue and red had now been repainted a dark blue with white accents. "The war against injustice."

"How...how did you get it?" Cap shook his head in disbelief.

"Doesn't matter," Harper waved him off. "I have friends with certain skills. What's important is you have it. Now you need to do something with it. You think you're not necessary in today's world? I beg to differ. Just in your back yard a group that calls themselves the Church of Humanity has a compound. Ever heard of them?"

"No," Steve couldn't take his eyes off the shield. "Let me guess, they hate mutants?"

"Only hating mutants would have them a few rungs above where they are in my eyes," Harper shook his head. "They'd still be racist scum, but at least the kinds of people they hate would be minuscule in comparison."

"So what then?"

"White supremacists," Roy said bluntly. "And they're gearing up for something. Figured you could help me stop 'em. And in the process I hoped you'd realize you can do more on the outside of SHIELD than you ever could on the inside."

Steve ran his hand over the shield as he had done so many times. Maybe Roy was right. Maybe he was wrong. But if the agent had found him here, others would eventually. Especially if this group was as dangerous as he said. Maybe it was time to get back out there and do what he did best.

"Where are they?" he asked, meeting Arsenal's gaze.
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L
N O M A D


S T E V E N R O G E R S S U P E R S O L D I E R M O N T A N A J U S T I C E
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:


"The price of freedom is high, it always has been. And it's a price I'm willing to pay. And if I'm the only one, then so be it."



Since the incident with Stryfe and the loss of Sharon, Steve has retreated from life and lives with his dog Scout in the remote reaches of Montana. Shaken to the core by Sharon's death and feeling lost in the new world he's found himself in. In his mountain retreat he does his best to try and learn the lay of the land and find his place in this new world. But his past will always catch up to him, and the world will continue to need Captain Steve Rogers, whether he is dressed in red, white, and blue or not.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

With the coming soft-reboot, I want a character that can truly start to interconnect the various heroes of the world, and I can't think of a better one than Steve Rogers. His story up to this point in the game is fascinating, and I think he's perfect to start building some solid teamwork between heroes in the upcoming season. I also have never played Steve outside of his Cap persona, and will have some fun having him be more of a vigilante.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

ALLIES
-Roy Harper: A fellow ex-SHIELD agent on the run from the organization after being framed for killing its former Director.

S A M P L E P O S T:

The ax passed through the log like a hot knife through butter, and both halves fell onto the mountainous piles on each side of the cabin's chopping block. The wind kicked up and sent a shiver down the man doing the work's spine. The chill in the air was strong, but it was clean.

The cold had begun to whip through the mountains early this year. The locals had told the man they knew as Grant Barnes that it never snowed at this altitude this early, but that when it did it often meant that the winter would end up being a mild one when all was said and done. The down home superstitious nature of the sentiment had brought a smile to Grant's, or rather Steve Rogers's, face. If the people of Rock Fall, Montana knew who their new resident really was, they were doing an admirable job of pretending not to. Steve hoped the beard he had grown was enough to throw them off the scent, but he was never great at deceiving his fellow man.

But these people lived uncomplicated lives, and that's all Steve needed right now. Time to think and get his head on straight. He saw Sharon everywhere he turned now, and he wasn't going to be any use to anyone as long as that was happening.

At least that's what he was telling himself. Deep down he didn't know if that was the real reason he was here, or if it was because he was scared. It was an odd admission for someone like Steve Rogers to admit. But he was lost in this new world. Things were no longer black and white. Everything was a shade of grey.

Suddenly, Scout, the German Shepard Rogers had adopted about two months ago stood abruptly up from a deep sleep and let out a low, aggressive growl.

Steve bent down next to the dog and patted his head, "What is it, boy?"

He got his answer when the rumble of an engine began to crest over the hill. A truck swiftly followed, and Steve saw one person inside it. But that didn't mean there weren't more vehicles on their way. He snapped at Scout, who was in the ready position behind the super soldier. Steve himself gripped the ax a little more tightly, in preparation for whatever was coming.

But his stance relaxed as the door opened, and Roy Harper, the one-time SHIELD agent known as Arsenal, stepped out. The younger man nodded to Rogers, "We need to talk."

"Looks like I don't have a choice," Rogers motioned towards the modest cabin. "Warmer in there. Don't have much to offer besides some bad coffee."

"Bad's better than none," Harper shrugged and plucked a big bag out of the bed of the truck. "Though we might need something stronger."

P O S T C A T A L O G:

A list linking to your IC posts as they're created. This can be used for a reference guide to your character or to summarize completed arcs and stories.


The truck continued to barrel along towards the where ever the Hand had decided to set up shop in New York. Leonardo gritted his teeth silently and held on with all his strength, determined to make it there in one piece. He was worried about his brothers, of course, but deep down he knew they'd be able to take care of themselves. They were ninja, and they were together. They were always stronger together.

That's why he was worried about himself. Going into enemy territory by himself was just asking for trouble, but this was the only way they were gonna find out where the Hand were. Knowing where your enemy laid their head was an important advantage to have, and why the Turtles had done everything they could to protect the location of the lair.

Tires screeching filled his ears as the truck skidded around a corner. The Dragons were no longer pursuing the truck, so there was no reason to continue driving like this. But Leonardo knew more than most that fear had a powerful affect when it took hold. He wasn't sure if the person driving the truck was scared of the Dragons' attack or what waited for them when they told their superiors that one of the trucks had been lost. Leo was leaning towards the latter.

Finally, the truck began to approach a guarded gate. Leonardo slid down the back of the truck and climbed below it, holding on tightly to the vehicles under carriage. His shell was inches from the ground, but there was enough clearance, and he wouldn't be seen down here. Above he would have been a sitting duck.

Once the truck came to a stop, the men inside began unloading its contents into the building. After what felt like an eternity, the men were gone and Leo felt confident enough to slide from beneath the vehicle. He then found a shadowy area to assess the situation he found himself in. It was clear the Hand had converted an old warehouse area into their base. But where was once aging industrialism was now a full fledged ninja dojo. He could see at least a dozen men standing guard by the walls. Luckily none of them seemed worried about the inner compound.

That was a good thing, for sure.

He scaled the main building, peeking into windows when he could. But he saw little of use. A few quarters of the ninja. Nothing all that noteworthy. At least not until he came to a big window overlooking the main atrium of the dojo.

There, sitting on a dias above the sensei position, shining brightly below the lights, cut the visage of Oroku Saki's helmet.

"Holy shit, am I the luckiest bastard alive," Leo said in pure amazement.

That was before, of course, a sword found itself at his throat. As the steel pressed on him, he didn't move, but looked out the corner of his eye at its wielder. There he saw a girl, not much older than he was. She pressed a finger to her lips, instructing him to be quiet.

"My name is Karai," she whispered. "I am of the Chaste. And you and I seem to have similar goals."




Gunfire continued to ricochet off the truck as the Dragons refused to let up their attack. Considering what Splinter had told Raphael and his brothers about the Hand, he didn't blame them. The Dragons weren't anything more than a street gang. They wouldn't have a shot in hell against a ninja. Making sure he was dead was the best idea they could possibly have.

"We need to get away from these trucks!" Donnie called over the sound of gunfire.

"No shit, Donnie!" Raph growled back at his brother.

"We're about to become Swiss cheese bros!" Mikey's eyes were about as big as the moon with worry.

"No we're not, Mike," Raphael nodded to his belt and took smoke bombs off of it. "You guys remember the exercise father makes us do? Where we throw the stars over our shoulders? Same principal. Make sure you get them far enough. Listen to the gunfire to judge the distance. Donnie, lay a few down closer to us. I want to be able to bridge the gap quickly so they don't have time to gun us down before we get there."

"Yea, that would be no bueno," Mike nodded.

"On my count," Raph nodded.

The smoke bombs flew silently through the air, and once they hit the ground all hell broke loose. The smoke exploded into the air, covering the entire battlefield in a thick covering of smoke. The three turtles knew that it wouldn't last, but it had done its job. They could hear the Dragons yelling in confusion and the gunfire had subsided.

"Now," Donnie said, and the three of them sprinted towards both sides of the road where the shooting had come from. Don and Mikey took one side of the road, and Raph had taken the other.

He knew he was the better fighter than the other two, and had no problem taking on the Dragons by himself. In fact, he relished at the opportunity. These thugs had no idea what was coming for them, and Raphael was more than happy to deliver it personally.

The first Dragon was reached when the fog of war was still thick. He didn't see the mutant turtle coming. The butt of Raph's sai struck him across the temple, dropping him to the ground in a heap without the ninja needing to break his stride. The next two were fumbling for flashlights on their belts. He hooked one of their guns out of the man's hand, spun it, and threw it at the other. The metal of the weapon struck the second man on the bridge of his nose. Raphael heard the crack of the bone and the yelp of pain as it broke under the swift strike. He was on the now-bleeding man in a blink. Using his momentum, Raphael grabbed the Dragon by his shoulders and tossed him into the now-disarmed one.

By now the smoke had started to dissipate, but it didn't matter at this point. The turtles had broken their ranks. Raph had estimated that there were about twelve guns participating the attack. He had already taken three of them down. If his brothers were anywhere close to that he assumed there would be four more done. That left five.

They didn't stand a chance.

He saw two of them in range, nothing more than shadows in the fog at this point. But they were facing towards him. They may not have noticed him yet, but they would, especially when he moved. He flipped a sai around and tossed it as hard as he could at the man on the left, and took off after it. He heard it crack against the man's skull. Luckily it did exactly what he had hoped. The other man was distracted by the gambit, giving Raph time to roll towards him, and deliver an uppercut that brought him clear off his feet.

"God I am good," Raph mused to himself.

"Not good enough," a voice announced itself from behind Raphael. The turtle turned to find a hulking blond man looming over him. A smirk was painted over his broad face under a nose that had been broken way too many times. He cracked his knuckles hungrily at the turtle, "I dunno what the hell you are, but you've pissed me off."

"I mean, to be fair, we didn't really mean to, you just shot up our ride," Raph chuckled. "So really, you brought this one on yourself."

"Shut up, would ya?"

The fists came fast and furious. The speed was surprising to Raphael. he had expected the man to be strong, but clumsy. It was clear from how he fought that he had been trained at some point. That was a worrying proposition.

Raph did all he could to keep out of the reach of the larger man. He managed to block a few of the haymakers, and even managed to get a kick to the man's chin in. That just seemed to make him angrier. Raph's ankle was snatched out of midair and he was brought off his feet and slammed to the ground. The blow knocked the wind out of him, and the turtle gasped for air.

"All you freaks think this city is yours to control," he raised his foot to stomp on Raphael's head. "But I'm gonna remind you that we're still here."

Before his foot came down, something hit him hard and exploded with a small pop, driving him backwards. Raphael looked up as a succession of other projectiles did the same, sending the big man into retreat. Raph searched for their origin, his eyes finally falling on a figure in a hockey mask standing in the shadows. He motioned towards Raph, "Come on! You guys need to get out of here!"

Raphael didn't need to be told twice.
What's the plan for the remaining of the Season? I'm thinking of coming back with a different character as I still don't have any tangible ideas for Thawne. It'd be nice to know if I should hold off for next season.


So clearly I'm doing a great job of GMing.

Basically as of now I think the plan is to run the season until (through?) February and then do a soft reboot for Season 3 to simplify continuity and hopefully draw some new players.

Arnold Jones, the man known as Hun, took a deep breath, drawing in the cool night air as he waited for the tell tale sounds of the approaching trucks.

There were no nerves for him at this point. He had been running these streets since he was able to throw a punch. Arnold Jones had always been bigger and badder than everyone he had ever known. Even as he entered his forties, his frame was sturdy, even if there was a little dough forming around the edges. He could still take anyone down one on one, and that's what kept him at the top of the Purple Dragon food chain.

The problem was the Purple Dragons were no longer the alpha predators of their own turf. Ever since the Kingpin bit it, his former lackies were doing jobs for a bunch of pajama wearing weirdos called the Hand. It was disgusting to Hun. There had always been war in the city, but it used to be like a bickering family. Not some of the family bowing down to some outsider and breaking the code.

Now, normally this was just something that would annoy Hun. The Purple Dragons were little more than bit players in the larger struggle to control the city. Whether Tombstone or the Kingpin were on top, the Dragons were going to defend their turf and their profits.

That was what the real problem with what the Hand were doing. They were moving product through Dragon territory and not paying the tax. That was against the rules, and he was going to make them pay tonight. He was going to send a message that the Hand weren't going to upend the city without a fight.

"Boss," one of the Dragons nudged him, shaking him out of his own seething thoughts. "Just got word that they're on their way."

Hun nodded curtly. The Hand hadn't only taken Kingpin's former grip on some of the fat man's lieutenants but some of Hun's men as well. What he was left with were loyal men, but a lot of the strongest enforcers he had learned to trust and confide in were gone. He felt his power slipping, and if tonight's gambit didn't pay off he'd probably lose everything he had ever worked for.

This part of the Dragons' territory was along a lightly used industrial road. Decades ago there would be workers showing up to these now-dormant factories for work. Now they were nothing more than decaying skeletons only good for illicit activities like the ambush he and his men were about to perform.

Hun looked back down at the man next to him, "Everything went well elsewhere?"

He had Dragons stationed across their territory, attacking the Hand caravan and forcing it towards this choke point. He had men on each side of the road. It would be a shooting gallery once they got here.

The man nodded, "Sounds like Bridge got winged by a throwing star. But otherwise no casualties."

Hun's eyebrow raised, "Throwing stars?"

"Ninjas, man," the Dragon shrugged at his gang leader.

Hun cursed. What he wouldn't give for things to go back to the time before the world got weird.



"Dude, it's so cold my shell is shivering," Mikey complained about the fall chill as the Turtles sat and waited for the Hand to reach them. They had been trying to keep in front of the caravan all night, and even Leo was starting to get annoyed.

It was easy enough to find out where the Purple Dragons called their home. It was more or less an open secret. If there was one thing Leonardo had learned in his short time on the surface was that it was easy to make human criminals talk. They were a cowardly lot, and just a look at him and his brothers was often enough to get the most hardened looking man shaking. He should have probably been offended at that, or hurt or something. But thoughts like that rarely entered Leonardo's mind. He had his mission to focus on. That was all he needed.

"Quiet, Mikey," Leo warned his younger brother. "I think the trucks are coming."

He sighed with relief as the headlights turned a corner towards them. For the first time they had gotten out ahead of the Dragons, who had been harassing this caravan the entire way through the territory. Leo had no desire to fight both the Hand and the Dragons tonight. He and his brothers weren't ready for anything like that. They were meant to be surgical fighters, not battering rams.

"Donnie," Leo looked over at his brother, "you call out the leap."

Donatello looked back at him with surprise, "You sure about that?"

"Yea," Leo nodded, now keeping his eyes on the approaching vehicles. "You can make the calculations faster. Know the right time."

"Our living calculator," Raph chuckled.

"Okay," Donnie nodded as the vehicles continued their rapid pace. Moments went by and the trucks got closer and closer. Leo didn't look away from the trucks either. He trusted his brother to make the right call, and he wanted to be more than ready when the signal was given.

He drew in breath as the trucks were about to pass. The first blew by in a blur, and as the second was about to as well, Donatello gave the signal. He leapt next to the other three turtles, and the four of them landed deftly on the back of the second large moving truck. Leo looked up and gave Don a nod of approval.

"Cowabunga, dudes!" Mikey laughed with joy. The other three turned to see the youngest turtle mock surfing on the top of the truck. "Some gnarly waves!"

"Mikey, sometimes I don't know how you're related to us," Raph shook his head. "I wonder if Splinter dropped you on your head or something."

"Why would that matter? I've fallen on my head loads of times," Mikey shrugged.

Leo and Don stifled a laugh while Raphael's jaw just dropped, "You really make it too easy sometimes, Mike."

"Thanks, bro," Mike smiled broadly.

Before anyone could break the young turtle's heart and tell him that Raphael was being sarcastic, gunfire erupted around the trucks. The lead one swerved and tipped, as it slid across the concrete sparks flew into the air, illuminating the row of Purple Dragons that lined the road. The truck that the brothers had been riding swerved as well as Leo could hear the gunshots ricocheting off the metal sides and doors. But whoever was driving their truck was either too brave or too dumb to be scared.

Unfortunately, the small tip tossed Raphael, Michelangelo, and Donatello off the truck. Leo watched as the three of them took cover behind the fallen truck. Leo looked back in desperation to see Raphael motioning to him to stay on the truck. As much as it hurt him, he knew his brother was right. He had to find out where the Hand were located, and his brothers could handle some street thugs on their own.



The call woke April up way too early on a Saturday morning.

The panicked voice of the contact that had giver her the location of the warehouse greeted her on the other side, asking if she had given that location to anyone else, and if she had planted the secret camera she had planned on placing the the warehouse.

"No," she lied. "I went and checked the warehouse out, looked for anything left behind, but didn't see anything."

The contact gave her the rundown. A mobster connected with the Kingpin Crime family had been found tied up alongside his hired muscle. A trail of blood was also found, but it was from neither of the men. They were fine, outside of currently sitting in Rikers.

April thanked him, and rushed over to her computer. If the camera worked as she had hoped, it would have turned on when it sensed motion in the warehouse and transmitted still pictures back to her. Of course, that didn't mean she'd be able to get anything usable, but if she did she'd have enough to write her story. Fenwick wouldn't be able to ignore her anymore, and that's all that mattered to her at this point.

She powered up the laptop on her desk, and almost squealed with delight when she saw that the camera's app was displaying new images. April hungrily opened the app, and began flipping through the pictures. She couldn't believe how well this had worked. The two men in suits had to be the gangsters the contact had spoke of. And then, clear as day, three ninja appeared. A few o f the pictures showed the five of them speaking. But then the pictures went dark. Only illuminated by the dim light filtering through the grimy skylight of the warehouse.

Four new figures joined the others in these, but she could barely make them out. There was clearly a struggle. These newcomers attacked the initially members of the meeting. It must have been where the blood came from, either from one of these new entrants or the ninja that the police had found no trace of.

But the final picture caused April to gasp. One of the interlopers had appeared in front of the camera, illuminated by enough light to get a fair look at it. It stood at a bout five and a half feet at most. Its green skin was dull in the low light, but the red mask it wore over its face fluttered slightly in motion, and it draped over what was obviously a turtle shell.

"Okay, well...this story just got a whole lot more interesting," April muttered to herself.


Splinter looked at his sons, all four of whom were sitting stoically in front of him. They had tasted their first true battle tonight. He could sense how excited they were. It was normal for ones so young to see battle as an exciting adventure. In time they would come to find it was nothing more than an obstacle to be avoided whenever possible. But what they had told him tonight proved that, for now, battle would be their way of life.

"You are sure they were Hand?" he asked Leonardo again. The rat had to admit, he was not expecting their first outing to go as well as it did. Leonardo was a capable leader, but even the most capable could fall victim if the whims he was to lead were too strong. While it was clear the brothers were not on the same page initially, Leonardo was able to get them in line when it actually mattered. That was almost more important than having a set plan going into a conflict.

"Yes, sensei," Leo nodded. "The lead ninja said as much. That the mob was running something into the city for them. Through some gang's territory that was not friendly to either faction."

Splinter stroked the fur on his chin, "So the Hand is still content to stay behind the curtain. Either because they do not have the strength they require, or because they are hiding from someone or something."

"We need to crush them when we have the chance," Raph added in characteristically. "If they're hiding, it means they're vulnerable. We wipe them out and we find that damn helmet they have. Then we make sure the Shredder can't come back."

"Yea, we kick em to the curb and we hold all the cards," Mikey nodded. "Wait, unless it's like Go Fish. That'd be bad."

"This all seems a bit rash," Donatello rolled his eyes.

"I agree, my son," Splinter surprised Donatello with that one. "We do not yet know enough about the Hand's movements to judge their strength. What I do want is these Purple Dragons, and what their role in all this is. Find the dragons, and find out what the mob is bringing into the city for the Hand. Once we have all the puzzle pieces, we will be ready to move in earnest against our adversaries."


Alarms blared through the ARGUS compound, causing Booster to nearly fall out of her bed. Skeets was skittering around the room in panic, and nearly rammed into her as she stood up. A red light blinked on and off, illuminating the darkened room slightly. If she didn't feel so tired, she would have assumed it was a nightmare.

"Skeets," she said as she extended the armor, "time to link up. Whatever's going on I have to figure we're going to be wrapped up in
it."

Almost as soon as the words left her mouth, the door to her room slid open and she found Citizen Steel staring back at her. He motioned for her to follow, "Come on, we've got a situation."

"Yea, no shit," she rolled her eyes as she followed him. "I didn't think this was just the lights out warning."

"Very funny," Steel grumbled.

"Thanks, I thought so," Booster chuckled to herself. She liked pushing Steel's buttons. "Something to do with Irons?"

"You'll find out during the briefing," was the government hero's curt response.

"Oh, the briefing, huh?" Booster nodded sarcastically. "How official."

"Do you have a problem with procedure?" he shot back at her, giving a, ugh, steely look in the process.

"Oh so many problems," she smiled back sweetly. "Mostly that if there was something really wrong the two of us should already been on our way to stop it. Not pow-wowing with the generals or whatever the hell we're going to now."

"That's exactly the problem and why ARGUS is necessary," Steel shook his head. Around them the alarms continued to blare. They walked by the helicopter hangar, where Booster saw a bunch of preparation going on. Groups of ARGUS troopers were heading into their designated aircraft for the coming conflict. "Your kind just head out and smash into anything in your way. No thought of what might get in your way, or who might be in your way. We're here to keep the peace and keep you in line."

"Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night, pal," Gold shrugged. "But in reality ARGUS just means that one day when you're gonna want to help, and they're gonna tell you no. Because some Senator's business is involved, or some tinpot dictator the government is propping up doesn't want egg on his face. Whatever the reason, people are going to die because you had to follow procedure."

Steel turned away from her and was silent as they passed into the briefing room. She may have been a bit overzealous in her critique of him, sure. But she had been cooped up in this sterile environment for days, and still hadn't heard back from Sandy about her suspicions. Not to mention the fact that what she said to Heywood was what she felt. The more time she spent around ARGUS the more she was sure that their end goal had nothing to do with keeping people safe. No militarized government body was ever going to have that as an end goal when they worked on the homeland.

No, ARGUS was all about control. She was sure of that. All she had to do was find out what their angle was. Once she had that, she could bring this whole house of cards down with a puff of air.

Taking a seat next to Heywood in the briefing room full of ARGUS troops, the ARGUS officer began, "Twenty minutes ago there was a disturbance in Chicago. The local office there reported unusually high levels of seismic activity on the heart of the city. The strength of the tremors continued to gain strength until they peaked, causing a whole city block to collapse in on itself. From the resulting crater, this emerged."

He pressed a button and a screen sprang to life behind him. On it appeared the armor that Irons had been working on in his lab, except massive. Whoever was piloting it was turned into a near twenty foot giant. It was tearing through concrete and asphalt like they were made of paper and cardboard.

"It doesn't make any sense," Booster whispered to herself. "He had barely finished the smaller version."

Steel looked over to her, confused. She caught his gaze and shook her head as the commander continued his brief.

"We've tried hitting it with a controlled EMP shock, but it didn't do anything," he shook his head. "Which is why we're sending Steel and Booster in to take care of it. She's the reason this thing is even around to begin with, and it's time to show the world what our boy can do."

The group of soldiers cheered. Some of them clasped Steel on the back. She could tell he enjoyed the attention. She could relate, obviously. There was nothing like the dopamine hit from people cheering your name. It was the reason she had taken all those endorsement deals. Why she had pimped herself out to an oil company the first opportunity she could. Fame and fortune. The pull was irresistible.

Maybe Steel's conviction to the cause he believed in wasn't all that odd after all.

"Now, squad up and head out. We've got a bad guy to catch."


Donatello sat on the roof of the building where Alopex had seen the ninja, cursing that he and his brothers had found corroborating evidence to back up her words. A throwing star left behind from their tussle, including some of Alopex's fur, showed that the Hand were indeed real, and they were in New York City. That meant the Turtles were about to be thrown into a war their father had been seemingly be training them for their entire lives.

It was less than ideal. While Donnie was a capable fighter, he never enjoyed that aspect of his life. He could help his brothers so much more behind the scenes. But Splinter had made it clear that the four of them were stronger than three. It made sense from a purely logical point of view, but Donnie's reservations remained.

"Make sure you keep that star," Donnie nodded to Raph, who had been the one to find it. "Might be able to find something off of it."

"Aye-aye, Captain Science," Raphael mock saluted. Donnie rolled his eyes. Raph was a fighting machine, and had always teased Don about his desire not to fight. Nothing too hard, they were brothers after all, but it was still a running thread.

"Very funny."

"Quiet, you two," Leo hushed them. He motioned towards the ladder that led from the roof to the fire escape. It jiggled only slightly, and Leo didn't even have to motion to his brothers. The four of them moved to the shadows of the roof, hiding behind HVAC equipment for the warehouse.

From his hiding place, Donnie can see a pair of shadows climb up onto the roof. They move past him and towards the glass skylight that ran down the middle of the roof. He caught a glimpse of Leo, who had taken cover on the other end of the roof from him. Leo motioned for him to wait and be patient. Don nodded. Raph and Mikey would be see if they approached the newcomers, so it was up to the two of them.

They stopped by the skylight, and Donnie could hear cars pulling up below. He was amazed. These guys had fought Alopex here only a few nights ago, and they were already using it again. They were either stupid or to powerful to worry about someone else showing up to try and stop them.

Splinter would say such confidence would lead to one's downfall, and it struck the young turtle that his master was wiser than he had ever thought. What kind of idiots would go right back to the same place?

Ones who knew they didn't have any competition to worry about.

Once the newcomers came to a stop by the glass, Leo nodded. He and Don silently left their hiding spaces, and crept low and slow towards their quarry. Once each was withing their grasp, the two turtles flung themselves on the human ninja. Each was clad in a red yoroi, with a mask covering their face. Leo and Donnie locked in sleeper holds, putting pressure on points on the neck and temple of each man. Within a few moments, they were alive, but unconscious.

"They wouldn't come back to the same spot twice, huh?" Donnie looked at his brother with a bit of a knowing glance.

"I mean, we would never do something that dumb," Leo shook his head as he placed his ninja down on the roof. "It doesn't make sense, right?"

"It makes sense if you think you don't have anything to worry about in this part of town," Don shrugged. "My guess is the Hand have already secured this territory, and are hashing out their demands for their new mob underlings."

"What do death cult ninja want from the mob?" Leo stroked his chin.

"Why don't we go in and find out?" Don motioned towards the catwalks of the warehouse.

"Yessss," Mikey looked eager. "Let's super spy this mission up!"

Leo considered the idea. Don knew he'd go for it. It was safe, but it would give him information on his enemy. Donnie knew his brother. He knew how his mind worked. If there was an avenue to take to finish a mission, Leonardo was going to run down it.

"We're going in and we're getting info," the eldest nodded in agreement. "And then we're taking whoever comes in through those doors down. We're sending a message that New York has someone to protect them."


Antonio Puzorelli took his seat at the table and adjusted his tie. He had been with the Kingpin Crime Syndicate for damn near as long as Wilson Fisk. It was a good life, at least for him. It had given Antonio and his family a comfortable, luxurious life. It had given his bitch of a wife little reason to complain over the years. It had put his kids through college. It kept his mistress quiet.

At least it had until it all came crashing down. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen had killed Fisk and thrown the whole damn city into chaos. Tombstone was the first to start carving up Kingpin territory, and then the damn ninja moved in claiming they had been in a partnership with Fisk before his death. Damn bastards in pajamas started dolling out orders like the owned the place.

Unfortunately, he found out quickly that there was no saying no to them. That was clear after they chopped off one of Puzorelli's men's head right in front of him. Now he had to come to this dump once a week to talk to these weirdos or face the same.

"Where the hell are they?" Big Louie, Puzorelli's body guard asked. Lou was, well, big, but he was far from bright. But he was the only other one allowed to meet with the Hand alongside the Fisk lieutenant. They were a secretive bunch, and wanted all their orders to flow through someone who commanded the respect of the people left in the Syndicate. They probably figured Louie was too dumb to decipher what their plans were. They were probably right.

"The ninja follow a way of patience, my friend," a soft voice came from the shadows. What followed it were three ninja dressed in red, the leader the only one to reveal his face. He was Japanese, and stood at almost six foot tall. His skin was covered in scars, as if his face had been beaten by a cheese grater. One eye was merely white. His name, as Antonio had been told, was Kirigi. He was the messenger of the Hand, but not its leader.

"Yea, well, not us Italians," Louie grumbled in return. He disliked the agreement with the outsiders just as much as Antonio did, he was just worse at covering his distaste up. He would have to be warned about that. These weren't the kind of people who back talked.

"Please excuse Lou," Puzorelli smiled warmly. "It's past his bedtime."

"Indeed," Kirigi smiled and took a seat at the table. The other ninja remained standing. "We appreciate the shipments coming in on time. Things have been running fairly smoothly."

Antonio nodded. The shipments were of weapons, they brought them in on Fisk shipping containers, usually disguised as fish or some other crap. It had always been a profitable racket, but the cops were getting bolder. Probably because of the devil freak and the spider weirdo. Too many heroes in New York. Too many across the country. Antonio thought that maybe his kind was becoming an endangered species. Soon all the criminals would be like the stranger sitting across form him, and they'd all be fighting some nutcase in spandex.

He felt very tired all of a sudden.

"We've had to change up our delivery routes to escape suspicion," the mob boss explained. "We run through Purple Dragon territory now. They're a small outfit, but they're dangerous. They tried to hit one of the trucks the other night. We managed to get away without losing any of the merchandise, but stuff like that's gonna get the attention of the fuzz."

"Indeed," the ninja nodded. "I will report back to my superiors. If necessary we will dispose of these...Purple Dragons."

"Yea, well, good luck," Puzorelli chuckled. "These street gangs are like cockroaches. You think you kill 'em all and then it turns out a hundred of them were living under the rug."

"In that case we will set fire to the rug," was Kirigi's monotone response.

The mob boss knew he was not joking. The Hand wanted control of New York, and they were going to do anything to get it.

Before either of the men could say another word, the single bulb illuminating the room shattered, showering the able with darkness and glass. Antonio heard a series of thuds as heavy objects fell around him. He could hear Louie fumble for his gun before the big man's body hit the concrete floor hard. The sound of metal meeting metal clanged through the warehouse. Someone let out a grunt of pain.

Antonio Puzorelli squinted and tried to see what was going on. As his eyes began to adjust, the last thing he saw before being struck on the side of the head were a pair of white eyes glaring out from the darkness.


Detective Sam Sterns shook his head as he looked over the scene. Suspected mobster Antonio Puzorelli was tied up to some other Italian muscle head, draped over a pile of rubble that had once been a table in the middle of some two bit warehouse. A trail of blood, whose he had no idea, ran from the area near the table out the door, but then disappeared. For all he knew it was the person who did this's, or it was a friend of the mob boss.

What Sterns did know was he had a vigilante crime scene on his hands.

"Whattaya think, Sam?" the beat cop who got here first asked. "One of the devil's work? Or the spider?"

"Too much blood for the spider," Sterns shook his head. "And it doesn't have the devil's calling card. Could be someone knew."

"Aw shit, the cap's not gonna like to hear that," the uniformed officer lamented.

"No one is," was Sterns's simple response.
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