Hitman

【 Spy High! 】CLOSED

I'll throw in some tentative interest

@Icy Hot

interest~

@fledermaus

Thanks for the interest! Feel free to join the Discord.

【 Spy High! 】CLOSED

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𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝. 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕. 𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙰𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚊'𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚞𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚛, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚍𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚊𝚌𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙰𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚕𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎.

𝙽𝚘𝚠, 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢. "𝙸'𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎! 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝?" 𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚝 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚍𝚎.

𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍, 𝙸 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎, 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚓𝚘𝚋 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚕 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕. 𝚈𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕. 𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎.

𝙻𝚎𝚝'𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗.

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𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚎𝚛

Swindon, Texas. An unassuming, moderately large suburb of Houston that falls somewhere between the quaint countryside and bustling city life. Swindon is a fairly tight-knit community composed of a large mixture of cultural, political, and philosophical ideals, and is, in many ways, the picturesque American town. However, underneath Swindon's surface lies a secret of massive proportions. Operating out of that cozy suburb is a branch of the US government's top-secret espionage agency, Promenade. Promenade is the oldest North American espionage agency and probably the most elusive as well. They are some of America's most dangerous, most elite, and most capable spies, individuals of enormous talent and skill level. And, to top it off, they're all attending the same high school right here in Swindon, Texas.

Interested now, agent? I thought so. Allow me to backtrack a couple of centuries to reflect on Promenade's history.

Promenade is one of the oldest and most elite intelligence organizations in American history. Its existence is kept secret to all but those with the highest level of security clearance. Founded in the year 1776 under the authority of George Washington, the organization was led by one of Washington’s aides-de-camp, Major Hiram Bradshaw. Bradshaw, a master spy in his own right, believed that adult spies were too easy to be rooted out and discovered. He instead insisted that teenagers, an age range that surpassed that of a naive child but preceded that of a fully-fledged adult, were best suited for espionage, and asked Washington to commission a unit of teenage spies to help garner intel on the British movements in the war. Despite protest by members of the Continental Congress, Bradshaw’s wish was granted, and Promenade was formed. A highly successful endeavor on the behalf of the American colonists, Promenade was able to gain classified intel on the British Army’s battle strategy and, despite the capture and execution of Promenade member Nathan Hale, was able to successfully help navigate the Americans to victory without being fully discovered by the British.

Since then, Promenade has continued to be a major player in international affairs, sending operatives around the world on missions to help advance American interests and justice across the globe.

Now, I fully expect you to be exceedingly curious about the "high school" bit. Promenade’s agents are composed of high-school-age kids that are given upgrades and rigorous training to become a cohesive unit of highly-skilled spies. You've been transferred to our southern branch of Promenade, which, since the Clinton administration, has found a nice home at Millard Fillmore High School in Swindon, Texas. Millard Fillmore High School is, unbeknownst to almost all, sitting on top of a massive underground headquarters bustling with some of the most advanced technology the world has ever seen. These high school students have volunteered to undergo rigorous training and a few postmodern scientific "upgrades," so to speak, to turn them into highly-effective super-spies. They've traveled the world, stopping all manner of plots and ploys to undermine global security, while also maintaining the responsibilities of being a high-school teenager. It's quite the balancing act, that is for certain.

Now, I'm sure you're thinking that this is some form of illicit experimentation of some sort. I will have you know now that every agent of Promenade is recruited voluntarily and allowed to leave at any time. Every action they take is out of their own free will. Furthermore, they incur significant benefits for being a part of the organization, such as government "assistance" in getting them into the college of their dreams. Most importantly, though, it's that sense of purpose and adventure that propels Promenade agents to do what they do. After all, saving the world is much more interesting than sitting behind a desk, learning about the Pythagorean theorem or the Russian revolution. It's those same sentiments that make teenagers such a fascinating secret agent- their balance of adult maturity and childish wonder. That is why Promenade has been so successful in the past, and why it continues to be the elite unit that it is today.

Promenade, affectionately referred to as Prom, is currently led by Nadia Sokolova, a former KGB operative that now works as a dance teacher and cheer coach by day, and top spy by night. What we need you to do, agent, is to keep an eye on the adventures (or should I say, misadventures) of Swindon's branch of Promenade. They may be the greatest spies the world has ever seen, but they are just kids, and you know how kids can be sometimes. It's frankly a miracle that Prom works, but they are the best.

Despite what first impressions might show.

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Thank you for reading this far in! This RP has been an idea of mine for a while, and I've been waiting for the perfect time to spring it into action! If you're interested or have any questions, please respond below, and feel free to pop into the Discord server as well!

Thanks again for reading!
- Hitman

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《 H. E. R. O. 》

Chapter IV

_{12:30 PM
August 31st, 2033
Sunset Superhero Resort
St. Florian, U.S. Virgin Islands}

The island of St. Florian was one of the smaller islands of the USVI, located due east of Puerto Rico in the middle of the Caribbean. It was a stunning sight, the pinnacle of natural beauty, with a luscious landscape covered in palm trees galore, surrounded by a sparkling emerald bay. The sun was shining and the temperature was hot but not too overwhelming. It was, frankly, perfect. Despite its incredible beauty, St. Florian was a small island, and much of its resplendent natural glory was reserved to the Sunset Superhero Resort. The resort was the first and largest superhero-exclusive resort spa, and it makes a killing catering towards the needs of the world's superheroes. The resort is the premier hotspot for all superheroes seeking a relaxing vacation, and finding a reservation is difficult. Many of the world's hero agencies have the resort's limited spaces booked all around the year, leaving very limited spaces open at any given time. HERO had never before booked the resort for its own heroes, but after a disastrous summer that included a titanic coup and an endless multitude of certifiably insane supervillains seeking world domination or mass destruction, Director Hugo Powers had decided to take the initiative to book as many spots as the resort had available at the end of August.

Unfortunately, there weren't enough spaces for everybody involved in the massive coup d'etat to go to the resort, so Powers had simply chosen a group of people at random and told them to get ready to head down to the Caribbean. He had, however, given the stragglers a week of paid vacation and reservations to a nice restaurant in Castleburg. It was the best he could do. Sometimes, life wasn't fair, after all.

Those that had been lucky (or unlucky?) enough to go were flown down to the island in a large seaplane. The plane landed on the water, the rippling water splashing along the sides of the plane as it pulled up alongside the dock. The doors to the plane opened, a ramp out of the vehicle sliding out. Director Hugo Powers stepped out of the plane first, a large duffel bag in his hands. He was looking abnormally comfortable, wearing a Hawaiian t-shirt and board shorts, with flip-flops on his feet, a pair of sunglasses tucked into his shirt. Standing at the ready on the dock was a gorgeous Caribbean woman with dark skin and bleach-blonde hair tied into a ponytail. She was wearing a turquoise bikini and a wrap skirt, with a pair of sleek sunglasses perched on her nose. She smiled warmly at the group. "Hello, hello! Welcome to Sunset Superhero Resort. If I'm not mistaken, you guys are from HERO, which means you must be Director Powers." She extended a hand to Powers, who shook it. "My name is Naomi Lewis, and I am the coordinator here at Sunset. On behalf of all the staff here, I'd like to welcome you to our esteemed resort."

Powers nodded. Despite wearing casual vacation clothes, he looked as formal as ever. ”A pleasure to meet you as well, Mrs. Lewis. Thank you for your hospitable reception. If you could direct us to our lodgings as soon as possible, that would be excellent.” He held up his bag. ”We do have quite a bit of luggage to put down, and the sooner we can exit the preliminary unpacking phase and commence the enjoyment of the Caribbean air, the better.”

Naomi chuckled, gesturing towards her with her hand. "Of course. Follow me." The woman walked down the dock towards the gorgeous resort, which had done an excellent job of preserving nature. There was no giant tower or massive building present, but instead, the resort was composed of a line of small, separated villas that wrapped around the shoreline of the island. Several tropical-looking buildings stood inland, between the tropical bushes, palm trees, and sand dunes. Naomi guided them towards the lobby, a lovely building with glass walls and a bonnet roof, supported by wooden pillars. The interior of the reception area was decorated with all manner of ocean-related items, including old anchors, bottled ships, and most impressively, a number of taxidermized fishes. Naomi said something in some foreign language to the lady working at the desk, before smiling and turning back to the group. She had grabbed a tray from the desk, and on the tray were a collection of manila envelopes. "All of your villas are ready for you to go. Your keys are inside these here envelopes, along with our brochure that details the services we provide here at Sunset, along with our room service menu. Our staff has put you with the individuals you have requested to stay with, if any. I do hope you enjoy your stay. If you have any questions, concerns, or requests, please feel free to call me. I wrote my phone number on the back of each brochure. Have fun, and thank you for staying at Sunset."

”Thank you again, Ms. Lewis.” Powers took his envelope. "Before you all go, I have reserved a late dinner at the Solaris, which is the resort's five-star restaurant. If you could join me there at 8:00 PM, that would be excellent. Until then, make sure you enjoy yourselves.” Powers looked towards Pandora. ”Pandora, if you could join me for a quick outing of croquet. There are a couple of matters I would like to discuss with you individually, and croquet is a phenomenal activity to engage in during a discussion. I'll see you there at 1300 hours.” With that, Powers took his envelope and trudged off towards the boardwalk.

Grace, who was quietly observing the beauty of the island and her surroundings, stepped forwards and snatched the envelope with her name scribbled on it. She stepped back, ripping open the top of the envelope and reaching inside. "Tom, we're in the Mahi-Mahi Hutt," Grace said, dangling the keys in her hand, which was a thick wooden cutout of a mahi-mahi attached to a jingling set of golden keys. She was wearing a white linen shirt with her sleeves rolled up and shorts, a straw sun hat on her head, and pink-lense sunglasses perched on her nose. She held a purple carry-on luggage bag in her other hand. "Let's go, hon." She walked off, rolling her bag behind her as she made her way out of the building, walking around the boardwalk slowly, until she found the building they were looking for. It was a decently-sized wooden bungalow with a thatched roof that was perched on wooden pillars, situating it right above the water. Grace rolled her bag up to the front door, inserting the key inside, before swinging it open. The inside of the villa was as impressive as one might expect, sea-green wallpaper covering the interiors of the building. There was a nice-sized den with a comfortable-looking couch and a giant, wall-mounted flat-screen TV, along with a comfortably spacious bedroom, bathroom, and a beautiful view of the water from the several sliding-glass doors.

Grace rolled her bag to the wall, removing the glossy brochure from the envelope and skimming it quickly. "So many spa treatments and massages...some of them I haven't even heard of before. Woah." She leafed through a couple of pages. "Ooh, they have a natural hot spring here. We should totally do that. Ooh, but I would like to do a deep-tissue massage...there's just so much stuff to do here!" Grace exclaimed excitedly. "What about a hot stone massage? I don't think I've ever had one before...does that sound alright?" Grace asked, scribbling down a rough itinerary on the resort notepad she had found on a desk. "Then we can probably come back here, or get lunch together..." Grace made a few more notes on her pad. "If we can get an appointment by 1, we can probably get a couple of treatments in, get lunch, and still have plenty of time to come back here...^{and maybe snuggle or something,}" Grace squeaked out, a small tinge of a blush coming onto her face as she laid her the notepad on the desk. "What do you think, Tom?"

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_{August 31st, 2033
HERO One
Savior's Island, Castleburg}

"Well, my day off didn't last very long at all, did it..."

Blake reluctantly trudged into HERO One's 4th-floor conference room. He looked like he had just woken up, which was because that was the case. Blake had been notified the week before that while had had not won a free vacation to the Caribbean, he would at least get a week off from work to do whatever he wanted, and so Blake had planned to do a lot of extra sleeping. Unfortunately, on the first day of his day off, in the middle of his nice long nap, Blake had been rudely awakened by a loud beeping sound from his phone. Apparently, he had been summoned to an emergency meeting at HERO One that he had to get to, ASAP.

Life is cruel.

Blake plopped down in an armchair, running a hand through his scarlet hair as he looked around the room to see who was there. It was composed mostly of the people that he thought would be there. Patato, Rumi, Eliza, Angiedoodles, the other usual suspects, but also a few other individuals that Blake had expected less, such as that cop guy that had hounded his July 4th party, and that new guy Max, along with a few other people that Blake didn't quite recognize, including a dark-skinned girl with curly black hair and a gangster-y looking one with short blonde hair. The last to enter the room was Christina, who was, contrary to her normal garb, wearing a black pantsuit and a golden necklace. She was holding a large pile of manila folders in her hand, which she distributed to those sitting at the round table. She also gave everybody a single peppermint. "Sorry to interrupt your vacation, everybody, but we have an important emergency that does require a briefing. Listen up. This is some serious stuff we're about to delve into."

Christina strode up to the head of the table, removing a clicker from her pocket and pressing down on it. An incredibly realistic, 3D, color holographic image of a mysterious person shimmered into existence on the middle of the oval conference table. The man was wearing a black uniform, like military attire, with golden highlights. He was wearing a German spiked pickelhaube on his head, and a black-and-gold ornate mask, almost like an ancient funeral mask, covered his face. Christina spoke. "This is an image of the Black Baron. He was a prolific superhero hunter in the 1990s in Castleburg, working for a group called the Castleburg North Club, a criminal organization and radical group that believes superhumans are poison. At his peak activity, he would hunt down and either abduct or kill multiple heroes per day. It is our belief that he has returned to Castleburg."

Christina clicked again, the hologram morphing into a graph. "Here's a graph of yearly murders and abductions associated with the Black Baron. As you can say, in 1993 he started out with a minimal number, before increasing every year until his peak in 1997. Then, he only picks up a couple in early 1998 before vanishing off the face of the Earth, and he's been out of commission for nearly 35 years now. We had listed him in HERO archives as "MIA/Dead," and we were never able to uncover who he was." Christina pressed her button again, the hologram morphing into a piece of paper. "All we know about the Black Baron was his general appearance and his modus operandi. He- or maybe she- loved poems. A lot. By the time he was reaching his height of terror, he would always leave a poem written in ink on an old piece of parchment somewhere near the scene of the abduction or murder, usually pinned to a wall or nearby object with a knife. In the early hours of this morning, we found Tree-Man and The Whistler murdered in their apartments, each with a poem pinned with a knife to the wall. One was John Keats' "Ode on a Grecian urn," and the other we believe to be written by the Baron himself. We've collected them both for evidence, but the Baron has never left any identifying evidence before, and we don't expect him to do so again."

The hologram changed once more into a cage, with a mini Black Baron inside of it. "Even though the Black Baron is likely a senior now, he is still extremely dangerous and must be stopped at all costs, ASAP. I know Director Powers would've liked to have taken this case personally- considering that the Black Baron was one of his cases back when he was still a regular superhero- but we'll have to act quickly without him. I'll be calling him from the Caribbean frequently to ask for his advice. Still, if a bunch of sweaty old men couldn't capture the Black Baron, I think a lady's touch might be in order," Christina said with a smirk, before pressing her button again to turn off the hologram. "Anyway, I've managed to create a plan to take the Black Baron down. As it happens, one of our undercover moles, Falseman, has informed us of a major meeting of several criminal elements in Castleburg. A big gathering of the head honchos of Castleburg's crime syndicates. The Wah Ching, Koshiki Devils, Brookside Bruisers, Bratva, what's left of the Guglianos, they'll all be in attendance. In all likelihood, the North Club will show up too. They're elusive, but they are still stupid," Christina said with a mischievous smile. "So, pretty much, you guys are going undercover to infiltrate a top-secret criminal gathering to locate a master murderer and help bring about the downfall of a powerful criminal entity. Sound familiar?" Christina laughed.

"Anyways, you guys are going to need to think up some cover identities. I put a Dungeons and Dragons character-creation sheet in your briefing to help you get your creative juices flowing. You guys have access to the HERO armory, too, so take what you need. Also, the entire party is being hosted by the local Irish mob, the Mad Rabbits, who are throwing the whole fiesta on their restored river boat. So, you guys get to go on a cruise!" Christina smiled widely. "See? You get a vacation after all!"

"A vacation surrounded by people that would kill me if they knew who I really was," Blake said with a roll of the eyes. "Can I go back to bed yet?"

"If you fall asleep, you're fired. This is a sensitive operation."

Blake sighed, opening the folder. "And I thought Powers was the mean one..." Blake mumbled as he looked at the sheets. "I bet I could pull off a pretty good Irish, though. Top of the morning to ya, laddies! What do you think, guys? Irish mobster Blake O'Brandt?"

Christina smiled. "See? This may be a matter of life or death for many people, but that doesn't mean it can't be fun! Right, gang?"

《 H. E. R. O. 》

= joined by =

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August 12th, 12:52 PM
J & J Groceries
The East Flank, Castleburg

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Blake was currently standing on a sidewalk in the East Flank, leaning back against a stop sign, looking down at his phone. He looked for all the world like some high-schooler enjoying the summer day. He was wearing a bright-colored Polamor Inc. t-shirt, cargo trousers, and a pair of Vans, and he had his skateboard tucked underneath his arm. He looked like he was about to hit the skate park, but in fact, he was not. Blake was currently working a very high-stakes job, taking down a very high-stakes member of the Brookside Bruisers.

He held his cell phone up to his ear. "Samantha, re-brief me on this ‘Wind thong’ guy again."

“Can do,” HERO’s AI responded. “The suspect is identified as Windsong. Real name Maxwell Matthews. No parents that we can identify in HERO’s database, so likely an orphan of some kind. Has a sister, Juliette, that is currently hospitalized after a debilitating accident. He’s been identified with several confirmed members of the Brookside Bruisers, a street gang that has been expanding in prevalence. Your objective is to take him in for questioning, but be careful. Suspect does have higher-tier aerokinetic powers that are dangerous.”

"Aerokawho?"

“Wind manipulation.”

"Oh, sick." Blake looked around. "So he’s supposed to be coming out of there, right?" Blake pointed towards a large supermarket.

“I’ve used my crime-mapping software to detect patterns in the suspect’s behavioral patterns. He seems to frequent this particular supermarket at this time of day, so it would be a reasonable estimation that he would be present inside. I’ll project an image of him onto your screen.”

Blake looked down at the picture, frowning. "He looks kind of like my age. I expected a bald guy, with like, a scar, and an eyepatch and stuff." He frowned as Samantha responded chipperly by saying, “The suspect is in fact your elder. He is precisely 442 days older than you.”
"How helpful, Samantha," Blake said sarcastically as he continued to eye the sliding door entrance of the supermarket. All he had to do was wait until the guy walked out, and then run at him, grab him, probably knock him out, and arrest him. Easy-peasy.

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Sweet, got a two-for-one deal. Max thought idly, hauling his groceries out of the supermarket. The clerk even had the nerve to ask him to pay for 10 cents for a bag. Luckily, he had his reusable bags that paid its cost five times over.

Max had to get into the HERO somehow. Money was getting tight and he refused to use the little money his parents sent over. However it's been awkward what with the whole coup thing that he's recently learned happened. He spotted a redheaded teenager eyeing the doors as he left the store. The boy assumed he was waiting for his mother or some such and ignored him.

---
Blake looked up at the individual that had just walked out of the supermarket. A grin covered his face. "I see him now, I’ll move in to nab him," Blake said to his phone as he walked over. He ran a hair through his red locks (to make him look cooler, of course) as he walked towards the man. He then employed the classic Firebird catch-em-off-guard strategy. He pretended to look down at his phone as he walked, thus giving the appearance of him being distracted, and proceeded to walk towards Max. Once he got close, he then practically lunged into him, striking Max with his shoulder and intending to send him to the ground.

Max almost stumbled at getting shoulder-checked by the unknown teenager. What in the world was the kid made out of? Luckily his training and physicality helped him maintain his balance. ”Hey kiddo, look up when you’re walking with your phone.” Max warned as he straightened the groceries on his arms.

Blake blinked as the dude that he had bodied just kind of staggered backwards like it was nothing. What the hell was this guy made of? Blake put his phone in his pocket, dropping the skateboard to the ground. "Actually, I’m not just a kid." He narrowed his eyebrows. "Scratch that, I’m not a kid, period! I’m pretty much your age, and I’m with HERO, and you’re wanted for questioning, which means I have to take you in." Blake lifted his hand, the temperature of the area instantly rising a few degrees as a small scarlet ember appeared in his palm. The ember quickly expanded, forming a fully-fledged fireball the size of a small beach ball. "We can do this the easy way, which involves you giving up and just walking with me, or the hard way, which involves me smoking you in front of all these people. I’d like to point out that while the second option is much more fun for me, it probably isn’t for you. So, I would suggest Option Numero Uno."

Max whistled at the sight of fire being played with like a toy. He somewhat recognized Blake, as he was one of the major players in the coup. Still, HERO? He did intend to look for them soon but why was he wanted. It likely had to do with the whole Brookside situation. However, while he’s willing to clear things up, he couldn’t do it at this moment. He had to be present at his sister’s checkup, Juliette gets jittery and nervous when he isn’t there. ”Unfortunately,” The wind began picking up and soon, began whistling, ”I’ll have to take a rain check on your tempting offer.” The tumultuous wind wildly blew their clothes around as he tucked his groceries away safely in a corner.

”You know, nobody ever takes the ‘surrender quietly’ option," Blake lamented. ”Oh well, your loss-" His fireball nearly blew out, however, as the wind suddenly began to roar and pick up. Blake, of course, would not be disgraced like this. This guy could make a nice summer breeze, but Blake could make a wildfire. The heat intensified as Blake’s ball of fire burned with a brightening intensity, and two large wings made of flames spread from his back, shining brightly on the vicinity. Of course, Blake couldn’t actually fly with these wings. They were purely ornamental, but hopefully they would scare this “wind bong” guy off before they had to fight. As much as Blake enjoyed fighting, he had spent far too much time in the hospital this summer already, and didn’t want to blow the rest of it because of some stupid mistake during a stupid fight. It was a couple of weeks wasted after the whole coup thing went down, and a couple of weeks in early June had been blown after Blake was very badly maimed in his fight against the Razor-Claw, a villain that Blake had not taken remotely seriously, and paid the price for doing so. It turned out that Razor-Claw actually had, well, razor claws, and the razor claws in question were very, very sharp and very, very painful. Well, that wasn’t happening again, that was for sure.

”Oh, wow, nice gust. You might actually mess up my hair!" Blake taunted as he lifted his hand, the fireball moving in tandem and positioning itself over Blake’s shoulder. ”Last chance, Breeze Boy! Give up or get incinerated!"

Max took a guess that this was likely one of the stronger heroes. The intensity of his flames and the showy fire wings half-confirmed it. Though, being pragmatic, he didn’t know the purpose of the fire-wings. He glanced at his watch and he was almost late. ”I’m running out of time here, Mr. Spicy Fried Chicken.” He shot back with a slight grin, ”If you won’t start it, I will.”

As soon as he said that he raised up a single finger and sliced horizontally. A single, scythe-like strike formed from him and barrelled towards Blake’s legs. Max consciously toned down his power output- he didn’t want to really hurt the good guys, after all. Well, they’re probably the heroes considering what happened recently.

Blake was swept off his feet by the surprising attack of wind, which sent him careening to the ground. ”Ow..." Blake muttered as his wings and prepared fireball attacks fizzled away, but he was quickly back on his feet again, dusting off his now-ripped pants before lifting his palms and pointing them at Max. ”Alright, no more Mr. Nice Guy! You’re going down!" Blake fired back, before literally firing back, as he released two jets of fire from his palms, beams of swirling flames that hurtled directly towards Max.

Max’s eyes widened at how quickly Blake retaliated. While he had a good grasp of his powers he had pretty much no experience fighting other super-powered heroes, atleast those with different powers from him. He sidestepped as soon as he could but it singed his part of his hood and his shoulder. The flames started moving towards where he dodged, but reacted this time by pushing the flame away from him. ”Ouch ouch,” Max said, glancing at his seared shoulder, ”I swear, I’ll have HERO pay for this hoodie.”

Max continued the beam-o-war between fire and wind. It was somewhat dangerous as the flames were getting fed by his winds and the temperature continued rising. His ears pricked at his watch beeping. Damn, no time, He thought, I really didn’t want to do this. The air and flames would be violently pushed out in a certain radius. Blake may have also felt the wind lightly cut at him. A pseudo-dome with minute amounts of oxygen formed. It would be difficult for either combatants to use their powers within it. Max knew that he wouldn’t last long as it was already getting hard to breathe. He lunged at Blake with a hook; fully intent to knock the boy out.

Blake had put on a very confident smirk before, but it was quickly wiped away as the vicinity was engulfed in some sort of dome, one that obviously had very little oxygen, as Blake immediately detected the limited breathing space. His powers also fizzled out immediately due to the lack of oxygen, with only minute fiery sparks jumping from his fingers. Well, fuck me. Blake looked up to see a fist speeding towards his face. Fortunately for him, Blake’s reflexes were quite fast from years of training, even in this oxygen-deprived zone, and he was able to lift his forearm to block the punch from connecting with his face. ”Just...give up...dumbass..." Blake gasped, before swinging an uppercut with his non-blocking arm at Max’s gut.

It wasn’t everyday that someone could properly move in the dome. It was even rarer to have someone counter-attack. The heroes were definitely a different breed, could they have trained for this? Max honestly expected Blake to be like a fish out of water without his powers. ”You’re… good kiddo.” Max said as he dodged backwards. His chin got nicked by the uppercut, making him feel woozy and lightheaded. He managed to make an upwards kick aimed at Blake’s chin as he lost his footing and fell backwards. Max was the type to give back what he was given after all.

Blake crossed his arms in an ‘X’ formation, shielding his face from the kick. ”Gotcha...not a kiddo…loser” Blake managed between gasps for air. Before he could continue to attack, or gloat, or do much of anything, however, his body suddenly jerked spastically, his arms flailing about wildly, as he fell forwards, landing face-first on the ground with a parting ”oof.”

Approaching the scene was a group of uniformed police officers. Leading them was a man of rather short stature, with pale skin and neatly-combed auburn brown hair. He was wearing a tactical vest and was holding a sleek, futuristic-looking handgun that was softly smoking. He grinned. “Police Sergeant Joey ‘the Deagle’ Beagle is here, folks, no need to worry about the fighting anymore.” He blew the smoke away from his taser gun as he looked at the downed Max, who was on the floor. “Alright, buddy, now you’re gonna come quietly with us or I’m gonna have to taze you too, you understand?”

Max raised his hands up in mock surrender. It was already too late. He'd never hear the end of it from Julie. There was also no use in aggravating the police. ”Alright, alright...”

Of course, Sergeant Beagle ‘the Deagle’ was not exactly the most virtuous person in the world, for as soon as Max raised his hands, Beagle fired about five taser rounds directly into his chest. Needles to say, it hurt. Very, very badly. On top of that, it would be more than enough to cause unconsciousness. Beagle smiled at his clear act of police brutality, holstering his sidearm. “Cuff ‘em and haul ‘em off, boys. And let's get us some Dunkin Donuts. Woo, chocolate sprinkles time, baby!”

---

About One Hour Later
48th Precinct Holding Cells
The East Flank, Castleburg

---

Blake woke up with a groan, rubbing his head. ”Did I get drunk…?” he muttered, looking at his surroundings. He was in a very large, comfortable prison cell that had plenty of space, a gumball machine, and a mini-fridge. Then, he also saw Max sitting there, and everything made sense. ”Hey, hold on! You can’t put me in the same cell as this criminal!” Blake shouted out, to no response. He grasped the bars. ”Let me out! This guy is like, a mobster or something!”

Max felt a stinging pain on his chest. ”That motherf...” He mumbled to himself as he groaned. He had always wondered what would happen if he pulled the air out of people’s lungs while causing the air to gyrate but he thought it too barbaric. But that police dog, what's-his-face, moved up the list of potential people to try it out on. Of course he really wouldn’t, he was just pissed that he was kicked whilst he already surrendered.

”Mobster, what?” Max asked the hotheaded teenager, ”Damn, do those idiots at HERO think I’m a vigilante?” He cracked his neck as he said this. His tongue was as loose and honest as it usually was. It wasn’t unreasonable atleast, he honestly thought that he did break some vigilante laws. He wasn’t clear on the laws on how HERO or the government treated them.

”I’ll make it straight, right here,” Max said flatly as he sighed, ”I only helped those kiddos out, heard ‘em scream and before I knew it I was helping them out. I’m just some nobody.”

Blake looked confused. ”Wait, so you’re not a criminal?” Blake scratched his chin. ”No, you’re lying! That’s what all criminals say when they get caught.”

”He’s not.”

Blake almost shit himself as he jumped from his (surprisingly comfortable) cot, turning over and giving a salute to Director Powers, who had appeared at the cell doors as if by magic. ”D-Director! This isn’t what it looks like. I can explain. I was just trying to do a mission-”

”Yes, yes, I understand.” Powers shook his head. ”It’s not entirely your fault, for once. Though I would advise you not to engage your adversaries before evacuating the nearby civilians. That’s just a recipe for disaster.” He turned his attention towards Max. ”As for you. Max, is it? I’m HERO’s Director Hugo Powers.” He extended a hand through the bars to shake. ”I apologize on behalf of some of my staff for the miscommunication. There was a rush to judgement that resulted in you being named as an associate of the Brookside Bruisers. We’ve corrected that, so you will not be staying here for much longer.” The man retracted his hand through the bars, putting both hands behind his back as he spoke professionally.

”While you are here, though, you clearly show a lot of promise with your powers that demonstrates a rather high level of skill and raw prowess with your abilities. I’d like to offer you a job at HERO.” Powers looked at Max thoughtfully. ”With somebody of your skill level, you’ll be able to take higher-level jobs right from the get-go and start with a rather high salary. And, of course, you’ll have free access to HERO’s resources, including our state-of-the-art hospital. Generally, we reserve hospital usage to HERO staff only, but we can make an exception for very close family. I understand that this may be valuable given your current situation.” Powers looked at the young man. ”What do you say?”

”You know you’re very intimidating Director Powers.” Max said as he shook his hand through the bars. He had no real reason to not accept, the terms were more than reasonable. Still though, higher-level jobs from the get-go? That kind of responsibility could crush anyone but he (hopefully) steeled himself for it. ”I’ll accept the job, it’s highly beneficial for me. I assume you’ve researched my history already, so I’ll thank you for the mindfulness of my sisters’ condition.”

”Though I do have one question,” Max began as a slight grin formed on his face, ”What’s that kiddos rank?” He pointed at Blake with his thumb. Though he didn’t mean to condescend, if more people were around his prowess then HERO’s likely full of monsters. He did also catch one more thing, ”He’s injured too, isn’t he?”

Powers smiled fondly. ”Welcome to HERO.” he said warmly. He handed an index card to Max. ”Report to the location given here at 9 A.M. sharp tomorrow morning. And bring a bagged lunch. All part of our entrance procedure.” Powers smiled as he heard Max's next question, his eyes falling onto Blake, who was currently pouting angrily and muttering something about having just turned 21. ”Firebird here is an A-minus ranked hero. He’s been with us for four or so years now. A bit of a knucklehead, but he gets things done, normally.” Powers folded his arms. ”I hope to see you soon.” And with that, Powers departed, walking out of the corridor.

Blake looked over at the individual that he was just trying to incinerate to death minutes earlier. He gave a weak smile. ”Hey, so, uhh, sorry about trying to turn you to ashes earlier. No hard feelings, right?” Blake scratched the back of his head with a bit of an embarrassed smile. ”Also, Powers forgot to...let us out of here…”

A-minus, huh? Max eyed Blake. ”It’s alright, not like I was in any danger, right?” He began, ”You may have made me miss my sisters’ appointment, but getting here into the HERO’s hospital may be worth her complaining about it for a few days, heh.”

”This is my first time in jail, is it usually this comfy?” Max asked quizzically as he stared at the amenities, ”Yeah you’re right, hopefully it’ll be soon so I can go back and pick up my damned groceries.”

”Oh right,” Max walked up to Blake and extended his hands towards the boy, ”We haven’t officially ‘met’. I’m Maxwell Matthews. If you don’t want me to call ya kiddo, tell me your name. Else it’ll just be Mr. Bird from now on.”

”Yeah, unless you do something really fucked up, you’ll be stuck here. Gumball?” Blake tossed a large green ball of gum at Max. ”Blake. Blake von Brandt, and I am not a kiddo.” Blake took Max’s hand, giving it a shake. ”Your power is pretty cool, glad you’re on our side after all. You’re pretty chill.”

Max caught the gumball, ”Nice to meet ya,” He popped the gum into his mouth, his face returned to its neutral stance. He purposefully ignored the kiddo comment, ”Your power is pretty terrifying. You did almost singe me alive; wouldn't wanna go through that again what the burning and ruined clothes, eh? Wait which prison are you thrown into if you've been a particularly bad boy?”

”When's that stupidly named dog cop going to get us out of here?” Max asked. His sister was likely going to grill him alive and no amounts of currying favour would help. While he was here he may as well try and ask questions about his missing relative, "Oh, speaking of my powers- have you ever seen anyone control it like I do?” It sounds like an odd brag but he really was curious.

”Wow, you have a lot of questions,” Blake said with a chuckle. ”You’ve never heard of Coldwater before?” he asked incredulously, raising his eyebrows. ”It’s the ultimate prison for big bads. Super high-security prison. Scary place. They pretty much lock you in a box and throw away the key.” Blake looked amused at his next questions. ”Hopefully soon. Oh, man, I have a date tonight, they better not leave me in this box forever...” Blake stood, making his way over to the cell bars and peering out to see if there was any sign of human life. ”I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody with that type of weird wind power before. At least, not like you did. It sounded almost like the wind was singing...oh, wait, I got it. I just got the name.”

Blake jolted as a nightstick suddenly slammed down on the bars, causing him to hop back in surprise as Beagle the Deagle approached again. He snarled at the two metahumans. “Alright, you two punks, if I ever see you on the streets putting innocent civilians in danger again, I’m gonna keep you in here for a long time, you understand?” Blake was tempted to tell this fool that there weren’t any civilians near them, and that he could kindly go stick it, but he did want to leave in a timely manner, so he just put on his best innocent face and nodded. Officer Beagle growled, opened the door, before stomping off.

Blake stepped outside of the cell, stretching his arms. ”Nice meeting you, man.” He smiled endearingly. ”I guess we’re co-workers now, so I’ll be seeing you around. Drinks are on me, since I can legally drink now!” Blake smiled. ”Oh, and one more thing.” Blake fished deep into his pocket and pulled out a crumbled business card, the words “C.R.E.W.” emblazoned on it in big red letters. ”I’m part of a hero group with a bunch of other guys. Kind of like the Wings of Law, but less evil and much, much cooler. You should join! You’d fit right in. We take jobs together and stuff...and we have our own headquarters, too, which is super cool.” Blake gave Max a thumbs-up. ”Alright, man, take care of yourself! Oh, and get ready to run tomorrow. A lot.”

Blake started to back out, before giving a fiery look. ”One more thing! If we ever get the chance to spar again...” He gave a wide, forboding grin. ”You better believe I'm gonna finish what I started.”

---

_{@Hitman and @Inertia}

---

《 H. E. R. O. 》

Grace picked some slime out of her hair as she floated back to the cramped plane. "I hardly do, but I guess I have no choice," she said to him, tugging at the neck of her shirt, drenched in rainwater, slime, and sweat. The entire room was absolutely baking right now, which made sense, considering that it was on fire, and the inside of the airplane was also incredibly, incredibly hot. It seemed as though even when evil and knocked unconscious, Blake always exuded some sort of heat. A human space heater would've been an excellent asset to have in the winter, but in the already flaming room, it was seriously messing with Grace's attention. She was a very temperature-sensitive person, and the events of the day, combined with the heat, was taking a significant toll on her mental state. "Focus," she whispered to herself, before making a waving motion with her hand, and sucking the occupants of the plane out of the vehicle and directly into the lobby.

Grace's calculus was on point, and the two conscious individuals were deposited safely on the tiles of the now-destroyed lobby area. Blake's arrival was less elegant, with him falling clumsily on the ground and flopping like a flounder. It wasn't an ideal landing, but hey, when you betray your friends, it's what you get. And on the subject of betraying your friends, Grace then remembered that she was now holding hands with what many of them probably thought was still a traitor, which wasn't exactly a good look. She quickly squawked (mostly at Patti, who had a temper when it came to this type of thing), "Good news! Tom didn't sell us all out to Seraph!" She gave his hand a squeeze. "He was just trying to go undercover on Seraph..." Her attention quickly transitioned elsewhere, though, towards the downed figures of Jamie and Joseph. She gasped. "Holy shit, that's a lot of blood," she said, kneeling next to Joseph and adjusting the crystalline device on his chest. "Stay still, and take deep breaths. Deep breaths. Also, when this is all over, take a shower while you're at it. You smell." She sniffed the air. "Or maybe I smell. I hate this goo stuff..." Grace wiped her sleeve before standing, when she heard the sounds of footsteps. Lots of footsteps.

At first, she thought it was Seraph's army, ready to wipe them all out, but thankfully, it wasn't. Rather, it was a large number of people from a variety of professions, entering almost in waves. The first wave was paramedics, who quickly ran over to help Joseph and Jamie, who were in the most perilous state. They were thankfully very professional, working post-haste to apply whatever first-aid was still needed and loading them onto stretchers. Blake was also loaded onto a stretcher, though they made sure to strap him down once he began to snarl at the paramedics in his sleep. Everybody else, as miserable as they were, were pretty much given the cold shoulder by the emergency workers, who quickly took the most severely injured out of the area.

Not too long after the paramedics had arrived, the police entered the area, looking a combination of stunned and pissed. The latter sentiment quickly won out, though, as the cops spotted Patricia, and a high-pitched buzz quickly filled the room as their weapons became trained on the teen. They then began to bark orders at her, though it was clear there was no uniformity in their commands. Some of them demanded Patti to sit down, others demanded her to stand, and others yelled at her to kneel, while officers told her to both put her hands above her head, on her head, and at her side. In the midst of the chaos, though, a single, bold, powerful, and very loud voice pierced through the combined sound of the entire lobby.

”PUT YOUR GUNS DOWN AND STEP AWAY FROM MY EMPLOYEE!”

Powers had entered the lobby, flanked by two Division X footsoldiers and Christina, who gave her usual glare at Pandora. Powers looked slightly worse for wear- some bandages were visible at his wrists and neck from underneath his jacket, and most notably, he was walking with a thick wooden cane in hand. He was, however, definitely alive, and still definitely scary enough to send the cops running for the hills. This situation was already far too complicated for the police officers to handle, and Powers' presence meant that this entire state of affairs was well above their pay grade.

Powers limped over to the group, using his cane to support himself, as the last wave of people- Division X members- moved in to secure the area, a swarm of Division X agents in jet black uniforms moving across the room, speaking into their radios, as Powers stood, looking over the group. ”Good work. Certainly an unanticipated coarse of events, one whose blame rests on my shoulders for sure,” Powers said. ”But you guys pulled through, as excellently as usual. I can't help but feel just the slightest bit proud.” He looked at them coolly, the moonlight reflecting onto his face as the smell of extinguished fires filled the room. ”There's a reason I consider HERO the best group of heroes on Earth...nowhere else would any other team of heroes have the moral compass, the drive, and the skill not only to avoid being caught after an entire god damn coup d'etat, but upend a system that was designed exclusively to defeat them. Good work.” Powers leaned on his cane. ”Of course, there'll be inquiries, and lots of paperwork, but you should consider yourselves...off the hook. For the more serious charges, at any rate. Obviously, with Seraph out of the picture, his pathetic EAgLES project is out the window, too, which means you should be back to normal in no time flat. I'm going to head back to HERO One in a second and make sure everything is in order, and then you'll be back in business. I would suggest myself getting some of those cuts and scrapes checked out. Spacewalker, those burns look like second-degree; you might want to get those checked out.”

Cora interjected, raising a metal finger.. "Director? Quick question. What happened to Seraph when you say that he's 'out of the picture,' quote un-quote?"

Powers nodded. ”Well, a quick summary...”

---

"Yes...yes...yes....the POWER!”

Seraph was hardly listening to Starbright or CHad or anybody, instead panting heavily, the Leftover blood dripping down his chin and forming a small pool on the table. "I can feel it! The limitless power! It's...it's overwhelming! Yes! Yes! ARRRGH!”

Seraph spread his arms, and much to Starbright's likely discomfort, his figure began to change instantly. He grew taller, his hair growing out instantly, and two extra pairs of wings sprouted from his back, giving him a grand total of six. His body grew vastly out of proportion, his upper torso becoming a monstrous Hulk-sized form, and his eyes looked like they were about to burst from his eyelids.

”Now, let me unleash the power upon my enemies!” Seraph roared, but instead of turning Starbright into a pulp, Seraph grasped his mosntrously deformedf head, howling, as it stumbled across the room. Little to his knowledge, Leftover blood was indeed an amplifier of power, but there was one caveat. In order for it to truly turn one into an unkillable beast, the drinker had to have zero sense of remorse or guilt for their actions. Seraph was close to totally apathetic to the suffering of others, and his transformation was very nearly complete, but there was a small pang of remorse in his heart, a small sliver of heroism back in the glory days when Seraph was truly an agent of justice, and that miniscule bit of guilt at what he had become, which Seraph thought he had done away with, was now preventing him from becoming all-powerful.

Seraph thrashed wildly around the room, his giant wings smashing all the furniture as he swung around the room, clutching his head, crazily staggering every which way. ”Stop! Stop! Let me kill! LET ME OBLITERATE!” he howled and screeched as he stumbled to every corner of the room, unable to release his powers onto the world that was now finally moving on from him. In his wild thrashings, he stumbled towards a window, one of his wings clumsily smashing in the glass as one of his legs slipped through the open space. He lost his balance and, as his wings were non-fuctional at this time, fell through.

”NOOO!” he screamed as he plummeted, falling rapidly towards the Earth, but he had gone too far to be saved, and his body fell into the cold blue ocean with a spectacular splash.

---

”...and so, we have a crew dredging out his body out of the bay as we speak.”

"...wow."

Powers chuckled good-naturedly. ”'Wow' is something that you could say, yes. It certainly does match the spectacle of it all, doesn't it? In any case, it would be best you all get going. Our ER should be functional again soon if you'd like to be examined. We do give you medical for good reason.” He turned towards the doorway, resting his cane on the ground, before looking back at the group. ”Oh, one more thing.”

He reached into his jacket pocket, removing a small scrap of paper that he handed to Grace. ”The community at large is going to need somebody to re-affirm the authenticity and virtue of superheroes in Castleburg, after this whole mess. Seeing what the rich, famous, bourgeois heroes have become will hurt the image of heroes. And, of course, they need somebody else to obsess over and write about in their freaky magazines. You lot seem to have the...wholesome attitude that I think Castleburg needs. Just remember that, years ago, Seraph, Mr. Impressive, and Sea Serpent were in your shoes. Young, hot, famous, bold...and they let that get to their heads. Look where that got them.” Powers shook his head. ”Make sure you never become them. But, that being said, I think some of you could use a little more positive attention. They say any publicity is good publicity, but I'll be damned if that's the case.” Powers chuckled at his own statement. "Take care.”

With that, Powers walked off, limping, and using his cane for support. Grace watched him go, and then looked down at the paper. Grace was a fast reader, and before anybody else could sneak a peak, she crumpled it up and shoved it in her pocket.

---

---

One Week Later

"Why did you invite me of all people?"

"You're the only one that's not doing anything right now. Also, you're not that judge-y."

Blake had just been released from the hospital, having recovered very swimmingly from having his brain been hijacked. When he first awoke, he had attempted to melt one of the nurses, but some tender loving care (and medication) had brought him back to normal, for the most part. Blake did still have a craving for very, very red meat and was having disturbingly violent dreams, but outside of that, he was pretty much normal Blake. Blake was granted a week of 'administrative leave' from doing hero work to recover, though, which was something that he gladly took.

"Anyway, this is the place. 11 Liberty Avenue," Grace said, pointing at the location.

Blake blinked as he looked at the location- a location called Neko Tengoku. It was a Climber Cat Café- a cat café but with the fad Leftover breed of cats- and it was adorable. The entire cafe was literally crawling with Climber Cats, the oversized, plush-like kittens snuggling up with smiling and laughing patrons. "You're gonna buy us all cats, or something? I mean, that's really cool of you to do, don't get me wrong, but I already have a pet to take care of. His name is Biscuit, and he's a-"

"I know about your stupid rat already, and this isn't the place! Right next to this place, you dumbass!"

"Real sweet girl. I'm not sure what Tom sees in you," Blake muttered as he looked to the location due east of the cat café. It wasn't exactly an impressive piece of real-estate- instead, a stone, drab building with a heavy, rusting steel door and the letters C, E, W, and R spray-painted in white paint on the front of the building. "This is the place? It looks kind of...what's the word? Dilapapated?"

"Dilapaditated, and yes, this is the place. Watch," Grace said, walking up to the steel door and rapping her fist on it a few times. The sound of fist on metal echoed through the premises, before a metal slit opened up, a pair of eyes looking in. The person behind the door looked at the two, before the door swung open. Grace stood aside, allowing Blake to enter first, and the red-haired young adult walked in just to be utterly amazed. The interiors of the building were entirely unlike the unimpressive exterior. Blake had expected some type of warehouse, similar to the one the Guglianos took his friends captive in, but what he found was a super, super cool retro speakeasy. It was awesome. The entire interior room was black and white, with one entire wall being a marble-constructed bar that was lined with every sort of drink imaginable. Much of the rest of the room was composed of cushiony black chairs and glowing white tables. It was an impeccably designed room; cozy but not cramped. At the other end of the room was a sleek black wiry spiral staircase, leading up to a mysterious upper level.

"There are some rooms and stuff upstairs," Grace explained to Blake, whose jaw was currently on the floor. "Offices, too. We have a part-time secretary now. She's just some college kid I recruited out of Tom's fan club, but she's very good at staying organized. Also gave another girl a gig as a PR manager. I figured this would be a nice spot to meet up, you know, after a long day of work, maybe unwind a little bit...it's a good step towards the future." Grace looked at Blake tentatively. "You think it's a good idea? This is gonna cost a lot of money, but I can back out now if you think it's stupid..."

"No, no, it's great! Really. Super cool. Thanks so much." Blake smiled. "Woohoo! The Castleburg Really Epic Warriors are in business! When are we gonna let everybody else know about this?"

"First, please call it by the acronym. I hate this name. Second, I'm texting them now." Grace held out her brand-new phone, texting in the group chat. "A new chapter for us, I hope."

"Yep!" Blake said with a goofy grin as he looked around the beautiful mini-pub. "Things can only go up from here!"

Little did he know just how wrong he would be.

Hitman's Character Sheet Landfill

Table of Contents

Much like my hopes and dreams, empty

《 H. E. R. O. 》

Blake grumbled as he was pinned against the wall, his eyes livid with pure anger as he shook his head, as though Tom’s words were some type of ghost that was haunting him. The intense heat that filled the room only continued to intensify as Blake’s eyes began to sparkle with pure energy. The raw heat became overwhelming, like the room was some sort of oven, as Blake pushed against Tom’s powers and released one more burst of scorching fire from his hands. This blast, unlike the others, was concentrated into a single sphere about the size of an exercise ball, white-hot in the center, and the massive fireball zoomed towards Tom before veering downwards, blasting into the ground in front of Tom. Red-hot embers scattered throughout the room as Blake’s attack caused the floor to give way, the wooden flooring and stone terrazzo crumbling like a cookie and dropping Tom into the floor below.

It appeared as though the floor below Tom was some sort of workshop, with several large devices such as buzzsaws, cabinets, tables, iron presses, and more scattered about. There were several wooden objects on display, but these objects had been very quickly gobbled up in flames, and now burned like torches, a reminder of Blake’s prowess with fire.

Blake soon followed, landing on the ground in front of Tom clumsily, before unrelentingly moving into another string of attacks. Fireballs launched towards Tom one by one in rapid succession as Blake barraged his (former?) best friend with a flurry of attacks, each fireball hotter than the next. Blake quickly began to tire out, though, and after throwing about 10 or so high speed fireballs began to stumble backwards, as though he was intoxicated. He made a swishing movement with his arm, releasing one last attack, a crest of fire that sliced towards Tom’s sides, before moaning sleepily.

"I’m tiiiiired," Blake said in a way that was somehow both very Blake and also very creepy, before he fell onto his back, his eyes closed. He snored loudly as his merciless onslaught of attacks ended with him falling asleep. However, whether or not his attacks on Tom made contact or not was irrelevant, as Blake had certainly done his damage. Fire was everywhere, with both rooms having become absolutely consumed in fire. Hawthorne, while having walls of stone, did have wooden floors and a lot of wooden supports, and as such all these pieces of architecture were ablaze, the smell of smoke filling both rooms (and indeed much of the building), and thick clouds of gray smoke were rising upwards, making it harder to see. With the walls, floor, and furniture in flames, it seemed as though the only things that were not on fire were Blake himself, the Wings of Law goon that was still stuck on the wall, and the airplane with Grace snoring inside.

Grace, however, would not be snoring for much longer, as only a moment after Blake had fallen asleep, Grace had woken up, as if the two were somehow connected by a switch. She looked down at herself, covered in goop, and groaned, before she looked up and saw the burning room and screamed. "Oh fuck," she whispered, clambering out of the pilot seat frantically, dripping with green goop. The gravity of the situation had for once distracted her from her materialism. This was serious. "Tom? Tom!" she cried, somewhere between a shout and a squeak, as she clambered over to the hole in the ground, looking into it. "Tom, are you OK? Please say you’re OK!,"

@KaijuBaragon

---

---

Meanwhile, Winterfall was having an absolute field day. He stood, his rapier raised, ready to parry, as Joseph did his preparations. However, as he stood in a guard position, he heard a voice speak to him again. That same Leftover lady. None of these so-called heroes respected a 1v1 fight, then. "Can’t you see I’m busy? My time is infinitely more valuable than yours," Winterfall said demeaningly as Terra zoomed towards him. She moved to the left to catch him off guard, which might have worked on somebody whose reaction time wasn’t so uncanny, Osberg simply stepped back to avoid the clawing, before bringing his rapier back into position and swiftly striking at Terra. He swiped left and right, with two clean strikes to the abdomen. Not fatal if they did connect, but certainly enough to draw blood. He didn’t wait and find out, though, as he quickly brought his left arm around, blasting Alien Angel with a large mass of ice, the size of a bowling ball, with easily enough force to blast her into the wall.

Winterfall re-affixed his attention just in time to Joseph calling out something involving a Shatter, and he didn’t have much time to react before an array of runes landed around him, and then an explosion resonated above him, dropping pieces of floor on the villain, and then sending a burst of flames from the ground up at him. When the smoke and fire cleared, however, Winterfall was entirely unharmed. He had encased himself inside a large, thick cube of ice, which was only slightly cracked from all that damage. The ice cube quickly melted away, revealing a perfectly safe Winterfall, and as he was just about to parry Joseph’s pathetic knife attack when he felt something. A shift. A change in the air. Winterfall trusted his gut instinct, and so he leaped backwards, just in time to avoid a massive red streak of energy from the ceiling that bored into the ground like an orbital laser, sending a concussive boom throughout the now-destroyed atrium. Winterfall scoffed.

"A valiant attempt on my life, but a failure nonetheless," Winterfall said, holding one hand up into the air. ”Allow me to demonstrate how to properly end the life of your opponent."

In the air, a baton made of ice, with the properties of a police nightstick, formed in Winterfall’s hand, before the man quickly lashed out at Joseph, lunging forwards and winding him with a blow to the gut. Winterfall then went to work, striking at Joseph with precise and deliberate blows, a craftsman of violence at work on his finest creation. First, he struck low at the inside of Joseph’s knees, taking him off his feet, before barraging him swiftly yet brutally with a set of blows, striking him rapidly on the torso, face, everywhere, in a rapid beatdown. After sufficiently beating the life out of Joseph, Winterfall held up his baton, which began to morph into a frozen dagger. He held the blade back and was a split second away from plunging it directly into Joseph’s forehead right before...

---

"You know, my face is not real. It’s synthetic. Just like everything else," Cora said bitterly, but she attempted not to let it all out on poor Rumi. She looked over at him as he offered to fix up her arm before they arrived. "Oh, sure thing! It looks like you know what you’re doing, at any rate,." she said, holding up her damaged forearm, but the sound of the elevator’s ‘ding’ put that idea to bed. "Well, cancel that," she said as the elevator doors opened, a rush of cold instantly filling the elevator. "Oh no,” Cora said knowingly, moving forwards swiftly. ”Stand back. I’ll deal with this. Cover me,” she commanded, charging directly at Winterfall.

Winterfall heard the footsteps and turned, throwing the blade directly at Cora, who in turn promptly smashed the blade of ice into the ground with her palm. The two glared at each other in silent contemplation. Two S-tiers competing in mortal combat was a rare occurrence to say the least, and usually resulted in a lot of damage and somebody kicking the can.

Cora raised her fists into a fighting position, but before the two could lock into combat again, the sounds of a roaring motor filled the room.

---

Meanwhile, out on the bay, it soon became very apparent that Blade had not afforded them the best boat that he could. It might’ve been because of Patricia’s mishandling, or perhaps Alpha, or just wear and tear in general, but as soon as Alpha so much as laid his hand on the controls, the lever controlling the speed of the boat snapped and dropped down to the maximum setting. The boat’s engine quickly began to roar, and it began to speed at maximum velocity in the direction it was currently heading, which was directly towards Elmore Island.

The boat barreled forwards, throwing its occupants into the wall as it moved uncontrollably towards the building. The men inside the turret towers quickly reacted, giving the order to fire, but their machine guns only just started to rev up before sputtering out. The boat launched forwards, smashing directly through the gates surrounding the island and launched majestically through the front doors (well, really, just the front) of Hawthorne Correctional Facility, like a dolphin leaping out of the water.

The boat luckily had accrued a ridiculous amount of speed while it was mid-acceleration, and it soared over the downed jet that protected Jamie and towards Winterfall in the center of the room. Winterfall quickly made a slashing motion with his hand, briefly slowing down the boat midair and giving him an opportunity to make a break for it, dashing out of the path of Cora’s punch and towards the elevator. Cora would have pursued after him, but there were other issues of far greater concern at the moment.

The great flying boat, meanwhile, landed softly on the ground thanks to Osberg’s slowing superpowers, with the passengers inside hardly feeling a jolt upon landing. Cora looked inside at the occupants. "Perfect timing with the boat. That was an incredible stunt,” she said with a smile, having no clue of the series of events that had taken place moments earlier. "Come on out and help. Jamie and Joseph look like they’re in bad shape. Winterfall really did a number on them. See if there’s any other first-aid on there and give me a hand. I know a little comprehensive first aid, and I’m sure Rumi has some sort of wonder packed inside that robot of his...”

@rabidporcupine@canaryrose@DarkRecon@Scarifar@canaryrose@Zoey Boey@DClassified@DarkRecon

---

---

"I’m fucked. I’m royally fucked. Royally, royally fucked!”

Seraph was in his private chambers at the top of Hawthorne, at the top of the tower that adorned the building. He was sitting in his ornate gold desk, his head buried in his hands, sobbing gently. He was set for his lifelong goal, and had everything laid out so perfectly. He could attain his ambitions and destroy his enemies in one fell swoop. But now, he was crushed. His two loyal lieutenants and all the other heroes and villains he had hired were now defeated, and almost all of the support that Zero had provided him had abandoned ship once Seraph started losing. Now, he was alone in the room, alone to suffer a defeat at the hands of his enemies. HERO, somehow, had managed to triumph.

As he sat there, engulfed in his despondency, he heard the sound of his study door opening, and he quickly turned to face the intruder, only to see Nemesis walking in, his cloak swishing behind him, towering over Seraph. Seraph glared at him, his eyes red with tears. ”You guys...you guys all screwed me! You left me to fail!”

"Your order is incorrect. We did not leave you to fail. You failed, and so we have left."

”Same difference! Now, what the hell am I going to do? Fight the entire crew off on my own? I may be the greatest hero that ever lived, but...I’m fucked! They’re gonna rip me apart, throw me in prison...oh, everything has just been so FUCKED!”

Nemesis’ tone of voice didn’t change remotely. "It seems your proverbial 15 minutes has come and gone, yes. However, there is still a way for you to get revenge on your enemies and fell those that have wronged you, and perhaps leave you a chance to escape and start anew."

Seraph cringed upon hearing ‘start anew,’ but he did stop crying. ”I’m listening.”

Nemesis shifted his cloak, revealing underneath what appeared like an ornate bottle of wine. "A parting gift from the Commander," he said, placing the bottle on the table. It was a beautiful bottle, with gold leaf adorning the sides of the glass, and a strange, murky, dark burgundy liquid sloshing around inside, looking as though it had the consistency of molasses.

Seraph squinted. ”You want me to get wasted?”

Nemesis pointed a clawed finger at the bottle. "That is neither wine nor spirit," he explained. "That is some of the Commander’s finest Leftover blood. Harvested from some of the world’s deadliest Leftovers, mixed with honey for sweetness, though the taste is irrelevant compared to the power it bestows. Even the weakest metahuman can take on the strongest with a sip. You will feel power like you have never felt it before with just a gulp, but be warned that the price for such power is your humanity.,"

As Seraph stared at the bottle, Nemesis turned towards the door. "The choice is yours," he said, before walking out and vanishing as quickly as he had arrived.

Seraph continued to stare at the bottle, contemplating his decision for a few moments, before acting, reaching across the table and grabbing a wine glass. He opened the top of the bottle and was prepared to pour it into the glass, before slamming the bottle onto the desk and grabbing the glass. He chucked the glass across the room, shattering it on the wall, before grabbing the bottle, putting it to his lips, and beginning to chug.

---

---

《 H. E. R. O. 》

As Grace snored, up against the wall, Blake was on a mindless warpath. Heat poured from his body as he formed two more fireballs, one in each hand, that continued to grow in size. Blake seemed content to make them become larger and deadlier, but Tom had turned to the offensive, flinging a massive glob of safety gel directly at Blake. Though his mind was not his own, Blake's reflexes were still plenty fine, and he avoided the glob of safety gel with ease, which instead smacked the random Wing of Law that was just managing to escape his safety gel prison, keeping him pinned against the wall. "Screw this," the man grumbled. As soon as he was out of this, he was going directly to Seraph and demanding his paycheck.

"Kill," Blake droned as he lifted his hands again, ropes of fire wrapping around his forearms and palms. "Kill Tom. Burn. Melt. Dance on ashes. Haha. Very funny," Blake said with a menacing smile as the fire continued to heat up. "Kill everybody. One by one. Burn." He paused, lowering his palms for a second, biting his lip. "No...can't burn...friends..." he muttered, struggling internally. After a moment of conflict, though, the mind control won over. "BURN!" he finally managed, releasing from his hands a massive burst of fire that spread across the entire room. The flames, which spread like a shotgun shell of heat, caught onto some of the wooden objects of the room, setting them ablaze, the smell of smoke rapidly filling the room as the fire began to eat away at the furniture, carpet, everything in the room.

Nemesis, meanwhile, had miraculously disappeared, leaving only Tom, crazy Blake, and sleeping Grace together in the burning room as Blake wound up and fired another fireball directly at Tom.

@KaijuBaragon

---

---

Cora followed Rumi quietly, her arms folded over her chest as she allowed him to take the lead, quietly walking behind him as the OMNI detected booby traps. She admired the robot silently. It was certainly a cool piece of tech, with a lot of functions packed into one suit f armor. "Looks like we're all clear," she said quietly as she thought about the situation. "I don't think this hallway is booby-trapped...the mine that I stumbled into was low-power, like something that would be rapidly deployed," Cora said, stopping her forward motion and running back. She kneeled down to where the mine had exploded, her electric blue eyes examining the ground. She found what she was looking for, scooping up a small shard of dark gray, almost black metal with half a word etched into it- "VALENT." Cora shook her head. "'Valent,' huh? Short for Valentine, I bet. Valentine Industries. An organization that has been non-functional for nearly 10 years now."

She held the fragment up to the light. ”Another link to Zero. One would think that Seraph couldn't possibly stoop this low, to be working with them...but then again, this has been a day full of surprises, hasn't it?" She tossed the shard of metal to the OMNI. "Well, if Zero is here, that only makes this whole situation a lot more precarious. Let's go." She set off briskly for the elevator, stepping into the antique lift and plugging the bottom floor once Rumi's droid had made it inside as well. The elevator gave a belated ding and began to slowly descend downwards. "This is taking forever," Cora bemoaned as the rickety elevator slowly moved downwards.

As they waited, Cora looked over to the OMNI. "Also...you really think my face is pretty?" She gently placed two fingers on the cracked facial chips on her cheek. "That's...very sweet. The doctors did a good job on it, I guess."

@Scarifar

---

---

Winterfall raised his pointed nose at Alien Angel as she gave her speech. He practically yawned. "Dear, every second you waste is one more second of bleeding that your friend has to suffer through. Now, come here and make this quick," the man said as he looked towards Terra, holding up his rapier. As she launched towards him, Winterfall only pointed his rapier towards her, and Terra suddenly began to slow down, drastically, as though somebody had put her into slo-mo. Winterfall then slowly and casually sidestepped out of the way before snapping his fingers, causing Terra to resume moving and max speed and sending her careening into the wall.

Winterfall then turned his attention towards Joseph, who seemed to be removing a bunch of paper scraps from his coat. He narrowed his eyes, holding up the sword loftily as Joseph spoke. He gave a small grin as he lifted his hand up, before speaking again, "Rime." Shards of ice materialized from his palm and scattered outwards, each piece of ice skewering a rune and slicing the paper effortlessly. The ones that managed to escape being impaled by the ice needles were promptly cut to shreds by Winterfall's sword. The man moved incredibly fast, or perhaps, and more likely, everything else around him just moved comparatively much slower. Winterfall chuckled.

"I must admit, friend," Winterfall said, putting his rapier against the ground and resting both hands upon it, using it as a cane. "You don't look Egyptian. Though I suppose over time, families can disperse...ah, well. I'm afraid your parlor tricks fail to impress me much. Certainly, you can go beyond one or two folds!" Winterfall said, lifting one hand to push his glasses up his nose and lifting his sword with the other. It seems Joseph's plan had, to some extent, worked. Winterfall was now interested.

"Show me what you are made of," Winterfall said, before making a slashing motion with his sword. "Prove yourself!" he shouted, as another wave of ice needles materialized and launched directly at Joseph, pelting him in a barrage of frozen death. "Or perish!"

@rabidporcupine@canaryrose@DarkRecon

---

---

Sea Serpent snorted, disbelief in her eyes, before beginning to laugh, and one she began laughing, she did not stop. It flowed like a river of chuckles, Sea Serpent bending over, hysterical, before wiping her eyes and smiling evilly. "Starbright, your arrogance humors me. Thank you,” she said, before lifting a hand. ”Well, if you want to fight, let's fight then. I should get rid of this dead weight, though...” she said with an evil grin, before the water around Chad suddenly spread apart, like the bubble had been popped, and sent Chad careening downwards towards the Earth.

Sea Serpent laughed. ”Well, that's the end of him, now!” she said as the water that was once wrapped around Chad now rushed towards Starbright. The water, as if it was a creature of its own, pounced at him like a tiger, attempting to consume him whole. ”Now, you get to meet the same fate! Isn't that fantastic?” Sea Serpent laughed. ”Karma! You couldn't save him, and now you won't be able to save yourself!”

Little to Yama's knowledge, Chad did not have a path of free fall directly to the ocean. Luckily for him, Cora's broken Mini-Jet, which was sticking out of the wall, in a surprising stable position, blocked his fall. It would still hurt like hell, considering he was falling a few stories onto what was, in essence, a giant metal pan, but he was most certainly alive. From his position atop the plane, Chad could smell the aroma of smoke, and see some distant ember flickering of fire below him.

@Jumbus@Duoya

---

---

Meanwhile, in Kingsdale, beneath Club 27, the group would be immediately greeted by Vinnie Gugliano. At the very least, they would be greeted by...a large image of Vinnie Gugliano's face, which was plastered up on a large bulletin board. Also featured on the bulletin board were favorable newspaper clippings about the Wings of Law, a couple of photos of Seraph, and a hitlist with the photos of all the gang, including Patricia, pinned there. Also in the room were a few antique items, such as vases and the like, scattered about, as well as some crates full of Nova. Sitting along the wall was a massively large computer screen with a large keyboard. Sitting in front of the keyboard in a large swiveling armchair was a young-looking man, thin and pale, with dark hair, wearing a combat suit and holding a handgun in his hand, dark blue eyes examining the group.

“Took you long enough," Blade said, standing from the chair and giving a small salute. “There was an exposed air vent a way's away that led in here...still, nice work. Right into the bee's nest, huh?" Even when cracking a joke, the elusive Blade still spoke with a very dull, lifeless tone of voice, like a man that had nothing left to live for. “Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. Blade." He held out a hand for the group to shake. “No need to introduce yourselves...I know plenty about you all," he said as he sat back down in the armchair, swiveling back over to the computer. “Seraph has been up to some naughty stuff, though...he had the audacity to leave his computer unlocked, and kept an abundance of very incriminating files on here. Listen..."

Blade tapped a button on his computer, and at once the large screen became animated, with Seraph and another man's face becoming visible. Seraph looked just as annoying as ever, but he somehow seemed to be missing some of that pompous energy in the presence of this man. The man was middle-aged, with a pale face and golden eyes, and a gaunt face matched with locks of raven black hair and a raven black beard. He was wearing a sort of garb that looked like it came from the 19th century, dressed like some sort of Transylvanian vampire. Standing next to him was a girl that Patricia would certainly be familiar with- Katharine, or Malady, looking for all the world like a schoolgirl on a field trip, wearing a checkered skirt and a fluffy red cardigan, her black hair tied up in pigtails, her crimson eyes having a slightly ragged look to them. Blade looked over at Patricia. “Looks familiar to you? Seraph's been up to some meddling..." Blade spoke, listening to the somewhat older man start speaking.

The man, who did look suspiciously like Kat, had a voice that was dark and brooding. He was sitting in what looked like a dining room in a massive palace, with walls covered in art and tapestries, and the three seemed to be sitting at some sort of dinner table. Blade seemed to have started the video in the middle of the recording, with the man's speech seeming to start mid-conversation. "Mr. Seraph, I assure you, if you work for us, no harm will befall you. None whatsoever. Our organization has your back."

Seraph tapped his fingers against the table. "And why should I work with you, Commander...what is it? Commander Zero? I didn't exactly arrange for this meeting, you know. Being picked up off my luxury yacht and taken to Russia is not my version of an appointment. And as much as I hate that meddlesome singer girl...what you're proposing seems a bit extreme. And rather...ambitious. I like ambition as much as the next guy, but this...”

The Commander chuckled as Kat sat by, looking uncomfortable but remaining silent. "Commander Zero, yes. Now, put your moral qualms aside, Seraph. You stand to gain a lot for working with me. I can make all your dreams come true. Everything you've ever wanted." He gestured with his hands. "I can do things you can only imagine, Mr. Seraph. If we combine your fame and my powers...we will be unstoppable." Commander Zero held up his hand. "You have seen what I can do. Now, shake on it."

Seraph reluctantly shook the man's hand. "Fine. Deal.”

Commander Zero stood from his seat. "Excellent. Now, we have plans to make. For one, killing Hugo Powers. Oh, don't look so surprised, it'll be easy once you're prepared. Let's go."

Blade tapped his finger against the pause button, freezing the Commander mid-step. “Zero's involvement is going to make this a lot more complex," Blade said as he stood from the seat. “Still, I have some good news to report. While you were busy committing a number of federal offenses, the rest of your friends drove EAGLES out of HERO One and have now taken the fight to Elmore Island, which is where Seraph and the rest of his friends are holding out. I think it would be wise to meet them there. If Zero is truly present, then we will need every ounce of strength we can gather to take them down." Blade walked over to the tunnel. “There is a dock just north of the Club at 5th Avenue and Cohen Street. Meet me there in 5. Don't worry, there aren't any cops around. You saw to that already." Blade then vanished into the tunnel.

About 10 seconds after Blade entered the tunnel, the bruised and battered forms of Mystiko and Angelhead rolled out of the tunnel, looking as though they had been thoroughly curbstomped by somebody. Angelhead groaned before closing his eyes and passing out.

---

---

A few blocks north, Blade was waiting at a rather fancy-looking pier, with polished, clean wooden decks and an abundance of fancy-looking boats. Several yachts were floating nearby, one of which had a bunch of drunk rich people in suits just getting off. It looked like the type of place Grace would want to go to. Blade was not standing by a swanky yacht, however, instead standing nearby an unimpressive cabin cruiser. The boat looked like it was in poor condition, with peeling paint and damage marks on the bow of the ship. Blade gestured towards the boat, stepping on himself. He opened the door to the cabin, which was covered wall-to-wall in weapons. “Hopefully you know how to drive a boat. I have to run and check on Hugo- he's alive, but in shit condition- but I'll be right back." Blade pointed across the water. “Just head straight that way, and you'll see it." Blade pointed at a distant castle-looking entity/ “Be careful.""

As the group eventually moved towards Elmore Island, they would note that there was a fire burning from one of the towers of the building, a flickering amber light glowing from the windows. They also noticed a few holes in the side of the castle, with a jet (and a very small Chad) sticking out the side of one of the towers. And lastly, they also noticed that the ground level of the castle was surrounded by fences, with several turrets pointed directly at the boat. One of the men manning the turrets yelled out, "CEASE! CEASE! STOP MOVING, DAMNIT!"

Obviously, everything was going just fine.

@canaryrose@Zoey Boey@DClassified@DarkRecon

The Sisters of the Dying Branch

"Can't the assignment wait? I'm sleeping!" were the first words Dakota had uttered that morning. Dakota was most definitely a night owl, and definitely, definitely not a morning person. She had spent most of the previous night out in the woods, practicing her flight skills, and hadn't gotten into bed until nearly 4 AM. Now, she was alone in her room, on the top bunk, as usual, her bed already overflowing with clothes and other doodads. Dakota had not left her bed yet, and so the Elders were forced to come and find her. Dakota, of course, protested vigorously, insisting that the assignment wait until later, but the Elders would not bite. And so, Dakota was reluctantly forced to get out of bed. She wandered into the bathroom like a zombie, looking at herself in the mirror. Dakota was not exactly looking too pretty at the moment. She had bags underneath her eyes from a lack of sleep (a problem that had compounded over a previous couple of days), and because she had foolishly not taken a shower before going to bed the night prior, she still looked (and smelled) disgusting. Twigs and leave in hair, mud on arms, burrs on legs...she looked entirely unpresentable. Dakota was not the type to always go out all dolled up and perfect-looking, but she did have standards, however low. "How the hell did this happen again?” Dakota asked herself in the mirror, before shaking her head and sighing. "Deborah is going to kill me if I'm too late," Dakota said, again to herself, before sighing and turning on the shower. "Ah, well, I'm screwed either way, right?"

A shower, an extensive brushing of hair, and a few pounds worth of deodorant later, Dakota looked back to her normal self again (or at the very least, she didn't look like a corpse anymore, which was good). She had adorned a neat black leather jacket with a high collar over an airy, sky blue shirt, and had put on a pair of ripped jeans (not store-bought ripped jeans, actual ripped jeans) and leather boots. She dragged the comb through her hair one more time, winked at herself in the mirror, before taking the stairs two at a time up to Sister Deborah's office.

Of course, she was one of the last to arrive, but at the very least she was fashionably late, as they said. Dakota listened eagerly as Sister Deborah explained the assignment, overjoyed at what she had heard. Vampire hunting. Now that was some cool stuff right there. Dakota had more expected to be raking leaves or brewing potions, but vampire hunting was much higher on the list. Almost as high as getting in a couple more hours of sleep. She listened as Deborah assigned her to be heading out to Baltimore with a group of other witchlings, including Calypso, Iris, Arken, Hanna, Rebecca, and a couple of new guys, including that Caleb kid that Calypso had a palpable crush on and some other Chester fellow that she had never heard of before. "Good team, good team," she said with a nod as she huddled up with the rest of the group, noting with a great deal of relief that it was sans Summer. Good. Dakota didn't think she had enough altruism built up yet to save Summer if, or when, she inevitably ended up in trouble. "Sounds pretty legit," Dakota noted as Calypso described the accommodations and assignment. "Callie, you've obviously never been at a slumber party before...we could probably squeeze all the witches into one room if we wanted to. Also, I call shotgun on the Jeep."

She smiled, the thrill of the oncoming adventure getting her pumped up, as she took a couple of peeks at the case file that Calypso was holding. "Alright-y...well, let's get packing! I'll go pack a bag and get ready," Dakota said, tapping her thigh with her palm as she thought of what to pack. "You should totally bring your golem, Curly! They're so cool...and they're like, totally adorable." Dakota as she started to walk out. "I'm going to have to bring Astro...he can't stay alone here for a few days, one of the Elders might throw him out," Dakota said with a pout. "Astro tried to sneak into Brother Lucien's room the other night...he left the window open anyway, so you can't blame poor Astro!" Dakota said defensively. "Anyway, I guess he's coming with. He can stay in the hotel room...some traveling will be good for him anyway..." she said aloud as she made her way over to her room.

Dakota grabbed a duffel bag from the closet and stuffed it full of clothes, toiletries, ferret food, and money. She then put in some more unorthodox items, including what appeared to be a few dreamcatchers (they were magically enchanted, of course, with a variety of purposes), a thin book about vampires, a pack of Menthols, a Swiss Army Knife, a much larger knife, and a silver revolver with Dakota's initials engraved into the side. "That should be about enough," Dakota said, roughly tugging the zipper. The bag could hardly close, as it was so jam-packed with stuff, but Dakota eventually managed to zip the bag mostly shut, swinging it over her shoulder. She walked out of the Coven House, bag in tow, towards Calypso's Jeep, a wide smile on her face. "Remember, I called shotgun!" she yelled as she tossed the bag into the trunk. "Alright...road trip time! Woohoo! This is gonna be great, y'all."

---

---

Jean-Luc, meanwhile, was awake much earlier than Dakota had been but didn't leave his bed any earlier. Instead, he had engrossed himself back into a book, this time a very old, very dusty, and extremely fragile book about advanced charms that Jean-Luc had borrowed from the Elders. Though the book was very archaic and written in slanted, messy, inky script, Jean-Luc didn't really mind at all; in fact, the antiqueness of the book made it all the more interesting to him. He was so entirely absorbed in the thick book that he didn't even come down for breakfast on time; he was only liberated from his trance by the sounds of the Elders coming to fetch him. Jean-Luc lifted a velvet bookmark from his side, slotting it into the book neatly, before responding with a "right away" and hustling over to the bathroom to get dressed.

Jean-Luc got dressed into a cream-colored linen shirt and khakis, giving off both a casual and more formal vibe, as he made his way to Sister Deborah's office. He looked over at the rest of the group with a calm, almost blank facial expression as he joined the rest of the newly-inducted witches. Jean-Luc had, in the past few days, made extraordinary progress, at least compared to himself. He had not once criticized any of the other witches in front of them, and he had so far been on fairly good terms with his roommates. He had yet to complain about the abundance of yellow that had sprouted up in the room (despite a deep desire too) and had even complemented Watford FC in the past day. He surely wasn't going to be walking the aisle with any of the group yet, but he had painstakingly attempted to assimilate with the group.

He listened to Sister Deborah as she described the vampire brouhaha, and promptly split the group up into two. Jean-Luc had been assigned to Group Two with Charlie, Jeremy, Maggie, Summer, Kate, Rowan, Cassandra, and Isolde. Jean-Luc was thankfully at least familiar with most of them, though not necessarily on great terms. To his chagrin, though, Jean-Luc had been assigned the smaller case file. Shame. Jean-Luc enjoyed reading, especially case files. As soon as the file touched the desk, Jean-Luc sprang into action like a pouncing tiger, snatching up the file and opening it up. He read through the file with remarkable speed, his dark focused eyes rolling back and forth like a pendulum as he leafed through the case file, putting it back on the desk after a brief moment. "I can't say I'm fully familiar with Gary, North Carolina," Jean-Luc explained as he stepped aside to allow the others to access the case file. "Shame, I should probably get out more...anyway, it's a small mining town, not much interesting going on. It seems like a strange target for vampires to nest in, considering a limited population and all...but the signs match up, so we'll head out. We're going to the Williamson Inn. It looks like our accommodations are rather frugal on the behalf of the Coven...so I hope you enjoy sharing," Jean-Luc said with a hint of a sigh. "In any case, I'm going to go grab a couple of items from the armory that Sister Deborah listed. I have them memorized, don't worry," Jean-Luc said casually, stepping out with his arms folded. "I suppose we'll meet outside once we're all packed to figure out our transportation situation. I have a car, but it won't fit too many, especially with luggage, so I hope a couple of you made your way down to the DMV recently," Jean-Luc noted before he was off.

Jean-Luc headed into the armory, removing several knives, daggers, and stakes from the wall, before heading to his room to pack. Jean-Luc made his way down to the room. His bed and area were impeccably neat, almost inhumanly so for a teenage boy, and it was easy for him to remove some neatly folded clothes and put them into a backpack. He then put in a box of toiletries and then some items that would give a customs officer a good scare- a variety of handmade puppets and voodoo dolls were next into the bag, followed by two curved throwing daggers and a wooden stake, then a few of what appeared to be keys and other strange talismans, and finally a strange little statuette of what appeared to be Vlad the Impaler. Jean-Luc zipped up his bag, which was filled perfectly to the top, and then threw the rest of the items he hadn't taken- a couple of handguns, some knives, daggers, stakes, and more- into a string pack, which he held in his hand. After slinging on his backpack and throwing a few mice into Ghede's tank, Jean-Luc headed outside. He loaded his items into the trunk of his car- a 2017 Audi A8, jet black, before leaning against the side of the vehicle, arms folded.

Now, to wait for everybody else.

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《 H. E. R. O. 》

Grace shook her head frantically, folding her arms and looking down solemnly. "This is all looking really bad," Grace said with a hearty amount of pessimism. She tapped her foot against the ground. "Well, we ought to stay on the move and re-group with them, make sure everybody is OK," Grace said, thinking, stroking her chin as she thought. "Well, we ought to stay on the move and re-group with them, make sure everybody is OK," she said, moving towards the doorway, when all of a sudden the door swung open, revealing an angry blonde sight. Priestess.

"You bi-" Priestess started, her wings folded behind her as she made a beeline towards Grace, but the violet-haired heroine reacted quickly, her arm springing up and causing a swirling portal to open behind Priestess. The winged woman was sucked backwards towards the portal like a speck of dust into a vacuum. She flapped her wings in vain, but it was no use as she was pulled into the portal, entirely helpless. The sounds of loud cawing and squawking resonated throughout the room, echoing from the portal, as Priestess was pulled back. She could only give the pair a nasty look before being pulled all the way through, shrieking before vanishing entirely from sight. The portal promptly closed, though not before a couple tropical birds fluttered out of the portal, flying into the rafters of the room. Grace grinned, a touch of an evil look in her eyes.

"She’s in a more fitting place now," she explained to Tom, a smirk on her face, as she enveloped him in a hug from the side. "You know..." she said quietly, looking up at Tom, still tightly wrapped around him. "...you’re just the best. Really. I mean, me over Priestess..." she sighed, closing her eyes, a circle of tearwater forming on the edge of her eyelids. "You’re incredible. And I wanted...to let you know..."

It was at that moment that Grace fell asleep. She slumped over, falling into Tom’s arms, her body limp but most certainly alive, as evidenced by the quiet, subdued snores coming out of her mouth. A man had silently entered the room, through the same entrance Priestess had just burst into the moment before. The man was tall, even taller than Powers and Will, and could’ve given Samson a run for his money. The huge man’s body was covered in a thick black cloak that shrouded nearly every inch of his body, the exception being his armored legs and his masked face. His eyes were bright red and, if Tom was paying attention, he would notice that the man’s eyes had vertical slits instead of pupils, making him look like some sort of reptile.

"Thomas Rees. Spacewalker, as you’ve been referred to as well. A pleasure.” The man had a deep voice, ominous overtones dripping from each word that came out of his mouth. "It appears that you have developed a romantic attraction to Grace Mok, or Bypass. Interesting. I will keep that in mind for later..." the man said, as thought he was speaking to himself. He then looked up again. "Apologies for the mental intrusion to your significant other, but it was necessary for her to be subdued in order to tamper with her mind. She will be of great use to me and my allies at Zero. As for you, however...well, I only have a limited demand for brute strength. Still, it could be useful to keep one of you on retainer...it is settled. I will have the two fight it out," the man said, hovering between talking to Tom and talking to nobody. The man then stepped aside, revealing a very familiar face to Tom.

Blake looked different; there was no denying that. He still had the same figure, obviously, and the same scarlet hair, but everything else was totally foreign. His casual, spry posture was now rigid and formal; his regular, casual, slightly beaten-up clothes were replaced with a black, threatening-looking costume, complete with a flapping black cape. His eyes had the same unnatural reddish tinge to them, but his irises were jet black. An alien crimson glow emanated from each eye, and his pupils were strangely ragged, with sharp edges instead of a smooth circle. A familiar but oddly menacing heat was radiating from his body.

The cloaked figure stepped back. "We will see which one of you proves superior," he said again, gesturing with a gloved hand towards Blake. "Firebird, do what you do best.”

Blake nodded mindlessly, lifting his own gloved hands, two spheres of fire swirling in each palm. "Kill," he droned, before sending the fireballs hurtling right at Tom, scorching everything in its path to cinders.

@KaijuBaragon

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"Ah, fuck me..."

The poor Wings of Law goon looked at the OMNI, then at the taser, then at the robot again, before finally squealing like a pig. “Listen, I dunno anything! I swear! I just got hired to work here, and this job paid much better than working the kitchen at Bloopers, OK?! I just heard a TV ad from Seraph and I thought, ‘cool!’ I didn’t do anything illegal, I swear!”

Cora lifted her hands from the steel door. "Not worth it," she said dismissively as the metal door slid open effortlessly. Cora smiled at her handiwork- before the accident, opening locked doors was her specialty, and she was glad the talent had stuck around (unlike some other things). "Leave him be. We have to catch up with the rest of the group...knowing Jamie, she’s probably gotten herself into a bad situation." Cora stepped into the hallway, and as soon as she cleared the doorway, a series of rapid, high-pitched beeps echoed through the area. "Oh shit, get back-" she started, her arms spread out by instinct, right before the bomb went off.

The trip mine was not large, and as such the explosion hardly resonated throughout the facility, but the explosive was enough to pack a serious punch, and it sent Cora whirling back, slamming roughly into the wall, moaning. Cora’s new body had some significant modifications over the regular human body, and her exoskeleton not only provided significant defensive capabilities to the cyborg girl, but also dulled her nervous system significantly. That being said, the explosion still hurt like a motherfucker, and while Cora was not dead, she had sustained a bit of damage. Her jacket was somewhat scorched, and some of her right forearm and hand were badly damaged, the synthetic skin having been blasted clean off, showing Cora’s metallic, skeletal hands. The right side of her face had also sustained some damage, with the fake skin on her lower right jaw having been cracked, but overall, Cora was fine. At the very least, she was much more fine than she would’ve been if she had been organic.

Cora dislodged herself from the wall. ”You OK? I mean, well, you’re a fucking robot, but still..." She dusted herself off, noticing the damaged arm. She clenched her right fist. "Flesh wound," she said meekly, before quickly taking a different course of topic. "Well, it looks like somebody installed some defensive measures in this hallway. Maybe you could have your robot here scan it? Or, alternatively, you could use it as a decoy, trip as many mines as possible, and maybe show up in the flesh. Two humans are better than one, after all," Cora said to the OMNI.

Not two humans, one human.

Cora looked down at her metal fist. "That’s just my suggestion, but a plan would be nice. We have to get out of this booby-trapped hallway, and if I remember correctly, you’re the brains here. So get that brain working."

@Scarifar

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To say the guards put up a very bad fight would still feel like an overstatement. The guards were scattered across the lobby like leaves blown by the wind, landing in all manner of awkward positions and groaning almost as a collective. Only one of the ten guards even bothered to stand up again, but as soon as he realized the rest of his squad was downed, he just decided to play dead, falling limp to the ground again.

A sudden cold began to fill the room, as if somebody had very abruptly smashed the thermostat down to zero, and the elevator dinged to reveal an interesting character. He was tall and gaunt, with handsome looks but a cruel facial expression. He had a sharp chin and bleach-blonde, almost white, hair that was swept to the side of his face to avoid covering up his electric-blue steely eyes. He was wearing a black turtleneck and a white lab coat and pants, and looked for all the world like some sort of hot scientist. Moving quickly and deliberately, he removed his square glasses from his face, tucking them into his breast pocket as he stepped forwards. He then swiftly spread his arms and, with a spiteful, stern voice that belonged to a Disney villain, said coolly, "Winterfall."

As soon as the words escaped his lips, a harsh cold fell upon the entire room, enveloping all of the lobby in a nail-biting cold. Frost began to form on the walls as the temperature went from cold to colder. Winterfall seemed to not be perturbed by the cold in the slightest; if anything, he seemed to relish in it. He lifted both his arms dramatically, pointing one finger across the lobby and drawing one arm back like he was nocking an invisible arrow on an invisible bow. He then added, with a specialty cruelty in his voice, "Rime."

A shard of ice, thin but sharp, launched from his hands and shot across the lobby at breakneck speeds. The small shard of ice was only just larger than a sewing needle, and the frozen construct glistened brightly as it shot through the air. It hit Jamie with the force of a bullet, piercing through her torso and ripping out the other side, the blue crystals of ice now splattered with the crimson droplets of blood as the projectile smashed into the opposite wall and shattered. A splash of blood splattered into the air on contact, leaving a large puddle on the linoleum tiles, as Winterfall stepped forwards. "An easy target," the man said, holding his hands up as the air around him condensed. A sabre of ice formed in his hands, and Winterfall twirled it a few times before assuming a fencing stance.

"I’m afraid I don’t have all day, and doing this sort of grunt work does bore me, so I recommend making your dying action useful and simply falling on my sword," Winterfall said coldly. "At least then, I can finish you all quickly. Or I suppose you could try and fight to the death...but I warn you that I will make it hurt much more than a shard of ice to the side. Now..." His eyes danced from Terra to Joseph. "What shall it be? Volunteers? Or victims?"

@rabidporcupine@canaryrose@DarkRecon

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Sea Serpent acted like she was pondering Starbright’s comment for a moment, before smiling cruelly, her hand stopping just short of taking Starbright’s. ”How about...never!” she suddenly snapped, an evil smile on her face, as water suddenly rushed out behind her like a broken dam. The water, like it had a mind of its own, smashed into Starbright, knocking him out of the way like a bowling ball would a bowling pin, before targeting Chad, the person that Sea Serpent knew less about. She was positive that Starbright was an incompotent from experience, and she assumed that his sidekick would be just as much so, but it was better to be safe than sorry, and so Yama decided to neutralize him quickly. The water quickly formed Sea Serpent’s signature move, the Breathing Bubble, and formed a massive sphere around Chad. Of course, this sphere was full of water, and as such Chad would most definitely not be able to breath. The Breathing Bubble was actually quite an ironic name, actually. Which is why it was so perfect.

”The Great Starbright, huh?” Sea Serpent said, gesturing with her hand. The Breathing Bubble, with a drowning Chad in tow, moved towards the edge of the helipad. Chad was now floating, suspended in a bubble of water, thousands of yards over the rough sea. ”What’s the Great Starbright going to do to save his protege? Leave him to drown or fall to his demise? Cry like a little girl? Beg to save his sidekick? Or, most likely, would it be to secure mercy for yourself at the expense of your little friend?” Sea Serpent smiled cruelly. ”Choose wisely, you so-called ‘celebrity.’”

@Jumbus@Duoya

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