The Create-A-Hero RPG Season III IC Thread!

[CAHRPG]

WELCOME..
TO THE CREATE-A-HERO RPG SEASON III

This informative pamphlet brought to you by:
NiteMare Shape (http://forums.superherohype.com/member.php?u=57474) - Editor-In-Chief
trustyside-kick (http://forums.superherohype.com/member.php?u=35194) - Editor
Erin (http://forums.superherohype.com/member.php?u=104087) - Editor


First, an Introduction:

It has begun.

We are the Game Masters and this is our world. For many millennia, the small planet named Earth has continued a mundane, un-noteworthy existence. Then, the metahumans came. Slowly at first, the genetic creations of this new dawn soon began to sweep the planet - ranging from every continent to every sea. The Blue Blur of Chicago. Icon and the Survivor of Lost Haven. Pulse of the Blitzen District. Kensei of Japan. These metahumans increased awareness and ushered in a new age in human evolution. It has been an exciting, unpredictable adventure - and it has only begun.

Super Terrestrial Review Inside Known Encounters, or S.T.R.I.K.E., has watched the evolution of these metahumans patiently - only interfering when absolutely necessary. Now, after a short time of observation, S.T.R.I.K.E. may be ready to make its move. The only question is, will they be a force of support or destruction to the metahumans? Only time will tell.

The people of Earth and its heroes have seen destruction brought to their world by the invading alien forces of the Arlaaekean interstellar military. With the destruction wrought on this tiny planet and its moon, it is a wonder that the humans managed to overcome the sheer adversity and defeat the villainous Arlaaekeans. It was a war not without tragedy, however, as the young hero known as Blacklight gave his life to save others.

Although they have largely rebuilt from the alien cataclysm that rained on their planet, and are still in the process of creating a substitute for their shattered moon and coping with the massive loss of life, these humans persevere. So far. Though the people of Earth think they have seen everything, they are poorly mistaken. Many secrets and lies have yet to be uncovered. Is Area 51 really just a testing site for experimental aircraft - or is there something more sinister about its nature? Does the city of Atlantis lie submerged in the ocean - or is it the product of pure fantasy? The key to uncovering these answers lies with the metahuman.


One month has passed, and so much lies ahead...

For Rules, Guidelines, Applications, and Rosters, go to:

The Create-A-Hero RPG Season III OOC Thread (http://forums.superherohype.com/showthread.php?t=335084)


Every universe has their own protectors, meet the CAH Superhero team:



http://img707.imageshack.us/img707/8949/miniguardians.png




Find your way around the great metropolis of Lost Haven:


Full Map of Maine:
http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/Maine.jpg

Lost Haven:
http://img243.imageshack.us/img243/8501/map2lg1.jpg

Most Importantly:
HAVE FUN!
(Or Else!)

[NiteMare Shape]

http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/cooltext428410933.png
No More


It has been one month since Scott Morse left his life in Lost Haven behind. No longer does he take to the skies as the hero known as Icon, battling the forces of evil as they wage their war against the people of the world.

The death of his younger sister at the hands of his arch nemisis was more than he could bare. It was on that day that he made the decision that not another person would die because of him, and because of that he walked away from it all.

It isn't like he left the world unprotected. In Lost Haven there are a group of dedicated heroes standing vigilant, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. A team more than capable of handling anything that could possibly happen...The Guardians...a team that he himself helped to form.

After walking away from his life as Icon, Scott relocated to the city of Salem, just 20 minutes north of Boston where he could live in anonimity. Taking a construction job, he goes about his daily life trying to forget about who he once was.

***

Scott stands before the bathroom mirror in his modest apartment, burning the whiskers from his face with a finely tuned beam of heat from his eyes. Since arriving in Salem, Scott had tried to keep to himself. He kept his interaction with those around him to a minimum, doing just what was needed to get through a day's work. Despite his best efforts, he had managed to strike up a friendship with one of the guys from work.

His new friend Marty had been trying to get him to go out with he and his girlfriend Debbie for quite some time, and finally Scott gave in. Marty's girlfried had been so excited that Scott had agreed to go out that against his protests she had arranged for a friend of hers to come along.

They had said that they would be by his apartment to pick him up around 8:00PM, and sure enough, just as he's pulling his shirt on over his head the buzzer rings.

"Right on time....Just my luck." He says aloud as he leaves his apartment, going down the stairs to meet his new friends.

[Rain Dog]

*OLYMPUS MONS*

Dr. Gregory Murdock Atlas. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe he’s actually going to take me to his lab today! I’ve looked up to this man since I was crawling on all fours. He’s the entire reason I wanted to become an astronomer. He’s the reason I love science. I feel blessed to have such a great father. Without him, this would still be nothing more than a dream to me.

“Excited, Charles?”

I nodded vigorously. He chuckled and pushed open the doors to the lab.

“This way people,” he said. I wasn’t the only one. There was a group of future scientists, all around my age. It felt good to be surrounded by my kind of people.

“This,” Dr. Atlas said, “Is our crowning achievement.”

He gestured to an enormous machine that looked like some sort of futuristic telescope. It was easily the size of three or four school buses stacked length-wise. It was pointed skyward, going right through an opening in the ceiling and into the azure sky. Half of the group’s jaws drop. Including mine. This must be it. The Atmospherical Replication Unit.

“This machine both monitors and actually replicates the atmospherical conditions of any planet we point it to, making it easier for us to study here on Earth. Right now, a solar wind is sweeping through the solar system and has interesting effects on many different planets’ atmospheres. Right now, the device is aimed at Mars. We’ll start it up for you so that you can see this fine machine at work for yourselves.”

I have to keep myself from screaming with glee. It’s dorky, I know. But I can’t help it—never has anything like this ever been built. Just thinking of the possibilities—of how this machine can revolutionize astronomy is just overwhelming!

“Dr. Kaufman, please activate ARU.”

An older man in a white lab coat nods and punches a few buttons on a control panel adjacent to the machine. ARU buzzes and hums, lights begin flashing and a round “lens” on the tip of the machine begins to rotate, “focusing” in on the target.

“Activate the sonic transducer!”

Kaufman nods and punches a few more. Buttons. The buzzing and humming and mechanical whir of turning gears grows louder and louder. More lights flash. The doctor places his hand on my shoulder and smiles.

“You’ve chosen the right line of work, Charles.”

I return his smile with one of my own. Then—

“Dr. Atlas! Something’s wrong! The solar wind has caused some sort of power spike! ARU is overloading!”

“Dear God! Shut it off!”

“I can’t! It’s too far along now! It might—”

“Shut it off! Shut it off!”

There’s a panicked look on the group’s face. And mine.

Kaufman pulls a lever and the flashing lights stop. But the machine does it.

“No! Everyone, get down!” Dr. Atlas screams. But it’s too late. The base of the machine explodes and a brilliant ray of crimson light is fired from the atmosphere containment unit. The glowing ray comes right at me…















…and whizzes over my shoulder, striking a buff guy standing behind me. Charlie Atlas. Dr. Atlas’s son whom I have the misfortune of sharing a first name with. Charlie’s iPod’s earbuds and eardrum-splittingly loud music prevented him from hearing his father’s warning or the blast. He is blasted by the ray and sent to the ground, twitching as smoke billows around him.

“CHARLIE!!!” Dr. Atlas screams as he runs to his fallen offspring. He lifts the boy’s head and begins to weep.

“Oh Charlie, speak to me, son! Are you ok?!”

Charlie begins to move, just a little bit. He groans and then slowly sits up.

“Actually, yeah, I feel pretty ****in’ awesome.”

Charlie then rose to his feet…and continued to rise. He began to hover a meter off the ground.

“Holy crap! I’m one of them whatcha call its—metos or something.”

He proceeded to fire a bright ray of crimson light from his eyes, very similar to the one that hit him, at ARU, melting the machine into a huge glob of twisted metal.

“Tight. I’ma head out now,” he said as he took to the skies. Dr. Atlas stared up at the heavens, completely dumbfouned. He then turned to me.

“...So...how’s Bill?” he asked.

“Dad? He’s fine.”

“Yeah, he told me you wanted to be here. Anything for a fellow Delta Kappa Epsilon.”

[Mr. Majestic]

http://img26.imageshack.us/img26/3788/theyoungster.jpg


I bust into my bedroom leaving the door wide open. Normally Id closes the door when I’m going to sleep because it’s a habit of mine but I’m so tired it doesn’t even matter at this point. Since Icon has disappeared I have been working like crazy trying keep the street’s of Lost Haven and every where else in the world safe. Now finally at 4:14pm I can get some well deserve rest.

Once I’m close to my bed I just fall forwards landing straight out on my bed, my nice and warm bed. I then close my eyes.


"Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place
(Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
Plenty of room at the Hotel California"




“NO NO NO NO NO!” I yell out loud as my ceil phone goes off. Without moving the rest of my body I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone.

“Yeah?”

“Hey Sam its Dave, look I’m sorry to call you on your day off man but the Hub is a little short staffed today and I wanted to know if you would mind coming in? It’s Karaoke night and I need some more hands.”

Being a hero all the time I almost forgot that I have a normal life to. This looks like a job for Sam.

“You’re just in luck Dace I’m literally walking through the door as we speak.”

“Hey thanks a ton Sam this means a lot man. I’ll see you when you walk in.”

“Okay.” I say as I hang up.

It is almost as if the universe knows when I want to get some rest hopefully I’ll finally be able to after work. I sit up from my bed and give my self a good couple of seconds then streak out the room heading to work.

Right as I come out of super speed in front of the building Dave is right there opening the door for me.

“Dang…” Dave says as I can tell I scare him a bit. “…Sam I knew you said you was outside the door I didn’t think you meant really outside the door.

“Yeah I just can’t seem to stay away from this place.” If he would have came to this door just a few seconds earlier he might have caught me using my powers.

“Well I’m here what do you need me to do?”

“Come on in and I’ll show you.”

For the past hour and maybe close to twenty minutes I and Dave and a couple of other employees have been getting the club together for tonight. My job was an easy one. All I had to do was set of the Karaoke station and the surround system. If I didn’t have to teach Dave I could have done this in 3 seconds flat since I have to show him every step that 3 seconds turn into a hour.

Once we were finish he was behind the bar cleaning some shot glasses and making sure he had a good enough quantity of liquor. While he was doing that I was sitting down looking at the paper. As I’m looking in the paper I happen to run across an interesting article.

“Hey Dave did you hear about this?” I hold the article up so it’s facing his direction.

“Are kidding me right now? Everyone heard about that man, where have you been. They have been talking about that for weeks.”

I have been saving the world my friend. “Really? I didn’t know it was something to talk about like that.”

“Sam everybody and their mother want to see that race. To see the Blue Blur to officially be known as the fastest man alive is going to be great, it’s going to be legendary. I have my ticket.”

“Your ticket? I thought it was going to be shown on T.V?”

“An event like this man they are doing it big. With state-of-the-art wriest bands that are going to be connected to satellite’s in the sky to fallow all the speedsters and they are going to show it at Lost Haven square where the race will begin. Its going to be huge.”

“I thought there were only going to be the Blur and Youngster?” I have to say this is all news to me. I didn’t know they were going to make a big thing out of this when I got the invite, well Youngster.

“Dude it wouldn’t be entertaining if he beat just one nobody, they had to get five more.”

Didn’t realize I was still known as a nobody. “I don’t know, I think a lot of people may be surprise when it’s not Blur making it pass that finish line first.” I’ve been waiting for this day since I got my powers. If I can beat Blur maybe people will finally begin to recognize me.

“Yeah right, you and the other 12 people who place a bet on him keep thinking that.”

“This race is not for money Dave, I’m… they are doing this for charity.”

“Yea they are but everyone else in the world has money on it, I know I do. ALL ON BLURRY BABY YEAAA!” He yells and i can do nothing but laugh.

He then continues to go back to do what he was doing and I just sit back in my chair. I wasn’t even aware that there was any other speedsters out there besides me and Blur. This is going to be more interesting than i thought. Only thing to do is just wait for the day of the race.

[Byrd Man]

The Blue Blur


"Only way I'm doing this is if it's for charity."

"Matt...of course it is," Mr. Fry says with a smile I don't quite believe.

"All proceeds going to the rebuilding of all the damage done during the invasion."

"That's good. So it's a race around the world, eh?"

"Around the world a few times. The contestants only win bragging rights...do you think that kid will show up?"

"Youngster? I'm certain. He's a good kid with a lot to prove. Heck, he might even think he'll win this one."

"Well, start training and see that he doesn't"



******

SPFCHuEegsk

I run through the sand, buried up to my waist. It helps improve my strength. It's sluggish, but I'm making progress and it's working.

Swimming in the ocean now, going close to a hundred miles an hour through the water. My body cuts through the waves like Michael Phelps on steroids.

Running down the interstate in Kansas, my whole body wrapped in a weighted suit. My legs feel almost dead, but I'm able to pass and weave through the cars with ease.

Back in Chicago, bench pressing weights in the gym. I'm getting better. I'm getting stronger.

I'm almost ready.

[LouFerignoDemon]

It had been one whole month since Goddess had lost the strength of her demonic powers, and the ravages of her mortal powers set free. A whole month of pain, meditation, control sessions, and learning of the world she now occupied. Where before, under the strains of her dark taint, Goddess was rushed, impatient, angry, and counter-productive, Goddess was now forced to patience, planned, calm, and had a new goal: To get her immense mortal power back under control. From her time in her demonic state, her mortal magic was being used as a barrier from her mortal soul, to her demonic corrosion, preventing her from becoming simply a pawn for her demonic slaves. Made doubly difficult by her need to connect some parts of her being to it, so she could use the power, but not be overcome. Apparently, in this time, her mortal magic overcame her reawoken demonic power in terms of sheer volume. It was basically killing her from the inside. Goddess, however, was always a quick study, and a natural talent for magic, and so within the month, she was back in control, safe from her own power.

However, the re-training had already begun, and Goddess decided to remain in the room often as she reconnected with long lost ancient power she would yet wield again. Goddess had returned to simple brown roses, wearing but an ornate gold chained, and gold metal hourglass necklace with purple sand, most of it being on the top. To learn of the outside world, those who thwarted her, those she dominated, those she had yet to confront. If a fight with them was inevitable, she would have to use more than the parlor tricks and simple spells she brought on last time. Next time, she would take it seriously, and would not fall to the same arrogance she had before. Last time, Goddess failed only due to the backlash of divine power which eradicated the demonic power within her. This time, she would have no such weakness. Reconnecting with the magic native to her world, to her soul, and to her very basis would strengthen her. Goddess would abandon the direct strategies, which she considered playful, in favor of much more powerful magics. With a firm resolve to her original mission to heart, she had slowed her aging, and reconnected with the immense powers beneath, above, to the sides, within, and outside of her own being. Her magic, finally calm, was ready to be unleashed on her targets and desires. However, there were some new things to contend with....

"My Goddess, we have located some magical items for you as you've requested. But they're not the...quality you asked for. The sort of items you want haven't been in existance for some time, and the purges, alongside... ahem... reckless destruction of certain items of education eradicated most of the knowledge needed to make them," the man who came to save her before described to her. Goddess was not amused with his comment, knowing full well she had a hand in destroying the information.

"And my home?"

"As I have said before, my Goddess. There are few magos left in the world, and most people who use mana do so through items runed in magic they cannot read, only replicate. And the most powerful of items have their words hidden..." his voice was shrinking some, detecting the frustration in Goddess.

"So you're telling me, out of all the people in this following, I am the only true magos?"

"There are roughly four to five left. Two are those you fought before and are dormant in the frost rest, and the other one or two are unknown, and the last is you, who is barred magically from performing the spells required on the land your home rests..."

"You've had a month to locate someone who can set foot in the area other than myself, where are you on that?"

"A little tougher. We know where your two former friends-" Goddess winced at this "-are, and the one unrelated to you. We don't even know if there really are any more magos than this outside of rumor. We approached the one outside of your past dealings, and found he was not only probably too weak for the task, but has heard of you, and wants nothing to do with you. And..." he trailed off.

"And? The others?"

"Their very lands turned on us, identifying you in our purpose, and obliterated those who meant to commune. I'm sure we're not invited. We've honestly been more worried we may have awoken them to your return..."

Goddess turned away some, in thought. She knew she was still very powerful, but probably not yet ready to take on her former comrades, who undoubtedly had stayed true to their power, but had amassed powerful items of magic as well. Firepower Goddess herself did not have. She knew the spell of the frost rest as a spell used to preserve someone until the seal of purpose is broken. It may have been for her, it may not have been. But she's been active for a few months now, and hasn't detected the risings of great magic in a world almost devoid of it any longer. She should have felt them.

"Perhaps if you were to instruct us in the ways of magic outside of the basic spells we can use. Stronger magic like the chanelling magic you use..." the man began to ask her. Goddess, half in fear, half in rage, spun to him.

"You couldn't even begin to comprehend the forces you deal with when speaking magic. You replicate it as it stands, thinking you're masters of the craft, but you have no clue the power you intend to invoke. Your bieng couldn't even hold up against speaking the true names of Dominions you wish to summon forth with your power. They would override you at their mere mention and completely obliterate you in an accidental backlash of connection you ask for. The reason chanelling magic is rarely ever used, is because most magos fear they could not contain the immense power of the tiniest flicker of the gods they ask for, and would detonate on the spot," a small cough in the excitment, her voice was rash, angry, yet concerned. "Their names are not invoked so liberally. Their names have even been used to commit suicide. Anything their names are written on becomes their domain, and always requires a great exchange for success, lest it turns on the user which consumes them to power the magic. Why do you think they have false names used for worship?"

The man had nothing to say to her, he just remained quiet in fear of her wrath.

"Why do you think I cannot go back home? I require another magos to help alleviate the seal, and lend me enough power to bargain with the god who prevents me and all associated with me from being there to let me go back home, where I may resume my studies, and make sure my break from my demonic powers didn't unleash any of the beasts I had there."

"Well, your home is completely abandoned except for a few magic weapon wielders who check on it once every few months just to make sure..."

"So there's something there they are worried about. Probably the magical experiments my husband and I used to work on, and later on, just I..." Goddess moved into thought, but quickly came back with, "Take me to the magos still active. I must convince him to let me back in my home, where I hopefully still have a store of magical items. My quest is not yet done, my purpose not complete, and..." a few coughs from the worked up Goddess, "and there is still so much left to do. Leave me, prepare a group."

"But Goddess..."

"Do not question me. Send for my cat, and Patches. I have special instructions for them."

The man left as Goddess took off a necklace she was wearing, with an hourglass on it.

"Not much time to tarry. I must regain my immortality, as mortal magic isn't enough to contend with infinity..."

"And why do you say that?" a purr, and a sly phrase from her cat, rubbing against her leg, and Patches standing behind her.

"When my immortality was released from me, so was the pact of health and longevity. The plague is upon me again. Obviously the world did not fall to it, and there must be something the healers of this world can do for me i-"

"Bubonic Plague. Way ahead of you. There are treatments for it, and you'd normally have to go to the hospital."

"Hospital? Ah... the healing shrines of today."

"Yeah..."

"Then let us depart to this hospital."

"No need. However, the problem is, the magic in the plague died down from when you combat it, and now isn't as powerful as it once was. Patches got the antibiotics, and I think you can treat it as you did before: enchant the healing herbs, and then use them to combat the organic and magic forces at hand."

The Goddess smiled, not a grin of domination, but of happiness and relief, "Well done, my pet," she scratched his head. "After this is done, and my quest, I shall find a way to reverse your curse permanantly."

"Thank Patches, his clout got us the stuff we need."

"Thank you, very much. Your Goddess is very pleased," she pat him on the head.

"Well, let's start then..."

For three days, Goddess' cat and Patches guarded the door from those interested, and those looking to give thanks and praise while she recuperated. One leg of her journey possibly down, she still had much to do, and little time to do it. For every moment she was awake, the ancient forces against her could reawaken at any time, and any new forces much like the self styled heroes of this forsaken town may make an attempt against her.

[wiegeabo]

Now

I sigh with the sheer repetitiveness of the situation. Day after day, it's the same thing. I wake up in my room (cell), and the first thing I do is head over to the Doctor's. Yeah, that's actually what the call her. The Doctor. No first name, no last name. Just like The Director. The only person's name I do know is that of my new 'partner'. Bobby. Bobby Hawkes. Well, it's really Robert, but I like to call him Bobby because it annoys him a little. Although he doesn't seem to mind when the Doctor calls him Bobby...

Anyway, the Doc gives me look over. Checks the old pulse and pressure, shines a light in my eyes, tests the reflexes. Hooks me up to machines and watches all the data as if it actually makes sense. It probably does to her. She's a lot smarter than me. Book smart, that is. No one's is street smart as I am. Mostly.

After all that, she forces me to test my control over the gland. I've pretty much made every object in her office invisible over the last few weeks. And while I'm invisible, she runs ever more tests. She's probably sucked enough blood out of me to fill up a whole new person.

After the morning check up, it's Bobby's turn. He spends the day going over regulations, procedures, and everything else someone needs to become an agent.

Yeah, you heard right, they want me to be an agent.

I remember the day the Director told me like it was yesterday. But it was actually a month ago.

Then

"Sit down," Bobby says, irritated.

"I'd rather stand."

"Let the man stand, Bobby. His little acts of defiance make him feel better." The Director smiles smugly, and I just want to knock that grin onto the floor. "Alberts!" he shouts with a snap of his fingers.

"Right here, sir," the little weasel says, handing the Director a file. Oh, yes. Alberts. I met him my first day here. You look up the definition of pencil-pushing kiss-ass in the dictionary, and this guy takes up the whole page. He's anal, a stickler for paperwork, and the Director's personal toady.

The Director open the file an looks over it, placing it flat on his desk. I sigh and tap my foot as he turns each page and skims over it, even though I get the distinct impression he's already memorized every page. He finally decides to look up at me.

"I think it's about time you learned why you're here, Mr. Cole."

"Because I apparently signed my life away to you as a human guinea pig?"

"Well, that certainly is part of it." He looks over at Bobby, they guy who was so helpful in nearly giving me a concussion. "Mr. Hawkes here is to be you're new partner."

I look over at Bobby, then the Director. "Partner?"

"Yes, Mr. Cole. You're going to be an Agent. You're working for me now."

[trustyside-kick]

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v643/dhunter22/archangelbanner1.jpg

Lost Haven
Now

"This is an life-force, like no other! Never before have I--I WANT MORE!!"

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v643/dhunter22/leechDRAINarch1.png


Lost Haven
The Guardians HQ
1 Month Ago

"I come before you now, Michael, for there is a prophecy I have foreseen that must not go unchecked. I fear for you, Michael, because it appears that you are about be struck with much pain in the months to come. The key is to be virtuous, Michael. Achieve the 7 virtues, Michael, and you will have a better chance against The Seven."

"Who is The Seven?"

"The Seven is a group of demons, personally led by Lucifer himself. They are responsible for the Seven Deadly Sins of Man, Michael: Pride, Anger, Greed, Lust, Sloth, Envy...and Gluttony. Though they cannot all walk the Earth, for Lucifer is forever bound to Hell until the End of Days, behind the Gates of Hell they can still spread their mischief and deceit onto the realm of this world."

"So to help me in defeating The Seven, or the Seven Deadly Sins of Man, I have to be virtuous...you know, I never really understood just what exactly that meant aside from it being a good thing. I mean...I know what the 7 virtues are: Chastity, Temperance, Charity, Diligence, Patience, Kindness, and Humility. But for instance...how the heck is me practicing Chastity going to help against a Lust Demon?"

"You will not be facing these demons directly, I merely said they could all walk the Earth, Lucifer aside, should the Gates of Hell become open. What the prophecy has shown me, is that they will influence dangerous and powerful beings to become drawn to you, simply because of what you are: a Divine Agent of God. These beings will not even be aware that The Seven is what has drawn them to you for they are not directly tied say for the great Sins they embrace."

Just my luck. Typical. I have a natural 'hey, pick on me, I'm the Jesus-freak superhero angel dude' for all the demons and other nasty things of hell to see and I didn't even know it. What, do I have some big golden and shiny aura that just rings 'ATTACK ME!'?

"But I must leave you with that, for now, Michael. For these prophecies are never 100% clear and I must attend to other things to fully unravel this mystery before me."

"I guess I can talk to Father Damian, to help me understand this more. Thanks for the heads up, Bath Kol."


Lost Haven
Starbucks Coffee
29 Days Ago

I've been swirling around in my ceramic cup of coffee for a few seconds now, and I already know I'm annoying Grace. She always hated whenever I'd do that. But she doesn't know about what is about to come out of my lips. She doesn't know what I just realized I have to do.

We still have not gotten back together, though she did finally understand what happened to me a few days ago with that whole Goddess incident. But...that spirit of Love told me I have to let her go, and that if we are meant to be we will end up with each other...but it's only with this new recent prophecy about The Seven that I see I have to get her out of my life sooner than expected.

I stop swirling my spoon around. It's time to do it. It's going to be fast, but that only makes it more harsh. I need her to hate me now, so that she doesn't try to follow me or try to understand.

"I'm going to look for a new agent. Starting Friday, you are no longer under my employ. I'll mail you your check next week. I'm sorry."

I get up fast, amplifying the rudeness of the entire ordeal, and walk out the coffee house.

I didn't even address her with her name, treating her as though she was a nobody.

She's going to hate me.

But it'll keep her safe.

...God help me.

Please keep her safe.

[NiteMare Shape]

http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/cooltext428410933.png (http://s362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/?action=view&current=cooltext428410933.png)
No More




We arrive at this little cafe in town and head inside. It's basically your typical coffee bar, with tables and booths, and even individual lounge areas spread out around the cafe.

Marty and Deb lead us over to one of the lounge areas, which consists of a small table surrounded by a love seat and a couple of plush chairs. We sit, place our orders and just talk.

Well, they talk. I really don't have alot to say. I haven't had much to say at all since....I left Lost Haven. Deb's friend, Kelly, tries to make conversation but I do my best to evade her attempts.

I almost feel bad, she's a nice enough girl and she is quiet pretty, but I didn't leave my life in Lost Haven behind to do the same things I was doing before with a whole new group of friends.

I just can't do it. It's too dangerous....I can't risk anybody else's lives because of who I used to be.

After a few unsuccessful attempts, she decides that she'll have better luck conversing with Deb and Marty, which she does. The three of them laugh and joke, and every now and then I throw in a forced laugh or a fake smile, and I'm reminded that even though I'm surrounded by people who have gone out of their way to befriend me, I'm still completely alone.

[Mr. Majestic]

http://img26.imageshack.us/img26/3788/theyoungster.jpg

I finished up helping Dave and the others and stayed for a bit just to hang out but now that the club is open and people are coming in, now is a good time as any to head out.

“Well it’s been fun but I’m head out.” I yell to Dave over the music while seating at the bar.

I watch as he pours customers some shots. “You sure you don’t want to stay a bit? I figured we could do our Flight of the Conchords bit.” He yells back.

“Normally I would man but I got to get home. We’ll do it tomorrow.” I let him know as I get up from my seat.

Truth is I don’t have to get home, its 8:58pm way past the time I’m post to do my patrol.

While heading towards the door my attention is slightly distracted as I look at a couple of honeydips at the corner of the club. While not paying attention I bump into a person.

“Oh I’m sorry.” I say as I grab this beautiful girl from falling over.

“Watch where you’re going next time.” She replies as she regains her balance.

I release my hands from her side. “Will do.” I then proceed to walk pass her.

“Sam!?”

Not even 3 seconds had pass from me hitting the young lady and someone calls my name. I then turn around and to my surprise the girl I hit is someone I know.

“Lexa?” To say that I’m surprised would be an understatement.

“Oh my God, Sam.” She then runs into my arms and embraces me with a hug so tight it was as if she thought I was dead.

“After the invasion I thought you were dead.”

Well that explains the tense bear hug.

“No I survived it, one of the lucky people that did.”

“I went to your house a couple of days after but nothing was there. God it’s great to see you. I’m happy that you are alive. How is your mother doing?”

I knew that question was going to be the fallow up. I get it all the time and I’m still not use to answering it. I don’t think I ever will be.

“She past away during the invasion.” It’s still hard to say it.

“Oh Sam I’m sorry. How are you holding up?”

“I doing well, at first it was hard but I’m doing better.” I need to change the subject. “So what is a rich girl like your self doing at a club like this?”

“This was the first club I sneak into. Since then when ever I want to get away I come here. People don’t tend to recognize me. Question is what are you doing here? Looking to break some luck girl’s heart of waiting to save someone again?”

She still believed that I saved her. I wish I came up with a better lie.

“Not doing that saving thing, I’ll leave that to the heroes. But to answer your question I work here.”

She looks surprised to my answer.

“I would have never seen you as the type to work at a club.”

“I mainly do maintenance work. An old teacher of mine owns the club and he gave me the job.”

“That’s nice. If you want you can work for me at my father’s company.”

“Thanks for the offer but I like it here.” The hours our perfect for me to do my afternoon activities.

“The offers on the table.”

As I’m about to tell her I have to she grabs my and drags me to the dance floor.

“You should dance with me.” She suggests.

Wait dancing, she can’t be serious. Now if I’m stopping a run away train no problem. Saving people from a burning building, no sweat but for me to dance is like Lex Luthor forcing a kryptonite drink down Superman’s throat. Not good at all.

“Lexa as much as I would love to dance with you I can’t.” I yell to her as she continues to pull me to the dance floor. But thanks to this loud music I’m pretty sure my words were not heard or either she doesn’t want to pay them no mind.

Right as we are literally 3 inches from the dance floor Dave comes out of no where and stops me while Lexa is still pull me.

“Sam dude we have to…” He then stops as he sees Lexa holding my hand.

“Oh I’m sorry I didn’t know you was with someone Sam.”

I then look back and Lexa then back at Dave. “It’s cool man. Is there something wrong with the equipment or something?”

“Naw man that’s cool, look people are asking for us to sing man we got to.”

Before replying I lock eyes with Lexa for a brief second.

“I would like to but I just meant my friend who…” Before I could finish yelling to Dave telling him I can’t sing with him Lexa interrupts me.

“No Sam it’s cool I’ll love to hear you sing.” She says into my ear.

“You sure you don’t mind?”

“Yeah I think this will be great.”

“Okay.” I’d rather sing instead of dance any time.

Moments later I and Dave were on the stage getting ready to do our bit.

“Hey Mike could you bring the lights down a little bit we are going to do one of our slow jams.”

Jgghjx2Ghqk


“Lookin round the room
I can tell that you
are the most beautiful girl in the... room.”

(Once I was finish with that line I look Lexa in her eyes.)
“In the whole wide room.”

“And when you're on the street
dependin on the street
I bet you are definitely in the top three.
Good lookin' girls on the street.”

“Dependin on the street.”

“And when I saw you at my mate's place
I thought what is she doin..at my mate's place
how did Dave geta hottie like that to a party like this
Good one Dave,”

“You're a legend Dave”(I look over at Dave.)

“I asked Dave if hes gonna make a move on you
hes not sure
I said Dave do you mind if I do
he says he doesn't mind but I can tell he kinda minds
but I'm gonna do it anyway
I see you standin all alone by the stereo
I dim the lights down to very low Here we go.”

(I and Dave both sing the chores together.)
You're so beautiful
You could be a waitress
You're so beautiful
You could be an air hostess in the sixties
You're so beautiful
You could be a part time model
And then I seal the deal,I do my moves, I do my dance moves.

“Its 12:02,just me and you..
and seven other dudes around you on the dance floor
I draw you near, lets get out of here
Lets get in a cab, I'll buy you a kebab
I can't believe, that I'm sharin a kebab with the most beautiful girl,
I have ever seen with a kebab.
Why don't we leave lets go to my house,
we can feel each other up on the couch
oh no, I don't mind takin it slow-oh-ohno-oh-oh, yeah-heh.”

“You're so beautiful”

“You’re like on of those girls I definitely had been talking to in the chat room.”

“You're so beautiful.”

“Wild****Angel22@yahoo”

“You’re so beautiful.”

“You could be a part time model
but you'll probably still have to keep your normal job”

“A part time model”

“Spendin part of your time modelin..
and part of your time next to me.”


Once me and Dace finish singing the crowd gave us a standing ovation.

[Hound55]

The Present Day
The Offshore Shamrock - An Irish bar just inside of the current "boundries" of the Italian West Haven.

A familiar figure leans on the main bar. Tired and feeling the burn he orders another pint in an accent that is neither Irish, nor Italian. The fatigue shows in his face, much thinner than it was just a month ago and the face itself looks unkempt and messy. Untended whiskers which have seen neither razor nor scissors in a long time.

Isaac wears stress with little subtlety. He has clearly been burning the candle at both ends and taking on far more responsibility than he's comfortable with. Juggling the sculpting of a new subsidiary company, attending to Renee regularly, following up on keeping Themis in check and growing an unofficial reputation amongst the "right" people (which can only be done by making his presence felt) were enough work...

...but then he'd found the bug.

It didn't so much surprise him, he thought it would be just a matter of time and he didn't trust anything he was given generally anyway. But since finding the bug, an obvious Government plant, he'd driven the car a little less frequently, mainly driving it these days to divert suspicion. But it added to the pressure he was under and forced him to spend even more time, effort and funding setting up his own private bases at a few strategic locations around his new adopted home.

All of this whilst on very little sleep. He'd built up a dependence on alcohol and coffee to help carry him through his way of life and he needed another hit.

Looking down the bar he saw a girl smiling at him, he responded in kind instinctively, showing teeth brighter than his heavy eyes. He took his weight off his lead leg and stood up straight, cursing under his breath that he "broke the seal" too early and made for the mens room.

Returning a few minutes with a lighter bladder and considerably more comfortable than when he left he stepped back up to the now empty bar. Looking around to see where people went he heard a woman's scream coming from out in the alley behind the bar. Checking the sole bartender had his back to him racking up some of the last dishes, Fontaine grabbed at the acrylic bulge in his pocket and snapped on some gloves as he ran to the side exit.

"B**** this is the last God damned time you hold out on me, you hide for a week, make me look like a God damned fool and you think I'll let you f***ing live! You know you made me do this to you!"

"I didn't hold out on you, Jake. You know me, I'd never hold out on you baby. I just got this no-good trick who stole three Johns pay from me... I couldn't go back to you withot that money, Jake. You know I wouldn't..."

WHAM!

"Jake" doled out a backhand which fired her into the nearby wall of the bar, where the girl slumped down and sobbed.

"Jake... I think you're just what I f***ing needed tonight. I'm going to try and smack the pathetic arsehole right out of you. Hopefully right out of the pair of us..."

"What the f*** are you supposed to be? All of the other costumed heroes cleaned up all of the holiday sales before you could get to the store?" Pointing at Isaac's street clothes with balaklava and gloves ensemble.

"What, you're the fashion police? I thought you pimp-jerkoffs were supposed to have style."

The pimp runs in fast and reckless, as Isaac slips his charge and throws a knee directly into his chest, knocking the wind out of Jake's lungs early.

Isaac circles around, emitting a too-comfortable grin from the balaklava. Jake, bent over grabs at something from near a heap of trash bags and rises up to swing it at Fontaine's head. Isaac throws a forearm up in front of the swing, as it sends heavy vibrations through his forearm and fracturing his ulna. Fontaine however feels nothing, until he counters and then all he feels is Jake's nose break and squelch between his knuckles as the familiar viscous scarlet fluid flows from the pimp's nose.

"Kick his ass, baby!"

Isaac circles in again to unload on the stunned man.

"Come on, Jake baby. Kick that freak's ass!"

"JAKE?!?"

Isaac gets blind-sided by a hook to the ear as the pimp swings in blind desperation.

"Right..."

Fontaine sizes the erratic pimp up and unleashes a flurry of punches, finishing with an uppercut which snaps the pimp's head back as he slumps against the wall.

Isaac turned to the woman in his balaklava and just shook his head in disbelief as he left the scene, and the pair, in peace.

Just when he needed life to be simple... Fate has a cruel sense of humour.

[Mr. Majestic]

http://img26.imageshack.us/img26/3788/theyoungster.jpg

Once off the stage Lexa made her way towards me. I wonder what’s running through her head? When I singing lord knows I did make a lot of eye contact with her as if I was singing to her.

“Sam I didn’t know you can sing.” She tells me as she gave my shoulder a light punch. “You have been holding out on me.”

“Well I really can’t sing, I’m just very good at mimicking other people voices. It’s something I found out I could do not to long ago.”

“Either way it was still good, in a funny way. You should really think about making singing a move.”

If there was just a little more light I’m pretty sure she might be able to see the funny face i made to that comment.

“My singing voice isn’t my own. Besides I don’t think I’m as good as you are saying I am.”

“Trust me Sam I have an ear for this kind of thing.”

“I think you may want to get…”

BOOM!

“…wait, did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

I know for a fact I heard something. One thing I have an ear for is knowing when something doesn’t sound right. Now is one of those times. I focus my super hearing to discover the origin of the noise. I tune out the sound of the music and everything else around including Lexa. I steady begin to pick something up but its moving incredibly fast.

BOOM!

There is a bang or something going off and sounds of alarms to fallow. Whatever going on it’s not good, I have to check it out.

“Hey listen Lexa I have to run okay I’ll call you.”

I immediately make my way to the exit not thinking twice about how rude it was for me to leave her like this. While heading to the door I grab my book-bag that laid behind the counter. Once outside I do a quick glance around the area to make sure there’s nobody in sight. I then streak off to where I hear all the commotion. While running in super speed I change from my normal street clothes to my Youngster uniform.

While running I notice yellow blurs across from me two streets over, so I quickly change my direction. Who ever it is they are fast but not faster than me. I then increase my speed to catch up. Sure enough I began to catch up and once the unknown speedster seen that he or she then slowed down and came to a stop.

“Is there a reason why you’re breaking bank windows?” I ask as I myself come to a stop just a couple of feet in front of the speedster.

“You’re not the hero I was looking for.” By the sound of the voice this speedster is a man.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“I don’t have time for boys, kid. I’m looking for the Blur.” He tells me.

I look around the area and then back at the mysterious speedster.

“I don’t see him around so Youngster is going to have to do.”

He doesn’t reply to my comment at first he just looks at me and laughs.

“Pass this message to him. Tell him that at the race he better watch his back.”

“First off do I look like my…” As I was about to complete my sentence the speedster took off.

“…name is Hermes to you?” I say obviously to myself.

It’s clear to me everyone is gunning to beat the Blur. Have I not proven myself to these people yet?

“I’m going to win this thing, I got to win.” I tell myself trying to build confidence.

“But to do so I got to be ready.”

[NiteMare Shape]

http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/cooltext428410933.png (http://s362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/?action=view&current=cooltext428410933.png)
No More




After some awkward conversation in the coffee bar, Deb and Marty decide to go someplace where everyone can loosen up just a bit more. So the four of them leave the coffee bar and head to Marty's car. It isn't until they have crossed over to the next town when they finally explained exactly where they were going.

To a karaoke bar.

During his time as Icon, Scott had seen many horrors. From the atrocities of Nautican Island, to the terrors of the Arlaaekean invasion, however nothing could possibly prepare him for a night of karaoke in a small back alley bar called "The Tornado."

So Scott just sits back in the backseat of Marty's car as Kelly again tries to make small talk with him, and prepares himself for the remainder of the night.

[Hound55]

In the Infirmary of Guardians Headquarters

Isaac sits on a sheet of butchers paper in the infirmary. A practically useless piece of butchers paper in this case as he's still fully clothed, he's never otherwise in this building. He certainly wouldn't allow it since finding the bug. He sits and he waits.

The doctor is in the other room at a computer console, going over past test results for other patients and checking his schedule for future appointments. The monitor in front of him suddenly flicks away from the doctor's regular tasks and a man in a military suit appears.

"I'm here to talk to you about the patient waiting for you in the other room..."

"The Vigilante. He is not to be cleared for active duty. Call from the top. The signs of wear and tear are showing. We want him shelved for the short term before he cracks."

"...if he passes don't bother coming in to work tomorrow. And I wouldn't recommend chasing up any pay owed, either..."

The screen flicks back to normal as the doctor sits, stunned and unsure of whether or not what he just saw really happened. The doctor spends the next ten minutes calming himself down and straightening himself out before going to see his waiting patient.

"Good morning." The doctor says greeting the young man who sits elevated slightly above comfort level on a bed covered with butchers paper.

Isaac raises an eyebrow as if to say "Good morning?!? It's not even 4 AM yet!" as he finally mumbles back "Morning."

"Alright. Lets take a look at that arm."

Isaac exhales and holds an arm out for the doctor's inspection.

"Nice try... Now show us the other one."

Isaac drops his healthy arm and shows him the other one. "Oh. Sorry. It can't be too bad, I've already forgotten which one's the bad one."

The doctor grabs Isaac's arm by the wrist, scrutinising the Vigilante's face for both his weak story and for signs of pain as he began to manipulate and prod at the arm.

Isaac sat deadpan, eyes focused on the doctor yet somehow distant, as if bored by the entire ordeal.

The doctor continued prodding further up the arm which Isaac continued to hold up his broken arm.

"Are we done here?" He asked the doctor.

"Not quite." the doctor said, considering what he was seeing.

"Here hold this." He said to Isaac, giving him a 4lb weight.

"I don't know what this is supposed to prove... I can curl a hell of a lot more than just..."

"Just hold the weight, hold your arm straight out like this and hold the weight."

Isaac held the weight at arm's length. Smirking and shaking his head as if it was simple.

"Now roll your arm and wrist to the left while still holding the weight."

Isaac turned his arm and wrist to the left and it was more than the fracture could allow, the weight dropping to the floor with a clank.

The doctor smiled up at him, "You may think you can be smart and hide your wounds, but your body can't lie to me."

"You're not ready to go back out in the field, I'm going to recommend you take more laidback roles for the immediate future and we'll see how that arm of yours looks in a few weeks."

Isaac looked defeated, he could see that this doctor was a stickler. There was no point arguing the call with him, its his job on the line if Fontaine were to aggravate the injury back in the field.

"Alright... can we make it a week though? I know my body and it tends to recover quite a bit faster than others tend to, as hard as that may be to believe."

The doctor looked Isaac straight in the eye and smiled "I work in a building catering to the health of a man with wings, another who could fly without wings, a man who can have his jaw torn off his face and regenerate a new one in seconds and another who can move so fast he can start tornado like winds..."

"I'm not likely to say you can go back to active duty in a week, but if it makes you feel better we'll have another look then. OK?"

"OK."

Isaac walked down the hall towards the training room.

A monitor flicked on in front of him and a military figure filled the screen. "So... how were the results?"

"I'm fine. Good to go."

"I would not recommend lying to a commanding officer. If it weren't for the fact I'm a little proud that you're so anxious to get back out there I'd ... I'd make your life very uncomfortable."

"So why ask me a question if you already knew the answer?"

"To see how you WOULD answer. That's alright. We can find you something to do. We'll get someone to cover your patrol and you can take some... less active duties for the short term. Round out your repertoire."

"What do you mean by round out my repertoire?"

"You've seemed a little more distant of late. We want to build your image in the public eye. There's a little program we've been running called Right-track. It involves heroes going out and making time for the public and giving small talks to local school children."

"Oh God no..."

"Yes. We need a speaker for it and we think it would be a good opportunity for you to interact with the public whilst letting you take a bit of a break from your regular duties to rehabilitate."

"I really don't think that this would be a good idea..."

"You'll be perfect. You're a regular Joe. You can show them that ANYONE can go on and make a difference if they make the good decisions in life."

"I am really not sure that I'm the guy you should have out there talking with children..."

"Well, you're going anyway. We need to send someone and you're the only one physically incapable of going out in the field."

"I'm not physically incapable. I've fought with broken bones before. I'd be fine out in the field."

"You have no powers to begin with, we're not sending you out less than 100%. These times you talk about where you've fought with broken limbs, you weren't part of a team then. Chances were you didn't have much of a choice. You have teammates now. We can cover for you til you get healthy."

"Yeah, but..." The monitor flicked back off. Conversation terminated.

Isaac stood alone in the hall-way wondering how the hell he let his life slip like this...

[NiteMare Shape]

http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/cooltext428410933.png
No More


Scott sits at a small table inside The Tornado, and as someone belts out their drunken rendition of Margaritaville, he suddenly wishes that he did not possess super hearing.

Deb and Marty have left him alone at the table while they rush up to the DJ to hand in the pieces of paper that they wrote down the songs that they plan on singing, and Kelly has excused herself while she looks for a bathroom.

So he sits at the table alone.

He's tried hard over the last month to not feel sorry for himself, but he knows that he has failed miserably in that. In his self imposed exile, he has managed to alienate not only from his friends and family, who he has not spoken to since after Jenny's funeral, but to those who would try to be his friends.

He tells himself that it's for the best, that he can't have a normal life because of who he once was. He can't afford to have friends, or a family...because they are always the ones who pay the price for him being who he was.

His days as Icon may be over, but he knows that there is always a chance that someone somewhere down the line might put the pieces of Icon's life together and figure out just who Scott Morse really is...or was. And that person might just make his friends and family a target...

Just like Jenny.

Scott is so deep in thought that he doesn't even notice Kelly come back to the table, and is startled when she sits down next to him. He looks to her and gives her a slight smile then looks back down at the table top.

"So, who was she?" Kelly asks out of nowhere.

"What?" Scott asks, surprised by the question.

"The one that you lost. Who was she?"

Scott looks at Kelly...really looks, and for the first time sees something in her that he recognizes but just can't place.

"What makes you think I lost anyone?" He asks, evading the question slightly.

"You just have that look." She says, before quickly adding, "I've lost people...and you just have that look."

[Mr. Majestic]

DAY BEFORE THE RACE


I stand in front of my house looking out at what used to be a lively farm when my mother and I both kept it running together, as a family. The sun shines brightly down upon my face as the wind blows swiftly through the field of grass. It is moments like this when I really think of my mother.

Ever since that day I became a hero my life has been in the ‘Fast line’ so to speak. It feels good for it to semi slow down so I can try to get back to living a normal life. Things are really beginning to look up again.

Tomorrow will be a day that I’ll finally be able to have some fun not as Sam but as the Youngster. God knows he needs it too because since Icon has been gone Youngster has been working like crazy.

Wow, listen to me I’m saying Youngster like him and I are not one in the same. But when you think about it no hero really is one person. You have to be two different people just keep balance in your life. As I look at my life I see it. As Youngster I can almost do anything but I have to be careful of my actions. I have an image I have to up hold. Peoples lives are in my hands on an everyday bases. I can’t afford to make any mistakes I have to be close to perfect. On the other hand there is Sam. When I’m Sam it feels as if the weight has been lifted. Only thing I have to worry about is school, chicks, staying in touch with friends. Just being normal.

Truth is as much as I try to live a good and normal life as Sam I can’t. The hero side demands too much from me probably from every hero. We put our normal lives on hold so others can live theirs.

Look at me getting all deep.

“I really need to stop coming out here by myself.” I say as I turn around to head in the barn.

As I turn around I see Lexa standing there.

“Your right you do need to stop coming out here by yourself…” she then walks up next to me and rest her left hand on my shoulders and looks me in the eyes. “…next time call me.”

I watch as she moves pass me and look at the sun in all its glory.

“Is it always this beautiful out here?” She asks as she turns to face me.

“Can’t say I’ve really notice.” That is obviously a lie.

“Oh I get it you have to try and be tough around the ladies.”

I laugh a bit. “Naw I don’t have to be tough around you Lexa. Really you are one of the few people that I feel like I can be myself with.”

“That’s really nice to hear.”

“I’m not saying it to be nice I’m saying it because it’s true. For that fact I have to ask you a question.”

She still thinks that I have saved her life and I need her to think other wise. It would be easy for her to put two and two together and figure things out. I got to make this believable.

I turn around so my back is facing her and begin to pace back and forth.

“That day of the accident was a day that changed my life because it was the day I met you.” Also the day when I really found out about my powers. “On that day you thought a truck had hit me when i came to shield from harm, the truth is it didn’t Lexa. As much as I would like to say I’m your hero and have superpowers I can’t. I need you to know that. Now I said I can be myself around you and that is what I’m doing. I feel that since you think I’m your hero is why you are friends with me like you owe me something. I’m just as normal as you, cut me and I bleed…” Maybe I shouldn’t have watched Spider-Man last night. “… I just need you to know that I’m not who you think I am. I’m just me.”

She only stands staring at me. I can’t tell if this is a stare of disappointment of what.

“Is that what you think Sam? That I’m only friends with you because I think you are a boy with powers? Sam I’m friends with you because you’re a wonderful guy and who I am its hard for me to find nice guys like yourself.”

“It just every time I see you your making a comment about me being a hero of something.”

She then breaks out laughing. “We are having this conversation because of me joking about you being a hero? Sam I only am kidding with you that’s all. Member how I thought you got hit by the truck but it was my mind playing tricks on me. I did get hit in the head remember? I only say that stuff messing with you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah Sam really.”

“I really feel stupid now.”

She walks up besides me and grabs my arm and begins to giggle.

“I’m glad this happened now we have one of those odd moment memories to share with people.”

“I guess so.” I say as we both laugh.

A couple of hours later I and she spent the rest of the time talking about her deceased mother and mine. For two people who comes from different worlds we share a lot in common.

“That’s pretty much why I am the way I am today. All thanks to my father.”

That’s another thing I can relate with her.

“I know what you mean.”

“On to something new, are you heading to the race tomorrow?”

“I didn’t think you would be interested in something like that.”

“Normally no but the Youngster is in the race and I’m something of a fan of his.”

She my fan.

“Seems like you’re the only one, it almost seem as if the whole world counting on Blur to win.”

“He is over rated.” She says.

That has to be the most shocking thing I heard anyone say about Blur. I seen him in action and I know first hand that he is anything but overrated.

As I was about to comment on her statement she grabs her phone as it gone off. Who ever it is it must be important because the appearance on her face completely change.

“Sam I have an important business meeting I have to attend but if you like I can pick you up tomorrow and we can watch the race together?”

“As much as I would like to I got to work so I wont be able to.”

“Sorry to hear that.” She then begins to walk away but stops as she is about to exit as if she forgot something.

“By the way Sam do you remember that old hoodie I found of your father’s here?”

“Yea I remember, why?”

“Well I went out to try and find you one so you would have your own and the crazy thing is they don’t even make them anymore. You can’t even find them on ebay.”

“I guess it is one of a kind.” I reply

“Yes… I guess it is.” She says softly as she exits the barn heading towards her vehicle.

It is nice of her to think about getting me a matching hoodie. But if she did that it wouldn’t be unique when I wear it as… Oh my God how could I not have figured it out.

[NiteMare Shape]

http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/cooltext428410933.png

No More


Scott sits at a small table inside The Tornado, and as someone belts out their drunken rendition of Margaritaville, he suddenly wishes that he did not possess super hearing.

Deb and Marty have left him alone at the table while they rush up to the DJ to hand in the pieces of paper that they wrote down the songs that they plan on singing, and Kelly has excused herself while she looks for a bathroom.

So he sits at the table alone.

He's tried hard over the last month to not feel sorry for himself, but he knows that he has failed miserably in that. In his self imposed exile, he has managed to alienate not only from his friends and family, who he has not spoken to since after Jenny's funeral, but to those who would try to be his friends.

He tells himself that it's for the best, that he can't have a normal life because of who he once was. He can't afford to have friends, or a family...because they are always the ones who pay the price for him being who he was.

His days as Icon may be over, but he knows that there is always a chance that someone somewhere down the line might put the pieces of Icon's life together and figure out just who Scott Morse really is...or was. And that person might just make his friends and family a target...

Just like Jenny.

Scott is so deep in thought that he doesn't even notice Kelly come back to the table, and is startled when she sits down next to him. He looks to her and gives her a slight smile then looks back down at the table top.

"So, who was she?" Kelly asks out of nowhere.

"What?" Scott asks, surprised by the question.

"The one that you lost. Who was she?"

Scott looks at Kelly...really looks, and for the first time sees something in her that he recognizes but just can't place.

"What makes you think I lost anyone?" He asks, evading the question slightly.

"You just have that look." She says, before quickly adding, "I've lost people...and you just have that look."



They sit and talk over the sounds of drunken crooners belting out their favorite songs...badly.

Scott listens as Kelly tells him about her family, who were on vacation in Paris when a gigantic piece of the moon crashed into the city, leaving nothing more than a smoking crater.

And for the first time in a long time, he was able to see past his own pain and see the pain of another.

And Kelly listens as Scott opens up about the loss of Lisa and then the loss of his younger sister Jenny just six months later, and how he feels responsible for both of their deaths, though he can't explain why he feels that way.

By the time Marty and Deb finish their less than stellar rendition of "Timewarp" and join the two of them at the table, just to tell them that it's about time to head on out, Scott and Kelly both feel like they've made a sort of connection with one another, a bond created by if nothing else, mutual pain.

As they sit in the back of Marty's car during the ride home, they ride in silence, though it is no longer an awkward silence.

When Marty pulls up to Scott's apartment, he bids his new friends goodnight, and thanks them for a good time. As he walks into the front entrance of his building, he can't help but to hope that he sees Kelly again soon.

[wiegeabo]

Then

"You...want me...to partner with him?"

"Yes I am, Mr. Cole," the Fatman says.

"Hey, I'm not too thrilled about teaming up with a criminal either," Hawkes says without looking at me.

"Well, good. I don't want to team up with you either," I replay without looking.

"Fine. Last thing I need is a petty thief getting in my way." Not looking.

"Fine. Last thing I need is a brainless Fed cramping my style." Not looking either.

"I'm not brainless." Ha! Got him to look first.

"And I'm not a petty thief."

"But your a thief!"

"But I'm a damn good one. One of the best, in fact."

"...heh. hehehe. HahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHA" I just cross my arms as The Fatman just laughs at me, along with Hawkes. And, of course, since The Director is laughing, Alberts has to laugh as well and keep that nose of his nice and brown.

"Laugh all you want...but I'm not doing it."

The Director stops laughing instantly, and Hawkes follows suit. But Alberts doesn't take the hint. "Enough."

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir." Bobby and I notice each other rolling our eyes, and we instantly start looking at anything else.

The Director gives me a hard look. "You, Mr. Cole, have no choice. You signed a contract. What did you really expect would happen?"

"That you'd use me as a human guinea pig, take this thing out of my head, and turn me loose. Not that you'd make me your slave."

"Well, seeing as we can't remove the gland-"

I look up sharply. "Wait, what? Say that again?"

The Director looks at me with confusion. "We can't remove the gland."

I hop of the counter and step towards the desk, leaning over the back of a chair. "What do you mean you can't remove the gland?"

The Director looks at Hawkes, who looks at Alberts, who looks at me, and then quickly looks away, and then the Director looks back at me. "The Doctor didn't tell you."

"Obviously not. I'd remember something like that. What the hell are you talking about."

The Director sighs. Obviously he hadn't been expecting to have quite the conversation. "Finding a way to safely implant the gland took Dr. Jones years of research and trial and error."

"Right..."

"The same was true for the method of removing the gland. But with Dr. Jones dead, that knowledge is lost."

I wave my hands in disbelief. "Wait, wait, wait. He was a scientist. Didn't he write it all down? Isn't that what scientists do? Write everything down?"

"All those files were lost in the attack."

"********."

The Director nods. "Let me be more specific. All the files detailing how to safely remove the gland were destroyed. Enough data survived to give The Doctor a place to start. But we have no idea how long her research will take."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. "I can't believe what I'm hearing. So, not only am I stuck with this thing in my head, and stuck with all of you, you want me to turn honest and be a Fed?"

"Precisely."

"No way. I'm not doing it."

"Then you go back to being a prisoner and locked away." The Director leans forward, his voice becoming more menacing than usual. "Believe me, Mr. Cole. If I could justify doing so, I'd do just that. But this agency has spent far too many years, and far too many millions of dollars developing this little piece of tissue for nothing to come from it. Millions we don't have to spare. So the most cost-effective thing to do is get you out in the field and put that gland to use."

"So you can get more funding."

The Director leans back and smiles. "Now you're beginning to understand."

I look over at Hawkes, then hang my head. "I don't have a choice, do I."

"No, Mr. Cole. You do not."


Now

"Dammit Cole! Squeeze the trigger. Squeeeeze it."

I bite my cheek and roll my eyes before slamming the gun down on the platform. "What the hell is the matter with you?" Hawkes demands as he picks the gun up. "Always clear your weapon when you finish." He ejects the clip and pops the round out of the chamber. He pushes a button on the firing range, bringing the paper target towards us.

"I told you. I don't like guns."

"This gun will save your life."

"That gun will get me killed."

Bobby pulls the target down and looks at it. "Yeah. You'll probably shoot yourself before you hit anything else."

"Well, thanks for that."

"Glad I was standing behind you, but I'm not too sure that's safe either."

"Ha. Ha."

"Well, you'll never get cleared to carry if you keep shooting like this."

"Thank you."

Hawkes looks sideways at me. "Was that your plan?"

"No, I honestly suck at shooting." I wave my fingers in front of him. "These hands were meant to pick locks and crack safes, not pull triggers."

"Sure, whatever. The Director wants you to see the Doc before going to his office."

"Fun. What is it now?"

"You're going home."

[trustyside-kick]

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v643/dhunter22/archangelbanner1.jpg

Cathedral of the Holy Cross
Father Damian's Study
Boston, Massachusetts
28 Days Ago

"Ah, I believe this is the book I was looking for Matthew my son. Come come."

After I left the coffee house yesterday, and laid it straight and quick on Grace, I tried to study what text and literature I could find about the Seven Deadly Sins of Man. I tried. I really really tried. But...I couldn't stomach what I did that morning, and ultimately gave up. I couldn't concentrate. Grace did not try to call me, as I knew she wouldn't; I hurt her bad.

But it doesn't change the fact that I have to live with that I did that. Even though it was to protect her, for what is coming. Will she one day understand that? Time will tell. So I spent the remainder of yesterday trying to sleep, and failing to do so. However today is a new day, and I flew into Boston from Lost Haven just minutes ago.

Now I sit before Father Damian, a priest I have long been a friend of since childhood, and a man who has been a sort of mentor for me ever since I became the Archangel. When Bath Kol is unable to give the time to explain and teach me things, Father Damian fills the gap. Not complaining though. I've had a friendship with this man for 13 years. He's like an uncle to me.

"These are old texts gathered from many of Peter Binsfeld's work. He was German Bishop and theologian, my son. In one of this many works, he classified demons; 7 of which he declared would tempt humans with different sins for they all had their favorites. Although there is no need to go over one of the 7, for you are more than familiar with Lucifer. Lucifer represents Pride. To defeat such a Vice, acquire the Virtue of Humility. You might be able to gain the upper hand should you let your enemy believe they have achieved victory. But here, is the demon Amon."

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v643/dhunter22/Aamon.jpg

As I gaze up on this creature this...demon, I am caught off guard. Any movie or cartoon that has designed a demon never drew anything like this. This is...much more repulsive.

"Amon is associated with Anger. The virtue that counters Anger, is Patience, Michael. If Bath Kol is indeed correct, and Amon lures someone to you and embraces such Anger, you must be patient. A cool head can strategize and overcome such an obstacle."

"Patience. Cool head. Pwn obstacle. Gotcha. Easy formula. Next?"

Turning the pages, Father Damian finally stops and settle on a page with a creature with much more human features. Nothing at all like Amon, the way the artist tries to draw it makes it look like it is cradling some prize possession.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v643/dhunter22/Mammon.jpg

"Mammon is associated with Greed. I'm sure you are familiar with Matthew 6:19-21,24. 'Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other; or else he will be devoted to one and despise the other. You can not serve both God and Mammon.' One who embraces the virtue of Charity, shall be nigh immune to this demon's mischievous deeds."

"That's kind of more of a challenge. Bath Kol said if I embrace the Seven Virtues of Man, I will have more of a chance against foes drawn to me by The Seven. How is me giving out my wealth and material goods going to help me in a fight against some greedy and raw powerful dude?"

"I agree. It is unclear to me as well. But with time it should become clear."

"Time's not exactly something I'm sure I will have. Bath Kol is not fully clear about this prophecy to begin with. They could strike at me tonight, tomorrow, now, several weeks from now, or months."

While Father Damian understands, there really is nothing more that can be said or done. I'm going to have to figure it out. He proceeds to the next page. Although...he approaches this page as though he was struck stiff. He doesn't speak right away to tell me which demon it is like he did the first two.


http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v643/dhunter22/220px-Asmodeus.jpg

I feel like I should wave my hand in front of his face, or snap my fingers. Why is Father Damian so silent and still? What's going on in that big noggin of his? What's so bad about this demon?

[NiteMare Shape]

http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/cooltext428410933.png
No More



As Scott works on digging the ditch which will contain the wires to the main circuit breaker which will be the sorce of electricity to the new dormitory that they are building, he cann't help but to think that he could do this all so much faster if he just used his powers.

When he was Icon, he once dug a ditch large enough to divert raging flood waters away from Carver in only minutes with his bare hands. But now, as Scott Morse, he toils for hours in mundane labor.

But this is the life he chose. He chose to live a mundane life, giving up his role as Icon, choosing not to use his powers.

It has been a difficult adjustment, but he knows that he made the right decision. After leaving Lost Haven, he began having second thoughts. However, he felt that with The Gaurdians watching over the planet, he didn't have to continue being Icon any longer.

However, it doesn't make his decision any easier. His biggest regret is that he was forced to walk away from his friends and family without so much as a goodbye. They all deserved better, especially Eric and Keira. Eric worked so hard along side him to make The Hub into a viable club, and Keira has been there for him when he needed her, especially after Lisa was killed during the invasion. As hard as it was to leave them all behind, he knows that it was the right decision. He can't risk putting them in harm's way because of who he was.

As he continues to dig, he can hear someone approaching him, he stops what he is doing and turns toward him, seeing Marty walking toward him.

"Hey bro. Have a good time last night?" Marty says with that big goofy grin of his.

"Yeah, I did actually. Thanks for inviting me out."

"You know, I don't know how you did it...but I just got off the phone with Deb, and Kelly won't shut up about you. Seems like you made an impression. In fact, she wants you to meet her for Lunch over at Blue's in town."

"I don't know...I brought lunch with me."

"You know what? You're going. I don't know what you're playing at, but I don't buy it. You're going, and that's that."

"But..."

"No buts, get going. She's meeting you in ten minutes so you'd better hurry."

Scott puts his hands on the end of his shovel and leans forward for a moment, then looks to Marty and gives a slight grin, nods and heads to his car.

[NiteMare Shape]

.double post

[NiteMare Shape]

http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/cooltext428410933.png
No More



Scott walks into Blue's, not quite sure exactly what it is he's doing. He likes Kelly, he felt a definite connection with her the other night...the first such connection after he left Lost Haven.

He has spent alot of time thinking about their night together and despite his best efforts, she made him feel comfortable. He had a hard time finding an explanation for his feelings, which were strictly platonic in nature, yet at the same time something more, what that was...he hasn't been able to figure out.

Scott looks around the dining room, at first not seeing Kelly, but then he spots her in a small booth at the back of the eatery. He goes over to the booth and sits down across from her, reaching for the menu placed in front of him.

She looks at him and smiles.

"So, why'd you quit, really?" She asks as Scott looks at her in stunned, slack-jawed silence.

[Hound55]

In School Hall before thousands

Isaac sweats more than he has in months, the prospect of addressing a large group of children troubling him more than taking on criminals with his limited arsenal. A local school principal is at the mic warming the crowd up, trying to calm down some of the more boisterous children.

"3rd Graders, calm down, you'll all stay back behind after the assembly if you... that's better. Students, we have a treat for you all today. We are lucky enough, to have with us today, one of our Nation's great heroes from the organization known as the Guardians. So I want you all to be on your best behaviour for the Vigilante."

Isaac walked with an unsure stride towards the podium, where he crossed paths with the principal who shook his hands and whispered behind a gritted smile "Good luck, you're gonna need it."

Isaac stepped up to the mic, tapping it briefly as it echoed slightly over the amplifier and spat a half second's worth of feedback, causing him to wince slightly. "Christ Almighty, what do I say here now" he thought to himself...

"Hello..."

Hello is good, hello's a good start...

"Well, your teachers and principals were good enough to bring you together to hear, from me the Vigilante," the words of his own second name sounded weird and forced from his own mouth, "about life. Life and choices. I mean, life is choices. Yeah. Cos your life is going to have a whole lot of choices and how you choose to... The choices you make, I mean to say, are what is going to make up your life."

Ugh.

"Whether you wind up with a good job, a good life, good things around you, or if you start making some wrong choices you may wind up in the prison system somewhere, getting pounded in the a..."

No. For the love of God what are you doing... Just no.

"Pounded in your life, having to settle for a worse job which will go nowhere and dying alone and miserable in a crappy one bedroom apartment or something."

Great save, genius... What in the hell am I doing here? When I see that military jackass I'm going to make him swallow his hat and medals...

"So, when you're making your decisions, its always a good idea to consider the law. Is this legally the right thing to do?"

A child in the middle of the audience with another microphone piped up. "Is that what you did when you decided to put on your uniform and go kick some bad guys butt?"

"What?!?" Isaac was caught back, he peered through the crowd trying to see who made the comment. "Well, actually, no... but I'm getting to that." Great, its a Q and A event... these are the things an inexperienced public speaker should DEFINITELY know in advance. Forget the hat and medals, I'm going to make him eat his whole uniform...

"Whilst it IS important to consider the law, its also important to do what is morally right. Now does everyone here know what morals are?"

Kindergarteners sitting in the front rows looked on with clueless expressions.

"Well morals are things which we know of as being right or wrong without needing a law to tell us. For example, say you're at home and you eat all of the cookies in the jar at your house, and your mum comes home and finds out and she's pi... she's really angry, right?" Isaac starts to loosen up a bit. "Well she comes home and asks you and your brothers and sisters 'Now which one of you kids ate all of the cookies?' and you look at her and don't say anything. Well, TECHNICALLY you haven't lied. So you haven't broken the rule there, but at the same time you didn't come forward and do the right thing and say 'It was me.' So that's a moral issue... kind of."

"Like when that really bad alien guy was killed by one of the Guardians?" A small girl asked closer to the front.

"Yeah, kind of... Sort of. Ish. How normally murder is wrong, how that was an act of war and more socially acceptable since they were trying to kill us all. Is that what you meant?" The little girl nods.

"Yeah. Alright. So... now we can see how its important to survey all of the angles when looking to do the right thing with your life, yeah?" Isaac grinned, finally starting to relax a little into the role, before continuing. "Because I know in my own case, when I considered the amount that I would be capable of helping with some of the legal and personal repercussions... well that made my choice pretty easy. There are a lot of bad people out there who live off of the suffering of good, honest people. People who somehow have managed to work the system that regular people have to live within, leaving those good people who operate within that system pretty much powerless to stop these people. I have... a few things working in my favour, knew I would be able to do something and set out to make a difference. But you don't HAVE to do what I did in order to make a difference. The police and other emergency services do great work every day in their own rights, and just by living a good life yourself it makes a difference..."

"So why did Icon quit?" asked one of the older students, sitting closer to the back of the hall.

"I'm sorry, what..?

"If you feel you can make a difference as just some guy dressed in black... So why'd Icon quit?"

"Well that's not really for me to say... I'm sure he's got a good reason..."

"What good reason? Why'd he leave people to suffer and get hurt if he can make a difference? He's real strong, can fly, has all of this stuff going for him, but he just doesn't care anymore..."

"Well I don't think its fair to say he doesn't care..."

"Why doesn't Icon want to help us anymore?" Asked a smaller child closer to the front. Isaac gave a "Why'd you give her the damn microphone NOW?" glare, to the teacher standing near her.

"Look, I'm not Icon. I can't tell you what he's thinking, fact is I haven't even seen him lately... So why don't we focus on..."

"Why does Icon hate us? Is he mad at us?"

"WHAT?!? No, he doesn't hate you... heck, he doesn't even know who YOU are. Why would he hate you? Can we just give me some time to answer the first question?"

The young audience quietens down while Isaac pinches at the point of his balaclava which bridges his nose. "What was that damn question..? Where the hell did that come from?" He thought to himself.

"Anyway, as I was saying, its not altogether necessary for everyone to move into a police role or something like that. Everyone out there who's just doing the right thing is playing their part in making the community as a whole better..."

"But if you can make a positive difference, you should, right?"

"Yes, but could we not have anymore butting in..." His stomach was churning like a demon was writhing inside of his gut.

"... so shouldn't Icon still be out there doing his part?"

Isaac rested the mic on the podium for a second and turned away from the mic in frustration, forgetting about the lapel mic.

"oh for F***'s SAKE!" blasted over the mic, filling the concert hall.

Oh no...

Isaac froze, and slowly cast his gaze over an audience full of stunned faces.

"What's a f***?" asked a young girl in the front row.

"Yep." Isaac thought to himself, knowing full well what the consequences of his actions would be. "Right on f***ing queue..."

[NiteMare Shape]

http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/cooltext428410933.png

No More



Scott walks into Blue's, not quite sure exactly what it is he's doing. He likes Kelly, he felt a definite connection with her the other night...the first such connection after he left Lost Haven.

He has spent alot of time thinking about their night together and despite his best efforts, she made him feel comfortable. He had a hard time finding an explanation for his feelings, which were strictly platonic in nature, yet at the same time something more, what that was...he hasn't been able to figure out.

Scott looks around the dining room, at first not seeing Kelly, but then he spots her in a small booth at the back of the eatery. He goes over to the booth and sits down across from her, reaching for the menu placed in front of him.

She looks at him and smiles.

"So, why'd you quit, really?" She asks as Scott looks at her in stunned, slack-jawed silence.

"What?" Scott asks, still unsure exactly where this conversation is going.

She couldn't know. She just couldn't. He keeps telling himself.

"Don't you miss it? Flying through the air, beating up the bad guys? Don't you miss being a hero...The hero?"

She knows. How could she know?

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about." He says with an uncomfortable chuckle.

"I have to admit, you're good. I never would have guessed you were him."

"Kelly, I'm not sure what you're talking about. You obviously have me confused with someone else."

He looks at her, trying to figure out who this young woman sitting in front of him is. Is she military?

STRIKE?

He runs a hundred different possibilities through his head and when he has exhausted every possibility he comes up with...absolutely nothing.

"No, I don't think so. I never forget a face."

She knows, and Scott knows that no matter how much he argues the point, there is nothing that he can do to convince her otherwise.

He knew that there was the possibility that someday somebody would confront him about his past, but he never thought in a million years that it would be this soon.

"What do you say we take this someplace alittle more private. We wouldn't want anyone listening in, would we?"

Scott finally gives in. He lowers his head and takes a deep breath, throwing his arms out in defeat.

"I suppose that's probably a good idea." he says after a long pause.

[NiteMare Shape]

http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/cooltext412955943-1.jpg




As the rain continues to pour down, Shadow Walker remains motionless atop his perch on the roof of the Lost Haven YMCA, which is directly across the street from the small warehouse that The Cartel has been using to store some of their more high powered weapons.

Weapons that his father had developed.

Weapons that his father died for.

It has taken him months to get this close again, to track down leads and get solid information on the the whereabouts of Midas' operations. He had been close before, but the trail went cold in the wake of the alien invasion, and then again when the vigilante know as The Dummy threatened to cause the streets of the city to errupt into chaos.

It has been a long road frought with obstacles and roadblocks. It seemed that for a long time, The Cartel was always one step ahead of him. He would pick up a lead, but by the time he got to a location they had already cleared out.

But not tonight, this warehouse is bustling with activity, and he has already made visual contact with one of Midas' more lethal enforcers, the man known as The Franchise.

Tonight his own personal war against the crime syndicate known as The Cartel comes one step closer to its climax.

It is time to go to work.

[NiteMare Shape]

http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/cooltext428410933.png
No More



Scott and Kelly sit in silence inside Scott's Dodge Charger, both wanting to break the silence, but neither knowing exactly what to say.

This is the exact thing that Scott had feared upon leaving Lost Haven, that someday there would be someone who put the puzzle pieces of his life together. He has gone to great lengths to conceal his secret identity, even after he left that life behind. He walked away his former life, friends, family...everything. Yet, here he sits, with this unassuming young woman who has done just that.

"You saved me once, you know." She finally says, breaking the deafening silence. "That's how I know."

"Kelly, really...I think you have me..."

"At first I wasn't sure. But I'll never forget the face of the man who saved my life, even without the mask."

Scott is about to argue the point again, try to convince her that she's mistaken, but just as he opens his mouth in protest, he closes it again before any words escape.

"How? How did I save you?" He says in defeat.

"About a year ago. My father was taking his Vette for a joy ride. He was going alittle fast and swerved to miss a dog that had jumped out of the back of a pickup truck...he took the car through the guardrail of the Anderson Bridge."

"And you were thrown from the car. I plucked you out of the air."

"You remember that?"

"Yeah, I remember that one."

"So tell me, why did you quit?"

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/MantisBanner.jpg


"What are you trying to say?!" Marilyn exclaims in outrage.

I pinch the bridge of my nose between my eyes. "Look, Marilyn, I don't see why you're so surprised. I mean, have I shown any interest in you since we broke up?" I ask, trying to reason with her. I'm not sure why I even bother with that anymore. It's clear that Marilyn has thrown all reason out the window.

"Well, you asked me to this!"

I grit my teeth. Senior Prom. Phew, boy. I guess I have a lot of explaining to do, huh? Well, alright, so back that night (http://forums.superherohype.com/showpost.php?p=17925414&postcount=813) when I went to Abby's house, I did eventually decide to go in and talk to her. I know, I know. I felt terrible about it, okay? Well, Abby and I talked for a while, and she agreed that she felt something, but she also felt like it was too soon. After all, we hadn't seen each other in a while. After she said that, I confessed everything about my status with Brooke and how guilty I felt just being at Abby's house, and Abby - to her credit - was very understanding and gave me some feminine advice.

So I took Brooke up on her offer, and I sat down and talked with her. Now, I already hide so much from Brooke that I hate lying to her anymore than I need to, so I told her that I had talked to Abby. Well, that didn't sit well at first. But Brooke pulled herself together, calmed down, and explained to me that we should probably stay on our "break" for at least a little while longer. It wasn't exactly what I was expecting, but I wasn't going to argue with it.

Well, Prom rolled around, and it brought a truckload of problems with it. I still didn't feel comfortable asking Brooke, and Jim approached me asking if he could ask Abby. Truthfully, I've always known that Jim had a thing for Abby, and who was I - especially as his best friend - to deny him that? I gave him the greenlight, but this left my options quite thin. The deadline to register a date was fast approaching, and - acting in desperation - I asked Marilyn. Not my best idea, I admit. Well, suffice it to say that the night has gone exactly as I expected, and I finally had enough and gave Marilyn a piece of my mind.

As you can see, it didn't go over so well.

Noticing my silence, Marilyn bites her lip angrily and - I swear to God - looks like her head's going to explode cartoon-style. With a huff, she tears off her corsage and throws it at the ground. She storms off, and I pick up the corsage and lay it down on a table.

Well done, Sean. You've outdone yourself this time.

I always thought Senior Prom would be an opportunity to make lasting memories, but these weren't the kind I had in mind. Dipping my hands into my pockets, I survey the ballroom. Vince Daniels is here with a girl I don't recognize, and I'm pretty sure it's the first time I've seen him in months. He's laughing it up with his date, so I decide not to bother him. Not far over, in the middle of the dance floor, Jim is dancing passionately with Abby. I can't tell from here if she's reciprocating, but Jim is definitely allowing himself to give in to the moment. I feel the slightest tinge of jealousy, but it's instantly replaced by my desire for things to work out for Jim. For whatever reason, he's one of those guys that you never see in a relationship, even though he's a great guy. I know what getting Abby would do for him.

As I continue to scan, I come across Brooke. She's standing alone by the refreshment table, plastic cup in hand. Like me, she's looking across the dance floor. For a moment, I'm unsure if our eyes met, but I decide to go up to her anyway. My heart starts pounding, and she smiles when she sees me approach.

"How's Datezilla working out for you?" she asks coyly. Evidently, she must have been watching Marilyn's breakdown.

"About as well as I expected, which is not well at all," I answer honestly. I lean up against the table next to her. She continues drinking and watching all the dancing couples. "So who are you here with?" I ask, trying not let to let my voice betray my intentions.

"Kyle Porter. You know him?" she replies. I shake my head. With a slight shrug, she explains, "I met him in my Calc class. He's an okay guy. I feel bad, though. He got the chicken parm, and his stomach did not appreciate it. He's spent most of the night in the bathroom." With one last gulp, she finishes her drink and tosses the cup into the trash.

"Well, isn't this ironic? Here we are, both of us alone. What a Prom, right?"

Brooke shrugs. "It's not terrible, I guess. Music has been good, anyway."

"Do you want to dance?" I ask suddenly, mustering up the courage. I hold out my hand openly, praying that I haven't overstepped my bounds. Brooke looks at my hand, smiles, and takes it softly. As I return the smile, I lead her out onto the dance floor. No sooner do we find a spot than the current song ends. A slow song starts to play, and Brooke and I meet eyes awkwardly.

Without a word, Brooke releases my hand and drapes her arms around my neck. I try to calm my heartbeat as I wrap my arms around her waist. Within a few seconds of dancing, our bodies slowly come together comfortably, like a pair of old sneakers that you're putting on again. I allow myself to rest my head on her shoulder, and she does the same for me.

"I've been thinking about us. About our break," I admit. We continue to dance, and for a moment, I'm not worried about her response. I could live in this moment forever and be happy. God, I've missed her. "I've missed you." Well, there, now I said it out loud.

Brooke sighs. "I've missed you, too," she answers.

We dance silently for the next few minutes. We don't need to say any more. We know each other well enough that the words don't really matter at this point. What's happening is a foregone conclusion, set into motion the moment she took my hand tonight. If you ask me, it's not a moment too soon.

As we dance, I look up and catch Jim looking at us. Abby's back is turned to me, and her head rests on Jim's shoulder. Jim smiles at me, and I smile back at him. It may not have been a perfect night, but I think if you asked either one of us, we'd tell you that we wouldn't have changed a thing.

Except maybe I would have asked Brooke to go with me in the first place.

"Sean," Brooke begins.

I lean back so I can look her in the eyes. We stare at each other for a second before I allow myself to smile. "Ssh." I lean in for the kiss and watch as Brooke closes her eyes. Taking that cue, I close mine and we kiss each other like it's our first kiss. A million things going on around us, and I don't care about a single one. For a while there, I was thinking about skipping Prom and spending the night on patrol as Mantis.

The night can wait.

[NiteMare Shape]

http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/cooltext428410933.png

No More



Scott and Kelly sit in silence inside Scott's Dodge Charger, both wanting to break the silence, but neither knowing exactly what to say.

This is the exact thing that Scott had feared upon leaving Lost Haven, that someday there would be someone who put the puzzle pieces of his life together. He has gone to great lengths to conceal his secret identity, even after he left that life behind. He walked away his former life, friends, family...everything. Yet, here he sits, with this unassuming young woman who has done just that.

"You saved me once, you know." She finally says, breaking the deafening silence. "That's how I know."

"Kelly, really...I think you have me..."

"At first I wasn't sure. But I'll never forget the face of the man who saved my life, even without the mask."

Scott is about to argue the point again, try to convince her that she's mistaken, but just as he opens his mouth in protest, he closes it again before any words escape.

"How? How did I save you?" He says in defeat.

"About a year ago. My father was taking his Vette for a joy ride. He was going alittle fast and swerved to miss a dog that had jumped out of the back of a pickup truck...he took the car through the guardrail of the Anderson Bridge."

"And you were thrown from the car. I plucked you out of the air."

"You remember that?"

"Yeah, I remember that one."

"So tell me, why did you quit?"




Scott looks down at the steering wheel, avoiding her gaze. She asked him the one question that he does not want to answer, yet has no way to avoid the subject.

He feels a knot form in his stomach, he opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

Finally he meets her gaze and takes a deep breath.

"Because during the invasion, I sent the woman I loved to her death. And then I stood there as one of my enemies murdered my kid sister right in front of me."

She sits there, eyes wide in stunned silence.

"I was born with all this power...all these abilities. I've done things that should be impossible. I've saved countless lives, some even say that I saved the world. But when it came down to it, with everything that I can do...with all these powers.....I couldn't save the two most important people in the world to me."

"Oh...Scott..."

"I sent my girlfriend away so that she would be safe. But she was still killed by one of the alien land cruisers. And my sister Jenny...She was targeted because one of my enemies knew my secret." He pauses, gripping the steering wheel so hard that it begins to bend around his hands.

"They died because of me. When it all came down to it, I couldn't protect them." He releases his grip on the steering wheel.

"I left because I will never let someone that I care about die because of who I am, not ever again."

"But what about the rest of us, Scott? What about the people that you could be out there saving...? If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here right now."

"They got along just fine without me. They'll manage."

She is about to say something else, but thinks better of it and sits it silence for the rest of the drive to her apartment on the other side of town. When he pulls in to the small parking lot to let her out, she remains silent, only saying "Thanks." as she closes the passenger side door and goes into her apartment building.

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/MantisBanner.jpg


"Dude, so I was talking to my parents about what I'm going to need for my room next year, and I think I can convince them to buy me a 40-inch plasma TV!" Jim tells me excitedly.

By "my room next year," he of course means his dorm room. Yes, it's that time of year. We've all committed to colleges, and I'm still trying to wrap my head around the concept that we won't be going to school together anymore.

Jim's going to Boston College. It's not terribly far, and he'll be back a couple weekends during the year, but I'm still not going to get to see him a lot.

Marilyn is headed off to NYU, which has always been her dream college. Of course, I suspect it's more about living in New York City than it is going to school.

Abby's taking a trip through the Carver Community College circuit. She doesn't really know what she wants to do, and she's still trying to get some roots planted around here, so she's going to see how the next two years go and then decide.

Brooke has committed to Bristol College. It's a small liberal arts college that's pretty well known around Lost Haven. My sister, Victoria, thought about going there, so I've been on campus before. It's actually really nice, especially for an urban campus.

Me? I, along with Vince, am destined for Lost Haven University. Located in the heart of the city, it's one of the oldest - and biggest - schools in the area. I'm not going to lie: I'm pretty excited about moving into the city. Okay, so technically Carver is part of the city, but it's just not the same. And this makes my commute as Mantis that much easier, so I'm happy.

And you know what else? I'm happy for everyone else, too. I mean, who knows? I might actually get to see Vince every now and again. Although, we go to school together now, and that doesn't happen, so probably not. And it's not like I have to worry about Jim and I growing apart. We're too close for that. And LHU isn't far from Bristol, so I'm still going to get to see Brooke all the time.

My thoughts are interrupted as a small group of people rushes by. They're heading in the direction of the AV room. Jim catches the attention of a guy he knows in the group and asks, "What's going on?"

"Some metahuman is going berserk in the middle of Carver!" the guy explains. His voice is a mix of excitement and fear. "He's demanding to see Mantis. He says that he knows Mantis operates out of here. We're going to the AV room now to watch it. Are you coming?"

Jim and I exchange glances.

"You guys go ahead," I reply. "I really can't afford to miss my next class. Ms. Emory might actually kill me." Unfortunately, that's true. But it looks like I will be missing class today regardless...

[SuperFerret]

Previously on
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v189/superferret/cooltext456075899.gif

I don’t know how long I’ve been here; caged and alone in the dark. I feel like a trapped animal, only able to eat, sleep, crap and pace around the perimeter of the ten by ten foot cage like some impotent lion at a cheap circus. That’s what I am, I guess, a caged, wild beast. I’m sure as hell not human, at least not all the time.

There’s very little light here. I can barely make out the edges and bars of the cage, the troughs where I get my water and the bland, boiled chicken and rice that I’m fed, and the pile of dirty blankets that I sleep on. More often than not though, I wake up lying on the cold steel floor in the middle of the cage. Each morning (and I use the term “morning” loosely, because I have no clue what time of day it is in this darkness), I discover freshly stitched up incisions on various places of my body. I pull the stitches out with my teeth and hands and know I will heal by the time I wake the next morning.

Whoever’s been keeping me here has been drugging me, cutting me open, and doing God only knows what to me before closing me up and there is not a damned thing I can do about it. I haven’t even figured out how they’re drugging me yet. It’s not the food or water, since I’ve starved myself and still had it happen to me. They’re not gassing me. It only happens when I go to sleep, which it seems like I do often. I can’t tell though, I’ve been here so long that I’ve lost all sense of time. Anyway, I have nothing else to do but eat, sleep, pace, do pushups and think. I think a lot, more than I want to. Thinking makes me depressed and angry, all I have to think about is everything I’ve lost.

While it doesn’t matter much here and now, my name is Ben Blackfoot. I’m 26 years old. Like my father, I’m an iktisanthrope; a wereweasel. Like a werewolf, only instead of turning into a humanoid wolf, I transform into a weasel-like creature. My mother is human, and she raised me alone after my father was taken by werewolves. I was only four at the time, but I remember how worried my mother was when she got that last phone call from him. He called to say goodbye and that he was leaving town to lead the lycans away from us. We never heard from him again…

I sigh, brushing my hair from my face. I’ve been here long enough for it to have gotten long, I think. My mother probably thinks that they got me too, that the wolves first took her husband and then came back for her son. I know the werewolves aren’t the ones keeping me here. They wouldn’t keep me in the dark about it, both figuratively and literally, and they wouldn’t bother performing surgery on me. They’d just come at me all at once, tear me limb from limb, and eat me alive if they could. This is all too subtle and cerebral for them.

My thoughts drift to Jill, my girlfriend, the love of my life. It’s thinking of her that’s gotten me through this so far. We met two years ago, purely by accident (or was it purely by fate?). She was visiting the Bronx Zoo, where I worked as a zookeeper. (At this point, I’ve been here so long that I’m sure I’ve lost the job.) She’s epileptic and had a seizure that day, sending her over the wall that enclosed the tiger exhibit. None of the tigers really seemed to care, but I jumped down into the exhibit myself before I even thought about what I was doing. I later explained away my inhuman agility by saying that it was all adrenaline. She surprisingly wasn’t hurt all that badly, but I carried her out to the ambulance that was called for her. A week later, she returned to thank me. We went to lunch and the rest just followed eventually.

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/MantisBanner.jpg


"Mantis. I'm glad to see you could make it so quickly," Sergeant Hampton announces cordially as I approach the SDS barricade. The regular police force is watching wearily from a distance. I don't know if they particularly like playing second fiddle to the SDS, but they're aware of their own limitations. "We've roped off three square city blocks, but we weren't able to evacuate everyone from the area."

I cross my arms. "So what, exactly, is the situation here?"

Sarge glances back at his men before admitting, "We don't really know. We didn't have time to obtain any intel on the meta. All we've been told is that there was a disturbance, and the meta was demanding to see you." In the distance, we hear raised voices. Looking over, Sarge and I see reporters getting pushed back by the police. "Mantis, there are still civilians trapped in this area, and we don't have any idea what kind of skill set this meta is packing. We'll give you a chance to resolve this situation your way, but if it looks like it's not going to work..."

I smile beneath my mask. "Don't sweat it, Sarge. I've got it covered," I assure him, giving him a small pat on the shoulder. "But, hey, if I'm in over my head here - which I doubt - go ahead and send in the cavalry." And with that, I get a sprinting head start and vault up the side of a nearby building onto the roof.

"I heard my presence was requested at this location!" I announce happily as I leap down behind the metahuman. He turns to face me, matted hair almost covering his eyes. His hands are balled into fists. "Hey, wait a minute! What's going on here? They said that Megan Fox was asking for me!"

The metahuman is fully facing me now. He stands up a bit straighter.

"I cannot believe this! That is the last time I trust anything my agent tells me," I state angrily as I place my hands on my hips. "Well, Kurt Cobain, what do you want?"

"How do you deal with it? The power?" he asks. Oh, great. A class-B nutjob. "How do you control it?"

Sighing, I answer, "Look, can we get to the part where I turn you in to the authorities, please? I've got places to be, man."

"You're a metahuman, right?" he continues, as if he didn't hear me at all. He holds up his hand, and it begins to glow a reddish hue. The red turns to bright orange, and it even begins to glow a blinding white. Then, I notice something sliding down his arm. A thick liquid drips from his elbow and falls to the pavement, which it instantly melts. I realize that the liquid is molten magma. "How do you control this?" he pleads. It's then that I notice the fear in his eyes.

I get it now. He didn't call me here to kick my ass. He called me here for superpower lessons. Unfortunately, he's going to be very disappointed, because I don't know what to tell him. Maybe SDS can help?

"Look, pal, I can see that you're having some issues right now, but I'm really not qualified to help you," I admit apologetically. "I mean, I wouldn't even know where to start. Well, no, that's not true. Here's lesson number one: try not to wreak havoc in the middle of a city street. It tends to give people the wrong idea."

"I can't control it!" he shouts fearfully. As he does, I can't help but notice that his hand glows a little brighter. Okay, this is not the safest of situations. I need to keep him calm before he loses all control and puts people at risk.

I hold my hands out slowly. "Clearly." I inch forward carefully, but he notices. The magma is flowing more freely now. "Just stay calm. There are people right back there who are trained for this kind of stuff. If you ask, they'll be more than happy to help you."

He eyes me wearily. "No. No, I can't. What have I done here?" He looks down at the puddle of magma at his feet. As he does, I take my first opportunity to survey the area. He certainly went to work on this place. Cooled puddles of magma coat cars, buildings, streetlights, the works. "I know what they'll do to me after this! I can't turn myself in!"

Oh, God, no.

"I may not be able to control it, but I won't give up my freedom!" The metahuman - let's call him Lava - raises his hand high above his head. I see a ball of magma forming. Without warning, he throws the molten ball at me.

SHHNK!

Instinctively, I pop out my blades and cross them in front of my face. Suddenly, the blades expand outwards, making a giant bone-like shield. The magma ball explodes on impact, and the shield protects my face and upper body. Lowering my hands, I examine the structures protruding from my arms.

"Well, that's new," I say to myself. There's no time to think about it, however, as Lava is geared to make his next strike. Shrugging it off in my mind, I get into battle-ready position and try to focus on the task at hand.

[SuperFerret]

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v189/superferret/cooltext456075899.gif

I bet she thinks I’m dead too. Jill knows what I am, I told her a few months into our relationship, and she knows the dangers that I face simply by existing. Werewolves, would-be hunters of the supernatural, even the occasional magician (and not the Siegfried and Roy type) who wants to harvest my organs for some kind of potion or something equally stupid. Somehow, nobody saw this particular situation coming. Life’s a *****, isn’t it? I keep an eye out my whole life, watching for threats of a mystical or supernatural nature, and here I am, caught off guard by a situation that I never expected, one that just positively reeks of science. Not to say that the realm of the scientific is unknown to me. I’ve learned a lot over the years, anatomy, biochemistry, and zoology among others. Everything here, with the cage, the food, the sensory deprivation, the surgery, even the antiseptic odor in the air, all points to a scientific origin for this. So then, I think, absently scratching my bearded chin; what’s the motive for keeping me here?

Worst case scenario, and unfortunately, the most likely, some scientist discovered that therianthropes (werebeasts, or literally, “animal men”) exist and is doing some sort of research on me. I guess I’m lucky in a way, considering that they obviously need me alive for whatever studies they’re doing here.

A series of clicks fill the darkness. I imagine that they’re typically quiet, but in this silence, it’s deafening. A subsequent soft plop is followed by the smell of boiled chicken, and I realize that the sound is the food dispenser. My mouth starts to water, my stomach growls, and I get the bizarre feeling that some Pavlovian scientist is watching me through a secret camera, jotting down on a notepad “a series of clicking noises sound and the wereweasel begins to salivate.”

The idea that my actions might be under surveillance sends a jolt of modesty through me, making me suddenly aware of my primate nudity. Reflexively, I shift into my more bestial form, letting my fur and more mustelid anatomy hide my naughty bits from imagined spies. I instantly feel silly doing it, but I ignore it. I’m hungry, starving actually, and weasel teeth are better at eating chicken than human teeth anyway.

I quickly, and far more eagerly than I’d have liked to, move to the food trough, ready to start tearing up the bland, tasteless poultry. I reach in, grasping the meat, and then immediately drop what my clawed hand had grabbed. It was certainly not chicken. Curious, I reach in and scoop up the squirming thing again, inhaling deeply to identify the now familiar scent.

Rat.

It was a rat. Apparently, this facility wasn’t as clean and sterile as I thought. Maybe the rat was added intentionally. Maybe I pleased some scientist with my performance on some test and I’ve been given a treat. My stomach grumbles again at the prospect of eating a live rat. It felt like I haven’t had a live meal in forever, and rat has long been a favorite of mine, especially as a child when my mother forbade me from eating anything alive. It was then, when I had finally decided to eat the wriggling rodent, dangling it by its tail in front of my awaiting mouth (completely ignoring all lessons in eating manners I had as a child) when I received the surprise of my life.

“Don’t eat me!” a small voice said pleadingly.

[trustyside-kick]

OOC: Previously (http://forums.superherohype.com/showpost.php?p=18224591&postcount=19)...

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v643/dhunter22/archangelbanner1.jpg

Lost Haven
2 Days Ago

I'm not a detective, it's just not my thing. Batman, I am surely not. But for the past several weeks there have been disappearances all over Lost Haven with no answer for why they are happening or how. In the past 3 weeks 4 women have gone missing. The police presume none of them to be alive, because they found the first 1 about a week ago and...this is the crazy part...it looked like she was sucked dry.

I know what you're probably thinking. Oh great, vampires are on the loose. But, no, there are absolutely no wounds whatsoever on the victim that would indicate something punctured her skin and sucked her dry; nothing bit her. The other crazy part is that the autopsy also made it clear that there was no hint of struggle. It's like she...let whatever did this to her do this to her. But that makes this all the more confusing because she was found naked and the police even found semen samples in her...no no place. Again, no signs of any kind of rape so she knew the person that did this to her and the craziest thing of all is that whoever the sperm belongs to? I know, I've been using the word crazy a lot but you have to understand how uncanny this really is.

No DNA match.

Nothing. None.

It's like the person does not exist. No records whatsoever match the semen found in her...no no place. Worst of all is that there is no pattern that has been found yet except for one thing: all of the 4 women who have gone missing attended one of my weekly art galleries.

Freaky, right? Now you see one of the reasons I am trying to play detective because whoever has been kidnapping these women was right under my nose while I was trying to make an honest living; aka my guard wasn't up nor was I looking for anything out of the ordinary. That is not the worst of it all though.

Because I know victim no.4 who has gone missing. Grace Daniels. I know, right? My ex-girlfriend manages to get caught up in the horrors of this city no matter how much I tried to keep her out of it by leaving her and her family out of my life entirely. She's been missing for 27 hrs now. Last anyone saw her or knew where she was was at my art gallery Wednesday night around 10PM and it is now 1 in the morning on Friday and my eyes are aching so bad I have been looking for her since she was reported missing Thursday afternoon.

I can't recall EVERYONE she mingled with and spoke to at my art gallery. She could've spoke to ANYONE at my art gallery show. Since I fired her she has a few clients whereas before she before was exclusively only working for me. The police have already questioned them, and they know nothing. There's no reason she wouldn't have mingled with anyone at the gallery; the artworld is all about making the right friends after all.

And it seems Grace made the wrong friend that night. I pray to God I find her.


Cathedral of the Holy Cross
Father Damian's Study
Boston, Massachusetts
28 Days Ago

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v643/dhunter22/220px-Asmodeus.jpg

I continue to look at Father Damian and I finally just let it out.

"Father? Father Damian?"

"Sorry, Matthew. This is the Demon Asmodeus. This Prince of Hell is associated with the great sin of Lust. Such a powerful thing, Lust can cause people to put their love and devotion to God as secondary; THAT is its great sin. It is not just about sexual thoughts and desires as so many mistakenly only believe, Michael. Love is something supposed to be held Sacred, and Love for God must be above all other earthly loves. But when one is overcome by Lust, they shut out God and his desires, and forget his teachings of self control for their desires. One who refrains from being distracted and influenced by hostility, temptation, or corruption can overcome a strong desire to embrace such a nasty sin. Make no mistake, Michael. The agent of Lust that will be guided by Asmodeus will be one of your stronger foes. For he does not put God's Love first. And you as well...struggle to do so."

"..."

"But is also because you are merely human, Michael. It is not an easy thing to Love God first. But you MUST try, my son. You must. Embrace this sense of Chastity. This virtue is so sacred, Michael."

Father Damian does not know that I finally did what I felt I had to do to give up Grace, so I will let it slide. Although...is what I did really going to keep her out harms way right? When it comes down to it, am I going to choose her yet again over God's Will? Will my love for her, be stronger still?

Is it still stronger? I keep telling myself it's not but...

I have to put God first. My love for him must transcend all others.

...

...I was so mean to her. I hope she is ok.

Man I miss her...

[SuperFerret]

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v189/superferret/cooltext456075899.gif

If we could talk to the animals, just imagine it.

I pause in an almost comical way, the rat still dangling, its tail between my fingers, my mouth still open ready to take a bite. I utter a confused grunt, like a much less articulate “huh?” Did I really hear something, or am I finally cracking up from the isolation.

“Please, don’t eat me! Put me down!”

Chatting to a chimp in chimpanzee.

I was sure that I heard the voice this time. It seemed to be coming from the rat. I place it in the palm of my other hand, giving it more range of movement, but still keeping it from getting away. I still crave fresh rat, but if it is the source of the voice, I might as well listen to what it has to say.

“Did you say something?” I ask, feeling foolish as I hear my voice echo in the darkness. The rat’s voice didn’t echo. “The rat’s voice”, Lord, I must be losing it.

Imagine talking to a tiger, chatting to a cheetah.

“I did. I said ‘please don’t eat me’.” The rat replies and I realize why its voice didn’t echo. I still heard it squeaking and chattering beneath the words, like on the news where they interview non-English speakers and overdub the translation of what they’re saying. My free hand reaches up to my forehead, where my hairline would’ve been if I looked human. The last bunch of stitches I found were there, and my head hurt afterwards. Did the surgeries give me the ability to talk to animals?

“I must be crazier than I thought…” I mutter.

What a neat achievement that would be.

“What was that?”

“I must be crazy, right? I mean, no offense, but I’m having a conversation with a rat here.”

If we could talk to the animals, learn their languages,
Maybe take an animal degree.

“No offense taken. I thought the same thing when a weasel-human actually heard what I said.”

Weasel-human? What-? Then I understand, “wereweasel” and “iktisanthrope” are human terms, whatever the rat said was their term for what I am, only translated directly. If I wasn’t so confused, I’d be fascinated.

We'd study elephant and eagle, buffalo and beagle,
Alligator, guinea pig, and flea.

“Don’t be surprised,” the rat said, “I can smell it on you, you’re not a human. The fur and the fact that you’re not trying to torture me also help with that. Although, you were going to eat me.”

“Sorry about that. I was hungry... and what do you mean ‘torture you’?”

“Yeah, you know, they grab me, pin me down, stab me, things like that. I’ve even seen them take some of the others and cut them up.”

“The others?”

We would converse in polar bear and python,
And we could curse in fluent kangaroo.

“Other rats, mice, birds, lizards, monkeys, lots of others. You know for something that’s part human, you sure don’t seem to know much about how they do things. Is this the first torture-place you’ve been to?”

His words are serious, but I have to force myself not to laugh. The nasally, sarcastic tone of his “voice” reminds me so much of the actor, Steve Buscemi, that I can hardly take him seriously. ”Yeah,” I answer, “I guess this is the first one I’ve been to.” Torture-places? Is that how animals see testing labs? I can see why, being trapped someplace where mysterious people are doing mysterious things to you for mysterious reasons is not pleasant at all. My current situation can attest to that.

If people asked us, can you speak in rhinoceros,
We'd say, "Of courserous, can't you?"

“So,” I ask the rat, “do you have a name?” I feel him stand on his hind legs, curling his tail around my thumb to balance himself. It’s still too dark to see him, but I get the odd impression that he’s puffing up his chest proudly. “I’m called Gnaws-Fingers here, it’s much better than my previous name.”

If we could talk to the animals, learn their languages,

“What was your previous name?” He mutters something so quietly that I can heat his heartbeat over it. “What was that?”

Think of all the things we could discuss,

“Hides-Quietly!” He shouts angrily, “I’m a changed rat now, doing time in here does that to you. What’s your name, weasel-human?”

If we could walk with the animals, talk with the animals,

I start to say “Benjamin” but I stop myself, he probably doesn’t have a word for that in his language. I start again, “You can call me Blackfoot.”

Grunt and squeak and squawk with the animals,

“It’s good to meet you, Black-Foot.”

“Same here, Gnaws.” I yawn loudly, suddenly feeling very tired. I hate not knowing what time it is in here. I slouch back, leaning against the bars of my cell as my eyelids continue to grow heavier.

“NO!” Gnaws cried out, scampering up my arm and prodding at my face with his paws, “Don’t sleep, Black-Foot! You don’t understand! Other torture-places need to stab you before making the sleep come, but not this one. Here, they make you sleep with their eyes!”

It all makes sense now. It took a conversation with a rat, but I get it. It’s some sort of hypnotic…

And they could squeak and squawk and speak and talk to us.

[wiegeabo]

"What the- How the- Son of a-"

"I see you're going to be a fine agent with investigative skills like that."

I ignore Hawkes and just stare wide-eyed at the place. It's not the nicest apartment I've ever had, but it's is pretty damn nice. What's really got my attention, though, are the furnishings.

They're all mine.

"You guys stole all my stuff?"

"Stole? Saved is more like it. You forgot to pay your rent while you were away."

"Not like that's my fault," I say, looking over everything to make sure it's all real. "I was kind of locked away from the rest of the world."

"Actually, getting locked up is your fault," Hawkes says with his arms crossed.

"Semantics." I pick up my guitar. "You could have fixed the broken string."

"We're in delivery, not repair."

"Well, I gotta say. The Fat Man did something right for a change."

"He'll be glad to hear that."

"Like hell he will."

"Yeah, he won't care."

Hawkes keeps standing around and I suddenly realize he's been here for a while. "Um...expecting something? Maybe a beer? I haven't had much time to shop."

"No thanks. And check the fridge."

I head over to the kitchen and open the refrigerator door. "Hey, that's my brand!" I smile as I pull a bottle out. "How'd you know?" My smile turns to a frown. "Wait, seriously, how'd you know?"

Hawkes smiles smugly and rocks back and forth on his heels. "I'm good at my job," he shrugs.

"...Ok...I'm getting a little scared now. So...um...why are you still here?" I plop down on my couch and pop the bottle open.

Hawkes just shrugs. "Oooohhh, I get it. This is my first night out from under dad's foot. Well, first night with his permission. He wants to see if I'll run away from home."

"Well, Junior, you are walking around with several million of his dollars."

I sigh. "Jewelery?"

"A nice shiny ankle bracelet."

I roll my eyes. "Let's get it over with." I stick my leg up on the table. Hawkes pulls out the tracking device and straps it to my leg.

"I hope you asked for my dad's permission first."

"Har har." A small light comes on when the device locks in place. "Have a good night. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Wouldn't dream of it." I tip my beer towards him. "Now get the hell out of my apartment."

Hawkes gives me a mock salute and lets himself out.

I take a long drag from the bottle and enjoy the sweet taste. But something gives me a sour feeling. "That was way too easy."

My thief instincts kick in and I start looking around my apartment...

[SuperFerret]

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v189/superferret/cooltext456075899.gif

When I wake up later, I can’t see. Not because of any darkness, but because of the bright light shining above me. I lay on my back, in my human form, on a cold metal table, surrounded by the smells of a hospital and the voices of doctors. I can’t move and I still can’t see. At least they gave me a hospital gown so I’m not naked. Thinking hurts. My body hurts. I must have woken up on the operating table during some procedure. Whatever hypnosis they used to knock me out isn’t working anymore. I wonder where Gnaws is.

The light seems to dim and I realize that I’m moving. Well, not me, but the table I’m laying on is. I still can’t move myself, and I have to stare helplessly as light fixtures on the ceiling pass me by. Try as I might, I can’t see the face of the person pushing me to wherever it is we’re going.

Another man joins us; he’s wearing a lab coat over his dress shirt and tie. A surgical mask and cap obscures most of his face, but I’m still able to see his eyes, and when I catch a glimpse of them, an involuntary chill runs down my spine despite my current paralysis. His eyes are blank, pupil less and white. He should be blind with his eyes like that, but I get the impression that he could see more than most people can with those eyes. Looking at him, and those chilling eyes, I now I’ve found my hypnotist.

“You’re awake.” he said, practically staring through me with those blank eyes of his. “Don’t try to move, because you cannot, I will not allow it.” His voice is as cold and hollow as he looks, a voice that can scare monsters. Despite what he said, I fight to move even a little, struggling against my rebellious muscles.

Nothing.

[NiteMare Shape]

http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/cooltext412955943-1.jpg





As the rain continues to pour down, Shadow Walker remains motionless atop his perch on the roof of the Lost Haven YMCA, which is directly across the street from the small warehouse that The Cartel has been using to store some of their more high powered weapons.

Weapons that his father had developed.

Weapons that his father died for.

It has taken him months to get this close again, to track down leads and get solid information on the the whereabouts of Midas' operations. He had been close before, but the trail went cold in the wake of the alien invasion, and then again when the vigilante know as The Dummy threatened to cause the streets of the city to errupt into chaos.

It has been a long road frought with obstacles and roadblocks. It seemed that for a long time, The Cartel was always one step ahead of him. He would pick up a lead, but by the time he got to a location they had already cleared out.

But not tonight, this warehouse is bustling with activity, and he has already made visual contact with one of Midas' more lethal enforcers, the man known as The Franchise.

Tonight his own personal war against the crime syndicate known as The Cartel comes one step closer to its climax.

It is time to go to work.

I make my way into the warehouse through a skylight in the roof, quickly firing a grapple line which snags itself on one of the ceiling girders and I silently swing over to my new perch.

From my hiding spot in the rafters, I quickly assess my suroundings. The warehouse is loaded with storage containers, and if my intel is right those containers are packed with high powered weaponry.

Weapons that I'm going to have to destroy.

Fortunately, Midas made it easy for me. There are only two gaurds, not counting The Franchise.

Hidden high in the rafters, I watch the gaurds make their way through the twisted maze of storage containers...and I wait. I wait for one of the gaurds to pass directly below me, then I step from my perch and plummet toward the ground, the slack in my grappel line snapping tight a mere few feet from the ground.

The gaurd never saw me coming.

I land directly behind him, hitting him with a hard chop in the back of the neck that drops him. While he is down, I bind his arms and legs, knocking him out of this fight, then I rappel myself back up to the rafters where I get ready to make my next move.

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/MantisBanner.jpg

Lava swings at me with his magma-coated hands. Reflexively, I duck out of the way. This fight is going to be tough for the simple fact that I can't let Lava touch me, or I'll be one melted Mantis. Yikes. Spinning around him, I get behind Lava and deliver a kick to the back of his knees. He cries out in pain, and I land a punch to the small of his back.

"Think about what you're doing, man," I urge. In reality, I don't particularly like fighting people. It's part of the job, I know, and sometimes I really get in the mood to hit something, but violence isn't particularly fun. For one thing, it leaves me battered and bruised. For another thing, it's physically and mentally draining. In a perfect world, I'd be able to reason with my opponents and stop the fight before it ever happened.

Of course, that's just teenage naivety speaking.

"No! I'm no fool!" He sticks his hands into the ground, and it begins to melt into molten rock. I'm forced to leap into the air to avoid stepping in the molten river, and I perch on top of a streetlight.

"This isn't my first rodeo, hombre. And there's a whole squad of men out there just waiting to come in here and take you down," I warn. "Continuing to fight is the foolish thing to do right now."

Does he listen? Of course not. I dodge a well-thrown magma ball before leaping across the street to a streetlight on the other side. Lava spins around to face me. I know what I said about violence, but if it can't be avoided, I much prefer the kind of opponent that I can simply beat down. Ranged attacks aren't really my "thing," you know?

Lava launches a wall of magma at me, and I jump over it with ease. Landing behind him, I pick up an aluminum trash can. I spin and throw the trash can at Lava, and he doesn't have time to react. The can connects with a "ding!" My small victory is short-lived, however, as Lava has recovered in an instant. He charges at me like a locomotive train, and all I can do is vault over him to safety.

Lava swings wildly behind his head at me. I can feel the searing heat emanating from his hands. I catch him with a quick kick to the ribs from behind. He makes me pay for it, though. Grabbing my ankle, Lava turns up the heat. The thin fabric covering my skin burns away in an instant, and I wince as my skin begins to burn. It's one of the most intense feelings of pain I've ever experienced. I've been burned before - in a run-in with a scary powerful metahuman - but I was bailed out by some STRIKE agent. There's no STRIKE agent this time.

"AAAAAHHHH!"

In an act of desperation, I land a few quick blows to Lava's head and face. He doesn't relent, though. He merely continues to turn up the heat, and I feel like my ankle's going to melt. I take Lava's head in my hands, and something unexpected happens. My hands begin to glow a yellowish hue, and then - as I release - tiny bolts of energy fire from my palms, stinging Lava's face and neck. He releases my ankle, and I bound away before he has the chance to recover.

"What the heck?" I whisper to myself, staring at my hands. They seem normal now, but what was that? I have no time to think about it, as Lava has turned his attention to me with a vengeance. Multiple magma balls fly in my direction, and I'm careful to dodge them all in quick succession. Rearing back, Lava conjures up a wall of molten rock and fires it at me.

Having no time to react, I throw my arms in front of my face. Like before, my blades pop up and quickly morph into that bone shield from earlier. Only this time, it's even larger and runs all the way down the length of my arms. The magma wall rocks against my shield, but I hold steady. The air hangs heavy with the heat of the magma. I can't do this for much longer.

Then, as if on cue: "Mantis! Take this!" Sergeant Hampton tosses a canister to me. I catch it and examine it curiously. "When he gets close, pull the pin!" Sarge instructs. I see the pin that he's referring to, and I take hold of it with my other hand. Whatever this thing is, I hope he knows what he's talking about.

Lava is almost on top of me in an instant. I pull the pin, close my eyes, and hope for the best. The canister erupts in a white cloud of gas, and when the smoke clears, Lava is nearly frozen in place. The molten magma coating his hands and wrists is cooled into rock, and he appears much less threatening.

"Standard issue freezing grenade," Sarge explains as he approaches. "Effective against almost all types of metahumans - especially those with heat-based powers." Sarge grabs both of Lava's wrists and pulls them together, locking them into a power-neutralizing handcuff. I've seen the SDS use these many times before. Lava is barely able to move as Sarge hands him off to another SDS officer. "You did good again, kid."

"Yeah, well, one time I'd like to catch the bad guy without falling back on you guys to help."

Sergeant Hampton pats me on the shoulder. "Everyone needs help sometimes, Mantis. Besides, you've single-handedly filled half of our detention cells," he assures me. "We'll clean up here. You can get back to...wherever you need to be."

Nodding, I take off in the direction of the school. The entire way there, though, I'm thinking about my newfound powers - and what they could possibly mean.

[Rain Dog]

*OLYMPUS MONS*





Dr. Gregory Murdock Atlas. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe he’s actually going to take me to his lab today! I’ve looked up to this man since I was crawling on all fours. He’s the entire reason I wanted to become an astronomer. He’s the reason I love science. I feel blessed to have such a great father. Without him, this would still be nothing more than a dream to me.

“Excited, Charles?”

I nodded vigorously. He chuckled and pushed open the doors to the lab.

“This way people,” he said. I wasn’t the only one. There was a group of future scientists, all around my age. It felt good to be surrounded by my kind of people.

“This,” Dr. Atlas said, “Is our crowning achievement.”

He gestured to an enormous machine that looked like some sort of futuristic telescope. It was easily the size of three or four school buses stacked length-wise. It was pointed skyward, going right through an opening in the ceiling and into the azure sky. Half of the group’s jaws drop. Including mine. This must be it. The Atmospherical Replication Unit.

“This machine both monitors and actually replicates the atmospherical conditions of any planet we point it to, making it easier for us to study here on Earth. Right now, a solar wind is sweeping through the solar system and has interesting effects on many different planets’ atmospheres. Right now, the device is aimed at Mars. We’ll start it up for you so that you can see this fine machine at work for yourselves.”

I have to keep myself from screaming with glee. It’s dorky, I know. But I can’t help it—never has anything like this ever been built. Just thinking of the possibilities—of how this machine can revolutionize astronomy is just overwhelming!

“Dr. Kaufman, please activate ARU.”

An older man in a white lab coat nods and punches a few buttons on a control panel adjacent to the machine. ARU buzzes and hums, lights begin flashing and a round “lens” on the tip of the machine begins to rotate, “focusing” in on the target.

“Activate the sonic transducer!”

Kaufman nods and punches a few more. Buttons. The buzzing and humming and mechanical whir of turning gears grows louder and louder. More lights flash. The doctor places his hand on my shoulder and smiles.

“You’ve chosen the right line of work, Charles.”

I return his smile with one of my own. Then—

“Dr. Atlas! Something’s wrong! The solar wind has caused some sort of power spike! ARU is overloading!”

“Dear God! Shut it off!”

“I can’t! It’s too far along now! It might—”

“Shut it off! Shut it off!”

There’s a panicked look on the group’s face. And mine.

Kaufman pulls a lever and the flashing lights stop. But the machine does it.

“No! Everyone, get down!” Dr. Atlas screams. But it’s too late. The base of the machine explodes and a brilliant ray of crimson light is fired from the atmosphere containment unit. The glowing ray comes right at me…















…and whizzes over my shoulder, striking a buff guy standing behind me. Charlie Atlas. Dr. Atlas’s son whom I have the misfortune of sharing a first name with. Charlie’s iPod’s earbuds and eardrum-splittingly loud music prevented him from hearing his father’s warning or the blast. He is blasted by the ray and sent to the ground, twitching as smoke billows around him.

“CHARLIE!!!” Dr. Atlas screams as he runs to his fallen offspring. He lifts the boy’s head and begins to weep.

“Oh Charlie, speak to me, son! Are you ok?!”

Charlie begins to move, just a little bit. He groans and then slowly sits up.

“Actually, yeah, I feel pretty ****in’ awesome.”

Charlie then rose to his feet…and continued to rise. He began to hover a meter off the ground.

“Holy crap! I’m one of them whatcha call its—metos or something.”

He proceeded to fire a bright ray of crimson light from his eyes, very similar to the one that hit him, at ARU, melting the machine into a huge glob of twisted metal.

“Tight. I’ma head out now,” he said as he took to the skies. Dr. Atlas stared up at the heavens, completely dumbfouned. He then turned to me.

“...So...how’s Bill?” he asked.

“Dad? He’s fine.”

“Yeah, he told me you wanted to be here. Anything for a fellow Delta Kappa Epsilon.”



After a couple of minutes of straight soarin’ I touch down at my destination. Flying is freakin’ awesome. It’s kinda cold up there but, damn, does it beat cruisin’ in the Monte back home. Now, with my newfound gifts, I thought long and hard about how I could apply them to better society. And then, it hit me: **** society.

Why should I waste my time flying around cities looking for purse snatchers or babies dangling from trees or whatever just to get a smile and “thank you” from the good denizens of Whereeverthe****? There’s enough freaks in spandex running around doing that already. How much more could I really help?

No, these are my powers. I’m not obligated to stop bank robberies or thwart mutant lizard men from doing whatever it is mutant lizard men do. I can use my powers however I want to. And I’m gonna use them to become loaded. I decided to come here—Lost Haven—to do just that. Lost Haven is the meta-human capital of the world. If you wanna be the next Superman, you head there. Most of these metas are pretty dumb—they work their asses off hunting down monsters and crooks pro bono. They don’t realize the money they could be makin’, the fame they could have—the only one who’s done it right is that Blue Blur character. Reality show and a movie deal—that’s the way to go. But I’m gonna be bigger than him. Much, much bigger.

Knock knock knock

“Come in.”

I push the door open and peek inside.

“You my four’o’clock?”

I nod.

“Take a seat. Charlie, right? Maury Sline,” he says, extending his hand. I shake it and take my seat. Sline was a talent agent—a short, aging, oily haired talent agent. Looked him up online. Good credentials. Seems like he’s got his **** together.

“So, I, uh, didn’t quite understand what it is you do over the phone. What, you a actor or singer or somethin’?” he says, pressing his fingertips together as he leaned back in his oversized chair. Damn thing looked like it would swallow him up.

“Uh, no, I’m a meta-human.”

“A what? Wait, you mean like one o’them superheroes? Like Icon or something?”

“Uh, basically, yeah.”

“I see,” he said, squinting incredulously.

“Can ya prove it?”

With one hand I lift his desk up off the floor and over my head. I then begin to hover slightly above the ground as I grab onto the desk with my other hand. They begin to glow a fiery red as I begin to burn my handprints into the wood.

“That’s enough, that’s enough, geez.”

I gently set the desk down and return to my seat.

“Not bad, kid. When did you learn you could do that stuff?”

“Couple days ago. Some kinda lab accident at my dad’s work or something, I dunno, I don’t really understand it.”

“So you got muscle, you can fly, you can…burn things. Anything else?”

“Um, I can run pretty fast. Oh, and also, I punched this concrete wall—my fist went right through and my knuckles felt fine. Not so much as a bruise. So I think I’m invincible or something.”

“Nice, nice,” Sline said as he scribbled something on a pad.

“So whatcha think?”

“I think you got something, kid. And you’re in luck. This town’s big hero is this Icon character. He’s been gone for like a month, no sign of him whatsoever. Some people think he quit the biz. That means this city’s got a void that needs to be filled and I think you’d be perfect for that job.”

“Great!”

“There’s just one thing you gotta do first, thought.”

****...

“It’s hard to market you based only on your powers. Superpowers aren’t that impressive anymore—people have just gotten used to ‘em. Every other block there’s some bozo flying around or shootin’ lasers from his face or somethin’. What gets the crowd goin’ is the “hero” part of the gig. You’ve already got the “super”, now whatcha gotta do is go looking for purse snatchers and babies dangling from trees or whatever. Save the kids, beat the crooks, get some publicity. Then we’ll get offers for public appearances, sponsors, movie deals, the works.”

Mother ****...

“…And…and then I’ll be famous, right?”

“Oh yeah, a real big shot. So what do ya say, we got a deal?”

“I guess so.”

I shake his hand, sign a few papers, and then I’m out. Can’t say I’m too happy about the “deal.” I actually have to do ****? That’s not what I came up here for. But I do see his point. Someone better get mugged right now or I will be pissed.

[Hound55]

Alone in the dark the pariah known as the Vigilante is hunched over a table, a small lamp barely piercing the darkness where he works and a 12-inch portable TV breaking the perfect silence he resides in.

Newspapers are scattered about the table and a stack of manila folders slowly grows by the hour on a corner. Isaac works diligently using the old tools of a typographer, only his is a different kind of work. Stanley knife, steel ruler and adhesive.

"The lengths I go to prove a point..." Isaac thought to himself.

"...but that's just the kind of guy I am..." he mumbled aloud, finishing his thought.

As if on cue the TV flashed his public gaffe for the umpteenth time that day.

"...Must be why they love me so much." he quipped into the night.

His stomach twisted again with the pain, Isaac let it. The Vigilante let the pain wash over him completely, his guts churning as if his belly contained a hundred small erupting volcanoes, til the pain flowed through him completely. Only then did he grant himself some of the sweet numbing relief contained in the bottles from the bar fridge beside him.

Pain.

Pain is the most natural of all teachers, and physically it has been denied to him. He was simultaneously denied another natural teacher, his mother, by the sheer fact of his birth. His mother went into shock and died as her entire body fought against his presence, whilst her mind and soul struggled valiantly for it.

Shock.

Too much knowledge from the natural teacher.

His other natural teacher died learning a similar lesson by the hands of the same teacher about a decade and a half later.

But Isaac was denied this. His learning disability, forcing him to find other ways of learning these lessons that pain taught best. Attention to detail and analysis would be required.

Isaac was nothing if not an ardent pupil.

But emotional trauma - this was a lesson that pain COULD teach him, and he'd been denied so much that he felt honour-bound to absorb every lecture it offered.

He'd earned this. He made the error... and what an error it was. With the man known as the Icon gone the public image of the group known as the Guardians had been slipping, they needed to give their reputations a spit shine.

Why they decided to start with him he had no idea... broken arm or no broken arm, it was a dumb idea to start with. But he didn't blame them.

Their military "consultants". No. He didn't blame them at all. They merely recognised a problem and pushed a solution. It wasn't a GOOD solution. Isaac could have told them that... Hell, Isaac DID tell them that. But the problem was merely the consequence of a previous action.

The Icon.

You don't leave this. How can you? There's a line you cross to move into the line of work we do that you can never cross back. You're in too deep. You're INVOLVED.

Pre-pubescent punks could see that. Hell, they roasted him. A bunch of kids with zero experience as professional interviewers managed to see the crux of the issue and ask the questions that Isaac had avoided posing himself because he knew it wouldn't help anything.

Isaac took another swig and went back to his work.

Because that's all you can do when the answers aren't helpful. You get to work.

[Hound55]

Alone in the dark the pariah known as the Vigilante is hunched over a table, a small lamp barely piercing the darkness where he works and a 12-inch portable TV breaking the perfect silence he resides in.

Newspapers are scattered about the table and a stack of manila folders slowly grows by the hour on a corner. Isaac works diligently using the old tools of a typographer, only his is a different kind of work. Stanley knife, steel ruler and adhesive.

"The lengths I go to prove a point..." Isaac thought to himself.

"...but that's just the kind of guy I am..." he mumbled aloud, finishing his thought.

As if on cue the TV flashed his public gaffe for the umpteenth time that day.

"...Must be why they love me so much." he quipped into the night.

His stomach twisted again with the pain, Isaac let it. The Vigilante let the pain wash over him completely, his guts churning as if his belly contained a hundred small erupting volcanoes, til the pain flowed through him completely. Only then did he grant himself some of the sweet numbing relief contained in the bottles from the bar fridge beside him.

Pain.

Pain is the most natural of all teachers, and physically it has been denied to him. He was simultaneously denied another natural teacher, his mother, by the sheer fact of his birth. His mother went into shock and died as her entire body fought against his presence, whilst her mind and soul struggled valiantly for it.

Shock.

Too much knowledge from the natural teacher.

His other natural teacher died learning a similar lesson by the hands of the same teacher about a decade and a half later.

But Isaac was denied this. His learning disability, forcing him to find other ways of learning these lessons that pain taught best. Attention to detail and analysis would be required.

Isaac was nothing if not an ardent pupil.

But emotional trauma - this was a lesson that pain COULD teach him, and he'd been denied so much that he felt honour-bound to absorb every lecture it offered.

He'd earned this. He made the error... and what an error it was. With the man known as the Icon gone the public image of the group known as the Guardians had been slipping, they needed to give their reputations a spit shine.

Why they decided to start with him he had no idea... broken arm or no broken arm, it was a dumb idea to start with. But he didn't blame them.

Their military "consultants". No. He didn't blame them at all. They merely recognised a problem and pushed a solution. It wasn't a GOOD solution. Isaac could have told them that... Hell, Isaac DID tell them that. But the problem was merely the consequence of a previous action.

The Icon.

You don't leave this. How can you? There's a line you cross to move into the line of work we do that you can never cross back. You're in too deep. You're INVOLVED.

Pre-pubescent punks could see that. Hell, they roasted him. A bunch of kids with zero experience as professional interviewers managed to see the crux of the issue and ask the questions that Isaac had avoided posing himself because he knew it wouldn't help anything.

Isaac took another swig and went back to his work.

Because that's all you can do when the answers aren't helpful. You get to work.

[Hound55]

Alone in the dark the pariah known as the Vigilante is hunched over a table, a small lamp barely piercing the darkness where he works and a 12-inch portable TV breaking the perfect silence he resides in.

Newspapers are scattered about the table and a stack of manila folders slowly grows by the hour on a corner. Isaac works diligently using the old tools of a typographer, only his is a different kind of work. Stanley knife, steel ruler and adhesive.

"The lengths I go to prove a point..." Isaac thought to himself.

"...but that's just the kind of guy I am..." he mumbled aloud, finishing his thought.

As if on cue the TV flashed his public gaffe for the umpteenth time that day.

"...Must be why they love me so much." he quipped into the night.

His stomach twisted again with the pain, Isaac let it. The Vigilante let the pain wash over him completely, his guts churning as if his belly contained a hundred small erupting volcanoes, til the pain flowed through him completely. Only then did he grant himself some of the sweet numbing relief contained in the bottles from the bar fridge beside him.

Pain.

Pain is the most natural of all teachers, and physically it has been denied to him. He was simultaneously denied another natural teacher, his mother, by the sheer fact of his birth. His mother went into shock and died as her entire body fought against his presence, whilst her mind and soul struggled valiantly for it.

Shock.

Too much knowledge from the natural teacher.

His other natural teacher died learning a similar lesson by the hands of the same teacher about a decade and a half later.

But Isaac was denied this. His learning disability, forcing him to find other ways of learning these lessons that pain taught best. Attention to detail and analysis would be required.

Isaac was nothing if not an ardent pupil.

But emotional trauma - this was a lesson that pain COULD teach him, and he'd been denied so much that he felt honour-bound to absorb every lecture it offered.

He'd earned this. He made the error... and what an error it was. With the man known as the Icon gone the public image of the group known as the Guardians had been slipping, they needed to give their reputations a spit shine.

Why they decided to start with him he had no idea... broken arm or no broken arm, it was a dumb idea to start with. But he didn't blame them.

Their military "consultants". No. He didn't blame them at all. They merely recognised a problem and pushed a solution. It wasn't a GOOD solution. Isaac could have told them that... Hell, Isaac DID tell them that. But the problem was merely the consequence of a previous action.

The Icon.

You don't leave this. How can you? There's a line you cross to move into the line of work we do that you can never cross back. You're in too deep. You're INVOLVED.

Pre-pubescent punks could see that. Hell, they roasted him. A bunch of kids with zero experience as professional interviewers managed to see the crux of the issue and ask the questions that Isaac had avoided posing himself because he knew it wouldn't help anything.

Isaac took another swig and went back to his work.

Because that's all you can do when the answers aren't helpful. You get to work.

[Hound55]

Alone in the dark the pariah known as the Vigilante is hunched over a table, a small lamp barely piercing the darkness where he works and a 12-inch portable TV breaking the perfect silence he resides in.

Newspapers are scattered about the table and a stack of manila folders slowly grows by the hour on a corner. Isaac works diligently using the old tools of a typographer, only his is a different kind of work. Stanley knife, steel ruler and adhesive.

"The lengths I go to prove a point..." Isaac thought to himself.

"...but that's just the kind of guy I am..." he mumbled aloud, finishing his thought.

As if on cue the TV flashed his public gaffe for the umpteenth time that day.

"...Must be why they love me so much." he quipped into the night.

His stomach twisted again with the pain, Isaac let it. The Vigilante let the pain wash over him completely, his guts churning as if his belly contained a hundred small erupting volcanoes, til the pain flowed through him completely. Only then did he grant himself some of the sweet numbing relief contained in the bottles from the bar fridge beside him.

Pain.

Pain is the most natural of all teachers, and physically it has been denied to him. He was simultaneously denied another natural teacher, his mother, by the sheer fact of his birth. His mother went into shock and died as her entire body fought against his presence, whilst her mind and soul struggled valiantly for it.

Shock.

Too much knowledge from the natural teacher.

His other natural teacher died learning a similar lesson by the hands of the same teacher about a decade and a half later.

But Isaac was denied this. His learning disability, forcing him to find other ways of learning these lessons that pain taught best. Attention to detail and analysis would be required.

Isaac was nothing if not an ardent pupil.

But emotional trauma - this was a lesson that pain COULD teach him, and he'd been denied so much that he felt honour-bound to absorb every lecture it offered.

He'd earned this. He made the error... and what an error it was. With the man known as the Icon gone the public image of the group known as the Guardians had been slipping, they needed to give their reputations a spit shine.

Why they decided to start with him he had no idea... broken arm or no broken arm, it was a dumb idea to start with. But he didn't blame them.

Their military "consultants". No. He didn't blame them at all. They merely recognised a problem and pushed a solution. It wasn't a GOOD solution. Isaac could have told them that... Hell, Isaac DID tell them that. But the problem was merely the consequence of a previous action.

The Icon.

You don't leave this. How can you? There's a line you cross to move into the line of work we do that you can never cross back. You're in too deep. You're INVOLVED.

Pre-pubescent punks could see that. Hell, they roasted him. A bunch of kids with zero experience as professional interviewers managed to see the crux of the issue and ask the questions that Isaac had avoided posing himself because he knew it wouldn't help anything.

Isaac took another swig and went back to his work.

Because that's all you can do when the answers aren't helpful. You get to work.

[Eddie Brock]

THE CITIZEN

"Everyone hang on!" I shout, straining under the great weight on my shoulders. I've never lifted anything this large. The Robinson Bridge, one of many leading into and out of Lost Haven, has collapsed unexpectedly. Luckily, I - as the Citizen - was there on the scene to provide immediate assistance. Unfortunately, I'm not sure how much longer I can hold the weight of the bridge and all the cars on it and all the people.

In the distance, from the safety of shore, crowds have gathered to watch my heroic feat. They're taking pictures and screaming things across the river. I'm a little too preoccupied to hear what they're shouting. The familiar rhythm of a helicopter's beating blades draws near, and I see a large red 8 emblazoned on the side. The press. So either my success or failure will be seen all over the nightly news.

I shift the weight of the massive structure above me. "Somebody let me know when I'm clear!" I yell, hoping that someone can hear me. My arms begin to quiver, but my resolve is strong. So help me, I won't let anyone get hurt today. The Amulet hangs heavy around my neck. This is the path I've chosen for myself. "I can't hold it much longer!" I warn.

The news chopper lowers itself to eye level with me. The cameraman removes his headset and gives me the thumbs-up. "All clear!" he announces. It's music to my ears. The chopper pulls away to give me some room.

Lowering myself down gently, I hear the sounds of the metal joints of the bridge creaking and giving way under the enormous weight. My strength was giving more than I originally thought. Within seconds, my feet are hovering mere inches above the placid waters of the river. I twist and turn the bridge until it breaks free completely. Shouldering the giant metal slab on my back once more, I move slowly towards the harbor. I find a suitable spot, and I place the bridge down gently.

Immediately, I'm greeted by applause and cheers. Smiling, I wave to the crowd as I slowly take to the skies once more. While I'm still within earshot, I announce, "Thank you, thank you. Please, ladies and gentlemen, clear the way so that the proper authorities can address the situation. Have a fine evening, everyone!" And with those words, I take off into the sun and clouds, proud of the work I've been able to do today.

***

I get home before Katherine, and I decide to take a long, hot shower after the physical strain I put on my body today. Truthfully, I already feel as good as new. Removing the Amulet, I hide it with the rest of my costume - somewhere where Katherine won't stumble upon it. I spend nearly thirty minutes in the bathroom, soaking in the warm water and the steam. I hear the sounds of Katherine coming home, so I step out of the shower and dry myself off.

"We have to pay for all that hot water, you know," Katherine announces as she checks the mail for anything belonging to her. She looks up, sees me, and smiles. "You should have waited for me. We could have showered together." She winks and pats me on the back as she makes her way to the bedroom.

"You seem...chipper," I reply. "Any particular reason?"

As she takes out her earrings, Katherine shrugs. "Do I have to have a reason? Can't I just be happy that, after a long day of work, I'm back at home with my loving husband?" She wraps her arms around me and kisses me once on the lips. We look into each other's eyes, and I recognize something there.

"I know that look. Something's up," I insist.

Katherine pulls away and smiles fiendishly.

"Oh no. We're not playing this game. You're going to tell me what's up right now," I state, trying to sound like I'm in control of the situation. It's a useless gesture. Katherine knows me too well. She knows that she's in control more often than not.

"I just don't feel like right now is the best time to tell you..."

"Tell me what?"

Katherine spins around, smiling broader than I've seen her smile in a long time. "We're pregnant!"

The words hit me like a ton of bricks. I'm literally stunned speechless. Suddenly, I feel myself beginning to smile broader than I've smiled in a long time. Taking Katherine's head in my hands, I kiss her deeply and passionately. When we separate, we both begin to laugh gleefully at this realization. We're pregnant! Suddenly, I feel like I could carry another bridge on my back.

[Mr. Majestic]

“Here it is ladies and gentlemen the day all have been waiting for, the race to see who The Fastest Man Alive is!”

“That’s right Bob today is the day to put up or shut up. For a while now people have been saying the Blur is the fastest around town and today we will see if that is true.”

“What we do know is this, today history will be made. It promises to be a day that will be remembered all throughout time.”

“How true you are Bob how true you are. Now to you Rick at the starting line with the introductions.”

“Thank you both Bob and Dave. As you both said today is going to be a historic night. Now if you all will join me I’ll introduce the racers.”

The crowd then begins yelling and screaming with excitement.

“Now the first person I’m introducing is new to the whole superhero thing and she hopes in time to be a great hero like her idol the Blurr, lady’s and gentlemen Kid Quick.”
http://img534.imageshack.us/img534/2300/kidquick.jpg

A young girl then ran up and down the street giving the crowd high fives and she made her way to the starting line.

“Our next racer we don’t have to much information on him. The only thing he told us was he will beat the Blur to become the fastest man, everybody I give you Pulse.”
http://img202.imageshack.us/img202/5269/pulse1.jpg
As the announcer said his name Pulse appears at the finish line. No one had seen him make his way there it was as if he just teleported there.

“This next person is considered to be the new face of Lost Haven. When he first came on the scene he was dub the title fast kid alive. Those of us that have met him we call him The Kid but he is better known as The Youngster.”

*****

I watch the TV as all the racers are getting introduce. I should have known they were going to save the Blur for last, I mean he is the fan favorite for this. Doesn't matter not only am I going to win this but I’m doing so in my new custom.
http://img339.imageshack.us/img339/2808/dayoungster.jpg


I then throw my hood over my head and put the mask on that is connects to the hood. I walk over to the Tv and turn it off then blaze out of the house heading to Lost Haven park.

While running I see people all outside with chairs sitting on the sidewalks with radios and little TV’s to observe the race. As I began to approach the starting line an idea hit me. Once I was about a good 30 feet away I turn around and stop running and slide all the way to the finish line. Once I came to a stop my feet were just inches away from passing over the line and I stood there with my arms cross looking at the crowd smiling.
After the crowd saw my make my tight entrance they went crazy and a few began cheering my name.

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/MantisBanner.jpg

"What you're experiencing is called a 'secondary mutation.' It's not entirely uncommon among metahumans," Dr. Reed explains. He's the resident physician at the SDS facility, specializing in the treatment of metahumans. He's one of a very few experts in his field. "In most cases, it simply results in an enhancement or alteration to existing powers - for example, the exoskeleton blades that protrude from your arms have morphed into a larger exoskeletal feature that you can control mentally. However, there are the rare occasions when latent powers are activated by this secondary mutation - such as your bio-electric energy blasts."

I look from Dr. Reed to Sergeant Hampton, who is standing in the corner with his arms folded. "So it's not something I should be worried about?"

Dr. Reed shakes his head. "Not particularly. Not if these new powers don't interfere with your everyday life." He finishes writing on his notepad and places it down on the counter behind him. "Tertiary mutations are very, very rare, so I don't suspect you'll develop any new powers beyond this batch. For now, it's simply a matter of learning to control them - just like you did with your primary powers."

I hope down from the examination table and smile. "Thanks, Doc. That was weighing on my chest a bit, so I'm glad this is perfectly normal," I explain. "If you gentlemen don't mind, I have other places to be, so I'm going to have to skedaddle."

"I'll escort you out," Sergeant Hampton offers. "You can say hello to your conquests on the way out."

***

I'm sitting on the couch by myself, trying to conjure up those "bio-electric blasts" which saved my rear end against Lava. Unfortunately, it's easier said than done. These new powers are going to take some getting used to. I hear the front door opening, so I put my hands down so I don't look like a total weirdo.

"Guess who's back?"

I spin around on the couch in the direction of my sister's voice. "Vicky?" Sure enough, Victoria enters the living room smiling. "You're home! Already? I thought you didn't finish for another week..."

"Don't sound so disappointed," she jokes, ruffling my hair. "I made arrangements with my professors to take my exams early. Truth be told, I couldn't wait to get out of there and just get home." She helps herself to the fridge and a bottle of water. "Mom and Dad are at work still?"

I nod.

"Alright. Then, we'll catch up." With a smile, Vicky plops down on the couch next to me and begins asking all kinds of questions: about school, Brooke, Prom, colleges, the works. Truthfully, I missed having my sister around. It'll be nice to see her more often during the summer.

[NiteMare Shape]

http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/cooltext428410933.png
No More



Eric is locking up after another crazy night at The Hub, the nightclub that he had been running with his best friend Scott Morse, until Scott suddenly left Lost Haven over a month ago.

He pulls on the double doors, making sure that they are locked and begins walking down the street, looking up into the darkened windows of the apartment Scott had been sharing with his younger sister Jenny.

But Jenny was killed, and Scott vanished without so much as a goodbye. And in just a few short days, Eric had lost two of his best friends.

For years, Eric and Scott had been close. Eric was the one who Scott turned to when his abilities started to manifest themselves....and for a long time he was the only one who knew that Scott was really the superhero known as Icon.

In a way, being the keeper of that secret gave him a purpose. For a long time, Eric had been the only one outside of the Morse family to know of Scott's secret. However, Scott finally told his long time girlfriend Nicole, and she handled it pretty well...until he took on the role of Icon and she was unable to take the lonliness that came with his exploits as a superhero. Eventually, she left him.

Scott had been devestated when Nicole left, but Eric helped get him through it. In fact, he had encouraged Scott to persue a relationship with Lisa, which he did. Eventually, Lisa learned the truth about Scott as well, and she was able to deal with the difficult balancing act between his life, and his duties as Icon. He had even planned to propose to her, until her death during the alien invasion.

Scott hadn't been able to properly mourn her death. He was forced to fight on, to put his personal tragedy aside to ensure the survival of the human race. Eventually he was able say his goodbyes, but when Lisa died something inside of him had died as well. Eric had been there for Scott then too, along with Jenny, Keira, and some of his other friends, but Scott wasn't ever really the same, though the wounds were still fresh.

But when Jenny was killed, something happened to Scott. In the days leading up to her funeral, it seemed as if were missing...as if Scott had lost his purpose...his will to live. He looked Scott directly in the eyes, pleading with his friend to just talk to him...and for the first time he saw that there was nothing there...it was as if he were looking into the eyes of a stranger...that his friend in fact HAD lost his will to live.

And it was only a day later that his friend had vanished without a trace. He never gave any warnings, never said goodbye...he didn't even leave a note. He just walked away.

He walked away from his friends and family...and he walked away from the people who depended on him...the people who only knew him as Icon.

That is really when he knew that Scott truely did die the night his sister was killed...The friend he knew...that he had grown up with would never do that.

Which only left him with one question as he walked alone down the darkened street toward his own apartment....

"Scott...Where the hell are you?"

[Byrd Man]

“Here it is ladies and gentlemen the day all have been waiting for, the race to see who The Fastest Man Alive is!”

“That’s right Bob today is the day to put up or shut up. For a while now people have been saying the Blur is the fastest around town and today we will see if that is true.”

“What we do know is this, today history will be made. It promises to be a day that will be remembered all throughout time.”

“How true you are Bob how true you are. Now to you Rick at the starting line with the introductions.”

“Thank you both Bob and Dave. As you both said today is going to be a historic night. Now if you all will join me I’ll introduce the racers.”

The crowd then begins yelling and screaming with excitement.

“Now the first person I’m introducing is new to the whole superhero thing and she hopes in time to be a great hero like her idol the Blurr, lady’s and gentlemen Kid Quick.”
http://img534.imageshack.us/img534/2300/kidquick.jpg

A young girl then ran up and down the street giving the crowd high fives and she made her way to the starting line.

“Our next racer we don’t have to much information on him. The only thing he told us was he will beat the Blur to become the fastest man, everybody I give you Pulse.”
http://img202.imageshack.us/img202/5269/pulse1.jpg
As the announcer said his name Pulse appears at the finish line. No one had seen him make his way there it was as if he just teleported there.

“This next person is considered to be the new face of Lost Haven. When he first came on the scene he was dub the title fast kid alive. Those of us that have met him we call him The Kid but he is better known as The Youngster.”

*****

I watch the TV as all the racers are getting introduce. I should have known they were going to save the Blur for last, I mean he is the fan favorite for this. Doesn't matter not only am I going to win this but I’m doing so in my new custom.
http://img339.imageshack.us/img339/2808/dayoungster.jpg


I then throw my hood over my head and put the mask on that is connects to the hood. I walk over to the Tv and turn it off then blaze out of the house heading to Lost Haven park.

While running I see people all outside with chairs sitting on the sidewalks with radios and little TV’s to observe the race. As I began to approach the starting line an idea hit me. Once I was about a good 30 feet away I turn around and stop running and slide all the way to the finish line. Once I came to a stop my feet were just inches away from passing over the line and I stood there with my arms cross looking at the crowd smiling.
After the crowd saw my make my tight entrance they went crazy and a few began cheering my name.

The cheers for Youngster are all but overwhelmed by the thunderous roar of applause that comes with a blue blur of motion appears on the street. The figure races up and down the street, shaking hands at super speed.

"Nicetomeetyahow'sitgoingthanksforcomingoutandsuppo rtingagoodcause!"

Skidding to a stop next to the other racers, the Blue Blur's body crackles with energy.

"How's it going, guys? Sorry if I'm late, there was a bank robbery in Chicago a minute ago, I took care of it. Are we ready to race?"

[Eddie Brock]

THE CITIZEN

By the time I arrive at the ceremony, Tom is pacing so furiously that he's nearly dug a trench into the ground. Today is the unveiling ceremony for a memorial dedicated to all the victims of the Arlaaekan invasion, and I - as Mayor - am giving the final speech and pulling down the curtain. Tom's been on edge about it for weeks. As usual, nothing could pacify him.

"Jesus, there you are!" Tom announces in the loudest whisper I've ever heard. We're behind the stage, which has been constructed in the middle of Lost Haven's biggest park. "What the Hell kept you? You're on in three minutes!"

Real answer? Tenement fire. My answer, "Traffic. You know how bad it is trying to get across town at this hour. I tried to convince Sal to take another route, but he's always so stubborn..."

Tom seems to buy it. Or, at least, I think he does. It's hard to tell when he's this flustered. Either way, he responds, "Whatever. Look, do you have your notecards ready, at least?" He peers around the edge of the stage to see how much time we have.

Smiling to myself, I decide to have a little fun with him. "Notecards?"

Tom spins back around faster than I've ever seen him move. "Yes, the notecards! I jotted down some points I thought you should make, and I gave Martha expressed orders to have those notecards on your desk by yesterday morning!"

I pretend to search my pockets. "I don't remember seeing any notecards on my desk," I lie. "Maybe I didn't pick them up, or maybe Martha didn't remember to get them to me..."

Tom's face drops. I start to feel a little bad for doing this to him.

"You know what? It's not a problem," I assure him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He's nearly catatonic. "I'll just get up there and speak off the cuff. I've done it before." A stagehand motions that it's my time to go up there. I reach into my pocket and pull out the notecards. "On second thought, maybe I'll just glance over these a bit."

Tom looks about ready to drop dead. I'm not sure if he's more relieved that it was a joke or more angry that I would mess with his head like that. Either way, he stares intently at me as I take the stage. The audience applauds, and I smile for them.

"Thank you. Thank you very much. Today is not a day of mourning," I begin. The crowd begins to quiet. "We've had our time for that. No, today we are here to celebrate. I know what you're thinking. 'What is there to celebrate?' Well, that's the real question, isn't it? We can celebrate the lives of those who were lost in the invasion. We can celebrate the heroes who gave us hope during that most trying hour. And we can celebrate our eventual victory over the forces that tried to eradicate us.

"You see, though we lost so much in that conflict, one fact still remains." I pause for emphasis. "We are still here. And despite the numerous casualties, despite the billions of dollars in property damage worldwide, despite the devastating blows to our morale, we are still here. And we stand taller than ever, ready to face the challenges that may come our way."

I look out across the crowd. "Our lives go on. Hope springs eternal. We are working together now to build a stronger future, one where our children will be safe from threats like this. In defeating the Arlaaekans, we have sent a powerful message to the stars." I smile. "Mankind is a force to be reckoned with.

"And so, we dedicate this memorial," I explain, "Not just to those lost, not just to the countless families touched by this disaster, not just to those still living today, but to all of mankind from this generation to the next and the next and so on. So that when future generations gaze upon this memorial, they will remember our accomplishments and know that they are truly standing on the shoulders of giants!"

I step back and take hold of one half of the curtain. The sculptor takes hold of the other. "And so, without further ado, I present this new memorial!" We pull down the curtain to applause and photographs. "May it always remind us of our great responsibility, not just to ourselves but to our future!"

I turn and examine the statue. It resembles Atlas with Earth on his shoulders, but on either side of the Titan there is a faceless figure helping to support the weight. And Atlas, rather than being weighed down by the weight of the Earth, stands tall next to his allies. Along the base are the engraved names of every Lost Haven resident killed during the invasion. It will stand as a centerpiece for this park, reminding us all of our calling.

***

TARTARUS ISLAND

The prison built on Tartarus Island is an imposing, lifeless structure. It could not be anything other than a prison. Just a short distance off the harbor, the prison houses all of Lost Haven's worst criminals. It has stood since the early 20th century, and breakout attempts have been few and far between. The prison and its island are often referred to - not so affectionately - as 'The Hole,' and it lives up to its name. Once a prisoner has been incarcerated here, he is never the same again.

That much was true of Jonathan Winters. A midwesterner of humble origins, Jonathan led a rather unassuming life. He performed relatively well in school, and when it came time to go to college, he moved out to the East Coast. This was how he found himself in Lost Haven. In college, Jonathan took a particular interest in political science and economics. He studying the writing of Karl Marx and other radical communists religiously. Jonathan came to a conclusion that he was morally obligated to help overthrow the capitalist structure of America. He blew up a government building within the city. This was how he found himself in The Hole.

Jonathan was convicted when he was only 23 years-old. Twelve years had passed since then, and Jonathan's time inside had changed him. He kept to himself, shunned all contact with others, and continued his studies of communism and the promised revolution. Due to his standoffish behavior and seeming disinterest in personal hygiene, Jonathan was often perceived as crazy by his fellow inmates. But he knew he wasn't crazy. He was merely planning.

And on this day, his plans would be set into motion.

"Winters, get up," the guard barks, banging on the bars of Jonathan's cell. "Come on, you slob! You're being moved today."

At this, Jonathan sat up. Moved?

The guard slides open the cell door, complaining, "Let's move, Winters. Before the warden changes his mind about this." Jonathan holds out his hands so the guard can handcuff them. An unnecessary precaution. Jonathan wanted to leave this place, but he wasn't stupid enough to attempt a breakout. That would be suicide. "Alright." The guard places his hand firmly against Jonathan's back and guides him down the corridor.

Jonathan is led outside, where the warden is waiting. There's also an unmarked black van. "Winters, you're being transferred to another facility due to overflow," the warden explains emotionlessly. "That means that you're no longer my problem. Your personal effects have already been shipped over. You leave right now."

Jonathan looks over his shoulder at the guard. No sign of a smile or snicker. It doesn't appear to be a joke. A man in sunglasses exits the van and approaches Jonathan. Nodding to the guard, the man grabs Jonathan by the handcuffs and leads him to the van. Jonathan is shoved into the backseat, where a burlap sack is thrown over his head. Though he is confused, Jonathan does not struggle.

Jonathan feels every bump in the road as the van drives away from the prison. Then, he hears the sound of a ferry. A few minutes later, the van is driving again. It drives for some time before finally coming to a halt. Moments later, Jonathan is forcibly dragged out of the van. The burlap sack is removed, and the man in the sunglasses is standing there.

"Jonathan Winters. You have been recruited by Spectre," the man explains coldly. Jonathan looks around confusedly. This was unlike any prison transfer he had ever heard of. "As I'm sure you're now realizing, there is no prison transfer. The organization I work for, Spectre, has deep pockets and deeper influence. You've been on our radar for some time, so we've pulled some strings to get you out."

Jonathan remains silent.

"I'm here to make you an offer, Jonathan. You can come with me and hear what we have to say, or you can go back to prison to serve the rest of your life sentence and eventual die in anonymity. Your choice."

Jonathan licks his lips. He's been good about not speaking unless he needed to, but this Spectre group had caught his eye. And if they were offering an alternative to jail, Jonathan was inclined to play along - at least, for a little bit. "Alright. I'll do it. Let's go," Jonathan replies eagerly.

Suddenly, someone behind him throws the burlap sack over his head once more. Jonathan barely has time to register what's happening before the butt of a rifle slams against the back of his skull.

[Mr. Majestic]

The cheers for Youngster are all but overwhelmed by the thunderous roar of applause that comes with a blue blur of motion appears on the street. The figure races up and down the street, shaking hands at super speed.

"Nicetomeetyahow'sitgoingthanksforcomingoutandsuppo rtingagoodcause!"

Skidding to a stop next to the other racers, the Blue Blur's body crackles with energy.

"How's it going, guys? Sorry if I'm late, there was a bank robbery in Chicago a minute ago, I took care of it. Are we ready to race?"




I look over at Blur and the only thing I can do is smile. I thought I knew how to make an entrance but he showed me.

“I hope you all have your running shoes on because after I win this I don’t want to hear no excuses.”

“Please, after I win this I’m going to ask them to get a statue of me right here in the middle of the park.” Kid quick replies.

I gaze over at Pulse’s direction wondering if he was going to make a comment himself but he didn’t. He just grabs his helmet and places it on his head.

Boy these guys have no clue how prepared for this race I am. I made this new custom just for this occasion. It protects me when I’m running from the effects of using my super speed. Since I can only use two powers at the same time now I don’t worry about that. I can concentrate just on running. This will be the first time I only just used my speed.

The gentleman with the microphone makes his way towards us.

“Okay gang before we get this kicked into another gear we have some jewelry for you all to wear.”

Fours kids then come from the sidelines with arm bracelets in their hands. Each one of the kids hands us the bracelets.

“Those arm bands if you will, that you will be wearing are made to fallow your positions during the race so we know who is winning, losing or if you happen to get off course. The rules of the race are simple. In order to win you must go around the world 4 times fallowing the track that has been made for you all to fallow. If you happen to need to make a pit stop that is no problem at all. But just know where ever the location is you got off course you must return to that spot and in order to continue racing. Who ever pass the finish line first wins and all proceeds will go to whatever charity of their choosing. Most importantly they will be known as the Fast Person Alice! I mean Alive!”

I know he feels like crap right about now.

I then slap on the bracelet devise and get down in a racing position. I look over at the Blur. Even if I lose I got to stay close to him I have to be right on him.

[Eddie Brock]

http://img580.imageshack.us/img580/429/mantis2copy.png

"This is the one," Sergeant Hampton announces as we come to a halt in front of a holding cell. Sarge presses a few buttons on the keypad, and the door slides open with a hiss. The bespectacled occupant doesn't move. Sarge explains, "Franklin Mercer. 24 years-old. Technopath. We apprehended him in the process of downloading the financial records for every resident of Carver."

Franklin looks up at me. Though he tries to hide it, I recognize the momentary shock as he realizes who he's looking at. I notice the odd collar he's wearing.

As if Sarge can read my mind, he explains, "It's a power dampener. With all the technology required to run this place, someone like Franklin here could have a field day. It was a necessary precaution."

Franklin's eyes slide down to the object tucked under my arm. That's when they really light up. He looks like a kid at Christmas.

I hold out the laptop. "Franklin, I need you to do me a favor," I explain. "Sergeant Hampton here has agreed to grant you special privileges if you help me." Franklin takes the laptop - tentatively at first, but then he pulls it towards him with vigor. "Also, as fair warning, the Sergeant is prepared to knock you out if you try anything. Understand?"

Franklin nods. He opens the laptop slowly, seemingly cherishing every moment.

"This was left at a recent crime scene. I'm wondering if you can work your magic to find out any information about who left it there." The laptop was a present by the Coordinator. When I turned it on, I found an email from him congratulating me on yet another success. I know next to nothing about hacking, but if there's anyone who can trace that email, it's gotta be a technopath, right?

Franklin types away at the keyboard furiously. "This encryption is elegant. Firewall on top of firewall, concealed in code and locked with passwords." He's talking like an art critic reviewing a painting. "It could take any normal hacker months to crack this."

I frown. "So how long--?"

"I'm in," Franklin interjects immediately. Even I'm impressed. "Now, from the information I'm gathering, I should be able to triangulate the position of the sender. I've got a lock on his IP address." Franklin frowns. "Man, this is sloppy. I guess he didn't expect anyone to get this far. Okay, wow. I've got an address."

Franklin spins the laptop around so Sarge and I can see. He's pulled up a satellite image of an abandoned industrial park. There's a blinking dot on top of the central building.

"If your boy hasn't moved, this is where he is," Franklin states.

"I know this place. It's a few miles out from Carver," Sarge announces. He takes the laptop from Franklin and begins guiding me out of the room. "Come on. We can have you there in ten minutes. It's time to take out this son of a b****."

As we exit the cell, Franklin cries out, "When will we discuss my special privileges?!"

***

The SDS helicopter lands a few hundred yards from the industrial park. We don't want to alert the Coordinator that we're coming for him. Sergeant Hampton rounded up three officers for a strike team. However, I insist, "Let me handle this. The Coordinator has made it clear that this is personal, so I want to take him down myself."

"Whatever you say, Mantis. Just bring him out here when you've got him."

Nodding, I bound off in the direction of the industrial park. It's time to settle the score with the Coordinator once and for all. Only this time, he doesn't have anyone doing his dirty work for him. I'll be glad to have this nuisance out of my life. Arriving at the marked building, I slip in quietly through a broken window.

The building is kinda creepy in this state. Empty cubicles dominate the room, and I leap silently over them towards the stairs. The Coordinator could be anywhere in here, so I'll start my search from the ground up. Taking the stairs down to the basement, I find myself in an old boiler room. I half-expect Freddy Krueger to pop out and attack me.

Well, there goes any hope of sleeping tonight.

Suddenly, I hear the familiar sound of pinging and beeping from machines. Seems out of the ordinary, considering the circumstances, so I investigate. I turn the corner and am surprised to find computers on top of computers, with more servers and wires than I care to count. Franklin was right. This is the Coordinator's base of operations. Now, to find the man himself...

"HELLO, MANTIS. WELCOME TO MY HUMBLE ABODE. PLEASE, MEET ME IN THE EXECUTIVE OFFICE ON THE TOP FLOOR. WE HAVE MUCH TO DISCUSS."

It's very likely a trap, but it's also the only lead I have. I start to get the sinking feeling that the Coordinator isn't really here, but I make my way to the elevators regardless. The elevator is waiting for me, doors open and everything. Yep, this is definitely a trap. My only option is to spring it. I didn't come all this way for nothing.

I'm surprised to find that nothing bad happens to me during the elevator ride. I move cautiously through the top floor, but there are no booby traps to be found. Eventually, I find myself standing at the doors to the executive office. "Here goes nothing." I take a deep breath and throw open the doors.

"HELLO, MANTIS."

I'm surprised to see a wheelchair-bound man sitting behind the desk. He's connected to a breathing tube, and his eyes seem lifeless. I know he's alive because they follow me as I walk further into the room.

"NOT WHAT YOU WERE EXPECTING, IS IT?"

The voice is coming from the loudspeakers. "Are you--?"

"THE COORDINATOR? YES. WE FINALLY MEET IN PERSON. I'D SHAKE YOUR HAND, BUT YOU CAN SEE WHERE THAT POSES SOME DIFFICULTY FOR ME."

This man who has been terrorizing me for months is crippled? I mean, I suppose it makes sense. That's why he sent others to dispatch of me. And it also explains the lifeless voice. But something about the situation just seems...wrong.

"I'M SURE THIS IS A LOT TO PROCESS ALL AT ONCE, SO ALLOW ME TO EXPLAIN. I WAS NOT ALWAYS LIKE THIS. NOT LONG AGO, I COULD WALK AND TALK AND DO ALL THE THINGS THAT MAKE ONE NORMAL."

Those eyes stare at me as if they're looking into my soul.

"I EVEN HAD A WIFE. SHE WAS EXPECTING OUR FIRST CHILD, MY SON. I HAD DREAMS OF BEING A LOVING FATHER, OF TEACHING MY SON TO THROW A BASEBALL, OF WATCHING HIM MATURE AND BECOME HIS OWN MAN. I HAD DREAMS OF GROWING OLD WITH MY WIFE, RETIRING WITH HER TO THE COUNTRYSIDE. I DON'T THINK THESE WERE UNREASONABLE DREAMS. BUT YOU TOOK THEM FROM ME."

Suddenly, though his face does not - and cannot move - those eyes seem to burn with an anger that I've never seen before. It's at this point that I'm sure this beaten shell of a man is, indeed, the Coordinator.

"WE WERE DRIVING HOME FROM DINNER. WE HAD JUST CELEBRATED MY WIFE'S BIRTHDAY. IMAGINE OUR SURPRISE WHEN WE DROVE RIGHT INTO A METAHUMAN FIGHT! YOU AND THAT CRYSTAL CHARACTER."

Crystalline. That was fairly early on in my "career." It wasn't one of my cleanest efforts, but I did all that I could to end the fight quickly.

"PANICKING, I SWERVED TO AVOID GETTING CAUGHT IN THE BATTLE. I LOST CONTROL OF THE CAR, AND WE CRASHED INTO A PARKED VAN. OUR CAR WAS A MANGLED WRECK. I BARELY SURVIVED THE CRASH. MY WIFE AND CHILD? THEY NEVER HAD THAT LUXURY."

The story hits me hard. "I'm so sorry. I didn't--"

"NO! YOU DON'T GET TO APOLOGIZE! WHERE DO YOU METAHUMANS GET OFF? YOU RUN RAMPANT WITH YOUR POWERS, TRYING TO DESTROY EACH OTHER, AND US NORMAL PEOPLE ARE MERELY SCENERY! PAWNS TO YOUR TWISTED GAME!

"I MADE A PACT THAT I WOULD MAKE YOU VIGILANTES PAY. BUT FIRST, I HAD TO TAKE VENGEANCE ON THE ONE RESPONSIBLE FOR MY WIFE'S DEATH. FOR MY SON'S DEATH! I WOULD CRUSH YOU, MANTIS, IF IT WERE MY DYING ACT!"

The silence hangs heavy in the air. Did I crash his car? No. Did I kill his wife and unborn child? No. But my hands are stained with their blood, regardless. Because, in a way, he's right. I'm indirectly responsible for their deaths. And nothing I can say will make that right.

"SO HERE WE ARE. I GREW TIRED OF THE CAT-AND-MOUSE. I ADMIT, I ENJOYED WATCHING YOU SCRAMBLE FOR A WHILE, BUT I'VE BEEN DOING A DISSERVICE TO MY LOVED ONES. THEIR DEATHS DEMAND JUSTICE, AND I'M PREPARED TO DELIVER IT!"

With his very limited control over his hand, the Coordinator reaches out and presses the button on a remote on his lap. A red light flashes underneath his shirt.

"I LEFT THAT COMPUTER ON PURPOSE. I KNEW YOU'D USE IT TO FIND ME. I WANTED TO BRING YOU HERE. IN A FEW SHORT SECONDS, THIS ENTIRE INDUSTRIAL PARK IS RIGGED TO EXPLODE. I ACCEPT MY DEATH, KNOWING THAT I WILL SOON SEE MY WIFE AND CHILD. AND THE BEST PART? I FULFILL MY PROMISE BY TAKING YOU WITH ME!"

I try not to panic. I know the Coordinator. He isn't bluffing. I leap over the desk and rip open his shirt. The bomb is embedded in his chest. Even with ample time, I don't think I'd be able to get it out. I look the Coordinator in the eyes. His continue to burn with seething rage. I can't save him.

"I didn't mean for anything to happen to you or your family," I say softly. If he's going to die, I'm going to apologize to him formally. "I accept that what happened was terrible, and I accept that my presence played a role indirectly. As long as I live, I won't forget what you've taught me here today. And for what it's worth, I hope you're right. I hope you do see your family after this."

For once, the Coordinator is silent. There's no time to reflect on it. If I only have seconds, I need to move quickly. Shielding my face with my new exoskeletal protrusions, I leap through the glass window behind the Coordinator. As I land, I tuck and roll before taking off in a sprint. I need to get clear of the industrial park! In desperation, I leap into the air and pray for the best.

KABOOOOOOOM!

The industrial park explodes in a massive fireball behind me. The ensuing shockwave knocks me out of the air, and the heat from the explosion sears my back. I land in a crumpled heap a few dozen yards away. As I'm recovering, I see Sergeant Hampton and the SDS officers running to me.

"Mantis!"

"I'm fine." I stand up straight and feel the back of my costume. Most of the fabric burned away, and my bare skin is exposed. Wonderful. I turn around and look at the remains of the industrial park. Somewhere in there is what's left of the Coordinator. I hope he found peace. "Let's go home."

[NiteMare Shape]

test

[NiteMare Shape]

test 2
http://img580.imageshack.us/img580/429/mantis2copy.png



"This is the one," Sergeant Hampton announces as we come to a halt in front of a holding cell. Sarge presses a few buttons on the keypad, and the door slides open with a hiss. The bespectacled occupant doesn't move. Sarge explains, "Franklin Mercer. 24 years-old. Technopath. We apprehended him in the process of downloading the financial records for every resident of Carver."



Franklin looks up at me. Though he tries to hide it, I recognize the momentary shock as he realizes who he's looking at. I notice the odd collar he's wearing.



As if Sarge can read my mind, he explains, "It's a power dampener. With all the technology required to run this place, someone like Franklin here could have a field day. It was a necessary precaution."



Franklin's eyes slide down to the object tucked under my arm. That's when they really light up. He looks like a kid at Christmas.



I hold out the laptop. "Franklin, I need you to do me a favor," I explain. "Sergeant Hampton here has agreed to grant you special privileges if you help me." Franklin takes the laptop - tentatively at first, but then he pulls it towards him with vigor. "Also, as fair warning, the Sergeant is prepared to knock you out if you try anything. Understand?"



Franklin nods. He opens the laptop slowly, seemingly cherishing every moment.



"This was left at a recent crime scene. I'm wondering if you can work your magic to find out any information about who left it there." The laptop was a present by the Coordinator. When I turned it on, I found an email from him congratulating me on yet another success. I know next to nothing about hacking, but if there's anyone who can trace that email, it's gotta be a technopath, right?



Franklin types away at the keyboard furiously. "This encryption is elegant. Firewall on top of firewall, concealed in code and locked with passwords." He's talking like an art critic reviewing a painting. "It could take any normal hacker months to crack this."



I frown. "So how long--?"



"I'm in," Franklin interjects immediately. Even I'm impressed. "Now, from the information I'm gathering, I should be able to triangulate the position of the sender. I've got a lock on his IP address." Franklin frowns. "Man, this is sloppy. I guess he didn't expect anyone to get this far. Okay, wow. I've got an address."



Franklin spins the laptop around so Sarge and I can see. He's pulled up a satellite image of an abandoned industrial park. There's a blinking dot on top of the central building.



"If your boy hasn't moved, this is where he is," Franklin states.



"I know this place. It's a few miles out from Carver," Sarge announces. He takes the laptop from Franklin and begins guiding me out of the room. "Come on. We can have you there in ten minutes. It's time to take out this son of a b****."



As we exit the cell, Franklin cries out, "When will we discuss my special privileges?!"



***



The SDS helicopter lands a few hundred yards from the industrial park. We don't want to alert the Coordinator that we're coming for him. Sergeant Hampton rounded up three officers for a strike team. However, I insist, "Let me handle this. The Coordinator has made it clear that this is personal, so I want to take him down myself."




"Whatever you say, Mantis. Just bring him out here when you've got him."



Nodding, I bound off in the direction of the industrial park. It's time to settle the score with the Coordinator once and for all. Only this time, he doesn't have anyone doing his dirty work for him. I'll be glad to have this nuisance out of my life. Arriving at the marked building, I slip in quietly through a broken window.



The building is kinda creepy in this state. Empty cubicles dominate the room, and I leap silently over them towards the stairs. The Coordinator could be anywhere in here, so I'll start my search from the ground up. Taking the stairs down to the basement, I find myself in an old boiler room. I half-expect Freddy Krueger to pop out and attack me.



Well, there goes any hope of sleeping tonight.



Suddenly, I hear the familiar sound of pinging and beeping from machines. Seems out of the ordinary, considering the circumstances, so I investigate. I turn the corner and am surprised to find computers on top of computers, with more servers and wires than I care to count. Franklin was right. This is the Coordinator's base of operations. Now, to find the man himself...



"HELLO, MANTIS. WELCOME TO MY HUMBLE ABODE. PLEASE, MEET ME IN THE EXECUTIVE OFFICE ON THE TOP FLOOR. WE HAVE MUCH TO DISCUSS."



It's very likely a trap, but it's also the only lead I have. I start to get the sinking feeling that the Coordinator isn't really here, but I make my way to the elevators regardless. The elevator is waiting for me, doors open and everything. Yep, this is definitely a trap. My only option is to spring it. I didn't come all this way for nothing.



I'm surprised to find that nothing bad happens to me during the elevator ride. I move cautiously through the top floor, but there are no booby traps to be found. Eventually, I find myself standing at the doors to the executive office. "Here goes nothing." I take a deep breath and throw open the doors.



"HELLO, MANTIS."



I'm surprised to see a wheelchair-bound man sitting behind the desk. He's connected to a breathing tube, and his eyes seem lifeless. I know he's alive because they follow me as I walk further into the room.



"NOT WHAT YOU WERE EXPECTING, IS IT?"



The voice is coming from the loudspeakers. "Are you--?"



"THE COORDINATOR? YES. WE FINALLY MEET IN PERSON. I'D SHAKE YOUR HAND, BUT YOU CAN SEE WHERE THAT POSES SOME DIFFICULTY FOR ME."



This man who has been terrorizing me for months is crippled? I mean, I suppose it makes sense. That's why he sent others to dispatch of me. And it also explains the lifeless voice. But something about the situation just seems...wrong.



"I'M SURE THIS IS A LOT TO PROCESS ALL AT ONCE, SO ALLOW ME TO EXPLAIN. I WAS NOT ALWAYS LIKE THIS. NOT LONG AGO, I COULD WALK AND TALK AND DO ALL THE THINGS THAT MAKE ONE NORMAL."



Those eyes stare at me as if they're looking into my soul.



"I EVEN HAD A WIFE. SHE WAS EXPECTING OUR FIRST CHILD, MY SON. I HAD DREAMS OF BEING A LOVING FATHER, OF TEACHING MY SON TO THROW A BASEBALL, OF WATCHING HIM MATURE AND BECOME HIS OWN MAN. I HAD DREAMS OF GROWING OLD WITH MY WIFE, RETIRING WITH HER TO THE COUNTRYSIDE. I DON'T THINK THESE WERE UNREASONABLE DREAMS. BUT YOU TOOK THEM FROM ME."



Suddenly, though his face does not - and cannot move - those eyes seem to burn with an anger that I've never seen before. It's at this point that I'm sure this beaten shell of a man is, indeed, the Coordinator.



"WE WERE DRIVING HOME FROM DINNER. WE HAD JUST CELEBRATED MY WIFE'S BIRTHDAY. IMAGINE OUR SURPRISE WHEN WE DROVE RIGHT INTO A METAHUMAN FIGHT! YOU AND THAT CRYSTAL CHARACTER."



Crystalline. That was fairly early on in my "career." It wasn't one of my cleanest efforts, but I did all that I could to end the fight quickly.



"PANICKING, I SWERVED TO AVOID GETTING CAUGHT IN THE BATTLE. I LOST CONTROL OF THE CAR, AND WE CRASHED INTO A PARKED VAN. OUR CAR WAS A MANGLED WRECK. I BARELY SURVIVED THE CRASH. MY WIFE AND CHILD? THEY NEVER HAD THAT LUXURY."



The story hits me hard. "I'm so sorry. I didn't--"



"NO! YOU DON'T GET TO APOLOGIZE! WHERE DO YOU METAHUMANS GET OFF? YOU RUN RAMPANT WITH YOUR POWERS, TRYING TO DESTROY EACH OTHER, AND US NORMAL PEOPLE ARE MERELY SCENERY! PAWNS TO YOUR TWISTED GAME!



"I MADE A PACT THAT I WOULD MAKE YOU VIGILANTES PAY. BUT FIRST, I HAD TO TAKE VENGEANCE ON THE ONE RESPONSIBLE FOR MY WIFE'S DEATH. FOR MY SON'S DEATH! I WOULD CRUSH YOU, MANTIS, IF IT WERE MY DYING ACT!"



The silence hangs heavy in the air. Did I crash his car? No. Did I kill his wife and unborn child? No. But my hands are stained with their blood, regardless. Because, in a way, he's right. I'm indirectly responsible for their deaths. And nothing I can say will make that right.



"SO HERE WE ARE. I GREW TIRED OF THE CAT-AND-MOUSE. I ADMIT, I ENJOYED WATCHING YOU SCRAMBLE FOR A WHILE, BUT I'VE BEEN DOING A DISSERVICE TO MY LOVED ONES. THEIR DEATHS DEMAND JUSTICE, AND I'M PREPARED TO DELIVER IT!"



With his very limited control over his hand, the Coordinator reaches out and presses the button on a remote on his lap. A red light flashes underneath his shirt.



"I LEFT THAT COMPUTER ON PURPOSE. I KNEW YOU'D USE IT TO FIND ME. I WANTED TO BRING YOU HERE. IN A FEW SHORT SECONDS, THIS ENTIRE INDUSTRIAL PARK IS RIGGED TO EXPLODE. I ACCEPT MY DEATH, KNOWING THAT I WILL SOON SEE MY WIFE AND CHILD. AND THE BEST PART? I FULFILL MY PROMISE BY TAKING YOU WITH ME!"



I try not to panic. I know the Coordinator. He isn't bluffing. I leap over the desk and rip open his shirt. The bomb is embedded in his chest. Even with ample time, I don't think I'd be able to get it out. I look the Coordinator in the eyes. His continue to burn with seething rage. I can't save him.



"I didn't mean for anything to happen to you or your family," I say softly. If he's going to die, I'm going to apologize to him formally. "I accept that what happened was terrible, and I accept that my presence played a role indirectly. As long as I live, I won't forget what you've taught me here today. And for what it's worth, I hope you're right. I hope you do see your family after this."



For once, the Coordinator is silent. There's no time to reflect on it. If I only have seconds, I need to move quickly. Shielding my face with my new exoskeletal protrusions, I leap through the glass window behind the Coordinator. As I land, I tuck and roll before taking off in a sprint. I need to get clear of the industrial park! In desperation, I leap into the air and pray for the best.



KABOOOOOOOM!



The industrial park explodes in a massive fireball behind me. The ensuing shockwave knocks me out of the air, and the heat from the explosion sears my back. I land in a crumpled heap a few dozen yards away. As I'm recovering, I see Sergeant Hampton and the SDS officers running to me.



"Mantis!"



"I'm fine." I stand up straight and feel the back of my costume. Most of the fabric burned away, and my bare skin is exposed. Wonderful. I turn around and look at the remains of the industrial park. Somewhere in there is what's left of the Coordinator. I hope he found peace. "Let's go home."

[Mr. Majestic]

It has been a month now and Mark also known as Spartan has been unconscious in an S.T.R.I.K.E hospital. His father and James Stewart have been the only ones standing by his bed side since he has been comatose.

“How is he doing today James?”

James pulls out his laptop and connects to the other machinery that’s plug into Mark.

“It still hasn’t changed sir. His brain activity hasn’t been active for quite sometime. Spartan’s brain…”

Agent Moore gives James an awkward look.

“… I mean Mark’s brain isn’t like everyone else’s, it hard to tell exactly how his brain works because of his abilities.”

“I understand. I always thought Mark couldn’t be stopped. Guess I was wrong.”

As both Mark’s father and fellow Executioner member watch over him the door swings open and Major Lee walks in.

“I’m assuming you all got the news, looks like our soldier here isn’t going to wake up anytime soon.”

Major Lee then walks besides Spartan and looks at him in disappointment and bends down towards his ear.

“All that money and time we spent on you, perfect soldier my ass.”

Major Lee stands straight up and head towards the door. Before his exit he turns to Mark’s dad and looks him in the eyes.

“We’re pulling the plug on him as of now.” Major Lee tells them right before he walks out.

Mark’s father couldn’t believe that they would give up on him so soon. He then quickly makes his way to his son’s side and grabs his hand.

“Son listen, you have to come back to me. Everyone wants there war hero Spartan I just want my son. I know your in there son, your stronger than this. If you don’t wake up son they are going to kill you.”

James over hears what Agent Moore had said.

“Sir even if they do take him off the machines his body won’t let him die.”

“You don’t understand James, STRIKE has made a formula that will kill him. Now they think he is not useful they are going to get rid of him unless we can wake him up.”

James is taken back by the information he is told. He always had seen Spartan as a person who could stand up to Icon himself. To know that a simple formula could kill him is just crazy.

Jonathan held his son’s hand praying that his son would wake. While holding Mark’s hand a single tear fell from his face and landed on Mark’s hand. A couple of seconds later Jonathan could feel his son’s grip getting tighter. At that moment he knew his son was coming back.

“That's it son wake up. Your not a quitter so don’t give up on me.”

With all the high-tech machines and high profile doctors none of them seemed to be good enough to bring Mark out of his coma than his fathers love.

“Dad can you loosen up on the grip your squeezing my hand a little to hard.” Mark say as he slowly opens up his eyes.

“I knew you would wake up.” Johnathan tells his son as he gets up and gives his son a loving embrace.

James also makes his way to Mark’s side with a smile on his face. “Spartan sir it’s good to see you’re finally up. I and your dad has…”

As James is going to continue Major Lee and two other scientist walks in and he stops talking. Major Lee sees Spartan on the bed with his eyes open, he was nothing short of surprise.

“Spartan great to see you’re up and kicking.”

Jonathan couldn’t believe how fake Major Lee is.

“So my boy, are you ready to get back on the bandwagon?”

“Sir I don’t know what has happened to me but I do know that I’m in no condition to go back on duty.” Just waking out of a coma Mark’s mind maybe functioning but his body is far from ready.

This was not the answer Major Lee wants to hear.

“Very well then we wouldn’t want you going on the field and not being 100%. Get some rest and come to me once you’re ready.”

Truth is he doesn’t care about his health. With him being up it saves him a lot of money from starting the Spartan project again.

“Get well.” Major Lee says as he leaves the room.

The tension that was in the room seemed to leave as Major Lee did.

“So now that you got a little R and R coming your way what are you going to do Spartan?”

Mark didn’t answer the question right away he was tired and his body is still recovering. For him to have been in a coma for a month and able to move around and talk with no problems is a miracle it self.

“Right now I just want to rest. Oh and James my name is not Spartan, its Mark.”

[Byrd Man]

I look over at Blur and the only thing I can do is smile. I thought I knew how to make an entrance but he showed me.

“I hope you all have your running shoes on because after I win this I don’t want to hear no excuses.”

“Please, after I win this I’m going to ask them to get a statue of me right here in the middle of the park.” Kid quick replies.

I gaze over at Pulse’s direction wondering if he was going to make a comment himself but he didn’t. He just grabs his helmet and places it on his head.

Boy these guys have no clue how prepared for this race I am. I made this new custom just for this occasion. It protects me when I’m running from the effects of using my super speed. Since I can only use two powers at the same time now I don’t worry about that. I can concentrate just on running. This will be the first time I only just used my speed.

The gentleman with the microphone makes his way towards us.

“Okay gang before we get this kicked into another gear we have some jewelry for you all to wear.”

Fours kids then come from the sidelines with arm bracelets in their hands. Each one of the kids hands us the bracelets.

“Those arm bands if you will, that you will be wearing are made to fallow your positions during the race so we know who is winning, losing or if you happen to get off course. The rules of the race are simple. In order to win you must go around the world 4 times fallowing the track that has been made for you all to fallow. If you happen to need to make a pit stop that is no problem at all. But just know where ever the location is you got off course you must return to that spot and in order to continue racing. Who ever pass the finish line first wins and all proceeds will go to whatever charity of their choosing. Most importantly they will be known as the Fast Person Alice! I mean Alive!”

I know he feels like crap right about now.

I then slap on the bracelet devise and get down in a racing position. I look over at the Blur. Even if I lose I got to stay close to him I have to be right on him.

I slap the braclet on my wrist and then look over at Youngster.

"So, how's it going? I haven't seen you since that whole mess with the aliens. I seem to recall that you're not too fast...well, in comparison with present company."

I throw Youngster a smile. A little pysch-out before a race never hurt anyone.

“If our racers are ready, we'll begin. Runners, take your marks."

I squat down and get into a runner's stance.

"Whatever happens, guys, I want the best runner to win....especially if that runner's name rhymes with Flue Flur. "

"On your marks.....get set.......GO!"

[NiteMare Shape]

http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/cooltext412955943-1.jpg

I make my way into the warehouse through a skylight in the roof, quickly firing a grapple line which snags itself on one of the ceiling girders and I silently swing over to my new perch.

From my hiding spot in the rafters, I quickly assess my suroundings. The warehouse is loaded with storage containers, and if my intel is right those containers are packed with high powered weaponry.

Weapons that I'm going to have to destroy.

Fortunately, Midas made it easy for me. There are only two gaurds, not counting The Franchise.

Hidden high in the rafters, I watch the gaurds make their way through the twisted maze of storage containers...and I wait. I wait for one of the gaurds to pass directly below me, then I step from my perch and plummet toward the ground, the slack in my grappel line snapping tight a mere few feet from the ground.

The gaurd never saw me coming.

I land directly behind him, hitting him with a hard chop in the back of the neck that drops him. While he is down, I bind his arms and legs, knocking him out of this fight, then I rappel myself back up to the rafters where I get ready to make my next move.

Moving through the shadows in the rafters, I make my way toward the center of the warehouse. Haven taken out one gaurd, I now only have to worry about the second gaurd and the Franchise.

Franchise is a dangerous man, despite his flashy demeanor he is not someone to be taken lightly. I keep this in mind as I drop down to take care of the second gaurd.

I am about to drop the gaurd when suddenly the sound of thunder errupts inside the warehouse. Instinctively, I duck, looking around for the source of the sudden distraction. When I bring my eyes back around to the gaurd I had been ready to pounce upon, I find him laying on the floor with a smoking hole in his chest.

"That was a warning shot, friend. You won't get another one."

I look toward the source of the voice, and I find Franchise, standing on top of some of the storage crates which hold the weapons Midas has been hiding in this warehouse...pointing a gun that has the firepower of a small cannon, directly at me.

[Eddie Brock]

THE CITIZEN

Jonathan Winters is roused by the feeling of someone grabbing him roughly and pulling him out of the van. His head is throbbing, and he doesn't remember what happened after he agreed to go along with these Spectre people. Still dazed, Jonathan has to squint when the burlap sack is pulled off his head. As his eyes adjust, he realizes that he's standing inside a military hangar - or at least what looks like one.

"I apologize for our methods, Jonathan," the man in sunglasses announces calmly. He walks up behind Jonathan and undoes his handcuffs finally. Jonathan had forgotten he was wearing them. "It occurs to me that I never formally introduced myself," the man continues as he walks in front of Jonathan. "My name is Phillip Hanson, and you can just call me Hanson."

Jonathan's expression doesn't change. "You work for Spectre?"

Hanson smiles. "Indeed, I do. I suppose you could say that I'm part of Human Resources. This hangar, leased through a corporation under Spectre's control, operates as one of our many field offices across the globe," Hanson explains. "At any given time, Spectre is running a multitude of independent operations in various areas around the world."

"What is Spectre?" Jonathan asks, clearly unimpressed so far.

"That's the real question, isn't it?" Hanson answers with a smirk. "Of course, you're asking me to generalize a massive organization in a matter of a few words, so you'll forgive me if I seem a bit vague. Simply put, Spectre is a collection of like-minded individuals pursuing a common interest through any means necessary."

A terrorist organization, Jonathan muses. It makes sense why they would be interested in him. After all, he is one of the few American-born terrorists. "What common interest might that be?" Jonathan asks curiously.

Hanson grins. "Well, your adherence to radical communism is well-documented, Jonathan. It was all over the news during your trial," he explains. He throws his arm around Jonathan's shoulder and continues, "Spectre simply wants to give you the tools you need to bring about the overthrow of the capitalist regime."

Jonathan stares at Hanson. He's no fool. They don't give a damn about the revolution. All they want is chaos. Still, this group had gone to all the trouble of getting Jonathan out of prison, so he owed them that much. Besides, even though Spectre has ulterior motives, they're not stopping Jonathan from pursuing his personal interests. "Perhaps we can make a deal," Jonathan says finally.

***

"You're really sure it sounded good?" I ask, referring to my speech at the dedication ceremony. Katherine is in the bathroom getting ready for bed as I hold the Amulet in my hands. "I thought I might've come off a little strong, honestly." I hear the bathroom door start to open, so I quickly tuck the Amulet under my socks and close my drawer.

"You sounded great," Katherine assures me. "Very official." She walks up to me and gives me a quick kiss before making her way towards the bed.

I smirk. I can't tell you how nice it is to have Katherine to come home to. It really makes the daily grind just a little less draining. "Okay. I trust you. I just wish that Tom was as reassuring. He worries about every little detail to a point where I think it's starting to rub off on me."

Katherine groans. "Oh, please, don't become like him. Tom does his job very well, but if you ever become as bad as he is, I will divorce you on the spot," she threatens. She takes out her earrings and puts them in the jewelry box next to the bed.

I laugh. "I promise. Besides, I just don't get it." I take off my shoes and socks, throwing the latter into the hamper for washing. "How do you go through life so afraid of everything? I've always found that the world isn't nearly as bad as everyone makes it out to be."

[Rain Dog]

http://img70.imageshack.us/img70/1755/survivorcp7.png
“You humans are a plague,
A wretched plague on this Earth!
And it is through your many evils
That you have given birth
To me and my kin!
And by the very souls within
Your hideous vessels,
You shall be destroyed!
You must be destroyed!
You shall be destroyed!
You must be destroyed!”

“Hosanna, Messiah! Hossana, Messiah!”


http://image.wetpaint.com/image/2/9agJrv_hv8_9r_Zvq94agQ7958/GW201H201
“A false idol you follow,
Your ‘Cosmic Messiah’,
What has he done to earn your respect?
Come with us now, children,
We’ll lead you to freedom,
Take our hands now and your souls we’ll protect!
You are free to choose the path that you’ll follow,
Though we feel that it’s our duty to say,
That should you continue with your Cosmic Messiah
My brother and I shall make sure that YOU PAY!
YOU SHALL BE DESTROYED!”

“YOU MUST BE DESTROYED!”

“Hosanna, Messiah! Hosanna, Messiah!”

“YOU SHALL BE DESTROYED!”

“YOU MUST BE DESTROYED!”

“Hosanna, Messiah! Hosanna, Messiah!”

“ENOUGH!!”

…
Em --------------------------------------D
“LEAVE THIS PLACE NOW, UNHOLY NEGATIVES!
C7 -------------------------------C#7
I BANISH YOU MONSTERS TO ANOTHER REALM!
G ------------------------Bb
DEFILE MY TEMPLE NO LONGER YE DEMONS!
F ---------------------------B
I BANISH YOU INTO DARK OBLIVION!!!”

Lights. Sparks. Fire. Smoke. Darkness. Curtains. Silence. Thunderous applause.

“And that brothers and sisters, is how our great Revered defeated the Negatives that attacked our congregation those many months ago. And it is not coincidence that shortly afterwards, the horrible Atrocities of Arlaaek took place. Luckily, through his divine power, Madlove sheltered, protected, and healed us so that we may sit here today. Please give our performers another round of applause, they have but on a great production for all of us today. And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce the great man we are all here to see, the one, the only, the Cosmic Messiah, Reverend MADLOVE!!!”

I fired off a few weak bolts of energy to treat my lovely children to a light show. I was invisible to them, thanks to the fog machines. I stepped out the thick white mist, enshrouded in a silvery cloak that was quickly pulled off by two scantily clad female assistant. As I’m revealed to the crowd, my eardrums almost burst as the overwhelming sound of their screams fill the Church. It was nearly impossible to fit them all inside now. They were crammed together, wall to wall, the seats were filled, the aisles were filled, and many were pressed against the stage and back walls.

“Live to love!” I shout into the microphone.

“And love to live!” they shout unanimously.

“My babies, it is my great pleasure to announce…that we are moving. That’s right. Construction of the House of Madlove is officially underway!!! We will have our own mansion—our own castle in the hub of Lost Haven, to live, love, and worship together—everyone of us!”

More ear-shattering screams. I begin to see tears streaming down the faces of a few in the front rows.

“Our dreams come closer and closer to being realized, my children! Soon everyone shall see what we have accomplished and more and more people will join our cause. And some day, some grand day, the whole world shall join us in ascending into the cosmos! Global Enlightenment!”

A few faint. Nothing to be concerned about, that merely means I’m doing well.

“And to celebrate this momentous occasion, I give you famed musician and our beloved brother, Cade Belton who has recently signed a record deal with a major studio!”

The crowd applauds the young man as he steps onto the stage with an acoustic guitar strapped around him. He gives me a smile and bows his head as I step away from the mic. The boy has helped me more than he knows. And with that record deal, he’s bound to send my message to more young, naïve ears. As he takes to the mic and begins to strum his instrument, I look out to the mesmerized audience. And I shed a tear. My Empire. My beautiful Empire.

[Hound55]

Isaac bundled together his work, consumed the contents of the last opened bottle and wandered through his house and out the door to the adjacent garage in a haze. He was already dressed for his "work trip" and had gear awaiting his departure under the driver's seat. The artificial beep of the garage door pierced the silence and he reversed out of the driveway and made for where his previous days of research directed him.

Streetlights blurred as if viewed through a soft focussed lens as he powered through the early evening traffic. He had a fair ways to go and an uncharacteristic lack of patience to get the answers he sought.

Later

Fontaine pulled up his car down a sidestreet a half a block from his destination, it was a minor hassle generally worth the effort of not leaving his car out the front of where he would be. Isaac switched the plates on the rear, and stuck on a new laminated registration. This was again, generally worth the effort.

Folders were stuffed up his tracksuit top, until the top slid inside a strap and the bottom rested snugly and securely on a half-pouch, Isaac threw his pack on and grabbed his grapple gun before striding down the the empty street to the target building.

Reaching the building he looked up and sighed, "Very. Very. Exposed." he thought to himself and looked around the surrounds of the building. Seeing the headlights of a car he sprinted around the corner to the cover of darkness on the near side of the building. The car past without noticing him and Isaac calmed himself. Looking up the building he counted the desired number of floors off and aimed his grapple gun upwards. "C'mon... first time, this time." Very deliberately he took deep breaths and fired in between two of them, the hook shot upwards pulling with it a thin strong cable and hit... nothing. Isaac stepped backwards as the cable fell quietly into the grass just in front of him leaving a sizeable divot. Isaac merely sighed, retracted the cable quickly and took aim again.

Twice more it had the same result before it eventually stuck. It caught the right balcony this time too, much to his surprise.

Isaac, checked his gear was all secure before retracting the cable and letting the powerful new winch mechanism on this grapple gun pull him up the building.

Isaac was now around the corner from his target, albeit on the same floor now. Isaac took the spare hook from his pack and attached it to one of the jimmy-sticks in his pack and holstered his grapple gun. Once again checking his gear was secure he stood on the edge of the balcony, his gloved left hand feeling for the security of the side of the building... as if he was checking it was still there.

Taking a deep breath he lunged out and threw the hooked stick out to catch the balcony of the next apartment, the stick held and he took his right hand off of his holstered "Plan B" and used both hands to cling to the stick, before pulling himself up and onto the balcony.

Here he rested for a while and panted like a dog which had been trapped in a hot car all day. You have to try all equipment eventually, but you still stress when you're trying it for the first time... at altitude.

The panic over, he then moved on to his next challenge, a cupped hand shielding the light he peered through the window to the front room of the apartment. Not finding what he was wary of he then checked the second wall, then the third.

Nothing.

Still that wasn't too surprising, a guy in his position was hardly going to be concerned about his safety to have himself a home security system, he'd considered it a 50/50 shot to start with... but its always best to view these things with caution regardless. Isaac took a lock at the lock on the sliding door.

Unlocked.

This also wasn't overly surprising to him, thinking little about noise he slid the door open and carried his gear into the main room. He put it down by the front door and began to peruse through the eerily normal apartment. He put the stick back in his bag and took out his voice modulator, he knew he had little need for it earlier and it made breathing more difficult when it came to the gymnastics of "coming in the back way".

He strolled into the kitchen and brazenly took a chair, not bothering to check if anyone was home. He knew he needn't bother. If the occupant was home, he'd have known about his presence already, Isaac had made ample noise to make his presence felt if there was anyone around to feel it. He took the chair back to the front room, positioned it so that the back faced the front door and sat on it backwards so that he could rest his chin, knowing he could be in for a long wait.

Footsteps coming from the hall outside of the door disproved the possibility of a long wait, though. The sound of keys jostling outside of the door were followed by the turning of the door handle.

Relying heavily on familiarity whilst addressing a man who could literally kill him before he knew what happened, his artificially altered voice pierced the darkness "Scott... I want a word with you..."

[Eddie Brock]

THE CITIZEN

"Wake up, Jonathan," Hanson says softly. Jonathan opens his eyes, and Hanson smiles. "The operation was a success. Go on. Stand up." Jonathan sits up straight before swinging his legs around the side of the operating table. He hops off the table energetically. "The bio-genetic enhancements have vastly improved your strength and durability. We also have another surprise for you."

Hanson turns around and opens a large metal case. Reaching inside, he pulls out two familiar items. He places them in Jonathan's waiting hands.

"This hammer and this sickle will augment your abilities," Hanson explains. "And they also respond to your natural biorhythms to pack an extra punch."

Jonathan holds the two weapons in his hands eagerly. He can feel the energy flowing through him. He's a changed man now. So much better than what he ever was. Meeting Hanson's eyes, Jonathan asks, "What do I do now?"

"We've turned you into the ultimate symbol for the communist ideology. It's only fitting that your first task is to eliminate a capitalist icon."

***

"Hello, Martha!" I announce pleasantly, greeting my secretary. "Is that a new sweater?"

Martha smiles from her desk. "Yes, it is, Mr. Mayor. Thank you for noticing! Congratulations on the pregnancy," she adds happily. "That must be so exciting!"

"It is." I make my way into my office and hang up my jacket next to the door. Just another day at the office. I start up my computer as I place today's newspaper on my desk. I scan the headlines for anything particularly interesting. Nothing jumps out at me. Looks like it's going to be a slow day.

I'm right about it being slow until just after lunch. I settle into my office when the entire building shakes. I stay completely still for a moment, and then the building shakes again. I press the intercom and ask, "Martha, what's going on out there?"

There's silence on the other end of the line for a moment. Then, "Something's going on downstairs!"

I frown. Sounds like the Citizen is needed. Grabbing my jacket, I exit my office at a brisk pace. "Hold my calls," I instruct Martha as I pass. I duck into the stairwell and make for the roof. Once there, I remove my suit, revealing my costume underneath. After hiding my folded suit behind an air conditioning unit, I jump off the roof and fly through the front doors to City Hall.

"I'm going to have to ask you to stop what you're doing, sir."

The leather-clad man turns to face me.

http://img11.imageshack.us/img11/2148/themarxistredesign1.png

"Citizen! Just the man I was looking for!"

[NiteMare Shape]

http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/cooltext428410933.png
No More




Scott makes his way up the stairs of his apartment building with a million swimming through his mind. He is unable to believe the events of today. The conversation with Kelly keeps replaying in his mind, and each time he goes through it, he thinks of something else that he should have said...anything but admit the truth.

He kicks himself for not resisting more, for allowing her to wrestle the truth from him so easily, but he wonders if part of him didn't want to tell her...to let someone know the truth, someone that he could confide in.

And he resists the thought that if that is the case, perhaps he was wrong in leaving Lost Haven and everyone that he had cared about. Thoughts that he can't entertain, he's made his decision and he can't go back.

He won't go back.

He takes his keys out as he approaches his door, putting them in the lock and slowly opening the door.

When he enters his apartment he immediately knows something isn't right. It's darker than usual inside, and he can hear someone breathing in the living room.



Footsteps coming from the hall outside of the door disproved the possibility of a long wait, though. The sound of keys jostling outside of the door were followed by the turning of the door handle.

Relying heavily on familiarity whilst addressing a man who could literally kill him before he knew what happened, his artificially altered voice pierced the darkness "Scott... I want a word with you..."

He recognizes the voice in the darkness immediately, and is only slightly surprised. If someone was going to do some digging and actually find him in Salem, it WOULD be him...That's why Scott had done some digging of his own.

"I guess it was just a matter of time before you showed up." Scott says matter of factly, "But I gotta say, breaking and entering...I would have expected more from you, Issac."

[Eddie Brock]

THE CITIZEN

The leather-clad man charges me, and even with my limited precognition, I'm unable to dive out of the way. The man hits me like a freight train, lifting me off my feet and slamming us through the glass doors to City Hall. I take a tumble down the steps leading to the doors as the man comes to a halt. He smirks behind his domino mask. "The revolution has come to your doorstep, friend."

I regain my bearings and hover at eye-level with this man. "Well, since you seem to know who I am, you won't mind me asking who you are."

"Call me the Marxist," the man answers, "And I am the voice of the people! I am the face of the proletariat masses, here to end your reign of tyranny!" Can't knock a man for being passionate about something.

"With all due respect, the Cold War ended a while ago." I launch myself at the Marxist, grabbing him around the waist. I carry him into the air a short distance before slamming him back down in the middle of the street. "I'm something of a history buff myself, but sometimes you have to let things go."

My little maneuver didn't faze the Marxist nearly as much as I was anticipating. He's able to land a clean hit against my cheek with that hammer of his. For a second there, I'm almost positive that the hammer glowed red when it connected. Might explain why it seemed to hurt just a little bit more. I see his second swing in my mind's eye, and my reflexes take over the rest.

I catch the hammer in my hand. Marxist looks confused for a second. He didn't see that coming. He raises his sickle and slashes it downward. I'm forced to release the hammer in order to keep my hand. Marxist jabs the hammer forward, hitting me in the sternum with the flat end. It's not a pleasant feeling. It also causes me to get knocked back off of him, allowing him to recover.

"You want to talk about history? How about the history of all the blood shed by your capitalist regime? How about the sweat on the brow of the working class, slaving away so you can live in decadence?"

Swinging the hammer over his head, Marxist nearly splits my skull open. I'm saved only by quick thinking and quicker reflexes. Dodging to the left, I blind the Marxist with a bright flash of light. I grab the wrist of his hand that's holding the sickle and twist it behind his back. He's forced to drop the weapon, which arguably has the potential to do more damage to me.

"You know, communism's got a little black book of its own," I remind him. He spins around, undoing my hold, and punches me with the handle of the hammer. Christ, he's strong. Before I have time to react, he brings a knee into my ribcage. I double over in pain. He brings the hammer down on my back, and I fall flat on my face.

The Marxist smiles. "I should have expected as much from bourgeoisie scum," he scoffs, circling me like a vulture. He picks up his sickle and runs the blade along the flat side of his hammer. "Not used to working with your hands. You're soft." He raises the sickle up over his head, and I see the rest of the attack with my precognition.

I roll over and catch the blade between my hands. "Soft?" I repeat. I land a kick into Marxist's abdomen, and he looses his grip on the sickle. I hop to my feet, spinning around, and wrap the blade around the back of his neck. "Not so tough now, huh? Wanna call me soft again?"

To my surprise, he merely laughs. His laugh grows in intensity, and I find myself wondering what's so funny. "I told you that you were soft! You won't do it. You won't kill me. You can, but you won't." He stares into my eyes through his domino mask. "That is why you're soft."

I see it in my mind's eye a split-second before it happens. Marxist thrusts the hammer upwards from underneath my arm, connecting with my elbow. My arm bends out of shape with a sickening crunch, and I drop the sickle. My arm is flopping around like a wet noodle. He shattered my elbow.

Marxist drops his hammer and begins laying into me with haymaker after haymaker. Having only one working arm to defend myself, I'm nearly helpless against the blows. In a desperate act of self-preservation, I unleash a blinding flash from my body. The Marxist is forced to relent, and I stumble backwards. I nearly trip and fall over the hood of a parked car.

I look down at the car, then back at the stunned Marxist. If I'm going to do what I think I'm going to do, I have to do it quickly. I can't afford to let the Marxist recover. With my working left arm, I grab the car from underneath its front bumper. Despite the immense strain it puts on my arm and upper body, I lift the car with only my one arm and swing it around at the Marxist. He opens his eyes just in time to see the blur of metal headed his way.

My arm gives out from the strain right after I connect with the Marxist. Fortunately, I think it was enough. The Marxist lays in a heap a few yards down the street, barely conscious. I walk over to him, right arm still hanging helplessly. "Score one for capitalism." I summon up the strength for one good left cross, and it knocks the Marxist out.

I look down at my shattered elbow. Looks like I won't be forgetting the Marxist anytime soon.

[wiegeabo]

"Very funny!"

The Director looks up from the file he's bent over as I burst into his office and slam the door behind me. Alberts is there too, bent over the Director's desk. They don't move as a begin to rant and rage, instead they just follow me with their eyes.

"Very freaking funny. Bet you and your boy toy here got a nice kick out of it. Oh, and Hawkes! HAHAHAHA! Oh man, that guy can ACT! Sold it perfectly. 'Don't do anything I wouldn't do.' And then he plants one, oh, not so obvious I'd find it too easy. But easy enough that I spend all night tearing my place apart looking for others."

They just continue to stare.

"Oh, hold that look I want to remember this." I use my hands to frame them like I'm holding a camera. "Click. Priceless. You guys...you guys. Best actors in the world. I've seen professional con men who can't carry this as well as you do." I spin the chair around and sit down on it backwards. "Bravo." I start slow clapping. "Bravo."

The Director closes the file they were reading. He leans back in his chair, straightens his tie, and looks me right in the eyes. "Cole...just what in the HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!" The rage he throws at me catches me off guard and scoot back an inch without meaning to.

"You dare to march in here, interrupt official business, make a damn fool of yourself, and accuse me of...accuse me of...just what the hell are you accusing me of?!"

Now it's my turn to get angry. "Stop it! Just stop it. You don't have to play anymore. You don't trust me, fine. I get that. I get this." I slam my foot on his desk and pull up my pant leg so he can see the tracking anklet. "But you don't have to bug my apartment!"

The Director shoots to his feet. "Get your damn foot off my-wait, what?"

I pull my foot down, reach into my pocket, and throw the device onto his desk.

The Director slowly sits down. "Alberts." Alberts rushes over to the other side of the desk. He picks the bug up and starts examining it. The Fat Man slides his chair over and paws the bug as well.

"Uh...guys?"

The two look at each other, then at me, then at each other again. The Director presses a button on his phone. "Hawkes, get in here now."

It only takes a few seconds for Hawkes to come strolling in. He likes to pretend his in control of the situation, even when he clearly isn't. It irritates the hell out of all of us. But since it irritates the Director too, I put up with it.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" The Director holds the device up for Hawkes to see. Hawkes raises and eyebrow and saunters over, taking the device in his hand. "Ah, yes. The good ol' G-42's. Reliable, efficient, powerful..."

"I knew it!"

"Knew wh-...wait, this isn't a 42." Hawkes sits down. "This is a...48?!"

I glance at everyone. "What's a 48?"

Hawkes just keeps examining the bug as he answers. "A G-48k listening device. This is beyond top of the line, sir. I've been putting in requests for 44's for months, but keep getting turned down." He glares at Alberts. "They're too expensive."

"Who uses G-48's?" The Director asks.

Hawkes shakes his head. "No one. This is at least two generations beyond what's out there. No one should have this stuff. Not the NSA, not the CIA, no one."

"Well someone does."

"Where'd this come from?"

"My apartment, as if you didn't know."

Hawkes' eyebrows shoot up and he looks at the others. "Your apartment."

"Yeah."

"Hawkes..."

"On it."

"On what? What's going on?"

Hawkes stops me, sticking the bug in my face. "If you'd listen instead of talk you'd realize that we didn't plant this."

"But..."

"And now you get it. Someone knows about you."

[Hound55]

He recognizes the voice in the darkness immediately, and is only slightly surprised. If someone was going to do some digging and actually find him in Salem, it WOULD be him...That's why Scott had done some digging of his own.

"I guess it was just a matter of time before you showed up." Scott says matter of factly, "But I gotta say, breaking and entering...I would have expected more from you, Issac."

"Please..."

"...your door was open, its just 'entering'. Gimme a little credit..."

Great, he knows your name... Well, the guy can hear a scream for help across a city's bustling noise. Let's not be too surprised. Don't let him know that it bothers you...

"...and I'd recommend you speak to the building inspector or super about getting some more fire escapes put in. While its probably not such an issue for you, I'd wager your neighbours can't really get the same kind of hangtime when they jump off their balconies if their stove is on fire."

So he knows... Calm yourself and stick to the spiel...


"But we both know I didn't come out here to check your new home for building code violations..."

[trustyside-kick]

OOC: Previously (http://forums.superherohype.com/showpost.php?p=18273929&postcount=33)...

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v643/dhunter22/archangelbanner1.jpg

Lost Haven
10 Minutes from Now

Here I am, face to face with the monster who abducted Grace. The only positive side of this, is that Grace remains unharmed...and fully clothed. Sebastian Blake. Big philanthropist on account of the fact that he has investments in the forming of some of the biggest companies across the world. How he could accumulate that money and be so wide spread is a mystery to me. Supposably through his families line but...his supposed father, grandfather, great grandfather, and so on...for at least 4-5 centuries look exactly like him. Like...you'd swear looking at the photos you see the same face, and same age...and there's few records or photos of them to begin with. So Sebastian Blake surely is a mystery, but frankly not one I care to solve right now.

It's time to save the day.

Grace remains blindfolded, shrieking in terror with muffled screams and noises as she is gagged as well, tied and laying down in the luxury suite I am now standing in. This man is a psycho, a psycho who for some reason is obsessed with me. So obsessed that he takes away Grace, not to rape and murder her like he did the rest of the three girls who went missing in the past almost month, but just to draw me out. No wonder he has been going to my art galleries all this time. But why he bothered to rape and kill those women in the mean time is beyond me.

As I said. This guy's a full blown psychopath with a facade that has everyone convinced he is some sophisticated philantropist.

Who knows.

Maybe he actually is both. As crazy as it sounds. He has yet to strike me, and I have yet to move. He just stands there before me, in a white button down shirt, with some strange clothing clearly hidden beneath. Is that guantlets bulging around his forearms?

"If you wanted my attention, there are plenty of ways to go about that. E-mail, Facebook, MSN...this is the 21st Century buddy. But the fact that you raped and murdered three women and took hostage my...ex-girlfriend is nothing short of sadistic."

Grace's tears run down her blindfolded face, and I can hear her soft wimperings. My fists clench and all the psycho does it laugh in front of my face.

"Hahaha, Michael. Yes, in the end this was all about you. But don't begin to think those three dead women's blood are on your hands. And believe me..."

He starts to untie his shirt, and slowly take it off. Tossing the shirt aside, he looks over at Grace, with an uncontrollably look of lust as he looks at her before quickly shrudding it off and looking back at me.

"...what happened with those women was entire consensual. They loved me so much...they desired to give their lives for me. They served a greater purpose. I...loved them, and they me. It was a beautiful sacrament."

"What did you do to them exactly?"

Sebastian chuckles a bit, brushing his hair back in a sophisticated fashion that only annoys me more than he already was as he acts so proper while admitting to such a sadistic act.

"You are sure to find out soon enough, Michael."


Cathedral of the Holy Cross
Father Damian's Study
Boston, Massachusetts
28 Days Ago

"Three sins remain, Michael. There are but three left."

"...Right. The sooner I find out what I can about them the sooner I can prepare myself."

Turning the book a few pages, he comes to a demon that looks like your standard demon that you've seen all over cartoons, cinema...horns, tail, claws, beard, ears...looks like a demon.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v643/dhunter22/Belphegor.jpg

"Many believe that the demon Belphegor and his spreading of the sin Sloth is one of the lesser of the Seven Sins of Man, Michael. But do not become prone to such ideals."

"'Course. I mean, otherwise it wouldn't be one of the 'deadly' sins am I right?"

Of course me trying to shed some light, some comedy, doesn't go well with Father Damian. This is a serious subject, and...I don't know maybe it's the fear within me that I'm trying to fight. I haven't been this shooken up since the alien invasion. Guess I'm just trying to laugh it off. Still thinking about that Lust demon, thinking about what's coming for me.

...Why does this have to happen to me?

...

"To embrace Sloth and not take the joy and pleasure of God's mysterious and beautiful works, is to show you do not appreciate or love God. And that is the greater sin of Sloth, Michael. One who embraces Sloth has no love or care for God. The one who will come to you...will surely be a torture soul to have such a lack of faith."

I don't say what I'm thinking, but it's something along the lines of this: Perrrrrrrfect. Just Perrrfect. I was worried about whoever that Lust demon would send but now apparently the one this Sloth demon is gonna have chase my tail is going to be like the Anti-Christ or something.

"How do I beat him? How can I overcome that, when what drives me to fight is my Faith?"

"Be very diligent, Michael. Take hold of the virtue of Diligence. This creature that you will face, will cause you such pain you are going to lose hope, and more importantly lose faith. Do not give up, Michael. No matter what. Don't. Give. Up."

He brings my attention to the second to last demon who represents one of the Seven Deadly Sins of Man. Looks like what many people think a sea monster would look like back in the old days. Dragon-hydra-lochness monsters looking demon pretty much is a way to describe how it looks.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v643/dhunter22/Leviathan.jpg

"Levianthan is not just one of the seven princes but Hell, but also its Gatekeeper. To dwell in Envy like Levianthan is similar to that of Mammon and embracing Greed. The difference is Envy is much more broad. But to defeat the one who comes at you with great Envy in his or her heart, you do not embrace the same virtue. Rather than using Charity for this sin you would be wise to counter it with Kindness. Someone who feels great Envy is often times because of a lack of love and kindness in their lives. So much like Charity, only compassion and unconditional love for their sake."

"Sounds like you're saying I need to show someone who is trying to kill me...love? I'm supposed to just be 'oh its okay, I forgive you for trying to kill me, how about a hug'? I'm not trying to ridicule you, Father, but that sounds ludicrous."

"Did you not show such kindness to that mugger you told me about? Before you were even fully bestowed with the Archangel State you stood up to a man with a gun and instead of fighting him you showed him great compassion. You looked at his situation and prayed for his sake."

He's got a point. Wow. If I could do that without powers...maybe this won't be so hard. Need to stop worrying so much. Yea, that's right.

I can take it. Now just 1 more demon, sin, and virtue to go over. Gotta be honest right now I'm feeling pretty good.

[NiteMare Shape]

"Please..."

"...your door was open, its just 'entering'. Gimme a little credit..."

Great, he knows your name... Well, the guy can hear a scream for help across a city's bustling noise. Let's not be too surprised. Don't let him know that it bothers you...

"...and I'd recommend you speak to the building inspector or super about getting some more fire escapes put in. While its probably not such an issue for you, I'd wager your neighbours can't really get the same kind of hangtime when they jump off their balconies if their stove is on fire."

So he knows... Calm yourself and stick to the spiel...


"But we both know I didn't come out here to check your new home for building code violations..."


Scott just looks at Isaac and shakes his head.

"Yeah, I know why you're here. I'm sorry you wasted your time...I'm not going back. I'm done." Scott says as he prepares for the unfiltered verbal assault he knows he is about to endure.

[Hound55]

Scott just looks at Isaac and shakes his head.

"Yeah, I know why you're here. I'm sorry you wasted your time...I'm not going back. I'm done." Scott says as he prepares for the unfiltered verbal assault he knows he is about to endure.
"I know..."

"But I do want to meet them..."

He pauses for effect and because he wants to soak in that "What the hell is he talking about" expression he can see on ex-Icon's face.

"...I'd like to meet the people who are worth between 18..."

With that said he reached under his top and pulled ou the first of the two folders dropping it at the-Hero-formerly-known-as-Icon's feet.

"April 3rd, last year. The least amount of people you've saved in a day since you decided to don some blue garb doing that thing you do... Sorry. Did."

"...and 532 people per day."

With that he dropped the second at his feet.

"Yeah, I flicked through some papers. Numbers're padded a little because you saved a 747 full of people, but a life's a life. That'd be your busiest day's work, from what I saw... outside of that whole alien invasion thing of course where technically you were a part of saving 3-point-something billion."


"So yeah... I'd love to meet the people who are worth between 18 and 500-odd people PER DAY. Because I know quite a few people but, *chuckles* I don't know anyone like that."

[NiteMare Shape]

"I know..."

"But I do want to meet them..."

He pauses for effect and because he wants to soak in that "What the hell is he talking about" expression he can see on ex-Icon's face.

"...I'd like to meet the people who are worth between 18..."

With that said he reached under his top and pulled ou the first of the two folders dropping it at the-Hero-formerly-known-as-Icon's feet.

"April 3rd, last year. The least amount of people you've saved in a day since you decided to don some blue garb doing that thing you do... Sorry. Did."

"...and 532 people per day."

With that he dropped the second at his feet.

"Yeah, I flicked through some papers. Numbers're padded a little because you saved a 747 full of people, but a life's a life. That'd be your busiest day's work, from what I saw... outside of that whole alien invasion thing of course where technically you were a part of saving 3-point-something billion."


"So yeah... I'd love to meet the people who are worth between 18 and 500-odd people PER DAY. Because I know quite a few people but, *chuckles* I don't know anyone like that."



Scott stands there in silence for a moment, letting Isaac's words sink in.

They hit him like a hammer, the shockwave of his former teammate's words reverberating in his head. Scott can't help but to think that maybe Isaac is right.

But this is a decision that Scott made. Not only had he failed to protect the people who meant the most to him in this world, but he let his desire for vengance take control of him. When he found his sister's killer he beat him within an inch of his life...he was going to kill him.He wanted to kill him, it was only when Haze intervened, killing Riot before Scott had the chance that he stopped. It was on that day that he stopped being a hero...it was that day that Icon died.

"You don't understand..." Scott says, searching for the right words, until he decides to abandon this line of argument altogether.

"Look Isaac, I appreciate what you're doing. But I'm no hero. Not anymore." He pauses for a moment.

"And it's not like those people out there don't have anyone watching over them. The Guardians can handle anything that comes along. You don't need me Isaac, and they don't either."

[Hound55]

Scott stands there in silence for a moment, letting Isaac's words sink in.

They hit him like a hammer, the shockwave of his former teammate's words reverberating in his head. Scott can't help but to think that maybe Isaac is right.

But this is a decision that Scott made. Not only had he failed to protect the people who meant the most to him in this world, but he let his desire for vengance take control of him. When he found his sister's killer he beat him within an inch of his life...he was going to kill him.He wanted to kill him, it was only when Haze intervened, killing Riot before Scott had the chance that he stopped. It was on that day that he stopped being a hero...it was that day that Icon died.

"You don't understand..." Scott says, searching for the right words, until he decides to abandon this line of argument altogether.

"Look Isaac, I appreciate what you're doing. But I'm no hero. Not anymore." He pauses for a moment.

"And it's not like those people out there don't have anyone watching over them. The Guardians can handle anything that comes along. You don't need me Isaac, and they don't either."
"Heh... We're not heroes anymore."

"We stopped being heroes the second we began accepting Government funding... We became something else."

"A hero is a man who pushes himself to the limits of his will for the betterment of society. Determined by a true moral compass. Outside 'investors' can only taint that..."

Isaac raises himself from the seat, turning it as if to offer putting it back in the kitchen and then as if sensing a visual cue from the ex-Icon he left it in the middle of the room.

"At best we're an elite specialised police force... at worst, we're mercenaries."

"And that's the extended reason why we need you... Even beyond the 18 to 500-odd. The people need to know that the one powered person they knew and trusted perfectly prior to us uniting is providing his moral compass."

Isaac turned and continued whilst walking towards the sliding door.

"You want to know what heroes DON'T do..? They don't curse out an entire hall full of thousands of kids in front of tv cameras..."

With this he chuckled as he continued to shuffle towards the door.

"These people don't need me. I help, but they don't NEED me. They need something to get behind. They need a symbol they can believe in."

With this he put his hand on the sliding door's handle and turned back to his former teammate. And gave a rare kind of smile, from behind a balaklava more fitting for a dark grin.

The smile of a friend.


"...And you ARE the Icon."

[NiteMare Shape]

"Heh... We're not heroes anymore."

"We stopped being heroes the second we began accepting Government funding... We became something else."

"A hero is a man who pushes himself to the limits of his will for the betterment of society. Determined by a true moral compass. Outside 'investors' can only taint that..."

Isaac raises himself from the seat, turning it as if to offer putting it back in the kitchen and then as if sensing a visual cue from the ex-Icon he left it in the middle of the room.

"At best we're an elite specialised police force... at worst, we're mercenaries."

"And that's the extended reason why we need you... Even beyond the 18 to 500-odd. The people need to know that the one powered person they knew and trusted perfectly prior to us uniting is providing his moral compass."

Isaac turned and continued whilst walking towards the sliding door.

"You want to know what heroes DON'T do..? They don't curse out an entire hall full of thousands of kids in front of tv cameras..."

With this he chuckled as he continued to shuffle towards the door.

"These people don't need me. I help, but they don't NEED me. They need something to get behind. They need a symbol they can believe in."

With this he put his hand on the sliding door's handle and turned back to his former teammate. And gave a rare kind of smile, from behind a balaklava more fitting for a dark grin.

The smile of a friend.


"...And you ARE the Icon."


Scott stands there listening to Isaac's words giving voice to his own concerns about the Guardian Act, and accepting government funding for the superhero team.

As well as other concerns.

As Isaac speaks about the people needing him as a symbol, again he finds himself facing the same conflict that he has been fighting since he left Lost Haven.

Deep down, he knows that Isaac is right...He is needed more than he'd like to admit. He knows this, yet chooses to ignore this simple fact.

He made his choices.

He can't go back, he can't become what he once was.

Can he?

Scott stands there in his apartment with his former teamate, absorbing everything that the Vgilante had said, unable to make heads nor tails of any of it...unable to think clearly on the matter.

Finally, he just shakes his head and looks to Isaac.

"I'll think about it, Isaac...that's all I can promise you now."

[Hound55]

Scott stands there listening to Isaac's words giving voice to his own concerns about the Guardian Act, and accepting government funding for the superhero team.

As well as other concerns.

As Isaac speaks about the people needing him as a symbol, again he finds himself facing the same conflict that he has been fighting since he left Lost Haven.

Deep down, he knows that Isaac is right...He is needed more than he'd like to admit. He knows this, yet chooses to ignore this simple fact.

He made his choices.

He can't go back, he can't become what he once was.

Can he?

Scott stands there in his apartment with his former teamate, absorbing everything that the Vgilante had said, unable to make heads nor tails of any of it...unable to think clearly on the matter.

Finally, he just shakes his head and looks to Isaac.

"I'll think about it, Isaac...that's all I can promise you now."
"That's all I could ask... and honestly, that's all that I want."

"I wouldn't want even you to be doing this if your heart wasn't in it. We can't "half-arse" it in this line of business."

With this he cringed slightly, realising the heavy British influence of his Terrarian accent, but then shrugged it off, realising he was talking to someone who already knew his name. Well, at least his first name.

"But if you're really serious about this, and you're looking for a fresh start, maybe I could help you some..."

"I happen to know a little bit about, well... 'beginning a low-profile new life'."

"...probably the first two rules would be to change BOTH of my names and to move out of the country where I've operated as one of the most famous public figures of the past decade... but there's more as well."

"We'd have to up and move you again... lose these brand new friends you've had... well... less than a month to grow attached to, and move you out of this country. But I know some people, who know some people who could get you papers... make you truly 'invisible'."

"I mean... I have some systems which work for me in terms of 'finding people who don't want to be found', but I think its a fair bet that my resources are fairly meagre when compared to the people who have been funding us."

"People who have a vested interest in YOU and would certainly have feelers out looking to get you back under their employ by any means necessary."

"As much as I'd want to have you back with us, and believe it's the only RIGHT thing to do, at least I still believe its ultimately up to you."

"That's why I'm saying 'think it over, if you're really serious about this, come let me know', don't ask me how... something tells me you'll find a way, and we'll do this thing properly. It's the least we can do for you after all you've done so far."

"Anyway... something tells me I'm overstaying my welcome. Even more than just by the fact I snuck in through your balcony. Oh... Bag!"

Scott saw the pack by his foot and tossed it to him. Which Fontaine caught and gave a sly grin in return saying.

"Cheers! And one more thing... can the Isaac crap, after all of this I'd hate to have to be the one who goes after you and everyone you care about..."

Isaac pulled the hooked stick out of his bag, and jumped onto the balcony ledge showing far more confidence than he really felt.

"Later." He said as he casually dropped from the balcony, to another unseen across and beneath the former superhero's.

[trustyside-kick]

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v643/dhunter22/archangelbanner1.jpg

Lost Haven
9 Minutes from Now

Sebastian grabs for something behind his back, and I reach for my angel-fire sword. I do not prefer to use it, 'cause the thing seems to be able to be some serious damage but if I have to defend Grace as she remains to be vulnerable to danger while being in this room I will draw my blade. But when all he does is pull out a small dagger, I do not ignite my sword; though I do keep my hand floating above it with caution.

Wonder what he's going to do with it. The victims that were found had no cut marks on their bodies. Maybe this is a new toy of his.

"Being a divine agent of your Lord...just how open-minded are you now, Michael? Do you believe in...rituals?"

He raises the dagger to eye level, but does not threaten me by pointing at me as though he is about to throw it. Instead, he simply gazes at the weapon and looks at it as though he was studying it.

"I've seen my fair share of odd things, but congratulations Blake. I've yet to see something as bizarre as you."

"Me? Bizarre? You speak to me as though I am a...savage. No no...the old Cherokee or Iroquois cretins I'd seldomly indulge upon when I used to make trips overseas at the start of the American Colonies...they were savages."

"...Indulge?"

"It was...I felt the best way to describe it. Hahaha, by the look on your face it would seem you think I eat people, Michael. Of course not. That would be...inhuman of me. The only flesh I take...is my own."

"The heck are you--!!"

He starts to dig the dagger into his chest, freakin' psycho! The entire time he is grinning. In fact, I think his smile goes wider and wider as he continues to carve a circle around his chest.

"Everything, Michael...requires sacrifice."

He starts to carve in an upside-down star and as soon as he is done, suddenly he closes his eyes and his freshly cut wound starts to glow a purplish-red hue. Dropping the knife on the floor, I don't even see it in time he charges at me with such speed and ferocity.

"NOW IS WHEN THE REAL FUN BEGINS!"


Cathedral of the Holy Cross
Father Damian's Study
Boston, Massachusetts
28 Days Ago

Father Damian turns the page to the last page he is going to have to turn. Seeing the picture of the demon before me, I quickly recognize him. He's one of the more popular ones and especially popular in my home state's history. During the Salem Witch trials, the accused witches would claim that it was this demon that influenced them.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v643/dhunter22/Beelzebub.png

"Gluttony can often be viewed as one of the lesser sins much like the sin of Sloth. However Beelzebub is indeed a powerful demon among the rest of the princes of Hell. What makes Gluttony such a sin, is that one starts to eventually lose self-control. Which is precisely why the virtue of Temperance is key to counter such a sin. And that, Michael, is the last of the Seven Deadly Sins of Man. I trust you will do further study on your own now that you are more aware."

"Yes, Father Damian. My main concern is just when they are going to come at me. Hopefully Bath Kol's images will become more and more clear to give me an idea. Guess til then I'm gonna be hitting all kinds of books and resources I can get my hands on."

"Do not forget about the Church, Michael. On different days several seminars and classes are held to help people better embrace good virtues of life."

[Eddie Brock]

http://img580.imageshack.us/img580/429/mantis2copy.png

In all of Vicky's time away, I forgot what it was like to not be the only kid in the house. I also forgot what it was like to live with a girl. Anyway, I tell you this to explain why I'm standing outside the bathroom, waiting patiently with my towel over my shoulder. I'm not going to say it wasn't nice having the bathroom all to myself for so long, but I'm also not annoyed by Vicky's habits or anything. I know how to share.

The door opens, and Vicky steps out followed by a cloud of steam. She's not wearing any makeup - obviously - and I notice a cut on her lower lip. Also, there's what appears to be a bruise on her cheekbone, just below her eye. I guess I never noticed them before because she covered it up with makeup, but it's a little bit alarming.

"What's with the battle scars?" I ask concernedly.

Vicky is a little surprised that I noticed, so she hesitates. And that hesitation is all I needed to hear. "Oh, these?" she says in an attempt to sound casual. She rubs the cut on her lip. "I got involved in an intramural lacrosse league. Great exercise - and a lot of fun - but those girls can be crazy sometimes." She laughs lightly, and if I didn't know her so well, I might buy it.

As Vicky turns and heads for her bedroom, I linger at the door to the bathroom for a moment. When Vicky came home early, I was a little surprised and confused, but I didn't think much of it. However, at dinner that night, she seemed somewhat uncomfortable talking about school. I just figured she had a bad year or something. But now this?

Something's going on with my sister, and I intend on finding out what it is.

***

You're sure you cant come over 2night?

I frown as I read Brooke's text. I hate letting her down, but some things can't be avoided when you lead a double-life. Mantis hasn't gone on patrol in a couple of weeks. I've responded to distress calls when I can, but I haven't set aside time to specifically go out and find crime before it happens. Besides, I'm interested in testing out these new powers and seeing what exactly I can do. I pick up my phone to respond to Brooke.

Sorry. Psych project. You know how it is.

I do have a Psych project, but I finished it hours ago in preparation for tonight. I put down my phone and pick up my mask. Just as I'm about to leave, my phone vibrates on my desk. Man, girls can text fast. Oh well. Whatever Brooke said, it can wait. The night is calling, and I have a responsibility to answer.

[sabetoonth]

http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2010/131/f/c/inferno_banner_by_sabetoonth.jpg
The door clicked and clacked on the other side of the portal before Mitchell swung it open.

“Hey Eli, come on in, I got an interview for ya lined up” Mitch motioned into his apartment, just outside his window you could make out the ruins of an apartment building and then the skyline. Mitch bee-lined into the kitchen of his apartment, sure wasn’t small, but wasn’t big either, just right for a single guy like Mitch. Though it lacked the chaos of Elijah’s apartment; it was clear few women stayed more then a night, if that long. “The job’s right up your ally pal, service industry” Mitchell continued, Elijah gave him a funny look. “What?” Mitchell’s friend simply shook his with a small smirk on his face.

“What kind of service?” Elijah stood in the front room waiting for his friend to ready himself for public presentation. he had been trying to get Elijah a job since he lost it at the paper as a journalist,; hed been interveiwed for jsut about everything, he had tried store clerk, dog catcher, and security guard, nothing stuck.

“Oh nothing, just some warehouse work” Mitch wrapped his tie around his neck and looped it.

“You’re ****ing me?” Elijah blurted out.

“Of course not, we both play for the same team.” The Elijah’s well dressed friend jested.

“Smart ass.” Elijah said plainly. “We need to get going, or we’ll both be late.” Stokes threw Mitch’s coat in his direction and he caught it.
“Nice throw man.”

[Mr. Majestic]

Couple of hours later Mark along with his father and his friend James were in the physical fitness area observing Mark as he was getting use to walking and other normal human functions again. As they are monitoring Mark, James looks over to Mr. Moore.

“Sir if you don’t mind may I ask you a question?”

A little grin appears on Jonathan face.

“It’s about how he’s acting isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I mean you have to admit sir he’s not really acting like his take charge kind of self. He really seems…normal.”

“You have it wrong James this is Mark as himself. What a lot of people don’t know is not only can Mark’s powers affect his body by giving him abilities but it can also affect his mind. When he was young Mark was torn apart trying to live a normal life and also trying to be the solider STRIKE always wanted. The situation was he needed to be two people. One that could be a normal boy and the other that can be the solider STRIKE wanted.”

It all then began to hit James.

“So in order to please everyone his powers kicked in and made a split personality, which explains a lot.”

“So now you know the secret that he has been keeping for so long.”

Before replying James began to think.

“There’s also another secret that he’s keeping.”

Jonathon looks James in the eye not fallowing what he was getting at.

“I don’t understand.” Jonathan replies.

“If what you say is true then something is wrong with Mark, his powers haven’t fully recovered. I’m assuming when he is around you he’s Mark but when he is around anyone from STRIKE he is Spartan. When he woke he told me to call him Mark. So it’s obvious his powers are on the frits.”

“Now that you mention it your right, I was so happy about the fact he finally woke I didn’t even think about that. He would have never told you to call him Mark if he was his normal self. You really are smarter than you look.”

“You have no idea.” Truth is James is one of earth’s top 5 for smartest person in the world.

About an hour later James and Mark and also his father was making there way out of the facility to head home. As they exited the doors Major Lee along with the rest of the Executioners stood outside in front of two issued STRIKE retainer vehicles.

“What is the meaning of this?” Jonathan asks.

“It simple…” Major Lee begins as he puts a cigar in his mouth and lights it. “…I’m here to get the governments property. You didn’t really think we were going to let you just take a break did you? You belong to us that life of you going to school and having friends is only because we allowed it. You can’t even wipe your own ass after taking a **** unless I give the command to do so.”

Marks father thought it might have come to this but he figured that maybe with all the good his son has done they would let him get this break after seeing how much this job has taken it’s toll on his son’s body.

“Officer Stewart apprehend Spartan.”

James stood there not knowing what to do. Spartan was more than his leader he was his friend and now that he knows the truth about his friend he doesn’t want to betray him.

“I’m sorry sir I can’t.”

“Officer Stewart I’m going to tell you one more time. Apprehend Spartan now or you will be going in the second vehicle.” Major Lee orders.

It is obvious by the look on James face that he is conflicted on what choice to make. He then places his hands on the shoulder straps on his book bag and press a button on each one. Then his armor came from out of his book bag and covers his body completely.
http://img101.imageshack.us/img101/1614/supersentinelpreviewrev.png
On his left arm James active his guns and thinks about aiming them at Major Lee and the Executioners but before he could do so Mark stops him.

“It’s okay James I know he put you in a tight spot but I’ll make the decision for you. *He then looks towards Major Lee* I have done everything to please you and STRIKE but not anymore, I’m finished.”

After those words were said Mark quickly grabs James from the back and throws him towards Major Lee and the others and takes off running.

As James is about to hit Major Lee everything in him wanted himself to let it happen but at the last second he fired up his jet boots and maneuver out of the way.

“Executioners after him now, bring him back by any means necessary.” Major Lee barks as Mark is running away.

[Mr. Majestic]

I slap the braclet on my wrist and then look over at Youngster.

"So, how's it going? I haven't seen you since that whole mess with the aliens. I seem to recall that you're not too fast...well, in comparison with present company."

I throw Youngster a smile. A little pysch-out before a race never hurt anyone.

“If our racers are ready, we'll begin. Runners, take your marks."

I then close my eyes and take a deep breath. As I open my eyes they were no longer blue but a glowing yellow as I activate the cool part of my super speed power and that’s my accelerated probability.

Everything around me begins move in slow motion as my mind quickly analyzes the track and also the racers beside me. The color of the area around me began to fade to black. Only thing that was bright enough to see was the track and also the racers.

I look over at Blur and see a big bright blue aura around him which doesn’t surprise me. Kid quick has a green aura but it doesn’t seem to be blowing even close to the size of Blur’s. As I look at Pulse and I see no aura at all, doesn’t matter I can’t dwell on that. My focus has to be this track.


I squat down and get into a runner's stance.



"Whatever happens, guys, I want the best runner to win....especially if that runner's name rhymes with Flue Flur. "

"On your marks.....get set.......GO!"


As the words go came out of the announcer’s mouth it felt like an eternity. As everyone took off I gave it a millisecond than took off. Just that little bit of a delay left me behind the pack just how I want it.

As the racers, all but Pulse are running I can see there aura leaving a trail and I must say I wish everyone else could see this race how I am viewing it because this is beyond astonishing.

I notice Kid quick just ahead of me blazing, for a kid she is pretty quick. Shame she’s not fast enough.

BOOM!

I then cause a sonic boom as I increased my speed to catch up with and run along side K Quick.

[NiteMare Shape]

http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/cooltext428410933.png
No More




Scott watches as Isaac decends off of his balcony and into the night. After Isaac is gone from view, Scott closes and locks the door, stepiing into his livingroom and finally settling on the couch.

He runs his hands through his hair and takes a deep breath, not knowing what to think of the intrusion or of the ease whith which Isaac had found him, and the ramifications of the realization that if Isaac could find him, it wouldn't be hard for others to find him as well.

Then there is the fact that he may or may not have a job anymore. In light of Kelly's bombshell at lunch that she knows who he is, going back to the job site just didn't seem all that important...and even though he has become friends with his boss Marty and his wife, he doesn't know if even that friendship will be enough to save his job.

Then there was Isaac's offer to help him disappear completely...he is tempted by the offer but also considers everything else that his former teammate had said.

So he sits alone on his couch in silent contemplation, before exhaling in exasperation.

"Well Isaac, you certainly gave me alot to think about."

[Hound55]

In Transit - Somewhere between Salem and Lost Haven

The hard leather of the steering wheel slick between his gloved hands, Isaac drove down the highway. Salem was a long way out of his way, but he needed to deliver his message, even if it were only for his own benefit.

He was forbidden from doing what he had done for so long, and while that wouldn't stop him back home his position was a far more precarious one in the Haven. He'd destroyed his own public image in his time off though, he knew his arm wasn't that bad though... sure he didn't have full mobility, but someone high up had something planned, he was sure of it.

It would give him a chance to rest though, he didn't normally get these chances unless his body was pretty badly hurt.

Or you know he could always just go ba...

*VRRRRR*

He felt a vibration shudder through his hip.

Isaac found a suitable place to stop and pulled the car over, he had a blue-tooth head-set for his phone but that wasn't his reason for stopping. He had very little trust for anything and everything, even things he bought himself, since finding the bug in the car he was given for transport as part of the Guardians.

He got out of the car and went for a stroll. Not picking up his clean home phone until he was far from the car.


Today - Tony Morris
URG: Come home as soon as poss.


The alien tech-fuel?!? Had something gone wrong? He quickly hit the green call button twice to call the sender of that last message.

"Hello?!"

"Oh Hi! ...So you got my message."

"Yeah, what's wrong? What's happened?!?"

"Huh? Nothing. What do you mean what's wrong?"

"Well, I just got a message saying "Urgent: Come home as soon as possible" from the guy who's watching my scientists tinker with a batch of alien sludge... so when I get messages which say "Urgent" or "Come home as soon as possible" or variants of these things like "Oh s***" or "Get your arse over here!" I tend to think the worst. Especially when those terms are said together."

"Ohhhhh... no. Sorry. No alarm. They've just finished preliminary testing. I thought you would have wanted to come and see the results, have them walk through their little presentation in person."

"Jesus, man... you scared the hell out of me."

"Yeah. Well... I said I'm sorry."

"So, what are the results?"

"Oh, you must have forgotten... I'm an accountant. I don't follow things like science journals and the like."

"So, what, these eggheads have written their findings in a way that you or I couldn't understand anyway... I doubt I'm paying them for that, so you can stop being a douche and just tell me what they've found."

An audible sigh is heard through the phone as he can be heard to swivel around in his chair and look for the testing documentation.

"Its the same crap I already knew isn't it..? I've been paying these nerdlingers top-dollar to tell me what I already know, haven't I?"

"Hang on, hang on... I'm just skimming through. I'm not going to tell you til I have SOME idea of what I'm talking about... Hmm... ok... alright..."

"*Sighs* What?! What do they say?"

"Well... apparently... it has the capability to be used as some new kind of high-burning, clean efficient fuel..."

"Oh for f***'s sake!"

"... relax, there's more here too. I'm not entirely sure what I'm reading through here... but if it means what I think then you should probably come down here and watch their little song and dance..."

"Yeah?"

"I think we may turn the oil market on its head..."

[Hound55]

Isaac stood in the bathroom staring blankly at the squalid image looking back at him from the bathroom mirror. He winces and sticks his tongue out, inspecting the fur that hangs from it like mould on an inedible piece of fruit.

No. No. This bird won't fly.

Opening the cabinet, he takes out a razor and shaving cream. Using his spare hand to close the cabinet and scrape his fingers across the stubble that his negligence had allowed.

He couldn't afford this.

He was supposed to be working towards creating his own empire, growing on the work of his parents and their parents before him and a had a multi-billion dollar concept fell arse-backwards into his lap. He had to improve. As much as he generally didn't care for some of society's nuances, it was impossible to deny. He had a long way to go in terms of being able to make a positive public impression.

He'd shattered what little reputation he had in his other life as the black garbed Vigilante with a public gaffe of the worst kind, ruining some of the goodwill for the Guardians in the eyes of a lot of parents. He couldn't afford to let this happen in his other life. He needed to tighten up his profile, learn to behave in public... if only as Isaac Fontaine.

As he completed the final stroke, removing the last of the foam from his face and the hair it rested upon, he looked back at the face in the mirror. He was stunned at how little effort could make so big a difference and felt slightly nauseated by the fact that he could neglect such a small effort for so long to let himself appear as such a mess and he thought.

He thought, "If it can really take so little effort to make a face look socially acceptable, what could be so wrong with me that making a good social impression is so damn hard?"

It can't be genetic; he saw pictures of his mother at social galas and other events, she was a regular in the society sections of the local newspaper... and his father was a powerful figure who was held by most in the upmost esteem. Could it be something that could only be taught?

He thought back to occasions at the dinner table, his father barking at him to sit up straight, to keep his arms off the table, that peas stayed either on the plate, fork or mouth and not the surrounding environment.

"Horrid little beast. You keep on like this... there'll be no hope for you."

Could his father be right... Perhaps this is something that couldn't be taught, but only be learned, did the man who denied him his father also deny him this. He'd learned in school, a wise man said "Man is a social animal." had his father's killer cost him his humanity? Was he doomed to remain a "horrid little beast" as a result?

No.

Anything taught could be learned. All it takes it recognising the patterns and responding appropriately. The appropriate response could be found by the regular avenues... mimicry or trial and error. All it would take is time and effort, just like everything else.

And he had time before he must learn it. Only the preliminary testing had been completed on his new company's potential flagship product, and he'd bought himself the time before he'd even have to return for the demonstration.

One night. He'd earned it. They'd earned it.

As he drove his car into the city he kept churning these questions and self doubts through his mind, "Am I what I deserve?", "Can I be what society deserves?". He parked the car and walked into the lobby of a high-rise building, approached the receptionist and informed her that he was expected. She beamed a smile and informed him that his destination was on the 45th floor and that the other car had arrived just before him.

Isaac adjusted his cuffs and collar, inspecting himself in a shiny gold panel on the interior of the lift as it carried him upwards. He still wasn't really used to some of the really tall buildings that were around, he'd been in the built up areas of Terraria several times... but his home to him was always the smaller Cooktown. His ears popped and his adam's apple bulged as he swallowed to fix his ears, something he'd learned from younger days getting flown around the country between family school and holidays.

He left the lift and swept across the floor to the 45th floor's reception desk as a "Ding!" warned of his impending arrival. A woman who only knew him by voice greeted him with relief of his eventual arrival before he could even open his mouth to announce himself.

"Thank God you're here finally... she's due back any minute. They just finished organising it and left, her office is this way..."

As she quickly unlocked a door to a large corner office and furtively ushered him inside.

As the door was quickly closed behind him and the sound of the young woman's footsteps grew softer while she rushed back to her counter, he took the time to look around the office. He was impressed with the assortment they went with and the way these people managed to fill out such a big office. For the second time in days he found himself in an empty seat in an empty room and waiting for the room's regular inhabitant.

Feminine footsteps with a definitive sound of heel were approaching outside of the door. Do I stay seated and play it cool, or is that rude? Do I stand to attention and risk looking like a cardboard idiot? Do I yell surprise? No... don't be stupid...

"Oh... my... God!"

"I had a spare 60 hours..."

He got up from his seat and she rushed to embrace him. He felt slightly guilty for not being completely honest... but only slightly. How could he be honest? "Hey, I managed to pry myself away from kicking some major arse as a costumed "hero" with this country's big men on campus... oh, and now you know people may well want to kill you or worse...". Besides, he'd brought her so much joy. For once he'd let the positive wash over him as he held her in an office awash with the colour of exotic flowers.

Renee could hardly believe that he would fly out just to surprise him, but "hardly" was enough since she wanted to believe it.

"Isaac... I can't believe you would do this! You're amazing!"

Isaac smiled and kissed her, still not a gentleman but maybe he had evolved beyond being the horrid little beast... its a start.

[Eddie Brock]

http://img580.imageshack.us/img580/429/mantis2copy.png

"Samantha," the gray-skinned man sighs. He stares longingly at the Polaroid picture in his hand. It's from three summers ago, a time that couldn't feel farther away. "I'm coming home soon, sis. I promise." His voice trembles. He knows the promise is empty. The people who are keeping him here have promised to release him soon, but he knows better than to trust them. The gray-skinned man lets the picture fall to the floor.

He looks around his cell. They call it a living space, but he knows better. This is a cell, a personal prison. The confined space, the bland walls, even the personal toilet. The bed is uncomfortable, the sink is dirty, and the door doesn't open from the inside. The gray-skinned man is trapped. The worst part is that he doesn't even know why.

He remembers finishing his time with the Marines. He looked forward to leaving Middle Eastern deserts behind and returning home to Samantha and his nephew, Kevin. But he was stopped at the airport. Men in suits explained that he had signed a contract long ago, when he first enlisted. He was going to be a human guinea pig for their experiments. They called him a "volunteer." It sounded better than "prisoner."

The gray-skinned man doesn't even know how long he's been here. He would've lost all track of time had it not been for the daily genetic treatments. It began as shots of strange liquids. Then, it switched to pills. Then, they started exposing him to waves of radiation. They wouldn't explain what they were doing. The gray-skinned man had to eavesdrop to learn anything about his situation.

The company responsible for this called itself Gene.Co. However, they weren't calling the shots. Not with this experiment. The people in charge were called Spectre - whenever anyone had the courage to say their name, anyway. The gray-skinned man learned that he wasn't the only "volunteer," but he never met any of the others.

In time, it became obvious what the experiment was doing. First, he noticed that his veins were a slate gray. Then, his skin started to turn, too. They assured him that this was simply part of the experiment. He begged them to stop, but they waved the contract in front of his face. It didn't matter, anyway. There was no escaping this facility - wherever it was. The changes became more drastic. His skin felt dry and then hardened. He no longer needed to eat or drink. He broke the frame of his bed, and they replaced it with a metal one.

"Malone, it's time for your treatment," the guard announces. Yes, Malone. That's what they used to call him. Anthony Malone. However, as time dragged on in this facility, he lost all sense of self. All he wanted was to be released, to see his sister and nephew again. The guard opens the door. They never said he was a guard, but it's pretty obvious.

Anthony doesn't fight it anymore. He trudges down the hallway without resistance, off to the white room. That's where the treatments are always administered. The scientists stand on the other side of the glass and watch to see any changes in Anthony. They all look so cold and calculating. Anthony used to be self-conscious about them, but now it's become routine.

"We're nearing the completion of your treatments, Anthony," the head scientist announces in what seems to be a joyful tone. Anthony doesn't share his enthusiasm. He's learned not to trust a word of what anyone says here. "If you'll stand still, we can begin the treatment."

Anthony looks at the scientists with his sunken eyes.

The head scientist pushes a button, and the glowing lights start again. As with all the other types of treatments, they never explained to Anthony what, exactly, they were bombarding him with. Of course, he wasn't sure it really matter, anyway. The radiation waves hit him like the dry heat of summer, but Anthony doesn't flinch.

"We've triggered a reaction!"

Anthony does start to feel a difference. He feels himself growing larger. He tears through the tight-fitting clothes they provided for him. Anthony's skin feels like it's hardening even more. He balls his hands into fists, and it sounds like two boulders rubbing against each other. They're turning me into stone! Anthony realizes. I'm a freak!

"Subject is experiencing trauma!"

With a groan, Anthony's transformation completes. "What have you done to me?" he cries out, the sound of his voice now deep and gravelly. "I'm a freak!" With his now giant fists, Anthony slams into the glass separating him and the scientists. The scientists flee in terror as the stone man goes on a rampage. "NO! NO! NO!"

***

"No way."

"You really don't think I can do it?"

"I know you can't."

"Seriously?"

"Sean, if you hit that soda can from all the way over here, I will buy you a giant Rice Krispie treat," Jim promises. The can in question is stragetically positioned on the fencepost all the way across the yard. Jim has boasted that even with my newfound stinger-blast ability, I still would not be able to hit the can off the fence cleanly.

"Jim, you know I don't joke about giant Rice Krispie treats," I reply. "And I should warn you, I've been practicing with these stingers. I think you'll be surprised."

Jim doesn't say anything. He merely motions to the can challengingly.

Shaking my head, I laugh. "Okay, but the next time we bet over something, let's make it at least a little difficult for me. I feel like this just isn't fair for you." Getting into a battle-ready stance, I stick my right hand out and aim my palm at the can. With one last glance at Jim, I focus all my energy and unleash a tiny, yellow beam of energy. It shoots through the air, piercing the can and toppling it. I smirk. "Admit it. You're impressed."

Jim throws his hands up in defeat. "You got me, man."

"I did, didn't I?"

"I can be a big man and admit that I was wrong."

"You should have never doubted me...but apology accepted. Now, let's discuss the terms of our arrangement. When can I expect my giant Rice Krispie treat?"

[Hound55]

Cooktown, Terraria

3 Days later...

Fontaine walked into his building talking with his old friend Tony Morris, he hadn't seen him in quite some time and had a bit to catch up on. Tony was stunned that Isaac actually owned a tie outside of his old school one, let alone that he would wear one of his own accord.

"You know you don't have to try and make an impression with these guys right? You pay these guys. Most of them are probably trying to prove to you that they're worth the vast amount that you're over-paying them so they don't get canned..."

"I pay them well enough, hopefully they'll be too scared of losing their meal ticket to go taking stupid risks doing something they shouldn't... like breaching security."

"You're overpaying for security too... you're doing everything short of hiring a private escort for each scientist. Your budget's blown way out by wages and security..."

"They're priorities."

"Oh... I wasn't aware that you had any kind of familiarity with how much these people should be paid, or just accounting or the costs of running a business in general... oh wait, you don't. Maybe that's why your father trusted your finances to me while you kicked back and sulked about his death for the past... how many years has it been now... Maybe I know what I'm talking about."

"Generally, I trust you. Normally, your word is gospel. But these two things I'm getting "hands on" for a reason. Its not your business. What do you care?"

"I may not see the money but its every bit "my business", you go bust and I've just lot a major client. That affects me. A major client, my most publicised client, who VERY publically in my line of business, left me in charge of his estate. You go bust because you're overpaying these eggheads and trying to run a fortress and this very much effects me. Do you have any idea how many businesses go down in their first year?"

"Do I know how many businesses went down in their first year when owned by a guy as wealthy as me..."

"Not the point. Most of those people have some business sense and know what the hell they're doing."

"And that's why I'm hiring you..."

"But you're not frigging listening to me!"

"Because I don't agree with you and ultimately its my money."

A lengthy silence filled pause resonated between the pair before Isaac broke it once more.

"I also find it funny that you're censoring yourself to me... maybe the tie does work..."

"Yeah, the tie's fine... its just not tight enough. You seem to still be able to breathe..."

"Ha! You don't really mean that..."

The pair walked into the research centre of the newly furnished facility.

"Umm, sorry sir. Standard issue lab coats... and you should probably lose the tie as well."

"Well, there you go. Your additional security and safety efforts have just cost you your "power tie"... there goes your big impression."

"Tone... shut up."

After putting on the labcoats the pair were ushered through a door towards the floor itself.

"Right this way, gentlemen."

"Gentlemen? Don't call him 'gentleman' it'll go straight to his head." Isaac said with a gesture of his thumb.

"Pfft... at least I know how to act in public. You're just a bad influence."

As the pair walked down the corridor Tony gave one more jab before they'd get to the main floor.

"Didn't anybody tell you its rude to point?"

[Hound55]

Isaac takes a seat next to Tony at the head of the table and gestures to the scientist heading the presentation.

"Go on, Tan..."

To which Tan the scientist begins his talk about what exactly the product is and its potential uses.

"You remembered their names..? Who the hell are you?"

"Shut up, I'm trying to hear this."

"... massive potential benefits as a fuel source. I would use the phrase 'alternative fuel source', but its in my... well, a couple of our opinions that it would relegate oil to being an "alternate fuel source". To the best of our knowledge, it takes a higher temperature to combust, making it safer, it burns cleaner and it burns far slower and more efficiently than coal or other fuels."

"So... have you been able to synthesise it..?"

"Well no... due to the fact that its an organic compound we haven't really been able to synthesise it. Technically the legal barriers regarding cloning mean we aren't really capable of trying to..."

"Wait a minute, are you telling me this stuff is alive?"

"Oh, yes sir. To the best of our knowledge its not a sentient being, but yes, its absolutely living... That's not really a moral issue there though, when you consider the fact that people still stoke their fire places with tree roots and other wood which is still technically alive. Although I'd compare the product more to a mould than a plant or animal... we can't really put it in an existing category since we..."

A part of Isaac was screaming "Destroy it! You're messing with risky unknowns! These beings nearly annihilated the planet in a global invasion. Stop toying with this crap and destroy it!" but another part of him knew that there was a potential risk for everything... he could get struck by lightning, it was unlikely, but possible. He owed it to everyone to make a carefully considered decision weighing both the risks and rewards.

"...but anyway, I digress. No, we can't synthesise it... but we can go you one better. Jamie!"

With that, another scientist wheeled in a small cart with four objects on it: 2 labelled Petri dishes, a small, pen like cylinder and an odd device that looked like a microscope connected to an over-head projector.

"Now this is really cool..."

The scientist excitedly set up the two dishes...

"Now both of these dishes contain the product..."

"Petri Dish B is here merely as the control dish... now keep your eyes on Petri Dish A."

Tan grasped the pen like cylinder from the cart and called to the other scientist again.

"Jamie, turn the lights down so the projector stands out more."

Isaac leaned forward to get a closer look, elbow leaning on the table with one hand cupping his jaw and a single finger stroking his chin, with furrowed brow not knowing exactly what to expect as the lights started to dim.

"Alright, Petri Dish A is now being exposed... now pay close attention."

Tan waved the pen looking thing over Petri Dish A whilst holding down a button on the back of the device. What this did was not immediately apparent.

"I can't see anything." hissed Tony to Isaac.

"Shut up and watch..."

"Can you see anything?"

Slowly but steadily, mould began to grow on Petri Dish A, it's circumference spreading almost imperceptibly but steadily like a balloon being inflated.

"Is that it?" Tony said.

"Well yes... but you have to understand that this kind of growth is pretty much foreign to us... even in terms of microscopic life forms... we seldom can see a catalyst cause such rapid growth."

"What caused it?" Isaac asked.

"Ah, that's the beauty of it... this pen here emits a small infra-red light which is beyond the scope of our own vision... its a pretty extreme case of light, which is good because nature tends to abhor vacuums and extremes... It means that we could use this to..."

"To grow our own fuel farms... We could essentially incubate our own fuel."

"You've got it! Safely and efficiently too. And with how efficient the fuel itself is, we expect that you could run fuel farms using only 10% of the fuel itself."

"So essentially, we're talking about a fully sustainable fuel source..."

"Yes, and with it burning cleaner than oil... and there being technically no reason for any shortages it could also have massive benefits for the environment."

"And this isn't an elemental compound..." Tony started, his mind where it always was. "...so technically it can be patented."

"Umm... I suppose" said Tan. "But we're talking about quite possibly the greatest boon for humanity here..."

Isaac rocked back in his chair and started to nod his head, taking it all in.

"Quick question... What tests have you run on the product with other organic life-forms? How safe is this stuff?"

"Well, we've handled it a fair bit in the lab, I mean we're supposed to be using masks but we don't always... so there's the potential for this stuff to have gotten airborne. I mean we haven't been bathing in the stuff... let's face it it's pretty nasty."

"But you've been neglecting the safety and security standards that I, personally, set?"

"You set them, sir?"

Isaac was NOT accustomed to being called sir.

"Yes. I set them. Personally. You do know what you have here right? This isn't just your average run of the mill mould... this is a foreign object. I had specific reasons for doing what I did. I'd have you quarantined but God knows how many people you've come into contact with over the past month alone so there's not much point now is there..."

"Well, we have been using the showers."

"Ahh... so you just pick and choose which rules you're going to obey and disobey?"

"Well... we don't want to take this stuff home with us..."

"But we have bugger all idea what this stuff is... let alone whether its even possible to wash off particles of it with regular means.."

The scientist looked dogged and worried.

"OK... so we've had a mixed day today then. Changes: I'm going to employ a head of security and another O, H and S officer whose job will be specially to make sure you guys stay in line with these, and I would suggest you let everyone else know just how serious I'm taking this."

Isaac rose from the table and Tony followed his lead.

"All in all, that's some good findings, but there won't be a second warning on the safety issue... I don't care how good you are in your field."

"I want further testing on the effects of this substance with other subjects... I'm not making any major moves on this until I know its safe."

"I'm upping your budget another 15% for this month too... How long do you think it will be before you can give me the results on this further testing?"

"Umm... pfffft... I dunno."

"You 'dunno'?"

"Well we'll have to obtain the subjects, which takes time to check backgrounds and the like for genetic weaknesses which may skew the testing, then test again immediately... then wait for a sufficient time in case of long term effects... I don't know. Let's say 6 months."

"Six months?"

"Well, this was only preliminary testing..."

"OK, fine. Six months. In fact, make it nine. I'll expect your findings in three quarters."

"So I guess that's all, gentlemen."

"Thank you very much for giving us your time, Mr Fontaine."

Isaac and Tony walked back down the corridor, to leave.

"What the hell was that?" asked Tony.

"What was what?"

"You. You hit like an atomic bomb. I mean... you just shot their budget up AGAIN but you were all commanding in there. I think I'm scared."

Isaac and Tony passed through the doors once more and began removing their labcoats.

"How long's it going to take to get the paperwork on the patent done?"

"But you said you weren't going to release it until the tests..."

Isaac began arranging his tie into a double Windsor and slipped his suit back on.

"I'm not. I'm not insane. But I'm not leaving a trillion dollar thing like this out in the open. I want it all tied up. And I want it hushed. No press. None."

"OK... I'll get on the patent right away. You really think a "trillion" dollars?"

"Tone, I never kid when I'm in my power tie..."

[Hound55]

Cooktown, Terraria

22:00 hours...

Backyard Maintenance (OOC: Written in First person perspective for a change)

I walk down the inner streets of Cooktown. My home. My first love. Surrounded by buildings that I remember more fondly as familiar, rather than old and dilapidated and in need of renovation. The familiar smells of the inner city swirl in my head in silent longing.

I have missed this. I have missed this for so long and with all that I'm made of.

People walk past whilst keeping a difference, not trusting one another down this particular street of ill-repute. Barrie St. It has earned a reputation as being one of the most dangerous locations in the country, let alone the city. The mayor had tried hard to turn this around, the police presence was increased and a police station was built on the street itself in addition from the singular police hub which was enough for the rest of the CBD area alone.

But I walk this street without fear, rare for someone walking this street alone. This alone is causing other commuters to treat me with some level of distrust; the preconception that if you're not a sheep, you're a shark. Confidence is not something that belongs on this street by a lone man and is treated by the people as strange. Strange here is threatening.

Barrie St is a welcome sight to me, for many of the same reasons its so worrying to others. Its littered with back streets and shadow filled alleys. As well as being filled with... job opportunities for someone in my line of work.

Its mid winter but I'm as warm as can be, layered clothing in contrast to many of the women both escorted and escorts on this street. I smirk whilst walking past a club and a gaggle of such women all ridiculously underdressed for the season, risking health for current fashion trends. They get straight into the club by-passing a long line of waiting potential patrons. The obvious thought that the bouncer allowed these girls entry for more nefarious reasons than just compassion for expecting these girls to stand out in the cold hangs in my mind and I grant it a chuckle.

Up ahead I hear a loud exclamation followed by the thud of flesh hitting metal. Head on a swivel for the nearest alley I sprint there and un-suit, emerging less than a minute later I'm wearing my work gear. As black as the hearts of the worst men I've faced, the ensemble is completed with my mask, a face who's darkness reflects the worst of this city. Those I combat.

One man is shoved into the street. Another springs from the curb armed with a knife. Who knows how this thing started. Almost anything can inflame things down this street, even a good-humoured comment to a person who just happens to be on some bad 'gear'.

I'm down-wind of the police station, they'll soon have numbers here, but it could be too late by then.

Something a lot of people don't realise... A knife can be more dangerous than a gun when in the hands of someone who knows how to properly wield one. This is why the police treat them as such. Be it knife or gun, they'll only give you so many warnings and if you become a serious threat they will drop you.

No-one is getting stabbed here today. Not if I can help it... And they sure as hell aren't getting shot.

I sprint down the street until I get some twenty metres from the pair.

The man with the knife. First threat.

My hand looks for my tool of choice in its most regular resting place, bringing my hand back from behind my shoulder blade I leap over the man on the ground and bring the jimmy-stick through the chest of the man with the knife.

He stops in his tracks, drunk out of his mind the clean shot to the solar plexus far to much for him and he drops to the pavement gasping for air. My attention turns to the man he was in conflict with.

"What happened here!?"

The man gets up and tries to run.

Dammit. First priority, get the man who's now kneeling in the middle of a main road vomiting from booze and my shot to the sternum to the safety of the footpath. I pick him up, getting only a little vomit on my top and carry him to the side of the road.

"Do me a favour... don't let him go anywhere." I say to the small congregation of people still shocked at what they've seen. Unnecessary, I know, as this man doesn't look well enough to go anywhere unaided.

I step back to the road and aim my smaller grapple gun down the road to the legs of the man running away some 50 metres away, I breathe deeply and pull the trigger. Cord whistles from my gun towards its target, missing by 2 metres to the right as the man still runs blindly in the vague direction of the police station.

"Of course you don't. Of course you don't take his legs out. You're you... Goddammit!" And I start in pursuit of the runner.

But I have an advantage...

Lactic acid burns within the mans legs, he's feeling tired and the nights' drink he's accumulated in his belly is not making things any easier for him. The lactic acid burns in my muscles too... the difference is, I can't feel it.

I'm faster than this man, sober and considerably better suited to this kind of race. The result is inevitable.

I tackle the man from behind as he yells out a "No, don't let them get me!"

"Who?!?"

"The knaves... That was their bar... I... I owe them some money."

"You owe them money and you walk PAST their bar?!?"

"Hey, I'm drunk... I wasn't thinking."

"No f***ing s***!"

I sigh deeply before letting my generous nature show. "Get the hell out of here... they see you, you're toast. I'm going to handle this... and you damn well stay the hell away from these ar**holes! You want to live, get the hell out of here."

I jog back to where I left the first man via the footpath opposite the police station, hoping the crowd would do what it could to conceal me. They still hadn't taken action... must be spread thin.

"Ah... so it WAS you, come in here. We need to talk." I here emanate from an overly confident voice in a club I pass, as for the second time in minutes a fly stumbled blindly through the spider's web...

[NiteMare Shape]

http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/cooltext428410933.png

No More




Scott watches as Isaac decends off of his balcony and into the night. After Isaac is gone from view, Scott closes and locks the door, stepiing into his livingroom and finally settling on the couch.

He runs his hands through his hair and takes a deep breath, not knowing what to think of the intrusion or of the ease whith which Isaac had found him, and the ramifications of the realization that if Isaac could find him, it wouldn't be hard for others to find him as well.

Then there is the fact that he may or may not have a job anymore. In light of Kelly's bombshell at lunch that she knows who he is, going back to the job site just didn't seem all that important...and even though he has become friends with his boss Marty and his wife, he doesn't know if even that friendship will be enough to save his job.

Then there was Isaac's offer to help him disappear completely...he is tempted by the offer but also considers everything else that his former teammate had said.

So he sits alone on his couch in silent contemplation, before exhaling in exasperation.

"Well Isaac, you certainly gave me alot to think about."

Surrounded by the dark silence of the late hour, Scott lay in his bed unable to sleep....the words of his former teamate still echoing in his head.

Scott grows tired of the tossing and turning that comes with the inability to sleep and finally sits up. After a moment of sitting in place he reaches over and turns on the light sitting on the small table next to his bed. He hesitates for a moment and goes to pick up the phone.

Then he looks at the clook on his bedside table.

3:36AM

He puts the phone back down...then sighs and picks it up again, dialing a number.

After several rings, a groggy voice answers on the other end.

"Hello?" Kelly's sleep filled voice comes through on the other end of the line.

"Hey Kelly. Sorry to call so late. I need to talk to you about something. Is it alright if I swing by?" He says, fully expecting her to curse him out for calling so late, and then imposing on her further by asking to stop by her place to talk about something...at 3:39AM.

But for the second time tonight, the angry tirade he was expecting to be bombarded with never comes.

"Yeah, that's fine. I'll leave the back door open. You can come right in....I'll make some coffee." She says, humor filling her voice.

[NiteMare Shape]

"Maybe he was right." Kelly says after Scott finishes telling her about his visitor earlier in the evening.

"Don't get me wrong, I get it. I know why you're here. I do understand why you left in the first place. But I also know that no matter what is going on with you, the world still needs Icon."

"But I'm not that person anymore."

Scott, I know what it's like to lose people. I lost my entire family during the invasion. But I'm still here. And so are you."

Scott is about to say something, but pauses and takes a sip of his coffee.

"I know that it's hard, and I do know what you're going through. That pain that you feel, it never goes away. It does get better, but it's always there. You might hear a song that they liked, you might see a car like the one they drove, or you might even smell something that reminds you of them, and there you are...almost as if the wound was reopened. Feeling the way you did the day you lost them. That never goes away, but for the most part it becomes bearable."

"I just don't know if I can..."

"You can. You have to. I know that it may not be something that you want to do, but it's something that you need to do. Just because you decided that you're finished doesn't mean that the world has stopped needing you."

Scott is about to say something when Kelly cuts him off.

"I'm living proof of that. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be here right now. If you never put on that suit and did what you had been doing, I'd be dead."

"How many others won't be able to say that if you don't go back?"

"I never really looked at it like that. I have to think..."

"Do that. Think about it. Think about what your friend told you. Think about what I said, get your head clear and make a decision. Just whatever you decide, you make sure it's the right choice."


***

Kelly sleepily opens the door to meet Marty, who had called minutes before, concerned about Scott. Apparently, not only did he never return to the job site the day before, but he never showed up again this morning, and Marty was concerned.

The drive over to Scott's apartment only took a few minutes, but it seemed to drag on, and of course Salem's early morning traffic did not help matters much.

They pull up to Scott's building and both get out of Marty's work truck, and head into the building, gaining access because one of the residents hadn't properly secured the door to the laundry room. They make their way up several flights of stairs and finally find themselves standing in front of Scott's apartment door. Marty knocks on the door, but it wasn't latched, which allowed the door to just open into the apartment, which was empty.

"I don't get it. Where'd he go?" Marty asks, confused as he stares at the vacant apartment.

"Home." Kelly answered, unable to suppress a small smile.

[Rain Dog]

Couple of hours later Mark along with his father and his friend James were in the physical fitness area observing Mark as he was getting use to walking and other normal human functions again. As they are monitoring Mark, James looks over to Mr. Moore.

“Sir if you don’t mind may I ask you a question?”

A little grin appears on Jonathan face.

“It’s about how he’s acting isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I mean you have to admit sir he’s not really acting like his take charge kind of self. He really seems…normal.”

“You have it wrong James this is Mark as himself. What a lot of people don’t know is not only can Mark’s powers affect his body by giving him abilities but it can also affect his mind. When he was young Mark was torn apart trying to live a normal life and also trying to be the solider STRIKE always wanted. The situation was he needed to be two people. One that could be a normal boy and the other that can be the solider STRIKE wanted.”

It all then began to hit James.

“So in order to please everyone his powers kicked in and made a split personality, which explains a lot.”

“So now you know the secret that he has been keeping for so long.”

Before replying James began to think.

“There’s also another secret that he’s keeping.”

Jonathon looks James in the eye not fallowing what he was getting at.

“I don’t understand.” Jonathan replies.

“If what you say is true then something is wrong with Mark, his powers haven’t fully recovered. I’m assuming when he is around you he’s Mark but when he is around anyone from STRIKE he is Spartan. When he woke he told me to call him Mark. So it’s obvious his powers are on the frits.”

“Now that you mention it your right, I was so happy about the fact he finally woke I didn’t even think about that. He would have never told you to call him Mark if he was his normal self. You really are smarter than you look.”

“You have no idea.” Truth is James is one of earth’s top 5 for smartest person in the world.

About an hour later James and Mark and also his father was making there way out of the facility to head home. As they exited the doors Major Lee along with the rest of the Executioners stood outside in front of two issued STRIKE retainer vehicles.

“What is the meaning of this?” Jonathan asks.

“It simple…” Major Lee begins as he puts a cigar in his mouth and lights it. “…I’m here to get the governments property. You didn’t really think we were going to let you just take a break did you? You belong to us that life of you going to school and having friends is only because we allowed it. You can’t even wipe your own ass after taking a **** unless I give the command to do so.”

Marks father thought it might have come to this but he figured that maybe with all the good his son has done they would let him get this break after seeing how much this job has taken it’s toll on his son’s body.

“Officer Stewart apprehend Spartan.”

James stood there not knowing what to do. Spartan was more than his leader he was his friend and now that he knows the truth about his friend he doesn’t want to betray him.

“I’m sorry sir I can’t.”

“Officer Stewart I’m going to tell you one more time. Apprehend Spartan now or you will be going in the second vehicle.” Major Lee orders.

It is obvious by the look on James face that he is conflicted on what choice to make. He then places his hands on the shoulder straps on his book bag and press a button on each one. Then his armor came from out of his book bag and covers his body completely.
http://img101.imageshack.us/img101/1614/supersentinelpreviewrev.png
On his left arm James active his guns and thinks about aiming them at Major Lee and the Executioners but before he could do so Mark stops him.

“It’s okay James I know he put you in a tight spot but I’ll make the decision for you. *He then looks towards Major Lee* I have done everything to please you and STRIKE but not anymore, I’m finished.”

After those words were said Mark quickly grabs James from the back and throws him towards Major Lee and the others and takes off running.

As James is about to hit Major Lee everything in him wanted himself to let it happen but at the last second he fired up his jet boots and maneuver out of the way.

“Executioners after him now, bring him back by any means necessary.” Major Lee barks as Mark is running away.

OLYMPUS MONS

I whip through the airs of Lost Havens and it appears to be a quiet day. There’s none of the broad daylight muggings or bank robberies you see in comic books and movies or mutant freaks bursting out of the sewers, swallowing up innocent bystanders. Not even a ****ing kitten stuck in a tree. I’m beginning to think the other metas have sucked this town dry. No petty crimes for new guys to take on.

Just as I’m ready to give up, something peculiar catches my eyes. Or ears, rather. A rapid, rhythmic thumping. It stands out in a city full of wailing car horns, squeaky bus tires, and the gentle taps of the citizens’ feet as they walk along its streets. This sounded much more frantic, much heavier. I follow the direction of the sounds and after a short flight I catch sight of this beefy kid in black hauling ass, weaving through traffic and pedestrians. Seems like he’s the source of the sound. I’m surprised I was able to pick it out. What about this guy made his footsteps so distinctive? Eh, whatever. He looks like he’s in trouble—meaning he just ****ed up big time and is on the run from the cops. And who’s gonna be there to apprehend the fugitive and save the day? Olympus ****ing Mons, that’s who.

[trustyside-kick]

OOC: Previously (http://forums.superherohype.com/showpost.php?p=18322803&postcount=65)...

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v643/dhunter22/archangelbanner1.jpg

Lost Haven
Now

Arms feel...weak. Can't...muster up the strength to throw him off of me. Too...strong. Stronger? Yea. He's getting stronger. The longer he seems to hold on to you it feels like the stronger he gets and the weaker I feel. But this is the second time he's gotten such a hold on me, as soon as I broke free the first time, my strength had almost returned to me. Not like the others. His victims.

Those three girls? He drained them dry. Maybe that's what will happen to me, if he never lets me go, or maybe I'm flat out lucky or immune out of some sort of divinity of the fact that the he seems to feed off of my angelic power. He's like a parasite. A dang parasite. No. Better yet.

A dang leech.

"Never before has someone survived after this long. You truly are remarkable, Michael. I am starting to believe...that such energy can sustain me, for YEARS! I MUST HAVE MORE!!"

I struggle to break free, but he is just too strong. Think Michael, think. How do you plan on getting yourself out of this one?


Lost Haven
5 Minutes from Now

I helped fight off an alien invasion but I have trouble believing what just happened. So I feel like a dang rookie when Sebastian tackles me, proceeding to then throw me right through the wall into another room. I get up, and thank God as I am able to and without a broken back. Gotta love the recent...'upgrades' given from up-high after the Goddess incident. I'm more formidable. Stronger. And Mr. Blake here seems to be more powerful than he looks.

But I'm plenty more powerful than I look as well, especially today. It's Sunday. All of the elements, are mine to tamper with. He enters through the hole he just made, levitating with arms clasped behind his back; as though he was some noble gentleman.

I hate that.

"Alright, you got lucky. Wasn't expecting that. Guess you could say--"

"Oh but Michael there is much more you will not expe--OOF!"

I use my power over the winds, to lift up the bed, and toss it at Sebastian. Yea, he doesn't evade that attack in time. The projectile furniture, courtesy of me, sends him crashing back through the previous room, and I hear Grace's muffled scream from the shock of it. Dangit. I almost forgot she was there. I can't fight him here. I go over to Grace, starting to untie her and removing her bonds, and I look back at the bed I just launched at Sebastian Blake. Immobile. Did that do the trick?

You will soon see why I regret what I now do. I walk over to the flipped over bed, and mock him as I yell.

"BET YOU WEREN'T EXPECTING THA---ARGH!"

He PUNCHES through the mattress and bedframe, and grabs my throat! A mere second later, with his free hand he tares at the bed, all the while climbing out of it and keeping a grip on me. There is a sudden glow coming around him, that resembles that same reddish purple glow when he carved that symbol into his chest.

I can't even muffle a scream, he has his grip around my throat so tight. And then, I feel it. Like the very life of me, is being siphoned. I feel so brittle, and this depressing feeling comes over me. Like there is no tomorrow, and this is how I die. By the hands of a psycopath with the delusions of nobility.

A look of ecstasy comes across his face, as it looks like this is something he had never experienced before. Well, enjoy it while you can bud. I don't intend on you sucking me dry. The heat from the nearby candle starts to suddenly grow more and more intense, and the flame grows. Would I have something to do with that? You bet.

"AAAAH!!"

The sound of his scream is a result that I just used the fire from that candle like a whip and wrapped it around his arm. He lets me go and my concentration on the fire whip goes so it goes since I'm so shocked at the sensation that I can breathe again. But can't waste too much time.

"Hey Sebastian!"

As he looks over at me, it's too late, and I'm coming at him with a ball of wind surrounding my body; this way he can't get his mits on me to try to drain me again. I tackle him, making yet another hole in the room, but one that leads us to the nightsky.

"Care for another dance? This time I lead."

[sabetoonth]

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The door clicked and clacked on the other side of the portal before Mitchell swung it open.

“Hey Eli, come on in, I got an interview for ya lined up” Mitch motioned into his apartment, just outside his window you could make out the ruins of an apartment building and then the skyline. Mitch bee-lined into the kitchen of his apartment, sure wasn’t small, but wasn’t big either, just right for a single guy like Mitch. Though it lacked the chaos of Elijah’s apartment; it was clear few women stayed more then a night, if that long. “The job’s right up your ally pal, service industry” Mitchell continued, Elijah gave him a funny look. “What?” Mitchell’s friend simply shook his with a small smirk on his face.

“What kind of service?” Elijah stood in the front room waiting for his friend to ready himself for public presentation. he had been trying to get Elijah a job since he lost it at the paper as a journalist,; hed been interveiwed for jsut about everything, he had tried store clerk, dog catcher, and security guard, nothing stuck.

“Oh nothing, just some warehouse work” Mitch wrapped his tie around his neck and looped it.

“You’re ****ing me?” Elijah blurted out.

“Of course not, we both play for the same team.” The Elijah’s well dressed friend jested.

“Smart ass.” Elijah said plainly. “We need to get going, or we’ll both be late.” Stokes threw Mitch’s coat in his direction and he caught it.
“Nice throw man.”

Eli and Mitch walked down the streets, some of the rubble laid in the streets, most people cars had been buried in it or crushed by it, so on foot traffic was thicker then usual, as their cars were being dug out, repaired or they waited to get a replacement it had been this bad all month. OK, maybe it wasn't as bad as it was to start off with, but it still wasn't normal, even for New York.

“Seriously? Warehouse?” Elijah looked over at his friend, how long had they known each other, 5 years? Since he had met him at the paper when they both started? Either way, it was long enough to know each other well enough to foresee the whole conversation.

“No, not really, ha-ha” Laurence chuckled at the revelation. “No my friend” Mitch put his arm around his friends shoulder; he knew it made him uncomfortable, but he didn’t care. “You” he said with an informative tone. “Are going to be working as a janitor part time at the Museum of Natural History, to be honest I don’t understand why the invaders knocked over the Chryslter building, but not the Natural History Museum or Empire State Building.” Elijah didn’t wonder these things; he doubted that the invaders had planned what buildings to destroy. Or had they? Either way it didn’t matter, they had been beaten back by the world’s assorted heroes, and some had paid the price for their heroism.

“A janitor, you are pulling worse jobs out of your ass then usual.” Elijah and Mitch were always like this, almost a brotherly kind of relationship, at least the way they talked to each other.

“Well, beats unemployment don’t it?” Elijah gave him a look of ‘I won’t say it, but you’re right’.

[NiteMare Shape]

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Moving through the shadows in the rafters, I make my way toward the center of the warehouse. Haven taken out one gaurd, I now only have to worry about the second gaurd and the Franchise.

Franchise is a dangerous man, despite his flashy demeanor he is not someone to be taken lightly. I keep this in mind as I drop down to take care of the second gaurd.

I am about to drop the gaurd when suddenly the sound of thunder errupts inside the warehouse. Instinctively, I duck, looking around for the source of the sudden distraction. When I bring my eyes back around to the gaurd I had been ready to pounce upon, I find him laying on the floor with a smoking hole in his chest.

"That was a warning shot, friend. You won't get another one."

I look toward the source of the voice, and I find Franchise, standing on top of some of the storage crates which hold the weapons Midas has been hiding in this warehouse...pointing a gun that has the firepower of a small cannon, directly at me.

Franchise pulls the trigger, but I have already teleported several feet away. I look to where I had just been and see a smoking crater in the floor.

Franchise curses and brings the large weapon around and points it at me again. I duck behind one of the large storage crates just as fires again. The crate explodes as I turn a corner and race through the maze of massive storage crates. Several more shots ring out behind me, follwed by more of the crates exploding.

I duck between a crate and the wall on the other side of the warehouse. I can hear him shouting challenges at me from his perch. I fire a grapple line into the rafters and begin my ascent to the ceiling, but I teleport again in order to avoid being seen by my opponent.

From my hiding spot in the rafters, I make my way back toward Franchise, taking extra care not to make any noises that would alert him to my presence. Then, when I find myself standing directly over him, I jump down, hitting him with a well placed dropkick to the back of his shoulder, knocking him to the ground.

[Eddie Brock]

THE ADVENTURES OF MANTIS

Another metahuman threat, another gym class missed. The excuse this time? Stomach flu. I made the mistake of ordering seafood at my sister's welcome home dinner. I'm too busy puking my brains out to play volleyball - even though I totally would have killed at serving. Jim can corroborate my story (as usual). You do this shtick long enough, and you start to get good at it.

I just can't wait 'til college, when I don't have to sneak out of school during the day all the time.

Carver Lake National Park. Usually when I come down this way, I'm wearing a bathing suit - not spandex - but I'm not the one who decides where and how these metahumans go on their rampages. The police have blocked off entry to the park, but that's not a problem for me. Bounding along the treetops, I head in the direction of the snapping twigs.

"Let's make this quick," I announce to my unseen opponent. "I've got twenty-three minutes until sixth period, and I am not going to miss Biology again." I dive through the branches of the trees and land on a hiking trail. A few feet ahead of me, a large boulder blocks the trail.

Wait. That's not a boulder. It's a...person?

"Where is she?" the metahuman says, seemingly oblivious to me. His entire body, head to toe, is made entirely of gray rock. He grabs a tree by its trunk and uproots it. "Samantha comes here all the time. Did they take her?" He discards the uprooted tree like it's nothing.

I take one step forward. "Okay, buddy, clearly the crazy train left the station, but I misplaced my ticket, so why don't you bring me up to speed?" I hold out my hand in an attempt at a calming gesture. "Who is Samantha? Who are you talking about?"

Now he stares directly at me. And his nervous eyes change to anger without provocation. "They sent you, didn't they?" he announces accusingly. "You're one of their freaks! Well, you won't take me down so easily!"

"'Freak' is a hurtful word. I prefer--"

All air is knocked out of my lungs as my lumbering opponent connects with a backhand. It feels like getting hit by a sledgehammer. I barely feel it as I slam into a tree, nearly cracking it in half.

"...owie..."

The metahuman is on top of me in an instant. "Do you know where she is?" He picks me up, and his massive hand nearly crushes me. "You're going to tell me everything you know! NOW!"

"Well, I know that you're clearly upset..." I grimace as he tightens his grip with a snarl. "And I know that you're looking for this Samantha person, and I want to help you. I really do. But you need to turn off the crazy and talk to me like a human being for a minute..." I can barely breathe now. This non-confrontational approach isn't working. Mustering all my remaining strength, I manage to gain some wiggling room, and I quickly escape from this guy's grasp.

"Phew. Okay. Now, as I was saying..."

I'm forced to leap out of the way of another slap attempt.

"...you seem like a reasonable enough guy - underneath the rocky exterior and aggressive nature. I think we're just misunderstanding each other here."

He punches straight through the tree I'm perched in. As the tree wobbles, I leapfrog over his head and land in the bushes behind him. He spins around and slams his fist into the ground, making a small crater only inches from where I'm lying.

"Right."

I momentarily go on the offensive. Maybe I should emphasize 'momentarily' a bit more. As my opponent's fist is still in the ground, I bound off his outstretched arm and connect with a punch to his jaw. It sounds - and feels - like I broke every bone in my hand. As I avoid one of his wild swings, I decide to give him a nice stinger to the neck. It doesn't faze him.

"Aw, ****..."

He kicks at me unexpectedly, hitting me right in the stomach. No, no, this is good. Now I actually will puke - thus lending credibility to my story. But seriously, I can't keep this up much longer. Going toe-to-toe with this guy is going to kill me - maybe even literally.

"Look, Concrete - can I call you Concrete? - I'm still under the impression that we got off on the wrong foot," I say in-between moments of feeling like I'm going to spit out a tooth. "I really do want to help you. So if you could stop trying to squash me for a minute..."

He brings both hands together, and I avoid being splattered only by my quick reflexes.

"...or not."

"Maybe you aren't one of theirs," Concrete remarks cryptically. "Regardless: if you want to help, stay out of my way."

I rub the back of my neck. "See, that's the part where we need to compromise," I reply. "You're running around, causing untold property damage, ruining people's perfectly good picnics, and - most importantly - putting public safety at stake."

"I'll disappear. She's not here, anyway, and they'll come looking for me soon." Still have no clue what he's talking about. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I just...I need to find her. My sister. Oh God, if they've taken her too..."

It's hard to believe what I'm witnessing, but Concrete - the stone man - is crying.

"If you have a sister - or even if you don't - wouldn't you do anything to protect her?" he asks me in the most sincere tone I've ever heard.

I swallow the lump in my throat. This isn't normal. This isn't how I do business. I'm supposed to run in, beat up the bad guy, and turn him in to the authorities. Only...I'm not so sure Concrete is a bad guy. And listening to him talk about his sister, it makes me think of Vicky and what I would do to protect her.

"Go. But I should warn you: if we cross paths again, there's no touchy-feely ending. This is your one chance."

Concrete stares at me for a moment, the final tear rolling down his rocky cheek. Then, in a determined voice, "You couldn't stop me, anyway." And with that, he takes off into the forest. I hope I'm right about him.

[NiteMare Shape]

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Scott turns the key, and slowly opens the door. As he steps into the apartment that he had once shared with his kid sister, he feels a rush of varied emotions rush through him.

For the first time in months, he feels that he has come home. However, he also feels the emptiness that is there now.

As he closes the door behind him, he almost expects to hear Jenny call out to him from the couch, or from her bedroom. He never knew what to expect from her when he got home, sometimes he'd get warm welcome, other times she'd tease him and generally give him a hard time. That's what kid sisters do, afterall.

As he walks into the living room, and looks to the couch, and can't help but to think of how many times he'd walk in to this room, and he'd playfully shove her with his him...and how many times he almost accidentally knocked her to the floor because he didn't hold back quite enough.

But those days are over now. Jenny is gone, and no matter what anyone else says, he is responsible for her death. And that is something that he will hve to live with for the rest of his life.

He heads toward his bedroom so that he can put his bags away and get settled into his place again, when he nearly walks into somebody moving hurridly toward him.

"Scott?" He says, shocked to see him.

"Eric? What are you doing in here?"

[Hound55]

Cooktown, Terraria

22:20 hours...

Backyard Maintenance - 2 of 2 (OOC: Written in First person perspective for a change)

I attempt to peer through the thick plume of cigarette smoke, not to identify the owner of the voice, I recognized that immediately, but rather to locate the source.

Russ Williams. Alleged leader of the Knaves Motorcycle Club. …or would be alleged if the media had the testicular fortitude to make the allegations.

The Knaves Motorcycle Club. Motorcycles no longer obligatory.

To fully understand and appreciate his power you first must understand the nature of the Cooktown organised criminal element. The vast bulk of it is pushed upon society by a hidden triumvirate of three separate “Clubs”. The Knaves, the Jesters and the Loonatics. Of the three, the Knaves are the most thoroughly organised. This is both a blessing and a curse; the Knaves look to police themselves mostly, meaning less sporadic bouts of violent crime, but they’re also the most deeply rooted. The Loonatics meanwhile, like their name, are chaotic… they’re the closest to their bikie gang roots and almost anything goes. Theirs is an anarchic existence where if they feel like pummelling anyone anytime, its their decision and will regularly be aided by their compatriots and this behaviour fully endorsed by the “top brass”, the top brass generally being the whoever the biggest, baddest psychopath at the time…

Outside of this trio of rival “clubs”. Exist many smaller splinter gangs, often formed by geographic convenience or ethnicity. Desperate people seeking kindred spirits for survival. The big three’s opinions on these splinter groups tended to differ strongly, the Loonatics viewing virtually any situation as competition, an excuse to unleash the ultraviolence. The Knaves and Jesters however, whilst they don’t particularly approve of competition deal with the situation very differently and wind up recruiting many of these younger gang members in the process. All three tend to hold the ethnic gangs in a firm position of general disregard, as many racist undertones have trickled down from generation to generation through each clubs old heads. Veteran members have earned respect purely by virtue of surviving in all three gangs.

And that’s where I am now.

Outside of a club owned through proxy of this man, amongst the most powerful men in the country. On his turf, in full costume and with God knows how many men in that club who would be willing to rip my head off purely to get into his good graces. Fortunately we both know that that is NOT what he would want right now, and even more fortunately we both know his Knaves are far too disciplined to take a shot without Russ giving the word.

But I’m still at a disadvantage, as I’m caught out under the lights on the terrace, whilst they’re inside in the dimly lit pub. They can see me, even in jet black gear, far better than I can see them.

I turn my head to look down the street for the man without the knife.

Gone. Hmm. The way I left him he wasn’t going anywhere by himself, someone’s helped him move. Well, I can’t keep standing here on the spot, I’m more vulnerable with every second and the curiosity is just too much for me. I turn back, facing roughly in the direction I thought the voice came from and step inside the wolves’ den.

Walking through I recognise him immediately, he’s propped up at the bar itself, one foot on the rail halfway through a pint, a heavy-set bloke in his forties in a tavern full of heavies. The room itself is full of people of both genders yet oddly not too dissimilar appearance. I now see in a corner, the man with the knife, on a chair mainly using the wall for support while a heavy-set woman attends to the problems I gave him.

Who will attend to the problems she gives him? God only knows. Not my problem.

Its uneasily quiet, there are people playing pool at a large billiards table, and whilst they’re trying to make conversation like nothing is happening, its clearly strained and I know that they’re trying to maintain a state of readiness. They have no idea what’s going to happen… and honestly, I don’t have that much more of a clue myself…

I walk up to the bar and put my foot on the rail myself. Russ laughs. I’m not surprised; I could only imagine how ridiculous I must look attempting to appear as nonchalant at a bar, whilst standing head to toe in jet black.

“Haven’t heard much of you ‘round here lately. I’ve had to go out of my way, get one of the kids at home to teach me how to use the computer a bit, these days these newfangled electronic networking sites are the only way to keep in touch with old mates…”

Where the hell is he going with this, I think to myself.

“Myspace, Facebook… youtube… These days you want to keep in touch with old mates, you have to log yourself in… and watch ‘em curse out a hall full of kids.”

“So that’s what you’ve been keeping yourself busy with, eh mate..?”

Ah s***… This is exactly the moment I’ve been hoping to put off. They know. I was hoping to at least get a good year splitting my time, as naïve as that thought may be.

“I know better than to ask what you’ve been doing to keep yourself busy… Besides, you might tell me.”

“Hey, I should be thanking you, kid… Hero-boy means there’s still a city to take…”

My time in the Haven has softened me a little… I am not accustomed to being called “boy” or “kid” anymore. I give that these days, I don’t take it.

“So what, you just invited me in to buy me a beer..?”

“Would you drink it?”

“Hell no. I’d throw it in your face and then take yours. God knows what you'd put in mine.”

Russ laughs again. This man is beginning to piss me off. But he’s sitting on something, something I’ve been waiting for, and the knowledge that it will surely come is one of the few things that is stopping me from removing his nose from his face.

The large crowd in the bar is of course the other thing.

“So, I’ve been thinking…”

This is it, this has to be it… I try to keep the grin from my face.

“… I wonder what exactly, some of those big-bad guys, many of them far more resourceful than I am… What exactly would happen if someone were able to narrow down your background, to a field of only a million possibilities. 500,000 if you eliminate the women straight off the back… and then there’s the people who were clearly out of your age bracket. Why… I’d reckon some of these guys might be able to at least narrow it down, with their means, to a small enough group that they might be able to make you dance a bit.”

“Hmm… yeah. I guess that’d mess things right up wouldn’t it…”

I pause for effect and wait for him to bring his pint-glass to his lips.

“I guess I’d have to bail on the whole ‘Police-the-world’ business and get out of their hair, wouldn’t I… move back home, to be the same big fish in a little pond that we’ve both enjoyed so much. Move back here full time and take care of business…”

I shoot back a s***-eating grin and watch his reaction with sadistic glee.

The air in the room is just let out completely. Power swings. I run this place.

Russ was not ready for this. He’d thought he’d had me and now he’s lost face. Reading his face I recognise that I’ve broken the line. S***. Too far. Now I’ve got seconds.

Second one: Russ’ eyes roll across the high ceiling of the bar in an attempt to be nonchalant himself. He’s more convincing than I was earlier… but not by enough. His eyes fall just beyond me, looking just over my right shoulder and an almost imperceptible nod takes place.

Second two: I react. I must, trying to hide how I’ve read him I laugh. I laugh loud and hard. This gives Russ a false sense of security, surely this laughing fool has no idea what comes next. My arm falls behind me, slightly awkwardly, but by now Williams is too eager for my comeuppance to notice.

Second three: The bikie will surely be upon me soon, my arm is there, I can feel one of the cues in the rack behind me on my fingertips. I grasp it in my closed hands, the bikie has surely noticed, he’ll move fast. My eyes are trained on Williams’ face though. I don’t want to turn and face and have attacks coming from multiple directions.

Second four: The corner’s of Russ’ mouth curls upwards. This guy’s upon me, I plant the cue where he’s coming from. I snap my head from Russ. God knows what he’s doing now but I know he’s no longer the main threat. The big guy is on me and I bring the stick up.

I’d like to say I stop at the thigh… but we all know I don’t fight that clean.

Second five: I realise I’m not holding a cue but a bridging stick, you know.. that oddly shaped “spider” bridge. The big lout in front of me has dropped to his knees, I use the bridge part to hook in behind his head and swing him face first into the bar. I turn and Russ has reached over the bar and grabbed a bottle of scotch.

Such clichéd behaviour surely warrants an arse-kicking. I give it. I make him second-guess his clichéd decision to try and brain me with a whiskey bottle by bringing the butt of the spider bridge into his nose. This buys me the time I need, to use the length of the bridge to disarm him, I hook the bottle and some kind of cord with it and flick it across the room. The bottle hits the wall in front of a set of stairs and shatters, sending a small hailstorm of glass over the uncouth characters sitting beneath it and the cord hangs wrecked across the bar.

Hell has broken loose. Bedlam unleashed. People want blood and to get me for Williams for a myriad of reasons.

“I always wondered what this stick was for…” I quip. Why I quip, who knows, and I sure don’t have the time to self-analyse.

I turn to face the most immediate threat and halve my newly understood weapon of choice across his face. It splinters on impact and I can hear Russ Williams fleeing over my shoulder… but not out the back door. He takes to the stairs.

“Why are you going upstairs, Russ!” I shout in my own internal monologue. As I convince two more people that pursuing me is not really what they want with a handful of billiard balls.

I check on the bartender, to keep him honest and get a second’s longer look at the hanging cord… A phone! He wants time to call for more. He’s got me here where I could be too busy with the numbers to fight my way out. I fight my way for the stairs, the broken handle of the bridge being close enough to one of my jimmy sticks to feel familiar and show my proficiency.

I block a shot with the end of the broken bridge and grab a fresh cue on the wall, finishing him with the broken bridge before dropping the well worn, and significantly shortened, weapon as I bolt up the stairs.

With a thrust I double up an average looking sort up the top of the stairs before ploughing him into the back wall, with an uppercut from my free hand he’s done.

I survey the room, sure enough Russ is on the far side of the room on the phone with little between us but several roughnecks and… more pool tables. I angle my run to make for Russ without having to go through them but they “counter me” by cutting straight across. This is exactly what I wanted. They’ve strength in number and I’m glad they separated a little rather than let me go to Russ and have to take on these three as well as Williams, but now I have a little space between them. I jump and slide onto a table, taking an early cheap swat at the furthest with the fresh cue, the tip whips across him drawing blood in a straight line with a comedic blue spot marking the first point of impact. The second come, he gets the full brunt, of the cue, horizontal slashing swing which has taken both him, and a large chunk of the previously fresh new cue, out of commission. The first one has stopped to check his own face, he’s noticed the blood and now he’s pissed… but that first swing has bought me precious seconds more. The third comes, a scrawnier man with a cue of his own and he swings at my legs whilst I’m standing on the edge of the table. Not a bad stratagem, but I jump the cue and grab the “triangle” from off of the light, I let myself fall besides the table as I slip the triangle over his head, using my full weight to spike his head into the side of the table.

That one is NOT getting up in a hurry.

The first one is back and pissed from what I’ve done to his friends and his face. If I looked like him I’d probably be more concerned about his friends… One on one, with time on my side, and this idiot too pissed off to have any semblance of control? Please. I duck the opening swing, a wild hook thrown from Grenville with all of the subtlety of a baseball bat in parliament, and counter with a double hook to the body. The air is out of him. A single shot to the corner of the jaw and he is no longer part of the equation.

I turn and advance on Russ at the far end of the room. Not giving the bartender the satisfaction of a glance I hold my arm out in his direction, a single finger raised and gave the barman a single command whilst my eyes were fixed on Williams.

“Don’t… Move... An Inch.”

Hardly necessary, the bartender is frozen to the spot.

I pick up a pool cue from the table the Three Stooges were playing at before Russ and I rudely interrupted them, and let the sadistic grin flash back across my face.

“C’mon. Don’t give me that crap. You’re a hero. You really think I’m going to believe that you’re going to beat the s*** out of an unarmed man with a pool cue?”

His voice is wavering though… I’ve got his attention, but I can’t stop now. If I don’t do something he’ll take back control of the situation. He’ll come back harder. I need a statement.

Never losing a step or taking my gaze off of him I continued to march but my mind raced and my peripherals kicked in… bar, pool tables, billiard balls, high ceilings, imported Australian hardwood floors, more cues… high ceilings… That’s it. Can’t wail on an unarmed man… must make statement…

Now just three metres from Russ, I stop, never taking my eyes off him I snap the cue in half across my knee and lob him the bigger half.

Emphasis on lob. From three metres the stick gets hang time. Russ needs a chance and can’t believe he could have one, he raises his arms to the sky to reach his potential saviour. To the contrary, I’ve thrown my half aside.

Lob pass from three metres in close proximity. Back in schoolboy rugby they call that a hospital pass. I’m about to let Russ Williams find out why…

I charge, his arms are aloft, his torso unprotected. He’s just glanced down but it’s now too late. I sink my shoulder into his bread-basket, completely unprotected he’s beyond vulnerable. I hook the leg with my free arm and push forwards. For a split-second the window holds us.
But that is only a moment suspended in time. Our combined weight then pierces the glass. The integrity broken, the rest of the glass is vulnerable and the complete window shatters as a whole around us. Together we fall. I’d like to think I consciously pulled my bad arm in to brace from the one story fall, but I can’t honestly say whether it went through my mind. Perhaps it was another of the body’s self-defence mechanisms besides pain that led to it. It doesn’t matter really. We tumble as one, but I control the fall.

All faces along Barrie Street turn, they see a lot of violent behaviour here but its not every day they see anything this dramatic.

On the street below a hardtop becomes a soft-top instantly, I roll off of him, laid out on the car’s roof and leave him with one parting message.

“You think you control me? Try this s*** again and we’ll see if I can throw you outta taller building.”

I give a parting scowl at the patrons of the bar as they look on at the carnage in disbelief, and with a grapple shot at a vague building’s roof I’m gone.

[Mr. Majestic]

OLYMPUS MONS

I whip through the airs of Lost Havens and it appears to be a quiet day. There’s none of the broad daylight muggings or bank robberies you see in comic books and movies or mutant freaks bursting out of the sewers, swallowing up innocent bystanders. Not even a ****ing kitten stuck in a tree. I’m beginning to think the other metas have sucked this town dry. No petty crimes for new guys to take on.

Just as I’m ready to give up, something peculiar catches my eyes. Or ears, rather. A rapid, rhythmic thumping. It stands out in a city full of wailing car horns, squeaky bus tires, and the gentle taps of the citizens’ feet as they walk along its streets. This sounded much more frantic, much heavier. I follow the direction of the sounds and after a short flight I catch sight of this beefy kid in black hauling ass, weaving through traffic and pedestrians. Seems like he’s the source of the sound. I’m surprised I was able to pick it out. What about this guy made his footsteps so distinctive? Eh, whatever. He looks like he’s in trouble—meaning he just ****ed up big time and is on the run from the cops. And who’s gonna be there to apprehend the fugitive and save the day? Olympus ****ing Mons, that’s who.

Normally in a situation like this my abilities would have gave me super speed but its clear to see I’m not back to 100% so the speed on a Olympic level will have to do. I’m doing well for now but making my way pass on coming vehicles won’t help me for long. They will get to the point when they won’t care any longer and then I’ll be getting these innocent people in danger. I need to hurry up and disappear.

While maneuvering through traffic I come to a stop when a fellow who appears to be a hero of some sorts flies down in front of me. I’ve never seen him before and from what I can tell he doesn’t seem be part of STRIKE. He must be trying to be a hero.


http://img514.imageshack.us/img514/7248/45284989.png

“Look I don’t know who you are and I don’t have time for a wannabe superhero. I’m need for you to move out of my way.”

I then look over my shoulder and see that they are closing in. Once they catch up I know a fight will break out and I won’t be able to keep these people safe.

[Hound55]

Cooktown, Terraria

The following day. 09:30 hours...

Backyard Maintenance - Epilogue (OOC: Written in First person perspective for a change)

I’m sitting now, in my home. I call many places home nowadays… but only one in Cooktown. My true home. My first home.

I sit at a desk, with my brow furrowed in contemplation. My computer rests on the desk in front of me, the screen displaying a menu which looks startlingly similar to the primitive DOS-based systems of old. This has been my biggest bargain. I bought it three years ago. Somehow an old police station computer slipped through the police auctions without having its hard-drive destroyed.

This is why I research.

Every once in a while it leads to a nugget which is well worth the constant effort.

Its three years old now and comically the system is STILL yet to be updated. Although of course what I can view is still limited to what was on the hard-drive at the time since I’m incapable of accessing the CKPD network for the programs to update themselves with current information.

The screen in front of me reads:




WILLIAMS, Russ DOB: 12/04/1965
Address: 35 Welsh St, Botanic Valley
AKA: WILLIAMSON, Russ / WILLIAMS, Ross / SMITH, Garry / SOSAY, Kaiser (cont.)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
RED FLAG! – Do not approach for minors (CONTACT OPERATION 52-PICKUP)




The address is no longer accurate. I already knew that. I also know where he now lives. I have it recorded elsewhere. I record my own surveillance notes on a separate home made database using, pathetic as it sounds, Microsoft Access. I’m only one man so it’s sufficient for my own work-load. The only goal on my end was to record my own findings on a separate database, in case I’m ever lucky enough to score another rare find at police auction and can update the information I currently have. I could just update my own findings straight onto the database, but if I were ever lucky enough to find another I’d either lose all of my own findings or the whole system would glitch as contradicting report numbers would be used. Neither are desirable outcomes.

For the fourth time in hours I type “SUPP” to go into his supplementary information page. I already know what I’ll see, but something keeps me going back.

A page full of supplementary numbers awaits me once the interminable 10 seconds it takes to load pass. There are TWELVE more pages full of these supplementary article numbers for me to scroll through if I so choose. At the top the most recent one mocks me. 06/X000084961. The “06” jeering at me, as if my computer were impotent.

I’m not a happy man. I got to let off steam, which I always appreciate, but I know I’ve made things worse. Short term I know that won’t show; the Jesters and the Loonatics will lay low a few weeks. They’ll think I’m gunning for them. But I can’t, for two reasons; first, I can’t risk it. I can’t risk the possibility that I shake these three groups so much that they consider forgetting their differences and making a run to take me out of the equation. Second of all, with icon out of the picture over in the Haven I just can’t afford to not be back there at the moment. Not until we can either get some more members trained up and on board, or until some of the recent trends in crime subside.

I’ve already planned my return, the plane leaves in 5 hours. I’ll have to start to pack again. It’s the only reason I’m still awake. I planned to be awake through the day and then sleep on the flight over, I’ve already crunched the numbers on the hours and the time difference in an attempt to best cope with the jet-lag.

I quit out of the programs on screen and shut-down the computer. I clean the desk the lazy way, sweeping the crap straight into the desk’s draw, and get up to make for my room.

Some time later I return from my room with two loaded luggage bags, a backpack and a carry-case. The house is pretty clean as I roll the bag across the floor, more demonstrative of my lack of time spent home than of my own tidiness. As I put my hand on the door-handle I take one more look around my apartment, it is pretty tidy for the most part… which makes the one thing I see out of place stand out even more. Leaving my bags by the door I cross the floor to the exception.

It’s a small weight. I’d been using it for rehab. I pick it up easily and take it to my room, just as I get there I stop.

I extend my arm with the weight at arm’s length, and then I slowly rotate.

Silence.

The weight’s where I left it… firmly in the grasp of my hand.

All I can do is smile.

[NiteMare Shape]

http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/cooltext428410933.png





Scott turns the key, and slowly opens the door. As he steps into the apartment that he had once shared with his kid sister, he feels a rush of varied emotions rush through him.

For the first time in months, he feels that he has come home. However, he also feels the emptiness that is there now.

As he closes the door behind him, he almost expects to hear Jenny call out to him from the couch, or from her bedroom. He never knew what to expect from her when he got home, sometimes he'd get warm welcome, other times she'd tease him and generally give him a hard time. That's what kid sisters do, afterall.

As he walks into the living room, and looks to the couch, and can't help but to think of how many times he'd walk in to this room, and he'd playfully shove her with his him...and how many times he almost accidentally knocked her to the floor because he didn't hold back quite enough.

But those days are over now. Jenny is gone, and no matter what anyone else says, he is responsible for her death. And that is something that he will hve to live with for the rest of his life.

He heads toward his bedroom so that he can put his bags away and get settled into his place again, when he nearly walks into somebody moving hurridly toward him.

"Scott?" He says, shocked to see him.


"Eric? What are you doing in here?"


"I could ask you the same thing." Eric says, giving no real indication of his feelings regarding his friend's return home.

"I've been keeping an eye on the place since you've been gone. Making sure the place doesn't burn down or anything."

"Thanks Eric, I appreciate it."

"Scott, where the hell have you been? Everyone's been worried sick about you. You just vanished after..." Eric stops himself just before saying "she died."

"I know. I'm sorry, but I had to get away from everything. I had to get my mind right."

"And did you?"

"I don't know."

"That doesn't matter right now. I'm just glad you're back.We should celebrate. I'll call Keira an everyone else, we'll have a big welcome home bash and...."

"No."

Eric's face sinks for a spit second.

"Huh?"

"Don't...don't tell anyone just yet. Especially Keira. I owe it to her to talk her face to face...but I'm just not ready yet."


"Alright buddy, I understand." Eric lies, before continuing, "But you need to hurry up...she's been worried sick, and you're right...you do owe it to her."

Eric says as he turns and walks out the door, closing it behind him.

"I know."

[TrueMastermind]

A year. They say I've been knocked out for a whole year. I've wasted a whole year of my life in a damn hospital bed. Do you know how that feels? No birthday. No Christmas. No New Year's. Just a whole year of my life gone. And it's all because of Warren Schimdt.

Warren Schimdt. He killed my parents. He kidnapped my sister. He put me in a coma. One day, whether it be soon or the far future, I will get my revenge on that evil filth. I swear to it.

Enough of the negative. At least I'm alive. A blast like that should of killed me instanly. Too bad the other guys weren't so lucky.

And then there's Laurie. Standing over me with her radiant smile and glowing, tanned skin, I can only wonder why we never got together. I guess she never held any feelings for me. But still, just for her to be here, after her absence from my life for so many years, is simply amazing. I haven't even managed to let a word out of my mouth; I can only admire her beauty. But I've got to say something.

"So...how've you been?"

[NiteMare Shape]

Franchise pulls the trigger, but I have already teleported several feet away. I look to where I had just been and see a smoking crater in the floor.

Franchise curses and brings the large weapon around and points it at me again. I duck behind one of the large storage crates just as fires again. The crate explodes as I turn a corner and race through the maze of massive storage crates. Several more shots ring out behind me, follwed by more of the crates exploding.

I duck between a crate and the wall on the other side of the warehouse. I can hear him shouting challenges at me from his perch. I fire a grapple line into the rafters and begin my ascent to the ceiling, but I teleport again in order to avoid being seen by my opponent.

From my hiding spot in the rafters, I make my way back toward Franchise, taking extra care not to make any noises that would alert him to my presence. Then, when I find myself standing directly over him, I jump down, hitting him with a well placed dropkick to the back of his shoulder, knocking him to the ground.

As he hits the ground, Franchise rolls himself over and manages to get back to his feet, but not before I pounce, hitting him with a flurry of hard punches that staggers him, until I finally take him off his feet.

I move in to finih him off, but I make a mistake. I'm overconfident and he makes me pay. As I stroll over to where he lay prone, he suddenly srings up, sweeping my legs out from under me. I force my surprise aside and quickly get back to my feet, however, Franchise is on me, hiting me with hard rights and lefts that knock me back, and finally a hard uppercut that sends me crashing into one of the crates filled with high powered weapons.

I look up, just in time to see Franchise standing there, with that large gun pointed at me one more time.

"Now it's time to end this." He says as he opens fire once again.

[NiteMare Shape]

doublepost

[NiteMare Shape]

As Scott sits in his booth inside the Firehouse Pizza eatery in historic Lost Haven, he has a thousand things flying through his head even as he chews on his large chicken parm sub.

As the flatscreen tv on the back wall shows the day's baseball game between the Porter City Cougars and the Lost Haven Knights, Scott finds himself finally acclimating himself to being home. For the first time since returning to Lost Haven, he is starting to feel comfortable being back in the city.

It wasn't easy coming back, afterall, he had good reasons for leaving in the first place. He believed that only by disappearing could he protect those he loved from his enemies. However, it took a late night visit from one of his former teamates in the Guardians, and a conversation with a new friend to convince him that he had been wrong all along. Although he may have reduced the risk to his loved ones, how many others did he put at risk just by walking away?

It was a hard question to ask, and a harder question to answer. But in the end, he came to the conclusion that the world truely did need Icon, even if he did not want to admit it.

As he takes a sip from his ice water, he is suddenly drawn to the flatscreen at the back of the eatery. However, it was not the baseball game that grabbed his attention, it was the scene that had replaced it.

"And as you can see, the operator had lost control of the crane, damaging the suspension cables which support the Williams Bridge. We---"

He never heard the rest of the report, he leaves the eatery behind, as he makes his way out of the eatery and ducking into a secluded alley where he can change into something more appropriate for the occasion.

[TrueMastermind]

A year. They say I've been knocked out for a whole year. I've wasted a whole year of my life in a damn hospital bed. Do you know how that feels? No birthday. No Christmas. No New Year's. Just a whole year of my life gone. And it's all because of Warren Schimdt.

Warren Schimdt. He killed my parents. He kidnapped my sister. He put me in a coma. One day, whether it be soon or the far future, I will get my revenge on that evil filth. I swear to it.

Enough of the negative. At least I'm alive. A blast like that should of killed me instanly. Too bad the other guys weren't so lucky.

And then there's Laurie. Standing over me with her radiant smile and glowing, tanned skin, I can only wonder why we never got together. I guess she never held any feelings for me. But still, just for her to be here, after her absence from my life for so many years, is simply amazing. I haven't even managed to let a word out of my mouth; I can only admire her beauty. But I've got to say something.

"So...how've you been?"

"I've been good, but it looks like you've been in a bit of trouble."

"You can say that." I feel a little dizzy, but whether it's because I'm lost for words as I admire her divine, smooth skin or if it's just a natural reaction to a coma is unknown.

"What about you?" Uh oh, that was the question I was fearing. Telling her about STRIKE wasn't wise and I'm pretty sure they had some rule against discussing their operations to non-agents.

"I'll tell you later."
***
1 Month Later...

Today was the day. The day I was finally to be released from my dreadful prison. And the day I would return to the bustling metropolis that is New York City. But only Laurie was there. No uncles, no aunts, no cousins-three-times-removed, just Laurie. It hurt to have no family but Laurie was all I needed, she cared enough to equal a thousand people.

When I woke up, I found my room littered in "Welcome Back" decorations and a loving lady with a smile as wide as the Grand Canyon. Soon enough, she was pushing me in a wheelchair throughout the hallways of New York Methodist. Halting right before the door to take one last look at me before we head out into the concrete jungle, Laurie attempted to relax me.

"You're going to love it Carson, it's just so bright and beautiful outside!"

And believe me, it was.

[NiteMare Shape]

As he hits the ground, Franchise rolls himself over and manages to get back to his feet, but not before I pounce, hitting him with a flurry of hard punches that staggers him, until I finally take him off his feet.

I move in to finih him off, but I make a mistake. I'm overconfident and he makes me pay. As I stroll over to where he lay prone, he suddenly srings up, sweeping my legs out from under me. I force my surprise aside and quickly get back to my feet, however, Franchise is on me, hiting me with hard rights and lefts that knock me back, and finally a hard uppercut that sends me crashing into one of the crates filled with high powered weapons.

I look up, just in time to see Franchise standing there, with that large gun pointed at me one more time.

"Now it's time to end this." He says as he opens fire once again.

Just as he pulls the trigger, I "phase out," teleporting several feet to my left, causing his shot to be off the mark. However, Franchise is not phased...instead he brings the weapon around to bear again and continues firing.

I run and jump to avoid his shots, however several come close to hitting their mark.

"Would you stand still?!" Franchise shouts as he continues firing.

Several shots fly past my head, barely missing as I duck and dodge. One of the stray shots flies into a large crate near where I'm standing, and it insantly ignites. I take a step to create some distance and the developing inferno behind me, but it explodes as I'm in mid step, sending flying head over heels.

I look up in time to see debris from the crate flying through the air, igniting small fires where ever it happens to land. However, the small fires mege and creates larger fires, until finally the napalm like substance has engulfed the entire warehouse in flames.

I feel the burning in my chest as my lungs fill with smoke, and I feel a sudden sense of alarm course through me as I notice the flames creeping toward some open crates filled with heavy ordinance weapons.

I reach out and fire a grapple line from my wrist gauntlet and feel it imbed in the rafters overhead. I pull myself up to the ceiling and quickly locate the open window that I entered the warehouse through, and make my escape.

I barely make it across to th next roof when the warehouse explodes, lighting up the night sky. Unfortunately, Franchise did not have enough time to get out before the building went up, and there is no way that anyone inside could have survived the explosion.

Not how I wanted it to go down.

But there is a bright side, this explosion just set Midas back significantly in both time and money.

But still, not the way I would liked it to have gone down.

[wiegeabo]

I look at my surroundings and shake my head. "Government van," I mumble.

"What?"

"I said, it's a nice van."

Hawkes nods. "Thanks. Got it at a government auction. it was a good deal."

"Yeah, I bet."

"Oh, I know. She doesn't look like much. But she's got it where it counts. Worked on her myself. Added in a few extras."

"Extras?"

"Well, the extras I could afford. Trying to get money out of The Director, even though this technically is being used as a company car..."

"I figured all you'd have to do is fill out a couple of forms and give them to Alberts."

"I did. Twenty of them...In triplicate." By the tone of his voice, I can guess just how much money he got.

"So...where are we going?"

"To see a friend."

"You already told me that. But that's all you said. What friend?"

"An old friend."

I shake my head again. "Talking to you is like pulling teeth."

"That can be arranged, my friend."

"Har har. So, I take it it's a military buddy." I jerk forward in my seat as Hawkes slams the brakes. Our tires screech, and they're not the only ones. The blaring of horns gives me a clue about how many cars are stuck behind us now.

But I can't think about that as Hawkes grabs me by my jacket and pulls me towards him. "How'd you know I was in the military?! Someone told you. Who talked? The Director said our past was confidential. What'd you do? Go snooping around our files while you were all see-through?!"

"Hey, hey! Calm down!"

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Cars honk and drivers yell at us as their forced to pull around the van. "What the hell do you know about me?"

"Not a damn thing!" I try to pull his hands off my jacket, but his grip is like iron. "Geez, man. Just look at you. You basically sweat ex-military. Everything about you says army."

Hawkes glares at me for a few more seconds. Then he lets me go, puts the van back in gear, and starts down the road. We sit in silence for a while.

"It wasn't the army."

I glance at Hawkes. "What?"

"I said...it wasn't the army. I'd never be in the army. Can't believe you'd even think that."

"Not the army?"

"Jarhead, all the way."

"Ah." We sit for a few more seconds. "So...um...see any action, marine?"

Hawkes breathes out, his head bobbing slightly side to side. "You could say that."

"Where?"

"Desert Storm. Other places."

"Pulling teeth."

"Hey, I just don't like to talk about my past, ok?"

"Ok, ok. I get it. It's just...not fair, is all."

"What's not fair?"

"You know. You get to know everything about me. I don't get to know anything about you?"

"Yes. That's right. That's just how I like it. The personal life of Bobby Hawkes is need to know, and you don't need to know, my friend."

I furrow my eyebrows. "Except, that I do need to know."

"Ha. No no no. You don't."

I nod my head. "Yeah, I sort of do."

"No you don't."

"Yeah I do."

"No you don't."

"Yeah I...oh geez. Listen, there's two good reasons I should get to know about your past."

"No there isn't."

"Yes there..." I stop myself before falling into the trap. "One: We're going to meet an old friend of yours anyway. So I'm automatically going to learn something. So You might as well fill me in before we get there. Two: I'm your partner. Partners are supposed to share stuff."

"You watch way too many buddy cop movies there, Cole."

"Well...I like buddy cop movies."

"Best one?"

"Lethal Weapon."

"The first?"

"Naturally."

"Damn right."

"...and there's this Canadian flick..."

"Good Cop, Bon Cop?"

"Yes!"

"Love that one."

"I thought it was just going to be another Weapon rip off-"

"But there was something about it that made it all its own."

"Exactly." We sit in silence for a couple of seconds. "Did-did we just have a guy moment?"

Hawkes bobbles his head. "Come onnnn...a little guy moment maybe. Bit of bonding for a second there?"

"Maybe a little one."

I smile. "There we go. That's a start. So...you're friend. Where are we meeting him?"

"At his work." Hawkes points as a building as we pass it, just before pulling into a parking structure.

I stare at the sign in disbelief. "You're old marine buddy works at a paper supply company?"

"That's only a front."

"For what?" He stops the van as a couple of big guys in suits walk towards us.

"The CIA..."

[Rain Dog]

Normally in a situation like this my abilities would have gave me super speed but its clear to see I’m not back to 100% so the speed on a Olympic level will have to do. I’m doing well for now but making my way pass on coming vehicles won’t help me for long. They will get to the point when they won’t care any longer and then I’ll be getting these innocent people in danger. I need to hurry up and disappear.

While maneuvering through traffic I come to a stop when a fellow who appears to be a hero of some sorts flies down in front of me. I’ve never seen him before and from what I can tell he doesn’t seem be part of STRIKE. He must be trying to be a hero.


http://img514.imageshack.us/img514/7248/45284989.png


“Look I don’t know who you are and I don’t have time for a wannabe superhero. I’m need for you to move out of my way.”



I then look over my shoulder and see that they are closing in. Once they catch up I know a fight will break out and I won’t be able to keep these people safe.



The nerve of some people.

"Wow. Just who the **** do you think you--"

I cut my sentence short as my eyes zoom in on a trio of freaks closing in from the distance. The closest one is in some sort of armored suit, rushing towards us on what look like rockets.

Hmm...three against two...maybe even three against one--I don't know if this kid would be any good in a fight. Can't say I like those odds. Maybe I got this whole situation backwards. Maybe this kid in black is the bad guy and those three are the heroes in hot pursuit. Maybe...

Well, there's one way to find out.

"Suit yourself," I say, as I begin hovering backwards. I think I'll sit back and watch the fireworks and then make the judgment call.

[sabetoonth]

Eli and Mitch walked down the streets, some of the rubble laid in the streets, most people cars had been buried in it or crushed by it, so on foot traffic was thicker then usual, as their cars were being dug out, repaired or they waited to get a replacement it had been this bad all month. OK, maybe it wasn't as bad as it was to start off with, but it still wasn't normal, even for New York.

“Seriously? Warehouse?” Elijah looked over at his friend, how long had they known each other, 5 years? Since he had met him at the paper when they both started? Either way, it was long enough to know each other well enough to foresee the whole conversation.

“No, not really, ha-ha” Laurence chuckled at the revelation. “No my friend” Mitch put his arm around his friends shoulder; he knew it made him uncomfortable, but he didn’t care. “You” he said with an informative tone. “Are going to be working as a janitor part time at the Museum of Natural History, to be honest I don’t understand why the invaders knocked over the Chryslter building, but not the Natural History Museum or Empire State Building.” Elijah didn’t wonder these things; he doubted that the invaders had planned what buildings to destroy. Or had they? Either way it didn’t matter, they had been beaten back by the world’s assorted heroes, and some had paid the price for their heroism.

“A janitor, you are pulling worse jobs out of your ass then usual.” Elijah and Mitch were always like this, almost a brotherly kind of relationship, at least the way they talked to each other.

“Well, beats unemployment don’t it?” Elijah gave him a look of ‘I won’t say it, but you’re right’.

Musuem of Natural History, New York, New York
2:24 AM, Three Weeks Later

Elijah had been working at the museum for almost a month without anything special going on, he had gotten some calls from Kelsey, his ex. She wanted to know if he was still alive after the invasion and if he was alright, she had moved to New Haven, Maine. Eli had thought about moving there himself, it was his hometown after all. He had a new job though, and it was something to keep him busy, not like he could get anything done at any other job Mitch could ever line up for him. Mitch, how would he take being abandoned for New Haven if Elijah moved back? Eli would have to talk to him about that.

Twenty minutes after Elijah started getting ready to leave, he went around, and as a sort of security check of his own walked over every floor, every room and every inch of the museum. It probably took him an hour at least. As he headed out towards the doors…

BOOM!

A wall somewhere in the building was blown in, someone was robbing the Musuem of Natural History. Elijah’s insticts kicked in and he raced towards the source point of the explosion.

“Move out boys! Get it all together, and get it out!!” he sounded like an experienced soldier, he gave orders quick and to the point. And he knew what he wanted. Stokes huddles down by a collum, as the mercenaries filed into the building. “Leave the jewels be if they aint attached to out targets.” The leader barked at his subordinates. Elijah snuck back and around, looking for a way to defend his new job. He came up on a single thug smashing into a case of armor that belonged to a knight some 1000 years ago, it had all sorts of weird runic inscriptions, as he shattered the glass Elijah sprung from his hiding spot, he swung his bag over his head and down onto the brute’s head, knocking him out. The commotion of it was unexpected and Elijah darted away before support arrived.

He had taken out the one guard, he was sneaking around the museum looking for a way out to safety without being detected, where the hell where the cops? He rounded a corner and froze. About ten of these thugs where standing there hauling a case out of an exhibit. They saw him before Elijah could dart back to cover. One drew his sidearm and swqueezed the trigger, a bullet whizzing by Eli’s head he dove for cover behind the wall, he descended the stairs tripping on the last step and falling head first into the hard floor. Getting up as fast as he could, he kept running for the janitors closest. Closing the door behind him he grabbed a wrench and ventured out into the open. He heard foot falls and stoped dead. Awaiting the approach of the gun toting merc, Elijah took a moment to slow his breathinng and focus.

this is it. He thought to himself, do or die.

He pounced from his place and struck the guard in the head with the large monkey wrench. The body slumped to the floor.

"Oh god, I killed someone." The thought raced through his head multiple times. He toughed it up and raced down the halls, he was getting out of…here.

The next corridor was filled with the remaining goons loading the loot into the truck backed up to the hole in the wall.

…Or not.

“Shoot’em boys.” The command came without a heart beat, almost like he knew Elijah was going to be there. As the minions turned, they shouldered or hoisted their guns level with the intruder. He didn’t have time to run as a wall of gunfire greeted him with a bang, as the first bullet grazed his arm Elijah felt a great fire within and he black out.

[Hound55]

Lost Haven, United States of America

A distinctive jet black Corvette cuts a path through the light midday traffic of downtown Lost Haven. Its driver ill-at-ease behind the wheel of the highly powered vehicle, but not because he’s incapable of handling its engine, rather because he knows he’s under observation.

From who, he’s not so sure.

This is Isaac Fontaine, a man twice known as the Vigilante on almost opposite corners of the globe. Few have made the connection between the two, however. In fact, few who know of one are even aware of the other and those who know both do not tend to make the comparison.

He is two sides of the same coin. Back in his native Terraria, he’s a political issue; A scapegoat being foisted upon the people by a mayor desperate for re-election. In the United States he’s almost a pawn of the state, operating within the Government-funded Guardians; a powerful team billed as superpowered heroes (which in fairness, for the most part, they are…) forged on the brink of apocalypse – sponsored by a government desperate to stay in front of the larger metahuman issue.

Crackling over the speakers of the car a modified police radio blurts out something which will become his next call of business.

“…and a partridge in a pear tree.” Isaac sang, mocking the laundry list of police job codes for the incident.

But they had his attention. It wasn’t far either, he shifted down a gear and hurled the ‘vette into a hard handbrake turn with little regard for the wear and tear of the taxpayer-maintained Corvette.

“...Priority A. All cars in vicinity dispatch to incident. Police cordon required. Warn – Do not approach the perpetrator, await SWAT or superior tactical back-up...”

Isaac smiled at the notion of “or superior tactical back-up”.

“Well, at least they won’t start the party without me.”

Within 5 minutes the black corvette screeches to a halt just outside of the police cordon, jittery officers turn and aim their guns at the black figure as he exits the black car with its tinted windows.

“Whoa, whoa… put the guns down officer…”

“Freeze! Stay where you are!”

“Easy. I’m with you… Holy sh**…”

That’d be just his luck, get shot to death by police in the country where he IS operating legally.

“Just lie down on the floor and put your hands behind your head.”

“I have ID!”

“Get on the floor!”

“You touch the mask it’ll be the last thing you do as a police officer… I have identification. Send someone over here, check my top breast pocket. And only my top breast pocket… A Guardian has to have SOME secrets.” He said as he put his hands behind his head but remained standing.

“Whoa, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Sarge, this guy sped in here in an unmarked car, dressed like some kind of terrorist.”

“Lower your guns, boys. Looks like we won’t need to be waiting on SWAT support… Sorry about the misunderstanding, the men are getting a little jittery given this particular situation.”

“Its fine… You’re still better than customs and the guy with the rubber glove was particularly friendly… So what are we looking at Sergeant..?”

“Hammond. Well, you heard the call. It looks like we have a bank robbery with a twist. One of those metas robbed a bank. Was briefly looking to be a full hostage situation, but he was startled by how fast police arrived on scene. While the perp was distracted watching the police cordon form through the window, the manager was able to get all civilians inside the office section and a teller dropped the glass.”

“So amateur hour, eh?”

“Well, it sure looks like it. We’ve got him pegged down the end of the street in or around the bank.”

“OK. Sounds like you guys have pretty much done most of the work… now when you say meta, what are we dealing with here?”

“Well, as far as we can tell he’s only at regular human level strength, durability and speed… and he’s certainly no genius. He seems to have some kind of chemical resistance.”

“So? You shelve the spray and shoot or rush him.”

“It’s not quite as simple as that… he seems to be using some kind of weird armour from the sitreps I’m getting for a start… We’ve been waiting on a SWAT sniper so we could take his legs out, keep him contained for the suits to move in.”

“Is that it?”

“Yeah, I haven’t seen first hand. That’s about it.”

Isaac reaches under the backseat and retrieves his grapple gun. Shutting the door and hitting the central locking remote button as he strode through the police cordon.

“’Suits’… So the FBI are collecting metas now? Well… who isn’t, heh. We are, both for our team and the few cells located underground in Guardians HQ, although they’re generally just temporary facilities. Then there’s S.T.R.I.K.E… some group I should probably look into a little more when I get the chance, and now the FBI. I’d be surprised if that’s it too…” He thought to himself.

Isaac was now approaching the bank, furtively trotting behind a parked car for cover he wanted to get a decent look at the man in question before considering his next move. The Haven tended to have this weird effect on him, he wasn’t sure whether it was the fact that the metahuman issue was far more prevalent than back home, but he tended to take things far less seriously. Everything seemed somewhat surreal and that combined with his own inability to feel pain sometimes led to a false sense of security.

Sliding around the rear bumper of the aging white Ford sedan, which was his hiding place, he was about to have all of these feelings come flooding back once more.

A glance turned to a peek.

A peek turned to a double take.

A hidden double take turned into a stare as he moved out into the open.

“Aha! I know you! At last one of you has arrived! Meet your newest arch-nemesis, for I am The Jellyfish! And with my stinging-cells you have finally met your doom!”

…and the open stare turned to laughter.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“What?!?”

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Isaac could not believe the sight that stood before him.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“What’s so damn funny?!?”

“The jell- HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“Shut up! WILL YOU SHUT UP!”

As he stood before the man who’s head and torso appeared to be covered by some kind of gelatinous mould, with long rope-ish appendages that doubtless were intended to be tendrils or some form of tentacles he felt it only fair to let his “newest arch-nemesis” in on the joke.

“You look like the new mascot for a contraceptive company! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Laughing further at his own observation, Isaac doubled-up cackling at his ridiculous opponent. Fluid began to creep in behind his eyes as he attempted to get back upright.

Removing a leather exterior glove to wipe the fluid from his eye, he caught sight of something far more serious in his peripherals.

“Oh sh***, you made me laugh so damn hard I’m crying…” He said as he wiped his eye.

As several officers who had been waiting behind the cordon had snuck in behind the Jellyfish whilst he was distracted by Isaac and dragged away two clearly badly wounded police officers. The Seargent's words resonated in his ears...

Sorry about the misunderstanding, the men are getting a little jittery given this particular situation.”

And as if this weren’t enough to snap him back to the real world the next thing he saw surely would:

Looking down at his latex glove-covered hand he saw that the tears were in fact blood. The laughter quickly dissolved to silence.

[TrueMastermind]

"I've been good, but it looks like you've been in a bit of trouble."

"You can say that." I feel a little dizzy, but whether it's because I'm lost for words as I admire her divine, smooth skin or if it's just a natural reaction to a coma is unknown.

"What about you?" Uh oh, that was the question I was fearing. Telling her about STRIKE wasn't wise and I'm pretty sure they had some rule against discussing their operations to non-agents.

"I'll tell you later."
***
1 Month Later...

Today was the day. The day I was finally to be released from my dreadful prison. And the day I would return to the bustling metropolis that is New York City. But only Laurie was there. No uncles, no aunts, no cousins-three-times-removed, just Laurie. It hurt to have no family but Laurie was all I needed, she cared enough to equal a thousand people.

When I woke up, I found my room littered in "Welcome Back" decorations and a loving lady with a smile as wide as the Grand Canyon. Soon enough, she was pushing me in a wheelchair throughout the hallways of New York Methodist. Halting right before the door to take one last look at me before we head out into the concrete jungle, Laurie attempted to relax me.

"You're going to love it Carson, it's just so bright and beautiful outside!"

And believe me, it was.





This was definetely New York City. Sharply-dressed civilians racing up and down the streets, speaking into their Bluetooth earpieces. Crazy taxi drivers constanly honking their horns at the backed up traffic, just trying to get the next tip. Towering skyscrapes peering down at their resident city through the misty fog. Yep, this is the city I had left a year ago and now I'm back.

But one thing was different. Laurie didn't lie about the brightness, it was just wasn't normal for New York to be this luminescent and hot. Never had the heat been so unbearable, it was making him feel sick. Not wanting to return to a hospital bed, I had no intention of telling Laurie how this heat was affecting me. Although, I could even feel the vomit swishing around in my stomach as we made our way to her car.

Maybe she finally felt it herself, or she just rather walk in the shade, but she finally moved into the shadow of the looming hospital building. All pain ceased as soon as my body no longer lingered out in the sun. Thank god.

Once we got in her obsidian-black Dodge Charger, I wondered if this sudden, new reaction to light was just a natural feeling one gets after awaking from a coma. Whatever it is, it damn sure ain't normal.

[NiteMare Shape]

http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/cooltext428410933.png




As Icon approaches the Williams Bridge, he sees that the damage is worse than he had feared.

The man operating the crane tasked with repairing damage done to the bridge during the alien invasion had lost control of the machine, causing more damage to one of the support cables. Normally that would be of little concern, but with the other damage already done to the bridge, it was potentially catastrophic.

While in the process of losing control of the crane, the operator had also managed to drive it through the safety barricade, bringing the crane as well as several other vehicles who had been travelling in the one open lane when the accident occured, dangerously close to falling off the side of the bridge.

After assessing the damage, Icon lowers his head and increases his speed, rushing to get to the bridge before it is too late.

As he reaches the bridge, he quickly grabs one end of the support cable and begins flying with it up toward the other end. Struggling, he brings the two ends together, where he begins to fuse them togther with fine, pinpoint optical rays. After he finishes the quick fuse job, he lets the support cable go in order to test it...

It holds.

For now at least. It will need to be repaired, but it will hold long enough for those repairs to be completed.

Once he is satisfied that the bridge is secure, he turns his attention to the crane which is now dangling dangerously close to the edge of the bridge.

I quickly loops down to the crane and begins pushing against it, forcing it back onto the bridge. He struggles at first, unable to get a good handhold on the machine, but after a few seconds the crane finds itself safely on the bridge. He then goes around to the door to the cockpit of the machine, reaches is and takes the man by the arm.

"It's alright, I've got you." He says as he helps the man down to the ground.

As Icon helps the man regain his feet after the near disaster, he is suddenly aware of a crowd rushing toward him. Bystanders and media members alike converge on him, calling to him, snapping photographs, or just trying to get his attention...or a soundbyte.

With the danger now passed, Icon simply nods to the crowd gathered in front of him, then gives them a slight smile, and takes to the skies, leaving them standing there in a collective silence.

[TrueMastermind]

The Knighting
Wow. That's all I can say about Laurie's exquisite condo in the depths of Manhatten. Tricked out to the fullest, the residence was equipped with a bar, a number of high-definition televisions, and a high-tech media room. She defines the phrase "living large."

"Nice place." Taking a minute to realize what I'm talking about, she chuckles when she grasps what I'm saying.

"I think your slightly confused buddy. This is my brother's apartment, he's a business hotshot, and I'm just watching after the place while he's in Brazil or something." Oh yes, Johnny. He might've been the cockiest ba***rd I've ever seen. Not exactly the best guy to hang around.

"I'm just a simple journalist for a minor newspaper, nothing big at all." She was embarrassed; the tone of her voice made it obvious. It's hard not to feel like an underachiever when your older brother is a big-name, loaded socialite.

"You lived out your dream; that's all that matters...right?" I recalled her ranting on throughout school about how she longed to be a writer, and she did it. I'm proud of her.

"What about you? What've you done since graduation?" Uh oh, not good. I rather not go on about my wild adventures as a secret agent; there would be some information I prefer to keep on the down-low. Instead...

"Photographer." Stolen straight from Peter Parker. Aren't I a geek.

"Really? For who?" Why so curious?

"Freelance." Thank god for my quick-thinking. However, she seems to have more question to ask, the most obvious of them all...

"How did you get into a coma?" Luckily, I produced an answer for this situation as I came up with the photographer path.

"Just snapping shots of that Warren Schidmt character, and he just happened to blow up a couple of blocks on the same day. Sheer bad luck, it is." Before now, I hadn't even mentioned Warren Schidmt to anyone. Still, I wasn't ready to speak of his involvement in my life. Not yet.

"You sure you weren't trying to be the big hero again, like in high school?" A laugh escaped my mouth at the mention of my numerous heroic attempts back in high school. Those were the days.

"Not at all, Laurie. Not at all."

[Hound55]

Isaac ran for cover behind a parked car. He needed time to think. Little did he know just how precious every second would be, as his opponent’s “stinging cells” slowly filled the air, his lungs and turned his muscles to dull, lead weights.

“Why the hell am I bleeding, he hasn’t even touched me?”

“He seems to have some kind of chemical resistance.”
“Sonuvab****. He’s poisoning the area…”

Realizing now just how valuable every second was he decided he must move now. He had no idea WHAT that move should be; only that it had to come now. His usual method of meticulous planning had to go out the window. Improvisation is required. But first, get the right tool for the job. One of the fallen police officer’s service revolvers lay on the asphalt next to him. Isaac was positioned precariously on the horns of a dilemma. In Cooktown he refused to operate with a firearm, gun laws were far tougher and he was concerned that it might lead to an escalation in firearm usage by desperate men looking to “keep up” with him, but this isn’t Cooktown… Anyone can pack heat in the US… The dilemma was solved in seconds. He pocketed the revolver; better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it.

“Hey! I know you’re there! You think I’m going to just let you die in the gutter over there rather than have some fun and be known as the guy who killed the Vigilante?”

Reputation? That’s this idiot’s motivation? Ugh. I can’t believe this clown is making me bleed…

Isaac takes the gun out, check the clip and removes the safety. “Know thy enemy.” Thinking back to his experience in firing ranges back home, wanting to get better acquainted with shooting in case he ever had, not that he ever wanted to.

“Not that I had any talent for it… to the contrary I had a natural… well… I want to say sucktitude but I’m pretty sure that’s not a word…”

Stepping out from beyond cover with an amateurish “A-frame stance” he squinted with one eye over the sight and fired off half the remaining clip.

Tching! Tching! Tchik! Thuip! Thuk! Tching!

The Jellyfish stood and laughed some 30 feet away. Isaac relaxed his stance and checked his results. 6 shots; 3 in the pavement, 1 in a parked car and two hitting the target. One would have missed if it weren’t for his gel-based shielding anyway and the other was in line for a direct hit, but was stopped just inches through the gel.

“HAHAHA! Now it is my turn to laugh! Can you feel yourself slipping away! Feel your life drain at the hands of my stinging cells?!”

“Melodramatic f***ing clown… Alright, if I’m going out I’m going out on my terms. One last shot at this…”

“That’s it! I’m not going out by a f***ing walking prophylactic who calls himself the f***ing Jellyfish!”

Isaac charged. One shot, can’t miss this. The revolver was back in his pocket and in his hands now was his grapple/bolt gun. He sprinted towards his padded foe. The Jellyfish in turn ran at him in a style that looked so ridiculous it would have had Isaac on the floor laughing minutes earlier.

Just feet away Fontaine fired his bolt gun with his ammunition of choice.

The grappling hook.

The hook penetrated the gel armour almost the entire way and stopped just millimetres from the Jellyfish’s eye. The automatic retraction device pulled the cord tight and Isaac pulled him off balance with a single hard yank on the line. The hook pulled a chunk of the gel loose just as the Jellyfish was pulled to the ground. He rolled a few metres struggling to get to his feet due to the impracticality of his own costume in close combat situations. He wouldn’t get back on his feet.

Isaac kicked him back off balance and rolled him onto his back, the Jellyfish’s tendrils flailing in terror as Fontaine looked more comfortable with the situation every second.

The gel had torn away over a single cheek but remained in tact over the rest of his body, Isaac coughed as he realised that the gel itself was what was polluting the air as well as his lungs and blood stream…

“How?! How are you still standing? The cops fell and screamed in agony in seconds!”

“I’m not a cop.” Isaac replied simply, setting to work at the tough task at hand.

“Not a simple task either… the gel is still supporting his head and neck, I need a contact knockout as soon as possible…” He thought to himself. Isaac’s high school boxing couch taught him that early on in the piece.

See, it’s not how hard the fist connects with the head that causes the knockout, he remembered, it’s the snapping back of the head itself. The rattling of the brain within the head. For this reason headgear in amateur boxing was more a safety precaution against blood infection than in cranial damage. Much like the invention of gloves in boxing did more to protect the hands than the head. Here he was taking on an opponent who was essentially fitted with an air-bag.

Isaac took to the task with a series of hard right hooks… the Jellyfish’s head took repeated shots, his cheek swelled whilst he howled in concession. Each right hook causing a small cloud of the toxic stinging-cell gel that his costume was made of to rise in plume. Isaac could ill-afford to stop, the stinging cells had already almost completely decimated his right arm. Tendrils flailed and Isaac unleashed one more hook and it was over.

He rolled off and coughed, tasting the blood rising in his throat. Who knows how much blood he’d swallowed? His legs were almost immobilised from their contact with the gel itself. Next to him he heard footsteps echo as he rolled on his side and saw police officers in HAZMAT suits running in and apprehending his conquered foe.

“We’ve been waiting on a SWAT sniper so we could take his legs out, keep him contained for the suits to move in…”echoed in his mind.

Idiot. Stupid, brash idiot.

Another pair of officers in suits with a stretcher rushed to get him back out of the cordon where paramedics could attend to him, but this he could not abide. He rolled over and pushed himself up largely with one arm and staggered back through the barricade, his legs splaying spastically underneath him.

Hammond watched him, not fully understanding why he felt the need to avoid paramedic help.

“God damn superheroes, thinking they’re too good for our help… Kid thinks he’s indestructible.”

Isaac somehow threw himself into the driver’s seat of the jet ‘Vette with somewhat less of a superiority complex than Hammond presumed.


“Please God, don’t let me die today…”

[TrueMastermind]

The Knighting
Uh, this is boring. Laurie says I need to rest, and as a result, I have been stuck in this penthouse for a whole week. Yep, I've been stuck in a penthouse with countless video games and a mountain of expensive food.

Okay, so it hasn't been that boring. But the same pattern gets old after a while. Eat, then play, eat, then play. Just too repetitive for me. Laurie is always busy, I hardly ever get to talk to her anymore.

Looking out the massive window, I catch a glimpse of Paladin, New York's biggest superhero. He's been active since I was in middle school, yet he hasn't aged a bit. Sometimes, I wish I could fly or have super speed. I wish could be among the superhero ranks. But it's just a foolish, childish dream; it's not going to happen.

For some bizarre reason, the lights dimmer significantly. If it wasn't for the glow of the sun, I hardly would be able to see at all in here. Trying to investigate the source of the problem, I see nothing. This is a little wierd...

"Freeze!" Hearing the door slam, I whip back around to see a mangled man, aiming a pistol right at me. Great, a robbery just a week after I wake up from a coma. Just my luck...

"Look man, I don't want any trouble. So if you could just find your way out..."

"Shut up! Give me all the money you have!" Wow, just like the movies. You think criminals would at least make an effort to be original.

"Alright, just let me get my wallet from the countertop." Nodding to agree, the thug lets me grab my wallet. Very idiotic, but I won't pull anything yet. Walking over to him to hand over the wallet, he signals for me to drop it on the floor. Complying with his demands, I wait until he bends over to recieve the one-sided trade. Swiftly kicking his gun out of his bony hand, I hurl an iron fist straight to the burgalar's dirty face. Knocked out in one punch? Wow, either this guy's a dumb wimp or I got stronger while I was in a coma. Sweet.

[TrueMastermind]

The Knighting
"You took him down all by yourself?" Nodding for what seemed to be the 10th time, I take a break from answering Laurie's barrage of questions to take a look around. Police had just taken the juvenile down to the squad car and the last man in blue just exited out of the penthouse apartment. The criminal was a repeat offender, a frequent visitor in the local penitentiary. But an unknown accomplice has been pulling strings to prevent the thief from ever staying behind bars for long. Sounds pretty fishy if you ask me.

But forget the thug for a second, what about me? Although I was a STRIKE agent, I had never been much of a strong man. A decent fighter yes, but there's no way in the world I should be knocking out brutes with one punch that wasn't even at full force. Pretty bizarre if you ask me. But hey, who complains about a little extra strength?

I swear a humanoid shape appeared at the window for a second, but my mind is likely still recovering from being a year-long coma. Although it would fit right in with all the other strange things that have been occuring around me lately...

"Want some Chinese?"

"Sure, get me the beef ribs. No, the shrimp fried rice. Although I do have a certain craving for Lo Mein. Hmm."

"Jeez, make up your mind bonehead." A grin flashes on my face. I was certainly suprised that me and Laurie would be so comfortable talking to each other after a 5-year hiatus. It couldn't get better than this.

"Alright, beef ribs, don't be pushy." Once again, I catch a glimpse of that shadowy shape from the window again. My eyes must really be tired from all of the video games.

"Ooh, I forgot! I got a little something for you, sort of like a 'welcome back' gift." Skipping over to couch, she grabs a previously unoticed wrapped present from the comfy furniture. Looking at me with mountains of excitement and glee, she hands over the nicely sized gift, awaiting my reaction.

"You didn't have to."

"Open it!"

"Alright, alright," Not hesitating for a second, I tear the wrapping off with a unusual quickness. And there it was, a...

"A camera, thanks."

"Figured you would need it sometime soon! Do you like it?" Well, truth be told, I didn't really care for it. Had no need for it besides convincing Laurie that I'm actually a photographer.

"I love it." Ugh, another lie. They were making me ill.

"Oh, the doctor called. He said you can finally go out now!" Finally, I can get some air. The penthouse was great, but it just isn't my style.

Here I come, New York City.

[trustyside-kick]

OOC: Previously (http://forums.superherohype.com/showpost.php?p=18395495&postcount=87)...

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v643/dhunter22/archangelbanner1.jpg

Lost Haven
3 Minutes from Now

We go airborne, the ball of wind around me disappearing, and just when I realize I'm probably going to have to catch him before he falls and dies...the punk suddenly stops mid-air and crosses his arms. He looks up to me, with uncanny speed and it freaks me out. All he does is smile, and...I don't know how it happens next.

He just...tackles me from below...so fast. How did he--he wasn't this fast before. And that's when I realize it. When I felt like he was draining the very life outta me...it enhanced his very attributes. That explains what he did to those other women he kidnapped before he kidnapped Grace. He sexually had his fun with them...and then he had more fun.

An inhumane kind of fun.

And inhumane kind of deed.

This guy's...like a darn demon.

I'm able to break out of his tackle hold before he starts to drain my body once again. As I manipulate the space of air between us, and simply expand it enough to force his hold loose. It was...harder than before to knock him away. His strength his increased to from our little 'hugging session'.

He chuckles as he regains balance and stops mid-air.

"Starting to put the pieces together, Michael? Thinking about what those women must've felt? Try not to dwell on such things. I gave those women the time of their lives. Our love making...was passionate. Never before did they feel such ecstasy. And then...they served their purpose."

"Yea, you sucking them dry like some...succubus."

"Incubus, Michael, is the term for a male demon that performs such a similar act. Very clever, but no. Half, yes. But the other half is human. You felt the pain I have endured for centuries, Michael, as I drained you. That feeling of sorrow and unhappiness. Like...you could never smile again."

He nailed it right on the spot.

"That is what I feel every time my course of life-force has started to go dry. Death waiting to greet me at its door. But so long as there is a populace, I am...eternally strong and handsome. But what I felt with you, Michael...when I got a mere taste of you...was like something I never dreamed of. I'm going to take great pleasure in making you my personal donor."

"Want me to donate something to you? Funny, because I was thinking of giving you something actually!"

I get desperate. Can't let him get too close to me. If he gets his hands on me, I'm screwed. I take the water particles in the air, and I focus them and shape them to my will. Then, I accelerate the speed they travel and aim them down at Sebastian. No where for him to run as I drop a storm of icicles from the skies. Even he isn't that fast. He'd have to have the speed of the Blue Blur to evade such an attack.

I'm relentless. Need to get this dude down, and keep him down. The icicles strike him, cutting at his skin. I think that all is going according to plan, but...dangit the psycho starts to rise at me. Increasing his speed as the icicles fall from the opposite direction only makes the impact of their damage hurt more yet he does not falter.

"You gotta me kidding me."

I conjur up some wind, getting ready to knock him back down, and he grabs me by the foot, and swings me about. Around and around I go, where will I stop? Apparently only Sebastian knows but as he finally let goes of me I see clear as day.

"Oh cra--"

*CRASH*

I smash through the stained glass windows of the nearby Cathedral. I don't have the strength in me to stop in mid-air, but I use the wind below me to help break my fall a bit, and crash into one of the row of pews.

[Mr. Majestic]

The nerve of some people.

"Wow. Just who the **** do you think you--"

I cut my sentence short as my eyes zoom in on a trio of freaks closing in from the distance. The closest one is in some sort of armored suit, rushing towards us on what look like rockets.

Hmm...three against two...maybe even three against one--I don't know if this kid would be any good in a fight. Can't say I like those odds. Maybe I got this whole situation backwards. Maybe this kid in black is the bad guy and those three are the heroes in hot pursuit. Maybe...

Well, there's one way to find out.

"Suit yourself," I say, as I begin hovering backwards. I think I'll sit back and watch the fireworks and then make the judgment call.

Well at least that fix one problem but I still have a major one to handle now.

“Mark if you come back with us now I give you my word you’ll be treated good.” James tells say as he approaches.

Just by looking in his eye’s I know he doesn’t want to go through with this but we both know he has to.

“James I’ve gave my life to those people and the only thing I wanted was a little break and they couldn’t even give me that. I’m sure your word isn’t going to mean anything to them.”

Right now this is going good we’re talking and hopefully we can keep it this way.

“Look I’m pretty sure we can talk with someone else in charge that will see thing from your point of view. All we have…”

“All we have to do is bring him in.” Heatwave interrupts. “James you’re done here, I’m in charge.”

“What are you talking about? We both know I’m second in command behind Spartan.”

“You were second, if you had the volume up in that helmet of yours you would have heard Major Lee give the order.”

James then gave the command to turn back on his comm link.

“Major Lee this is Sentry is it true that Heatwave in now in command sir?”

“That it is, the fact is you are to close to Spartan so I need someone in charge who is will to get the job done.”

Heatwave then glance at Sentry and smile at the fact that he was no longer in charge. He then places all his attention back on me.

“Look we don’t have to do this.”

“For a while now I have been waiting on a chance to be able to fight you again and now I finally have it.”

“Remember this is not about fighting Heatwave this is about bringing him back.” G-Force says as he finally catch’s up.

“Our orders are to bring him back by any means necessary and that’s what I’m going to do.”

After Heatwave made his little comment his eyes then began to burn red, which means he’s about to attack.

“If that is how you want it bring it.” I tell them as I get into a fighting stance.

Wasting no time Heatwave quickly went on the attack. He releases a line of fire aim right at me. Dumb move. All I have to do is cover my body in steel. As I try to tell my body what to do is doesn’t do anything at all so I’m force to dodge Heatwave attack right before it strikes.

As I evade the attack it hits a nearby park car and the fire cause the vehicle to explode. Even while on the ground I’m push back by the force of the explosion.

“Are you crazy? What if innocent people were in the car?”

“Then they would be toast. Don’t you get it the gloves are off. Now that you are not running things we can act like the criminals we are.”

This is great, my powers are not 100% and these lunatics are free to act how they truly feel. I can’t simply run because I know how they are. They will then begin to attack the people in the area. I have to stop them.

[Mr. Majestic]

[/FONT]

I then close my eyes and take a deep breath. As I open my eyes they were no longer blue but a glowing yellow as I activate the cool part of my super speed power and that’s my accelerated probability.

Everything around me begins move in slow motion as my mind quickly analyzes the track and also the racers beside me. The color of the area around me began to fade to black. Only thing that was bright enough to see was the track and also the racers.

I look over at Blur and see a big bright blue aura around him which doesn’t surprise me. Kid quick has a green aura but it doesn’t seem to be blowing even close to the size of Blur’s. As I look at Pulse and I see no aura at all, doesn’t matter I can’t dwell on that. My focus has to be this track.





As the words go came out of the announcer’s mouth it felt like an eternity. As everyone took off I gave it a millisecond than took off. Just that little bit of a delay left me behind the pack just how I want it.

As the racers, all but Pulse are running I can see there aura leaving a trail and I must say I wish everyone else could see this race how I am viewing it because this is beyond astonishing.

I notice Kid quick just ahead of me blazing, for a kid she is pretty quick. Shame she’s not fast enough.

BOOM!

I then cause a sonic boom as I increased my speed to catch up with and run along side K Quick.

As I begin to pass Kid Quick the Comm link in my right ear begins to beep meaning one thing, someone needs help.

I tap the comm link to hear what’s going on. “What’s the situation Al?”

”Sir there is a power planet in California that has been reported with bombs set to blow.” After Icon had left I’ve made Al to help me protect the city and the rest of the whole world. I have him connected to any and every police radio in the world and I even have a satellite in the sky. So if any stressful matters come up he’ll let me know. Glad I made him.

“Al, what about any other guardians? Can’t you just tap into their comm. Links and let them know of the situation?”

“I did the calculations and the most accurate solution would be for you and Blur to handle this problem being that you both can be there faster than anyone else Sir.”

I should have known that criminals weren’t going to take the day off to watch the race.

“Okay let Blur know what’s going on I’m on my way there now.”

[sabetoonth]

Musuem of Natural History, New York, New York
2:24 AM, Three Weeks Later

Elijah had been working at the museum for almost a month without anything special going on, he had gotten some calls from Kelsey, his ex. She wanted to know if he was still alive after the invasion and if he was alright, she had moved to New Haven, Maine. Eli had thought about moving there himself, it was his hometown after all. He had a new job though, and it was something to keep him busy, not like he could get anything done at any other job Mitch could ever line up for him. Mitch, how would he take being abandoned for New Haven if Elijah moved back? Eli would have to talk to him about that.

Twenty minutes after Elijah started getting ready to leave, he went around, and as a sort of security check of his own walked over every floor, every room and every inch of the museum. It probably took him an hour at least. As he headed out towards the doors…

BOOM!

A wall somewhere in the building was blown in, someone was robbing the Musuem of Natural History. Elijah’s insticts kicked in and he raced towards the source point of the explosion.

“Move out boys! Get it all together, and get it out!!” he sounded like an experienced soldier, he gave orders quick and to the point. And he knew what he wanted. Stokes huddles down by a collum, as the mercenaries filed into the building. “Leave the jewels be if they aint attached to out targets.” The leader barked at his subordinates. Elijah snuck back and around, looking for a way to defend his new job. He came up on a single thug smashing into a case of armor that belonged to a knight some 1000 years ago, it had all sorts of weird runic inscriptions, as he shattered the glass Elijah sprung from his hiding spot, he swung his bag over his head and down onto the brute’s head, knocking him out. The commotion of it was unexpected and Elijah darted away before support arrived.

He had taken out the one guard, he was sneaking around the museum looking for a way out to safety without being detected, where the hell where the cops? He rounded a corner and froze. About ten of these thugs where standing there hauling a case out of an exhibit. They saw him before Elijah could dart back to cover. One drew his sidearm and swqueezed the trigger, a bullet whizzing by Eli’s head he dove for cover behind the wall, he descended the stairs tripping on the last step and falling head first into the hard floor. Getting up as fast as he could, he kept running for the janitors closest. Closing the door behind him he grabbed a wrench and ventured out into the open. He heard foot falls and stoped dead. Awaiting the approach of the gun toting merc, Elijah took a moment to slow his breathinng and focus.

this is it. He thought to himself, do or die.

He pounced from his place and struck the guard in the head with the large monkey wrench. The body slumped to the floor.

"Oh god, I killed someone." The thought raced through his head multiple times. He toughed it up and raced down the halls, he was getting out of…here.

The next corridor was filled with the remaining goons loading the loot into the truck backed up to the hole in the wall.

…Or not.

“Shoot’em boys.” The command came without a heart beat, almost like he knew Elijah was going to be there. As the minions turned, they shouldered or hoisted their guns level with the intruder. He didn’t have time to run as a wall of gunfire greeted him with a bang, as the first bullet grazed his arm Elijah felt a great fire within and he black out.


“El, man, its Mitch!” Mitch banged on the door. There was the sound of movement, of a being moving towards the door. The door unlocked and opened with Elijah standing in the doorway.

“What are you doing here Mitch?” his eyes where squinted to avoid the light. He seemed to have just gotten up right then.

“Its 5 o’clock and you’re late for a job I had to pull strings to get you!” Mitch responded in one of his less friendly manners.

“Ah crap dude, I’m sorry.” Elijah put his hand to his face to rub at his eyes, he felt exhausted, and he just wanted to sleep.

“Dude, you’d only be late if the cops weren’t crawling all over it with the whole building taped off.” Mitch said with a sly smile on his face. Elijah’s first thought was, the hell man? But his first words where.

“**** you man, just **** you.” He chuckled as he left the door open for Mitch to walk in. “So why the cops got the museum taped off?” he asked as he walked into what could be called a kitchen.

“I don’t know, some people think it was a major artifact theft, others a mass murder.”

“I think I would have noticed either of those….” Images flashed in Eli’s head of gruesome events, tearing, slashing, ripping and screaming. He shook himself out of it. “I think I would have noticed either of those things happening.”

“You ok Eli?” Mitch asked of his friend. “Heh, I mean you are walking around middle of the day in your birthday suit.” Mitch remarked at the thing one would assume Elijah would have noticed.

“Oh c’mon dude, tell me these things before I walk around with open windows!”

“I just got here, man you cant blame me for that.” Elijah gave him a hard stare before going in search of clean undergarments.

They walk down to the museum, Mitch filling Elijah in on what he knows and what he thinks.

“Im tellin ya, it’s some satanic ritual or something.” Mitch threw his arms in the air briefly and Elijah gave him a quizzical look.

“You’ve been taking your meds right?” Elijah joked.

“Ha ha, very funny.” Mitchell responded.

“What you can dish it but you can’t take it?” They rounded the corner and saw something that Elijah wasn’t expecting.

The police where wheeling body bags to ambulances, images flashed through Elijah’s head again.

[TrueMastermind]

The Knighting
Thank the lord for clouds. Compared to last week, the brightness throughout New York diminished greatly. Just walking on these storied streets brings feelings of joy and happiness to my soul. There's no place like New York.

But what to do now? Now that I have been released from my penthouse prison, I'm like a bat without it's echolocation, a man without his eyes. Lost. Without a clue of where to go. I certainly wasn't going to be a photographer; that's a tad boring to me. STRIKE was a big question mark. Would I be able to rejoin their ranks? And if so, how? Ahh, this is confusing.

That smell...it's familiar. A combination of cigarettes and gunpowder. An unusual pair, but that's what seperated him from the pack. Agent Broughton. And then I see him. Through the pack of roaming civilians, I see my former partner wielding his signature accesory in his thick, pale hand. The man could never be seen without a cigarette, even through the hardships of battle. But I'm sure it's not a coincidence that he's he here...

"Walk with me, Knight."

His long trenchcoat waving in the blustery wind, he starts down the sidewalk, signaling for me to accompany him.
***
The room is dark, lit only by a few candles. 3 men were crouched beneath a towering throne, where a badly groomed figure sat. They worshipped him as a god, as their destined leader. Why they participated in such foolishness couldn't be explained. But nobody asked questions. To question the man's power was a sin in these halls. To be truthful, the long-haired villain had no where near the powers of a god. But he wouldn't tell you that.

Warren Schidmt loved to bathe in darkness. Black is the color of evil. And Schidmt loved to be evil. He felt that, in this world littered with caped crusaders, the amount of good and evil should be balanced. To most, that would be a idiotic motive. And it was. But evil does not need some creative reasoning. Evil is evil, no matter how or why you do it.

Signaling for his underlings to exit his sanctuary, Schidmt smiles as they make their leave. A god. A divine being that controls all matters of the universe. What a preposterous idea. But if that idea would make these fools continue to do his bidding, then so be it. Warren Schidmt is a god.

"Ariana, my sweet, did you bring my wine?" Out of the darkness appeared a sleek, thin woman. Long, black hair stretched down to her chest while her brown eyes shined in the mass darkness of the room. But underneath her eyes were bags, bags that spoke of years of pain and misery. The kind only Warren Schidmt can deliver.

"Yes master..."

[TrueMastermind]

The Knighting

Thank the lord for clouds. Compared to last week, the brightness throughout New York diminished greatly. Just walking on these storied streets brings feelings of joy and happiness to my soul. There's no place like New York.

But what to do now? Now that I have been released from my penthouse prison, I'm like a bat without it's echolocation, a man without his eyes. Lost. Without a clue of where to go. I certainly wasn't going to be a photographer; that's a tad boring to me. STRIKE was a big question mark. Would I be able to rejoin their ranks? And if so, how? Ahh, this is confusing.

That smell...it's familiar. A combination of cigarettes and gunpowder. An unusual pair, but that's what seperated him from the pack. Agent Broughton. And then I see him. Through the pack of roaming civilians, I see my former partner wielding his signature accesory in his thick, pale hand. The man could never be seen without a cigarette, even through the hardships of battle. But I'm sure it's not a coincidence that he's he here...

"Walk with me, Knight."

His long trenchcoat waving in the blustery wind, he starts down the sidewalk, signaling for me to accompany him.
***
The room is dark, lit only by a few candles. 3 men were crouched beneath a towering throne, where a badly groomed figure sat. They worshipped him as a god, as their destined leader. Why they participated in such foolishness couldn't be explained. But nobody asked questions. To question the man's power was a sin in these halls. To be truthful, the long-haired villain had no where near the powers of a god. But he wouldn't tell you that.

Warren Schidmt loved to bathe in darkness. Black is the color of evil. And Schidmt loved to be evil. He felt that, in this world littered with caped crusaders, the amount of good and evil should be balanced. To most, that would be a idiotic motive. And it was. But evil does not need some creative reasoning. Evil is evil, no matter how or why you do it.

Signaling for his underlings to exit his sanctuary, Schidmt smiles as they make their leave. A god. A divine being that controls all matters of the universe. What a preposterous idea. But if that idea would make these fools continue to do his bidding, then so be it. Warren Schidmt is a god.

"Ariana, my sweet, did you bring my wine?" Out of the darkness appeared a sleek, thin woman. Long, black hair stretched down to her chest while her brown eyes shined in the mass darkness of the room. But underneath her eyes were bags, bags that spoke of years of pain and misery. The kind only Warren Schidmt can deliver.


"Yes master..."

The Knighting
Bringing me to a raggedy apartment across the street, Broughton doesn't even look at me until he throws his trenchcoat onto a stained couch, with his eyes hidden by some nice shades. Something about this situation doesn't feel right. I can feel it in my veins.

Tossing his cigarette out of the lone window, Broughton doesn't say a word. It's just plain eeire how I can feel his eyes plastered onto my face while his lips don't move an inch. Finally, after leaning against the wall on which the window is attatched to, he speaks.

"We've been looking for you, Knight. Luckily, you aren't the hardest man to find."

The shadow outside the window last night. I knew there was no illusion. STRIKE has been stalking me.

"We know everything."

Just three simple words struck terror within me. If they knew, surely I was wanted back. But they wanted something. And that scared me enough.

"STRIKE doesn't like people who are curious. Especially about their own affairs."

Broughton started to walk towards, resulting in me backing away from the straight-faced man. But I should of knew he had this plan, because I backed right into the arms of a burly brute.

"And now we're stuck in a predicament. We don't want you back, yet you know too much to be let go. What to do?"

Feeling something cold pressed against my head, I knew what my fate was to be. Today was the last chapter of my young life, and my former allies were going to be the ones to end it. Only a miracle could save me...

It was all so confusing at first. A tingling sensation spread throughout my hands, then a yell of agony came from the brute, followed by a loud crash. Seeing that Broughton was stunned, I proceeded to deliver a painful blow to his ding-dongs. Out of the shadowy bathroom appeared another pair of STRIKE goons, each wielding pistols. This time, it was almost instinct. Albeit not knowing how, I fired a duo of black blasts at the shocked military agents.

What the hell just happened? In a matter of minutes, I knocked out 3 highly trained men and left Broughton crying out in pain on the floor. All I know is that these bolts of energy just shot out of my palms. Or am I just in some bizzare dream?

[NiteMare Shape]

Several hours after making his return at the bridge disaster, Scott is back at his apartment trying to get settled after being away for so long. After putting his belongings away, he begins cleaning up a bit as dust has begun to gather.

As he cleans, he has the TV on, which is full of coverage of the "Return of Icon," as it has been dubbed by several enterprising members of the press.

As he listens to the constant coverage of the events of earlier in the day, he can't help but to smile. As it turns out, Kelly and Issac had both been right. No matter how much he had wanted to deny it, the people of the world really did need him...at least they thought they did. As he listened to the coverage, he heard rising optimism from the newscasters who reported on the story, as well as the eyewitnesses that were interviewed.

In order to stay grounded, Scott would usually pay little attention to the coverage of his exploits. As a rule, he didn't really care for all the attention he received, but today is different. Today the constant news coverage is a confirmation that he had made the right choice afterall.

As he dusts the small cabinet in the living room, his attention is drawn to a photograph of Lisa, Jenny, and himself taken several weeks before the alien invaders arrived and decimated the world. He looks at the picture and can't help but to smile, as he is bombarded with bittersweet emotions. On the day that this picture had been taken, they had gone to a small indoor carnival at one of the larger local malls. The carnival itself was nothing special, a few games and a few rides thrown together for the amusment of the patrons, but they all had a genuinely good time. This was also the day that Scott had told Jenny of his plans to propose to Lisa.

They had been so happy that day, but now they are both gone...and he will never see either of them again. And a part of him is afraid...afraid that he will never be as happy again as he was that day.

He is drawn from his thoughts by the sound of someone knocking at his door.

"Just a minute, Eric, I'll be right there." He calls out, remembering that hs friend had said that he would be in later to check on him.

Scott opens the door and is stunned by the young woman standing outside his door, the last person he had wanted to see. Not because he didn't want to see her, because he did...he just wasn't ready yet. He hadn't worked out what he was going to say to her, how he was going to explain himself. And the look on her face, one mixed with equal parts hurt and anger, is not going to help him find the right words.

"Keira...hi."

[TrueMastermind]

The Knighting


Bringing me to a raggedy apartment across the street, Broughton doesn't even look at me until he throws his trenchcoat onto a stained couch, with his eyes hidden by some nice shades. Something about this situation doesn't feel right. I can feel it in my veins.

Tossing his cigarette out of the lone window, Broughton doesn't say a word. It's just plain eeire how I can feel his eyes plastered onto my face while his lips don't move an inch. Finally, after leaning against the wall on which the window is attatched to, he speaks.

"We've been looking for you, Knight. Luckily, you aren't the hardest man to find."

The shadow outside the window last night. I knew there was no illusion. STRIKE has been stalking me.

"We know everything."

Just three simple words struck terror within me. If they knew, surely I was wanted back. But they wanted something. And that scared me enough.

"STRIKE doesn't like people who are curious. Especially about their own affairs."

Broughton started to walk towards, resulting in me backing away from the straight-faced man. But I should of knew he had this plan, because I backed right into the arms of a burly brute.

"And now we're stuck in a predicament. We don't want you back, yet you know too much to be let go. What to do?"

Feeling something cold pressed against my head, I knew what my fate was to be. Today was the last chapter of my young life, and my former allies were going to be the ones to end it. Only a miracle could save me...

It was all so confusing at first. A tingling sensation spread throughout my hands, then a yell of agony came from the brute, followed by a loud crash. Seeing that Broughton was stunned, I proceeded to deliver a painful blow to his ding-dongs. Out of the shadowy bathroom appeared another pair of STRIKE goons, each wielding pistols. This time, it was almost instinct. Albeit not knowing how, I fired a duo of black blasts at the shocked military agents.

What the hell just happened? In a matter of minutes, I knocked out 3 highly trained men and left Broughton crying out in pain on the floor. All I know is that these bolts of energy just shot out of my palms. Or am I just in some bizzare dream?



"What the...hell...did you to us...Knight...?" Recovering from my thoughts, I look back down at the injured Broughton. SHould just one simple kick to your no-nos keep you down for that long?

"I don't know..." I look at Broughton, then at my hands. They appear as if nothing had happened at all, but that wasn't the case at all. I then look at the downed agents. What was this? What am I? Do I have...superpowers?

"FREEZE!" The door bursts open, revealing an armed squadron of soldiers, aiming their high-tech weaponry right at me. Wait a second. If I could just blast those agents straight into oblivion with just a little willpower, then maybe I could do the same to these guys...

BOOM! The wall behind me explodes, laying out a layer of smoke that makes it impossible to see anything in this cramped apartment. But I can hear people yelling out in pain, crying out for help. I try to stay still to avoid a beatdown myself, but as soon as I could truly grasp what was going down, I suffer from a brutal blow to the head. A face appears through the smoke...

http://astrochimp.com/wp-content/uploads/2006/01/010604-mr-t.png

...before everything goes black.

[Hound55]

A hubcap wheels down the street of its own accord as a black corvette motors past driving fast and loose, barely in control. In the car, Isaac Fontaine, his body steadily failing him more and more with every passing minute. Isaac drives the car with his foot angled across the accelerator and a single functioning arm working the steering wheel… his mind racing, just as the car is.

“The one on Third and Franklin? No… No chance at getting there” he thought to himself.

“Twelfth and Arthur… No.”

“Lexington and Twenty-Fourth? Hell no, how am I gonna make it there?”

There was only one option, remaining… and in his state even if he were healthy enough to make it elsewhere in THIS Government funded (and bugged) vehicle he probably shouldn’t go to any of his other personal sites anyway.

“Ah f*** it…” Isaac wrenched at the wheel with his one hand, thankful once again for the federally funded ‘Vette’s ability to function as both a manual and as an automatic. The jet black driver of the jet black car leaving a short trail if jet black tread as he drastically oversteered in his attempts to take the corner, giving the wheel another jerk as he tries to correct for his err.

The world began to blur as he pulled within a few blocks of his destination. This was going to be cutting it close…

He pulled up to the garage entrance of Guardians Headquarters and wound down the window, muttering curses at his self-imposed requirements to protect his own identity as his one arm shakily punched in his 14 digit code.

The garage opened, with Isaac now all but drained from the effort, his upper body slumped back inside the driver’s window and his foot awkwardly smothered the accelerator causing the ‘Vette to punch forward, he hauled the wheel to one side, managing to avoid a front on crash with a concrete wall and instead slid it into another with a monstrous crash.

*CRASH*

The airbags deployed instantly and the front wheels span as Isaac struggled to free himself from the balloons and his legs from their toxically induced mangled state with the accelerator. He then opened the door and fell with a dull thud to the floor.

At least he’d made it to a “Home”…

Isaac struggled to his feet and staggered towards the lift. There was a brief wait on pressing the button, but the opening of the elevator doors was followed by an immediate sigh of relief. As the doors opened at his selected destination he was now revealed to be sprawled across the lift’s floor. He looked up at the “Check-in” board - no lights.

“Nobody in? Thank f*** for that…” More worried about his own embarrassment than his current condition.

Crawling down a hall the blurriness started to turn to blackness.

They say, when death is imminent your entire life flashes before your life. This is true for many. Isaac is one of said “many” and this began now. But the life of one who would devote his life to such a cause as his has precious few positive memories… but these flashed brightest behind his eyes. The many negative boarding school moments, outshone by positive memories of holidays with his father. Once fleeting moments in their own time, again fleeting moments in the immeasurable microseconds of the present personal highlight reel. He remembers a time his father and he were at the beach, and not the times his Dad ran back to take work related calls. He’s running up and down the sand along the shore of the Pacific, past Surf Lifesavers set-ups on their stroll.

“Daddy, why do they have these jugs of water in the tents?”

“That’s not water, Isaac. That’s…”

The haze ends and Isaac’s grip over his consciousness once again strengthens.

“Yes! F***ing Yes!”

Isaac has new reason to go on, he has an idea, and with that idea came a side order of hope. Once again thankful that this was the only choice of home he had. He was then thankful as he remembered that the Government supplied the Guardians with their provisions in bulk as a cost cutting measure.

Isaac put a gloved palm against a wall and struggled to his feet, hobbling for the kitchen and adjoining pantry.

Isaac finds what he needs in a drum, almost stunned that there could be so much of his potential saviour, but unsure how exactly he’s to go about using it. The bathroom. Isaac shoves the drum and it falls on its side, he then rolls it out the door and down the hall slowly. More toxin working its way through his blood stream with every second. Time he doesn’t have.

It felt like it had been hours when he finally got to the bathroom, he rolled it over the slight step to the tiled bathroom floor, closing and locking the door behind him. Isaac rolled the drum back to its normal upright state and struggled for a while trying to get numb hands to open the top of the drum, in the end just pushing his hand directly into the top of the screw-on lid and twisting at the arm. The lid came away and he shoved the drum into the bath, the contents pouring out slightly thicker than water, he struggled to get his top off in his current state, in the end just succumbing to the darkness that filled his mind as he fell into the bath.

“Daddy, why do they have these jugs of water in the tents?”

“That’s not water, Isaac. That’s vinegar. They use it in case swimmers get stung by jellyfish. The box jellyfish is one of the most venomous creatures in the world, but somehow they found that vinegar neutralizes the toxin somewhat… it must be the acidity or something.”

A young Isaac looked back at his father quizzically, not completely understanding some of the bigger words his father said to him.

“Lifesavers use it when people get stung, it makes them better.”

This answer was enough for the young boy who smiled and went on collecting shells and skimming rocks into the breaking surf.

Isaac writhed in the bath in his unconscious state, his body trying to protect itself better than he could in a state of awareness. His body in internal turmoil, whilst pleasant memories which normally seemed so many miles away brought a smile to his face as they flashed behind his eyes as if by some nostalgic projectionist...

[NiteMare Shape]

http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/cooltext463168787.jpg




From behind his desk Alexander Anderson reviews the events of the last several months, and begins to feel sick. For over twenty years he has worked tirelessly to protect the people of America from the threat posed by these so-called "metahumans," both from the creatures themselves, as well as the very knowledge of their existence.


The emergence of public "heroes" such as The Blue Blur and Icon has been somewhat problematic, it was nothing that could not be handled. Afterall, the American public, as well as the rest of the world loved their self appointed protectors, so for the most part STRIKE had no need to interfere directly with their activity. The organization did however, keep close tabs on the known metas. But since the alien invasion, the superhumans have apparently come out of the woodwork. The US government even sanctioned a team of so called superheroes, "The Guardians."


And that is a problem.


He has worked so hard for so long to protect the country that he loves from the threat posed by the metahumans, and his own government is suddenly bankrolling a group of them because it is the right thing to do politically at the moment...regardless how foolhardy it is. To give a group of self appointed protectors a blank check to do whatever they want with nothing to regulate them, no real way to keep them in line, is a monumental mistake.


A mistake that is going to cost alot of lives. And that is something that he will not stand for.


With a press of a button, Anderson's computer screen shows a video feed of all the recent metahuman activities all over the world, as well as a superimposed map of the world showing any new reports of meta activity. And as he sees the growing number of incidents involving super powered beings, his stomach turns. He knows that with each and every new incident is another defeat for STRIKE. It is this thought which brings about another, and before he can fully explore this new thought, the buzzer on his desk goes off.


"Yes, what is it Ms Powers?"


"Sorry to disturb you Director Anderson, but Mr. Ryder is here to see you."


"Very well, send him in."


With that, there is a buzzing sound and the door to his office slides open and Marcus Ryder, Anderson's best friend walks into the lavish room. Anderson and Ryder have been partners and best friends for over twenty five years. They have fought side by side and survived many situations together that would have claimed the lives of lesser men. Above all else, Ryder is the only man on the face of the earth that Anderson trusts completely.


"Marcus, what have you brought me?"


Ryder reaches reaches under his vest and produces a folder, tossing it on Anderson's desk.


"See for yourself, Alex. Afraid it's not good news."


Anderson briefly scans the report inside the folder before putting aside.


"It doesn't matter."


"Sir?" He says, unable to keep the surprise from his voice.


"It doesn't matter, none of it. We've been at this for a long time, Marcus. And the whole time that we've been dealing with these freaks, we've been doing so with kid gloves. But I think that it's time to take those kid gloves off, to stop dealing with these things as if they're your average criminal. It's time to take these 'people' for what they really are...monsters. I've decided that it is time for STRIKE to take a more proactive role in dealing with the superhuman threat."


Anderson smiles as he meets Ryder's gaze.


"Marcus, it's time for STRIKE to show these metahumans just what we are capable of."

[Andy C.]

WONDER BOY
SIDEKICK FOR HIRE

BACK IN BUSINESS: PART ONE




ONE MONTH AGO:


"What a mess."

That's the best I can manage to describe what I see. In the fallout of the moon's destruction, Lost Haven is--for lack of a better term--losing it. The places hit by falling debris are either completely obliterated or falling apart just slowly enough for the people inside to realize it. Even the places that weren't hit are tearing themselves apart, the hysteria causing widespread looting and rioting. And I haven't even gotten out of my neighborhood yet.

Leaping rooftop to rooftop, I do what I can, chucking down tear-gas canisters to disperse rioters, swinging down on a grappling line to take down the odd crazed mugger before he even knows what hit him. No time to make witty banter or even handcuff the bad guys; I just keep on moving, the adrenaline pushing me to keep going.

I'd forgotten how exciting moments of pure, unbridled horror can be when you actually have the guts to do something about it.

As I make my way up the street, I see a crew of firefighters trying in vain to put out a burning apartment complex. I hoof it as quickly as I can (I have got to get the bike out of storage), and see that while most of the people inside have been evacuated, there's a man and woman still pointing hysterically at one of the upper windows. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that their kid is still inside.

I make it to the nearest rooftop and leap, firing a grappling line as I go, and swinging right over the crowd's heads. I hear one of them call out to me, but can't quite make out what she's saying, as a second later I crash through the window and into the burning building.

I roll forward to slow my momentum, and before I come up, I pull the rebreather mask from my utility belt and put it on. My mask's goggles switch to an image filter, dimming the blinding brightness of the flames while still cutting through the smoke.

"Hello?! Anyone still in here?!" I call out. Down the hall, I hear a muffled scream. I leapfrog over some wreckage from the next floor up, and follow the girl's scream to a closed door. I knock twice and then call to her again.

"Are you okay?"

"Wh-who are you?" she asks from the other side of the door.

"Someone who's here to help. Can you move?"

"I'm okay. Are you a fireman?"

"Not really, but I'm helping them."

"Are you...are you a super-hero???"

"...kinda, yeah. Okay, I'm gonna open the door here, so when you do, I want you to stand back from the door and get low to the ground. Okay? On the count of three. One, two, THREE!"

With that, I kick the door in, and see the girl, huddled in the corner with a doll. She can't be more than eight years old.

"All right, we're gonna get you out of here, okay? Your parents are already waiting for you, so I'm going to take you to them. Ready?"

"I can't! I'm scared!"

I crouch down to one knee, and open my arms, trying to get her to trust me. Meanwhile, I hear a support beam begin to crack. If I don't get her out soon, the whole building will come down on us.

"I know it's scary, but you're gonna be brave. You're brave, right?"

Tears streaming down her face, she nods, and clutches her doll a little tighter.

"That's good. Now just hold on tight, and hold your breath, and we'll get you to your mom and dad."

I reach out, and she takes my hand. I pick her up, and charge as fast as I can through the flaming room, dodging and weaving between debris, before leaping out the window.

With my free hand, I fire out another grappling line, and we safely rappel down the side of the building to the street. The onlookers cheer as they see I've still got her in my arms. The girl's parents just barely outrun the paramedics to take her, and I do what I can to herd everyone back to a safer distance.

"Oh, thank God! Thank God for you, man!" the father says, pulling me into the big group hug.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's what I do," I say as I try to pry myself free. Seriously, the guy has a grip like a gorilla.

Finally, the big teary moment is interrupted when another chunk of space-debris streaks overhead, slamming into the pavement a few blocks down. Everyone jumps, a few people scream, and then all eyes look to me.

"Is...is this the end of the world?" the little girl asks me.

I look around at the smoldering skyline...and then I see a blue blur zipping its way through the streets, apparently pulling people out of harm's way as it goes. And I can't help but grin.

"Not if we can help it," I say with as much of Captain Wonder's old bravado as I can manage, before I shoot a line up to a nearby rooftop and I'm off once again.




That was just about five seconds before the rooftop I had scaled exploded into a storm of fire and shrapnel, blown to bits by another chunk of the shattered moon.

I woke up three days later in an over-crowded hospital, in traction, barely able to move. I had hoped to stand alongside Lost Haven's saviors, protecting the human race from an alien threat. Instead, I wound up as one of the millions who were left broken and crippled from the Arlaaekean Invasion.

Days passed without me noticing, still in a stupor from the cocktail of painkillers they gave me in order to keep my existence bearable. I figured I would never walk again.

Then one morning, I woke up.....and was completely fine.

No traction. No casts. Not even a Band-Aid. Overnight, I'd gone from hopelessly crippled to feeling strong as an ox. Better than I'd felt in years, in fact.

On a stand next to my bed was a note, with only two words written on it:



You're welcome.



Today is my last day in the hospital before they discharge me. The doctors and nurses have come up with all sorts of words to describe my sudden and complete recovery. A blessing. A miracle. I've got a couple of other words I can think of to describe it.

What's even weirder is that none of the doctors who worked on me ever mentioned my costume or my gear or any of the other things I had on me when I was caught in that explosion. In fact, when they hand me my belongings, all I get are a black T-shirt, a pair of blue jeans, some cracked purple shades, and a wallet full of photos of people I've never met.

Someone went through very great lengths to get me better, and furthermore, to hide the fact that I'm Wonder Boy.

As I head down the streets and hitch a ride on the cross-town bus, I can't help but wonder what the point of this was.

Who would benefit from having Captain Wonder's old sidekick up and running again?

Who would gain anything from restoring me back to tip-top shape, knowing full well that I'm going to come after them to find out what happened to me?

What happened to my costume? All my gear?

Where's my dog?

By the time I step off the bus and make it back to my apartment building, I still haven't come up with any coherent picture of any potential motivation or identity of my mysterious benefactor.

"....Kit Carson?"

There's a girl in the front hallway, about my age, red hair hanging down in a ponytail, bangs framing her face on either side of her glasses. I've gotta say, the is absolutely gorgeous.....

....and how the hell does she know my name?

"You're Kit Carson, right?" she repeats. "Apartment 716?"

"Errr....yeah, that's me," I manage. "How do you--"

"Jesus, I thought you were dead," she interrupts me. "You haven't been seen since that whole deal with the aliens, and nobody here had really met you yet, so we just kind of figured.....anyway, we hadn't leased out your apartment to anyone else yet--not too many people moving to Lost Haven since the attack--so pretty much everything's been left where it was. Oh, umm, except your dog. I've been taking care of him myself, looking for someone to buy him....like I said, we thought you weren't coming back...."

I stand there for a minute, trying to catch up, before she finally pauses like she just remembered something important, and introduces herself.

"Sallie Foster," she says, offering a handshake. "Your landlady."

"Ohhhhh, okay, yeah," I say, shaking her hand. "So you run this whole place by yourself?"

"I try to," Sallie says with a shrug. "The property was my grandmother's; I was just staying here trying to help out. She had a heart attack during the invasion, though."

"Oh. I'm.....I'm sorry."

"Wasn't your fault," she says after a long pause. "I think that's why I kept your dog....he helps me cope. Guess you'll want him back?"

"I'm sure we can work something out," I say as I head to the stairs, Sallie coming up behind me with a bundle of letters from her mailbox. "First things first, though, I guess I need to know how much I owe for rent and all that. Y'know, what with me being gone for a month."

"Do you have a job?"

"......sort of."

Sallie stops in her tracks, and gives me a hard stare.

"I'm not having drug dealers living in my grandmother's property."

"What? No! No, I'm not a drug dealer. I work as a street performer. Y'know, card tricks, juggling, that sorta thing. And I do part-time stuff as a handyman. It's not steady work, but it's all work and it's all on the up and up."

A skeptical eyebrow raises up from behind her glasses, then she shrugs.

"Well, we don't really have any new tenants coming in anyway. As long as you can get your regular bills paid in time, you can stay. The rest....we can work something out."

"Thanks," I say, relieved that she's cool with this. And have I mentioned that she's freaking gorgeous? Because she really is.

After a few more flights of steps, I reach the seventh floor and make my way towards my apartment.

"Well, I guess this is me," I gesture to the closed door. "Gonna be a day or two to get re-acquainted with everything, get all the utilities turned back on....clear all the rotten groceries out of my fridge. But it's good to be back, I guess."

"All right, just let me know when you're ready to have your dog back," she says before turning back to the stairs.

"Oh! And, umm....nice to meet you, Sallie Foster."

She smiles warmly, then heads upstairs. Very cool girl, taking care of Ol' Dumbass like that while I was out. I really should properly thank her for that once I get some money.

I unlock the door to my apartment, and before I can make it two steps inside, I stop dead in my tracks.

Sitting there on the coffee table in the middle of the living room, folded and pressed and looking as good as new.....is my costume, with my utility belt and all of its gadgets laid out neatly in front of it.

And resting on top of the costume is another note.

I quickly close the door so no one can see me, then pick up the note.

Two words again.


Welcome back.


The doctors who treated me called my recovery a miracle.

The nurses who looked after me called it a blessing.

You know what I call it?

A setup.

[NiteMare Shape]

Several hours after making his return at the bridge disaster, Scott is back at his apartment trying to get settled after being away for so long. After putting his belongings away, he begins cleaning up a bit as dust has begun to gather.

As he cleans, he has the TV on, which is full of coverage of the "Return of Icon," as it has been dubbed by several enterprising members of the press.

As he listens to the constant coverage of the events of earlier in the day, he can't help but to smile. As it turns out, Kelly and Issac had both been right. No matter how much he had wanted to deny it, the people of the world really did need him...at least they thought they did. As he listened to the coverage, he heard rising optimism from the newscasters who reported on the story, as well as the eyewitnesses that were interviewed.

In order to stay grounded, Scott would usually pay little attention to the coverage of his exploits. As a rule, he didn't really care for all the attention he received, but today is different. Today the constant news coverage is a confirmation that he had made the right choice afterall.

As he dusts the small cabinet in the living room, his attention is drawn to a photograph of Lisa, Jenny, and himself taken several weeks before the alien invaders arrived and decimated the world. He looks at the picture and can't help but to smile, as he is bombarded with bittersweet emotions. On the day that this picture had been taken, they had gone to a small indoor carnival at one of the larger local malls. The carnival itself was nothing special, a few games and a few rides thrown together for the amusment of the patrons, but they all had a genuinely good time. This was also the day that Scott had told Jenny of his plans to propose to Lisa.

They had been so happy that day, but now they are both gone...and he will never see either of them again. And a part of him is afraid...afraid that he will never be as happy again as he was that day.

He is drawn from his thoughts by the sound of someone knocking at his door.

"Just a minute, Eric, I'll be right there." He calls out, remembering that hs friend had said that he would be in later to check on him.

Scott opens the door and is stunned by the young woman standing outside his door, the last person he had wanted to see. Not because he didn't want to see her, because he did...he just wasn't ready yet. He hadn't worked out what he was going to say to her, how he was going to explain himself. And the look on her face, one mixed with equal parts hurt and anger, is not going to help him find the right words.

"Keira...hi."

"You have some explaining to do." Keira says as she walk past him into the apartment and plops down on his couch.

"I..." He is cut off before he can even start his sentance.

"You were gone for over a month. You didn't say anything to anyone...you just left. I know things were...are hard....but you never even said anything to me." She says, the hurt in her voice clearly showing.

"I know Keira, and I'm sorry. It's just that when Jenny..." he pauses as the pain at losing his sister resurfaces.

"When Jenny died, I just couldn't do it anymore. I mean, here I am with all these powers and abilities...and when it came down to it they weren't enough. They couldn't help me save her."

"Scott..."

"I wasn't fast enough...I wasn't strong enough. And she suffered for it. The fact of the matter is, that everyone that I care about ends up getting hurt because of who I am. I couldn't deal with it, and I had to get away."

Keira gets up from the couch and makes her way over to Scott and puts her arms around him. With tears threatening to form in her eyes she squeezes him tight and forces a smile.

"You could have at least said something...you could have at least said goodbye."

"I couldn't. I'd said too many goodbyes as it was, and I don't think I could have handled another."

She lets his words hang in the air for a moment before speaking again. After a few moments of awkward silence she finally asks, "So...what changed your mind?"

"I got some good advice, from the last place place I ever expected it."

[Byrd Man]

Grover Elementary School
Lost Haven
12:53 PM

The uniformed officer lets me and my boys through the crime scene tape. Tagging behind me are the Eckling brothers and Sergeant Bill White.

"Where's the Captain?" I ask the uniform.

"He's in the gym with the principal. They got the kids in there, keeping them calm while they search."

The situation: A recess, a third grader ate what he thought was candy. That candy turned out to be heroin, top-quality stuff. The kid OD'ed and collapses near the swings. Paramedics were called, but he was DOA. Teachers asked the other kids where he got the smack from, turns out somebody was hanging outside the school this morning, giving out free testers to the children. Half of them didn't know what it was. So the LHPD K-9 unit is in the school, searching for as much of the heroin as they can find.

"Mike, Ike, see if you can help the guys in their search."

"Yessir."

Bill walks behind me was we enter the gym. The teachers are keeping the kids entertained with songs and stories.

"Inspector Smith?" A tall man in a suit asks.

"That's me. Captain Miller?"

"You got it, CO of the Northern District. I figured on Narcotics and Homicide taking this case. Didn't count on the Mob Squad."

"With drugs of this caliber and this much involved, it can only be a high-end drug dealer. That's what my unit specializes in."

"Alright. The K-9 unit should be finished. Let's see what they find."

We walk out of the gym and into the hall. The Ecklings and the K-9 unit have turned up quite a find. Roughly a hundred and fifty small bags filled with heroine. That's half the school. All of them with drugs.

"What's the plan, boss?" Bill asks.

"Mike and Ike, you're with me. Bill, I need you to hit up your old CIs from your Narco days and try to get a line on this."

"So what will you three be doing?"

Pushing drugs to junkies is one thing. People will find a way to buy them, and it's a victimless crime if done right. But turning children into junkies? Kids who haven't hit puberty.

Not in my town.

"We're going on the hunt."

[trustyside-kick]

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Lost Haven
1 Minute from Now

Took quite a tumble. Can't give up now. Can barely...move though. Come one! You can beat this guy! All you need is...Chastity? Seriously. I did not understand it then when Father Damian said it would help me, and I still have not developed the wisdom to understand it now; when I need it most. I don't even get on my own two feet, and Sebastian comes floating down from the sunroof I just made courtesy of his tug and throw.

Man, if I could wish for some sort of superhero cliche, given I'm an agent of God in a way it would be soooo sweet if this dude couldn't set foot in--

...And he plants his two feet on church tile. Seriously, you'd predict that the offspring of an incubus and a woman wouldn't be able to set foot on holy ground too, right? Nothing goes my way.

"Pray, Michael. Pray for it is all you can do at this point."

Yea, another thing you'd expect. I just pray in God's house and he sends me the perfect...si--sign...

Oh thank you God.

"Out of options? I've always felt that the best way to handle a rough patch is to negotiate. How about a hug? Talk things out."

I fly at him. Man I hope this works.

"I just LOVE your enthusiam."

Me collide, like planned. But the next few seconds, I just don't know about...


Lost Haven
Now

"This is an life-force, like no other! Never before have I--I WANT MORE!!"

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Arms feel...weak. Can't...muster up the strength to throw him off of me. Too...strong. Stronger?

Yea. He's getting stronger. The longer he seems to hold on to you it feels like the stronger he gets and the weaker I feel. But this is the second time he's gotten such a hold on me, as soon as I broke free the first time, my strength had almost returned to me. Not like the others. His victims.

Those three girls? He drained them dry. Maybe that's what will happen to me, if he never lets me go, or maybe I'm flat out lucky or immune out of some sort of divinity of the fact that the he seems to feed off of my angelic power. He's like a parasite. A dang parasite. No. Better yet.

A dang leech.

"Never before has someone survived after this long. You truly are remarkable, Michael. I am starting to believe...that such energy can sustain me, for YEARS! I MUST HAVE MORE!!"

I struggle to break free, but he is just too strong. Think Michael, think. How do you plan on getting yourself out of this one? I mean, sure, you HAD a plan for 2 seconds...but that planned relied on you blitzing right through him. Instead, he's got you like white on rice.

"I'm going to hold on to you...just long enough until you pass out."

"See...this didn't go...according to plan. If it's....all right with you...I'd like to go just one more round. It's...been a fun tussle after all. Wouldn't you....agree?"

Then, a blessing occurs. He does exactly what I was hoping to do. In a sick and twisted way I understand his personality a little more. He loves the cat and mouse routine. Been at this for several hundred years, which of course he did what he did because he simply felt it's what he had to do, because let's face it...no one wants to die. Then, over the course of time, it became a leisure sport for him. And I'm his greatest prize. He watched me, studied me...kidnapped the woman I still love though she won't return said love...and lured me into this trap. It's all fun and games for him. So, I was hoping he would do what he did, which was throw me to continue this little cat and mouse game...so I can get some air and dive right into the baptismal bath.

He walks up to the bath...just like I knew he would. But that's not all I know. He doesn't know it, but I do: holy water heals me. I'm right as rain. Got all the juice within me needed to stand my ground.

I rise out of the bath, and place my hands on my chest. Before he can react my prayer has already started and the healing begins.

"It's time to feel the healing power of God's love, Sebastian."

He cannot drain me, and his strength is back to his original strength. Within seconds the wound he carved in that kicked in his uncanny powers is healed. He's much more human than that parasite of a leech he was before.

I let go of him, and he can feel the loss of energy and power. He stands there, flimsy and I point at myself.

"Cat..."

Then I point to him.

"...mouse."

All it takes is one really good clean hook at him and it sends him flying and crashing through the great big doors of the church. Knocked out cold.

Father Damian said I'd need Chastity to help me win this fight. That, the sin of Lust is more about putting God's love aside really. God's love is a healing love. All he wants to do is heal you after all. Cannot believe the answer was as obvious as that.

[NiteMare Shape]

Midas stands at the large picture window which overlooks Lost Haven from his penthouse suite. For the most part he ignores his two minions, Nichols and Niles, who stand behind him as they go through the reports of the events at the storehouse the night before.

Two hundred and fifty million.

Lost.

Two hundred and fifty million dollars worth of high tech weaponry up in smoke, all because of Him.

And nobody can give him a reason as to why this happened.

Midas slowly turns towards Nichols and Niles, producing a small handgun hidden under his shirtsleave, and fires once, hitting Nichols square between the eyes before the man even realizes that something is wrong.

"This is completely unacceptable Niles. This...freak has been a headache for far too long. I want you to contact Dr. Lennox...I think it's time that we ended this...confrontation once and for all."

"Yes sir."

"Oh and Niles...please take out the trash." he says, motioning towards Nichols' corpse.

[NiteMare Shape]

Kevin takes Erica's hand as they walk through the Louis Bros. Carnival, one of several carnivals that makes its way to Lost Haven on an annual basis.

Kevin is almost uncomfortable amid the lights and the laughter of families out enjoying a night of games and rides. He is more comfortable hiding among the shadows, fighting his one man war against the Cartel. In fact, he would rather be out persuing Midas after the success at the warehouse...but he did promise Erica that he would take her to the carnival tonight, and for just one night forget that he is Shadow Walker.

And despite himself, he has had a good time. He finds himself thinking how nice it is to just be himself for a bit, and he finds himself longing for the days before of Shadow Walker...the Cartel, and Midas...before any of this.

After waiting in line for several minutes to get on the Ferris Wheel, they finally take their seats and are whisked away toward the sky. Erica slides over closer to him and puts his arm around her shoulders.

"You know, I can get used to this."

"Well, I'd certainly hope so." She says, jokingly mocking him.

"I'm serious. I don't want to do this forever. I'm so close to finishing this thing with Midas, I can feel it. And when it's all over, I'm done...and we can move on with our lives."


***

Across Town

Joined by Dr. Lennox and several others, Midas makes his way through the halls of the underground research facility that The Cartel has secretly funded for several years. This facility has provided the criminal organization with several of its best soldiers...men and women who are blindly loyal to the organization and are willing to, and have given their lives in the intrest of Midas and his syndicate.

However, they have been unable to take down the one man who has stood against them...Shadow Walker. And that is why he has found himself here, in the maximum security section of this facility known as Area 12, where Dr. Lennox's most lethal and unpredictable experiments are kept.

He stands in front of a solid steel door, knowing full well the awesome power of the creature contained inside the cell, and he smiles...knowing that this is what he should have done in the first place.

He reaches for the security console located directly next to the heavy door, and activates the small intercom that goes into the containment cell.

"Korda, your time has finally come my friend. After you finish this one task, you will be free from this place. You will be free to live your life as you wish."

He listens as the creature inside hisses an acknowledgement in response.

"Dr. Lennox, release the beast."

[sabetoonth]

“Oh my god!” Elijah said as he saw the bodies being carried out. Mitch put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“You don’t need to see this man.” Elijah sliped out from under his hand.


“Yes I do.” Elijah slipped under the tape and walked right by a pair of officers.


“Sir, we’re gonna ask you to get on the other side of the tape.” One aid to
him, Elijah kept walking.


“I need to see this.” Elijah said, just then a massive head ache racked his brain and he collapsed to his knees clutching his cranium. “AHHHH!” this time the flashback was painful. Images of gore, dismemberment and agony where strung before his mind’s eye as if they where photographs hanging on the wall before him.

“Sir?” the other officer said approaching Elijah carefully. Elijah clenched his teeth and forced his eyes shut. Elijah suddenly fell to the ground unconscious.

“El!” Mitch ducked under the yellow tape and sped to his friend, an officer grabbed him as another radioed for a bus. “Let me go he’s my friend!” He said as he watched the police huddle around Elijah

[Hell, Approximately 30 Years Ago]
He began by marking the doors in his own blood, then marking his own arm. His breathe quickened, his nostrils flared. A loud churning and chunking sound eminated from his shoulder as he clenched it and pulled the limb away from his body. An inhuman howl echoed through the realm and the mass of flesh writhed on the ground soaking it in blood.

“Grow, and leave this place to spread my will Satan.”

[NiteMare Shape]

Icon flies high above the streets of Lost Haven, watching over the city that has become his home. Over the years, he has fought hard to keep the city safe. It has been a difficult fight, from your everyday petty criminal to crazed super villains and an alien invasion...the city has had its fair share of people looking to make an example out of it.

He has given so much to the city, and he has lost so much. Eventually he left it behind, until he got some good advice from the last place he would have expected it.

And now he's back.

He'd almost forgotten how much he loves the feeling of soaring high above the city, the winds in his hair, the massive expanse of the city sprawled out below him.

As he flies above the city, the conversation he had with Keira keeps replaying in his mind. He can't shake the image of her standing there when he opened the door to his apartment. The look on her face, a mixture of hurt and anger is burned into his memory.

When he left Lost Haven, he never thought that it would effect so many people the way it had. Keira had been hurt, but she was a close friend...and he just upped and left, abandoning her without so much as a goodbye. However, it was the same look that she wore in the doorway of his apartment that he saw on the faces of many people who he hadn't ever met before.

And it is that moment that he realizes that he has alot to make up for. He left the city while it was still vulnerable...still recovering from the alien invasion...when the city and the rest of the world for that matter needed him. And as happy as most of the people seem at his return, there are others will resent him for leaving them in their time of need.

He knows that he has alot to answer for...some of the answers he can never truely give. But he is determined to make up for his mistakes, no matter how long it takes.

[Byrd Man]

The Barrio
Lost Haven
1:20 PM

Outisde the car, the dilapidated houses whiz by. Spanish children are playing soccer on dirty lots, and men with tatoos and white tank tops give the unmarked police car the stink-eye as it travesl down the street.

The Barrio, Lost Haven's Spanish neighborhood is home to the street gang Los Terrorificos and their leader Ernesto Sosa. Sosa and his gang push roughly a quarter of Lost Haven's heroin. Someone's been handing out testers at an elementary school six blocks away from Los Terrorificos.

"Told you we shouldn't have given Sosa such a loose leash," Mike Eckling says from the driver's seat. His twin brother Ike nods in the passenger seat.

"How about you drive, Mike. Leave the thinking to me. It doesn't suit you two, you haven't had the practice."

Mike parks the unmarked car across the street from a dirty house with overgrown weeds in the lawn. Two Mexican gangbangers stand outside the house, drinking malt liquor and chatting.

"Look at this puto," one of the gangbangers says as I step out the back of the car.

"Odelay!" His buddy agrees. "****in' five-o looking more like a four-eyed *****!"

I calmly walk up to the two men, eyeing them both.

"Where's Ernesto?"

"How about you go **** off, esé?"

"That was the wrong answer."

Grabbing the gangbanger by his neck, I toss him into his friend.

"Hey, pendajo!" One of the punks shouts as he goes for the gun in his waistband.

"Hector, chill out," a voice says from the house. A skinny man in jeans and a t-shirt steps out on the front porch. Ernesto Sosa holds a hand up, trying to calm down his too men.

"Inspector Smith wants to just talk. Isn't that right, jefe?"

"That's right. So do me a favor, call your dogs off."

"Hector, Alanzo, un momento."

The two thugs eye me and then start walking across the lawn. Sosa waits until they're gone before he steps off the porch to meet me.

"Apologies, Ed. My bodyguards, they're new. They don't know what the score is."

"There seems to be a lot of that going around. People forgetting what the deal is. Drug dealers handing out testers to goddamn school kids. A kid OD'ed this afternoon. Thought the smack was candy. We had a deal, Sosa. I stay off your ass, you only sling to junkies and keep it contained. **** like this keeps happening, I can't protect you. I'll send the SWAT team so far up you're ass, you'll have combat boot prints on your tongue."

"Look, man. Me and my boys didn't have nothing to do with that, alright? I think I know who did."

"Give me a name."

"Chicky Jones. He's a low to mid-level player trying to set up shop. My boys ran him out of the Barrio. Last I heard, he set up shop somewhere around that school that got hit."

"If this tip turns out to be bogus, I will be back. I'll bring Sergeant White with me. You know, diablo blanco grande. We'll see how the señoritas like Ernesto when he's eating all his meals out of a tube."

"My tip is good. You look for the fiends in that neighborhood, they'll tell you about Chicky."

"Good."

That's all I say to Sosa as I walk away, crossing the street and climbing back into the car.

"I'm done here, boys. Take us back to the neighborhood the school is in. Ike, call Bill. Have him meet us. We got some work that's right up his alley."

[NiteMare Shape]

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Sweat pours down Robert Perkins' face as he nervously fingers the trigger of his semi-automatic assault rifle. Things have gone according to plan, however this is taking alittle longer than he had hoped.

When he and his cohorts rushed into the First National Bank of Lost Haven, it went perfectly. They were able to get all the bank patrons back against the far wall, and then on to their stomachs without a hitch.

Then they secured the bank employees and subdued the security guards without a shot being fired. Things had gone amazingly well. But now things have slowed down. The bank workers are working too slowly putting the money in the bags, way too slow. He is convinced that they must have triggered a silent alarm and are trying to stall until the SWAT team shows up.

"Faster! You're moving too ******* slow! Get that money in the bags or I'm gonna start wasting you mother *******!" He shouts at the bank workers.

As one of the tellers frantically works to pick up the pace, he trips and falls into another of the tellers, causing the young woman to stumble. This sudden movement startles Perkins, and he panics. Without thinking he points his gun at the two tellers and squeezes the trigger.

As the bullets exit the nozzle of the assault weapon, Robert sees something else. Out of the corner of his eye he sees a blue streak. It is only there for an instant and he dissmisses it as just his imagination. However, to his horror he sees that what he saw was very real, and now in front of him stands Icon, the bullets he just fired bouncing harmlessly off his chest.

Robert takes several steps back, shaking his head in disbelief and opens fire on Icon again, and once again the bullets bounce harmlessly off of his chest.

"Really?" Icon says, grinning at Robert.

Robert raises the gun again, but this time Icon looks right at the barrel of the gun and fires two pinpoint accurate optical beams at the gun, and keeps them on the weapon until it becomes red hot, forcing Robert to drop it.

The gun hasn't even hit the floor and Icon has rounded up Robert and his two cohorts and tied them together using the red velvet rope used to show the bank patrons where the line forms.

And with the would be bank robbers neutralized, Icon again takes to the skies, off to stop the next catastrophy.

[TrueMastermind]

"What the...hell...did you to us...Knight...?" Recovering from my thoughts, I look back down at the injured Broughton. SHould just one simple kick to your no-nos keep you down for that long?

"I don't know..." I look at Broughton, then at my hands. They appear as if nothing had happened at all, but that wasn't the case at all. I then look at the downed agents. What was this? What am I? Do I have...superpowers?

"FREEZE!" The door bursts open, revealing an armed squadron of soldiers, aiming their high-tech weaponry right at me. Wait a second. If I could just blast those agents straight into oblivion with just a little willpower, then maybe I could do the same to these guys...

BOOM! The wall behind me explodes, laying out a layer of smoke that makes it impossible to see anything in this cramped apartment. But I can hear people yelling out in pain, crying out for help. I try to stay still to avoid a beatdown myself, but as soon as I could truly grasp what was going down, I suffer from a brutal blow to the head. A face appears through the smoke...

http://astrochimp.com/wp-content/uploads/2006/01/010604-mr-t.png

...before everything goes black.

It's hard at first. My eyelids feel like they weight a ton. All that I can manage to see is just a giant blur. Oh, and the headache. It's as if I got slammed with a truck. But the worst part is trying to figure what the hell just happened.

So let's backtrack. Got confronted by former comrade. Had the cold barrel of a gun pressed against my noggin. Blasted some black **** at attackers, knocking them out. More guns pointed at me. Wall goes kaboom, smoke erupts, and everything goes black. Picture perfect.

"Hey fool! Wake up!"

Huh? Everything starts to clear up, although that fact doesn't help figure out where the hell I am. A face comes into view, the same that appeared to me back in all the smoke.

"Didn't you hear me fool? Wake up!"

Stunned by the harsh, threatening tone of my delightful new acquaintance, I suddenly find the strength to lift my upper half from what seems to be a bed. As I rise, I manage to see more of this guy. Amazingly toned and bulky, this dude looks like he could kick my *** at any given moment. I will be sure to take note of that.

"Alright fool, state your name and why the hell you was with them government cronies!"

Does anybody else realizes the heavy use of the word fool? Anyways, why did this guy get to ask the questions? Apparently, he kidnapped me. And I think that warrants an explanation. But I doubt I was getting one...

"How do you know I wasn't one of them?"

"You trying to get smart with me boy?"

"It's quite simple really. You weren't wearing the traditional STRIKE garb. Plus, the men of their ranks directing their weaponry towards you gave off a clue."

It took me a while to discover where the voice of this new arrival in the conversation was coming from. But when there was nowhere else to look except up, I still remained suprised to find a teenage boy with goggles hanging from the ceiling. Who are these people?

"Yes, I know, how am I up here? Well first off, my name is Garry but everybody arounds here calls me Gecko. You know, because I can stick to walls and stuff. And that joyous indivisual over there goes by the name Rampage. You'll see why later."

I raise my eyebrows without giving a verbal response, instigating him to continue on.

"You see friend, we are just two members of New York's most loved team. You may of heard of us, as we are two of the famous Justice Crusade!"

"Who?"

"Oh stop joking, who doesn't know who the Justice Crusade are?"

"Me."

"No seriously, stop playing around."

"Why would I be playing around?"

"Well, seems like you'll be needing a little lecture..."

[wiegeabo]

I look at my surroundings and shake my head. "Government van," I mumble.

"What?"

"I said, it's a nice van."

Hawkes nods. "Thanks. Got it at a government auction. it was a good deal."

"Yeah, I bet."

"Oh, I know. She doesn't look like much. But she's got it where it counts. Worked on her myself. Added in a few extras."

"Extras?"

"Well, the extras I could afford. Trying to get money out of The Director, even though this technically is being used as a company car..."

"I figured all you'd have to do is fill out a couple of forms and give them to Alberts."

"I did. Twenty of them...In triplicate." By the tone of his voice, I can guess just how much money he got.

"So...where are we going?"

"To see a friend."

"You already told me that. But that's all you said. What friend?"

"An old friend."

I shake my head again. "Talking to you is like pulling teeth."

"That can be arranged, my friend."

"Har har. So, I take it it's a military buddy." I jerk forward in my seat as Hawkes slams the brakes. Our tires screech, and they're not the only ones. The blaring of horns gives me a clue about how many cars are stuck behind us now.

But I can't think about that as Hawkes grabs me by my jacket and pulls me towards him. "How'd you know I was in the military?! Someone told you. Who talked? The Director said our past was confidential. What'd you do? Go snooping around our files while you were all see-through?!"

"Hey, hey! Calm down!"

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Cars honk and drivers yell at us as their forced to pull around the van. "What the hell do you know about me?"

"Not a damn thing!" I try to pull his hands off my jacket, but his grip is like iron. "Geez, man. Just look at you. You basically sweat ex-military. Everything about you says army."

Hawkes glares at me for a few more seconds. Then he lets me go, puts the van back in gear, and starts down the road. We sit in silence for a while.

"It wasn't the army."

I glance at Hawkes. "What?"

"I said...it wasn't the army. I'd never be in the army. Can't believe you'd even think that."

"Not the army?"

"Jarhead, all the way."

"Ah." We sit for a few more seconds. "So...um...see any action, marine?"

Hawkes breathes out, his head bobbing slightly side to side. "You could say that."

"Where?"

"Desert Storm. Other places."

"Pulling teeth."

"Hey, I just don't like to talk about my past, ok?"

"Ok, ok. I get it. It's just...not fair, is all."

"What's not fair?"

"You know. You get to know everything about me. I don't get to know anything about you?"

"Yes. That's right. That's just how I like it. The personal life of Bobby Hawkes is need to know, and you don't need to know, my friend."

I furrow my eyebrows. "Except, that I do need to know."

"Ha. No no no. You don't."

I nod my head. "Yeah, I sort of do."

"No you don't."

"Yeah I do."

"No you don't."

"Yeah I...oh geez. Listen, there's two good reasons I should get to know about your past."

"No there isn't."

"Yes there..." I stop myself before falling into the trap. "One: We're going to meet an old friend of yours anyway. So I'm automatically going to learn something. So You might as well fill me in before we get there. Two: I'm your partner. Partners are supposed to share stuff."

"You watch way too many buddy cop movies there, Cole."

"Well...I like buddy cop movies."

"Best one?"

"Lethal Weapon."

"The first?"

"Naturally."

"Damn right."

"...and there's this Canadian flick..."

"Good Cop, Bon Cop?"

"Yes!"

"Love that one."

"I thought it was just going to be another Weapon rip off-"

"But there was something about it that made it all its own."

"Exactly." We sit in silence for a couple of seconds. "Did-did we just have a guy moment?"

Hawkes bobbles his head. "Come onnnn...a little guy moment maybe. Bit of bonding for a second there?"

"Maybe a little one."

I smile. "There we go. That's a start. So...you're friend. Where are we meeting him?"

"At his work." Hawkes points as a building as we pass it, just before pulling into a parking structure.

I stare at the sign in disbelief. "You're old marine buddy works at a paper supply company?"

"That's only a front."

"For what?" He stops the van as a couple of big guys in suits walk towards us.

"The CIA..."

"Bobby Hawkes..."

I turn in my chair to look at the man as he closes the office door behind him. Hawkes just sits nonchalantly, inspecting his nails. "Jim Bristow. I still can't believe the CIA stooped low enough to let frogmen in the agency."

"You're just jealous we're smart enough to keep jarheads out."

"Hardy har har."

Bristow sits on the edge oh his desk and extends his hand. "Who's your friend?"

"Darren Cole," I say, shaking the offered hand.

"He's my partner."

"That agency of yours actually partnered you up with someone? I knew they were desperate, but geez..."

"Still a comedian, Jim. Too bad you were never a funny one." Despite the insults being thrown about, they never stop grinning like old frat buddies or something.

"So, why the visit? Finally want to pay me that $50 bucks you owe me?"

"More like collect that fifty you owe me. But, no, that's not why we're here."


"I didn't really think it was."

"We wanna know why the CIA is bugging me."

"Way to just come right out with it Cole."

"I was getting impatient. You were sure taking your time flirting with your friend."

"What makes you think the CIA even knows who you are?" he asks me. "Why are you worth watching?"

"Well..."

"That's classified."

"I have top clearance, Bobby."

"Not for this."

The smile finally slips from Bristow's face as he realizes just what we're saying. "Really...."

Bobby quickly leans forward. "Now stop right there. Put your curiosity away. Darren is part of the Company and as off limits as the rest of us."

"We work for the CIA?" I say, shocked.

"No, different Company."

"Oh. What's it called?"

Bobby looks at me like I'm slow in the head. "The Company."

"I see you keep your people well informed. But you still haven't told me why you think the CIA is keeping tabs on your friend."

"That's right, I haven't. Now, I'm gonna show you something. And the price for seeing it is keeping everything off the record. You never heard of my partner, and we were never here."

Bristow stands and crosses his arms. "That's a high price. How can I be sure what you have is worth it? If someone is willing to spy on your friend, maybe the Agency should be too."

"That's the price. Take it or leave it."

I've learned that when you're negotiating, it's always best to do it from a position of power. You need leverage over the other side in order to control the negotiations. Otherwise, you're going to find yourself in a bad place, wide open if the deal falls through. Sort of like how Bobby and I just told the CIA I'm someone worth looking into.

Bristow sits behind his desk. "Alright. Let's see what you've got."

And sometimes...it's just enough to make friends with the right people.

Bobby reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the evidence bag. He tosses it on the table. Bristow picks it up casually and starts examining the device inside of the bag. And as he does so, he leans forward, examining the bug much more closely.

"Is this...a 48?"

"It sure ain't bluetooth."

"Someone was using a G-48 to bug your place?" Bristow asks me.

I shrug my shoulders. "If you say so. All I know is that I found that in my apartment."

Bristow shakes his head. "It wasn't us, Bobby. The CIA isn't using the 48's yet. Haven't been cleared by the higher-ups for field work. They don't want to risk them getting out just yet."

"No one is using them?"

"No one. We only just started using the 47's a few months ago. We're still two years out from the 48's, at least."

Bobby motions with his hand, and Bristow throws the bag back to him. "Any idea who would?"

Bristow leans back in his chair. "Not a clue."

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

"So, now you know that someone has an edge over the Agency. Think the price is fair now?"

"Definitely. With that intel, I could probably get my superiors to push up when we can start using the 48's ourselves. Of course, if I could hold onto it..." Bristow starts reaching forward.

Hawkes tucks the device away. "Maybe later." He stands up, and I follow suit. "I'm assuming we'll have no problems getting out?"

Bristow grins. "I don't see why you would. Since you were never here."

***

We pull out onto the street, not saying anything to each other for a couple of blocks. Until, finally, I can't keep quiet anymore.

"So..."

"So?"

"Well, if the CIA isn't spying on me...who is? The FBI?"

Hawkes shakes his head. "The Feds are even further behind than the Agency."

"Ok...the NSA?"

"Not their style. If they wanted to spy on you, you'd never know it."

"...comforting thought. Well, who does that leave?"

"Plenty. And you probably haven't heard of half of them."

"Another comforting thought. What's the next step?"

"We report to the Director, and hope he takes it well."

"...we're screwed."

[NiteMare Shape]

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From behind his desk Alexander Anderson reviews the events of the last several months, and begins to feel sick. For over twenty years he has worked tirelessly to protect the people of America from the threat posed by these so-called "metahumans," both from the creatures themselves, as well as the very knowledge of their existence.


The emergence of public "heroes" such as The Blue Blur and Icon has been somewhat problematic, it was nothing that could not be handled. Afterall, the American public, as well as the rest of the world loved their self appointed protectors, so for the most part STRIKE had no need to interfere directly with their activity. The organization did however, keep close tabs on the known metas. But since the alien invasion, the superhumans have apparently come out of the woodwork. The US government even sanctioned a team of so called superheroes, "The Guardians."


And that is a problem.


He has worked so hard for so long to protect the country that he loves from the threat posed by the metahumans, and his own government is suddenly bankrolling a group of them because it is the right thing to do politically at the moment...regardless how foolhardy it is. To give a group of self appointed protectors a blank check to do whatever they want with nothing to regulate them, no real way to keep them in line, is a monumental mistake.


A mistake that is going to cost alot of lives. And that is something that he will not stand for.


With a press of a button, Anderson's computer screen shows a video feed of all the recent metahuman activities all over the world, as well as a superimposed map of the world showing any new reports of meta activity. And as he sees the growing number of incidents involving super powered beings, his stomach turns. He knows that with each and every new incident is another defeat for STRIKE. It is this thought which brings about another, and before he can fully explore this new thought, the buzzer on his desk goes off.


"Yes, what is it Ms Powers?"


"Sorry to disturb you Director Anderson, but Mr. Ryder is here to see you."


"Very well, send him in."


With that, there is a buzzing sound and the door to his office slides open and Marcus Ryder, Anderson's best friend walks into the lavish room. Anderson and Ryder have been partners and best friends for over twenty five years. They have fought side by side and survived many situations together that would have claimed the lives of lesser men. Above all else, Ryder is the only man on the face of the earth that Anderson trusts completely.


"Marcus, what have you brought me?"


Ryder reaches reaches under his vest and produces a folder, tossing it on Anderson's desk.


"See for yourself, Alex. Afraid it's not good news."


Anderson briefly scans the report inside the folder before putting aside.


"It doesn't matter."


"Sir?" He says, unable to keep the surprise from his voice.


"It doesn't matter, none of it. We've been at this for a long time, Marcus. And the whole time that we've been dealing with these freaks, we've been doing so with kid gloves. But I think that it's time to take those kid gloves off, to stop dealing with these things as if they're your average criminal. It's time to take these 'people' for what they really are...monsters. I've decided that it is time for STRIKE to take a more proactive role in dealing with the superhuman threat."


Anderson smiles as he meets Ryder's gaze.



"Marcus, it's time for STRIKE to show these metahumans just what we are capable of."



Anderson goes through various reports in the back of the reinforced hummer. Reports of super human activity throughout the world.

Hong Kong, Dublin, London, Tokyo, Sydney, Barcelona all have increased reports of meta human activity. But he isn't overly concerned with them. The metas there are those respective countries problems. However, the rise in meta human activity in New York, Boston, Miami, New Orleans, Los Angeles, and Chicago concern him more. The metahumans in those cities are his problem.

And that is why he has ordered a large contingent of his agents to leave Washington DC and move their base of operations. They are taking the agency to a new location...They will set up shop where all this started in the first place.

S.T.R.I.K.E. is coming to Lost Haven...and things are never going to be the same.

[NiteMare Shape]

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Peter Wallis and Jimmy Davies.

Two of Midas' top enforcers, when there's an important job that can't be screwed up...or some potentially messy wetwork, he sends them. I've been following them all over this city for most of the night knowing that eventually they will lead me to Midas himself.

And if I can finally get to Midas, I can end this.

I've spent the last two hours perched atop the old general store across the street from the nightclub Twisters'. I've heard rumors that it's a front for Midas, only one of many as a matter of fact....and after seeing some of the figures going in and out of the club, I know that it's true.

They'd been inside so long that I would almost be tempted to give up and call it a night, if this weren't such a big opportunity. So I sit atop my pearch and wait. I wait for another forty five minutes before they finally come out again.

I track them as they slip down an alley beside Twisters' and stop halfway to the end. They begin to working at a manhole cover, and within a few minutes they have it off and have slipped into the sewers below. I silently make my way from the rooftops to the alley, and finally follow them into the depth of the sewers.

Keeping concealed by the shadows, I quietly follow behind Wallis and Davies as they make their way down the sewer. They are talking quietly to one another, and they keep looking back as they go. It is that moment that I come to a realization...they know that I'm here...

Ambush.

So stupid.

Every fiber of my being tells me to get out...now. Suddenly I hear slpashing in the water beside me, and then something violently launches itself at me from the filth. I'm hit by a big fist and then a powerful tail sends me into the water. I scramble to get back onto the maintenance walkway when I look up and see the beast that attacked me...

http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/Killer_Croc_sketch_by_antmanx68.jpg

[NiteMare Shape]

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Government Square, Lost Haven


The crowd gathers to watch as the City Council as well as representatives from the Mayor's Office honor 12 victims of the Arlaaekean invasion which were recently uncovered during reconstruction efforts.

Although they bodies have yet to be identified, several community leaders felt that a ceremony for the "Adams Twelve" as they've been dubbed, due to the fact that they were found in the basement of the collapsed Adams Building. And public opinion agreed with them, so efforts were made to get this ceremony organized as quickly as possible.

Many of the people who died in Lost Haven during the alien invasion have never been found, and today this crowd is filled with people who have lost loved ones, hoping that maybe, just maybe one...or in some cases more might be among those found here. Everyone here is looking for some form of closure, looking to put the events of the past year behind them. Though they will never forget, and the pain they feel will never truely go away, they all hope to move on.

Except for one.

Since she was a small girl, she was considered different by her people. She was an outcast, shunned by everyone in her society. Her family tried to lock her away from public view, ashamed of their daughter for being so different. She lived in shame until the day that representatives sent by the Autocrat himself arrived on her doorstep. They took her away from her miserable existence and they gave her life purpose.

She trained with the Arlaaekean military and quickly came to the attention of the supreme commander of the Arlaaekan military machine, Admiral Keelan. He did not look at her differently because she posessed special gifts, he did not shun her because her skin was fair instead of the light blue of the rest of her people. He saw in her a brave soldier who would help bring salvation to her people...he saw a hero of the Arlaaekean people.

As a member of Admiral Keelan's elite unit of super soldiers known as The Dreadnaughts, she had fought side my side with some of the bravest beings she had ever known. Together they fought for the preservation of the Arlaaekean way of life. They conquered world after world, using their resources until there was nothing left and it was time to move on and start again. It was the natural order of the galaxy.

Until they came here.

When they came to Earth, they were met with great resistance. Although the humans fought well, fueled by a will to live that the Arlaaekean war machine had not encountered before, that is not why the humans survived. It was only because of a few so called "superheroes" stood up and fought along side them, using their great power to eventually defeat the invaders.

The defeat of the Arlaaekean fleet was devestating. Not only was Admiral Keelan and the rest of the Dreadnaughts killed, but the mothership....which had served as her home for much of her life had been destroyed when one of Earth's "heroes" turned the Omega Javelin against it.

And in that instant she was suddenly alone in the universe. While many of the other Arlaaekean's had escaped this planet, she was unable to do the same. Her shuttle destroyed, she was stranded. She had been captured by some sort of witch who had attempted to force her into slavery, but she had managed to escape her thrall. However, she now wanders this planet alone, with no real purpose...with no real home.

So she finds herself back in the place where which saw the destruction of her way of life...and for a moment she wonders if anyone had survived on the worlds that she had helped conquer, would they feel what she is feeling now?

She forces the thought from her mind and reminds herself why she is here. She stands here ready to take action against the humans, to get a small measure of revenge on those who ruined her life...against Him...and perhaps if she is lucky, her life will end today and she will at last be with so many of her people.

She takes a deep breath and prepares herself, stepping forward she removes the shawl from her head, allowing her long red hair to hang free.

"For Arlaaek!" She shouts at the top of her lungs.

She begins throwing a scorching flame out onto the crowd, instantly incinerating several people instantly. Panic comes over the crowd and the people begin to run, some trampling one another in order to escape.

As they run, she sends more flame into the crowd and as her victims burn, the smell of charred flesh fills her nostrils, and for the first time in months, she finally feels alive. She continues her assault until she feels something...someone standing not behind her, but above her.

"That's enough!" He shouts unable to hide the anger in his voice.

She slowly turns, and as she lays eyes on the man who destroyed her life, a smile begins to form on her lips.

"Oh no Icon, I'm just getting started."

[TrueMastermind]

It's hard at first. My eyelids feel like they weight a ton. All that I can manage to see is just a giant blur. Oh, and the headache. It's as if I got slammed with a truck. But the worst part is trying to figure what the hell just happened.

So let's backtrack. Got confronted by former comrade. Had the cold barrel of a gun pressed against my noggin. Blasted some black **** at attackers, knocking them out. More guns pointed at me. Wall goes kaboom, smoke erupts, and everything goes black. Picture perfect.

"Hey fool! Wake up!"

Huh? Everything starts to clear up, although that fact doesn't help figure out where the hell I am. A face comes into view, the same that appeared to me back in all the smoke.

"Didn't you hear me fool? Wake up!"

Stunned by the harsh, threatening tone of my delightful new acquaintance, I suddenly find the strength to lift my upper half from what seems to be a bed. As I rise, I manage to see more of this guy. Amazingly toned and bulky, this dude looks like he could kick my *** at any given moment. I will be sure to take note of that.

"Alright fool, state your name and why the hell you was with them government cronies!"

Does anybody else realizes the heavy use of the word fool? Anyways, why did this guy get to ask the questions? Apparently, he kidnapped me. And I think that warrants an explanation. But I doubt I was getting one...

"How do you know I wasn't one of them?"

"You trying to get smart with me boy?"

"It's quite simple really. You weren't wearing the traditional STRIKE garb. Plus, the men of their ranks directing their weaponry towards you gave off a clue."

It took me a while to discover where the voice of this new arrival in the conversation was coming from. But when there was nowhere else to look except up, I still remained suprised to find a teenage boy with goggles hanging from the ceiling. Who are these people?

"Yes, I know, how am I up here? Well first off, my name is Garry but everybody arounds here calls me Gecko. You know, because I can stick to walls and stuff. And that joyous indivisual over there goes by the name Rampage. You'll see why later."

I raise my eyebrows without giving a verbal response, instigating him to continue on.

"You see friend, we are just two members of New York's most loved team. You may of heard of us, as we are two of the famous Justice Crusade!"

"Who?"

"Oh stop joking, who doesn't know who the Justice Crusade are?"

"Me."

"No seriously, stop playing around."

"Why would I be playing around?"

"Well, seems like you'll be needing a little lecture..."


This is great. I've been kidnapped by a kid who can stick to walls and a sterotypical black guy who can whoop my *** easily. And now I'm listening to this kid rant on about some silly Justice Crusade. When I was a kid, I read about the Avengers and the Defenders in comic books, but I've never heard of any real superhero team. There hadn't even been that many superheroes until a while back.

"You see, the Justice Crusade are the true defenders of New York, the official protectors of this city."

"What about Paladin?"

"Don't mention that pansy!" Hostility towards the city's symbolic guardian? Hmm...

"Oh please, what has Paladin done for this city?" Well, I'm afraid if I name them, King Kong over there is gonna pound me into the cement. So I'll just keep my mouth shut.

"Hey! Who's that feller?" Turning my head to see the source of the heavy Texan accent, I see a towering, muscular man donning a ten-gallon cowboy hat walking this way. Great. Another guy who could likely pound my face in.

"Here comes the hick..." Rampage whispered before the cowboy got into listening distance. Something says that Rampage isn't too cool with the new arrival.

"Oh, Hank this is...what's your name again pal?" I chuckle at them going so long without asking me my name.

"Carson."

"Yes! As you might have already concluded, this is Carson! And Carson, this is Hank!" The kid's awfully joyful manner didn't make me enjoy this situation any more. Seeing that the Texan had outstretched his hand for a handshake, I cooperated and delivered a firm handshake. Weirdly, the tall man quickly pulled his hand back.

"Ouch! Looks like you got a little strength there. So what are you doing here?"

"We found STRIKE attacking the guy and wondering why, we took him here."

"And why wasn't I invited on this little mission?"

"You were asleep; along with most of the Crusade. I know you don't like to be waken up early."

"Your darn tootin I don't!"

With no explanation why, Hank simply walks away, leaving the three of us in confusion.

"It's time you meet the rest of the guys..."

[Eddie Brock]

An alien from another world, the last of his kind, fighting for truth, justice, and the American way. An orphan, forced to watch the death of his parents, sworn to rid the city of the evil that took their lives. A confused teenager, granted powers beyond his wildest dreams, haunted by his own irresponsibility and determined to right his wrongs. These are the stories I grew up reading. Fantastic journeys on glossy pages, epic battles told through speech bubbles. In the end, though, they were just stories.

Or so the world thought.

In the past few years, real superhumans have emerged. Men and women capable of unimaginable feats of strength and power. Newspaper headlines read like the front page of a comic book now. In recent days, our world was pushed to the brink. An alien threat jeopardized the fate of our race, but it was ultimately vanquished by real-life superheroes - each of them even more fantastical than the creations of Siegel, Kane, and Lee.

And then, there's me.

Phillip James Farley. Aged twenty-eight years. Graduated from Lost Haven University with a B.S. in computer science. Currently work in a cubicle farm for a private company. Job's so boring, I'll spare you the details. Currently residing in a two room apartment - three rooms if you count the closet-sized bathroom. Single, never married.

When did this become my life? I moved to the big city to make something of myself. Instead, I got swallowed up in mediocrity and underachievement. And the worst part? It never really fazed me. My therapist - during the grand total of three sessions I actually attended - said I was "sleepwalking through life." Then, all of a sudden, they arrived.

Icon, Blue Blur, Survivor, Archangel, Blacklight.

These larger-than-life figures were like something out of the comic books I so avidly read and collected. (Regardless of what anyone says, to this day I remain proud of owning the entire run of Spawn.) They were the living embodiment of every prepubescent boy's dream. These men - and the occasional woman - could lift mountains, race around the world in five minutes, and take to the skies, going only where birds have had the privilege of going.

Which got me thinking, what have I done of any value to the world?

The short answer is "nothing." The long answer is "virtually nothing." Either way, it became clear to me that I wasn't happy. Maybe I hadn't been happy in a long, long time. Maybe I'd never been happy. (Okay, that's a lie. I met Carmen Electra once. That made me happy.) Ultimately, though, something changed in me. For the first time in my life, I had ambition. I had a goal. It was crystal clear to me, as if it had been there all along.

"I'm going to be a superhero," I announced to myself one day over a bowl of Frosted Flakes.

And that's how I made my decision.

[NiteMare Shape]

http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/cooltext428410933.png




Government Square, Lost Haven


The crowd gathers to watch as the City Council as well as representatives from the Mayor's Office honor 12 victims of the Arlaaekean invasion which were recently uncovered during reconstruction efforts.

Although they bodies have yet to be identified, several community leaders felt that a ceremony for the "Adams Twelve" as they've been dubbed, due to the fact that they were found in the basement of the collapsed Adams Building. And public opinion agreed with them, so efforts were made to get this ceremony organized as quickly as possible.

Many of the people who died in Lost Haven during the alien invasion have never been found, and today this crowd is filled with people who have lost loved ones, hoping that maybe, just maybe one...or in some cases more might be among those found here. Everyone here is looking for some form of closure, looking to put the events of the past year behind them. Though they will never forget, and the pain they feel will never truely go away, they all hope to move on.

Except for one.

Since she was a small girl, she was considered different by her people. She was an outcast, shunned by everyone in her society. Her family tried to lock her away from public view, ashamed of their daughter for being so different. She lived in shame until the day that representatives sent by the Autocrat himself arrived on her doorstep. They took her away from her miserable existence and they gave her life purpose.

She trained with the Arlaaekean military and quickly came to the attention of the supreme commander of the Arlaaekan military machine, Admiral Keelan. He did not look at her differently because she posessed special gifts, he did not shun her because her skin was fair instead of the light blue of the rest of her people. He saw in her a brave soldier who would help bring salvation to her people...he saw a hero of the Arlaaekean people.

As a member of Admiral Keelan's elite unit of super soldiers known as The Dreadnaughts, she had fought side my side with some of the bravest beings she had ever known. Together they fought for the preservation of the Arlaaekean way of life. They conquered world after world, using their resources until there was nothing left and it was time to move on and start again. It was the natural order of the galaxy.

Until they came here.

When they came to Earth, they were met with great resistance. Although the humans fought well, fueled by a will to live that the Arlaaekean war machine had not encountered before, that is not why the humans survived. It was only because of a few so called "superheroes" stood up and fought along side them, using their great power to eventually defeat the invaders.

The defeat of the Arlaaekean fleet was devestating. Not only was Admiral Keelan and the rest of the Dreadnaughts killed, but the mothership....which had served as her home for much of her life had been destroyed when one of Earth's "heroes" turned the Omega Javelin against it.

And in that instant she was suddenly alone in the universe. While many of the other Arlaaekean's had escaped this planet, she was unable to do the same. Her shuttle destroyed, she was stranded. She had been captured by some sort of witch who had attempted to force her into slavery, but she had managed to escape her thrall. However, she now wanders this planet alone, with no real purpose...with no real home.

So she finds herself back in the place where which saw the destruction of her way of life...and for a moment she wonders if anyone had survived on the worlds that she had helped conquer, would they feel what she is feeling now?

She forces the thought from her mind and reminds herself why she is here. She stands here ready to take action against the humans, to get a small measure of revenge on those who ruined her life...against Him...and perhaps if she is lucky, her life will end today and she will at last be with so many of her people.

She takes a deep breath and prepares herself, stepping forward she removes the shawl from her head, allowing her long red hair to hang free.

"For Arlaaek!" She shouts at the top of her lungs.

She begins throwing a scorching flame out onto the crowd, instantly incinerating several people instantly. Panic comes over the crowd and the people begin to run, some trampling one another in order to escape.

As they run, she sends more flame into the crowd and as her victims burn, the smell of charred flesh fills her nostrils, and for the first time in months, she finally feels alive. She continues her assault until she feels something...someone standing not behind her, but above her.

"That's enough!" He shouts unable to hide the anger in his voice.

She slowly turns, and as she lays eyes on the man who destroyed her life, a smile begins to form on her lips.

"Oh no Icon, I'm just getting started."

She pulls back and throws several large fireballs at Icon, each having very little effect other than providing a distraction. While he is distracted, she takes to the skies and hits him with a hard uppercut, followed by a flurry of fash punches. The punches, reinforced with flame stagger Icon, and eventually knock him to the ground.

Icon quickly gets to his feet, however Singe rushes at him again. As she is about to hit him with another blow, he reaches out and grabs her by the neck, holding her inches off the ground with one hand.

"Stop this, now. The war is over, there's no need to keep fighting."

She doesn't respond, instead she closes her eyes and concentrates. As she does, her body begins to glow. Within seconds, her body is completely engulfed by a white hot flame. With Icon momentarily blinded by the sudden onslaught of intense heat, Singe is able to escape from his grasp.

Icon stumbles backward, still blinded by the sudden explosion of white hot flame. Singe does not relate, she delivers a hard knee to his midsection followed up by a right hand that sends Icon to the ground again.

"You ruined everything. You destroyed my life...my family...my entire race. You say that there's no need to keep fighting...I say that I'll never stop, not until every man, woman and child of Arlaaek who you helped to damn is avenged. I'll never stop until you are dead."

Icon is about to respond when he notices a small group of people who have gathered to watch the fight...right around the same time Singe notices them.

"Now you can watch me destroy these people...just like I watched you destroy mine!" She says as she turns toward the spectators, her fists glowing as she prepares to launch a massive fireball at them.

[Blacklight]

http://i584.photobucket.com/albums/ss289/blacklight521/blrbpbanner-1.jpg?t=1263522924


Chapter 2...

"Many eons ago..." the Master of Light began, "my brother and I were at war for the control of one of the Multiverse's greatest sources of power..."

"What is it?" Orangelight asked her. The Goddess of Light turned away from the group, before picking up where she left off.

"The Multiverse is like a spectrum. Each world different from the next as if they were colors of a singular light. As if the universe used to be one, but then the Great Prism separated it..."

"The Great Prism?" Violetlight inquired.

"Yes. The Great Prism. A structure so powerful that whoever was to control it would have dominance over all existence, for it is an axis that keeps the many dimensions that form the multiverse apart and keeps the worlds from merging and compacting together before this singular universe eventually tears the fabric of reality apart, enveloping everything in eternal darkness."

The Blacklights of different universes all gave looks of awe and shock at the picture her tale was painting in their minds.

"As I was saying before, my brother tried to seize it's power prior... That was until I managed to use my power to move it elsewhere, and convincing him I had destroyed it and forcing him into a truce. But I fear he has found it's location, and has sent his Harbingers to bring it to him."

"We gotta stop them!" Greenlight exclaimed, pounding his fists together.

"Clearly that's why she's assembled us..." Redlight sarcastically remarked.

"This is the case. I have chosen you all to be my champions, and you... Blacklight, are to lead this group in defeating my brother's 7 soldiers of darkness and protecting the Great Prism."

Blacklight then stepped forward, his fists clenched to signify his readiness.

"Yes, Master of Light. I won't let you down."

"Wait a sec... What makes him so fit to lead? I should be leader..."

"Hmph... I should."

"No. ME!"

"I should!"

"Definitely not!"

"Logic dictates I would be most suitable..."

"Gentlemen, please. I think the Goddess knows what she's doing. I for one, trust her judgment. So should all of you. She wouldn't risk the universe by picking an unsuitable leader..."

"Thank you, Yellowlight. He is right. I have my reasons for choosing Blacklight over the rest of you to lead. Reasons that I cannot explain at the moment, for time is of the essence. You all must get to the Prism post-haste!"

"Fine..." Redlight said as he took flight and headed out of the Hall and into the vast world of the Light.

"Hurm..." Bluelight grunted as he followed suit.

"Whatever..." Greenlight reluctantly agreed, following the others. Orange, Violet and Yellowlight then took off next, leaving Indigolight the only one of Jon's multicolor counterparts left.

"Up, up and AWAY!!" Indigolight exclaimed in a camp fashion, before bringing up the tail end of the group.

Seeing all of them leave before he did and as evidenced by the lack of enthusiasm of being under his leadership, Jon sighed, his palm hitting his forehead.

"This is so not ideal..."

"What troubles you, my Champion of Light?"

"Did you not see that? What makes you think they'll listen to me? And they have a point. What makes me so fit to be leader?"

"Jonathan, have you not realized how each of these versions of you from alternate dimensions differs from yourself?"

"Not really... Aside from them each being a different color of the rainbow, we all have the same powers. Aesthetically we're all the same."

"Ah, but you're not... You are all different as much as you are the same. The differences lie within your personalities. You, however, are a perfect balance of the main traits that stick out amongst each one of your alternate selves. That is why I've chosen you, Blacklight. You, like the color you represent, are devoid of any imbalances that can cause your judgment to be clouded. You will be the one who knows what to do when the time comes..."

Hearing her speech, Jon smirked. It was a vote of confidence if he ever heard one.

"I won't let you down, Goddess of Light."

"Good. I know you to be one who always keeps his promises. But be careful... The Master of Darkness. His Harbingers. They will singlehandedly be the toughest foes you will ever face."

"I'm ready. Besides..." Blacklight started to assure her as he began to levitate, preparing to catch up to the others, "...I'm already dead, remember?"

Jon smiled, and the Master of Light smiled back. Jon then set off towards his trek to intercept the Great Prism, and defeat the Master of Darkness' Harbingers. But one question remained in his mind. A question that came to him when he realized the other 7 in his group were alive and well...

What happens to me when this is all over?

[Eddie Brock]

(Currently not-so)
AMAZING MAN!

Becoming a superhero is harder than you'd think.

I mean, a lot of the typical "superhero origin" stuff is out of my control. Unfortunately, Vermont doesn't qualify as a distant planet, and I'm certainly not the last survivor from it. My parents are alive and well and living in early retirement in Florida, so I don't think they'd want to be bothered with my avenging them. The closest thing to a "mutant gene" in my family is my Aunt Rosie's multicolored eyes. And until that Green Lantern Corps. ring finds me, I'm sorta stuck there.

I coaxed a spider into biting me, but that just left me with itchy, red swelling. I thought about finding some radioactive waste, but after a quick trip to Google I decided that it wasn't worth cancer or death. I signed up for karate at a local dojo, but after about two classes I realized that they were only going to teach us self-defense and not how to subdue a grown man with a pair of chopsticks or something cool like that. Then, when I tried to teach myself how to channel my "chi," I got bored after about ten minutes and watched a Spike TV Star Wars marathon.

So things weren't going so well. But for the first time in my life, I wasn't going to be denied. I had a goal, and I was going to pursue it. Being a superhero was the only thing that made sense. I mean, I had practically been training my whole life for this. So maybe I didn't have superpowers (or really any distinguishing skills of any kind), but why should that stop me? Surely, there had to be a way.

What would Reed Richards do? I asked myself. And after a few days of thinking, the answer became crystal clear to me.

Craigslist.

I click on Activities under the Community heading. Seems like as good a place as any to place this. Now, I have to be discreet enough that my intentions won't be discovered by just anybody, but I need to get my point across somehow. Cracking my knuckles, I get to work on my ad.

Looking for someone who wants to make a difference... (Lost Haven)

Date: 2010-07-27, 1:18AM EDT
Reply to: comm-89tbb-1938060122@craigslist.org

I am embarking on an ambitious venture to help make our city/world a better place to live. I am looking for someone who isn't afraid to dream big who can provide me with the power and the tools I need. If you want to stand on the shoulders of giants with me, contact me at this ad. Excelsior!



Location: Lost Haven
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 1938060122

[Hound55]

Isaac writhed in the bath in his unconscious state, his body trying to protect itself better than he could in a state of awareness. His body in internal turmoil, whilst pleasant memories which normally seemed so many miles away brought a smile to his face as they flashed behind his eyes as if by some nostalgic projectionist...

Isaac found himself sitting in a casket in darkness. It was a place he’d never seen before, pitch black yet somehow lit to allow partial visibility, despite the obvious contradiction. The more he concentrated on the darkness the darker it would be and the more he concentrated on that which he could see the more it grew out from the obscurity of the unrelenting abyss.

Not knowing where he was his first instinct was to inspect his surroundings to try and find his way out. He leaned over the side and looked down; 20 yards below he could see an oddly familiar sight. A figure dressed in black, he was clearly distressed in his casket as he panicked about a rising black fluid which from Isaac’s position he could clearly see was of the man’s own making. Thrashing around, the man gave a final gargle looking up. Isaac coughed and spluttered a little at the sight as he recognised the face of the man beneath him.

It was Isaac. Despite the mask, he could clearly recognise himself.

Trying to get a better look at what was happening below; Isaac squinted and focused on the happenings beneath as they came clearer from the darkness. The first thing he realised was that the colourless area the man beneath was reclining in was actually a bath, Isaac pulled back a little when he realised this and rubbing his hands against the side he became further perplexed when he realised the casket he had been sitting in had somehow become a bath.

“But what could… No!”

Isaac looked over the side, panicked. His eyes scanning the pitch black of the abyss beneath him and finding nothing. Isaac… the man… he’d been completely swallowed up, the bath and all. Horrified that his doppelganger had just been completely lost, devoured by the nothingness, he coughed and spluttered again. Then more. Then finally he couldn’t contain what was lying within anymore. He doubled up and vomited, trying to avoid his own legs, but this was impossible.

Isaac purged a stream of black gunk, he couldn’t keep it within. He frisked around his legs looking for the plug which he would never find.

There can be no plug when there is no drain. His face held disgust with the dark sludge he resided in as he saw the level slowly rise. He watched as the sides of the bath grew up and away from him.

“Ugh…” He mouthed in disgust all the while more black bile spouted from his face, while he sat in complete indignation, trying in vain to splash the substance over the impossibly high sides of the bath. Isaac began to grow fearful, he reached up high for the side of the bath and his hand crashed against an invisible glass or Perspex ceiling.

As he felt this ceiling he grew scared, there was no way of getting this stuff out of the bath and yet somehow this black stuff was multiplying or reproducing, he thought to himself whist the oozing darkness continued to cascade from his face. There’s more of it than I can fight… And I can’t get out…

The entire situation seemed vaguely familiar and yet Isaac could not remember from where or when.

The black goo was now filling up most of the bath, to the extent where Isaac was now forced to float on top of it in order to survive. He could no longer use his entire arms in an attempt to splash the stuff over the side anymore for fear of sinking and now could only feebly flick small amounts towards the side, which would invariably hit the transparent ceiling and drop back into the bath again.

Five seconds later his chest and masked cheek were pressed up against the ceiling as the blackness enveloped him. With a final weak attempt to leave a legacy he attempted to leave a scream… let his howl resonate in the empty darkness, but as he faced the sky and the darkness swallowed him all he could let out was a feeble gargle. As it hit the back of his throat it left a slight tangy sensation.

“GAAAAH!!!”

A naked Isaac awoke with an explosive shout. His mask all the clothing he had, was fraying slightly in places as the stitching had dissolved from the fluid he bathed in. He spat and stuck his tongue out instinctively as he had a trace in his mouth of the fluid he'd been bathing in.

Vinegar. Only vinegar.

The tangy acid far less corrosive than the substance that haunted his nightmare.

His heart still pumped within his chest from the vivid dream, while he inspected the parts of his body that were not obscured by the mask. He breathed a sigh of relief and clasped his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes with the base of his palms and running his hands upwards and then in a circle, rubbing both cheeks beneath the mask and then resting with his hands tenting his nose, using his fingers to rub the bridge of his nose just between his eyes.

With more of the dream washing from his mind with every second, he turned and let the plug out of the bath and left the bathroom. The only sounds; the gurgle of the draining vinegar and the sound of the empty drum Isaac dragged behind him.

[NiteMare Shape]

She pulls back and throws several large fireballs at Icon, each having very little effect other than providing a distraction. While he is distracted, she takes to the skies and hits him with a hard uppercut, followed by a flurry of fash punches. The punches, reinforced with flame stagger Icon, and eventually knock him to the ground.

Icon quickly gets to his feet, however Singe rushes at him again. As she is about to hit him with another blow, he reaches out and grabs her by the neck, holding her inches off the ground with one hand.

"Stop this, now. The war is over, there's no need to keep fighting."

She doesn't respond, instead she closes her eyes and concentrates. As she does, her body begins to glow. Within seconds, her body is completely engulfed by a white hot flame. With Icon momentarily blinded by the sudden onslaught of intense heat, Singe is able to escape from his grasp.

Icon stumbles backward, still blinded by the sudden explosion of white hot flame. Singe does not relate, she delivers a hard knee to his midsection followed up by a right hand that sends Icon to the ground again.

"You ruined everything. You destroyed my life...my family...my entire race. You say that there's no need to keep fighting...I say that I'll never stop, not until every man, woman and child of Arlaaek who you helped to damn is avenged. I'll never stop until you are dead."

Icon is about to respond when he notices a small group of people who have gathered to watch the fight...right around the same time Singe notices them.

"Now you can watch me destroy these people...just like I watched you destroy mine!" She says as she turns toward the spectators, her fists glowing as she prepares to launch a massive fireball at them.

Singe prepares to send the fireball into the crowd of spectators, however, Icon gets to her in time...barely.

"NO!" He shouts as he grabs her by the arm, hurling her through a parked minivan. She crashes through the side of the vehicle, coming out the other side, where she rolls to a stop on the street.

Icon makes his way over to where she lay, and is about to haul her to her feet when she throws a small fireball in his face. The fireball doesn't do any harm, however it distracts him momentarily. Singe takes the advantage presented by the momentary distraction and pulls a nearby manhold cover from the ground.

As Icon regains his composure, she uses the manhole cover as a weapon. Using her own extraordinary body tempurature, she superheats the manhole cover and hits Icon in the face with it. Upon impact, the cover exploded in a shower of molten metal, blinding Icon momentarily.

Singe moves in, kneeing Icon in the midsection, then using his bodyweight to her advantage, hurls him into a nearby bus stop shelter.

As Icon lays in the debris of shattered glass, plastic and wood, Singe again begins to prepare to discharge a massive wave of flames at the spectators standing nearby.

Icon looks over and sees her getting ready to strike, and decides that it is time to end this...now. He gets to his feet and immediately launches himself at her. Knowing that the only way to put out a fire is to deprive it of oxygen, he grabs her by the waist and takes to the skies. Clutching Singe, Icon rockets through the sky until he reaches the lower portions of the atmosphere where the air is at its thinnest. After a few moments, the red flame surrounding Singe's body burns out, and she is left in a state of unconsciousness.

When Icon descends from the skies, he sees that the seen has been contained. Several black SUV's have arrived on the scene along with a familiar transport vehicle...STRIKE.

He was suprised when their existance was confirmed in the days following the invasion, however he was not surprised that they effectively vanished again days later. But here they are now, waiting for him to land.

The last time he came across these men, he nearly came to blows with one of their metas when they tried to take custody of Flux. He was not going to allow it, and their enforcer...a young man named Spartan had taken offense to that. It was only when one of the officers stepped in, did cooler heads prevail. And here they are again, looking to clean up after he has already done the hard part.

"We'll take her Icon." says one of th officers as he jogs up to where Icon is standing with Singe in his arms.

"Be my guest. You know, we really need to stop meeting like this."

"That's not likely to happen anytime soon, flyboy."

Icon just nods and hands over the limp body of Singe, then takes to the skies, leaving the scene behind. As Icon flew away, the conversation that he had with the STRIKE officer keeps playing over and over in his mind, and as he thinks about not only the man's words, but the way he said it, Icon suddenly feels very uneasy...almost as if there is something in motion, but he doesn't know what it is.

[wiegeabo]

"So you made no progress."

"Well, I wouldn't say that."

"Yeah, we made...progress."

"Definitely...some progress."

"Right. Exactly."

The Director looks at us unconvinced. "Like?"

"Well..."

"We..."

"The CIA."

"Yes, exactly! The CIA." The Director continues to stare. "We...talked to them."

"An old buddy of mine. He had no idea who Darren was."

"Right. None at all. The CIA wasn't bugging my place."

"So they're out."

"And so's the FBI, right?"

"Yes. And the NSA. Although getting them to admit that sure wasn't easy."

"You're not kidding. I mean, I had to-" I notice The Director's eyes darken slightly. "-convince them, in the nicest possible manner, to tell us?"

Hawkes and I glance at each other. "So, we've made progress." The Director says nothing. Just glares for a long time. Hawkes and I both look at each and shrug our shoulders-

"Progress?!"

We both jump at the sheer volume of The Director's voice, not to mention the anger.

"You eliminate three agencies and that's your definition of progress?"

"Well, sir...they are the biggest agencies."

"In this country."

We look at each other again. "You...want us to check the agencies of other countries?"

"If necessary."

I'm actually at a loss for words. But I see the gears spinning around in Hawke's mind. "Sure, Director. We can do that."

The Director smiles a little. "Good-"

"If you'll just authorize the expenses."

"...Expenses?"

"Well, we won't get much done around here. The embassy in DC are too well guarded, even for an invisible man. We'd need to travel to some other embassies, less secure embassies. And then, because they're out of the way, and might not have what we need, we'd likely have to do some serious globetrotting..."

The Director inhales and slowly lets out his breath and clearing his throat. "Well..., I wouldn't want to risk an international incident."

Or spend any money.

He sighs again. "I didn't want it to come down to this...but I'll make a call. See what I can find out."

I look over at Hawkes. The Fatman's going to do some actual work?

He looks at me. Anything to save a buck.

The Director looks at both of us. "Well...?" We sit there, confused. "Leave."

"Right."

"Gone."

***

The Director waits until his agents leave the room, rolling his eyes the second the door closes behind them. He opens the bottom drawer of his desk, and pulls away the hidden panel. Dialing the combination into the safe, he opens it and pulls out his special book of numbers. Numbers and names too sensitive to trust to even the most secure computers system. Funny how a simple piece of paper can be more cost effective then millions of dollars of hardware and software.

Flipping to the correct page, he picks up his phone. He had promised himself never to call this number again, a number to which only he had access. But sometimes promises have to be broken.

"Alberts," The Director says into the phone.

"Sir," Alberts says from the other end.

"I need a secure line. Alpha connection protocol."

"Alpha, sir?"

"Yes, Alpha. Is there a problem?"

No, sir!" Alberts says quickly. There's an odd sound for a moment on the phone. "Line secured with Alpha protocol, sir."

"Very good....hang up, Alberts."

"Oh, yes, sir. Of course." The line goes dead and The Director rolls his eyes again. He dials the number. There are four rings, and then he hears the same noise made when Alberts secured the line.

"Hello, Director. How may I help you?"

"I'd like to speak to Him, please. It's important."

"Certainly, sir. It will just be a minute as I see if he is available."

"Tell him 'I know'. I'm sure he'll be available."

[sabetoonth]

“Oh my god!” Elijah said as he saw the bodies being carried out. Mitch put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“You don’t need to see this man.” Elijah sliped out from under his hand.


“Yes I do.” Elijah slipped under the tape and walked right by a pair of officers.


“Sir, we’re gonna ask you to get on the other side of the tape.” One aid to
him, Elijah kept walking.


“I need to see this.” Elijah said, just then a massive head ache racked his brain and he collapsed to his knees clutching his cranium. “AHHHH!” this time the flashback was painful. Images of gore, dismemberment and agony where strung before his mind’s eye as if they where photographs hanging on the wall before him.

“Sir?” the other officer said approaching Elijah carefully. Elijah clenched his teeth and forced his eyes shut. Elijah suddenly fell to the ground unconscious.

“El!” Mitch ducked under the yellow tape and sped to his friend, an officer grabbed him as another radioed for a bus. “Let me go he’s my friend!” He said as he watched the police huddle around Elijah

[Hell, Approximately 30 Years Ago]
He began by marking the doors in his own blood, then marking his own arm. His breathe quickened, his nostrils flared. A loud churning and chunking sound eminated from his shoulder as he clenched it and pulled the limb away from his body. An inhuman howl echoed through the realm and the mass of flesh writhed on the ground soaking it in blood.

“Grow, and leave this place to spread my will Satan.”

“Eli, you awake dude?”

“What the **** happened?” He said still feeling groggy and seeing blurs in motion.

“You passed out, nothin brought ya around, that was this morning, man.” Mitch wasn’t very far away, infact he was standing right there, but Eli’s sight hadnt quite returned, so he couldn’t really see him.

“This morning? What time is it?”

“Its 7 o’clock man, had to call in a sick day to be here for ya dude.” Seriously? He called in sick to work to watch over his buddy. Damn now that’s a friend.

“You can go home Mitch, I’ll be fine over night.” Eli reassured his friend. Wearily Mitch said his goodbyes, and left Eli’s bedside.
*******
The halls where dark, the lights dim. A sloitary shadow moved through the labrinth of corridors.

Elijah breathed heavily, not fast, but his breaths where harder. He thought about dreaming, about nice things, about life. but then a feeling of despair shadowed it all. He fell, suddenly he fell from the sky, a black cloudy sky with no light. Below he smelled sulfer, and he saw the glow of flames, and he thought- “Am I in Hell?”

“GAH!” Elijah gaspe s he woke from the nightmare, horrific things did he see.

“Not Hell, not yet.” A voice said from just out of Elijah’s sight.

“Who are you? Where is everyone?” He hurredly asked.

“Still here, I did this little trick whre I kinda plucked us out of reality and into a time pocket allowing us privacy.” Elijah sat up, it was an old man, 70-80 something years old, a gaunt face that reminded one of a skull. “As for who I am,” he began. “I am your new teacher.”

[NiteMare Shape]

From behind his desk, Anderson goes through the plans for the operations that have been scheduled to be undertaken over the next several weeks. As he carefully reads the plans that have been laid out before him, a sense of satisfaction washes over his entire being.

Finally.

The plans on his desk detail several operations that are significantly larger in scale than any previous operations. For far too long, STRIKE has been handcuffed by beaurocracy, they have been forced to work under the radar...to put out little fires when they pop up, all the while ignoring the raging inferno right in front of their faces.

But the alien invasion had changed all that. President Blake had let the existence of the organization slip during an interview, a move that may have been more than an inadvertant slip up on his part. There had even been several articals written about the agency, fortunately they had been very vague, and contained more information derived from the writer's imagination and general assumptions than actual facts. In fact, the organization had largely been forgotten by most of the general population, aside from your average conspiracy theorist and other fringe members of society.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Well, not for much longer. The operations that have been planned by some of the best strategists working for the agency, and approved by him will certainly change things...and soon. The recent reimergence of one of the Arlaaekean elite "Dreadnaughts" has given him the opportunity to take things to the next level...an opportunity that he will not squander.



"Hello, Director. How may I help you?"

"I'd like to speak to Him, please. It's important."

"Certainly, sir. It will just be a minute as I see if he is available."

"Tell him 'I know'. I'm sure he'll be available."

Suddenly, the doors to Anderson's office slam open and Elizabeth Powers, his personal assistant storms in.

"What is it Ms Powers? I thought I said I did not want to be disturbed."

"I'm sorry for the interruption Director Anderson, however an urgent call has come in for you...on the secure line."

Anderson exhales loudly as he reached for a secret compartment in his desk, and produces a phone. He is not looking forward to taking this call, as he truely hates intra-agency interaction...it is rarely pleasant.

He picks up the phone, putting the receiver to his face, and makes an effort to at least sound pleasantly surprised to hear from one of his contemporaries.

"Good evening D, what can I do for you?"

[NiteMare Shape]

http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/cooltext412955943-1.jpg






Peter Wallis and Jimmy Davies.

Two of Midas' top enforcers, when there's an important job that can't be screwed up...or some potentially messy wetwork, he sends them. I've been following them all over this city for most of the night knowing that eventually they will lead me to Midas himself.

And if I can finally get to Midas, I can end this.

I've spent the last two hours perched atop the old general store across the street from the nightclub Twisters'. I've heard rumors that it's a front for Midas, only one of many as a matter of fact....and after seeing some of the figures going in and out of the club, I know that it's true.

They'd been inside so long that I would almost be tempted to give up and call it a night, if this weren't such a big opportunity. So I sit atop my pearch and wait. I wait for another forty five minutes before they finally come out again.

I track them as they slip down an alley beside Twisters' and stop halfway to the end. They begin to working at a manhole cover, and within a few minutes they have it off and have slipped into the sewers below. I silently make my way from the rooftops to the alley, and finally follow them into the depth of the sewers.

Keeping concealed by the shadows, I quietly follow behind Wallis and Davies as they make their way down the sewer. They are talking quietly to one another, and they keep looking back as they go. It is that moment that I come to a realization...they know that I'm here...

Ambush.

So stupid.

Every fiber of my being tells me to get out...now. Suddenly I hear slpashing in the water beside me, and then something violently launches itself at me from the filth. I'm hit by a big fist and then a powerful tail sends me into the water. I scramble to get back onto the maintenance walkway when I look up and see the beast that attacked me...

http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/Killer_Croc_sketch_by_antmanx68.jpg


I try to size up my attacker even as I scramble to my feet, and I find myself almost in awe of its sheer size. The "man" stands about seven feet tall, has the skin of an alligator and a long, powerful tail.

I've barely gotten to my feet when the beast lunges at me. I jump to the side, barely keeping out of its grasp, however, I've barely gotten both feet on the ground again when it turns and swings its tail, catching me in the midsection.

He's fast. I've just hit the ground and it's on me again, scratching and clawing, and snapping it's mouthfull of razor sharp teeth just inches from my face. I struggle to get the beast off me, but he's just too strong...and on top of that he's using his weight to his advantage.

I'm able to land a right hand on the beast's jaw, which surprises him. He hesitates for a moment, then leans back...hoping to land the killing blow. However, I'm able to pull my legs up and against his chset and kick with all my might. The beast is knocked back, and I'm able to get to my feet.

Someone once told me that I always need to be aware of my surroundings, and if I can use them to my advantage. Unfortunately for me, in this case the narrow passages of the city sewers plays to the creatures advantages, so I do the only thing I can do...

Run...and hope that I can lead him somewhere alittle more open.

[sabetoonth]

“Eli, you awake dude?”

“What the **** happened?” He said still feeling groggy and seeing blurs in motion.

“You passed out, nothin brought ya around, that was this morning, man.” Mitch wasn’t very far away, infact he was standing right there, but Eli’s sight hadnt quite returned, so he couldn’t really see him.

“This morning? What time is it?”

“Its 7 o’clock man, had to call in a sick day to be here for ya dude.” Seriously? He called in sick to work to watch over his buddy. Damn now that’s a friend.

“You can go home Mitch, I’ll be fine over night.” Eli reassured his friend. Wearily Mitch said his goodbyes, and left Eli’s bedside.
*******
The halls where dark, the lights dim. A sloitary shadow moved through the labrinth of corridors.

Elijah breathed heavily, not fast, but his breaths where harder. He thought about dreaming, about nice things, about life. but then a feeling of despair shadowed it all. He fell, suddenly he fell from the sky, a black cloudy sky with no light. Below he smelled sulfer, and he saw the glow of flames, and he thought- “Am I in Hell?”

“GAH!” Elijah gaspe s he woke from the nightmare, horrific things did he see.

“Not Hell, not yet.” A voice said from just out of Elijah’s sight.

“Who are you? Where is everyone?” He hurredly asked.

“Still here, I did this little trick whre I kinda plucked us out of reality and into a time pocket allowing us privacy.” Elijah sat up, it was an old man, 70-80 something years old, a gaint face that reminded one of a skull. “As for who I am,” he began. “I am your new teacher.”
“Teacher? For what?” Elijah asked this strange old man.

“Your future Elijah.” He said before standing up. Elijah saw the world blur for a moment as they where again surrounded by people, nurses. Then there was only him. Elijah looked around bewildered.

“Weird old man.” He murmured laying his head on the pillow before fading back to sleep.
Elijah walked out the doors, they’d call him when his blood work came back, nothing wrong with him that they didn’t already check and get results from. He almost caught a cab but someone stole it last minute by diving in.

“****er.” Eli said as the door closed. He walked down the street towards his apartment building, which was still a considerable walk from the hospital.

“Hello Elijah.” It was the old man again.

“What do you want?” he said gruffly.

“I want to show you something.” He said leaning against the wall of the building black hook cane with a silver head in hand. “How much do you know about your father?”

“Who are you, really?” Elijah said, this guy asks about his dad? He never knew jack **** about his dad, and to be honest he didn’t want to.

“Elijah, if you want answers, to everything you’ve wondered about yourself, follow me.” He sounded sincere, like he actually gave a damn, did he? Following him couldn’t hurt, could it? Elijah stood there thinking for what seemed like an eon.

“OK, where to?” the old man’s lips curled into a half smile. "But if this doesnt do anything for me I'm gone."

[Eddie Brock]

(Still not-so)
AMAZING MAN!

It's been a few weeks since my Craigslist posting, and I've reached one infallible conclusion. The internet is full of perverts. I mean, I posted this in the Activities section for Nolan's sake! How can people take something as pure and innocent as trying to save the world and turn it into something twisted and dirty? Okay, so maybe I set them up perfectly with the "power and tools" line, but have they no decency?!

"Whatcha doin'?"

I minimize my email and spin around in my chair - which is still just as fun as it was when I was seven. Standing at the entrance to my cubicle (or, as I call it, the Three Walls of Death) is Kevin Korver, my fellow worker, fellow slacker, fellow comic book aficionado. He's wearing a powder blue shirt with a mustard colored tie. Note that I did not include "fellow fashionista" in my description of Kevin.

"Oh, nothing," I lie. Kevin was the first person I told about my master plan. It took him all of about ten seconds to shoot it down. I had thought that he, of all people, would have faith in me.

"Did you get that expense report done for Mr. Turkin?" he asks.

Allow me to pause from my narrative for a moment to describe to you our boss, Mr. Turkin. This is a man whose face is still baby smooth because he never wrinkled it up with emotion. Yet, somehow, he's still able to convey his unfailing disappointment in your very existence. After accusing me of "ogling" (his word, not mine) his sixteen year-old daughter's photograph, he wrapped up my job interview by telling me that:

A. He didn't like me.
B. My suit looked like I bought it from Goodwill during a power outage. (Again, his words, not mine.)
C. I wasn't qualified for the job.
D. No one else had applied, so he was hiring me.

So you can imagine my reaction when I realized, just now, that I had failed (yet again) to perform one of my duties. "S***." (My word this time.)

Kevin shakes his head, undoubtedly feeling my pain but silently thanking Krishna the Supreme Being that he wasn't in my position. "You've been a good friend, Phil. I'll be taking your stapler when you're gone," he informs me solemnly. Then, nodding to my screen, he asks again, "Seriously, what are you working on, then?"

To give you an idea of my lying skills, I once explained to Mr. Turkin that I was late to work because I hit a deer.

For those of you just a tad slower than the rest, I live in the middle of a city.

I'll wait.

Okay, there you go.

"Oh, God, Phil, not the superhero thing again," Kevin sighs exasperatedly. Well, at least I don't have to lie. "How many times do I have to stress to you that there's no possible way you can become a superhero?"

"Why not?"

"You don't have powers."

"Neither does Batman."

"You're not rich. You can barely pay rent."

"S***."

"...Forget to pay rent again?"

I nod.

"Your landlady is going to kill you."

My landlady is a spry old woman named Mrs. Stamp. She still calls African-Americans "colored," and she once accused me of "living in sin" with my ex-girlfriend. (More on her later.) I am literally surprised every day that she's still alive. But to her credit, that woman never forgets when rent is due, and she always makes sure I pay up.

Imagine owing your grandmother money every month, and she doesn't have to pretend to love you enough to cut you any slack.

"Phil, when I tell you this, I tell you this as a dear friend," Kevin begins, "You will never be a superhero. You don't have what it takes, man. Look at yourself! You barely skate by in life as it is!"

But I wasn't going to be deterred.

[Mr. Majestic]

As I begin to pass Kid Quick the Comm link in my right ear begins to beep meaning one thing, someone needs help.

I tap the comm link to hear what’s going on. “What’s the situation Al?”

”Sir there is a power planet in California that has been reported with bombs set to blow.” After Icon had left I’ve made Al to help me protect the city and the rest of the whole world. I have him connected to any and every police radio in the world and I even have a satellite in the sky. So if any stressful matters come up he’ll let me know. Glad I made him.

“Al, what about any other guardians? Can’t you just tap into their comm. Links and let them know of the situation?”

“I did the calculations and the most accurate solution would be for you and Blur to handle this problem being that you both can be there faster than anyone else Sir.”

I should have known that criminals weren’t going to take the day off to watch the race.

“Okay let Blur know what’s going on I’m on my way there now.”

As the Youngster changes directions heading to California the Blur quickly runs up beside him.

“I’m assuming Al told you what’s going on?”

“Yea he did, so let’s hurry up and rescue those people so I can win this race.”

“We’ll see about that.” Youngster tells Blur as they both race to the power plant.

As they approach the power plant fire trucks and police vehicles could be seen every where. They both come out of super speed beside one of the officers.

“What’s going on?” The blue speedster asks.

The officer turns to face the two heroes.

“We have a weird situation. There are people in the building who are strap with bombs and then there is another bomb by the reactor. Things like this never happen here, we’re sure glad you two guys made.”

“It’s what we do.” Blur replies.

“Blur you go for the people and I’ll go for the bomb at the reactor.”

The two then dashes into the plant, Blur runs for the people left in the building while Youngster heads to disarm the bomb by the reactor.

By the reactor Youngster quickly finds the bomb and before disarming it he quickly examines it. He brings his wrist close to the bomb and presses a button on his watch. A low tone sound begins coming from his watch. As the sounds coming from the watch bounce off the surrounding area of the bomb he actives his reverberation vision to see all the wires coming from the bomb.

“This is odd.” He says out loud.

While examining the explosive he realizes that it was a fake. Well to be more accurate the bomb is real but it was never set to go off. He then taps his comm link to get in contact with Blur.

“Blur there’s something weird about these bombs.”

“I know…” Blur then appears besides the Youngster “…they wasn’t going to blow. After saving all the people I noticed it to. I’ve seen enough bombs to know when they’re going to go off.”

“Why would someone waste their time doing all this for nothing?”

“There could be a number of reasons. I ran through this place looking for some clues but didn’t find anything. Who ever did this made sure to do a good job at leaving nothing behind.”

“That they did, well I’m done here we can tell them everything is back to normal.”

Both the speedsters ran back to the same officer they first seen when they got on the scene. They told the officer what happened and then left to continue the race.

[wiegeabo]

Suddenly, the doors to Anderson's office slam open and Elizabeth Powers, his personal assistant storms in.

"What is it Ms Powers? I thought I said I did not want to be disturbed."

"I'm sorry for the interruption Director Anderson, however an urgent call has come in for you...on the secure line."

Anderson exhales loudly as he reached for a secret compartment in his desk, and produces a phone. He is not looking forward to taking this call, as he truely hates intra-agency interaction...it is rarely pleasant.

He picks up the phone, putting the receiver to his face, and makes an effort to at least sound pleasantly surprised to hear from one of his contemporaries.

"Good evening D, what can I do for you?"


Even over the phone, The Director can't help but smile and grimace at the same time. Both expressions brought on by the man on the other end of the line.

"Hello, Anderson. It's been a long time. How have you been you old SOB?"

[NiteMare Shape]

Even over the phone, The Director can't help but smile and grimace at the same time. Both expressions brought on by the man on the other end of the line.

"Hello, Anderson. It's been a long time. How have you been you old SOB?"


Anderson sits behind his desk with the phone pressed against his ear and smiles.

Small talk, D has never struck him as one who likes to engage in small talk, so that means that he must have found out about the trace that he had put on his own personal freak.

Good.

Sometimes people need to be put in their place...reminded where they stand in the grand scheme of things.

Sometimes people need to be reminded about the natural order of things...their place in the food chain. D may have done a good job with his Agency, but when it comes down to it, he's really just a small time player.

He's a big fish in a small pond.

But now he's stepping into the ocean, where STRIKE is more like a great white shark...and if he doesn't play his cards right, he's going to be eaten.

"Things have been good D, how's the family."

[NiteMare Shape]

I try to size up my attacker even as I scramble to my feet, and I find myself almost in awe of its sheer size. The "man" stands about seven feet tall, has the skin of an alligator and a long, powerful tail.

I've barely gotten to my feet when the beast lunges at me. I jump to the side, barely keeping out of its grasp, however, I've barely gotten both feet on the ground again when it turns and swings its tail, catching me in the midsection.

He's fast. I've just hit the ground and it's on me again, scratching and clawing, and snapping it's mouthfull of razor sharp teeth just inches from my face. I struggle to get the beast off me, but he's just too strong...and on top of that he's using his weight to his advantage.

I'm able to land a right hand on the beast's jaw, which surprises him. He hesitates for a moment, then leans back...hoping to land the killing blow. However, I'm able to pull my legs up and against his chset and kick with all my might. The beast is knocked back, and I'm able to get to my feet.

Someone once told me that I always need to be aware of my surroundings, and if I can use them to my advantage. Unfortunately for me, in this case the narrow passages of the city sewers plays to the creatures advantages, so I do the only thing I can do...

Run...and hope that I can lead him somewhere alittle more open.

I run through the sewers of Lost Haven, trailed closely by the monstrocity that had attacked me from the water. He's big, powerful and much faster than he looks...and I have a hard time keeping ahead of him.

I reach into one of the pouches on my belt and pull out several smoke capsules. These little things saved my life more than once during the invasion, and I'm hoping that they can get me some seperation from this beast now. I toss the capsules behind me and they explode in a cloud of smoke.

But it doesn't slow the monster down. He emerges from the cloud of smoke as if nothing had happened. Not only does the smoke cloud not slow the beast down, the thing has actually gained on me.

I see a passageway ahead of me, and if I remember the layout from the old plans I memorized when I first came to Lost Haven, it should lead to the underground electrical substation. I increase my speed toward the passage, but suddenly feel my forward momentum stop as the creature takes hold of my cape and rips me back toward it.

I struggle against the beast's grip, but am overpowered by it's sheer strength...and am pulled towards it and unless I can somehow escape, near certain death.

[Byrd Man]

Previously

The Barrio
Lost Haven
1:20 PM

Outside the car, the dilapidated houses whiz by. Spanish children are playing soccer on dirty lots, and men with tattoos and white tank tops give the unmarked police car the stink-eye as it travels down the street.

The Barrio, Lost Haven's Spanish neighborhood is home to the street gang Los Terrorificos and their leader Ernesto Sosa. Sosa and his gang push roughly a quarter of Lost Haven's heroin. Someone's been handing out testers at an elementary school six blocks away from Los Terrorificos's turf.

"Told you we shouldn't have given Sosa such a loose leash," Mike Eckling says from the driver's seat. His twin brother Ike nods in the passenger seat.

"How about you drive, Mike. Leave the thinking to me. It doesn't suit you two, you haven't had the practice."

Mike parks the unmarked car across the street from a dirty house with overgrown weeds in the lawn. Two Mexican gangbangers stand outside the house, drinking malt liquor and chatting.

"Look at this puto," one of the gangbangers says as I step out the back of the car.

"Odelay!" His buddy agrees. "****in' five-o looking more like a four-eyed *****!"

I calmly walk up to the two men, eying them both.

"Where's Ernesto?"

"How about you go **** off, esé?"

"That was the wrong answer."

Grabbing the gangbanger by his neck, I toss him into his friend.

"Hey, pendajo!" One of the punks shouts as he goes for the gun in his waistband.

"Hector, chill out," a voice says from the house. A skinny man in jeans and a t-shirt steps out on the front porch. Ernesto Sosa holds a hand up, trying to calm down his too men.

"Inspector Smith wants to just talk. Isn't that right, jefe?"

"That's right. So do me a favor, call your dogs off."

"Hector, Alanzo, un momento."

The two thugs eye me and then start walking across the lawn. Sosa waits until they're gone before he steps off the porch to meet me.

"Apologies, Ed. My bodyguards, they're new. They don't know what the score is."

"There seems to be a lot of that going around. People forgetting what the deal is. Drug dealers handing out testers to goddamn school kids. A kid OD'ed this afternoon. Thought the smack was candy. We had a deal, Sosa. I stay off your ass, you only sling to junkies and keep it contained. **** like this keeps happening, I can't protect you. I'll send the SWAT team so far up you're ass, you'll have combat boot prints on your tongue."

"Look, man. Me and my boys didn't have nothing to do with that, alright? I think I know who did."

"Give me a name."

"Chicky Jones. He's a low to mid-level player trying to set up shop. My boys ran him out of the Barrio. Last I heard, he set up shop somewhere around that school that got hit."

"If this tip turns out to be bogus, I will be back. I'll bring Sergeant White with me. You know, diablo blanco grande. We'll see how the señoritas like Ernesto when he's eating all his meals out of a tube."

"My tip is good. You look for the fiends in that neighborhood, they'll tell you about Chicky."

"Good."

That's all I say to Sosa as I walk away, crossing the street and climbing back into the car.

"I'm done here, boys. Take us back to the neighborhood the school is in. Ike, call Bill. Have him meet us. We got some work that's right up his alley."

The Victory Motel
Lost Haven

Chicky Jones inhales sharply as Mike Eckling strikes the drug dealer with a tire iron. I stand off to the side, looking out the cracked window instead of the beating in progress. With another blow, Chicky screams out in pain.

"Scream all you like," Mike says. "This run-down motel has been condemned for years. It's official LHPD property. Nobody's around for miles."

THUMP

"You're a despicable criminal in need of reeducation in the polite ways of society."

THUMP!

"The sooner you confess..."

THUMP!

"The sooner you can be inside a jail cell, away from all this pain."

I give Mike the cut-off sign. He stops laying into Chicky long enough for the man to spit out a tooth.

"**** you, police! I ain't got **** to say! Ya'll just Sosa's *****es!"

For the first time since the "interrogation" started, I turn to look at the drug dealer.

"You think the Terrificos pay me off? No, they don't. I let them operate because they follow the rules and sell only to the junkies. Not to kids, like you did. That's where you ****ed up, Chicky. You got on my radar. That's a place you seriously don't want to be."

"**** you, man! I ain't telling you ****!"

"I figured as much. Bill, you wanna come in?"

The door swings open and Sergeant William White, all 6'3, 230 pounds of him, walks through the door and scowls at Chicky.

"Bill, I'd full and complete cooperation on each answer."

"Yes, sir."

He walks towards Chicky, his massive shadow falling over the man and engulfing him.....



The case goes down.

Randall "Chicky" Jones confesses to handing out drugs to school children, and thereby being responsible for the accidental OD of a child. After confessing to members of the Mob Squad, Randall "Chicky" Jones is transferred to St. Phillip's Hospital for the multiple injuries that he acquired while resisting arrest.

The Chief thanks me and my men and the mayor uses the arrest to cite that the police department is working under his administration.

It's all bull****. The mayor, chief, city council. They're not in charge. People think they are, but the truth is that the only power that matters in this town is the streets.

Streets that I control.

I'm the King of Lost Haven.

All hail.

[Mr. Majestic]

Both Youngster and Blur were racing to regain their previous positions. The heroes speed seems to be way faster than before almost as if they were holding back in the beginning. Youngster himself was very impress that he is able to run side by side with Blur at this velocity. He has always been fast but he has never tested really how fast he could really go, and now that he only has to use one power instead of two his speed is greater than it has ever been. But he knew the blue Sultan of speed wasn’t running at his top speed.

As the two began to catch up with the other speedsters Youngsters computer companion grabs his attention once again.

“Go head Al” Youngster uttered knowing already that the news wasn’t anything good.

“Sir there appears to be another bomb threat.”

“Another one?” Youngster couldn’t believe he was about to run into the same situation he just left from. “Let me guess we are the only two close enough right?”

“Well sir at the momentum you and Blur are running you will be able to get there in approximately three minutes unless you speed up.”

“Okay, tell me where the disaster is at.”

As Al inform both Youngster and Blur on the incardinates of the next bomb they were starting to think that these bombs may be the leading to something else.

With Al’s instruction they arrived in Washington Dc at the US Library of Congress one of the largest libraries in the world. At the scene Blur and the Kid did the same routine as before found out what the situation was and decided on the best plan of attack. Once they figured out there objectives they both ran into the library to complete their goals.


While Blur began to help all the people strap with bombs on their chest Youngster was focusing on the major bomb in the center of the room. Right away he recognizes that the bomb in front of him is also just like the one he seen at the power plant.

As Youngster was about to turn on his comm link to reach Blur he appeared beside him.

“I’m having a serious case of déjà vu.” Blur tells Youngster.

“Me too, it looks like this bomb is just like the one we seen at the plant.”

“Well it’s safe to say someone doesn’t want us to be in this race.”

“I was thinking the same thing. They sure are going though a lot of trouble to do so and doing a good job at not leaving any clues. Chances are if we continue racing they will have other surprises for us along the way.”

“By now they must know that we are on to them.”

“I’m pretty sure he or she does. Unlike the other bomb this one has a remote detonator. Guess no matter what they want to make sure we take a detour. I say we just drop out of the race.”

“That would be a good idea but the only down side is who’s to say once the race is over they won’t detonate the other bombs they have in place. Best thing for us to do is continue and as the reports come in we go and disable the explosives.”

“I guess your right.” Youngster replies as he begins to think of the situation.

“Come on lets go maybe at the next place we may get a clue.” Blue tells Youngster as he turns around ready to exit.

Youngster then gets up off his knees from examining the bomb. He and Blur both took off going back to the race.

[NiteMare Shape]

I run through the sewers of Lost Haven, trailed closely by the monstrocity that had attacked me from the water. He's big, powerful and much faster than he looks...and I have a hard time keeping ahead of him.

I reach into one of the pouches on my belt and pull out several smoke capsules. These little things saved my life more than once during the invasion, and I'm hoping that they can get me some seperation from this beast now. I toss the capsules behind me and they explode in a cloud of smoke.

But it doesn't slow the monster down. He emerges from the cloud of smoke as if nothing had happened. Not only does the smoke cloud not slow the beast down, the thing has actually gained on me.

I see a passageway ahead of me, and if I remember the layout from the old plans I memorized when I first came to Lost Haven, it should lead to the underground electrical substation. I increase my speed toward the passage, but suddenly feel my forward momentum stop as the creature takes hold of my cape and rips me back toward it.

I struggle against the beast's grip, but am overpowered by it's sheer strength...and am pulled towards it and unless I can somehow escape, near certain death.

I struggle as the beast pulls me toward it, however it is just too strong. The reptile man overpowers me, pulling me into it's grasp. As it pulls me into it's chest, I can feel it rear its head back, preparing to take a chunk out of me with its sharp, needle like teeth.

I try to fight it off, landing several hard elbows in it's neck and chest, knocking it back a bit and surprising it just enough to escape its grasp. I turn on the beast, striking at it with punches and elbow strikes. It backs off slightly, seemingly unsure of what to do. I take the moment given to me by the beast's indecision to hit it was a hard roundhouse kick.

Unfortunately the monster just shrugged it off. It let out an angry cry and turned on me, swinging its heavy tail at me, striking me in the ribs. Fortunately, this time I saw the attack coming and was able to roll through it.

As I roll away from the beast, I reach out and fire a grapple line from my wrist gauntlet down the corridor toward the heavy steel doors of the electrical substation...and I let the line pull me clear from the beast's attack.

I reach the doors and slam them shut, locking it behind me. I look around the small room I find myself in, trying to remember the plans I had put to memory when I had first arrived in Lost Haven. There should be a maintenance hatch in here somewhere...

Then I see it.

I make my way over to the hatch that will allow me to escape from this thing for now...and I find that it has been welded shut.

I'm trapped in this small room with a monster pounding at the doors. Soon, this reptile man will get through the doors, and then I will be done...unless I come up with something, and fast.

I begin looking over the room which holds the city's backup electrical equipment, and a plan suddenly begins to take shape.


As the giant reptile man pounds at the door, I begin working on the enectrical conduit, trying to pull some of the cables away from the main breaker. Hopefully, I will be able to use the cables to disable the beast, at least long enough to secure it with one of my steel cable grapple lines. If this doesn't work, I'm a dead man.

The beast finally breaks through the door, knocking it off its hinges and rushes into the room at me. Just as it reaches me, I thrust the exposed end of the cable into the beast's chest.

In an instant, I'm covered in a shower of sparks as the electrical cable zaps the reptile man, and for an instant I'm reminded of warm summer nights as a child at my father's house in Slater City. I would always sit on the back porch and watch unsuspecting insects fly into the bug zapper.

And just like then, I can't take my face off the beast as he is electrocuted. As thousands of volts race from the cable into the beast's body, there is suddenly a small explosion. I am knocked back against the wall, and the beast was sent flying back the other way.

I get back to my feet and rush to the doorway, but there is no sign of the monster. Only a ripple on the surface of the sewer water which runs parallel to the maintanence walkway.

I don't know if the reptile man is dead or alive, but I am not taking any chances, as quickly as I can I make my way back through the sewers, heading for the first manhole cover I can find.

[Mr. Majestic]

Youngster’s speed began to decrease as he began to use his decisive memory. He began going through his memories of the race when he first made an appearance. While searching through his memory he stops as if he was watching a video. He wanted to analyze the moment right before the race began.

“Now some how we are being tracked and it had to begin here but how?”

He slowly began to rewind the moment before the race.

“There!” He shouts as he sees the tracking bracelets place on there arms.

“If that is how we are being traced that means the person responsible is in the crowd and has a receiver to get the information.”

Youngster then began to replay everything studying every moment till he finally got the answers he was looking for.

The kid suddenly stops running and once Blur realize that he slowed down and he made his way to Youngster’s side.

“Every thing okay?” Blur asks.

“It will be.” Youngster tells him as he quickly takes off his and Blur’s wristbands.

“Finally figured out who is behind this and how they been fallowing us. We got to go to the finish line and meet up with the other racers as they make their lap.”

“What you are going to do with those?”

“They are going to help us make a distraction.”

Youngster then throws each one of the wristbands in opposite directions as far as his super strength will let him and that’s pretty far.

“That will buy us some time. Now let’s go finish this.”

[NiteMare Shape]

After spending an evening at the movies alone, Scott and Keira head to The Hub to meet up with Eric, who neither has seen much of lately. Scott enjoys spending time with Keira, she gives him a sense of normalcy that he hasn't been able to enjoy since his return to Lost Haven, and she is quickly becoming his best friend.

They had been friends since he first arrived in Lost Haven after high school, but they didn't always hang out. For the most part they ran in different circles, he would spend his time with the athletes at Lost Haven University, while she would hang out with musicians and the theater crowd.

But they became close after he had started dating Lisa as she was Lisa's best friend. Though, they became almost inseperable after Lisa was killed during the invasion.

When he returned to Lost Haven after his self imposed exile, she had been hurt and angry. She understood why he left, but not why he never contacted her....never told her that he was okay.

He understood why she felt betrayed, she had lost her best friend...again. Though, Eric is convinced that there's more to it.

After walking several blocks from the movie theater they finally arrive at The Hub, and not a moment too soon. As they step onto the curb adjacent to the club, the skies open up and a sudden downpour begins soaking the city.

They stumble into the club, laughing as they are drenched by the downpour, and as he looks at the crowd in the club, he is somewhat amazed at how well the place has taken off.

The place is packed with people dancing and laughing and just carrying on, having a good time. It takes a few minutes to locate Eric through the crowd, but he eventually finds him...standing at the corner of the bar in front of one of the flatscreens, watching a breaking news bulletin.

"Details are still sketchy, but what we do know is that something or someone appears to have attacked the town of Shakersville in the outskirts of Tacoma. We don't have an official death toll, but officials that I've talked to have said that there hasn't been devestation like this since the Arlaaekean invasion...."

Scott just stands there for a moment as he absorbs the news that is being reported on the telecast. He looks over to Keira who meets his gaze, acknowledging that she knows he can't stay. He then looks to Eric, who for the first time notices that he is standing there.

"I've got to go." he says, almost apologizing to his friends.

In an instant he darts up the stairs at the back of the club leading to his apartment, tearing at his clothes as he reaches the privacy of his apartment, until he is standing there in his living room in his costume. Moving so fast that he is barely visible, he makes his way up to the roof access from his apartment, and takes to the skies, heading west toward Shakerville.

[Hound55]

Gloved Hands spread at 10 and 2 across the leather wheel of a jaw-dropping black ‘Vette. The driver sits stern faced behind his chosen dark acrylic veil which belies the expression of the man who wears it. His mind bouncing around thoughts targeting the topic which has recently piqued his interest.

“S.T.R.I.K.E., metashumans, meta-detention cells, government funded organizations, powered prisons… How the hell can I look these guys up without drawing attention to myself?”

Isaac had come to the conclusion recently that he’d had to pay more attention to this shadowy organizations activities. He’d almost been killed by a meta previously, he was pre-occupied afterwards with trying to take care of his own safety, but had heard further information when arriving at a police station to give his part of the police report that it wouldn’t be required, the prisoner was “being detained, off-site at a Federal Government facility” and the person who told him made it quite clear that he should keep any further questions he had regarding the matter to himself.

So now he was spitballing terms to himself, looking for search topics that might give him some answers without drawing attention to his own curiosity.

“How the hell do these guys keep their location secret… Everyone knows the CIA is based at Langley, the Feds are based out of the J. Edgar Hoover building in D.C, the Poms’ MI6 are based out of Vauxhall Cross… How did these guys manage to stay off the radar..?”

And that ate at him the most. The fact that they had the power to remain largely invisible, despite the current information age. Someone had to know something… The data had to be out there somewhere, but he also new if he made it clear he was interested the net would close and these people would want to know who is taking an interest…

He kept his thoughts in his head though, he still did not trust this car to not be bugged… and he also couldn’t be sure that the people who were bugging his car weren’t working side-by-side with the people he was thinking about.

Quiet feedback came over the radio’s speakers, as always happened seconds before someone sent a message. It indicated someone checking that the band wasn’t busy.

“….”

“Two Vixen three zero, looking for two idle patrols to cordon off alley off Kennedy. Looks like we’ve got a five-oh-three.”

“S***… Homicide…” Isaac turned up the radio.

“Further info. Alley on Kennedy almost directly opposite the Lost Haven Globe building.“

Isaac screwed his nose up. Newspaper building directly overlooking the alley, higher profile than he would normally like, but this was the life he had to get used to when acting in the U.S. Isaac checked his blind-spot and manoeuvred the dark Corvette into position to make a U-Turn as he made for the direction of the crime scene.

[Hound55]

A pair of cops stand in an alley talking to one another while their partners section off the alley with police tape.

“How’s the rook, Hammond?”

“Yeah, I’ll probably keep him busy with the trivial stuff for this one… He’s taping the South side of the alley at the moment, I’ll probably get him to man the perimeter and busy him with the paperwork in a bit.”

“You know a cop’s gotta deal with this stuff eventually, Hammond.”

“Yeah, he’s a sensitive kid though. It can wait. Where’s your kid partner, anyway?”

“Heh…” The second cop chuckled. “I’ve got him calling in the homicide *****.”

Hammond furrowed his brow.

“What, so I’m immature… how often do we get to refer to ‘em?”

Hammond shook his head as they walked deeper through the alley.

“…the *****.”

A shadow flashed across them, blocking the light temporarily as the pair of officers looked up, missing what caused it. Seconds later a figure rappelled down the side of the building offering a nonchalant greeting and asking “So what are we looking at..?”

“Sergeant Hammond. We’ve met before. This is Officer McDonald…”

Isaac was well aware he’d met Hammond before, but continued to play dumb. In a big city he didn’t much care for the “coincidence” that he come across the same cop twice in such quick succession, considering how little he’d had to do with officers in the Haven.

“… so are you just following me around on my beats now?”

“Your beat?”

“My beat. McDonald and I are traffic cops, he responded to a call from a local resident out here complaining of a smell down here which turned out to be a body. Called in support for the security of the crime scene and my beat was the closest to the scene. That bank’s just round the corner up there…” Hammond gestured back towards the main road.

“Look, I just answered a radio call… Now where’s the victim?”

Hammond smiled at his ability to get the big hero a little off balance; he was a veteran cop and was as weary of crimes popping up around this new black-garbed guy as Isaac was the other way around. Both Hammond and Isaac were experienced enough in their own worlds to treat coincidence with great suspicion.

He’s over here, the three walked towards the cadaver with Isaac taking special care to walk within the shadow of the building, in the blind spot of the newspaper high-rise which was opposite their alley.

Isaac looked at the corpse, removed his leather outer gloves and took a small notepad from his pocket.

“The way we see it the guy got mugged, the guy jumped him from behind and stabbed him a couple of times in the back, then went into a fury over the guy and sliced his back up when the guy eventually fell.”

Isaac turned and said “Hmm... I don’t know…”

McDonald snorted out a chuckle “What do you mean ‘You don’t know’, it’s pretty damn cut and dried that that’s what’s happened, look at his…”

“Alright, let’s just look at it and break what he just said down…”

“’Mugged.’ That guy’s still got a pretty damn nice watch and shoes sitting there… I trust you weren’t stupid enough to move the body to check but I’d be willing to bet his wallet’s still there too if the watch is. ‘Jumped from behind.’ I agree with you on. ‘Stabbed in the back.’ Bothers me. That’s an over-simplification. This man hasn’t been just stabbed in the back. He’s had both of his kidney’s pierced. 'Went into a fury when he fell.' Yes, he’s had his back slashed up, we can see that, but I don’t think we can determine a mood when he did this… the lacerations are shallow, they’re surface wounds. They’re more a message than anything else… not to mention they go low and the seat of his pants received the same treatment…”

“What? You’re in forensics too?” asked Hammond.

“Not quite, but I’ve... acquired.. my fair share of coroner’s paperwork and I’ve learned quite a bit about what they look for. Now I don’t want to contaminate the crime scene for your guys, but I could give you a play by play on what I think happened…”

Isaac waited for an interruption from McDonald and when it didn’t come he proceeded, miming out some of the sharper actions for more emphasis.

“I think your victim here came down here for, well… likely just wanted to take a slash…”

“A slash??”

“Yeah… relieve his bladder… whatever… the guy needed to piss…”

“He was followed down here, by a man in soft soled shoes… Fairly large guy, maybe as big as 6’3” but at least solid. The man came from behind and stabbed him once in his left kidney with his right hand… Hit it plush and clean, so I’m thinking this is someone with a plan and someone who has some history with anatomy… Maybe a butcher or an abattoir worker, a farm kid even…”

“Wait, you say we can’t make out a mood, but you’re trying to tell us what shoes he’s wearing, at hand he uses, how tall he is and where he works..?”

“I’ll get to why I think that as I’m going… just wait… so he’s nailed the first kidney and pulled him in close, he’s now gone for the second, he’s put his arm around the victim’s neck and stuck him in the kidney’s a second time… he’s connected too, but here we see his mistake; he’s hit the liver.”

“That’s his mistake?”

“Well, I’d assume so. That stench you’re getting, which I’m guessing is how someone tipped you off in the first place, that’s bile. If he didn’t graze that liver it’d still be in him rather than right up the pair of your nostrils.”

With that, Isaac adjusted brought his hand up to his mouth and made an adjustment to his voice modulator. Tapping it when he was done for affect.

“Unlike me who gets to breathe filtered air… Anyway, I’d say he shanked the other kidney, was surprised at how much the victim was still bucking after taking shots to vital organs, panicked a little and slit this guy’s throat. Now, you were wondering why I’m guessing at height and his background… come around this side.”

The pair of officers walked around the other side of the corpse.

“You see his neck there…”

“Yeah.” The pair of cops said in unison.

“Can you see anything odd about how his throat was cut?”

“I can barely see it at all, he’s lying on most of it.”

“In a way you just made my point, Hammond… The suspect was surprised that the victim was still struggling and wanted it ended NOW. So he slit his throat on instinct. Now you or most of the general populace thinks ‘slit throat’ we generally think Hollywood… East-West, right across the neck, parallel to the shoulders. This guy hasn’t. This guy’s gone vertical, he’s just opened up the throat. This is more reminiscent of a butcher’s… slashing a beef neck or a pig’s. But in order to do that he’d have to be fairly big to comfortably reach as low as he did and to have the torque. I’ll tell you one thing though… I don’t think this is going to be the last…”

“****… you think serial killer.”

“Abso-f***in-lutely. I think this guy’s learning human anatomy… I think he’s used to dealing with meat, but he’s read up on this stuff. He knew where he wanted to hit and he hit it directly. I think he was surprised by how much of a fight his victim put up, but that’ll happen when you go from theory to practice… Oh and the slashing wounds… I think the lacerations on the guy’s back and rear are more making a statement than anything else…”

“Gay?”

“No… I don’t think so… There’s no ...” Isaac felt weird saying the word out loud since he generally operated alone. “There’s no penetration… just the lacerations.”

Silence fell between the three men.

“Well… this has been… enlightening…”

“I trust you’ll let me see the coroner’s report and the forensics findings on this. Have it sent up to Guardians HQ, yeah?”

“Yeah, we’ll see you get a copy.”

“Well… I’ll be on my way then. Don’t worry, I’ll take the back door out. I don’t want to wreck the MASTERFUL job your kid’s doing back there with the police tape…” Isaac said as he fired a cable line from his grapple gun and the winch fired him up the wall to the rooftops.

“Whatddaya reckon he meant by that, Sarge..?” McDonald asked Hammond as the pair turned and saw Hammond’s rookie partner putting the finishing touches on what had become virtually a solid wall of police tape sown the south end of the alley.

“God damn it, you stupid f***ing kid!” Sergeant Hammond barked.

“Settle down Hammond, that’s a sensitive kid you got there…” Officer McDonald snidely chimed in with a grin.

[Mr. Majestic]

“Well ladies and gentlemen as the race continues lets see how the speedsters are holding up.” The announcer then goes to the laptop and pulls the information up on the big television screens that surround the park for everyone to see.

As the racers places are being display the announcer begins to read them off to the crowd.

“Pulse is in first place with Kid Quick pretty far behind him and… wait it seems that the Blur and Youngster seem to be heading off course. I don’t understand why that is happening…. never the less it appears that Pulse may end up winning this thing.”

As the announcer made his comment about Pulse winning and not the fan favorite Blur, the crowd began to boo as if LeBron James had return to Cleveland after signing with the Heat.

As the two speedsters racing began to approach the finish line to complete their second lap the crowd began to cheer. From the opposite side of the line two racing figures were coming up fast.

Pulse began to slow down his speed once he saw two figures standing at the finish line. The crowd began to erupt once again as they realize that one of the two figures was the Blur.

“Think you got enough fan’s there Blur?” Youngster asks him barley able to hear himself.

“Are you kidding, fans are like speed to me. You can never have too much.” Blur replied.

Pulse came to a stop as the two members of the Guardians stood in his way.

“Couldn’t keep up so you decided to cheat huh?” Pulse says.

“I find that funny that you would bring up the subject cheating.”

“I find it hilarious myself.”

“Yeah that too, I get that feeling in my stomach like when your watching something really funny and it hurts.”

“Your talking about that feeling when it hurts so bad you can’t continue watching you have to stop it, right?”

“That’s the feeling and also when…”

“Is there a reason you two are stopping me from winning this race.” Pulse interrupts.

“Yes there is.” Blur replies. “My friend Road Rash and I have…”

Youngster then interrupts the Blur before he could continue. “I told you on the way he I didn’t want to be Road Rash.”

“Okay then my friend G Force and I…”


“Oh yeah now we’re talking.”

“… got some good collective evidence against you proving your cheating. Like for one your not really a speedster. Your wearing a suit that helps you run at great speed's like yours truly but of course not as fast” Blur tells Pulse mocking Shawn Spencer from the TV Show Psych.

“In other words you’re busted, what!” Youngster replies trying his best to sound like Gus.

Even though they couldn’t see Pulse’s face behind his helmet they could tell that he was feeling a bit nervous because of his body language. He was taking slow steps back and moving back and forth very slowly.

“But don’t worry, we know you didn’t plan this by yourself.”

“While you were the one racing, there had to be one fallowing our every moves. The kid figured out most of it. We were being tracked but didn’t know by who. Now when the announcer gave you and Kid Quick your bracelets they were lighter than mine and the Kids. I could tell by the way he held them and by the way ours were put on compared to you’re and the girls. All you have to do is watch the small details.”

“You notice all that?”

“I did, I actually have very good observational skills.”

“I like that, good job.”

Youngster and Blur began to approach Pulse to take him in but as they were getting closer he pulled up his left sleeve revealing a unique device on it.

“That’s far enough. You take another step and I’ll blow those people over there in the stand sky high.”

“Please, give it up man we got you.”

“Did you really think I wouldn't have a back up plan?”

The announcer than walks away from the table and began to slowly make his way to his partner.

“Steve what are you doing? They got us it’s over.”

“No it’s not over. You think you’re so smart but your not, you didn't even come up with a back up plan, I did.”

Pulse then press a button on the device and explosion went off by the stands. The bomb was well placed on one of the support beams and now with the beam no longer in the equation the stand was beginning to collapse.

“I got it Blur.” Youngster yells at his dart’s off as fast as he can to go catch the stands from falling.

Youngster made it right on time before the stands could fall all the way. He used himself to help support the beams. While under the stands Youngster began to look around his surrounding to see if there was anything he could use to help maintain the stands from falling. As he was looking something else caught his eye.

“Holy stud muffins, Al patch me to Blur.” Youngster computer program only took a moment to complete the task. “Blur the guy wasn’t kidding he has a back up plan. There are bombs place on every support beam under here and they look like they are on. By the looks of it they are pressure sensitive."


"EVERYONE PLEASE STAY ON THE STANDS AND DON'T MOVE OR IT WILL BLOW!" Blur shouts to the people in the stands. At first most of them wanted to get off because no one wants to sit on top of a bomb but after hearing the words from there hero they made sure to listen.


"The good news is it seems that they are connected to a remote, if it’s anything like the other bombs the only way to turn them off is with the remote.”

“Thanks for the infor Kid.” Blur tells Youngster.

Out of all the nicknames I have that one I really hate. Youngster thought to himself.

“Where the remote?”

“It’s right here but you won’t be able to use it.” Pulse says as he sets the bombs to blow in 15 seconds.

“In 15 seconds this place is going to blow and there is nothing you can do about it.” Pulse then pulls up his right sleeve exposing another device but this one controlling his speed suit he was wearing. He presses a few buttons and turns the speed meter to max.

“With this suit you will never catch me in time.” Pulse states as he takes off.

“15 second, that’s more than enough.” Blur replies as he rushes in Pulse’s direction.

As Pulse was running pushing the suit to speeds it wasn’t post to go his suit began to slowly desecrate. Even though the suit was made to protect him against great speeds it wasn’t strong enough to protect him from the speeds he was achieving and Blur knew it. While in pursuit Blur began to realize that at his current speed he wouldn’t reach Pulse in time to save his life and the lives of the people on the stands. So without another thought he went into another gear. His speed had increased so greatly that with every step he was taking he feet were causing the ground beneath him to crumble.

Pulse takes a moment to look back and he sees Blur coming up on him fast and he only had 5 seconds left. Not wanting to get caught he pushed the suit pass its limits. From behind Blur knew what Pulse was trying to do but it was a little to late, he wasn’t going to get away from the Blue speed demon. Blur had closed the gap between them as if it was nothing. He extends his arm out to grab Pulse. He then realize the time he only had 3 seconds left.

Back at the park Youngster was still holding up the stands counting the time down.

“3…2…1… oh damn.” Youngster says as he realizes time is up.

BOMB!

The sound of an explosion could be heard from park. Youngster looks around not understanding what was going on. He heard an explosion but it wasn’t at the park. Which would meaning it must have come from where ever Blur is.

“Blur its Youngster come in.” He gives it a moment before he says anything. “Blur it’s Youngster can you hear me?” After another couple of moments went by and he didn’t hear a reply from Blur he could only think the worse. While negative thought began to fill his head he heard a strong swishing sound.

“I told you I could hear you, the comm. Link must have got damage in the explosion.”

“Blur your alive.” Youngster says as he was about to let go of beam to embrace him with joy but before fully releasing his grip it hit him why he was standing there in the first place.

“Yea Pulse had pushed his suit passed it limits to the point it overloaded. I was able to get him out the suit and press stop button on the remote before anything bad could happen. Which reminds me you didn’t tell me how you knew it was a suit to begin with.”

“Oh well it was a guess really. Before the race started I was using my speed powers to the full extent. For me my speed it difference. Time around me slows down and a path is creating for me and it helps me to know what action to take and do so at super speed. Now while it was analyzing my surrounding I looked at you and Kid Quick and there was a glow around the both of you, I even had one myself. The three of us had it but Pulse didn’t. So I just put two and two together. But I wish you could see the glow though it was amazing. More like an energy of power or more like a force, a speed force if you will. The force around you was immense.”

“Would you aspect anything less from the fastest man alive?”

Moments later the police and firemen along with the bomb squad showed up. They removed all the bombs and made sure all of the civilians were safe. Youngster and Blur were just standing at the side happy that everything turned out okay.

“Well the good thing is all of our charities will be getting the winning.”

“I believe that is how it should have been in the beginning.”

“I agree.”

“It was pretty cool working with you.”

“Same to you but now that everything seems to be taking care of I’m head home.” Blur tells Youngster right as he was about to take off.

“Wait one second.” Youngster says to stop him for leaving.

“You know I didn’t forget about that comment you made, the one about you being the fastest man alive. Technically you didn’t win the race so it really not decided yet."

“You really think your faster than me?”

“I won’t know till I find out.” Youngster tells Blur as he gets into a racing position.

“Okay than.” Blur replies as he gets into the same position beside Youngster.

“On your mark.”

“Get set.”

“GO!”

“GO!”

Both of the demons of speed took off racing to see who is... The Fastest Man Alive!!!

[trustyside-kick]

OOC: Previously (http://forums.superherohype.com/showpost.php?p=18527521&postcount=125)...


http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v643/dhunter22/archangelbanner1.jpg

Epilogue:

As Sebastian Blake laid unconscious on the church floor, the first thing I did was fly back to check up on Grace. When I got back, the ambulence was already there. Good girl; she called 911 the second she finally could. I land lightly on the ground as she sits at the back of an ambulence truck, sipping on some coffee with a blanket covering most of her body in the cold night.

She looks at me in an unexpected glance, like she loves me again. A look I felt I haven't seen in her eyes in months. But then reality slaps me in the face and I wake up to realize what it most likely is; and it's not love.

I'm the hero that saved her.

Just the hero that saved her.

"Did you..."

"Kill him? No. Geez no, Grace. Believe me, I wanted to deliver him the kind of pain that isn't describable with words...but I didn't. Couldn't. Couldn't even if I wanted to. These gifts of mine kind of come with an un-published rule book. But uh, that's kinda complicated."

She's silent for a moment, and I want nothing more than to hold her.

"How are you?"

God...if only you could let me hold her now.

"On the surface? Kinda shakey. Having trouble to believe what happened what happened. On the inside though?"

She gets up, putting the cup of coffee down and she hugs me. At first, I don't hug back, shocked she isn't upset because her life was in danger because of me. But it could again just be because I just saved her life. She looks up to me, and I can tell she's looking straight through the holes in my helmet into my eyes.

"The inside is complicated. Some of it makes so much sense and feels so natural, and then rest of it...just doesn't. Because I moved on, and was starting to feel independent again. But I cannot lie to you, Michael. Not to your face and not after what just happened. When I was tied up...I prayed God would someone to save me. And I wasn't expecting the Blue Blur or Icon, or anyone of your teammates...I was hoping it would be you. Because...well, because..."

She starts to lift the helmet off of my head, and takes a good look at me. For seconds neither of us talk, and my heart starts to race. The touch of her soft hand as she runs it down my cheek put me in a state of bliss. Feels like home again, just being with her. The angel-fire wings ignite a brighter white that's almost blinding, and they envelope the both of us. Her hand leaves my chin, and I open my eyes; she's contemplating about touching my wings.

"The fire can't hurt you. It's completely harmless to those with a pure heart."

She slowly starts to move her hand, looking back at me.

"And you're sure my heart is pure enough?"

Her fingers are a mere inch away as she stops, and I lean in and whisper in the ear.

"More pure than my own."

As Grace musters up the courage, she passes her fingers, and is dazzled in the experience. She wiggles her fingers in the angel-fire and does all kinds of swirling motions; not a burn. I catch her hand in the air with my left, and then bring it together with my right, clamping her right hand gently; in a way trying to bring her back to reality.

There's no denial that I want this to go a certain way from here. But I can't afford to be that selfish.

...Right?

No. Don't try to justify anything. That...leech of a monster Sebastian abducted Grace and used her as bait for mere sport. He could have found multiple ways to get to me but he chose her.

Her. Grace.

"This isn't...real though Grace."

I want to slap myself for this.

"What you're feeling right now...don't let your present emotions and thoughts confuse you. We aren't together anymore. Like you said to me once before this night, you moved on. And you are happy now. This? What you're feeling? It's just because I saved you."

My angel-fire wings open up, and slowly flap to my backside.

"This isn't real."

She looks at me, unable to hide a small tear that she lets run down her face; I decide wipe it for her. But to my surprise she whiplashes back, my finger barely getting part of the wet tear. She doesn't say a thing.

I wanna pull her back in, you know, use a little gust of wind or something to make it come across as clever and charming. But I can't. Can't put a crossfire her way. Sebastian is just one of 7 freaks that are supposed to be coming my way.

Reaching down for her left hand, I gently take my helmet from her, and put it on. By this time, the news crew nearby has taken notice of our conversation and start coming over.

"As much as I want, this won't work. For goodness sake, Grace, you could've died tonight."

"I could've died during the Invasion too. Trying to stay away from me won't guarantee--"

"That isn't the same thing! I am personally responsible for what happened to you not just tonight, but starting several nights ago when that pyscho took you! I don't...I know I couldn't go on if you did. This experience made me realize what I need to do. It's going to get worse, believe me I know it is. I need to prepare for what's coming for me."

I take a deep breath, controlling my emotions. It's what has to be done. Just like when I had to get a new agent and fire Grace. I thought that was enough, and that was bad, but I need to distance myself more.

"I'm leaving Lost Haven. I'm leaving The Guardians. I'm leaving...everything. All of it. Leaving it all behind."

"Your art career wil--"

"My art career isn't nearly as important as what is coming my way. I need to do this. I think the only way I will be able to face the obstacles to come is to be in complete solitude."

The journalists have the nerve to move in closer and one even directly comes up to me.

"Archangel, what's this you're saying about leaving The Guard--"

I swat the camera away and the news reporter cringes a bit.

"DANGIT?! Can't I have a talk with the woman I love in peace?! All you've guys have done since the Invasion was creep into my life like I'm some frog to dissect. Yes I'm leaving The Guardians, okay?"

My angel-fire wings spread wide, and I take flight.

"I'M LEAVING EVERYTHING!"

I escape into the night sky, using the fog to hide it. I don't even think to look back. Some way to say goodbye to Grace. But it had to be done.

[TrueMastermind]

This is great. I've been kidnapped by a kid who can stick to walls and a sterotypical black guy who can whoop my *** easily. And now I'm listening to this kid rant on about some silly Justice Crusade. When I was a kid, I read about the Avengers and the Defenders in comic books, but I've never heard of any real superhero team. There hadn't even been that many superheroes until a while back.

"You see, the Justice Crusade are the true defenders of New York, the official protectors of this city."

"What about Paladin?"

"Don't mention that pansy!" Hostility towards the city's symbolic guardian? Hmm...

"Oh please, what has Paladin done for this city?" Well, I'm afraid if I name them, King Kong over there is gonna pound me into the cement. So I'll just keep my mouth shut.

"Hey! Who's that feller?" Turning my head to see the source of the heavy Texan accent, I see a towering, muscular man donning a ten-gallon cowboy hat walking this way. Great. Another guy who could likely pound my face in.

"Here comes the hick..." Rampage whispered before the cowboy got into listening distance. Something says that Rampage isn't too cool with the new arrival.

"Oh, Hank this is...what's your name again pal?" I chuckle at them going so long without asking me my name.

"Carson."

"Yes! As you might have already concluded, this is Carson! And Carson, this is Hank!" The kid's awfully joyful manner didn't make me enjoy this situation any more. Seeing that the Texan had outstretched his hand for a handshake, I cooperated and delivered a firm handshake. Weirdly, the tall man quickly pulled his hand back.

"Ouch! Looks like you got a little strength there. So what are you doing here?"

"We found STRIKE attacking the guy and wondering why, we took him here."

"And why wasn't I invited on this little mission?"

"You were asleep; along with most of the Crusade. I know you don't like to be waken up early."

"Your darn tootin I don't!"

With no explanation why, Hank simply walks away, leaving the three of us in confusion.

"It's time you meet the rest of the guys..."


The kid motions for me to follow him, and seeing no other options, I go along. Taking a nice look around, I notice this place is massive. Where the hell could we be? Am I even in New York anymore?

Wait a second...is that the smell of pot? Alcohol? What the hell?

"It seems you have caught on to some of our more...different Crusaders. Not exactly a clean sort. But here they are..." The teen pointed to a dim-lit room, where a lone table sat right dab in the middle of it all. Sitting around it were men who looked like they should playing a harmonica behind the bars of a jail cell. Not making an attempt to be quiet, the Crusaders seemed to be yelling over a game of Texas Hold Them. But what was littered around the room nearly pulled my heart out.

In the room, you had all you basic illegal substances. A couple of bags of pretty white cocaine, accompanied by boxes of lovely, good-for-the-soul marijuana. Containers holding crystal meth sat in front of every man in the room while vials of herion were strapped to one of the men's bodies like ammunition. And of course, they had bottles of beer to top off the stash.

Being a former detective, I felt inclined to say something. But of course, these men looked like they could whale on me pretty damn bad and to add to it all, one of them was packing. So it looked like I was gonna have to keep my mouth shut on this one.

"Umm guys, this is Carson. You know, the dude we picked up this morning." They all turned around, not looking too happy that this little runt disrupted their card game.

"Can't you see we in the middle of something boy?" For a second, the wallcrawling teenager displays a bit of anger, before gulping it down and forcing himself into silence.

"Ah, don't be rude Frank." The cleanest one of the bunch rises from his chair, walking over to the two of us. Extending a hand towards me, I could easily tell that this guy was the nicest one of the addict bunch. He was pale and friendly-looking, yet had this aura of toughness hanging over him. Sorta had the look of a rapper.

"I'm Jayson, and the other three bums are Mike, Frank, and Ringo." He points to each one as he names them while they just scowl and stay focused on their card game.

"One word of advice, don't pick a fight with them." I already figured that out. But for the sake of trying to be friendly, I let out a fake chuckle.

"I don't know, from what he did against those STRIKE guys, he may able to take down all of y'all."

"Huh?" The group of addicts also turned around and scanned me over once again.

"You know, that black energy you released. Knocked them out with out that much effort at all." In all of this crazy, I had almost forgot about how I took down those STRIKE guys.

"So what's he doing here?" The one named Mike asked.

"I was going to offer him a spot on the team."

***

The darkness matched his personality. Some say he's a figure made out of pure evil, while others think of him to be a mere man who just wants the world to burn. Some think he is the Devil himself. He enjoyed these twisted portrayals of himself, he adored the ridiculous legends conjured up by the boneheaded mortals. But if he had to pick one, it would be the one of him wanting the world to burn. After all, the majority of the world's residents were nothing more than selfish, greedy waste of space who didn't deserve to breathe the clean air that lingers on this planet. But coule he blame them? Much enjoyment comes out of living a life full of luxury, anybody would enjoy becoming the "top dog", as Americans might call a position of leadership. He was no different.

So why does he do what he does? Not even he truly knows. Him enjoying it would be a good one. Or perhaps his numeral mental disorders that shield him from ever obtaining a normal amount of sanity. Maybe he thinks that he is the key for the Earth to prosper. Depending on your meaning of prosper.

The truth is, Warren Schimdt doesn't ask why, he just does.

[NiteMare Shape]

Midas stands staring out of the large picture window that dominates the rear of his penthouse suite as his assistant Niles informs him of the events that had transpired between Korda and the vigilante known as Shadow Walker.

As Niles relays the story, the men with him become increasingly uncomfortable. Over the last few months, Midas has grown impatient with those who serve under him, and has dealt with their failures harshly.

"And did they recover Korda's body?" He asks, evenly.

"No sir, we sent teams in for recovery, but there was no body."

"I see."

Midas just continues staring out the window at Lost Haven's beautiful night skyline while his men become increasingly weary, fearing that Midas may take his frustration out on them.

"Mr. Midas, I did some digging as you had asked, and I found some information that you may find interesting." One of his men, Dr. Lennox speaks up.

"And are you going to tell me Dr. Lennox, or are you going to keep me guessing all night?"

"Sorry sir, but as you know you requested that I look through some of our older notes in the hopes that perhaps some of our older designs might be sufficient to deal with our problem. But I found something completely unexpected..."

"What is it Lennox? I'm losing my patience."

"Well sir, I'm quite embarrassed that I didn't recognize it earlier, but I think I may have found..."

"For God's sake Lennox, quit your rambling and spit it out already."

"I know who Shadow Walker is."

This stuns Midas, who turns to face the doctor for the first time.

"I'm listening."

[wiegeabo]

Anderson sits behind his desk with the phone pressed against his ear and smiles.

Small talk, D has never struck him as one who likes to engage in small talk, so that means that he must have found out about the trace that he had put on his own personal freak.

Good.

Sometimes people need to be put in their place...reminded where they stand in the grand scheme of things.

Sometimes people need to be reminded about the natural order of things...their place in the food chain. D may have done a good job with his Agency, but when it comes down to it, he's really just a small time player.

He's a big fish in a small pond.

But now he's stepping into the ocean, where STRIKE is more like a great white shark...and if he doesn't play his cards right, he's going to be eaten.

"Things have been good D, how's the family."

The Director grunts.

"Same as ever. Boss at work, and no one listens at home. You know how it is."

[NiteMare Shape]

The Director grunts.

"Same as ever. Boss at work, and no one listens at home. You know how it is."

D's words sting. Anderson's family was the one thing in his life that truely brought him joy, and he'd lost him. He hadn't talked to his ex wife Jane in almost six years. He sits there for a moment as memories of the family he'd lost...his wife and daughter invade his subconscious. However, he quickly banishes the ghosts of his past.

"I did."

He knows just what D is trying to accomplish by subtly bringing up his family, but he refuses to give the man the satisfaction.

"I'm a busy man D, so why don't we cut the bull**** and get down to business. What exactly is it that you want?"

[NiteMare Shape]

After spending an evening at the movies alone, Scott and Keira head to The Hub to meet up with Eric, who neither has seen much of lately. Scott enjoys spending time with Keira, she gives him a sense of normalcy that he hasn't been able to enjoy since his return to Lost Haven, and she is quickly becoming his best friend.

They had been friends since he first arrived in Lost Haven after high school, but they didn't always hang out. For the most part they ran in different circles, he would spend his time with the athletes at Lost Haven University, while she would hang out with musicians and the theater crowd.

But they became close after he had started dating Lisa as she was Lisa's best friend. Though, they became almost inseperable after Lisa was killed during the invasion.

When he returned to Lost Haven after his self imposed exile, she had been hurt and angry. She understood why he left, but not why he never contacted her....never told her that he was okay.

He understood why she felt betrayed, she had lost her best friend...again. Though, Eric is convinced that there's more to it.

After walking several blocks from the movie theater they finally arrive at The Hub, and not a moment too soon. As they step onto the curb adjacent to the club, the skies open up and a sudden downpour begins soaking the city.

They stumble into the club, laughing as they are drenched by the downpour, and as he looks at the crowd in the club, he is somewhat amazed at how well the place has taken off.

The place is packed with people dancing and laughing and just carrying on, having a good time. It takes a few minutes to locate Eric through the crowd, but he eventually finds him...standing at the corner of the bar in front of one of the flatscreens, watching a breaking news bulletin.

"Details are still sketchy, but what we do know is that something or someone appears to have attacked the town of Shakersville in the outskirts of Tacoma. We don't have an official death toll, but officials that I've talked to have said that there hasn't been devestation like this since the Arlaaekean invasion...."

Scott just stands there for a moment as he absorbs the news that is being reported on the telecast. He looks over to Keira who meets his gaze, acknowledging that she knows he can't stay. He then looks to Eric, who for the first time notices that he is standing there.

"I've got to go." he says, almost apologizing to his friends.

In an instant he darts up the stairs at the back of the club leading to his apartment, tearing at his clothes as he reaches the privacy of his apartment, until he is standing there in his living room in his costume. Moving so fast that he is barely visible, he makes his way up to the roof access from his apartment, and takes to the skies, heading west toward Shakerville.

As Icon makes his way into the small town of Shakerville Washington, he is stunned by the utter destruction stretching out in all directions before him.

The thick smoke and ash that permeates the air stings his eyes, however he continues to look in horror at the wholesale destruction of this town. He begins to focus, using his radar sense in an effort to locate any survivors...

But there are none.

The sight before him is earily similar to the Nautican Island Massacre that Blackwind's deciples perpetrated acouple of years before. The image of all the dead strewn all across what he can only describe as a warzone fills him with a renewed resolve.

He will take down whoever did this, of it's the last thing he does.

[wiegeabo]

D's words sting. Anderson's family was the one thing in his life that truely brought him joy, and he'd lost him. He hadn't talked to his ex wife Jane in almost six years. He sits there for a moment as memories of the family he'd lost...his wife and daughter invade his subconscious. However, he quickly banishes the ghosts of his past.

"I did."

He knows just what D is trying to accomplish by subtly bringing up his family, but he refuses to give the man the satisfaction.

"I'm a busy man D, so why don't we cut the bull**** and get down to business. What exactly is it that you want?"

"That's what I like about you, Anderson. You're a lot like me." The Director leans back in his chair.

"What I want you to do is call off your damn dogs and stop spying on my agents. Simple enough for you to understand?"

[NiteMare Shape]

"That's what I like about you, Anderson. You're a lot like me." The Director leans back in his chair.

"What I want you to do is call off your damn dogs and stop spying on my agents. Simple enough for you to understand?"


Anderson smiles. So he does know, He thinks to himself.

"I'm hurt D, do you really think that if I were going to monitor your agents, you'd actually know I was doing it?"

Unless I wanted you to.

"I think you may want to look at other possibilities my friend...you do have alot of enemies."

[wiegeabo]

"I think you may want to look at other possibilities my friend...you do have alot of enemies."

"Why do you think I called you, old friend?"

The Director picks up the small plastic bag on his desk, twirling it around in his fingers. "I'm looking at a brand spanking new G-48 surveillance transmitter. And no one uses those. Which, of course, made me think of you."

"Now, it's not like you to be so sloppy." Unless you've somehow become even more arrogant. "So, I have to wonder what you're interest in my people is all of the sudden? Especially since, last I checked, spying on other Federal agents violates your mandate..."

[NiteMare Shape]

"Why do you think I called you, old friend?"

The Director picks up the small plastic bag on his desk, twirling it around in his fingers. "I'm looking at a brand spanking new G-48 surveillance transmitter. And no one uses those. Which, of course, made me think of you."

"Now, it's not like you to be so sloppy." Unless you've somehow become even more arrogant. "So, I have to wonder what you're interest in my people is all of the sudden? Especially since, last I checked, spying on other Federal agents violates your mandate..."

Anderson softly chuckles.

"You are behind in the times D."

He lets the words sink in before continuing.

"You use metahumans in your operations...and that's my territory. It's my job to monitor threats to national security, even from this country's own agents."

He again pauses for effect.

"And as for my mandate...things change D. These are dangerous times we're living in. My job is to make this country safe again...by any means I find necessary."

[wiegeabo]

Anderson softly chuckles.

"You are behind in the times D."

He lets the words sink in before continuing.

"You use metahumans in your operations...and that's my territory. It's my job to monitor threats to national security, even from this country's own agents."

He again pauses for effect.

"And as for my mandate...things change D. These are dangerous times we're living in. My job is to make this country safe again...by any means I find necessary."


The Director is sure to keep his voice as even, and almost playful, as it was before. He's had years and years of experience doing so. But, inside he's a rolling sea of anger, with a healthy dose of paranoia about his security.

"First off, I have no idea what you're talking about. I am completely aware that only STRIKE and The Guardians get to use metas as government agents. Where ever you get your information, you may want to vet them out againt."

"Secondly, I know your job. It's the same as mine. Protecting the country. And I'm not about to let you or your people get in the way of mine."

[Mr. Majestic]

3 Days Ago

Man that fire was crazy I didn’t think that the Hulk thunder clap really works, that was amazing.

As I make my way out of the building the newspaper and TV reports all rush me.

“Youngster over here…”

“No Youngster KTWX News I have…”


"Blane Edwards from In..."


They are all interrupting each other to ask me a question, SWEAT!

“Please everyone clam down I can get to your questions just one at a time. You can go mama.” I point to the lady from KTWX news.

“So Youngster this fire was really something how much effort if any did it take to put it out?”

“Really it wasn’t to much of one once I knew that everyone was out of the building. When I knew it was all clear it was just a matter of putting the fire out without causing to much damage.”

I then look back at the first gentleman to my left.

“Go head with your question sir.”

“Youngster now that you are finally making a name for yourself and finally stepping out of Icon’s shadow, how does it feel?”

Okay that was a curve ball. I must say I didn’t see that one coming. “Well I guess it feels good for people to finally recognize me. I know I’m not one of those heroes that people would speak of in the same breath as Blur or Arch, Survivor and Icon. But when it’s all said and done I’m not doing this for people to know me I just want to help make the world a safer place.” Though it wouldn’t hurt to be known at the same time.

“So with Icon’s return does it put a dent in your start of fame if you will?” A reporter asks from the back ground.

“What Icon has returned?” I wasn’t even aware of this.

“Are you saying you didn’t know that Icon come back? He has been back for some time now.”

If I knew I wouldn't have acted so surprise when I was told he's back. All this time he has been back and he…

“I have to go.” I tell the reports as I dart off in super speed.



Present

‘YOUNGSTER DOESN’T ACKNOWLEDGE ICON!’

I throw the newspaper down on the floor.

“There was nothing I said that would make you think I didn’t acknowledge him. They are just trying to make me look like a bad guy.” I get up from my chair and begin pacing the room back and forth.

“Sir it is very easy for people to misinterpret what you said.”

“How so AL?”

“Well Sir for two heroes to be on the same team, anyone would think that they would be informed when a member has returned.”

“Well I can’t say that I was. Even though I’m a Guardian I like doing all my work here. While everyone is to busy watching the news I’m out in the world saving people. I’m not leaving my so call friends behind to take a break. I'm not leaving the ones who really need me to go and just do me. I'm not doing none of that instead I'm out there putting my life on the line making sure everyone else can have the life that what taken from me.”

I take a moment from all my ranting and sit back down on my chair. Even though I try not to show it I still feel pain from when my mother was taken from me. It was a hard and dark time and the one person who was there to help me also left. I told myself I wouldn’t let this get to me and I did. Everyone makes there own decisions and he made his. I must keep going on and just don't worry about detractions.

“Al I’m sorry for yelling at you. I just have a lot going on and I was taking it out on you and that wasn’t right of me.”

“Sir there is no need to apologize I was not recreated with emotions if you recall.”

“Yea but still.” This isn’t weird at all having a conversation with my computer.

I then get back in my seat and roll my chair to the desk and turn on my computer. Once the screen came up I got to work. There has been some crazy devastation going on the west coast and from first glance it doesn’t appear to have a pattern.

“Al, have you finish running the simulations?”

“Yes I have sir and as you assumed there is no set pattern. Whatever the cause of this is, it appears to just obliterate any and all that in it’s way."

“Peachy. Where is the last location?”

“Last location is Washington state.”

“Looks like I’m going for a run. Lock up the place will yea.” I tell Al as I get up from my chair and throw my hoody over my head and place my mask on and take off heading to Washington.

[NiteMare Shape]

The Director is sure to keep his voice as even, and almost playful, as it was before. He's had years and years of experience doing so. But, inside he's a rolling sea of anger, with a healthy dose of paranoia about his security.

"First off, I have no idea what you're talking about. I am completely aware that only STRIKE and The Guardians get to use metas as government agents. Where ever you get your information, you may want to vet them out againt."

"Secondly, I know your job. It's the same as mine. Protecting the country. And I'm not about to let you or your people get in the way of mine."

"It's good to see that some things never change, D. You're still as nieve as ever. If you think that I don't know about your little...experiment in transparency, you're only kidding yourself. The thing you need to understand D, is that I have people everywhere...and they are constantly feeding me information, even if they don't know that they are doing so."

[wiegeabo]

"It's good to see that some things never change, D. You're still as nieve as ever. If you think that I don't know about your little...experiment in transparency, you're only kidding yourself. The thing you need to understand D, is that I have people everywhere...and they are constantly feeding me information, even if they don't know that they are doing so."




Heads will roll!

"Ok, I've got to give it to you Alex, now I'm even more lost. And it's not easy to get one by me."

"I really don't care what you think might be going on. But it's not. And because it's not, you're going to stop keeping tabs on my people."

[NiteMare Shape]

Heads will roll!

"Ok, I've got to give it to you Alex, now I'm even more lost. And it's not easy to get one by me."

"I really don't care what you think might be going on. But it's not. And because it's not, you're going to stop keeping tabs on my people."

Anderson doesn't even attempt to stifle his laughter.

"And who's going to make me stop D, you?"

[wiegeabo]

Anderson doesn't even attempt to stifle his laughter.

"And who's going to make me stop D, you?"

The Director's smile drops instantly.

"Tough talk, Alex. Perhaps you forgot about Venezuela?"

[NiteMare Shape]

The Director's smile drops instantly.

"Tough talk, Alex. Perhaps you forgot about Venezuela?"

"I've never forgotten Venezuela, D. In fact, I remember it almost as well as I remember Cambodia."

Anderson's tone takes a more menacing note.

"The fact of the matter D, is that things have gotten out of hand. You don't even realize how far in over your head you are. The freaks have been coming out of the woodwork causing more problems than anyone could have ever imagined. And it's only just the beginning."

He pauses.

"The invasion was a horrible thing, but it did serve a purpose...it proved to some very important people that these so called metahumans can't be allowed to run around freely...and because of that realization, I've been given certain...liberties to do what needs to be done."

He waits until he is certain that D grasped what it is that he's saying.

"Now I'm perfectly happy to allow you to keep doing whatever it is that you're doing down there in your little "Agency," but do be on your best behavior...I'd hate to be forced to have your assets liquidated."

[wiegeabo]

"I've never forgotten Venezuela, D. In fact, I remember it almost as well as I remember Cambodia."

Anderson's tone takes a more menacing note.

"The fact of the matter D, is that things have gotten out of hand. You don't even realize how far in over your head you are. The freaks have been coming out of the woodwork causing more problems than anyone could have ever imagined. And it's only just the beginning."

He pauses.

"The invasion was a horrible thing, but it did serve a purpose...it proved to some very important people that these so called metahumans can't be allowed to run around freely...and because of that realization, I've been given certain...liberties to do what needs to be done."

He waits until he is certain that D grasped what it is that he's saying.

"Now I'm perfectly happy to allow you to keep doing whatever it is that you're doing down there in your little "Agency," but watch do be on your best behavior...I'd hate to be forced to have your assets liquidated."

The Director leans forward, speaking slowly into the phone.

"If you know anything about me, Alex, it's that I don't respond well to threats. Vague, overt, nonsensical, or otherwise. I tend to get angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

He leans back in his chair, his voice softening a bit.

"You've got a burr up your ass about metahumans, I get that. But I think that burr might have migrated to your brain. I don't know what you think is going on here, but my personnel, my whole department, is metahuman free and off limits. If you keep spying on my men...well, you're not the only one with certain elected officials on his speed-dial. And if anything happens to any of my men, liquidation will be the least of your worries. I trust we understand each other?"

[NiteMare Shape]

The Director leans forward, speaking slowly into the phone.

"If you know anything about me, Alex, it's that I don't respond well to threats. Vague, overt, nonsensical, or otherwise. I tend to get angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

He leans back in his chair, his voice softening a bit.

"You've got a burr up your ass about metahumans, I get that. But I think that burr might have migrated to your brain. I don't know what you think is going on here, but my personnel, my whole department, is metahuman free and off limits. If you keep spying on my men...well, you're not the only one with certain elected officials on his speed-dial. And if anything happens to any of my men, liquidation will be the least of your worries. I trust we understand each other?"

Anderson just leans back in his chair, a smug grin forming on his lip.

"Really D, don't you think that our time could be better spent than making threats over the phone? Especially when we both know that only one of us is capable of making good on them? If you have a problem with the way that I do things, take it up with your 'elected officials.' But we both know that I don't answer to any of them."

He pauses for a moment.

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear, D. Senators come and go. Congressmen come and go. Hell, presidents come and go...but the one thing that is always constant is me."

He waits to be sure that his words have their intended effect before continuing.

"Can you say the same?"

[wiegeabo]

Anderson just leans back in his chair, a smug grin forming on his lip.

"Really D, don't you think that our time could be better spent than making threats over the phone? Especially when we both know that only one of us is capable of making good on them? If you have a problem with the way that I do things, take it up with your 'elected officials.' But we both know that I don't answer to any of them."

He pauses for a moment.

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear, D. Senators come and go. Congressmen come and go. Hell, presidents come and go...but the one thing that is always constant is me."

He waits to be sure that his words have their intended effect before continuing.

"Can you say the same?"

"I'm still here, Alex. And the way you step over jurisdictions, I don't know if you'll be able to say the same for long."

"But you are right. I've got much better things to do than waste any more time on you. Stay out of my people's way, and we won't have any more problems."

The Director slams down the phone. He stews for about a second.

"ALBERTS!!!"

Alberts pokes his head in the door. "Sir?"

"I want you to pull all the personnel files."

"A-All of them, sir?"

"Did I speak a foreign language?"

"No, sir."

"And get Cole and Hawkes in here."

"Um, I believe Cole is checking in with The Doctor at the moment, sir."

"Well, as soon as he's through."

"Yes, sir."

"...NOW, Alberts!"

"Oh, yes sir!"

Alberts closes quickly slams the door and The Director rolls his eyes, wondering why he hasn't retired yet.

[Hound55]

Guardians Headquarters

Isaac roamed the halls of Guardians Headquarters, he’d been there a lot more in the past few days mainly waiting for the transfer of the police report, complete with coroner’s findings for a specific homicide case he’d been keeping a close eye on but this was not the only reason. The GHQ had been a lot quieter recently with a member who split time between his own apartment and the GHQ having left the group. He felt the need to breathe fresh life into the place and have an actual team member in the building a bit more. Sure, there were employees in the building, but they didn’t have the same presence.

Isaac made a right turn and cut into the Armoury, a place he’d visited a few times of late, and greeted the familiar man at the counter.

“Hey Gunny, what’s new?”

“Not much, kid.”

Colonel Lewis “Gunny” Bracken was an ex-Marine in his mid-fifties, he’d been in the Corps for more of his life than he hadn’t but had come up against a wall there. Men as blunt as “Gunny” was do not climb above that rank, and normally they don’t even reach Colonel, but had a service record that could not be ignored by the powers that be he climbed to such a prestigious rank. In each other they recognised the kindred spirit of “the warrior” and had hit it off quite well. Gunny didn’t seem like the other military officers who would ghost in and out of the monitors telling the Guardians what to do and what would be. Something told Isaac that this man was another breed entirely.

“Acquisition sheet, Gunny. I’ve had a bit of an epiphany.”

“Yeah? So you’re finally going to carry a piece.”

“Heh. Nah, that’s not I was thinking. Nightsticks. Police issue. You reckon you could scrounge me up a pair?”

“Nightsticks?”

“Yeah. I’m still making do with the Jimmies, and I had a think about it and pretty much anything I could do with the Jimmies I could do with a nightstick, and then some. They’re more versatile.”

Gunny raised a knowing eyebrow.

“OK. I broke my arm several places a week back and started thinking about upgrading to a weapon with defensive capabilities as well…”

“Ha Ha. And you’re keeping that from ME? Son, if I were going out there doing what you’re doing I’d be packing more firepower than the S.W.A.T. guys do. Ain’t no reason to be worried about me saying you’ve lost your balls. To be honest with ya, I think y’ve got more balls than sense.”

“Give us a look at that pop-gun you’re carrying there as well, while you’re here…”

Isaac looked down at his grapple-gun, pulled it out, turned it and gave it to Gunny handle first.

Gunny held it and brought it up to head level with an eye looking over the barrel, then rested the barrel on his wrist and again looked down the sight.

“Hmm… Int'restin' piece. You know it’s off balance though, right?”

“Well yeah… I made it myself. It’s gotta be a bit dodgy or it wouldn’t be a handmade gun.” Isaac chuckled.

“Maybe you should stop by and get a look at some of the ones I’ve made…” Gunny responded with the cheeky grin of a man who loves his work.

“Invited of course, Gunny… I get enough holes in me through the daily grind in this business…”

“Ha ha ha. You know me too well. I pity the man who tries to break into Casa D’ Bracken…”

“You know, I could shift the weight on this piece a li'l, make it a fire a tad more true. Easier to operate.”

“Gunny, unless you can put an infra-red scope on that thing you couldn’t get me to fire true…”

“Nah, no point puttin' a scope on it. You fire, what, a 1.5 lb hook from this thing, plus cable..? Gravity would mean the scope wouldn’ be accurate pas' 10 ft… mebbe 15 tops.”

“Gunny, I was making a joke.”

“I never joke when it comes to business, kid.”

“So weight’s the issue there… what about the bolts, just out of interest? You mean I could put a scope on it to help me peel off those ¼ oz bolts?”

“Well, that depends… Gimme a look at what you’re firing there.”

Isaac dug into his pockets and pulled out 6 bolts, three concussion and three “shredders”.

“Hmm… I was gonna ask if you wanted to peel off a few rounds of the Desert Eagle I brought in here, but you’re still not going to carry a piece no matter how hard I sell it will you..?”

Isaac smiled and shook his head.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’ve got a big ol’ cube of ballistics gel all cued up for you to fire off a couple rounds, but since that’s a no-go we may as well test out your pop-gun here. You cool with that?”

“Sure, would have loved to check it out myself…”

“OK, come 'round the stall and we’ll check this thing out.”

Isaac went around the counter and the pair went through a door behind the counter to the gallery.

“Now let’s try one of these little button ones you’ve got here first.”

Gunny dropped a bolt into the gun and lined up the gel down the end of the firing range.

Pfft! Poc!

The concussion bolt pinged off of the gel and rolled around on the floor somewhere.

“Where the hell did that go?”

“It pinged off the gel and rolled off on the floor somewhere… You really shoot these dern things?”

“Well yeah… You just used a concussion bolt. Non-lethal force.”

“And what pray-tell do you propose to do with your little B.B. pellets when faced with some pissed off crook who doesn’t particularly like being shot in the ass by the Haven’s version of a potato gun. It’s not paintball out there, boy.”

“I’m well aware of what it’s like out there… I’m out there. Close quarters this thing takes ‘em down nice enough, without crippling them too.”

“Alright, alright… Let me get a look at one of these other little screw-ey ones you’ve got here then…”

Gunny drops a “Shredder” into the gun and lines it up a second time.

Pfft! Fthk!

The shredder made a nasty squelching sound as it pierced the gel.

The older Gunny jumped the stall and approached the gel. He pulled a tape measure from his pocket and lined it up with the gel by sight.

“Huh… that ain’t too bad. It’s no Desert Eagle, but that ain’t too bad. Not considering what it is. You say you made this thing y’self?”

“Yeah, I’ve made a couple variants of it too over the years, trying to get it right.”

“Oh… looking at this thing I thought it was a rough draft y’had here.”

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll see if I can mod you a scope or sight for that thing. Anything I try to pick up through the usual channels is just going to mess with the weight and make it even more of a pain in the ass than it already is.”

“Yeah? Thanks Gunny.”

“Oh… and could you do me a favour..?”

“Sure kid, whaddaya want?”

“When you pick up those nightsticks I was asking about before… Could you actually go out and pick ‘em up yourself, rather than through the usual Acq channels…”

“Yeah kid, I guess I could do that. Why do you want me to go that route?”

“Ehh… I have my reasons. You should still be able to claim and all of that afterwards, right? It won’t be out of your pocket?”

“Nah, I’ll hang on to the receipt, should be enough for the 'worms runnin' the numbers.”

“Thanks man, anyway, I’ve got some other stuff around the traps I’ve got to check up on. See you ‘round Gunny.”

And with that Isaac bolted out of the room and down a corridor.

“Yeah, see ya kid!” Gunny yelled out to the departing black figure.

“…Whatever you’re up to… good luck kid…”

[Hound55]

Guardians Headquarters

Isaac walked down a hall of Guardians HQ deep in thought with his nose in the manila folder the police delivered “c/o The Vigilante”. It was still a new experience to him; having the police just send him the data he was looking for, rather than having to take the information he needed through stealth.

He found a loose leaf sheet sitting in there which had been added purely for his benefit.

“Nothing much new to you in here. Looks like you know your stuff. If you find anything else that stands out to you, let us know. Hammond.”

“He’s referring to the coroner’s report.” Thought Isaac. “But there’s more in this than just the coroner’s report…”

He flicked through the pages quickly, most of which was Investigation diary info; the case being transferred from being the patrol’s responsibility to the other local area, then to homicide, then to a different homicide officer, then a note that they would be liaising with a Guardians representative… Just standard paperwork, nothing particularly interesting or relevant for him. Flicking through the dispatch messages keeping a running commentary on proceedings. He finally got to the only paperwork he was really interested in… something he could sink his teeth into; the victim records.

“Hmm…”

Apparently the victim was a Thomas Lawton, a middle aged man with no criminal convictions, some minor traffic history but nothing that was out of the normal. There were some run-of-the-mill supplementary reports for some disturbances but nothing over the top. Other than that the traffic offences and the supp reports there was a victim incident where he’d reported his car stolen in the last month. Probably nothing, but Isaac still couldn’t ignore it as a potential lead. Particularly with little else of note in the man’s file. Some Supps from neighbours complaints and a few DUIs were nothing out of the ordinary.

Isaac cringed as he realised how little he had to go on. You can’t form a pattern and spot trends from ONE instance, but he hated the thought that he’d likely have to wait until this man struck again.

Isaac put the paperwork back in the folder and walked to the garage with it under his arm. Making a note on his mental “To Do” list, to look further into the auto theft.

But for now he had other plans…

[Mr. Majestic]

Once in Washington I break out of super speed only to be surrounded by tragedy. There are barley builds standing, it’s so bad I don’t even think it can me classified as building. The ground is completely covered in debris and dead bodies. Looking at all this I can’t keep but to think about back then. That time when the world was being attacked. That time when I lost my mother. With all this misfortune that has taken place here I can’t help but to think about that terrible time. I made a promise to mother and myself that I would never let anything like this happen again.

At that moment many different emotions begin to run through me, sadness, failure, anger, and most importantly revenge.

By the looks of things it doesn’t seem to be any survivors but I shouldn’t jump to conclusions just yet.

I then press a button on the watch that is strapped to my left wrist. I press the button a high frequency sound comes from the watch. Now the sound is so high that only those with great hearing will be able to take notice of the reverberation. With the sound bouncing off the nearby area I widen the range as I have yet to find anybody alive. As the field is widening I have yet to see or hear anyone. Even though I don’t want to think the worse I believe I may have to.

With the watches sound range about to reach its capacity I think it may be safe to say that there are no survivor.

“Did you get it.”

It was a voice, its low but it’s a voice, with means that there is someone out there. I got to focus to hear it.

I then turn watch off and concentrate on using my super hearing.

“Just like you said everyone left town, the city is ours.” Another voice spoke.

Whoever it is they may be reasonable for what happened or at least know who is. I can’t waste anymore time.

I got to there location within a flash. Who ever they are, for the time being they seem to be hanging about in an old warehouse. Normally when I don’t know what or who I’m going against I’d take caution but today is not a normal day. I grab the door and rip it off with little to no effort and toss it a couple of feet behind me. After doing so I seem to grab the attention of the three men inside at the opposite end.

“We are thinking of remodeling anyways.” One of the guys say to me as I begin to approach them.

“I’m not in a mood for games.”

Normally in a situation after tearing off a door and someone makes a smirk comment I would make a joking one in return but after seeing what happened I just don’t feel like being funny.

“I’m only going to ask this one time and I want a straight answer. Are you the ones responsible for what happened?”

Out of the three the one who was in the middle stood up from his seat and walks a couple of steps toward me.

“What if we are? What are you going to do BOY!”

He put a great deal of emphasis on the word Boy. Safe to say he may knows who I am, most call me the Kid or he probably just looking down on me. Doesn't matter thought he wants to play games.

Within a blink of an eye I appear in front of the gentleman in the middle with my hand around his throat.

“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear.”

Just with a little jolt I throw him through the other end of the warehouse. Under ordinary circumstances I wouldn’t be so rash because I wouldn’t want anyone to get seriously injured. But for some reason my rage seems to be overwhelming me and I don’t want it to stop. If they did this they will pay, with their lives.

“Now maybe I didn’t make my self clear. When I said I wanted a straight answer that means yes or no.”

I turn my attention to the guy to the right waiting for a reply. He looks me in the eyes and then for a moment he places his gaze pass me. Instantly I feel the temperature in the room increasing. Even though I couldn’t see what the guy to my left was doing I felt as if I could feel him. Out of no where I raise my right hand up and as I do a blast of fire stops in the palm of my hand. I close my hand and render his sneak attack useless.

“Did you think it was going to be that easy?” I ask as my interest is now brought to the one who tried to attack me when I wasn’t looking.

My eye’s then began to glow blue as I start to power up a great amount of electrical energy.

“What a lot of people don’t know is one of my powers is electric manipulation. I never used it on a meta or any person for that reason. I could never find that certain level of control.”

While taking small steps of panic backward the pyrokinesis metahuman then reply by saying. “Why are you about to use them now?”

“It’s simple, I just don’t care.” I tell him as I release most of the electrical energy aiming for his head. Thanks to my amount of control I just miss the meta by a hair.

“You should be thankful but sad to say next time I won’t miss.”

Before he could do anything I grab him and lift him in the air with one hand and begin to charge for another attack.

“Let’s see how I do at close range.”

I can tell he is scared and he should be.

As I get ready to shot another his partner then decides to come to his friends aid.

“Look man it wasn’t us okay it was something else. Once the thing was done we just came to the other parts of the cities that wasn’t touched and took money from the banks and stuff like that. I told you what you wanted to know so your going to let us go right?”

He can’t be serious, I’m having to much fun.

“So you and your friends just stood by and did nothing while these people were getting killed and you think I’m going to let you go?” I toss his fire friend to the side, hard.

“Give me a moment.”

Moment taken.

“There were over a thousand of bodies within all that debris. And since you didn’t help them I’m going to make sure you are going to feel their pain.”

As he begin to walk back he trips and falls down but he waste no motion as he begin to crawl backward

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Just killing you would be to easy, I have something else in mind. I’ve learned some things about myself over the recent mouths. One of the things are my control of my strength. I know how to control the pounds of pressure I can infect on a person. I’m going to start at one and make my way to the total of dead bodies that now lay lifeless because you and your friends did NOTHING! I’m going to make you wish that you did try something and died in the process.”

[Hound55]

Isaac drove a generic looking blue Nissan, cutting a path through mild traffic to the shopping district of downtown New Haven. He’d made the changeover from the black ‘Vette to this dumpy little box in a parking garage where he had a permanent car park paid for under a pseudonym. He’d been putting a lot of thought into this issue on the sly recently and he’d come to the conclusion that he’d done the best he could with the information at his disposal.

He needed to find out more about this S.T.R.I.K.E and he couldn’t afford the suspicion that came with being the Vigilante while he tried to find it.

He’d have to go shopping.

Isaac swept through his store of choice, made his purchase swiftly with cash and left with a small bag which was frankly, unnecessary.

He carried his package away to a darkened alley where he finally removed his new iPhone, which was oddly enough the old iPhone, from the packaging with a pair of his latex gloves.

Phase 1 complete.

The well dressed young Fontaine took the escalator to the food court which was packed as planned. This was going to put a lot of people out, but damn it, he couldn’t think of a safer way. Isaac took the most crowded route possible, navigating with a “’scuse me” through the tables, keeping his eye out for the popular brand. With furtive sleight of hand he swapped phones almost a dozen times before coming out of the other end of the food court with a completely different iPhone, saying a silent prayer for Steve Jobbs and the global hype phenomenon that saw so many people want the exact same device. Trying to keep the smile from his face he left the shopping centre and proceeded to do the same thing again.

After the third shop’s food court he felt comfortable enough with the amount of changeovers that anyone attempting to pin his actions on someone, couldn’t possibly justify detaining between 30 and 40 randomly selected people for one man’s actions… they want to chase him, fine. But they won’t be catching him this time.

Phase 2 complete.

Isaac found a quiet dark spot in the parking garage, opened up the web browser and began running searches on some of the terms he’d considered earlier. He paused momentarily, tilting his head as if he just remembered something, and hit buttons on his watch before going back to digging for data on S.T.R.I.K.E.

“SIR! We’ve got a miner! Clumsy one too! He’s just pulled 7 of our tripwires… 8! He’s rampaging all over the net for S.T.R.I.K.E…” exclaimed a security monitor in S.T.R.I.K.E headquarters.

“What?! Alright. You know the drill, pull the ISP.” the man's boss, Michaels, barked.

“We’re trying, sir… There. He’s just on a… a phone… Downtown Lost Haven”

“He’s on a phone? No tech to disrupt us? Cocky bastard… And he’s in the Haven as well? Well he picked the wrong damn city to trifle with us in. Drop the hammer on this one. Triangulate the signal. I want two tactical units to take this guy down. I want it done clean. You! Inform Anderson. He’ll want to see how we deal with this kind of thing.”

Michaels was a driven man, he wanted to rise fast within S.T.R.I.K.E and it was rare that anyone had as good an opportunity to impress Director Anderson, and he planned to make the most of it. Two units may be seen almost as overkill to some, but above all else Michaels couldn’t afford to fail him and he hoped the swift tactical strike of force might make an impact on him.

Back in the shadows Fontaine’s eyes scanned the iPhone’s small glowing screen as he made mental notes of as many points of interest as he could, pausing only while the iPhone would load a new screen to check his wrist.

“Enough.” Isaac thought.

He turned and hurled the iPhone off of the parking garage into the wall of a nearby building, where the device shattered and fell before being caught in the guttering of a lower building.

Isaac kept to the shadows away from the cameras in the garage, slipped out the stairwell exit and went two levels down and got in the lift to the ground floor. He went back to the street level, where he entered a shop overlooking the destroyed remnants of the iPhone, pretending to peruse through the merchandise whilst really keeping an eye on the street. Almost immediately he saw what he was waiting for, he tapped his wrist as the men in flak jackets moved in. Isaac saw enough and after a quick purchase, left the store. Time to cover tracks, this time he would need the help of his black garbed pseudonym. After a brief stop to get changed a black figure appeared in the security section of one of the local malls.

“I’m going to need to requisition your CCTV tapes. I’m tracking a dangerous defence threat, he attempted to breach Guardians security.”

The mall cop, a portly man, hadn’t seen this kind of excitement in some time and fumbled quickly for the recorders.

“Any particular camera?”

“I’m going to need all of the footage of the cameras covering the food court.”

“OK... Just give me one second. It runs on a cycle, there’s 12 cameras and they switch automatically between shots every 8 seconds unless the guy on monitor duty wants to keep a closer eye on something, so it’s all on the one tape.” As the eager-to-please mall cop pawed repeatedly at the eject button on a recorder.

“You know you can view them here, right?”

“This is National security, sir. I’m not going to be searching sensitive information on your own monitors. You do understand, right?”

“Oh. Absolutely. Perfectly understandable.” Trying to hide his disappointment in not getting to see the Guardian operate.

“We should have this back fairly soon though, we’ve video equipment en scene.”

“Take as long as you need!” The mall cop yelled as Isaac swept out the door.

Two stops later he had all documented evidence connecting himself to the scene and he returned to the scene of the first security room.

“You! The tape was blank! He got to here first! I want answers and I want them now!”

“But… but that’s impossible…”

“Apparently it’s not impossible because it’s f***ing happened!” Isaac berated the poor mall cop.

“I want the name of everyone who’s come through here today in the last 5 hours!”

“But it’s just been us in here…” gesturing to his co-workers.

“Everyone. I don’t care if it’s someone you see every damn day. Hell, PARTICULARLY someone you see every damn day. This could be a shifter, a ghost any damn thing…”

“A shifter..?”

Isaac pulled up and gave an expression like he just realised he said something he shouldn’t have.

“We’ve got a person looking into secret Government activities, we can’t rule out the possibility that he may be able to take on other forms… whether by disguise or… special genetic talent…”

Isaac fought to keep from breaking into a smile as he fed disinformation to the go-between who would undoubtedly be one of the earliest avenues anyone chasing his trail would go to. The mall cop looked frazzled, not comprehending what was happening and overwhelmed by the prospect of such people existing.

The Vigilante left soon after with a piece of paper with a list of scrawled names, smudged noticeably by the sweat of the flustered mall cop. Swapping the useless list for one of the three blank tapes he’d bought earlier.

Two performances later and the job was done. The blue Nissan was once again on the road, its driver in heavy contemplation trying to process what he’d learned from the iPhone. He checked his wrist once more, with the response time still displayed on his watch’s “stopwatch” feature.


“Fast, organised, tight… And all too interested in us. This is not good.”

[wiegeabo]

Then

"So, why am I here again?"

The Fatman leans back in his chair. "As long as you have that gland in your head, you're going to be working for me, Mr. Cole."

"Is that right. Who are you? I've been wondering that from the start? CIA?"

The Director smiles. "No, not exactly."

"NSA?"

He points up to the seal on the wall behind him.

"Department of..." I roll my eyes, not believing what I'm seeing. "Department of Fish & Game?!"

"The Department of Fish & Game is a very important branch of the government tasked with preserving our natural resources."

"Fish & Game paid for the gland in my head."

"No, they're just our landlords. CIA had a deficit last year. Fish & Game had a surplus. We go where the money is."

"Unbelievable." I lean back in my own chair and cross my legs nonchalantly. "So, if I decide not to work for...Fish & Game...what's to stop me from, oh, I don't know, going invisible, running off, and finding a doctor to take the damn thing out?"

"The fact that, if the gland is removed, you'll die."

I lean forward. "Say that again."

"We...don't know how to safely remove the gland."

"...say that again."

"Cole-"

"No! You say that again. Because there's no way my brother would have put this thing in my head if he couldn't get it out again."

"He did."

I blow air out between my lips. "Whew. Ok. So...you just haven't figured out his notes yet, or something? Maybe I can help...?"

"He had notes, but they were destroyed in the attack. You're brother made sure that whoever was trying to steal the Project wouldn't get the data."

"What about backups?"

"To risky. This was a beyond top secret project, after all."

"So what does that mean?"

"The only one who knew how to remove the gland was your brother."

"And he's dead."

"Exactly."

I nod as my eyes drift off. Then I pick up the chair and fling it through the air, smashing it against the wall.

"GODDAMN IT!!!"

"Calm down, Darren."

"SCREW YOU!"

The Director stands up and slams his hands on his desk. "Calm down RIGHT NOW!!!"

We glare at each other until my rage finally passes. The Director sits down and starts glancing over paper work as if nothing happened.

"That chair will come out of your paycheck."

Cheap bastard. "Whatever."

"Go see the Doctor. She wants to give you a checkup. Then come back to see me. I'm going to introduce you to your new partner."

"Fantastic." I stomp out the door and slam it behind me. First chance I get, I'm getting out of here.

***

Now

I really need to get out of here.

"This is so boring." I put down the binoculars and rub my eyes in frustration.

"No one said that government work was supposed to be exciting, buddy boy."

"What about all the movies that say exactly that."

"Just movies, my friend. Hollywood has no idea what makes a good agent, or what intelligence is really like."

"Boring?"

"Hard work. That's what this country was built on. A lot of dedicated, patriotic people doing a lot of hard work. Just like me."

"...Forget to take your lithium today."

"No, why?"

I shake my head. "No reason. Maybe they need to up your dose, is all..."

"What was that?"

"Hmm, what?"

"What?"

"What?"

"...What?"

I shake my head again and look through the binoculars at the building. But a second later, I toss them on the dashboard and rub my eyes.

"Hey, careful with those. They're expensive. Took three months to requisition these from the Fat Man."

"Yeah, sorry. My head's just killing me."

"Headache's are getting worse."

"Yeah."

"Maybe it's a tumor."

"It's not a-! Funny thing to say to a guy with an extra gland in his head."

Hobbes reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a bottle of aspirin. He tosses it to me, and I grab it gratefully. I toss back a few dry, giving them a quick chew so they'll work faster.

"First mission and you're already falling apart."

"Ha ha. I thought this guy was supposed to be gone by now."

"That's his routine. Leaves his apartment and goes out to eat at 5:15 every night."

"It's five after six."

"Exactly."

I look at him confused. "Exactly what? What does that mean?"

"Means something has changed his routine. Means something is going down."

I suddenly sit up and look out the van's window. "You mean...you mean he's going to meet his buyer now?"

"Sure feels that way. Speak of the devil." The man we're looking for finally walks out of the hotel. As always, he's dressed sharply, wearing sunglasses even though it's getting dark.

"He doesn't look like a terrorist."

"What's a terrorist supposed to look like?"

"I don't know, I've never done business with one."

"Well, they look just like that. Just like everybody else."

"And we're sure this guy is who we want?"

"Oh yeah. We're going to use him to get the big dog. Catch us a high profile terrorist weapons supplier, and put The Agency on the map."

"The secret agency we don't want anyone to know about."

"That's the one."

I laugh, wondering how the hell I got stuck with these people. Oh yeah, a life sentence. Nietzsche said what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Maybe I should run for governor of California.

"Ok, Cole. Time to do your thing."

"My thing."

"Go see-through, get in his place, and find us the evidence we need."

"No problem." I get out of the car.

"Cole!"

"Yeah?"

"Ten minutes. Then I come up to get you."

"Ten minutes. What could go wrong?"

[Blacklight]

http://i584.photobucket.com/albums/ss289/blacklight521/blrbpbanner-1.jpg

Chapter 3...



Flying through the skies, frantically scouring this land that could only be described as a desert shrouded in an eternal evening, with random pillars of light shooting into the stars off in the distances, Jon and his team of Blacklights' search for the Great Prism was proving fruitless.

"Maybe we should split up?" Orangelight suggested when he caught on to Blacklight's frustration.

"Oh yeah that's real smart... Split us up so that the bad guys pick us all off one by one." Redlight remarked.

"No one is splitting up. We're going to stick together. I have a feeling we're going to need to if we're going to win..." Blacklight said, trailing off.

"Oh really? Just how do you know this?"

"I don't know... I just... do."

In truth, he really didn't know why, but the Mistress of Light chose him for a reason. She said he would know what to do, and he just felt it deep down that they were going to all have to work together to see this through.

Just then, he felt something. He could sense it. The Prism. It's energies were calling out to him.

"C'mon. It's this way..." Jon called out as he banked left, his alternate selves following suit.

[NiteMare Shape]

As Icon makes his way into the small town of Shakerville Washington, he is stunned by the utter destruction stretching out in all directions before him.

The thick smoke and ash that permeates the air stings his eyes, however he continues to look in horror at the wholesale destruction of this town. He begins to focus, using his radar sense in an effort to locate any survivors...

But there are none.

The sight before him is earily similar to the Nautican Island Massacre that Blackwind's deciples perpetrated acouple of years before. The image of all the dead strewn all across what he can only describe as a warzone fills him with a renewed resolve.

He will take down whoever did this, of it's the last thing he does.

Through the dust and debris in the atmosphere, Icon sees something below in the remains of what had once been the small city of Shakerville, something that he is surprised see...flashing police lights.

Finally, through all the destruction Icon sees some signs of life. He immediately makes his way toward the flashing blue lights. As he approaches, he sees a lone police officer standing beside his patrol car.

Icon lands behind the young officer, and for the first time notices that the young woman is leaning heavily on the side of her car, her knees are shaking, hardly able to keep herself from collapsing.

"What happened here?" Icon asks, not entirely sure that she will be able to answer.

"Who did this?"

The young officer turned and looked him right in the eyes.

"He came out of nowhere, it was almost like he fell from the sky. The next thing I know my partner is dead...along with everyone else."

Icon stops dead in his tracks. "He?" He thinks to himself, unable to fathom that one man caused all this destruction.

"He just completely laid waste to the city, killed everything in sight." She continued, almost as if reading his mind. "I don't know how I survived...I tried fighting him with the rest of the force, but when nothing we did even slowed him down...I ran."

For the first time, Icon sees that it not just shock or grief that troubles the young officer, but guilt as well.

"You did the right thing. You wouldn't be doing anybody any good if you died too." Icon puts a hand on her shoulder, trying to reassure her.

"Don't worry, I'll get him. He will pay for what he's done. Do you know which way he went?" He asked, to which the young officer just shooker her head.

He concentrates, allowing his enhanced hearing go to work for him...hoping to find anything that might lead him to the monster who did this. After a few seconds, he does hear something, though not what he is looking for. He hears a disturbance not all too far away.


As I get ready to shot another his partner then decides to come to his friends aid.

“Look man it wasn’t us okay it was something else. Once the thing was done we just came to the other parts of the cities that wasn’t touched and took money from the banks and stuff like that. I told you what you wanted to know so your going to let us go right?”

He can’t be serious, I’m having to much fun.

“So you and your friends just stood by and did nothing while these people were getting killed and you think I’m going to let you go?” I toss his fire friend to the side, hard.

“Give me a moment.”

Moment taken.

“There were over a thousand of bodies within all that debris. And since you didn’t help them I’m going to make sure you are going to feel their pain.”

As he begin to walk back he trips and falls down but he waste no motion as he begin to crawl backward

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Just killing you would be too easy, I have something else in mind. I’ve learned some things about myself over the recent months. One of the things are my control of my strength. I know how to control the pounds of pressure I can infect on a person. I’m going to start at one and make my way to the total of dead bodies that now lay lifeless because you and your friends did NOTHING! I’m going to make you wish that you did try something and died in the process.”

He looks to the young officer, and his heart breaks for her. He imagines that up until this day she had been an optimistic young woman who joined the force for many of the same reasons that he has for doing what he does. Up until today, she had her whole life ahead of her...and in a flash everything is gone. As he looks at her and her patrol car, he almost finds the irony suffocating. The only thing left standing in this small city is a lone police officer and her cruiser...with nothing left to patrol.

Icon leaves the ground, but for an instant he just hovers there several feet above what was once a busy street.

"I have to go. But don't worry, I will get him."

With that, he takes to the skies, leaving the officer standing alone in the wasteland that was once her home.

[NiteMare Shape]

Kevin and Erica dine in the cozy dining room of Rizelli's Ristorante, dining on fine Italian cuisine. It is the first time in weeks that they have had the chance to spend a night out on the town together. Kevin has spent most of his nights patrolling the city as Shadow Walker, trying to track down leads that will link Midas to the criminal organization known only as The Cartel, and thus, to his father's murder.

However, his close call with the reptile beast in the city sewers put things in a certain perspective for him. While he was fighting the beast, almost certain that he was going to die alone in the dank sewers, one thought kept running through his mind...that he'd failed.

Not that he'd failed in his mission, that he'd failed to bring The Cartel down and its leader to justice...

But that he'd failed Erica.

He knows that what he does terrifies her. That each night that he dons his Shadow Walker garb, she sits at home fearful that he'll never return. And it was that encounter with the beast that forced the realization that he can't do this forever.

So here they sit, eating a fine meal, discussing what their lives will be like once the mission is complete. What they will do when they return home to Slater City and begin their lives together.

They sit there in Rizelli's, as if they are the only two people in all the world, completely unaware of the man sitting in the far corner of the dining hall, closely watching their every move as he slowly eats his baked ziti.

[NiteMare Shape]

Marcus Ryder, the man who other members of STRIKE have taken to calling "Anderson's Heel" due to his tendancy of stepping down upon the enemies of the Director; both Meta and human...and grinding them to dust, reviews the dossier file which contains the briefing for tonight's mission.

Stephen Stone, a small time hood with no real direction in his life. He doesn't pose much of a threat to society as a whole. However his sole ambition in life seems to be to be a nuisance to society, using his telepathic abilities to con people out of their possessions. Nothing as cruel as swindling people out of their life savings, but small sums of money and prized possessions are all fair game.

Stone is not the type of criminal that would normally even register as a blip on STRIKE's radar, however times have changed. Director Anderson has taken a hardline approach to metas, and any meta doing things outside of the law, no matter how minor, now draws their attention.

If Ryder had it his way, he would take Stone out in the alley and put a bullet in his head. However, Stone possesses certain talents that might be usefull to STRIKE.

So a simple snatch and dash.

The black Escalade pulls up to the corner near Stone's apartment building; and ryder gets out along with two other agents, Santana and Taylor, and the three of them head to the front entrance of Stone's building.

The three agents take the back stairwell up five flights of stairs, hoping to avoid having too many people see them as they approach their target. Finally, they reach the fith floor and walk down the corridor to Stone's apartment, number 508. When they arrive in front of their target's door, Ryder bangs on the door, in much the same manner that a police officer would while engaging in a bust.

It takes a few moments, but finally the door opens. Standing in front of the three agents is not your stereotypical menace to society. Instead appearing from behind the door is a rather unassuming young man, several pounds underweight with shaggy brown hair and a five o'clock shadow.

"Yeah? Whattayawant?"

"Stephen Stone?"

"Yeah?" The young man says, suddenly nervous.

Ryder doesn't give him the chance to run. Instead he produces a small syringe and plunges it into Stone's jugular. Stone immediately collapses to the ground, and the three agents quickly step inside the apartment closing the door behind them, to prevent any passers by from seeing what is happening.

Once inside the apartment, Ryder gets on his secure cell phone and dials the direct number to Anderson's office phone.

"Alex, we have the package. Delivery in 25."

[Mr. Majestic]

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Just killing you would be to easy, I have something else in mind. I’ve learned some things about myself over the recent mouths. One of the things are my control of my strength. I know how to control the pounds of pressure I can infect on a person. I’m going to start at one and make my way to the total of dead bodies that now lay lifeless because you and your friends did NOTHING! I’m going to make you wish that you did try something and died in the process.”

I look down on this worthless metahuman as he spits up blood profusely. My right fist covered in his blood. It almost feel…feels… waits what’s happening to me.

I stumble back a couple of steps and grab my head. It feels almost as if it is on fire from the inside and I don’t know how to stop it. Something has to be wrong with me I’m not acting like…

“AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!”


I take a moment to get my self back together. The burning sensation in my head is gone. Nothing is wrong with me, for a brief second I had a moment of weakness but I’m back.

“I’m sorry about that I had to collect myself. I seem to be going through something at the moment. But enough about me lets continue on you shall we?” I then begin to make my way back to the helpless metahuman.

As I begin to approach him I can see the fear in his eyes and this feeling makes me feel good inside.

“Ple..ase I’m c….ca…can’t take anymore. I’m so…so..rry just let me…”

I’ve put him through so much he can barely speak. Doesn’t seem like he is going to last to much longer, what a shame.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to go through anymore I’ll stop.”

By his facial expression I can tell that he is relieved but I don’t know why he should have let me finish.

“Once I give you one more final blow that will end you miserable existence.”

I then stand over top of him and ball my right fist staring into his eyes as he looks back at mine. With the look on his face you would think he was looking at death himself, well in a way I guess he is.

One powerful blow to his heart will end him.

[NiteMare Shape]

It only takes Icon several seconds to reach the source of the disturbance, and he is shocked at what he finds...one of his own allies, the teen hero known as The Youngster brandishing his own kind of justice one someone who had nothing to do with the attack on Shakerville at all.

"No...Sam." He thinks to himself as he approaches the scene.


I look down on this worthless metahuman as he spits up blood profusely. My right fist covered in his blood. It almost feel…feels… waits what’s happening to me.

I stumble back a couple of steps and grab my head. It feels almost as if it is on fire from the inside and I don’t know how to stop it. Something has to be wrong with me I’m not acting like…

“AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!”


I take a moment to get my self back together. The burning sensation in my head is gone. Nothing is wrong with me, for a brief second I had a moment of weakness but I’m back.

“I’m sorry about that I had to collect myself. I seem to be going through something at the moment. But enough about me lets continue on you shall we?” I then begin to make my way back to the helpless metahuman.

As I begin to approach him I can see the fear in his eyes and this feeling makes me feel good inside.

“Ple..ase I’m c….ca…can’t take anymore. I’m so…so..rry just let me…”

I’ve put him through so much he can barely speak. Doesn’t seem like he is going to last to much longer, what a shame.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to go through anymore I’ll stop.”

By his facial expression I can tell that he is relieved but I don’t know why he should have let me finish.

“Once I give you one more final blow that will end you miserable existence.”

I then stand over top of him and ball my right fist staring into his eyes as he looks back at mine. With the look on his face you would think he was looking at death himself, well in a way I guess he is.

One powerful blow to his heart will end him.

Icon lands behind Youngster as he is preparing to make a monumental mistake, one that the young hero will regret for the rest of his life.

"Stop Sam. He's had more than enough."

[Mr. Majestic]

It only takes Icon several seconds to reach the source of the disturbance, and he is shocked at what he finds...one of his own allies, the teen hero known as The Youngster brandishing his own kind of justice one someone who had nothing to do with the attack on Shakerville at all.

"No...Sam." He thinks to himself as he approaches the scene.




Icon lands behind Youngster as he is preparing to make a monumental mistake, one that the young hero will regret for the rest of his life.

"Stop Sam. He's had more than enough."

I hear a familiar voice from behind me but it can’t be who I think it is. He has been back for some time and didn’t even let me but he can show up when I’m trying to show this thing the importance of helping people in need.

I turn my head and it is who I knew it to be, Icon.

“I don’t need for you to tell me what to do, those days are over. I’m in control of this situation besides I wasn’t going to kill him. At the last second I was going to hit the ground beside his face.”

Maybe the impact of the blow striking the ground was going to kill him but not my fist.

[NiteMare Shape]

I hear a familiar voice from behind me but it can’t be who I think it is. He has been back for some time and didn’t even let me but he can show up when I’m trying to show this thing the importance of helping people in need.

I turn my head and it is who I knew it to be, Icon.

“I don’t need for you to tell me what to do, those days are over. I’m in control of this situation besides I wasn’t going to kill him. At the last second I was going to hit the ground beside his face.”

Maybe the impact of the blow striking the ground was going to kill him but not my fist.

"It doesn't matter what you were going to do. He had nothing to do with what happened here. You claim that you want to help people, that you want to be a hero. It's time that you started acting like one. Because this..." He pauses, clearly disturbed by what he's found.

"This is about as far from being a hero as you can get."

[Mr. Majestic]

"It doesn't matter what you were going to do. He had nothing to do with what happened here. You claim that you want to help people, that you want to be a hero. It's time that you started acting like one. Because this..." He pauses, clearly disturbed by what he's found.

"This is about as far from being a hero as you can get."

“Acting like a hero? Did you really just say that to me?”

He couldn’t begin to fathom what I been through.

“I do call myself a hero because I have the right to but you on the other hand don’t. You left remember and I kept on fighting. Do you know how much pressure it is for a teenage to have the weight of the world on his shoulders? It’s a lot. I gave up on what I had left of a life to continue where you left off. But you know what gets me the most? While you were sitting back relaxing, I was out there protecting and fighting. No matter what I did they kept on telling me I would never be you. That I was never going to live up to you. At first it did hurt but then I realize, I don’t want to be you. Why would I won’t to be someone who runs out of his friends and the people who needs him the most? And you tell me I’m not acting like a hero? No Icon you’re the one who stop being a hero.”

[NiteMare Shape]

“Acting like a hero? Did you really just say that to me?”

He couldn’t begin to fathom what I been through.

“I do call myself a hero because I have the right to but you on the other hand don’t. You left remember and I kept on fighting. Do you know how much pressure it is for a teenage to have the weight of the world on his shoulders? It’s a lot. I gave up on what I had left of a life to continue where you left off. But you know what gets me the most? While you were sitting back relaxing, I was out there protecting and fighting. No matter what I did they kept on telling me I would never be you. That I was never going to live up to you. At first it did hurt but then I realize, I don’t want to be you. Why would I won’t to be someone who runs out of his friends and the people who needs him the most? And you tell me I’m not acting like a hero? No Icon you’re the one who stop being a hero.”

"You're right. I did...and that's why I left. But now is not the time to talk about this. In case you haven't noticed, someone flattened Shakerville, and they're on the move. I don't know about you, but I'm going to stop them. So you can either stand here and have your own little pitty party, or you can help me stop this guy."

Icon stops for a split second then continues.

"Once we've done that, then we can continue this conversation."

[Mr. Majestic]

"You're right. I did...and that's why I left. But now is not the time to talk about this. In case you haven't noticed, someone flattened Shakerville, and they're on the move. I don't know about you, but I'm going to stop them. So you can either stand here and have your own little pitty party, or you can help me stop this guy."

Icon stops for a split second then continues.

"Once we've done that, then we can continue this conversation."

“I know what’s important here I don’t need for you to remind me. If teaming up with you will help me find whatever did this so I can stop it then by all means lets get started.”

For now I’ll work with him but I hope he knows that this conversation is far from over.

[NiteMare Shape]

“I know what’s important here I don’t need for you to remind me. If teaming up with you will help me find whatever did this so I can stop it then by all means lets get started.”

For now I’ll work with him but I hope he knows that this conversation is far from over.

Icon nods to Youngster, then takes to the skies, heading East, hoping to find whoever destroyed Shakerville before he leaves another city in ruins.

[NiteMare Shape]

Kevin and Erica dine in the cozy dining room of Rizelli's Ristorante, dining on fine Italian cuisine. It is the first time in weeks that they have had the chance to spend a night out on the town together. Kevin has spent most of his nights patrolling the city as Shadow Walker, trying to track down leads that will link Midas to the criminal organization known only as The Cartel, and thus, to his father's murder.

However, his close call with the reptile beast in the city sewers put things in a certain perspective for him. While he was fighting the beast, almost certain that he was going to die alone in the dank sewers, one thought kept running through his mind...that he'd failed.

Not that he'd failed in his mission, that he'd failed to bring The Cartel down and its leader to justice...

But that he'd failed Erica.

He knows that what he does terrifies her. That each night that he dons his Shadow Walker garb, she sits at home fearful that he'll never return. And it was that encounter with the beast that forced the realization that he can't do this forever.

So here they sit, eating a fine meal, discussing what their lives will be like once the mission is complete. What they will do when they return home to Slater City and begin their lives together.

They sit there in Rizelli's, as if they are the only two people in all the world, completely unaware of the man sitting in the far corner of the dining hall, closely watching their every move as he slowly eats his baked ziti.


After leaving Rizelli's, Kevin and Erica spent the evening walking through historic Lost Haven. Since they arrived in Lost Haven, they haven't spent much time out in the city seeing the sights...or the sights that still remained after the alien invasion. However, the historic section of Lost Haven still stands pretty much intact, with very few signs of the war with the invaders.

But tonight is for them. A much needed night out where they don't have to worry about anything other than enjoying one another's company. While normally that would be enough for either of them, they had been pursuaded to partake in a walking ghost tour, where they could see the locations of some of Lost Haven's supposedly most haunted locations. While neither of them particularly believe in ghosts or things of that nature, both love a good ghost story.

They listen to the tour guide, who is dressed as an 18th century highwayman as he spins tales of murder, mayhem and ghostly apparations.

"And as Captain Allen slept quiety in his bed, John Corwin silently made his way down the hall....."

From the rooftops, He watches his prey who are still unaware of his presence. He has been following Kevin Pierce for 3 days, learning everythjing he needs to know about his opponent. And soon...it will be time to strike.

[Hound55]

A tense figure drives a black corvette, in a black tracksuit and an even darker demeanour. He’d just done his first reconnaissance sweep on the organization known as S.T.R.I.K.E and little of the news was what he’d call “good”. He’d jumped back on the grid and changed back to the ‘Vette which he was becoming more and more acclimatised to. Isaac felt a vibration run through his hip, lifting his top to check the Guardians pager he was given a brief message not urgent enough to be sent with a priority code.

“V, cop Hammond trying 2 reach U. Told 2 try your freq.”

Isaac pulled his top back down and changed the frequency from emergency to his own on the car’s radio, then turned it up so he could hear better.

“Golf-Victor-One, heard you’ve been trying to reach me. Sitrep.”

“This is Hammond, you’re really going to keep the formality over your own frequency? Ok. Another body turned up, looks like it could be the same M.O. either same perp or a copycat. Awaiting your presence at the corner of Seventeenth and Carver. Over”

“Golf-Victor-One, don’t tell me Seventeenth and Carver is still your beat as well? Over”

“Ha ha ha. Negative. Let’s just say I’ve been given the prestigious position of unofficial liaison. Over.”

Isaac couldn’t keep it in as a brief chuckle escaped the darkness of the balaklava.

“Golf-Victor-One, does this mean that the LHPD are now supporting Vigilante activity..? Over.”

No response came over the air, and more laughter filled the Corvette, concealing the morbid reason for its travel.


Inside the Police Cordon

A small congregation of law enforcers are gathered around the cadaver when the black ‘Vette arrived on the scene.

“What are they all doing here contaminating the crime scene? Get back!” came the synthetic sounding voice from the gruff Guardian.

“They’re detectives… to be honest, most were more interested in seeing you than the case itself.” As the voice of Sgt Hammond stepped from amongst the group.

“So who’s working the case..? …You and you? Alright, you four, piss off. Hammond, you can stay since you’re apparently my LHPD designated minder… although it bears the question of who the hell is watching these 4…”

Isaac flicked the air filter on his voice modulator on and stepped past the 4 officers he’d just shooed away.

“And there better not be any damn vomit on my crime scene…”

“Ah hell…” Isaac thought to himself realising what the strong odour meant.

“Well, for starters it looks like I was mistaken last time…”

“Yeah..?”

“Partly…” Isaac quickly chimed in, cutting off any sarcastic response the Sergeant may have been planning.

“Looks like… well rather, SMELLS like the perpetrator intended to pierce both the liver with the kidneys last time. Means the mistake he made last time when he grazed it by not skewering it completely, as he has here, rather than it being an accident that he hit the liver at all.”

“So what does that mean?”

“Well it means we have one more reason to want to stop this guy before this happens again… two if you count each nostril… No, I know what you meant. Could be he wants us to find the bodies? Spilling bile is about the fastest way to have corpses found that I could think of… Could be something else... I’d say too early to tell definitively.”

Isaac removed the leather exterior gloves and started taking his own notes again.

“Are we ever going to get these notes that you’re writing yourself? Or is this whole information exchange thing going to be a one way street?”

Isaac looked up from the small notepad into Hammond’s eyes and beyond, wearily he left a brief pause before saying,

“Yeah, when I get back to HQ I’ll type ‘em up and shoot them off to you electronically. There’s nothing really in here that I’m not saying out loud though anyway…”

The Vigilante finished scrawling what was on his mind and pocketed it, a sigh was heard as an unintelligible sound from the voice modulator, which made him cringe himself, as he started to survey the victim more closely.

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here… Kidney pierced… Other kidney pierced and as we’ve already established the liver too… Neck… untouched. Well that would support my theory last time. That he panicked and did it on instinct… Now he’s getting better…”

Fontaine rose back to his feet from his hunched over position to best inspect the neck and his attention returned to what was most immediately obvious.

“Back's got minor lacerations again… Some deeper though. Hmm…”

Isaac’s eyes were fixed on the small of the dead man’s back.

“That seems to have too much significance to just be a coincidental pattern… What do you see there?”

Hammond stepped over and looked at what the Guardian’s representative was referring to:
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v239/Houndawg55/pic.jpg


“It… It looks kind of like a snake. Pretty crude though…”

“Well yeah, it’s going to be crude, he’s using a shiv or something and he’s not exactly going to think we’re going to cut the skin off this guy’s back, stretch it out like a canvas and exhibit it at MoMA…”

“You sure..? Somma these whack jobs…”

“Hammond, give these people some credit ‘til they prove themselves unworthy of it… That’s my advice.”

“Kid, I’ve been doing this job for 15-some years… If anyone’s going to be giving lectures on human nature here, it’s going to be me.”

“Sergeant, it wasn’t advice for your personal life… I don’t give a damn how you think that way; I don’t know you and I don’t care to know you. It’s professional advice… If you can’t empathise, get a clear view of the rationale behind the subject, how can you hope to predict his movements? If you’re trying to test me you can go join the other 4. You want to call me “kid” you can chase your dumbarse rookie partner around the office and go back to trying to teach him the ins-and-outs of how to use police tape and which end of the radio to talk into…”

“You don’t want advice on how crime scene operates, fine. You want to be a traffic cop the rest of your life chasing more dumbarse rookies as the senior officer in traffic, great. But you expect me to put up with your attitude, we’re gonna have a problem. I’m not one of your rookie cops… I have my methods, they’re established. I can work with you or around you, if you’re somehow under the illusion that I NEED you… then you’re misinformed.”

The two men once again traded cold glares. The other two detectives who were working the case looked on uncomfortably.

“Are you done?” asked the Sergeant, breaking the silence.

“Hopefully…” as Isaac went back to the crime scene.

The pair continued in an uneasy dialogue for the duration of Isaac’s inspection, no longer exchanging unnecessary pleasantries throughout, Isaac made it clear what data he would be wanting from the C.S.I. to go with the victim's data and left. The two detectives were noticeably quiet the entire time.

The dark figure slumped in the corvette’s car seat and let his frustration wash over him. He bit back again… Isaac didn’t have that many friends in the first place and could ill afford to lose the people who could tolerate him. Not so much from a professional point of view, but definitely for his own sanity. He cursed himself out under his breath and declared that it must be his need for rest. Isaac changed the car over under cover as he had so many times before.

Hours later Isaac could be found passed out in one of his privately set up hideouts, the TV on the news and his chair surrounded by empty beer bottles.

[Mr. Majestic]

Icon nods to Youngster, then takes to the skies, heading East, hoping to find whoever destroyed Shakerville before he leaves another city in ruins.

As Icon soaring above the city I speed through it on the surface. While running I feel a change within myself. Everything that just took place moments ago felt as if I didn’t have control of myself. Something is going on with me I can feel it. I just need to keep it in check. I also need to apologize to Icon for what I did is not how I really act. It is how I felt deep down.But still thinking that way was childish and I know it. I just can’t believe I said those things to him.

While looking for person or thing responsible for all chaos I come to a stop at the only building that it standing and barley at that. Icon then comes down from the skies.

“There is someone in the building. I can hear their heart beat. As we were approaching it was beating pretty fast but not it has slowed down. I’m just assuming who ever is in there might have seen something.”

Man as he is right in front of me I feel even worse for how I acted towards him. Should I apologize to him now or shall I wait? Then again I need to put my personal stuff to the side and finish the job at hand.

“It may be a good idea to…”

As I was about to tell Icon we should walk in the building my super hearing picks up who ever was inside is making there way out. As we stand just feet away from the building an older gentleman wearing no shirt and some crazy looking pants that if I didn’t know any better I would think it wasn’t made on this planet. From first glance it doesn’t seem like he is hurt I don’t see any scares or anything.

“Sir did you see what did this?”

He stops from walking and looks at me and Icon.

“Are either of you from the Zarrtonian race?”

So either this guy is crazy or my guess about him wearing no clothes from this planet was right.

[NiteMare Shape]

As Icon soaring above the city I speed through it on the surface. While running I feel a change within myself. Everything that just took place moments ago felt as if I didn’t have control of myself. Something is going on with me I can feel it. I just need to keep it in check. I also need to apologize to Icon for what I did is not how I really act. It is how I felt deep down.But still thinking that way was childish and I know it. I just can’t believe I said those things to him.

While looking for person or thing responsible for all chaos I come to a stop at the only building that it standing and barley at that. Icon then comes down from the skies.

“There is someone in the building. I can hear their heart beat. As we were approaching it was beating pretty fast but not it has slowed down. I’m just assuming who ever is in there might have seen something.”

Man as he is right in front of me I feel even worse for how I acted towards him. Should I apologize to him now or shall I wait? Then again I need to put my personal stuff to the side and finish the job at hand.

“It may be a good idea to…”

As I was about to tell Icon we should walk in the building my super hearing picks up who ever was inside is making there way out. As we stand just feet away from the building an older gentleman wearing no shirt and some crazy looking pants that if I didn’t know any better I would think it wasn’t made on this planet. From first glance it doesn’t seem like he is hurt I don’t see any scares or anything.

“Sir did you see what did this?”

He stops from walking and looks at me and Icon.

“Are either of you from the Zarrtonian race?”

So either this guy is crazy or my guess about him wearing no clothes from this planet was right.


Before either hero is able to utter a response, something happens to the strange man. He begins to shake and convulse, as if gripped by some unseen force...then he begins to change. The man begins to grow until he is several feet taller than he had been previously. He shrieks in pain as his muscles bulge and expand until what was once a normal looking man now stands before them as a hulking monster.

The Youngster opens his mouth to say something, but the creature grabs him by the throat and slams him face first into the ground, and in one fluid motion brings the young hero back up and hits him with a devestating right hand that sends the Youngster flying through the outer wall of the ruined building, bringing the remains down on top of him.

Icon leaves his feet, taking off toward the hulking creature, however the monster beats him to the punch, knocking him into the ground.

Icon rolls to his feet and hits the attacker with a left hand that has little effect. Instead of falling to the ground as Icon had anticipated, the creature looks to Icon, cracks his neck and returns the favor, hitting the hero with a right hand that knocks him back several paces. The attacker then grabs Icon by the cape, slamming him into the ground in the same manner that he had done to Youngster, then hurls Icon through a telephone pole, snapping it in half.

Stunned, Icon looks up to see his attacker closing in on him, ready to press the attack.

[Mr. Majestic]

Before either hero is able to utter a response, something happens to the strange man. He begins to shake and convulse, as if gripped by some unseen force...then he begins to change. The man begins to grow until he is several feet taller than he had been previously. He shrieks in pain as his muscles bulge and expand until what was once a normal looking man now stands before them as a hulking monster.

The Youngster opens his mouth to say something, but the creature grabs him by the throat and slams him face first into the ground, and in one fluid motion brings the young hero back up and hits him with a devestating right hand that sends the Youngster flying through the outer wall of the ruined building, bringing the remains down on top of him.

While under the ruble the only thing that crosses my mind is the fact that I was able to trigger my invulnerability power at the last instant before impact with the ground. It’s a good thing I mastered how to switch between my powers, but it doesn’t seem to matter to much being that this creature prove to be strong enough to bypass my ability.

I spit good amount of blood from my mouth, it has been some time since I seen my own blood. That was one hell of a blow it dished out on me. I can’t believe I had let my guard down to the point it got a chance to make the first move. That was stupid of me. How could I be so weak? That hulk of a monster is going to pay for what it did. Wait I have to calm down my anger is beginning to take control again and I can’t let that happen not for a situation like this.

Icon leaves his feet, taking off toward the hulking creature, however the monster beats him to the punch, knocking him into the ground.

Icon rolls to his feet and hits the attacker with a left hand that has little effect. Instead of falling to the ground as Icon had anticipated, the creature looks to Icon, cracks his neck and returns the favor, hitting the hero with a right hand that knocks him back several paces. The attacker then grabs Icon by the cape, slamming him into the ground in the same manner that he had done to Youngster, then hurls Icon through a telephone pole, snapping it in half.

As I try to get a grip on my anger I feel it deep down boiling about to erupt and it’s getting to the point where I feel that I can’t contain it. It feels as the more I fight with my self I lose control and I just can’t let that happen I have to make… I have to make sure that creature pays with its life.

Now that I’m done with my inter struggle I use my arms along with my legs and toss the debris off of me with hostility. I then stand up on my feet now free from being buried alive. Right away I see Icon trying to go blow to with this new adversary, he doesn’t seem to be doing so well.

Stunned, Icon looks up to see his attacker closing in on him, ready to press the attack.

I dirt off in Icon’s direction with so much speed that the wreckage behind got blown back by the force. As the monster closes in on Icon I reach him before it can lay a single blow. Once in front of the thing responsible for taking so many lives I unleash some furious punches. I send out powerful left and right blows while still running pushing the creature backward with sheer force alone as it still stands stationary receiving each and every one of the hits. I finally come to a stop as my last blow knocks the monster back against a building.

I take this time to catch my breath knowing that I delivered some serious damage to it. I look up to see just how much harm I did and to my surprise I did nothing. It stood in the same position when I started punching it.

“Impossible!” I know for a fact it should be feeling the affects of my assault.

During that whole time I did that attack it kept its focus on Icon but after I spoke it finally acknowledge me.

It lets out a slight growl “Your battle aura gives off the sense of animosity. Each one of your blows is meant to end your foes life. You almost have the aura of a Zarrtonian warrior, if I didn’t know any better I would believe you are the one I seek. But your infant strikes tell me other wise. I thought the first attack on you would have ended your life but it seems that I underestimated you. A mistake I shall not make twice.”

It then clasps both of its hands together so its fingers are intertwined tightly and form a dual fist. It swings its balled hands down from above at me as if it’s swinging an axe. I place both of my arms up to block the attack. Once its attack made contact with my defensive method the force of the blow is so strong I feel the ground beneath my feet collapse. As much as I wanted to stand I couldn’t as the force was to much for my body to have handle and my legs give out on me and I fall to the ground.

The destructive force of the attack created a 2 mile radius crated with me lying in the middle. It then grabs me by the neck lifting me so we are eye level.

“You are still alive, barely. The next blow will be your last for nothing can stand up against the devastating strength of the Destroyer!”

It then releases its grip from the throat and before my body could even begin the falling motion it hits me with overwhelming right blow that felt like it caved my chest in.

The force of the blow sent me soaring through the air. His punch packs so much power even when I finally hit the ground my body skips across the surface as if I was a rock and someone skipping me across a body of water.

Once I finally come to a stop I try to get to my feet but at first it seems like even that simple feat is impossible. After a moment my powers begin to kick in but it takes its time, being that I took in a lot of damage. Starting off I’m able to get to my knees and as I do so I begin to cough up blood. I start spiting up so much I believe it’s not going to stop but of course it does.

This Destroyer as he calls himself is lucky I can not release my true form or I would kill him now where he stands.

He then begins to make his way in my direction ready to complete his job but I won’t give him the satisfaction.

http://img401.imageshack.us/img401/2914/judgmentbyakins7075.jpg

[wiegeabo]

Then

"So, why am I here again?"

The Fatman leans back in his chair. "As long as you have that gland in your head, you're going to be working for me, Mr. Cole."

"Is that right. Who are you? I've been wondering that from the start? CIA?"

The Director smiles. "No, not exactly."

"NSA?"

He points up to the seal on the wall behind him.

"Department of..." I roll my eyes, not believing what I'm seeing. "Department of Fish & Game?!"

"The Department of Fish & Game is a very important branch of the government tasked with preserving our natural resources."

"Fish & Game paid for the gland in my head."

"No, they're just our landlords. CIA had a deficit last year. Fish & Game had a surplus. We go where the money is."

"Unbelievable." I lean back in my own chair and cross my legs nonchalantly. "So, if I decide not to work for...Fish & Game...what's to stop me from, oh, I don't know, going invisible, running off, and finding a doctor to take the damn thing out?"

"The fact that, if the gland is removed, you'll die."

I lean forward. "Say that again."

"We...don't know how to safely remove the gland."

"...say that again."

"Cole-"

"No! You say that again. Because there's no way my brother would have put this thing in my head if he couldn't get it out again."

"He did."

I blow air out between my lips. "Whew. Ok. So...you just haven't figured out his notes yet, or something? Maybe I can help...?"

"He had notes, but they were destroyed in the attack. You're brother made sure that whoever was trying to steal the Project wouldn't get the data."

"What about backups?"

"To risky. This was a beyond top secret project, after all."

"So what does that mean?"

"The only one who knew how to remove the gland was your brother."

"And he's dead."

"Exactly."

I nod as my eyes drift off. Then I pick up the chair and fling it through the air, smashing it against the wall.

"GODDAMN IT!!!"

"Calm down, Darren."

"SCREW YOU!"

The Director stands up and slams his hands on his desk. "Calm down RIGHT NOW!!!"

We glare at each other until my rage finally passes. The Director sits down and starts glancing over paper work as if nothing happened.

"That chair will come out of your paycheck."

Cheap bastard. "Whatever."

"Go see the Doctor. She wants to give you a checkup. Then come back to see me. I'm going to introduce you to your new partner."

"Fantastic." I stomp out the door and slam it behind me. First chance I get, I'm getting out of here.

***

Now

I really need to get out of here.

"This is so boring." I put down the binoculars and rub my eyes in frustration.

"No one said that government work was supposed to be exciting, buddy boy."

"What about all the movies that say exactly that."

"Just movies, my friend. Hollywood has no idea what makes a good agent, or what intelligence is really like."

"Boring?"

"Hard work. That's what this country was built on. A lot of dedicated, patriotic people doing a lot of hard work. Just like me."

"...Forget to take your lithium today."

"No, why?"

I shake my head. "No reason. Maybe they need to up your dose, is all..."

"What was that?"

"Hmm, what?"

"What?"

"What?"

"...What?"

I shake my head again and look through the binoculars at the building. But a second later, I toss them on the dashboard and rub my eyes.

"Hey, careful with those. They're expensive. Took three months to requisition these from the Fat Man."

"Yeah, sorry. My head's just killing me."

"Headache's are getting worse."

"Yeah."

"Maybe it's a tumor."

"It's not a-! Funny thing to say to a guy with an extra gland in his head."

Hobbes reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a bottle of aspirin. He tosses it to me, and I grab it gratefully. I toss back a few dry, giving them a quick chew so they'll work faster.

"First mission and you're already falling apart."

"Ha ha. I thought this guy was supposed to be gone by now."

"That's his routine. Leaves his apartment and goes out to eat at 5:15 every night."

"It's five after six."

"Exactly."

I look at him confused. "Exactly what? What does that mean?"

"Means something has changed his routine. Means something is going down."

I suddenly sit up and look out the van's window. "You mean...you mean he's going to meet his buyer now?"

"Sure feels that way. Speak of the devil." The man we're looking for finally walks out of the hotel. As always, he's dressed sharply, wearing sunglasses even though it's getting dark.

"He doesn't look like a terrorist."

"What's a terrorist supposed to look like?"

"I don't know, I've never done business with one."

"Well, they look just like that. Just like everybody else."

"And we're sure this guy is who we want?"

"Oh yeah. We're going to use him to get the big dog. Catch us a high profile terrorist weapons supplier, and put The Agency on the map."

"The secret agency we don't want anyone to know about."

"That's the one."

I laugh, wondering how the hell I got stuck with these people. Oh yeah, a life sentence. Nietzsche said what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Maybe I should run for governor of California.

"Ok, Cole. Time to do your thing."

"My thing."

"Go see-through, get in his place, and find us the evidence we need."

"No problem." I get out of the car.

"Cole!"

"Yeah?"

"Ten minutes. Then I come up to get you."

"Ten minutes. What could go wrong?"

I walk up to the front of the apartment building, lowering my sunglasses to peak around and see if anyone is looking at me. Satisfied, I smash my hand against the buzzers.

"Yeah?" about ten voices say.

"Pizza."

I wait a second, and then someone buzzes me in through the door. Smiling, I walk inside and put my glasses inside my jacket. I take the stairs up a floor and walk down the hallway like I belong there. I pass a couple of people along the way, making sure not to smile or make eye contact. That would look suspicous.

Turning the corner, I walk down a couple of doors until I find the number I'm looking for. Whistling softly to myself, I reach into my jacket and pull out my trusty kit. Looking both ways down the hall, I slide my tools in and start picking the locks.

And that's when I hear the footsteps.

Work the lock, don't look down the hall. Work the lock, don't look down the hall. Work the lock.-

I look down the hall.

Work the damn lock!

CLICK

Smiling to myself, I quickly open the door and slip inside, closing it silently behind me. I relock the door and breath a sigh of relief. Until I hear a key slide into the lock.

"Oh crap." I concentrate, but nothing happens. The deadbolt turns.

"Oh crap!" I jump into the bedroom just as the door opens. I hear two voices in the main room as the door closes behind them.

"You better have the device."

"I do. Follow me." The footsteps approach the bedroom.

Oh crap!!!

I concentrate again, and this time I feel the familiar cold warmth over my skin. The two men step into the room, completely oblivious to my presence.

"It's here in the closet." I'm forced to step into the bathroom to avoid our terrorist from bumping into me. I still can't believe he's here. But I know that Hawkes won't be far behind. Once he saw our guy walk back inside, he had to know something was up.

I watch from the other side of the bathroom door as the terrorist pulls a case out of the top of the closet, and sets it on the bed. His contact steps up next to him as he opens it. I stretch my neck to try and see what's in the case...

And the back of my head explodes in pain.

"AAAHHHHGGHH!!!" I fall back, accidentally slamming the door closed. I fall to the floor, clutching the back of my head as if a hot poker was being pounded into my skull.

And as quickly as it started, the pain is gone. Breathing heavily, I use the sink to pull myself up. And then I make the mistake of glancing in the mirror.


http://i56.tinypic.com/2427ts0.jpg

"Oh...crap..."

[NiteMare Shape]

While under the ruble the only thing that crosses my mind is the fact that I was able to trigger my invulnerability power at the last instant before impact with the ground. It’s a good thing I mastered how to switch between my powers, but it doesn’t seem to matter to much being that this creature prove to be strong enough to bypass my ability.

I spit good amount of blood from my mouth, it has been some time since I seen my own blood. That was one hell of a blow it dished out on me. I can’t believe I had let my guard down to the point it got a chance to make the first move. That was stupid of me. How could I be so weak? That hulk of a monster is going to pay for what it did. Wait I have to calm down my anger is beginning to take control again and I can’t let that happen not for a situation like this.



As I try to get a grip on my anger I feel it deep down boiling about to erupt and it’s getting to the point where I feel that I can’t contain it. It feels as the more I fight with my self I lose control and I just can’t let that happen I have to make… I have to make sure that creature pays with its life.

Now that I’m done with my inter struggle I use my arms along with my legs and toss the debris off of me with hostility. I then stand up on my feet now free from being buried alive. Right away I see Icon trying to go blow to with this new adversary, he doesn’t seem to be doing so well.



I dirt off in Icon’s direction with so much speed that the wreckage behind got blown back by the force. As the monster closes in on Icon I reach him before it can lay a single blow. Once in front of the thing responsible for taking so many lives I unleash some furious punches. I send out powerful left and right blows while still running pushing the creature backward with sheer force alone as it still stands stationary receiving each and every one of the hits. I finally come to a stop as my last blow knocks the monster back against a building.

I take this time to catch my breath knowing that I delivered some serious damage to it. I look up to see just how much harm I did and to my surprise I did nothing. It stood in the same position when I started punching it.

“Impossible!” I know for a fact it should be feeling the affects of my assault.

During that whole time I did that attack it kept its focus on Icon but after I spoke it finally acknowledge me.

It lets out a slight growl “Your battle aura gives off the sense of animosity. Each one of your blows is meant to end your foes life. You almost have the aura of a Zarrtonian warrior, if I didn’t know any better I would believe you are the one I seek. But your infant strikes tell me other wise. I thought the first attack on you would have ended your life but it seems that I underestimated you. A mistake I shall not make twice.”

It then clasps both of its hands together so its fingers are intertwined tightly and form a dual fist. It swings its balled hands down from above at me as if it’s swinging an axe. I place both of my arms up to block the attack. Once its attack made contact with my defensive method the force of the blow is so strong I feel the ground beneath my feet collapse. As much as I wanted to stand I couldn’t as the force was to much for my body to have handle and my legs give out on me and I fall to the ground.

The destructive force of the attack created a 2 mile radius crated with me lying in the middle. It then grabs me by the neck lifting me so we are eye level.

“You are still alive, barely. The next blow will be your last for nothing can stand up against the devastating strength of the Destroyer!”

It then releases its grip from the throat and before my body could even begin the falling motion it hits me with overwhelming right blow that felt like it caved my chest in.

The force of the blow sent me soaring through the air. His punch packs so much power even when I finally hit the ground my body skips across the surface as if I was a rock and someone skipping me across a body of water.

Once I finally come to a stop I try to get to my feet but at first it seems like even that simple feat is impossible. After a moment my powers begin to kick in but it takes its time, being that I took in a lot of damage. Starting off I’m able to get to my knees and as I do so I begin to cough up blood. I start spiting up so much I believe it’s not going to stop but of course it does.

This Destroyer as he calls himself is lucky I can not release my true form or I would kill him now where he stands.

He then begins to make his way in my direction ready to complete his job but I won’t give him the satisfaction.

http://img401.imageshack.us/img401/2914/judgmentbyakins7075.jpg



Icon picks himself up off the ground, still somewhat stunned by the attack by the behemoth. He looks around for a moment before he sees the attacker, "Destroyer" he heard it call itself, closing in on the prone body of The Youngster.

Destroyer grabs The Youngster and picks him up, one handed by the neck. He rears his other fist back, about to deliver a devestating blow to the young hero.

Icon hurls himself at the Destroyer, slamming into the monster with the force of a freight train. The force of the impact causes the Destroyer to drop the Youngster, sending him several yards away. The Destroyer is knocked off his feet, and the look of surprise on his face tells Icon that whoever Destroyer is, he isn't used to coming up against beings that are capable of fighting back.

"You didn't think it was going to be that easy, did you?"

“Yes." Destroyer says as he gets to his feet, rushing toward Icon.

[Hound55]

Private Residence - Undisclosed Location

Isaac wakes sharply in the mid-morning, bare feet pace across carpet as he immediately makes for the bathroom. In the mirror he can see that his chin is covered in a moderate dark fuzz... and after inspection he notes that his tongue is too, he winces with displeasure as the bitter taste of last night's ale lingers. A swig of Listerine and some precise strokes with a toothbrush and razor rectifies both problems. Quick simple solution.

As it always is the complexity of the solution defines the complexity of the problem. Whether that is right or not, since sometimes the solution is far simpler than we realise. Sometimes all it takes is a different perspective and all of the complexity behind the solution is of our own making...

Editorial on your Morning News - Intermission One-Shot

Isaac left the en suite bathroom and pulled a business suit from his wardrobe and lay it across his untouched bed, further evidence of his sleeping in the chair again. Isaac had begun to find new routine in his home-away-from-home, every morning he'd get up in one of these smallish (or one of two larger) properties, put on office attire and go out to a central newsagent to pick up his papers. Most would consider the dress unnecessary, but Isaac felt it best allowed him to keep his ties to his other life. He remained somewhat fearful of the prospect of one day going to put on a suit and tie and the strangeness of it all enveloping him and showing him for what he feared he really was - incompetent and unqualified to step into the world his father laid out for him. The life he needed to have to retain some shred of normalcy.

Isaac left for the papers, and since his selected vendor was in the heart of the city it took about an hour before the car once again crawled up the driveway containing Isaac and the news times four.

He came in through the garage and lay his keys and the newspapers on the kitchen table and began to make his own breakfast. Oil in the pan followed by eggs and bacon. Isaac held the handle of the pan the entire time, using a spatula to turn them. Toast popped in the corner of the kitchen and he dumped the lot onto a plate, his hands and forearms speckled with signs of oil burns. He carries the plate over to the kitchen table and settles down with the papers.

The job of keeping abreast of news in both his homes was considerably easier in Cooktown than it was in the Haven. The small size of his home town meant that purchase of the Cooktown Wire would have to be specially subscribed to when in the much larger Lost Haven, whilst copies of the Lost Haven Globe could be purchased without need for special order in some of the larger newsagents. Of course he could always check their online sites… but he spurned this option; “The small articles that you find deeper in the newspapers seldom get uploaded. Most of the time, they’re the real points of interest in our line of work… not easily digestible, soundbite-style news which tended to make the front page headlines..” Besides, holding the paper, breathing the newsprint and having it as a tangible presence appealed to him.

Isaac picked up the top paper from the stack, the Grenville Tribune, and put it to the side for later. Grenville, as a larger central Metropolis, was also of some interest to Isaac, but the main reasons behind getting the Tribune was for its business section, which was extremely detailed, and to gain some outside perspective on the happenings in Cooktown itself. He was considerably more interested in the Times, the main National paper in Terraria, the Cooktown Wire and the Lost Haven Globe.


Bi-monthly Figures in – Crime At All-time Low: Premier says ‘Trust in me’
Darryl Grace and Richard Whitehead
Latest Government statistics have revealed record lows in key crime statistics such as violent crime and organised crime. Premier Keane, making a public statement yesterday, attributed it to increased police presence over the past 12 months as was one of his strongest election policies in the previous election 3 years ago.
“Once again we see the inimitable influence of a solid police presence. We previously promised to get more police officers out on the streets to chisel away at what has been a veritable crime epidemic, and over the past 10 years we’ve seen crime generally whittled down to only 30% of what it was.” Keane, 34, was quoted as saying. “If Cooktown hopes to keep its foot down on crime, the choice should be clear come election time.” Referring to the impending election for premier but refusing to speculate when the date would be set.
Continued page 5


“Huh, fatheaded blowhard…” Isaac thought to himself, flicking through to page 5.


Crime At All-time Low: Premier says ‘Trust in me’
Darryl Grace and Richard Whitehead
Continued from page 1

The Premier received questions from many members of the press, including the Wire’s own Richard Whitehead, many of which were down a tangent very familiar to Premier Keane; that of Cooktown’s own self-proclaimed Vigilante. “The aim is to have Cooktown’s Vigilante predicament solved in the following term. He’s a danger to himself and the general public with his negligent antics. But despite our target, this administration already seems to be having an effect on the problem. Sightings have been down in recent months and from what I have heard there have been none at all in the past week. Now while I hate to speculate, I will suggest that in all likelihood the Vigilante is either laying low like all of the other criminals due to the increased police presence or even better, he’s found himself to be obsolete due to the great efficiency of the Cooktown police department.” ...


Isaac stopped reading. He’d read enough and had just generally had enough of Keane altogether. He was well aware of the “increase of police officers” through Cooktown… They’d recruited more and transferred many from overseas police agencies as well with lucrative offers… problem was he’d simultaneously been laying off regular office employees and more of these “police officers” were required to spend their days in the station filing mountains of paperwork. In short, the statistics were being fudged at their expense. Total police officer numbers were high but the “police presence” was as low as ever and completely inefficient because they were doing office work that could have been more cheaply handled by public servants. Typical politician.

Isaac continued to flick through the Wire.


Two stabbed in Light Bay
A pair of teenagers are in hospital after being found in critical condition due to multiple stab wounds and severe bruising under the pier at Light Bay. Police have not ruled out local gangs and are still investigating locals after questioning small businesses in the neighbourhood. Colin W, 15, and Heather F, 16, are now in steady condition at Seaview Medical Centre. Their surnames are being withheld for their own protection. If you know anything about this incident, please contact CrimeWatchers on 22 500, any information appreciated and may result in small monetary reward if it results in a conviction.


This isn’t any of the big 3… Regionals are stepping up. They’ve recognised the power vacuum. And the big three are going to want to make a point of making their presence known… Isaac winced with displeasure. This one article wasn’t enough to support these thoughts, but this article had been one of many down a similar line lately. Isaac couldn’t afford to go just yet though; he was finally making a positive impact publically on the Haven’s crime rate. Sure, it wasn’t single handed, but he had more freedom to operate in many ways and he wanted to show just what he was capable of accomplishing when he had complete compliance from police by finding this serial killer and putting a stop to his spree.

Isaac flicked through a few more of the smaller articles in the Wire before picking up the Times. He turned the front page and after reading a headline on page 3 he quickly put down the Times and tried his luck with the Lost Haven Globe.

“Hatch Impressed by Keane’s Crime Model, Plans to Test Viability in Grenville” was NOT what he was in the mood to be reading about…

Promises of “Youngster, Archangel BIG News Within!” beckoned from a corner of the front page, directing any interested party to a special celebrity insert. This was one thing Isaac had trouble with, but fortunately other than a single incident involving a public speech in a school hall he hadn’t had to bother too much with himself. He had trouble understanding the half-Government Police force/half-celebrity status that had come with the creation of the Guardians. He considered himself a headbanger, but hardly a rockstar…

Flicking through the bulk of the paper to get to the inserts he went too far and had to flick back, sliding the Guardians/Entertainment section out and reading it from back to front, flicking past most of the Entertainment section with speed but slowing down as he got closer to the more relevant Guardians section. "How in the hell did it come to this in the first place?" He thought to himself. Flicking back through he came to a full page spread.

Youngster doesn't recognise Icon

"Hahaha... stupid tabloid drivel..." Then after a few seconds he thought about it... Hmm, kids still young and raw... He's not gonna take this thing seriously is he? Isaac made a mental note of it and kept flipping through.

Archangel Leaves The Guardians

Mind blown.

Isaac stares off beyond the paper for a few seconds before his eyes fall back upon the paper. He moves his thumb so he can read from the edge of the page. Then pausing for a second he looks at his thumb and then his entire hand.

It hasn't been that long since he last saw Michael and already his hands are becoming gnarled again as if his fists are made of twisted old wood. He thinks back to before the invasion, back to the days when his mitts could barely hold a pencil properly and his writing with his normal hand looked practically infantile. Isaac rose from his chair and left the room to check something. He opened his "other" fridge. His stocks were almost full with a healthy supply of healthful crimson in thick plastic bags. A single container stood out though; the green glass bottle in stark contrast with the clear plastic bags. He must have put it in the wrong fridge one night when he'd emptied too many green glass bottles like this one.

Not wanting to make the trek to the kitchen fridge he decided to fix his problem on the spot. His churning stomach called out for it but Isaac couldn't hear it. It didn't matter. Twisting the lid off with his bare hand and downing half of the bottle with the one hit, it was satisfied regardless.

If Michael had to go at least Isaac was ready. His other properties were all similarly stocked. The Not-an-Angel would be greatly missed, but at least the symbol had come back to the group... And as important as Michael was, Isaac believed him to be less vital than the representation of the people's trust.

So why did it bother him so much?

[NiteMare Shape]

Marcus Ryder, the man who other members of STRIKE have taken to calling "Anderson's Heel" due to his tendancy of stepping down upon the enemies of the Director; both Meta and human...and grinding them to dust, reviews the dossier file which contains the briefing for tonight's mission.

Stephen Stone, a small time hood with no real direction in his life. He doesn't pose much of a threat to society as a whole. However his sole ambition in life seems to be to be a nuisance to society, using his telepathic abilities to con people out of their possessions. Nothing as cruel as swindling people out of their life savings, but small sums of money and prized possessions are all fair game.

Stone is not the type of criminal that would normally even register as a blip on STRIKE's radar, however times have changed. Director Anderson has taken a hardline approach to metas, and any meta doing things outside of the law, no matter how minor, now draws their attention.

If Ryder had it his way, he would take Stone out in the alley and put a bullet in his head. However, Stone possesses certain talents that might be usefull to STRIKE.

So a simple snatch and dash.

The black Escalade pulls up to the corner near Stone's apartment building; and ryder gets out along with two other agents, Santana and Taylor, and the three of them head to the front entrance of Stone's building.

The three agents take the back stairwell up five flights of stairs, hoping to avoid having too many people see them as they approach their target. Finally, they reach the fith floor and walk down the corridor to Stone's apartment, number 508. When they arrive in front of their target's door, Ryder bangs on the door, in much the same manner that a police officer would while engaging in a bust.

It takes a few moments, but finally the door opens. Standing in front of the three agents is not your stereotypical menace to society. Instead appearing from behind the door is a rather unassuming young man, several pounds underweight with shaggy brown hair and a five o'clock shadow.

"Yeah? Whattayawant?"

"Stephen Stone?"

"Yeah?" The young man says, suddenly nervous.

Ryder doesn't give him the chance to run. Instead he produces a small syringe and plunges it into Stone's jugular. Stone immediately collapses to the ground, and the three agents quickly step inside the apartment closing the door behind them, to prevent any passers by from seeing what is happening.

Once inside the apartment, Ryder gets on his secure cell phone and dials the direct number to Anderson's office phone.

"Alex, we have the package. Delivery in 25."





Several days later....

Stephen Stone does not know where he is, or how long he's been there. All he knows is that he's cold, scared, and in a lot of pain. Everything from the moment he was taken from his apartment is a blur, he remembers being loaded into the back of a van and being beaten repeatedly. They kept asking him questions that he didn't know the answer to, and they beat him more for it. He doesn't even remember what the questions were now...he just knows that he is not looking forward to the men coming back to ask again.

When he first arrived to wherever it is that he is now, he was blindfolded and gagged. Then someone came in and measured him from head to toe, and front to back. He didn't understand what was happening until the others came in...Several men came into the room in which he was being held and began building a customized "coffin cell" around him. This cell was build around him, giving him only about an inch of clearance between the "cell's" ceiling, and his head, as well as an inch on either side of him...and he was forced to stand in this hellish contraption ever since.

Suddenly, he hears a door open and several heavy footsteps come toward him, and his heart nearly seizes when the footsteps stop in front of his cell, and he can hear muffled voices outside.

"This is the one Director Anderson."

"Very good, Cooke, open the head plate."

With that, the small window that slides over the face of the "coffin cell" opens, and Stone is blinded by a bright white light shone directly into his face.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Stone. I understand that you've been rather uncooperative with our investigators. So I am going to give you one more chance..."

"I dunno nuthin'! Let me go, I really don't know what you want!"

"Pity. Cooke, take Mr. Stone to the Professor, perhaps we can still make use of Mr. Stone's...abilities."

Cooke nods and slides the head plate closed. He motions for the guards to help him, and they dome over and lift Stone's cell, taking him out of the holding area toward the laboratory of "The Professor," and as they move out of sight, the only thing that can be heard are Stone's screams as he pleads for mercy.

[Mr. Majestic]

Icon picks himself up off the ground, still somewhat stunned by the attack by the behemoth. He looks around for a moment before he sees the attacker, "Destroyer" he heard it call itself, closing in on the prone body of The Youngster.

Destroyer grabs The Youngster and picks him up, one handed by the neck. He rears his other fist back, about to deliver a devestating blow to the young hero.

Icon hurls himself at the Destroyer, slamming into the monster with the force of a freight train. The force of the impact causes the Destroyer to drop the Youngster, sending him several yards away. The Destroyer is knocked off his feet, and the look of surprise on his face tells Icon that whoever Destroyer is, he isn't used to coming up against beings that are capable of fighting back.

"You didn't think it was going to be that easy, did you?"

“Yes." Destroyer says as he gets to his feet, rushing toward Icon.



While on the ground I take my time getting myself together. I turn on my back and look at the sun as it shines down on me. It’s a shame I’m not like Superman who gets his powers from the sun lord knows that would be nice right about now.

I turn my head to the right and see Destroyer and Icon engaged in battle. Look at him fighting as if he is Earth’s only hero. I just don’t get it how they can embrace him? I was here for all of them when he abandoned them all and they treated me as if I was not worthy of being mentioned in the same sentence as him. I must prove to them I can be their hero. I must prove I can be a better hero than him. I have to get up and continue fighting.

I turn slowly on my stomach and I use every bit of strength I have to just get on all fours.“Come one body we can do this, I know you have a little more left in you we can do this.” As I try to give my self confidence it begins to work as I struggle to my feet. While standing straight up I take give my self a breather because I know if I get hit by one punch I will be done for sure.

I ball my fist and as I do so I can feel the blood on my palm running down my hand. I look down and see my hands are pretty beat up from having impact with that titan of a monster. Doesn’t matter though even if he my punches doesn’t effect him I won’t give up. I then dirt off to Icon’s side.

“We are going to have to attack him as a team.” I tell Icon as I get by his side as him and Destroyer just broke up from a fist encounter.

[NiteMare Shape]

While on the ground I take my time getting myself together. I turn on my back and look at the sun as it shines down on me. It’s a shame I’m not like Superman who gets his powers from the sun lord knows that would be nice right about now.

I turn my head to the right and see Destroyer and Icon engaged in battle. Look at him fighting as if he is Earth’s only hero. I just don’t get it how they can embrace him? I was here for all of them when he abandoned them all and they treated me as if I was not worthy of being mentioned in the same sentence as him. I must prove to them I can be their hero. I must prove I can be a better hero than him. I have to get up and continue fighting.

I turn slowly on my stomach and I use every bit of strength I have to just get on all fours.“Come one body we can do this, I know you have a little more left in you we can do this.” As I try to give my self confidence it begins to work as I struggle to my feet. While standing straight up I take give my self a breather because I know if I get hit by one punch I will be done for sure.

I ball my fist and as I do so I can feel the blood on my palm running down my hand. I look down and see my hands are pretty beat up from having impact with that titan of a monster. Doesn’t matter though even if he my punches doesn’t effect him I won’t give up. I then dirt off to Icon’s side.

“We are going to have to attack him as a team.” I tell Icon as I get by his side as him and Destroyer just broke up from a fist encounter.

"Sounds like a plan to me, let's take him down."

[NiteMare Shape]

He has been watching his target for several weeks, following him as he does the little things...goes to the store, to the gym...taking his girl out on a night on the town. In order to be a successful hunter, one has to know his prey....and he is not only a successful hunter, he is the best.

He has been tasked with hunting the man known as Shadow Walker, to take him down and end his harrassment of a very well paying customer...and That man, Midas is beginning to grow weary of all the waiting. However, as he explained to his employer...he has his routines in place for a reason.

Shadow Walker has caused Midas a great deal of pain over the past year...pain that Midas wants redistributed to his tormentor. Midas did not hire him just to kill Shadow Walker, he hired him to utterly destroy him.

To break him.

And that is what he plans to do. He will bring Shadow Walker to the breaking point, and when he looks his prey in the eyes, Shadow Walker will beg for death...and he will be obliged.

His name is Arion, the greatest assassin that ever lived...and soon, it will be time for him to strike.

[NiteMare Shape]

While on the ground I take my time getting myself together. I turn on my back and look at the sun as it shines down on me. It’s a shame I’m not like Superman who gets his powers from the sun lord knows that would be nice right about now.

I turn my head to the right and see Destroyer and Icon engaged in battle. Look at him fighting as if he is Earth’s only hero. I just don’t get it how they can embrace him? I was here for all of them when he abandoned them all and they treated me as if I was not worthy of being mentioned in the same sentence as him. I must prove to them I can be their hero. I must prove I can be a better hero than him. I have to get up and continue fighting.

I turn slowly on my stomach and I use every bit of strength I have to just get on all fours.“Come one body we can do this, I know you have a little more left in you we can do this.” As I try to give my self confidence it begins to work as I struggle to my feet. While standing straight up I take give my self a breather because I know if I get hit by one punch I will be done for sure.

I ball my fist and as I do so I can feel the blood on my palm running down my hand. I look down and see my hands are pretty beat up from having impact with that titan of a monster. Doesn’t matter though even if he my punches doesn’t effect him I won’t give up. I then dirt off to Icon’s side.

“We are going to have to attack him as a team.” I tell Icon as I get by his side as him and Destroyer just broke up from a fist encounter.

"Sounds like a plan to me, let's take him down."


Icon and the Youngster move in on the Destroyer, Youngster using his speed to run circles around their foe, hitting him with a flurry of punches and kicks as he circles the marauder at nearly the speed of light.

As Youngster presses his attack, Icon rears back and throws several balls of concentrated kinetic energy from his fists which in concert with the Youngster's attack, staggers Destroyer. Icon moves in to press his attack, however, as Youngster continues to circle the titan, it reaches out and grabs the young hero by the arm and hurls him directly into Icon.

Icon and Youngster find themselves tangled together in a heap on the ground as the Destroyer moves in on them. The creature is on them before they are able to get to their feet. He grabs the Youngster by the throat and lifts him into the air, tossing him aside.

Icon gets to his feet, but Destroyer meets him with a thunderous right hand that sends Icon reeling back, then follows up with another...and another. Destroyer continues pounding on Icon, driving the hero down to one knee. Destroyer raises his fist high into the air, preparing to deliver a killing stroke. He lets out a primal roar and drives his fist down.

However, Icon catches the fist in his hand. He squeezes as he rises to his feet and looks Destroyer straight in the eyes.

"My turn." Icon says as he drives a fist into Destroyer's jaw, spraying blood and shattered teeth from the titan's mouth.

[NiteMare Shape]

Alexander Anderson stands before the massive picture window behind his desk, staring out over the city of Lost Haven. Since relocating the headquarters of S.T.R.I.K.E. from Washington, the organization has made much progress in it's fight against the threat posed by the superhuman community.

His desk buzzer goes off, indicating that he has a visitor. He moves away from the window, over to his desk and speaks into the intercom.

"Yes, Ms. Powers?"

"Professor Jacobs is here to see you, Director." responds the voice of Anderson's lovely assistant.

"Very well, send him in."

The large oak doors to his office open, and in walks the frail form of Professor Dale Jacobs, the leading authority on robotics and cybernetic enhancement in the entire world, and the man responsible for much of S.T.R.I.K.E.'s advanced weaponry.

"You have news for me, Professor?"

"Indeed Director Anderson. The first line of the new cybernetic Shocktroopers have been completed and have passed preliminary combat testing in our facility. We are also beginning production on the unmanned Hunter/Killer drones that you inquired about. The first wave of those should be ready within the week."

A smile crosses Anderson's face, if what the good professor is saying is true, soon S.T.R.I.K.E. will have an army of highly advanced and completely obedient soldiers capable of eliminating the threat posed by the metahumans of the world.

"Very good, Professor. I trust you can show yourself out." he says, to which Professor Jacobs merely nods and takes his leave of the Director.

Anderson goes back over to his desk, this time sitting in the plush leather chair and watching the professor make his way away from the administrative offices. Once Professor Jacobs is gone, and there are no other perople around who may over hear something that they ought not over hear, he presses the intercom switch on his desk, calling again to Ms Powers.

"Ms Powers, please get in touch with Ryder, I need to speak to him immediately."

"Right away Director. Is there a message you would like me to give him?"

"Yes, tell him that we are almost ready to initiate Operation Reckoning."

[wiegeabo]

I walk up to the front of the apartment building, lowering my sunglasses to peak around and see if anyone is looking at me. Satisfied, I smash my hand against the buzzers.

"Yeah?" about ten voices say.

"Pizza."

I wait a second, and then someone buzzes me in through the door. Smiling, I walk inside and put my glasses inside my jacket. I take the stairs up a floor and walk down the hallway like I belong there. I pass a couple of people along the way, making sure not to smile or make eye contact. That would look suspicous.

Turning the corner, I walk down a couple of doors until I find the number I'm looking for. Whistling softly to myself, I reach into my jacket and pull out my trusty kit. Looking both ways down the hall, I slide my tools in and start picking the locks.

And that's when I hear the footsteps.

Work the lock, don't look down the hall. Work the lock, don't look down the hall. Work the lock.-

I look down the hall.

Work the damn lock!

CLICK

Smiling to myself, I quickly open the door and slip inside, closing it silently behind me. I relock the door and breath a sigh of relief. Until I hear a key slide into the lock.

"Oh crap." I concentrate, but nothing happens. The deadbolt turns.

"Oh crap!" I jump into the bedroom just as the door opens. I hear two voices in the main room as the door closes behind them.

"You better have the device."

"I do. Follow me." The footsteps approach the bedroom.

Oh crap!!!

I concentrate again, and this time I feel the familiar cold warmth over my skin. The two men step into the room, completely oblivious to my presence.

"It's here in the closet." I'm forced to step into the bathroom to avoid our terrorist from bumping into me. I still can't believe he's here. But I know that Hawkes won't be far behind. Once he saw our guy walk back inside, he had to know something was up.

I watch from the other side of the bathroom door as the terrorist pulls a case out of the top of the closet, and sets it on the bed. His contact steps up next to him as he opens it. I stretch my neck to try and see what's in the case...

And the back of my head explodes in pain.

"AAAHHHHGGHH!!!" I fall back, accidentally slamming the door closed. I fall to the floor, clutching the back of my head as if a hot poker was being pounded into my skull.

And as quickly as it started, the pain is gone. Breathing heavily, I use the sink to pull myself up. And then I make the mistake of glancing in the mirror.


http://i56.tinypic.com/2427ts0.jpg

"Oh...crap..."


The bathroom door explodes inwards as the terrorist Hawkes and I were tracking kicks it in.

"WHO THE **** ARE YOU?! WHAT THE **** ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?!"

"What's going on?" his associate demands, sticking his head into the bathroom. "Is this a setup?!"

"No, it's not a damned setup! I don't know who this bastard is. But I'm about to find out. Stand up. Slowly."

Staring right down the barrel of the his gun, I do what he says. But as I do it, I realize something. I'm not afraid. Not one bit. In fact...I feel pretty damn good. Really damn good. This is...this is one hell of a rush!

I stare the terrorist right in the eyes. "I'm not going to tell you anything."

The anger in his face is almost delicious. "I'll blow your damned head off if you don't tell me who you are and who you're working for."

I grin and lean forward as if about to tell some big secret. "No."

I'm pretty sure the guy almost pulled the trigger right there. And I've never felt so alive. "I'm not playing around. Talk, or your brains end up on the wall.

I take a step forward, and lean in, putting my forehead right against the barrel of his gun. "Go ahead."

"W-what?"

"You may not believe me, but you'd be doing me a favor."

He stares right into my eyes. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Shoot him!" the other man shouts.

That's when I jump. Knocking the terrorists arm to the side, I plow my forehead into his face. He staggers out of the bathroom, tripping over the bed. I rush out, noticing his friend reaching into his jacket pocket. Before he gets the chance to pull out whatever he's going for, I dive into him, slamming him against the wall.

"Two. On. One. Isn't. Fair!" With each word I slam his head into the wall. By the time I'm done, he slides down into a heap, leaving a hole in the wall.

I hear a click and turn around to face the bad guy. "You're crazy."

I tilt my head, looking into the distance for a second as realization hits. "You know what...?" I stare at him again. "I think you're right. It's very liberating."

"**** you."

He pulls the trigger, and I take the bullet in my shoulder. I just look at the bleeding wound. "It itches."

I rush the terrorist before he can get take aim. The shot misses completely as I grab his wrist, breaking it in my grip. Twisting, I drive my elbow into his nose and take the gun from him.

That's when I hear the door in the other room crash open. I quickly grab the terrorist, wrapping my arm around the neck, and hold him as a hostage as Hawkes turns the corner, gun trained on him, then me, then him, then back again.

"What the hell is this?"

"I have no idea. But it's great!" I say with a huge smile.

"What's up with your eyes, man?"

"He's crazy!"

"Shut up!" Hawkes' gun aims at the terrorist again, then back to me. "Let him go. We got him."

"Hmmm, ummm, hmmm, ummm, how about....no." I point my gun at Hawkes.

"What are you doing Cole," he says very slowly.

I shrug. "Having fun? Oh, right. You don't know what fun is. Silly me." Instead of pointing it at Hawkes, I decide to press the gun against the side of the terrorist's head.

"Shoot him!"

"SHUT UP!" we both say.

"Cole, as much as I'd like to put this scum down, we need him. He's got a lot of contacts."

I rock my head side to side. "Yeah...but he's a bad guy. And turning him is just so mundane. So I think I'm going to put him out of our misery."

"You pull that trigger and so do I."

I look at Hawkes intently. "Really? Wow. Well, why not just cut out the middle man?" I press the barrel of the gun against the side of my own head.

"Cole...think about this. What are you doing?"

"He's crazy. Kill him!"

Hawkes shoots the terrorist in the leg, and he falls to the floor in pain.

"Oh. Nice move." I quickly point my gun at Hawkes again.

"I will shoot you."

"Kinda figured that."

"Or..."

"Or?"

"We can put our guns down and settle this like men."

"Huh...I like that. On three?"

"Fine. One-"

"Wait, wait, wait. On three, or three then down?"

"...on three."

"Yeah, ok. Cool. One?" We stop aiming the guns at each other, holding the up instead.

"Two." We bring the guns down, holding them just off the table in his case, the bed in mine."

"Three." Hawkes puts his gun down. I quickly bring mine up and fire. But Hawkes hits the ground, reaches into his jacket, and hits me with a taser almost faster than I can see.

My body shakes and convulses, and I drop my gun, falling to my knees. When Hawkes stops frying me, I rock side to side in a daze.

"You cheated."

The world goes dark...

[sabetoonth]

“Teacher? For what?” Elijah asked this strange old man.

“Your future Elijah.” He said before standing up. Elijah saw the world blur for a moment as they where again surrounded by people, nurses. Then there was only him. Elijah looked around bewildered.

“Weird old man.” He murmured laying his head on the pillow before fading back to sleep.
Elijah walked out the doors, they’d call him when his blood work came back, nothing wrong with him that they didn’t already check and get results from. He almost caught a cab but someone stole it last minute by diving in.

“****er.” Eli said as the door closed. He walked down the street towards his apartment building, which was still a considerable walk from the hospital.

“Hello Elijah.” It was the old man again.

“What do you want?” he said gruffly.

“I want to show you something.” He said leaning against the wall of the building black hook cane with a silver head in hand. “How much do you know about your father?”

“Who are you, really?” Elijah said, this guy asks about his dad? He never knew jack **** about his dad, and to be honest he didn’t want to.

“Elijah, if you want answers, to everything you’ve wondered about yourself, follow me.” He sounded sincere, like he actually gave a damn, did he? Following him couldn’t hurt, could it? Elijah stood there thinking for what seemed like an eon.

“OK, where to?” the old man’s lips curled into a half smile. "But if this doesnt do anything for me I'm gone."



And so they started walking, Elijah looking to this stranger as he explained things very vaguely.

“Your father, was-is, an important part of everything Elijah.” The old man didn’t look at him, glancing off in every other direction.
“You see Elijah you are much more then a janitor. I knew him, before the mess that lead into the falling out between him and his family.”

“Where are we going.” Elijah asked as he listened to the story.

“I have…an abode here in Manhattan. Where was I?” He asked. Before Elijah could answer, “Oh yes, your father fell out with most of his family, very large family, some however sided with him and were given the same treatment, abandonment.” The Old man stopped at the cross walk. “They headed south afterward, far south. In fact your father is more like a twin to who I am speaking of now. A twin born of his own flesh, of his own power.”

“What are you talking about, none of this makes sense its so cryptic.” Elijah really wasn’t understanding what the hell this old man was saying. And then he stopped, the old man did.

“Here we are.” He said with a bit of cheer on his face. The building looked like it had been abandoned, or was were death went to take his coffee breaks. Elijah followed the old man inside, the doors were locked, Elijah’s new “teacher” revealed keys probably as old as their owner.

“You live here?”

“In my spare time.”

“Spare time?” The stranger didn’t say a word as he continued into the black building. They began going down, towards the basement. It seemed like the had been walked for a very long time when they came to the door. It was big, it was wood, a dark, maybe black wood there wasn’t a lot of light to see, but it felt damp and cold, like they where near a water-main or city water pipes.

“Why are we farther underground then an oil well?” Elijah asked. Turning around the Old man’s face was heavily shadowed, like a skeleton it looked.

“ Because, its warmer here.” He smiled and opened the large door, creaking greeted them as they passed into a room lit with an orange glow, a fire place.

The room was mostly in the same state as the hall they had just come from. However the hearth was finely polished and dry as a bone. The carpet on the floor before the fire was also dry, and looked like the carpet from Aladdin. Two arm chairs sat there as well, one green with a large back and the other a dark maroon color with a back not as high as the other. The host took a seat in the green chair, offering Elijah the other. Elijah politely refused the offer.

“What have you been going on about, its all so vague.”

“Elijah, in public I can not tell you, however, here in private.” He leaned back in the chair. “I can tell you that your father is Satan.”

Elijah laughed, he was the son of the devil? This guy must be joking.

“I'm sorry, but what was that? It sounded like you said I was the son of Satan?”

“I did”

[Mr. Majestic]

Icon and the Youngster move in on the Destroyer, Youngster using his speed to run circles around their foe, hitting him with a flurry of punches and kicks as he circles the marauder at nearly the speed of light.

As Youngster presses his attack, Icon rears back and throws several balls of concentrated kinetic energy from his fists which in concert with the Youngster's attack, staggers Destroyer. Icon moves in to press his attack, however, as Youngster continues to circle the titan, it reaches out and grabs the young hero by the arm and hurls him directly into Icon.

Icon and Youngster find themselves tangled together in a heap on the ground as the Destroyer moves in on them. The creature is on them before they are able to get to their feet. He grabs the Youngster by the throat and lifts him into the air, tossing him aside.

Icon gets to his feet, but Destroyer meets him with a thunderous right hand that sends Icon reeling back, then follows up with another...and another. Destroyer continues pounding on Icon, driving the hero down to one knee. Destroyer raises his fist high into the air, preparing to deliver a killing stroke. He lets out a primal roar and drives his fist down.

However, Icon catches the fist in his hand. He squeezes as he rises to his feet and looks Destroyer straight in the eyes.

"My turn." Icon says as he drives a fist into Destroyer's jaw, spraying blood and shattered teeth from the titan's mouth.

Before hitting the ground I regain control of my body and land on my feet. I know if I happen to hit the ground again I won’t be able to get back up, it’s already taking everything I have to keep going.

I run back to join the fight. As I do, I see Icon deliver a hard blow to Destroyer making him take a couple of steps back, giving me my opening. Seeing that the creature guard is wide open I switch into another gear focusing everything on just my speed. As I approach Destroy I lower head and lead with my shoulder and with built up momentum I drive my shoulder into the monsters chest. Right on impact there was a loud exploding sound that made my ears ring. The force of the collision sent Destroyer off his feet soaring just a couple of feet off the ground. He didn’t come to a stop till he hit a beat up building that gave way once he broke through the side wall.

I drop down on knee as my leg gave out on me. Icon quickly comes to my side and begins to lift me back to my feet. As he is about to say something he pauses as he sees in the distant Destroyer making his way back towards us as if nothing happened.

“What do we have to do to stop him?” I ask out loud.

“Maybe I wasn’t going fast enough.” I say as I take my arm away from Icon’s hand.

I quickly run off before Icon can stop me. This time I’m put everything I got into this and run through him. So once again I head towards Destroyer running as fast as my body will go. As I embrace my self for impact again Destroyer quickly side steps to his right and sticks his hand out and grabs me by the neck and choke slams me to the ground head first. My vision is blurry and only thing I can make out is a foot in front of me and then darkness.

[NiteMare Shape]

Before hitting the ground I regain control of my body and land on my feet. I know if I happen to hit the ground again I won’t be able to get back up, it’s already taking everything I have to keep going.

I run back to join the fight. As I do, I see Icon deliver a hard blow to Destroyer making him take a couple of steps back, giving me my opening. Seeing that the creature guard is wide open I switch into another gear focusing everything on just my speed. As I approach Destroy I lower head and lead with my shoulder and with built up momentum I drive my shoulder into the monsters chest. Right on impact there was a loud exploding sound that made my ears ring. The force of the collision sent Destroyer off his feet soaring just a couple of feet off the ground. He didn’t come to a stop till he hit a beat up building that gave way once he broke through the side wall.

I drop down on knee as my leg gave out on me. Icon quickly comes to my side and begins to lift me back to my feet. As he is about to say something he pauses as he sees in the distant Destroyer making his way back towards us as if nothing happened.

“What do we have to do to stop him?” I ask out loud.

“Maybe I wasn’t going fast enough.” I say as I take my arm away from Icon’s hand.

I quickly run off before Icon can stop me. This time I’m put everything I got into this and run through him. So once again I head towards Destroyer running as fast as my body will go. As I embrace my self for impact again Destroyer quickly side steps to his right and sticks his hand out and grabs me by the neck and choke slams me to the ground head first. My vision is blurry and only thing I can make out is a foot in front of me and then darkness.

Icon looks on as Youngster lays on the ground motionless after Destroyer chokeslammed him into the ground. Icon leaps at Destroyer, hitting him with a massive uppercut, then follows it up with right and left hooks which stagger the alien.

"Why do you fight me? Surely you know that I am not one who can be defeated." Destroyer says, taunting Icon as he wipes blood from his nose.

"Well, I'll just have to try harder, won't I." Icon says as he hits Destroyer with an optical blast square in the face.

Enraged, Destroyer steps toward Icon, wildly swinging his fists in an effort to end the fight, however, Icon is able to easily avoid his attack, while following up with more quick strikes of his own. Destroyer attempts to regain the advantage, however his powerful blows are again easily dodged.

Growing angrier by the moment, Destroyer tries to grab Icon, however Icon is able to land a hard elbow strike on the bridge of the nose which momentarily stuns him. Icon takes advantage of Destroyer's momentary lapse, wrapping his arms around the titan's waist and rocketing skyward.

As they race into the heavens, Destroyer struggles to get free, and nearly succeeds more than once, but Icon strengthens his grip and continues upward. Finally, as they approach the reaches of low orbit, Icon simply lets go, allowing Destroyer to plummet back toward the earth.

After letting Destroyer fall for several thousand feet; Icon slams into him with the power of an airborne locomotive driving him faster and faster toward the earth below.

"What...are...you...doing?!" Destroyer bellows.

"Whatever it takes."

Moments later, Icon and the being known only as Destroyer slam hard into the ground, the impact creating a virtual storm of dust and debris. As the dust settles, Icon finds himself laying in a deep crater which reaches all the way to the bedrock, and laying unmoving next to him is the Destroyer.

It takes a few moments for him to regain his senses enough to crawl out of the crater, and when he finally gets to his feet he sees an armada of black military vehicles heading his way....Vehicles he's encountered more than once, and is rarely happy to see....S.T.R.I.K.E. coming in to pick up the pieces.

"Late to the party, as usual." He says as the vehicles come to a hault in front of the massive crater.

[Mr. Majestic]

Icon looks on as Youngster lays on the ground motionless after Destroyer chokeslammed him into the ground. Icon leaps at Destroyer, hitting him with a massive uppercut, then follows it up with right and left hooks which stagger the alien.

"Why do you fight me? Surely you know that I am not one who can be defeated." Destroyer says, taunting Icon as he wipes blood from his nose.

"Well, I'll just have to try harder, won't I." Icon says as he hits Destroyer with an optical blast square in the face.

Enraged, Destroyer steps toward Icon, wildly swinging his fists in an effort to end the fight, however, Icon is able to easily avoid his attack, while following up with more quick strikes of his own. Destroyer attempts to regain the advantage, however his powerful blows are again easily dodged.

Growing angrier by the moment, Destroyer tries to grab Icon, however Icon is able to land a hard elbow strike on the bridge of the nose which momentarily stuns him. Icon takes advantage of Destroyer's momentary lapse, wrapping his arms around the titan's waist and rocketing skyward.

As they race into the heavens, Destroyer struggles to get free, and nearly succeeds more than once, but Icon strengthens his grip and continues upward. Finally, as they approach the reaches of low orbit, Icon simply lets go, allowing Destroyer to plummet back toward the earth.

After letting Destroyer fall for several thousand feet; Icon slams into him with the power of an airborne locomotive driving him faster and faster toward the earth below.

"What...are...you...doing?!" Destroyer bellows.

"Whatever it takes."

Moments later, Icon and the being known only as Destroyer slam hard into the ground, the impact creating a virtual storm of dust and debris. As the dust settles, Icon finds himself laying in a deep crater which reaches all the way to the bedrock, and laying unmoving next to him is the Destroyer.

It takes a few moments for him to regain his senses enough to crawl out of the crater, and when he finally gets to his feet he sees an armada of black military vehicles heading his way....Vehicles he's encountered more than once, and is rarely happy to see....S.T.R.I.K.E. coming in to pick up the pieces.

"Late to the party, as usual." He says as the vehicles come to a hault in front of the massive crater.

http://img3.imageshack.us/img3/6838/spartanredesign1.png
http://img5.imageshack.us/img5/8687/spartantitle.jpg


With the window down Spartan over hears Icon’s remark. He steps out of the vehicle and the rest of the S.T.R.I.K.E agent’s fallow suit. As he steps out he looks around the area analyzing the damage.

“My apologies for being late but while you and your boy was playing hero we were busy getting people out of the area while that creature that lays motionless at you feet was stationary, well that was till you two decided to interfere in business that does not concern you."

Spartan then turns his back to Icon and faces his team of agents.

“Restrain the creature and put him in the back, our orders are to bring him back to base.”

Spartan then observes as the agents run back in forth from the van making sure to get every restraint possible to make sure there is not even a slight chance of the alien breaking loose.

[NiteMare Shape]

http://img3.imageshack.us/img3/6838/spartanredesign1.png

http://img5.imageshack.us/img5/8687/spartantitle.jpg


With the window down Spartan over hears Icon’s remark. He steps out of the vehicle and the rest of the S.T.R.I.K.E agent’s fallow suit. As he steps out he looks around the area analyzing the damage.

“My apologies for being late but while you and your boy was playing hero we were busy getting people out of the area while that creature that lays motionless at you feet was stationary, well that was till you two decided to interfere in business that does not concern you."

Spartan then turns his back to Icon and faces his team of agents.

“Restrain the creature and put him in the back, our orders are to bring him back to base.”

Spartan then observes as the agents run back in forth from the van making sure to get every restraint possible to make sure there is not even a slight chance of the alien breaking loose.


Icon has had several run ins with Spartan since the invasion, and they have never been pleasant. There is something about the young S.T.R.I.K.E. enforcer that bothers Icon...other than his arrogance...but he just can't put his finger on it.

"Good to see you're still S.T.R.I.K.E.'s errand boy. It's a shame, you have the potential to be so much more than that...it's just too bad you don't have the drive, or the ability to think on your own."

With that, Spartan glowers at Icon, not even trying to hide his anger. Icon ingnores him, instead going over to where The Youngster still lay unconcious, picking the young hero up.

"Now if you'll excuse me." Icon says as he takes to the skies, heading toward Lost Haven and the Guardians Headquarters, where he can get Youngster the medical help that he needs.

[NiteMare Shape]

Shadow Walker has been following Big Charlie and Denny Malone for much of the night. For the most part is was an uneventful night, until they met up with a third man who Shadow Walker recognized as Tim Kane, one of Midas' favorite arrand boys.

He followed them to various dives all over town, until finally they led him to a loading dock behind The Water Hole, one of Midas' front businesses. There the three men began loading crate after crate of what illegal high powered weaponry...the very weapons his father had designed, into the back of the box truck.

Finally, he strikes, dropping in on the three men from the rooftop of the adjacent building. The three thugs cry out in panic, but Shadow Walker makes short work of them. Before they were able to fight back, Shadow Walker had the three men sprawled out on the ground, bound together with cable from the detatchable wrist mounted grapple line.

He was so distracted by the three thugs, he never once realized that it was he, who was being tracked from the shadows.

The assassin known as Arion watches Shadow Walker from his perch atop a nearby building. He peers through the scope of his assault weapon, one which Midas had given him as part of his fee for this job, one that was more than meets the eye.

"Now, let's see what you've got." Arion says as he squeezes the trigger.

The weapon fires, however the bullet does not connect with Shadow Walker, however, it makes contact with the ground directly to his left. Shadow Walker jumps to the side just as the ground beside him bursts into flames. Then another of the explosive "napalm rounds" is fired, then another and another, forcing Shadow Walker to get to higher ground away from what is quickly becoming a raging inferno behind "The Watering Hole."

Shadow Walker pulls himself up onto the rooftop from the same adjacent building from where he began his assault and quickly began looking arround for his new assailant. Then he spots the man, dressed entirely in red and black leather, perched on the ledge of a building several rooftops away...and is shocked when the man stands up, makes eye contact and nods to him...before disappearing into the night.

[Hound55]

A tense figure drives a black corvette, in a black tracksuit and an even darker demeanour. He’d just done his first reconnaissance sweep on the organization known as S.T.R.I.K.E and little of the news was what he’d call “good”. He’d jumped back on the grid and changed back to the ‘Vette which he was becoming more and more acclimatised to. Isaac felt a vibration run through his hip, lifting his top to check the Guardians pager he was given a brief message not urgent enough to be sent with a priority code.






Isaac pulled his top back down and changed the frequency from emergency to his own on the car’s radio, then turned it up so he could hear better.

“Golf-Victor-One, heard you’ve been trying to reach me. Sitrep.”

“This is Hammond, you’re really going to keep the formality over your own frequency? Ok. Another body turned up, looks like it could be the same M.O. either same perp or a copycat. Awaiting your presence at the corner of Seventeenth and Carver. Over”

“Golf-Victor-One, don’t tell me Seventeenth and Carver is still your beat as well? Over”

“Ha ha ha. Negative. Let’s just say I’ve been given the prestigious position of unofficial liaison. Over.”

Isaac couldn’t keep it in as a brief chuckle escaped the darkness of the balaklava.

“Golf-Victor-One, does this mean that the LHPD are now supporting Vigilante activity..? Over.”

No response came over the air, and more laughter filled the Corvette, concealing the morbid reason for its travel.


Inside the Police Cordon

A small congregation of law enforcers are gathered around the cadaver when the black ‘Vette arrived on the scene.

“What are they all doing here contaminating the crime scene? Get back!” came the synthetic sounding voice from the gruff Guardian.

“They’re detectives… to be honest, most were more interested in seeing you than the case itself.” As the voice of Sgt Hammond stepped from amongst the group.

“So who’s working the case..? …You and you? Alright, you four, piss off. Hammond, you can stay since you’re apparently my LHPD designated minder… although it bears the question of who the hell is watching these 4…”

Isaac flicked the air filter on his voice modulator on and stepped past the 4 officers he’d just shooed away.

“And there better not be any damn vomit on my crime scene…”

“Ah hell…” Isaac thought to himself realising what the strong odour meant.

“Well, for starters it looks like I was mistaken last time…”

“Yeah..?”

“Partly…” Isaac quickly chimed in, cutting off any sarcastic response the Sergeant may have been planning.

“Looks like… well rather, SMELLS like the perpetrator intended to pierce both the liver with the kidneys last time. Means the mistake he made last time when he grazed it by not skewering it completely, as he has here, rather than it being an accident that he hit the liver at all.”

“So what does that mean?”

“Well it means we have one more reason to want to stop this guy before this happens again… two if you count each nostril… No, I know what you meant. Could be he wants us to find the bodies? Spilling bile is about the fastest way to have corpses found that I could think of… Could be something else... I’d say too early to tell definitively.”

Isaac removed the leather exterior gloves and started taking his own notes again.

“Are we ever going to get these notes that you’re writing yourself? Or is this whole information exchange thing going to be a one way street?”

Isaac looked up from the small notepad into Hammond’s eyes and beyond, wearily he left a brief pause before saying,

“Yeah, when I get back to HQ I’ll type ‘em up and shoot them off to you electronically. There’s nothing really in here that I’m not saying out loud though anyway…”

The Vigilante finished scrawling what was on his mind and pocketed it, a sigh was heard as an unintelligible sound from the voice modulator, which made him cringe himself, as he started to survey the victim more closely.

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here… Kidney pierced… Other kidney pierced and as we’ve already established the liver too… Neck… untouched. Well that would support my theory last time. That he panicked and did it on instinct… Now he’s getting better…”

Fontaine rose back to his feet from his hunched over position to best inspect the neck and his attention returned to what was most immediately obvious.

“Back's got minor lacerations again… Some deeper though. Hmm…”

Isaac’s eyes were fixed on the small of the dead man’s back.

“That seems to have too much significance to just be a coincidental pattern… What do you see there?”

Hammond stepped over and looked at what the Guardian’s representative was referring to:
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v239/Houndawg55/pic.jpg


“It… It looks kind of like a snake. Pretty crude though…”

“Well yeah, it’s going to be crude, he’s using a shiv or something and he’s not exactly going to think we’re going to cut the skin off this guy’s back, stretch it out like a canvas and exhibit it at MoMA…”

“You sure..? Somma these whack jobs…”

“Hammond, give these people some credit ‘til they prove themselves unworthy of it… That’s my advice.”

“Kid, I’ve been doing this job for 15-some years… If anyone’s going to be giving lectures on human nature here, it’s going to be me.”

“Sergeant, it wasn’t advice for your personal life… I don’t give a damn how you think that way; I don’t know you and I don’t care to know you. It’s professional advice… If you can’t empathise, get a clear view of the rationale behind the subject, how can you hope to predict his movements? If you’re trying to test me you can go join the other 4. You want to call me “kid” you can chase your dumbarse rookie partner around the office and go back to trying to teach him the ins-and-outs of how to use police tape and which end of the radio to talk into…”

“You don’t want advice on how crime scene operates, fine. You want to be a traffic cop the rest of your life chasing more dumbarse rookies as the senior officer in traffic, great. But you expect me to put up with your attitude, we’re gonna have a problem. I’m not one of your rookie cops… I have my methods, they’re established. I can work with you or around you, if you’re somehow under the illusion that I NEED you… then you’re misinformed.”

The two men once again traded cold glares. The other two detectives who were working the case looked on uncomfortably.

“Are you done?” asked the Sergeant, breaking the silence.

“Hopefully…” as Isaac went back to the crime scene.

The pair continued in an uneasy dialogue for the duration of Isaac’s inspection, no longer exchanging unnecessary pleasantries throughout, Isaac made it clear what data he would be wanting from the C.S.I. to go with the victim's data and left. The two detectives were noticeably quiet the entire time.

The dark figure slumped in the corvette’s car seat and let his frustration wash over him. He bit back again… Isaac didn’t have that many friends in the first place and could ill afford to lose the people who could tolerate him. Not so much from a professional point of view, but definitely for his own sanity. He cursed himself out under his breath and declared that it must be his need for rest. Isaac changed the car over under cover as he had so many times before.


Hours later Isaac could be found passed out in one of his privately set up hideouts, the TV on the news and his chair surrounded by empty beer bottles.


Guardians Headquarters

Slender gloved fingers rap deliberately against keys. The device, satisfied, activates and a heavy door slides open, revealing the contrasting image of the darkly clad vigilante in the light of the midday sun.

Isaac customarily checks the “Clock-In” board. Not a single “active member”. Isaac lets out half an involuntary sigh, before catching himself and attempts to pass it off as a yawn.

He fools no one, and not just because there is no one around to see his blatantly transparent display of insecurity. He holds back another sigh, this time directed at himself, and the thought of just what inappropriate things he would do right now for a beer flickers across his mind.

Isaac wades deeper into the heart of Guardians HQ, past the living room where Mike was a regular, through the kitchen which is/was Blurry’s home away from home, and to the “boxes”.

Each Guardian had their own personal lockable lead-lined box for dispatch delivery and personal use, amongst the Guardians themselves there was largely an informal, personal tone. But when others weren’t around the boxes were the main method of data-delivery to the members, with pagers used for quick-contact short messages and urgent response. Since they were lockable, they could also be used for personal storage as well outside of their individual rooms. Isaac however was loathe to trust anything that was given to him and kept nothing personal at the HQ.

Isaac unlocked his box and removed the file containing the reports for the most recent homicide, to check for differences between his own notes and the coroner’s reports and any new information the experts may have uncovered. This was quite possible, since he couldn’t inspect the scene itself too closely for fear of contaminating the scene for the coroners.
Opening the folder he noticed something new immediately. Where the first folder had a little impersonal note from Sgt Hammond, this report had a rigid, formal coversheet on a LHPD letterhead.

“What the hell?!?”


To (the) Vigilante,

Due to the results of a mutually agreed upon performance review, Sergeant Hammond (Interim Liaison Officer for Guardians Relations) will be relieved of duty as the role has been permanently filled by LSO Thomas Palmer. The permanent ILOGR contact numbers can be found at the top of this letterhead.

We truly appreciate any assistance you can provide the Lost haven Police Department in this and future cases.


http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/317/B122FB0739733FAE374909FEE04C2E15.png
Commissioner Mark Davis



http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/317/3740E353AC11897FC71E89CCB8DAFF47.png
LSO9 Thomas Palmer


Isaac stomped over to the nearest video-phone screen; in the kitchen. Punching the number on the touch screen interface, a scowl dropped over his face in anticipation as the dial tone sang.

“Hello, Liaison Office for Guar…”

“Yeah, get me Thomas Palmer.”

“This is he… who am I speaking to?”

“You’re speaking to one very f***ing unimpressed Guardian…”

“Vigi… Vigilante?”

“Bingo. Now can you tell me WHY I’m speaking to you?”

“Uhh… Did you get the…”

“Yes, I got the report. That’s where I got your phone number from. It’s also where I heard the news which has pissed me off so much. So why don’t we start with why you think you’re qualified for this job and I’ll answer with exactly why you’re not…”

“Well, I’ve been an LSO for fifteen years and fast risen up the ranks from a lower level officer dealing with Feds, Interpol and occasionally…”

“Shut up. You’re a desk jockey. End of discussion. I am NOT dealing with some dick in a suit who has no understanding of what we do out there. Now where’s Hammond?”

“Sergeant Hammond is on full paid leave, it was agreed upon by all parties.”

“And nobody invited me to the party…”

“The position is representative of the LHPD, it has nothing to do with what you want or what you don’t want.” Palmer said, firmer now.

“Agreed. Just like my role in assisting the LHPD in this case and possible future cases has nothing to do with the LHPD…” Isaac spat between gritted teeth.

“Well, I don’t know what you propose we do about this. Hammond has gone on leave. I don’t know why you want him back anyway, the Detectives we had on scene said you were on just as uneasy terms with him as you are with me now…”

“So that’s what this is about… Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum went running back saying that Hammond couldn’t “handle” me, eh?”

“Well if you were on as bad terms with him as you are with m…”

“I’m not on the same terms with him as I am with you. At least with Hammond I had professional courtesy… There’s no hope for mutual respect here. You’re a pencil-pushing jackass who’s never been under fire in the line of duty and you won’t be. Ever.”

“But I’m all there is.”

“No. I don’t care. This is the last time I speak to you. You can keep your title, your pay and do all the behind the scenes gear, which I know the LHPD will keep you doing anyway, but someone else will be Liaising directly with me.”

“Again. Who? I’m all there is, Hammond’s on leave.”

“…” Seconds of silence hung on the phone, dressed as hours.

“…If Hammond’s on holiday… Who’s watching his kid partner..?”

“There’s no way he’s qualified for this assignment…”

“What qualified? He’s a trained police officer. It’s more than you have in that regard, and for the desk stuff you’re backing him up. If anything, I could probably give the kid some insight into the field which he wouldn’t normally be able to get.”

Palmer thought about the situation. He was dealing with someone who wanted nothing to do with him, if Commissioner Davis found out about his demands he’d probably pull the plug on Thomas’ first chance at heading a Liaison office. He’d be demoted down and left to work on a far less cutting-edge assignment dealing with the Feds or another agency which is less hyped. But if he could get the Vigilante to buy in, even in a failing system, he might be able to move sideways and Head another office elsewhere.

“Alright, I’ll talk to him and see if I can get him on board in the L.O.G.R… It might be difficult though, the LHPD is very tight-knit and he may hold you responsible for the Sergeant…”

“ME?!? Well you’d better make it clear that it was in no way my decision to have Hammond cut loose and to deal with some dick-at-a-desk.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll debrief him in full.”

“OK… Hopefully this is the last time I speak to you then, I’ve got a file to inspect.”

“Well it was good speaking to… Hello? …What an a**hole.”

“What an a**hole.”

And with that out of the way, Isaac took the report and left by the garage. While he wanted to read the file in peace, the empty Headquarters only reminded him of Michael’s absence.

[NiteMare Shape]

After bringing The Youngster to Dr. Chen at the Guardian Headquarters medical wing, Icon makes his way to the quarters provided for him in the installation.

While inside the small room, Icon can't help but to think of the confrontation with the STRIKE agent Spartan after the fight with the alien monster known as Destroyer. Ever since STRIKE emerged in the days after the Arlaaekan invasion, confrontations with the organization have been on the rise, and he can't help but to notice, they've grown more contentious as well.

Ever since he first encountered the organization soon after revealing himself to the world, he has been suspicious of them, and it would seem that as of late, they have been proving those suspicions well founded.

He can't shake the feeling that STRIKE is up to something, he just wishes that he knew what it is.

With these thoughts heavy on his mind, he leaves his small room and makes his way for the exit...and as he walks down the corridor he can't help but to think of how empty the place is these days. Flux went out on her own to find herself soon after the formation of the Guardians. Blue Blur has been scarce as late. Kensei is gone, nobody knows if he is even alive. The Survivor has vanished, however, he soes that from time to time. Then of course, there is Michael...who left the group, and the superhero business altogether. Which left him, Youngster, and Isaac...and the thought crosses his mind that perhaps it is time to replenish the ranks of the Guardians.

He walks through the door of the headquarters, and as he does he immediately takes to the sky. If he has learned one thing in his lifetime, it is that there is nothing better to clear your head, than flying over the city that you love.

[Blacklight]

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Chapter 4




The team continued flying in the direction that Blacklight had led them into taking. The Prism was still a ways off as Jon could feel, but while they made their way there, Jon began to take notes of the key differences between himself and his alternate selves.

Surely Violetlight must be my intelligence... Jon thought, He has rather... educated speech patterns. Plus the technologically advanced suit...

Indigolight's very over the top in his presentation. More than likely he's my heroic side...

Next Jon shifted his thoughts to Bluelight.

Hmm... Bluelight is very silent. Cold too. Intimidating. He could very well be the side of me that can instill fear in others...

Greenlight? From all the weapons, I'm guessing he's the fighter in me. My determination...

Then on the other side of him was the other three of him towards the end of spectrum.

Going on the outfit he wears, I'm guessing this one does some Martial Arts. Which requires alot of discipline. Yellowlight must embody my sense of order...

Orangelight is my sense of humor... Clearly.

And lastly there's Redlight. Seems pretty mad... ALL of the time. My anger most likely...

As his thoughts on his teammates came to a conclusion and the energy of the Prism felt close by to him, Jon asked himself one question.

Wonder why there isn't one that represents my dark side?

"Look!"

There it was... Straight ahead. A clear as day, pyrimid sized, Prism-shaped structure that shined bright from the light it refracted.

"Let's go!"

Increasing their flight speed, the eight Blacklights all gunned for the Prism, decreasing their altitude as they came closer, so as to land safely before it.

"So where are the bad guys? I was hoping for some action!"

"Right here..." came a sinister voice.

"This is going to sound really cliche... but I think you spoke too soon there, buddy..." Orangelight said as he pointed to the 7 figures standing behind them.

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"We've been waiting for you. Now it's time to die..."

[Mr. Majestic]

Icon has had several run ins with Spartan since the invasion, and they have never been pleasant. There is something about the young S.T.R.I.K.E. enforcer that bothers Icon...other than his arrogance...but he just can't put his finger on it.

"Good to see you're still S.T.R.I.K.E.'s errand boy. It's a shame, you have the potential to be so much more than that...it's just too bad you don't have the drive, or the ability to think on your own."

With that, Spartan glowers at Icon, not even trying to hide his anger. Icon ingnores him, instead going over to where The Youngster still lay unconcious, picking the young hero up.

"Now if you'll excuse me." Icon says as he takes to the skies, heading toward Lost Haven and the Guardians Headquarters, where he can get Youngster the medical help that he needs.

Spartan watches as Lost Haven's hero flies off. Ever since he met the caped hero he has had a place for him in the bottom of his stomach.

“Here are some words of wisdom hero. Where ever you were you should have stayed there because you were safer.” Spartan says knowing full well that Icon would be able to hear him with his enhance hearing.

Spartan turns his attention to his fellow agents as they load of the alien. He calls out to some agents that weren’t busy.

“Get a team down here and search the area just to see if there may be any survivors.”

After giving the order he then made his way to his vehicle. As he is walking his partner James also known as the Sentry, approaches him.

“Spartan I scanned the area already and I didn’t come up with any life signs.”

“Even so I don’t want to take if chances. We won’t leave anyone behind. Stay with the others and make sure the search goes well.”

Spartan orders Sentry as he makes his way into the S.T.R.I.K.E van and exits the area to head back to headquarters.

[Mr. Majestic]

After bringing The Youngster to Dr. Chen at the Guardian Headquarters medical wing, Icon makes his way to the quarters provided for him in the installation.

While inside the small room, Icon can't help but to think of the confrontation with the STRIKE agent Spartan after the fight with the alien monster known as Destroyer. Ever since STRIKE emerged in the days after the Arlaaekan invasion, confrontations with the organization have been on the rise, and he can't help but to notice, they've grown more contentious as well.

Ever since he first encountered the organization soon after revealing himself to the world, he has been suspicious of them, and it would seem that as of late, they have been proving those suspicions well founded.

He can't shake the feeling that STRIKE is up to something, he just wishes that he knew what it is.

With these thoughts heavy on his mind, he leaves his small room and makes his way for the exit...and as he walks down the corridor he can't help but to think of how empty the place is these days. Flux went out on her own to find herself soon after the formation of the Guardians. Blue Blur has been scarce as late. Kensei is gone, nobody knows if he is even alive. The Survivor has vanished, however, he soes that from time to time. Then of course, there is Michael...who left the group, and the superhero business altogether. Which left him, Youngster, and Isaac...and the thought crosses his mind that perhaps it is time to replenish the ranks of the Guardians.

He walks through the door of the headquarters, and as he does he immediately takes to the sky. If he has learned one thing in his lifetime, it is that there is nothing better to clear your head, than flying over the city that you love.

I slowly open my eyes and as I do so I see Dr. Chen standing over me. My first reaction is to lean up but before I’m about to move more than an inch Chen stops me.

“You should stay still, you have some serious injures done to your body.”

I can feel the damage that has been done to me I don’t need him to tell me.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t thinking…” I look around and it hits me I’m not on the battle field and Icon is no where to be seen. “…where is Icon at?”

“He left after he brought you here.”

“Did he go back to fight Destroyer? If he did I have to get back to him.”

The doctor then rests his hand on my chest to stop me in my place.

“You have nothing to worry about Icon took care of him. All you have to worry about is getting better. You don’t need to be doing so much moving around, not in your condition.

I then rest my back on the bed taking the doctors advice. It’s a shame I got knock unconscious I really wanted to show Icon I have grown into my own hero. But instead I lost control of my emotions and was acting before thinking. He must think I’m still a kid by the way I was acting.

I don’t know what happened to me out there it was as if I could control my actions. That was a big set back, can’t let that happen again. I have to do better, I will be better.

[Hound55]

A stationary black Corvette

Isaac sat in the car, flipping through the folder which contained the case file. He removed the coroner’s report, complete with photographs, and the file on the victim. Removing the notepad from his pocket he compares his notes with those of the coroners’ office. Everything checked out, but to be on the safe side he began flicking through the photographs of the cadaver. Stopping and looking on at a shot of the deceased’s back.

Isaac took a double-take and grabbed at the coroners’ report to see if they picked up what he now saw, and when he could see no evidence that they had picked up on it he lunged at the glove compartment and retrieved the file from the first killing and rifled through looking for a photo.

“S***…”

Isaac felt a shudder through his right hip as his pager pulsated a message through.
Isaac put the file containing the first victim’s report on the passenger seat, and decorating the manila cake with a photograph from it as a cherry on top.

Feeling blindly for the pager his gaze was fixed on a photo of the corpse they first inspected. Particularly a very minor detail.

Isaac removed the beeper from under his clothes.

Just to the right of the small of the first victim’s back, obscured largely by contrasting horizontal lacerations was a small symbol.

“LHPD reporting another homicide to GHQ. Looks like they found victim number 3. Location in following transmi”

“Number 3…” Isaac said aloud to himself.

“I don’t think we’re at liberty to say anymore… It looks like he’s already called him number 2.”

Isaac removed his thumb from the picture of the first victim, revealing a small “IV” hacked into the deceased’s flesh…

[Hound55]

A non-descript alley in downtown Lost Haven

A familiar scene now, a small circle of men gathered around a lone sprawled figure softly trickling foul bile into the air. This time the men en scene are wearing face masks and all are waiting for the presence of a man they can’t dispatch. One who drops from the rooftops rather than steps from a squad car.

But bile isn’t the only bodily fluid that fills the air this time; the crime scene is practically humid from the perspiration of a young rookie cop. With Sergeant Hammond noticeably absent, his inexperienced protégé is about to face the task which saw Hammond removed from duty. An extra car has been called for to cordon off the area, because young Brett Robbins wanted as much support around him at the time to ease the pressure of meeting the one they called the Vigilante.

But he was already here, and mindful of stressing the young officer he quite deliberately chose a roof that Brett was facing at just the right height to allow notice. Almost imperceptible at first, there was a soft whirring. Like a pee-shy man trying to furtively do up his fly, and once the dark figure knew they were aware of his presence he pressed a release on the grapple-gun that seemed to so easily support his weight and dropped the last 6 feet. The gun made a louder whirring noise at it retracted the cable with the hook, now a smooth bullet shape, until just before the barrel. The black-clad figure pressed a button on the gun and the smooth bullet popped grapple prongs out again and he carefully holstered the hook-shooter, satisfied it was primed to use again.

“H… Hi.” Squeaked Officer Robbins informally with all the force of a castrated mouse.

Isaac turned in surprise after holstering the grapple-gun. This was his first meeting with the young rookie cop and he hoped like hell it was just nerves on the kid’s part. Not wanting to make the moment even more awkward, Isaac growled a “Hey.” Through the voice modulator that had more than enough hair on its tone for the pair of them.

“Is it just me or do crowds grow every time I’m at one of these things?”

“P…Pardon?”

“You should start selling tickets. If we have to put up with the gawkers we might as well turn a profit from it.”

Brett laughed nervously.

“Oh good God, kid, sack up! I asked for you to be here, you’ve had your job interview. You passed. If I have to put up with your stuttering and squeaking for as long as I work with you people, the next corpse these homicide ***** find will be mine…”

A lengthy awkward silence was broken by the laughter of a particularly malicious plain clothes detective.

“What? You’re gonna laugh at him, tubbsy? Were you really promoted to this level or did your boss just decide it was inhumane to put the uniform through so much stress trying to squeeze into a triple X-L? No need to start living up to the role of dick, dick… You only need to open your mouth to cram doughnuts in or if you’ve got something useful to come out. Now is not that time for either.”

Brett smiled at the prospect of someone standing up for him, he’d been under a lot of pressure as Hammond had recognised the young officer struggling and taken him under his wing somewhat. In Hammond’s absence he’d found the last few days life in the force extremely hard and had even contemplated quitting.

Noticing the smile, Isaac kept his momentum with the rookie, “Alright. That’s better. Now we’ve only got one stiff. So let’s take a look at him…”

Isaac prepped his air filter on his mouthpiece, he thought it likely he’d need it but wanted to make sure that the foul scent of bile was there and consistent with the other cases he’d seen lately. It was, filling the air with a pungent stench that was unmistakeable to anyone who has smelled it before.

The victim lay on his front. The killer was getting more efficient, victim’s were able to put up less and less of a struggle as this on lay on his front.

“Crime scene’s already en route. ETA of less than 5 minutes.”

This was a relief to Isaac since he had little to work with so far, the body showed two clear puncture wounds, doubtless to vital organs – the kidneys and liver if the past cases and foul smell which hung in the air were anything to go by, and some slash marks to the back again but the clothes obscured any detail.

Isaac waited and sure enough the C.S.I team arrived, taking evidence – blood spatters, under the victim’s nails, body position, and all types of things which Isaac doubted would be of relevance as the killer got more experienced. Finally Isaac got tired of waiting and said he wanted to see the victim’s back. After a short argument, which the black clad man was unwilling to back down from it was accepted that the clothes would be removed and bagged for evidence prior to the body bag and trip to the coroners. The C.S.I.’s mentioned that they wanted it “Duly noted” that they did not agree with the decision to do so, to which the Vigilante showed complete contempt.

Brett marvelled at the spirit and forceful nature of this man, while he told the crime scene investigators they could “Note it. Write it down and stick it…” somewhere neither practical nor pleasant.

With the deceased’s top removed Isaac inspected the corpse. In addition to the horizontal slashes across the victim’s back there was a small “II” marked vertically just to the right of the small of the back. Isaac removed the notepad and jotted it down again, a C.S.I. stood behind him and said

“That’s too small to be certain of anything.”

To which Isaac turned and scowled in uncomfortable silence at the man for reading over his shoulder until the officer cowered away.

This time though, there was a larger communiqué than just small roman numerals. Etched across the victim’s back, it was still clear despite the lighter horizontal scratches going through the message. Isaac quickly scrawled it onto his pad.

2P20¦1


“What do you think that means.”

“It means he thinks he has something to say. Probably why he feels he has to take part in seemingly meaningless slaughter.”

“But it’s just random letters and numbers.”

“I don’t think there’s anything random about it. We just don’t see the meaning in it yet.”

“Your corpse. Bag him, tag him and drag him wherever you gotta take him.” Isaac addressed the CSI and then pointed to Brett. “You. Come with me.”

Isaac pointed at two of the detectives who had so far remained silent throughout the entire scene in quiet awe.

“You! I assume the pair of you didn’t come in separate cars. Take the kid’s car back to the station. I’ll drop him off later. Don’t worry, I’ll send him back in one piece.”

The pair walked a short while and came to a parked black Corvette. Isaac disabled the alarm about 20 feet before the car.

“This is us.”

“But… but you came down the building’s rooftops. Why did you come down the roof if you were just parked here?”

Isaac turned and looked at the young officer while he opened the driver’s side door “People have expectations…”

Sitting in the driver’s seat he finished the thought

“…besides, I wanted to get a closer look at you. I’d been up there a few minutes, if you think about it since the car’s parked here when I came down from the roof I’d have popped up from behind you, but I didn’t think that was worth the risk to either of us.”

“Risk?”

“Yeah. You might have a heart attack, I might wind up riddled with bullets. Mutually beneficial, I thought.”

Shifting the ‘Vette into gear he asked

“So which station are we taking you to? You might have to give me some help… I’m still coming to grips with exactly where everything is here.”

“Uhh… They moved me down to HQ, they want me more central due to the new assignment.”

“Hey, kid’s movin’ up in the world. Pretty soon the Chief of Police might even know your name…”

“Actually he does. He asked to meet me before I took the job!”

“Yeah..?” Isaac responded, keeping the end of that sentence to himself. “Yeah, that’s probably because he heard you were an inept young kid and wanted to check you weren’t going to be a complete embarrassment before he attached you to this.” But he finally got Officer Robbins out of his shell and didn’t want to completely shatter his confidence.

“So you got your notebook there? You’re working for the liaison office now, they’re going to expect some liaising and I think I’ve just cracked this thing open…”

“Yup. I think we’re dealing with a fairly standard God-complex type. There’s a few different variants. People who think they are God, people who think they’re doing God’s work, people who feel they have to be God because they don’t think He’s doing a good enough job…”

“And how’d you come to this?” asked Robbins.

“Well it’s not that uncommon for starters in these types of serial killer cases. I mean it is some fairly extreme behaviour; to decide to take someone’s life. But there’s more than just that…”

Isaac shifted gears forcefully again. “…the real kicker was this last message that came through. Each message he’s been telling us more and more of WHY he’s doing what he’s doing this. Even if we may not immediately understand it.”

“So you KNOW what those garbled leeters and numbers mean?”

“I’m pretty sure I do… Open the glove box.”

Brett Robbins opened the surprisingly large glove compartment in front of him and lying within he saw the case files for the previous victims and a small bible. Reaching in to retrieve the files Isaac stopped him short.

“No. Not that, what’s on the files.” He instructed, referring to the pocket bible.

“You took down the letters and numbers from his back didn’t you?”

“Yeah. What, it’s a biblical quote? But how could it be a biblical quote, there was only a chapter and verse, we have no idea which book.”

“There is. He gave it right before the verse… ‘2P’. The second book of ‘P’. Look in ‘Proverbs’.”

Robbins quickly skipped through the bible. “You already know what this is. That’s why you brought the bible, isn’t it?”

Isaac kept mum on the issue. Despite his own faith which was even less than strained, he’d still kept the bible in the glove box of every car he’d owned. The notion passed down unto him by his father, from his mother after she died.

Reaching the appropriate verse the young kid started to read:

“Chapter 20, verse 1… Wine is a mocker, strong drink a brawler; and whosoever erreth thereby is not wise.”

“erreth thereby is not wise.” Isaac finished the verse in time with Officer Robbins.

“And that’s what we’re up against. That’s why the liver/kidney mutilation. God and the booze aren’t destroying them fast enough for his liking so he’s helping him along…”

“Geez… So this guy’s out there targeting people with histories of alcohol abuse?”

“At least… A few of them also have domestic violence restraining orders against them as well, if you go over the victims.”

“But people who drink… That’s countless potential victims. Without knowing who he is he could keep picking off people and we’d never catch…”

“No. He’s got a bag limit. That’s the other thing. Get the files out and look at the victim’s pictures closely… just to the right of the small of the back. In roman numerals. I only noticed it today, it’s been so small. He’s been numbering the victims; but he’s been counting down, not up. Should only be two left.”

“But today’s one was number ‘II’. That means that the next one is last.”

“Well, I hope so kid… because I don’t want anyone else put in the firing line.”

“So, you said you only found out about this today?”

“Yeah, going over the earlier victim files. It was harder to tell with the more recent ones, the ‘I’s could easily have just been incidental nicks when tearing the victims up, but it was a lot easier to tell with the first victim since it was a clear ‘IV’.”

Isaac pulled the car up as they were now at LHPD Headquarters.

“We need to make another stop first.” Said Brett simply.

“What?”

“I overheard some of the detectives talking a while ago. I think there’s something you should see…”

Minutes later the pair were in the morgue at the hospital. “Just wait here. I’ll talk to him.”

Robbins walked over and spoke with a man in a white robe who appeared to be in charge of the area. The conversation unheard from the other-side of glass, Brett pointed at Isaac and the man in the white coat did a double-take before nodding, the pair then waved Isaac through.

Brett started talking whilst the three walked through the morgue to a specific drawer. “The other week I overheard some of the homicide detectives talking about a job they had a while back. Now it seemed completely different from this case, so I wouldn’t blame anybody for not telling us. It’s kind of gross to look at this one…”

“Less talking.” Isaac said. “Is what I need to see in here?”

“Yes.” Brett said simply, stepping well away from where the drawer would open.

The man in the white coat pulled the drawer open and uncovered the corpse, revealing him in his full glory.

Lying in the drawer was a mountain of a man, about 6’6” in stature and solid muscle, who had been cut down by some kind of force, and exposed so brazenly by the kind of human Isaac could barely comprehend. He had two long clean incisions, from just under the underarms down to below the navel. The incisions met at this point, creating a perfect ‘V’ and the skin from the area was peeled back revealing organs now discoloured from exposure.

“F***. Me.”

“I think we’ve found his first anatomy subject…”

[Hound55]

Morgue – Lost Haven

The silence was broken after interminable seconds by the sound of Isaac’s voice modulator.

“Any ideas on who the stiff is?”

“No. No fingerprint or DNA records; he’s never been charged with any offence in this country and the killer made his dental records unidentifiable…”

The morgue worker emphasised this statement by lifting the corpse’s lip, revealing a smashed tooth and gum line that would clearly have been beyond recognition.

“Any leads from where they found the body?”

“Nothing solid. They found him in a dumpster down in Little Ulster eventually, quite a few days after death… Trash day in fact, the guy nearly wound up in the compacter. He took a lot longer to find than the others because his organs were in tact. No bile like the others they’ve found. There’s a case file somewhere, Brett would be able to find it for you.” Pointing to the young cop.

“Brett? Oh yeah, Officer Robbins. Kid, can you dig this file up for me?”

“Now the body was found like this, but when we ran the autopsy, we found something pretty interesting. Many of the organs are not connected and we found some residue on the organ tissue itself. Turns out, the killer’s been making himself some organ-casts.”

“That’s consistent with what I’ve found. He’s been learning from each homicide. Getting more efficient in slaughter.”

“… but I think this one’s different. You don’t just start offing people, something pushed him over, and I think this guy had something to do with it. It’s why he did this to him. He never bothered to make the rest of them unidentifiable, because there was no point. They don’t lead back to him.”

“So you think this one was someone close to him?”

“Not just that… I think he was related to him. A father, a bigger brother… a foster parent who mistreated him.”

“Well, we’ll pull out all the stops trying to identify this one then.”

Isaac pinched at the balaklava just at the bridge of the nose, as if he were allowing the pressure to flow out of his head and away from his mind. “There’s no time. Someone’s doomed. With how fast he’s killing these people if we don’t know who this guy is NOW we’re not going to know by the time he targets his next victim.” He then stopped the pessimism and thought about something the young officer said before. “If he’s finishing at one, instead of counting down to one and then having an explosive finale… then there’s still hope.”

After exchanging pleasantries Isaac dropped Robbins back at Headquarters. The youthful officer noticed the trip back was far quieter than the way there.

[wiegeabo]

"Uggghhhh...."

"He's waking up!"

"I'm ready!"

"Ughhh, wha-" All I know is blackness. Then, in an instant, I feel my eyes being pried open and, for a moment, I wonder just how close I am to the sun seeing as how I'm completely blinded by the light in my eyes.

"AAH!!! ****! Stop! Stop!" I try to twist my head away, but a hand tries to hold it in place.

"Hold still, Darren!" a familiar female voice orders. I try to push her off of me, but I find my hands strapped to my sides.

"You're burning my eyes out!" I try to squeeze them closed, but she keeps them pried open.

"Just hold on!" Finally, after who knows how long, the light goes away, and so does the fire in my eyes, although the slow burning sensation keeps going.

"What the hell, Doc?!" I squeeze my eyes tightly and shake my head, trying to make the pain and bright colored spots go away.

"You can put it away, Bobby."

"You sure, Doc?"

Through squinting eyes I notice Bobby has his gun trained on me. At least, I assume that big purple splotch is supposed to be a gun. "What's going on?"

Hawkes puts his gun away at a glare from the Doctor, but he doesn't look happy about it. "You tell us."

"Tell you what?"

"Why you flipped out and decided to try and blow my head off."

"I what?!" I think back. "I...had a gun..."

"Yeah, that's right."

"Where'd I get a gun?"

"From the bad guy you beat up."

A flicker of memory comes back. "You shot me."

"I tasered you."

"You tasered me!"

"You were gonna blow my head off! Or the terrorists. Or yours."

"Mine?"

"Yeah, care to explain why you went all Heath Ledger on me?"

"I..." and it all comes rushing back. I start trashing against my restraints. "A mirror! Get me a mirror!"

"Darren..."

"I have to see!" The Doc rushes over behind me somewhere while Bobby keeps a close watch. She comes back with a makeup compact and holds it for me. I keep my eyes wide as I look into them for any sign of red. My breathing slows noticeably. "OK, ok. They're normal."

"You knew?"

"I saw, in the bathroom mirror. My head was killing me, more than ever. Then the pain was...gone. And I looked in the mirror..."

"Worst case of pink eye ever."

"I don't think we'll need these anymore," the Doctor says, undoing my restraints.

"That a good idea?"

"Yeah, what he said."

"I think you're fine now. The counteragent seems to have worked."

"The whawha?" She helps me sit up.

"The gland has a side effect."

"You're telling me."

"No, this is different. Apparently...apparently since it's matured...the quicksilver it produces has become...toxic."

"...um...toxic?"

"Not lethal," she says, quickly.

"Oh, that's good..." I give Hawkes a look.

"The quicksilver its producing now has changed it's molecular structure slightly. It's now able to breach the blood brain barrier."

"That really doesn't sound good."

"It's not. The quicksilver slowly leaks into your brain over time. When it reaches a certain level, it breaks down your higher cortical function, leading to a lack of inhibition. Similar to the effects of some narcotics."

"So, I'm uninhibited. Sounds like a night hitting the bars."

"It's more than that, Darren. As the breakdown continues, your darker impulses take over, and you go mad and become ...psychopathic."

...I just stare at her with my jaw hanging.

"I saw it, partner. It's not pretty."

"So, I've got...quicksilver madness?"

"No, not at the moment. Only when the saturation level in your brain is sufficient."

"And the red eyes?"

"A symptom of the madness."

I take a deep breath. "Ok. So, why am I not a raving nutball right now?"

"The Doc's a smart one."

"It took some time, but I was able to synthesize a counteragent. It flushes the quicksilver out of your system."

"Oh, so I'm cured?"

They look at each other. "No, you're not."

"Huh?"

"It's not a cure, Darren. It's a treatment. You'll have to get regular injections as the quicksilver builds up. And, the more you use your invisibility, the faster it will build in your system."

"Ok...I won't go invisible. Problem solved."

"The gland is always producing quicksilver. Even if you don't go invisible, you'll only have six days before it builds up again. A week at most. And, you'll develop a dependance on the relief the counteragent provides, making the onset of madness even worse."

"So now I'm a junkie?"

"No, not really-"

"What else would you call it! If I don't get regular shots of 'stuff', I go through withdrawl. I'm a junkie." She doesn't have a reply for that.

"The important thing for you to do now, is rest. I'm going to devote all my attention on improving the effects of the counteragent."

"And getting this thing out of my head?"

She nods. "Always."

Hawkes puts his hand on my shoulder. "Come on, partner. You need a drink. I'm buying."

"I hope you've got a lot of cash on you. Assuming it's ok with the Doc," I say with more sarcasm than I intend.

She frowns at the tone in my voice. "Alcohol won't have any deleterious effects beyond normal inebriation."

"Good. Because I'm gonna get hammered."

[NiteMare Shape]

It's been three days since my run in with the assassin in the alley, and I've spent every waking moment since then trying to find him. It's no mystery who hired him, I've been hurting Midas' business and he's getting desperate. So he sent another hired gun after me.

This is a good thing. Desperate men make mistakes, and Midas is no different. Once I take down his arrand boy, I'll force Midas out in the open...and then I can end all of this.

But first, I'll have to find this assassin and take him out. Then it dawns on me that it won't be as hard as I may have thought...

I feel the cold steel of the muzzle of his gun press into the back of my head, and I curse myself for being so sloppy. I've gotten lost in my thoughts and it may have just cost me my life.

"Gd'evening, Kev. I hear you've been looking for me." He says as I can almost feel him pulling the trigger.

[NiteMare Shape]

4:00AM

At this hour, the city of Lost Haven is quiet. While most of the city slumbers, tucked comfortably in their beds, a select few still roam the streets. Police officers, medical workers, firemen and criminals are among the nocternal element who thrive in the early hours of the morning.

And hardly a one of them notices the bright streak of light that races through the night sky above Lost Haven. This strange anomally only appears for an instant, and is gone in the blink of an eye.

However, if one were able to follow the strange flash of light, which to anyone who might have seen it looked like nothing more than a shooting star, they would have seen it streak across the night sky from the north, and would have followed it until it crashed down in the forest just southwest of the city.

If it weren't for the massive fire that was started by the impact of the object, nobody would have known that anything had happened at all. In the hours that follow, the Lost Haven Fire Department will have conducted its investigation to the fire, and conclude that it was indeed a small comet that had impacted the area creating the conflageration...not aware that the Air Force investigators who were sent to investigate were really agents of STRIKE, and had already removed a small craft, which looked to be just large enough to hold one occupant...and that occupant was nowhere to be found.

[Hound55]

A small tavern in Little Ulster – Lost Haven

Isaac was drained. He’d been driving around the area for hours. Then after that, he took to the rooftops, swinging for almost an hour by grapple line almost aimlessly since he had little knowledge of where to go or what to do with himself. When he got tired of that he drove the Corvette around the area again. The movement helped him think and also served another purpose, but now that purpose was done and here he was. Holding the bar down with an elbow on the bar itself and a foot on the rail he made quite an odd spectacle, particularly because he didn’t bother to get changed before he stopped for a pint.

When he first asked for a drink, the bartender mentioned that he wasn’t expecting any trouble. An electronically altered voice responded “Most people seldom do.” before asking for an imported beer. He can remember the barkeep giving him a look of contempt like Isaac would expect the bar to cover him because of his Guardian status, but Isaac produced a roll of cash from his pocket which silently directed the bartender to fill his order.

Uncharacteristically flashing his largess he left the cash out in the open for all to see, rising from a nearby table a woman approached and stood at the bar next to him.

“Are you him, or are you just dressed up for a costume party?”

Isaac turned to address the lady and tapped the mouthpiece on his voice modulator.

“Costumes don’t come with this, hun. Accept no imitations.”

“Wow, so you run around with those other guys, yeah? Blue Blur and Icon?”

“Among other things…”

“So what’s he like? Icon, I mean.”

“Big blue? Oh you know… eats his vegetables, drinks milk. You know… Class act though... Real class act.” A sly grin beams through the balaklava, behind the clear mouthpiece.

“That’s good. Someone for the kids to look up to, people to aspire to while the city gets put back together…”

“…though I prefer my ‘good guys’ with a twist. A flash of danger to them…” she winked to emphasise the point. A not to subtle gesture as to what she was alluding to.

“Is that so…?” Isaac said, still playing it cool but barely able to keep the smirk from his face. “Sorry Renee, but it’s a necessary evil… nothing’s going to come from it I swear.” He told himself.

“Can I get you a drink? What’re you having?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

Fontaine looked down the bar, giving a whistle to get the bartender’s attention as he was still getting Isaac’s first drink. Isaac gestured, holding two fingers up and pointing to his part of the bar.

“Sorry ‘bout this, can you wait here? I’ve got to go to the can. Broke the seal too early.” Immediately regretting adding the final part of the sentence. But she laughed at how abrupt and upfront he was.

“Don’t go too far.” She responded.

Isaac stood in the bathroom looking deep into the mirror. He hadn’t needed the bathroom; that was merely an excuse for an essential period of absence. Now he was beginning to have a crisis of conscience.

“How can you do this…? She seems a nice girl, what the hell are you doing?”

Fighting further with his sense of ethics he wrestled himself back into the idea.

“It’s the only way… You don’t even know that anything will happen. It has to be done.”

Isaac removed a leather glove and turned the tap on, letting the purifying water flow first onto the less than pristine basin, and then onto his latex sheathed hand. He caught a small pool of it and rubbed his world-wearied eyes. He turned the water off and lent his head against the mirror, forcing himself to feel a few seconds more of remorse in self-reflection for what must be done and left the bathroom.

As he came out there she was, still at the bar but patiently waiting to catch his eye. Not something that a girl like her would have to try too hard to do. She was a natural beauty and even in just a simple dress as she was wearing she was still quite stunning. She’d already had a sip of her drink, but not much, by the time he worked his way back to the bar, the girl and the two full glasses.

“Hope you didn’t miss me… So are you here with friends or something?” the dark figure asked, noticing that she kept looking back towards a table of girls.

“Yes. The girls all came out for a night on the town after work. They kind of dared me to come up here.” She confessed, blushing slightly.

“Yeah? Whereabouts?” Isaac furtively slid his glass around hers while she pointed to a table of girls, a few of whom started laughing.

“So, are you glad you did?” he smiled, taking a drink out of her glass.

“Yes, I’m pretty happy with how it’s working out.” She took a drink from his, smiling and looking deeply into his eyes.

Isaac looked back into her eyes, but not for the same reason. They continued to make small talk “What do you do? Oh, and whereabouts do you do that? How do you like to spend your spare time?” while Isaac kept a close eye on her and waited.

Waited for something he didn’t know whether to hope for or not.

And then it came, and when it did come it hit like a truck. Her eyes grew heavy and started to go bloodshot, and happening in seconds she collapsed upon the bar. Still living but clearly heavily drugged. Isaac turned and scanned the bar and saw it. A man on the other side of the bar had just gotten to his feet and was stunned. A big man, Isaac could tell that from the other side of the room, with a hat pulled largely over his face, with two eyes gleaming from the dark shadow like those of an animal in the pitch black night.

But that animal was caught in the headlights, and behind the shadow that obscured his face from Isaac he wore an expression that showed that. For less than a second they held each other’s gaze, while Isaac leered from the other side of the room like a ravenous predator. With that second’s conclusion the spell was over and the man took flight. Isaac turned to the barkeeper and barked a parting message before bustling his way through the crowd and out of the door in pursuit.

“Call the cops and watch the girl. If anything happens to her it’s your licence!”

The man in the hat had a great jump on Isaac, in addition to the time he had to spend to see the girl was looked after he was seated right by the exit and the regular Friday night bar traffic made it difficult for the black clad vigilante to get to the exit. He had over 50 yards to make up, but was cutting that distance with every passing second.

Legs pumping like pistons with almost mechanical precision due to their owner’s complete ignorance of the lactic acid burden they carried, he cut it down to 30 feet before he saw the man in the cap duck down an alleyway. Isaac turned down the same alley and came face to face with…

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

But he had to be here. There was no other way out; it was a dead end alley. And the eerie silence struck Isaac like a train. Instinctively he went to his hip, forgetting that he left his grapple gun in the ‘Vette in the hope that he might seem a more vulnerable target. His sticks are back in the HQ as well now that he thinks of it… He kept them there while waiting for Gunny to bring in his new nightsticks. He curses his own stupidity under his breath and moves on unarmed; it’s all he can do.

He tries to control his breathing, needing to rely more on hearing due to the darkness, but his body was still panting heavily from the overexertion he put it through chasing the killer to here. Treading softly and carrying no stick he starts down the alley – shuffling through in an open fighting stance checking both sides of the alley as he progresses.

Then he felt it. Not the blade; he could never feel that, but the heavy force pushing him in the back in the region of the kidneys. He heard the squelch as his shiv penetrated, then a second in the same spot, then a third where he heard a scrape as it hit a harder surface. Stunned momentarily a heavy arm slid over and across his throat. He was getting efficient at this and Isaac probably would have marvelled if he weren’t otherwise preoccupied.

Regaining his composure to the situation there was still little that could be done as the larger man had his weight shifted well off balance with his massive arm pinned across his throat, Isaac’s toes dangling inches from the ground. “C’mon… just a little further.” He thought as he struggled to get a decent footing on the ground.

Almost instantly that wish came true as the killer brought Isaac down to target Isaac’s other kidney and liver. But that was all the chance Fontaine needed. The second the Terrarian touched down on Terra Firma he shifted his weight and threw the armed assailant over his shoulder. As the slayer got to his feet it immediately became apparent that the entire momentum in this fight had now shifted. Gone was the element of surprise...

Advantage – Vigilante.

Sensing the swing, the blade-wielding brute lashed out aggressively with fear. But the controlled Fontaine had his every measure; slipping the first slash and gripping the man’s wrist he responded with a perfectly calculated boot to the face he then brought the leg over the top of the man’s arm, applying pressure on the murderer’s wrist and forearm. He held tight to the shiv that was his lifeline with all of the strength of a madman and for a second Isaac thought he would have to break the killer’s arm, but finally the pain won out and he released the blade. Isaac grabbed it and flung it across the alley where it hit the wall and dropped behind a dumpster.

The madman, no longer relying so heavily on the blade pushed the unbalanced Isaac who flew a few feet, crashing back-first into a wall. The killer-in-the-cap charged at the recovering hero but Fontaine saw him coming and sidestepped, watching the serial killer knock himself unconscious diving face first into the wall, landing in a crumpled heap at his feet. Reaching into a pocket he pulled out several plastic tie-restraints and fairly soon the police arrived on the scene.

“You did this?”

“Who else would have..?”

“Well yeah, but did you have to tie his wrists to his legs?!?”

“Well… I didn’t want him to go anywhere…”

The killer started to stir just as a TV network truck pulled up at the end of the alley.

“Ah hell… Hey, I disarmed him, threw the shiv somewhere behind that dumpster back there… Weapon should be consistent with victims five to two… Oh, and this as well.”

Isaac lifted his jumper and broke a string that was tied around his waist. Having snapped the string he removed a device that looked like a metal plate coated with jelly. Isaac walked up and held it right in front of the killer’s face.

“Kevlar plating coated with red ballistics gel. You think I’m stupid enough to be out and about and NOT protect the one place you’re targeting when you’ve made it abundantly clear that you’re after me? I’m insulted…”

A reporter and his crew had alighted from the van and were already running down the alley. Isaac looked up and saw a fire-escape, checking it led all the way to the roof.

“Well… I’m not in the mood to answer questions, I’ve places to be and I don’t have my grapple gun here… so I guess I’ll have to make do.”

With that Isaac ran towards the alley’s dead-end where he jumped up onto a dumpster. Using the added height he leapt, catching the bottom rung of the fire escape. Within a minute he was gone.

[NiteMare Shape]

Anne Faulk looks on as many of members of high society file into the banquet hall of the Lost Haven Gala Hotel. The guests are not limited to Lost Haven's elite, but are a collection of some of the country's rich and famous, as well as politicians and dignitaries, as well as various media members from all around the world. They are gathered here at the Lost Haven Gala Hotel for a fundraiser intended to raise money by the people still most effected by the alien invasion which took place nearly a year ago.

To Ms Faulk's surprise, the turnout has been better than anticipated, and her organization "Together We Can," is looking to surpass its goal of $25,000,000, all of which will be dedicated to rebuilding homes and schools in areas most effected by the devestation incurred at the hands of the Arlaaekeans, yet least capable of recovering from it.

Anne cringes however, when she spots among the attendees Senator Arlen Waterman, a proponant of anti metahuman legislation, and one of the loudest voices for banning all metahuman activity from the United States. Fortunately, he has not been successful in getting others to his cause, but she fears that it is only a matter of time before he is able to sway some of his colleagues to his point of view. She is not surprised to see him at the event, as he has been gearing up for his re-election campaign and beeing seen at an event like this can only help his standings with more moderate and liberal voters, a demographic in which he has generally failed to connect with. She nods to him as he makes eye contact and smiles to her, a gesture more out of courtesy than anything else.

Anne makes her way through the crowded banquet hall, greeting and mingling with the many guests in attendance as she makes her way toward the stage so that she can make her opening remarks, thanking the attendees for coming and reminding them of the tragedy that had occurred earlier in the year, though not one person in attendance will ever forget what had happened.

As she steps onto the stage and positions herself in front of the podium to speak, she is suddenly aware of a slight disturbance at the back of the room. She watches as a man in a red hooded sweatshirt steps towards her. He lowers the hood, and she can see that the man is clearly agitated about something. She is about to motion for security to take him away when he speaks up.

"All of this for them. For those people who are too weak to fend for themselves. But we...the metahumans are completely ignored by the masses. We lost people too, but you're more than happy to ignore that. And it's because you're jealous of us. You know that we are a superior race, and so you celebrate our losses, but through these opulent parties to help those of you that suffered..." Anne interjects.

"That is not true at all...we've done...." Anne is cut off by his ranting.

"SHUT UP!"

"Security, can you please escort this man from..."

As security begins advancing on the young man before she can even finish her sentance, the disturbed young man yells out.

"No! Get away from me! Get back!!"

As event security continues moving toward him, the young man begins to take on a strange glow. The security officers back off as a bright light begins emitting from his body. But by then it is too late, within the blink of an eye, a massive fireball emerges from the young meta, incinerating everyone inside the room an less than an instant, then going on to consume the rest of the Lost Haven Gala Hotel in a massive explosion can be felt for miles around.

S.T.R.I.K.E. Headquarters, Mid-Town Lost Haven

Director Anderson sits at his desk, watching the reports of the massive explosion that destroyed the Gala Hotel, as well as several nearby buildings. They speculate on what had caused the explosion, and just what the death toll will be.

He knows that once they go through the wreckage of the hotel, they will find a tape in one of the cameras that the press was using to film the event...and he smiles. He also knows what is on that film...Stephen Stone, a troubled meta human that had been released from S.T.R.I.K.E. custody on the grounds that he had not been charged with a crime, barging into a fundraiser and using his powers to cause wholesale destruction.

He leans back in his chair, taking a moment to light the cigar that hangs from his lips and takes a deep drag, relishing the flavor. Moments later, his phone rings.

"Anderson."

"Alex, it's Ryder. The mission was a success."

"I saw. Good work Marcus, Operation Rekoning is now in play, and things are never going to be the same."

[J'adore]

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Walking down the grand stairs of The Bay Mirror, Catrina 'Cat' Carter continued talking Karen Hathaway, an ally, a workmate and a reliability. They were dressed in their normal glamorous states and both had on their over-the-top stilettoes. Cat's hair was perfectly tied up in to a high ponytail, something she didn't do often. Everyone could see her pale yet complex features clearly for the first time in months.

"No, no, no Karen! Writing stories about Icon and Blue Blur is something Brendan would write about, not us. Not the Dynamic Duo! We weren't named the most original team in the world for nothing!"

Rolling her eyes, Karen clutched tightly to the camera hanging around her neck. She scoffed slightly, speeding up her pace down the stairs."Okay, firstly, we were never named that. Secondly, you say this, yet you were all to keen to flirt your way into a story about Icon the other day. Now things have suddenly changed...?"

Releasing an awkward laugh, Cat nudged her friend on the arm. She finally got to the end of the spiralling desks and shot over towards her desk. She set down her purse and turned back to Karen, pointing her pen in her face. Her eyebrow raised and Karen pushed the pen away, stepping back carefully and looking over her shoulder. She spotted the name card of 'Brendan Cooper', something she hadn't seen there before. She noticed that Cat's eyes hat lit up, possibly an idea had appeared in her head.
"Villains! That's it Karen, villains! An article on the recent rise of villains or those who 'walk the line between good and evil'. Whaddaya think? Am I genius or what? Right?"

Rolling her eyes with a stressed out sigh, Karen leaned against Cat's oak desk, resting her camera down besides the empty coffee mug. They exchanged sharp but humorous looks at eachother. As Karen opened her mouth to speak, Brendan Cooper waltzed over towards the two ladies. His latest arm candy, Lyla Kwan (the local Japanese news reporter), gave a gentle smirk towards Cat. Brendan swiftly picked up Lyla by her hips, placing her down on his desk, which was placed next to Cat's.

He was smug, yet ever so gentleman like. "Ladies, meet Lyla Kwan, the news reporter. Natasha's given her an insight to my story about heroes and how the recent uprise has certainly affected everyone at Lost Haven. She's going to do a special feature on it,"

"Heroes? Really? Come on Cooper, I'd thought you'd know all about the latest trends,"

Struggling to stay smug, Cat shot back a spiteful yet fake smile over at Lyla. Brendan rubbed his chin, slightly perplexed at Cat's proposed idea. Lyla began to chuckle, flicking her ebony silk hair over her shoulder. She crossed her pale legs over eachother and turned her head towards Cat. Karen stepped back, sensing an incoming feud. In the corner of her eye, she could spot Mr James West, his eyes narrowed at Cat.
"Actually Ms Carter, the local news station is just buzzing about heroes. Villains were so...last 80's,"

"We'll see about that Little Miss Kwan! Come on Karen, we've got a prison to visi---"

"Oh Catrina, how lovely it is to bump in to you. My office, please? You too Miss Hathaway..." Pointing to his royal office, James West stepped in between Lyla Kwan and Brendan Cooper. "Look Brendan, I don't care what Ms Wilde said, just get this 'news reporter' outta this building before I call the cops for intruding!"

Cat began to laugh, only to have Karen control her incoming emotions. The two females entered the office, waiting for their boss to give them the news. Brendan lead Lyla Kwan over to the lifts, flashing his usual attractive yet devilish grin.

As James entered the room, he clapped his hands together, rubbing them slowly and pouring himself a strong glass of rum, carefully. Silence filled the office for a few minutes, only a few glances being exchanged.

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"You rang, Mr West?" Cat asked, her lips slightly pouted. James sighed, then quickly flashed a small smile. He stepped closer to the ladies and arched an eyebrow carefully.

http://i55.tinypic.com/5un7sj.png

"Catrina, Karen. I have exciting news for the both of ya!"

"Did you say...exciting?"

"Good exciting, right?"

He chuckled, taking a sip of his strong beverage before placing the glass down on the desk. He looked over Cat, admiring her for a few seconds. Karen had always suggested that he had some kind of 'thing' for Cat, but never really showed it. But of course, Cat had replied to this snaps by brushing them off has simple kind gestures. "Be ready ladies, because by tomorrow this time, you'll be going undercover, downtown."

"Undercover!?" "Downtown!?"

He nodded, picking up his small desk telephone and quickly pressing one key. "Lois, would you kindly call Officer Jones, tell him we're ready to have our meeting."

Cat opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by the demanding buzz of her BlackBerry. Karen nudged her friend again, looking down at Cat's pockets. Quickly sliding her phone out of the pocket before James had noticed, her eyes glared down at the screen, which read:
'Brendan Calling'

Hang up.

---

"Hello, Shinobi? I've got the one you asked for. And yes, he was even dumb enough to fall for the disguise. I'll be right over,"

Lyla Kwan held a shining katana at the sweating neck of Brendan, her lips slowly curving in to a sinister smirk. Her eyes squinted slightly and she tilted her head. "I-I tried to call Cat, but she d-didn't answer...please d-don't k-k-kill me..."

"Oh, I wont American. We need you for other great things...."

[NiteMare Shape]

Explosion, cont. from Page 1.

were among those killed in the blast that destroyed the Lost Haven Gala Hotel and devestated surrounding areas.

In a stunning turn of events, Alexander Anderson, the Director of S.T.R.I.K.E. will be holding a press conference in the coming days to discuss the alleged roles that the so called "meta humans" had played in the attack. This will mark the first public appearence of Anderson, or the first acknowledgement of the organization's existence since President Blake mentioned them in the days after the Arlaaekean Invasion.

Rumors persist about exactly what Anderson will say at the press conference, however, actual details remain ellusive.

Explosion, continued on Pg. 17

[trustyside-kick]

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Lost Haven
The Western District
Apartment home of Samuel and Lilah Cranston

"WILL YOU GET YOUR ASS IN HERE AND HELP ME ALREADY? DAMNIT!"

Samuel Cranston sits in his bedroom, the sound of a plate smashing against the wall courtesy of his mother having a tantrum while high off drugs being the cause. Nothing new to Samuel however. Ever since he was born he knew he was never loved; and he had never been shown kindness.

"JESUS YOU ARE USELESS, SAMUEL! GOD! WHY DIDN'T I GET THAT DAMN ABORTION?! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE AND HELP ME!"

But Samuel Cranstion, age 24, the son of Lilah and ex-convict Marcus Cranston remains in his bedroom and lies down. Marcus Cranston had been in Samuel's life when he was an infant, and then first went to prison when Samuel was 6 and didn't get out until he was 10. Then 4 years later his father committed another stupid and poorly planned crime, again robbery, and was sentenced for another several years in prison; he will be released in 2 days.

Taking a sigh and deep breath, Samuel gets up from his bed, walking out into the hallway where he finds his mother lurking about as though she is suffering from vertigo. Having to work two jobs, and double-shifts sometimes at the diner, Lilah Cranston developed bad habits that started with alcoholism and of course eventually led to all kinds of drugs; whatever she could get her hands on at the time.

"I'm here, ma."

As he helps her slowly walk over to the couch where the TV is tuned to her favorite station, still the diseased old woman curses her son's very existence and slaps him as he sets her down.

Samuel's hands start to shake at his sides as her banter continues. A high school graduate Samuel never made it far enough to finish his college education. His priority had been helping his mother take care of herself and them in general so eventually Samuel had dropped out of college. Enrolled at Lost Haven Community College, Samuel did not know exactly what he wanted to do with his life but he knew...that what his life had turned out to be was not what he wanted.


Sixth Circle of Hell
Belphegor's Chamber

"It would appear that the one known as Michael has taken flight and expelled himself from Humanity. The boy thinks that by running away he shall be free. The Creator's new champion is surely faltering. He has become fragile on the inside; succumbing to his fears."

"And why is it you bring this to me, Barbas?"

The fear demon Barbas chuckles, though not in a way to sway Belphegor in a negative way. Being cunning and good with his words, Barbas reveals to this demon of higher ranking the ideas that lurk his dark and twisted mind.

"I wish to aid you, Belphegor. For I know of the Great Plan that The Seven has set forth."

"How is it you plan to aid me, Barbas? Like me you too are unable to leave the Pit."

Lifting up a carved yellow jewel, the smile on Barbas' face is wide as it is horrendous.

"Using this. You are familiar with this type of craft, yes?"

"Yes. But the host you choose...well, you have to make sure you can control him. The will of Man has indeed become very powerful."

"Oh, do not worry about the candidate I have in mind. My...our champion. He is perfect for what is needed of him. He will be so easily swayed and will become a walking nightmare. I assure you."

The Demon Belphegor walks up to Barbas, the smaller fear demon not at all being budged or intimidated by Belphegor's gargantuan size, and kneels down to get a closer look at the crystal in Barbas' hand.

"And I assume you desire something for your aid, Barbas? Do not think me to be a fool."

"Please, Belphegor. You think me to be a trickster and truly that hurts. What I get out of this is simple: witnessing the torture of the Creator's latest champion knowing full well that it is because I...we have made it so."

"Very well, Barbas. I leave the task to you. But should you be a disappointment, you will answer to myself and the rest of The Seven."


Lost Haven
The Western District
Apartment home of Samuel and Lilah Cranston

"MAKE YOURSELF USEFUL AND GET ME A BEER FROM THE FRIDGE, SAMMY!"

"...Yes, ma."

He walks over to the kitchen and gets a glass bottle of beer from the fridge. Taking his time to walk back to the twisted woman that gave birth to him but never loved and nurtured him evil thoughts invade the mind of Samuel Cranston, age 24. She had said to him enough times that his birth was a mistake, and started saying that to him when he was the age of 14 when his father was sent away to prison the second time. The first 14 years of his life was depressing and bad enough, but the last 10 have been an eternal nightmare for Samuel.

And so, as he heads back over to his mother, he thinks about how easy it would be to just smash her head in with the beer bottle.

So so simple.

No one would miss her.

And no one would come to her funeral.

He could even just skip out on giving her a funeral at all.

Die, you b*tch. That's what is going through Samuel Cranston's mind right now. But as he finally makes way to her, he does nothing.

[trustyside-kick]

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Lost Haven
The Western District
Apartment home of Samuel Cranston
The Rooftop

Lilah asleep, for the few hours of the night Samuel Cranston can find peace. He decides not to waste it on sleep as well because he wants to consciously enjoy the moment. The nightsky, illuminated by the stars, is a sight that the 24-year old cannot enjoy for the stars get in the way of the black void. The void that he has lately grown so fond of as he looks towards the next few moments where he will see nothing but darkness.

To put it rather clear, Samuel Cranston plans to commit suicide in a matter of seconds.

*CAW CAW*

A crow caws in the distance, but as Samuel looks around he cannot see a thing.

He stands at the edge of the rooftop. After his body falls from this height, crushed from the impact, he will be in an eternal slumber far greater than the one he could be induced in this glimmerous starlight night. All he will see...is darkness for he will see nothing at all. No longer will he be a victim to the dreadful Lilah Cranston who has been his mother for the last awful 24 years of his life. In two days his father will be back from prison yet again, another thing Samuel is looking forward to not having to experience.

"There is no God. I didn't ask for this life. I was tossed into this never-ending hell."

He lifts one leg up, about to tilt over the edge of the roof.

"I'm ending this nightmare."

*CAW*

"AHH!!"

A black crow suddenly flies past Samuel, its talons slicing at his shoulder and escapes through the nightsky. Samuel Cranston stumbles backward, falling on his back on the rooftop. As the crow flies over Samuel from it's other talon drops a yellow gemstone, that falls beside Samuel's head.


Sixth Circle of Hell
Belphegor's Chamber

"Hahaha, nicely done Barbas. I am indeed impressed. But you are certain that this...Samuel...is the best candidate?"

Towering over Barbas, the demon Belphegor stares at the image before his eyes. A simple demonic spell, Barbas and Belphegor are able to see through the eyes of the demonic constructed crow that attacked Samuel and keeps its eyes on him still.

"The perfect candidate, Belphegor. You heard him yourself. He renounces the Creator. And he has been pulled through the dirt and termoils of Society that he fears it so much he strives to escape. Much like Michael but different in that he desires to find Salvation by joining the denizens of Hell through suicidal actions."

The gargantuan Belphegor nods, turning away from the magical mirror while Barbas looks on. Eyes burning like fire, Barbas anticipates the moment that is to come with great passion.

"Take the jewel, Samuel. Free me from this prison and I will help you wreak havoc and revenge on all those who have caused you harm. Become their Nightmare."


Lost Haven
The Western District
Apartment home of Samuel Cranston
The Rooftop

The gem shines brightly as Samuel turns his head, his eyes locked on it. He can feel something stirring from within...Fear of the Unknown. But this same fear creates such a curiosity that Samuel Cranston age 24 cannot help but wonder about. He takes hold of the yellow jewel, and stands up. The second he touches it, it burns his hand.

"AAAHH!"

As he lets go of the gemstone, it floats in mid-air before his face. Trying to tend to his wound and looking at it with great concern, Samuel has no time to react as the yellow gem suddenly latches onto his chest. Burning as it seems to engrave itself into his chest, at first Samuel feels great pain. However this Fear is one he has never known before suddenly feels blissful, and a devious smile comes over his face. He can feel a sudden power and a mind that is not his own whispers.

Samuel...Samuel Cranston.

The very world around him seems to fade away as Samuel Cranston seems to enter a realm unknown to him that is his very subconscious. It is a black void, glorious and beautiful in his eyes. Just like he imagined it could be. Then there is a yellow glow coming closer from the distance. A figureless creature that glows so brightly that Samuel has to cover his eyes.

What...are you?

I am Barbas. Better yet...I...hahaha. I am...Your Salvation.

The creature engulfs him, and the glow fades away and Samuel comes back to reality. His body...renewed and reshaped, he is the form of a hideous and monsterous behemoth. He roars through the nightsky and his body starts to shape back into more of a form of a man. Though not a man anymore, Samuel Cranston embraces his new...self. The voice from his subconscious speaks again.

I can hear your thoughts, Samuel.

You hate her.

Despise her.

You wish you had it...in you to end her.

Guess what, my boy? Now you do.

You know who I am talking about. So, go on...do it.

"Yes."

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"Believe it is time we wake up mother."

[Spike_x1]

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Things are finally getting back on track. After taking an... unofficial leave of absence from the Guardians, I think that I might have at last established a life for myself outside of the mask. I've stopped drinking as much, and not nearly as often as I was a few months ago. I'm also proud to say that I'm no longer on a first name basis with the local call girls.

I suppose it's the little things in life that we find ourselves being the most pleased with.

Still, the most noteworthy thing I've done? I've started my own company. It's nothing big or extravagant, but it means that I find myself having to wear a suit and tie more often.

"Mr. Locke?" My assistant, Stacy, asks for me as she gently knocks on the door to my office.

"C'mon in," I reply.

Opening the door and stepping inside with an electronic notepad in her hand, Stacy is the picture of professionalism and a reminder of the kind of image I need to present myself as in this office, which is why I've held back on getting an intercom so far. "Mr. Sers is here with the investment portfolio."

I keep almost forgetting how much paperwork is actually involved in this, and how heavily reliant I am on investors right now. By now, you might be wondering just what my company actually does. Well, right now we're not doing much of anything except getting staff in place. But once we get our labs up and running (and cash flowing), we're going to specialize in giving environmentally friendly energy alternatives. Two of our prospective scientists have already developed plans for a new kind of solar panel that's supposed to be ten times more efficient than the ones most people are familiar with. They just need the resources to put those plans into production, which I will hopefully be able to provide them with.

"Thanks, Stacy. Send him right on in."

As for my superhero life? Well, like I said before, I've taken a short leave from the Guardians, but that doesn't mean I don't still find time to bust a few heads when the sun goes down. And thanks to my powers, if some street thug happens to get lucky and shoot out my eye, I'm back to looking pretty in time for work in the morning.

http://i276.photobucket.com/albums/kk23/Spike_x1/CAH/JustinHartleyFox-Passions.jpg

Yeah, life is going pretty well.

[NiteMare Shape]

It's been three days since my run in with the assassin in the alley, and I've spent every waking moment since then trying to find him. It's no mystery who hired him, I've been hurting Midas' business and he's getting desperate. So he sent another hired gun after me.

This is a good thing. Desperate men make mistakes, and Midas is no different. Once I take down his arrand boy, I'll force Midas out in the open...and then I can end all of this.

But first, I'll have to find this assassin and take him out. Then it dawns on me that it won't be as hard as I may have thought...

I feel the cold steel of the muzzle of his gun press into the back of my head, and I curse myself for being so sloppy. I've gotten lost in my thoughts and it may have just cost me my life.

"Gd'evening, Kev. I hear you've been looking for me." He says as I can almost feel him pulling the trigger.

I can feel his finger tensing on the trigger, and just before he squeezes a shot into the back of my head, I teleport several feet to the left. Before he registers what happened, I teleport again, this time just behind him where I land a hard forearm blow at the base of his spine that sends him to the ground.

As he hits the ground, he tucks his head and rolls through, coming up several feet away from me on his feet. I lunge at him, hitting him with an open hand chop in the throat, then an uppercut that puts him on his back.

"Who are you?" I want to ask, but I say nothing. Instead, I just advance on my attacker. Whoever he is, he's good and I know I need to end this as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately, he has the same thing in mind. In a flash, he brings his wrist up and there is a sudden snapping sound as a bollo comes swinging at me from his wrist gauntlet. As it starts to wrap around my legs, I begin to teleport, but the sudden pain shooting up my legs and coursing through my body as the bollo unleases thousands of volts of electricity causes me to lose my concentration, and istead of teleporting to safety, I wind up falling flat on my face.

"Well Kev, ol' boy...I gotta hand it to you. You've lasted a helluvalot longer than anyone else. You've got some moves, boy...it's just too bad that Midas wants you feedin' the worms." He says with a thick Southern drawl.

"S'a real shame too, I think we could have made alot of money together, if circumstances were differn't 'course." He says, shaking his head before exhaling wistfully.

"Name's Arion. I gotta hand it to you, you must've done something right to get that ol' boy to send me after you."

As he continues to talk, I work on the bollo with a small blade hidden inside my gauntlet. He's so busy monologuing that he doesn't even notice. I let him go on until I've cut almost completely through the bollo.

"You talk to much." I say as he steps closer to me.

When he is within reach, I break free from my binding and sweep his leg in one swift motion. He yelps as he crashes to the ground in a heap. I pounce on him, landing a few well placed shots as we roll toward the edge of the roof, where I come up with the advantage.

I look down at Arion, "It's over."

"You took the words right out of my mouth." He says as he lets loose a flash grenade which leaves me momentarily blinded, which is all he needs to roll out from under me, propelling me over his head and off the roof.

[Hound55]

Prologue

Our Father of Dundonald General Hospital – Little Ulster, Lost Haven

A young lady in evening dress lies on a hospital bed, the centre of attention for three other ladies who have not quite had their fill of the excitement for this night and don’t want their friend to be left alone in her present state. But their wants are about to be overruled by the nurse on duty...

“I’m sorry ladies, but we’re going to have to ask you to leave. We’ve gone outside of usual regulations to just let you see her this long in the first place, but other patients will need to sleep. She’ll be quite alright here, we’re just keeping her under observation.”

The women say their goodbyes to one another, trade well wishes and hopes to see the ill-party back at work soon. As they leave and the ward falls silent the young lady still finds herself unable to sleep with all that has happened that night. She found herself drugged in a bar, and according to her workmates a dashing figure in black swept out to bring the culprit to justice. A dashing black figure who seemed to have shown quite an interest in her, and she’d have been lying if she said that he didn’t pique her fancy as well.

Tossing in her bed to try and somehow get comfortable in spite of the overly tight blankets, she couldn’t hear the vague whirring sound of a thin cable being fired from the ground outside the Eastern Wing to the roof of the building several floors above. Concentrating on fluffing the hard hospital pillows she also couldn’t see the glimmer of the cable as it reflected from the moonlight. But there was no masking his presence when a distinctive electronic voice pierced the night air.

“Sorry I had to have them leave, but I didn’t want company for this.”

“You!”

“I’m glad they sent you here… It was either here or New Derry General given the district and I haven’t really heard much good about that place.” Isaac said, trying to divert conversation to small talk to make the situation easier on himself.

“Do all the women you’re out with get a tour of the local hospitals?”

The black silhouette stopped, eyes gleaming as if her joke resounded with some grander meaning to him. It took him a while to find his place again and when he did the voice came softer, his voice less sure or confident than usual.

“I didn’t come here to have them sent away for our privacy for those reasons; I confess my actions were a lot less selfless. I just didn’t want the crowd to be here when I apologised.”

“Apologised?”

“Yes. The man who drugged you, the one I chased… oh, and caught by the way, he didn’t spike your drink. He spiked mine.”

“I-I don’t understand…”

“I’ve been chasing this man for a while. He’s a killer. He’s been at large for some time slaughtering numerous people, seems he has a problem with drinkers. Finds drinking an unforgivable sin and has targeted the most flamboyant sinners for rather violent ends. I… I made myself a gaudy target by publically making a show of myself ‘searching’ for him with this (taps grapple gun) and in my own, somewhat eye-catching car. Then when I thought it likely that I had his attention I went to a bar and made myself even more obvious, playing the obnoxious star-hero throwing money around and generally acting like a jerk…”

“Then you went to the bathroom, and figuring that he would try and drug you, you switched glasses with me?”

“You… you knew?”

“No, but I could see where you were going with your story…”

Isaac slumped down in one of the seats surrounding her bed. His eyes piercing the darkness, the silence only broken by a single audible exhalation echoing through the voice modulator. This was not the same hyper-confident man that she was speaking to, flirting with, in the bar earlier that night. This man was more distant, yet had less pretence about him.

“And how do you feel about that?” he finally asked, seemingly unable to bear torturing himself, internalising how she could possibly feel. The piercing whites of his eyes disappearing in the darkness as he sank his face into his hand.

“Well to be honest… it doesn’t really make that much of a difference to me.”

“Eh?” The eyes shone once more through the dark as if an electric current just pulsed through his body and flicked them on once more.

“Well, you didn’t KNOW that he was going to drug me, did you..?”

“Well, no…”

“…and if the girls were right before, your first reaction when it became apparent that he did drug the glass was to make sure I was taken care of…”

“… yes, but…”

“… and once you saw to it that I was going to be taken care of you did immediately chase down the person who you saw was responsible for drugging my drink.”

“… but not for that reason…”

“Does it matter what your MAIN reason was? Was him drugging my drink also a reason?”

Isaac sat in the dark in silence for a second, but now with a new smile on his face behind transparent plastic made obsolete in the darkness. Feeling the awkwardness in the air from how distant he was sitting, he got to his feet and stood by the bed instead.

“You were still being a hero… Still my hero.”

“Heh.” An involuntary noise echoed from his voice modulator in reaction to her sentiment. Trying not to make her feel self-conscious he attempted to cover it up with coughing.

“Now why did you really come here?”

“I told you. To apologise.” He said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“No, really..?” She beamed back at him and put her hand on his gloved hand, rubbing her finger up towards the wrist and his sleeve.

A flash of panic shot through him and he overreacted to the situation, pulling his arm away and turning square to the girl.

“So that really was just a show at the bar earlier then. Well, I guess that’s good to know…”

“Sorry. Just caught me a little off guard.”

“That’s ok, I guess we have to start over then.” She smiled at him, trying to calm him back down. For some reason he seemed extremely agitated and she wasn’t certain that she wasn’t the reason.

“So… got a girlfriend..?” she leaned forward.

“No. Well, yes… I don’t even really know.” He said softly. Thinking about the question.

“How can you not really know?” She asked. “Ah… YOU have but this you doesn’t? Or this you does but she doesn’t know about the other you or something like that..?”

“Something like that…”

“She’s a lucky girl.”

“That’s a bit presumptuous.”

“How do you mean..?”

“I mean, that’s a bit presumptuous. You presume that I’m some great guy, a great boyfriend… Truth is she probably doesn’t know me much better than you do, and you’ve known me less than a day…”

“Well, maybe you should let her get to know you..?”

“No! …No, I can’t do that. I do that, I put her life at risk.”

“Yes, but if you don’t do that then you’re putting her life at risk and you’re not even giving her a choice.”

“I know…”

“Then if anything happens to her you’re going to be in the same state that you’re in now… but maybe without the possibility of apologising.”

“The risk’s greater if she knows though. At this point, all they can do is kidnap her or kill her to get at me, but that takes them finding out who I am and who she is for it to be a possibility. There’s no point. They have to know who I am to get at me, if they know who I am they target me, not her. I’m not the big flying blue one, I don’t run faster than they can drive, I don’t have wings, or work magic… I’m as human as she is…”

“…Now if I tell her about me… let her know everything… First, she’s locked on board the sinking ship S.S. Vigilante, second, she becomes the target for kidnappings… questionings, possibly under torture, to get at what she may potentially know. I can’t do that to her. I can’t do that to anybody. The risk is greater and the only upside is if anything DOES happen to her I’ll feel “better” for not endangering her life without telling her.”

“And if I do let anything happen to her… I should feel worse. I SHOULD feel like a jerk of the highest order, because anything that happens to her is ENTIRELY my fault.”

“Wow… Martyr complex much? It wouldn’t be entirely your fault, what about the one who harmed her in the first place?”

“That’s not a decent argument… Someone who would want to harm her to get at me is a given. If there weren’t people like that in this world I wouldn’t be doing this in the first place… The whole situation would be moot.”

“So that’s why you’re the right one to be doing this..?”

“Hmm?”

“Well, whoever does what you do has to be someone trustworthy. The world can’t have someone running around breaking all the rules with no conscience. That’s why you’re the right guy for this… You’ve already thought everything through and have started blaming yourself in advance.”

The suggestion brought a smirk to his face.

“You’re going to make some dumb, punch-drunk self-professed superhero very happy. I’m just sorry to say it couldn’t be me, ma’am… But it’s starting to get late, even by my standards. You take care of yourself, and don’t go accepting drinks by strange men in black you meet in bars…”

She laughed at this, looking down at her own hands on the bed. Playing with her own fingers.

“Well, you know I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but since you’re not going to take the initiative because of this girlfriend of yours, I’m pretty much forced to play this card… there’s an old custom, you might have heard of it, where the damsel in distress gets to kiss the hero…”

But he was already gone, curtains left blowing in the draught by the open window the only evidence of his having been.

“Damn. Next time, maybe…”

[Hound55]

Private Residence – An Undisclosed Location

Isaac woke up late in a darkened room in one of his many safe houses. It was usually quite dark as he kept blinds drawn to allow him to sleep better during the day hours, the effect of his arduous self-inflicted schedule, but this was something more. He’d woken up late. The sun was already down, unable to be seen even behind the cracks in the window where light would normally shine through. Not a good sign, it generally meant he’d been pushing himself too hard when he overslept like this. He rocked to his feet with a groan, emitting a quizzical expression at the same time.

“When the hell did I start making that noise when I get up?”

He looked over at an electronic clock radio on his sideboard.

9:30 .

An illuminated dot hanging next to the letters PM that were labelled on the outside of the display. Isaac hit a button and it displayed the date for several seconds.

“Make a note of it…” He said, quoting the current date and time, “…the very minute I got old.”

Scratching himself he lumbered into the bathroom and washed his face in the sink. Hesitating for just one more second he looked up at the untended face in the bathroom mirror.

“Ugh…” A grunt was all he could muster, fully summarising his appearance. He’d been in the mask too long and neglected the face behind it, whiskers grew from his jaw haphazardly in random places and at chaotic angles as they’d been forced to circumnavigate his balaklava during their growth. The forces of nature struggling to claim back his face, like weeds trying to take back an old ruin. Nature once again showing it’s longevity over the will of man. Not wanting moss or mould to take back any other part of his body he decides mid shave that a shower will follow.

Hot water steams all the glass in the room obscuring all that could be seen, in response a mild fan is heard struggling to circulate the air and steam emitting a low hum. Just piercing the hum of the fan, Isaac hears his phone go off and the irritated naked figure steps from the shower wrapping himself in a towel and leaving the unsuit in the direction of the call.

“It never f***ing fails…”

“Hello?!” Isaac barked sternly into the phone in irritation.

“Isaac?” The soaked Fontaine regretted his tone immediately as he recognised the sobbing feminine voice of the caller immediately.

“Renee? I… Sorry, I was just in the shower… I… Are you OK, I said I’m sorry…”

“No. No, Isaac it’s not that…”

The sound of an electronic device vibrating against the pine of his bedside table could be heard across the room. Isaac got to his feet, still listening intently to Renee on the phone, whilst making his way to the sideboard. Just before he got there it vibrated once again. “Hmm… it never does that. One vibration, one message. It shouldn’t go off again for another ten minutes after the first.” He thought to himself before he picked up the pager.

“… It’s Dad. There was an explosion, he was at a fundraiser last night… for the victims of the invasion. Mum stayed home because she was sick…”

She was barely able to contain herself as she started to explain what little she knew of the event. Isaac as listening but couldn’t ignore the pager. Selecting the most recent message it flashed on the small screen.

“V. Lvl 3 Emgcy. Explsn @ remains Lost Haven Gala Hotel.”

“… when he heard Mum wasn’t feeling well he offered me his ‘Plus 1’ for the event. He said it would be good for business, circulate and meet some of the city’s big players… I was on my way home when I got stuck in traffic.”

“Remains?!? Oh God… that’s not good.” He thought to himself flicking to view the other message.

“V. Liaise w/ LHPD, support CSIs. Add perspctv, add report.”

“I’m so sorry, hun…”

“… so I called him from my car and said not to worry about it. He was only trying to help, if I didn’t call… Let him wait for me at the apartment, we’d have been late. The explosion would have happened before we got there.”

“Oh geez…”

“If I just let him wait, let him help me… spent the night with my Dad, he’d have been ok. Now I’m never going to see him again…” and with that she bawled. Isaac had no idea what to do, what to say.

“It wasn’t your fault, hun… It wasn’t your fault at all.”

He couldn’t do this. Not now. All he wanted was to go to her, to hold her in his arms, but he couldn’t. Within an hour he could have been there, but they were practically worlds apart.

“I’m packing now. I’ll be on the next flight out there… I’m so sorry that this has happened. You need to go and be with your mother, I’m sure she’s going through hell right now as well. This… this is a time for family. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I love you so much.”

“I… I know. I just didn’t know who to call, the police rang me first since my father was in attendance and they assumed my mother would have gone as well. I don’t even know how I’m going to tell her. Frankly I was putting it off when I called you… Oh God, what if Mum didn't get sick..? I could have been am orphan!”

"..."

"Oh God, I'm sorry... I didn't mean anything by..."

"It's OK, hun... It's alright. You've been through a lot, I know you didn't mean anything by it."

"I'm still sorry... God, what am I going to tell her..?"

“It's ok. You'll find the words. I’ll call as soon as I touch down… The second I get in the cab from the terminal. I love you.”

“I love you too…” Then they both hung up, neither knowing what to say to follow it with. They let their love bid its own farewell.

“22 hours. That buys me 22 hours before I’ve got to call in.” He thought, setting his alarm and his phone on vibrate.

Stuffing himself in his black gear and grabbing his equipment before heading out the door to a boxy, white generic Ford sedan.

“Back to crime scene, more detective work… This keeps happening I might as well trade the black garb in for a damned trenchcoat…”

[NiteMare Shape]

Icon stands in front of the ruins of the Lost Haven Gala Hotel, his suit covered in soot and ash from his efforts to help the Lost Haven Fire Department put out the massive blaze. It took some time, but the fire has been extinguished and now the recovery teams are able to go in to sort through the rubble to see if they can find any of the bodies of the victims who were lost in the explosion.

Rumors have been flying around since the blast occured, each giving a new and more outlandish explanation as to the cause. Everything from religious fanatics to a cell of Arlaaekean terrorists seeking revenge for their defeat in the failed invasion.

While wild theories are plentiful, facts are not...and that is something that Icon is very much interested in uncovering.

As he ponders exactly what he will do next, his attention is brought to the fleet of black SUV's that flood the scene, quickly moving into place to cordon off the area and to keep onlookers and the media from getting too close to the ruins.

As Icon sees the vehicles, he feels a sudden sense of unease, he does not trust STRIKE, and any "relationship" that they may have is contentious at best...and he knows that if STRIKE is taking an interest in this explosion, it is not good news for anyone.

[NiteMare Shape]

Icon stands in front of the ruins of the Lost Haven Gala Hotel, his suit covered in soot and ash from his efforts to help the Lost Haven Fire Department put out the massive blaze. It took some time, but the fire has been extinguished and now the recovery teams are able to go in to sort through the rubble to see if they can find any of the bodies of the victims who were lost in the explosion.

Rumors have been flying around since the blast occured, each giving a new and more outlandish explanation as to the cause. Everything from religious fanatics to a cell of Arlaaekean terrorists seeking revenge for their defeat in the failed invasion.

While wild theories are plentiful, facts are not...and that is something that Icon is very much interested in uncovering.

As he ponders exactly what he will do next, his attention is brought to the fleet of black SUV's that flood the scene, quickly moving into place to cordon off the area and to keep onlookers and the media from getting too close to the ruins.

As Icon sees the vehicles, he feels a sudden sense of unease, he does not trust STRIKE, and any "relationship" that they may have is contentious at best...and he knows that if STRIKE is taking an interest in this explosion, it is not good news for anyone.

The fleet of black armored SUV's come to a stop just outside the police cordon. The doors to the vehicles open and agents begin to emerge from the SUV's and swarm all over the scene.

Icon watches uneasily as the rear door on one of the middle cars opens and a figure that he has never seen before steps out. A large man, build like an NFL linebacker, dressed from head to toe in black tactical body armor, much like what is worn by a typical S.W.A.T. officer moves away from the caravan of vehicles and towards the ruins of the hotel.

When the man eyes Icon, he alters his course slightly and makes a stright line to the hero. As he steps up to the Icon, the man slowly extends his hand.

"Icon, good to finally meet you. I'm Director Alexander Anderson. Now, if you could spare a few moments, there are some things I'd like to discuss with you."

[Carnage27]

http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x314/killadrew1987/_300_Spartan_Helmet.jpg
Cerberus
Revelations

"Good," Chiron says as he takes another swing at me, which I block easily. He rolls and drives his foot towards my stomach. I shadowmeld and teleport to the other side of him. I then summon the darkness around me, which shoots out as tentacles to grab him, tossing him across my training room inside the Eye of the Fates.

My name is Desmond Rhodes. I'm nineteen years old, and am the son of the Greek God Hades. Yes, I'm serious. And currently I'm training with Chiron, the great trainer of heroes, and the being that instructed the great Achilles and Jason of the Argo. For the past months, I've been honing my skills given to me by my divine lineage in order to beat back the tide of evil that has been plaguing the Earth.

The EoF, as I've taken to calling it, is the building specially built for the purpose of training me to battle the evils of the Earth. It's equipped with everything I could need, including a global watchtower, armory, and a slew of cars, although I prefer my powers for travel.

But the past few months have also been full of frustrations. Chiron refuses to let me go on patrol many nights, claiming I'm not ready to face the true horrors of the world. But I believe he's guarding me from something. Something that has been weighing on his mind for weeks now.

My double life has also been weighing on me. After graduating high school, I've been attending community college during the day, and fighting crime at night or training doesn't do wonders for my GPA. And then there's the situation with Penny. I still don't understand what's going on there.

But college has opened up my social repertoire. I go to parties. I meet people and make friends. Chiron believes my change in attitude results from an outlet for my frustrations. I tend to agree with him.

I pull a cylinder off my back that extends into a spear, and I place the blade on his neck, "Come on now, Chiron. It's never been that easy to beat you. Are you going to spill what's been bothering you?"

He sighs, and looks up at me. I know he's had my best intentions at heart while not letting me patrol, but I can't be the hero he says I'm destined to be without actually going out and helping people. He stands and speaks, "Very well. I know the past few months have been hard with your restricted time in the field, but I believe you are finally ready to hear why your father sent me to you."

The two of us head for the watchtower, and I sit as he types something into the command center. The largest screen in the room then displays a large map of the Earth, with a multitude of read dots that cut a swath across the world, leading towards Haven City, "These dots represent the murders of children of Olympus across the world. They are all children of the lesser Gods, therefore not as powerful as you or a child of Poseidon or Zeus would be, but the trend is still troubling."

"Meaning you don't think this is random," I say, nodding in comprehension. "You think who ever this is is targeting us. Meaning he knows who and what we are."

"Yes," he solidifies my theory. "And the Gods and I believe he is one of you, as well. And that his desire is to be the lone child of Olympus in the world. For what reason, I'm not sure."

"Probably because then he think no one will be around to stop him," I say.

"Very astute," he ponders, rubbing his chin. "Very astute, my apprentice. But I have decided that it is time for you to start nightly patrols. I can no longer hold you back, nor do I have a reason to. Besides, I do believe I would be doing the citizens of this city a disservice by restricting your abilities."

"Can I start right now?" I ask anxious.

"I don't see why not," he smiles.

I return his smile with a mischievous grin, and teleport into the Haven City night, ready for whatever comes my way.

[Hound55]

In Transit towards the Lost Haven Gala Hotel

It took 5 minutes for a familiar figure to turn to black. It took a further 5 minutes for a white Ford to turn to a black Corvette. The changeover made in a parking garage very close to the direct route. Cruising to the ritzy hotel he remained at the speed limit as this was not a high urgency assignment. Clean-up and CSI, no action in progress. A gloved hand pressed a button on the interior and a dial tone came over the car’s speakers.

“Rookie.” Isaac uttered clearly and deliberately.

Soft artificial beep tones could be heard as the car’s phone dialled the phone number for one Brett Robbins. The phone rang 4 times before the officer’s youthful voice answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Son, put your night-night milk back in the fridge and haul arse to the Gala Hotel. There’s work to be done.” The inimitable artificial tone of the Vigilante’s voice modulator sang through the phone and then cut out as he hung up abruptly not waiting for a response. Only a few minutes from the hotel himself he had no desire to waste time with small talk, particularly since it would result in Robbins taking longer to get there.

[Hound55]

Outside of the Lost Haven Gala Hotel

Icon stands in front of the ruins of the Lost Haven Gala Hotel, his suit covered in soot and ash from his efforts to help the Lost Haven Fire Department put out the massive blaze. It took some time, but the fire has been extinguished and now the recovery teams are able to go in to sort through the rubble to see if they can find any of the bodies of the victims who were lost in the explosion.

Isaac strolls from his car to find a familiar face already there; the Icon had obviously heard the calls for help and flown straight there. From the looks of his costume he got there pretty early to assist with the fire… From the looks of the building he got there too late to do much, short of assist with putting out the fire. Isaac gives a familiar nod to the blue garbed hero which was as much for appearance as anything. Despite their familiarity he hadn’t seen him in quite some time; he wanted to thank him for returning, but felt that it wasn’t something that should be warranted or expected by either of them. Instead he just kept walking towards the hotel, until he heard the sound of engines coming down the road and turned in time to see a convoy of black SUVs pulling up fast, with men jumping from the cars to set up a perimeter.

As he ponders exactly what he will do next, his attention is brought to the fleet of black SUV's that flood the scene, quickly moving into place to cordon off the area and to keep onlookers and the media from getting too close to the ruins.

As Icon sees the vehicles, he feels a sudden sense of unease, he does not trust STRIKE, and any "relationship" that they may have is contentious at best...and he knows that if STRIKE is taking an interest in this explosion, it is not good news for anyone.

A man in black walked up to Isaac with a palm outstretched.

"No. This is S.T.R.I.K.E jurisdiction, you enter these grounds and we’ll place you under Federal arrest."

“Oh, because you’re a Government department…”

"Yes sir, pleased to see you understand."

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen. We’re a Government agency too, and my jurisdiction is pretty much wherever I God damn please. So go help your idiot brethren set up the crime scene before you piss me off. I'll tell you when I'm done.”

"In all due respect, we’re an entire team of highly trained S.T.R.I.K.E agents, sir. What exactly would you be able to do about it all on your own?"

Isaac stopped in his tracks and then stepped across to one side revealing the previously obscured Icon. The S.T.R.I.K.E agent looked like a deer in the headlights, catching site of the hope of Lost Haven. He turned to one of the cars as if desperately seeking guidance, before catching the eyes of a mountain of a man covered head to toe in tactical body armour. The man’s stony gaze had the effect of a sledgehammer between the agent’s eyes, and an almost imperceptible shake of the head followed by a facial expression that told the lowly field agent to stop bothering the Guardian and get back to cordoning off the area.

"My apologies, sir." The agent said between gritted teeth. "Of course I won’t hold you up any longer. Your crime scene."

When the man eyes Icon, he alters his course slightly and makes a stright line to the hero. As he steps up to the Icon, the man slowly extends his hand.

Isaac took one last glance at the Icon, he’d drawn the attention of a S.T.R.I.K.E agent himself… A big one, decked out in full tactical gear that made Isaac’s own gear look like the works of a comparable amateur.

Throwing one last thought for his blue-clothed ally “Woe betide the ‘roid-fuelled idiot who tries something on with Big Blue.” He walked through the singed doors to the charred remains of the Banquet Hall.

[Carnage27]

http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x314/killadrew1987/_300_Spartan_Helmet.jpg
Cerberus
Revelations


I move through the shadows of the night like a dolphin through the sea. My greatest mastery over my abilities comes in the form of my shadow melding. Using it, I can travel through the darkness, teleporting and moving quicker than humanly possible. It’s also an incredibly efficient way to track down bad guys, like the carjacker whose trace I picked up almost immediately after leaving the Eye.

As he weaves through traffic in the red Charger he shot a man for, obviously headed to whatever chop shop he prefers, I speed through the darkened streets of Lost Haven, flowing from one shadow to the next. He turns off the highway at an exit near the outskirts of the town, believing that he’s gotten away scot free.

He turns the car into a garage, and exits, where two men are waiting for him outside. As they begin to converse, I materialize behind them. Though I am mere feet from their location, they cannot see me, thanks to my abilities. The carjacker starts the conversation, “That’s good right?”

“Sure,” one of the other two, a big, hulking man with a skull cap and a wife beater on. Honestly, who the hell wears a winter hat with a sleeveless shirt? “It’s a start.”

“I like this one,” his partner says. This one’s a scrawny bastard who looks like he’s strung out o something. “I might keep it for myself.”

“That ain’t how it works,” the carjacker snaps at him. “We need ta sell the ones we steal to finance the stuff.”

That’s all I need to hear. Like lightening, two tendrils of shadow shoot out and wrap themselves around the carjacker’s two associates. I smile as the shadow constructs wrap around them like boa constrictors, and then slam the two criminals together, knocking them out. The carjacker panics and pulls a revolver from his waistband and shaking, points it around him, “Who the hell is there!? Show yourself!”

A blue-ish, green jet of fire springs from my hand an hits the gun, melting it in his hand. I then teleport behind him and shoot a tendril at his feet, hoisting him up, and hanging him upside down. I then exit the shadows and become a physical object yet again. As I do so, the shadows wrap around me like morning fog. I can see the fear in his eyes as I approach. Good.

“What stuff needs financing?” I ask as menacingly as I can.

“Meth, man!” he says, stammering. “He’s got a bunch of choppers working with him to make his own little ring. And he had dirt on all of us by the time he got here. Said if we didn't help him he'd turn us over to the 5-0!”

I smile at how easily he gives up the info. Sure, the heroes like Icon can fly aroud and be the boy scouts, but that’s not what I’m equipped to do. “What’s his name?”

“I don’t know,” he says defensively. “We only ever talked to a middleman. The boss is some guy from New York that’s looking to expand into Haven. But the lackies called him boss Xerxes. Some crazy **** huh? Like that guy from 300!”

I’m about to interrogate him more as an explosion form downtown Haven lights up the night sky, fire blazing up like a space shuttle had just taken off. I look at him with disgust, “You’re lucky.”

He falls to the ground as I meld back into the shadows and head back towards Haven and the source of the explosion. By the time I get there, I find a crater where the Lost Haven Gala Hotel once stood, decimated by an explosion. I keep my distance, and see that Icon and some of the other Guardians are already on the scene. Not being ready to reveal myself to them, I head back to the Eye of the Fates and finish my patrol for the night.

[Hound55]

The Banquet Hall, Lost Haven Gala Hotel

Wooden doors to the main hall are jammed shut, warped by the extreme heat. Isaac puts his shoulder up against the door and tries to give it a half-hearted shove, the doors shuddered a little but held true. Sighing, he stepped back and kicked at the door, this was enough to shake the door loose a little. He slid through the slightly ajar doors, not wanting to disrupt the crime scene more than could be helped by forcing the door any further. Turns out Icon and the Fire Department must have gone through the windows to try and put out the fire.

Isaac surveyed the room for a moment, a sickening scent of wet cooked flesh filled the room, but he could barely recognise the deceased in the room as human anymore due to the events of that night. Fontaine brought his mouth up to his mask, but instead of turning on the air filter he just pinched the balaklava off of the bridge of his nose and rubbed between his eyes. All of the death was getting to him. No two ways about it. Finally, after relieving the tension that had built up there he activated his air filter and began to closer examine the room.

A S.T.R.I.K.E agent slid his way into the room through the doors to join him.

“What do you think you are doing? I thought we were clear on this?”

"I’m not here to stop you. I’ve been advised to observe and report."

Isaac turned back to the area he was already examining before the agent came into the room.

“You know it’s really unnerving…” He said, not turning back to look at the agent.

"What?"

“I’m used to being the biggest a***hole in the room.”

He continued going over the crime scene bit by bit, operating in small squares about a square yard in size at a time until he came to a space in the middle of the room. By now there were several S.T.R.I.K.E agents, forming a veritable congregation in the banquet hall, while Isaac worked in the middle. Brushing a small charred area he came across a box, perplexed he gently pulled it from the ash. Sweeping the soot from it the box became more recognisable; it was a camera. Isaac turned the box, and flicking a switch the camera opened and a tape could be seen within. Isaac pressed the back of his gloved hand against the tape; it was still warm but seemed to still be in tact. Isaac removed the tape and put it in a plastic bag the first S.T.R.I.K.E agents found him, but refused to relinquish the tape to the men in black he still didn’t trust.

Somewhat surprisingly the S.T.R.I.K.E agents had no issue with this, and one man in particular, covered in body armour seemed particularly impressed with Isaac’s work. He stood in the shadows by the corner, silently smirking at what just transpired.

Isaac felt ill at ease, now more than ever. There were more S.T.R.I.K.E agents in the room than he was first aware of and one seemed pleased with his findings. Top brass by the looks of him, despite his presence out in the field...

He looked down at his bag marked evidence and looked back at the space where he just found it, just inches from where he found the tape was a corpse’s feet. Looking closer he saw the man’s shoes. The extreme heat had melted the rubber and scorched the expensive Italian leather into a barely recognisable mess. Yet somehow this tape’s fine? - warm but fine?

“What the hell just happened here?”

Isaac had no idea what was on the tape, but he was starting to think that it could be nothing good…

[NiteMare Shape]

The fleet of black armored SUV's come to a stop just outside the police cordon. The doors to the vehicles open and agents begin to emerge from the SUV's and swarm all over the scene.

Icon watches uneasily as the rear door on one of the middle cars opens and a figure that he has never seen before steps out. A large man, build like an NFL linebacker, dressed from head to toe in black tactical body armor, much like what is worn by a typical S.W.A.T. officer moves away from the caravan of vehicles and towards the ruins of the hotel.

When the man eyes Icon, he alters his course slightly and makes a stright line to the hero. As he steps up to the Icon, the man slowly extends his hand.

"Icon, good to finally meet you. I'm Director Alexander Anderson. Now, if you could spare a few moments, there are some things I'd like to discuss with you."

While Anderson made his approach to the hero known as Icon, he noticed someone else on the scene. The mysterious Guardian called the Vigilante was on the crime scene poking around. Not entirely expected, but Anderson was sure that he could work this to his advantage. He makes eye contact with Ryder, also dressed head to toe in tactical body armor and motions toward the Vigilante, a signal that Ryder knew meant to keep an eye on the so called hero.

Now, Anderson stands there for a moment with his hand outstretched as Icon reluctantly shakes it.

"You said that there are some things you'd like to discuss. So let's talk." Icon says as he pulls his hand away from the director's grip.

"Straight to the point. I like that." Anderson says as he takes a moment to light a cigar.

"These are dangerous times we find ourselves in. There are alot of superpowered folks out there who are looking to do alot of harm. And there are others, like yourself who work to stop them. Now, as commendable as that is, we can't afford to have groups of super powered beings running around operating autonomously."

"What are you getting at?"

"Listen Icon, you're a smart kid. You know exactly what I'm getting at. We can't afford to have the Guardians running around getting in our way. There are alot of really bad people out there, and we don't need a bunch of amatures running around playing hero. You and your friends are going to get alot of people killed, and I'm not going to let that happen."

"Is that so?" Icon says, his body going rigid as he listens to Anderson talk.

"Take it easy, kid. I didn't mean it like that. You guys do good work, and the people like you. While I d