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

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Director Anderson sat behind his desk slightly frustrated by the day's lack of progress. On this day, he had been attempting to put pen to paper and write the eulogy for his friend, Marcus Ryder's "funeral."

However, he had been interrupted several times as issues would arise that needed the attention of the Director of S.T.R.I.K.E. For the most part it was mundane issues such as budgetary concerns, however he had spent considerable time on the telephone arguing with Dr. Teufel over the matter of the Director's insistence on the inclusion of a particular "specialist" on Project Endgame.

The Director had convinced Dr. Teufel that the "specialist" was an integral part of the project, and that if the good doctor failed to recognize that, then he would be forced to find a replacement that did. Whether it was his sound reasoning, or the fear of being replaced, Dr. Teufel had reluctantly agreed with the Director.

As Director Anderson struggled to get the wording just right for the eulogy, something else caught his attention. Anderson liked to have the television in his office on the national news stations so that he could always monitor current events. As the Director of S.T.R.I.K.E, he was often aware of situation as they happened, and sometimes before so. However, he liked to hear the commentary that the news outlets provided, as a way to remind himself of the human toll these events take. Something that is easy to forget when you are caught in the thick of things.

However, on this day he was drawn to the television not because of some catastrophic event that had taken place, but because of a statement that had been made by Congressman Peter Goodwin.

"...I believe that S.T.R.I.K.E has been overstepping its bounds, and poses a very serious risk to the civil liberties of ever American citizen, not just the so called 'metahuman' population. Further more...."

Anderson switched off the television. He was accustomed to a certain amount of criticism, it was after all to be expected. However, Congressman Goodwin had been making a habit of giving the media quotes that were less than complimentary of S.T.R.I.K.E and Anderson himself.

It was a situation that needed to be addressed, sooner than later. Anderson reached over and picked up his telephone and dialed a number. The phone rang once before being promptly picked up.

"Martinez, it's Anderson. We have a Code 86." He said quietly into the receiver.

"I understand sir, would you like me to brief Sureshot?" The voice on the other end of the line asked.

"No. We have to outsource this one. S.T.R.I.K.E can't be connected to this one in any way."
 
Television said:
...terrorists who would have us live in fear. It is time to end the meta human threat before and can evolve into something more. Thank you."

Isaac Fontaine became the Vigilante once more as he pulled on another all-black outfit in a dark room lit only by the television's glow of dark news.

Bad. Real bad.

Snapping on his first layer of latex gloves, he began strapping his wrists and ankles.

Had no idea it was this bad. Makes it even worse.

Leather gloves get pulled on, an acrylic black ski-mask is pulled from a drawer.

Unthinkably bad. Stupid.

A bag gets dumped into the back of a car. An engine roars into life.

For someone who relies so much on good information, I've let myself exist in a bubble too long. And that kind of stupidity is unforgivable. I'm bouncing around blind. I go from doing recon at a known S.T.R.I.K.E facility (smart, right?) to trying to argue for the fate of the world (don't remember? Never mind, pretty much no one else knows jack about it either...) to throwing myself straight back into action blind, as if S.T.R.I.K.E would just get over it... When do I ever have that much luck?

With a wrench at the wheel the car takes a hard turn.

Have to get back. It's a delicate situation we have here and I don't know what the others will do about this news. Between S.T.R.I.K.E and the Guardians, this city... hell this country is a powder-keg about to go off over the meta-human issue.
 
Chapter 24: Takin' It To The Streets...



"NO! GET OFF ME!!" the frantic screams of an older woman echoed throughout the darkened slums as night fell upon the East City alleyways. For when the sun goes down, the gang-bangers come out to play. And it seems they've found a reluctant playmate. Someone for them to rob or quite possibly... something worse.

"Not on my watch, they don't..." I muttered to myself as I flew into overdrive and high-tailed it to the alley the screams were coming from.

As I suspected, there were four thugs about to have their way with a poor woman, who, telling from the grocery bags with spilled contents all over the ground nearby, was probably on her way home from the store and decided to take a shortcut, only to be cornered by these hoodlums.

"Just get her cash and let's get going." The evident leader ordered his underlings, not really wanting to take part in their 'extra-curricular activities'.

"...but Ricky, she's a pretty decent looking coug. I'm thinking we can have some fun first." the creepiest of the four, the one holding the innocent woman at knifepoint, eerily said as he smiled, revealing two rows of crooked teeth, some of them replaced with gold fakes. No doubt to show just how 'Gangsta' he thinks he is.

"NO!" the woman cried, tears streaming from her face as the three 'Bangers began clawing at her clothes.

Having just arrived, I immediately intervened.

I began by forcefully landing, plowing my fist into the pavement, the resulting shock wave causing the thugs to fall over after losing their balance.

"...THE FUC--OOF!!!"

*BIFF!*

Before the creep with the knife could even ask his com padres what the hell was happening, I had already plowed my fist into his crooked teeth, causing him to forcefully be sent flying into the third story of the fire escape at the other end of the alley, and I let gravity finish the job for me as he fell to the ground with a loud crack...

I'm going to assume that was his ribs...

"Heh... Whoops."


Needless to say, I'm pretty sure he'll remember this moment and think twice before trying to sexually assault anyone ever again.

Quickly, my eyes darted to the other three as they began to get back up from falling over, and I noticed one of them had the woman's purse.

Ominously, I pointed to him, smiling as I did.

His face went pale and I noticed that his pants began to grow darker in color. More than likely that was because he was wetting himself as I pointed to him and he turned back to look at his unconscious pal.

Wasting no more time, I rushed for the purse. Grabbing a strap, I pulled it and the gang banger towards me, my other hand forming a fist that I had launched toward the thug as he rocketed towards me.

*POW!*

The mugger let go off the purse as he too was pushed back from the force of my blows, his body skidding across the alley pavement like a stone skipping across a pond.

"Yikes. He'll be feeling that one for the next week or so..." I joked, the woman's purse now safe in my hands.

But, there was still two more muggers to deal with.

I tossed the purse in the air, and as the thugs watched it rise higher and higher, I took the opportunity to strike as they were distracted.

I charged up some black light energy and fired a black-bolt at the last underling, which knocked him on his rear, and lastly, I jumped and landed a jump-kick on the leader's chest, knocking him back into the opposite building's wall, slight cracks forming in the wall from the force of the impact.

Then, without even having to look, I held my gloved hand up high, the purse landing right in my palm.

I then turned around to see the woman, who's tears had dried as she had watched the fight unfold, and I knelt down to her level, handing her the purse and putting my other hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright, Miss? Do you need me to call an ambulance?" I gently asked her as I helped her to her feet.

"I-I'm fine... I can call myself. You... You're the superhero from the news! My God... You saved me. I-I can never repay you for this..." she stuttered as she began to cry once more, though out of happiness as opposed to fear.

I smiled at her naivety.

"Miss, I'm a superhero. I don't save people to be repaid. I do it because it's the right thing to do." I smiled as I began to levitate my body, ready to take off.

"T-Thank you... You're a saint, young man." she smiled back, her tears still dripping down her face.

"No thanks, necessary, ma'am. Stay safe." I finished as I waved and took off back into the night sky, leaving the thugs for the cops to arrest.

As I continued my flight through the starry skyline, I pulled my phone out from my utility belt pocket, and began to dial Ryan's number so he can leave an anonymous tip to the cops as to what just happened, I noticed that I had received a text message during the commotion.

Opening it, I suddenly stopped my flight in shock, my mouth dropping open and my heart racing as I read it's contents...


Blacklight... I know who u are. Meet me at old condemned library on outskirts of school district. We have much 2 discuss. If u dont show, ur identity makes my next blogs headline.

-WASP



Once again, I found my mind was racing as so many thoughts and feeling swirled around in my mind, trying to process what was happening...

How!? Why!?!

"Goddammit!"

This was more than likely a trap, and for all I knew, this "Wasp" might not know jack, but they claim to know who I really am, and trap or not, if I don't meet with him, and they really do know my secret identity, then pretty soon...


...everyone will know who I really am. And that is NOT GOOD.
 
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Deacon Hawk and Brother Paul watch the local news as Eve enters the room after her downtime.

She asks, "Don't you guys ever go out and have fun?"

Brother Paul replies, "My work is all I need to sustain me. Occasionally I like to surf the web and grab a quick run on the track. Keeping you up and running is a full time job with no days off or sick leave."

Deacon Hawk replies, "I have ways of managing my self-care issues thank you for your concern Eve. Right now though it appears your last escapade has now put you on the radar. They were debating who or what you are, who are you aligned with if anyone, and your history. Nothing though about us just the way we like it. They're getting ready to discuss the fact that Dylan Chambers' secretary has been named executor of his estate and she is giving away a couple billion to several charities if your interested."

Eve asks, "No thanks. Did you all DVR the stuff about me? I would like to know what they are saying after all this is about me."

Brother Paul asks, "Needing some ego feeding perhaps?"

Eve is somewhat offended when she replies, "No just human nature. I still have that you know."

Brother Paul stares at her for a moment and says, "Sorry no offense intended."

Eve replies, "It's okay Brother Paul. I'm still getting used to all of this."

Brother Paul says, "Well if I may say so you are adjusting quite well."

Eve smiles and says, "Thank you. If you all don't mind I'm going out for a while. I need to keep my profile up and see what happens."

Deacon Hawk says, "Good Luck."

Brother Paul says, "God Bless."

Eve sprints out of the church and into the Lost Haven Night.

She then spots a car chase in progress.

Time to clock in.

Eve then takes off after the car being chased.

She quickly catches up with it and grabs the bumper bringing it to a screeching halt.

Eve says, "I'm not exactly sure what you all did but I'm pretty sure the traffic violations alone will get you all some serious prison time."

One of them says, "It's that Eve chick nail her."

They fire their guns and Eve dodges some of the bullet and some hit her doing no damage.

Eve smiles and says, "Eve chick and guns? Tell me you all can do better than that."

Just then the Lost Haven Police catch up and Eve says, "I think they can handle it from here."

She turns the car over on it's side and speeds away.
 
Scott swept the last of the shattered glass into the dustpan. It had taken him a lot longer than he had expected, but the debris from Pinup's mishap had been mostly cleaned. Scott set the broom and dustpan aside and was about to head into the kitchen to grab a cola from the refrigerator when the back door opened.

Surprised by the sudden intrusion, he made his way over to the back of the club where the rear entrance is located to see who would be coming in. He was somewhat surprised to see Keira standing there, an unreadable expression on her face.

He was relieved to see her, and at the same time, he felt slightly uneasy. They hadn't spoken since the other night when they argued about Pinup being at the Guardian Headquarters, and he wasn't sure what her where he stood with her at the moment. And in that instant where they stood across from each other, neither saying a word he began to feel guilty. Although he still feels that he did the right thing, and the way that Pinup has performed since being introduced to the Guardians, he knows that he was right about her.

After all, if it wasn't for her Acrobat would have been killed by those S.T.R.I.K.E drones.

But even so, he knew that he could have been more understanding. Keira had just been through a major ordeal, and perhaps Scott had gotten so used to dealing with the sensational that he had forgotten what it is like for those who don't do so on a regular basis.

He slowly walked over to where she stood, still not entirely sure how to approach her. He knew how he felt about her, and that she had felt the same way. But he was left wondering, "is it enough?"

"Keira..." He finally said as he came to a stop just in front of her. He looked into her eyes, trying to read her expression which was still very much neutral. He agonized for a moment, waiting for her to say something, anything. But she remained silent. Finally, he broke the silence.

"Keira, I..." But before he could finish his thought, she smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck as she reached up with her lips and kissed him longer and deeper than anyone ever had before.

Scott Morse lay in his bed along side Keira, who rested her head on his chest. It had seemed like it had been an eternity since the last time the two had a moment of peace. It was a rare moment, especially as of late.

His duties as Icon had kept him busy, from the growing amount of meta human attacks across the city, to the current situation with S.T.R.I.K.E and the cracks that seem to be forming in the Guardians as a result.

But in that moment, there was none of that. No S.T.R.I.K.E, no Guardians...no Icon. There was just Keira and Scott. He lay there, his eyes closed, listening to her lightly breathing as she lay next to him. He could feel the warm tingle of her breath as well as the rising as falling of her chest as she exhaled against him.

For the first time in weeks, he was totally relaxed. And as he continued to lay there with Keira by his side, he finally drifted off to sleep.
 


"So the meeting is all set? Good. Be sure to let our contact know that we will pay his price, whatever it is. But there can't be any connection to S.T.R.I.K.E, or to me. This is a...delicate situation and needs to be handled as such." Director Anderson said before hanging up the phone.

Congressman Goodwin had been a thorn in his side for long enough, and Anderson was going to see that this particular irritant was going to be removed...permanently.

He leaned back in his chair, a slight smile crossed his face as the door to his office opened. He looked to the person standing in his doorway, somewhat surprised by the interruption.

"Yes Elizabeth? What is it?" He asked his assistant.

He had noticed a change in her over the last several days. She seemed sullen, distant. It was not like her at all, and he was beginning to get concerned. She had taken the loss of Marcus particularly hard, he had suspected that she had some degree of affection for him...more than just a working relationship. More like a schoolgirl crush. Whenever he would come around the office, she would lose her focus. At the time, Anderson had found it slightly amusing that such a strong willed young woman would lose her her cool in such a way because of a man nearly twenty years her senior.

He felt sorry for her.

However, he knew that the sacrifice that Marcus had made was for the benefit of the entire world, and because of that sacrifice he would become the last line of defense against the meta human threat.

Of course, he could never tell her that. Somehow, he didn't think that she would understand.

"I'm getting ready to head home. Do yo need anything before I leave?" She asked, sounding tired.

"No, that will be all Elizabeth. Go home and get some rest." Anderson said, and then watched as she turned to take her leave.


***

Elizabeth Powers sits behind the wheel of her crystal red Cadillac CTS Sports Sedan impatiently waiting in the gridlock that is Lost Haven rush our traffic. She grits her teeth and uses every bit of restraint she possesses not to roll down her window and scream at the top of her lungs.

Then her phone rings. She sighs loudly and rolls her eyes at the sound of her ringtone. She is not in the mood to chat with anyone right now, and is ready to ignore the call. That is, until she sees who is calling.

She quickly flips open her phone and answers.

"Yeah, I have what you're looking for. They'll be safe until we can meet." She says, then listens to her caller's response.

"No, he doesn't have any idea. We need to set up a meeting, as soon as you're able." She said before abruptly terminating the call.
 
Hawkes and I wait down the street in the van, watching the house. Mirole's car never moves, and we don't see her leave. Which means it's just a matter of time before it all comes together.

A matter of time is about an hour, in this case. That's when a car pulls into the driveway.

"That's our guy."

"That's my cue." I go see-through.

"I'll be right behind you."

***

The key slips into the lock, but the door suddenly opens, pulling the key chain from Timony's hand.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Don't 'Hey" me. Who is she?"

"Who's who?" he asks.

"Oh, don't play with me! After what we did together, how could you?" She throws his shirt and jacket she'd been holding behind her at him.

"That!"

He pulls the shirt off his face. "What are you-?" That's when he smells the perfume, and finally notices the smudge on the collar. "That's just your lipstick."

"No. I'd never wear that shade. After all we've done, how could you?! Another woman? Were you just going to cut me out?"

As they argue, I stealthily slip the Doctor's photo into his back pants pocket.

"Keep your voice down! And I'm not seeing anyone else!" He pushes her inside the house. I slip in behind him. He walks past her, and that's when she sees it.

She pulls the picture out. "OH REALLY?! Not seeing her?"

I smirk at the look on Timony's face. "I-I-I've never seen her before in my life. Someone is setting me up."

"Oh, sure. We kidnap that general together. We were going to get more money than we'd ever be able to spend. But you were just using me." She pulls back and lays a slap on his face that makes me cringe.

Nice left.

"Would you shut up!" He tries closing the door, but Hawkes blocks it with his hand.

"Agent Timony. Agent Mirole. Got a minute...?"


Dwight Charles sits next to his lawyer, resigned to the fate soon the be handed down. He didn't like it, but he was willing to accept it. It was just another sacrifice in a long life of sacrifices. If it kept the project safe, then it would be worth it. And if he was truly responsible...then he deserved what was going to happen.

And while he sat there, he refused to look at the back of the courtroom. In the back row behind the prosecutor sits Broiles. His expression a mix of satisfaction and determination. His victory assured and only moments away.

The defense attorney stands. "We'd like to offer a plea, your Honor. Mr. Charles is willing to take full responsibility for the events that led to General Butler's death. We request the court consider a plea of Gross Criminal Negligence."

Gross Criminal Negligence. Why does that sound worse than 1st Degree Murder?

The judge glances at the paperwork on her desk. "Does the prosecution concur?"

***

The prosecutor stands, but before he can say anything I stick my head into the courtroom door.

"Hey, is this a good time to wake make my big entrance?"


"Who are you?!" the judge demands.

"Oh. I'm the agent Mr...Charles sent in to subdue the kidnappers. Darren Cole, at your service." The Fatman looks back at me in utter confusion. Well, I'm about to show him why I get paid the big bucks...so to speak.

"You see, he's not the cause of the death of the general at all. That was actually the act of Director Broiles right back there."

There's a gasp of confusion from those in the court. Broiles is on his feet in an instant. "This is outrageous!"

"Well, granted, not Director Broiles directly...pun not intended. But it was him through the two Federal agents he paid off to do the kidnapping."

"Your Honor!" the prosecutor shouts.

"Bailiff, have this man-"

Hawkes pushes Timony and Miroles into the courtroom. "Go ahead. Tell them," he says as he gives them a shove by the shoulders he's holding.

"It's true."

"We took the general."

"Your Honor! You can't listen to this!" While Broiles fumes, the Fatman just laughs while he sits there, enjoying the show.

"This is crap. Why would I do such a thing?!"

"So you could move into a nice Director position in a Federal agency."


"I got moved into that role-"

The judge contemplates for a few seconds. "In light of this new evidence, I have no recourse but to declare a mistrial."

"No, no, no. Your Honor!" Broiles shouts.

"Mr. Prosecutor, you are free to refile you charges, but I doubt you'll want to do so now?"

The prosecutor just shakes his head in defeat.

"You Honor. Mr. Charles is grossly incompetent. He has no issue how to run this Agency. It's vital to national security that he be replaced."

"Why is that?"

"Because he doesn't see the value of what he's got!"

"What's he got?" Hawkes asks with that gleem in his eye he gets when a trap is set and he's ready to pounce.

Broiles points. "Him."

I turn to look at Broiles. "And what is so special about me? I know I have a charming smile. And my quick wit..."

Broiles steels himself. "He can go invisible."

I blink a couple of times and lean back, giving the judge an 'oh really' look over my shoulder. She does not look amused.

"I know. I know. It sounds insane. But I've seen him do it myself. That's why no one could detect him going into the house."

The judge's lack of amusement starts to become annoyance. She look down at her desk.

"Director Broiles is right," the Fatman says suddenly. "He's obviously more competent than me. I had an invisible agent...and didn't even know it." His last words turn into laughter. I smile with him, as do others in the courtroom. Plus a few chuckles.

"Alright. I'm not making this up."

"You know what? He's right. I can go invisible."


I turn my back to the bench and walk up to Broiles. I put my hand in front of my chest and quicksilver it.

"Ok. There! See? He just did it. See? he just made his hand disappear. I'm not crazy."

I turn around, arm in the air, with no hand. Then I pop my hand out from inside my sleeve.

"Pop!"

The laughter starts picking up.

I laugh and quickly run up to the front before Broiles can get his hands on me. He tries to give chase, but the bailiffs grab him.

I sit on the defense table and pour myself a drink of water. "Hey, judge. How about we make that guy disappear?"

She smiles...
 
It's Midnight in Lost Haven and Deacon Hawk and Eve are at a secret testing facility.

Eve looks at Deacon Hawk and says, "I realize that I no longer require sleep but even I gotta wonder what in the world are we doing here in the middle of the night."

Hawk smirks and says, "I love the nightlife I got to boogie."

Eve shakes her head says, "Before my time."

Hawk chuckles and suddenly a motorcycle horn honks behind them.

Eve turns assuming a fighting stance and Hawk turns calmly to see a black racing motorcycle behind them.

They see Brother Paul sitting on top of the motorcycle and he is smiling. He says, "Gotcha!"

Eve walks around looking at the motorcycle and asks, "What is it?"

Paul replies, "A motorcycle."

Eve gives him a disapproving look and then nods and smiles. She says, "Okay you got me on that one."

Hawk says, "Brother Paul and I felt that you would need a better way to get around Lost Haven besides running all over the place. Our backers authorized us to go through with this, so while you've been dead for the last five years and out and about at night he's been working on this in sercet, and I've got to give credit where credit is due he's kept his progress very quiet."

Eve smiles broadly and says, "Very Nice! What's all the bells and whistles on it? I know you Brother Paul you had to have done something to it besides a stealth mode."

Brother Paul says proudly, "Well Eve you're right stealth mode is just one thing I've done. Your cycle has a stealth switch which renders the motor virtually silent and kills the lights as well. It's bulletproof, fire-proof, freeze-proof and water-proof. When you sit on it you're automatically linked in through your neural net to us, to all frequences and the internet. A lazer in the front can cut through most metals, a grappling hook, and nice surprise. A built in tazer can shoot up to 50 feet and render most crooks unconscious in a matter of seconds. Oh and it has a turbo-booster that can double your speed for up to 15 minutes but use that one only when you have it takes a lot to make it run and a lot for the engine to recharge."

Hawk motions for Paul to get off and says, "All-right let's see how Eve handles it."

Paul gets off and the motorcycle shuts down.

He says to Eve, "This motorcycle is very precious to me please take care of it."

Eve says, "I'll try."

Paul nods and says, "I know. Make us proud."

Eve gets on and the cycle starts up. Then a metal shielding emerges from the top of her visor forming a helmet.

Eve says, "Ahh obeying the traffic laws."

Brother Paul nods and says, "It's calibrated to respond to your neural net, and in the hand-grips are tiny DNA sensors which are calibrated to Deacon Hawk and I."

Brother Paul pulls out an I-Pad and begins tapping on it. Suddenly the previously empty track is now full of obstacles and Deacon Hawk says, "Okay Eve put it through the paces."

Eve takes off and begins riding around the track firing the lazer, the tazer, the grappling hook, riding through frost, fire, bullets and water, and speeding around.

After 2 hours Brother Paul says, "All-right Eve bring it in."

She returns to Deacon Hawk and Brother Paul and Deacon asks, "What do you think? You seem to have a good feel for it."

Eve replies, "It's impressive. Gotta admit Brother Paul you did an outstanding job on it."

Brother Paul says, "Thank you Eve. It has a sensor in it which will open the way back into the church. Now like you it must be shut-down for at least one hour for downtime and the battery can recharge itself. It has a special power cell that once you've shut it down for an hour the cell recharges itself and goes through diagnostics as well."

Eve nods and says, "Well I think it's time for me to take it out and see how it responds to real city conditions."

Deacon Hawk and Brother Paul both nod and Hawk asks, "Are you gonna name it?"

Eve thinks for a moment and smiles and says, "Gentlemen say hello to The Serpent!"

Eve takes off as Deacon Hawk is laughing and Brother Paul shakes his head and rolls his eyes.
 
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OOC: The post necessarily takes place before certain events...

Dwight Charles sits next to his lawyer, resigned to the fate soon the be handed down. He didn't like it, but he was willing to accept it. It was just another sacrifice in a long life of sacrifices. If it kept the project safe, then it would be worth it. And if he was truly responsible...then he deserved what was going to happen.

And while he sat there, he refused to look at the back of the courtroom. In the back row behind the prosecutor sits Broiles. His expression a mix of satisfaction and determination. His victory assured and only moments away.

The defense attorney stands. "We'd like to offer a plea, your Honor. Mr. Charles is willing to take full responsibility for the events that led to General Butler's death. We request the court consider a plea of Gross Criminal Negligence."

Gross Criminal Negligence. Why does that sound worse than 1st Degree Murder?

The judge glances at the paperwork on her desk. "Does the prosecution concur?"

***

The prosecutor stands, but before he can say anything I stick my head into the courtroom door.

"Hey, is this a good time to wake make my big entrance?"


"Who are you?!" the judge demands.

"Oh. I'm the agent Mr...Charles sent in to subdue the kidnappers. Darren Cole, at your service." The Fatman looks back at me in utter confusion. Well, I'm about to show him why I get paid the big bucks...so to speak.

"You see, he's not the cause of the death of the general at all. That was actually the act of Director Broiles right back there."

There's a gasp of confusion from those in the court. Broiles is on his feet in an instant. "This is outrageous!"

"Well, granted, not Director Broiles directly...pun not intended. But it was him through the two Federal agents he paid off to do the kidnapping."

"Your Honor!" the prosecutor shouts.

"Bailiff, have this man-"

Hawkes pushes Timony and Miroles into the courtroom. "Go ahead. Tell them," he says as he gives them a shove by the shoulders he's holding.

"It's true."

"We took the general."

"Your Honor! You can't listen to this!" While Broiles fumes, the Fatman just laughs while he sits there, enjoying the show.

"This is crap. Why would I do such a thing?!"

"So you could move into a nice Director position in a Federal agency."


"I got moved into that role-"

The judge contemplates for a few seconds. "In light of this new evidence, I have no recourse but to declare a mistrial."

"No, no, no. Your Honor!" Broiles shouts.

"Mr. Prosecutor, you are free to refile you charges, but I doubt you'll want to do so now?"

The prosecutor just shakes his head in defeat.

"You Honor. Mr. Charles is grossly incompetent. He has no issue how to run this Agency. It's vital to national security that he be replaced."

"Why is that?"

"Because he doesn't see the value of what he's got!"

"What's he got?" Hawkes asks with that gleem in his eye he gets when a trap is set and he's ready to pounce.

Broiles points. "Him."

I turn to look at Broiles. "And what is so special about me? I know I have a charming smile. And my quick wit..."

Broiles steels himself. "He can go invisible."

I blink a couple of times and lean back, giving the judge an 'oh really' look over my shoulder. She does not look amused.

"I know. I know. It sounds insane. But I've seen him do it myself. That's why no one could detect him going into the house."

The judge's lack of amusement starts to become annoyance. She look down at her desk.

"Director Broiles is right," the Fatman says suddenly. "He's obviously more competent than me. I had an invisible agent...and didn't even know it." His last words turn into laughter. I smile with him, as do others in the courtroom. Plus a few chuckles.

"Alright. I'm not making this up."

"You know what? He's right. I can go invisible."


I turn my back to the bench and walk up to Broiles. I put my hand in front of my chest and quicksilver it.

"Ok. There! See? He just did it. See? he just made his hand disappear. I'm not crazy."

I turn around, arm in the air, with no hand. Then I pop my hand out from inside my sleeve.

"Pop!"

The laughter starts picking up.

I laugh and quickly run up to the front before Broiles can get his hands on me. He tries to give chase, but the bailiffs grab him.

I sit on the defense table and pour myself a drink of water. "Hey, judge. How about we make that guy disappear?"

She smiles...


In his old office, former Director Brioles quietly takes all of his belongings out of the cardboard box on his desk and sets them in their old positions. When his door opens, Broils is suprised to see who's standing there. But he's glad it's Ryder. This can still work.

"I know this is a setback. But it's still salvageable. Temporary. Nothing more," Broiles says as he continues to unpack.

"Oh, it's more, Luke."

"Not a problem. I can come back from this."

"No. There's no resurrection from this." Ryder holds up a file. "Do you know what an important man's biggest fear is? Being embarrassed. That's what you did. And we're going to make sure you never do it again."

Ryder walks out of the room, leaving Broiles to contemplate the future he'll never have...

***

"It takes a big man. A big man admits it when he's wrong."


I smile and nod as we walk down the halls of the Agency. "True. But I wasn't."

"Come on...say it. The Fatman is a lot better than Broiles and you know it. It's good to have him back. He's better than all the rest. Say it. You know you want to."

I stop just outside the office door. "Fine. Fine. It's good to have him back. He's better than most."

"Oh, faint praise for the man. And all he's done, and will do, for you..."

"Ok...I was wrong."

"What was that? I didn't quite hear you."

"I was..."

"You were...wroooooo-"

"Wrong."

"I love hearing that."

"Wrongwrongwrongwrongwrong."

"It's musical."

"Fine. Ok. Come on." I walk past Hawkes and into the Fatman's office.

Inside, we find him unpacking stuff from a box and putting them back on his desk. "Good work, gentlemen. Can't thank you enough."

"You're right. You can't. But I was thinking, instead of trying, you could give us some down time? For a start."

"I would get behind that...sir."

"If I remember correctly...you were suspended."


"And we saved your ass!"

"What you do on your own time is up to you."

Penny-pinching sonuva. I sit down on the Director's desk. "And...what if we just happened to have, say, one of the world's most dangerous bio-terrorists in custody?"

"Say...if a former director tried to have him killed, and that didn't exactly go according to his plan...?"

The Fatman pulls at his suspenders and smiles. "Well...that might be worth...a long weekend?"

"He's handcuffed downstairs. See you Tuesday boss."


We start for the door, and just before we get there-

"Boys." Hawkes and I look back.

"Call me Charlie."
 
As the sun began to Scott and Keira made their way along the walking path of the Ocean River Park. The park had been a favorite destination for Scott and Lisa, they had come here quite often enjoy the beautiful scenery and take in the fresh ocean air.

They would always take the same route that took them alongside the swing sets and playground that made the park a popular spot for families with small children. Just a little ways beyond the playground was the park's pool, which had an opening in the far side which allowed the water from the bay into it, filling the pool with salt water.

Then they would walk a few hundred yards beyond that and come to a small cliff looking out over the water, where there was a breathtaking view of the bay as well as the satellite islands that spot the large body of water between this part of Lost Haven and the open ocean.

The fact that this was the exact same route that Scott and Keira always took was not lost on him. It was something that was on his mind every time that he brought her here. He also wondered if it was a betrayal of the memories he made here with Lisa. He however, decided that it was not. The time that he had with Lisa was special, and this was a special place for them. However, she was gone. And he didn't think that she would mind him sharing this little piece of their life with someone else.

Scott stepped behind Keira, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her lightly on the back of the head as they watched the sun sink below the waves in the distance.

And at that moment, Scott knew that this was where he belonged, and despite everything else going on in his life, he had never been happier.
 
(OOC: Sorry this took so long; college keeps me busy!)

Aina started to tense up when he mentioned about her so called parents and swallowed. Her emotions were starting to crack, especially when something like this pops up. "I'm sorry. I didn't know, and no... my parents they..." She started trailing off before she could finish her sentence. Her emotions were starting to crack more as she quickly got up and bolted out the bar.

Pho watched Aina go as she turned to Jack with a frown. "I'm really sorry, Jack, sir." Pho responded as she bowed with an apology. "She didn't mean any harm."

"Well, let's go find her now." Minga added in as she got up from her stool and left with Pho to find Aina before the bounty hunters do.

Jack scoffed as the Starling Sisters left Geddy's bar. He had no intention of going after them; he'd rather be as far away from them as possible. They were a nuisance to him. He rolled his eyes and folded his arms. At this point, his appetite had been ruined. He was uncomfortable with the fact that the youngest sister not only ate like a pig, but she also fed his dog human food. She had nearly turned his stomach over.

Terry whimpered. He was very sad to see the ladies go, especially Aina. He'd grown fond of the Blind Warrior. As much as he wanted to follow her, he remained loyal to his master. He looked up from the isolated spot he was sitting in and whined.

"Stop that," Jack mumbled towards his dog. Before he could say anything else, his cell phone buzzed. He reached into his back pants pocket and retrieved his phone. It was a text message and the sender was unknown. Raising an eyebrow, he pressed 'OK' and mentally read the contents. The most important part of it was an address that seemed to be near his location.

It could be a trap. Someone or something wanted to lure him there... but for what? 'If it's a fight they want...' He smirked. He was in the mood to beat the living **** out of someone. Why not?

After putting the phone away, Jack waved at the bartender, turned towards the main doors and made his way out. Terry was quick to follow after him. With the address memorized, Jack made his way towards the destination within Hancock, Maine.

***​

It only took him twenty minutes to reach the location of the address. He was standing before a small French-themed café. Just to make sure, he fetched his phone, touched the screen and found the inbox. He selected the message and read the address. He looked towards the address numbers of the café and nodded. It was exactly the same.

But after he put his phone away, he looked around. No one in the area seemed to be a threat. No one seemed to be prepared to fight him. "Hrm." He was still on his guard. If it was them, then he needed to be extra careful...

For the time being, he would wait.
 
***​

It only took him twenty minutes to reach the location of the address. He was standing before a small French-themed café. Just to make sure, he fetched his phone, touched the screen and found the inbox. He selected the message and read the address. He looked towards the address numbers of the café and nodded. It was exactly the same.

But after he put his phone away, he looked around. No one in the area seemed to be a threat. No one seemed to be prepared to fight him. "Hrm." He was still on his guard. If it was them, then he needed to be extra careful...

For the time being, he would wait.

Agent Jared Williams moved unassumingly through the crowd as he made his way toward the approved meeting place, the C'est Le Vie Café. Williams had made a career out of keeping a low profile, serving as a covert operative in the CIA for over twenty years before being reassigned to S.T.R.I.K.E where he resumed his career as a spook.

As he made his way into the café, he scanned the dining room until he found his contact. Sitting alone, aside from a small dog at the back of the dining room he found the assassin. Williams carefully made his way to the back of the dining room and greeted the man.

"Evening Jack." He said as he looked down at the man and his dog, "I'm not sure, but I don't think they allow those things in here."
 
Agent Jared Williams moved unassumingly through the crowd as he made his way toward the approved meeting place, the C'est Le Vie Café. Williams had made a career out of keeping a low profile, serving as a covert operative in the CIA for over twenty years before being reassigned to S.T.R.I.K.E where he resumed his career as a spook.

As he made his way into the café, he scanned the dining room until he found his contact. Sitting alone, aside from a small dog at the back of the dining room he found the assassin. Williams carefully made his way to the back of the dining room and greeted the man.

"Evening Jack." He said as he looked down at the man and his dog, "I'm not sure, but I don't think they allow those things in here."

Jack looked at the man standing before him and raised an eyebrow. "Considerin' you're not tryin' to kill me right now, I'm guessin' you're not one of them..." He brought his attention to the Scottish terrier sitting down by his side. "As for him, I paid more than enough money to bring him in here." The manager of the café did seem to be pleased.

Terry looked up at Jared and tilted his head. He was probably wondering who he was and how he knew who his master was. His tail wagged as his master pat him on the head a couple times, perhaps as a reassurance to relax.

The Eternal Hitman looked back at Jared. His left hand moved back into his left trench coat pocket, lightly tapping a razor card. "Who are you and how do you know my name?"
 
Jack looked at the man standing before him and raised an eyebrow. "Considerin' you're not tryin' to kill me right now, I'm guessin' you're not one of them..." He brought his attention to the Scottish terrier sitting down by his side. "As for him, I paid more than enough money to bring him in here." The manager of the café did seem to be pleased.

Terry looked up at Jared and tilted his head. He was probably wondering who he was and how he knew who his master was. His tail wagged as his master pat him on the head a couple times, perhaps as a reassurance to relax.

The Eternal Hitman looked back at Jared. His left hand moved back into his left trench coat pocket, lightly tapping a razor card. "Who are you and how do you know my name?"


Jared snickered in approval as he took a seat across from the assassin. He looked down at the dog who was staring a the new arrival with equal parts curiosity and excitement. Jared put his focus back on the assassin, and with a wry smile began to speak.

"You've actually made quite a name for yourself Jack. Someone with your talents has the ability to...attract alot of attention...despite his best efforts to remain anonymous." He said, noting the assassin's growing annoyance.

"As for who I am...well, that'll just remain my little secret." Jack responded to Jared's elusiveness with a simple glare. A look that would have chilled most men to the bone, however, at the same time a look that Jared had seen a thousand times before.

"It isn't important. What is important, is the proposal I have for you. You see, recently someone has been making problems for my employer. Understandably, my employer wants this troublemaker silenced. Permanently. The information is all here." He said as he opened his briefcase, taking out a dossier and handing it to Jack.

"Of course, no connections can be made to my employer. It needs to look like an accident. I trust that you can handle that." He said as Jack began to look through the file.
 
A S.T.R.I.K.E. facility – Location undisclosed

A small man in a lab-coat sits in solitary, the small room lit only by the glow of a computer monitor. The weasely doctor appears to be hiding, hunched even smaller in front of the computer desk, with shoulders seeming to curl around his work station as if to eclipse what little light the screen gives off. He speaks in hushed, rushed tones and appears to be growing older and greyer by the minute as his face turns colder and paler.

“I’m leaving this message… God willing I’m still alive, but it’s quite possible I’m not… because my morals, as elastic as many may see them, just can’t stretch any further. What first started as mere unconfirmed fears had evolved into unsubstantiated suspicions, as a man of science it was only a matter of time until my curiosity demanded these questions be answered… and they have.”

The man hunched over further, allowing the recording device to fall away from his mouth whilst he mopped up sweat and attempted to clear his bone-dry throat.

“At this point, for all of my fears regarding the existence of genetically superior human beings who are hampered with only the limited ethics of the unevolved human mind… Christ, I’m rambling… for all of my fears regarding the possible consequences of a metahuman population existing alongside regular human beings, the beast I chose is much worse.”

A few mouse clicks and a paranoid look over the shoulder later and the recording continues.

“The file enclosed with this recording is the total knowledge I possess with perhaps the most alarming project that I have ever worked on in my entire career. Regretfully, my knowledge of the head of this agency is limited due to my lack of access, but from my admittedly brief dealings with him I feel comfortable in saying that our reasons for delving into cracking the riddle behind metahuman DNA have not been remotely altruistic in any way, shape or form. I suspect some deep-seeded psychological problem rests at the root of Director Alexander Anderson’s concern with metahumans, however since these suspicions remain unfounded and psychology is not my chosen field I will stick to facts and matters that I can prove and matters within my own domain. Primarily, matters regarding the man known as Henry Patton who has coldly been required to be referred to, according to frequent memorandums from above including the office of Director Anderson, as Project Sureshot…”

With that he stretched his back at his desk, and snuck another peek over his shoulder.

“As far as Project Sureshot is concerned, the entire project seems to be driven for nefarious reasons from the ground up. It seems very much to me that I have been put in charge of creating a man-made killing machine. Prior to Sureshot, all attempts of artificially replicating metahuman powers in regular human bodies have resulted in numerous adverse physical and mental side-effects. I have been unable to secure data of previous projects to add to this evidence as my access to these details was revoked after preliminary testing. Anderson is nothing, if not thorough… From the paper work I have seen however, it seems to me that any and all mental weaknesses that test subjects had prior to the procedure were exacerbated exponentially to levels that by any definition go beyond what would be considered stable. In layman’s terms, small mental issues get blown into big ones. With that being said, all psychometric tests regarding Henry Patton leaned towards the belief that he was a psychopath as you can see from his results in the PCL and PPI, the other tests enclosed suggest that he was at least on the fringe in terms of psychopathic personality. Since the procedure however we see a spike in these test scores…”

The man ruffles papers and takes the opportunity to sneak another peek.

“A spike… Well, aren’t I the master of understatement? Uhh, as you can see by the more recent tests, what that ‘spike’ equates to is the first perfect score on the Hare checklist… which is quite frankly terrifying and also enclosed are some further psychopath tests which leave no doubt as to the current state of his personality. Prior to the procedure I raised some questions with the Director regarding the state of his mental health, which were swiftly dismissed. The way this was dismissed, raised my curiosity and prompted this report, in addition to the fact that my continued concerns with the state of Sureshot’s… Henry Patton’s… mental health have been met with the result of all psychometric testing being put on hold indefinitely. The only allowance that has been made is that they have continued to allow Henry Patton to have access to art supplies, upon my request… I viewed it as one of the few outlets he has, and the only window to his psyche that our good Director Anderson has left open…” the man spat into the recording device.

More ruffling of paper as he located a specific sheet.

“I have enclosed several pictures that he has been drawing in his own time, the pictures he draws on request have all been nothing but hollow pictures for appearances sake. A glib show from a man who designed them more for appearance sake than for any of his own internal reason. His work has improved exponentially, in mockery of his mental decline, since the procedure and its effect on his hand-eye co-ordination. I noticed that for some reason the blacks and reds were running out faster than the other colours, which wouldn’t be expected if you saw the pictures he was showing me; they weren’t particularly hard-lined and red seldom featured in them. So my curiosity led me to search his room once when he was not in attendance. The results are the pictures you have seen. It brings to light the violent tendencies he has been trying harder and harder to conceal in recent times, and they feature this man the Vigilante quite heavily in what appears to be many disturbingly graphic… well, suffice to say I’m no longer curious about what had been happening to the blacks and the re… kkkkh.”

The room was filled with the gruesome sound of air rushing from his throat involuntarily.

The weasely man scrambled desperately at his desk in an attempt to hold himself up, his throat gurgled. While air rushed out he looked first in the direction his pain had come from; his greatest nightmare come to life, and then in the opposite direction looking for a temporary escape from the object of his fear. His eyes fell on the floor, and there he saw his end.

A stubby red pencil, it's natural colour only a few shades different from the new hues it had inherited from his throat.

"Whatever happened to doctor-patient confidentiality..?"
 
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Pinup sped down the city streets of downtown Lost Haven. The peace and quiet offered in the Vita-Ray chamber had given her time to think as well as heal, and now she barreled through the city toward what she hoped was another solution to the problem at hand, or at the very least, a little more insight into how bad the current situation actually was.

It had been surprisingly easy to leave the Guardians' Headquarters unnoticed, and obtaining a car had been so laughably simple it had left her wondering exactly how much money the Guardians had to throw around. Though the standard black sedan wasn't exactly her style, she had to admit whoever bankrolled the metas endeavors spared no expense.

She turned off the strip and onto a quieter side street. Tables lined the sidewalk outside a cafe and she pulled up to the curb, throwing the car into park and removing the keys from the ignition. The cafe was friendly and quiet enough. People sat about, chatting with each other over coffee and enjoying the novelty of outdoor dining in the middle of the city. Pinup moved through the crowd easily enough, glad she had changed out of the ridiculous costume she had found earlier and back into more normal street clothes she had been lucky enough to find on her way out of the HQ.

A man sat at a table under the awning, looking far older than his advanced years. Pinup made eye contact with him as she approached the table, and waves of relief and guilt took turns breaking over his expression.

"You look good." Walter said. It was a pathetic attempt to open a conversation, but the only thing he could think of. He wasn't sure, all of a sudden, what exactly he had expected her to look like, but so much had happened in the past 48 hours that to see her relatively unchanged was something of a shock.

"Thanks to your Vita-Ray chamber." Pinup replied, politely but without warmth as she sat down at the table. Her eyes bored holes into him, as though her mind was not yet decided on how to deal with the meeting, even though it was her idea.

"I'm glad you called me." Walter swallowed and picked up his cup of now-cold tea.

"This isn't a social call, Walter." Pinup leaned back in her chair and laced one leg over the other, folding her arms impatiently. Walter sighed and set his cup down.

"I know. I'm sorry, Emily. I'm really..." His brow furrowed in lines of incomprehensible guilt. "I'm really so sorry."

"I warned you, Walter." Pinup hissed. "I warned you, if you took that formula to STRIKE - "

"I know, Emily. I was just trying to help." Walter lowered his voice, both of them trying their utmost to refrain from being overheard.

"Anderson is recruiting his own little army." Pinup commented, veering the subject toward the point of the visit. "It has something to do with the formula you gave them, doesn't it?"

"You know the answer to that already." Walter looked down remorsefully.

"He's creating his own metas." Pinup voiced her fear stoically. Walter gave a small half nod, turning his tea cup clockwise on the table, watching the liquid undulate in the basin.

"I'm afraid it's more than that." He looked up, not saying anything, but everything written in his face.

"You've managed to reverse it." Pinup's hopes were all at once raised and dashed as her own dreams had now become the threat to every meta in the world. "And to weaponize it. Anderson is planning to take the powers from all the metas in the city."

"I wish that were the case." Walter's voice cracked. "The reversal process Anderson got hold of wasn't the refined version... it won't just reverse powers... it will completely shred meta DNA."

The admission fell on Pinup like a tree on a glass vase.

"You're talking genocide." Her voice dropped to a harsh, disbelieving whisper.

A lump rose in Walter's throat and he blinked back tears, unable to wrap his mind around his own guilt.

"Do his recruits know what he's arming them with?"

"I don't know." Walter shrugged, shaking his head. "But I'd doubt it... STRIKE works on a need to know basis, and really nobody needs to know anything..."

"Then how do you know?"

"The researchers there know I'm old, but they don't realize I haven't stopped paying attention."

There was a silence between them as all words failed. Pinup glanced at the people surrounding her, a sense of surrealism arising from the situation. How was it possible, when the world was on the verge of changing so entirely, that it could still continue as normal? People walked up and down the street, sat at tables, enjoyed their coffee. Cars stopped at lights and honked at pedestrians. It was all so familiar that it seemed somehow alien.

"We need to go." Pinup stood. "You need to come with me."

"Where?" Walter watched her stand, scarcely believing her.

"Guardians Headquarters." Pinup replied, her voice still cold toward him. "You got us all into this, you may very well be the only person who can get us out."

"But I-"

"There will not be genocide because of us." Pinup's eyes were icy as she shot him a furious glare. Walter swallowed again and stood, following her to the car. Pinup unlocked the doors and was halfway inside before a noise behind her caught her attention. A crowd of men and women were huddled against the side of a building, trying to push their way through to something near the wall.

Pinup leaned in, looking to Walter, who sat in the passenger's seat.

"Stay here." She ordered before closing the door and crossing the street. The shouts of the crowd seemed angry and made no sense to her as she neared them. A man turned toward her as she neared them. On his shirt he wore a STRIKE badge. Pinup's stomach flipped over inside her as she realized this must be part of Anderson's newly formed street team. Standing on her toes, she saw the men and women were crowded around two men and a woman, giving them little berth, their presence forcing them against the wall. The trio looked nervous and confused.

"We know you're meta!" She heard one of the angry citizens cry out. "Kelly saw you messing about with your f******g powers last week!"

"Too scared to do it now, huh!?" Another shouted at them.

"It's freaks like you that are ruining this country!"


The group began to close in on them again, and Pinup could take no more.

"That's enough!" She shouted, pushing her way through the small crowd toward the nervous trio. "Break it up!"

She reached the three and, putting her hand on the shoulder of one of the sandy-haired men, spoke softly to the three of them. "Look guys, I don't care if you are or you aren't, but if you are metas, DON'T show them, alright? Just stay calm and you'll be fine."

She turned to the crowd.

"Alright, that's it, come on. Anderson may have given you those badges, but it doesn't give you the right to harass innocent people. Get out of here."

"And who're you?" A woman bearing the STRIKE patch challenged.

"Someone who's a damn sight more sensible than you," Pinup snorted. "if you think starting a street fight is going to help anyone."

Those on the fringes of the crowd began to disperse, having only been in the mood for an easy show of power and not committed to having to defend their ideals. Only a few stayed behind.

"Look," Pinup planted her hands on her hips and looked critically at the few remaining stragglers. "I get what you're doing." She played their game a little, trying to soften their unmitigated hatred enough to listen to a modicum of reason. "You want the streets safe, I get that. But how is accosting a couple of pedestrians going to accomplish that goal? You want to get the dangerous metas? Go for it? Go for the Guardians. Those bastards are the ones who are really putting this city at risk, right? Not these guys. Hell, I bet these guys aren't even metas. Are you metas?" She threw a glance over her shoulder at the three stunned targets, who shook their heads confusedly. "There you go. Not metas. Now if I were you, I'd hop in your cars and take your fight to where it really counts, right?"

There was a confused silence as more of the crowd slowly dispersed. Gradually, even the most adamant of the mob seemed to decide their muscle would be better used elsewhere and gave up, grumbling as they stomped down the street.

Without looking back to the very relieved trio, Pinup returned to the car. She didn't feel great about painting a target on the Guardians' backs, but a choice needed to be made -the Guardians were better suited to deal with this sort of thing than those poor kids. Besides, even hate mongering against the super team couldn't protect the innocent metas forever. It was only a matter of time before it all blew up.

Her stomach clenched, as though every muscle in her body was focused on trying to hold down the pin of a live grenade. The feeling remained as she slid into the driver's seat of the black sedan and, with Walter in tow, headed back to the Guardians' Headquarters to await the storm.
 
Jared snickered in approval as he took a seat across from the assassin. He looked down at the dog who was staring a the new arrival with equal parts curiosity and excitement. Jared put his focus back on the assassin, and with a wry smile began to speak.

"You've actually made quite a name for yourself Jack. Someone with your talents has the ability to...attract a lot of attention...despite his best efforts to remain anonymous." He said, noting the assassin's growing annoyance.

"As for who I am...well, that'll just remain my little secret." Jack responded to Jared's elusiveness with a simple glare. A look that would have chilled most men to the bone, however, at the same time a look that Jared had seen a thousand times before.

"It isn't important. What is important, is the proposal I have for you. You see, recently someone has been making problems for my employer. Understandably, my employer wants this troublemaker silenced. Permanently. The information is all here." He said as he opened his briefcase, taking out a dossier and handing it to Jack.

"Of course, no connections can be made to my employer. It needs to look like an accident. I trust that you can handle that." He said as Jack began to look through the file.

Jack didn't like whoever this man was. Why he wouldn't reveal himself was irritating, but he tried his best to ignore it for the time being. As far as he was concerned, he wasn't from 'the cult', and that meant that he could breathe a little easier. However, he still wouldn't let his guard down.

He looked through every page of the dossier and tilted his head a little. His left hand was brought up to scratch his chin for a brief moment before he looked down at his dog. Terry seemed to be a little curious, but there was a shimmer of worry in his eyes. His worry was predictable; it was another job, but this one was on a higher level.

Jack brought his attention back to the man sitting before him and huffed. "I can handle anythin'. However, if you want this job done, your employer is gonna have to pay me A LOT of money. Usually I don't like to handle these kinds of people..."
 
Jack didn't like whoever this man was. Why he wouldn't reveal himself was irritating, but he tried his best to ignore it for the time being. As far as he was concerned, he wasn't from 'the cult', and that meant that he could breathe a little easier. However, he still wouldn't let his guard down.

He looked through every page of the dossier and tilted his head a little. His left hand was brought up to scratch his chin for a brief moment before he looked down at his dog. Terry seemed to be a little curious, but there was a shimmer of worry in his eyes. His worry was predictable; it was another job, but this one was on a higher level.

Jack brought his attention back to the man sitting before him and huffed. "I can handle anythin'. However, if you want this job done, your employer is gonna have to pay me A LOT of money. Usually I don't like to handle these kinds of people..."

It always comes down to money with these types. Jared thought to himself as he regarded the assassin.

"Fortunately, money isn't a problem for my employer. We'll pay you what you want, and once we are satisfied that the job has been completed to our specifications, we'll double it. Are those acceptable terms, Jack?"
 
(OOC: Apologies for the lack of responses. I've had my hands full with college.)

*~Aina Starling~*

Location: Somewhere in the back alley on the streets of Hancock, Maine…

Meanwhile while the cold-hearted Hitman was off doing ‘business’ of his own, The three sisters were finally calling it a day after having to deal with a guy like him as well as running from the bounty hunters that were still searching for them. Aina still felt a little heavy with her emotions, but she tried not to let them get to her while Pho and Minga were setting up sleeping bags for the night.

“Aww, just forget what he said, Aina.” Minga said as she turned to her youngest sister to try and comfort her despite her aggression. She despised Jack after the way he talked to Aina like that. This was a bad vibe she was getting. “That man was a total ***hole to you.”

“He’s such a jerk because of the way I was eating. I don’t really eat like a pig, do I?” Aina huffed as she felt a small rock next to her while trailing the ground with her right index finger. She stopped as she thought about what Jack said about her. The comments he said weren’t pleasant at all.

Once Pho and Minga heard their youngest sister asked that question, they just stared at her for a moment. “Umm…”

“What, are you saying I eat like a pig too? What’s wrong with that?” Aina didn’t like hearing the sound of that response from her older sisters. “I just love to eat.”

“Aina... Mr. Williams did have a point…“ Pho explained as she finished setting up her sleeping bag. “Your table manners are well… not the best there is.”

Aina sighed when Pho explained the situation to her. It was a pain when she enjoyed nourishing herself where someone would make comments about it, however, she didn’t care. ”I thought my table manners were fine, but I guess I was wrong… I’m going to bed.” It was hard hearing people say that her manners were poor. Aina sighed as she crawled into her sleeping bag to try and sleep. She was also hoping no bounty hunters would come tonight.
 
Director Anderson stood behind the two way mirror with Dr. Teufel at his side. Anderson was amazed, just this morning he had eulogized his "dead" friend, Marcus Ryder in front of a church full of the man's family and friends. And now, he stood before the man who had been like a brother to him for over twenty years, yet he did not recognize him.

Since Ryder had become the test subject for Project Endgame, the man had gone through many changes. His body had grown drastically in size. The medical staff in this facility were forced to create a special gurney to accommodate his added girth. Since the experiment had begun, Ryder has grown to over seven feet tall, and as of the last measurement he had weighed over 1,400 pounds. The chemicals and DNA altering serums that have been introduced into his body twisted and deformed him, as he now looked more like a monster than a man.

It had gone perfectly.

Ryder would be the ultimate weapon against the meta human population, and Anderson doubted that there was anyone alive who could stop him. But he had to be sure.

The Director and Teufel watched as several heavily armed S.T.R.I.K.E agents escorted in the "specialist" that had been the source of much contention between the two men. Her real name was known only to her, though the Director wondered if she even remembered it herself. To those who have crossed her path recently, she is known only as Goddess.

Anderson was intrigued from the moment that she had been brought before him soon after her capture. The things that she claimed to be capable of doing seemed unimaginable, however...to his amazement she backed up her claims on several occasions when she had channeled the dark magics that he was now convinced flowed through her very being.

He knew that she was the only one who could ensure that the fail safe was unbeatable, by infusing her own dark magic with his genetically altered form, Ryder would become invincible.

It would not be the first time that a government entity had resorted to the use of the occult. Stories from the 1940's are rampant of Hitler's obsession with the paranormal, and the Third Reich's pursuit of achieving a perfect union of their war machine and the occult.

They had failed.

Anderson would not.

Goddess stood over the prone body of the beast that was once Marcus Ryder. While staring intently into his monstrous features, she began chanting. Quietly at first, then slowly raising her voice while lowering her tone. Then she brought her arms up to her waist, the palms of her hands facing skyward.

After several moments, a single orb of light rose up out of each of her hands and began levitating in the air just in front of her face. Anderson was amazed as the two tiny orbs began dancing in the air before her, spinning around each other and an incredible rate of speed. Then, they began to elongate and twist around one another, seemingly merging together.

Then it happened.

What started out as a small cyclone completely engulfed the laboratory in a torrent of wind and flame. Both Anderson and Teufel had expected to find everything in the room incinerated when the maelstrom finally came to an end...if it ever did.

After what seemed to be an eternity, the winds and flame died down...and then stopped completely. To his amazement, no damage had been done to the laboratory's sensitive equipment, in fact...not a paper had been ruffled.

Once everything had returned to normal, the sorceress motioned to her captors that the deed was done. As the S.T.R.I.K.E agents began leading her back to her cell, Anderson could have sworn that he had seen her smile.

"So...that's it?" Teufel asked, his voice trembling slightly despite his best effort to get himself under control.

"That's it Charles. Endgame will be unstoppable." Anderson replied confidently.

Anderson turned from the doctor and made his way to the door leading from the observation room. As he opened the door, the bright light from the hallway almost hurt his eyes.

As Anderson and the doctor made their way down the hallway, Anderson stopped and said, almost whimsically,

"Now Charles, why don't you show me the bomb."
 
"Magnificent." Anderson muttered to himself as he laid his eyes for the first time on device that will ensure humankind's survival in the war against the meta humans.

"It is, isn't it?" Teufel answered the Director, sounding a little more than pleased with his department's work. "You see, the weaponized serum goes here." He says, pointing to a small compartment in the side of the basketball sized spherical device.

"And when it's activated..."

"It the fallout from the explosion will eliminate anyone within a 20 mile radius with the meta human gene."

Anderson smiled.

"Just think Charles, with this device we could destroy thousands on those meta human freaks...in one fell swoop."


 
Eve enjoyed ripping through the streets of Lost Haven on The Serpent while also playing with some of the bells and whistles.

She says, "I wonder how much this thing would cost at a regular dealer?"

Brother Paul chimes in, "The only thing in this world more expensive than the..." he shakes his head and says, "I can't believe I'm calling my creation this; The Serpent is you. So if you scratch it it's coming out of our budget for your next upgrades next year."

Eve says, "Aww gee I was looking forward to getting a Rocket Pack. Eve out!"

She cuts off the communications and stops on a deserted street. She looks around and sees a couple of useful items.

Eve smiles and says, "Why not?"

Eve sets up a crude but effective ramp. Goes from one end of the street to another, revs the engine, and takes off hitting the ramp it close to 100 mph.

She makes a perfect landing and stops on a dime.

Eve says, "I've always wanted to try that."

Brother Paul says, "Eve I'm monitoring you. Tell me you didn't just do what the schematics say you did!"

Eve says with a hint of mischief in her voice, "Who me? Never in a million years"

Brother Paul is clearly agitated and says, "This is not a toy! It's a very expensive piece of crime fighting equipment to be used in service to humanity and the society! You..."

Deacon Hawk breaks in and says, "You had a nice landing Eve and good form. Lighten up Brother Paul it'll take a lot more than an Evel Kinevel impression to break The Serpent. She's just cutting loose and letting off some steam. Besides you never know when she might need to make a jump like that. Now we know it can be done."

Deacon's voice tone changes to a much more serious one and says,"Now that you got that out of your system it's time to get back to work. Fun-time is over. We got a potential situation according to one of our sources we'll send you the briefing en-route."

Eve says, "On it!"

She goes speeding off into the night.
 
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For now anyway its working. Me carrying someone on my back. Im not sure how it might work with someone bigger but that kind of debate and questioning is due for another time. Maybe one where Im not being chased down while ferrying an innocent girl through the air would be better? I flap like if I do'nt I'll surely die, because while I might survive, I am definitely inclined to think that the girl wouldn't. She just seems like your normal human. Really who is gonna just lay down there and get kidnapped when they can do something about it? So yes I'm going with her being a member of the species H. sapiens.

The sky faring drones return, these guys are good at communication apparently. Because I haven't been in the air all that long, And I should probably land somewhere soon so that I can let this girl off and get the drones off of my back, but how do I do that? Where do I let her off? There's a chance, hell I'm certain that this is the part of town where she was snatched. Letting her down here was not a good option. Though I was just as certain that the drones might ignore the pedestrian on my back for some reason just to shoot me out of the sky or even say I was taking a human shield. But there has got to be some place I can let her off. I swing my arms back to hold onto her as I corkscrew to avoid some shots fired out way. This isn't the widest of streets so I have to move quick not to crash her against the brick wall. I spin around again and push off it with my hands and knees. They keep firing and it starts getting more than annoying or just troublesome because I'm trying to do a job.
I swoop down and land in an alley.

"Find a good place to hide. I'll be back for you." I say it as heroically and as confident as I can. Because I knew I could take these things in a fight. Well one for sure. But coming back to find her still there was the lack of confidence's origin. But I had a fight to engage in and a her to come back to in a minute. I had to get moving. So I leap into the air, wings now folded up and hidden. I leap between the outer walls of the building until Ive reached the roof of one, grasping onto the ledge with my clawed hands I then back flip to the roof behind me.

Landing on my feet I march towards the ledge the drones are coming from. I walk by a pipe of some sort jutting skyward from the roof, I snatch it out of the building and give it a twirl to get a feel for the weight of the thing. Its decently heavy, probably having a composition of mostly lead. I wait for the drones on the rooftop, I don't wait long at all not even appearing to near some kind of actual wait, they were right behind me so I get a chance to breath before I twirl the pole some more and send it flying through the air at a drone all in one fluid motion. They all come my way as I leap at them, just a leap, no wings no nothing, just me on a collision course with these things.

Its a challenge to try and move out of the way of their weapons fire but I manage to get nicked at best before I crash into one, redirecting its flight pattern to be more of a crash trajectory as I hang on for dear life, digging my claws in like a parasite. As we nearer the ground I use all the force I can combined with the momentum here in the air from the spinning we've been doing for o say two three seconds and throw up apart, trying to crash the drone into the ground. He's a big guy, maybe a good 5 inches taller than me and all I know for sure is last measure I was pushing 6'3''. It wasn't that far from tackling a living breathing entity, except it was cold titanium alloy instead of soft squishy flesh. It drove the elbow joint into my back. So, I punch it as hard as i can in the place where the ribs would be. I don't think Ive been hit like I just was very often, I could count the times on my first hand if I cared too.

we crash and I get on my feet fast as I can, there's still the other two and I know those are still in the air and if I had some kind of ESP power Id see it coming. But I do hear them coming, I leap, straight up, maybe 10 feet, curl into a ball and roll backwrds. I unravel as I come down behind the droves, grab an unoccupied table, rip the top from it and hurl it like a mighty discus or some kind. One gets caught off gaurd and it clears right through the neck. But the second once catches it and hurls it back by simply redirecting it, carrying all that momentum through.

"Crap." I throw myself into a sideways corkscrew over it and plant my feet down on it as I land. I think to myself, 'That was pretty cool', but don't have time to follow through with further analysis as the two left over drones are coming my way. I grab the stand to the table in a pace quickening move towards them, but just as the first one goes to block it I drop it and change the shape of my hand to a blade. It was like the turn off the lightsaber mid-strike trick. Not that I am a nerd like that...back to the fight! So I go to bring the point down in between the armor of the torso and the neck. On most organic entities who were not immortal this move would be certain death. And though I seem to have the shot, at the last moment he moves and I glance off his armor. He throw a punch into my face and for a second I'm dazed as my brains shake like a baby's rattle. And then he hits me hard before I find myself in the air going back. Landing on my feet I take off down the street as my head is killing me, so that they chase me, but I'm only setting up for something here. They fire what I can only guess in the moment is some kind of small missile. I grab the door off a beater car and spin around into a crouch using the door as a shield. I probably only prevented myself from being blown up though. I'm knocked back by the force of the blast as the warhead on the missile explodes. I land on my back and flip back up despite some soreness. I did not think these would be so hard to fight. I see the car door and I seem them coming. I make a dash for it, grabbing up the car part and giving it a hurl like I did the table top, but I followed it up with a stream of fire from my hands. Its hot and it is green and I have no idea if this will work but it is worth a shot.

They keep coming. I don't know the full extent of my powers, so I don't know if I can but I turn up the heat on the flames and project the stream onto only one at a time, at what temperature does titanium begin to melt again? Apparently hotter than my flames as they are now just glowing red and giving off massive amounts of heat.

I look around, these things just got more dangerous, I see a kid running towards a toy on the sidewalk, he must have already gotten away but forgot the toy and came back for it. I don't care if these things are targeting me, but with the destruction that can apparently cause I'm getting this kid out, don't even start on hm being out this late, I don't really care as long as he doesn't get blown up by these killer toasters.. I make a dash over for him, a leap grab roll later I'm shielding him from blast of another explosion, wings out and wrapped around him. I can feel the armor heat up and my wings burn to a degree.

"When I stand up, you run as fast as you can away from me okay?" I feel like I need to work on my voice, it must terrify little kids like this guy. But he nods his head regardless of the way I sound. I nod. I take a breath once I feel the moment is right and open up my wings. "Run!" I spin around and grab a car, hurling it down the street in their direction. If they dodge it or not I don't know, but I don't just stand there to wait and see, I make a run down that way. They are still glowing hot, I must have superheated them or something. I grab onto one, ignore any and all pain related and hurl him . I don't aim I just throw. And then there's water everywhere. He took out a fire hydrant.

I watch him get up and notice he's been cooled off. Stopped glowing the steaming rising off of him. And then he took another hit from me and I think I crack his armor. The other guy is still there I know he is, and he's coming. But I just cracked the armor here with a punch. I deliver another one to his side, where the ribs just over the heart would be and break more armor. This is new, but now I know I can just break through his protective shielding here.

And so begins an assault I know would leave a human being with a gravel skeleton and pudding organs. But this isn't a human being so I have no moral qualms with unloading on it like this. In hindsight I will be probably calling his overkill though. But I'm grabbed off before I can really do anymore damage. It burns and it burns almost like hell, well not really. Because hell is....well hell. I swing my fist around to make contact with the face of the other drone, and its hot. I can feel the heat on my hand from the contact of the punch. When he connects with an uppercut I'm the one in the air again as I go back and through the jet spray of the hydrant. And that is when it hits me. Well the idea as well as a projectile. The robot before became brittle after he hit the water, which is not the warmest stuff Ive ever gotten wet with. Which means if I ca splash the last one standing then I can pummel him too. The projectile is just a mass of concrete that is bounced off my head and nearly knocks me on my ass. I shake off the dizzy and the daze that having such an impact would cause and set into action. Well it isn't much actual action but I grab another table, its one of those outdoor cafes, and I use the over turned table(in one piece) to try and force the water jet in the direction of the last drone standing. He moves though, perhaps thinking I'm trying to just knocked him over.

I spin and chuck the table. I am a little tired of this and there can only be more of them on the way here and I cannot take this fight getting any longer. I said I'd be right back. And this is not right back. The chair bounces off the drone, he's so close to cooled off by now he no longer glows. And then I have an idea. There's an opening between some of the armor in a place that is vital on the human anatomy, these things are like humans, being humanoid and what not. I make a run for it. Not for an escape, but for the drone. But first I grab something I can swing at him. I break a support rod off a street light, which doesn't remain very stable much after I take that support away and the light swings down with the burst of the bulb giving a flash.Then I make a run for it. I go to swing with all I've got for his head, but as he goes to block it I drop the weapon, pass my hand under and shape it into a blade, wedging it deep between the plates. What comes out is most definitely fuel. And fuel burns.

He throws me off and I let him, putting some space between us as he "bleeds out". Shaping my hand back I ignite them.Its burning just a few hundred degrees hotter for a few quick seconds from the fuel that had leaked onto my arm. Under my hood, in the darkness I smirk knowingly before I blast the drone with a fireball. Then all I have to do is watch him light up like a Christmas tree and explode, I have to shield my eyes from the blast and brace myself. Because as cool as it could look to just be standing there in the blast, I'm not immune to knock back and its really bright standing in an explosion. I bet you there will be people on the internet over analyzing any pictures and saying there's a dragon behind it.

After I gather the girl back up, she'd done as she was told and hid real well, I have to look before finding her in a dumpster actually. I set back to saving her, though this time I make a more agile move and start running rooftops.

I disregard any other options and make the decision to take this poor scared gal to the cops, they would know a good place to put her up. Of course the cops are government, and STRIKE is government. Really all I can hope for in dropping her off and watching to be sure she gets in alright is that I don't get spotted or anything.

There's a certain feeling when you've just something you know is outright good, despite what others will say. To be honest this is the up there with heroic things Ive done. The other being saving the world. But this was me on my own, in my city, doing some good. I mean beating crooks into unconsciousness was doing good sure but that was different, even though I did beat two crooks into a double KO. But this was less about beating up the bad guys and more getting someone safe. Which were usually one and the same. Regardless I guess this is just something I get for being able to do more than punch someone to help.

I let her off right outside the doors of the nearest NYPD station.

"Might want to stay out of that side of town." I say before I'm leaping straight into the air and take off again into the night air to find a roost to observe her and the door from. I did say I'd start doing things a little different right? Today was different. I even saved that kid in the street with the toy. But its I'm supposed to do right? Save people.
 
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After Scott escorted Keira back to her apartment, he made his way back down the stairwell to the ground floor. On his way down, he nodded to Mrs Kirkpatrick, Keira's next door neighbor as they passed each other at the front door of the apartment building.

Once outside, Scott ducked into a nearby ally, and after quickly looking around to make sure that he was alone, changed out of his civilian clothes into the familiar costume of Icon. After another look around, he took to the skies over Lost Haven.

Flying over the city, Icon was again struck by how beautiful Lost Haven truly was. And for just a moment, as he looked down at the lights of the city, he wished that everyone could see Lost Haven the way that he saw it, if only once.

As he soared high above the city, a commotion in the distance got his attention. The sirens of fire engines and police cruisers racing toward a large blaze in Lost Haven's theater district.

He banked hard to the left and made his way to the site of the blaze, hoping that he's not too late to help.
 
Icon landed just outside the Franklin Theater, which was completely engulfed in flames. He looked over at the crowd that had gathered around the theater, and as he noticed that many of the people were dressed in their finest evening wear, a strange dread came over him.

"Icon, it's a good thing you're here! We can use all the help we can get." A Lost Haven Firefighter said as he approached the hero.

"Did everyone get out?" Icon asked.

"We don't know. The fire's too intense, we haven't been able to get anyone inside to search."

"I'm going in, get your people ready just in case."

The fireman began to answer, but Icon was already gone, making his way into the burning theater. Once inside the theater, Icon found that the fireman was right, the raging inferno was intense, so intense that even he could feel the searing heat.

"Hello?!" Icon called out as he made his way from the lobby into the main auditorium.

No one answered.

Icon fought against the intense heat and falling timbers as he made his way down the isle towards the stage. As he moved forward, he fine tuned his senses, hoping to detect any human inside the building by just the slightest movement.

As he stepped onto the stage, he hadn't detected any movement inside the theater. Suddenly, the floorboards of the stage flew up in his face in an explosion of wood and fire which stunned the hero. Before he knew it, he was engulfed in flame himself.

But there was something different about this flame, it seemed to move with him. It seemed to anticipate his movements and adapt. It seemed to be alive.

Icon struggled to get free of this strange fire, but he was unable to get out of its grasp. Finally, as Icon went down to one knee, the flame seemed to shift and dance before his eyes, until a face formed within the flame.

"Surprise." it said in a gleefully malicious tone.

"Who-?" Icon said, unable to hide the surprise from his voice.

"Does it matter? I'm here to do a job, and nobody's gonna stop me."

As the strange fire-being spoke, Icon had recovered from his initial shock. He struggled to get back up off of his knee, and as he did so, he began spinning himself around at incredible speed. As he spun, the strange fire being began changing form. As Icon deprived the living fire of the oxygen it needed to function, it began to take the shape of a man.

After several more spins; Icon tossed the man off of him, where he sailed off the stage and crashed hard on the floor. In a blue and silver blur, Icon sped down to meet the man and hit him with a right hand that left his assailant unconscious. Icon picked the man up and threw him over his shoulders, then carried him to the front entrance of the theater.

Icon dumped the attacker at the feet of several Lost Haven police officers, then he took to the skies, leaving the officers and the fire fighters to do their jobs.








 
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