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

[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.

“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.

[BLACKOUT]“…and a partridge in a pear tree.”[/BLACKOUT] 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”.

[BLACKOUT]“Well, at least they won’t start the party without me.”[/BLACKOUT]

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.

[BLACKOUT]“Whoa, whoa… put the guns down officer…”[/BLACKOUT]

“Freeze! Stay where you are!”

[BLACKOUT]“Easy. I’m with you… Holy sh**…”[/BLACKOUT]

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.”

[BLACKOUT]“I have ID!”[/BLACKOUT]

“Get on the floor!”

[BLACKOUT]“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.”[/BLACKOUT] 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.”

[BLACKOUT]“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..?”[/BLACKOUT]

“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.”

[BLACKOUT]“So amateur hour, eh?”[/BLACKOUT]

“Well, it sure looks like it. We’ve got him pegged down the end of the street in or around the bank.”

[BLACKOUT]“OK. Sounds like you guys have pretty much done most of the work… now when you say meta, what are we dealing with here?”[/BLACKOUT]

“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.”

[BLACKOUT]“So? You shelve the spray and shoot or rush him.”[/BLACKOUT]

“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.”

[BLACKOUT]“Is that it?”[/BLACKOUT]

“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.

[BLACKOUT]“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”[/BLACKOUT]

“What?!?”

[BLACKOUT]“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”[/BLACKOUT]

Isaac could not believe the sight that stood before him.

[BLACKOUT]“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”[/BLACKOUT]

“What’s so damn funny?!?”

[BLACKOUT]“The jell- HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”[/BLACKOUT]

“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.

[BLACKOUT]“You look like the new mascot for a contraceptive company! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”[/BLACKOUT]

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.

[BLACKOUT]“Oh sh***, you made me laugh so damn hard I’m crying…”[/BLACKOUT] 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]

​

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.

[BLACKOUT]“Why the hell am I bleeding, he hasn’t even touched me?”[/BLACKOUT]

“He seems to have some kind of chemical resistance.”

[BLACKOUT]“Sonuvab****. He’s poisoning the area…”[/BLACKOUT]

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.

[BLACKOUT]“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…”[/BLACKOUT]

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…”

[BLACKOUT]“That’s it! I’m not going out by a f***ing walking prophylactic who calls himself the f***ing Jellyfish!”[/BLACKOUT]

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!”

[BLACKOUT]“I’m not a cop.”[/BLACKOUT] 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.

[BLACKOUT]
“Please God, don’t let me die today…”
[/BLACKOUT]

 

[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...

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...

...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.

[BLACKOUT]“Ah f*** it…”[/BLACKOUT] 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.

[BLACKOUT]“Nobody in? Thank f*** for that…”[/BLACKOUT] 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.

[BLACKOUT]“Daddy, why do they have these jugs of water in the tents?”[/BLACKOUT]

“That’s not water, Isaac. That’s…”

The haze ends and Isaac’s grip over his consciousness once again strengthens.

[BLACKOUT]“Yes! F***ing Yes!”[/BLACKOUT]

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.

[BLACKOUT]“Daddy, why do they have these jugs of water in the tents?”[/BLACKOUT]

“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]

​

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:

[FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]"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]

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!!"

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.