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

[Erin]

As Alexander Anderson makes his way down the long hallway toward his office, there is an extra bounce in his step. Tonight's operation went down without a hitch. His new squad, known simply as The Vanguard executed their duties perfectly, as did his newly designated Hunter Drones.

He is looking forward to tomorrow's scheduled press conference in which he will unveil S.T.R.I.K.E.'s new weapons in the war against the meta human threat.

As he rounds the corner to his office, he is stopped by Robbins, a man who is very efficient when it comes to sending other people out to risk their lives, but has never spent a minute in harm's way himself. And for that, Anderson felt a deep distain for the man.

"Director, a call just came in a few minutes ago that you're going to want to hear." Robbins tells him.

"Give the information to Ms Powers, she'll brief me in the morning."

"No sir, you really need to hear this now."

"Very well." Anderson sighs as he takes the recording from the pencil pusher, and goes into his office with Robbins close behind him.

As they listen to the phone call from Dr. Walter Kennedy, Anderson cannot believe what he is hearing. As the doctor drones on about his findings, the Director begins to feel a tinge of excitement. Finally, the recording stops, and Anderson sits at his desk, his hands clasped together, not saying a word as he process the ramifications of what he has just heard.

Finally, he looks to Robbins and smiles.

"Bring him in."

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Walter sits quietly at his desk in his East Haven home. The woman on the phone said someone would be in touch, and with little else to go on, he had contented himself with calling it an early evening. A man of few luxuries, he is content to let a small portable black and white television report the evening news to him as he sits back in his comfortable desk chair and catches up on reading some midterm papers. Somewhere in the clutter is a student's proposal for his masters' thesis, but Walter finds himself more inclined toward light reading this particular evening. He sighs as he scans the pages of each paper, shaking his head and lamenting the death of the English language as he circles basic grammatical and spelling errors.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Don't care if you aren't an English major.”[/FONT] He mutters as he crosses out a misspelled word. “Scientists need to know how to spell, too.”
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]A breaking news report interrupts his quiet evening. Apparently, there was another Meta Human attack downtown. This time, a nightclub called The Hub was set upon by person or persons unknown, unleashing monsters to terrify the patrons. Shots of the scene from above showed people spewing out into the streets, clawing over each other in terror. The reporter on the ground tried to get interviews with some of the witnesses, but it was clear everyone was too shaken up to provide a good clip. Walter shakes his head. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]All this violence.”[/FONT] He says, to nobody in particular. “All this mistrust. And why? Because nobody can be bothered to understand anybody else.”
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Walter was a man of science. He took it as truth that any conflict could be resolved with the proper measure of study and understanding.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Of course, truth can be relative.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]A knock at the front door drew his attention away from the television set. Taking his time rising from his chair, he shuffles down the hallway, opening the door slowly. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]A professional-looking man in a suit stands on his front step.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Can I help you?”[/FONT] Walter asks, thinking it's too late in the evening for Jehovah's Witnesses to be canvassing.
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Doctor Walter Kennedy?” The man sounds polite. Over his shoulder, Walter can see a black sedan idling in the driveway.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Yes.”[/FONT] Walter confirms, his mouth going dry.
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I'm Agent Matthews.” The man informs him. “You placed a call to S.T.R.I.K.E earlier this evening?”[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Yes, that's correct.”[/FONT] So that's what this is all about.
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Well sir, there are some people who are interested in talking to you about your findings. I've come to pick you up.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Walter nods.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Oh, okay...as long as it's only a short meeting.[/FONT]” Walter turns and shuffles back down the hallway toward his office.
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Of course, sir.” The agent follows Walter through the doorway and stands in the entrance as Walter disappears around the corner through his office door.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I'm the chair of the biochemistry department at the university!”[/FONT] Walter raises his voice, so Matthews can hear him as he removes his slippers and puts on his worn brown loafers. “And on top of the administrative duties, I teach three classes a week. Upper division, you know. And I handle the grad students.” He chuckles. “Basically they have me running the place. Don't know what they'd do without me, to be honest.”
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I understand, sir.” The agent's reply is polite, but quick.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Walter sits at his desk for a moment, his thoughts moving quicker than his body. When S.T.R.I.K.E said they'd be in touch, what had he expected? A letter? A phone call? Maybe a meeting in his office during normal business hours. Something, but certainly not this. A lump seems to form in the pit of his stomach as he begins to wonder if he should have listened to Mira after all. But it was too late now. Or was it? Walter couldn't make sense of it all, but he knew that in this precise moment, the only rational thing to do would be to go with this agent Matthews. He could sort things out from there.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Slowly, he reaches into his desk and pulls out a piece of university stationary. Taking his pen in hand, he scribbles a few words in red ink. Then, removing the booth photos from his wallet, he smooths the creases and gazes at the happy youths one last time, before placing it on top of the note. With a sigh of resignation, he rises from his desk, turns off the television, and exits the room, turning out the lights in the house as he makes his way to the front door.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I'm ready.”[/FONT] He tells Matthews.
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Excellent.” Agent Matthews smiles and extends an arm, ushering the old man out the door.[/FONT]


[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Walter sits beside Matthews in the black sedan, his hands clasped in his lap as he quietly waits out the trip. He looks over at the agent. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Pardon me, but where are we going?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Matthews looks over at him with a polite grin, obviously meant to keep Walter from feeling threatened.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]There are some very important S.T.R.I.K.E researchers who would like to talk to you.” He replies.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Are they really interested in my work?”[/FONT] He asks. He can't help but feel at least a little bit proud.
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Well, I'm not supposed to say anything.” Matthews leans in, acting as though he is letting Walter in on a national secret. “But to tell you the truth, people are saying that your research will be able to stop this whole mess from going any further.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Walter nods. Though Matthews seems friendly, though he is saying all the right things, it does not ease the unease slowly gnawing at him.[/FONT]


[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]In the dark, a sliver of moonlight filtering through the bay windows illuminates the papers strewn over the desktop. Sitting on top of a half-graded midterm are the photographs, partially covering the words of Walter's note:[/FONT]


[FONT=Bradley Hand ITC, cursive]I had to. Please forgive me.[/FONT]
[FONT=Bradley Hand ITC, cursive]Warmest regards[/FONT]
[FONT=Bradley Hand ITC, cursive]-W[/FONT]

 

[Blacklight]

Chapter 7: Boy Meets Radiation...




"This is it, Ryan! Finally!"

A few peaceful hours had gone by since the bus had left the school, in which we finally made it to the ECSC and we explored more of the less exciting experiments on display. But with all of that finally out of the way, we had reached the Spectrum of Light exhibit. I’ve always been fascinated by the science behind visible light and how it works, and how when a beam of light is refracted through a prism, a spectrum of colors spreads out across a wall. It’s mesmerizing to me. Ever since I was a kid I’ve wanted to see it done before my eyes, and this field trip has given me the chance. Not only that, but the scientists running the experiment said they have a surprise in store for us. One that will amaze. I personally couldn’t wait to find out what they meant.

Our class had gathered around the display on almost all sides, myself taking place in the front of the pack. I personally wanted to see the stuff going on up close because of my interest in the subject. But as Ryan caught up with me and stood by my side, I got a good look at the machines that the scientists were tinkering with, and almost all of them had an AmmoCorporation logo emblazoned on the sides.

"AmmoCorp.?" I questioned. "I didn't think this kind of stuff was AmmoCorp.'s cup of tea..."

"From what I heard from Josh, AmmoCorp. practically owns this place." Ryan interjected.

"Huh... Who knew?"

AmmoCorporation, or ‘AmmoCorp.’ for short, is THE biggest weapons manufacturer in New England if not the whole country, and their Central Tower, the hub of all their operations, is stationed here, right in the heart of East City. Their owner and CEO? None other than the infamous Julius Vayne. A billionaire and fascist playboy who wants the world and everything in it. Starting with money. Every move he makes, every product he sells, it’s ALL for money. He rarely does anything without a payoff, and will do almost anything to gain more wealth. He truly isas greedy as he is narcissistic. But enough about Vayne...

"Sweet! They're starting!" I exclaimed.

They had finally finished with the preparations, and were about to start the experiment.

“So here we have a concentrated light beam projector, that once activated will launch a beam of solid light at that diamond prism towards the end of the display.” She explained as she pointed to the prism another scientist placed on a table parallel to the projection machine. I wondered whether or not it was actual diamond, but the array of colors that gleamed around its edges confirmed it.

“Now, we will activate the machine...”

The female scientist turned the dial on the side of the projector, and out came a straight, strong, yet thin ray of light that pierced the prism within moments of its activation. Smack dab in the middle, I could see the light splitting off into the seven colors of the spectrum before coming out the other side of the pyramidal-cut diamond. It was amazing to see. They were so vibrant and solid. Made me wonder how something like light could be so... so potent.

“Also! We didn’t forget about the surprise that we had to show all of you. Our talented scientists here at the East City Sciences and Physics Center, have discovered a new, previously undiscovered form of radiation that we have tested on actual solid light. It has been shown to be able to destabilize it’s molecules to negate it’s illuminating qualities to shift it to a darker form. And in this darker form, the spectrum of colors too become negated and shift into a darker scale. One of grays, whites and blacks. So watch now as I expose the light coming from the projector to said radiation energy...”

She then flipped a set of switches and turned an even bigger dial, and I watched as the bright light beam slowly turned into a beam of a black-colored light. One that whence it crossed its path through the diamond prism came out as a gray-scaled spectrum of white, 5 shades of gray then black at the end. Just when I thought I couldn’t be more fascinated, I was astounded!

Although that was the moment things were about to go sour... You see, Damian King isn’t exactly the ‘interested-in-science’ type. Instead he’s an ‘I’m-so-f***ing-bored-so-I-think-I’m-gonna-push-this-kid-into-the-deadly-radioactive-lightbeam-and-not-give-two-flying-f***s-about-whether-or-not-he-lives-or-dies’ type.

If that wasn’t any indication, that pretty much sums up exactly what happened next.

I felt both of Damian’s hands on my back, and there was force enough behind it to cause me to lose balance. I grunted as I felt myself being knocked down, and then everything at that point was in slow motion... I was falling, and the black-colored light beam was getting closer and closer to me every moment onward, until I felt it’s surge colliding with my chest on the way down. Smack dab in the center of my body, just like the prism. There wasn’t much pain that I had to scream out, but it was there. It was like a thousand tiny little shocks in my chest, like when someone rubs on the carpet, then touches you, only it felt like it was a whole sea of people doing it to me at once. During it, I felt my insides all shifting, and I looked at my veins and they were a light shade of black, and I looked at my friends, amongst them Ryan, there in the crowd watching in shock. Then I saw the unnamed girl next to them and, hoping her beautiful face would help ease the pain, I looked into her eyes once more as I continued to fall. But it still hurt. It really hurt. However, I didn’t feel the pain for too long, because next thing I knew, my head made impact with the floor, and I was unconscious. Not just unconscious, either. But unconscious-er than unconscious.


I had completely blacked out...

* * *​

 

[NiteMare Shape]

As we make our way to the Guardians' Headquarters, I notice several roadblocks set up in the general vacinity of the facility. When I look closer, there is no mistaking just who is behind the roadblocks. The black SUV's, the heavily armed agents.

S.T.R.I.K.E.

I silently curse to myself as I push on to GHQ with this woman, who's name I still don't know hanging on to me for dear life. After several moments,we approach the Guardians' Headquarters. Slowly I take us to the rooftop entrance that myself and Michael often use. I approach the heavy metal doors, enter my passcode and watch the doors slide open.

I lead the woman down the stairs into the main level of the facility, down a winding corridor to the common area where we find Michael, focused on the compound's main computer screen.

"The others should be on their way, but it looks like S.T.R.I.K.E has us pretty well surrounded." I say as Michael turns to look at me, his gaze instead moving over me and settling on my companion.

 

[Erin]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The roadblocks do not go unnoticed to Mira, either, as they sail overhead toward a nearby building. A cold chill shoots through her spine at the sight of the black Humvees as she is overcome by the overwhelming desire never to see the inside of one. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]As they land, Mira breathes a sigh of relief, unlocking her arms from around Icon's neck as the pair touch down on the rooftop. Slowly, she withdraws from him, placing her weight carefully on the roof, as though making certain gravity won't suddenly catch up with her and send her crashing through the roof into the floors below.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Following Icon through the metal doors, Mira casts a quick backward glance into the sky, remembering the rush of flying without wings.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]She trails Icon closely through the winding halls as the descend deeper into the belly of the building, not wanting to add getting lost to her list of mistakes made that evening. They continue walking, Mira taking in every detail she can.
“So this is where super heroes spend their time, huh?” She thinks to herself as they round yet another corner. And why shouldn't they have a secret headquarters, she reasons. Didn't she have the laboratory. “Ah,” the voice inside her reminds her again, “but see how that turned out?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Mira is almost surprised when Icon stops suddenly in the doorway. Inside the room, there is a young man intently focused on a computer monitor. He looks up as they enter.[/FONT]

"The others should be on their way, but it looks like S.T.R.I.K.E has us pretty well surrounded." I say as Michael turns to look at me, his gaze instead moving over me and settling on my companion.

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Mira inhales sharply as the new stranger's gaze rests upon her. She gets the feeling this is not the first time a strange woman has shown up here, and wishes there were some way to ease the uncomfortable surprise of an unexpected intrusion. “I followed him home.” She quips sarcastically in her head, “At least I don't have fleas.”[/FONT]
“Hi.”[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Is all her voice manages to offer to the strange man.[/FONT]

 

[Hound55]

Black Humvees are turning onto the street with headlights blazing. I turn away and pull the bolt gun out and aim for the rooftops. It attachs and I set it to retract. Without the pain I'd forgotten all about my arm. I wrecked my left arm escaping S.T.R.I.K.E earlier this night. I've been a busy boy. But despite the lack of pain it doesn't chnge the fact that it still isn't strong enough to support my weight and I fall.

The grapple-gun swings towards the building as gravity demands, before scrraping along the cement some twenty metres away. I turn back and face my attackers.

4 Humvees of these S.T.R.I.K.E idiots.

My math may be a little rusty but I'm guessing they're about 3 cars and a chopper short. I pull my twin nightsticks and realise it's a beautiful night.

Life is grand. As a dark grin crosses my face and under the watchful eyes of a crowd of nightclub go-ers who are all too pleased to see drama where they're not the focal point, I start to think "maybe I'm not so unlucky after all".

With a busted wing it may mean I'm incapable of supporting my own weight, but it sure as hell doesn't mean I can't punch above it. Accepting the weakness of my left arm I support the left nightsticks weight by sliding it up my sleeve.

The first humvee pulls up and three men jump out. Two come at me with a less than benevolent look o their face while a third fumbles with a rifle. With the nightstick running down the length of my forearm and the side-handle choked in my gloved fist, the entire force of my right cross was concentrated on a square inch of the first agents jaw.

Suffice to say he won't be getting up in a hurry...

I circle outside to keep the second attacker between mysef and the third, who now has his rifle out , locked and loaded. Ring generalship. Not my favourite lesson in the sweet science, but it has its moments of purpose. The second agent telegraphs a lunging hook which started in Little Ulster. I duck underneath it and rise back up with a perfectly executed double hook to the lower and upper rib sections before testing my damaged left arm by throwing a perfectly timed uppercut. The agent starts to fall, but I catch him before he falls and use him as a shield to rush the third.

Less than a second later and the third man from the first car is also unconscious.

The second car learns from the first's mistakes and don't rush out to engage me hand-to-hand. An agent pops through the roof and starts plugging away at me with his rifle. I take cover behind the first humvee before raining down on him with the full clip from the rifle I took from the last agent.

I ping him a glancing shot in the arm and the rest do nothing; a combination of my poor shooting, the fact that the rifle had a clip of trnquiliser darts and the impervious status of the humvee itself. I don't have another clip in arm's reach so I go a different route. I lob a flash-bang grenade and clear up the car's incapacitated inhabitants in the haze.

Getting tired now. Too much running tonight. Heart is beating hard in my chest and my breathing is heavy and creating some distortion through my voice modifier.

The last two cars stop well short and face each other, sealing off one end of the street. I can hear the chopper coming again in the far off distance, and I'm left with a few options.

1. Steal one of their stupid humvees and flee
2. Grab my grapple gun, secure myself with it and use it to escape
3. Curl up into the foetal position and cry like a little girl

Nope... I don't like 3 either. 2 probably won't work if the helicopter's around... hell 1 won't either (they're hardly subtle vehicles). But what else is there..?

Oh...

Urging my body onwards once more I scoop up my grapple gun and run for the only refuge I can see.

Minutes later when S.T.R.I.K.E reinforcements arrive they locate an uncovered manhole and a half a dozen unconscious agents left in his wake.

 

[trustyside-kick]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Mira inhales sharply as the new stranger's gaze rests upon her. She gets the feeling this is not the first time a strange woman has shown up here, and wishes there were some way to ease the uncomfortable surprise of an unexpected intrusion. “I followed him home.” She quips sarcastically in her head, “At least I don't have fleas.”[/FONT]
“Hi.”[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Is all her voice manages to offer to the strange man.[/FONT]

Lost Haven
Guardians HQ

I turn around away from the computer as Icon is back and with him is yet another girl. How many times has he brought a girl into the base? Seriously? He was the most welcoming with Flux after the invasion, brought over that one girl before I left for Japan...and now this gal.

Icon is a freakin' pimp! And I have to say that this one has been the prettiest one so far. Dang.

"I, uh, well...heh, I guess if you weren't trying to follow him home he wouldn't be Icon then would he?"

That's right.

Work your charm.

"It's funny, out of the two of us I'm the one whose identity is public and yet he is the one with girls swarming after him. It's probably the broad shoulders."

I get up from the chair walk my way over. I think I've broken the ice well enough to where she won't feel as intimidated being in the Guardian HQ and all.

And she is damn cute.

"Michael Angelo. Yes it's my real name. And ironically I'm a painter. Funny how fate works huh? Then I get pretty much recruited to serve The Big Guy in Heaven and my life falls apart. Though if you've read a paper they've pretty much dissected my life to where you by now could know my favorite food."

Way to go. You start off shining and then you let it die out by reminiscing about part of your crappy last year or so of life. Good job, bud.

"It's pizza, by the way. But there's been some brighter moments in the grand scheme of things I suppose."

 

[Erin]

Lost Haven
Guardians HQ

I turn around away from the computer as Icon is back and with him is yet another girl. How many times has he brought a girl into the base? Seriously? He was the most welcoming with Flux after the invasion, brought over that one girl before I left for Japan...and now this gal.

Icon is a freakin' pimp! And I have to say that this one has been the prettiest one so far. Dang.

"I, uh, well...heh, I guess if you weren't trying to follow him home he wouldn't be Icon then would he?"

Mira blinks at him, startled by the comment and suddenly wondering if she had accidentally thought the following him home part out loud, or if it was just a lucky guess.

​

"It's funny, out of the two of us I'm the one whose identity is public and yet he is the one with girls swarming after him. It's probably the broad shoulders."

I get up from the chair walk my way over. I think I've broken the ice well enough to where she won't feel as intimidated being in the Guardian HQ and all.

And she is damn cute.

​

Mira shifts her weight, casting an uncomfortable side-glance into the corner of the room as he suggests her presence is the equivalent of a backstage pass for some kind of meta human groupie. It is true, Icon does have broad shoulders, but she's mildly annoyed at the thought of that having anything to do with why she is standing in this room. Folding her arms over her chest, she watches him, more agitated than intimidated as he stands and crosses toward her.

"Michael Angelo. Yes it's my real name. And ironically I'm a painter. Funny how fate works huh? Then I get pretty much recruited to serve The Big Guy in Heaven and my life falls apart. Though if you've read a paper they've pretty much dissected my life to where you by now could know my favorite food."

Way to go. You start off shining and then you let it die out by reminiscing about part of your crappy last year or so of life. Good job, bud.

"It's pizza, by the way. But there's been some brighter moments in the grand scheme of things I suppose."

​

​

Mira opens her mouth as if to say something, then closes it again, taking in the informative, if rather odd, introduction. She can't help it; her humor gets the better of her and an amused smile creeps across her face. She looks at the floor as she holds back a chuckle.
“Um..” She raises her head again, swallowing the laugh and replaying his words carefully through her head. “It's nice to meet you, Michael. I'm..” She pauses for a moment, as a nickname she earned generations ago flashes in her mind. “Pinup." She finishes quickly. She unfolds her arms and extends her hand to him, shaking his hand. "You can call me Pinup.”
She isn't exactly sure why she doesn't tell them her name; after all, she has already told Icon nearly everything she's worked to keep secret for nearly three quarters of a century. But perhaps that has something to do with it. Perhaps, she thinks, she needs to hold on to a secret, even if it's just one, for a little while longer. Besides, what name would she give? Her identity as Mira was no doubt dissolving as S.T.R.I.K.E looked closer at the crumbs of clues she was being forced to leave behind in the wake of their investigations, and Walter was the only one who knew her birth name was Emily. Walter.
“Walter.” Her mind snaps back to the problem at hand and she back and forth from Archangel to Icon, her smile fading, replaced by an air of urgency. “We need to find him.”

 

[trustyside-kick]

Mira opens her mouth as if to say something, then closes it again, taking in the informative, if rather odd, introduction. She can't help it; her humor gets the better of her and an amused smile creeps across her face. She looks at the floor as she holds back a chuckle.
“Um..” She raises her head again, swallowing the laugh and replaying his words carefully through her head. “It's nice to meet you, Michael. I'm..” She pauses for a moment, as a nickname she earned generations ago flashes in her mind. “Pinup." She finishes quickly. She unfolds her arms and extends her hand to him, shaking his hand. "You can call me Pinup.”
She isn't exactly sure why she doesn't tell them her name; after all, she has already told Icon nearly everything she's worked to keep secret for nearly three quarters of a century. But perhaps that has something to do with it. Perhaps, she thinks, she needs to hold on to a secret, even if it's just one, for a little while longer. Besides, what name would she give? Her identity as Mira was no doubt dissolving as S.T.R.I.K.E looked closer at the crumbs of clues she was being forced to leave behind in the wake of their investigations, and Walter was the only one who knew her birth name was Emily. Walter.
“Walter.” Her mind snaps back to the problem at hand and she back and forth from Archangel to Icon, her smile fading, replaced by an air of urgency. “We need to find him.”

Lost Haven
Guardian HQ

"Oh. Who is Walter? I didn't--I mean. Sorry. You could say that trying to find the humor in things is a defense mechanism for me during all of this chaos and...yea....let's just say S.T.R.I.K.E. is not my favorite type of people right now. Had a recent run-in with them...again. Still trying to shake off the feeling."

I cross my arms, tilting my head to the side as I look at the new girl Pinup. Quite an interesting alias to choose to give. My theory on her being here and being a meta may in fact be correct. Though maybe I shouldn't have played it so comically.

"I figured that maybe you were another person Icon saved out of the crowd of metas being hunted down or something. He brought this other person last time I was at the HQ and I figured it was kind of rude of me that I pretty much kept to myself last time. In the end we are all we've got, right? What with how things have been going down lately in Lost Haven. I don't even know where Vigilante is or if Kensei will be able to show up or even Matt."

I walk past Pinup and Icon, taking a seat on the comfy couch as my back could use it as I'm still in pain as I recover. Leaning back with my hands clasped behind my head I look up at the skyward ceiling window.

"We're in terrible times. While I was at the computer I saw some of the recent news casts while I was away. I wouldn't be surprised if they staged any of the recent disasters around Lost Haven. First they try to find out how our powers work and then they hunt us down? Then during all of this Anderson is smearing negative ideas of people like us all over, making himself and S.T.R.I.K.E. look like they have the peoples' best interest at heart? Such a--what is supposed to look like a sporadic agenda--thing can only have one purpose: they're trying to turn the world against us."

I lean forward on the couch, my hands down dropped down before my eyes as I look down at them. A second later I clench my fists tightly together as the angelic symbol of Faith starts to be re-branded upon the skin of my backside. Smoke starts to rise from under my shirt as the symbol burns.

"Here we are in the middle of a world that is going to end up losing all their faith in us. All of us."

The heavenly light from above through the skyward window shines down, illuminating the HQ temporarily, and a second later I'm back in the Archangel State. Sounds like we got something to do now. Gotta find this 'Walter' dude. At least it gives me something to do.

Though as bad as it is I'm hoping this 'Walter' is just a friend and not...a friend. Heh. I get up from the couch, and slowly rise to the air, my white angel-fire wings slowly flapping.

"They're going to end up forgetting why it is we even started The Guardians after the Big Invasion. So howsabout we remind them?"

 

[wiegeabo]

"Second degree murder is a crock," Bobby Hawkes says as he paces next to the table. On the other side of the table in his office, new acting-Director Luke Broiles calmly read the file in his hands.

"The Justice Department is looking for a scapegoat. Witchhunt! That's what this is."

Broiles flips the page. "I understand your feelings on the matter, but it's in the hands of the courts now."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

Broiles smiles as he sets the file down on the table. "I hope one day to earn that kind of respect from you."

"I just want what's due to me, that's all."

Broiles nods and taps the closed folder. "I've been looking over your file, and it seems to me that you're an agency asset that's been sorely underused. I think you'd be much more valuable to the Agency if you were working on your own."

"...What are you saying? Breaking up me and Cole?"

"Yeah. Give you a chance to be in the spotlight. Show people how good you really are."

Hawkes considers what Broiles says, and very much like what he hears. There's no doubt in his mind that he's always been looked down on as an agent. Laughed at and ridiculed ever since his breakdown. But he doesn't really like the idea of breaking up the team, despite how annoying Cole could be. So damn annoying. And disrespectful of the system!

"I've got no problem with that."

"Good."

"Good."

Broils stands. "Was there anything else, Agent Hawkes?"

Suddenly, Hawkes looks like whatever problems he had walking into the office have suddenly vanished. "No...I'm good."

"Good."

"...Thank you."

"Thank you."

"...Thank you."

"Thank you."

"...Is that it?"

"That's it," Broiles says, his easy smile never fading.

Hawkes, a little leary, but not wanting to blow a great thing, walks out of the room.

Broiles just smiles as he leaves.

Outside, Hawks closes the door and sees the new director's name on the glass.

"...Butthead."

***

In the parking garage, Broiles walks to his car, briefcase in hand. He reaches into his jacket pocket, but instead of pulling out his keys, he quickly draws his gun and points it at the pillar behind him.

"You're fast," Marcus Ryder says as he steps out from behind the concrete column with his hands up.

"And you have the stealth of a water buffalo."

Ryder laughs slightly. "Wasn't trying. I didn't want to spook you."

"It's dangerous to meet here. What do you need?"

"Got a new mission for you. Top priority."

"And the other mission?"

"Consider this a test run. Shouldn't be a problem." Ryder reaches back behind the pillar and pulls out a small package with a manilla envelope taped to it. "The instructions are all in there."

Broiles opens up the envelope and starts reading. "Interesting."

"Will it be a problem."

"Shouldn't be. But like I said, it will be interesting..."

***

Down in the lab, Broiles pulls out a vial of counteragent from the refrigerator.

"When did you start dosing out the shots?" I asks from my customary chair in the lab.

"Like I said, there's going to be some changes. And I think it's time we handled this differently so, eventually, you can handle your own dosages."

"You mean treating me like a responsible adult? You think I'm ready for that?" I ask, jokingly.

"Changes."

I cringe as Broiles gives me the shot, but end up looking at him in surprise. "Done?"

"Yep."

"You're good. I didn't feel a thing."

"Spent two years as a corpsman. Got a lot of practice. So I assume we have a deal?"

"...You're really gonna help get me outta here?"

"Yes, I will."

"Then we have a deal."

"Good. Because I've got your first mission..."

 

[Erin]

Lost Haven
Guardian HQ

"Oh. Who is Walter? I didn't--I mean. Sorry. You could say that trying to find the humor in things is a defense mechanism for me during all of this chaos and...yea....let's just say S.T.R.I.K.E. is not my favorite type of people right now. Had a recent run-in with them...again. Still trying to shake off the feeling."

"Tell me about it." Pinup mutters, almost inaudibly as the sound of screams and sirens outside The Hub still ring in her ears.

I cross my arms, tilting my head to the side as I look at the new girl Pinup. Quite an interesting alias to choose to give. My theory on her being here and being a meta may in fact be correct. Though maybe I shouldn't have played it so comically.

"I figured that maybe you were another person Icon saved out of the crowd of metas being hunted down or something. He brought this other person last time I was at the HQ and I figured it was kind of rude of me that I pretty much kept to myself last time. In the end we are all we've got, right? What with how things have been going down lately in Lost Haven. I don't even know where Vigilante is or if Kensei will be able to show up or even Matt."

I walk past Pinup and Icon, taking a seat on the comfy couch as my back could use it as I'm still in pain as I recover. Leaning back with my hands clasped behind my head I look up at the skyward ceiling window.

"We're in terrible times. While I was at the computer I saw some of the recent news casts while I was away. I wouldn't be surprised if they staged any of the recent disasters around Lost Haven. First they try to find out how our powers work and then they hunt us down? Then during all of this Anderson is smearing negative ideas of people like us all over, making himself and S.T.R.I.K.E. look like they have the peoples' best interest at heart? Such a--what is supposed to look like a sporadic agenda--thing can only have one purpose: they're trying to turn the world against us."

“They're trying to feel safe again.” Pinup interjects, crossing the room to the computer. Some news articles still fill the screen, and she begins sifting through them, searching for the most recent. “The world is still recovering from the invasion. We're all still afraid.” She breaks from looking at the screen to cast a glance back at Michael. “The only problem, is fear is an idea, and you can't declare war on an idea. You have to find a scapegoat.” She returns to her search on the screen, her brow furrowing as she reads headlines. “Hitler had the Jews and the gypsies. McCarthy had his communists....and so on and so forth...” She begins to trail off, growing frustrated as she tries to find information on the incident at The Hub, wanting to know if anyone had been hurt. “I guess we're up next.” She ends her thought loud enough for both men to hear.

​

I lean forward on the couch, my hands down dropped down before my eyes as I look down at them. A second later I clench my fists tightly together as the angelic symbol of Faith starts to be re-branded upon the skin of my backside. Smoke starts to rise from under my shirt as the symbol burns.

"Here we are in the middle of a world that is going to end up losing all their faith in us. All of us."

​

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]A light glares off the computer screen causing Pinup to squint, trying to read the print. Giving up, she straightens, turning toward Michael.[/FONT]​

“Say, can you turn on the – CHRIST!”[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] She takes a sudden step back, stumbling and collapsing into the computer chair as she watches Michael's transformation into his archangel state. The color drains from her face as she watches the transformation wide-eyed. Not a woman of tremendous faith, her brain quickly lists the earthly variables capable of producing what she saw, yet is unable to come up with anything that fully explains the scene in front of her.[/FONT]
“Mother of God...”[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] she whispers, covering her mouth, partly in awe and partly in case Mary happened to be listening.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]

"They're going to end up forgetting why it is we even started The Guardians after the Big Invasion. So howsabout we remind them?"

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Pinup says nothing as she stands, hands clasped over her mouth and trying to collect herself. She has seen a lot of weird and scary things in her nearly 100 years of living, but nothing quite like this. This was turning out to be quite an evening of firsts. She looks to Icon, who is still standing near the door, looking less than overwhelmed by the mutation, and even mildly amused by her reaction. How could he not find this terrifying?[/FONT]
[/FONT]

 

[trustyside-kick]

Lost Haven
Guardians HQ

I start to rub the back of my head as I grin a bit. Guess she isn't a meta after all? She seemed kinda startled. Then again I've never been on the other side of witnessing my transformation.

"Heh, sorry for the lack of warning. Icon and the guys are used to it by now. Only time that it was worse was when I transformed in the kitchen and Matt was exiting the bathroom shower when the light blinded his eyes and he fell. Thank goodness for superspeed on his part, though. Heh."

Still in utter complete shock. Has her hands over her mouth and I'm guessing she is questioning it all. I descend towards the ground and slowly levitate her way.

"Is it the wings? It's not regular fire though. Here. Touch. I know that white fire burns bright but you've never dealt with angel-fire before. It's rather soothing to the kind-hearted to be honest."

My wings flap forward stopping in front of me giving Pinup just enough distance to slowly reel herself in.

 

[Erin]

Lost Haven
Guardians HQ

I start to rub the back of my head as I grin a bit. Guess she isn't a meta after all? She seemed kinda startled. Then again I've never been on the other side of witnessing my transformation.

"Heh, sorry for the lack of warning. Icon and the guys are used to it by now. Only time that it was worse was when I transformed in the kitchen and Matt was exiting the bathroom shower when the light blinded his eyes and he fell. Thank goodness for superspeed on his part, though. Heh."

Still in utter complete shock. Has her hands over her mouth and I'm guessing she is questioning it all. I descend towards the ground and slowly levitate her way.

"Is it the wings? It's not regular fire though. Here. Touch. I know that white fire burns bright but you've never dealt with angel-fire before. It's rather soothing to the kind-hearted to be honest."

My wings flap forward stopping in front of me giving Pinup just enough distance to slowly reel herself in.

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Pinup barely hears him as he explains himself, watching the flames twist and flicker. “Unreal...” she thinks to herself. “This can't be real...what is this?” Her mind reels with ideas. Some kind of bio-electric output? [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Michael offers a wing and Pinup retracts, every instinct telling her not to go about blithely sticking her hand into unidentified substances resembling white-hot flame. And yet... the curiosity grows as, tentatively, she stretches out a thin hand toward the flames. Slowly at first, but with growing confidence she thrusts her hand among the tongues of angel-fire, letting them lap around her fingers. She exhales sharply as she watches while the flames warm her hand gently, bathing it in a heavenly light, a thousand times more brilliant than the sun.[/FONT]​

 

[trustyside-kick]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Pinup barely hears him as he explains himself, watching the flames twist and flicker. “Unreal...” she thinks to herself. “This can't be real...what is this?” Her mind reels with ideas. Some kind of bio-electric output? [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Michael offers a wing and Pinup retracts, every instinct telling her not to go about blithely sticking her hand into unidentified substances resembling white-hot flame. And yet... the curiosity grows as, tentatively, she stretches out a thin hand toward the flames. Slowly at first, but with growing confidence she thrusts her hand among the tongues of angel-fire, letting them lap around her fingers. She exhales sharply as she watches while the flames warm her hand gently, bathing it in a heavenly light, a thousand times more brilliant than the sun.[/FONT]​

Kind of hard not to smirk as she reacts to it. Kind of cute to be honest. Having had her fingers flowing through the angel-fire for a brief moment now she starts to get a bit more comfortable and next thing you know it her entire hand pushes through.

Pure astonishment. That's the only way to describe what she must be feeling.

Complete and pure--oh my God.

What am I doing?

Quickly I pull myself back, suddenly feeling very startled as I can't believe what just happened even with how innocent it is. Instantly I'm reminded of Grace, and the last moment I spent with her after my fight with Sebastian Blake. How we shared such a similar moment. And it kills me.

It doesn't matter that we are not together anymore.

...Right?

Suddenly I can see the two of us at that moment in time again. I embrace her as she looks for comfort and I cradle her with my wings. She blushes as she cautiously passes her fingers through them, and all I want to do is tell her that I'm not going to go anywhere this time.

And then I go.

Because I have to go.

And I'm suddenly feeling like everything just got a lot heavier. I choke on my words as I try to gather myself for my little stunt just now startled her and even Icon himself.

"Excuse me. Allow me to apologize for that, it's just..."

Just like that the words escape me for a moment.

"...I was...reminded of something."

 

[Erin]

Kind of hard not to smirk as she reacts to it. Kind of cute to be honest. Having had her fingers flowing through the angel-fire for a brief moment now she starts to get a bit more comfortable and next thing you know it her entire hand pushes through.

Pure astonishment. That's the only way to describe what she must be feeling.

Complete and pure--oh my God.

What am I doing?

Quickly I pull myself back, suddenly feeling very startled as I can't believe what just happened even with how innocent it is. Instantly I'm reminded of Grace, and the last moment I spent with her after my fight with Sebastian Blake. How we shared such a similar moment. And it kills me.

It doesn't matter that we are not together anymore.

...Right?

Suddenly I can see the two of us at that moment in time again. I embrace her as she looks for comfort and I cradle her with my wings. She blushes as she cautiously passes her fingers through them, and all I want to do is tell her that I'm not going to go anywhere this time.

And then I go.

Because I have to go.

And I'm suddenly feeling like everything just got a lot heavier. I choke on my words as I try to gather myself for my little stunt just now startled her and even Icon himself.

"Excuse me. Allow me to apologize for that, it's just..."

Just like that the words escape me for a moment.

"...I was...reminded of something."

"No worries." Pinup whispers, trying her best to acknowledge him and examine her hand at the same time. She grabs her right palm with her left hand, examining it all over. Holding her right hand in front of her, fingers splayed, she stares at it as though it contains vital information. But it doesn't. It is just a hand. Her hand. It is just her hand, yet moments ago it was engulfed in fire. Pinup blinks, her mind nearly numb from the events of the night. She raises her hands to her face, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms in thought.
"Right, so," She looks up, giving Michael's wings a confused frown before continuing. "Walter is out there somewhere." She looks to Icon, "And if you want to get to him before S.T.R.I.K.E. has a chance to, there's no time to waste."
She looks to Michael, deciding to ask one of the many questions plaguing her since her arrival. "Have you heard any news on The Hub attack? Was anyone hurt?"
She needs to know. She just needs to know. Fingers crossed, she hopes the damage was minimal, though a knot in the pit of her stomach does well convincing her she's wrong.

 

[NiteMare Shape]

...

 

[NiteMare Shape]

"No worries." Pinup whispers, trying her best to acknowledge him and examine her hand at the same time. She grabs her right palm with her left hand, examining it all over. Holding her right hand in front of her, fingers splayed, she stares at it as though it contains vital information. But it doesn't. It is just a hand. Her hand. It is just her hand, yet moments ago it was engulfed in fire. Pinup blinks, her mind nearly numb from the events of the night. She raises her hands to her face, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms in thought.
"Right, so," She looks up, giving Michael's wings a confused frown before continuing. "Walter is out there somewhere." She looks to Icon, "And if you want to get to him before S.T.R.I.K.E. has a chance to, there's no time to waste."
She looks to Michael, deciding to ask one of the many questions plaguing her since her arrival. "Have you heard any news on The Hub attack? Was anyone hurt?"
She needs to know. She just needs to know. Fingers crossed, she hopes the damage was minimal, though a knot in the pit of her stomach does well convincing her she's wrong.

She's right.

We've wasted enough time here already. If this Walter person really has discovered to key components in metahuman DNA, S.T.R.I.K.E will most certainly be after that information...and if Walter doesn't cooperate....

I don't allow myself to think about it.

"You're right. You guys stay here, see if you can get any more information on The Hub incident. I'll go to Walter's and bring him back here."

 

[Hound55]

This is not how it appears on tv... Ugh...

I've been crawling through what seems like a kilometre of foul sludge, literal crap and stuff I don't even want to think about. Course it's probably not really been a kilometre, but it feels like it when you're crawling through... oh God, what the hell did I gust put my knee in..? Ugh... that's not going to wash out, and the mental scars probably won't heal for a while either.

Whatever happened to the cavernous subterranean hallway system that you se in tv? This damn tube's barely big enough for me to crawl through. Up ahead I see a flow of effluent gloop into the pipeline from overhead.

[BLACKOUT]"Bloody lovely..."[/BLACKOUT]

Well, on the upside I can't see S.T.R.I.K.E being stupid enough to follow me in here. And there's some light up ahead. Looks like I've found the glimmer of a silver lining in amongst all this brown. I crawl gingerly through the sewerage, wincing as I passed where the fresh stuff dropped from overhead as if it were somehow worse than the rest of the crap I'm crawling around in. Funny how the mind works sometimes.

As I crawl into the light, I see a shaft leading down and away to the right. It starts about halfway through the drain, which would be why I still have to get myself covered in this filth. I flick the thin beam of torchlight down the shaft. It's too far to see the end, so I'll have to try something else. I pull out a flash-bang and throw it down the shaft, turning my head away in anticipation of the initial flash.

GLUP!

I hear it fall into what I know isn't water but am trying hard to convinvce myself otherwise, and sneak a peek down the shaft. The flash-bang goes off submerged in the effluent, dulling it's bright blast but allowing me to see just how far down the shaft goes. It seems more open, cavernous, down there. Which seems far more appealing than crawling through this muck.

Doesn't seem too far. Shouldn't break my neck...

I pull the hook frrom my grapple gun and try to wedge it into the wall, but they're solid cement and I can't get it to dig in properly. Sighing I try getting it to stick to the outer lip of the shaft, hoping my weight should help hold it down in place. I pull against the line to test it; it holds, but I'm still not certain this is the best idea.

Holding the gun with my right arm I start to lower myself into the shaft. It's very steep and the sides are far slipperier than I could tell when crawling through the drain when level. My left hand slips underneath me and with my poor left arm I'm unable to recover, my weight shifts on the line and the hook (as well as myself, I suppose) have come unstuck. I tumble down the shaft and splash into the cavernous sewer below.

Expletives and filth pour out of me whilst I try to crawl up and out of the flow. My hands catch a ledge and I pull myself, drenched from head to toe in liquid waste. I lie on my back and take in my surroundings. This place is a bit more like what you would see on tv. Finally I have my open subterranean caverns. Yay... I'm still covered in s***... Open caverns and the sewer is surprisingly well lit by some mysterious blue light.

Not just that but the light is getting brighter. I roll on to one side to see...

[BLACKOUT]"What in the hell is causing that damn light?!?"[/BLACKOUT]

Not what. Who. Rolling to my side I see a dozen strange looking figures, illuminated by a bright blue glowing metahuman.

"He's wearing black! He's from S.T.R.I.K.E! Get him!"

Ugh...

 

[Erin]

She's right.

We've wasted enough time here already. If this Walter person really has discovered to key components in metahuman DNA, S.T.R.I.K.E will most certainly be after that information...and if Walter doesn't cooperate....

I don't allow myself to think about it.

"You're right. You guys stay here, see if you can get any more information on The Hub incident. I'll go to Walter's and bring him back here."

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Pinup sets her jaw, not accustomed to taking orders from strangers. She wants to go with him. She wants to find Walter; to know he's safe and, even moreso, know the metahuman secret is safe. But, she conceeds, Icon is right to leave her behind. She would only slow him down, and right now, speed was paramount.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif][FONT=Book Antiqua, serif]Go to my apartment first.”[/FONT][/FONT] She hated the directions as she spoke them, but she had to recognize that the worst was now an option, and she needed to make sure all bases were covered. [FONT=Book Antiqua, serif]“615 Jerome. Apartment 5 E. My rat Methuselah is there. If Walter does plan to share this secret, he'll need that rat – he was one of the ones in the experimental group. He was injected with the same serum I was, and his DNA would hold just as many answers as any of ours would. That way...”[/FONT] Pinup's lips tighten as she takes a breath and continues, a stony resolved building within her, [FONT=Book Antiqua, serif]“even if Walter does sell us out, we can at least make it a whole lot harder for him and S.T.R.I.K.E.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Her stomach twisted as she heard herself placing the importance of a rat over that of her friend, but if it meant the survival of the unknown thousands of metahumans living in fear, it had to be done.[/FONT]

*********
Somwhere in Lost Haven



“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif][FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Where are we?”[/FONT][/FONT] Walter tries looking out the window, only to find the tinted windows too dark to see much more than the yellow pinpricks of streetlights blur by overhead as the black sedan pulls up to a large building.
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]After you, sir.”[/FONT] Agent Matthews gestures to the door handle, indicating Walter is to exit the vehicle. The old man complies, alighting from the car to find himself standing before a wide expanse of glass doors leading into an otherwise nondescript corporate building. Following Matthews through the hallway, Walter gets the feeling this is more than a standard corporate office facility.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif][FONT=Times New Roman, serif]What is this place?”[/FONT][/FONT] Walter asks again. Matthews looks to him and smiles.
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]You asked to speak to someone in charge.” He explains in a congenial manner that still manages to arouse some suspicion. “So you're going to see someone in charge.”[/FONT]​

 

[NiteMare Shape]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Pinup sets her jaw, not accustomed to taking orders from strangers. She wants to go with him. She wants to find Walter; to know he's safe and, even moreso, know the metahuman secret is safe. But, she conceeds, Icon is right to leave her behind. She would only slow him down, and right now, speed was paramount.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif][FONT=Book Antiqua, serif]Go to my apartment first.”[/FONT][/FONT] She hated the directions as she spoke them, but she had to recognize that the worst was now an option, and she needed to make sure all bases were covered. [FONT=Book Antiqua, serif]“615 Jerome. Apartment 5 E. My rat Methuselah is there. If Walter does plan to share this secret, he'll need that rat – he was one of the ones in the experimental group. He was injected with the same serum I was, and his DNA would hold just as many answers as any of ours would. That way...”[/FONT] Pinup's lips tighten as she takes a breath and continues, a stony resolved building within her, [FONT=Book Antiqua, serif]“even if Walter does sell us out, we can at least make it a whole lot harder for him and S.T.R.I.K.E.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Her stomach twisted as she heard herself placing the importance of a rat over that of her friend, but if it meant the survival of the unknown thousands of metahumans living in fear, it had to be done. [/FONT]​

After getting the key to Pinup's apartment I take my leave. Knowing that I can't rightfully just walk into her apartment building dressed like this, I land in a small alley several blocks away from her residence and quickly change into my civilian clothes. Once I emerge from the alley, I make way way to Pinup's apartment on foot, careful not to arouse any suspicion.

Thankfully it doesn't take me long to get to her apartment. If what she has said about her pet rat is true, it is important that I find it before S.T.R.I.K.E does. As I enter her building, several residents eye me suspiciously, which is not surprising when you consider the fact that a large number of the metas taken in the raids several weeks ago were residents of this building. It makes sense that they would be mistrustful of a stranger among them.

I finally arrive at apartment 5 E. Anticipation builds as I turn the key, and hear the deadbolt give way. I push the door open and am surprised by the state of the apartment, even though I know I shouldn't be. There are clothes and papers strewn about the apartment, which is evidence that she had left abruptly when the raids began. And suddenly, I feel an anger begin to burn deep within me.

"This has got to stop." I think to myself, as my frustration with Anderson and his organization builds.

However, before I can dwell on my thoughts too long, I hear a sound in the apartment, a welcome sound.

The sound of a spinning excercise wheel.

I make may way toward the sound, and find myself in Pinup's bedroom. I turn on the light, and find what I was looking for. Over on what looks to be an antique dresser, is a cage. And much to my relief, inside the cage is a rat, which looks much heartier than it probably should for being alone with no food or water for as long as it has gone without.

"Methuselah," I whisper. "It's ok, I'm going to get you out of here."
​

​

​

 

[trustyside-kick]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Pinup sets her jaw, not accustomed to taking orders from strangers. She wants to go with him. She wants to find Walter; to know he's safe and, even moreso, know the metahuman secret is safe. But, she conceeds, Icon is right to leave her behind. She would only slow him down, and right now, speed was paramount.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif][FONT=Book Antiqua, serif]Go to my apartment first.”[/FONT][/FONT] She hated the directions as she spoke them, but she had to recognize that the worst was now an option, and she needed to make sure all bases were covered. [FONT=Book Antiqua, serif]“615 Jerome. Apartment 5 E. My rat Methuselah is there. If Walter does plan to share this secret, he'll need that rat – he was one of the ones in the experimental group. He was injected with the same serum I was, and his DNA would hold just as many answers as any of ours would. That way...”[/FONT]​

​

Woah woah...what? Serum? What serum? And this guy Walter has some dealing with S.T.R.I.K.E. or so they think? Dangit this is going to suck I can only imagine. I can see it now. Round 2 of Archangel being riddled with bullet holes and--

Wait a second.

I land on my feet and slowly take another look at this 'Pinup' chick as she has her head towards Icon. She said that she was also injected with the serum. What the heck does it do then? She looks completely normal and has acted as such since she got here.

Pinup's lips tighten as she takes a breath and continues, a stony resolved building within her, [FONT=Book Antiqua, serif]“even if Walter does sell us out, we can at least make it a whole lot harder for him and S.T.R.I.K.E.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Her stomach twisted as she heard herself placing the importance of a rat over that of her friend, but if it meant the survival of the unknown thousands of metahumans living in fear, it had to be done.[/FONT]

After getting the key to Pinup's apartment I take my leave.

The Boyscout leaves the lair, heading to pick up Pinup's serum-induced pet rat, and I'm suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable.

"Uh...I don't mean to be nosey or anything, but...what exactly are we dealing with here? You mentioned a serum. And that you were injected with it. You mind giving me the scoop on what this serum does and what you can do? Because S.T.R.I.K.E. has already tried giving superpowers to non-metas...I've seen it first hand and their results were luckily faulty in the end however some men died in the process from what little I know which is a travesty. Doesn't matter to me that they were S.T.RI.K.E. agents point is it's not freakin' right."

Enter serious mode. I don't think I like where this is going at all.

"What. Does. Your. Serum. Do?"

 

[Erin]

Woah woah...what? Serum? What serum? And this guy Walter has some dealing with S.T.R.I.K.E. or so they think? Dangit this is going to suck I can only imagine. I can see it now. Round 2 of Archangel being riddled with bullet holes and--

Wait a second.

I land on my feet and slowly take another look at this 'Pinup' chick as she has her head towards Icon. She said that she was also injected with the serum. What the heck does it do then? She looks completely normal and has acted as such since she got here.





The Boyscout leaves the lair, heading to pick up Pinup's serum-induced pet rat, and I'm suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable.

"Uh...I don't mean to be nosey or anything, but...what exactly are we dealing with here? You mentioned a serum. And that you were injected with it. You mind giving me the scoop on what this serum does and what you can do? Because S.T.R.I.K.E. has already tried giving superpowers to non-metas...I've seen it first hand and their results were luckily faulty in the end however some men died in the process from what little I know which is a travesty. Doesn't matter to me that they were S.T.RI.K.E. agents point is it's not freakin' right."

Enter serious mode. I don't think I like where this is going at all.

"What. Does. Your. Serum. Do?"

Pinup turns away from the closed door through which Icon had exited only moments ago, facing Michael and looking him square in the eyes.
"It's hardly my serum." She places her hands on her hips. "And I'm not the result of a S.T.R.I.K.E. experiment, if that's what you're implying." She informs him, matching his seriousness. "This serum predates S.T.R.I.K.E. Hell -" she pauses for a fraction of a second, wondering if words like "hell" are allowable to say to an "angel".
"This serum predates the C.I.A." She finishes. "And if S.T.R.I.K.E. gets their hands on it...well their next round of experiments won't fail."

She walks around him, toward the couch, and picks up the remote control.
"And as for what I do," she flipped channels to the late news. video clips show the melee as a crowd of people in the throws of mass panic flee from The Hub, flooding the streets with screams. Pinup folds her arms as she watches the report, a stolid expression on her face though she shakes with nervousness inside. The reporter reads statistics. 3 dead, 4 more in critical condition, several others seriously injured. The weight of the death toll falls on her heart like lead. Her shoulders slump and she exhales and gazes at the ground, scuffing her toe at an invisible something on the floor. When she raises her head, her face is drawn, her eyes dead.
"I do that." She sighs. She feels the urge to walk, to move; o be anywhere but there, standing in front of the screen and watching the aftermath of the panic she caused. Silently, Pinup crosses the room again and exits through the door, turning left. She's not sure where she's going, but if she's meant to stay there and wait for Icon to return, with or without Walter and Methuselah, she may as well investigate the building while trying to clear her head.

 

[NiteMare Shape]

Once I leave Pinup's apartment with her rat, I make my way back the way I came, to the same alley that I had landed in when I arrived. Quickly, I change out of my civilian garb and take to the skies above Lost Haven, in the direction of the home of Walter Kennedy.

It only takes me moments to get to the homestead from the alley. I touch down in the driveway, with the cage holding Methuselah cradled under my arm. I make my way up the front porchsteps, and lightly rap on the door, which simply pushes open.

"Hello? Professor Kennedy?" I call into the house, but there is no response.

I step inside the home, and notice that the lights are still on.

"Professor Kennedy?" I call out, once again no response.

I move further into the house, and I pick up the faintest smell of smoke. I make my way throughout the house, and find that Kennedy is not here, however, in what looks to be his study, I do find a trash barrel with what looks to be charred papers in the bottom. As well as some photographs on his desk. I look at the old photographs which are of a young man and woman who seem to genuinely enjoying one another's company. The woman I immediately recognize as Pinup, and I can only assume that the young man in the photographs is Walter. However, I also notce a small piece of paper with something scribbled on it. I look at the paper and my heart sinks as I read the text.

I had to. Please forgive me.
Warmest regards
[FONT=Bradley Hand ITC, cursive]-W[/FONT]

I make my way back down to the kitchen and collect Methusela, leaving the empty house behind.

Walter Kennedy was not at home, which can only mean that he is with S.T.R.I.K.E now. I have to get back to headquarters, to tell the others what I've found. I have to tell Pinup that her friend has betrayed her. That he's betrayed all of us.

***​

I make my way into the main control lounge of Guardians' Headquarters with the rat cage still under my arm. I see Michael monitoring something on the computer screen, but I don't see Pinup. I move past the control lounge, into the recreation room where I find Pinup sitting on one of the plush leather sofas in front of the television.​

She looks like she has seen better days. The guilt that she feels for the attack on The Hub is weighs very heavily on her, and I can see it in her face. I hate to add to her troubles, but it can't wait. She has to know what her friend is done. I step toward her, putting the rat cage down on the coffee table in front of her, and handing her the note.​

"I'm sorry, Pinup. I really am."​

 

[Blacklight]

Chapter 8: That Doesn't Seem Physically Possible...




Am I... Dead? Or something?

Up until that point, I could safely say that I had never been unconscious before, so I didn't know what it's like. But when all my subconscious could see was myself standing in a null, black void with no floor, walls or ceiling and nothing outside of me occupying it, I started to think the worst. However, my time standing in the nothingness was rather short-lived, as in the matter of what seemed to be mere minutes, I regained consciousness and hastily opened my eyes.

I pushed myself up and started rubbing my head to relieve the pounding sensations, closing my eyes soon after as they were having a hard time adjusting to all the light in the room. But soon enough, I was fully awake, and I noticed Ryan, the female scientist and the dark haired girl all crowded around me to make sure I was okay.

"Man what a trip..." I murmured.

"How you feeling, dude?" Ryan asked, concerned.

"Like I took a wrecking ball to the chest... Then got ran over by a bus." I replied rather groggily. Everyone around me smiled, happy to see I was alright.

The female scientist then stood up and grabbed the pager from her belt as it started beeping furiously. The expression on her face was rather calm considering how her virtually harmless experiment almost ended someone's life today. I'd kinda be worried about her job if I was her.

"I have the medics coming to run a few tests on you to ensure that there's no side-effects from the beam. To be quite honest, you're lucky to be alive, Mr. Small. Not many people have been on the receiving end of a lethal dose or radiation like that and lived to tell about it, much less virtually unharmed."

As she turned away and walked over to the lightbeam machine to check it for damage, Ryan helped me get back on my feet as I continued rubbing my aching head.

"...I think there was a compliment in there somewhere." I joked.

"I don't think now's really the time for jokes, Jon. We thought you were dead..."

"Same here. How long was I out? Seemed like a few minutes on my end..."

"Try an hour and a half."

"Huh... Never pegged myself for a heavy sleeper."

Ryan then looked at me with the most serious of faces. He was right. It was not the time for jokes. Almost dying is not something to poke fun at.

"So.. Damian's getting some form of punishment, right? I mean, if you ask me, that was practically attempted murder." I questioned. I could've lost my life today, and knowing that I almost lost it because some idiot had nothing better to do than to pick on someone kinda irritates me...

...I take that back. It REALLY irritates me.

"Looks like we're about to find out. See for yourself." Ryan answered, placing a hand on my shoulder and pointing towards Damian and one of the teachers chaperoning the trip as the teacher began to scold him. We could tell Damian was getting stung, and we could feel it from where we were standing, and to me, it felt kinda good. I couldn't help but laugh a little, because I didn't feel bad at all for him.


Karma sucks, doesn't it?

* * *​

 

[Erin]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Pinup remains motionless as Icon enters the room. Only her eyes follow him, registering Methuselah's cage and Walter's absence dimly. He hands her the note, and she takes it, not needing to read it to know what has happened. [/FONT]​

"I'm sorry, Pinup. I really am."​

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Pinup crumples the note in her hand, shutting her eyes tightly as if trying to will time to reverse itself and make this whole evening never happen.[/FONT]
“Me too.”[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Her heart crumbles and it feels as though knives slash through the emptiness inside her. After a long moment, she opens her eyes, looking down and away from Icon shamefully.[/FONT]
“You may as well know,”[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Pinup can feel him watching her, but she doesn't look at him. She can't look at him. She guesses he never would have pulled her out of the alley had he known she was a murderer. But he's going to find out sooner or later, and she knows he should find out from her first. “Three people died tonight. Four are critical. I don't know how many else were injured.” She doesn't tell him of what, specifically, she is speaking. He already knows. Repeating the numbers in her own voice sends a cold wave over her, and she is once again filled with the sickening weight of human death. She stares at the blank television screen. For the first time since she had escaped the raids, her mind isn't racing. It isn't doing anything. It is perfectly blank, and she feels numb. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Methuselah tours the perimeter of his cage, scratching at the wood shavings. He edges near the bars, standing on his hind legs and poking his nose through in Pinup's direction, whiskers twitching furiously. Pinup's eyes slide to him, and slowly, her mind begins working again.[/FONT]
“At least,”[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] she looks back to Icon, some life returning to her features, “at least we have Methuselah.” She manages a feeble but grateful smile. [/FONT]“Thank you.”
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]She leans forward, poking a finger through the bars of the rat's cage. Methuselah sniffs interestedly, grasping it with his forepaws.[/FONT]
“Hi there, old man.”[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] Pinup greets him quietly, as if talking to an old friend as she flips the hasp on his cage and opens the door. The rat crawls out onto her hand, balancing himself across her palm and wrist, before edging up her arm. She strokes his head lightly. [/FONT]
“I want to help.”[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif] She tells Icon without looking at him. “I helped create this mess.” She turns her head to him, her eyes once more alive and filled with a fiery determination.[/FONT] “I need to clean it up.”
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Pinup stands, finding she still needs to tilt her head up slightly to look Icon in the eyes.[/FONT]
“I understand if you don't want me here, after what happened at The Hub, but the fact is I'm here now, and I plan on staying here until this is over.”
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]She watches him steadily regard her from behind his mask and wonders if, maybe, there is a concern mingled in his look at her reference to The Hub that goes beyond the concern for his fellow human. She can't be certain, but there is a vague guess in the back of her mind that the attack was perhaps more personal to him than he let on.[/FONT]​

 

[Hound55]

Holding the gun with my right arm I start to lower myself into the shaft. It's very steep and the sides are far slipperier than I could tell when crawling through the drain when level. My left hand slips underneath me and with my poor left arm I'm unable to recover, my weight shifts on the line and the hook (as well as myself, I suppose) have come unstuck. I tumble down the shaft and splash into the cavernous sewer below.

Expletives and filth pour out of me whilst I try to crawl up and out of the flow. My hands catch a ledge and I pull myself, drenched from head to toe in liquid waste. I lie on my back and take in my surroundings. This place is a bit more like what you would see on tv. Finally I have my open subterranean caverns. Yay... I'm still covered in s***... Open caverns and the sewer is surprisingly well lit by some mysterious blue light.

Not just that but the light is getting brighter. I roll on to one side to see...

[BLACKOUT]"What in the hell is causing that damn light?!?"[/BLACKOUT]

Not what. Who. Rolling to my side I see a dozen strange looking figures, illuminated by a bright blue glowing metahuman.

"He's wearing black! He's from S.T.R.I.K.E! Get him!"

Ugh...

My body's tired. I'm burnt for the day and I feel like s***. Wait... That's not exacty true. Physically I feel nothing; same as always. I just smell like s***. Regardless, I'm in no shape after all I've been through today to take out a handful of metahumans.

Still, what choice do I have?

I get to my feet surprisingly quickly considering I was flat on my back seconds ago and bust out the twin night-sticks. I throw reason at them quickly, but I doubt it'll sound convincing.

[BLACKOUT]"I'm not S.T.R.I.K.E. Not even close... *Pants* But stay back or I'll beat you all the same."[/BLACKOUT]

The crowd hesitates all the same though, until the blue figure speaks again.

"Whaddaya waiting for? He's in black, he's got no powers, he's come armed... Of course he's S.T.R.I.K.E! Get him!"

They steadily advance once again. No hope of a quick escape. My back's to the sewerage flow which I fell into a minute ago. It's a close quarters environment, and even if it wasn't I've only got one arm capable of supporting my weight for my grapple gun. Still... I could take a few out I suppose.

"WAIT!"

The crowd turns to the source of the voice... and looks down.

"I know him. He's not with S.T.R.I.K.E..."

A child. Isn't it always a child?

"... he's one of the Guardians. He came to our school and gave a speech."

Is there anyone in the world who didn't see that damn speech?

The blue man turns back to me, with a skeptical expression across his cobalt face.

"Is this true..?"

[BLACKOUT]"Well, yes. But anything else he tells you about that day is a bare faced lie..."[/BLACKOUT]