“We’re sorry we have to send you in already. There isn’t time for you to rest; there’s work to do. Good luck and godspeed.” The first fifteen of the survivors were barely recorded as surviving the blast before they were sent off. They hadn’t even had time to come up with a hero name, or a costume. They didn’t have cool gadgets, and only the beginning understanding of their powers. This first mission for each of the Task Forces was critical. It’d be how they learned their powers, picked who they were, and would know whether or not they could survive in this new world. Mission 1A; The Iron Gate Western Edge of Ground Zero Taken by KPD police chopper to the perimeter guard currently maintained by Lt Prescott, the Task Force were set down in a forced clearing between a lawn and the road. Police stood at attention where they weren’t setting up barricades along the roads, and emergency response people were briefing civilian volunteers before sending them in to help with whatever little the normal people could. Less than a block from their landing zone, the wreckage that wreathed Ground Zero could be seen. Houses were Flattened as entire chunks of other buildings and the road or earth itself smashed through them, and further on the ruins only looked worse and worse. It was to be expected, the blast was a violent experience. Lt Prescott walked over to the Task Force, his badge shining as if freshly polished, and his uniform well kept. Much the contrary to him, as under his eyes were dark bags that he mostly, but imperfectly, hid behind sunglasses. His hair was cropped short, and dark brown, his face clean shaven. “Alright let’s get you up to date. I don’t know what they told you back wherever they got you from, but we’re dealing with some Ironmen. They’re cold heartless bastards when on their shit and they’d sooner crush a small animal before petting it. I haven’t a goddamn clue what they’re trying to do with here, but if any of you feel you could get some answers, we have one fella successfully detained for now that isn’t dead.” He made a gesture to a police van where a man who appeared to have bands of metal welded to his body, or something, sat surrounded by both officers and two doctors of some sort. Further behind them was a lumpy pile covered with a white plastic tarp. Near to that were some wounded officers and otherwise with medical workers tending to them. “The junkies that have come at us seem to be some green users, the metal on their skin isn’t as thick as veterans, which I know sounds like that’d be good, but it isn’t,” Lt Prescott continued, “They still have some mental faculties going on, which means that they still know how to use a gun, and they are using them.” He began to walk, leading the group over to a table with a bunch of tagged firearms, “Don’t mess with the evidence unless you got some sort of power that would help. Rather keep them untouched well as we can for now.” He turned from the confiscated gun pile and back to the group, “Look, I don’t know what you guys have come with, so I don’t know where to send you to. I don’t know if you should work on interrogating with our prisoner, or just helping with the barricades in case they come with a truck next they charge. So, just, make yourself useful. I’m sure it won’t be long before they’re here again.” Mission 1B; A Bridge Too Far Last Bridge Connecting Ground Zero to Rook Island Taken by police van to the Rook Island side of the bridge, the Task Force was let off with full view of the burning wreckage of White Fence in what was now Ground Zero across the water. The other major bridges that connected the island to the rest of the city were drastically wrecked as well, dipping into the water instead of standing. The remaining bridge wasn’t in great condition, but it was still clearly viable for transport if it weren’t for the Grass Bloods. A female police officer ushered the group over to her behind cover and introduced herself, “Shit,” okay so she swore first, “You guys the survivors? You have to be insane to be coming here. These Grass Bloods want you dead.” She spoke with a hasty tempo, her eyes a bit wild with nerves, “But if you’re our support, and they don't know what you are yet, I am not down with turning you away if you can get those hostages out. I’m Lt Wethers, KPD,” she said, holding up her lopsided badge on her chest, “And there’s been a problem, complications I'm probably supposed to refer to it with. I know you were told we have a hostage situation on here, but it’s changed a bit since before you arrived.” The black woman looked up from the cover and made a gesture with two fingers to the bridge. In the distance, with about three cars and a truck between their end of the bridge and the Grass Bloods, there were a few people using them as cover, “Okay so the Grass Bloods, they originally had five hostages, and wanted to trade them for survivors, but…” she lowered back down from out of cover, “They only have four hostages now. There’s been casualties. Some of the emergency response people ran past to the bridge and surprised them. I think it was a guy, Mike? His brother was one of the hostages. According to them, Mike’s still alive but his brother is dead and another who broke free is dead too. We’ve not gotten a good eye to see if that’s true. They threatened to kill them all if we got in the air or anything.” She rubbed her temple, and wiped some sweat away, looking over and pointing at a makeshift covered medical tent. Three emergency workers and at least one cop were having injuries treated, "We were able to get most of the injured back successfully without further casualties, but, the thing is, they’ve also been asking for medical supplies now. I don’t think they’re for Mike. It seems they’ve got some wounded now after the attempt. Don’t know how many,” she sighed and rubbed her temple before continuing, “We think it’s two with how much they're asking for, which leaves two wounded Grass Bloods, and four that are okay, with four hostages.” “So, I’m open to suggestions, I don’t know what you’re able to bring to the table, but we need to get this bridge going for us if we’re to save more people from the blast…” she said, before adding in a whisper probably not meant for anyone to hear, “May be best to just risk the hostages… probably save more from the blast if we didn’t waste time…” Mission 1C; Trouble in Paradise North West Quarter of the Exterior Utopian Wall While it wouldn’t have taken too long for the Task Force to walk here, they were dropped off while the group meant for the bridge went on their way. Waiting for them were two beat cops, one looking at the wall while the other leaned against the KPD cruiser. He was an Asian man in glasses, while the one at the wall seemed to be like he should have been a small town country deputy sort. His uniform wasn’t very well kept, and he made inquisitive ‘ah’ noises as he looked. The Asian officer stepped forward before walking to the trunk of the car, “Alright, so nothing has broken out yet, but I think I should distribute the weapons now so you have them for when it happens. Pretty sure the teams in the other three quarters are well armed, may as well have you guys be too.” He popped the trunk and began to open up the gun cases, while the younger more yokel of an officer stopped making the noise as he tried to tell wall cracks from graffiti with the steel, concrete, and bone wall. “Wait, aren’t we not supposed to hand them anything unless…” he began before trailing off. “It’s fine. Utopia’s been a problem for decades since the first blast, a second one will just bring more problems,” the Asian officer said, before turning to the group, “Problems, unlike you lot. You’re going to help us contain the problem. What suits your fancy, rifle or--” The sound of glass smashing against the wall cut the man off, as all eyes went to a small group of children, all of them pale skinned and dressed in expensive looking faux trashy clothes. The oldest of them couldn’t be more than like, ten or something, and between the seven of them they had brought bags of things. Bottles at least, but another one threw a perfectly good tomato at the wall only for it to fall pitifully short, so there was some variety of garbage with them. Seemed the first problem for this patrol wasn’t going to be monsters from inside the walls of Utopia, but kids with garbage bags and bad throwing arms. Unlike monsters from beyond the bone walls of Utopia, this was not a problem they could shoot, which the Asian officer was keen on. He closed the trunk before the guns could be distributed, “I don’t suppose any of you are good with kids?” "We're not kids, asshole, we're heroes! Like the Paragon Guard!" shouted in a slightly breaking voice meant to sound more tough than the kid actually could do, to the agreement of his peers. "My dad says you're protecting what's inside there, and we should tear the thing down. Said that if 'it' ever happened again, it'd be because of this thing. I don't know what he meant by 'it', but when I saw him crying today about 'it', I knew 'it' had happened. So," the apparent ringleader of the kids glared defiantly at the Task Force, the two cops present, and at the wall, "We're going to tear it down."