Hoods & Capes | IC

[Mobley Eats]

Nellie King "Iron Head" | Interactions: Cole & Anselle @Ragamoofin | Location: Conference


Spotted lights. Twisted and blurring images. Distorted screams fading in and out, pounding away at her eardrums like rapid fire cannons. Everything hurt. Everything ached on an internalized level that even her numbed nerves couldn't ignore. Balance. It eluded her. Everything that could possibly feel right refused to come.

But she still held Cole close and swept the area with a hand poised. "It's okay... You're okay," she rasped after feeling the boy quiver in her grasp. The muted sobs had yet to dwindle and even when he hid his face into the charred plates of her stomach, he couldn't help catching glimpses of the dead bodies. There were so many of them. What if his...?

He burrowed back into Iron Head.

The metal clad hero whipped around with a snarl as someone touched down before her. She squinted as the being's glow nailed her in the eyes, worsening the headache and fatigue threatening to swallow her whole. Fucking Hell. Who was this? And yet, something familiar breached her nostrils. That scent; she fully recognized it. It'd be a damn shame for her to confuse it for anything else. This had to be the so-called "friend" Night Watcher had pointed out before the Conference went up in flames.

No matter.

Ignoring the inkling of logic banging at the back of her skull, she took a step back with Cole in tow and the muscles in her body tensed. The thinning rivers in her veins rumbled. The words she spat could tuck a lion's tale between his legs. "Not! Another! Step!" She couldn't hear a damn thing. Couldn't process the sentences spewing from this individual in possession of a system that twisted Nellie's olfactory senses into knots. No. Hell no. He couldn't have Cole. She would protect Millie with her life. She swore she would.

But she caught bits and pieces, putting them together like an incomplete puzzle that could be discerned with a squint and tilt of the head. Healing. This person could heal, apparently. The boy... "I-I..." She glanced down at Millie... Cole? Mills? N-no. No. That was Cole. This was Cole. Millie wasn't... She had never...

Nellie's heart shattered.

But she didn't show it. Bloodshot eyes scrutinized Anselle through the hairline cracks of her visor as her thoughts raged war. Even with the splash of clarity, the paranoia lingered. Taunted her. Go on. Let him go. You're so good at leaving behind your loved ones. This won't be any different. I didn't want to. Oh, yes you did. Just admit it. Things were... easier this way. Lessened the guilt a little for abandoning her in that toxic mansion-- Sh-she's okay. She's got mom and dad and... And who else? Dear ole Bek? The most trustworthy of them all? You selfish bitch. I did it for her! You ran away. Like a scared little monster. So heartless. Perhaps it is better this way. Perhaps it's better that you just... let... the boy... go.

Shakily, Nellie released Cole. The mute boy gazed up at her, the confusion heavy in his visage.

Before you ruin his life too.

She signed "Hero" once more before gently turning him around by the shoulders to face Anselle. "Yeah. Just... Heal him," she said, the life completely void from her voice. Distant.

It's better this way...

At first, Cole hesitated to leave her side and approach the glowing super, but a few more encouraging nudges from Iron Head lead him to shuffling up to Synergizer. A few scrapes and cuts were found on his hands and legs, along with some grime covering his face. Other than that, he didn't sustain anything major. As he received healing, Iron Head watched every move. Every flicker of energy. Her body frozen in place like a foreboding statue that would lash out the moment Anselle breathed suspiciously.

After this, she would help find Cole's mother.

And after that? She had no clue... perhaps collapse and pray that no one took that as an opening to end her then and there.

---

Benny Law "Echo" | Interactions: Amy @Elle Joyner & Civilians | Location: Conference


Oh--sweet! More help was showing up! That was good to see. Benny was kinda worried that a lot more peeps were going to die at the rate they were bleeding out. Some had less than a minute under their belt. While lots and lots more had a little less than that. But hey, there was also the rest who escaped or scraped by with minimal injuries.

So yeah, hooray for ambulances!

Oh, wait. Amy was calling him.

He jogged over at her beck and call, and nodded as she asked for assistance with the grizzly man. "Kay! I can probably, like, jump 'em on over to a hospital or something? Wait where's the nearest hospital? Do you have a map--wait no! There's one on my phone!" Just as he was about to whip out the said contraption, paramedics were on the scene, specifically a woman that praised Amy's assistance (shoosh yeah, man! Amy was awesome!) before rolling the poor victim onto a gurney.

"Uhhh, okay! Cool, cool, I'll just... err!" He spun around a few times, somewhat dizzying himself in the process, but it did little to give him inspiration on what in the heck to do next. Go back to the studio? No, probably not. As much as he freaking missed Angie like crazy and was in dire need of her healing cuddles, he couldn't just up and leave! There were so many peeps hurt and injured and...

Oh! Ha--duh. He could do that!

Benny barreled into Amy from behind to squeeze her tight, lifting her feet a few inches off the ground while muttering, "Hey, hello, I gotta go now, kay? Today was really sucky but don't be sad. Got it? Be right back!" In classic Benny fashion, he failed to wait for a response and melted into the inky gravel. He appeared through the shadows of conscious citizens to scoop up the bodies of heavily wounded ones and transported them as close as possible to all of the ambulances in sight. He didn't really know if they had enough gurneys or whatever to take everyone, but at least he could make their jobs a little easier.

Hopefully.

After transporting a hefty sum of the fallen citizens, he gave pause.

Looked around.

Frowned thoughtfully.

Scratched the metal plate on his head.

"Uh... wait, why am I here again?" He began to aimlessly wander.

 

[Sail]

--------Transfer X Sabine ---- | Location: The Deli | Mentions: @Elle Joyner Sabine

Smoke. Not physical, but mental.

A smokescreen, unable to be blown away.

The wind, non-existent.

And then, the physical smoke. It swirled between seats, curling up into the air, almost dancing like weak flames against the bright light of the Emergency Exit sign.

He reached out to grab at something-it seemed to be another person, bloodied and battered. He felt along their arm; a momentary spasm in the lungs. Cold filled his palm. He raised the hand up to his eyes, but the darkness concealed whatever had happened. He-

A voice, high and desperate. No, not desperate, just a voice not wanting Kallen to perish at this moment. "Did...did she say run?"

-the walk home that night was not a pleasant one. Police sirens filled the air, racing towards the theatre.

Crawling, away from the din of battle. Away from Fin. Away from Night Watcher. Abandoning his newly made friends simply to protect himself, an unconscious defense mechanism.

He kept running, running, running away. "Please, let my mom and dad be home. Let them be okay." He said it almost like a prayer, over and over; he was unsure why he feared for their safety, but he did. "What if that theatre was attacked because of me?" What if…

Another voice from behind: "...there might be room in the deli somewhere."

Night Watcher's suggestion was like a cold winter's air after a long shower where all the hot water turns to cold water. "What in the world are you doing Kallen? Tryin' to get ya'self bloody killed" A voice, not his own, called out from the back of his mind. Stones from the old city streets of DC dug into his palms as he pushed himself off the ground.

Shoe into pavement; click. Cool wind pushed towards the ground from the rotor blades of the flying ship. He followed outward, away from the fray, towards the deli. He could see it from afar, with the freshly prepared meats sitting in glass cases, a bright neon sign with the word "Open". One of the windows was shattered from gunfire, glass catching the flashes of light from around and above.

He leapt through the hole, intentionally scraping against the shards of jagged broken glass. Warm fluid flowed down his arms. He took a quick breath, firing a pulse of energy towards the wounds, spreading the pain evenly across his body. The pain thrummed deep within his muscles, almost unnoticeable if he didn't directly pay attention to it.

He moved across the deli, noticing Pearson seated on the floor a short distance from the door. One glance told him all he needed to know; the Vice was fine. But, someone else was speaking. How does one not notice another human being speaking. The answer is simple enough, Transfer was far too preoccupied with Pearson.

"Is she hurt," he mumbled to himself. Just the slightest touch would heal her. Pearson knew of his powers, but Kallen was certain she didn't. He sat upon the floor, placing one hand on Pearson's shoulder. "I'll fix your wounds right up." Of course, that wasn't true. He placed his other hand behind himself spreading his fingers as far as they could go, far enough that his pinky barely graced Sabine's leg.

His consciousness traveled through the small connection of pinky and leg; a pulse of momentary cold spread through her body. Shifting through nerves, muscles, bones, organs and various other tissues, he searched for the source of her pain in a hurried fashion. It was as if her nerves were a maze and he was attempting to solve it. Go up through the deep fibular, cross across the common to the tibial nerve; run up the sciatic nerve, into the spinal column. The thoracic, lumbar, and cervical vertebra were like temporary walls halting his progress; he barreled through them, right into her brain.

Flames engulfed her mind, specifically focused around her amygdala. He brushed his very spirit against the heat, wincing in sympathy pain when he realized the depth of sorrow and emptiness she felt. He cleared his physical mind and began to pull some of the pain away, lifting the webs of headache off of her, melting away the gunshot wound until she only had to deal with the emotional pain.

Before he could pull himself back into his body, he noticed something. That something was similar to something found within himself-he knew this was the very thing that granted super powers to the masses. He detached himself from her; his job was done.

She opened her mouth to answer the question he had geared towards Pearson, when the faintest brush, a whisper of contact alerted her a second too late that her response didn't matter. Silence filled the deli, almost jarringly out of place in a disaster zone, and Sabine stared at the hero, waves of confusion a tsunami behind a wintry blue gaze.

"...You… you didn't have to…" Fingers curling tighter around Night Watcher's cape, she swallowed hard, "You shouldn't..."

Rather unexpectedly, Pearson rose, and Sabine nearly missed what he said as he took off, gunning for the door. Her gaze lingered on the man beside her, floored for a second time by the kindness of a stranger, finger grazing her bicep where a streak of crimson against pale mint green was the only evidence of the wound she had received.

"Thank you…"

"It's not a problem. Just doing my duty to a fellow hero." He looked around the deli before the scene outside caught his eye. First, the gunshots, ringing out across the entire block like raindrops against a tin roof. And then, two people, falling from the flying vehicle like bombs being dropped on a wary town.

The noises of ammo ceased on the outside, but they continued within his own mind. Too much bass, then a little too much treble. Rapid, then slowing. Rata tat tat tat. Tat. Tat tat. Tatatatatatatat-

Sabine seemed to become a distant figure, farther and farther away. The echoes of the outside world turned softer, going from a sharp rock to a smooth velvet. "What's happening? Everything is…"

It was rarely intentional… the connection. Sometimes, it was her own doing - a lack of concentration or mental strain at the end of a long day - but ever so often, regardless of how hard she tried, it could not be helped. Something called out to her and the thread was strung. With a sharp and sudden spike, she felt the emotions of the man beside her flood her own troubled mind…

Then the thread did something it had never done before. It split.

A hammer slammed with iron fury into her temples, and squeezing her eyes shut, she gripped her fingers into her skirt, every ounce of her remaining energy focuser on keeping upright. A breath hissed free, and opening her gaze, she reached out to touch the man's forearm.

"Monsieur… Are you alright?"

"Uh, yeah mate. Think so. Hey uh, what's going on here? I remember seeing like, smoke or something, uh, some peeps died I think. Not really sure." Kallen looked around, his eyes darting from the low hanging carved meats to the cases filled with freshly cut deli products. Prices leapt out to his eyes; 9.99 for a single package of bacon.

He reached out towards Sabine. A voice called out in the back of his head, as if someone else was using his brain to think. The words that rumbled around in his head were not truly words; they were the sounds of a rambling figure that one often associates with crazy old men from the wilderness.

For a moment, Sabine pulled back, the juxtaposition of emotions and thoughts vibrating around her head alarming… frightening, even. The exhaustion that had come with helping Night Watcher had dissipated, but it was the confusion… that pendulum of confusion crisscrossing in her brain that stumped her now. Something wasn't right… not right at all…

Forcing back the uncomfortable feeling crawling up the back of her throat, she steeled herself and eyes shuttering closed, she honed in on those two frayed strands of thought. The first thrummed, like a guitar string plucked too strongly… uneasy, tempestuous. The second rattled, trembled weakly…

Jamming her own harried thoughts, she envisioned the threads, and with a deep inhale, she breathed out a sense of calm… of ease… praying it would be enough to braid those strands back together.

If one pictures the mind as a vehicle, real-Kallen was now in the backseat. Another person sat in the front seat. The sweat that dribbled down real-Kallen's head was stopped, as if by a great wall. His heart slowed to its normal rate; he felt his mind clear, yet it did not seem to be enough to truly push him back into the front seat.

"Mate, what'd ya just do? Felt a voice yammerin' on in the back a' my head, then it just shut up. You must be a bloody miracle worker, you right must be. Well ah, my name is, uh...well I think it's Chet. Not quite sure, mayhaps I'll be able to remember it right normal eventually," he paused to take a breath before continuing, "Okay I've had a good half a second and I don't think my name is Chet. You know, Chet sounds like a name that a trust fund kid would have. I think its Sal. I've never really had to tell anyone my name, I just…"

The threads were still wrong. Everything felt wrong. The way he spoke, his body language, his eye contact… It was different. Strange. She had been through enough group therapy sessions to know whatever she was witnessing, it wasn't normal…

And she didn't know how to fix it…

"...Y-you seem unsure? You do not know your own name?" A thought shuffled through the quagmire of confusion, and sitting up a little, she studied him, "My name is Sabine… w-what happened to the man who was just here? Is he Chet?"

"No, I don't quite think he is madam. Sabine, eh? I don't even think Chet exists, I'm pretty sure I just spewed a name out…" He paused for a moment, looking her straight in the eyes. "Do you know what's going on?" He paced back and forth in front of her, seeming to cut his words off right as they were to finish.

Each step he took felt...awkward. The legs beneath him were a bit too short, the feet a bit too small. The breaths he took in felt as if he were breathing through an absolutely massive straw; it was still a straw.

"...Where did he go? The man who was here with me?" Edging to her feet, Sabine winced, the weight of holding those threads far surpassing her earlier exploration into Night Watcher's temperamental core. Her eyes shifted to the hole on the wall and she frowned as she clutched the counter. The sound of gunfire had dulled, and an eerie quiet seemed to drift now, as no doubt the catastrophe was measured…

"The… the conference was attacked. Gunmen." Her eyes narrowed slightly, "I think maybe my…" But before continuing on, her gaze flickered back to the man, "Could I speak to him again? The… the other man? Please?"

Kallen felt a slight pull at the front of his mind; he peered through the miasma that swirled through his thoughts, blocking him from truly reaching the front. He pushed and prodded-for a moment he could see outside, hear the world beyond. The gunshots had ceased, and the woman he had healed earlier seemed to be calling for him.

The miasma felt like a mist upon his skin as he stepped forwards. Each step was as if stepping on clouds. He heard the voice of Sal, closer than he had before. "Well I don't right know how to bring 'em out, but ah, maybe he's coming? I feel a bloody headache comin' on."

The body's eyes locked onto a fixed point in the air, the muscles going slack. For a moment, the deli was silent. The creaking of old floorboards could now be heard; the distant sound of helicopter blades chopped at the air. And then, he spoke, first with a slight chuckle. "That was odd. I'm back."

Odd.

That was one word for it. Certainly not the word that Sabine had in mind, but who was she to argue. Her own mind was a ravaged warzone of confusion and mess...especially after the day's chaotic events…

"...Sal… or??" She asked, tentatively.

"It's Kallen. I think I heard your name, Sabine, right? I'm glad I could help you sort a bit of your pain out. Um, did you need me or something? I heard you talking about me, I think that's what let me free of whatever was happening."

His thoughts made no sense; he had flashes of memory from the past few minutes, but not a whole picture. He had most of the puzzle pieces but not the corner ones.

"N...no. I… It's hard to explain. I could see the two…" Frowning, Sabine shook her head, "I've seen this before. In my group therapy. Are you--" Her question, however, was interrupted as a figure suddenly appeared in the doorway, dragging another with them. It took her a moment to recognize the former as Pearson, but it took her a moment to identify the latter, as her eyes could not seem to peel away from the horror that was the man's severed limb…

"Oh God…" Hands slapping over her mouth to bury a shriek, she stumbled back, her eyes moving swiftly to Pearson, "Where's my father?"

 

[KatSea]

Snowfall

Blair Whittaker's mind swarmed, mindless thoughts and pointless conjurings bouncing aimlessly against her skull. She had never felt this rush of adrenaline, at least, not since slipping out of her bleach white testing room nearly a decade ago. He was down. Combustion man was safely contained. The building was, while heavily damaged, still standing. Sweat trickled behind the thin sheet of armor, only to freeze moments after. Blair had never felt true cold before. Never understood the piercing and uncomfortable needles of Jack Frost's greeting. Only now, she was beginning to understand the raw and organic power that rumbled against her flesh. Goosebumps rallied by the hundreds. It was foreign, scary, and wrong. She had never felt this blistering pain bite her cheeks before. Something was wrong. Something had to be wrong, why else would her body roar in discomfort and sharp pains? Why else did her face grow redder and redder beneath her frosty mask? She must have over used her power or something...She flexed her fingers uncomfortably to sink into her palms. The frozen material clattered, the sharp thunks causing the now panicked hero to flinch.

You are in control, snow angel. It is not in control of you. You are in control of it. See? You can make it go away now, breathe in and out...there you go. I am so proud of you, snow angel. Keep breathing. Never forget you are the one who controls this. Fear will only make your gift unobtainable. There you go...it's all gone now, snow angel. Blair...you are a goddamn miracle.

Blair eased herself, hearing the chaos behind her settle. Slamming her fist behind her, a wave of energy flowed from her fingertips. A halo of jagged ice stormed overhead. The thin sheets of armor that once encased her body raced from her skin. Myriads of snowflakes crawled down her back and fired backwards, floating overhead before dancing to the slick concrete below. She remembered to exhale, the unpleasant fire that once roared against her flesh now steadying into a gentle flicker. She remembered to inhale. Holy shit! Did I just take down a villain? Oh my God! I fucking did it! TAKE THAT YOU MARVEL VILLAIN WANNABE! SUCK MY CH-

Oh, wait a minute, where did her neon companion scamper off to? She could have sworn he was right there...Blinking any remaining clumps of snow from her eyelashes, she peered behind her to notice both the SWAT surround the villains, as well as a very familiar...very haunting sight beginning to approach her. Tamer's beast, lowered to her haunches, her thick, maroon tail swishing back and forth with intent. She lowered her muzzle to the slick ice below, as if to confirm it was safe to continue. However, her pale, almost ethereal eyes came to close, her forehead coming to rest against the concrete. A sign of respect. Good intention. Her tail came to a curl behind her, the monster lying completely still. Only now, in the thrill of her victory did Blair notice the deep, sharp crevices that decorated Serene's curled horns. Blair hesitantly raised a hand to the beast, taking one step at a time to approach her. Her heel gingerly cracked the sheet beneath her, although her heart jumped to her throat. With the excitement a mere thrum in her heart, she began to realize the danger she put herself into. At least, the danger of embarrassment.

Calculating her next step very carefully, Blair bit the inside of her cheek and began a prayer that soon became forgotten in her festering anxiety. A flurry of cursing soon followed, but with an ever thoughtful step-

"GAH!" She exclaimed suddenly as the earth below became a mere stranger in the face of adversity. Blair could feel time slow around her. Would it be minutes, seconds, decades before her bum collided with her own creation? Would it bruise a grotesque purple? Would it feel as if a thousand hammers slammed against her dumbass? Luckily none of these questions had to be answered. A single, sturdy claw wrapped around Blair Whittaker as the beast sprung into action, steadying her against the grueling environment. Serene soon nuzzled her head into Snowfall's, an affection act that she had learned was Serene's favorite a mere few weeks ago. Any other time, Blair would have shrieked in horror at the beast's antics. However, gratitude soon flooded her, and having been familiar with the monster, she found herself giving the creature a gentle nuzzle in return.

"Nice catch, buddy." What resembled a chuckle rumbled through Serene, although she was quick to realize Blair. The creature straightened, easily towering Blair by nearly a foot. Blair's vision temporarily became blinded by an array of maroon carvings and scars that decorated Serene's lithe torso. Muscles rippled beneath her skin. It's a good thing she's on our side...good God, I think she could strangle me just by looking at me...

"Lovely!" A sharp voice rang from beyond the barrier. Blair's head snapped to meet Tamer as he greeted them, having placed Conspiracy down and decided to approach Snowfall and his creature. Blair noticed a sliver of silver, noting that Tamer quickly sheathed whatever weapon he had prepared back into his waist belt. Before having a chance to scrutinize this action, Tamer bounded hastily to his beast. "Serene, hey, show me your horns, baby girl." Stopping in his tracks, he reached his hands to his beast. Serene obliged without protest, bowing her heavy head in his direction. Slim, gloved fingers came to curl around Serene's horns. His thumbs gingerly skimmed along the cracks and dents that coated her antlers, a gentle puff escaping him. "Looking good, you didn't get shot did you?"

Rather than answering, Serene raised her blood stained palms and swatted Tamer off of her. She raised herself once more, easily towering her Tamer. Her tail swished impatiently. Tamer did not move, however, crossing his arms across his chest in defiance. "Give me a straightforward answer, Serene."

Again, no answer, but she did use a single talon to raise a small flab of skin that had already began to regrow. Right beneath her rib cage. A large, protruding hole swelled beneath the growing flesh, but Serene appeared to take the wound with a grain of salt. She shrugged.

Blair swore she heard a voice in her mind muse Flesh wound, beastie.

"Did you at least feed yourself, baby girl?" He questioned, hands parking themselves at his hips. For this, Serene bobbed her head, tail curving behind her to catch Tamer's wrist in her excitement. The skin beneath her eyes scrunched happily, moving forward to nuzzle into Tamer. Taken aback by her presence, Tamer nearly stumbled, catching himself with a grumble as he easily pressed a kiss to the creature's head. "Ah, I see...took out a whole horde I see...Yes lovely I am very proud of you. Good girl, Serene."

"I-is...is she okay?" Snowfall finally managed to stammer, awkwardness flooding her cheeks. She felt bad trying to butt into their discussion, although Tamer simply chuckled, running his hand up and down her muzzle affectionately.

"She's gotten a lot worse hits. This is nothing. Few more snacks today and she'll be back to norm-...Yes Serene, if I offer you- You will not argue with me young lady...what the fuck did you just call m- Oh don't you pull the language card on me-Now what the fuck did you just...my good God...Okay that was just rude." Snowfall blinked. She forgot they bickered without words...At least, Serene did. She never had a chance to hear Serene's voice, or if she even had a voice...It wasn't her decision to intrude on this question, however, and decided she was better off puzzled.

"We should probably go check on everyone else, shouldn't we?" Blair slowly pipped up, to which Tamer deflated. Shoulders slumped, he found his lips pursing. He shook his head, running his hands across his hood.

"You, should go check on people. Serene and I need to get go-You know what Im gonna do, lovely. Yeah yeah, jerkass thing of me to do."

"Wait, are you just gonna leave?"

"Er..." Tamer hesitated, giving her a sheepish shrug. "I gotta catch up on some people, you know? They don't exactly know I uh, look like this?"

"...Someone whose trying a little too hard?"

"...why you gotta come at me like that, Snowflake."

"Sorry, think it's the adrenaline your little friend gave me back there..." Giggling sheepishly, she reached over to caress Serene's cheek one last time. A broken purr rumbled against Serene's chest, and Blair was soon repaid with a claw to her cheek. Blair was surprised to find that the touch was soft, cautious even. "Keep him in line, buddy. God knows he needs it." The creature nodded her approval, reaching to nuzzle her cheek into Blair's one last time before turning to Tamer. In a matter of seconds, Serene's form melted from reality, leaving an empty space in her wake. Snowfall never quite understood the magic they shared, but she didn't dare to ask. Sometimes things were better left to the imagination anyway.

"Go check on Blondie over there, Snowflake. Make sure she's not gonna Me Too me either, that would be really fuckin' appreciated."

"...Go before I turn you into a popsicle, beastie. Please?"

"Fine. Only for you, though, snowflake." Chuckling, the Tamer snapped his fingers together and vanished in a flicker. Blair heaved an exhale in relief, ready to approach the dome and move past it for Conspiracy.

"Snow!" The call came as a surprise to Blair, whirling on her heel to stare in horror at Torrent. He was fully dressed in his uniform, a small puff of white hair dangling from behind his mask. "S-shit! Am...am I fucking late?"

"Right on time...dumbo."


https://www.pinterest.com/pin/768356386398831000/

 

[Ragamoofin]

[Synergizer]

[Location: Near Deli > Ambulances > Conference Stage)

[Interactions: @Mobley Eats ; Cole, Nellie. @Seductress ; Medics & Civilian NPCs, The Night Watcher]

[Status: Racing The Reaper.]​

Synergizer's hand spanned larger than the boy's head, yet when he took the sniffling child's hand in his, crouched down on his knees to attempt at making himself smaller - light ran over Cole's skin, a gentle, warming sensation that carefully dealt with his injuries, as light as they were. Synergizer's palm rested over the side of Cole's face, watching his aura shift the color of his eyes, the natural hue returning momentarily. Synergizer wiped away the grime on his cheek. "That should feel better," Synergizer whispered, before his helm cocked, a curious gesture. Then, realizing. "Oh."

It was something he rarely had time to truly explore, but healing created a...bond between himself and the other person; a result of sharing his power, he imagined, remaining his even when it was repairing damage to flesh. But, at times, Anselle felt his power glide over things that had simply been that way. And the boy, Anselle had since realized, was deaf; Iron Head's short gesture, sign language, Anselle hadn't recognized it, but it made the boy trust him enough to come near.

Synergizer's hands settled on Cole's arms, Anselle taking a deep breath - his face shield drew back, minutely. His mouth showed, a beaming, gap-toothed grin on display for the young boy. Just as soon as the shifting plates of his mask had drawn, they closed. Mimicking Iron Head's gesture to turn the boy around Synergizer gestured back to the armored woman. She seemed...as vicious as the comments online had said; he'd seen what she could do, not directly, but she'd survived this long. He didn't want to take his chances getting on her bad side, if he hadn't already.

"The medics are on the scene," Synergizer said, hand going to his knee to brace himself, raising back to his full height slowly. "Not far from here, either. I'd suggest you bring him to one of the ambulances, it'd be your best bet for finding his parents in all this." Synergizer looked away from Iron Head and the boy, a sigh creaking through his helm. "Try not to let him see much of it, at least until-" Anselle's eyes went wide at how many bodies there still were, lying prone; riddled with bullets, bruises splashing over pale skin. "Until this part is over."

In the back of his mind, Anselle's awareness finally caught up to the incessant buzzing in the air, sounding twice as loud within the confines of his armor. Synergizer's head lifted, staring at the flock of drones flying in over the conference, landing everywhere he could see, even drifting down towards he stood. Synergizer's fists were aflame with his aura, beginning to raise his arms - but his concern was misplaced, and the drones weren't after him.

No, their priority were the bodies that were lying too still on the ground. The large, buzzing drones - bee-like, Anselle noticed with a shiver - released a beam of light that quickly swept over the bloodied people; a scan, Anselle imagined, for signs of life. For these lot, it was too late. The drones hovered lower, over the chests of the deceased, their backs opening up and projecting another lightscreen. Closer now, engulfing the bodies in an opaque field, keeping wandering eyes off them.

Synergizer's head turned, Anselle's lips twisting into a frown at just how many there were. He'd saved so many...but there were more by the second, as the drones scanned and bubbled off the corpses.

[Anselle, I sense...a great loss of life.]​

Synergizer's fists curled, breaking off into a dash. "Keep him safe!" He called to Iron Head, sparing the woman a final, fleeting glance. "I believe in you! Bye!" And he was off, emanating light trailing behind him in neon wisps. It was a bright showing, one that was betrayed by just how exhausted Anselle truly was.

He hid it well, but he was close to running on empty; even his armor felt bitter around him, conversing just enough energy to hold together his image. Anselle let out a weary groan, silenced by his helm, but Synergizer's gait was hobbled by it. "Hng, really...not feeling too hot," Synergizer grunted to himself, exhaustion gripping him like a vice. He couldn't stop, not when he was getting closer to the ambulances, following the peculiar sight of bubbled civilians floating overhead.

[We are...severely starved of energy.] ​

Anselle gulped at just how weak Syn sounded, voice a faroff whisper in his skull. God, were they that drained? They- they couldn't be. There were so many more, and he couldn't just let them die. But- under his mask, Anselle's eyes searched around desperately, for anything he could draw from. The air had turned frosty, the clouds overhead full and foreboding. Anselle had to appreciate Snowfall's method of dealing with the villain, but the frigid weather was starting to get to Anselle. He could feel the bite of winter through the soles of his armor, ground crunching as he ran over it.

The ambulances were just up ahead, now, all blaring lights and EMTs as far as the eye could see; they were ready for the crisis, but there seemed to be more patients than there were hands available to care for them all. Lead in by the droves, some even just popping into being; Anselle's eyes catching a glimpses of a person that seemed to appear from nowhere. "Who the hell-" What the fuck? Which super was this? And where was his phone when he needed it?

[Focus, Anselle. We need to recharge, or else-]​

"Yeah, I know! I know..." Anselle didn't need a reminder of just how brittle his armor was, how the cold seeped through, how he felt it snake around his bones. Christ, it was cold. He was starting to regret trying out that technique...just a little. Still pretty cool-

[Anselle.]​

"Sorry, I get comical when I'm, you know, about to literally die trying? I'm thinking-" God, there was so much commotion going on, he could hardly do that. The groans of the injured, the shouts of the medics, the screech of tires as ambulances tore off - Anselle shivered to imagine just how many wouldn't make the trip to the hospital. Anselle felt his eyes begin to sting, head swimming with noise, too much, too much-

Wait, the sound. Within his mind's eye, scene brought to vivid clarity, Anselle remembered how they'd escaped the collapse of the building. It had been a neat trick, increasing the sound of his heartbeat to move the rubble. It'd been a first for him, and he couldn't take credit for it, not when Syn had been the one to do it. But...he had an idea, now.

"Uhh, okay! Here's the plan! We're gonna...soak up the sound around us and use that to charge up!"

[...I can't think of anything else that might work.]​

Syn's voice cut through the fear that had began to grow in his mind, Anselle blinking away the prickle of tears in his eyes. "I guess the beating of our hearts really is the only sound." Synergizer's helm gave a decisive nod, the slits in his armor filled and suddenly jetting with his aura, a skin-tight field surrounding him.

[Oh, stop. And hold still, and-]

[Focus. I know.]​

It was much like before, Anselle noticed; within his field, everything was amped up, and apparently, that much was true for noise. Anselle didn't so much hear as much as he felt the sound impacting him; it came from all sides, everything footstep was like thunder to him, voices raising into dizzying pitches, words blending into indistinct screeches. He felt his armor shift, power flooding through his veins, excess bleeding off into his armor; a rod jutted from his left arm, sizzling with its neon glow. Another twist, right arm producing a similar rod, casting a bright light over Synergizer.

Synergizer breathed, and drew his field back into himself, Anselle taking a moment longer to collect himself - adjust to everything not being so loud. "That- that should do it!" God, he was dizzy, that felt weird. No matter, he was stronger now, had more than enough to sustain himself. Anselle breathed easier, feeling the knots of weariness loosen around his joints, footfalls no longer feeling like they were going to shake him out of his armor.

"Alright, if you still have my phone, now would be a good time to start the playlist!"

[Oh, the playlist?]​

Anselle smiled, Synergizer's head bending in a nod. "The playlist." There was a brief silence before a funky interlude began to play within the limits of the amor. "Oh, yeah. No one's dying to this song!"

A rhythmic, vibrant pulse began to emit from Synergizer, the flare of his aura matching the beat to the music. It was almost comforting, a beat beside his own heart, energizing him as the song began to pick up. Synergizer slid into the ever-growing gathering of civilians and medics, eyes snapping to the nearest downed civilian; a girl in her teens by the looks of it, clutching her arm, a painfully flesh bullet wound marring her flesh and sleeve. Her hair, pulled into a ponytail and falling over her back was dirtied, like she'd been on the ground. Synergizer's hand darted out to her shoulder, his glow alerting the girl to his presence - but all he needed was a moment, a single tap to the jut of her shoulder.

There was a twist of discomfort that ran over the girl's face, a gasp that became a deep breath. Her fingers squeezed into the flesh of her arm, a fizzling pink over her skin, focused around the bleeding wound on her arm that was already beginning to close. She let out another sound of pain as the bullet came free from her arm, falling to the ground as the oozing flesh healed over. All that remained of her wound was the new, lighter skin. She seemed stunned, but Anselle was a little used to that.

"Stayin' alive!" Synergizer chirped, zipping away from the girl as quickly as he'd appeared. His eyes went to the groups up ahead, bunching up, gripping body parts that dripped, were coated in, or were staunching the flow of blood. It was enough to turn Anselle's stomach, but he had a job to do. Just one touch, just don't look. Just don't look -

A woman's broken arm, righted with a cry of pain that shifted into surprise. The bullets that had grazed her side came loose from her skin, the bruises across her skin fading into the natural brown of her skin. Another tap, Anselle didn't have to look to feel the man's ribs knit back together, lungs billowing out with a deep breath, jaw clicking back into place with a howl of pain from the man. His hands went to the next, reaching for two people at once. The extent of their wounds was felt by the extension of his aura, drawing back to him as a series of gasps left their lips. "Staying alive!" Synergizer shouted again, jetting off once more.

"Okay, six down, about-" Anselle gulped at the sight of how many people there were left, a sinking feeling in Anselle's gut. "Uh, better loop that playlist, Syn."

[Stay focused, we can do this.]​

Synergizer's hands ran hot with his channeled energy, Anselle's breathing feeling labored, but he persisted - his hands laid on one civilian after the other. "Stayin' alive, stayin' alive." It became a mantra for him, something to keep in mind as he swept from one ambulance to the next, medics unable to decide between gawking at him or watching the heart monitors pick up a stronger, increasing heartbeat. He didn't have time to linger anywhere for long, not when so many people were already on the brink of death. He had to hurry, had to keep going. The rods on his arms were quickly dimming, his energy slipping away from him with every refreshed immune system, every broken bone mended, flesh growing to fill the gory absences.

[Anselle, there-]​

Syn snapped his head towards the sound of a heartbeat, amplified by the beep of the ambulances heart monitor. Too slow, far too slow. Synergizer took off towards them, reaching out to the patient despite the shocked cries of the medics tending to the near flatlining person. Synergizer's hand came to rest over the young boy's chest, shirt cut open to get to the bullet wounds riddling his chest. A gasp, a death rattle by any other name, tore from the boy's lips, snapping up from lying as the bullets were expressed.

The boy's eyes were huge, darting from Synergizer to the medics at his side. Synergizer shot the boy a second-short thumbs up. "Stayin' alive!" He said before he blasted off. Who else, who else...Synergizer's armor came to a gritting halt, his plated shoulders rising and falling with Anselle's heaving breaths. God, he felt like he was back to running on fumes. Regardless, Anselle looked around the event, the perimeter secured by heavily armed SWAT members. People weren't dying faster than he could heal them, and by the looks of things, it seemed the press had barged onto the scene.

Synergizer's helm tilted in the direction of the main stage, a gathering of cameras and sharp dressed reporters swarming around - Anselle's eyes narrowed, Synergizer's head leaning towards the sitting hero. Gray suit...oh. Anselle's teeth gritted in his head, already stomping his way towards the cornered hero.

"Hey. Hey! I know you can hear me!" Synergizer's voice was rough, harsh from his tone alone, his body language was the final clue towards the masked hero's foul mood. Synergizer made a noise of frustration as the cameraman spun around and pointed the bulky camera at him, Anselle rolling his eyes before Synergizer reached out, ignoring the indigent shout the cameraman spat out. "Get those cameras out of his face and get yourselves out of here! I mean, look at him!" Synergizer's hand slipped from the camera, the cameraman still insisting on pointing at him. Whatever, it didn't stop him from pointing out Night Watcher's busted foot. "He can't even walk! You really think he feels like taking questions?!"

The reported adjusted his tie, a thick swallow bulging his throat. Slowly, cautious, he stretched his mic up towards Synergizer's helm. "Excuse me, just who are you? Do you know if this att-"

Synergizer's hand reached out to the mic, curling all but his index finger into his palm. He lowered his hand down to the reporter's red, sweating face. "I'm giving you one more chance. Leave, or-" Before he could finish, the report and his camera-wielding company had ran off, Synergizer's glare hot on both of their heels.

Synergizer's stance shifted, weight balanced on one foot. "Good God, they make it hard to be polite." Synergizer's head lolled on his shoulders, peering over at where Night Watcher had sat himself, a sympathetic hiss whistling through his teeth. "And God, if today hasn't done a number on you." Synergizer stepped closer, aura flickering between his fingers, one hand resting on Night Watcher's knee, the other going to rest on the man's shoulder. "Let's get you fixed up, buddy."

Anselle let out a relieved sigh, Synergizer's helm shaking from side to side. "One helluva day, huh? And here I thought I would've just been able to grab a slice of pie after the president shook hands with you all." Synergizer's tone was humored, looking up from the closing split of Night Watcher's toe. "Feel free to squeeze something, this might sting a bit," Synergizer warned a moment before Night Watcher's foot righted itself with a crack, toes straightening out as the purpling flesh faded away. Synergizer could only wince at the noise. "You've really gotta look after yourself, man." Synergizer's head nudged towards the deli. "That was you, right? Damn, is your back okay? How's your head?" Synergizer's hand moved from Night Watcher's shoulder, settling over his skull. "Lemme just-"

Oh. Oh, what the hell? It was times like these that Anselle was glad his face was covered, because he wasn't sure if his expression betrayed how he felt. "Yikes, man. You feeling alright? Looks like you took a few too many blows to the head." Synergizer sounded...worried, but his aura never faded, only continued to flow into Night Watcher. "Hang on, this might sting, too."

Brains, what a concept. Admittedly, Anselle hadn't done much brain healing; he'd healed a footballer that'd taken too hard of a tackle before, ridding him of his concussion in the process. But that and this was a far leap of what was needed. He still had to try, if anyone needed it, it was Night Watcher. Just what happened to him? Anselle couldn't remember the last time he felt a brain in such a state, not that he'd healed many, but to sustain so much damage and still be functioning - as a superhero, no less, it was a feat all its own.

It took considerably longer for Synergizer's hands to leave Night Watcher's head, Anselle could closely imagine the nerves reconnecting in Night Watcher's mind, synapses firing, the dull parts of the brain renewed. Synergizer stepped away with a heaving sigh, hands looking close to trembling. The rods on his arms had retreated back into his armor, feeling drained yet again.

"Are you...okay? Sorry that took a little long, but, man-" Synergizer's helm shook again, a scoff of surprise in his helm, shoulders dragging towards the ground with his visible exhaustion. "You really took a beating out there, but you should feel way better, now." Synergizer's head nudged towards Night Watcher's foot. "Might be pins and needles for a while, I hear that happens a lot."

 

[Elle Joyner]

Amelia​

---

As Benny appeared beside her, Amy concentrated her attention on the shoulder wound, applying as much pressure as she dared. Blood sluiced in cloying gobs through her fingers as it poured from the unconscious man faster than she could stop it, soaking into the pale pallet of her skin, into the knees of her white stockings.

"It's okay... it's okay..." The words came, a warm platitude, like a blanket over an ice sculpture, and for a moment she wasn't sure if she meant them for him or herself. Up until the moment she'd transitioned back into her natural form, she'd avoided looking around too intently. Now, she stared at the man beneath her with a concentrated effort. She could feel it, though... The horror of all that had happened. It dripped like slow-roast coffee, filling her stomach and chest with a sense of bitter uneasiness she didn't particularly care for. Benny was saying something, but the pounding of her own heart in her head flooded her ears. It wasn't until she noticed the familiar poof of dark energy that she realized he'd gone and looking up, she spotted the paramedic hovering over her, instead.

Blinking, Amy pulled away from the man, to let the woman do her job, "H-his pulse is thready... and I'm pretty sure he's tachycardic. Lost a lot of blood." Rising, she carefully aided the paramedic in lifting the man onto a stretcher, and slowly, she reached out a hand, gingerly cupping one of his, "You're gonna be okay now, Mister. They'll take good care of you."

Not a moment later, the gurney was rushed off into the open bay on an ambulance, and blood-stained hands dropping to her sides, Amy stood in the dying chaos. She couldn't blame them. They had a job to do... And Benny couldn't stand around forever. Her poor dancer companion wasn't even supposed to be there. His pizza was probably cold.

But she was alone...

And alone was...

"Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, never let it fade away..."

Dark. Cold. Alone.

In the corner of the basement, the furnace sputtered, choking on the vestiges of the ashes and dust, the wood having burned to cinder nearly four days earlier. Four days. Had it really only been four days, since he'd left?

A shiver traced her spinal column, and she curled closer into herself, chin resting on her knees, limp ginger hair hanging like a curtain around her face, "Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, save it for a rainy day..."

He'd come back. He always came back. He'd stoke the fire and she'd be warm again. And more importantly, she wouldn't be alone. "Love will come... and tap you on the shoulder... some starless night..." Upstairs, the floor creaked, and her fingers tensed around the blue stuffed unicorn. Three days ago, the horn fell off, so she supposed it was just a horse now, but the magic hadn't faded...

"Just in case... you feel you wanna hold her... you'll have a pocket full of--" A slam. A scream. She jumped and tears welled like hot magma behind her lids. She dug so hard into the stuffed toy she could feel nails pinching her palm.

Dark. Cold. Alone.

At least she was alone...

"Somebody help!" At the scream, Amy tore her eyes from the ambulance, and looking across the field of injured and worse, her eyes found a young woman scrambling from a hole in the wall of a deli across the courtyard. Her green dress fluttered in the breeze, dark hair whipping across her pale face - As the odd clouds overhead began to disperse, streams of sunlight streaked down, too pretty for such ugliness. It all reminded Amy of a fairy princess, escaping the tower of a terrible witch - but she didn't sound relieved. She sounded scared...

"Please! Help! It's President Taffer!"

 

[Zerofighter]

Everything that just happened felt like hours went by, though it was only just a few minutes. Her body was shaking all over. The entire world just felt like it was moving in slow motion. Her mind was trying to catch up to everything that happened, trying to process it. The sight of her dead father was burned into her mind. His body, riddled with bullet holes. The sights of all the people she knew...dead.

I CAN SAVE EVERYONE!

That line kept ringing in her head, almost as if it was a reminder. A cruel reminder, mocking her for the childish belief that she could've saved her dad. Saved everyone she knew at the diner. She wanted to scream, to shout out all her pain. To let everyone know what she went through. To scream, and scream until she felt better.

"Maybe, I'm not cut out to be a hero….look at me. I'm out of my league. Even Superman and Spiderman had better first days as heroes. Me, I embarrassed myself in front of my idol, and…" Her voice became soft, her eyes tearing up. Her throat became tight, drying up as she struggled to speak the rest of the sentence. "A-and…..my dad is dead….dead, because I'm a terrible hero."

There was, talking to herself again. Sooner or later, someone is gonna see this.

Though, is that what her dad would want? His little girl giving up on her dream? She wasnt a quitter...that's not what he taught her.


7 year old Liz yelled out, falling to the ground, her yellow bicycle hitting her body. This was the fifth time! Her eyes welled up in frustration. She wasn't ever going to learn how to ride a stupid bycyle! Giving her bike a well-deserved kick, she stormed into her house. The smell of her dad's cooking filled the air. Fried Catfish, cornbread, mac and cheese, and garlic fries!

"Daddy, it looks so good! Can I eat now!"

"Almost baby, how is the bike riding coming along…"

Frowning she looked away and said "Terrible….I can't do it. I'm just gonna give up."

Her dad stopped, putting down the plate he was making her and turning to face her. A disappointed look on his face. "Elizabeth Larson. You are not a quitter….or family aren't quitters."

"But it's too hard daddy! I can't do it, I keep falling down." She said looking at him, a frustrated look in her eyes.

"I know it always seems hard at first Baby, I know this, and your grandma knew this. Her entire life, people told her and her mama, that we were never going to amount to nothing. That in this world, people like her shouldn't even try. They should just give up now." Walking up to his daughter, kneeling down to her level. His eyes facing her own.

"And for a while, your grandma believed them. But one day, she decided she didn't want to be a quit. She wasn't going to listen to what those monsters said. They didn't decide what she made herself into. She did. And she pushed herself more and more. To prove them all wrong."

"And she did daddy?"

"You bet she did. She proved them all wrong. So don't ever quit baby girl. It may always seem bad at first, but in the end you'll find a way."

Liz nodded and gave her dad a tight hug. "I love you daddy….can we eat now? I'm so hungry!"

Her father nodded, ruffling her hair. "You bet, you know all the boys are gonna go crazy about that smile of yours."

"Daddy! Dont be gross, boys are stupid!"

Her fists tightened, her nails dug into her palms till they bled. Her father was dead, but he wouldn't die in vain. She was going to become the hero she was meant to be. Bring these villains to justice, and continue to save people. To make sure no one dies like her father again. Every blood that is spilled, will be her father's blood.

And the one to save the day is going to be Sunspot. Her never faltering smile, and a bright light that can pierce any darkness.




Instead of giving up, she needed someone. Someone to teach her how to be a hero. To help her understand better. That way she didnt make the same mistakes again. Seeing the ruined conference stage, there was the perfect person to teach her that.
Heading to the ruined stage, sher eyes watching him, her idol. Nightwater. A true hero, the one who inspired her to use her powers. Limping over to him, hoping she didnt look too much of a mess. Though crashing head first into a car gave her a bruised cheet, black eye, and a bloody nose. Not to mention her eyes were still bloodshot for crying.

"M-Mr.Nightwatcher, Hi….its me. Sunspot, well...that's what I'm calling myself. I'm the girl who saved you. I...I want you to train me to be a real hero. I'm new, and...I...I want to know how to be one" Giving him her trademark smile, though one could seen the pain she went through behind it. That behind this shining hero with a never ending smile, was a young girl trying to do the right thing.

 

[Seductress]

Anarchy

20 minutes ago
[Give or Take]
​

It was hard to say what was actually going on at this point in time. Hell, it was hard to say what was going on most times, especially when the narration came from Anarchy's mind. Between the yelling, and the screaming, and inner dialogue. Still, despite an incoherent struggle for power between the waves of her brain, sat a still image of calm waves that weren't crashing against each other at a rapid rate. There was some semblance sense that could be made through the collective; just enough thoughts that could connect to the woman's brain and keep her on her feet. She was breathing, moving, fighting. That's the only functions she needed right now. Nicole was dying to take control again. Anarchy hadn't managed this length of time before, and was truly stretching the envelope with how long she could remain strong. But now wasn't the time to give up.

The man. Staring. She found herself lost in his....she couldn't even call it a gaze. There was far too much intent and intensity behind his eyes. It was like he was focusing on her, like he was trying to find something. By the time her eyes started to dry out from the lack of blinking, she was already lifting off the ground in hot pursuit of Conner. Normally, picturing the gravity around her turning into harvest-able telekinetic energy was the only way for her to take off into the sky. This time was different, however. It was almost as if there was at least a solid 45 seconds that had been erased from her memory. Was there really time to try and figure out the missing pieces? Not exactly, especially not when The Night Watcher couldn't fly. He was relying on her to catch and leap frog him.

The air kept getting colder and colder. It wasn't even just because of the altitude rapidly changing; Anarchy couldn't usually feel the goosebumps colonizing across her skin like this. Then again, the clouds were beginning to darken, and she didn't even notice the large dome that was starting to form down below through her own rear view mirror. The air pushed against Anarchy as she defied gravity, physics and her own personal record of speed achieved during flight. She wasn't faster than a speeding bullet, or more powerful than a locomotive, and it took her a try or two to bound over the tallest building. But she still had one thing her gray plated conrade didn't; the ability to fly. She spent a handful of years hearing about how unfair it was that he couldn't fly, and while this was a more recent development for Anarchy, it kind of felt good knowing that she had a step up above him.

The focus required to keep herself up in the air and simultaneously reach out, elevating Conner in the air was ludicrous. The taste of iron took over her tongue and her vision grew spotty, creating black flecks that scattered throughout the images in front of her. She managed to toss him up in the air, hearing him thump against the metal grate floor as he landed. Okay, there's on problem out of the way. Checking off one more item from her mental to-do list, Anarchy began closing the gap between herself and the gunship. Nicole was frantic inside Anarchy's noggin. She was screaming, pounding. She wanted control, but the two of them knew she was no where near strong enough to obtain it on her own. The screaming was blood curdling, like a young woman attempting to call for help despite being locked up in some savage maniac's basement. Nobody can hear you, you're just in my head Anarchy would tell the young woman. You can stop screaming now, because if you break my concentration, you're going to get us both killed.

The first attack was easy to make. The Night Watcher had set it up perfectly; he had just under shot the throw, tugging his target just shy of the edge. Anarchy raised her hands once again, her eyes glossing over as she pictured a pair of hands reaching up, grabbing the man by the shoulders and yanking him over the side. This entire discovery about visualization and mental imagery was proving to be quite the useful find as Anarchy continued to pump out idea after idea toward ho to use her powers. She came up with the idea to spin kick an attacker into the wall, and then mentally grab him and slam him into the ground the other way. Super powered ping pong.

The objective was clear; retrieve the politician. They could heave easily gotten him and then gotten the hell outta dodge, but leaving multiple punching bags unpunched? That just wasn't how Anarchy liked to play. She stopped and watched as Conner retrieved Chore. Okay, that's one less thing to worry ab - Anarchy could taste purple as it began to linger on her tongue. The impossible taste spread through her tongue and climbed up the walls of her mouth as she mandalas of colour began to sparkle across her vision. The background behind the swirls of illusion faded into a neon backdrop of colours that shouldn't exist.

If she tried to move, she'd realize that existence had stopped. There was no reality, and she had no physical form. This was reality. There was no life, there was no death. This entire imagined existence was all a hallucination, and only the strongest willed as able to see the colours. People who weren't under the psych classification would never understand. They just didn't get it. They weren't strong enough to see the world through the eyes of people like Anarchy. When the day of rapture comes, Anarchy will be among those to live her life among the colours, while the rest, the weakest of the human race, will suffer under great balls of fire and steel. It was a future she was certain of, she knew it was going to happen, and she grinned to herself at the thought.

The colours instantly snapped away, and all Anarchy could see was the bottoms of Conner's feet as he fell over the edge of the ship."Of course, because Conner can't do anything without having at least one accident." As she started making her way toward where Conner had just tripped, she noticed something out of the corner of her eyes. She turned around as a knife nearly grazed her chest. She took a step back, throwing her fist toward her attacker. He slammed his palm against her wrist and deflected the attack, jabbing his knife with her chest as the target. She swiveled to the right, and then allowed herself to spin to get behind him. God damn it, Anarchy, rule number one; make sure all targets aren't moving before you get complacent. You stupid bitch.

It was a dance between devils. A sweet tango of choreographed would-be killing blows. Anarchy wrapped her arm around his neck, pressing her forearm against his Adam's apple as her other hand grasped her own wrist. A burst of colours shot through her body as the knife dug deep into her shoulder, leading into an elbow to the jaw. He wouldn't have been able to break her hold if it weren't for the fact he had disoriented her. A truly smart play. The knife flew from her shoulder as she buckled her leg and launched a kick at his head. He managed to avoid the knife, but walked right into the heel of her foot. The masked man fell against the grate floor, hard. He rolled away from a heel that slammed don toward his head. He swiped his leg and took out Anarchy's center of balance, knocking her down to the ground to join him. His arm reached for the knife as she lunged toward him. She landed on top of him, her left hand wrapped around his knifing hand, his right hand holding on to her punching hand. Despite the fact that Paul Blart had already pointed out that nobody wins with headbutts, she could feel the cartilage in his nose cracking as she brought her forehead down against him.

Anarchy managed to get her hands around both of his, flipping herself to her back so she could use her knees to toss him into the air. It worked as a way to build moment, and just launch him. The masked attacker was headed straight for the bay door, but it wasn't going to that easy. He wanted to fight, so it was time for him to commit. As Anarchy leaped to her feet, she caught the man with her powers, settling him gently back on his feet. It was as if he knew he wouldn't be able to surrender, because he went straight back to the fight. He attempted to lead in with a right, left combination, but he was getting too ahead of himself. His composure was breaking, his timing was delayed and he was starting to stress. Using open palm strikes, Anarchy deflected each punch, while dancing him in the direction she wanted him to start moving in. Her next strike landed under his jaw, his back hitting the wall of the gunship.

The woman wrapped her hands around either side of his head, slamming his head down as she brought her knee up. There was a bone chilling crunch of impact, and he rolled out of her grasp and his the ground with a heavy thud. Anarchy had toyed with him enough. It started off as a challenge, but his resolve quite clearly broke quickly when he realized that one form of babmoozlement wouldn't be enough to beat her...God damn it, she needed to spend a lot less time with Conner. His consciousness returned to him as Anarchy's legs posted on either side of him. He looked up at her lurching form as she held her hands out, her eyes glazing over. The myriad of guns - pistols, rifles and a shotgun - raised up off of the ground and aimed their barrels at him. His last words were nothing but a deep gulp, trying to swallow the realization that he had found the wrong person to fuck with.

Purple heels found the pavement of the streets below that was glowing with a macabre victory. As Anarchy began walking back toward the paramedics, she started pulling her gloves off, one finger at a time. Emotion lacked from her features as she brought the back of her hand against her forehead, wiping off the small sweat that began to accumulate at the top of her hairline. She didn't look back at the gunships, but she knew that they had received the order to fall back as the heavy police force fortified itself. The bad guys were running away with their tail between their legs, but this was far from over. If Conner had taught Anarchy anything, it was that it's not over until the white flags were burning bright and all loose ends were completely tied up.

Her lifeless green eyes narrowed over toward Snowfall, where an epic battle had taken place. She caught on as Snow stood there, alone, greeting a newcomer. The mutual friend she shared with Conner had disappeared, as she always did. It was strange to see Conspiracy stick around long enough to be part of the action. Normally whenever she did leave her house, she was just following up on leads and examining and watching. She was much more of a night watcher than The Night Watcher was himself. That didn't matter though, because she was gone anyway. Her eyes flicked over to Conner, who was surrounded with teenagers. She thought of talking to him, making sure she was okay, but she found herself distracted.

"You guys kicked ass today," Chore smiled, approaching her. He held his hand out to her, and attempted to start up a new thought. He never did get his hand shake, or to say what he needed to. Instead, Anarchy walked away shaking the pain out of her fist as Clifford Chore slumped against the ground, his lip fat and busted.

The scream caught her attention.

With a grunt Pearson dragged President Taffer into the deli, attempting to avoid the glass and shrapnel. A trail of blood smeared on the ground like a slug's trail, his leg had been severed at the knee. Luckily it was only the one leg, and nothing else had been affected. He couldn't even scream, the pain had thrown him into a form of shock. Pearson looked around at the Sabine and the hero, using his right hand to urge them back into the mode of helping him with urgency. "We need to get him off the ground, I need a surface to put him on."

The Night Watcher

Waking The Demon
​

Admittedly, if Conner didn't like people, he wouldn't have dedicated his entire life to saving and protecting them. After times like this; where he gets his ass kicked, where he has to deal with people like Finn, where he's borderline lost the good fight, having anyone standing around him is the last thing he wanted. Conner wanted to be at Ma's, or in his little underground hideout, eating pie and listening to something sad and emotional. He sighed as he pretended not to hear the wall of press and media representatives, looking up at them every so often.

"You do realize that I'm not the only person in a mask with super powers who showed up, right?" Before he could follow up with the insult he had planned, a stranger approached. He was colourful, vibrant even. The figure couldn't have been any older then sixteen or seventeen, mainly judging by the pitch of the voice that came from behind the mask. No way could he be a villain; he didn't look like he had the ability to beat Conner, so if he was a villain he'd be a damn stupid one. That theory was leaning toward the side of him not being a villain as he fought off the press, helping Conner sigh in relief and drop his shoulders in relaxation. The bags under his eyes were starting to weigh heavily down, like they weighed more than Conner could carry. He hadn't seen his face without his mask on, but his entire face either burned, or had gone numb. It all really depended on the spot. He sighed and looked up at the stranger as the crowd walked away. Something about this kid was familiar, almost. He felt like he recognized him from...somewhere...he just couldn't figure out where exactly.

As the stranger focused on shooing away the media, The Night Watcher's eyes, filled with fatigue and resentment for everything that isn't truth, justice, and pie, narrowed over toward the kid. His peepers examined the armor, the curvature of the design and architecture, the power and respect it demands just from the core concept. Admittedly, what could have been described as a fit suitable for a warrior lost a fair amount of interest from Conner, due to the Crayola 25 pack colour scheme. Overall though, it wasn't much of a fashion disaster, and it was fairly eye catching on the whole.

"Yeah, I'm pretty much over it at this point," Conrad grumbled out, looking over the disastrous battlefield that just manifested itself. "It's only like...two o'clock and I'm done with the day. I have my own shit to do today, but you know what they always say; when lady justice comes knocking only the worthy answer." Any sense of optimistic triumph was gone from the man's voice. The stress of the day had finally settled on his shoulders, and just like Atlas, he wasn't only expected to handle it and stay strong, but he wasn't able to let the world fall from his shoulders. Completely forbidden from falling into focusing on his own well being.

"Oh, I'm feeling great. If I could feel any emotion other than groovy, I don't think I'd notice." The kid getting all up in Conner's personal space didn't even bother him at this point. Just like a pessimist facing the trials of life, the Conman sat there and just kind of let it happen. "Do it up, man, I could use a little pick-me-up." The expectations started as hopes for feeling some sort of high; as if this guy's powers could produce some sort of dopamine and endorphins to bring Conner back up. Apparently, as the next eon of time would prove, Conner was actually a nut who needed to lower his expectations much further than his mental bar was set at.

The Night Watcher hadn't even realized that a set of hands rested upon his head. His eyes widened, his pupils shrinking to a non existent size of small, before blowing up to colour the entirety of his eyes dark. He could see his own face, his soul leaving his body long enough to show himself the scene, and then reentered his body using his eyes as a portal of reentry.

The man's subconscious was both boiling hot, and freezing cold at the same time. His mind took the form of a white room, with walls that pulsated and throbbed in twenty second intervals. With every tremor came a new crack within the four walls; a crack the allowed a mystical shade of blood red to shine through. It was a welcoming abode, though. Conner felt very much at home, considering it was a manifestation of a place he spent plenty of time in. The only other defining piece of scenery came in the form of a large, metal door that lacked a padlock or a nob of any kind.

"Conner, you shouldn't be here."

That voice. It was too familiar. Someone he had been listening to for what felt like his entire life. It had to have been Lady Justice, but that would mean she was only in his head. How could he fight for someone that wasn't actually there, and was just a brain damaged man's delusion?

"You know that you can turn back. Wake up, and refuse the help. You'll thank me later, because you do not want to see this."

Conner looked to his left. The woman he saw was as pale as a ghost; a woman who was dressed in a beautiful wedding gown, with glowing flames as hair and a face that couldn't be distinguished. She had one, but the more Conner looked at it, the blurrier it got. He shook his head as she attempted to speak once more, and his first burst through her chest before her words could be spoken once more. The image of what could easily have been Lady Justice shattered into billions of tiny shards of glass, Conner looked back toward the door. He wasn't alone, still. A hooded man stood there in front of the entrance, a man who looked like a grinning leper, with most of his face missing. The stranger reached his hand out, which started to glow and shift through the colours of the rainbow.

With one step toward eternity, Conner gingerly took the man's hand. Conner's arm was limp, despite the fact that his enthusiasm kept his body firm and filled with power. Conner looked up, into the only eye the leper had. Conner would have noticed the grin, filled with more vile deception that teeth, if it weren't for the fact that the hooded man's other eye fell from it's socket, allowing a new eye to grow in the middle of his forehead. It was wide, and bloodshot, and his new pupil began to shrink into a nonexistent state.

A Conner's vision began to flash red, and the walls of the room broke apart, the screams of what might have been Lady Justice pierced through Conner's brain until it cut to a stop, and was replaced with You Got Another Thing Coming by Judas Priest blaring from the radio, for once taking the place of Fortunate Son as the helicopter fluttered over the jungle tops. "Th

at fuckin' Limey better be right about this," Came Classified's voice, cool and calm, yet filled with hidden distress. "Use the night as cover, he said. Well there's a fatal flaw in his little plan; I can't see a fuckin thing." He looked over the edge of the open door, hawking a loogie into the tree tops below.

Like a video game, Conner took the point of view of someone sitting nearest to the door on the left side. It was wide open, but Conner couldn't feel the wind blasting against him. He couldn't control his movements; he was just a spectator in a time that isn't meant to be remembered. The body Conner inhabited looked down at the Enfield SA-80 that sat across his lap as he took one last huff of his cigarette, throwing it over the edge and out of the chopper.

Why am I holding a machine gun? What do I need that for? I can't think of a single time that actually required something with this much stopping power. What's even going on here?"

Without a word Conner reached up, his gloved hands hooking around the balaclava that sat around his nose and rolled it back down to his chin. He took a firm grasp of the side bar beside the door and pulled himself up, looking down at the darkness of nightfall in Venezuela. Conner didn't know what was going through this guy's head at the time, but he could feel the melancholic emotions that thundered through his body. Was he a soldier? Was this some kind of war? A lowkey conflict that the government covered up so well that nobody heard of before? All these questions didn't make sense, considering this was meant to be the answer.

"So how bout it, kid. You know our names, you finally going to tell us, or are you just going to be edgy and stick with Arsenal?" There was a small handful of other GI Joe looking figures inhabiting the helicopter. They looked like they were war ready, heading into some form of deep jungle warfare. Judging by the weapon Conner was holding, he would most likely be playing agro and thin the herds while the others finished off the stragglers with guerrilla styled tactics. It was a beautiful dynamic, truly. Sun Tzu won many battles under the tactics of catching the enemies of China off guard, whether that meant creating a risky diversion in order to flank from the blind spot or -

This isn't right.

Conner shouldn't be thinking like this. It's one thing to use the abilities of his allies to their fullest potential to end violence. But acknowledging the strategies used in one sided warfare just wasn't who he was. Conner wanted to scream at himself to shut up, but he - The group was a special operations force. Black ops, so to speak. Arsenal was the only member of the team who wasn't equipped with any kinetic or overall psych powers. He was the resident specialist; a super soldier who's role in the team was designed based on his knowledge of weaponry, technical tactic combat, and his inability to leave survivors and witnesses. The knowledge was just feeding itself to Conner as if he had just popped a VHS tape into his brain, with the tape feeding him all the knowledge he needed in order to understand the scene playing out in front of him.

The revelation happened as quickly as the memories had left him. Arsenal, silent, yet deadly, hadn't revealed his name to the team. Ever. Even when asked, which was quite frequently. Conner felt connected to this guy. He felt like he's known him throughout his entire life. Conner even felt betrayed for Arsenal when the team cracked his head open with the butt of a Mossberg 590 and left him to die on the beach head. Wait...that was tonight. That was going to happen in only a few hours. He had to warn Arsenal, he had to tell him. But how could you warn yourself when -

Conner wasn't in the helicopter anymore. Instead he was faced with images of hundreds, possibly thousands, of people being murdered. Families being torn apart, countries being taken, political figured being dethroned. All of this by Arsenal's hands. There was absolutely no weapon that Arsenal hadn't used in order to make the execution. Conner could have cried, but he didn't seem to have a physical body anymore. He just kind of spectated on the memories flashing before his eyes as he watched a younger form of himself complete a memory montage of murder. This just isn't right. This isn't Conner. But this was who Conner was, before his traumatized and damaged brain repressed his past and created an entirely new life for himself. Maybe Conner wasn't even his real name -

~Just try to run, we will find you all the same, by poison of the viper, or bullet of a sniper, you're never seen again~

​

Body is numb, still trying to figure out where I am. Sitting down, public area. Weapons? Guns? Tools? Nothing; no rifle, no side arm, no knife. I do have a granola bar though. I could really use a snack right about now. There's physical contact. Look up. Synegizer has his hands on you. Friend of foe? Grab him by the wrist, use his weight against him to pull yourself up while dislocating his shoulder. Force him to his knees and punch him in the side of the neck. Proper angle, snapped in multiple places. A gentle death for an old friend. Who is this now? She identified herself. Sunspot? Does not compute, no known allies with that name. No known allies period. The smile doesn't matter; it's just a tactic to catch you off guard. Put an end to this right now. Approach, return the smile and accept her request. Grab her by the back of the neck. Only wearing a suit that acts as clothing. No true armor qualities. Punch to the stomach to loosen her guard. Hand through the chest. Retrieve the beating heart of the enemies of Arsenal.

Reality returned through a tunnel of white light. Conner saw himself sitting there once again, until his subconscious returned to his body and he was seeing through the first person again. His body felt fixed, as though he had just taken a really, really nice weed nap after eating seven pounds of turkey and pie. The fog in his brain, which he never noticed, was lifted. He flinched as he realized that the stranger, someone he recognized from the early years of hero work, and the young girl were still alive. Tears welled up within the man as he realized how badly he wanted to enact the strategy he had just dreamed up. He took a hold of Anselle's arm, but reluctantly released as he jumped up from his seat. He fought the urge to put his fists up in a ready position, and retained his composure.

His Bloodshot eyes bounced between the radiant hero, and the young Sunspot. His brain chanted kill them in a tribal chant. It started to feel as if Conner was fighting off a manic state of mind as he raised his hand to grasp Anselle's neck, but instead rested that same hand on the back of his own head, trying to play it off as him trying to get an itch through his suit. "Thanks, kid," He choked out, pushing the thoughts of homicidal strategies out of his brain. "You did good out there today, y'know. Y-you got a name?" Stay distracted, retain a normal demeanor. His eyes narrowed over to Sunspot as she called out to him, spotting the smile on her face. She was in pain, that was obvious. Not just from the damage across her body, but from the way she carried herself. Her posture, and the fact that half of the muscles that worked together to form a smile didn't seem to be engaged were pretty much dead giveaways.

Her pain isn't your problem. You need to find Clay. You shouldn't have let him live. Handing him over to the authorities was the worst thing you could have done. He can lead you to the Colonial and the rest of those traitors. Don't train her, don't train Transfer. Blow this Popsicle stand and kill those -

"Being a real hero goes beyond having powers, and knowing how to fight. That's the first thing you need to realize. So if you can show me that you acknowledge what I mean, then I'll take you under my wing. Deal?" Arsenal realized...no, no, no Arsenal didn't exist anymore. The Night Watcher realized he promised Transfer he'd take him out tonight, show him a thing or two about using his powers. That might have been a bit more on the difficult side when just the thought of being alone with someone caused Conner to already come up with ten different ways to kill them all.

 

[Ragamoofin]

[Synergizer]

[Location: Stage > The Hell Away From Here]

[Interactions: @Zerofighter Liz ; @Seductress Night Watcher]

[Status: 1% Charge]​

There was a moment, Anselle would admit, that he thought he'd had royally fucked up. Brains were iffy, and delicate, and made up of so much stuff that Anselle didn't even know the words for. But- and this was a huge but, Night Watcher didn't immediately die, so he was taking it as a win. Brains, zero. Anselle, one. Take that, years of medical school and thorough training. Who needed neurosurgeons when they had him? Obviously, a lot of people, but for one Night Watcher, he was the next best thing. That felt pretty cool, felt pretty fucking awesome, if he said so himself.

Synergizer jumped at the fairly rough grab of his arm, though Anselle took a slight breath when it seemed Night Watcher was just using him as leverage to pull himself to his feet. Then he was reaching again - for his own neck, fingers probably not getting deep enough to kill the itch that was bugging the man. What a guy, this Night Watcher. Maybe he'd overreacted, usually people freaked out when they were suddenly healed of all that ailed them, but this guy just popped right back up. It was kinda crazy, in fact.

Synergizer's mask failed to show it, but Anselle's grin was positively beaming under all the transmuted metal of his suit. His hand lifted, waving off the thanks, giving a solid pat to Night Watcher's shoulder. "Ah, don't mention, man. What's a little R 'n' R between-"

[Friends? How close was Francis with this guy?]

[I mean, I'd say they were pretty well acquainted.]​

"-battle buddies!"

[...Sure. Let's say that.]

[Fuck, I panicked!]

[Oh, fuck. Did he say kid?]
​

Synergizer's mask was continuing to be Anselle's saving grace, hiding his utter shock at being called kid. Synergizer's hand slipped from Night Watcher's shoulder, curling into a fist under his mask, forcing a cough into his palm. "O-oh, sorry about that!" Synergizer's voice began to deepen, to what should've been a familiar voice for Night Watcher, closer to the previous host's smooth, deep timbre. "M-must be those post-fight nerves getting the best of me! You know, a man my age really has to watch it!" Synergizer's hands came to rest on his hips, sticking his chest out, pulling himself to his full height - no matter how much he towered over Night Watcher, he couldn't help but feel in the man's shadow. For fuck's sake, this was an actual hero. He was trying not to geek out.

Synergizer leaned forward, sliding a hand up his back, as if working out a kink that simply wasn't there. Even so, Anselle made sure his groan was convincing, Synergizer's voice ringing out as a pained moan. "Aaah, this old back of mine is acting up again! Well, better go sit down somewhere. I'll catch ya' around, buddy!" God, he had to get out of here. "Let's grab some pie some-"

There was a girl, costumed, smiling despite the wounds that were obviously paining her. "Oh, my God." The girl's words were directed towards Night Watcher, but Synergizer's attention was kept on her, even as she practically begged the man to train her. Night Watcher said...something, Anselle wasn't really listening anymore. Something something, hero something. Whatever, it didn't exactly matter right now. He had someone to heal. Everything in him, Syn included, cringed at the thought of testing their low reserve.

[We are awfully low on energy.]​

Synergizer's shoulders dragged down with his sigh, shaking his head.

[I know. I know...]​

Synergizer reached out to the girl, his hand glowing, coming to rest on the battered girl's shoulder. "Hang on, honey, it'll be alright." Synergizer's personal glow began to fade, the remains of his energy transferring into the girl - Anselle's eyes went wide at the spark of something different inside her, unique enough to catch his attention, search through their brief bond to find out just what it was. Anselle felt cold inside his armor, Synergizer's metallic frame beginning to look faded, the vibrancy of his color diminishing with every long second he spent healing the girl. The very, very special girl, as his silence search would tell him. A meta, no doubt.

Anselle stripped his body of heat, letting the cold take hold of him, resisting the shiver that ran up his spine. His blood felt icy in his veins, every spare iota of energy channeled into the girl. After what felt like an eternity, Synergizer's hand fell from her shoulder, a labored sigh coming from the towering hero. "T-there," he huffed, armor a pale version of what he was moments before; his neon frame looking far more pastel than normal. His hand curled into a thumbs-up, trying his best to keep his hand from trembling. "All b-better!"

[We should go.]​

Synergizer nodded to the air, forgetting himself for a second. "O-okay, I-I'll be seeing you guys!" Synergizer said suddenly, forcing the weakness out of his voice long enough to take a series of quick steps away from the stage, away from the young girl and Night Watcher. "Take care of yourselves! Don't stay out too late, stay in school!"

God, he sounded like a mom. Synergizer's feet were close to dragging the ground as he made his way from the stage, thankful that the bustle of the EMTs and reving ambulances kept the focus off him. The media was on the scene, and Anselle winced to imagine conducting an interview. He didn't, really didn't, feel like talking right now. Today had been...exhausting, he just wanted to go home. Synergizer's armor creaked around him, brittle and thin, weak as he felt.

Everything felt faraway, Anselle's head swimming with the noise of the conference; sirens blaring, the chaos of people shouting over another, that horrible buzzing...wait, buzzing?

"Oh, there you are!"

Synergizer came to a frozen stop, still staring ahead, a silent hope in his head that that voice wasn't referring to him.

"Yes, you in the pastel!"

Oh, fuck. Synergizer's helm tipped upward, squinting at the black and yellow...person? Anselle was confused by the sight, at the rapid beat of what had to be wings keeping the person aloft, a number of those weird drones surrounding them. Oh, no. "Uh-" Synergizer began, Anselle watching the heroine make her descent, a nervous bubble in his stomach at the sight of the fearsome stingers at the end of her hands. "Hii..."

Queen Bee kept a few feet of space between herself and the ground, placing herself at eye level with Synergizer. "Ah, you're..." Queen Bee's head tilted up and down, tilting. Synergizer was surprised her crown didn't fall off. Wait, a crown? "Not as pink as I remember." One of her drones flew to her hand, it's back opening up with a quick unfolding of plates, a projection emitted above it; it was a replay of Snowfall's show of power, Anselle's eyes growing wide at the sight of himself, armored in pink and running like mad across the field. Queen Bee's finger touched the projection, freezing it, zooming in on the pink hero.

"Or, perhaps, not as purple?" Her fingers flicked to the side, another angle coming up, where Syn had been wailing on Bomber Man. "Hm, interesting..." The drone's back folded together, flying from her personal space as she hovered into Synergizer's own, the taller hero taking a staggering step back. "Where's your little buddy, friend? The one responsible for Snowfall's show of force?" Queen Bee's hands folded together, the tips of her stingers making brief contact with each other; an arc of electricity sparked between them, not bothering the heroine in the slightest. "I'm dying to meet him. Where is he?"

Synergizer's helm went from side to side, a wordless drawl coming from him, Queen Bee's head tilted in response. "Uhh, you just missed him!" Synergizer chirped, nodding rapidly, much to the visible disappointment to Queen Bee. Her shoulders fell, hands pressing together much more tightly.

"Oh, did I?" Her drone flew back immediately, damning projection back up, skimming through the feed. Anselle watched himself be shielded by Snowfall all over again, her power still in full flux, getting very close to the moment where he'd regained his original image. Oh, God. Queen Bee kept skimming, head tilting this way and that way. "I could've sworn-"

A scream rang out, getting Synergizer and Queen Bee's attention. The heroine's head snapped around, her back turned. "What the-"

Jackpot. Synergizer's frame shifted on his heel, a dim light gathering around him. His helm snapped towards a nearby ambulance, and with a burst of inhuman speed, he was gone.

"-hell?" Queen Bee spun around, her hands snatching close to her chest at the sudden absence behind her. "What?" Under the lightscreen covering her face, Bea's eyes narrowed into slits, looking around, hovering higher in the air as she scoured the area for any sign of the pastel hero. She found none. "What!?" With a growl of frustration that built into an electric buzz around her, yellow arcs crackling over her suit, hands thrown to her sides. "I just- how dare you-" Queen Bee's voice rose, and abruptly fell. "...Whatever." She turned her attention to the sound of that scream, her eyes narrowing over at the deli. Just what was going on over there...?

With a small gathering of her drones on her heels, Queen Bee made a beeline towards the destroyed deli. She had better things to do than chase some...medieval fool in pastel.

As the buzzing went in another direction, Anselle poked his head out from around the ambulance that had become his only shield - his fingers curled around the bumper, wide eyes watching the flying hero make her way towards the deli. Anselle took a deep breath, letting it go and feeling it mist over his lips. "Woo, I think I almost had a heart attack."

[Yes, that was very...close. However, your reaction seems fueled by...panic. Did that hero make you uncomfortable?]​

Anselle grit his teeth, standing up, practically tip-toeing away from the end of ambulance. He didn't stand out anymore, not like this; his armor had been transformed back into his sweater, thick enough to keep the cold at bay. Syn had went the extra mile in making him look somewhat scuffed up, holes in his sweater where it looked like he'd gotten snagged, a layer of grime over his skin. It felt all too real for his taste.

"Very, Syn. She was all in my space!" Anselle hissed to the air, making his way around the crowd, aiming to get out of the area entirely. "I mean, my God! Who was that pink guy? Where is he?" Anselle shivered, not only from the cold, his hands coming up to squeeze his arms. "Give her enough time and she would've ripped our fucking mask off!"

[Unlikely, I'd stop her before she had the chance.] ​

Anselle frowned, shaking his head. "I don't know, did you see those stinger things? Looks painful, looks really painful."

[Would've given us a good charge, I bet.]​

Anselle eyed the heavily-armed men, obviously SWAT, guarding the area, overseeing the move of civilians outside the area. Anselle's feet moved quickly to get in with the crowd, keeping his head low, his voice kept inside himself.

[Let's just get out of here, first. Okay? I think-] ​

Anselle's eyes went back towards the epicenter of the chaos, to the bodies, bubbled away by those drones. The heroes still around, slips of color and design against the uniformity of the militia. Anselle's stomach sank, heart heavy in his chest.

[...I just wanna go home.]

[Alright, Anselle.] ​

Anselle's eyes began to prickle, lip tucking into his mouth, biting down to fight the tears in his eyes.

[You did all you could for them. If we hadn't came, if you had never been here, the loss of life would've been much greater.]

[Yeah, but- I couldn't-]

[Enough. Consider how many people you raised, think about how their families will be happy to see them. They live because of you, Anselle. The dead- no matter how many there are, are simply that. Please...do not torture yourself wondering what might've been if you'd gotten to them sooner.] ​

Anselle's feet were heavy, picking them up was a chore, Syn's words laying on his shoulders like a weight.

[I know it's...difficult for you to come to terms with this, but please, you know as well as I do, that your presence was a miraculous thing. Look-]​

Anselle raised his head, staring straight ahead, eyes blinking at the sight of crimson - blood, staining the back of a woman's shirt. His eyes widened, hand raising from his side.

[She's h-]

[No, look closer.]​

Anselle was about to reach for her, to heal her, only to realize that she'd already been healed. Her back, visible through the bullet holes in her shirt, was fine, without a scar to mark where the wound had been. Anselle's eyes stung again, tears falling over his cheeks.

[I...I healed her?]

[You saved her, Anselle. Her, and countless others today. I know your thoughts, Anselle. I know...you wish so desperately to do more, to save more. To reunite the families that will be hurt by what happened here. I know this because I know you, Anselle. You are...young, hopeful, and kind. It is your nature, to want to give more, even when there's nothing else of you to give.]

[But, sometimes, there's nothing you can give that will change what has happened.] ​

Anselle blinked away tears, keeping his sniffling quiet, keeping his pace among the moving crowd.

[...Tell me this, Anselle. Would you had rather stayed to the sidelines, and watched all of these people die?]​

Anselle's eyes grew large, his head shaking furiously.

[N-no! Of course not!]

[Exactly. Despite knowing you couldn't save them all, you saved so many. Would you deprive these survivors your power, all because you couldn't save them all?]​

Again, Anselle shook his head, tears falling past his chin.

[No...I wanted to save as many as I could.]

[And you did, Anselle. That woman, and so many others are proof of that.]

[You are a miracle, Anselle. In all my years on this planet, I have never met anyone like you. I know you can do great things, you just have to believe. You must believe in yourself.] ​

There were no more words between them, the two of them settling into a silence. Anselle moved with the crowd, but his mind...was elsewhere.

[...Thank you.]

[Thank you, Anselle.] ​

 

[KatSea]

Jethro Marcus Carver

Beastie, how you holding up? Does everything look good from your angle? Carver's form flickered back into existence, having found a sliver in the crowd to squirm through. His hood had been gingerly lowered back to his shoulders, the rest of his uniform shimmering from view. He exhaled peacefully, despite the remaining chaos that erupted around him. Carver's ears still rung from the echo of gunshots, explosions and even the sound of his own blood rushing to beat against his eardrums. He could have used about five beers in the next hour, but he swallowed the dryness down his throat for the moment. Right now he just needed to make sure Serene and Juliet were able to walk away from the tragedy with nothing more than some mental scarring...No. They would be okay. Juliet was a strong minded woman and Serene...well, Serene was his beastie, after all. She could walk through hell and comfort those who were trapped there, all with a toothless smile.

I am okay. I have been looking over some of the bodies and making sure they are st- oh, dear, she was alive, she's screaming at me, one second lovely. Jethro had to bite back a chuckle at the thought that bounced through his head. Serene's voice soon disappeared, but her constant presence and comfort never left the young man's shoulders. Despite the facade Jethro tossed over his demeanor every day, he knew he would be lost without his friend of eighteen years. She helped him remain strong, even in the face of death and tragedy that lingered at his feet. He swallowed hard, mentally preparing a scorching hot shower for when he came home. Juliet may have been mad he was hogging the hot water for the day, but that sounded like a her problem. Speaking of Juliet...Carver's fingers trembled at his sides.

Beastie, have you see any sign of Jules in this clusterfuck?

Er, not yet lovely. I'm sill looking, though. There's so much mess and debris...I don't think she's hurt though. I feel like I would have seen her at this point if she was. Besides, I'm fairly certain that woman eats bullets for breakfast.

You and me both, beastie. Believe me, I've seen her do it too. It's sort of impressive. She's got beaver teeth from it, though. Poor dear, no wonder she can't keep a husband.

That's not due to her beaver teeth, Carver.

Heh. Too soon? Er, I think I see her beastie, I see a blonde figure over with the SWAT team now, gonna try and make my way over and make sure everything is okay. Christ this is a lot of bodies...

Just keep breathing, boy. You are okay. Believe me, it is a good thing we came. It could have been a lot worse. They are at peace, as disturbing as that may sound now. I...I need to go investigate that other Serene. I am...concerned and would like to see if I could ask questions but...the weird thing is Jethro, that creature shifted to look l-

"Carver!" A familiar voice boomed, gentle but reassuring. Oh, thank God, that pesky little blonde was the pesky little blonde he was hoping for.

"Detective Maddox!" Carver called, cheekily, making his way towards the stage as he pulled out his gun and badge, watching his partner lower her rifle in order to kneel beside a gunman, forcing his hands behind his back to cuff him. "Nice work detective, any injuries on the team that need to be taken into account?"

"Several fatalities and injuries but...most of us are at full capacity. Perry had to be transferred to the hospital from what I've been informed...Wayne insisted we called this backup, which was for the better. I am going to see if Wayne, Vihaan and the two of us can go visit Perry later and make sure he's okay. For right now we need to bag and tag these sons of bitches. As for you, I think SWAT's got this. Could you secure the perimeter? See if you can close this scene off to the public? As of right now this is a crime scene and I'd rather not have anything further tampered with...Backup's been called and most of the area looks like it's gonna be closed off. Unfortunately the press has already gotten in..."

"Need me to chase them off?"

"If you can find a legal way without shooting off ole Annie of yours, go for it. They are gonna make this a hell of a lot harder to get this scene under control..."

"No shit." Carver muttered. "How bad was..."

"Beat up. It's a good thing they got to him when they did, Jethro. All I can do at the moment is pray." Juliet, with a rough tug, forced the gunman to his feet, a thin smile barely held back at the grunts and groans she received in protest. "and take my anger out in a legal, safe way, but you get the idea."

"You aren't..."

"Nope, not a scratch. Ears hurt like a bitch though. You?"

"Fine. Wouldn't be surprised if I have a graze or two.

"Good...Okay...It's a relief to see you okay, Jethro." Just as she was about to continue, a sudden cry took her attention from her job, and her eyes darted to Carver. "Could you be a dear-"

"On it." He muttered, giving her a nod of acknowledgement before hopping back off the stage. His breath hitched in his throat and his eyes rolled around in an attempt to locate Vihaan and Wayne.

Carver, boy, can you hear me?

Loud and clear Beastie, what's up?

I've located Amy in this mess. She is okay, but we have bigger problems regarding that.

Shit, lovely, you can't be serious! I can't see any reason why she would be here...fucking A and I have a goddamn scream to attend to.

Er, here's the problem, my boy. It appears Amy was here because she...well, she was the second me.

Wait, wait, what? Serene see if you can track her down if that's the case. Don't...don't scare her. How does she-...okay, track her down, don't frighten her or set her off. I have a few questions for her...Maybe...just maybe...

Don't get your hopes up, b o y.

 

[Seductress]

Tale of the Hero's Fate

Chapter I: Blood & Thunder​

The first snowfall of the year had finally hit Washington. It was nothing heavy; no intense whirlwind of ice and harsh weather conditions. There wasn't even a flurry. The white stars flickered down in sparkling flakes and melted against the ground. It was obvious that the seasons were going to be changing quite soon, but nobody could have seen it coming this early. Kang-Dae Yang tapped his fingers gently against the wheel of his day old Chevrolet Camaro ZL1, his foot on the break.

Maybe it was the train that had stopped traffic that caused the streets to rumble and vibrate. Or perhaps, more likely, was that the battle going on blocks away were causing the tremors. Kang-Dae had turned the radio off but he did hear about the President's gathering of the heroes, and how a terrorist's bombing had lead into an attack. That was the last thing the man wanted to hear about. The world might have been an ugly place, but he at lea

st had Washington as a shining beacon of hope. That was, up until late, however. The nation's capitol was being swallowed in a harrowing shroud of brutal violence, and it's only saviors taking the form of mentally unstable freaks in their Halloween costumes.

Kang-Dae would have loved to rest his head against his pillow at night knowing that he was safe. He would have loved to close his eyes and know that his back was being watched from the boogeymen that breathed down his back as he slept. Every night, Kang-Dae accepted that he might never wake up. There was a superhero movie in Korea, called Kaebtin Eomeijing : Boideu Boiseu, which sees the extraterrestrial Captain Amazing face off against one of the last few remaining inhabitants of his now dead planet, and the end battle was explosive. Buildings crumbled, explosions range through the city, and many people died. But they never showed that. It was the people that were sworn to be protected that are never shown when their heroes fail them. Kang-Dae always kissed his daughters before bed, told them he loves them, and then showered his wife with love and affection. He always set aside time, each day, to watch at least one of the Kaebtin Eomeijing films. He tried not to pay attention to the carnage, and the unseen casualties, but at the good that Captain Amazing and his friends did for not just Korea, but for the entire world. Maybe that kept a spark left in his chest.

His eyes narrowed past his windshield and watched the rest of the train pass. He could finally get back on his merry way once more. Not that the thoughts weren't insightful and filled with thought provoking soul searching, but Kang-Dae couldn't let it stress him out. They were superheroes, and he was a businessman. Putting his trust for the safety of his family in the hands of the supers was all he could do. He knew that when he got home tomorrow he would be able to pack his family pack up his family and head back to Korea. Maybe they'd go to India, Kang-Dae would love to see Ghaziabad. All he had to do was trust in the power and determination of the heroes until he was able to leave America once again. That's all.

The Camaro took a few sides streets, heading closer toward the smoke and the helicopters. There was a point where he could even roll his window down and stick his head into the cold autumn air and actually seeing the building that had previously fallen. He was only streets away from where everything had gone down, and his curiosity kept pulling him closer and closer. That wasn't going to happen, because that last thing Kang-Dae needed was to be late for potentially the most important business meeting of his career. He should have never listened into the news, maybe then he wouldn't be feeling so off-kilter. It happens, though. Curiosity furrowed in his brow as he took the left, pulling up behind the fleet of police cars that had gathered around the stage.

Kang-Dae stepped out of his vehicle, the engine still running. He pulled his mirrored aviators from his face, looking around at the scene in disbelief. He attempted to count the amount of heroes who had shown up, and compared them to the amount of bodies that were scattered across the pavement. It was outstanding, in the most stomach churning, disappointing way that so many heroes could show up and still fuck up so royally. That thought didn't matter, however, because it was only only the thought process of one man after all. "Hey, you can't be here," came the voice of a gruff sounding British bloke, a man in a dress shirt stained with blood and booze waving him away. "It's not safe, so get going, you. Vihaan, why isn't this place sealed off?" As the man's voice changed direction to the person who stood with him, Kang-Dae got back into his car, never once taking his eyes off the drones that worked cohesively to get everything sealed up and fixed. As much as he'd love to stay and watch, he had a contact to meet with.

The man only went by one name. At least, their mutual friend only referred to him by one specific name. Monkey. Now, that wasn't a name that Kang-Dae would name any of his kids, so odds are it was some form of code name. God knows. Monkey handed the five dollar bill over to the over-enthusiastic vendor, who in turn handed over the jumbo hot dog. Monkey kept his eyes down as he decorated his glistening weenie with the perfect, left to right squiggles of mustard, and then went right to left with ketchup. None of the condiments ever touched the sides of the bun, and created the picture perfect overlapping colours.

[FONT=Marcellus, serif]With a watering mouth Monkey turned around, spotting the silver and black Camaro he had been told to look out for. It had already pulled up to the curb, and sat dormant with the windows up and lights on. Monkey smirked to himself as he opened the door up, popping a squat. As soon as his door was closed, the automobile took off down the street. He didn't even have time to put his seat belt on before the rubber started to burn. "If this is what Giovanni's paying you, then maybe I should take more jobs from him." Monkey whistled as he clumsily fumbled to get his seat belt wrapped around himself.

"Mr.Giovanni is only the middle man," Kang-Dae said as he watched the road. "You'd have to be pretty competent at your job if he's going to personally hire you to work with his crew."

"I'd like to think I have quite the resume. He must have heard my reputation, considering he personally recommended me for the job." That first bite sent a euphoric mix of flavors dancing across Monkey's tongue. It's been at least six years since he's been able to have a hot dog. He'd been in a world where ketchup and mustard didn't even exist, and solid food was nearly impossible to come by.

"If I remember correctly, you just spent seven years in a maximum security prison." Kang-Dae's eyebrow raised in amusement.

Monkey could have taken the blow to heart and let himself grow speechless, but that wasn't much of an option at this point. He had to establish himself as the silver tongued smooth criminal he was. "Six, actually."

"And why did they let you out so early? Last I checked, the law isn't very forgiving when it comes to triple homicide, with an added attempted murder on top of that."

"I let myself out. They made it a little too easy to just walk right out the front door." Now this, this peaked Kang-Dae's interest. He couldn't let that be known, though. It's been said that the first rule of business is to never talk first, because that shows a shift in power back into the other parties' hands. "You like music?" Monkey reached into his coat pocket, producing a jewel case CD. It was difficult to shove in there, but it was something he didn't like to leave the house without. "I'm actually on this album," he said as he opened up the case for the Conmen's debut album, Blueberry Soul. "I played the drums, it was one of the last things I did before prison."

Kang-Dae was far from interested in making friends with some two-bit, petty criminal. Sure, it was impressive that he managed to escape Ben Verrick's, but that wasn't enough to sell him on making any more friends in low places. Especially not with some murderer. "So why are you taking the job anyway? With a background like yours, I'd imagine being on this side of the law isn't exactly your thing."

Monkey looked over, turning the volume up just enough to hear the music. And then he went to turn it up again, getting his hand swatted away by an unflinching Kang-Dae. "I've got big plans. I need a new suit, something sharp and spiffy. Giovanni promised good money. Besides, everyone knows that Tommy Giovanni and people associated with him get paid the best money that the market has to offer. And a job like this? Man, it'll help me set my plans up in motion." The first song hardly had enough time to even finish before they reached the warehouse. The loading bay was already open, leading the vehicle into a wide garage looking area. Among the many people running back and forth, the third member of the crew, Corbin Black, could be seen carrying a box in both hands. The strain on his face made it fairly clear that the box was heavier than he wa

nted it to be. It was rather large, being at least five feet high.

Corbin stopped in front of the Camaro as it's lights faded off, and the two men stepped out of their car. Monkey looked at Kang-Dae, who returned the look. Kang-Dae's eyes wandered to the box, spotting the two small holes in the front. "So, that's it, then," Corbin called out. "This is our crew? A Korean gangster, an American jail bird, an Irish security specialist, and a kid so green he pisses grass? Jail is gonna be fun, if the supers don't get to us first."

Monkey brought his hand up, scratching the side of his head with his middle finger. "Can I be the Irish one? That sounds much cooler than being a Korean gangster."

"What are you talking about a kid so green? I thought the man Mr.Giovanni referred us to was some sort of aged criminal mastermind?"

A voice came from the right, where the stairs lead down from the foreman's office. "My boss prefers to let others get his hands dirty for him. That's just the way he likes to work." Kang-Dae looked up as the young Kyle Egarton made his way toward the group. He looked like the furthest thing from someone of his profession; dawning slacks and a grey, knitted turtle neck sweater, he wasn't exactly the most menacing face on the market.

"And your boss is where, exactly? Are we able to speak with him?"

"My boss' schedule is a bit...boxed in right now, but don't worry. He has eyes everywhere." As he stopped by the car, he looked around at the makeshift crew. So this was what top dollar could buy, huh. They had to have been worth something, at least somewhere. "So, you all know why you're here, I'm assuming?" The men all nodded in agreement, Kang Dae's eyes looking away from the box that seemed to be staring back at him.

"I just want to be clear, here, I might be working for you over the next 24 hours, but I still represent the Nakamura corporation," Kang-Dae's voice went frigid, no emotion visible at all. "And so the deal still stands; you only pay me half of the originally discussed price, so long as you provide us with Subject 37 by the time I get back on that plane home. She goes to Japan, and I go home to Korea. Mr.Nakamura doesn't want to have to come here himself."

 

[Mobley Eats]

Nellie King | Flashback: Several Months Ago | Interactions: Dr. Mongdala | Location: George Washington University, Biological Sciences Department


Nellie's leg bounced. Jittery. Chock full of energy and nerves that would've made her iron counterpart scoff. Iron Head's will proved be just as strong as her namesake; nothing short of Death staring her in the face could unnerve the avenger.

However, that wasn't the case for Nellie King.

Without that visor, without bloody blades at her side, without the potent intimidation her reputation provided, there wasn't much courage left in her reservoir. Granted, she had no reason to be anxious. Nellie had frequented this particular professor's lectures on several occasions and she always left them unscathed. Educated. Her biological gluttony satisfied for a block of time. Thus, these nerves were never logically and Nellie had long ago tossed it up to her discomfort with large crowds. Seeing as how George Washington University was the top ranking college in Washington DC, these open lectures drew in an army of intellectuals.

​

Nellie had seated herself in the furthest row towards the back, per usual, while her baby blue eyes studied the throng of students spilling in by groups. They chattered amicably, not really bothering to take notice of Nellie, and retrieved their laptops while awaiting the professor's entrance. If Nellie recalled right, the website hinted to an intriguing topic for today and one that could either serve as useful or annoying.

Only time would tell--

"Alright, alright. Plant your tushes and clamp your lips, everyone." The clacking of heels sliced through murmurs, smoothed over by the British and suave voice of Dr. Mongdala. She was dressed as impeccably as ever, but never without a fantastic touch of professional fashion. Today, her pristine eggshell blouse was tucked into a pair of high-waisted navy blue trousers, accenting the gentle curve of her hips while leaving the rest of her form room to breathe. The perfect balance of casualness and elegance. Her attire was tied together with beige strapped heels and beyond unkempt hair. She fiddled with her laptop perched at the podium until the projector blinked away, presenting the first slide of her PowerPoint onto the wall behind her.

The title was as followed: Innovation Beyond Reason: A Study of the Blood Cell's Mortality

Dr. Mongdala looped around the podium and paced the stage, fingers interwoven thoughtfully. "Now class, Monday we've discussed the complexities and stability of the human blood cell. Specifically, it's lifespan. And the phases they must undergo to achieve proper replication. We know the basics." She rolled a wrist dismissively. "So I won't waste your time listing them out again. Unless..." She came to a stop, gaze sweeping over the audience. "Someone's willing to fancy the idea of doing so themselves and getting a nice shiny extra five points on their next quiz--"

Several hands shot up.

"Oh, well, isn't that indicative of your study habits..." Regardless, Mongdala pointed out a male student. "Go on, Dylan. Enlighten us."

"Um, basic cell replication is done through the process of Mitosis." Dylan tried to sound confident in his answer, though the questioning lilt in his voice was slight. "S-so, the four phases are prophase, metaphase, anaphase, and telophase."

"Ah, yes. The smell of rudimentary; wakes up the senses this early in the morning," Mongdala teased before shooting a grin Dylan's way. "Regardless, wonderfully said, Dylan. Your bribery's well earned." She clicked a button on her pointer and the PowerPoint presented its next slide. On it was a brief overview of the phases Dylan mentioned, along with a depiction of duplicated genetic material residing the parent cell. Seemingly in the middle of prophase. Mongdala folded her arms. "Who can tell me what's wrong with this image?"

Silence.

Confusion swept over her students like a tangible tsunami. Whispers of deduction broke out, but with little chance of an answer in sight. However, another student decided to take a crack at the question and he raised his hand, albeit hesitantly. "Um... It's actually the late stage of prophase--prometaphase?"

"Incorrect. Anyone else?"

The murmurs increased.

And it took the might of a million gods for Nellie to suppress an eye roll. The leg bounced even faster than before, a mechanical pencil twirling restlessly betwixt her pale fingers. After a handful of moments passing, Dr. Mongdala was just about to speak once more until a new voice cut through.

"The nuclear envelope."

Ever so slowly, all heads in the amphitheater turned around to face Nellie, who was doing everything she could to shrink back from the attention. Fuck... fuckity shit fuck. She should've kept her little nerdling mouth shut. Adjusting her glasses, she swallowed and sat up, trying the ignore the looks in purchase of focusing on an intrigued Dr. Mongdala. "It's... still intact. The nucleolus is usually deteriorated by this point so that spindle fibers can align the chromatin in place for... separation." Jesus Christ; she didn't know how to feel about the pleased grin gracing Mongdala's face; it made her bristle and relax at once. Damn annoying. She gestured awkwardly to the image. "Plus, um... there're proteins located along the nuclear envelope."

"Indeed..." Mongdala gave pause, just studying Nellie with an unreadable expression before allowing her arms to fall. They locked at the fingers once more. "You're a familiar and unfamiliar face all at once, aren't you? Do I get a name to the face of my most frequent visitor?"

Nellie refused to answer. Instead, she pinned the professor with an equally as blank look, the stubbornness rolling from her stifling. And yet, the instructor's grin never faltered. She clicked on to the next slide. A larger depiction dominated the entire wall this time. It was the same parent cell as before, but zoomed in on the nucleolus--specifically the proteins Nellie mentioned. "Miss No Name is correct. What you're looking at, ladies and gentlemen, is a biologist's wet dream. And, quite possibly, a step towards medical salvation." Although Nellie had attended many of Mongdala's lectures, this was the first time she heard so much energy seep into her voice. "These? These... are a special protein recently discovered by yours truly. The magnificent and bright minds of North Star Labs. Although they have yet to grace us with an official term, most in the academic world have taken to Antigrafin."

Son. Of. A. Bitch... Nellie's nails curled into the bottoms of her oversized denim overalls, tugging so much that the fabric could tear at any second.

"If any of you were the reliable students that I know you are, you would've picked up on this from the latest article I assigned you. Yes, it's an extensive read but a goldmine of innovation. A public piece of research released by North Star... You see, Antigrafin seems to work as both an enhancement and trigger for genetic duplication." The next slide. Far more chromosomes than before filled the nucleus. "Now, you can see nearly three times as many chromosomes as before, along with just as many spindles emerging from their respective centromeres--no, from even more centromeres. We have yet to unveil the extent of Antigrafin's productive properties, but it has amazing potential. Just imagine..."

Light shimmered in her eyes. The light of a child stepping foot into a candy shop for the very first time. "Those suffering from a lack of cell reproduction, amnesics, victims of sickle cell, all of them--this protein could prove to be a gateway. A means of permanent recovery. In fact, we can even look into saving those over producing cells, including cancerous ones. With enough time and elbow grease, we can persuade Antigrafin and its manipulation of a human being's genome. This--"

Another new slide.

Another massive depiction. One cell had split into six. The next slide. Six into thirty six. Thirty six into thousands. "This is our future."

"How come the article didn't have like, an author?" The question came from a female student, though she seemed just as in awe as Dr. Mongdala.

For a moment, the optimistism drained from Mongdala and her lips pinched in thought. "...A good question, Madilyn. As far as the public knows, North Star has failed to give us a name and prefer to keep it anonymous. I can reassure you that all of the findings in that article are of their own hard work."

"Okay... So what's North Star waiting on to, like, give out medicine for this?"

"Everything's hypothetical, at the moment. Well, experimental," Mongdala admitted. Her peach polished nails glimmered in the fluorescent lights. "Beyond discovering Antigrafin's existence, we have yet to implement it into anything big. But the possibilities? They're numerous." She allowed this to soak in for everyone before returning to the podium. "Now, let's talk a bit more about..."

Nellie tuned out the rest, her thoughts literally swimming in a sea of red.

The fucking audacity of those assholes... Her nostrils flared. They published and took credit for my work! As if ripping her open and prodding her organs wasn't enough. The greedy bastards.

No longer in the mood for biology, she stowed her journal away and slipped out of the amphitheater without a single word.

She failed to notice Mongdala give pause, watching the young woman retreat with anger hot on her heels.

---

Iron Head | Interactions: Cole, Cole's Mother, Sabine @Elle Joyner , Pearson & President Taffer @Seductress | Location: Deli | Status: Extremely Frustrated and Fatigued

Iron Head didn't move a muscle. Didn't blink. Didn't breathe weirdly. Not until Synergizer finished healing Cole and released the young boy. He gaped at his freshly healed cheek and limbs in awe, the onset of a wondrous smile gracing his round face. As the glowing hero left, he signed a thank you enthusiastically. Well, enthusiastic in comparison to the emotional mess he'd been in mere moments ago. Regardless, the fear and distraught lingered, along with the image of unmoving bodies and discord...

And just like that, his mood plummeted.

He turned to face Iron Head once more, sore eyes brimming with a fresh coat of tears. Just as a silent sniffle shook him by the shoulders, the avenger's insides coiled painfully. Guilt. It was definitely guilt. But why? She didn't cause him any of this pain. Any of this horror and trauma. It was all those armed gunmen's fault. Those assholes and their penchant for mutilating innocent people. And yet, against all breeds of logic, Iron Head wanted nothing more than to pull Cole into her and tell him all of the sugar coated lies he wanted--needed to hear...

But that wasn't the instinct of a monster. That wasn't Iron Head.

Sucking in a sharp breath, she settled for cautiously grabbing Cole's hand and began limping through the wreckage. "Let's find your... your mom," she rasped. Every step she took rattled her bones, her veins, and all it did was remind her of how achingly hollow they were. It hurt in the most maddening sense. A phantom pain that could only be quelled with the renewal of blood supply. But she couldn't rush the process. It all boiled down to sporting a will power tougher than the pain.

If she wasn't so goddamn bruised and battered, that could've been child's play.

Luckily, heading towards the paramedics was the right idea. The same woman who had given Nellie such caustic attitude burst through the throng of civilians with the epitome of relief. "Cole! My baby! Oh thank God, thank God!" Cole immediately released Iron Head and sprinted forth, crashing into his mother and holding on tight. His sobs were born anew, but at least he could hide his face from the world. Could hide away in trusted arms.

This image made far more sense.

Grime and tears staining her visage, the mother's gaze snapped up to Iron Head. "Th-thank you," she whimpered, "Thank you for saving my--"

"Yeah..." Iron Head interrupted, raising a hand. It dropped quickly, as she had nowhere near enough strength left to keep it aloft. "Just get him out of here. He's seen... enough of this shit. Too much already." Ignoring the woman's rebuttals, Iron Head turned and continued her trek through the wreckage. Luckily, there were far less bodies for her to step over, but that didn't help the doubling and swaying of her vision. She swore she was going to vomit. How come she hadn't already? What was holding her stomach back? What mysterious bullshit drive kept her on her feet? Now that Cole was secure and safe, she had no reason to stay conscious--

The president... Fuck. "Fuck."

Iron Head staggered towards the Deli just as she saw some woman emerge, screaming for help. For President Taffer. Shit! Don't fucking tell me! Her overworked heart pumped into double overtime as she picked up the pace, her heavy suit dragging her down like a twin anchors at the ankle. Her objective. Her only objective was to protect...

The moment Iron Head entered the Deli and took in the sight of Taffer's missing leg, time screeched to a stop. This was... far worse than anything she imagined happening. A few seconds. She only took her sights off the man for a few seconds and now he'd lost a limb. One job. One mother fucking job. "Jesus fucking... you can't be ser..." Shakily, Iron Head leaned against another counter for support, the last of her strength draining from her legs, then slowly slid to the debris riddled floor. With a desperation that she absolutely refused to acknowledge, her gaze switched between Sabine and Pearson. "What happened? What... How'd the fuck did he lose...? How'd--"

Crack!

A fist-sized crater crumbled the tiles beside her. "Fuck!"

 

[Zerofighter]

Liz just felt awkward in front of Nightwatcher, it was as if he was judging her very existence. Looking over every detail about her, from her simple smile, to her costume. Every tiny thing being judged. She couldn't tell how he felt. It was rather intimidating to say the least. She could feel her heart pounding, Several scenarios ran through her mind of what he would do or say. Time practically felt like it stopped, until he spoke his advice.

Sitting there silently, she took it in. Giving him a determined look, and a more hopeful smile.
"It's a Deal…thank you for this chance sir! I promise you won't regret it!"

Turning her attention to the other hero speaking, almost not realizing the person was there. She froze for a second feeling a new jolt of energy reach into her body. Her eyes let out a bright golden glow, that would illuminate the area around them. Resembling small spotlights, before returning to normal. Her body glowed like the sun itself. Liz felt better now, much better. As if she wasnt even in a major fight in the first place.. Till she felt her face, the lumps, and scrapes were gone.

She felt her sunfield's energy coursing through her veins again, almost felt like she had a full charge. She looked at the person who grabbed her and said "T-thanks...umm whoever you are. I'm Sunspot, the hero with a never dimming light." But he left before she could give introductions. People always left when she tried to do that. Turning her attention to Nightwatcher, biting her lip.

"I'm sorry Mr.Nightwatcher, but I must be heading home soon. But I won't let you down. I promise!"

Her glowing Sunfield illuminated around her as headed back to the secluded alley. FInding her bundled up clothes. Once she finished changing back, Liz stopped gazing into her reflection in a broken shard of glass. An empty feeling reached her chest, a hollow void. The void leaking her pain, anger and anxiety. Her hand was placed over her heart. The realization finally hit. She was always going to be told that he had her eyes, and now whenever she saw her eyes, her dad's were looking back.

Walking to her home felt slow, like every step there felt her father was next to her. Walking back her home from school. Telling her stories about her grandmother, her raising him by herself. His struggles growing up, but proving to others he was more than what they claimed he was. Looking down at an old, oak tree, recognizing it right away. The same one that her dad put a tire swing on. Seeing the faded mark left on the branch from when she was a kid. Remembering her laughter, asking her dad to push her higher, and higher.

Despite being about ten minute, her silent walk home felt like hours. Opening the door, she saw her mom at the dining room table. The entire house was quiet and dark, she looked up and simply said
'Welcome home baby…"
"H-Hi mom…"

Liz walked up to her mom, looking into her eyes. It was obvious her mother knew about what happened. The look in her eyes said it all. The pain and loss hit deep into her soul. As if all the happiness inside her was gone. Nothing left but the feeling of loss.


"Honey…I got a call.." Seeing the pained look on her face, as if she was struggling to comprehend her words. The pain and loss on her face was imminent. " I….I got a call. The diner was in the middle of that terrorist attack….h-he is dead, baby…" Her mother began breaking down crying, Liz wrapped her arms around her mother and cried with her. Liz cried in her mother's, both holding one another as if they were trying to keep each other from breaking into a million pieces. Liz held onto her mother tigher now, tears pouring down like a faucet. Both having memories come out one after another.

From wedding days, to birthdays, memories lost, and memories that will never be made.

"Those damn heroes didn't save him! They're supposed to protect us, and all those poor people died!"
Liz pulled away from her mother, a shocked look on her face. How could she say such a thing? Dad loved superheroes, they saved people regardless of who they were. He trusted them more than the cops. The sight of her dad, dead in the diner. His blood covering the floor, her racing in there. Screaming that she can save everyone.

If only her mother knew….knew the truth. "Mom….Dad loved those superheroes. You know that, they did the best they could. They didn't expect the attack to happen."
"Lizzie….it's because of them those monsters attacked. Those heroes create more problems than solving them. This isn't like one of those silly comics, in reality those costumed freaks are no different."
Taking a step back, her entire body shaking. For a millisecond, her Sunfield almost erupted. It was taking every ounce of her strength to not show her mother the truth. The truth of who she was, and even worse, was the first one to discover her dad.

"I can't believe you would say that ....Daddy loved superheroes and trusted them. And I trust them too! They're helping people." She snapped "And Daddy never gave up on the heroes and neither will I!"
Her mother was taken back by what her daughter said, in shock she would even speak to her in such a manner. "Baby, goto your room….now. You're upset, and Im upset. We dont need to be fighting after what happened. Now, goto your room."

Liz made a tight fist, as she stormed off to her room, slamming the door in anger. Changing back into her costume, flying out in the night sky. Tears streaming down her face. The pain was like a tight pressure in her chest. As if someone had their hand around her heart, gripping it tighter and tighter. She screamed out in a micture of anger and pain. Screaming to the heaven above, and those below. Liz didnt care who heard her, but the pain she felt needed to be let out.

"Daddy….why did you have to die….why couldnt I save you…"

 

[Elle Joyner]

Sabine​

---

Blood pounding in her head, a screaming timpani of throbbing thumps, Sabine stood in the gaping hole leading into the deli. Russet stained the white and black tile, smears and splotches and drips and a great big pool... the life source of the President pouring out beneath a sign offering half-off roast London Broil. A cloying, metallic odor mingled with the sulfuric charcoal scent of burning flesh, flaring across her sinuses until bile climbed along her throat. Her knees quivered, but she couldn't move, the weight of nausea in her chest the only thing keeping her upright. Tears tracked her cheeks, leaving streaks that she brushed away with trembling fingers.

With the flames from the explosion, most of the wound had cauterized, and the bleeding had ceased, but Taffer's pale skin held a waxy sheen of sweat. His eyes were glazed and distant as shock stretched through the wires of his mind, threatening to snap the synapses entirely... Desperately, she wanted to help the man, to flood his brain with a conscious calm... but her reserves were tapped, her head already a raging inferno of agonizing spikes, again. Pain was good, though. Pain was clarifying.

"There was a drone..." She answered flatly, as yet another figure appeared on the scene, heaving questions with a thrust of agitation, "Th-there was... He was... It was a missile..." A staggered breath shuddered from her lungs, and Sabine swallowed back the heat crawling along her esophagus, "Wh-what should I do? He needs.... someone needs to get help..." There was a field of ambulances outside, medical technicians doing their best to tend to the mass of wounded or worse... In the chaos, it was little wonder no one had come to investigate her hysterics earlier. No one could know whose life was slowly soaking into the cheap linoleum. No one could know the most important man in the country was dying inside a sandwich shop...

"Oh God..." Taking an uneasy step towards him, Sabine lowered herself opposite where Pearson was kneeling, fingers curling anxiously around the president's white knuckled hand, "Please..." Voice breaking, she sucked in another sharp breath, "Please, Mr. Taffer... hold on."

 

[Seductress]

Hoods & Capes

The Job Offer
​

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Wayne looked down at the pavement with a sigh. His eyes followed the cracks, the crevices, the stains. Everything about the road told a story; every marking had a reason to be there. Every little piece fit together, both big and small, major and minor, to tell one big correlating story. It was like clockwork, but clockwork wasn't what was important right then and there. As soon as the ringing bell of distraction cleared from Wayne's ears, he realized that Vihaan was still going off about some topic (most likely related to the day's events). "Yes, detective, that's wonderful."

"Uh? If you consider having the right side of your body erased from the cosmos and replaced with scribblings of a four year old wonderful, then sure." Wayne reached into his pocket and produced his cigarette tin, sticking one between his lips and lighting it. He looked toward the stage where the paint pallet was giving The Night Watcher some sort of tip tissue scalp massage - or at least, that's what it looked like from behind the police car barricade. "There's going to be a shit load of paperwork to do on this one, y'know. We might want to consider getting back down to the station to start. If we get there early enough, we could have at least an extra hour worth of a head start."

Wayne waved Vihaan off, his eyes scanning for the other detectives employed under Perry's unit. "We aren't done here yet. Perry mentioned that he had detectives posted around, and I want to quickly debrief with them. Speaking of which - make sure we get constant updates on Perry's condition. The man hasn't even been reinstated yet, and he's going to need a medical leave. Poor sap."

Wayne's eyes looked up to the sky. He could still hear the sounds of air crafts, but could only see the news helicopters that fluttered and floated around the sky. The gunships must have soared away while he wasn't paying attention - that's okay though; they'd catch the bastards eventually. Vihaan would have to do a head count, but they managed to get a decent amount of gunmen for questioning. "I'm going to say it's a safe bet to assume that we are going to need to double up on security for all public events focused around key political figures. I'll be compiling a list as soon as we get back to the station. I also want eyes on each active cape whenever they are out and about. I don't care how much man power that takes but-"

"And what gives you the authority to make that call? I could have sworn you don't start the job for at least another week."

"Given the circumstances, I'm taking position as the new acting chief of police as of an hour ago. That means if you ever cut me off again," He stopped to take a euphoric drag of his cigarette, moving his eyes to lock with Vihaan's. "Your badge and gun are going to be on my desk, and you'll be working security at your local Walgreens." There was absolutely no time to question authority right now. There could have been grounds for a state of emergency, with the proper persuasion. Two high scale attacks within two days, and a string of break-ins at North Star Labs endorsed pharmacies apparently connected to each other was a big red flag for Wayne. If it were up to him, the citizens of Washington would be locked up in their houses, and politicians would be under lock and key with armed guards at all times.

The scream rang through Wayne's ears like a piercing orchestra of dramatic trumpets. Vihaan's eyes went wider than they ever had the moment that the words help and Taffer registered in his brain. They didn't even stop to look at each other; both men took off running. Wayne's keys jingled and threatened to jump out of his pocket as he circled around to the stage, avoiding the debris and bodies. Vihaan had to vault over a cadaver that sat idly on the ground. He couldn't afford to waste any time. Heat spiked through Wayne's body as stress began to boil and bubble at the pit of his stomach. In his line of work, he had heard many different kinds of screams through his years. This wasn't a normal cry for help. It was almost blood curdling; a life and death howl that carried so much severity behind it that it had to have been reacted upon instantly.

The two men regrouped at the deli, realizing just how much damage it had taken. Right beside the front door, there was a large hole shaped like a fairly familiar super, which was actually quite concerning. There was no time to worry about that, though. Vihaan took a step inside, his body refusing to let his legs keep working as soon as his eyes registered the scene in front of him. With a shaking hand he reached up and pulled the aviators off the bridge of his nose, his eyes locking on to the president's stump. Wayne instantly came to Pearson's side, helping the Vice pick the man up off the ground and lay him gently on the counter top.

Though he was nearly lifeless, and about to fade out of consciousness, Taffer's hand weakly latched on to Sabine's. It was a familiar sensation that brought joy and comfort to the man. He didn't need to see the person that the hand belonged to; he already knew just by how her hand fit in his. He blinked, a task which for him felt so strenuous that it seemed to have taken an entire year to achieve. In reality, his eyelids didn't lower at all. His wide, buggy eyes continued to look up toward the ceiling as flashes of searing pain shot up and down his body like an elevator. "You've done everything you need to," Pearson said over his shoulder to Sabine. "You're okay, and Mr.Taffer is going to be okay, okay? Please, don't worry about it." Those five words were the hardest collections of letters he had ever choked out in his life.

Producing hollow promises to try and put the sweetheart's mind at ease always left a sour taste on the man's tongue. He refused to lie to her if he could help it. Truth be told, he couldn't even believe in his own lies this time. Joe Pearson, for the first time in his life, didn't have the situation under control. He attempted to swallow his pain and uncertainty, but found that a task that was nearly impossible as a lump caught itself in his throat. Blood smeared across his expensive shirt as he pulled at his tie, handing it to Wayne as he pulled his jacket off. "We need a safe way to get him to the paramedics outside," he finally managed to choke out as he tore the sleeve off with ease. With Wayne's help, a makeshift tourniquet was made using the tie, and the sleeve to cover the wound. His eyes wandered to Queen Bee as she entered, a game plan already forming inside his head. "Are you able to get him out there safely?"

There was still someone else on her way to the deli. One would think that hearing the scream would cause her to move with a bit more urgency in her speed, but Anarchy liked to defy expectations. How could she walk through a war zone without taking time to admire the chaos and destruction that had been done? Sure, it was her job to stop shit from hitting the fan like this, but part of her really couldn't help itself. It was a work of art, really. The fact that somehow, the group managed to fuck up this badly along the way to victory that bodies blended in with the trash and litter, cars had been abandoned and created an apocalyptic hellscape, and bullet casings glimmered in the sunlight, was actually kind of funny to her. It was more of an ironic joke filled with a pathetic punchline, but it was still enough to cause her to smirk gently to herself.

A head of sandy blonde hair peered inside the deli as she opened the door, completely ignoring the large hole. Even though the bell above the door rang to alert the store that she was entering, Vihaan didn't move. He was still standing in front of the doorway, stunned. His head whipped around as his feet were lifted up off the ground, and he watched as Anarchy held her arm out, eyes glazed over, and moved him over beside Wayne and gently put him back down. "What did I miss?" She asked as she walked closer to the dying president. "I just need to make sure, is The Night Watcher still alive? He took a pretty high fall with the congressman earlier, and I haven't seen him since."

"The adults are trying to figure something out, so please, shut up." Pearson snapped over to the purple crayon.

Laughter erupted from Anarchy as if a comedian had just produced a knee slapper. "okay, okay," she said as she placed her hands up in the air in defeat. "I'm going to go silence myself over there, then." She turned around, taking a spot beside Iron Head as her lifeless eyes watched over the scene playing out.

"He's not going to die," the Crayola Queen said over her shoulder, not specifically to Nellie, but to anyone who'd listen, honestly. "He's one of the good guys, good guys don't die. Except for that one guy who was on the news like...last week. What was his name? The one who was able to shape-shift, or whatever? Anyone know what I'm talking about?"

"Mirror. He called himself Mirror." Vihaan finally managed to speak, his arms crossed and his head facing forward.

"Hey, dick head, let's try not to encourage her while we're trying to focus, okay?" Wayne looked over at Vihaan as he spoke, his glare intensifying as he watched Vihaan itch his chin with his middle finger. Anarchy's laughter chimed in once again as she instantly picked up what Vihaan was attempting to put down, which caused him to feel just slightly proud of himself. It wasn't every day someone was able to actually understand his sense of humor. Even if the person who was laughing was a known murderer, who was making light of a very tense situation.

As Queen Bee executed the task she was given, Pearson looked over to Sabine. "Are you okay? You don't have to worry anymore - it's over. Everything is under control...everyone's okay." Pearson looked around the room at everyone, his eyes bouncing from face to face, hero to hero. "Everyone is okay, right?" The question caused pain to jet from Anarchy's shoulder, finally causing her to pay attention to the wound in her shoulder. She looked down, noticing the blood that was still drizzling from the fairly deep hole. It wasn't pouring like it had earlier, leaving a streak of red down her costume, but the bleeding still wasn't over yet. Still, she gave him a thumbs up.

Vihaan nudged Wayne's ribs gently with his elbow, nodding in the direction of Carver and Jules as he spotted the two of them outside. Wayne motioned for the man to follow him as he started walking toward their direction, the urgency flowing through his legs. "Detective Maddox, detective Carver," he called out to the two of them as he closed the distance. "Good work, both of you. Hell of a first impression, that was. Can't say that I'm really satisfied with calling today my first on the job, but you two really impressed me. Especially you, Juliet." His eyes looked over her new S.W.A.T. getup, smiling softly at the prospect of her playing dress up. "You two can go home, take the rest of the day. I'm not sure if you've heard about Perry, but he's in critical condition right now. So Vihaan here is going to be taking Perry's spot tomorrow."

"His spot? For what?"

"Jury duty. Angelina Trevors is having her last day of trial in court tomorrow, meant to decide whether or not she is going to be sent to jail on the grounds of multiple attempted murder charges, as well as meta-terrorism. She's suspected of having class 7 metahuman abilities, but there has yet to be any proof of her abilities. So the three of you are going to be undercover in the stands in case that missing proof presents itself. Detective Carver is in charge tomorrow, so please, listen to him."

With a deep sigh, Pearson picked up what was left of his suit's jacket. "Since you're all here, we can save the bullshit," he did notice, however, that Snowfall, and The Night Watcher weren't present. That's okay, if they didn't come regroup here, he would just go find them. "Instead of coming all the way down to the White House to sign this," out of his inside pocket in his jacket, Pearson produced a folded up document and a pen. "President Taffer would like to offer the lot of you a job. A government sanctioned superhero team, with a paycheck that'll be much bigger than any job you'll ever work. So, just sign the dotted line," He opened up the paper, laying it flat on the counter, clicking the pen and placing it on top of the contract. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Hoods and Capes."

[FONT=Marcellus, serif]Through flashing lights and law enforcement that moved with a complete and utter urgency, for one person the turmoil and strife had yet to finish. Flashbacks phased through his brain, in and out, back and forth. The things he saw...they were worse than anything that he could have seen happening during the attack on the conference. The things he did....that wasn't something to dwell on right now. But..the things he did, they were inexcusable. Conner had gone through his life punishing people for doing the exact same thing that he had build his career on.

Murder; it was a practice he had so much experience with that he was told he was good at. That wasn't Conner Lockheart, though. That wasn't The Night Watcher. Arsenal. In his hallucinations he kept hearing that name. He was called by that name so frequently that it must have been who he was before his life was apparently changed completely. It was getting hard to breathe, like a sumo wrestler was standing on his chest and applying more pressure by the second. He started to stammer toward the nearest building, gripping his chest as he attempted to let the air out of his lungs, to no avail.

Whack. Whack. Whack. As he attempted to get his lungs to work, the back of his head slammed itself against the brick wall behind him. It was worse than any asthma attack, and he's had people try to end his life via asphyxiation that felt more comfortable than this. His vision began to splotch and blur as he rested the back of his head against the wall, clutching his chest as his movements began to stop. The flashbacks had taken him completely, and that's when he realized; My life is flashing before my eyes.

"Several fatalities and injuries but...most of us are at full capacity. Perry had to be transferred to the hospital from what I've been informed.." [/FONT]

[FONT=Marcellus, serif]There was two people just on the other side of the corner talking, and their words instantly pulled Conner back to reality. His lungs opened up, and he instantly gasped for breath as he heard the two of them speaking to each other. Perry. He was hurt? Looking over toward the collection of ambulances, it was obvious to him that unless it was life or death, Perry would have just been taken to one of them instead of rushed to the hospital. As the air flowed through his lungs once more, the rage started to burn through his body as one last flashback reached him. A flash that took him back to one of the most pivotal moments in the entire conference event;[/FONT]

"No, I'm not going to kill you." Conner said as he slid his mask back on. He picked up Finn's gear once more, and looked him dead in the eyes once more. "But if you ever dare talk about Julia, or Hannah, or my parents ever again, I will kill you. And then I'm going to find your family tree, and I'll slaughter each and every single one of them."

"Haven't heard from you in quite some time, Arse-" And just like that, his own helmet was slammed against his chin, the lights fading out from his eyes ad leaving him unconscious. The Night Watcher stood up, looking down as how peaceful he actually looked just laying there. If anyone were to ask why Conner gave him an extra kick in the head, it's because Finn looked at him funny.

​

Perry was more than just some idiot that Conner met through the day. He had known him much longer than almost anyone in his own life. Perry was a small handful of years older than himself, and acted as his father figure throughout life ever since his own father disappeared. Nothing was supposed to happen to the ape, and Conner wasn't prepared to take this lightly.

The yellow crime scene tape broke off as the Lincoln burst through it, tires squealing and rubber burning. Conner slammed his mask down on the seat beside him in frustration. With one hand on the wheel, he slammed his other fist hard enough against the glove box that his hand went right through it, allowing him to grab his cigarettes and lighter without having to open the box. Was he stressed? Angry? Pissed beyond words? It was hard to put a finger on the exact emotion he was feeling, but it was enough to warrant a cigarette.

A familiar sound began ringing in his ears. The sounds of police sirens blaring. His eyes narrowed to his rear-view mirror, spotting a sleek police cruiser behind him in hot pursuit. His eyes panned to the gauge showing him the speed he was going at; way beyond the limit. In a bout of frustration, he slammed on the breaks, causing the cruiser to abruptly halt just inches from the rear bumper of the Lincoln. Unclipping his cape, he threw it in the back, and grabbed his leather jacket from the back seat. With his seat belt now off he quickly slipped into the jacket. As the officer hopped out of his vehicle, hand resting on his holstered weapon, there was an instinct calling to Conner. His eyes found their way to the handle of the M&P M2.0 pistol sticking out from between the seat and the arm rest. It was loaded, and the safety was already flicked off. None of Conner's arsenal of weapons were ever unloaded with the safety on. In the case of an emergency, the safety came as a bit of an ironic roadblock whenever he was required to, as Danny Devito would say, just start blasting. His chest heaved slowly as his hand edged closer toward the weapon, the tips of his fingers touching the butt of the gun.

Kill him. He is getting in our way.

The veins in Conner's forehead began to visible swell as the pounding began, seemingly in response to the voice that made itself present. His hand instantly whipped away from the weapon. "Fuck," he groaned, resting his hands at the top of the steering wheel. "Fuck. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!" For each use of the magic word, he slammed his hand against the horn, working as a bit of a censor in a ironic sort of sense. With a furrow on his brow the officer stood outside of Conner's window, tapping it with the back of his knuckle.

"How can I help you, officer?"

"You do realize how fast you were going, right?" Captain obvious asked as he pulled out his notebook. "I don't see any license plates, either. You know how illegal that is?" A silence fell over the officer as his eyes caught wind of the mask sitting on the passenger's side. Fuck. His eyes went back to Conner, the man's expression unreadable.

We've been made, Conner. The voice spoke to him once again, as his hand darted for the gun beside him.

Tale of the Hero's Fate

Chapter II: My Name Carries Fear
​

Monkey's eyes narrowed toward Kang-Dae, who proceeded to fold his arms across his chest. Normally whenever someone speaks, it's expected that an answer, or reply is given. This guy, Kyle, he didn't even grunt in response. He simply locked eyes with the Korean Crusader, a semblance of a smirk cracking at the right corner of his mouth. It wasn't even a fully drawn grin, but Monkey could see the confidence oozing out of the kid. He couldn't have been older than twenty four, or twenty five at the most. Monkey's memories of being twenty five burned into his brain like a branding iron. Things were going so well until...no, he couldn't think about the incident. He was thirty one now, and knew that the past was meant to be used as motivation for constructive developments, and not fuel for anger and self pity.

It's a generic cliche, saying that the tension could be cut like a knife through butter. That would could only be described as an understatement, considering if someone were to so much as poke the tension with the tip of their finger nail, it would flake and crumble like pie crust. Monkey's eyes flickered over toward Corbin Black, who had his hand hovering over the holster on his hip. It was obviously a hand gun of some sort; a handgun that caught Monkey's interest quickly. Corbin clearly cau

ght monkey's eyes wandering, considering he rested his hand on the grip of his weapon and focused his eyes on the ex con. "Are we having an issue here, gentlemen?" Monkey asked as his eyes left Corbin's weapon and moved to challenge his gaze.

"I don't know, are you two going to prove problematic?" Corbin's accent was thick, heavy and weighed down with an intimating tone. "I doubt you're armed, so tell me right now if you're going to make my job difficult, so I can take you right out of the picture."

Now it was Monkey's turn. He exhaled as rebuttals flowed through the passages of his brain. It only took about ten seconds of uncertainty before the grin painted itself on his face. "Last time a dime store crook threatened me like that," he brought his hand up to his mouth, feeding himself a bite of hot dog that was slowly growing cold in his hand. "He had to ask his mother for money to pay for the medical bills. So....I'd suggest that if you're going to shoot me - you better not miss."

It was Corbin, Kyle, and the box locked in a tense battle for control against Monkey and Kang-Dae. In all honesty, Monkey would have much preferred to be on Kang-Dae's side of the battle. The young man had gone up against people around Kang-Dae's size, and it never really ended well for him. "Subject 37," Kang-Dae's voice repeated itself. "You can keep your money, if you want, all I want is your word that Subject 37 is as good as mine." Monkey's curiosity tugged at him with an agonizing itch. He wanted to look over at Kyle, try and read his facial features. But he couldn't. Corbin Black still refused to break eye contact with him, and Monkey needed to establish that he always got the last word. Giving up easily wouldn't be a good way to make that name for himself. Not by a long shot.

The cockiest grin finally found it's way to Kyle's mug. Rule number 1: never break the silence first. It's a sign of weakness; defeat. "You understand the job, right? You know your role? You see what I'm doing to help you obtain your precious Subject 34, right?"

"It's 37, subject 34 died in an experimental aircraft crash."

"Oh, my apologies. You do what I tell you, and subject 34 is all yours. I'll oversee the operation personally."

Kang-Dae's eyebrow raised at the man's attitude. His hands curled into fists at his side, attempting to hold himself back. "Please keep in mind, Mister Egarton, that I answer to The German, not to you. I do what your boss tells me, because in the end, you're just about as powerless as I am in this whole ordeal."

In an act of what could only be described as asserting his dominance, Kyle raised his chin. His hand reached toward his hip, causing Kang-Dae to swing his arm behind him, pulling a Sig Sauer SP2022, instantly aimed toward Kyle as soon as it left the confines of his belt. Corbin didn't get his weapon out before the throwing knife left Monkey's sleeve, resting between his thumb and index finger, his arm cocked and ready to throw. "You want to do this, then?" Monkey's grin couldn't be hid. He looked almost like a kid who was about to get his little brother in the deepest shit, and was anticipating every second of what came next.

Raising his other hand toward Kang-Dae, Kyle's shit eating grin faded. "How about we all just calm the fuck down," His hand slid into his pocket, slowly revealing the cellphone that he held in his hand. With his head still facing Kyle, Kang-Dae's eyes flicked over toward Monkey, who mirrored his movements. Monkey nodded, and Kang-Dae moved his hand back behind him, concealing his weapon once again. Kyle held the phone to his ear, and then looked back to Kang-Dae. "It's the German, he says-" Kyle threw the phone toward Kang-Dae, raising his hand which sparked with electrical power. Out of the tips of his fingers, five small bolts of electricity shot out, causing the phone to burst into a blast of fire right in Kang-Dae's face. The knife left Monkey's hand, but was instantly shot down as another surge of electricity knocked it out of the air. "-What I say, fucking goes. You listen to me, because I am your boss for the next 48 hours. You step out of line, I kill you. Something goes wrong, I kill you. Fuck, if you even itch your balls without my okay, what happens next?"

"I'm guessing it's not going to be a field trip to the Lincoln Memorial?" Monkey spoke up. A quick smile that left as quickly as it came appeared on Kang-Dae's face, despite the fact that he had slipped stepping backward, and was resting against the hood of his car. He didn't want to move, he didn't want to react, he just watched. He tried to anticipate Kyle's next move, but was a bit more distracted by trying to figure out where that lightening had come from. Was it some sort of tech? Or was this guy a meta of some kind? Kang-Dae's eyes jumped to Kyle's wrists, despite the fact that they were covered with his jacket, there had to have been some kind of contraption that let him do what he just did. Nobody said anything about working with a meta.

"You might want to watch that mouth of yours. It might get you killed one day, if you keep shooting it off so carelessly." Corbin's weapon was still pointed with Monkey in it's sights. Monkey, of all people. Monkey, the same guy who wasn't even paying attention to the prick.

"Yeah, well, that gun is going to get you killed if you don't stop pointing it at me, dick head."

"I'm only go

ing to ask you one more time; do you two understand the plan?"
Kyle's voice was calm again, lacking any of the previous agitation that could be found just seconds ago.

"Yeah, we're going after the tr-" Monkey's sentence was cut off as a bolt of electricity smacked against his hand, causing him to drop the hot dog that was about to grace his taste buds.

"Yes, or no, that's all you need to say. You don't need to go over the plan where everyone can hear you. Common sense, Monkey? You ever hear of it? Or did you miss a step in evolution that caused your brain to not be able to process the most basic pieces of information?" This Corbin guy was really starting to become a bit of a piss off. Sure, he was handsome, and had a big gun, and muscles, and a gruff voice, and could clearly throw a punch, but he was far from perfect. Monkey heaved a deep sigh, putting his hands up in the air. Sliding his weapon back in the holster, Corbin looked down at the box beside him. These guys were nothing but a bunch of loons. The faster he could get this job over and done with, the better. It was always such a piss off whenever Tommy pimped him out like this. He made good enough money working heists for Tom, and he was so fond of the usual crew. The more Tommy "put Corbin's best interests in mind", the more frustrating the jobs kept getting.

Corbin looked down at his watch, blowing some hot air out as his eyes narrowed toward the garage door. "What, expecting someone?" Kang-Dae called over as Kyle turned around, heading up the stairs to the office.

"Yeah, isn't there supposed to be one more guy coming?"

With an eye roll that could rival even the crustiest of metal clad vigilantes, Corbin looked back over at Kang-Dae. "Clay was supposed to be here around the same time you guys got here. He had a job earlier, but I figured that was supposed to be done and over with."

"Clay? Earnest Clay? The guy with the rhino horn on top of his head?"

"It's a fin."

"Oh yeah, The Rhino or whatever he calls himself. I hired him personally. I have doubts that you guys will be able to secure Subject 37, and I knew Rhino's reputation instead of getting Mr.Giovanni to recommend him. Something tells me that he won't be showing up any time soon, so I'd say its safe to get this whole thing moving forward without him." Kyle sauntered back down the stairs, this time holding a folded up piece of paper. He reached out, and handed it to Kang-Dae.

"This operation gets rolling first thing in the morning. I want you two in position by dawn's first light. So if you could bring these materials to me before nine o'clock tonight, I would truly appreciate it."

Kang-Dae's eyes scanned over the scribbling on the paper as his other hand reached out and opened the car door. "I'm guessing I don't really have much of a choice, now, do I?"

"Is there a chance I can itch my balls now? I've been holding off since we got he-" Monkey's eyes looked around, seeing the glare from not just Corbin, not just Corbin and Kyle, but all three of the others. "Okay, okay, I'll just wait in the car." And with that, the defeated Monkey disappeared inside the passenger's side.

As the expensive car backed up and drove away, Corbin refused to take his eyes off of it. "I don't trust the skinny one. Are you sure you want to trust the two of them with something like this?"

"With a history like Monkey's, I don't know how we can trust him. Your boss told me personally that he's a good choice for the job, though. He's gotta be worth something if Tommy sent him. Besides, he might be able to get rid of our pest problem for us."

"Oh, come on. Do you really think someone like him can actually ]kill The Night Watcher? You'd have better luck getting Kang-Dae or myself to do it. I'm going to kill that annoying little fuck anyway, as soon as this job is done. Guys like Monkey open their mouths as soon as they get sat down in the interrogation room."

For the first time since the meeting started, the smile on Kyle's face actually seemed genuine. It wasn't cocky, or filled with too much confidence. He gave the Irishman a firm pat on the shoulder as he turned around. "I'm sure you will, buddy. I wouldn't underestimate that guy, though. He might talk too much, but I'd bet all the money I'll ever own that Monkey could kill The Night Watcher faster than you could even land a punch on him." Kyle took a few steps away, scooping up the large box and heading back toward the stairs. There was a plan to perfect, and a few phone calls to be made. A delicate process such as this couldn't be fucked up by any blanks that needed to be filled in.

"I don't trust the ugly one, are you sure you want to do a job like this for those two?"

Kang-Dae looked over at his new partner. A smile wanted to force it's way across his face, but his nerves were still shot from the stand-off that just happened. "I'm not doing this for them. I'd rather shoot them both in the back of the head when they're not looking. I'm not a murderer, though. I could never take someone's life."

"You carry a gun with you, though?" Monkey watched as Kang-Dae reached behind him, keeping one hand on the wheel. He tossed the handgun on Monkey's lap, who picked it up as soon as his shoulders decided not to be so tense. He slid the clip out, and examined the chamber. "You sneaky son of a bitch. How many times have you been shot at?"

"Me? Never." The smile finally found it's way to Kang-Dae's facial features.

"I'm surprised. Not many people like having an empty gun waved in front of their faces for intimidation. It's a wonder that nobody has called your bluff yet." Monkey's eyes lock

ed on to a building that was coming up. A place that he had some of the fondest memories of his youth at, just seeing the building brought a smile to his face. "Hey, you want to get some pie?"

After a quick pit stop at Ma's Diner, the two were back on the road again. Kang-Dae made sure to hurry the delicious break up so that they could meet with his contact as soon as possible. As much as he wanted to get a sixth slice of pie, he had to limit himself. "When we get there, I'm going to need you to stay quiet. These people we're meeting don't have the thickest skin. I'm starting to like you, so I'd rather not see your tongue get cut from your mouth."

With a dramatic nod, Monkey slid his fingers across his lips. It was like a kid zipping his lips up whenever his mom yelled at him to shut the fuck up. The silence lasted less than fifteen seconds, though. "That Kyle guy though....aren't you supposed to be over 21 to pull off a heist?"

"He's perfect, because if the police ask him anything, he can just say that he was attending his high school graduation." Neither of them could keep from laughing at this one. There came a time every day where everyone had to share a laugh. It was a requirement that Monkey's old partner, the man who pretty much raised him and taught him everything he knows, nailed into his brain. A laugh a day keeps corruption, evil and violence away. It clearly wasn't much of a lie; Monkey went six years without laughing. Now look at him. Everything he had ever worked for was fucked up. The man he looked up to turned his back on him so easily, it was a wonder that anybody could be trusted. Monkey's fist balled at his side as silence finally took over him, the scenery passing him by growing darker and darker as the snowfall began to weigh down heavier on his mood.

That was an odd commodity that Kang-Dae hadn't received since he had met Monkey a few hours ago; silence. His eyes scanned over his apparent partner, soaking in the hunched over posture. Monkey rested his forehead against his window, and moved the same way a stone would. His eyes moved back to the road as he reached toward his CD player, pressing play on the disc that was still sitting idly inside. "So you played the drums on this?" Kang-Dae motioned toward the speakers. "I think you fucked up royally, turning your back on your true talent and deciding to take a full time job as a murderer."

Kang-Dae's ginger chuckle might have soothed Monkey just a little; the look his comment caused him to receive was like daggers piercing right through his chest. That look only lasted only a few seconds though, Monkey's eyes softening and his mouth curling into a small smile. "So," Monkey cleared his throat as he sat back up. "Why are you doing this, then?"

 

[Elle Joyner]

Sabine​

---

Cradling Taffer's hand in her own, Sabine fought the tears the blurred her vision, and willing her mind to focus, she used his grip to cement a line between herself and him. Her head was pounding, skull rattling with too many thoughts, emotions, fears... but with whatever vestiges she could muster, she poured a sense of calm serenity into the man's mind... dispelling discomfort and anxiety, stilling the panic no doubt rippling through his chest.

A moment passed, and releasing the thread, she sank back against the counter, exhaustion coupling with piercing pain. Blood tinged fingers digging into her forehead, she breathed in deeply, and it escaped in a shutter a few seconds later.

"Are you okay? You don't have to worry anymore - it's over." She heard Pearson's voice echo in her head, and squeezing her eyes shut against the onslaught of burning moisture, she shook her head. She couldn't speak. Words wouldn't come. Even if they did come, she knew there would be nothing she could say that would make any sense. She felt hollow. Dug out with a spoon.

"Everything is under control...everyone's okay." No. No they weren't. But Pearson was doing his best. They were all doing their best. Taffer would be taken to the nearest hospital, and he would be worked on by the finest physicians. They would do everything in their power to save him. And in truth, they could... but then what? So many lives lost... Her eyes flickered around the room briefly, at the various injuries and agonized expressions. So much pain... radiating like nuclear fallout...

And she knew... She knew why.

"Everyone is okay, right?" No.

It wasn't okay. It would never be okay, so long as...

Pearson had moved off, and was addressing the field of heroes, but the words were warbled, as if her head were under water. Her stomach flipped, and heaving a breath inward, she held back the churning queasiness that was climbing its way up the back of her throat, again. Keep it together. Keep it locked in...

"Mr. Pearson." She started, voice quivering slightly, "...My father..."

 

[KatSea]

Juliet Maddox

The adrenaline that coursed through Juliet's system was beginning to dissipate, nausea of the world around her replacing the confidence that once pulsed through her head. She had never seen so many bodies in one place, and yet with a rifle at her side and the criminals in custody, she did not feel safe. A fear clawed in the back of her head that another shot would ring through the air, taking another nameless body to the concrete below, blooding seeping past their stomach and pooling into a crimson stain. Eyes locking to Carver as he hopped off the stage, she wanted to call out briefly to him, ask him not to leave her, but she forced the festering dread to be silenced. Any bouncing thought or concern that crippled her rationality was muffled, thrown to the side and drowned in a meaningless static. Any emotion that threatened to present itself on her face was dimmed, forgotten and disgraced from the corners of her mind. Her lips thinned watching Jethro step forwards towards the crowd...before stopping in his tracks. Juliet peeked ahead, clicking the safety on her weapon and properly gathering it into her arms before stepping off the stage. She raised her shades up over her head, parking it over her mane of blonde hair.

"Gentlemen," She greeted, cheerily, trying her best to keep the positivity in her voice. Noting the urgency behind Wayne's tone, Juliet straightened. The forced smile on her face dropped the moment it attempted to appear. The moment Wayne complimented her, however, Juliet's face flushed bright red. Good job. Good job good job good job. People are still dead but...at the very least everything is done. The criminals are going to be arrested. Everything is going okay, all things considered, damn straight I did a good job. Give yourself a pat on the back, maybe give Jethro one too. Honestly...I just wanna go home with him, sit on the couch with him, and watch some goddamn Castle until I fall asleep face first on the carpet. A perfect end to a shitty day. Anything to scrub the scene from my head. Hell, I'm a cop and seen the worst shit but this is making me freaking jittery, what the hell is wrong with me?

Juliet was smacked out of her thoughts, the world that spun around her coming to a halt at Wayne's confirmation. Home, they could go home, she didn't have to stay here any fucking longer...

"Yeah, um, Juliet mentioned Perry." Carver finally perked up, his voice tight and barely above a whisper. He balled his hand into a fist and covered it over his lips, covering an attempt to clear the tightness of his throat. "I think Juliet and I are going to swing by the hospital before we go home. Um..if they let us go see him, anyway." Juliet wanted to reach for Carver's hand as it parked itself back at his hip, noticing the light tremble that encased it. Professionalism be damned, Juliet had been aware that something was consuming Carver for the last few weeks. This additional weight must have been a Heraclean feat on the young man's shoulders. Juliet kept herself firm, however, despite the tremble at her lip that gave way. Later. Later. Carver knew how to keep himself composed. He was strong and could handle the new development far better than Juliet could have ever imagined.

"Jury duty?" Juliet questioned, absorbing the information once Carver grew stoic and tranquil once more. She faintly caught a murmur at his lips, but couldn't pinpoint what he was directing towards himself. Juliet never knew Carver as a praying man, nor as someone who would contemplate audibly while others stood idly by. "Understood, boss." She confirmed, a little more excitement in her tone at the idea of shaking this day behind and going undercover. Trial for a metahuman who could have very well done some super nasty stuff? Hell yeah man, sounded fun as all living heck and Juliet was glad to have the distraction. Besides, it was gonna be wicked cool to be able to go undercover, Law and Order, Special Morons Unit. Heck yeah man, Juliet was reared and ready to goooo~

"We will be there bright and early, sir." Carver replied, seeming to easily accept the position without a moment of hesitation. His expression relaxed considerably, the humming at his lips coming to an abrupt stop. "Is there a possibility that a further file on our suspect can be provided for detective Maddox and I to review for tomorrow? I want to make sure we know what we are handling before we step into the courtroom. Vihaan, I would like for you to meet us prior to the opening trial to discuss possible gameplay. There's a possibility there may be other locations the missing evidence can present itself, so the more we know about our suspect and her activities the better."

"If possible, maybe we could get a hold of the victims of Trevors? I imagine they are witnesses to the case, so if possible we should approach them after the opening hearings. If anything, they may have seen something to suggest that she has something along those lines." Juliet pipped up, catching the quick glance of Carver ahead of her. His hand shot forward to clutch the shades that sat atop her head, and with a quick jerk, he slid them from her crown and planted them over his eyes.

"Good thinking. Better yet, if Wayne can find their initial statements during police interviews, that may prove to be a good stepping point as well." He scratched the back of his head before directing his next statement to Juliet. "I just have one more thing I want to do before we go visit Perry. After that we can go home. Hell, we can go pick up something for Perry and I'll get some take out for the two of us." A light grin threatened to pull at his lips as he claimed, a tad more quietly "I would offer an all nighter but I don't want to see a crotchety Juliet in a crowded court room at eight thirty in the morning. As...hilarious as that would be, I'd be the one sitting next to that monster."

"Rude..." Juliet murmured, although she couldn't stay irate at him for very long.

"But I'm not wrong in any sense of the word." Carver retorted, a light snort escaping him. "Jules, I want you to stay here with Vihaan and Wayne for just a second, gather some information, I saw a couple of civilians I feel need to be checked on."

"Suspicious characters?" Juliet questioned him, her brow raised.

"Not quite. I'll be back...meet me at the car, okay?" Carver flashed her a wary smile, giving her hair a quick ruffle before ducking past Wayne and the rest of the crew, disappearing past the evacuating crowd and towards the general area of the Deli. Juliet frowned.

"Sometimes I worry how he even qualifies as a detective...Has the attention span of a goldfish." She muttered, mostly to herself, her eyes darting back to Wayne with an apologetic smile. "Thank you again, sir. We will spend time researching the court case tonight and make sure we are prepared for the day ahead." I hope he doesn't mind if I kick back a bottle of wine while I do...

 

[Sail]

He stood there. Not moving, just breathing.

Staring, into the void, his eyes fixed to a single point in the air.

The presence in his mind shifted forward, then back. Forward, then back.

A brief flash of actual presence; Kallen made his way out of the butcher's shop, brushing his hand along the ridged surface of the doorframe. His gaze fell upon the slowly gathering cloud of heroes near the beaten and battered stage.

Forward, then back. His motions went from fluid to stuttery, slow and unsure as if someone wasn't confident in the most basic of physical movements.

What are you doing?

What are you doing?

I'm trying to protect you.

Kallen kept moving forward-his eyes only briefly snapped towards Anarchy as she passed him on her way to the deli. Sorry buddy, we got you to safety. That's all Kallen needs to do, he doesn't need to do anything else. Protect. The presence from the back of his head had fully taken control at this point; it was no longer Kallen, but Sal.

From behind, a voice. "...offer the lot of you a job…"

Sal, please let me control my body again.

Fine. But only for a moment, this place is still dangerous.

"Just sign on the dotted line."

 

[Mobley Eats]

Iron Head | Interactions: Everyone in the Deli @Seductress @Sail @Elle Joyner | Location: Deli | Status: Casual Face Plant

Iron Head almost didn't hear the response, even when she was the one to demand an answer to begin with. Who the hell was this, anyway? She couldn't recall this woman's face and the amount of panic riddling her features, increasing the pressure of her blood, the speed of its pumping through her veins--none of it helped to clear the avenger's head. Emotions were distracting. So goddamn distracting...

But nowhere near as distracted as she had been. She let a missile hit Taffer. A whole. Fucking. God. Damn. Missile. No one else was to blame but her. How'd she let this happen? There was no deep-seeded sympathy for the man himself, there couldn't have been. She barely knew him and care even less about his existence. No... It all boiled down to her incompetence.

How in the fuck was she supposed to hunt down and kill the doctor, a tyrannical scientist hiding behind armies of bio-engineered nightmares, when she couldn't even handle a few death torpedoes?

Pathetic.

Fucking pathetic.

With the sudden wave of stress came a second wave of nausea. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, only picking up bits and pieces of Wayne and Pearson's conversation. Don't worry. Paramedics. Getting him outside... Who in the fuck were all these people? Why were so many showing up at once? Where were they earlier when everything swan dived into the ass crack of Hell? Maybe then things could've turned out differently...

But Iron Head wasn't supposed to care or get hung up on the past. Present. She needed to ground herself. Swallowing back bile, she forced her gaze back up, taking in the blood display. The blood didn't bother. Fucking of course it didn't, but the slew of thoughts and annoyance at herself raged like an erupting volcano, bathing her in magma disappointment and shame. Idiot. A fuck up. She royally fucked up--

"He's not going to die."

"..." Slowly, she shifted attention to the new body plopping down next to her. Anarchy. Smiling and cheery while in the thick of discord. Well, she supposed it was actually the lull of discord, but still chaotic and shitty in its own right. What... What in the hell was she going on about? Good guys never died? Who the fuck was going to believe that load of bull? Or was she just spouting lies for the sake of the sniffling woman? Probably. "Yeah. Sure. They never die," she grumbled while sweeping both hands along her soot-riddled helmet, "Just hobble around legless like a flamingo with PTSD. It's fine. Everything's fucking fine." Any other time, the visual would've made her cackle (internally), but not today.

Definitely not today.

At Pearson's query about their conditions, Iron Head merely scoffed and wobbled onto her steel-clad feet. Her balance swayed, only for a moment, before she righted herself stubbornly. She waved off Pearson with a scoff. "Dealt with worse. As for the others..." Her eyes jumped from person to person, all sporting various degrees injury. Than she looked at Anarchy again and saw crimson intruding the violet. Red and purple? In art, probably not a bad color combo, but this was far from visually appealing. Or healthy. She risked a whiff towards Anarchy, honing in on the woman's system. Low blood pressure, but thrumming in an... intentionally relaxed way? This wasn't just a heavy loss of blood, she honestly seemed... calm.

The actual fuck was up with that? ...Whatever. Wasn't Iron Head's business. She shook her head. "Can't speak for any of them... except for the one leaking like a faucet. Plug that shit up... We've got enough blood around here." More than enough. Adding Anarchy's to the sum total would just turn the Deli into a bloody Slip 'N Slide. Wonderful mental image. Really.

Grunting, Iron Head trudged up to Pearson as he retracted the document from inside his jacket. Again, she only tuned into the bits and pieces that mattered to her. A team backed by the government. A job. Something about hoodies and capes... Fuck it. Her head was throbbing too much to absorb details that wouldn't matter to her in the future. Not even waiting for Pearson to finish, she snagged the pin and signed the fucking dotted line.

There.

She sold her soul. Good luck to the poor bastard that had to be in possession of it.

"Uh huh, yeah. Go team... Time to sing Kumbaya around the fire. Shit's gonna be cathartic." She gave pause when Transfer stumbled past her without a word, gaze distant and straying off to somewhere else as he approached the document as well... Odd. Again. Whatever. She didn't care enough. What mattered now was catching her breath somewhe--

Nellie would wake up with a long list of emotions: Confusion. Realization. Embarrassment. Aching. Annoyance. And cursing up a storm.

But, for now, she'd have to deal with the black out that washed over her like a tsunami. Like a repeat of history, she fainted and face planted into the rubble of the Deli.

Well fuck... welcome to the Hoods and Capes...

 

[KatSea]

Snowfall and Torrent Presents~ I Should Have Stayed at Home

Torrent couldn't stop the flood of mental torment and the string of curses that drowned everything else out. Blair's voice didn't register in his mind. He could see her mouth moving, exaggerated motions accompanying with each message that went unheard. Every fiber of his being wanted to rip the mask from his face, toss it on the ground, and conduct a much more orderly inspection of his sister to ensure she was alright. His composure remained unshaken, however, and he found strength in his legs to move forward. "Are you alright?" His voice finally broke through his sealed lips, tone groggy behind the solid material of his mask. His eyes darted behind their slits, taking his sister in for the first time since he arrived. Parts of her uniform had minor tears, mainly along her sleeves, but there was no sign of blood or bruising on her. Her eyes were wide and alert, scrutinizing his each movement. Her hand came to grip around his wrist, very gently guiding him away from his examination.

"Why aren't you at home?" Torrent barely absorbed the message that had rung through the air. Adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, having dashed like a madman to get there. He was certain he had tripped over someone's arm on the way in, but he hadn't paid enough attention to truly notice the carnage. Blockage? Didn't Blair call this repression at one point when she had gushed to him about psychology? It had been years since he saw Blair happy within an academic field, coming to his room to plop down her nearly organized notebook, tainted by a variety of different ink colors. He remembered the term repression written in purposely shaky writing, a dark maroon color to further drive the creepy factor home. The exact meaning was lost to him, although he recalled it was a response to trauma, stuffing it down into the subconscious and ignoring the fact it was there. Huh, maybe he did do something like that back there...although he also had to admit, he closed his eyes for most of the walk to find Blair.

"Saw the news...ran to get here..." Torrent explained in a wheeze or less, anxiously pulling at the hem of his hood. "Figured I could...I could help. Sorry...and...before you ask, I was not a dumbass, got Vince to come to the house." He held up a hand in front of him, just in case Blair reacted before he had a chance to explain himself. If Jem had left the house with no one else there, Blair would have out right murdered him. And, to be perfectly frank, he would have assisted her. Leaving the house alone was a dumb, sinful idea. Jem wouldn't ever cross that line of moron. Snowfall still didn't appear to be relaxed by the reassuring words her brother spoke to her. That didn't matter to her in that moment. James came to the ruins of a terrorist attack. He had walked through ground zero to try and get to his sister. There was so much unnecessary bloodshed he had to witness in order to get there. It was Blair's job to protect her little brother, even if he had voluntarily worn the mask and cape. Even if he agreed to help her when she needed it. Now, here he was, exposed to a reality she would have never wished upon anyone else. And she knew he was strong, stronger than he gave himself credit for. That was one of the reasons she felt pride run through her veins when she saw him at work, even if he did fuck up, even if he was a second late. He was strong, brave, and goddamn stupid. She approached him, one hand cupping the cool steel of his mask.

"You should have stayed home...Running into a war zone is a death wish, Jem..."

"You did the same..." He grumbled, not fighting his sister's touch. He huffed. "I should have come here sooner...could have saved more people if I just..."

"No, James, that wasn't your job. Your job was at home, you were doing something so precious. That...and if you got hurt in this goddamn hailstorm...I wouldn't have forgiven myself."

"Same goes to you, B." He grumbled, finally prying her hand off him before giving it a squeeze, letting it fall back to her side. "I...I can at least help you clean up the mess...I can take you home. I rented a shit ton of old nineties horror shows the other night....that and we have enough shit at home to make cupcakes. Figure we could both use that."

"Yeah...that sounds good, I just want to...I just wanna check in with the other heroes first, okay? Wanna make sure they are okay, and maybe talk to Vice President Pearson."

"Oh, fuckin' A that's right..." Torrent blinked, a sudden tremor to his shoulders. "Heh, didn't think I'd be meeting the leader of the country today..."

"Keep that as your focus, okay? Um, Tor, I'm gonna ask you close your eyes for the remainder of the walk if that's...if that's okay."

"Oh, come on B-" Before James could think to protest, Blair lifted an arm and squinted.

"Just do it. Believe me, dumbo, this is more for me than it is for you." Torrent sighed, swallowing his pride as his fingers looped around the crook of her arm, closing his eyes in defeat. She guided him through the chaos, giving him a gentle tug every couple of seconds to redirect him. Jem tried to imagine it wasn't to avoid a body, tried not to imagine the carnage that surrounded him. He swallowed, grip tightening into the fabric of his sister's uniform. He felt like a goddamn child again when Blair would take him out in public. He felt oddly vulnerable, but he didn't have the strength to complain against the actions that were taking place. She meant it when she said it was for his own benefit, grateful for the moment that he didn't have to reabsorb the bloody scene before him.

"You are good, Jem." He finally heard her say, eyes flickering open as he realized he was at the front end of a deli, although his eyes immediately darted away from the scene that was happening inside. "It's okay...just...yep, eyes right over there." Blair gently turned his body, eyes peering in the direction of Joe Pearson. Nerves gathered in her throat, and for a moment, she was afraid to approach him as other heroes where coming to sign what appeared to be a document. Her tongue was transforming into cotton with each passing moment, and she couldn't find a way to unravel herself. However, as her eyes flickered from side to side, from her brother to the deli, she finally got the courage to pipe up,

"Hey uh, any of you seen Night Watcher?"

 

[Zerofighter]

Liz Larson:Sunspot.
Location:Near the Diner



Liz needed to get some air. She just needed to breathe. That's all, it just felt like everything around her was closing in around her. An ever growing darkness, surrounding her. Trying to snuff out her light. To empty her, like a void. Nothing left but pain and loss. She couldn't let that happen, she couldn't let this take over her. Despite wanting revenge, wanting to rip out the lungs of the men who killed her dad. To make them feel the pain she did. She couldn't go down that route. Is that something her father would want?

To see his little girl become a cold blooded murderer? Being a hero doesn't mean she is a murderer. Could she even take the life of another? Thats not what a true hero was. She was Sunspot. The hero with the light to end all corruption!

Well you almost did it today. You tried snapping that man's neck
"That was different...I didnt do it. And I wont…"
Its not in your nature. A true hero doesn't kill. It makes them better then a hero…
Do you think thats what Night Watcher meant?"
Maybe...I dont know why you like that psychopath.
I like Night Watcher, because he is like a hero. Thats what I want to be.."
I think you should remember, true heroes dont talk to themselves…."
"Shut up, will you….You know why I talk to myself!"
Because you're crazy."
Liz simply rolled her eyes, as she began thinking about what Night Watcher told her.

"Being a real hero goes beyond having powers, and knowing how to fight. That's the first thing you need to realize

"Face it Liz...you dont know what he meant. So stop acting like he did." She mumbled to her self, flying through the city. Liz kept thinking about all the advice she read about being a hero. From all the comics, and movies. All these different rules about what it meant to be a hero. Thats what it meant to everyone else.

What did being a hero mean to her though?

She kept caring about what everyone else told her about being a hero, and following everyone else. Liz kept ignoring what she wanted from herself. She was being what other wanted, and not what she wanted from herself.

During her epiphany, the young hero didn't realize that she was back in the city. Thank god she didn't fly into a building. Thought, it wouldnt be the first time she was hit face first into a building. With her luck, it wouldnt be the last. The city was nicer than being home. She couldn't even stand to see her mother. If she only knew….if she only knew the truth.

Liz patrolled through the city, still seeing the aftermath of the attack. Landing to the ground, taking it all in. This attack is a lot bigger than her.
"I'm not giving up….Im finding out who did this. I swear on my life.." She whispered, talking to herself again. Liz just needed help, the other heroes. That is...if she just knew where to find them. Where do heroes go to meet one another?

There was also that congressman she helped save with Night Watcher.
"Dammit...if I only paid attention to politics. I'd know who that guy was. Great...I have no lead, and no allies." She told herself, walking down the street. Her mind racing a million miles a minute. Liz had to find where the other heroes were and fast. Unknowingly, she walked in front of the diner where the other heroes were meeting.

"If I only knew where..".