Vigilance: Blood and Justice [IC]

[PlayingMonster]

"Has the weather cleared up at all?" Dani resisted the temptation to sigh. She'd been on a Skype call with her mother for a solid half hour, most of which had been her mother ensuring that she was eating properly, that she had money, that she was keeping up with her schoolwork and that she hadn't started selling drugs or became a prostitute or anything like that.

"Not really. If anything, it's getting worse." The constant rain had only gotten heavier, and the temperature was much colder than it had been. But it kept her mother from constantly nagging her to come home. She didn't feel ready to go back and face everyone, to go back to the places where they'd hung out. Hell, she still couldn't bring herself to go into a particular coffee shop that looked too like the one they used to frequent. She was relatively happy here, with her own space. Her parents were kindly paying for a rented apartment for her, so it wasn't like she was stuck in a hotel. No, she was staying for another little while.

"That's a shame." The doorbell rang in the background of her mother's house, and she looked behind her apologetically. "Sorry, love, I've got to go. I'll talk to you soon, okay? Bye."

"Bye." Her mother disconnected, and Dani leaned back, glancing at the clock on her wall. She really needed to try and find a job so she wasn't constantly asking her parents for more money. They didn't mind, but she did. She didn't like having to constantly depend on them. Looking out at the pouring rain and grimacing, she stood up and reached for her makeup bag.

Experience had taught her how to cover up everything from cuts to bruises to spots. She only had one or two healing cuts on her face, and most, if not all, of the bruising was healed up. She felt much more normal as a result, no longer having to worry about people staring at her bruises and cuts. She lined her lips with her favourite lipstick and pulled on the heavy winter parka that she'd had to invest in. It kept out the worst of the rain and, more importantly kept her warm.

Fifteen minutes later, she found herself standing outside the coffee shop that always reminded her of the one she and Callum had often hung out in. A notice on the door announced that they were looking for part time work. It would be ideal. But even just standing outside made her stomach twist uncomfortably. It might have been the only place she'd found that was needed somebody to employ, but she couldn't do it. She couldn't. She turned away and started walking, trying to calm herself down. She'd gone in once, testing herself out, and that had been too much. She couldn't work there. She shoved her slightly damp hair out of her eyes and started walking.

 

[Lord Wraith]

T

he last thing the man known as Wrecker should have done was pause to look at his potential allies. Having seen the effect, or rather lack thereof that Hank's pistol had done to the larger man, Terry scrambled back, kicking upon a locker and picking up a rocket launcher. Without thinking, he pulled the trigger, the confined space of the small hallway gave the exhaust from the rocket nowhere to go as it incinerated the men and ignited the interior of the tugboat. Screams of anguish came from within the boat as flames began to build, a pillar of smoke rising into the rain filled sky as ice pellets continued to pummel those below.

Despite this, whatever layer of ice that lay upon the harbor waters was far from solid. It was obvious to those who had watched the Angel's assault that the man had no understanding of freezing rain, no matter how supernatural this rainfall was. While the ice Angel had landed on may have held for a few moments, the men he had carried off the boat suddenly were dropped into the freezing waters as the ice beneath him gave way.

Caught off guard by the chaos that had consumed their vessel, the remaining five Fierros turned their gunfire away from the local law enforcement on to those assaulting them directly. Despite this, the local law enforcement had already relaxed thanks to the intervention of Jackson and his wall of pressurized air. With their guard down, the officers hardly expected the Fierros to receive backup as the large SUV suddenly slammed into a cruiser. The black and white car's sirens going off one last time before it sputtered out and slid into the harbor bay. Scrambling to the other side of their cars, several officers collapsed to the ground as gunfire from heavy weapons ripped through their bullet proof vests.

"Sarge! We're in trouble back here!" One of the officers got on the radio and yelled only to be drowned out as an explosion rocked the very bowels of the tugboat. The flames had spread into the makeshift cargo storage, superheating the drugs, melting containers and mixing to create an explosive compound. The result had exploded, damaging the hull of the tugboat as it now began to fill with freezing water, slowly sinking into the harbor.

---

Opening his eyes with a groan, Mayor Timothy Simmons looked up at his 'rescuer', caught off guard by the dark motorcycle helmet as he jolted back, pain shooting up and down his body.

"I'm alive, I assume I have you to thank." Simmons muttered as he reached into his pocket, searching around for his cellphone.

"Gina?" He suddenly said looking up at the rider. "Did you rescue Gina?" He tried to move, pain coursing through his body as he saw his assistants unconscious body lying against the door of the over turned SUV. His phone suddenly began to ring and Simmons answered it quickly, slamming the phone to the side of his head as he answered it briskly.

"What?" His eyes widened as the person on the other end explained about the airport and the impending doom of the plane.

"What do you expect me to do about it? I can't just clear a runway. I don't have fucking superpowers!" Simmons yelled, no doubt while the vigilante rolled his eyes.

"Call the fire brigade? So they can what? Put a ladder up to the plane, spray more water on the fucking runway? You know the fire brigade fights fire, not creates them!" Simmons roared as he hung up the phone.

"Morons, what do they expect me to do about a crashing plane?" He muttered as he went back to Gina. "Look you just going to stand there and gawk or are you going to help me?" Simmons snapped as he looked back at the vigilante.

---

"Are we an evolution or a whole new species?" The young teacher began as he put the next slide to his lecture on the projector screen. "Recent studies have shown that the Hype gene, the gene which gives us our unique ability is created through a concentration of high energy particles most often found in coronal mass ejections from the sun. It seems when these particles are absorbed through our external dermal layer, they merge with our very DNA. While humans can't just become a Hyperhuman from a good tan." The teacher paused as a small series of laughter was stifled by the class in front of him "It seems that when this basic gene is passed down through generations eventually becoming the complex Hype gene." A knock at the door caused the teacher to pause as he turned to look at who his visitor was. A smile crossed his face as he saw the familiar appearance of his mentor, Anthony Strum.

"What can I do for you Sir?" Aiden Roth said with a small salute.

"I have a substitute to replace you with me. I need you to suit up, we're going to help out an old friend." Strum replied.

"Read Chapters 2 and 3 for next week, and don't fry the sub." Aiden added with a mocking stern look as he turned towards a particular pair of Neptunes who chuckled softly.

---

The reply to Emma's message came through as soon as Aiden and Strum departed from Pacific Royal Collegiate and University. The experimental hovercraft broke through the sound barrier as it travelled down the West coast. Having surveyed the weather thanks to Emma's tip, the Commander had decided it would be best if the pair didn't fly. Coming in off Sugar Beach, the hovercraft docked against the beach as a truck was unloaded for the pair to use. Climbing into the big Dodge, Strum took the wheel while Aiden climbed into the passenger side.

"So where do we find Emma?" Aiden asked as Strum took the truck onto the road.

"According to her data, she's been frequenting a club known as Nevermind. We'll have her meet us there. Give her a call." Strum said tossing Aiden his cellphone. Dialling the number, Aiden waiting for the other end to pick up.
"Hey Em, it's Aiden. S.H.I.F.T. sent Strum and I to Crescent City to help you out. Can you meet us at Nevermind?" Aiden asked, excited to see Emma again. Too bad the weather wasn't willing to cooperate.

 

[Stein]

[BCOLOR=transparent]It was the burst of cold that really fucked Sarks up. His situation wasn't ideal to begin with. The altitude and the pressure left the space around the floating Magni --as he rushed to the mountain, intent on finding Valura,-- like floating on a frozen expanse of ice in the middle of the Arctic north. The whipping winds did little to enhance the situation, cutting through him with the fervor of a jilted love. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The burst of further cold was just disrespectful as it hit Sarks, locking his toes to his nose in a motion that seemed to ripple up him. The cold pushed an involuntary exhale from him and his fingernails dug into his palms, finding painful solace and warmth there. The wall of pure and invisible force, a washing wave of air, knocked Sarks' rigamortus rigid body from his stance on the block platform, snapping his head back. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Dark pools of strain appeared around his eyes as he plummeted through frigid air. Already, he could see white spots of snow and hail forming around him and falling gently to the earth. A stark contrast to his own form. The change in pressure, so sudden in an already fickle location, incited a pounding and throbbing from Sarks' mind and he strained to settle his mind, unable to conjure anything. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]'She'd probably have the audacity to scold me for getting knocked like this.'[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The stray thought didn't elicit a smile from Sarks, but it did give him something to mentally anchor on: Valura's exasperated face. Something he had seen an inordinately high number of times. He traced her eyes, the subtle arch of the left eyebrow as it rippled movement to the right eyebrow, blocking out the throbbing in his brain. He followed the flare of her nose as her sharp intake of breath helped him calm the pounding in his head. The roll of her shoulders as she looked up to the heavens searching for answer to his various bouts of stupidity helped him roll his own. And then his forearms. His wrists next. Finally, there went his hands. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]With a resolved exhale of air from his nostrils and a furrowed brow, Sarks jerked his legs free, moving the entirety of his body. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The process of "un-freezing" himself had carried him to the point where he could see he should probably be worried. Looming below him, gaining swift ground, was Towers Bridge. The long expanse was only getting larger as he fell and he struggled to gain a level position. How could he stop his descent in enough time? Luckily, true panic wasn't something Sarks experienced much in these days, his years on this earth. A sense of urgency? Without a doubt. But, he still thought through his actions and soon he was extending his hands and feet, focusing on each extremity, attempting to forget and negate the excessive presence of the wind. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]A tingling sensation began in his hands, unlike the sharp prickling the pelts of rain were causing. It warmed him, pulling on the Nox from his own self. The sensation milked its way from his core, with an ebb and flow not unlike that of the tides as he willed the Nox to bend to his will. Finally, reaching his hands, he felt the familiar gel-like Latch Block form around his left hand, and the next on his right hand. Tracing his own frame, he enveloped himself in a multitude of Latch blocks, encompassing both his feet, thighs, torso and so on. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Now came the difficult part.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]His speed was such that he couldn't stop himself with a sudden jolt. And he could see he was too near the water, which would hit like solid ground and kill him, to gracefully come to a complete stop. He needed to slow his descent enough make sure his impact didn't end him. That's where the blocks came in. Willing them to pull up on his body, he strained against the force of wind and gravity itself as he commanded his blocks to float up. By no means was it enough to bring him to a suspended stop, but after a few seconds, he began to notice a slight slowing in his descent. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He willed the blocks more buoyancy, competing against his weight and pull of gravity. He could feel the upwards tug on his body from the blocks as they did their work, slowly -- a little [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]too [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]slowly for his tastes -- but surely. Now, he could see the bridge he was hurtling toward was in a state of panic that he couldn't decipher just yet. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]'When it rains, it pours.'[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]But he had to worry about his own safety at this very moment. He had arguably slowed himself amidst the torrential rain and winds enough to enact the last part of his plan. Releasing all of the blocks around his upper body, he willed the remaining blocks around his legs to slow him further. At the same time, he focused below him, hoping to time his speed of descent correctly. It was a challenge, pulling Nox from himself again and building it up in such a way. But he pressed on, storing the energy and mapping in his mind how the block would look. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]'A Latch Block. About 8 times its normal size. Fully intact. No breaks. Gelanius spell to fill the block at seventy percent. Yeah, that's good for it to cushion me. Surround it with a Base Block. No, two Base Blocks. More safety precautions. Couple that with energy I've expended and the trace amounts lost due to sloppy constructions, loose particles of Nox…..yeah, I'll survive.'[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]A surge of energy met his hands as he bounced the growing Nox energy back and forth between his hands, shaping it. The Latch Block appeared between his hands, small and a darker blue from the pent up energy stored within. If his calculations were correct, upon its expansion, it would level out in energy and be large enough to encompass him safely. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]At least, he [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]hoped [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]it would.[/BCOLOR]

 

[Olissa]

At home Emma swiftly undid herself of her attire and threw open her closet. Ah the glorious chance of wearing her little assembly that she liked to call her super suit. What, movie heroes had their special outfits, why wouldn't she be allowed to indulge a little into the fantasy of heroes and vigilantes. Aside from the fact that she wasn't supposed to engage in situations unless specifically told otherwise by H.E.L.P. Right, like that had ever stopped her before.

The first thing she pulled on was the light blue leotard that went under it all. It kept her abdomen warm, and while it didn't do much for protection against bullets, it certainly was lighter and more flexible to work in. Plus, if you could summon a kevlar vest in an instant, why bother hauling it around constantly?
The next item, or rather items, she put on were the short pants and half skirt. She'd seen it in a game once, and had taken a fancy to it. Sort of feminine, not too exposing, kept at least one leg warm, and looked flashy enough to make it obvious she was a vigilante and not a random bystander. Why she ever thought that was a good idea was anyone's guess.

It wasn't till she was pulling her blue crop top over her head that a thought struck her. The weather had gone south, or north might be a better term, meaning running around in bare legs would be the worst idea of the day. And as much as she liked expressing herself in her outfits, she wasn't going to freeze her legs off for fashion.
After having pulled her hair out from under her top she undid her skirt and pants again and searched for a similar color, but longer legged pair of pants. Kinda like the one she had seen back at the club.
No, bad idea. Borrowing clothes and risking a fade out was not something she wanted to go through again. You'd think she would have learned her lesson after the first time it happened. Luckily for her she found a form fitting pants. Kinda like yoga pants, but still actual pants, with a zipper and, pockets (though why anyone would put anything in a tight pair of pants was beyond her).

As she was hoisting the final details onto her outfit and preparing her cover clothes she heard a buzzing noise. It took a moment to realize what it was from. Her phone. She had left it in the pocket of her jacket, which she had so inelegantly dumped on the floor.
Just before it would go over to voicemail Emma picked up.
"Y'ello." she said, not even having looked at the caller I.D., but the second she heard the voice, the broadest grin spread across her face.
"Hey Em, it's Aiden. S.H.I.F.T. sent Strum and I to Crescent City to help you out. Can you meet us at Nevermind?" sounded from the other end of the phone. Any questions such as 'why are you calling' had been answered before she could ask them so she just hummed in agreement.
"Sure, oh gosh yes, definitely. I erm..." She kicked her closet door closed, "One sec." Focussing on her intended cover up clothes, she summoned them onto herself.
"You said Nevermind, right? I'll be there in 15 minutes. No wait..." She glanced outside. Yeah, the snow wouldn't let up that fast, even if it was just a little bit. "Make that 30, just to be safe." Under ideal circumstances she probably would be able to make it in 10 minutes, with no traffic, and speeding well over the limit, but she wasn't going to chance it. No matter how much she wanted to see her old team mate and leader, she wasn't going to kill herself for it. Kinda defeated the purpose. "See you there." And hung up the phone.

Why they had wanted to meet there, and not at her house or whatever was beyond her, and frankly, she didn't really care enough at this point. Her jacket was the last thing she summoned, before heading out the door. Since she had already been intending to go out again and see where she could help out, Emma had parked her car in front of the building, instead of in the garage. Slowly Paradise Strip came into view, and soon enough she was at the club building. She parked her car and walked inside, hoping to spot those familiar faces. It didn't take but two seconds for her to find them.
Emma rushed over, calling out their names, and full on glomp hugged the both of them before they could do much else.

---

---

Across the bedspread the components of a handgun were neatly laid out. Slender gloved fingers picked up each and every component one by one, inspecting them with great care. Any blemish that was found was immediately taken care of.
It had been a while since she had been out in the field. 58 days to be exact.
She kept track of how often she was considered useful in the field, and how long she was kept 'at home'. The home part strongly outweighed the active part of her job, unfortunately.
The same couldn't be said for the fellow by her side. Alex had something to do at least twice a month, sometimes leading up to as much as a task every night. Though that had only been once.
But tonight it was her turn to lend a 'hand'. A gun was more what she was offering. A bullet through the head. You could say a lot about her style choice being a headshot, but she didn't care much for psychology babble. She had taken a liking to shooting between a person's eyes, be it from far away or close by. Though in all honesty, she had a preference for being close to the target. Sniping felt too impersonal.

With a final click the magazine was slid into its position.
"I don't like having to use a gun that I don't know."
"You'll get used to it." The stern, stark voice of her brother sounded as he went over the intel.
"You'd rather I not go."
The silence that was met with that statement was an answer in and of itself. Of course he didn't want her to go. If it was up to Alex, Alice wouldn't leave the base, and he wouldn't allow others anywhere near her, other than for the usual check ups and tests that had become nearly routine. However their Senior had ruled otherwise.
This particular case required a specific set of skills. Namely a headshot, right between the eyes at point-blank.
The only sound that broke the silence between them was the flipping of paper coming from Alex. Once he had read it all he closed the file and passed it on to Alice.

The papers inside were brief, straight to the point, and all she needed to know.
A solo mission. For the most part. Alex would be near for support, but not allowed to engage.
A deep breath and long exhale.
"Alright, let's do this." Honestly she was feeling a flutter in her stomach. No doubt nerves and excitement messing with her.
Alex got up and walked over to the door.
"We'll be leaving in 10." He closed the door behind him with a tad bit more force than necessary, leaving her to change into her full attire.

 

[Blacksam]

'Keep the head boyo, whatever else just keep the head!' That's what da used to say for when a fight gotta bit hairy. Bet he'd never been ina scrap like this though!

Conall was in a tough spot, and no mistake. Pinned down with bullets whistling all around him, head ducked in hands while he cowered behind several thick coils of rope. The superior firepower wielded by the Fiero's was all the edge they needed in this rammy. Hell, Conall hadn't even had the foresight to bring a knife to this gunfight! Surely it was just a matter of time before the gunmen pressed their advantage forward to swamp his position, then it would be a damn short matter of filling him full of lead. Happened to him enough in Call of Duty, figures that it would be his end in real life in all. To make matter worse the thought that death would probably only be a temporary matter didn't allay his fears much. Dying hurt after all, hurt like an angry badger chewing on your family jewels, and on top of that there was no guarantee that what ever 'black magic' kept raising him from his not-so-eternal rest wouldn't just stop working.

It would take a miracle to get him out this one, and no mistake!

And lo and behold, a miracle did come, taking the shape of one of the Lords most holy warriors, an angel with shining wings and divine purpose. It was the noise that alerted Conall of the angel's coming, a great booming that felt so tangible that it mighta had a physical form. Horns of Heaven, one of the Seven Trumpets? The angel crashed into the gunmen who had been targeting Conall, answering prayers he had been to afraid to make. The angels bulk bore the group from the deck of the boat to crash to the half-solidified ice below. The Scotsman's jaw slowly fell open as his eyes widened in shock. If it hadn't been so cold he mighta caught a few flies.

Conall had never been one for religion, never been to a service nor attended Sunday school, not unless you were referring to the affectionate name for a drinking session on a Sunday afternoon. He was really regretting all that conscious ignorance now, fuddled mind desperately trying to fill in the blanks of what he was seeing. Surely it couldn't be an honest to goodness angel? Those things just didn't exist. . . Did they? It was safe to say that this latest development took his head well and truly out of the fight. If not for the explosion from Terry's rocket launcher then Conall may have stayed crouched there for the rest of the battle, looking as dumbfounded as a nun at an orgy, but as soon as he heard the detonation he knew he had much bigger problems than a crisis of faith.

The surviving Fiero's seemed to have realized how much trouble their boarders were making (To be fair it was the big fella and the angel who were causing most of the hassle, but the gangsters looked as ready to shoot Conall as they were to shoot the other two) and had ceased their gun battle with the cops to better target the good guys already on the boat. Most of the crooks took aim at the walking tank, but a couple of the Fiero's, one a guy of medium build possessed of model-liked good looks and the other a skinhead with the kinda physique a gorilla would be jealous of, decided the Scot looked an easier target.

This time though he'd learnt his lesson. He hadn't sat waiting on them to make the first move, instead he had made use of the confusion that had enveloped the vessel when the explosion had hit and grabbed himself a weapon, a sub machine gun dropped by one of the lads that had taken the impromptu swan dive into the drink with the angel. Conall raised the gun at the bad guys targeting him. I kept my head da, lets see if it helps. With my luck I doubt it though. He pulled the trigger.

Having never fired again before he was entirely unprepared for the kick of the weapon, it nearly jumping out of his hands as it spewed bullets out at his foes. His aim was terrible, the shots going so wide that he doubted he would have even gotten points for trying if this was a competition, but the mere thought of being shot was enough to cow the crooks he was facing now, who had dived for cover as soon as they seen that Conall was armed. That's a shame they missed my shooting, they mighta died laughing if they'd seen it.

It was then that a second, much larger explosion shook the boat. The 'ground' lurched under the Conall's feet, and he would have ended flat on his arse if it hadn't been for the years of balance training that his da had put him through. As it was he nearly stumbled off the vessel anyway, only just finding his feet at the last second. He managed to steady himself eventually, wondering what the hell had just happened and why the Fiero's hadn't used that opening to 'fill him full of lead'. The second question was answered when he looked back over towards his 'dancing partners' direction to see the gorilla on the ground with a split head, a pool of blood slowly getting larger all around his skull. The model crouched over the gorilla's body, trying to get his buddy to move. It took Conall a moment to figure out that the injured one must have fallen during the explosion. Serves him right, shoulda been paying more attention to his footing and less trying to kill me!

Mid gloat he realized that everything not on the boat was starting to sit at a weird slant. Not being much of a sailing man he was a bit slow on the uptake as to just why that may be. He narrowed his eyes and glared all around him, wondering if maybe all this action was starting to affect his perception. Then it hit him. A boat that had just suffered two explosions in as many minutes?

"Damn tub is sinking!" He muttered under his breath with a cold realization. "The tub is sinking!" He repeated, louder this time, before screaming it at the top of his lungs, again and again, trying to get everyone aboard aware of the dire situation. Anyone still on board when it went under wouldn't last long in that water, not in this cold. Even if they somehow managed to swim clear and get back on land they would then be half-drowned and soaked while being pelted by freezing ice rain. He wasn't an expert, but he reckoned not many people walk away from that.

He wasn't sure if the big fella he had seen cannonball onto the tub heard him, or if any of the other Fiero's did, but the guy tending to his fallen mate had, and he was beckoning Conall over, a desperate look to his eye. Without a second thought the Scotsman ran to his side.

"Is that true? Is the boat really sinking?" asked the model.

"I reckon. Seems to be sitting a mite lower in the water than it was." Answered Conall. The Fiero glanced at his wounded friend nervously, one hand rested on the mans meaty shoulder in a comforting fashion, even if the wounded man couldn't feel it. They're just people, realized Conall with a start. It had been easy to think of them as faceless bags of meat before, when they had just been trying to kill each other. Now though, now they where a couple of lads on the lookout for each other, probably never once pictured their day turning out like this when they had got up that morning. For all he knew they might have wives, kids, a family and this might just be their way of paying the bills, keeping their kids in warm clothes and food.

"Joey will drown if I leave him here," cried the model, despair thick in his voice, "but he's to damned heavy for me to move myself!" Conall could well believe it. The gorilla, or Joey, was probably well over eighteen stone of pure muscle, maybe closer to twenty. His mate looked pretty tidy himself, but there was no way he could cart Joey's dead weight. It wouldn't be too much of a surprise if it took a forklift to shift the big fella

It wasn't hard to read between the lines here. The model was asking Conall's help to move Joey, though not in as many words. Mere minutes ago they had all been trying their damndest to kill each other, now everything had changed. How easy would it be, just to let this arsehole die? That thought didn't hold much sway with Conall though. It wasn't the way his da had raised him, especially not now that he had actually spoken to the model. It humanized the Fiero's, no way he could leave them in a lurch now.

"We better get down to moving his fat arse then, eh?" Conall said with a smile. The model looked at him in surprise for a heartbeat, until he returned the smile. The two men crouched over Joey, Conall taking his shoulders while the Fiero took his legs. It was hard going, but they managed to half drag, half carry the big lad off the boat. They hauled him towards a stack of crates, placing him as gently as they could outta the line of fire. Joey moaned quietly as he was put down, a good sign. Hopefully.

 

[Shroud]

Back-up for Crescent City's finest finally arrived in the form of two squad cars, and the four accompanying beat cops inside. The newly arrived officers rushed to the aid of the fallen Foley, and to receive an update from their comrades as to the situation as it currently presented itself. Believing the danger to be immediately resolved, the six of them were too distracted to see the unmarked SUV heading straight for them, the sound of the engine drowned out by the pouring rain and wailing sirens, before it slammed into one of the back-up squad cars, sending it careening into the water below. Three of the newer officers managed to get their sidearms up and at the ready, with one shouting for the occupants of the vehicle to step outside with their hands up.

The SUV was at an angle whereas the passenger's side was presented towards the police. As such, they weren't in a position to see when the driver's side back door popped open and a figure stepped out, walking around the rear side of the vehicle and opening fire with his Stoner model light machine gun. The bullets tore through the bodies of two of the new arrivals immediately. The remaining two, along with Grenner, grabbed hold of Foley and dragged him around to the opposite side of the cruisers. Officers Martinez and Bradley returned fire, causing the machine gun toting criminal to hide behind his own vehicle. By this time, however, the second and third passengers had entered the firefight, rolling down their right side windows to spray at the cops with their assault rifles, forcing them to take cover once more.

Feona had only made it halfway to the tug before she heard the newly begun spray of gunfire. Though this time, however, the hail of bullets were coming from the opposite direction of the boat. Whirling around, Feona and officer Franklin saw the Fierros in the SUV opening fire on the others just as Grenner radioed the sergeant for help. With their fellow officers in danger, Feona gave up on storming the tugboat and instead began running back towards the cruisers. She didn't make it far, however, as, at the same time an explosion tore through the boat, the Fierro with the Stoner machine gun noticed Feona and Franklin making their way across the lot, guns drawn, and aimed his sights at them before pulling the trigger.

Feona hadn't been the only one to react to the automatic gunfire; Jackson, nearly upon the tugboat, heard it as well, and immediately halted, spinning around in midair, worried for his aunt's safety. He was initially relieved to see Feona was safe, though his concern for the cops under fire quickly took over. He glanced back towards the deck of the boat, still seeing several armed thugs on board, but he also knew, as his aunt had told him, that there were vigilantes on the tug, as well. Hoping he wouldn't regret it, Jackson decided to leave the situation on the boat temporarily in the hands of whichever vigilantes were present, just until he took care of the recently arrived Fierro men.

A gust of wind caught Feona and officer Franklin in the backs, pushing them down to the ground, beneath the line of fire. The shots that had been aimed at them narrowly missed, and would have found their mark if not for the intervention of Jackson. Releasing his previous wall construct, Jackson formed a small, curved barrier around his aunt and her officer, ensuring no stray bullets would strike them.

"Stay down!" Jackson ordered, soaring fast over their heads. As much as he respected his aunt's capabilities as an officer of the law, things had quickly gotten too out of hand.

Thrusting his right palm forward as he flew low, Jackson sent out a powerful wave of compressed air to slam into the SUV, momentarily picking it up off of it's right tires and jostling around it's occupants. It wouldn't take long for the Fierros to recover, but Jackson used the time to form another, slightly bigger, curved wall around the police cruisers to protect them. He hadn't taken as much time for either of these two new barriers as he had for his earlier, large construct and so they wouldn't last as long under continuous, focused impact, but they would offer much more protection than had previously existed.

Slowing his speed, and orienting himself as if he were walking on air, Jackson slashed his left hand diagonally at the muscled man with the LMG, a carefully aimed blade of wind, as sharp as any razor, sliced through the weapon's barrel, rendering it ineffective. The other two gunmen, as well as the driver who had up until then remained out of the firefight, turned their attention on him, readying their weapons. Several more pops sounded off as Feona and Franklin, from some distance behind Jackson, unloaded their weapons at the black SUV, and the men inside.

If it weren't for the combat scenario he found himself in, Jackson would have smiled at his aunt's actions, having ignored him and entered into the fray anyways. Instead, he swung his right fist around in a haymaker of sorts, sending a column of dense air into the former LMG toting thug two dozen feet in front of him, who had now armed himself with his secondary weapon, a pistol, knocking him back several feet. The man lost his grip on the firearm, which went skittering off under the vehicle, and his senses as his lungs were emptied from the impact.

The driver and two remaining gunmen inside the vehicle, apparently seeing the futility of remaining, kicked the SUV into reverse in an attempt to escape. Seeing the SUV start to move backwards, towards the fallen Fierro crook, Jackson brought his arms behind his back in order to build momentum, then shot them forward again, sending a solid blast of wind once more slamming into the vehicle. This time, however, Jackson had guaranteed the force of the blow would send it toppling over onto it's side.

Though he should hardly be surprised, Jackson was disgusted that the men in the SUV were willing to run over their own companion in a bid to escape. Walking towards the upturned vehicle, Jackson focused on the air inside as he slowly drained it out, depriving the group inside of oxygen just long enough so as to render them unconscious, though, admittedly, he had been tempted to keep them without oxygen for a few seconds extra.

Feona stepped up beside her nephew, admiring his handiwork. "Have to hand it to you, that was pretty impressive, Jack." She clasped him on the shoulder to show she was proud of him, then brought that same hand up to cuff him on the back of his head. "But don't ever give me an order again, got it?"

"You're welcome," He told her dryly, before adding after a brief hesitation, "I'll keep it in mind. No promises."

Feona turned to Franklin, "You and Grenner stay here; secure the perps." She caught the sight of two of her fellow cops on the ground, blood seeping from their wounds, and with no indicators of life. "And call in to dispatch, let them know we have officers down," She said, her voice full of sadness.

That sadness, however, was quickly replaced with a stronger emotion as her gaze focused on the sinking tugboat, and the rest of the Fierros who had caused this mess. "The rest of you, on me." Her determination set across her face as she spoke. "We have some bastards to apprehend."

 

[Blandman]

Black Shadow let out an audible sigh of disappointment when the mayor answered him. He found himself in one of those moments where he didn't quite wish death on someone, but at the same time...it would be quite convenient. Looking about their environment, he didn't see any immediate threat, so re-holstered his pistol. No, there was just a number of bewildered passers-by starting to congregate, rubber-necking at the scene before them. The vigilante cast a concerned look at the other car, making a mental not to go and assist them once Simmons had quit his whining. The man half-heartedly helped the illustrious public servant out of the up-turned vehicle, before over-hearing his conversation on the phone. He couldn't help but roll his eyes at the man's petulance. Was this really the man who was running their city? Then again...that would partly explain why it was in such a dire state.

He could see that Simmons had received a few cuts and bruises, but other than that he looked fine. Whilst he continued talking, Black Shadow turned to the slowly increasing curious crowd, some of whom had now produced camera-phones to record the proceedings once they saw that the mayor himself was on the scene. He didn't like that, he'd never been filmed before, not unless it was on CCTV. The thought made him uncomfortable, but what could he do? Every bastard and their dog had a camera these days. His concentration on the crowd meant he only vaguely heard Simmons' phone conversation. Something about the fire brigade, not creating fires, a plane crashing. It was only by the time that the mayor had began to start trying to help his assistant that the full extent of those words sank in.

Suddenly Black Shadow rounded on the other man, striding around to where he was and forcing him up to his feet by the scruff of his collar with both hands.

"A plane crashing?!" he exclaimed, his helmet about as close as it could be to the mayor's face, he even shook the man a little "What do you mean a fucking plane crashing?! Shit!"

Of course Black Shadow knew damn well what he meant. He released the mayor, and started scanning the sky in vain, hoping to catch some glimmer of the craft amongst the darkened clouds. And there was that feeling again. That feeling of helplessness, of vulnerability. The longer he had spent living the vigilante life, the more he had realised how limited he was. It was as if the night of the blaze was trying to repeat itself in the form of a new horrifying disaster. In a fit of panic, Black Shadow began to pace around, looking up at the buildings, down the streets and at the people around them, as if searching for inspiration. Each new drop of icy rain felt like a countdown. And then a thought came to him. Whether it was inspired, or simply madness he wasn't sure. But he was sure as hell going to go with it. Coming back to the mayor once more, he prodded a finger into the man's chest.

"Listen carefully," he growled "I'll help you and your friends here, but then you're going to do something for me. Clear a highway, the biggest one we got, and re-direct the plane to it. If we can't clear a runway for them, we'll God damn make one! Make whatever calls you have to Simmons. Or else I'll make sure you burn along with those poor bastards on board!"

At this point he didn't care how many people were around watching, or who might be listening. Black Shadow was always of the opinion that desperate times called for desperate measures. And things were well and truly beyond desperate in Crescent City.

 

[Roman]

"Wolfe."

Rustin paused mid-sentence, gazing at the word 'bald' as he prepared himself. He had been reading a case file from the week before, a burglary-gone-wrong that had become a homicide, and therefore his department. In front of him, on the desk, was an untouched styrofoam cup of coffee, steam still lazily drifting up. He followed the steam with his eyes until they finally met the man who'd interrupted him: Det. Gulch, a rough, bloated man with a fat wallet. Rust didn't particularly care for him, and Gulch didn't particularly care for Rust, and the two got along in mutual disdain. Rust put his file down, taking a pen and inserting 'cap' in the margin with an arrow pointing to 'bald', and then closed it and paid attention. After all, something worth Gulch approaching him had to be something important.

"D'ya think you could get off your ass and help the department out a bit? Your murder vic ain't going anywhere."
Rustin sighed. Perhaps not.
"The killer is, though." He replied. "And the beats are looking for a bald man with a full head of hair."
Gulch just looked at him. "What."
"He was wearing a cap. I looked at the CCTV. Guy kept scratching above his ears, both sides. One side you'd think it was an irritant, but both sides same level? Bald cap. For a disguise. Apparently it worked. Now, the feed was grainy, but I looked real close and wouldn't you know it, a seam. Easy to miss." Rust leaned back in his chair. Gulch sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose.
"Or, instead of catching some street-level thug no one cares about-"
"The law should care." Rustin muttered as gulch continued.
"-you could be helping the CCPD in its effort to stop the damn city tearing itself apart! I mean Christ, look at this. Fierro shootout down at the docks. Some anonymous tip about a drug shipment. They could use a hand."
Rustin looked at the file. "That's Major Crimes, not Homicide, and Feona is already on scene. They don't need another body to feed to the Fierro's, Gulch, and you've got to get more subtle in your efforts to kill me."
Gulch ignored him. "Mayor Simmons has gone missing after an accident." Rusting waved his hands.
"I abstain."
"On what grounds?!"
Rustin paused, musing. "Moral quandaries. Conflict of interests." Gulch groaned.
"There's a situation on the bridge."
"We've got squad cars there already and no info. In this rain it could be an overturned truck. Still not my department."

Gulch stared, hard. Rustin stared back, meeting his gaze but paling his ferocity. Gulch relented and Rust went for his coffee when Gulch threw down a final file, hitting the cup and splashing java over Rust's desk.
"Fine. Have something that's your department. Maybe that way you won't be able to find an excuse not to do your goddamn job."
Rust wiped down his arm with some tissue as he glanced at the closed folder. "What's this?"
"Murder. We think."
"We think?"
"No wounds. No witnesses. No next-of-kin. No money missing, no scuffs on clothes. TOD is mid-fucking-day. Guy's just dead."
"Heart attack. Medical. Why are you wasting my time with this?" Gulch just shook his head and walked away, flipping the bird behind him as he went. Rust growled and flipped the file.

Less that two minutes later, Rust was en route to the murder scene, coat on and file beneath his arm. A single word, printed in common, unassuming black ink burnt at the forefront of his mind: 'Exsanguination.'

~
​

The coroner was already on scene when Rust arrived, and the body was being moved onto a gurney as he stepped out of his car.
"Hey!" He shouted, jogging over, and the coroner - one Dr. Billis - looked up from his clipboard and watched Rustin over the rim of his glass as he jogged up. "Aren't you supposed to wait for the officer-on-scene to inspect the body before you remove it?" Rust knew he wasn't the officer-on-scene - that would be the patrolman standing at the end of the alleyway, taping off the entryway - but he was irritated that he'd missed his chance to go over the body for anything others might have missed, and he thought Billis might fold if Rust pulled rank and pushed him. Billis, with 20 years as New Lilith's coroner and a rather frank, no-nonsense personality, did not.

"You're not officer-on-scene, Rust. You're the detective who got assigned the case because it's interesting and you're good at your job." Billis went back to his clipboard, filling out a few final notes.
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Ron." He said, and Billis raised a single eyebrow as he pulled the gurney toward his truck.
"The body will be kept in the Fridge, and you're welcome to come and inspect it there. No next-of-kin, so you've got all the time you need. No loved ones to claim the body back." Billis handed a bundle of paper and photos from his clipboard to Rustin, who tucked the coroner's report into the file for later reading and inspected the photos one-by-one.

"Any health issues?" He asked as Billis loaded the body and shut the back doors on his van. Billis took his gloves off, walking around to the driver's side as he answered.
"None I could gather from initial inspection. I'll know more after the autopsy, so come and ask me again. No wounds."
"Externally." Rustin said, half to himself, but Billis knew what he meant.
"Like I said - I'll know more after the autopsy. As it is, you've got no footage, no witnesses, and an empty alleyway. We'll seal it off but in this rain, everything's going to be washed away." Billis got into his van and drove a few feet, turned around, and came back, rolling his window down as he passed Rust. "You've got one for the Cold Locker here, Rust." He said.
"I don't put them in the Cold Locker, Ron. I take them out."
Billis shrugged, and then drove away. Rustin didn't wave. He looked up, and pulled his coat tighter around himself.
​

~​

He gave the alleyway a quick sweep, but Billis hadn't been lying; the rain had obliterated everything Rust may have otherwise found useful, evidence-wise: no footsteps in dirt, no fingerprints to lift. There weren't even any bloodstains, which Rust found particularly peculiar for a case where the vic died from massive blood loss. He made a mental note of that. Anomalies were worth remembering for future reference. Beside from that, Rust was wasting time here, and getting wetter by the second.

He told the beat cop to photograph, bag, and report anything that seemed out of place - and even things that didn't - and then hurried back to his car, pushing his slick hair back with one hand and chucking his coat onto the backseat to drip onto the leather and carpet flooring. With the scene in the condition it was, he had to start his investigation at the source; which meant a visit to the morgue. Rustin rubbed his hands together as he waited for the engine to warm up. Looking up at the sky through the windshield, his only hope was that the initial CoD could have been wrong, and this was a medical case, no homicide. Exsanguination with no wounds. Rustin thought, his mind drifting to Hurt, and the events concerning the new 'hyperhumans' over the past year or two. Jesus fucking Christ.

​

 

[Stein]

[BCOLOR=transparent]As the Latch Block propelled from his hands, it swelled in size with balloon like intensity. He made contact with just as it stopped growing in a matter of seconds. His body broke through the wall of the Block and came to settle in the center of the Latch Block as it hurtled, ever closer to the water. Quickly bringing his hands together in the stasis-like space, he enveloped the large block in a Base block. The grey hue mixed with the blue of the Latch block and Sarks began to work on another, larger Base block. He couldn't be too careful. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Now, he was close enough, less than 15 seconds from impact, to see the chaos of the bridge. Even in the midst of his arguably more pressing situation, Sarks could register the state of panic surrounding a near-toppling bus. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]'I'm gonna have to fix that….aren't I?'[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He couldn't come to answer himself as his "bubble" of protection made contact with the chilled waters. The outermost base block shattered immediately, absorbing a large portion of the force of impact. The inner cube hit the water and Sarks gave pause for the worst case scenario. He sensed a crack behind him and knew the inner Base Block might be compromised, but he held his concentration, hoping to hold back the literal tide. A grueling, eternity-filled second gave way to his answer. With a resurgence of resilience, Sarks willed the block up, firing himself from the water, his Block still intact. Success! Releasing his hands, Sarks broke down the inner block, the energy made manifest now dissolving like shards in the wind. Below him landed a 4 Base Block platform, floating in the air. He landed on it with familiarity and silently cursed whatever was coming from that mountain.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]And then he verbally cursed it. Finally, he added a series of gestures, hoping to emphasize the point to its fullest extent. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Turning his attention back to the bridge, a small panic rose in him as the full weight of the situation. The bus' position, the figures inside, the commotion outside. Willing the platform forward with all the speed he could muster in the wind, Sarks flew toward the bridge. As he sailed closer, he remembered and donned his Spectacles of Luma and deemed it a necessary tool at this point. There was no way he could fix this problem without getting directly involved. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He neared the bridge and decided to move up. He didn't want to draw too much attention just yet. He observed below and quickly couldn't decide what to make of it. The number of people, and none of them Emergency Services. Something didn't feel right. He heard no sirens and over the panic...there was an energy of malice. He willed the platform to descend further as he fought the urge to launch into action. When he made out a gun in the hands of one of the individuals outside the bus, he had a better idea. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"This couldn't have just been an easy day, could it?" He muttered to himself, dropping down to meet the commotion head on. He didn't know what the armed men had to do with the bus, but he knew those were civilians on there and this wasn't the time to wait. [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"Neutralize the threat that contains the most unknown variables." [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]But, he had to move quickly. [/BCOLOR]

 

[Lord Wraith]

KILBRIDE: WEST END

T

ossing and turning in his sleep, Ewan's mind was assaulted by the images and memories that Taro had shared with him. Images of a pack hunting, eating, sleeping and playing together.

Martrax

In the same way Taro had shared his name, the name of his species came to Ewan as the human's brain struggled to analyze and comprehend the vast 'download' that Taro had provided him. Visions of a lush forest came to life behind Ewan's closed eyes. Hunters stalking through the undergrowth, from atop thick branches, breaking the necks of their prey, long tails stabbing the helpless beasts removing any remaining resistance as the carcass ceased to move. Feelings of warmth and happiness filled Ewan as the pack feasted and rejoiced in a successful hunt. The light of the sun seemed to intensify as the forest began to turn to ash, the Martrax retreating into caves. It could only be a form of hibernation based on Ewan's limited knowledge of Earth's animals. Taro had lead this pack, he was a leader, and it now made sense to Ewan why his idea of riding the prideful beast had angered Taro.

Suddenly the image of the caves was interrupted as Taro was pulled away. Ripped away from his home, a series of images bombarded Ewan far too quickly for him to interrupt and he found himself shivering. Crescent City's rain bombarded his sleep. Taro hated the rain, hated the cold and most of all hated being away from his pack. A loud screech penetrated through Ewan's skull as images of the mountain top and Taro being pushed away flooded his vision. A strange device, not of any human make he had ever seen could just be seen at the edge of the image before the scream overpowered Ewan and he woke with a jolt.

Sitting up panting, sweating as Taro slept peacefully in front of the fire. Ewan turned off the alarm on his phone as he stood. His sleep had allowed him to heal his ankle at least enough to walk on it with only minor discomfort as he slipped on a leather jacket and picked up his keys. Not wanting to disturb Taro, Ewan pulled a frozen steak out of the freezer and left it to thaw in the sink. Hopefully it would be ready by the time the alien awoke.

While the weather had been sour when Ewan had initially returned home from his venture up the mountain, it was far worse now. Ice coated the roads as the Charger emerged from the underground parking. Engaging his all-wheel drive, Ewan turned the vehicle towards Zebulun's school. Pulling up outside, he grabbed an umbrella and walked to the door. Greeting him with a smile was Zebulun as the small boy stretched out his arm and Ewan swept him up in his arms.

"How was school buddy?" Ewan asked with a smile.

"It was fun! They kept us indoors for recess so I got to play with Lego!" Zebulun replied with a beaming smile as Ewan buckled him into his seat.

"I'm jealous!" Ewan replied with a laugh as he slid back into the driver's seat. Turning out of the driveway, Ewan headed away from home deciding it might be best to head to Nevermind instead of explaining the intergalactic mountain lion currently asleep on their living room floor.

"Why aren't we going home Daddy?" Zebulun asked from the backseat as he watched the street fly by.

"Supposed to meet the guys for practice. Figured we could all just hang out." Ewan replied as he watched Zebulun nod in his rear view mirror.

"S'pose I can hang with Uncle Bryce." Zebulun muttered before he suddenly piped up again. "Do you think Emma will come by again? I'd like to talk to her. Ask her about her intentions for you."

"Her intentions for me?" Ewan asked barely stopping himself from bursting into laughter.

"Yeah, Uncle Bryce said when a girl likes a boy sometimes it's for wrong reasons." Zebulun began. "Like Aly likes me only because I have the best lunches and she likes my snacks. Bryce said some girls only like you because you're famous."

"I don't think Emma even knew I was famous Zebby, but I think you should ask her. Found out if she likes me for real buddy." Ewan said with a laugh despite a pang of guilt within his chest.

"I think I'll do that." Mused the child as Ewan drove up to Nevermind. Letting out a low whistle at the big truck parked outside the club, Ewan parked his car in his personal spot before helping Zebulun inside.

The front lobby of Nevermind may as well have been a zoo as Ewan entered. Bryce was running back and forth trying to help people out right, left and center. The sudden temperature drop and freezing rain had drove even more people indoors than any other night had in the past month. Crescent City wasn't used to these temperatures, Ewan couldn't say he blamed them. With the ice and snow outside they may as well of relocated to Canada. Seeing that Bryce needed some help, Ewan put Zebulun down at the bar before climbing on top of it. Amplifying his voice, Ewan let out a sharp whistle that brought a momentary silence over the club.

"Everyone! We'll willing to shelter you. We just need some order. Single file entering, single file exiting and single file at the food table. Please don't take any more room in the sleeping area than necessary. No one deserves to be left out in that cold." Ewan said as he scanned the crowd before noticing Emma and two men meeting by a table. The younger of the two was hugging Emma and Ewan felt a strange sensation in his chest. It was a feeling he hadn't felt since before Drew was unfairly taken from him and Zebulun.

Jealousy.

Hopping off of the bar, Ewan scooped up Zebulun as he pointed towards Emma.

"Looks like you got your wish buddy." Ewan said with a chuckle trying to shake the odd feeling. He had only just met Emma, they had talked, sure she had flashed him but it didn't give him a right to feel jealous that some other guy was hugging her. He could be her brother for all Ewan knew.

"Good, we're gonna be having words then Daddy. Just her and I." Zebulun said, rubbing his little hands together in a mischievous way that Ewan hadn't seen anyone do other than Drew. Odd that Zebulun had managed to pick that trait up.

"You may have to wait your turn bud. Looks like she's here with friends." Ewan said lowly before waving towards Emma. "Hey Emma, good to see you again. Thanks for returning that shirt by the way." Ewan added as he turned to the two men.

"Ewan Maddox, club owner. Any friend of Emma's is welcome here." He said with an outstretched hand.

 

[Cerulean]

A big grin was erased as his attention was brought back to the hallway. The locker burst and what looked like a weapon that would cause a bit of an explosion. This being a boat on the smaller side, that instantly makes this dude an asshole. That is the kind of shit that only works on Halo. It seems the guy wasn't thinking much but, neither was Wrecker. Which might actually be needed in a situation involving explosives. It would either be the boat of whatever was behind him, and there wasn't time to double check. He wasn't even sure if he could take this kind of force, but that wasn't the point. This is exactly the kind of behavior that people needed to be protected from. Explosive dicks. The explosive was fired and it sailed straight for the hyper hyper-human. By the nine!

Wrecker stood his groud and covered his face. The floor creaked underneath him. At the very least, he shouldn't (hopefully) be blown off the boat.

BOOM

He wailed. It hurt. Smoke engulfed him making him glad he covered the face. Wrecker did not budge. Heroes - 1 Bad Guys - 0. His free arm waved about getting the darkened air away. New standard achieved. Too bad now the boat was on fire and unless there was a fire truck near that this ship is going to need fishing out. His fault, of course. Except, it looked like this time there wasn't a clean getaway in sight. Should have left sooner.

"Not getting out of this one, numbnuts."

Looking back, it seemed that most of everyone who could had cleared the boat. Following suit, he jumped onto the dock.

 

[PlayingMonster]

Abby glanced briefly in her compact, ensuring that she looked somewhat official and businesslike, before snapping the mirror closed and entering the cafe. As she entered, she glanced around, quickly realising that she had no clue what this guy looked like. However, he wasn't hard to spot. Compared to most of the young, hipster type of people who frequented the cafe, he stood out like a sore thumb. He looked like he was in his early fifties, with dark hair that was starting to grey. His shirt and tie were impeccable, and she was suddenly glad that she'd left early to go home, change and redo her makeup. What she had been wearing wouldn't have seemed proper enough- that and she now looked a few years older than she actually was, ensuring that he would take her seriously.

He glanced up as she approached and held out her hand. "Dr. Pike?" She asked. He nodded, standing up and shaking her hand. His hand felt a little clammy, but she smiled nonetheless. "I'm Abigail Sykes, we spoke on the phone." She said. He nodded, sitting back down. He didn't seem to relax much as she introduced herself, but now his attention was firmly on her instead of his surroundings.

"Okay, Miss Sykes. Who do you work for? What organisation are you in? What interest have you in my patient?" She internally raised her eyebrows at the interrogation, but kept her outside demeanour calm and professional. "Doctor, I work for Crescent Labatories, I'm a researcher there. There were some discrepancies in the results, and I just want to get some background details on your patient so that I can understand more about their immunity to these drugs." His frown deepened.

"What?" He said. She allowed some of her internal confusion to come across on her face.

"Your patient's blood samples were referred to us for testing to do with their immunity to a variety of drugs, were they not?" He shook his head.

"No. I was sending them to a former colleague who works in a hospital in San Francisco to see if they could recommend what action to take with this patient for a chest infection due to their immunity to certain drugs. But the courier was attacked and the samples never reached them." Her frown deepened.

"Sir, do you know why your patient was immune to this drug?" She asked. If her original thinking was right, then this person could possibly be in trouble. Who would attack a courier for some blood samples unless they could use them for something? The doctor tensed up.

"I can't tell you, Miss Sykes. Doctor-patient confidentiality." He said, his gaze slipping from her for a moment. She was pretty sure that confidentiality could be broken if there was a risk of a patient being in danger. She leaned forward.

"Doctor, I need to know. I have a similar immunity to certain kinds of medicine, and if they are immune for the same reason as me, I may need to take action." She lowered her voice as she spoke and leaned in a little, holding out the hand nearest the wall. She hoped that she was right and that he wasn't an anti-Hype nut as she held out her hand and allowed a small flame to dance in it. His eyes widened, and she closed her fist around the flame, allowing the flame to go out.

"Yes. Yes, they have the same kind of immunity as you." He said. She nodded, retracting her hand.

"Thank you, doctor. Now, I'm going to need some details from you..."

 

[Blacksam]

For that one moment, huddled behind a scattering of crates in the middle of a battle-zone, Conall was probably the only person in the city thankful for the freezing rain. It helped to cool him off after the strenuous activity of being involved in a furious running battle then carting a man-mountain off from a sinking boat. It was just for a moment mind, before he started to freeze his tits off again. Even the grim winter weather of back home couldn't have prepared him for this!

Desperate to keep his mind off the cold he looked up to his latest companion, locking eyes with the 'model'. Some part of him wondered what would happen now. What's the etiquette here, are we on'a break from the rammy, or should I just clock him one know before he tries anything daft? The two men froze for an uncomfortable moment, the model obviously having thoughts along the same lines. The air was charged between them, violence ready to simmer back over in a heartbeat, their short moment of peace balancing on a knife edge.

"Grugh, today's my birthday. . . ," Joey moaned groggily, before succumbing to unconsciousness once more. It was one of those moment that felt so incongruous that you think they must have been planned. The bizarreness of the comment, and the fact that it was completely sub-conscious made both Conall and the 'model' grin at each other, and just like that the tension between them seemed to disappear, like it had been blown away by the persistent wind plaguing New Lilith of late. The 'model' chuckled softly while offering his hand over to Conall.

"Oliver," He said by way of introduction. Conall took the hand and shook. Oliver committed that wannabe-hard-nut sin of trying to squeeze his hand to show how 'tough' he was, but the Scott refused to squeeze back. A boxer has to care for his hands, his da always said, and that lesson seemed to have stuck even despite the fact he wasn't really a boxer.

"Conall," he replied.

"Well Conall, I gotta thank you. I don't know what I would have done without you. Way I hear it there's not many of you vigilante types who don't shoot first and ask questions later." He sounded remarkably sincere.

"This coming from a gangster?" Was Maclean's offhand response as he popped his head over the crates to see how the rest of the battle fared. His eyes widened as he realised that more Fierro's had rolled up behind the cops while he had helped Oliver and Joey, taken them by surprise. Seemed like they'd managed to drop some of the boys in blue during the confusion. Christ, this is all starting to getta bit real for my likings. They never show all the blood in the Spider-Man comics. Despite his misgivings he prepared himself to rush to their aid, fighting down a rising panic that was threatening to overwhelm him.

"What the fuck are you doing, you'll get yourself killed!" said Oliver, confusion thick in his voice as he grabbed at Conall's shoulder, trying to pull him back.

"I have to get out there! I have to help them" He wasn't sure why he had to, he just felt it deep down in his core. Like it was his moral obligation, or a commandment from his conscience. A conscience that sounded remarkably like his da. He struggled to shake Oliver off, desperate to run to the aid of the cops before his resolve wavered and his cowardice made him see sense.

Turned out it was all for nought though, as he was quickly rendered surplus to requirements, getting beaten to the punch by another hyper, one that was flying! Now that's a cool power. Super dying skills don't seem so attractive anymore. On top of defying gravity it seemed like the guy had some form of telekinesis, using it to slap around the Fierros like they were ragdolls. Whatever juice he was packing it seemed more than the Fierro's could handle, the fight ending in matter of minutes as the bad guys hightailed it outta Dodge, the Scott watching on in awe. He was still looking on, mouth agape as Feona turned and began marching in his direction.

"Jees, we have to get outta here," muttered Oliver.

 

[Lord Wraith]

~A Collaboration between Lord Wraith and Olissa~

LOS PARAÍSO: PARADISE STRIP

D

espite the overwhelming crowd seeking shelter within the club, Aiden and Strum both turned at the still audible calling of their name. The pair barely had time to react before they were nearly tackled to the ground by Emma's hugs. Aiden smiled at his former teammate, glad to see her in both good health and spirits. Strum awkwardly squeezed himself out of the hug, straigtening his clothes and reassuming the strict military posture that had been imbedded into him for years.

Emma was smiling from ear to ear as she let the two go. Nothing seemed to have changed since the last time they had seen each other. Especially not Strum's instant correction to his normal posture. At the sight of it she couldn't help but chuckle a little, no matter how much she tried to stifle it. Opening her mouth and taking a breath to speak up, she was cut off before any air could leave her lungs.

"You're looking well Emma. The city life must be agreeing with you for the time being at least." Strum said with a smile as he looked around the club. It was good to see the not everyone in the city was more concerned with profit than they were with helping out the community.

"We had noticed you came here a few times based on your GPS positioner, so we thought this might be an easier place to meet at. Less suspicious than us showing up at your door as well." Strum added, no doubt answering some of Emma's questions about why they were at Nevermind instead of her apartment.

The smile on Emma's face had barely faded. Life in Crescent City had been fun, though not as fun as PRCU had been. A little lonely too, seeing as she couldn't really full out bond with classmates and make friends.

"Hey, I've only been here..." The blond looked up, thinking. With her left hand she tapped in the air from right to left with her index finger, miming a count, as she mouthed the words 'one', and 'two'.
"Two times." At least two, as far as she could remember. "But yeah, that makes sense, though," Emma glanced around the club, "There probably could have been more quiet locations I could have come up with."

Shrugging she dropped the rest of it and looked back at the two. "So they sent you here because of the increasing storm I take it." Emma said, trying to keep her voice down as much as possible.

"Yeah, Bran was originally under the impression it was just a young Hype whose powers had just come into being. However due to the consistent persistance of the storm and its increasing fury, we now believe there's something far more sinister at work." Aiden said answering Emma.

"Indeed, S.H.I.F.T. is hoping that my abilities will be able to counteract the other Hype. But we need to find someone first. There's another student from P.R.C.U. in Crescent City at the moment. A young man by the name of Jackson Noble, he was the team leader Team 33, or as you may know them 'Echo Squad'." Strum added. "He took a car from the school, it was later discarded outside the city. Mr. Noble's family is from the area and his Aunt works with the local police. It's likely he's taken a vigilante like role within the city so he should turn up shortly. The media does love to slander Hyperhumans no matter their intentions." Turning as a young man walked towards them, Strum shot Aiden a look who simply shrugged before the man introduced himself as both the club owner and a friend of Emma's. Strum raised an eyebrow at Emma before extending his own hand.

Shrugging her shoulders was really the only response that Emma could give to him. Anything she said would just have sounded weird no doubt.

"Anthony Strum, I'm rather impressed with the work you're doing here Mr. Maddox."

"Wait," Aiden interjected as he looked Ewan up and down. "Ewan Maddox? Front man of Extinguish/Ignite?"

With a chuckle, Ewan went to answer Aiden but Zebulun beat him to it.
"Yeah that's my Daddy, the rockstar." Suddenly Zeb shot Emma a dirty look before burying his face into Ewan's shoulder.

"As Zebby here said, yes I am indeed he mate." Ewan said shaking both their hands as Aiden leaned over to Emma and whispered in here ear.

"If you let me leave without an autograph I may never forgive you."

"You're a big boy, you can take care of that yourself." Emma whispered back. "I'm more worried about what I did to that kid." She said referring to the look she had just received of Zebulun. Last she knew she hadn't done anything to upset him. She had waved at him, and that's it. Maybe he was angry that she had borrowed some of his mother's clothes?
"And I didn't even know he was famous."

It did at least explain why there was a sound studio upstairs. And all those instruments. But where had she seen that name that Aiden mentioned. She could have sworn she had seen it, on an album somewhere, but it wasn't on her iPod.
"Oh!" Suddenly the flash of a memory returned to her. "Those were the albums we passed upstairs." Right, like that was the smartest thing she could have said.

"The actual albums are here? In this building?" Aiden asked incredously as he looked around hoping to get a glimpse of them.

"They're actually on another floor." Ewan said as he watched Aiden. "If you have time, I could give you the tour."

Inside her pocket her phone buzzed. Automatically she pulled it out and looked at the screen. She had this nifty little app installed that gave a notification if there were emergencies nearby. With the weather at hand, it had gone off frequently enough, and often enough she just kinda ignored it. Most of it was just traffic problems, not really what she generally worried about.
This one was a mention about an accident as well.

She was just about ready to ignore it when she noticed the words bus and bridge. That combination didn't sound very good. she tapped the notification and read the remainder of the info.

"Oh gods." Emma muttered under her breath. There was a bus hanging over the edge of one of the major bridges in the city, and people were still inside. As noble and important as it was to get a move on to find Jackson and stop the storm, it wouldn't be right to just let people possibly plummet to their death.

"Guys." She turned her phone for others to see. "There's a bus hanging over the edge of Tower Bridge. People are still trapped inside, and it looks like the authorities can't reach it at the moment."

"We'll need to intervene then." Strum said, not particularly caring if Ewan had questions. Worse came to worse they could always summon T.R. down from P.R.C.U. to wipe any memories Ewan had of them or Emma's cover being blown.

"Yo Boss!" Bryce's voice suddenly caught Ewan's attention. "It's a good thing you're not at home right now. There's a plane trying to land over at the airport but the ice has covered the runway so there's no way to be sure the plane can land safely. They're evacuating the area as well as clearing a strip of highway for an alternative landing spot."

"That doesn't make any sense." Ewan yelled back. "The roads are just as bad out there."

"Hey, it's our 'wonderful' mayor calling the shots not me!" Bryce replied as he turned his attention back to the broadcast playing behind the bar.

"We'd be best to split up." Aiden said turning to Emma and Strum. "You and Strum go to the bus, I'll head up to Kilbride."

"We only have one vehicle Aiden and I doubt we have time to have you drop us off or vice versa." Strum protested.

Emma had gone back to reading the information about the happening and searched online if she could find any other vital information. So far, nothing really popped up. You'd think more information would be known with the whole 'everyone's connected to the internet' era.

"We can't just..." Aiden began before Ewan spoke over him. Aiden's voice seemed to disappear from his throat as Ewan calmly interjected himself into their conversation.

"Not to eavesdrop, but I can get him to Kilbride while you two do whatever it is you think you can do." Ewan had recognized these two as some sort of military from the moment they had walked in. Strum's posture in particular gave it away. Considering the happenings in the city, it was likely they were with S.H.I.F.T., or at least that was Ewan's best guess based on the information his grandfather had told him.

"Normally I'd argue about involving a civilian but I fear time is not in our best interest. At least promise me you'll be leaving the child behind." Strum said.

"I'm almost offended that was a concern there mate." Ewan replied.

"Puts my mind at ease some." Strum replied before turning to Aiden and Emma. "Aiden go with Mr. Maddox, Emma, you're with me." He ordered as the group divided and headed towards their respective vehicles. Aiden following Ewan and Zebulun while Strum motioned for Emma to follow him to the truck.

Upon hearing her name Emma looked up.
"Yes sir." She replied, falling back in her training. It almost felt like the 'good old days'. Heading out with the team, or part of the team.
She had kind of missed half the conversation in which Ewan ended up driving for Aiden. It wasn't till Aiden followed Ewan instead of Anthony and herself that it dawned on her. If they split up, they couldn't go in the same vehicle.

For a moment she wanted to speak up and ask why he was joining Aiden, instead of letting Aiden use the car that she had arrived in, but that would indicate that she hadn't been paying attention, and that wasn't exactly a good idea either.

Once in the car Emma addressed the matter of the bridge. "There's something strange going on there. There are no reports other than the one off of the traffic cams. No 911 calls, no videos. It's like it's not really happening." She put her phone away.
It puzzled her, but they'd just have to wait for answers till they got there. For now, she summoned the biggest book one probably ever had seen and flipped started flipping through it.

"They must have a jammer of some kind." Strum replied to Emma. "Either that or this weather has knocked everything out over there." Driving in an out of traffic, the large engine roared as Strum expertly steered the vehicle towards the blinking location on the truck's nav display. Despite being prepared for the mayhew, he still let out a grunt of surprise as he skidded the vehicle to a halt, a traffic pile up blocking his way onto the bridge.

"Suppose this is why we have feet." Strum muttered climbing out of the truck. Disengaging the holographic cloak on his Hyperhuman Combat suit to conserve power to the inbedded augmentations, Strum quickly checked his weapon before motioning to Emma to cover his flank. Climbing over the cars, Strum saw the bus teetering over the edge and the gang surrounding it. His eyes widened as he realized what the gang was doing as a jeep rammed into the back of the bus. The sound of grinding metal echoing across the open air as the bus inched further forward.

"Emma, get that tranq rifle you love so much. Take down the gunmen surrounding the bus. I'm going for the driver!" Summoning the winds around him, Strum launched into the air towards the jeep. Directing a bolt of lightning towards the engine. The vehicle's tire proved a successful enough ground to ward off most of the damage.

Upon Strum's instruction a wicked grin spread clear across her face. In her hands the biggest tranquilizer rifle available appeared.
"Oh yeah." Emma mused. Now if only these tranqs came in in machine gun form, that would have been even better.

She made haste to a good position to take out the gunmen. Her clothing faded out, leaving her in her vigilante outfit. Normally she'd bring up one of her masks but she needed every bit of sight that she had in order to take the perfect shot, so she left it. Another time, another day.

"Should have saw that coming." Strum muttered as he summoned more wind and slammed into the vehicle using the air as a pillow to cushion the blow against himself and increase his area of effect on the jeep. Lifting into the air, the jeep toppled onto its side coming to a screeching halt as the majority of the gunmen turned their attention to Strum. Several however forced open the rear door of the bus and climbed inside.

Right around the time that most of the gunmen took notice of Strum, Emma took the first one out.

"One down, 7 to go." She hadn't caught the exact number of people, but it seemed like that was roughly the right amount. One thing she knew for sure, she'd need another set of darts to take them all out. Or hope that they surrendered before she ran out. Otherwise there was always the fun of punching someone's lights out. Did the trick too.

A movement in the skies above the bridge, that wasn't Strum, caught her attention. A figure flying the air. Great, a Hype. She aimed her rifle at him. At this point she couldn't determine if he belonged to the guys with the jeep, or was a vigilante of sorts. He sure didn't look like a S.H.I.F.T. agent. Deciding not to shoot him out of the air, yet, she aimed for a different guy on the ground that seemed intent on testing out his weapon against Strum's suit.

One shot later and he was sleeping like a baby.

 

[Stein]

Sarks willed the platform to disappear, dropping toward the ground. It was around that time two other forms appeared in the fray. Sarks could make out some type of militant uniform and technology. The start of the fight bubbled soon after that. In the last ten feet, Sarks summoned another platform, this one of Latch Blocks, that caught his landing, absorbing a majority of the impact.

Sarks looked up just in time to see a man charge the Jeep revving the bus from the bridge. He quickly identified the man as a Hype in the next seconds as he launched the jeep with a torrent of wind.

"Now, this should be interesting," he muttered, drifting a wary eye to the other new body on the scene. A woman, and apparently a marksman at that. For now, Sarks wouldn't worry about her too much, as the pair seemed to be fighting on a mutual side with him.

His gauntlets up, Sarks readied his stance, shifting his weight on his feet and tensing his encased fists. He broke down the scene, plotting where he would make his movements. He noted a group of gunmen entering the back of the bus, backs exposed to him and settled on his target.

The blue hue of a Latch Block appeared before him and he brought his fist back, taking the briefest of pauses to aim before sinking a perfect punch into the center of the block. Ignited with the force of his punch and the small burst of Nox expelled from his gauntlet, the Latch Block soared forward, catching the last gunmen as he attempted to enter the bus. The block encased his leg and swelled in size slightly. The gunman tried to lift his leg, looking down with panic. Before he could process what had happened, another block encased his other leg. Finally, a third block encased his torso. With a beckoning motion, Sarks brought the floating cubes toward him with some resistance, the struggling body of the gunman hauled in tow. Lifting his other hand, Sarks curled his fingers into two fists, tightening his control on the cubes. He swung them around and punched forward. The cube set and gunmen mimicked his movements and sent the criminal flying toward another target who happened to be readying his firearm at the wind-controlling Hype. The bodies collided, sending the thugs to the ground. Sarks punched a two hit jab of Combustion Blocks toward the men, promptly decommissioning him.

He locked eyes with the wind Hype long enough to nod in a gesture of mutual acknowledgment. "Make sure you watch your back, mate," he called before taking off in the direction of the bus. The teetering vehicle didn't have an abundance of time, and he still hadn't thought of a way to shift the weight of the bus enough. With his energy as low as it was, he certainly couldn't risk trying to raise it himself. He shook his head, jostling the thought. The focus was the here and now. He picked up his pace as he came up on the bus, wanting to make a running start.

With a leap, he soared past the bus, over the railing and plummeted toward the turbulent waters, a laugh of exhilaration pitched from his gut.

 

[Lord Wraith]

LOS PARAÍSO: PARADISE STRIP

F

ollowing behind Ewan, Aiden still couldn't believe that he was in the presence of one of his favourite performing artists. Aside from Thousand Foot Krutch, Extinguish/Ignite was at the top of Aiden's playlist. He knew the lyrics to almost every song, he had even had a poster of Drew on his dorm wall back at P.R.C.U. Coming to a halt as Ewan stopped to talked to the who Aiden assumed was the club's manager he waited for Ewan to ditch the kid so they could get on their way.

"Hey Bryce," Ewan called catching Bryce's attention. "I need a favour."

"I'm going to lose count of how many you owe me at this rate Ewan." Bryce replied with a chuckle as he looked up from polishing the glass in his hand. "What's up now?"

"Can you look after Zeb for a bit? I'm taking Aiden here over to Kilbride, apparently he's able to help." Ewan said, his face lacking the usual humor and smirk it had when he normally passed Zeb off on Bryce.

"But Daddy!" Zebulun protested. "I want to come with you!"

"Sorry bud," Ewan apologized. "It's too dangerous to take you along, I don't know what I would do if I lost you." He said with a kiss on Zebulun's head.

"But Daddy! What about me! What if I lose you?" Zebulun argued back, tears forming in his little eyes. "I already lost Mommy, I can't lose you too." Zebulun added as he wrapped his little arms as tight as he could around Ewan. Ewan could feel the small fingers through his jacket as they dug into his sides resisting against Ewan stepping away. Feeling a lump form in his throat as Ewan returned the hug, he cleared his throat before speaking again.

"I'm just going to drop Aiden off, then turn around and come right back buddy. I promise." He whispered in Zebulun's ear as Bryce put a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Don't worry bud, your Dad will be right back." He said before being silenced from a look that would make Drew proud as Zebulun glared at him.

"No!" Zebulun snapped. "If Daddy is just dropping off Emma's boyfriend, then I can go with him."

"Whoa!" Aiden spoke up. "Emma and I are n…" He suddenly was cut off by three glares as Bryce, Ewan and Zebulun all looked towards him.

"Can't you just take him with you Ewan, if you're just dropping Aiden off? It shouldn't be a problem right?" Bryce asked looking at Ewan. Sighing reluctantly and against his better judgement Ewan replied.

"Alright, Zeb. Let's get you into the car." Ewan said as Aiden gave him a disapproving look. Glaring back, Ewan spoke to the S.H.I.F.T. agent. "Your boss doesn't need to know, and if he finds out you can tell him to shove it mate."

"I don't like this one bit." Aiden muttered as he followed behind the pair. Climbing into the black car, Ewan revved the engine and peeled out of the driveway. The roads were primarily barren now that the weather had firmly taken a hold of the city. People tried to flag down the car from the side of the road where their own vehicles had veered off and become disabled. Driving by, Ewan continued to their destination. He had already pissed Aiden off enough without stopping to help even more people.

Zebulun had dried his tears and now was staring mildly amused out the back windows of the car. Naturally as a young boy growing up in California, Zebulun had never seen snow in person before. The unique white flakes were a constant source of wonderment as they brushed past the windows of the moving car. Pushing the car harder, the light for the traction control came on as Ewan rounded a corner, the back end of the car fishtailing before he brought it back into control. Switching from automatic to slapstick, Ewan took over control of the car remembering everything his dad had taught him while memories of a black motorcycle haunted the back of his mind as he fought against the weather. Entering in North City, it didn't take long for the trio to stumble across the Mayor and another man directing traffic off the roads and clearing them for the plane to land. Numerous cars were still alongside the road left abandoned by their drivers when the vehicles tires failed to find traction on the slick roads.

"Stop here." Aiden commanded as Ewan did as he was asked. "Now take Zeb and get to safety, I can't guarantee I can stop this plane from crashing." Aiden said as he climbed out of the car. Looking up at the sky, Ewan gritted his teeth as he saw the size of the airplane. So many lives at risk, so many children, parents, loved ones. If he left now and Aiden failed, their deaths would be on his conscious and Ewan couldn't live with that. While he had only ever used his gifts to advance his music career, Ewan wasn't blind to the other applications.

"Bloody hell." Ewan muttered as he disengaged the traction control before spinning the car out and putting it in park.

"Daddy what are…" Zebulun begun before Ewan cut him off.

"Zebulun stay here." He said getting out of the car and locking it before his son had a chance to protest.

"Get back in that car Mr. Maddox!" Aiden turned to yell at him, his eyes glowing red.

"You know my grandfather helped design that armor you're wearing." Ewan said continuing walking forward. "I knew you were S.H.I.F.T. long before you decided to try your 'red eyes take warning' routine."

"That doesn't matter, you're not S.H.I.F.T., you're a musician and a club owner Mr. Maddox. Furthermore, you're a celebrity and we don't need that kind of attention right now." Aiden replied. Smirking, Ewan pulled a hood over his head.

"There, now I'm concealed." He replied, his voice altered into a deep haunting chorus as he manipulated the sound.

"Neat trick but won't help us." Aiden retorted before looking back. "And seriously a hood? When has that ever worked? Next you're going to put greasepaint around your eyes." He let out an exasperated sigh. "This is why S.H.I.F.T. hates vigilantes, it's like you're all trying to get yourselves killed." Approaching the mayor, Aiden focussed his attention on Simmons while giving a dismissive look to the other man. Based on his hidden visage, the other man was likely a vigilante and with Ewan already tagging along, Aiden had no interest in entertaining yet another hindrance. Having briefed himself on the Mayor while they were on route, Aiden already recognized the mayor's face and knew Simmons by name as he extended his hand.

"Mayor Simmons, my name is Agent Aiden Roth, I'm with S.H.I.F.T. and I'm here to help. I'm going to have to ask that you all step back and keep everyone clear of the road. We don't need any unnecessary causalities." Aiden said as he turned to the road. Beams of heat suddenly emerged from his eyes, widening as he heated the ice, melting it off the road. Puddles of water were reduced to steam as Aiden closed his eyes cutting off the beams.

"That should help." Aiden muttered looking at the length of road cleared. "This is far too short, they'll never land that plane safely."

"Well do something about it then!" Simmons' voice came from behind Aiden who shot him a glare. "We already got the people off the roads, the rest is up to you."

"Do you see an 'S' on my chest Mr. Mayor? I have a few other tricks up my sleeve but I've never attempted them against something with the weight and velocity of a passenger jet." Aiden retorted. It was probably a good thing he hadn't gone into politics, he didn't exactly have the patience for dealing with self-absorbed politicians.

"I'm going to emit a high power concussion beam, the impact should spread out along the plane to reduce damage. This should help reduce the plane's incoming velocity allowing it to slow to a pace to actually land safely. In the case this does not work, we need to have everyone get out of their cars and get a safe distance back." Aiden explained as he pointed to the cars along the side of the road. "Help the Mayor get these people back." Aiden ordered to the man in the motorcycle helmet and Ewan as he turned to face the latter only to find Ewan already opening a car door and turning on the radio. Turning up the speakers he began to bob his head to the beat as he tuned them all to the same station, a familiar song came began to play over the area as Ewan's voice came out of the speakers blaring the lyrics to 'Fatcats'.

"What are you doing?" Aiden yelled at Ewan over the music.

"Being useful!" Ewan called back feeling the vibration from the music starting to flow through the air. Jumping on top of the car, Ewan amplified his voice as he called out to the drivers in the area. "I need everyone to tune their radios to 89.3 and turn up the volume in your cars. Any additional bass you can add is much appreciated."

Shaking his head, Aiden couldn't believe he had been so blind. Ewan was obviously a Hyperhuman of some kind. Taking the words out of his mouth, the trick with his voice, his insistence on staying. He intended to use his abilities to help.

"What are you going to do with that?" Aiden asked as he approached Ewan, the music filling the area causing them to have to shout to communicate.

"Sound is a force wave, if I can amplify it and direct it, I can boost your beams and help slow the plane." Ewan answered.

"Have you ever done anything like this before?" Ewan shouted.

"No." Ewan replied as he took a deep breath.

"You realize you could liquefy me or even the plane if you adjust your frequency incorrectly? It's too dangerous! I can't risk a wildcard gamble like that!" Aiden spat back.

"Then brand me a maverick, an ill-advised vigilante to your superiors. I'm not backing down, I'm going to help. This is my home, not yours." Ewan roared rearing himself up taller than Aiden as he tried to intimate him.

"You're untrained, I could put you down in a heartbeat. But if you can do exactly as I say then I could use your help." Aiden reluctantly admitted as he took a step back. It wasn't worth a Hyperhuman brawl in the middle of a crisis. "Take a deep breath, calm yourself. Your abilities are more likely to fluctuate if you're stressed and unfocussed. And you'll need to be focussed, need I remind you that…"

"I know the stakes." Ewan interjected.

"I think it might be a good idea to keep in mind that the odds of success are…" Aiden begun before he found himself moving his jaw with no sound emerging.

"Never tell me the odds." Ewan said, silencing Aiden's voice before Aiden roughly shoved him.

"Don't do that again." Aiden said. "Now, focus. Feel the sound, let it flow through you touching everything around you. Then direct it."

"Blah blah, feel don't think. Use your instincts." Ewan muttered under his breath as he reached out to the sound blaring over the road. Feeling the vibration wash over his body he absorbed it within himself and directed it skyward. As the plane descended towards the ground Ewan felt it collide with his sound waves. Knocked off his feet, Ewan skidded backwards across the ground as Aiden extended his hand.

"Good first attempt, let's try that again together." He said as he helped Ewan up.

"Do or do not, there is no try." Ewan muttered under his breath catching a smirk from Aiden.

"Now!" Aiden yelled as Ewan regained his footing. Crimson beams emerging from Aiden's eyes as they collided with the fuselage of the plane while Ewan launched his sound waves again. Digging their feet in, the two Hyperhumans felt the incoming plane pushing against their concussive waves as they struggled to slow its descent.

"Ahh!" Ewan let out a roar, his own voice boosting the soundwave as the plane came down. Blood began to drip from Ewan's nose as the plane's landing gear bouncing on the road as it struggled to maintain contact.

"It's not slowing down enough." Aiden yelled as he suddenly changed targets and blasted the front landing gear off the aircraft. The fuselage dropping to the ground as sparks and rubble flew every which direction. A wing caught on the ground, turning the plane before it was ripped off as the plane flopped to the other side, the second wing snapping in half. Back flipping out of the way, Aiden and Ewan dropped into the ditch as the plane continued to slide. Getting up, Ewan saw the plane heading for his car.

"ZEBULUN!"

 

[Olissa]

With the flying dude taking out two of the ruffians down on the ground, Emma's simple conclusion was that they were dealing with a friendly here. Or at least, one that wasn't on the gunmen's side. If the man was on their side was a whole different matter that had no business being addressed now.
Just to be safe she made a mental note to keep one dart on hand, you know, in case that dude was the next thing they had to take care of.

Four down, two in the bus and out of reach, and the last two... fell asleep two moments after the shots were fired.
Now that the ground was clear, Emma flung the strap of the gun over her shoulder and trotted over.
"Sir!" She called out, catching the attention of her superior. With a swift movement she threw two grenade sized objects his direction. Out of the science lab back at P.R.C.U. she had borrowed a pair of sleep grenades. They were experimental grenades, sure, but they'd do the trick for now. Or so she hoped. It always worked in movies, and games, and any potential side effects might be worth the risk. Though as far as she could recall, the development team didn't mention any permanent side effects.

"I'll round up these guys." Emma stated as a few pairs of cuffs appeared in her hands. Since none of the rebels seemed to have even made an attempt at using a power against Strum when he first landed, she made the assumption that all of the gunmen were normals, and extra precautionary measures wouldn't be necessary. Chances were she'd get scolded for assuming things, but that was another one of those things that she'd worry about later. Or sooner, if it came and bit her in the ass. Thinking of hypes, where did that flying fellow go? As she had been focussed on her own task, she hadn't taken note of where he had disappeared to. Great. Oh well, maybe he just simply left.

Starting at the first guy near her that had elegantly face planted himself onto the pavement with his rear up in the air, Emma couldn't help but snicker. The poor fellow was going to feel this when he woke up. Swiftly she grabbed his wrists, cuffed them, and then rolled him onto his side. At least that would be a slightly more pleasant fate than keeping one's nose stuck on the ground.
Number two had been given a better fate, slumped against the wreckage of the jeep. It did make her job a little more challenging.
Forcing all her weight into it, Emma pushed the guy over onto his side, and then onto his stomach. Two clicks later and he was secured.
The third one was the easiest, already laying on his side it was just a matter of shifting his weight in order to get his arm in the correct position. But then came the troublesome part. Where the hell had she left the forth guy.
With a frown on her face she looked around. She could have sworn she had 'placed' him right here.

A loud snore from behind the vehicle answered Emma's question. Seems like he had taken a few steps, leaned against the car and then rolled off before finding his resting place. His arms and legs were spread out wide like a starfish. Now how in the world did he end up like that?
The two men that had been taken out by the vigilante did catch her eye now that she was securing the last one she had shot.
Good. At least she had found those now.
"Sir, we could have used this Jeep to tow the bus back right around now!" Emma shouted in the general vicinity of where she had last seen Strum. She didn't pay attention as to whether or not he was listening, or even there, she just kinda wished they had something, like a sturdy Jeep and some rope, to haul the bus in from over the edge. Not that Strum really had had a choice initially, but a girl could grumble.
There. All were accounted for, which just left the bus and passengers.

Or was it? A device laying by the Jeep caught her eye. It kinda looked like one of those signal jammers they sometimes used. She almost shrugged at it and turned away, when a detail just clicked.
Aside from the traffic camera information, the whole event seemed non-existant, with no videos, or calls. Strum had thrown the idea out there that it could be because of a signal jammer. This signal jammer. With a large portion of the situation already taken care of by the two, or rather three, of them, there was no need to call in the authorities, but, oh well, what the hell, might as well destroy it. With a wicked grin on her face Emma 'picked up' a fire truck's axe, swung it over her head, and slammed it dead center into the device. There were a few sparks, a puff of smoke, and the beautiful sound of signals working again. Not that she could hear those, but that was beside the point.

 

[Olissa]

The echo of a gunshot bounced against the walls, and disappeared into the night. The silence that came after it was almost serene. Death could be so peaceful.
But death was easy, and not her style. The sound of short heels hitting in a steady rhythm against a concrete floor felt hollow, just like the room she left.
The street, as well as the alleys were deserted. Good, with no extra pairs of eyes to take care of, Alice could make off like the wind.

Her final objective was to call it in at the base, and await the extraction team. Looking at her phone as she stood in the snow Alice did nothing, other than staring at it, and then up, down the street.
Being boxed in for the majority of one's life taught you a lot of things. One of which was that taking actions that contradict orders could lead to serious disciplinary actions. And that some opportunities were worth the risk.
Sorry Alex.
The blonde tucked the phone away and disappeared into the shadows of the night.

The streets were covered in slush and ice, making it important for Alice to pay attention to every step she took. Pulling her jacket closer to herself she took in her surroundings. Even here, in the busier streets, it was nearly deserted. Perhaps that was the time of night, seeing as it was almost 11 in the evening, but a large part of it likely was the weather that ushered everyone inside. Almost everyone.
Down various alleys and on some corners she could clearly spot drug couriers, prostitutes hoping for a little bit of business, and no doubt local gangs that wanted to protect their turf even in harsh conditions. Harsh from their perspective. This was nothing compared to the freezing winters in Moscow.

Walking here amongst the shadows Alice felt perfectly safe. She could likely take out the majority of those guys in under three minutes, two if she used the elements.
Nevertheless Alice preferred to get out of this without being seen, so she scaled up a wall and got onto the roof of a row of two story high buildings.
Perfect. A slight bit more of an overview, and being able to stay out of sight. Unless they looked up of course.
Kneeling down on one knee Alice looked around. Up here everything was even more peaceful, beautiful.
A sight that was abruptly disturbed by her phone that went off.

 

[Blandman]

A frosty silence descended upon the scene. Curious on-lookers began mumbling amongst one another as passengers from the other car began to crawl out. Traffic had started to build-up as more people were brought to a halt by the car crash, exiting their own vehicles to gain a better view of the events unfolding. And there in amongst it all Mayor Simmons was having a stand-off with a man dressed in full motorcycle gear, armed to the teeth and looking very much the part of a slightly deluded vigilante. Simmons looked at the featureless helmet visor in front of him, but only saw his own reflection within the depths of the abyss. He looked a mess. But that didn't mean he had to put up with this kind of crap. The lull in activity was suddenly broken.

"Are you insane?!" the mayor shouted, pushing away the man's finger "Clear a highway? What good will that do? The ice is as bad on the roads as anywhere else shit head! What, is that helmet crushing your brain or something? Idiot! Now help me get me get my people out of this car!"

Words were swiftly followed by action. Action in the form of Simmons being unceremoniously hoisted from his feet by the collar again. This was getting tiresome, but the man's physicality was far beyond his own. Black Shadow shook the politician with increased frustration, rattling his head back and forth. He had to restrain himself from just throwing a punch or pulling a gun. As satisfying as that would be there were just too many people around, and as far as they were concerned the mayor hadn't done anything to necessarily warrant such aggressive behaviour.

"Cut the shit Simmons and listen. Notice that sidewalk there?" he said, leaning the mayor so that he was looking toward the sidewalk "And then the road here? See, thing is about cars and vehicles is that they generate heat, even in shit storms like this, they generate heat. And what does heat do Mr. Mayor?"

"Me-melts ice?"

"Well done pal. Am I saying the traffic here would have made the highways totally safe to land on? Hell fucking no. But do I think that gives those people on board a slightly better chance, no matter how slim, of surviving? Damn skippy. Or hey, you could let it land at our fine airport. 'Cause I'm sure being in California it has plenty of equipment to deal with ice...right?"

Black Shadow dropped the man back down again, and the two stared at each other for a short time again before Simmons readjusted his ruffled suit. Without a word the vigilante moved past him, assuming that what needed to be done would be done. Kneeling down next to the over-turned vehicle, Black Shadow slowly opened the other passenger door and caught Simmons' assistant before her head could hit the ground and carefully got her out. After settling her somewhere safely, he shot another glance at the mayor and finally Simmons produced his phone.

******

"I can't believe we're really fucking doing this!" shouted a distraught Simmons as he carried on re-directing traffic and getting people to move away "We're going to die out here!"

"Maybe we will," replied Black Shadow from across the highway they had met on "But hey, if this pulls off it'll probably mean a few more votes for you, huh? COME ON PEOPLE, MOVE! Make sure to keep your engines running so they carry on generating heat!"

It was really happening. Simmons had made the call, and in a matter of minutes a detachment of emergency services were on hand to help clear the highway. They all rather helpfully ignored the fact that a known and dangerous vigilante was in their midst, electing to concentrate on the more immediate danger of a plane crashing. Between them they had managed to clear an area roughly the length of a runway, or so they hoped. Most civilians and any respective vehicles had been ushered to the side of the highway by now, and a number of temporary flashing lights had been laid out on the ground, hoping to better direct the aircraft in its descent. When all was mostly said and done, Black Shadow and Simmons slowly met in the middle of their makeshift runway as some emergency personnel moved to and fro, getting as many last minute preparations done before the time was upon them, the sound of any number of engines filling the air.

"Well, I never thought I'd go out like this," started Simmons "Freezing my ass off and about to be crushed by a plane thanks to some prick from The Village People."

"Screw you Simmons. You can die out here if you want, I'm planning on living."

"Heh, what now then hero?" Simmons asked mockingly.

"We wait. And we pray, if you're so inclined," Black Shadow replied as he caught the first glimpse of the aircraft lights above the dark clouds. He swallowed a silent lump in his throat.

That's when the cavalry rolled up. Two men, who didn't look like an emergency services he'd ever seen. One of them was wearing some rather fancy armour that made his get-up look as amateur as it really was. The other had normal clothes on and his hood up. The armoured one only gave him the briefest of glances, and that was all he needed to see to know that this guy didn't appreciate his presence there. He noted how Simmons perked up when the armoured man, Aiden, mentioned he was from S.H.I.F.T. Of course. He should have known. Hypes. His inner thoughts were confirmed as Aiden's eyes shot out beams of light which began to melt the ice more than any amount of cars ever could.

Black Shadow began to feel an inner turmoil. His heart was glad to see the arrival of Hyperhumans and their immediate assistance, doing enough to maybe even save the day. But his gut wretched, envious of the ease with which the man had acted, jealous of how pathetic it'd made his own efforts look. And his mind was torn between these two feelings. Of admiration and resentment. The vigilante let out a huff and walked back toward the side of the highway, only just about catching what Aiden and Simmons were saying. As he walked away, a set of footsteps quickly caught up with him.

"Where the hell are you going?" Simmons demanded "Do something!"

"What do you expect me to do?" came the snappy reply, as Black Shadow continued striding away "That Hype is he-"

He was cut out as a number of radios began to be turned on and music began blaring out of every car along the highway. That other hooded man was on top of a car now, somehow amplifying his voice through the radios. Of course they'd both be Hypes!

"Like I was saying," he carried on, shouting over the music "Those Hypes are here now. It's out of my hands!"

As the music carried on, people braced themselves. The plane was in full view now. Black Shadow stood side-by-side with Simmons and his small entourage as well as some emergency personnel who were all on high alert. A few murmured prayers were passed around as the two Hypes let out their first burst of effort. Then quickly a second. Suddenly the aircraft was on the ground, and that's when things became a real mess. Sparks filled the streets as concrete was torn from the ground and flung into the air, smashing into buildings and hammering any vehicles nearby. One wing was torn asunder, whilst the other was cut in half. People found whatever cover they could behind the highway barriers. Only a few bystanders continued to watch, including Black Shadow.

That's when he saw the car in the road. The boy in the back. Heard the shout from a distraught father.

"Oh god," the vigilante muttered, utter horror over-taking him.

In that moment he didn't think. He just did. Pushing past the people around him, he didn't even hear their shouts. The man began pumping his legs in desperation, charging headlong toward the stranded car. Flecks of snow dashed against his visor and his breathing became short. The ice grippers on his boots did their job, digging into the ground and preventing him from taking a deadly spill. His thoughts were a mess as he came into the path of the on-coming airplane. I'm going to die! Get to the car. Get the boy! I've got to make it. Don't fucking stop. Go. GO!

He got to the car. The boy was crying. He grasped the handle, shaking it furiously twice. Locked! Throwing a quick glance, he saw the monstrous entity threatening to devour them both. No time! A baton was quickly produced. The window smashed in one fluid motion. Open the door. Goddamn seatbelt was still on! The kid was still crying. Terrified. Of the plane, of him, of dying. He was scared too. Both arms were used to drag the kid out. One rested behind his head, the other supporting his body, cradling him. The roar of the engines was all he could hear. Wide-eyed and full of adrenaline, he turned, sprinting again. He could see the rubble now. It tore past him, wrecking anything in its way. A shadow descended over them. It was here! Shit! They were only just about clear. It wasn't enough. A stray piece of metal caught him on the shoulder. He jumped, positioning himself so that his other shoulder would take the brunt of it whilst still shielding the child. They skidded helplessly along the floor, coming to a stop by a car. The boy was tucked neatly between the car and the man. But Black Shadow was peppered by all manner of debris. Glass, concrete, metal. It all assailed him as the aircraft decimated the car he'd just run from. His body was in agony.

He couldn't bare to watch.

 

[Shroud]

Jackson kept pace with his aunt, following only a half-step behind her as she marched toward the tug, service weapon drawn and held at the ready. He wasn't entirely sure if her command for everyone else to follow her had included him, but given all that had happened in such a short expanse of time, Jackson certainly wasn't about to let Feona near that boat without additional backup, should the Fierros have had any extra surprises on board. Though, given the state of the tug, Jackson noted that highly unlikely.

The once completely floating barge was a third of it's way into the water already, the aft now largely submerged, and much of the section above the bay was smoking from a fire below deck. The entire boat was very nearly vertical, and Jackson had flashbacks to watching the film Titanic as a preteen with his father. Though, unlike the movie, there were no rafts in the water full of survivors. Jackson suddenly realized that there could very well be crew members on board, still alive, that were unable to escape.

Feona also realized this, having noticed only one unconscious Fierro goon sprawled out on the dock, and no other figures in sight. When she had first arrived she had counted at least a half dozen separate gunmen firing at her from the tug, and knowing there had been vigilantes here just moments earlier she felt it safe to assume there might be more unconscious still aboard.

"Jackson," she called back to her nephew, "search for anyone still on the boat, and get them off. If they resist, you have my permission to not be gentle."

He was already in the air before she had finished her order. Jackson gave a quick scan of the deck, but the smoke coming from the holes in the tug made it difficult to see. He allowed a slow moving, but strong, wind to flow over the tugboat in order to move the smoke out of his line of sight. With that hindrance gone for the moment, he spotted two forms laying on the deck, one of the bodies already having slid down towards the icy waters. Unsure if they were even alive, Jackson nonetheless wasted no time in levitating both bodies on a cushion of air and carrying them over to the docks where his aunt and the two officers beside her waited, handcuffs at the ready.

Going back to check below deck, Jackson was greeted by the searing heat from the flames that had erupted from the earlier explosions. He concentrated, slowly withdrawing the oxygen that was feeding the fire, just as he had done several days prior at the nuclear facility. Given that this blaze was dramatically smaller, it took only mere seconds for him to extinguish it. Which revealed the badly burnt corpse, a rocket launcher still clutched in its charred hands. Jackson had seen dead bodies before, mostly cadavers in the labs at school, but even so it still bothered him to know that a human being, even a murderous criminal, had died so horrifically here. As such, after scanning the rest of the ship, he returned to pick up the remains in another cushion of air to bring outside.

Once out of the boat, however, Jackson was greeted with panicked, though quiet shouts and pleas that had previously been drowned out by the roaring flames. Setting the body beside the others - which had, by now, been handcuffed by Feona, and so Jackson assumed were still alive, albeit unconscious - he went to find who was shouting. In the water below were three more Fierro goons, kicking and splashing as they attempted to stay afloat in the freezing, icy harbor. Well, two goons. The third was very obviously dead already, the body limp, half-hanging off a patch of ice, with the face submerged in the water. The other two were attempting to avoid the same fate, though given their sputtered cries for help, they didn't seem to be doing a well enough job at that. What was more, though, was that hovering above the drowning criminals was a winged man, largely unmoving as he seemingly looked on, ignoring the pleading of the men fighting for their lives.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Jackson shouted at him.

He swooped down to catch hold of the two men by their flailing arms. He helped to keep their heads above the surface just long enough for him to form a large platform underneath their bodies, lifting them, and the dead thug, up on the solid air-construct. They shivered and moaned as their wet, freezing bodies met the cool air and pelting hail. Walls slowly rose up from the four sides of the construct, angling inwards toward one another to create a roof. Though they were safe from the elements for now, Jackson had no idea how long they had been in the water, and hypothermia could already have been setting in.

He called for Feona, letting the wind carry his voice to her on the dock. Feona left the two officers to stand watch over the captured criminals in case any awoke and attempted to flee, then rounded the corner of the dock which brought her to the other side of the tugboat where Jackson was, her gun held high, expecting trouble from the sound of her nephew's voice. What she didn't expect was the winged figure she had encountered shortly after the Fierros had opened fire. The man she had assumed was an incompetent vigilante.

"What's going on, Jack?" Feona asked, carefully, measuring the situation, and keeping her firearm slightly lowered.

"These two were drowning, their buddy already did." He said, jerking his thumb towards those inside his box construct. "And this guy," Jackson nodded towards the still hovering stranger a few feet ahead of him, "was just there watching. They were begging for his help, and he didn't even pretend to offer any."

He spared a brief glance back at his aunt, and Feona could see the anger on his face. "They could be suffering from hypothermia, we need to get them to a hospital."

Callously observing the death of others was by itself cruel, and Feona had seen this man from afar assaulting the Fierros on the boat, which, at the very least, added up to probable negligent homicide. Now Feona raised her weapon to train it on the assumed vigilante.

"Sir," she called out, addressing the winged man, "I am going to need you to..." She paused, realizing this was her first time attempting the apprehension of someone with extra-normal abilities. It wasn't daunting for her, she was comfortable with the fact that there were those in the world with such talents, her nephew among them, but she struggled briefly with the notion of ordering someone to stop levitating.

"To return yourself to the ground," she continued, "and then place your hands over your head and lie down. Do not attempt to resist arrest."

Feona's eyes flicked over to Jackson who was also floating, directly in front of the man with his arms crossed in an authoritative manner. Should the man attempt to flee, or even attack, she knew Jackson was prepared to engage. She just hoped the bird-man wasn't a complete fool.