Vigilance: Blood and Justice [IC]

[Roman]

Rustin had bashed the steering wheel a few times on his way back to the precinct; mostly blaring his horn at careless drivers - like the department needed any extra work because of a few fucking idiots who wouldn't pay some goddamn attention in the rain - but also because, the further he got from the Initial Crime Scene, and the closer he got to the precinct and the morgue within it, the stronger he could feel a great ball of anxiety building within him, a shard of terrible dread that pierced his core. When he reached the front of the precinct building, Rustin took the key from the ignition with unsteady hands, and he thrust them in his coat pockets as he took flight up the steps two at a time.

He blew past the front desk, the clerk of which tried and failed to grab his attention with either her files or her desk phone, and hurried down the stairs at the back of the building that grew colder as they descended and neared the entrance to the precinct's morgue. There was a back entrance for the gurneys and the bodies upon them, but only Billis has that key, and instead Rustin - like many other detectives - was forced to use the 'tourist's entrance', as Billis often liked to remark dryly, with a near-imperceptible wry smirk. Rustin stood outside the double doors at the bottom of the stairs - great, heavy doors designed to keep the cold in - and mentally calmed himself, taking a few deep breaths and trying to quell that growing, growling bulge just below his heart. Then the doors opened by themself, and Rustin was staring at Billis, hand outstretched toward the handle that had moved itself away from him.

"I thought you'd be here quicker than that." Billis said, walking away from the door and back to the central plint-table upon which Rustin's vic lay. Rustin caught the door as it began to close back on him, holding it open as he felt the hairs on his arm prick up from the chill. He hoped it was from the chill.
"People looking to kill themselves on those roads." Rustin said, stepping into the morgue and letting the door close behind him. "As if the department wasn't stretched thin enough already." Billis grunted. He never seemed to be surprised, outraged, or shocked at the general lunacy of the massed people. "What have you got on the body?"
"Straight to the point." Billis said. "Good." Rustin walked over, and they stood on opposite sides of the body. There were deep, clean tears in the torso where Billis had opened it up for the autopsy. He'd put the flaps back, but not stiched them up yet. He reached over and pulled them back, opening the cavity once again. Rustin looked on, deadpan. He'd seen worse in his time in Homicide.

"Well, exsanguination was the CoD," Billis began, "but I didn't realise the full extent of it. The arteries are empty, naturally for this kind of death, but also the minor veins - hell, there isn't any tissue that's not drained. His heart is withered slightly but I imagine that's from the strain of pumping flat-nothing." Billis stopped. Rustin had walked away, swearing under his breath.
"Fuck." Rustin said, louder now. "Fuck, fuck fuck, Fuck." He kicked a stool and it wheeled away, clanging against the far wall. "We are not fucking equipped for this, Billis. We are way in over our heads with this one."
"What are you talking about, Rust." Billis said, flat as ever as he re-pinned the vic's skin back in place.
"I'm talking about a fucking exsanguination with no external wounds, Billis. I'm talking about a complete fucking removal of blood in its fucking entirety from the whole body, every inch of tissue." Billis stayed silent. He knew what Rustin was leading to but he also knew that Rustin's shouting was born of fear and dread, and frankly, Billis felt it too.
"I'm talking about two years ago, when an anti-hype activist got a group of some fucking nasty individuals together to show how much of a threat this, this new species, or evolution, branch of humanity, really is. A guy who was stopped by another team of individuals, all with their own flashy shit. Christ, Billis, one of those girls turned her dog into my 3rd grade fucking nightmare, and she was on the right side! Christ, christ, fucking jesus christ we are not prepared for this. We're not. This guy is going to get away or we're going to lose the whole goddamn precinct and fuck knows how many civs trying to bring him in."

Rustin panted slightly, breathing heavily after his outburst. Billis, in the way only he alone could manage, stood silent, serious as the grave, grounded. Rustin stared, water dripping from his hair to his nose and then to the floor, and Billis looked at him.
"There was something else." Billis said, breaking the silence as he moved to the top of the table, where a box sat above the head of the body. He took the lid from it and picked up a small, clear plastic bag that was sat on top of the rest of the vic's belongings. "This was the only thing in his pants. Scrunched up and in the bottom of the pocket. Damp, but I managed to press it, dry it, keep it readable." Rustin padded over, his face sour, snatching the bag from Billis' hand. It was a meal ticket, with a number and a check-box, crudely drawn onto what looked like an entry ticket. Rustin flipped it over, and a single word made him smile. It was an avenue, a lead, somewhere to begin. He nodded to Billis, who acknowledged it and got back to work as Rustin turned on his heel and jogged back to his car.

The bag sat on the passenger seat as Rustin fired up the engine, the all-important word brazenly facing the world in a youthful, impacting font: NeverMind.

-

He reached the club quickly enough, hearing about a passenger jet landing on the highway through the police radio on his dashboard as he drove, as well as reports from Feona's business at the docks, and Rustin gazed up at the sign on the face of the club, proudly proclaiming its name. This was easily one of the most popular places in town, and helped all the more by its owner, Crescent City's own celebrity, with the hunky-star looks, sweet child, and deceased girlfriend to really become the desire of all female patrons. Rustin tutted quietly and threw up the collar of his coat, heading toward the door.

Inside, someone handed him a ticket - and he took it, quickly inspecting it to make sure it matched the one found on the vic - but then shifted his coat to show the badge on his hip. The doorman opened the second set for Rust and he was immediately hit with the noise of a hundred murmured conversations and the smell of damp and sweat and simple, hot food. He walked in and found the first staff member he could see, asking for the owner. A few minutes later, he was face-to-face with Bryce Kane.
"Mr. Kane." Rustin began. "I'm Detective Rustin Wolfe, New Lilith Homicide Department. I'd like to ask you, and any other members of your staff who could be relevant to my investigation, a few questions. Now, just as a pre-emptive - are you the formal owner of this establishment?"
Bryce Kane shook his head. "Manager. I run the place."
"But you don't own it." Rustin said, trying to get the answer to his question.
"No. That would be Mr. Maddox." Bryce answered. Rustin tried to smile politely.
"And is Mr. Maddox currently on premises?" He asked.
"No. Mr. Maddox is out." Bryce answered.
"In that case, Mr. Kane, I'm going to need you to get me Mr. Maddox's number. I will have need to question him as well. In the meantime, there are a few things I'd like to ask you."

 

[Stein]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The wind slashed through the Magni once again as he sailed toward the lapping waters. His pitch of laughter had long since died down to a chuckle that petered to nothing at all. Jaw set and teeth grated, Sarks held a sliver of doubt at his most recent decisions. This could be the end of him. He might not survive the ordeal.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]'Humans are like foals, aren't they?' he thought to his missing partner in action. She'd chastise him for even coming up with this plan, and strangle him for going through. Especially in his condition. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Even Sarks had doubted himself briefly when he sailed over the edge of the bridge. But now, the closer he neared the more he hyped himself that it was the only way. He began to right himself until the soles of his boots were angled toward the approaching water. Around both of his feet appeared Latch Blocks that were surrounded by 6 Base Blocks, creating a platform. He began to slow his descent, commanding the blocks to become more buoyant and pull against the flow of gravity. He settled about 10 feet above the peak of the waves, bobbing slightly along with this floating Blocks.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]In the midst of pelts of rain that stung his skin, Sarks inhaled and exhaled sharply, tensing his muscles and releasing, feeling the familiar slight tug in his stomach. Against all external stimuli, he isolated that feeling, focusing only on it digging in to it. The ever-so-slight tinge of pain in his navel, he expounded on it, creating a small hole and opening up his connection to the Nox. He ebbed the Hole wider, wincing as the power of the Nox leaked out. Sarks directed it to the area directly below the surface of the shifting waters. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]All at once, Sarks exhaled and grunted, jutting his rigid palms out. Below him, 10 Base Blocks appeared under the surface of the water. The lines of the 10 blocks appeared quickly followed by the walls, each of them encasing it's weight in water. He breathed out deeply, ignoring the sweat tickling the skin just around his ear. He ebbed the Hole even wider with a bit more urgency, trying not to bend over the pain. The Nox flowed out from him, radiating with the Blocks below him. He called the Blocks up, slowly lifting their weight with the power of the Nox. The Hole ached and Sarks knew he had to move quickly. His weakened state and the weather didn't provide any sort of ideal conditions, but he pushed on, gritting his teeth. The water-filled Base Blocks rose to meet him and he urged his platform up. He began to adjust to the pain and willed the Blocks and himself to move faster, rapidly approaching the teetering underbelly of the bus. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]His plan was a simple one: he wanted to balance the bus weight out and give the occupants the opportunity the chance to get off. The Jeep from the Roughnecks could probably be used to aid him as well and he had no doubt the Special Ops Hypes he'd seen would help him. By putting the water Base Blocks in the back of the bus, Sarks hoped to add weight to tip the back of the bus a little more. At that time, he would use another set of Base Blocks to aid in lifting the bottom, teetering portion of the bus. Gravity would do most of the work for him once he placed the water Base Blocks and he'd only have to hold their forms. Sarks would be able to focus on using the second set of Blocks to push against the underside of the Bus and lift it up.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The bus neared and Sarks prayed that those thugs were taken out. They would make this unnecessarily harder. The Special Ops group looked efficient though, and that female with the rifle had seemed hungry for a good target. Sarks brought the Blocks above him as he came level with the railing and above it. Water dripped on him from the 10 Blocks as they passed over him. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Set A of the Base Blocks ignored the passengers as they filed in through the back of the bus and began to stack on each other, taking up the central aisle. Luckily, the passengers were terrified and didn't react fully to the presence of these mysterious blocks. All at once, taking up a third of the central aisle, each of the blocks settled on the floor of the bus. A groan emanated from the bus and below it, the Magni took that as his signal to will his set B of the Base Blocks against the bus' underside. The A set caused the back of the bus to settle more firmly on the bridge, while the B set pushed with gravity to aid in lifting the bus and leveling it out. Stretching the Hole out more, Sarks sent a wave of Nox toward each set and willed them to hold as they quivered slightly. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He lifted his platform and landed on the bridge again, settling by the two agents. He risked breaking his full concentration for the briefest of moments. "All right, I've settled the bus for now. We've gotta get those civvies off, now!"[/BCOLOR]

 

[PlayingMonster]

Dani folded her arms around her chest, sighing heavily. The weather had turned practically Arctic in the space of what only fe!t like a few minutes, and she ccold see her breath every time she exhaled. She'd still had no luck finding any work- most places were struggling to pay the employees they had. Nobody was really in any position to take her on. She headed into a Starbucks with the aim of just getting something hot to drink. As the barista readied her drink, Dani turned her attention to the TV in the corner. The weather was causing havoc- planes were being rediverted, car crashes were happening left right and centre, and people were having major trouble getting around. The newscaster pondered how the vigilantes that had been active in the city recently were going to act, or even if they would. Dani rolled her eyes as the barista called her name. As Dani took her drink, the barista jerked his head towards the screen. "Times like these we need them superheroes, huh?" He grinned, and Dani forced herself to smile and nod, before leaving the cafe.

Part of her wished she could do something more. But that was a small part- the rest of her knew that it was dangerous, and that, if she was realistic, she'd probably be more of a liability than any good. She relied on other people to be able to do anything worthwhile, and knew that this would more than likely get her relegated to the role of sidekick. So, no, she was staying out of it. Let the real heroes do something about it, and she'd attempt to just live a normal life.

She took a mouthful out of her drink and smiled a little, wrapping both hands around the cup. She needed gloves, really. And if this weather was going to keep up, a pair of boots that wouldn't let the snow in. Or she could just stay inside, do serious study on her coursework and have regular Netflix marathons. Either sounded good, really. A phone rang, and she patted her pockets, before a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold ran down her spine. That wasn't her ringtone. It sounded like it was from a distance, but as she glanced around, she was the only person she could see. Her stomach suddenly felt sick, and her pace sped up until she was almost running. She just needed to get home.

 

[Blacksam]

A bitter chill wind ran across the port of Liverpool, like the breath of the grave skulking in from the land of the dead to torment the realm of the living. René Tombeau knew that the cold was more to do with the time of year, and the wind was caused by the closeness of the sea, but he preferred his description. More poetic. After all, did not all roads lead back to death? Why should the pathways taken by the wind be any different?

"And you're certain this is the man you ferried? He definitely matches this photo" René's immediate subordinate, Bon Russo, brought him back from his musing. Bon was engaged in trying to tease information from the captain of a container ship, a fat little balding man, about a fugitive from the Black Lotus Society. Despite being the Senior Assassin in command of this mission René was more than happy to leave this part of the proceedings to his underling. He hated interviewing regular people. Everyone was always so obsessed with their own lives and their own lies that they were apt to conceal aspects of the truth, either because they felt it hid their own duplicity's, or because they imagined the answers they withheld from the questioner gave them some measure of control over the situation. This captain was the latter, reveling in the position of power he currently had over René's three man squad.

Interrogation was a much more fruitful activity to the French-man's mind, and one less fraught with deceit. Both the powerful and the meek revealed their secrets when under René's knife.

"Yes, yes, I have a good mind for faces! We carried him on our last crossing." replied the captain.

"And where did he disembark?" Asked Bon. The captain glanced away then, darting eyes running over the faces of his crew. Lies were about to spill from his ugly mouth, René could tell. He really did hate liars. Lies were the sole domain of the living, and they basked in that fact, like pigs in filth. Disgusting.

"He wanted to go to Crescent city. We took him there"

"You did?"

"Yes."

Bon glanced towards his superior officer, rolling his eyes at the captain's evasiveness. René's knife may have been the best tool to cut to the truth of a matter, but Bon ran a close second. He was a hyper-human, like many of the Black Lotus Society members, with the unique ability of emotional empathy. He could sense and identify the emotions of others. Some may question the legitimacy of such a talent in an assassin, but Bon had proved his worth countless times in the past, especially in situations such as this. It proves difficult to lie to a man who knows exactly how nervous you are.

"Listen, captain. We don't care for Conall Maclean. At all. We really don't care what you did with him. Tell us what really happened, because whatever you did trust me when I say that it wont bother us." Said Bon.

"I did . . . " Started the captain, but René cut him off before the falsehoods continued to spill from his black tongue.

"Lie to me again and I'll set fire to your home with your family locked inside." The words were spoken quietly, so calm that it bordered on the edge of serenity. René's eyes were little more than cold flints though, and one look into them told the captain that Tombeau was being deadly serious. He gulped.

"He. . . he d-did want t-to go t-o crescent. We can't go there, the cities cut-t off. We dumped him and the rest of the refugee's overboard, a mile from the American east coast." The two Black Lotus' assassins stared intently at the captain, both employing their own particular gifts to discern if he was lying or not. After what felt like a lifetime for the crooked sailor they finally stopped scrutinizing him. René stalked away without another word, unwilling to waste another moment on the useless bag of flesh in front of him. Bon smirked and winked at the captain.

"Thank you for your time." He said before going to join René and the third member of their squad, Yang Seo-yung. Yang gave the two an inquiring look.

"Yang, contact the Enlightened One. Inform him that we have picked up the immortal's trail, though it's thin. Humbly request his assistance, or advise him that we may be some time hunting Maclean." Ordered René. Yang nodded without a word before getting down to the task set to her.

"Bad buisness that." Bon said.

"Hmm?"

"That captain and his crew, dumping all their passengers overboard. I bet a shiny dollar they'd milked those people for everything and then some, and thats the service they hand out. The refugee's deserved better." The empath was probably only speaking out loud, voicing his own concerns without much thought to the cause or content, but René's face went cold all the same. Colder than normal, in any case.

"Those people were weak Russo. They ran from their troubles, instead of facing it as they should have. Any that died in the waters was a gift to those still alive. Less mouths to feed and less dead weight to carry. Do not pity them. Instead feel anger that some still live, poisoning these lands with their shortcomings."

"Remember the Enlightened One's mission. We must make a world without weakness, one were the strong have inherited the world, and the meek are but a distant memory. Those sailors did our good work, whether they knew it or not. Understand?"

"Yes, Reaper. I am sorry for speaking out of turn." Bon sounded suitably contrite, and refused to meet René's wild eyed stare.

"Good. Don't let it happen again."

Bon, though an excellent assassin, didn't quite believe in the Black Lotus Society's mission. Not to the same extent that the taciturn Yang Seo-yung did, and certainly not with the same passion as René. Though while Bon was willing to reap the benefits of being a Society assassin while turning a blind eye to their politics and ideologies, René embraced them with open arms, all the while acknowledging his goals could only align with the Enlightened One's for so long.

After all, the Enlightened One wanted a world of the strong to rule over.

But the strong had to die too. Just like Conall Maclean.

 

[PlayingMonster]

Abby let herself into her apartment. Having managed to get all of the information out of the doctor and call into work to say that she wouldn't be back in, she had headed home to change. It was pretty obvious that something was very, very wrong, and she was pretty sure that the chaos being caused by the weather would be the perfect cover for more shady activity. She needed to talk to the test subject immediately. There was a chance that somebody would realise that she was on to them, and judging by everything they'd done already, she was willing to bet that killing the subject wouldn't be beyond them. She dumped her bag on her couch and headed straight to the bedroom to change into something more practical.

That something practical was a pair of black combats, a black shirt, her biking jacket and biking boots. She pulled her hair up into a tight bun and tied her scarf around her face. In an ideal world, she'd cut her hair short, but long hair was easier to work with in general. More diverse, easier to style in whatever way was appropriate to whatever she was pretending to be. Then again, she could always use wigs. She hesitated for a moment. That wasn't a half bad idea. She'd consider it when she was finished doing her duty to the city and to humanity.

She glanced at the address she'd hastily typed out in her phone notes as she headed downstairs. It was a decent enough drive away, and with the way the weather was, she couldn't exactly afford to go above the speed limit. She was fire-proof, not crash-proof. She grimaced and hoped that whoever she was racing was also limited by weather.

Evidently not, because as she left her apartment building, she was awaited by two men, both easily twice her size, and neither looking particularly friendly.

 

[Lord Wraith]

~A Collaboration between Lord Wraith and Blandman~​

KILBRIDE: NORTH CITY

W

atching powerless as the airplane slid towards his trapped son, Ewan pushed through his exhausted state only to see the man in the motorcycle helmet move first. Relief washed over Ewan as he saw the man pull Zebulun from the car before the pair became trapped as the plane went by.

"Hang on!" Ewan yelled as he rushed forward. Moving through the wrecked road helped the injured man to his feet as he took the crying Zebulun from his arms. Trailing behind Ewan was Aiden who helped brace the man in the motorcycle helmet.

"Thank you so much!" Ewan said as he turned to Zebulun. "There buddy, you're all right now. Daddy's here and he's never going to let you go again." Ewan said, dropping his disguised voice as he softy kissed Zebulun's forehead while holding the boy tightly.

Even after the roar of destruction had passed the two by, Black Shadow remained motionless on the floor for a moment, holding on tightly to protect the boy. As they lay there the ringing in his ears began to fade away, being replaced by the sounds of crying and commotion. It was then, and only then, that the vigilante began to feel pain spreading through different parts of his body as the adrenaline wore off. He began to move, trying to bring himself to a standing position, easily being brought down to one knee by a sharp stab which ran up his right leg. Whether it was fractured or broken he couldn't tell, but it had definitely been hit. Then came a warm sensation spreading across his left shoulder, and though he couldn't see it he knew something was stuck there having pierced his armour and then his muscles. The man stumbled to his feet briefly again, just in time to off load the child to who he assumed must be the father. Even through muffled hearing he heard the name 'Zebulun'. As soon as the boy was definitely safe, Black Shadow almost fell again, but this time was caught by the other Hype. He was luckier than he realised, as there was a massive dent on the side of his helmet. Had there been a little more force behind it he might have sustained something far more serious.

"Th-...the plane!" he spluttered deliriously, seemingly unaware of the thanks that was given to him and trying to push himself away from Aiden to turn around "What happened to the plane?!"

The plane in question had come to a stop another hundred feet passed what was now Ewan's totalled car. Simmons was in hysterics as he got on his cellphone calling in whatever emergency services were available, cursing that he didn't care about a shoot out down at the docks.

"Easy there, you've done enough for today." Aiden said as he held on tightly to the man in the helmet. "The plane's just over there, despite the damage to the plane I doubt the people inside suffered much. Likely just some cuts and bruises, probably a bit shook up but I doubt there's no serious injuries. You on the other hand need to get to the hospital as soon as possible." Looking at Ewan's car, Aiden grimaced as he saw how damaged it was.

"Hope you didn't like that car too much." He muttered as he looked towards Simmons. Despite being somewhat damaged, his SUV would still run.

"Ewan get the keys to that vehicle, tell the blowhard on the Blackberry that it's official S.H.I.F.T. business." Aiden ordered as Ewan nodded and jogged forward.

"Come on we need to get you into that vehicle." Aiden said turning towards the injured man.

"Hey Simmons!" Ewan yelled. "We need your SUV mate." Turning with a snarl, Simmons looked at the injured Black Shadow as he formulated a plan in his head. Hiding a wicked smile he tossed the keys to Ewan as he pulled out his phone again and began to text.

"Sure take it, I can get another ride. Let me just make a quick call to let the hospital know to make room for this hero." He said as he walked away and motioned for Gina to follow him.

"Alright Agent, lets go we've got the keys." Ewan yelled as he secured Zebulun into a seat.

There was a notable slump of relief from Black Shadow once he saw that the plane was largely intact, watching as the emergency slides were deployed and people began to file out. He felt a twang of pride, even if his part had only been a small one. Then the hammer came down on him as there was mention of hospitals. 'Shit' was all that ran through his mind. He knew damn well that he couldn't go to hospital. That would put everything at risk. His identity, his business, his family! He seemed helpless to stop the inevitable however, with Ewan already getting them their ride, which Simmons had handed over far too easily for the vigilante's liking.

As he was gently guided toward the SUV, Black Shadow desperatley started trying to formulate a plan. His eyes darted side to side behind the tinted visor and his breathing became heavier. Every step brought him closer to a dangerous future. No, he couldn't let this happen. No hospitals. No doctors! Then he saw his salvation as they came back to the cross-roads. There it was, his old faithful. His Black Shadow. He had to try and reach it, it was his only chance of escape. The vigilante glanced up at his custodian slyly, who looked pre-occupied with getting to the vehicle. The man purposefully slowed his pace, so as to gather whatever energy he had left. Every breath would count. Aiden slowly tried to guide him into the car, and that's when he struck.

Using whatever God-given strength he had left, Black Shadow slammed into Aiden with his right shoulder and helmet, sending him into the car instead. Reaching down to his belt with his good arm, he quickly grabbed a flashbang, armed it and then allowed the device to drop the ground. Turning as nimbly as he could, the man heard the massive bang and just about caught a glimpse of the flash out of the corner of his eye. Heart pounding he made his mad dash toward his beloved motorcycle. He pressed on down the road as quickly as he could, only able to manage a half-sprint half-hobble sort of motion. The ice proved even more difficult to manouver now than it had before, and despite having grips on he managed to slip a few times. But still, by some stroke of luck he managed to reach his destination. He became nauseatingly light-headed as the sudden drip of red from his left arm caught the man's attention. He was, however, committed to his plan now. Letting out a yelp, Black Shadow flung his leg over the motorcycle's seat and tried to steady himself. Fumbling for his keys he knew that he didn't have much time left.

"Hey!" Aiden yelled as he stumbled blindly out of the SUV. "I hate vigilantes." He muttered as he rushed after the man. Stumbling, he caught himself on the hood of the vehicle, Aiden tried to clear the spots from in front of his eye as he made his way after the injured man.

"You're only going to hurt yourself more." Aiden warned as he grabbed the man by the collar of his jacket. "Get off that thing." Aiden said despite taking time to admire the antique bike. Letting out a low whistle Aiden shook his head. "I can understand not wanting to leave that behind but I promise you it will be safe. We will keep it safe for you and ensure no harm comes to it. But our priority right now is getting you safe." Aiden said as he forced the man up, avoiding hurting him any further.

"Now come on." Aiden said as he pushed the man back towards the SUV.

Even as he got the keys ready and was about to bring the engine to life, Black Shadow felt to a strong hand grip him by the collar, and he suddenly realised how Simmons must have felt earlier. Whether it was through his powers or some other means, this Aiden was clearly stronger than himself, especially in his current condition. The feeling of failure was all too obvious for him. He would have panicked and struggled if he didn't suddenly feel so weak. Although his hands did tighten their grip on the bike for a moment when it was mentioned that other people would be looking after it. His father and grand-father would turn in their graves! He felt more shame over that than he did in failing to get away.

As he was helplessly led back to the SUV, Black Shadow cursed the fact that he hadn't used a smoke grenade as well! This time when they got to the vehicle, he noted how Aiden was more guarded than before. He would have made a smartass comment if he hadn't been so drowsy. This time he was finely bundled into the back and secured. It felt as if he was going to face his maker or something, such was the severity of his identity being revealed. He even feared that he might end up in prison again. When he had at last finally settled, Black Shadow noticed how the kid, Zebulun, was looking right at him. Despite his currently messed up condition, he managed to slowly raise a cheesy thumbs-up to the kid. He'd saved the boys life, and his mind was calmed by the fact that that was definitely worth going to jail for.

With everyone finally fastened in, Ewan watched the masked man give Zebulun a thumbs up as he started the engine. The drive to the hospital didn't take long as Simmons had a police cruiser meet them en route and guide them onwards. Ewan was thankful for that given the few examples he had seen of other people driving in this weather. Driving through the Rows, he couldn't help but take in his surroundings seeing the poverty stricken neighbourhood driven to looting. Entering into the West City, Ewan drove up to the hospital where a team rushed out the doors to greet them.

"You're the S.H.I.F.T. agents?" One of the nurses asked as Ewan parked the car.

"No mate, but he is." He answered pointing to Aiden.

"Yes and we have an injured patient here." Aiden said speaking up before the doctor interupted.

"The mayor briefed us on your way over here. We've got it from here." They said opening the door to the SUV and carefully loading the Black Shadow onto a stretcher. As they wheeled the man inside Ewan turned to Aiden.

"Shall we meet up with your boss?"

"Seems most logical at this point." Aiden answered as Ewan put the vehicle back in gear and headed for Nevermind.

 

[Lord Wraith]

W

ith the situation involving the bus resolved, Emma and Strum worked quickly to move the civilians off the vehicle with the assistance of the young man. With the mission accomplish and the proper authorities now arriving, the pair were free to return to Nevermind. Turning to thank the young man, Strum was surprised to find him already gone. Opening his mouth to mention the man to Emma he was rather puzzled to find he couldn't put a face to the man despite having seen most of it mere minutes ago. Giving his head a shake, he made his way back to the truck and turned it towards Nevermind.

Returning to Nevermind roughly around the same time as Aiden and Ewan. Meeting up, Ewan guided the group upstairs to a more private venue to discuss the events of the night after putting Zebulun to bed in his apartment on the top floor of the club. A TV played softy in the background recalling the events at the dock and how one vigilante responsible for the drowning of a man and near drowning of another two was on the loose having escaped authorities by flying into the night. The mention of a Hype helping the police seem to pique Strum's interest as he mentioned to Aiden and Emma about how Jackson's Aunt was a well-respected officer. That said, the group was exhausted and Ewan bid them goodnight as he headed upstairs.

---

The following day came sooner than Ewan would have like as he groggily rolled out of bed. Exhausting from pushing his powers further than they had even gone before, he could still feel the strain throughout his entire body as crusted blood stuck to the inside of his left nostril. Grabbing his cellphone, he noticed a text from Anthony Strum requesting he let him know his earliest available time for meeting. Swiping through the rest of his missed alerts, Ewan ignored the four missed calls from an unknown number simply dismissing them as a telemarketer. Stretching, Ewan began to jot down a reply before being stunned as he looked out the window at the city blanketed in a coat of white snow. While it had been obviously snowing the night before Ewan never thought it would actually accumulate. Easily well over two feet of the white powder sat on the ground as the roads were left barren, the sound of spinning tires and sputtering engines could be heard echoing from blocks away but for the most part people seemed content to simply stay indoors. Feeling his phone vibrate as Strum's reply came back, Ewan went and woke Zebulun up before running through their morning routines and going downstairs.

Bryce wasn't in yet as Ewan descended into the main lobby, nonetheless he headed into the kitchen and began to throw together some breakfast. Minutes later he served a plate of pancakes and bacon to Zebulun before sitting down to one himself.

"How'd you sleep buddy?"

"Alright Daddy." Zebulun said before pausing. "What did you do yesterday?"

"I helped save a lot of people." Ewan said as he shoved a forkful of food in his mouth.

"Not what I meant Daddy, what were you doing to that airplane? Aiden shot lasers out of his eyes but what did you do?" Zebulun replied, his keen little eyes interrogating his father.

"I-I…" Ewan begun before deciding it would be best if he said everything he knew. "I manipulate sound. I don't know how, it started when I was a teenager and I decided to use it to build a career. But now," He paused.

"Now you want to be a hero." Zebulun said. "A superhero."

"You must have got your brains from your mother." Ewan said leaning back with a smile. "I want to use my ability to actually help people."

"Mommy would have liked that." Zebulun replied before his voice went low. "I just don't want to lose you, Daddy."

"And you won't Zebby, I promise you that. I promised your mom that and I ensure every day I keep that promise." Ewan replied before looking up to see Strum, Aiden and Emma walking into Nevermind.

"And here's the A-Team." Ewan said as he leaned back in his chair. "Welcome back, what's up?"

"This situation has gone on long enough, we want to put an end to it and we need your help. In fact we're going to need a lot of help." Strum answered. "I believe the source of the problem is at the top of Old Stone Mountain."

"I have a…err… friend who might be able to confirm that." Ewan replied. "He also knows the mountain fairly well and I'm sure if you can look past certain things he'd be a great help."

"Is he a criminal?" Strum asked.

"Of course not." Ewan said with a chuckle. "He's just not what you'd be expecting."

"I've seen every type of Hype under H.E.L.P.'s classification system. Nothing will surprise me Mr. Maddox." Strum stated flatly.

"We also need to go pick up Jackson, his abilities combined with Strum's might be able to stop the storm." Aiden interjected.

"Yes and the man who assisted us on the bridge would be a great asset as well. Either way, we don't have much time to waste, it's gotten must worse out here." Strum replied as he looked towards Zebulun. "Do you have someone who can watch your son? I assume you'll be actually following my 'suggestions' this time."

"I can stay with Uncle Bryce so long as you keep my Daddy safe." Zebulun piped up.

"You're okay with that Zebby?" Ewan asked as the boy nodded vigorously. "Alright then I guess we're good to head out."

"Not quite yet." Aiden said he handed a duffle bag to Ewan. "A leather jacket and hoodie will only get you so far. How about you suit up with this instead?" He smiled as Ewan opened the zipper and saw the S.H.I.F.T. emblem on the armor staring back at him.

 

[PlayingMonster]

"You have got to be kidding me," Abby muttered as she glanced out her window. The streets were pure white, marred only in a few places where people had been forced to venture outside the house. At least the ice had ensured that nobody had raised any eyebrows when she'd turned up at the emergency room with a nose that had been pumping blood, a split lip and what she'd thought had been a mild concussion, but had actually been normal for a blow to the head. The concussion hadn't been from the fight- she'd slipped when she was walking to the emergency room. The two goons that had been waiting for her outside of the house had fled the moment she'd let her skin catch fire- but not out of fear. It was more like they'd realised something, something game-changing. And that was making her suspicious.

She picked up her phone and was completely unsurprised to find a text from her boss, informing her that the lab was closed due to the weather. She stared out the window, rubbing her abdomen a little where she'd taken a punch. The painkillers the hospital had given her had lasted maybe twenty minutes at most, meaning that she'd just have to deal with the pain. Was she going to stay in and watch movies and have a typical snow day, or was she going to chance going out and tracking down the test subject? She'd turned up at the address before going to the hospital, but they hadn't been home.

If she was going out, it was going to have to be on foot. There was no way she was risking getting killed on those roads. She'd also have to wear about five layers to make sure that her body temperature didn't get too low. It would be a lot easier to just stay in and sleep. But, instead, she headed into her bedroom to get changed.

 

[Olissa]

(Wrap up of last night)
The sound of footsteps alerted Alice that someone was near her vicinity just as her phone went off. Great.
She glanced down and noticed a girl, probably around her age, that seemed startled and took off before Alice had time to hit the ignore button. She didn't think much of it first till the appearance seemed familiar.
Was that... Probably not, but it was at least worth it to investigate. Alice sent a quick text back to Alex.

'On to something.'​

Switching off her phone Alice figured that would have been enough to keep him quiet for a while.

Using the rooftop she was on Alice followed the female that had walked right towards a bunch of lowlifes. From here she couldn't really make out what they were saying to her, but it was obvious enough that that wasn't her usual crowd. Swiftly and gracefully Alice got off the building and into the alley nearby.
Standing closer she could hear the men making sexual remarks, as well as some threats followed by sounds of struggle. That was all she needed to know.
After a quick check of her outfit, making sure all of her skin was covered save for where her mask didn't reach, Alice stepped out of the shadows.
She wasn't going to do the whole hero's talk 'let her go or face the consequences' stuff. She was more the 'here's my knee, in your face' kind of gal.

In one smooth motion Alice went from being undetected, to jamming her fist against someone's throat followed by an elbow to the face and flooring a third. The chaos that followed was used by Alice to slip behind one of them and snap his neck. Wouldn't be enough to kill him, but it certainly got him out of the running for now.
Where she had hoped that they would have backed down and run with their tail between their legs, she was met with two knives. Morons.
Shifting her weight to her left leg Alice kicked the hands of the attackers and knocked the blades out of their hands. She would have taken them out of commission as well, but they got the message and left.
The fight had been over quick enough so the woman she had followed wasn't away yet.
Blue eyes peered at the other's face, confirming her suspicions. Without another word Alice jumped back into the shadows, and up the roof she had just been on

---

"Where did you run off to last night?" Alex persistently paced after Alice as she down the hall to meet her superior.
"I was busy."
"I noticed." He grabbed her arm and turned her around. "But that's not an answer to my question."
Silence was met with the determined stare. The two stood there in the middle of the hallway, motionless, till Alex let go.
Turning around Alice continued on her path with Alice closely behind her.
With her knuckles Alice tapped on the door of her Senior Assassin rapidly.
"Come in." Quietly Alice pushed open the door and went in with her brother. "Alice, what is it?"
"It's about my mission sir."
Leaning forward on the chair he was sitting in the man looked at her intently. "You disappeared without warning, and switched your phone off. If you expect us to-"
"I found her." She said, cutting him off.

It remained quiet for a while. A mixture of annoyance about being cut off and surprise was visible on his face. Alice was certain even Alex' eyebrows must have risen, whether it was because of Alice's bold behavior, or because she had found her target in record time.
"Are you certain."
"Yes, sir."
"Where."
"New Lilith."
"Does she live there?"
"She lives in the street where the extraction team picked me up. I followed her home." Alice got a stern look from her superior. "She doesn't know I followed her."
"Good. Make contact soon. You may leave."
It felt a little informal and off key the way she was dismissed, but Alice assumed it had to do with the sudden information.
The door had barely closed on their way out when Alex started firing at her.
"Are you for real? Couldn't you have told me?"
"And ruin the surprise? I don't think so. Come on, I need to prepare."

 

[Stein]

It was with great reluctance that Sarks dragged himself from his bed the next morning. His window-walls of his apartment showed the white blanket that had been laid across the city in the night. He'd seen it settling on his way back from the mountain.

The weather had mixed with the zero-visibility of the encroaching and uncanny darkness and would have almost killed a mortal man. But the darkness was where the Magni drew strength. And in it, he had finally been able to replenish some of his strength from the day prior. It had brought him relief to be able to relax, even with the dread growing in him at his inability to find his assistant and the inexplicable pull he felt toward the mountain. His relief soon turned to frustration when he was unable to find anything of note and after two hours, exhaustion demanded he retreat.

The sheer energy of the mountain gave Sarks pause still, though. One of the beautiful things about the Nox was its ability to allow a user to attune themselves with energies in the world. A great Magni could reach out with their Nox and feel the energy around them whether some called it aura, chi or even spirits in some cases. A Magni, with practice could sense these things. And Sarks had been been thrown off balance by what he'd sensed. Floating at the same level of the peak, which was still obscured by dense clouds, Sarks had been…assaulted by the sheer magnitude of power he felt.

It was chaotic, to say the least. Each tendril of energy the equivalent of a Kraken tentacle in his mind. And there were many tendrils. They pulsed and writhed, all jutting out in random directions and random times. From where he stood—or floated— they didn't seem to have a concrete purpose or objective in mind. He couldn't discern who or what had unleashed this power, or even tapped in to it. There was a barrier as well. At the center of the peak. He couldn't discern it too clearly due the fog and haze surrounding him, but he could feel the repulsive force of it.

'This energy is no sporadic energy. It's been resonating and building. Pent up to be released. A dam of water against a glass wall, to say the least.'

But he'd known he couldn't do anything about it and, bundling himself up, he'd turned his platform around, craving the soft comfort of his bed. Tomorrow he'd resume the search. The light of day and new strength should aid him.

Now, he looked out of his windows, surveying the city. This search, this entire city was starting to wear on his patience. Just what in the world was going on in this accursed place? Fuck it, he needed some fresh air that wasn't tied to solving a city-wide mystery. Or a drink.

---

The span of fifteen minutes found Sarks at the door of Nevermind, honestly not intending to wind up there. It had been his feet that had carried him there. Val would label it a sign of his alcoholism and Sarks was sure he'd have to agree. But, alcohol be damned, the wind wasn't so forgiving at the moment and Sarks decided to find solace in the warm bar.

He heaved the door open and stepped in, shaking the white puffs and flakes from his huddled form.
He removed his scarf while looking up at a pursed-lip woman. She'd been here a few days ago when he'd come in before.

"Don't worry Bertha, may I call you Bertha? I'm going to call you Bertha. Don't worry, lovely, I'm only here for the warmth and solace, not alcohol. You can set those judgmental eyes aside for only a moment." He didn't look back at her as he stepped further inside. "I will have a tea though, see if you can make it extra delicious for me. If you would, of course" he added, pulling out a fifty. "I'd also like to speak to your manager or owner when you get a chance to grab him, lovely."

 

[Blacksam]

Oliver had finally managed to convince Conall to join him in his escape. The Scotsman had wanted to stay and help fish survivors from the water, but Olly had argued against it.

"The police wont care if you were with the Fierro's or not. They'll slap the cuffs on you and sort out the details later. And trust me when I say that they don't go easy on vigilantes either. You'll be lucky if you don't end up doing a stint of your own."

"But those people will die if someone doesn't get them out of the water!"

"The hype with the cops over there is better suited to that than we are. Come on!" Conall had very nearly revealed that he was a hype himself then, but had thought better of it. What would have been the point? Instead he grudgingly nodded his assent and followed Olly as the Fierro sneaked away, moments before the police swamped their position. As soon as they were sure they were out of sight they broke into a mad sprint, keen to put as much ground between them and the law as possible. It was only after they had covered several blocks that Conall pointed out that two men sprinting like the devil himself was on their tail probably looked like they were guilty of something. They had slowed their pace to a more sedate jog, taking side alleys and back streets rather than the main thoroughfares.

They had been forced to leave Joey behind, Olly reasoning that if they were to try and manhandle the big lad away then the police would surely notice them. The handsome Fierro tried to hide it but he was obviously conflicted about being forced to abandon his friend even if it was in one of those 'rock or hard place' decisions. At least they knew Joey would get the medical attention he required while in police custody.

They finally slowed to a halt only when Olly decreed them safe, though Conall suspected it was less to do with the distance they had covered, and more to do with the fact that Olly was blowing so hard it looked like his lungs were about to give out. The Scotsman wasn't nearly as bad, his breathing just off even. Suddenly finding all kinds a' reasons to be thankful for all a' Da's insistence on roadwork. All that cardio is grand training for hoofing it from the polis.

It took a while before Olly began to approach his regular 'equilibrium', looking up at Conall with a self-conscious grin. He had the greasy complexion of a man who was seriously fighting the urge to vomit his breakfast up. Conall took a step back. Never can be too careful.

"Think. . . we. . . lost. . . em'." huffed the Fierro. The Scotsman wasn't sure if it was a statement or a question, instead just opting for a short laugh in response.

"You're laughing? . . . Man you must be. . . crazier than I thought." Yeah. Crazy enough ta try my hand at being Batman, apparently. What was I thinking? The memories of the sharp report of the gunfire, the pained screams of men as bullets tore through their flesh, the salty tang of the sea air, the roar and heat of the flames as they consumed the tug boat came rushing back to him. Suddenly he felt weak, his legs betraying him as they turned to jelly. If not for Olly catching him he would have fallen flat on his face.

"What's wrong, Conall? You're not shot, are you?" The Scot tried to reply but his tongue seemed to have itself in knots, nothing but garbled gibberish falling from his mouth. An almost impossible weariness assailed him, his eye lids feeling like someone had tied weights to them. His entire body seemed to have conspired against him all at once, and he was at a loss as to why.

"Jesus man, I think you're in shock." Stated Olly.

"Really?" Conall managed to fuddle out.

"I think so. I'm not exactly a doctor, but you seem to have the symptoms. We need to get you out of this weather." The Fierro led him down an alley after that, coming across a battered old camero. Before Conall knew what was happening, Olly had torn of the cars radio antennae and used it to jimmy the lock open. The Scotsman tried to argue against stealing the vehicle, but in his current state he couldn't offer up many protestations. The Fierro bundled him into the passenger seat before getting to the business of hot wiring the car. The entire process took him less than two minutes. Christ, real career criminal I've hitched ma wagon ta here.

The camero took off, Conall mumbling the question 'Where we going?'

"Somewhere that can help you pal. Don't worry, it's not a hospital so no chance of being fingered by the cops. Nah, I'm taking you to a club-cum-refugee center. It's been on my radar for a while now, with that many desperate people crammed together there's a lot of easy money to be made. Think it'll serve you better than it would me though. Place called Nevermind."

-----​

Olly had been as good as his word, driving as sedately as the weather permitted towards Nevermind. Conall felt himself slowly start drift back to normalcy during the drive, Olly taking the time to explain that he'd probably been suffering shock after the adrenaline rush of the fight at the docks and their madcap escape. When Conall asked him how he figured that out the gangster revealed that in his day job he was a trainee nurse. The Scotsman did his best to hide his surprise. Think you know someone. . . .

Olly had left pretty sharpish after seeing Conall settled in at the club, though had said that he still owed Conall one for helping to save Joey's life. Seeing as he was new to the city, and pretty unequivocally friendless, the Scot was only too happy to accept that as the Gospel truth.

The folks at Nevermind were looking overworked, tending to the needs of the many people displaced by the storms, but the staff never faltered in rushing to see to his needs. They fed him, gave him a change of clothes to replace and a place to bed down. It was more kindness than he'd been shown in weeks, oncoming tears forcing him to excuse himself before he made a spectacle of himself.

Before collapsing into the cot provided to him Conall had spent some time cracking with a few of his fellow 'charity cases'. Most of it had revolved around the fears people had related to the storm. When would it end, how much damage would it cause, why couldn't they get a hold of their loved ones, that sort of stuff. Conall sympathised with their plight, he really did, and wished there was something he could do to alleviate their pain, however the sad truth was that being really bad at dying wasn't a skillset that could be leveraged against this situation. Even as a hype he had no more power here than they did.

He did hear some interesting chatter though. Chatter about two strange men who had been spotted in the club yester, speaking to the owner. Men who were apparently SHIFT agents. At first Conall had been skeptical, mostly due to the fact when he asked 'How do you know they were SHIFT agents?' he got the reply 'Because they looked like SHIFT agents'. It was the sort of throwaway line you'd hear in a bad procedural cop show, and he was ready to file it as sweetie-wife gossip until someone got out there phone and fired up a Youtube video of two men stopping a plane crashing into a highway. . . using heat vision and car stereos. The lad with the heat vision was apparently one of the SHIFT agents who had visited the club earlier. No one was sure who the other one was, as he wore his hood up. It bordered on the ridiculous how well that disguise worked. A bit'a grease paint around the peepers and it would be damn impregnable.

Sleep came easy. Not surprising after the day he had. He woke early, usual state of affairs for him. Back home the old man would always wake him up at the crack of dawn, come rain, hail or shine. All ta 'embrace the day', as da used ta put it. Funny, always thought I'd be glad ta be rid of that particular brand of torture. Now that he's gone I do it ta maself!

He rolled from the cot and pulled on the Extinguish/Ignite t-shirt the folk at Nevermind had given him to replace his old one, which bore the grizzly reminders of his run-in with the bastard jakes of New Lilith. When he'd been handed the shirt he had said it was lucky that he was a fan of the band. The lassie giving it to him had laughed far more than the joke had warranted before telling him he didn't know the half of it.

Padding quietly from the cot he decided to take an early morning stroll before breakfast. After that he would offer his help to the staff at the club. After all, it was the least he could do after all they'd done for him, and it wasn't as if he had ought else to do at the moment. He wasn't entirely sure on where to start on his hype hunt, not after last nights disatrous attempt. This was obviously going to be much more complicated in running into gun fights and saying "Hiya, I'mma super human, are you'a super human too? You are, grand! Can we be mates?" Nah, a quest like this was going to take perseverance, skill, intelligence. . .

. . . It was going to take walking into the Nevermind lobby and near staggering into the SHIFT agent he'd seen on the Youtube video. He was with an older, grizzled looking lad, and a waifish blonde lassie. Conall's mouth fell slightly agape as he watched them enter. Surely it couldn't be this easy, could it? Speaking to a SHIFT agent about his current predicments would be ideal. After all, who better to explain to him the full extent of his new found abilities? Those guys worked for H.E.L.P, so they should have access to every shred of knowledge hype related. That, and maybe they'd heard of these 'Black Lotus' guys. Give Conall some advice on how to deal with them.

A part of him was suspicious of his good fortunes to just stumble out of bed and cross paths with SHIFT, easy as that. Afterall, the colour of his luck had been decidely shitty lately. Then again, if anyone was due a touch of the good stuff then it was him. The group walked further into Nevermind without taking much notice of him. Without putting much thought into it he found his feet moving of their own accord, tracing the agents steps.

The group went into the kitchens. Conall hovered at the door frame, just out of sight, and dropped his best eaves as the agents got into a pow-wow with a third man, and what sounded like a little boy. A lot of the conversation flew over Conall's head as the participants seemed dead set on playing the pronoun game, though he began to infer from context that the agents were going to get into something big, needed a little extra firepower for it, and they were going to do it soon. That meant it was either now or never for Conall to speak to them. Taking a deep breath he stepped into view, rapping his knuckles on the door frame. He chose to address the older SHIFT agent, figuring he'd be the lad in command.

"Urghh, morning folks. Hate ta interrupt, but I could do wi some advice, and you'se are about the only folk I reckon are qualified ta give it. Being SHIFT agents in'all." He decided to just come out with his suspicions. If he was wrong then all they would do is correct him. If he was right then it would save a lot of humming and hahing, something these lads didn't seem to have much time for.

It was only then, waiting for the agents reply, that he realized with a sinking dread just who it was they'd come in here to meet. None other than Ewan Maddox himself, lead singer of Extinguish/Ignite.

Now Conall isn't really the type to get star struck, and it wasn't as if Extinguish/Ignite was his favorite band in the world. He liked them, sure, but they were no Soundgarden. Walking in on a guy while he's having breakfast with a child who is quite obviously his son while wearing a t-shirt with his face on your chest though, that there is obsessed stalker material. Conall really didn't want to come off as 'that guy', not while he was there basically begging for help.

"Bollocks," He muttered under his breath, while surreptitiously folding his arms across his chest.

 

[PlayingMonster]

Dani knew that it was bright outside, but she still wasn't going to draw the curtains. That would require moving from the couch, and she didn't want to do that. She hadn't slept a wink, and at some point in the night, she'd given up trying and had headed in to the sitting room to watch some crappy late night cable TV. Not that she'd paid any attention to it- her mind had just been replaying the events of the evening over and over again. On her way home, she'd ran into a group of men- almost literally. They'd started yelling stuff at her- slowly moving from "nice ass, girl!" to getting slowly and slowly more violent. When she'd attempted to leave, they'd started threatening her, and when that didn't stop her, they'd actually grabbed her. Their hands, grasping her arms, had reminded her painfully of her ex, and when they'd started actually started to beat her, she'd started panicking.

Out of nowhere, a figure had appeared and dealt with the men. Even though they had helped her, she had been terrified of this figure, and she'd ran home, still panicking, still crying. She knew that they were more than likely one of the vigilantes that roamed this city and constantly made the news. She was staying away from all of that. She wasn't going anywhere near it.

Despite the vague nausea in her stomach, she was hungry. Managing to drag herself off of the sofa, she headed out to the kitchen, wrapping her arms around herself. She opened the fridge and stared. It was empty, save for some leftovers she'd been meaning to dump for a week. Her cupboards were in the same way. She'd been eating out or getting take out a lot recently, not having the energy to cook after trawling the city looking for work. She'd known that she needed to do shopping... but not this badly. She had to go out. It wasn't like she could call for pizza at this hour of the morning.

As she showered, she felt like she was going to throw up. But something at the back of her mind was determined to make it, was determined to prove that she'd be okay. But as she sat down in front of the mirror to do her makeup, terror washed over her once again. Under her eyes sat dark circles, worsened by the lack of sleep. A scratch ran down one side of her jaw. Her skin was pale. In the t-shirt she had pulled on after her shower, she could see the bruises on her arms. The more she looked, the more she saw. She picked up her primer and started working it into her skin, no longer looking at her reflection.

It took a while for her to get her makeup right. She was paranoid about the marks on her face showing through, and so had made sure to draw attention to her eyes, away from the bruising. The bruising on her arms was hidden by a hoodie, then a big, heavy jacket. And all the while, she was still terrified, still nauseous, but was still going to do it. She was going to buy herself food.

 

[Shroud]

Jackson hadn't entirely expected the winged man to accede to his aunt's orders, but he also hadn't expected the stranger to turn tail and run. Jackson had half been expecting a fight, which he was more than prepared for, but due to his need to support the nearly drowned men, who were very likely suffering from the onset of hypothermia, inside his weather-resistant construct he couldn't chase after the man without first dropping off his cargo. And given their need for immediate medical attention, that wasn't an option his morals would allow him to consider. So, despite all his training to do otherwise, Jackson forced himself to stay put as his quarry fled. He could have reached out with his power and removed the oxygen from the surrounding area without needing to give chase, but that was also not much of a choice for the S.H.I.F.T. trainee as he wasn't about to kill the man in cold blood. Sighing, Jackson ended his hover, returning to the docks to stand beside his aunt.

Feona was not happy, as evident from the various curses escaping her lips, but she didn't even bother questioning her nephew on his decision not to pursue. She knew more than well enough that it would be a poor decision, though she was less concerned for the criminals Jackson had rescued, and more concerned about her nephew chasing off after an unknown, and clearly dangerous potential hyperhuman. She had no way to know what abilities he possessed, aside from the wings which granted him flight, and engaging a target without first understanding their capabilities was reckless.

"Franklin," she said into the radio she had removed from her hip, "how soon until the EMRs arrive?"

EMRs were emergency medical responders that would be arriving along with the additional cruisers to secure the area - though, that likely would only be one, two at the most, given how spread thin the police force was at the moment - and the fire units who would be too late to do anything about the smoldering remains of the tugboat, which by now was only barely visible above the icy waters.

"They're still at least ten minutes out, Sargeant. The ice on the roads is keeping 'em slow."

"Damn it." Feona looked at her nephew, and the three bodies he had levitating beside him. Of the three, only two were still breathing, and only barely at that. "Jack, medics aren't going to arrive soon enough, and even if they did they'd have a hell of a time getting back to the hospital with this damned weather. Are you able to transport them to Moses General Hospital?" She asked, knowing full well the answer he'd give in return.

"Sure thing, Feona." Jackson replied in what was quickly becoming his go to response when his aunt needed something done. "I can have them there in a few minutes."

Feona nodded, "good, I'll call ahead and alert them that a S.H.I.F.T. agent will be dropping off patients for their immediate care. Don't need them panicking when they see you flying in. With any luck, those two will pull through, and we can question them on Fierro business." Even as she said it, she knew it wasn't going to happen. The CCPD had had Fierro goons in their interrogation rooms before, and they had never spilled any information before high-priced lawyers in stuffy suits whisked them away under the protection of one legal bullshit defense or another.

"I'll also get dispatch to send a unit down there to stand watch over them, but I'll need you to keep guard until they arrive." Feona told her nephew, though she didn't expect the half-dead thugs would be of any trouble.

"Right. What about the winged vigilante?" Jackson asked, hating to use that term to describe the murderer, but he hated even more knowing that the unknown killer was still out there.

"I'll get an arrest warrant issued, but I doubt it'll do any good. But we can figure that out later, Jack. Get them to the hospital before they die on us. I don't need even more paperwork to fill out," she said grimly, not a hint of humor in her voice.

 

[PlayingMonster]

This had seemed like a fantastic idea at the time. But as Abby picked her way down the sidewalk, cursing the weather, she was regretting her decision. She could have just turned around and gone home- but she was too far gone and too pigheaded to do that. She'd gone this far, she may as well finish what she came out for. Her scarf was pulled up over her face already to protect it from the cold, so it wasn't like she had to worry about protecting her identity any more than that. Besides, whoever the hell was after her had already seen her face and knew that she was a Hype, with the whole setting fire to her hands thing.

Fighting in her bulky jacket could be a problem, though, and if she ditched it, she'd be risking hypothermia. That would be an interesting scene in the hospital, if she was admitted with all of the symptoms of hypothermia, but her core temperature was a healthy level for a normal human. She tightened her hand around her pepper spray in her pocket. She'd just have to use that if anything happened.

At least she knew that whoever she was after was going to be at home. The only time that she'd seen another living soul was when she passed the club that was also functioning as a homeless shelter at the minute. A business owner with a heart... Funny, that. Most of the business people she'd had dealings with were usually paying her to retrieve money or something from somebody.

She finally found the house and made her way up the path, before pounding on the door. It took the owner a few seconds to answer it, and he looked surprised when he saw her standing there.

"Can I help you?" He asked.
"No, but you can let me in. I've got something to tell you, and it's pretty important."

 

[Blandman]

The rest of the journey had been a complete blur of confusion and fear. What was he going to do now? The revelation of his identity was all but inevitable. Would his family be safe? He even wondered if jail had changed at all, as that seemed to be his most likely destination now. When they finally did arrive at the hospital, Black Shadow had fallen into an uneasy state of unconsciousness. He didn't hear any words, nor did he feel himself being lifted onto the bed. In fact, he felt as if he was drifting off to sleep.

It wasn't until the next day that things became clearer.

******

For once Daniel actually managed to have an extremely peaceful night's sleep, with no dreams or nightmares to speak of. Whether it was sheer exhaustion, or the copious amount of drugs which had been administered, he couldn't quite tell. But it feel nice to sleep so well, whatever it was. In fact, in all his blissful rest, Daniel had almost forgotten where he actually was. Slowly he opened his eyes, the light coming through the thin curtains stinging his eyes for a second, before everything became more focused and clear. That's when he saw it all. The machines, the sparse room, the bed, the wires and everything else associated with hospital rooms. Suddenly he began to panic, his breathing getting heavier and the beeps of his heart monitor increasing in tempo dramatically. But this was brought to a crashing stop by the simple sound of someone speaking.

"Well well, look who finally decided to wake up," came the smarmy voice. Turning his head slightly to the left, Daniel saw Simmons' face poking out from behind the bed's curtains. He'd drawn it across slightly, no doubt so as to surprise Daniel in such a fashion.

"S-Si-...Simmo-" Daniel spluttered.

"Yes yes yes, it's me," the mayor interjected, rising slowly from his chair and standing at Daniel's side, a patronising smile on his face "I'm sure you're very pleased to see me."

"Wh-why are you here?" the injured man muttered.

"Well, I just had to ensure the well-being of Crescent City's latest hero!" he replied, the sarcasm dripping from his voice as he spread his arms out in a mock gesture "Not that anyone knows it was your bright idea to re-direct the plane of course. No no, as far as the people are concerned, it was good ol' mayor Simmons who rode in on that one."

"You d-d-didn't...answer my-"

"I'm getting to it, I'm getting to it," the man interrupted again, waving one of his hands dismissively at Danny before strolling over to the window and using one finger to peak out the curtains "Tsk, you should see the snow, it's ridiculous! I hate the snow...but I digress! Today's your lucky day buddy, because I just saved your ass. I suppose you haven't thought to check your face yet?"

Daniel's hands rose up as quickly as they could, though each arm felt like cinder blocks, especially his left. However, instead of feeling skin, they felt the coarse fabric of his balaclava. It was still on. But...

"Why?"

"Why, why, why, why!" Simmons mocked, pulling the chair he had been sitting in to the side of Daniel's bed, before slowly lowering himself back in whilst continuing to talk "Sheesh, can't you just take a noble action in good faith? I wanted to do the right thing and protect your personal life! At least...that's what my PR team is going to tell the press," suddenly his smile became more twisted, somehow evil "Of course, the real fact of the matter is that I wanted to make you my bitch. You see, in the run up to this election I've been slowly losing my usually stalwart allies. Oh sure, it started with a few low ranks and middle-men, but then slowly but surely their reluctance to help cover my back began to spread to the very top!

And now, well...now I can't even rely on the De Vitis! Can you imagine? A mayor who can't rely on his local Mafia family? Scandalous! That's where you come in my dear vigilante friend. My new little helper."

"What...makes you think...I'd ever-"

"Ah ah ahh, I'm not finished yet," another interruption, this time accompanied by a wagging finger "You see, when I saw you getting hauled over to my SUV, a bolt from the blue came to mind. I've got plenty of good people on hand here in this hospital see, so I called ahead to make sure they'd be the ones taking care of you, and I gave them one very simple instruction; Don't reveal his identity. Don't even show his face! And you know what? They did exactly as I told them. No-one has seen your face, not a single soul! Ha, they haven't got a fucking clue who you are! Isn't that great?"

Simmons settled back into his chair, allowing the news to sink in slowly, seemingly done with the conversation.

"Oh, there is one thing though," the man dug into his pocket and produced his phone. Tapping a few buttons he eventually showed it to Daniel, who was faced with a picture of himself, except with no mask on. His eyes widened in anger "Of course I had to cover myself you understand. This is my little insurance policy," he proclaimed, waving the phone around slightly, before also grabbing a piece of paper from his pocket as well, with a number of black blotches on it "And what's this? Ooohhh, your finger prints! I'll be putting these to good use and will soon enough know exactly who you are Mr. Shadow."

Putting both pieces of evidence away again, Simmons rose once more, this time moving to the end of Daniel's bed, a smug victorious look plastered across his face.

"I don't give a shit about your life, who you are or what you've been through. I only care about one thing," he paused, raising his index finger "Do everything that I want you to, when I want you to. Stick to that, and no-one will ever know who you are. Simple, huh? Now, I understand that your injuries probably hurt like hell, but I don't have time to mess around. An election is coming up, so I expect you to be out of here by tomorrow. And I'll know if you aren't. Trust me on that one," Simmons moved to the door and grasped the handle, before turning his head slightly "I'll be seeing you very soon, hero."

And with that he left. Had this been a kids cartoon show, he would have surely gone off cackling madly down the corridor. But instead he left Daniel in utter silence, save for the consistent beep of the heart machine. As the man led there, a million thoughts racing through his head, he could feel the unbridled anger rising through his very bones. He didn't care where, he didn't care when, he just knew. Somehow, Simmons was going to pay for this.

 

[Roman]

Rustin sipped his coffee as he looked over his case file - depressingly thin as it was - for the fourth time since 7am that morning. It was a strange mix of frustration and relief about this case - part of him was too afraid to follow leads, pursue suspects, delve further into this new branch of his job, this new pit that he was unwilling to dive headlong into. But there was another part, a stronger, fiercer part, that desired - craved - apprehension, justice, the solving of the mystery, that pored over every detail endlessly in hopes of something new, something unique, something more to be gleaned, to be learned. And that part was far stronger that Rustin's fear. He had only himself to fear for; it was his solitary nature that made him effective, made him dangerous - both the CCPD and the local Mafia families knew this. Rustin reached the end of the short report. He finished his coffee, and began again from the top as he left his desk to refill his mug.

He was stopped halfway to the machine, the desk clerk catching his attention by way of shouting his name - the sound pierced the otherwise still air, and Rustin nearly winced. He rounded, spinning slowly on his heels and starting hard. The girl at the desk seemed to shrink.
"What." He said, not even feet from the eruption of noise.
"'Nother vic for ya, detective." The clerk said sheepishly, holding out a sheet of paper - fresh, then, Rustin thought. Overnight, maybe? But he had more pressing issues, mysteries that needed solving already.
"I'm on a case. Bloodless Doe, remember?" He said, turning again to continue trying to fill his mug with thick, black, life-giving sludge.
"Well, 'nother bloodless for ya then, Rusty." Said the clerk, putting the sheet of paper on the desk in front of her. Rust stopped, whirling. Dregs of coffee splattered onto the tiles below his feet.
"Another exsanguination?" He asked, snatching the report furiously.
"If'n you want to give it a fancy name, yeah. Another exsanguination." Replied the clerk, who then turned to her ringing phone. Rustin swore, and walked away under her frowning gaze, studying the print as he went.

He finished his third run-over as he got in his car. The snow, thankfully, was better for a crime scene than rain. Rustin nearly smiled, looking up at the falling blots of white as he turned his key and revved the engine a few times, ticking the engine over as he waited for the heaters. Soon enough, his hands were warm enough to grip the cool leather of the steering wheel, and he was away.

-

He stopped outside the crime scene slowly, careful not to slide on the ice. Another alley, cordoned off again. Patrolman had had more than enough time to set the scene up properly as Rustin made his slow way over, thanks to the incessant snow. At least it wasn't raining anymore. Rustin wasn't sure which he preferred. He pulled his coat taut around his torso, and stepped out of the car.

Immediately, he saw the measurement markers that peppered the floor, resting on top of the snow a few inches from the concrete below, outlining footprints. Footprints! Rustin could have punched the air, were he an air-punching type - instead, he nodded to himself, satisfied. Real evidence. He followed the markers and the prints they marked back toward the body, where he saw flecks of red among the white of the snow. Blood. Even in the tiny amounts he'd been given, it was a heavenly gift. He approached the scene, careful not to disturb any of the evidence. The patrolman walked toward him, careful in quite the same way.

"Prints are shallow and faint, few hours old, snow's been laying on top of them. I've got photos already, but they'll be gone completely in an hour or so." He said, Rustin nodding along. "I've bagged a couple samples of the bloodied snow already. Should be enough." Rustin pushed past him, grabbing the square plastic case from his hand as he did.
"We get it all. More to work with means more to do." Rustin answered brusquely, scooping up the blood-flecked snow that remained and putting it in bags, tubes, anything sterile that could hold it. It would melt, but blood and water could be seperated.
"Any work done on the body?" Rustin asked as he stood. He could see a fine layer of snow settled on the vic already - below that, even finer splinters of ice. "He was hot when he died." Rustin continued, cutting off the patrolman before he had even begun to answer. "Hot enough to melt any snow that landed on him, even without any blood. Until he cooled down enough to freeze...running?" Rustin turned. Only one set of prints, and too shallow for heavy footfall. Walking, at most. Stalking, more likely. "No." He answered himself. "But something..." he looked over the body again. "Hm. Nice clothes. That jacket's Armani." He said, tucking away the information. He looked around, and a small silver packet glinted, attracting his attention.

A condom wrapper. Open. Could be random trash, but again, only a light layer of snow, compared to everything else...Rustin moved back to the body, leaning over it and frisking the pockets. His hand hit something small and square in the inside pocket of the jacket, and he pulled it out. Condon, still wrapped. He turned both over. Same brand.
"Interesting..." he mused to himself. The patrolman stood over him.
"Coroner's on his way." He said, and Rustin nodded. "I got a lot of beat left to cover, detective..." he continued, and Rustin nodded again. No sense keeping him out, especially in this weather. And god knows what kind of gang meeting he had. He was already late - the poor guy had been sweating since Rustin showed up. Poor bastard probably owed payments.
"Good luck!" Rustin called as the patrolman hurried away, who didn't even look over his shoulder. Rustin went back to his car, wrappers, report, and photos in hand, to await Billis.

 

[Olissa]

Mornings did not agree with Emma. Never had, never would, and the years of living under P.R.C.U.'s strict morning clock hadn't changed a thing about it. So the fact that her windowsill was covered in snow had completely phased by her.
Normally she'd trot on by on autopilot while in zombie-mode, doing what had to be done to get ready for the day, but this time was different, she just sat there, staring straight ahead.
Strum and Aiden had spent the night at her place, but from the moment she had emerged from her room she had barely acknowledged either of them, till Strum informed them they were heading out to Nevermind, now.

During the car ride Emma had her head leaned against the window, but the surroundings barely registered. Everything kind of passed by her in a haze. Even as they walked into Nevermind and went to the back it didn't really sink in.
She slumped down into the first chair that she could find and waited as the men did all the talking. Literally. She hadn't even stated a greeting when she came in.
Quietly Emma zoned out to her own little world, leaving a little wrinkle on her forehead. She relied on the knowledge that if there was anything that needed Emma's direct attention, Aiden would alert her to it. Or that she'd wake up in time if something interesting would happen.
Like the bag that got handed over. Something in that action had caught her attention and brought her back to reality.
A tad bit curious what had just happened, Emma looked at the content that got exposed as Ewan opened the bag. The color of the content, combined with the obvious logo, was more than enough to inform Emma of exactly what had been given.
With an indignant look on her face she turned to Strum.
"How does he get one and I don't?"
The curl at the corners of her mouth was the tiny give away that she was simply being sarcastic.

The sound of some stranger's voice pulled her attention away. Instinctively, knowing that if details of what they were discussing got leaked they'd be in trouble, she readied herself to 'grab' a tranquilizing device. Her power activated, but her memory didn't want to cooperate. Thank goodness for all of them perhaps, this wasn't exactly the place for gunfire.
Leaning back into the chair to look around Aiden as the intruder made his intentions known, Emma's eyes trailed to the shirt he was wearing before the guy's arms covered it up.
The shirt looked awfully familiar, the guy didn't. So where did she know that shirt from?
Then it hit her.
"You have that shirt too." She randomly announced, intending it for Aiden. She remembered the time she dropped by his room and saw the shirt laying on the top of a stack of shirts on the left side of a shelf in his closet back at P.R.C.U..
With her power still activated and her mind having settled on an exact time and location, the shirt in question appeared in her hands.
It took a brief moment before what had happened registered. It had happened only seconds after this dude had walked into their conversation after all.
"Oh..." Surprised she looked at her hands, and then up to Aiden.
"See." Briefly the thought struck her that summoning items in front of non-cleared individuals wasn't a good idea, but then again, the cat was already out of the bag anyway if this guy knew they were connected to S.H.I.F.T..

 

[Stein]

Sarks found himself surveying the room as he waited for the server to come back. He doubted she'd get the manager for him, he'd probably offended her. He shrugged it off, more interested in the figures he saw entering the bar. It was with a lazy eye that he noted two from yesterday, but his mind began to peak with excitement.

'Now this just became interesting,' Sarks thought to himself as he smirked and stared ahead, all the while aware of their path to the kitchen. A common man could deduce that the action was going to happen once those doors closed. But Sarks couldn't be ultimately sure of what. However, he could put together that it most likely had something to do with the mountain. Agents of that caliber, Hypes, didn't come out without proper cause. From there, he could likely assume that since this was their apparent base of sorts, the manager might have connections. Maybe a former associate? A Hype himself? Regardless, Sarks needed to make himself known. They likely had information and Sarks was beginning to realize that by himself he was strong, but severely uninformed.
He drifted his attention to the kitchen door again, careful not to make it too obvious and found another man lurking outside the door. Muscle? Nah, he didn't look like much and they weren't criminals. Besides, this guy looked pretty intent on going into the room. Though, he seemed to be mulling it over.

"Fuck it," Sarks muttered to himself, getting up and making his way over to the kitchen, just in time to see the first male go through. He walked up, just in time to hear the tail-end of what he could assume was the first male's voice.

"…Being SHIFT agents and all."

Sarks pushed open the door, slightly bumping the first male without concern and made his way into the kitchen. "Did someone say SHIFT agents? Lovely, I've got a cat stuck in a tree. You loves wouldn't be able to help with that would you?" He looked at the wind manipulator from yesterday and his eyes narrowed with a playful twinkle. "It's a very tall tree."

He looked at the female from yesterday. She looked less intimidating with no rifle in her hands. "Nice to see you again, love." He winked at her, before focusing his attention on the rest of the group.

 

[PlayingMonster]

"What the hell is this all about?" The guy asked, but he stood aside to let her in. She pulled her scarf higher over her mouth and nose and her hood lower over her eyes, and caught him looking weirdly at her. "You have this weird immunity to most, if not all medication, right?" She demanded. He frowned, folding his arms and walking into his sitting room and sitting down. Abby stayed standing. "Why do you want to know?" She pulled off one of her gloves and held out her hand, allowing flames to dance across it. He stared at them, paling. "Because I do too. And I also know that if you are the guy I'm looking for, you're in a shit ton of trouble. So, are you the guy I'm looking for or not?" She demanded again. He nodded. "Right. Go, pack a bag, grab your passport, we need to get you as far away as possible as soon as possible."

"Why?" He asked, getting to his feet. She rolled her eyes. "You really do ask a lot of questions, don't you?" She said. "Well, a masked person storms into my house and knows something that hardly anybody else knows about and then tells me we need to run. I'm not just going to follow them blindly, am I? You could be a murderer for all I know." She grinned at his reply. "I like you. That attitude will make things a hell of a lot easier. Those blood tests your doctor wanted doing got intercepted by some shady agency, then forwarded onto a lab, who picked up something dodgy, talked to your doctor, then asked me to help keep you safe. So here I am. You can call me Will O Wisp. Now, go pack your stuff, we're going to try and get out of here, because aforementioned shady agency attacked one of the lab workers when they found out that they were trying to help you out." He nodded and left the room. A few minutes later, he appeared with a bulging bag on his back and headed into the kitchen, where he shoved various items of food into a bag. "Is food really a priority?" Abby called. "We'll be harder to trace if we don't have to stop." He called back. "I like you. What's your name again?"

"William." "Okay, cool. Now, let's go." She called. He jotted down a note on a piece of paper, left it on the table, then nodded, pulling a jacket and a scarf on. He watched her as they left the house. "If you can manipulate fire, why are you wrapped up so much? Shouldn't you be warmer than everyone else?" He asked. She didn't even glance back at him. "I do run at a higher body temperature, but also am more susceptible to hypothermia and lose body heat easier than any normal person. Hence why I am wrapped up like anything else." She pushed open the door and rolled her eyes. "You cannot be serious." Two men, dressed entirely in black, were waiting for them- and they did not look friendly.

 

[Lord Wraith]

Z

ebulun's eyes went wide at the sight of his father's new wardrobe. The dark blue and black suit almost seemed to glow before the child's eyes as he turned to look at Emma hearing her jab towards Strum.

"Woman! Where's ma supa-suit!" He said in a mocking tone, parroting a line from a movie he had watched with his father the other day. He giggled suddenly as he went back to his breakfast before a man approached the small group. Looking up from the suit, Ewan was caught off guard by the sudden arrival of two more individuals as he quickly put the S.H.I.F.T. uniform behind his back. He allowed a smirk to cross his face as the man with the thick Scottish accent essentially blushed upon realizing who Ewan was as he tried to awkwardly cover the shirt he was wearing which blatantly displayed an Extinguish/Ignite album cover. To make matters worse Emma had pointed out that not only did Aiden have the exact same shirt but she materialized in her hand causing Zebulun to let out a 'wow' as the second stranger spoke up about a cat in the tree.

"T'would seem we all have a problem with cats mate. I used to have one, but then it got let out of the bag." He said with a smile before realizing in horror his ability had locked onto the Scottish accent and perfectly mimicked it in place of Ewan's usual Welsh. As the other man turned his attention to Emma, Ewan had to raise an eyebrow. A ping of jealousy entered him again before he quickly brushed it away. He had been in the bar scene far too long to not know this man's type. His comments were more than likely unfounded, instead it was more than likely this man was the one who had helped Strum and Emma yesterday.

"The cat is definitely out of the bag." Aiden muttered as he turned to Strum who was gently massaging his temples.

"Gentlemen, what we're discussing here affects the whole city. I assume you're both capable of helping and I assume you're both interested in doing so having approached the table under the assumption we were agents of S.H.I.F.T." Strum cleared his throat before continuing. "We believe there is a something on top of Old Stone Mountain that's responsible for the change in weather pattern. Beyond that we have very little idea what we're dealing with. It could be a Hype, it could be Celestial in nature, we don't know." He paused taking a sip from his coffee, his nose wrinkled in discuss as he turned to Ewan briefly. "Stick with mixing alcohol." Putting the brew down he turned back to the Englishman and the Scot. "If you think you can help us, we definitely welcome up. But you're possibly putting your lives on the line so I hope that's not a problem for either of you." Turning to Aiden, Strum spoke again. "You're in charge here. I'm going to pay Lieutenant Noble a visit." He ordered as he took a final swig from his coffee and exited the building.

"Well you heard the man. Everyone prep yourselves for the weather and whatever we come across. We don't know what's out there."